League of Fame | Jungkook Dystopian Novel

38

Spending one full day in a janitor's closet doesn't sound so bad. Not with all Jungkook and I have suffered earlier in the competition. That's what we've decided—to stay put until the final hour. Until all those who haven't got their hands on an item die in the fight or are executed. I feel on the edge of a panic attack, with my back pressed against the wall and the smell of cleaning solution permeating every inch of me. I hold Jungkook's hand, our arms meeting somewhere in the darkness. His breathing is a small comfort to me. To know that we're both still alive. After five weeks of teetering on the edge of life and death.

"How long do you think has passed?" I ask him, when the silence almost threatens to suffocate me.

Jungkook stops the melody of his breathing, and I want to slap myself for ruining the peace that almost settled over us. "I don't know... but we'll wait until the trumpet sounds."

The League of Fame trumpet. It's what allowed me and my brother to finally go outside in the past three years—my mother claiming the streets to be safe.

"What if the janitor comes?" I ask, the thought of being exposed accidentally haunting me.

"Let's hope they don't work on the weekends," Jungkook says.

For a while, I allow myself to believe it's all over. Somehow, I've managed to ally with this thief boy and come out on the other side of the competition. Yes, I will come out guilty of murder, and the nightmares will haunt me for years to come. But I made it out alive. Scarred, but still able to see Zion and my parents again. They won't be proud of me—probably the opposite—but my victory will allow them to live a life of comfort. Zion will be able to afford his treatment, and he might grow up to hate me. But at least he'll have the chance to grow up.

"Jungkook—" I start.

Pounding erupts on the janitor closet's door. I shriek, jolting back and hitting my back against a rack of mops and brooms. Jungkook is still, but I can imagine his eyes open in shock.

The voice on the other side makes chills cascade down my spine. "You know, I put a tracker in my necklace. Just in case."

Suga.

"I can shoot you both right now," he says. "Mr. Fame wouldn't look at me twice for it."

"I can shoot too," Jungkook says. And even though I can barely see, the hint of light through the door's cracks glint against his pistol.

"Me too," I say, even though I can barely move—let alone wield a weapon.

"You'll be eliminated if you harm me," Suga says, measured and cool.

"If I shoot," Jungkook says. "My partner will make it out alive."

"You should think twice about that," Suga says. "And what makes you think that you can out-shoot me?"

Suga, winner of the second League of Fame. I never imagined coming across an opponent like him.

I steady myself, standing straight as if he could see me from the other side. "Don't shoot," I say. "Why are you so against giving your necklace away this late into the competition? You would rather someone die while you hoard your item?"

Suga shifts on the other side, his feet scraping against the concrete. "You two stole my necklace. That's enough reason for me to take it back."

"There's no rule saying we can't steal," I say. "It's you and the other idols who've made this into a carnival."

"Fine, say I don't shoot," Suga says. "What will you two owe me after this game ends?"

"We don't owe you anything—" Jungkook starts.

But I elbow him against his side. "What is it that you want?"

Suga pauses. I wish that this could've all been a hallucination, like he isn't there on the other side thinking about ending my and Jungkook's lives. But his voice comes out even and sure—as expected of an idol of his status. "I heard from Taehyung that the boy has a beautiful voice. If I let you keep the necklace, he'll have to record a song with us—me and the other boys."

"That's it?" I ask.

"That's it," Suga says. I imagine his gun lowering.

I elbow Jungkook again, willing him to agree. "I'll do it," he says, the sound tearing from his throat like a part of him would rather die here and now.

"Great," Suga says. "I'll leave you two alone. But remember, Cosma, you will owe me in the future too."

He turns to leave. Jungkook catches me as I leer to one side in a daze. He holds me until I decide to lower myself into a sitting position. Together, we rest back to back until the night fades to morning and then afternoon turns to night again.

The trumpet sounds. It's beautiful and chaotic, the call piercing through the air like a bullet. Jungkook and I stir from our positions. I stand, pulling Jungkook with me. The sound must last for ten seconds in total—making everyone in Seoul aware that the games have ended. That they will welcome new stars arising in the country.

Then the shots go off. They pop at different volumes, coming from all around the Gangnam district. I flinch at each one. Like I can feel the impact. I know they're from Mr. Fame's employees, executing those who have failed to retrieve an item. Like fireworks, except they are welcoming the dead, more who will be counted casualties by this twisted game I've subscribed to.

I open the janitor closet's door, and Jungkook and I step out into the night.

A/N: As always, thanks for reading League of Fame!