League of Fame | Jungkook Dystopian Novel

24

"It hurts," Jungkook says, clutching his side. A perpetual sweat clings to his forehead. His eyes are shut in pain, and his lips quiver whenever he talks.

"I know," I say. But there's nothing else I can do. I've already changed his bandages every day for the past five days. Applying fresh coats of antiseptic each time. Giving him painkillers when he can't sleep because of his injury. There are two more days until Sunday—when Jungkook can actually get the help he needs.

I've been playing makeshift doctor since Sunday. We've moved from the grocery store's backroom to the building's basement. It seems like no one's been down here in a decade. I had to chase away several rats already. A thick layer of dust coats the floors and walls. I still haven't gotten used to the moldy, damp smell. The darkness is only cut by a single lamp hanging by the staircase. It's definitely not the ideal place for someone to heal after being shot.

"Just hold on for a bit longer," I say. "I already stole a bike, so it won't take too long for us to travel to the headquarters."

"How long has it been?" Jungkook asks.

"Five days." I don't want to mention that he's asked the same question at least a half dozen times today.

I feel his forehead. "You have a fever," I say. "Shit."

"Shit is right," Jungkook says. Then he leans forward and chuckles a bit. "I'm sorry, Cosma. This really sucks. How are we going to win like this?"

"Don't worry about that right now. Just focus on recovering. At the headquarters, you'll get the medicine you need. The nurse there is top notch."

"Your arm is fully recovered?" Jungkook asks.

I move it around. "Yes. But don't worry about me. Just keep breathing and tell your body not to shut down."

"Don't shut down, body." Jungkook chuckles again. "You're pretty funny, Cosma. Like talking to myself will stop me from dying."

"You're not dying," I say, trying to hide the panic that races throughout my body like a shot of poison.

"Who knows?" Jungkook says. "My wound isn't healing by itself. And I certainly feel half dead."

"You're not dying," I repeat. I sit next to him, back against the wall. I reach out and hold his hand.

"You've been different the past couple of days," Jungkook says. "Like something is on your mind. It keeps bothering you."

"Of course something is bothering me," I say. "Your condition."

"No," Jungkook says. "Something else."

I turn away, cursing Jungkook's ability to see through me. Or maybe I've made myself obvious. Every time I close my eyes, the first girl I killed joins the band of five. I see them falling onto the concrete. Blood everywhere. They shout at me—demanding me for answers to why I had to end their lives. From the afterworld, their souls haunt me as I sleep.

I will tell Jungkook what I did one day. But not today. Now, I need to push my worries aside. Even though the darkness within me has grown like an endless void threatening to eat me from the inside out. What would Zion think of me now? My parents? I wonder if I will ever be able to face them again. When I try to justify myself, saying that the lives I ended are for Zion's sake, a weird guilt settles into my stomach. I know it doesn't work like that. I killed them and there's no justification to make me innocent. League of Fame doesn't work that way. There is an irredeemable price to pay for stardom that could never be returned.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Jungkook asks. His voice is so quiet, and my thoughts are so loud, that I almost don't hear him.

"Huh?" I shuffle, taking my hand away—realizing that I've been holding it too tight while my thoughts eat me alive. "No. You?"