One Last Game -Haymitch Abernathy-

Chapter 32

"Are you sure about this?" Haymitch watched Amelia closely. She had thrown open the curtains, revealing the sunset.

"Yes," she answered with no hesitation. Amelia held his hands with hers, a vibrant smile on her face. "For richer or poor. Dead or alive. I, Amelia Swayer, want to marry you because I love you."

Haymitch smiled at her, shaking his head. "What would you want to marry an old man for?"

She let go of his hand and gently slapped his shoulder. "Shut up and say it back."

"Ow," he rubbed his shoulder. "I'm starting to have second thoughts." Amelia playfully glared at him. "Fine, I, Haymitch Abernathy, want to marry this beautiful woman standing in front of me."

"Who you love so much."

He rolled his eyes, "who I love so much." Amelia grinned and pushed onto her toes. Without wasting a second, she pressed her lips against his. Haymitch placed a hand on her cheek, kissing her back. "You know," he pulled away first. "I'm pretty sure this isn't official in the eyes of the Capitol."

"Who cares? It's enough for me." It wasn't a real wedding or an official marriage, but it was enough for Amelia. She didn't need a wedding or anything fancy. She just needed Haymitch to know how much she loved him before the games started.

"I don't even have a ring-"

"I don't care," Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck. "Plus, I would lose it. Never been very good with jewelry." But he noticed the quick glance at her finger, and he knows she's imagining what a ring would look like there. "Come on. We should get to dinner before the others question where we are."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia walked down the stairs quietly. It was late, or possibly early. She wasn't exactly sure, but it didn't matter. Everyone was sleeping, and she didn't want to wake them.

Her feet padded against the tile, and she silently cursed to herself for not wearing socks. The floor was freezing. She wrapped her arms around her midsection. The shirt was wearing didn't belong to her. It was Haymitch's.

Amelia's eyes caught sight of someone sitting in front of the window. It was Peeta. He had a concerned expression on his face. His lips tugged down in a frown, and his eyebrows knitted together. "Hey," she said.

Peeta jumped slightly, not having expected her. "Hey."

"Mind if I join?"

"Go ahead."

He pulled his knees into his chest. Amelia sits across from him, her legs crossed as she stares at the city. "It's beautiful in some sick twisted way."

Peeta hums in agreement, his fingers tapping against his thigh. He's nervous. It's clear to anyone watching. "Are you scared?"

"Scared of what?"

He still wasn't looking at her. "The games."

There's no point in lying. "Yes." Amelia was good at acting unbothered, but inside she was terrified. She had no idea what was waiting for her in the arena. It wasn't going to be easy. She knew these games were going to be different.

"Me too," Peeta said. There seemed to be more on his mind. "I don't know if you made any deals with Haymitch or Katniss." She had, sort of. "But I need you to make one with me." Amelia nodded, "Katniss lives." She stared at him. "She has to live."

"I know," Amelia whispered. "World needs her a bit more than it needs either of us." It was sad but true. Katniss was vital in the starting revolution. She was a voice. People were looking towards her for guidance. If she died, it would all end. Katniss had to live to start whatever came after the games. Amelia could see the tears in his eyes. "Hey, we're going to be okay." They had two days now. Today would consist of training, and tomorrow would be their interview. Then the games would begin.

"Yeah," he knew they wouldn't be.

Amelia stood up but placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Amelia had neglected the cup of water, wanting nothing more than to get back to her room. She had a similar conversation with Katniss the prior evening. Both conversations rattled Amelia, who believed her Victors to be too young to experience any of this.

She was scared, just like them. The games were not easy, and they would not be gentle. Amelia didn't fear dying, not entirely. She feared the pain of death. She feared what she would leave behind.

Amelia slipped back into her room, her heart racing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying desperately to ease her fears. It didn't work. Shaking her hands, she carefully walked across the floor. She doesn't want to wake Haymitch, who appears to be sleeping peacefully.

Rather than going to the bed, she walks to the window. The moon seemed distant, but there were no stars. The lights in Panem were too bright. Her fingers rest against the glass. It's cold, but she doesn't mind.

She looks over her shoulder at Haymitch. He's asleep on his back, arm sprawled over her side of the bed. It's exactly how he looked when she left.

Amelia smiled sadly, tears burning the back of her eyes. She's scared. She was so scared, and she had no idea what to do. Deep down, she knows Haymitch is planning something, but she has no idea what. It wasn't as if he could tell her. She knew it had to do with keeping Katniss alive. Haymitch promised he would help her. It was clear he was, but it wasn't easy.

Amelia was scared for him. For what would happen after. President Snow would not be kind to him if he ever found out. She was scared for him. She was scared for her. She was scared about everything.

She clears her throat, slowly walking towards the bed. The moment the bed dips, Haymitch stirs, but his eyes remain close. Amelia carefully lays beside him, her head resting on his chest.

Haymitch sighs, his arm moving to bring her closer. His eyes remain closed, but he's wide awake. Amelia's hand rests on his chest, but it's trembling. "Haymitch?"

"Hm."

Amelia stares ahead, tears filling her eyes. "I'm really scared."

Haymitch's eyes open. He stares at the ceiling. There's an ache in his chest. "I know," he whispers. "Me too."