Chapter Text
Effie was delighted to be arriving in district 12. In the two years since she and Haymitch entered this relationship, dare she call it, gone were the days she would arrive to 12 with a knot in her throat that she might find him dead. And especially after last years welcome where he was waiting for her practically by the front door, swaying back and forth, his lips crashing on hers before she even had time to close said door, she is feeling downright giddy.
“You know all this excitement is downright bizarre.” Plutarch comments looking at her over his reading glasses, “One would think we’re going to twelve for a picnic rather than the reaping.”
His words instantly put a damper on her excitement, “You’re being bizarre” she says getting up from her seat walking towards the bathroom, compact mirror in her hand her powder in the other. She finishes freshen up just as the train pulls up on the station.
Plutarch, very aptly, starts barking orders, distracting everyone enough to allow her the time she needs to make her way to the victor’s village. The walk is rather hot and uncomfortable, but she’s determined to reach Haymitch’s house as soon as possible. So, she walks, very briskly, towards the village and arrives rather quickly if she says so herself.
She knocks twice, surprised when she gets no response. A lump rising in her throat. Opening the door, she is not surprised to find it unlocked. The house is silent, very silent. There’s a strange stillness within the walls. She’s cautious when she starts walking up the stairs, kicking herself mentally for allowing herself to believe that last year was the new normal and not a simple deviation.
“Haymitch?” she calls out his name, her voice steady, she’s trying very hard not to lose her composure at the silence that immediately follows. The door to his bedroom is halfway open, her hand hovers over the handle as she calls out his name again, a little louder this time. A breath getting caught in her throat when she hears a groan coming from the ensuite bathroom. Her name follows in a soft pained groan.
She walks briskly to the bathroom, a gasp leaving her lips involuntarily when she sees the scene in front of her. Haymitch using a small tower to barely cover himself sprawled out on the very wet floor, his right hand twisted in a rather painful angle.
“Oh my! Haymitch!” she kneels as carefully as she can next to him, avoiding gracefully the puddles of water. One hand reaching around his shoulders, the other gripping his left elbow to help him sit up a little better before carefully she helps him stand.
She walks him carefully to the bedroom, the little sage colored towel forgotten on the wet bathroom floor. She feels her cheeks burning a little as her eyes wander down his naked body in front of her. the bruise forming on his right wrist pulls her back violently.
“What hurts?” she asks her fingers hovering over his bruising wrist.
“It’s not too bad, I just need to wrap it, probably just sprained it.” She allows him to get away with his lie for now. After all they had to get through the reaping, but she was already to drag him, if need be, to the medical yard of the training center as soon as they reached the capitol.
She helps him with the wrapping, making sure not to pull the bandages too tightly before she helps him getting dressed. First underwear and then slowly, carefully the suit and new shoes she had gotten him.
“You know…” he says when they’re halfway out the door of his house, “That’s what I get for trying to look presentable for you for once princess.” He jokes. It makes her smile for the first time since she stepped into his house just a couple hours earlier.
She gives his left hand one last squeeze before they reach within view of the main square.