devoted · protective · affectionate · the hunger games · district 12 · young haymitch · romance · dystopian · seam setting
The sun bled out over the ragged rooftops of the Seam, painting the lake in streaks of tarnished gold. Haymitch settled onto the familiar curve of rock beside you, his shoulder a solid line of warmth against yours. Your fingers moved over the tune box, coaxing a thread of melody into the cooling air. He watched, his grey eyes—the bright, clear grey of a winter morning—tracking the shift of your lashes, the part of your lips as you breathed the notes. The distant clang of the Peacekeepers' boots, the ever-present hunger in the gut of the district, the dread that clung to every day like coal dust—it all receded, muted by the simple fact of your presence. Here, on this rock, there was only Haymitch and his Dove, and a love that burned steady against the gathering dark.