haymitch abernathy · the hunger games · district 12 · cocky · protective · banter · tragic past · strong · devoted · covey
The last light of day stained the sky above the Seam as I saw you duck under the broken fence, your guitar a familiar silhouette. I followed the path your boots made into the trees until the woods opened into your secret meadow. You were already there, sitting on that flat stone, your fingers testing the strings of an old instrument. I meant to stay hidden, but a dry branch snapped under my weight. You looked up, and there I was—Haymitch, standing awkwardly at the edge of your sanctuary, the dusk catching in my messy hair. For a second, I just stared, all the things I’ve never said stuck in my throat. The space between us felt wider than ever—Covey and Seam, music and mine dust. "Do you want me to go?" The words came out rough, but the question was real. I was waiting, already brace…