Polyphony

I Don't Want You To Go

Effie had been pacing for so long that her colleague in the office next to hers had come to check on her, saying they could hear her shoes clacking through the walls.

She apologized, of course, and resigned herself to sitting at her desk, staring at the wall.

That only lasted for about ten minutes before she had to pace again. This time, she took off her shoes and padded across her office in thick white socks, a couple inches shorter than she had been.

Never had she regretted that free hour she'd scheduled between Haymitch's lesson and the one before him. Usually, she used it to wrap up any work she had left for the day so she could go home as soon as they were done. Now, it was just extra time for her to fill with dread and worry.

What would she say to him when he walked through her door? After all, Effie had been very clear in her desire to never set eyes on his face again.

And yet, here she was. Agreeing to see him at the slightest provocation.

Why didn't I ask him what he wants to talk about?

It was too late now. He was probably on his way as Effie was walking circles into her tile.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the knock came.

Effie glared at the clock as if that would make it not be the time that it was. No matter what, it was 4:00. Time to face the music.

Blue eyes met gray and Effie wanted nothing more than to shut the door in his face. To not have... whatever conversation he wanted to have.

Haymitch cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his feet and Effie realized she'd frozen, staring at him standing in the doorway. She steps to the side, beckoning him inside and closing the door behind him.

After her initial inability to look away from him, she resolutely did not look at him, her gaze focused on something on the floor, or the wall, or over his shoulder.

"Effie-"

"Why are you here?" She had to get it out of the way, just to stop herself from spiraling.

"I, um, I need you to tell my dumbass label that I don't need lessons anymore or they're gonna crucify me." He at least had the decency to look ashamed for asking her for a favor.

Effie responded slowly, "I... I can't do that, Haymitch."

She felt horrible for savoring the way his name felt on her tongue.

She felt even worse when his shoulders dropped and he simply sighed, as if he was disappointed but not surprised. She'd been expecting anger, resentment, another fight.

Not that.

The words rushed out of her mouth, desperately filling the silence. "I'm sorry, I just don't think you're at a level where I feel comfortable saying–"

"Save it, sweetheart. I wasn't really expecting any charity from you." Again, there was no heat in his interruption, he was just stating facts. "Thanks, anyway. I'll leave you alone now..."

Haymitch took a step toward her– toward the door– and she reached out to touch his arm without thinking.

"Haymitch, wait."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. His gaze wasn't harsh, but she could see a bitterness there, under the obvious longing.

"What, princess?"

Her heart clenched so painfully at the name, she had to blink back tears.

"I don't know, I just... I don't want you to go."