"It's cloudy today."

Yoongi nods, sipping his coffee. "Fall is right around the corner."

"This was Jimin's favorite weather," Jungkook reveals. "Slightly overcast, but still warm. He loved working outside...being with his cows. He was so good at his job. Life was so simple back then..."

It was mid-September now. Jungkook's eighteenth birthday had come and gone, but Jungkook didn't celebrate. Time no longer made sense to the boy. Since the end of The Hunger Games, Jungkook had just been in limbo. It had been two months...or maybe even longer than that? He just wasn't sure.

The love of his life died in his arms.

Yoongi came into his home every morning to drink coffee and chat. They were next-door neighbors now in the victors' village. There were a few other people littered around the gated neighborhood—past victors and their families. But Jungkook hasn't really spoken to them.

The female victor was quite sickly—Yoongi told him her family were making preparations to find new housing once she passed, as they would no longer be allowed to live in the lavish home once the victor was dead. The other male tribute, on the other hand, while middle-aged and healthy, was simply just recluse, refusing to talk to anyone, or really even leave his home. Yoongi told Jungkook that he had only ever seen him picking up groceries that were delivered to him off his front porch, before quickly slamming his front door.

Yoongi's parents lived in the house next door along with their son. Jungkook had met them a few times, but he wasn't a great house guest in his state, so he didn't spend much time in their presence.

They were incredibly impoverished before Yoongi won The Games three years back. Yoongi's father sheared sheep for a perpetually disgruntled employer, and his mother mended clothing for little pay. Their son winning The Games was a massive lifestyle change—but they lived modestly despite the wealth their son accumulated.

Jungkook's family, however opted to stay in the home Jungkook grew up in. They were comfortable enough with their lives—Jungkook had always been taught to be grateful that his childhood wasn't worse, because it absolutely could have been. The fact that they almost always had food on the table was enough for them. They also didn't want to move into a village built by the people that killed their elder son. Jungkook understood...but he was lonely.

He didn't want to live at his parents' house with them though. He didn't want them to have to see the version of their son that came back from The Games. The things they had loved about Jungkook had died the second Jimin did. They visited him often, of course, bringing well wishes from neighbors, and some of Jungkook's favorite foods—though using the money Jungkook gave them. But despite the immense love Jungkook felt from them, he always felt a pit in his chest when they came by, knowing how terrible it must be watching their son be like this. When he looked at his parents these days...all he felt was guilt.

He felt the same about Jihyun. He and Jihyun had become a bit closer since Jungkook had returned—as close as people could get in Jungkook's state. They were mostly bonding over grief...it was the epitome of trauma bonding. He came to Jungkook's home once a week, sometimes twice. Occasionally, Jihyun would ask for advice, like how one could go back to living a semi-normal life with your older brother dying so young...but Jungkook struggled to answer.

How could he give advice when he could barely live himself?

When Junghyun died, it was devastating. He spent the first week or so continuously crying, unable to eat. He grew up quite fast in the subsequent months. After a while, the sharp, intense grief turned into a dull ache that always lingered, but was able to be ignored if Jungkook was distracted with good things within his life.

Jimin was the good thing in his life.

It was Jimin that pulled him out of the seemingly bottomless pit of grief he found himself flailing in. He didn't realize it at the time—in fact it took him years to figure it out—but Jimin was who got him through the worst of it.

Jimin told him stories of his brother, despite not knowing him as well. But they were stories Jungkook had never heard of Junghyun, and he valued those unseen moments, no matter how small. Jimin saw that, so he worked hard so every story he had of Junghyun was told.

He distracted Jungkook with boughts of laughter, and banter, while still respecting Jungkook's need to heal. He stayed by Jungkook's side even when he wasn't in the mood to talk, or even look Jimin's way. Jimin was just so patient, and kind...and there would never be anyone else like him.

So truthfully, Jungkook didn't know how to help Jimin's little brother. Because it was Jimin himself who helped him get back to a point where life could once again be worth living.

And before long, Jihyun stopped asking.

Yoongi was the only one he could really talk to. It wasn't much, and Jungkook spoke very few words. But Yoongi had gone through The Games...he understood how Jungkook felt on a level no one else did. Sure, he didn't lose his favorite person right in front of his eyes, after spending three weeks of hell working to keep him alive. But he understood enough. And he understood when to keep quiet, as well as when to listen.

"Life was never simple," Yoongi reminds. "We live in a country where we have to watch children kill each other every single year."

"But I knew what my future should've been like," Jungkook whispers. "I knew that Jimin would always be there for me. Maybe it's selfish...but at least I knew that both me and the people I loved had a future set up for them."

"It's not selfish—not really," Yoongi tilts his head to the side. "In an ideal world, The Hunger Games wouldn't exist. Any person in their right mind could understand that. But we don't live in an ideal world, Jungkook. We live in this world. It's not selfish to wish for better."

"It feels selfish knowing so many people won't ever get that simple life," Jungkook shakes his head. "Jimin doesn't get that simple life. That's all he wanted...to live out his days with his cows. That's all I wanted for him. I wanted everything he wanted, as long as he was always by my side."

Yoongi doesn't respond.

"...I wonder how many soulmates were lost to The Hunger Games," The taller continues. "Jimin called me his soulmate, you know. I think we really were. Even if soulmates aren't destined, even if the universe didn't assign them...I feel like we became each other's."

"It's hard to say," Yoongi looks at Jungkook. "The Games taught me that everything is fleeting. Love is fleeting, it isn't permanent...I can't ever see myself falling in love after what I've gone through. The fact that you and Jimin didn't turn on each other was an anomaly. The Capital wants to see children turn into monsters. You didn't do that to each other."

"I killed plenty of people," Jungkook counters. "I'd say I've become a monster."

"But you would not have done that if it weren't for the survival of you and the man you love," Yoongi points out. "We both have blood on our hands, sure. But are we truly monsters? Was Jimin a monster?"

"No," Jungkook answers quickly, whipping his head up to look at the older. "Of course he wasn't."

"But he killed three tributes," Yoongi stares him down. "How is he different from you or I?"

"He..." Jungkook trails. "He's not here, therefore he's unable to be subjected to judgement."

"I just disagree," Yoongi shakes his head. "You don't have to be a monster, Jungkook. You're already going through enough."

"Why didn't you talk to us like this when you were our mentor?" Jungkook looks down at his untouched coffee. "You were so crude, so blunt...but you're such a wise person."

"I can't talk to them like this," Yoongi denies. "Everyone around them in the Capital are so bubbly and hopeful...I need to wake them up. Provoking them is what kept them motivated. It worked for you, didn't it? It worked for Jimin."

"Jimin was always so angry at you," He sighs. "But he respected you so much."

"I return all that respect fully," Yoongi says earnestly. "I had the moment I saw the two of you...all of you were deserving of respect. Every person born into this world is. Yet we were stripped of our rights."

Jungkook is quiet.

"Would you fight?" Yoongi says out of the blue. "If there was even a bit of a chance you could save the hundreds of children that will have to go through this in the future?"

"I couldn't do anything," Pain shoots through his heart like an arrow. "I don't even know how to live these days."

"But if you could be part of something," Yoongi presses. "Wouldn't you?"

"I..." The question completely deflates Jungkook. "I'd like to say I would, but how could I do it knowing I couldn't save Jimin? No matter how many I save...it won't bring back Jimin. I'm not strong enough, Yoongi...I'm not strong enough to save anyone."

The agony comes back, wracking his body. It seems to come out of nowhere these days, either triggered by something someone says, or something he sees. Sometimes It's completely random. But the emotions are just as intense as they have been since The Games ended—if not more. He feels more numb these days than anything, but when the grief hits him, it hits him hard.

Yoongi just lets him go through it—it happens often enough while he's by. Jungkook screws his eyes shut as he shakes, but the tears slip past his lids. He silently cries, sharp inhales being the only noise in the room.

He can't do it. The pain hasn't gotten any better. Life without Jimin just seemed implausible. Children would continue to die in The Hunger Games. Jimin would just become nothing but a victim...he was no longer human, but a number. Just one of thousands of children who entered a death arena and came out in a dark brown box.

Jimin was one of 2,372 victims since The Games began 100 years ago. Jungkook fell into a deep bought of depression one day and added up every child who died within an arena since The Hunger Games began. It was right after Jimin's burial. Jungkook paid for most of it with his winnings.

Jimin wasn't going to just get put in a brown box and laid in the dirt. Jungkook made sure he got a proper coffin, burial, and headstone so he would always be remembered. Jimin's family decided they wanted a funeral of sorts a year after he died, too engrossed in grief and shock to do one right away, so Jungkook would pay for that too.

But thinking about Jimin's death shot him down a dark rabbit hole regarding The Games...and he sobbed—truly sobbed—for the first time in weeks once he realized the number of lives The Hunger Games stole. Jimin would become an insignificant number, just like every other child who died. They stole not only his future, but his identity as well.

Why was Jungkook alive?

He asked himself that every single day. Why was he alive? There was nothing worth living for—not in the world he lived in. Not in a world that delighted in taking away people like Jimin. He didn't need to work—he had the money stained with the blood of Jimin and seventy others. The only time he ever would need to work was to take over the slaughterhouse once his mother and father died...once again, a job relying on the death of others.

Nothing in his life was untouched. Capital rot had infiltrated and ruined every single aspect of his life. His very soul was breaking down from the mold that the Capital seeded into his being.

Nothing would get better.

Jungkook's tears ceased with the realization. The numbness was back in full force—though a hint of peace sparked in his chest. Perhaps there was comfort in knowing nothing would change.