Why Did You Keep Me Close?

The next morning had come far too quickly. Haymitch sat in the living room of the penthouse and stared out the window. At the city that would today once again happily bow to an enduring tradition that had destroyed dozens of lives and claimed even more. He knew that things would be harder for him today than on other days. While the people around him would celebrate and cheer, he would sink further into the hole that had been pulling him deeper and deeper for years. Further and further, until there was no turning back.

The children had been picked up early in the morning by their prep-teams and flown to the secret location where the arena was located. It was still early. The sun had not yet reached its zenith, but Haymitch was sitting on the sofa, fully dressed and ready to get the day over with. He was waiting for Effie, who, just as he had expected, took forever to get ready. He hadn't shown up for breakfast. On days like this, he didn't need food in his stomach. It was already heavy enough as it was.

After Effie left his room in the middle of the night yesterday, Haymitch had lain awake for a long time, thinking about her words. Here, it's so easy to forget what's real and surreal. She knew more than she let on. She knew how to survive in the Capitol, even if she may not have actively realized it.

We were raised to support them. It wasn't the answer the young victor would have wanted, and yet it didn't sound like someone who stood behind the Games unquestionably. Contrary to his claims, she was anything but stupid; nor cruel for watching the Games. She was just trying to survive, even if she wasn't as aware of it as he was.

Many people like to forget. What is the alternative, Haymitch? There was none, he knew that better than anyone. For someone like Effie, there was none. She was fragile, breakable, and vulnerable. You either supported the regime or gave your life. Haymitch knew that Effie loved the Capitol. He knew that there had been a point in her life when she had watched the Games and hadn't cared about the lives that were being destroyed. But the worst part was that he couldn't even blame her.

"What has she done to you?" he murmured quietly to himself, lowering his gaze to his polished, black patent leather shoes. The deadly silence in the room gave him no answer. In his head, she used the Capitol's polite form of speech, even though last night, for once, her sentences had been full of contractions.

After yesterday, which somehow hadn't felt quite real, Haymitch was now back in the gruesome reality that tightened its noose around his throat with each passing day. The day would come when he could no longer bear the pressure this world put on him. Deep down he knew that it would happen at some point, sooner or later. No one could carry what he experienced every year on their shoulders forever. The victors of the other Districts were just lucky that there were more of them. More shoulders to share the suffering on. They could take turns. In 12, that wasn't an option. Haymitch was alone. He would always be alone.

The distant click of shoes jolted Haymitch out of his thoughts and automatically he rose from his chair. When Petunia had been an escort, he had never waited for her to drive them to the sponsors' lounge. If he had even considered showing up there. He hadn't seen the inside of the place in years and his enthusiasm to return was clearly limited.

Effie entered the room like a storm. Each of her movements was a mixture of elegance and haste that only she could manage. Haymitch only had to glance at her face to know that her mind had left her body behind somewhere along the way. Her thoughts were probably already on the sponsors they had to convince today.

It was only at second glance that Haymitch noticed her eccentric appearance and it almost struck him on the spot. Effie wore a floor-length, bright yellow dress with an open cut. Rapeseed-yellow ruffles dominated the front part of the fabric, which consisted of glittering rhinestones at her hips and extended up to her cleavage. The dress had no straps and covered neither her neck nor her arms. The pair of monstrous high heels, which he had an excellent view of thanks to the not too tight cut, made him dizzy.

A satisfied smile spread across Effie's lips as she approached, and Haymitch suddenly realized that she was a little taller than him in her shoes. It seemed to amuse her, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. A second later, he groaned to himself as the wig on her head came into focus. It wasn't even a proper wig, more of a hat of some sort that he couldn't really put his finger on. The only thing about her that didn't scream extravagance were the circular silver earrings that accentuated her narrow face, and the makeup, which was surprisingly subtle.

"What's the saying? The more attention-grabbing, the bigger the embarrassment?" Haymitch couldn't resist making his comment. What was she thinking with that monstrosity of a dress? When it came to fashion, she was a Capitol through and through.

Effie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You look handsome too, thank you very much," she remarked, insulted, and strutted past him in the direction of the elevators. With her brisk steps, the young victor had no choice but to follow her. He sighed and a small grin crept onto his lips.

Only when they entered the elevator did Effie turn to Haymitch again. His gaze, which had been resting on her shoes until that second, shot up to her face. He was amazed at how she managed to put one foot in front of the other so flawlessly in those things. "Even your tie is tied properly," she said in a slightly milder tone.

Haymitch was wearing one of the standard black tuxedos that hung in his prepared closet. He shrugged and gave her a mischievous grin. "If I want to, I can do anything, sweetheart."

A small, theatrical sigh escaped Effie, and she pressed her lips together. "I expect your best behavior outside," was all she said before linking arms with Haymitch and imitating his mischievous grin.

The press pounced on the two of them the moment they emerged from the massive glass doors of the Training Center. Effie took the time to answer a few questions about their tributes here and there, hoping potential sponsors were watching. Haymitch, who was still linked arm-in-arm with her, said nothing. All he managed was an arrogant smile at the camera. They hadn't been outside for five minutes, yet he was already sweating under the multiple layers of his suit. The sunlight burned into Haymitch's body, and with every word that came out of Effie's mouth, he lost a little more patience.

An Avox, also dressed entirely in black, opened the doors to a long, dark car for them, and Haymitch let go of Effie, who flashed him a bright smile over the car roof before gracefully and with her head held high, climbed into the vehicle. He banged his head trying to follow suit. Effie giggled into her hand and rolled her eyes playfully, a smirk on her lips.

Haymitch returned her smile without hesitation, and in that moment, he realized he was too sober for all of this. Just a week ago, alarm bells would have rung in his head at the mere thought of returning her smile. And now he did it without a second thought. He couldn't deny it. The tension between them seemed to grow a little more with each passing day, and the voice in his head, the one that was still somewhat rational, warned him of the game they were playing on a knife's edge. Sooner or later, one of them would stumble over that edge and set the avalanche in motion. Haymitch wasn't sure if he had the strength to do the right thing. He wasn't even sure what the right thing was anymore.

The atmosphere between them changed the moment the car started moving with a quiet whirring sound. The shadow of today hung in the air. The fear of the starting canon and what consequences it would trigger. The pressure to get the best out of the children. The hope that their tributes would even last long enough to start looking for sponsors.

Effie moved closer to him in a casual movement. Haymitch wondered how she managed to move her body in such a fluid, elegant way in that monster. It was a mystery to him. Of course she didn't think it was necessary to buckle up. For a split second he considered asking her about it, but a sideways glance at her dress was enough. He knew she was more concerned with keeping the shape of the fabric intact than with her own safety. It was so typical of her to worry about such details that he sighed to himself.

It wasn't long before Effie began to prepare him for the hours ahead. "Today is perhaps the most important day of all, even if the sponsors' interest today lies mainly in the hands of the tributes. They will choose their favourites as soon as the starting gun goes off. The better their performance in the first few hours, the easier our job will be."

And off began the never-ending stream of words. They would have about an hour before the Hunger Games officially began. Effie wanted to use this time to analyze the situation and make the first contacts. She mentioned a number of names, but Haymitch had already tuned out of her monologue. He didn't want to know who he would have to wrap around his finger. They were probably the same people who had supported his own fellow tributes back then. The thought alone made him sick. The need to hurt someone was stronger than it had been in the days before. If he wasn't careful, it could reach its annual peak today.

The rest of the journey was a blur. Haymitch could barely remember how they had gotten out of the car or how he had ended up here, in the large reception hall of the sponsors' lounge. It stretched over an entire floor of some skyscraper sponsored by a generous billionaire. An uninterrupted glass front gave a view of the Capitol, which lay quiet and almost peaceful before him. At least at first glance. The city, behind which the sun rose, seemed to be slowly waking up. The young victor paid none of this a second's attention. All he saw were the mountains in the distance. Somewhere behind it, far away and out of his reach, lay District 12. Most of the Districts lay on the other side of the mountains that had cost them victory and freedom in the First Rebellion. Sometimes Haymitch wondered what it must have been like for people back then — how they had lived, that rebellion had become their only hope. They had been better off than people today, that much was clear, and yet they had chosen to fight.

Haymitch trotted along beside Effie, who had hooked her arm around his again and practically taken control of him. He didn't care. He just wanted this day to be over as quickly as possible. A small, selfish part of him hoped that his tributes' journey would end as soon as possible so he could go home. He hated himself for thinking this, but after yesterday, everything felt unbearable right now. Even Effie, who had put on a wide, fake smile, could tell that he wasn't quite there. Whenever no one was looking, she would give him a worried look from her sky-blue eyes, which he skillfully ignored. Just like he ignored all the other people who introduced themselves to them. A small voice in his head reminded Haymitch that he had to pull himself together. For the children. On days like this, and without alcohol in his blood to make him forget, it was difficult.

When they were unobserved for a moment, Effie turned her head towards him. Their eyes met and somehow Haymitch couldn't look away. "Are you alright?"

"This is all just too much for me," he said, pushing aside the uncomfortable feeling of exposing himself by speaking openly to Effie. He didn't elaborate on his words. He couldn't. And she wouldn't understand anyway. At least, that's what Haymitch kept telling himself.

Effie's reaction caught him by surprise as she pulled him away from the colorful crowd without wasting another breath. She led him past the Avoxes serving drinks and small dishes and didn't stop until they reached a corner by the stairway that led up to the main lounge. Since most people used the elevators, the stairwell was deserted. The yellow fabric of her dress swirled in a circular motion as she turned to face Haymitch, studying him intently. Her eyes scanned his face, moved down his neck, then back up to meet his gaze.

"How can I help you?" Effie asked, her voice soft but clear.

A humorless laugh escaped Haymitch's throat, and he leaned his head back to avoid looking at her as she stood there in all her glory, actually trying to take care of him. "Sweetheart, your presence is help enough." He reached out to pat her arm.

"Without me, you would not even be here today," Effie remarked, her voice taking on a strange tone he couldn't quite interpret. He could hear her deep breathing without looking at her. Oxygen rushed into her lungs in long, drawn breaths, as if she were having trouble getting enough air.

"You're probably right," he admitted, leaning against the wall that led up the glass staircase. The damn Capitols and their love for glass ... It was one of the few walls on this floor, and right now he was happy to hide from the greedy eyes of the people for a few moments.

Haymitch closed his lips and pressed his lips together. He could feel the short, rough stubble on his upper lip, pricking against his skin. Why was he acting like this? He was Haymitch Abernathy. He had won the 50th Hunger Games. He had nothing to fear from these people or from today. He was a survivor. And yet the despair that he always kept carefully locked in the cage deep inside him seemed to be fighting its way to the surface today.

A warm touch made him flinch. Haymitch jerked his head down. Effie had approached him. He hadn't even heard her footsteps. So much for being a victor. Her slender hand, which she had placed on his arm, seemed even more delicate than usual in contrast to him. Now she was standing right in front of him, a few centimeters were all that separated them and if he wanted to, he could easily wrap his arms around her.

A gentle smile was on Effie's lips as she ran her long fingers along the hem of his jacket. The gesture radiated such calm that Haymitch immediately relaxed. "Think of the children," she said now, her sparkling sapphire blue eyes meeting his. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her. "If it makes you feel better, you are allowed to drink today as an exception."

"Since when do you decide whether I drink or not?" Haymitch's voice took on a teasing tone for a second. But now that she had reminded him of alcohol, he could feel the need for it in his throat. A hot burning that would only subside when the cool tingling ran down his throat.

Finally, Haymitch nodded and almost automatically reached for Effie's hand, which was still resting on his upper arm. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said, and now he was the one with the fake smile and the fake cheerfulness on his face. "We'll take care of the sponsors, just that you do the talking while I ... try to smile."

"Smiling would be a start," Effie said with a small but genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle. She tugged on the hand he still held in his own, and Haymitch pushed himself away from the wall. He knew the next few hours wouldn't be pleasant. He knew he would probably drink himself unconscious tonight to patch up the hole in his chest. And yet Effie's hand was enough to make his heart beat slower. It certainly wouldn't heal his wounds, but he could feel the strength, the warmth, the hope radiating from her. He couldn't help but feel drawn to it.

Effie's warmth left his body the moment he entered the actual sponsor lounge. The inside of his palm tingled where Effie's skin had just touched his. Like the ghost of a connection that didn't require physical contact.

The sponsors' lounge spanned several floors. The level Haymitch now surveyed seemed to be the main area. This was where official speeches were held, bets were finalized, and sponsor gifts were purchased — everything directly connected to the Hunger Games. Unlike the entry level one floor below, only two of the four outer walls here were made of glass. The opposite side was lined with monitors of all sizes. The main screens, broadcasting the state television program, were positioned in the center and dominated most of the space. Surrounding them were smaller versions that would focus on the individual Districts as the Games progressed. Orange sofas and armchairs were scattered almost randomly throughout the massive room.

Naturally, amidst the rich and glamorous, every detail of catering had been meticulously planned. Artistic towers of gourmet, exquisite foods piled high on gold-trimmed plates and platters. Edible platinum and silver, sparkling glitter, and a color palette that seemed to have neither beginning nor end — that was the standard for the chefs at a lavish event like this. In front of one of the glass walls was a long bar area. A fountain of rainbow-colored water gushed from a fixture on one of the counters, seemingly an elaborate advertisement for one of the drinks being offered there.

The lounge was bursting at the seams. Avoxes rushed around with trays, catering to the guests' every whim. Allied mentors gathered one last time for a strategy meeting before the Games began. Hunger Games officials were present. Escorts from the various Districts. Even some younger Gamemakers in training. Scattered Peacekeepers, dressed more discreetly than usual, blended almost seamlessly into the background. And, of course, the elite — the entrepreneurs, influencers, and socialites.

On the main screen, Caesar Flickerman's show was playing, counting down the final minutes until the Hunger Games' opening. Soon, one of the more seasoned Gamemakers would step in front of the camera to introduce this year's arena. A crowd in colorful, expensive evening wear had gathered near the betting offices to the left of the large displays. Nothing unusual in the final moments before the starting gun. It was the last chance to place bets on a favorite.

Haymitch turned his head away in disgust. "I need a drink," he muttered, stomping toward the bar without waiting for Effie's reaction. She murmured something he didn't catch but followed him.

"One glass surely will not hurt," she then said in her artificially cheerful voice as she caught up to him. Haymitch marveled at how it was even possible that, despite those absurdly high heels, she managed to keep pace with him. She moved as if she had been born in exactly that outfit. Her legs found the ground as if she were walking barefoot. Her gait radiated such confidence and precision that he couldn't help but wonder how long she must have practiced to master this floor. He knew she didn't come from this world. Effie had made that clear more than once. And yet, she blended in with the people around her as if she had never done anything else.

Haymitch was still staring at her when she handed him a drink. His focus changed and he furrowed his brows suspiciously. The liquid in the glass was pink in color and the silver glitter particles gave him a headache. "I knew you'd be into that sort of thing," he said dryly, putting the alcohol down on the counter and ordering something stronger.

"A simple thank you would have been enough," Effie replied, her lips twisting in dissatisfaction as Haymitch drained the glass he was handed in one go. She sipped her pink drink and then let her gaze wander over the crowd. "Half an hour more."

Haymitch's only response to her words was a second drink. He knew that even alcohol wouldn't save his day today, and yet he was willing to try anything. These people were making him sick. Watching them dig into the buffet made the bile rise in the young victor. Their greedy fingers clutched the elaborately made appetizers as if they hadn't eaten in days. Haymitch knew that just one of these macarons was worth enough to feed a family in 12 for days. And here they were stuffing themselves one after the other, throwing them up later, only to eat more.

"Effie!" a voice called out at that moment and Haymitch sighed to himself because he couldn't bear to talk to another one of these Capitols. Let alone pretend that he wasn't exploding with anger, shame and nausea every second.

A young man approached them. He had medium-length black hair, slightly longer than Haymitch's, falling just over his ears, slicked back in a casual style. But it was his beard that caught Haymitch's attention. He had to press his lips together to keep from bursting into laughter. The stranger's beard had an oddly shaped curve, almost like a wave, stretching from his chin up to his sideburns. Was that supposed to be fashionable?

"Seneca." The way Effie said the man's name made Haymitch look up. His eyes darted between the two as Seneca stopped right in front of Effie, took her hand, and kissed her on the cheek. A smile spread across Effie's face, and to Haymitch's dismay and surprise, it wasn't one of her fake, practiced smiles. She had never smiled at him like that. The young victor wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Please forgive my silence, but I truthfully underestimated the workload during the Games," Seneca said, shrugging. His voice was firm and steady, with just a touch of overconfidence for his age. Yet he gave Effie an apologetic look without seeming weak or insincere.

"Do not worry, I already assumed something like that. After all, it is your first season as a fully trained Gamemaker." Effie laughed a girlish, enthusiastic laugh and touched Seneca on the elbow of his orange jacket. "Is everything to your satisfaction?"

A Gamemaker, then. That explained the searching, calculating look in his blue eyes. As if this was all nothing more than a big game that needed to be planned. Haymitch's grip on his glass tightened. He couldn't take his eyes off Seneca, whose vain posture revealed more about him than Haymitch liked. His back was completely straight, his shoulders were confidently back, and the way he strung his words together spoke of a proud, determined upbringing that he must have enjoyed as a child.

"A job full of highs," Seneca replied, smiling slightly as his gaze wandered over Effie's outfit. "I see you have already settled in. It is truly a coincidence that we are starting in the same year, do you not think so?"

"How true." Finally, Effie turned back to Haymitch. For a brief moment, their eyes hung in the air between them. Displeasure in his, excitement in hers. "Let me introduce you to someone. This is the mentor of my District. Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the fiftieth Hunger Games. Haymitch, this is Seneca Crane, Gamemaker and a close acquaintance of mine."

At the words close acquaintance, Haymitch mockingly raised his eyebrows. Nevertheless, he nodded to Seneca and didn't let the anger rising within him show. A Crane, then. Everyone knew the Crane family. They belonged to the elite. No wonder he had chosen the path of a Gamemaker. These people infiltrated all state organs, financed their own companies and played a major role in the downfall of this country.

Seneca returned Haymitch's nod, and a spark flashed in the young Gamemaker's eyes. "Of course, how could I ever forget your Games. A Quarter Quell. The arena was a masterpiece."

"Oh yes, it was, wasn't it?" Haymitch replied, making an effort to sound enthusiastic. "I always like to look back. Especially at all those dead kids."

Seneca Crane was either very good at ignoring Haymitch's sarcasm or he genuinely didn't understand it. His smile widened as he took a sip from the champagne glass that the Avox behind the bar wordlessly pushed toward him. "You have my respect, Mister Abernathy."

Haymitch bowed slightly and couldn't stop the grin from playing on his lips. Effie gave him a warning look, which he skillfully ignored. "Unfortunately, I have to say farewell again. There is a new arena to present," said Seneca, turning to Haymitch with a wink. "I hope you like it." Then his attention returned to Effie and the look in his eyes took on a seriousness that made Haymitch uncomfortable. "I will get in touch with you when I have a moment to myself, I promise it." He squeezed her hand once, then he disappeared into the crowd of people.

"You forgot to mention you have a boyfriend, sweetheart." The teasing tone of Haymitch's voice was a little sharper than he had planned, which Effie didn't miss. He decided he didn't care what she interpreted from it. All he knew was that he didn't like the way the two of them were interacting. She could know that. She could feel a little guilty for keeping him in the dark.

"Seneca is not my boyfriend," Effie said immediately. The joy she had felt seconds before was replaced by a dark expression that she now gave Haymitch. "We are ordinary friends."

"Oh, but you were close acquaintances just now," Haymitch reminded her with a mocking grin. "How long has that been going on?"

"Nothing's going on," hissed Effie, her manners suddenly forgotten. She snatched the glass of alcohol that the Avox had just handed him from his hand. "You've had enough to drink, Haymitch."

"But it doesn't feel like it," the young victor replied, not really knowing which part of Effie's words he was referring to. "We should go."

Haymitch made his way through the crowd, ignoring Effie. Maybe it's for the best, he tried to tell himself. Now you can finally get her out of your head. He could feel her on his heels, but amid all the wealthy Capitols, she didn't dare raise her voice. Only when he stopped in the shadow of one of the screens to survey the scene did she grab his wrist and turn him toward her.

"What is your problem?" Effie asked in a whispering, demanding tone, throwing him a reproachful look from her sparkling eyes. Only now did he notice that her bright outfit seemed to swallow the color of her pupils. Just like the Capitol did with all the beautiful things.

"You're my problem," Haymitch said without hesitation, wondering once again about himself. It was too early for the alcohol to have already taken over. After everything he had been through, he wasn't a man of many words. Or emotions. And yet there was something bubbling in his chest that he could hardly ignore.

"And why is that?" Effie looked tensely from side to side, as if she was afraid someone might overhear their conversation. In the distance, increased clapping broke through the noise of the people around them. Cheering whistles became louder. The crowd began to cheer.

Haymitch's eyes darted over the heads of the Capitols to the stage where Seneca Crane was preparing to take his position. You would think that the fresh Gamemaker would be nervous, but all this man radiated was self-assured euphoria. The smile of his sparkling white teeth shone out at the people, and they greeted Crane as one of their own. Because he was none other than that. He was one of them. Someone from the elite. And he was here to deliver to them what had brought them together like hungry beasts: blood.

"Because I don't want to be one of your toys," Haymitch replied, jerking his head back in her direction and waiting for her reaction, which didn't come. Effie's face remained unusually rigid. Saying nothing. "I don't know what this is, Effie, but I'm a pawn on the game board for enough puppet masters. I'm not going to be yours too."

Something stirred in Effie's eyes. Was it confusion? Anger? Understanding? Haymitch could only guess. All he knew was that she had lied to him. She had played with him as if she were free, as if she were not on her way to catching her own Gamemaker. She couldn't hate the machine that much. We were raised to support them. Suddenly he couldn't push the image of Laetitia Lowell out of his mind. Deep down he knew he was being unfair. After all, they were nothing and they never would be; their origins had sealed that at birth.

Effie opened her mouth, but Haymitch beat her to it. "Do what you think is right, I won't stop you or judge you. This is your world. I'll be where I always am."

On the sidelines. With no way to change the outcome, no matter how hard he tried. He had been stupid enough to let his facade fall anyway.

-

I really really like this chapter. Effie und Haymitch get closer, but then there's Seneca being introduced at the same time. What's your opinion on Seneca?