If Jeon Jungkook could divide his life into chapters, he would divide it into two.

The first chapter of his life would consist of his childhood and early teenage years in District One-Twenty-Seven, and then the second chapter would be his life in District Eighty. There were important hallmarks that he could attribute to each chapter: a life with happiness and without happiness, respectively.

Life was bleak in District One-Twenty-Seven, but at the very least, there were some hope and warmth there. He could not say the same for his life in District Eighty.

Jungkook and Taehyung grew up together in the slums of District One-Twenty-Seven; their parents were scientists who barely made enough to support their families and occasionally, they starved. Jungkook didn’t mind, though.

He was happy. He had a best friend and he had his parents.

Naturally, because of their similar childhood backgrounds (and it helped than their parents were friends), Taehyung and Jungkook endured many hardships together—from lying awake together on the nights they had sleepovers, hungry, to the many times they stood up for each other against their tormenters at school, who were much better off financially than the two of them put together.

They attended the same classroom at school. Schools no longer had classrooms that separated students by grades. There were few people in the world who wanted to bring children into such a bleak, desolate world. The rich homeschooled their children.

As bleak and desolate the world was, Jungkook did not feel it during his childhood, with people that he loved by his side.

Their parents didn’t have a lot of money, but they always emphasized on the importance of education. It no longer guaranteed a job or good money, but at least you were enlightened.

Taehyung and Jungkook tried their best in school, but thinking back to it now, it was laughable to Jungkook. Being educated meant you could rationalize and question the politicians—something that was frowned upon. It guaranteed an assassination attempt if you were vocally against politicians that held great power in their districts.

They used to lay down on the snow-covered hills after school when they were a little older, watching the dim lighting of the man-made lights in the distance. Many times, they wondered—what did moonlight feel like? How did it feel to gaze upon stars?

It was a ritual of theirs that they did every so often because there was nothing to do at home.

They had so many questions that they did not have answers to, even then.

Taehyung never forgot what it felt like to lay there, feeling so small and uncertain of himself in a cold, vast world that held little warmth.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was content to watch the lights in the distance after they finished talking about things in the universe that they had no control of or answers to. He was often left wondering when the hell the older boy would get bored of watching the lights so they could head home together.

Of the two of them, it had always been Taehyung who worried and worried, and felt restless with what was going on in the world around them.

Jungkook, on the other hand, knew the world was not perfect, and he would worry about it when he was older and could have a say in what happened in the world.

They lived in their imperfect world together, never expecting their lives to change so drastically.

Taehyung’s parents had gotten modestly rich, through their rich sponsors who were more than happy to provide monetary compensation to a scientist that backed coal-based energy, so that they could live in comfort.

That was the turning point for both families, and perhaps it was a little before that, when Mr. Kim began to advocate for non-clean energy, in order to entice financial support.

“How could you do this to the world? To them?” his father had yelled, pointing to the corner where Taehyung and Jungkook were huddled together, cowering in fear. They were wondering what was going on. They had come back for dinner in high spirits, after going over to the hill and playing in the black snow.

“You really don’t care about Taehyung, do you?”

It had started off as a regular dinner over at the Jeons’ run-down apartment and the after-dinner tea had gone relatively smoothly at the beginning, but it had escalated to the current shouting match the two young children were observing and didn’t want to have anything to do with.

They had been playing together on the kitchen floor with their toy cars. Their toy cars, like everything else in the small apartment, was worn down and old. They’d bought them second-hand at the indoor market recently for Jungkook’s birthday.

Taehyung was a little too old to be playing with cars and frankly did not a lot of interest in them—not that he minded playing with Jungkook. It was something to keep his mind away from the growing worries in his life.

At the outburst, Jungkook felt his eyes began to water with tears, but he refused to cry because Taehyung wasn’t crying.

However, he could not deny that his little heart was pounding fast in his chest. He didn’t like it when the adults yelled. It was so scary.

His hand snuck over to the other boy’s and he held the other boy’s hand so tightly he was sure that had he been any older and stronger, it would’ve snapped his friend’s hand in half. If it was hurting the other boy, he gave no indication of it.

They both listened in, curious and not quite understanding.

Ms. Jeon had immediately headed towards the two of them, crouching when she arrived. An empathetic look was on her face as she softly ran her fingers through their hair with her hands, as if to reassure them that everything would be alright.

The children stood there unmoving and scared, transfixed with the current situation.

“It was for her!” Mr. Kim had shouted, his eyes showing his rage as he pointed in the direction of Mrs. Kim, who was quiet and unwilling to speak. She was unsteadily holding the edge of the table where she sat beside Mr. Kim, her entire body shaking. Jungkook was unsure if it was from anger, from grief, or because she was in pain because she was already very sick at that time. “How can you say that I don’t care about my child?”

Jungkook’s father had just scoffed to that. His face was abnormally pale, as if he had lost all hope in the world and in the person who he used to call his best friend. “Actions speak louder than words.”

Silence.

If a pin had dropped in the apartment, it was almost certain that everyone would have heard it.

“This conversation is over,” Mr. Kim had finally scoffed back, standing up from where he sat at the rickety dining table. He looked over to Mrs. Kim, who refused to look at anyone. “Let’s go.”

She sat, frozen in place. It was almost as if she did not hear him.

“Let’s go,” he repeated once more, his tone harsher. She got up, an unwilling expression on her face. She gave a meaningful look to both Mr. and Mrs. Jeon, something that Taehyung caught at the time, but was unsure of what to make of it.

Taehyung, who was holding hands with Jungkook, and comforted by Mrs. Jeon’s touch, was ripped away from his best friend by his father.

Both boys started crying—for different reasons. Jungkook was scared, while Taehyung’s arm hurt from where he was pulled by his father. Jungkook was immediately taken into the arms of his mother.

None of the adults spoke as Mr. Kim huffily made for the door of the old, rickety apartment, Mrs. Kim slowly following behind.

That was the last time Taehyung and Jungkook saw one another before his mother’s death.

Taehyung had moved shortly afterwards, to a better place that looked nothing like his rickety, worn-down apartment and he did not know the district well enough to navigate the streets on his own. Not long after, his mother had also been abruptly ripped away from him, the fragility of life taught to him by his mother’s death.

Taehyung cried so hard at his mother’s funeral, that he could not see or walk straight.

The Jeons had been there, offering their condolences. Taehyung remembered that Jungkook had been there with him the whole time, perhaps not really understanding but he could empathize with the older boy who was crying. It had been explained to him that Taehyung’s mother was now far, far away and could no longer visit him.

When they arrived back home after the last day of her funeral, Taehyung’s momentary display of weakness had been met with his father’s ire and a severe slap across the face. He was berated for not being a crybaby and undeserving to be his son.

Taehyung woke up then, realizing that he had to grow up. He locked all of his emotions away, deciding that he did not need to hurt if he did not care. He never saw the Jeons again after the funeral.

The years slowly trickled by, Jungkook missing his friend dearly and the same could be said for Taehyung, although Taehyung found a sort-of companion in Myungsoo, who was there-but-not-really. Taehyung never admitted it however, and many mementos that reminded him of his old life were locked away in a forgotten chest, shoved to the back of one of his closets.

The Jeon family moved into District Eighty, after Mr. Kim landed a prominent role in politics from his role as president of the new start-up coal company. Far, far too late to save Mrs. Kim from the money from his sponsors. Not that Mr. Kim cared anymore—it seemed like he was drunk off the power he held in politics, just from proposing a monopoly that would “responsibly” extract coal from the earth.

Not long afterwards, District One-Twenty-Seven transitioned into using fossil fuel energy.

Jungkook could only remember the ferocity on his father’s face as he watched the news reporting on the transition. They had already been in District Eighty then. Their bleak lives had not changed much, except for a new addition to their little family.

“How despicable.”

This was a scene that Jungkook thought about often on the days he let his mind wander back into the past that would never come back. However, he never dwelled too long on it. After all, there was no point in remembering the past that was no longer relevant.

It would lead to nothing but an endless spiral into the past, when life was simpler. It was easier to forget, because he would not hurt.

These days, he resolved to only close his eyes and count to ten, think of the future he wanted, and planned accordingly.

-

There was silence in the room.

Then—

“I don’t understand,” Taehyung whispered, long after the guards have left and shut the door behind them. They had been staring at each other, neither willing to speak first. The shadows danced ominously in the dimly lit room.

Taehyung felt so, so tired after learning what he did today.

Nothing made sense and he decided to seek solace from the political prisoner, even though he knew it was fruitless. Jungkook probably hated him, but he needed to find a way to be when it was safe, when his mother was still alive. It was only back then that everything had made sense. Nothing these days made sense.

Jungkook was all that was left from the times that were happier.

His mother was gone.

His father perhaps long gone.

He could not believe he had thought his father was beginning to change for the better, after pledging to begin a conversion to clean energy right after the last election season. Perhaps it was just a show.

His thoughts then shifted to think about his first cousin, the strange and bubbly man who had been around for so long. But he was no more. They did not spend their childhood in close company, but they did speak occasionally in their teenage years. They were distant, but it was a comfortable distance, given how different Myungsoo’s areas of interest were to Taehyung’s father.

Taehyung, on the other hand, had never really spoke to Jungkook’s parents. He often found comfort in Jungkook’s mother when his mother was not around, but he didn’t think she had any special attachment to him. She meant a lot to him, for she was the one who comforted him when his own mother was preoccupied with work. He shifted his thoughts away from what could be but never would be. He was also really doubtful that either of them would be up for speaking to him either.

Thus, the only person who was a reminder of better times was Jungkook. But now, after realizing that the guards had listened to Jungkook rather than himself, Taehyung was just left with more questions that perhaps would never be answered.

The guards… were they cyborgs too? Myungsoo—he could not finish the thought, biting back the tears. His mind wandered slightly to the man the bioweapon was used on. He also lost his breath from gasping and trying to not cry. He had already cried enough on his way back to the Estate, in the silent car, as black snow drifted slowly down from the skies. And he retched and retched and retched in the car until he thought that he could not humanly do so anymore.

The chauffeur did not speak at all throughout it all, and Taehyung was thankful for it. He was equally thankful that Hoseok was not there to be his annoying self.

He was thankful that he managed to compose himself when the car ride had ended and walked directly to Jungkook’s holding room, without even the slightest hitch to his footsteps.

Taehyung’s thoughts drifted again.

Myungsoo, his distant first cousin that will never return now.

He barely knew Myungsoo, but still mourned him. They had some deep conversations in Taehyung’s teen years, when he was struggling to find his way in the world. The joke was on him, though, for Taehyung’s life path had already been chosen by his father. He just didn’t know it then.

Between the two of them, Jungkook looked away first, his face an angry red. The turmoil Jungkook felt went undetected by the other, who was lost in his own emotions.

Jungkook wanted to shout out his frustrations to the world, take the other man by his shoulders and shake them, and—

Jungkook was angry at the world, but he had no one to share it with. He looked to the man who stood some distance away from him, who was once someone he shared the world, his little world, with. His face was void of emotions by the time he got his emotions under control. However, he could not help but feel as though it was a pity.

Perhaps if the situation was different, he could have had that one shoulder to lean on. If they had been different people, perhaps it would have made it easier.

Somewhere among his thoughts, Jungkook realized that many of the thoughts he had were useless to ponder on. Abruptly realizing just how ridiculous his current predicament was just then, Jungkook could only give a sharp laugh, a horrible one that snapped Taehyung out of his thoughts and left him uncomfortable. It rang in Taehyung’s ears, a chromatic melody that did not make sense.

“What do you understand?” Jungkook asked, getting up from the bed, leaving behind a trace imprint on the mattress. There was a strange way to the way he walked, but Taehyung paid no heed to it.

Jungkook’s voice had a bitter undertone and his eyes were vacant, staring off into the distance as if thinking of something. For a moment, Taehyung thought he saw a flash of something that he could not place. But that was not what he wanted to know or understand right now.

Taehyung ignored it.

He wanted answers.

Taehyung studied the man before him, wondering if it was possible for someone to look incredibly similar but so different from when they were younger.

There was a new scar on his face that he never had in his childhood. Taehyung shook off his thoughts.

There were no windows to look out of, all of the ones in the room bordered up with wood and bars, to prevent escape.

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