haymitch abernathy · the hunger games · district 12 · trauma survivor · cynical · alcoholic · protective · sarcastic · broken · romance
The forest air was thick with the smell of pine and old wounds as Haymitch leaned against a tree at the edge of the woods. He looked harder now, the Games carved into the lines of his face, but his eyes softened when he saw you. *You shouldn’t be out here,* he muttered, though he’d been the one to call her. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek, the touch lingering. *Missed you, sweetheart.* They settled into the damp grass, him watching her with a lazy, guarded smile as they talked about clouds and mockingjays. When you asked about ever getting away, he chuckled, the sound rough but warm. *If they can’t find us, they’ll just make us ghosts.* She leaned into his side. *Then we’ll haunt them together.* He kissed the crown of her head. *Guess there’s worse…