̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶  Chapter Twenty  ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  

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Day Twenty-One. Three weeks into The Hunger Games. Three weeks of this hell. Jungkook can't believe The Games have gone on this long. He can't believe he's alive. His thoughts are a broken record at this point; 'I can't believe I'm alive. I can't believe Jimin is alive. I can't believe I've survived this long. How much longer until the end? Let it be over. I have to keep going. Why is nothing happening?

'Please just let Jimin go home.'

The District 8 girl died yesterday. Jungkook heard her scream in the distance—it was likely a different tribute that killed her. It frightened the pair for a little while, they were all so close now. But the cause of the girl's death—tribute or otherwise—didn't come their way. So they moved on.

And then there were six.

There was nothing left to say. Jimin and Jungkook were exhausted. They were weak. They were hungry. Their injuries bothered them, but not as much as they first did. In fact, due to the medicine they got from the feast, Jungkook's hand was nearly fully healed—save for scarring. They were feeling pretty hopeless, despite the flame of determination burning inside of them. But they were still alive.

That had been the case for weeks now.

Jimin tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. It was early afternoon now, sun high. He shouldn't be feeling this lethargic, but he just couldn't shake the fog from his head. He hoped nothing would happen today...he wasn't sure he'd be able to face it with the way he was feeling.

"Kiss me again?" Jungkook murmurs out of nowhere. Jimin turns his head to see the younger gazing at him softly. "I can't seem to get enough."

Jimin tries to huff out a laugh, he really tries...but it just sounds like a breathy cough. Regardless, his words are playful. "I guess if you really can't I can spare one or two."

"I can't, Mimmie," Jungkook leans into the smaller, inhaling deeply. Even though he didn't smell good, Jungkook couldn't stop himself. He just loved Jimin, down to his smell. "Now that I've gotten a taste of it, I'd argue I need it."

He was being so sappy. Jimin couldn't help but wonder at this moment how the people at home were reacting—both his loved ones, and his peers. Jungkook was just so reserved when he was in public, quietly standing by Jimin, stoic to the point of being perceived as cold. People were scared of him, because Jungkook wanted no one to know him beyond his own close circle. But now the boy was unabashedly, sloppily flirting with him. He wondered if the cameras were on his mind at all. They couldn't be...Jungkook would be so embarrassed.

But then again...they weren't thinking straight these days. Perhaps Jungkook simply didn't care.

Jimin turns his head, kissing him, for once not caring about his surroundings—just for a moment. He felt deserving of it...he had come this far after all. He should be entitled to feeling safe for just a moment.

A canon goes off. As if Jimin's mind was read, a canon goes off. A tribute has died, reminding Jimin that in this arena, he was entitled to nothing. He, nor the man he loves, are given a single human right in this arena.

And then there were five.

Jungkook pulls back—unwillingly, if he were being honest. But another tribute was dead...and he feels nothing for it. Nothing except that the death meant one less step for Jimin to win. One less obstacle.

He feels like a monster.

"Okay," Jimin reads his mind though, making him feel slightly better about the numbness he's experiencing. "Okay. One less tribute. We're so close, Koo."

"Yeah..." Jungkook didn't know if he was relieved or despaired. Now that they were getting close to the end...Jungkook thinks that maybe it would have been easier if they had both died. Maybe if they were both gone by now, things would have been simpler. Jungkook was ready to sacrifice himself for Jimin, he was...but the butterflies were creeping up in his stomach more than ever these days, and they were violent.

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