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Haymitch comes over to my house again the night before I leave for the Capitol.
He has a birthday cake in his hands, decorated with intricate icing patterns.
"I made it for you- since you won't be here on your birthday," he shrugs, mumbling. "We don't have to eat it if you don't want; it's not very good-"
"No, it looks great!" I smile, placing it on the table. "Thank you, it really means a lot."
"Yeah, yeah, it's no problem." He seems to have gained confidence in his cake.
"I don't have any candles," I laugh.
"No candles? For your seventeenth birthday?" he shakes his head.
I roll my eyes and cut a small slice off, "Candles are only good when you sing 'Happy Birthday' anyways."
"Well, yeah, obviously."
"You were gonna sing to me?" I raise my eyebrows.
"Maybe not..." he nods, laughing.
I hand him a slice and then dig into my own. Haymitch waits in anticipation as I chew.
"Do you like it?"
I nod, grinning. "Oh my God, yeah, it's really good!"
"Oh- good, I'm glad; I didn't use a recipe, so I wasn't sure how it'd turn out."
"Why aren't you a baker?" I ask, going back in for another bite.
He laughs. "I mean, it probably has something to do with a certain president and his lousy traditions."
I chuckle, looking into his eyes. They're a light icy blue. Something about him makes me want to never look away.
He clears his throat and looks away. I do the same, broken out of my trance.
"So, um, how did talking to your parents go?" he asks, looking down at his hands, then back at me.
I sigh and grab the bridge of my nose. "My mother is mad at me."
"Why?" His eyebrows furrow. "What did she say?"
"She said that I'm being a slut," I chuckle, looking down at my fingernails. I know this isn't something to laugh about, but the only alternative is crying.
Haymitch frowns. "She just doesn't understand. She wouldn't say that if she knew everything. You know that."
"My dad is disappointed in me, too, I can tell. He's just... nicer."
"Could you tell them about Snow's threat?"
I shake my head. "No, I could never."
"Yeah... Yeah, no, probably not," he nods, biting his lip. "I'm really sorry, Em."
I look up at him when he uses my nickname.
"I- I meant Emmeline. Sorry."
"No- no, it's okay. We're friends, you can call me Em," I smile, my face flushing.
He chuckles. "Oh, okay. Good, then."
It's silent for a moment while the two of us have another bite of cake. "Are you coming to the train platform again tomorrow to see me off?"
"Did you want me to?"
"Only if you want to. It's nice to have someone."
"I'll walk you there, if you want," he offers.
"It'll be at 7 am," I say.
"That's fine."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, of course." He stands up and takes our plates to the sink. "Could you play?" he nods towards the piano.
"Mhm," I slide my slippers on and sit down at the piano bench, starting to play a sweet and serenely calm melody.
It reminds me of what it feels like to lay in the meadow on a sunny day, the breeze gently blowing through the grass and ruffling your hair. The blue sky, clouds drifting across, a faint smell of wildflowers.
It's very peaceful. I occasionally look back to see Haymitch, leaning on his elbow and watching me play. He looks mesmerized.
After about half of an hour has passed, I close the piano and grab a blanket from one of my armchairs.
"That was really nice," Haymitch says groggily. He looks tired.
I sit on the opposite end of the couch. "You know, I think you'd sleep better in a bed," I suggest.
"Oh- no, I don't wanna invade-"
"Haymitch, we've slept on the couch together, and that's much smaller than my bed is," I joke.
He laughs, rubbing the back of my neck. "I mean, if you're really comfortable with-"
"Yeah, yeah, of course," I say, hugging the blanket in my arms. "I wouldn't offer if I wasn't."
He nods and stands up. "Well, alright."
I go upstairs into my bedroom and pull back the desperately unused covers.
We both crawl into my bed, facing away from each other. I want to be closer to him, but I also want to keep the friendship we have.
The next morning, I wake up with my hand clutching his.
I check the time and gently shake his shoulder, not letting go of his hand yet. He sleepily opens one eye.
"Yeah?"
"I don't know if you still want to walk me to the train, but I gotta leave in a quarter of an hour," I say.
He glances at our interlocked fingers and I quickly pull my hand away from his. "Oh- okay, I'll go back to my house and get ready."
"Thank you for coming with me."
"You've already said that," he grins, getting up and stretching his arms.
"See you in a couple minutes?"
He nods. "See you in a couple minutes."
I wave at him as he walks out of my bedroom. Then, I stand up and go to my bathroom, running a brush through my hair.
I throw on a pair of joggers and a sweater then call it good. I'll have plenty of time to actually get ready once I'm on the train.
I have enough extra time to write my parents a note to put on my doorstep in case they try to visit me. Even though I've already told them I'm leaving, they might come over to check if I've actually gone or not.
In the note, I tell them where I am and that I'm sorry that I couldn't share my birthday with them.
Then, I throw on a coat and walk outside, securing the note halfway under my doormat.
Haymitch comes out of his house at the same time, wearing jeans and a nice peacoat.
"Hey- thanks again," I say as I walk up to him.
He puts an arm around my shoulders. "How many times are you gonna thank me?" he chuckles.
"Well, you've just been doing a lot for me."
He shrugs. "It's not like I have much else to spend my time doing."
I laugh. "Yeah, I guess. I just really appreciate it."
He nods and puts his arm back by his side. Our hands brush together as we walk, causing a swooping sensation in my stomach every time they do.
Then, I get to the train station and give him one last wave, preparing to go to the Capitol and pretend to love countless other men.
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