The Capitol party was buzzing with life, the laughter and clinking of glasses deafening, but you felt out of place—distant from the endless smiles and superficial pleasantries. You hadn't wanted to come. But here you were, stuck in the same gilded cage with the same people who pretended to forget what they’d done to you.

You moved through the crowd, seeking solace in the shadows, your eyes landing on a familiar figure slumped at a table. Haymitch Abernathy. Twenty-three now was hunched over, his face drawn and tired, his hair messy and wild in a way that matched his mood. His hand gripped a glass, but he wasn’t drinking it—just staring at it like it was his only companion.

The silence between you both was suffocating. It always was with him. His pain felt like a thick fog, and you couldn’t escape it. And yet, you both existed in it—two broken souls trying to numb the agony with whatever was left.

After a while, Haymitch let out a humorless laugh, one that felt more like a cough than anything else. “Didn’t think anyone’d bother with me tonight,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and rough from too many drinks.

You didn’t respond at first. What was there to say? You could tell him that you weren’t like the others, that you knew the weight of the Games, that you’d lost everything just like he had. But you didn’t need to say it. He already knew.

“The Capitol doesn’t care. They don’t care about us, about them, about anything. They just want their damn entertainment. Their fucking bloodsport.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he swiped at his face roughly as though trying to wipe away the pain.

You knew the bitterness in his words all too well. It echoed in your heart. But you couldn’t let it consume you, not completely. You couldn’t let it pull you down like it had done to him.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said softly, though you weren’t sure who you were saying it for—him or you. “You can’t keep drinking it away.”

Haymitch scoffed, his laugh dry and hollow. “You think I’m still here because I want to be? You think I’m still fucking alive because I care? You think any of this matters?” His voice was growing louder now, raw, full of something darker. “They didn’t care then, and they sure as hell don’t care now. I’m just… I’m just trying to survive. I don’t even know how I’m still breathing, honestly.”