Jungkook opens the large wooden door leading to the slaughterhouse barn. The faded red paint was chipping off, he notices. He sighs. Perhaps some of his money could be used to patch that up.

He shines the lamp into the dark, empty space. There were no animals in the barn right now. They weren't getting a cattle shipment from the Parks until next week. Stepping inside, he closes the door behind him, hanging the lamp on a nearby hook on one of the support beams. An owl hoots in the distance.

It was the middle of the night. Jungkook had waited for this night for a little while—when the moon would be at its darkest. He knew no one would really be out tonight, so he would be able to walk to his parents' property undetected. That was just perfect for him.

With his hands now freed, he takes a small, wooden stool from a side wall, placing it in the middle of the barn. Jungkook takes a deep breath, and sits down, energy draining his body. His face falls into his hands, breathing in, and out, and in, and out.

His spirit was already dead. It had been for three months. There was no reason his body should be alive if it wasn't housing anything of worth.

He screws his eyes shut, before looking up. He turns his head.

His axe.

Jungkook hasn't touched an axe since before The Hunger Games. He's had no reason to. In fact, even if he wanted to go back to working with his family, helping with the slaughterhouse, his family simply wouldn't let him. Jungkook knew they were worried about him, worried he'd hurt himself if he had access to a weapon.

They were right, of course. But Jungkook couldn't have let them know that. If they knew, then they would be able to stop him tonight.

The night air was crisp and quiet. It was the perfect last night a person could have.

Jungkook stands on wobbly legs, towards the axe. His fingers brush over the smooth ash handle ever so slightly. The texture is so familiar—a whisper of a memory from a better time. He grabs the axe. It fits in his hand perfectly...

He missed this axe. His father had gotten it for him for his fourteenth birthday, hand-engraved it with his name. Junghyun's axe sat on a shelf in the home—a constant memory of the boy. When Jungkook was ready, trained enough for work of his own, he got his very own axe. Jungkook used to see the tool as a source of pride.

As he holds the axe now, though, he feels very little. Nostalgia, sure, to some extent. But it was subdued—just like everything else in his life, save for the agony. It was wonderful, in a sense, knowing that a tool so important to him would be used in this last part of his life.

Slowly, he walks back to the stool. He sits, and stares at the blade of the axe some more.

Jungkook was done living...it was as simple as that. Not a single time since Jungkook had been taken out of the arena had the boy found a single thing worth living for.

His life never revolved around Jimin. He loved his parents, he was ready to be a part of the business, he had his own interests and hobbies. But Jimin was a huge part of his life. Jimin was linked to the happiest moments in his whole life—let alone the five years they were friends. Jimin understood him more than anyone else ever could.

But The Hunger Games took Jimin away, after taking his brother first. It wasn't that Jimin was his whole life, or that he couldn't live without him—though it really did feel like he couldn't. Rather, it was that Jimin's death opened his eyes—more than Junghyun's had. It showed Jungkook how the world truly worked.

And it wasn't a world Jungkook wanted to participate in.

It had always been Jimin who was more vocally angry about The Capital. He was the one who spoke his mind regarding everything, really. Jungkook, on the other hand, just tried to ignore it—the Capital, The Hunger Games, everything. They took away his brother, why would he intentionally think about something that hurt him so badly?

But then they took Jimin away too. And Jungkook couldn't ignore any of it anymore. Because it opened his eyes. The Capital was ripping thousands of families apart. It wasn't just Junghyun, it wasn't just Jimin, it was thousands of kids, from thousands of families. There was no end in sight...

Jungkook was sick of the people he loved being a statistic.

Junghyun was dead. Jimin was dead. Why should he live any longer than they were able to? He tried for a little while...he tried to heal, to find other things to occupy his time. He was intentional with his friendship with Yoongi, talking to him every day. He tried spending time with his parents, and Jihyun, but none of it made anything better. All he felt towards them was guilt.

Overtime, Jihyun had been able to recover—not completely, but substantially more than Jungkook. Jimin's parents were doing better too, going back to work, distracting themselves from the pain of losing their son.

Jungkook was the only one who wasn't healing.

Dying...Jungkook wasn't afraid to die. He hoped to be reunited with Jimin and Junghyun. He really hoped they were happy.

He hadn't been afraid to die since he was in the arena. As they were getting to the end, Jungkook had braced himself for death. In fact...once Jimin was gone, thinking about death became that much easier. In the past few weeks, even, he yearned for death. As he started to plan it out, the agony subsided, just a bit. Tonight was the night.

Jungkook was so ready.

He takes a deep breath, holding for a few seconds, before exhaling slowly. He lifts the axe to his neck—the second time a blade touched that bit of skin in the past few months. But this time, it would follow through. This time, it would cut flesh.

He closes his eyes.

"Koo!"

Jungkook's eyes shoot open. His body runs cold, chills running down his body. His heart starts racing the second that voice cuts through the air.

Hands grab his. He can feel an intense stare on him. "Put the axe down, Koo. Stop...Stop, it's me, it's me. I'm here."

He looks down. Kneeling in front of him, holding his hands, is a beautiful brunette boy. Small in frame with full cheeks, and eyes that Jungkook knew and loved.

"J-Jimin?"

"Yes," He whispers, nodding rapidly. "Yes, it's me. I'm here, Koo."

"M-Mimmie..." Jungkook's face crumples. He drops the axe. It makes a clank on the floor. "Y-you're alive?"

"I'm alive," He confirms softly. "I missed you."

Jungkook throws himself around Jimin, holding him close. It felt like Jimin...the man he was holding felt like Jimin! How was he alive!?

Jimin holds him back just as tightly. Jungkook hears soft sniffles coming from the smaller. He hardly cries—Jimin hardly cries, unless he's crying with Jungkook. The Hunger Games was the most Jungkook ever saw Jimin cry. He was always so strong for the taller. He was strong until the second he plunged the knife into his abdomen...

"How are you alive..?" The shock was wearing off—just slightly. Just enough for the tears to start falling. He begins to sob, the emotions uncontrollable. He clings onto Jimin, like if he lets go even a little bit, Jimin will just disappear again.

"Take time for yourself, Koo," Jimin's voice is wobbly, obviously trying to contain the tears but failing miserably. "Once you and I calm down I'll tell you everything, I promise."

"Mimmie..." Jungkook inhales into his hair. He smells different, of synthetic fragrance. But under all that is still Jimin. He still smells like Jimin.

And suddenly he had a reason to live again.