A very Hayffie story. Part 1
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Haymitch Abernathy never expected to see Effie Trinket again. After the war, after all they’d lost, he’d figured Effie would return to the Capitol’s glittering embrace, leaving District 12 and its scars far behind. He wouldn’t have blamed her—Effie had always belonged to a world of order, polish, and poise, not the rubble-strewn chaos that was his home. But here she was, standing at the edge of his overgrown garden, her bright blonde wig replaced by her natural hair, now soft and streaked with grey.
Five years had passed since the war ended. Haymitch had spent most of it rebuilding—not just District 12, but himself. He’d finally stopped drinking (mostly), and while his house still creaked with loneliness, he’d become a quiet constant in the district. He helped plant crops, repair homes, and occasionally mentor lost souls who couldn’t shake the horrors of what they’d seen. Effie, though, had disappeared into the Capitol. He’d heard whispers of her working with a cultural restoration programme, trying to preserve art and history after the chaos Snow had left behind. He figured that suited her.
“Effie,” he said, the word foreign on his tongue.
Her lips curved into a nervous smile. “Hello, Haymitch.” Her voice was softer than he remembered, no trace of the clipped formality she used to wield like a weapon. “I wasn’t sure you’d be… well, home.”
“I live here, don’t I?” He gestured to the house behind him, though it was clear Effie had already noticed its peeling paint and ramshackle porch. “What brings you to this side of Panem?”
Effie hesitated, fidgeting with the belt of her fitted winter coat. It was of course still designer but a far cry from the extravagant outfits she used to parade. “I’m working on a project for the districts. Restoring lost traditions. I… I wanted to see Twelve again. To see what’s left. To see you.”
Haymitch blinked, caught off guard by her honesty. “Well, you’ve seen me,” he said gruffly, then softened when her expression fell. “Want to come inside? I’ve got bread… though you might want to avoid the butter. It’s a bit questionable.”
Her laugh startled them both, light and warm in the quiet afternoon. “Bread sounds lovely, questionable butter and all.”
Inside, Haymitch watched her take in the house. Effie Trinket, always so perfect, now sitting in his mismatched kitchen, sipping tea from an old tin mug. She told him about the Capitol—how hollow it had felt in the years after the war, how she’d tried to find meaning in rebuilding a city she no longer recognised. She confessed she’d been scared to return to District 12, scared of what it would stir up.
“And yet, here you are,” he said, leaning against the counter. “Still full of surprises.”
Effie met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with something he couldn’t quite name. “I suppose I missed the one thing that never belonged to the Capitol.”
His throat tightened. “Effie…”
“I missed you, Haymitch.”
The words hung between them, fragile and brave. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her too—her nagging, her sharp wit, the way she’d always managed to coax the best out of him when he was at his worst.
“You picked a hell of a time to tell me,” he muttered, but there was no anger in his voice.
She smiled faintly. “Well, I figured five years was long enough to wait.”
Haymitch stepped closer, the barriers he’d built around himself beginning to crumble. “You staying long, Trinket?”
“A few days, perhaps more…” she replied
“You know there’s a storm due tonight” He warned. Noticing her thin designer winter coat and heeled boots “Heavy snow…”
“Then we best catch up quick” she smirked “My things are at the Inn, I’ll head back in an hour or two”
“An hour or two huh?” Haymitch chuckled “Could get snowed in in that time… you could end up staying the night with me”
Effie blinked at his brashness. Ever the flirt, but nothing had changed. Nothing had ever happened and probably never would.
“Well, wouldn’t that be something” she smiled, wandering past him towards his living room.
He caught her scent as she passed. Lavender and jasmine oil, it almost made his mouth water.
He prayed the storm would roll in quick. A couple of hours was not going to cut it.
End of Part 1
Love this !
