bury me under the train

prologue.

Note to the part about the universe:
• this world is divided in half - an ordinary world, where mainly "daytime" inhabitants live, and a "nighttime" world.  there is a border between them - old, abandoned rails, which no one from the "day" dares to cross.
• a day in this world lasts exactly thirty hours.
- 0:00 to 15:00 - this is how long the day lasts.
- 15:00 to 30:00 - this is how long the night lasts.
- if we take into account the fact that people in the period between 0:00 and 8:00 sleep, then, consider, the day lasts at most seven hours.  but in the "night" world the sun does not exist as such.  all 30 hours, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, darkness prevails and the inhabitants of this world do not need the sun.  There are, of course, those who live in the "daytime" world, but do not give themselves away, fearing that they will be killed, since there are many times more "daytime" inhabitants than
"Night".  but even so, massacres and terrorist attacks are very common.
• among other things, all residents of the "day" have a tattoo with the image of the sun on their neck behind, the inhabitants of the "night" have a tattoo in the form of a month.
prologue.
"... Don't be afraid, it's only one week, maybe a little longer," the woman walks around the room in a hurry, collecting things for the trip.
She and her brother are on their way to an important meeting in California.  More precisely, Jungkook's mother drives him forcibly, although first of all it is necessary for the man himself, who stared at the TV screen in the living room without much enthusiasm.  Chon stands on the threshold of a bright room.  In fact, he does not even remember when he last came here, since he has been living alone for a long time.  Sunday morning is a gathering, so there is an unpleasant mess here for the mother.  Jungkook watches the gathering process with an expressionless expression on his face, silently crossing his arms over his chest.  The woman looks at her son, barely smiling:
- You're all right, aren't you?  - asks the question, turning his back to the guy to put things on the bed.  He looks up at her, tilting his head slightly.  - I'm not sure, though, that it's worth leaving you for a long time, - the mother smooths her blouse with her hands, goes back to the dresser to get the laundry.  In her opinion, "week" is long?  "God," she suddenly remembers, stopping, and brings her hand to her hot forehead, "I completely forgot about the oven," smiles, turning to face Jeon.  - I prepared food for you for the first time, - looks at his wristwatch, knocking on the parquet with his heels, while walking towards his son.  He says:
"I've been living alone for several years now, and you speak as if I'm ten years old," reminds me tactfully, arching an eyebrow.
At these words, the woman only points a threatening finger at him.  - You will always be ten.
The guy rolls his eyes:
- Oxides.
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Mother begins to grumble something about, they say, when you start listening to me, you petty idiot;  and as soon as Jungkook reminds her that he's twenty-one, she raises her tone, grumbling even more.  Probably, the woman calms down only after five minutes, asking:
- How is your group?  You're in the agency now, right?  - spinning by the mirror, putting earrings in his ears.  The son nods.  - Get my office for now, it's in a drawer.  Better to take everything.  I know how your uncle loves to chew on his hands.  What will they think of him if they see a gnawed pencil?  Jungkook walks to the side and his mother touches his forearm weightlessly as she walks out into the hallway.  Jungkook slowly walks to the table, glancing at the covered suitcase on the edge of the large bed.  He opens the top drawer of the desk, finding nothing remotely resembling a pencil case, so he leans over, yanking the second one.  It's strange.  The mother constantly repeats about order, usually her room is a temple of purity, but in the boxes the guy sees something completely different.  You have to rummage through the mess before you find what you need.
He takes it with the fingers of both hands, twisting it in front of the face, and presses on the box with his hip, closing it.  He walks to the bed, deciding to throw the pencil case into the suitcase right away, so he opens it, carefully examining the contents to figure out where to put the office.  Mother collects things for two.  Maybe there will be room in your uncle's suitcase?  A glance involuntarily falls on the edge of a black diary peeping out from under a gray jacket.  For as long as Jungkook can remember, the woman is constantly leading them.  They probably have a plan for their trip there.  Or in general, the whole future life.  Without this, there is simply no way.  The guy, without much interest, puts the pencil case on the mountain of things, stretching his hand to the dark notebook, and straightens up, stroking it with his palm.  Non-scratch leather finish.  It looks so much like her.  Jungkook involuntarily grins with the edge of his lips, flipping quickly but not trying to peer at the tape.  It's not his thing, after all.
Suddenly, something different from simple black letters flickers in my eyes.  Jungkook pauses his actions, goes back a few pages a little hesitantly, staring at the photo nested between the "words."  There is not a single emotion on his face, and an unpleasant click in his chest.  From the photograph, a woman with her hair gathered in a bun is looking at him.  Her wide smile seems impossible, and such a sincere glint in her eyes is confusing.  A dark-haired man stands nearby.  He puts his arms around her shoulders, hugging her.  A woman holds two babies, which she presses with her face against the curve of her neck.  Such a gentle gesture.  Jungkook furrows his brows as he flips the photo over.  The inscription on the edge: "Our first babies with our beloved.  Finally it was my happy hour to feel like a real mother. "
Jungkook stares at the beautifully written letters for a long time, swallowing his long-standing anger.  He doesn't like to see his father in the photo.  He just doesn't like to see him.
The guy purses his lips, turning the photo over again to take another look at the woman who is experiencing this very happiness with a man for the first time, and Jeon's fingers themselves naughty squeeze the glossy sheet, which crumples under the pressure of his strength.
- Jungkook!  - he hears his mother calling, and therefore puts the photo back, returning the notebook to its place.  It's amazing how the woman hasn't thrown out everything related to Jungkook's father yet.  She probably keeps this photo as a memory of her sons, and not because of the man.
- What?  - the guy looks out into the corridor.  - Do you need help with anything else?
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