When Jungkook wakes up, the other side of the bed is cold. His fingers stretch out, seeking warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. "Yug'." he mumbles. He must have had bad dreams and climbed in with Bambam.
Of course he did. Today is the day of the reaping.
He props himself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. His bunkmate, Yugyeom, curled up on his side, cocooned against the shortest of them three boys, cheeks pressed together.
The three of them were a close-knit group at orphanage, all born in the same year and spoiled a little bit for being on the younger side. Not that fifteen or fourteen was that young, but their orphanage had already exceeded the maximum number by twenty people, so the orphanage hadn't admitted anyone younger for six years now. Of course, there were those five boys- Taehyun, Huening Kai, Soobin, Yeonjun and Beomgyu- but they were five in around fifty older others, so all in all, the trio felt pretty small. This meant that they had the most chores to do around the shabby building, since they couldn't work as well as the some of the older kids. But it also meant that the others tried to spoil them whenever they could.
The black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in, which everyone else certainly seems to be doing.
Jungkook swings his legs off the bed and slides into his hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to his feet. He pulls on trousers, a shirt, tucks his long dark hair up into a cap, and grabs his forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rodents, sits a small block of cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Jungkook puts his quarter carefully in his pocket as he slips outside.
This part of District 12, nicknamed Solgi, is usually crawling with coal miners on any other day. The orphanage is almost at the edge of Solgi. He only has to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow. Separating the Meadow from the woods and enclosing all of District 12 is a high, chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods —packs of wild dogs, vipers, bears — but since they're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, he always takes a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is live. Right now, it's silent as a stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, he flattens out on the ground and slides under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home he almost always enters the woods here.
As soon as he's in the trees, he retrieves a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log. Electrified or not, the fence has been successful at keeping predators out of District 12. Inside the woods they roam freely, and there are added concerns like rabid animals, disease-carrying insects, and there being no real paths to follow, but there's also food if you know how to find it. Yoongi-hyung had taught Namjoon-hyung, and Namjoon-hyung taught him.
Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. Most just aren't bold enough to venture out with only a knife. His bow is a rarity, crafted by Yoongi-hyung's late father along with a few others that he keeps well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. Before Yoongi got rich, there were a couple times when they were desperate enough to consider selling some. Even Namjoon-hyung agreed that they would've made good money, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they're among their best customers, but the idea that someone might be arming Solgi would never have been allowed.
In the autumn, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises. "District Twelve; where you can starve to death in safety," Bam Bam once said wryly. Then they all glanced quickly over their shoulders because you never know who's listening.
When he was younger, he would scare the older kids to death with what he picked up from Yoongi-hyung's rants. Things about District 12, about the people who rule their country, Daeguk, from the far-off city called Gyeong. So Yoongi-hyung stopped talking about it at home, and he learned to hold his tongue. Do his work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where he and Namjoon make most of their money.
In the woods waits the only place where he feels… free. He can feel the muscles in his face relaxing, his pace quickening as he climbs the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile.
"Hey, Kook," says Namjoon, returning the smile with a dimpled grin. "Look what I shot," he holds up a bun with one of Jungkook's arrows stuck in it, and Jungkook laughs. It's the good, white kind from the bakery, not the coarse, dense bund they make from their grain rations. He takes it in his hands, pulls out the arrow, and holds the puncture in the crust to his nose, inhaling the fragrance that floods his mouth with saliva. Namjoon laughs, pulling out another for himself.
Fine grain like this is for special occasions. "Mm, still warm." Namjoon must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for them. "What did it cost you?"
"Everything," his hyung jokes. "That rabbit was the only thing I've found in our traps so far. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning; even wished me luck."
"I have some cheese to go with it?" Jungkook offers, pulling it out.
His expression brightens at the treat. "Looks like we'll have a real feast." Suddenly he falls into a Gyeong accent as he mimics Jin, the bubbly man who arrives once a year to read out the names at the leaping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" he plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds —" he tosses a berry in a high arc toward Jungkook...
...who slams his eyelids down right in time, seeing as the seemingly innocent projectile ends up hitting his eyebrow before rolling downwards into his mouth. The sweet tartness explodes across his tongue. "—be ever in your favor!" he finishes with equal verve. We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared out of your wits. Besides, the Gyeong accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny in it.
He watches as Namjoon pulls out his knife and slices the bread. Ash-blonde hair, olive skin, warm brown eyes. They're not related, but that doesn't mean they aren't brothers.
Most people in the Solgi have a tan complexion, dark hair, and brown eyes. Jungkook himselfs fits perfectly into this category. That's why people like Lalisa with her blonde locks and Huening Kai's pale skin look so out of place. Even Namjoon-hyung's hair was pushing it.
Namjoon spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each while he strips the bushes of their berries. The two of them settle back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, they're invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day is glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food's wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting in our mouths. Everything would be perfect if this really was a holiday, if the day off only meant roaming the mountains with his hyung. But instead they have to be standing in the square at two o'clock, waiting for the names to be called out.
"We could do it, you know," he says quietly.
"What?" Jungkook asks.
"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it- if we didn't have the others," Namjoon adds quickly.
Namjoon was kicked out onto the street the day that he turned eighteen last year. That didn't mean he stopped providing for the orphanage, though. There're Lalisa, Bambam, Yugyeom, and all forty-six of the other hyungs and noonas who worked in the mines or jobs that no one wanted to talk about. Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? Even with most of the orphans working and the both of them hunting daily, there are still days when money only flows out for lard or shoelaces or wool, and still more nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling.
Well, less so of the second since Yoongi-hyung started sending monthly donations. He doesn't know the older boy (man?) very well, curse his shyness, but Yoongi had been the first to welcome him, had given him head pats on rainy days and after chores, had argued with the matron to let him off beatings, and later on, had taught him the very basics of hunting. Besides, anyone who sent enough money that none of the noonas had to work the job they hated anymore had to be a good person.
"What do you want to do?" he asks. He didn't really want to hunt today, because that meant separating so the elder of the two wouldn't startle the other animals with his Curse of Clumsiness. That left fishing or gathering.
"Let's fish at the lake. Then we can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight," his hyung decides.
Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.
They make out well. The predators ignore them on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, they have a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries. He'd found the patch forever ago when he was eight and Yoongi-hyung was showing him how to track, but it was Namjoon who had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.
On the way home, they swing by the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held coal. When they came up with a more efficient system that transported the coal directly from the mines to the trains, the Hob gradually took over the space. Most businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but the black market's still fairly busy. They easily trade six of the fish for bread, the other two for salt. Sae, the bony old woman who sells bowls of hot soup from a large kettle, takes half the greens off our hands in exchange for three small containers of kimchi. We might do a tad better elsewhere, but we make an effort to keep on good terms with her. She's the only one who can consistently be counted on to buy wild dogs. They don't hunt them on purpose, but if you're attacked and you take out a dog or two, well, meat is meat. "Once it's in the soup, I'll call it beef," Sae says with a wink. No one in Solgi would turn up their nose at a good leg of a wild dog, but the Peacekeepers who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier.
When they finish their business at the market, they go to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries, knowing she has a particular fondness for them and can afford their price. The mayor, Lee Jieun, opens the door. The late mayor, her father, passed away two years ago, and no one objected when the role fell to her. She's the same age as Yoongi, and they went to school together. She's incredibly kind, and Jungkook remembers spending much of his earlier childhood idolizing her after she gave him a caramel, once.
Then there's her singing. She always sings a couple of songs on holidays, and though he likes the Seollal ones the best, it's also one of the few things to look forward to during the reaping.
Today her usual well-made cotton dresses have been replaced by an expensive tailored white dress, with an embroidered matching blazer and pearl earrings. Her chestnut hair is done up with a black ribbon. Reaping clothes.
His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted.
"Hi," he squeaks. "We have strawberries for you. You, um, your pin is really pretty-"
"Mayor Lee-nim," Namjoon cuts him short before he starts to ramble, respectfully inclining sixty degrees.
Lee Jieun shoots him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment. It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. "Thank you." She puts the money for the berries in his hand. "Good luck, Jungkook-ssi. Stay safe."
"You, too," he says on instinct, and the door closes.
Silence, while the heat in his face rises and falls. He groans and slumps against the tall man beside him. "Hyuuuung."
"I didn't say anything," Namjoon chuckles, before turning sombre. "It was nice of her to wish you luck, but it gets me thinking, you know. What did she have when she was your age, five entries? You had that many when you were just twelve years old."
"That's not her fault," he says, pouting at the reminder of his act of rebellion. They'd been starving , damnit.
"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Namjoon.
They walk toward the Solgi in silence. His hyung's right, of course. The reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Daeguk.
But here's the catch. Say you're poor and starving. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, he had his name entered five times. Once, because he had to, and four times for tesserae for grain and oil for himself, Yugyeom, Bambam, and Namjoon, listing them as his brothers. Namjoon found out the second year of him doing this while he was dragging it all home.
That had been the first and only time the elder boy ever hit him. The both of them cried it out afterwards, then Namjoon went to write a letter. That's when the orphanage's main source of income switched from town funds to one Min Yoongi's pockets, and Jungkook was forced to promise never to take tesserae again.
Entries are cumulative. Now, at the age of fourteen-going-on-fifteen, his name will be in the reaping twelve times. Namjoon, who is nineteen and has been helping to feed the orphans for his entire "Reaping Years," had his name in forty-two times last year.
Even though the rules were set up by the Gyeong, not the districts, certainly not the mayor, it's hard not to resent those who never had to sign up for tesserae.
On other days, deep in the woods, Jungkook listens to his hyung rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of Solgi and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. "It's to the Gyeong's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," Namjoon might say if there were no ears to hear but his. If it wasn't reaping day.
As they walk, he glances over at Namjoon's face, slightly smoldering underneath his stony expression. It's not that he doesn't agree with him. He does. But talking about the Gyeong in the middle of the woods doesn't change anything. It doesn't make things fair. It doesn't fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. But he listens, because Namjoon-hyung is smart in a way that no one else Jungkook knows is, and he's right.
They divide their spoils in a two-to-one ratio of fish, buns, greens, strawberries, salt, and a bit of money for each. Namjoon let's him keep all the kimchi.
"See you in the square," he says.
"Don't trip over anyone's fancy dress," Jungkook tries to grin.
At home, he finds Bambam helping Yugyeom into another hyung's old dress shirt, and Lalisa has busted out her most treasured possession: her make-up pouch. He knows Lisa is resourceful, and ever since she saw that one magazine that a Peacekeeper had thrown away, she'd been trying to emulate their looks. Crushed charcoal and talc served to create shades of mascara, berry juice to tint her lips red. Jungkook remembers Yoongi presenting the version she's using right now to her, a gift all the way from Gyeong, when he got back. Real lipstick, foundation, and a whole pallete of powders.
That was also when Jungkook got his pair of sturdy hunting boots, two sizes too big back then. He'd loved it and told his hyung so.
The haunted look in Yoongi's eyes didn't fade, even as he ruffled Jungkook's hair.
"Will you hurry up?" Bambam snapped impatiently at Yugyeom, who was trying to pin the former's shirt into something a little more form fitting.
"Maybe if you weren't so tiny, I wouldn't have to do this," Yugyeom teases.
"Not all of us can be tall-ass trees like you," Bambam snipes right back, grumbling.
Jungkook ignores them in his beeline towards the bathroom; a tub of warm water is calling his name. He scrubs off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even washes his hair. Yugyeom enters as he's manhandling the giant to drop off clothes, a soft, loose, embroidered white thing with skinny black pants. "Lisa wants you out in five so she can do your hair!" the younger calls over his shoulder as he flees before Jungkook can sputter. Or chuck the soap bar at him. It depends on the day.
Lalisa is just finishing up with Beomgyu's dark locks when he approaches her spot by the stove. "Kookie!" she calls, delighted, and he knows why. His hair is one of her favourites to style, since he likes to keep it around chin-length, longer than any other of the boys at the orphanage. Still, he watches her grip the leather wrapped around the iron cylinder like a hawk as she warms it up again.
He's man enough to admit that the thing is scary, sue him. He closes his eyes for the entire thing and tries his best not to breathe until Lisa is holding the cracked mirror up in front of him. "Well?" she asks, clearly pleased.
Jungkook pokes at the cooling waves and curls. "I like them," he says quietly, lips going up at the ends.
"Bunny smile alert!" Bambam shouts, and Jungkook launches himself at the other boy while everyone else coos.
The greens that are his contribution today are already cooking in one of the eight pots along with some chicken that someone bought, but that will be for supper. They decide to save his strawberries and bakery bread for this evening's meal, to make it "special". That's why Jungkook drinks milk from the orphanage's goat and eats the rough bread made from the tessera grain with everyone for lunch, although no one has much appetite anyway.
At one o'clock, we head for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.
It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square — it's one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant. The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.
People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Gyeong to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn. Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Solgi or merchant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law? Jungkook could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect him. Not everyone can claim the same.
Anyway, Namjoon and he agree that if they have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker.
The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as more people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state.
He finds himself standing in a clump of fifteens from Solgi, next to Yugyeom and Bambam since Lisa had run off to find her friends. They exchange nervous looks and half-hearted jabs, then focus their attention on the temporary stage set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. He stares at the paper slips in the boys' ball. Twelve of them have Jeon Jungkook written on them in careful handwriting.
Two of the three chairs fill with Mayor Lee Jieun in her pretty white dress and Jin, District 12's escort, fresh from the Gyeong with his plump, red lips, pastel hair, and an azure suit of crushed velvet. They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat.
Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. she tells of the history of Daeguk, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. She lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Daeguk and a shining capital, Gyeong, ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against Gyeong. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave them the new laws to guarantee peace and, as a yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave them the Hunger Games.
The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.
Taking the kids from each district, forcing them to kill one another while the rest watch — this is Gyeong's way of reminding us how totally the districts are at their mercy. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did to District Thirteen."
To make it humiliating as well as torturous, Gyeong requires them to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Gyeong will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.
"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones Mayor Lee.
Then she reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, we have had exactly three. Due to the last Quarter Quell in which they called for previous victors to go back into the arena, only one is still alive.
Min Yoongi.
Beloved by Gyeong for his sharp tongue and known as "Suga-ssi" for his pale complexion and platinum-blonde hair, he chooses this moment to waltz in, plunking himself into the third chair with all the grace of a cat who knows that they are fashionably late. He and Jin briefly exchange hugs before Mayor Lee begins introductions.
Bright as ever, Jin trots to the podium and gives his signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" He goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here, smiling a perfect (fake) smile with blood-red lips all the while.
Through the crowd, he spots Namjoon looking at him from the sidelines with the ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least is in good weather. Then it's time for the drawings, and Jungkook is sad to see those dimples disappear.
Jin crosses to the large glass ball with thousands of names, thousands of lives , lying in wait. He reaches in, digs his hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and Jungkook is feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not him, it's not him, not him.
Jin crosses back to the podium, smooths the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. "Jeon Jungkook, please step onto the stage."
Fuck.
Author's Notes:
Hello everyone, I return from the dead with another WIP. Please note that A Speck of Gold in the Night is cross-posted on AO3 with the same name under my other alias, Macchiato_Dreaming.
Quotev doesn't have the same tagging system, so here's where I'll be giving my heads up and clarifications.
This story is set an a dystopia quite like that of the original Hunger Games Trilogy, but I haven't quite decided how deep i want it to go. Is District 13 actually still up and running? Who knows.
The ages of everyone in here are also different. For example, Namjoon is five years older than Jungkook in ASGN, rather than the three years older he actually is in our world. Also, I'm assuming that the Games take place around June, so Kook is actually fourteen and set to turn fifteen later in the year. Thus, with the Reapings going by korean age, Jungkook would be sorted into the Fifteens crowd.
As for terminology, Daeguk is the "Panem" in this fanfiction, and Gyeong is the Capitol. I thought about replacing "Dictrict" with "-gu", but in hindsight, I'm glad I didn't.
Apologies if anyone seems out of character. I only vaguely know the other idols that I've mentioned. Tell me in the comments if you want another idol featured, because I've just realized that I know a shockingly small amount and I need more characters.
I update with no pattern, but it should be pretty often while we're stuck in quarantine. Wash your hands, everyone.
Comments are my life-force.
That's all for now. Let's hope I can see this one to the end!