to win - haymitch abernathy

³⁴ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓃𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝐼𝐼𝐼

ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ-ꜱɪx

"Hay Haymitch,

Spring is finally here, bringing with it a sense of renewal and hope. The winter frost has melted away, making room for blooming flowers, vibrant colors, and the sweet scent of grass. It's a time when nature reminds us that even after the harshest of seasons, life finds a way to emerge once again.

I can't help but feel a surge of optimism in the air. The districts are buzzing with preparations for planting season, and there's a collective sense of anticipation for the bountiful harvest to come. It's amazing how the cycle of life continues, reminding us that despite the challenges we face, there is always room for growth and transformation.

I hope you're experiencing the same energy of spring in District 12. The sight of new life sprouting from the ground must be a comforting reminder of the resilience of our people. Take a moment to enjoy the beauty around you, to let the warmth of the sun touch your face, and to appreciate the small miracles that come with this time of year.

Here's to a season of new beginnings, Haymitch. May the spirit of spring bring you renewed strength, clarity, and a sense of purpose. And remember, no matter the distance between us, our friendship remains steadfast and true.

With warmth,

Rosemary."

♕

Rosemary sat at her small wooden desk, bathed in the soft, golden light of the afternoon sun that filtered through the curtains of her modest District home. It was spring, and life had begun to bloom all around her. The gentle hum of life in the districts was slowly waking from its winter slumber, and Rosemary found herself in the midst of it, her heart filled with a sense of rebirth and hope.

She had spent the past few weeks pouring her thoughts and emotions onto a piece of parchment. The pen in her hand had danced across the page, its ink translating the whispers of her heart into words. Rosemary was penning a letter, one she had been crafting with care and consideration. It was a letter destined for Haymitch, a name she couldn't help but feel a complex mix of emotions for.

As she put the finishing touches on her letter, Rosemary felt her fingers tremble slightly. Her thoughts had drifted back to the times when she and Haymitch had been closer, when their bond had been stronger. She wondered if those days could ever be resurrected, like the flowers that were now blooming outside her window. There was anticipation in her heart, a longing to bridge the chasm that had grown between them.

With great care, she folded the parchment, her actions imbued with a tenderness that only a heartfelt letter could evoke. Each fold seemed to whisper the love and longing she felt deep within her soul. Rosemary carefully placed the letter into an envelope, sealing it with a firm press, as if sealing her own hopes and dreams within.

Tucking the envelope into her bag, she rose from her desk and made her way outside. The spring breeze greeted her, a gentle caress on her cheeks. It felt like a sign, a blessing from nature itself, as if the universe approved of her decision to reach out to Haymitch.

Her steps were purposeful as she walked towards the mailbox, which stood at the edge of her property. To Rosemary, it was more than just a mailbox; it was a portal to another world, a world where her words could reach Haymitch and, just maybe, rekindle what had been lost.

When she arrived at the mailbox, her hand hesitated over the opening for a moment. Doubt gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside. She had come this far; she couldn't turn back now. With a deep breath, she released the envelope into the mailbox, watching as it disappeared into the depths. It was a small act, but it held the weight of her hopes and fears, her yearning for connection. As the mailbox closed with a soft thud, Rosemary couldn't help but linger for a moment, her gaze fixed on it. She sent a silent plea to the universe, a whispered prayer that her words would find their way to Haymitch's heart, that they would touch him in a way that words had not in a long time.

"Sending another letter, Rose?" came a familiar voice from behind. It was Quartz, who she had been growing closer too by each passing day. Rosemary turned to face him, a sense of relief washing over her as she realized he harbored no resentment towards her for surviving the Hunger Games.

"I guess so," Rosemary replied, her fingers playing nervously with the edge of her bag. "But he never answers."

Quartz nodded knowingly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I remember when you loathed him. Oh, sweet times those were," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. He couldn't help but tease her, even as he sent a warm smile her way.

"You know I still do," Rosemary insisted, but her words held less conviction than they once had.

"Keep telling yourself that, and your heart will hate you, girl," Quartz replied with a chuckle before he walked away, leaving Rosemary with her thoughts and her hopes, wondering if this time, her letter would bring about a change in the tangled web of emotions that bound her to Haymitch.

Rosemary found solace in the subtle changes she observed in Quartz's behavior. The drinking, once a frequent escape, had receded like a distant tide. It was as if the Victory Village had offered him a semblance of peace, a haven midst the remnants of trauma. Porter, too, had embarked on a similar journey of self-recovery, and Rosemary couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment seeing them both on the path to healing. 

One particular evening, as the sun cast its warm glow over the horizon, Rosemary's thoughts drifted to Porter, who manage to find love whilst she least expected it. Rose had grown fond of the man who had surreptitiously entered Porter's life, bringing with him a quiet strength and kindness. The late-night visits that he shared with her held a sense of comfort, a refuge from the lingering shadows of the past.

Rosemary vividly recalled the day she had first encountered him while running errands in town. Their chance meeting had left him in a state of disbelief, his eyes widening as recognition dawned upon him. In that moment, Rosemary had made a promise – a promise to keep their meeting a secret from Porter until she deemed the time was right. She knew that Porter deserved that much, a moment to introduce the man who had found his way into their lives, a man she was convinced was a good one.

As the days wore on, Rosemary couldn't help but turn her thoughts to her own endeavors. She had penned countless letters to Haymitch, each filled with the raw emotions that had surged through her in the wake of the tour. Her words were a lifeline, an attempt to reach across the chasm that had opened up between them. Yet, with each passing day, the silence from Haymitch grew louder, a void that left her heart aching.

After her return home from the tour, Rosemary had hoped, even expected, that Haymitch would come to visit, that he would bridge the gap they had allowed to form. But he never did. It was a silence that cut deeper than any words could convey, a silence that left her wondering if her letters had reached him at all.

Walking away from the mailbox, her mind swirled with a myriad of possibilities. What if he hadn't received her letters? What if they were lost midst the tumult of his own struggles and pain? The uncertainty gnawed at her, tugging at her heartstrings. Yet, despite it all, Rosemary refused to relinquish her hope.

"Please, Haymitch, can't you just answer?" she whispered to the empty air, her voice carrying a mixture of longing and desperation. She retraced her steps back inside her house, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as she closed the door behind her.

Days turned into weeks, and Rosemary's daily ritual remained unchanged. Every day- like clockwork, Rosemary went outside and checked her mailbox. But Haymitch never responded.