A/N: Hi guys, this is my most recent project. It has three parts and will tell three stories that all intertwine with one another. There's no set pairing as it's a story of coping with your sexuality and the judgement you can receive from the people around you. I hope you guys still give it a go anyway :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

I Just Want to Be Me

Part I

Katniss: A Story of Coming Out

Boys had never been a priority for me. They had always been there, ever since I was a child, but I had never seen them as anything more as friends. More people to talk to and enjoy the company of. Even as I grew older, and rag dolls and crayons turned into lipstick and blusher, boys did not rise any further in my list of things that were important. It seemed to do so for other girls. Even when they were still scribbling with their colouring pencils they chatted about boys. Why? I was never entirely sure. They were never that fascinating.

I felt like the odd one out. There had to be something wrong with me. Why didn't I feel the same urge to chat about boys or kiss boys or hold hands with boys? Why wasn't I like the other girls? Instead of telling myself to wise the hell up, which I should have done, I decided to pretend. To play along and act like I was like them too. I wanted to be just like them. I didn't want to be different.

I told myself I fancied the boy who sat across from me in seventh and eighth grade. He was in my reading group and we both talked a lot. I had only ever viewed him as a friend but in my desperate attempt to be normal I forced myself to be attracted to him. Even when we were still only kids I somehow became convinced that this was an important thing to focus on. Everyone else was going out with each other and kissing and doing things like that. I had to do the same so I didn't stand out.

In the end, it didn't work. I discovered that I am not good at keeping up with boys. To be honest, I grew to not want to anymore as well. What was the point? Forcing myself to like someone wasn't going to get me anywhere. It would just leave me unhappy.

This wasn't how I discovered that I'm gay. However, it did help me see that boys certainly weren't an interest of mine. At first I thought that it was maybe just because I was young. But when the lack of desire or sexual attraction followed me through to High School, I began to believe that I was maybe asexual instead. I'm not entirely sure why being a lesbian didn't come into my head first. It must have been because at the time I had as much attraction to girls as I did to boys.

That was until I developed a crush on the school badass, Clove Jettison. It took a lot for me to admit to myself openly that I was gay. I had to wait a couple of months to see if it was a phase or not but when I still found myself staring after Clove in longing when she passed me in the hallways, I realized that I was a lesbian.

It's been hard to hide who I am from the people I love. My family aren't homophobic. In fact, they're extremely open to this sort of thing. However, I worry that they might not believe me or say it's just a phase when I know it's not. I've already tried waiting it out and it hasn't passed. I am a lesbian and I want to be proud of it. But to be proud of it I'd need to be prepared to shout it from the rooftops. I can't do that. Not yet anyway.

And I've never been more content with that.

~xXx~

It's been a year and a half since I realized my sexuality and I've told no one. I don't know how to do it and I'm terrified of how my friends and family would react to it. The rest of the student body wouldn't take the news well, especially the girls in my class who've been changing with me in the locker rooms for five years now. They'll most likely feel violated and have me kicked out of the class or make me change in the boys' locker room instead. The idea makes me shudder.

For the record, I haven't looked at any girl in my class in an inappropriate way. Especially not in the changing rooms. I'm not attracted to any of them, despite what they may think of lesbians we aren't attracted to every Tanya, Denise and Harriot that crosses our paths. Besides, I only have eyes for Clove, who isn't even in my registration class.

I don't know what it is about Clove but I think she's so beautiful. Her pale skin makes her freckles stand out and her dark, luscious hair frames her face perfectly. She's the peak of gorgeousness. I know that she's not like me, though. She's been dating Marvel Winters since Sophomore Year. It hurts a little to see them together but it's something I've grown to accept. I'm going to have crushes on many people who won't be gay and I've learned to deal with that. Sort of.

Despite being determined to keep it under wraps until after I leave High School, my family find out a couple of months prior . . .

I'm applying for college online when I see it there. In plain, Arial font.

Sexual Orientation

What sort of college application needs to know my sexuality? What does it matter? Would they turn me away if they knew I'm gay? Surely not in this day and age. So why does it need to know something so personal? I tap the word 'Lesbian' and continue the rest of the application. Next year they'll be asking for bereavements, honestly!

This is how my mum finds out.

"Did you complete your online application?" she asks when we're clearing up after dinner a couple of days later.

"Uh-huh," I reply, loading the dishes into the washer. "It was really invasive, though. They ask things like your political beliefs and your sexuality and stuff. I don't understand how it's necessary but I filled it all out anyway."

"What did you put?" Mum asks.

"For what?" I immediately ask back, staring at the dirty dishes intensely. She's been questioning my sexuality for a while now. I haven't been making it entirely obvious. I haven't been waving around a rainbow flag and skipping around the house singing 'I kissed a girl and I liked it'. Maybe I give off an aura . . . Or maybe my lack of interest in boys has reached ridiculous lengths?

"Sexuality," Mum says slowly.

I swallow hard. I told myself that even if I wasn't ready to come out, I wouldn't identify myself as straight any more. It's so that I'm not lying to myself anymore or pretending to be something that I'm not. However, I didn't expect to be asked so soon by my mother about such a thing. It's my fault. I shouldn't have mentioned the question on the application!

My pause is too long. My mum cocks her head, steps closer and says, "You're not gay are you?" so quietly that I barely hear her.

Again, I don't answer.

"Katniss?" Mum whispers.

I look at her, blinking back tears with annoyance. I shouldn't be crying. I should be smiling with pride and saying, "Yes mother I am gay!" not getting upset about it! I take a deep breath and nod slowly.

"Oh sweetheart," Mum says, enfolding me in a hug. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"I don't know!" I exclaim pathetically.

"You know I love you no matter what," Mum soothes, stroking the top of my head. "God made us all, despite what some may think."

I nod rapidly and hug her back, feeling like a little bit of the weight has been lifted off of my chest.

My sister finds out because I tell her. Out of everyone I know, my sister is the one person I knew for sure would be accepting of me. I had no problem telling her about being gay, it was just trying to find the right time to slip it in that made things a little bit harder. But when I do, deciding that since mum knew then Primrose should too, she simply grins and says two words:

"I know."

And I cry again.

What? Ever since I realized my sexuality, I've been on an emotional roller-coaster that keeps going up. Hopefully, it won't go down any time soon. I'd much rather sob like a pathetic little insect, delighted with being told that I'm loved and accepted, than get told to wise up and find a boyfriend. That would truly be my downward spiral.

According to Prim, I had always showed signs of being homosexual. When we were kids-she was five and I was seven going on eight-I apparently asked her if she ever wondered what it was like to kiss the models on the front of the fashion magazines. When she'd said no, I'd quickly played it off as if I had been kidding and that I didn't either. I'm surprised Primrose remembers this because I definitely didn't.

School becomes a little bit easier to deal with once my family knows about me. My mother says that I shouldn't feel obligated to say to anyone else because it's none of their business. However, I do feel like someday I will have to tell them. Not yet. I'm quite content with where I am right now.

I'm in Chemistry, copying down our homework for the weekend, when it happens. A note is dropped onto my desk. I sit up and look around, trying to find the culprit, but see no one with their head up or looking in my direction. Frowning, I open up the note.

Meet me under the bleachers after class

~C

There's only one 'C' in my Chemistry class.

Clove.

Swallowing my excitement, I try to think about this from a logical angle. Why would Clove be sending me a note now, so close to the end of the school year? Either she's noticed me staring at her or she needs to tell me something. It has to be the former as we've never spoken to each other before, making the latter seem very unlikely.

When class ends, I try to take my time. There's no point trying to seem overly eager. This probably isn't what I'm making it out to be. She'll ask me for my Chemistry notes or enquire about the best places in the Seam to get cigarettes. It won't have anything to do with me or my hopefully-not-at-all-obvious crush on her.

Clove is late. I kind of expected this. She's not the sort of person to show up on time, I learned that much from being in her Chemistry class for the past year. When I'm beginning to lose faith that she'll even show up, I see her. Thumping her way across the football fields with her hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket and her long, brown and purple gypsy skirt swaying around her ankles. My heart picks up and I look away, opening up my copy of The Thin Executioner and pretending to have been reading casually during my wait.

"Everdeen," Clove says as she ducks underneath the bleachers.

"Oh, hi Clove," I say, closing my book but holding it tight to hide the fact that my hands are trembling like crazy.

"I didn't think you'd show up," Clove replies, flicking her ebony hair away from her eyes.

"Why's that?" I ask.

"Our types don't usually mix," Clove explains.

"Well . . . I was curious," I say. "You're right, our types don't usually mix. Hence why I'm here. I want to know why you wanted to meet up."

"I could say the same," Clove answers. I frown. What does she mean? "I've seen how you've been staring at me. I want to know why. It's beginning to freak the hell out of me and it's weirding Marvel out too."

My stomach bottoms out and I nearly drop my book onto the damp grass. "Uh . . ." I say dumbly, desperately trying to think of something to say that wouldn't come off as perverted or creepy. Clove quirks an eyebrow at me, her chocolate brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. I falter and lose my train of thought. What could I possibly say that won't cause her to be freaked out?!

"Look, Everdeen, I don't care if you're a dyke but if you're trying to keep it under your hat you're doing an awful job of it," Clove says flatly.

Hearing that word. That 'd' word that is usually used in the form of a slur makes me feel enraged, even though it's the girl I've been crushing on for forever that has said it. "Do you have to be so blunt about it?" I spit back. "So what if I am? There's no need to use that awful word!"

Clove scoffs. "So you are?" she asks.

I revert back to my stuttering self as my mind blanks out at being confronted like this. "I . . . I . . . I . . ."

" . . . am?" Clove finishes.

I flush. "So what?" I snap at her.

Clove raises her eyebrows. "Nothing," she says.

"Didn't you say that you were freaked out by my staring?" I murmur despondently.

"Yeah, when I thought you were just being a creeper," says Clove. "At least you have a glimmer of an excuse now and I won't have to punch you for being a weirdo. I may be tough but I ain't no homophobe."

This takes me by surprise. Clove was never tough in the sense of popularity protecting her. She has always been tough because she knows how to break a bitch's nose if the need comes to it. It had actually crossed my mind that she was going to do that to me for staring at her in the hallways.

"Aren't you concerned for your own safety?" I ask. "Are you not worried that I'm going to perv on you for the rest of the school year?"

Clove snorts and shakes her head. She pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and pushes one into her mouth, chortling as she lights it up. "As if! From what I've seen, you're staring at my face not my ass."

My fingers loosen a little around the edges of my book but I'm still gripped with fear. "Are you going to tell Marvel about me?" I ask.

"I'm not going to tell anyone about you," Clove says in response. She asks me if I want a cigarette but I politely turn down the offer.

I didn't expect her to say that. I had always believed that a secret as juicy as this one wouldn't last even a minute on Clove's lips. Maybe the beautiful girl I have admired from afar really does have a beautiful personality as well. "Why's that?" I ask unsurely.

Clove's eyes twinkle with mischief. She steps up to me, squaring her shoulders so she reaches my height and we're standing face to face. I freeze completely. My heart stops. My limbs stiffen. My breathing pauses in my chest. She smells of watermelon and cigarette smoke. The smell makes me feel dizzy.

"Because," Clove says, shoving her cigarette between two fingers and taking a long drag. She blows the smoke into my face, making my heart stutter and my knees wobble. I lean back against the bleachers' supporting beam to stop myself from falling over. "You're pretty hot yourself, Everdeen. In your own bookish sort of way."

I almost don't believe her. My jaw unhinges in shock and I stare at her, waiting for the joke or the punchline. Surely she isn't serious! She's been dating Marvel for . . . for . . . for I don't know how long! "What?" I gasp out in surprise.

"I'm no lesbo, let's get that straight," Clove snaps, crushing whatever hopes she may have resurrected within me. "However, I wouldn't might finding out . . ." She doesn't finish her sentence, as her lips have connected with mine. I'm paralysed with disbelief, not knowing what to do or how to do it. My heart has exploded, no longer in working order, but somehow I am still alive.

I'm kissing a girl! My dream girl, too! Is this reality right now or am I going to wake up at any second?

When Clove breaks away from me, I exhale like I'd been holding my breath for a thousand years. My book lies in the grass, dropped in my awestruck state. I'm still gaping, unable to comprehend in my mind what just happened. Clove doesn't seem as affected as me as she takes another drag of her cigarette and purses her lips in thoughtful bemusement.

"Well, your lips are certainly softer than Marvel's," she contemplates.

"I guess," I reply uncertainly. Even though it's a cold winter's day, I'm soaking my t-shirt with panicked sweat. I'm glad for my Batman Gotham City hoodie or Clove would definitely be able to see the internal war going on inside me through the pit stains on my grey t-shirt.

Clove sighs. She bites her bottom lip, chewing on it for a moment, before flicking her cigarette away and muttering, "What the hell." Then we're kissing again.

Not kissing. Making out.

I've never made out with anyone before, let alone a girl. I follow Clove's lead, barely able to keep up because my frantic heart is now working on overdrive and my knees are threatening to buckle completely. Her long, slender fingers are in my hair, crawling down my back to the base and drawing my body towards hers.

I can't tell you how many times I've imagined this moment. My first kiss. The first time I've ever felt like I could actually stand a chance living the life that I've grown accustomed to hiding. Maybe I can come out now. Maybe I can show people who I truly am. Maybe they'll be like Clove. Maybe they won't care. Maybe they'll like me for who I am-

Clove's phone goes off. It vibrates in her jacket pocket, causing her to pull away from me. My lips are practically buzzing with warmth. I touch them with my fingertips as Clove answers her mobile. I smile at her as she ducks her head to hear better. I'm buzzing. My heart is fluttering inside me like the wings of the butterfly. My fingers are tremble as I crouch down and pick my book back up.

"Hey Marvel," Clove purrs. "Of course I'm not doing anything." I glance up at her and frown. "I'll be there soon. Okay big boy, see you later."

As Clove hangs up, I get up on my feet again. "'Not doing anything'?" I repeat.

Clove shrugs. "Just to tide him over," she says. She grins. "See ya!"

"Wait!" I say, grabbing Clove's arm. "I . . . I'm confused."

Clove's eyebrows furrow into a frown. "Why?" she asks.

"We just . . . we just kissed. What does that mean?" I ask back. I take in Clove's puzzled expression. "Do you still intend to be with Marvel?"

"I thought that was obvious," Clove replies dubiously.

My heart, which had once taken off to soar in my chest, drops like a stone into the pit of my stomach. I feel like a fool for believing that this was genuine. I had so much faith in Clove, even though I didn't know her at all, and thought that maybe she was like me. Maybe she had been hiding too.

My life seems to be built up on maybes.

"I don't know about what sort of girl you think I am but I'm not going to kiss you while you're in a relationship," I say.

Clove stumps out her cigarette with the heel of her boot. She taps out another cigarette and shrugs. "You've never been in a relationship with a girl before," she said. "I'd thought you'd be leaping at the first opportunity for someone to suck faces with."

"I'm not like that," I say.

"How do you know?" asks Clove.

"Just because I'm gay, that doesn't mean I'm going to want to jump every female that passes me's bones," I try to explain. "I genuinely like you. I didn't . . . I didn't want to kiss you just because you're a girl. I thought you felt the same way about"-

"About you?" Clove scoffs. She snorts and starts texting . . . Marvel, I presume. "I'm experimenting, Katniss. I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"So my sexuality was just an opportunity to you?" I ask, deflating.

Clove snickers at something Marvel must have text her. I become paranoid that she's told him about me and now they're laughing at my idiocy together. "Look, if I'd known you were going to get anal about it I wouldn't have done it," she muttered, still not looking me in the eyes. Her phone seems to be of more importance to her than me.

"You shouldn't do that to anyone," I say, folding my arms to hold my book against my stomach and my elbows. It's like the book is protecting me from Clove's brash attitude. My own protective armour. "If I were a guy staring at you, would you have kissed me while still being with Marvel?"

"Marvel would beat them to a pulp before I could try," Clove laughs.

"Because I'm a girl, it's different?" I ask.

"He can't beat up a girl, can he?" Clove smirks.

My stomach has gone incredibly cold. Five minutes previous, I had thought that my life was changing for the better. I had finally found someone who cared, who understood who I was and didn't care. I close my eyes and shake my head. "Whatever, Clove," I say, brushing her off and leaving her alone before she sees how upset I'm becoming.

"Hey Everdeen!" Clove shouts after me.

"What?" I snap, not turning around. Tears are welling in my eyes uncontrollably and I can't let Clove see them.

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, right?"

I choke on the lump that has formed in my throat. "Don't worry, Clove. Your secret is safe with me," I say. I don't wait for a response before I run across the field, ducking my head so that my hair covers my face, hiding my tears from the rest of the world.

I am forever destined to hide.

I hold a ball of agony in my chest for the entire walk home. Every so often I wipe away a tear, cursing. I just want to live my life like everyone else can. I just want to be able to be happy; for people to understand me, not abuse me. I don't know why Clove thought it would be okay to kiss me while keeping the intention to continue dating Marvel and I doubt I ever will. All I know is that when she found out that I'm gay, she took an opportunity she thought was there and she figured I would allow her because she was a girl and I'm . . . well . . . a lesbian.

It's not fucking fair.

I practically run up the path to my house. I trip over Prim's potted plants and nearly trample my mother's vegetables. The ball of agony is growing, threatening to burst, and I can't control it any more. I barely had any restraint while I was talking to Clove.

My hands miss the lock in the door several times before the key finally jams inside. I twist it roughly, nearly snapping the key completely, and stumble inside. I slam the door shut, so hard the walls around me rattle. Safe inside my house, I gasp. My embarrassment crashes on top of me like a weight.

"Katniss?" My mum appears in the hallway, having heard me slam the door from the kitchen. The concern on her face breaks me.

The ball explodes.

I burst into tears right there in our hallway. I fall back against the door, my legs trembling and eventually sliding me down to the floor. I cover my face with my hands, feeling the wet and the misery soaking my skin. I'm so stupid. I thought she liked me. I thought maybe I'd finally found happiness. I had dared to believe that if she had been by my side then I may have found the courage to come out to the world. To come out of the shadows and show everyone who I truly am.

I'm so stupid.

I sob so hard I'm practically screaming. My mum runs to me and holds me tight, rocking me back and forth and shushing me gently. I claw at my hair, desperate to find some way of hurting myself. A way to punish myself for being so foolish. Why did I have to be so romantic and hopeful? Of course Clove didn't want to be my girlfriend. She was a straight girl in a relationship with Marvel. And given her track record, I should have guessed that she was fooling around.

Life isn't fair.

~xXx~

I sit at the bus stop in the cold. It's been months since my interaction with Clove. We haven't spoken since and I haven't so much as glanced in her direction. The only thing I can give her credit for is not telling anyone about my sexuality. She's kept it quiet, maybe out of fear that I would spill the beans about our kiss if she said anything. Nonetheless, I'm glad that she hasn't blurted it out.

The tip of my nose has frozen completely. When I cross my eyes, I can see the redness that is beginning to form there. My fault for missing the last bus. I've been waiting for the past thirty minutes for the next bus and there's still another thirty left. I rub my hands together and blow on them to warm them up.

Ever since I took my break down in the house, my mum has been concerned about me. She thinks I'm being bullied. I've tried telling her so many times that I'm not, that I'm just going through a rough patch, but she insisted that I see someone anyway. I've been put on anti-depressants.

My doctor wasn't very interested in my case. I think he thought I was just another depressed teen. He seemed to only be half listening to me and we didn't really discuss anything. He just threw a prescription for fluoxetine at me and told me to call back if there were any further problems.

A part of me wishes the drugs could take my troubles away. Snatch them up like a bird and fly away with them, never to return. However, the medication will never remove the box that is closing in around me. The overbearing, crushing, oppressed sensation I feel every day that I pretend to be something I'm not.

I don't know what I'm hiding from anymore. My environment has always been welcoming of the LGBT community. I can't think of anyone who would feel disgusted in what I am (except maybe the vain girls in my class who would claim to feel 'violated' but screw 'em).

My hand dips into my pocket and I produce my phone. Pulling up Facebook, I tap on the status box.

"I feel like this is the perfect time to admit something. It's not because I feel obligated to or because I feel like anyone I'm friends with has a right to know because, frankly, nobody does but myself. However, in this moment in time I am perfectly happy with who I am. I am beautifully content. And I am overjoyed with the acceptance. With how this is becoming something that people are supporting and growing to love.

I have been openly gay for a while now. The first thing I decided to do was wait until high school was over because there's only going to be that one person pointing the finger and saying "I'm not comfortable changing with her anymore she might look at me!" which by the way, is totally unreasonable because I wanted to look at people get changed as much as I wanted to look at one the teachers get changed (which, by the way is not in a million years). But high school is now over and I just feel like now is the right time. Especially with legislation for gay marriage being passed left right and centre.

So yeah. There it is. And you know what? It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. There is nothing harder than hiding who you are out of fear of being judged by other people. But I feel good now that I have. Because I'm proud of myself, not ashamed. I'm gay. Deal with it. And anyone who has a problem with it? You know where the unfriend button is. Because this is who I am."

I feel a pressure lift from my shoulders. I nearly gasp in surprise at how light I suddenly feel. I watch in awe as the likes build up. Comments of love and support flood in, some from people I barely know but would say hi to in passing. I cover my mouth and gasp into it, tears of joy welling in my eyes as the support continues to stream in.

I am accepted.

I can finally be myself.

A truck rumbles by, dragging me from my shocked euphoria. I laugh with teary eyes as the wind blows my hair back. Then, when the truck has passed completely, I see her. Standing across the road, lugging a huge back behind her, is the most beautiful girl I ever seen in my entire life.

An angel sent from heaven.

When the road is clear, she crosses. Oh my god, she's coming my way. She must need to catch the bus too. The sun catches her hair as she crosses, setting her blonde locks alight and turning them a gorgeous golden colour. She's so breath taking she's left me near enough speechless.

I stand up, my movements slightly jerky with panic. Her eyes fall on me and my heart blooms like a rose in my chest. She smiles. This is it, Katniss. The beginning.

I smile back.

"Hi."

A/N: Katniss' coming out message is the message I myself wrote when I chose to come out to everyone on my facebook as a lesbian. The support I too received was overwhelming and amazing. The growing acceptance is fantastic, even if there still are people struggling. We just have to keep trying to reach them.

Please read and review with your thoughts! :)