Hiraeth

Chapter One

Haymitch stomped down the stairs, stopping halfway to check his appearance in the wall mirror. His golden brown hair was neatly combed to the side, his beard shaved. His tie was a little bit crooked, upon noticing this his hand - almost by itself - adjusted it swiftly. He sighed and stared at himself, lingering on the stairs. Clean. Shaved. Sober. The way she would have wanted it. With pain evident in his eyes, Haymitch clutched to his golden bracelet and continued to walk down the stairs. Why does everyone he holds close die? Haymitch truly thought she was the one, the one who would love him forever so he could do the same back. No matter how much she nagged him - even when he wasn't infatuated with her - still made him feel like he mattered. Not specifically to her, but in general. Haymitch walked into the kitchen and went to reach for a bottle of his strongest liquor, but stopped himself just in time. He could get drunk as much as he wanted after her funeral, but not before, no one would ever forgive him if he did such a thing - not even himself. Instead of alcohol, he turned to caffeine, so maybe he could retrieve all the energy lost from a bad nights rest. Haymitch carefully added the sugar, trying his best not to make a mess. He was hopeless at cleaning up, if he made a mess it stayed there for at least a week before he even thought about cleaning. Once his coffee was done, he swallowed it in 3 gulps, not bothering to savour the taste. He took a quick glance at the clock and realised that it was time to go, time to go to her funeral.

Haymitch reluctantly opened his front door and stepped outside, bracing himself for a harsh wind - but instead he was greeted by a gentle breeze. The sunlight was harsh, making the pavement in front of him seem like bricks made out of light. The sky above him was a clear blue, not a single cloud in the sky. The sky reminded him of her favourite dress - not the orange one, the blue one. The one she made herself. Haymitch sighed and opened the gate, expecting an excruciating squeak - but again, not a single noise. Only the birds and the daily bustle of the district 12 market in the distance could be heard. The victors village seemed much more alive ; new trees were planted, the angel statue was repaired after the bombing during the rebellion, and the flowers seemed to be in full bloom. Neither of this made Haymitch feel any better, knowing that she would have loved this day, dragging him out for a picnic whether he wanted to or not. He shut the gate behind him and started to walk to the graveyard, trying to dodge "those god damn potholes". If Haymitch wasn't so used to it from previous events, he may have complained that he was lonely, but after living by himself for about 30 years didn't phase him until she moved in with him. He got to wake up to her beautiful smile every morning, even though she wasn't much of a morning person. Her eyes would always dart around the room before resting on his, and if during a nightmare the first name she'd call out would be his. No one ever called out for Haymitch but her, the only one he felt comfortable with. She knew every single one of his secrets, even the ones that were locked away at the very bottom of his soul.

Once Haymitch arrived at the church, he noticed that very few people were there. Their chatter quickly turned into a low murmur as soon as they spotted Haymitch, making him feel vexed and embarrassed. His eyes scanned the hall, trying to find someone he knew and genuinely liked. Peeta was stood near the front, trying not to let tears escape his eyes. His wife, Katniss, was paying more attention to the memorial on the wall, staring at her sisters name whilst gently tracing her finger across it. Peeta noticed Haymitch and gently nodded to him sympathetically. Haymitch stumbled over to Peeta, trying to keep his tears at the back of his throat. Peeta began talking to him about how good he looks now and that he hasn't seen him in a while. Haymitch knew Peeta was just trying to make conversation with him, but he didn't quite think that he was up to a conversation. Haymitch just wanted to stand there silently until the service began. Peeta sensed awkwardness between the two, and tried to change subject by asking Haymitch if he had his speech ready. Then suddenly, fear rippled up his spine - he forgot his speech at home. How was he supposed to give a decent speech without saying something stupid or offensive without a pre-written one? He was sure he left it near the door, so he'd remember to pick it up. Or maybe he put it in his pocket before hand. Haymitch began to tap frantically at his pockets, hoping that he would hear a scrunch of paper - but there was no noise. He'd just have to make it up as he goes a long, hoping for the best.

The slow music started playing and everyone took their seats, including Haymitch. He was sat right at the front, staring at her coffin. About 3 centimetres of wood was preventing Haymitch from seeing her beautiful face...her cold, lifeless face. The ceremony seemed to drag, so much Haymitch forgot to listen. Before he knew it, the speeches were starting to take form one by one. Peeta nudged Haymitch after he'd finished his own speech, to signal that it was time for his. Haymitch stood up, trying to put on a brave face in front of about 14 people.

"I just want to say that I loved her. I know what you're all thinking - he's going to drone on about how much he loved her and what their plans were together - well actually, I'm not. We didn't have any plans. We were perfectly content with what we had and that was the way we liked it. If she wanted something, she'd get it. If I wanted something, I'd get it, and we'd both try our hardest to make sure our wishes were fulfilled. Only, I never wanted much when I was with her - if I'm totally honest, the only thing I wanted was her to be happy and safe." Haymitch paused for a moment and looked down at the coffin with the bright flowers laid on top of it and continued again."This woman isn't dead. She is eternal - she has left her mark on not only our minds but on our heart and souls. Her body might not work but her soul does, I don't care about what anyone says to me. The seat next to me in front of our TV will never be removed or changed. The ornaments she insisted on putting up will stay there, even them stupid curtains." Much to Haymitch's surprise, the audience laughed at his sassy quote, giving him more enthusiasm to continue."And her wardrobe will stay the same, her make-up that takes up the whole desk will sit there and I will take the time to dust each and everyone of them, if you even dust make-up. But I'll try, I'll try to keep the house clean, the way she would have wanted it. My side will never be cold because I know that she's still there with me, only this time I won't be able to hear her nagging me when I accidentally take all the covers, or spill something. You should never cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. Is death the final sleep? No. It is the final awakening. And some people realise that death is more universal than life. Everyone dies but only some truly live, and I'm telling you this," Haymitch raised his voice, slamming his fist down on the pedestal " Effie, is one of those people."

~Effie's Trinket