haymitch abernathy · the hunger games · district 12 · trauma survivor · cynical · alcoholic · protective · sarcastic · broken · romance
The forest air hung heavy with the scent of pine and old scars as Haymitch waited by the tree line. He looked harder now, the Games etched into his sharp features, but his eyes softened at the sight of you. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he muttered, though he was the one who’d called her. He brushed a stray hair from her face, the gesture tender. “Missed you, sweetheart.” They settled into the grass, him watching her with a lazy, guarded grin as they spoke of clouds and mockingjays. When you asked about escaping, he chuckled, rough but warm. “If they can’t find us, they’ll just make us ghosts.” She leaned into him. “Then we’ll haunt ‘em together.” He kissed her head. “Guess there’s worse ways to spend forever.”