The Boy In Love // THG Peeta's POV

The Numbness

I tucked Haymitch into my bed with considerable effort then pulled on a clean shirt before leaving my room. I headed to the dining compartment; a large room with polished panel walls, and took a seat to wait for Effie and Katniss, who arrived shortly. My jaw almost dropped through the floor when I caught sight of Katniss in an elegant green shirt and slim fitting black pants. A gold pin I had never seen before sparkled brightly against the muted color of her shirt, bringing out those hidden flecks of copper in her green eyes.

"Where's Haymitch?" asked Effie brightly.

"Woahhh..." I sighed, enthralled by Katniss. Then I remembered how weird that must have sounded. I cleared my throat and suddenly pretended to be fascinated by my placemat. "I mean, uh, last I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap."

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie said. I raised an eyebrow at her response. It's almost as if she didn't want him around. I assumed that they would be close after so many years of working together, but apparently not.

After dinner, Effie had ushered Katniss and I into a separate compartment to view the tapes of the reapings across the districts. I'm sure Katniss was paying close attention and analyzing the competition, but I just couldn't be bothered. My days were numbered, I didn't have time to waste on pretending to care about the other tributes.

Only one of them caught my eye, a slight raven haired boy from District 8. He volunteered for someone else, and when he did, the tall blonde boy who was drawn slapped him across the face and began to yell at him. They clearly weren't family, they looked nothing alike, and I was rather puzzled at the way he reacted until I saw the blonde boy pull in the other for a tearful kiss. Peacekeepers had to pull them apart when the blonde started screaming and refused to let go of the other boy.

That reaping was followed by the one in twelve. I watched the proceedings unfold like a stranger, the way Katniss stumbled when Prim was drawn, the way I cried out when she volunteered, the silent salute. I was transfixed by the reaping, as if the events would unfold differently if I just stared at it long enough. But they didn't.  And thus my fate was sealed.

The commentators groaned comically at Haymitch's headfirst dive off the stage. Effie frowned. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I laughed.  It was almost as if Effie believed that his manners could be improved with a few tips from her. "He was drunk," I said. "He's drunk every year."

Katniss' face lit up with that rare, beautiful smile. "Every day."

"Yes," Effie hissed. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Right on cue, Haymitch stumbled into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he mumbled in in a slurred voice, leaning against the door. Then he opened his mouth as if to say more, and vomited all over the expensive carpet, tumbling into the mess.

Effie covered her mouth in shock and looked as if she would faint, but she made an effort to frown at Katniss. "So laugh away!" she said haughtily, hopping around the pool of vomit in her pointy shoes and fleeing the room.

I glanced over at Katniss, who looked like she was trying to decide whether to burst out laughing at Effie's disgust or to puke up her own dinner at the smell of Haymitch's barf. I wasn't so sure myself.

For a brief moment, Katniss and I simply observed the odd sight of our mentor trying (unsuccessfully) to rise from the contents of his own stomach, until, as if by some unspoken agreement, we both stood to help him up. We each grasped one of his arms and pulled him off the floor, careful to avoid the bile stains. 

"I tripped?" Haymitch asked. "Smells bad." He wiped his hand on his nose, smearing his face with vomit. 

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Let's get you back to your room," I said. "Clean you up a bit."

We dragged him back to his room together, dumped him in the bathtub and turned the shower on. When Katniss leaned down to wash his chest, I reached out a hand to stop her. "It's okay," I said. "I'll take it from here."

She shot me a greatful look. "All right," she said. "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

I shook my head in response. "No. I don't want them." I needed some time to myself, and besides, I felt bad about leaving his bottle of spirits on my nightstand when I tucked him into bed; that was what probably led to his current state of inehbreation.

She gave me a curt nod and exited, leaving me with the unsavory task of stripping down Haymitch, washing the vomit out of his chest hair, and tucking him into bed.

While I did so, I let my mind wander to the first time I had to deal with a drunkard. 

*flashback*

For as long as I could remember, my mother had been unstable. She tended to lose control often, be it with James, Luca, and I, or with a bottle, but she had never had much restraint. James always took it upon himself to look after her on those nights when she would drink herself into a stupor. He would tuck her into bed and prepare a drink to alleviate her inevitable headache the next morning. 

But when I was 11, something quite unexpected happened. I was ready for bed, and I entered my father's room to say goodnight, finding an unwelcome sight. My father was passed out on the floor. 

I gasped and raced to his side, fearing the worst. I screamed his name, shaking his arm with blinding desperation. But when he slurred my name and belched, my heart sank. He was drunk. This was the first time I had ever caught my father drinking. 

I grabbed his upper arm and tried to pull him up, but he was too heavy. "C'mon dad. Please get up."

He yanked his arm away and pulled a bottle of sprits to his chest, sloshing the liquid onto his shirt. "No, May."

I was on the verge of tears. It was a startling thing to see your hero, your father, passed out on the floor, mubling incoherently. "May?" I asked, trying to keep him awake so I could get him on his bed.

"Yes," he sobbed. "May...May, May, May." Then his eyes closed and he began to snore.

*end of flashback*

With Haymitch sleeping soundly, I turned the lights off and headed to my room. I was exauhsted, dealing with a drunk Haymitch was quite a handful. Once I was bundled beneath my blankets, I waited for the tears. But they never came. Instead, that same, now familiar numbness overcame my body as the train's rocking lulled me to sleep.

*****

If you didn't notice, I've decided to use the same, or almost the same dialouge as the book. What do you guys think of that? Also, if you don't know about PennyScribbles16, you should totally check out her work. She's an awesome writer, and her stories are intriguing and vary in genre. Go follow her! Before I forget, any fans of Harry Potter, and specificaly Snape, check out my fic, When Darkness Rises. Lots of love!

-Siren Song