A/N: WARNING: I am in major VENT mode and the first parts of this chapter are probably going to be extremely ANGSTY, just as a warning. I needed some way to get everything out, though, so I decided to write. This is a character that I've had in the making for a while and decided to give him a story now. It might not actually be that bad. The end of the chapter's good, though! Just a warning.

PART FIFTEEN: Hans Kaufmann, District 5

I sit in a desk and listen to math class.

I have no idea what's going on, but I like to pretend that I do. Maybe if I write things down, the other people in my class will believe it and they'll give me a break. I wish it could be that easy, but nothing around here ever is, especially not when you're me.

God, I'm sorry. I can be a Debby-downer sometimes, I guess a lot, but I suppose that I should be thankful that I'm still alive. Even if I'm good for nothing, I'm a living, breathing, walking, working body that can at least make a couple pennies a day.

Have you ever had that feeling that you don't belong somewhere? I get that feeling a lot here in Five. I get it every day when I go to school, and every day I work in the plant. Every time I get injured (which is a lot… I'm a, uh… Clutz…) I get that feeling right along with it.

But if I don't belong in District 5, the place I call my home, where do I belong? Not in One with the pretty people. Not in Two with the strong people. Not in Three with the smart people, hell, I can't even tell a d for a b or an m for an n! God, and it should be easy, too! They're the letters, we learned them before we ever stepped foot in school!

I don't belong in 4 with the rational people, or in 6 with the other smart people, or seven with the other strong people, or eight with the delicate people, or nine with the persistent ones, or in ten with the tender ones, or in eleven with the hard-working ones, or in twelve with the helpless ones.

I really don't fit in anywhere, do I? Maybe it's for the best.

By the time the dismissal bell rings, my paper has the word log written all over it and a bunch of assorted, random shapes, most of which are numbers.

Screw this. I don't have to learn, anyways. I take my stuff and start on the walk back home. I live with just my Dad, who isn't the nicest man on the planet, and who always sets the bar a hell of a lot higher than I can reach. Ah, well. Maybe it's for the best.

I start the walk home when I'm suddenly face-to-face with someone that sincerely doesn't like me: and his name is Duncan.

It wasn't always this way. We were actually friends, once. Best friends, to be exact. He and I did everything together.

We only started to grow farther and farther apart when my life took a turn for the worst: my winning brother was reaped and killed, my Mom left, my Dad blamed it on me (who he always blames it on). Duncan stood up for me once but then he just kind of started ignoring the random injuries I got.

Later, my life was further destroyed when I was forced to come to terms with my bisexuality. My dad tells me every day that he would've kicked me out by now if he didn't like hurting me so much. Thanks Dad.

I remember it well, though. The cold weather finally looked like it was going to go and spring was going to come. It was one of those really nice days, with a cool breeze that still felt good, and felt heavenly after a long day of work. Duncan hadn't talked to me a lot that day but he did provide a wave on my way to language arts, a class that I hate because I still haven't told anyone that I can't read. Pretend you didn't see that, I'm not ready to tell people yet.

I've been getting courage to tell Duncan how I feel for a while now, and today is the day I think I'm finally going to do it. I run over to him when I notice that he's (FINALLY) alone. He smiles and says, "Hey!"

"Hi," I say nervously, "Can we talk?"

He pauses. "About what? We haven't "talked" for a while, and I think there's a reason for that, don't you?"

"Just hear me out. Please."

"Hm?" he finally says, breathing an exasperated sigh. My spirits sink completely and I stare at the sky.

"I'm bisexual," I finally say, "And in love with you."

As soon as the words come out of my mouth he starts laughing. "Oh my God, Hans! I knew you were desperate for someone, anyone to love you, but I never thought you'd resort to that!" he laughs and I stare at the ground. I should've guessed this wouldn't have worked out… "Let me tell you something. You've always been a freak. And you always will be! And I'm sorry I ever gave you a second glance. And trying to get ME, of all people, to sleep with you, makes you the biggest douchebag I know." He clenches his fist and I don't have time to react before it makes contact with the side of my jaw. I've been trained not to object to pain, anyways.

"Explain to your DAD why you have a bruise from someone other than him." He smirks as I grab the side of my face and just look at him, doing everything in my power not to cry.

"It's not like that," is all I mutter in a low voice.

"Yeah, right. Ever wonder why there's a reason everyone hates you? Think about it real hard." He laughs and walks away, leaving me shocked and hurt.

The rebellion tries to happen and fails around year 75. Then the Hunger Games go on.

Nikko Hollenbeck-Young wins the 76th Hunger Games. He looks like he's in Heaven.

How could anyone live like that, though? In all seriousness, how!? How could you live with the fact that you killed 23 other people? I mean, how could you ever get peace living a life like that? That's my question.

Another year, another reaping, and this one is my last, thank goodness.

I get ready on my own and am able to slip out of the house without being noticed. I walk around town until the reapings are supposed to begin, then slip into my spot without saying anything.

Our escort skips on the stage and picks out of the glass bowl of death the name of a fourteen-year-old.

And the next name she picks belongs to… Me.

Not much later, I'm back to not belonging at District Five.

I walk through the very limited woods that the place has. The trees are all dying… There are no more animals. Some dead, brown leaves blow past me and I stop to take a deep breath in the twilight.

I don't belong here any more than I did before. They all hate me here. Even though I'm the one that's providing them with food once a month, and MONEY, even though I'm the reason I haven't seen Duncan anywhere near the power plants in weeks, and I'm the reason that everyone's happy, they hate me. I wish I could take my winnings somewhere else, anywhere else, to people that actually deserve them.

Though nobody in my District likes me, I actually have made friends with the other Victors.

My first night of mentoring is the worst. I stay in that control room with the others from the crack of dawn, through the night. I'm the only one in that dark room, watching the tributes sleep, but I can't help it. I have to be there to watch.

I hear a person knock quietly on the wall but don't break my gaze from the screens, even though my tribute is fast asleep.

"Hans?" whispers a voice. I turn around and look at the figure standing in the door. He's really small, and by his size I immediately know that it's Geno Haggerman, Victor of the 73rd Hunger Games. He's only two years older than I am, now 20 and I'm 18.

He stands in the doorway and says, "You should try to get some sleep."

"I can't," I mutter quietly. "What if something happens and I miss it?"

"Then you'll bounce back."

"The whole district hates me," I mutter, "Maybe if I do something like this for them, they'll accept me."

"Hans, you can't keep trying to win them over. They're all homophobes, and that makes them all stupid. They're not even worth it, anyways. Is there a real reason you're avoiding sleep?"

I give a shrug. "Nightmares," I confess quietly, "About absolutely everything that's ever happened to me in my life."

I feel his warm hand slide into mine and squeeze it reassuringly. "I support you," he whispers. "I'll be here for you."

"Thanks."

His serious navy eyes smile at me and he helps me stand up. He walks me down the hall, until we reach the room with a three on it.

"Sleep in here tonight. It'll help you."

"Uh, I really can't ask that of you-"

"Sometimes we all just need a sleeping buddy."

He climbs back into bed and pats the spot next to him. I hesitate but his navy eyes are gentle and soft and he pats the spot so insistently that I eventually lay down next to him.

"I'll be here to protect you, alright?" he says, in a quiet and gentle voice. He's not the person I always thought he was, but I'm glad.

"Uh, yeah…"

This is so awkward. Geno flashes me a crooked smile before falling back asleep and I try to do the same.

Soon, Geno finds the alcohol, and I get into it, too. It just helps so much, no matter how much it might burn.

Besides, drunk Geno isn't any fun unless you're drunk with him. We spend our drunk days together laughing at stupid things and singing and dancing to our own music. But it helps, and that's all that matters about it. It starts out as a once-a-week thing and soon turns into so much more.

I regret it every morning, but by the evenings the craving just gets so strong I can't say no.

One afternoon he finds me and we get to just talking, something I love to do with him because he understands everything I say. About the guilt of killing, and the hatred of others, and the shunning, and the teasing, and the feeling that you don't belong.

"They used to call me Clockwork back home," he says, "And the nickname Pip didn't start to the Arena."

"Why Clockwork?" I ask, kicking back on a chair.

"Because I can't read a clock at all. It comes from my dyslexia."

"Is that the thing I have, too?"

"Yeah, I think so. And I'm sorry. It really sucks."

I stare at the ceiling. "No joke," I mutter.

"It doesn't matter, though. Not anymore."

"Yeah, but people still hate me."

"Let them. If they're not smart enough to see how great you are they shouldn't deserve you trying to make them."

"You think?"

"Of course." He flashes me a crooked smile.

There's a pause.

"You know, I've always felt like I didn't fit in. Everywhere I went, I never ever even remotely fit in. Not in the Capitol, or any of the Districts, including Five."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I was always confused, because everyone has to fit in somewhere, right? Not even someone like me can be an outcast everywhere, right?"

"I guess."

"Well, I think I know where I belong now. Or, at least, part of it."

"Where's that?" he asks, looking amused as he lounges back.

"With you."

He glances over and I realize how weird it sounded. "I mean, uh, basically… From what I saw of you on TV, you looked like a really dark, kinda insane guy, but… That's not how you are at all and I was just really surprised. I mean, you're totally cool and rational and down-to-earth, and you understand me. Most parts of me, anyways."

Lucky for him, and thank God, Geno had friends back home. He told me about them once. And he lived in a fairly good house in Three with two parents, and even luckier for him, he was an only child.

He doesn't speak, so I continue. "And I just like spending time with you. I think that you remind me that some of the best people can be broken. Not everyone's perfect, and neither am I."

I'm just dancing around my point now. I never should've brought it up in the first place because it'll get awkward really fast.

"Yeah, that's true." He finally says, after a long pause. "And I like spending time with you, too. It's refreshing, to find someone with a lot of the same troubles as me."

He smiles and I smile back, swallowing my words and leaving it at that. I change my mind, I can't make the first move. I'm much too afraid for that. So I just leave it at that, hoping he'll say something someday that'll give me confidence to spill out my feelings to him.

"Is prostitution awful?" he asks me, quietly.

"Kinda," I confess. "I'm still in shock that someone would pay for a night with me. I always thought that I'm… Innocent. Untouched. Like a baby. But, like, an adult baby, like-" and once again my point is lost.

Geno laughs and says, "Huh. Yeah, I suppose I'm innocent, too. In that field, at least."

"How? I mean, it's not like nobody would buy you. But, like, I mean that in a different way than it sounds. Like, I meant that the Capitol people are clingy and, I mean, like, you're, uh-" I need to stop talking.

Geno raises an eyebrow, amused, before he continues. "The first time someone I didn't know tried to have sex with me I promptly had a panic attack, pushed them away into a shelf with a glass decoration on it, screamed and cried a lot, and then passed out. And that happened the second I felt her fingers up my shirt."

I cringe. "Yikes. If it helps at all, I cried my first night, too. After she was asleep, but I was still upset. I ended up laughing every time she touched my sides because I'm extremely ticklish there especially. She got really upset but didn't say anything to President Snow."

He sighs, "Huh. So you got put with a fairly nice one. Mine went right to Snow and freaked out. He made me choose one of my friends to go into prostitution for me, and threatened to kill one of my friends if someone didn't go. My best friend Reese volunteered herself, but I just don't know… I can't imagine a life like that."

"You get used to it, after a while," I tell him, "Really, you do."

"I'm sure…" he says quietly. Then he walks over and glances down at me.

"Can I say something insane?" he asks.

"Uh… Sure…"

Geno suddenly sits on my lap. "I want you to take my virginity. To know what it feels like."

"Huh!? Are you sure!? You can never get it back once it's gone…"

He presses his warm lips against mine and pulls back slowly. "Do this for me… Please? I trust you to do this and I need to know how it feels... What it's like to have someone's hands on you… Won't you? Please?"

"If that's what you want…" I say, a blush forming across my face. We hold eye-contact a long while and he gives me a nod before kissing me as hard as he can, and I kiss him back.