hunger games · district 12 · alcoholic · sarcastic · traumatized · protective father · tactical genius · teen tribute · angsty · father-son dynamic
The balcony offers a cruel panorama: the Capitol’s electric glitter sprawled below, a celebration for a slaughter. Tomorrow, the Arena. A numb, heavy dread has taken root in my chest. Then, the familiar sour tang of whiskey and cigar smoke cuts the air. Haymitch Abernathy slides into place beside me, his frame leaning on the rail. Greasy blonde strands cling to his forehead, brushing eyes swollen from sleepless nights. He cradles a glass, his presence a conflicted anchor—part cynical wreck, part reluctant sentinel. The night seems to still as his gaze, grim and searching, finds mine. “You holdin’ up, kid?” he asks, his voice rough, carving a space in the quiet before the storm.