haymitch holds in his insides as you unclasp the bomb from one of six's tribute's tokens that beetee expertly hid.

this is it.

the whole star-crossed lovers act worked perfectly. it got you more sponsors, and more love. hell, you probably could've even won together, if you'd have really tried for that angle.

so you're going to destroy the arena. the fiftieth hunger games will have no victor. they will have destruction.

you wet the clay around the little bomb so it melts away. you flick a button on the side, and throw it over the side of the arena, where the forcefield is.

you both die happy.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

your whole body throbs, from head to toe, as you jolt awake.

not dead, not dead, not dead.

your head whips around, and you see haymitch alive, too. immediately, you assume that the capitol resuscitated both of you due to popular demand. can't have no victors, can they? better to have two than none.

snow is going to make you suffer.

for a few days, haymitch disappears completely. to his own private suite, plutarch says.

when he comes back, he tells you about a girl he saw on tv with a rainbow ruffle dress and a haunting voice.

then, for the next ten days, you and haymitch are paraded around the capitol.

haymitch is kept in a bird cage. snow's puppet.

you're allowed to walk around, but under strict rules. and it's only because the people of the capitol want a piece of you.

it's disturbing. you feel like a piece of meat.

you're finally back on the train home. you both sit against the walls of the train, processing, as haymitch watches the coffins of the other tributes of district twelve be loaded on with them.

the air is tension filled and uncomfortable. heavy with guilt and grief and loss. it leaves a sickening taste in your mouth.

“so...” haymitch croaks. you haven't properly spoken since he spoke of that girl on the television. the one with a rainbow ribbon dress. “home time.”