Hunger | A Jikook Hunger Games AU

̶̶̶̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ Epilogue ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶

The boy looked scared—there was no doubt about it. But he tried to hide it. Jimin could tell that he wanted to be strong, the poor thing. But it was more obvious than not. Jimin could see right through him.

After all, he was just like this boy once.

"Yeosang Kang," Jimin greets. "From District 7. What an absolute pleasure I have in meeting you. I've always wanted to visit District 7, you know. The greenery must be a sight to behold, am I correct?"

Slowly, the boy nods. "...I've always been fond of it."

"I'm sure," Jimin sits beside him. "My name is Jimin, I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm your stylist for The Games. I'm originally from District 1, but I had the pleasure of moving to The Capital for the purpose of dolling you up for everything ahead."

"How can you live here..?" Yeosang breathes. "You just look so...normal."

"I hardly think the jewels under my eyes are normal, but I'll take that as a compliment from you," He smiles a charming smile. "I try to stick to my roots for the most part."

Loss of identity was what terrified Jimin the most these days. He struggled to even dye his hair blonde that first time a few years ago—now it was his signature color. He wore vibrant but simple clothes, usually only one color at a time, in basic silhouettes. Today, he wore an evergreen-colored sweater, finding it fitting for the district he was in charge of. His nails matched in color to a T.

The only thing he played around with at all was makeup, realizing that it was something he actually did enjoy. Gone were the days of him caring for herds of cows—oh how he missed them so. Gone too though, were the days he worried his looks were too feminine. He wasn't masculine, he wasn't feminine, he was Jimin. He did feel beautiful these days...it was a comfortable feeling.

Instead of participating in the thoughts and actions of his past, he spent his time with Taehyung learning new styles and tricks to creating art on his face. Today was simple though—just some glitter on and under his eyes to make them look bigger.

"I see..." The tribute trails.

"How are you doing, Yeosang? Truly? I'd like to get to know you a bit," Jimin speaks softly, trying to embody the stylist that comforted him for the first time all those years ago. "I'm so sorry you're going through this."

Shock flashes across the boy's face. "...Really?"

Jimin nods. "I may be privileged enough to live in The Capital now, but I'm still a district kid at heart. I'm not asking for you to rebel against The Capital—that would be stupid. I just...I hope I can make you feel less alone as you prepare for what's ahead."

"O-oh," Yeosang shakes his head a few times. He was silent for a little while. "...I'm just so confused. Why does it have to be this way? Why do we have to die?"

A light goes off in Jimin's mind. But he doesn't let it show. "I know, Yeosang...it's just how the world works right now."

"That's a terrible answer," Yeosang states bluntly. "I'm sorry, but it is."

"I wish I could offer you a better one," Jimin sighs. This was always the hardest part—meeting the tributes. All of them helpless and lost...just like he once was.

Only this time, it was as if Jimin was staring at his eighteen-year-old self. Yeosang was so much like he once was. In fact...he kind of reminded him of a combination of himself and Taehyung.

"Why are you even here?" The tribute asks. "How can you participate in an event like this?"

"The same way mentors do," Jimin shrugs. "It's to bring a bit of humanity back into The Games. I'm not saying I'm saving the world by making you look all pretty, but the least you deserve is a reminder that you're still human."