After winning his first games, Haymitch had naively thought that he would come home the same person. That somehow killing and watching people die would be left behind at the Capitol, and not haunt him for years to come. He had been where Katniss was right now, trapped inside of her head, living out her worst fears and watching the horrors that she had already lived through play on repeat until she could shake herself away. The Victors had always been promised fame and fortune for their time, but no one had ever thought to talk about the invisible scars and the trauma that stayed with every winner. It wasn't just Haymitch who felt this way, and even the most well adjusted Victor had their problems. It was why Johanna acted the way she did, and why Finnick played to the few strengths he had left. This quell had been cruel, and seeing Katniss this way only made Haymitch more angry about the whole thing.

It was dark in her room, but as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Haymitch could make out the tears staining Katniss's cheeks. He leaned closer to her, giving her another shake as she said the names of those she cared about the most. “Come on, Katniss,” he said to her, and wasn't surprised as her hand shot out violently to grab him. Her nails dug briefly into his skin before her eyes popped open and her grip immediately slackened. She looked confused, unsure of where she was and again, Haymitch sympathized. His nightmares had lessened over the years, but they still crept up on him every now and then. Katniss shouldn't have ever had to get used to this.

“I'm alright,” he confirmed with a nod, letting her touch him and make sure for herself. He took a seat on the edge of her bed and watched as she wiped her eyes. It was clear that Katniss was embarrassed by what happened, and maybe even a little ashamed, but Haymitch just wanted to make sure she was okay. All lectures aside, he was there as a friend for the moment, someone who cared about her as more than just a symbol and the key to a brighter, more hopeful future.

Her voice was shaking, and although Katniss tried to assure him that it was only a bad dream, Haymitch knew better. “Been there,” he confessed, trying to make her feel better about it. “When I first came home after everything was over, I used to have dreams about Maysilee. I'd try and save her and something always went wrong and it was always my fault.” It had taken him a long time to even speak to Maysilee's sister afterward, and Haymitch always felt guilty for being the one to come home. “I know it feels real, but,” he paused, unsure of what he was even going to say when Katniss truly did have so much to lose. 

Haymitch sighed, “I don't know what to say to help you.” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, at a loss for what to do. The only thing that had stopped his nightmares was getting blackout drunk and that wasn't exactly something to recommend. 

Some time ago, Prim had wondered how long she could lay in the dark with her eyes closed before she finally fell asleep, but the blonde had began to obsess about that too. Her mind simply wouldn't turn off and Prim was finding new things to think about every few seconds. If it wasn't training, then it was the games, and then her mother, and then Gale's mother, and his siblings, and how many people there were going to be watching her during those interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Prim wasn't cut out for this sort of thing, but she did think that Gale was. She didn't know why he was doubting himself, or why he was letting it keep him awake, but she was the smallest big glad he had come to find her.

“Oh,” she laughed softly when he mentioned her hair. She reached up to run her fingers through it and then scooted over to make room for Gale to sit down. The bed was big, double the size of the one she had back at home and so much more comfortable. She laid her head down on the pillow, on her side as she looked up at Gale through the darkness in the room. She could barely see him, and that didn't seem ideal for conversation.

Her eyes adjusted to the dark all over again and Prim spotted a remote on the nightstand next to Gale. She shifted around a little and reached across him, grabbing it and pressing one of the buttons. The overhead lights remained off but the wall across from the bed glowed to life with an image of a forest. “I didn't know that was going to happen,” she said, surprised. It reminded her of home, though and it provided enough light so that she could finally see Gale. She set the remote aside and turned back to him, finally noticing that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Her eyes lingered on him for longer than they should have before Prim forced herself to look away. “I'm sorry you feel like you're suffocating,” she told him as she lay back down. “I feel like that too and I'm so worried about tomorrow that I can't sleep. I'm exhausted, but,” she sighed, afraid she was saying too much. “You shouldn't worry so much. You're going to do great.” Gale was like Katniss, he had all the necessary skills to survive but he was just over thinking it.