Chapter Text
dawn came thin and grey over district twelve, like the world itself was reluctant to wake up on this day.
the seam always looked smaller at that hour before sunrise. the houses seemed to hunch into themselves, crooked roofs sagging under years old coal dust and rain. chimneys coughed out thin threads of smoke from lit fireplaces that burnt out overnight, low against the sky. everything smelled faintly metallic – soot, damp wood and old iron.
jaeyun had been awake long before the first morning whistle rang.
sleep had hovered at the edge of him all night without ever settling properly. every time he drifted, he’d see the square. that dreadful bowl and that one hand reaching into it that would determine the deaths of two people he knew.
he lay still anyways.
jungwon’s fingers were twisted into the fabric of jaeyun’s shirt, knuckles pale even in his sleep. the little omega’s breathing hitched every few minutes, like he was running away from something in a dream. jaeyun watched the faint rise and fall of his chest and counted the seconds between each breath.
it was steady enough.
which meant he was safe.
for now.
his gaze moved to the ceiling – to the long crack that split the plaster diagonally. he’d traced that line so many nights that it felt like a map burned into memory. a map that he imagined following somewhere far away. somewhere they didn’t have to go hungry for days on end, where they didn’t have to live in fear of being one of those selected for a ceremony held for killing children.
jungwon stirred slightly in his sleep.
“hyung…” he whined slightly, voice thick with sleep and fear.
“i’m here… i’m here,” jaeyun answered immediately, before the fear could rise further. he hugged him closer, running his fingers through his hair over and over, trying to calm him down. jungwon’s hand came up to rest on jaeyun’s, his eyes flickered open slightly. they were far too wide for someone who’d just woken up – too watchful for a twelve year old.
jaeyun shifted now that jungwon was awake, pushing his body towards the edge of the bed.
“you’re… going out?” jungwon asked hesitantly, even though he already knew the answer.
“just for a bit,” jaeyun said, keeping his tone light and easy, “you know sunghoon will sulk all day if i make him wait.”
that earned him the faintest hint of a smile.
jungwon pushed himself up onto one elbow. the blanket slid down, exposing his sharp collarbones and the small omega patch sewn into the inside hem of his shirt. it was hidden well but everyone knew they had it on – it was mandated for all alphas and omegas to wear them in public after all.
“you’ll be back before…” jungwon didn’t finish, voice trailing off but eyes still expectant, like he expected jaeyun to understand how that sentence would’ve gone.
jaeyun smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “of course,” he confirmed.
a moment of silence passed between them, as though jungwon didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. it kind of hurt jaeyun to think that jungwon would even doubt if jaeyun would be there before he left for his first ever reaping. but then jungwon’s expression took on a different kind of uncertainty.
“hyung-” the younger tried again, voice quieter but more strained, “if they-”
jaeyun sat up fully now, and turned to face him completely.
“don’t.”
jungwon swallowed thickly, but he kept going, because he was barely twelve and brave in the way only terrified little children could be, “some people say it doesn’t matter how many times your name is in,” he said, “they just pick whoever they want.”
jaeyun’s jaw tightened at that.
everyone knew rumours like that. people said them every year. they whispered it through every corner. they blamed the capitol for patterns which never made any sense to them. sometimes kids with only three or four entries were taken. and other times the ones with sixty or seventy entries were picked, like expected. it was the randomness of it all which was the cruelty.
“people love stories, jungwon,” he said instead, carefully, “it makes them feel like there is a reason for all of this.”
jungwon searched through his face. as though he was looking for a sign that he was being lied to.
“kiddo, your name’s in there once,” jaeyun continued, softer now, “there are thousands of slips in that bowl. they won’t even reach for yours.”
statistically, jaeyun was telling the truth. he’d done the math in his head, more than once. for the five years so far when they’d drawn names with him in the polls, jaeyun had clung to the numbers like most people clung to prayers. it had worked out in his favour so far.
he only had one year left after today, and jungwon would never be signing up for tesserae.
they’d be safe.
jungwon’s fingers tightened in his shirt again.
“you promise?”
jaeyun held his gaze, reaching his pinky finger out until jungwon grabbed it with his own.
“i promise.”
he let himself believe it because he needed to. because jungwon needed him to believe in the truth that came out of chance and probability.
once jungwon seemed to calm down enough, he distangled their limbs carefully and stood up. the floorboards were cold. he quickly shrugged off the shirt he’d slipped on for the night, and put on the patchy outdoor top he usually used, pulling on his overworn jacket over it. his fingers brushed the small omega patch stitched discreetly into its inner lining. alphas always wore theirs openly. omegas learnt early on that it was better to be discreet.
he adjusted the cheap suppressant band on his wrist. it didn’t do much to completely erase his scent, but it was all they could afford. proper suppressants which came in the form of pills were far too expensive. moreover, they were only sold by peacekeepers and buying anything from them involved a paper trail that almost no one in district twelve could afford.
his wooden bow rested against the wall. he checked the bowstring, tugging it once or twice. he’d restrung it only last week so it held steady today, smooth enough to not burn into his skin when he drew on it.
hunting had always steadied him, even before he actually even knew what he was doing. he’d learnt it before he’d learnt about the politics between the districts and the capitol. he’d learnt that hunting put food on the table when obedience didn’t even though it was considered illegal. the forest obeyed rules that you could learn. you could predict things based on a simple set of variables – distance, angle, wind, even your own breathing.
you couldn’t predict things in the square filled with peacekeepers.
when he stepped outside, the air bit at his cheeks. frost clung to the edges of weeds pushing through the cracked stone pavements. somewhere down the lane, he heard the distant sound of a baby crying. elsewhere someone’s laughter could be heard faintly. jaeyun wondered if it was from the house of someone who had nothing to lose today.
jaeyun walked toward the fence with long, unhurried strides. he kept an eye out for peacekeepers but none of them ever bothered to wander into this part of the seam.
he forced himself not to think too much about later.
—
sunghoon was exactly where he always waited, leaning against a rusted post at the far edge of the fence. he looked relaxed like nothing about this was remotely against the law.
right in front of him, the warning sign hung onto the barbed wire of the fence. it said in bright red letters “HIGH VOLTAGE” but jaeyun doubted it had been anything less than decades since even a single watt of electricity had flowed through these wires. it was lucky on most days if the houses had electricity, and the fence was probably a last priority to the people who worked around the electricity office.
peacekeepers there had been known to take bribes for additional supply to houses in the central part of the district.
sunghoon straightened when he saw jaeyun, posture shifting from alert to loose in a heartbeat.
“you’re late,” sunghoon said.
“i’m five minutes early,” jaeyun replied.
sunghoon’s mouth twitched. he looked different in the early light. sharper. a little broader. seventeen had settled heavily on him this past year. his alpha patch was sewn openly on his sleeve, dark against the worn fabric. he never really had to hide it.
but his scent was more muted than the patch alone would achieve – there was pine and something colder, almost metallic but carefully restrained. jaeyun had known for a while that sunghoon consciously regulated more whenever jaeyun was around without making it obvious. he doubted sunghoon even put thought into it anymore, since he didn’t seem to be awkward in any volume around him.
“jungwon?” sunghoon asked.
“he’s awake,” jaeyun said, “pretending he isn’t scared about today.”
sunghoon’s eyes darkened, just a bit.
they didn’t immediately speak anymore. they instead slipped through the loose section of fence with practiced ease. jaeyun always felt this sense of liberation whenever they crossed the boundary. like somehow being in the middle of nowhere made it easier to breathe, than inside the district bounds.
the trees swallowed the two of them whole.
the woods were damp and alive in a way that the seam never was. moss crept over fallen trunks. birdcalls echoed high above, their morning calls waking up the rest of the forest with them. the air here smelled cleaner – wet leaves and earth and sap. jaeyun breathed in deeper, like his lungs filled with something for than the hanging coal dust of the district.
sunghoon fell into step beside him, close but not crowding. they moved in sync without thinking, covering each others’ backs. years of repetition had carved that into muscle memory for both of them. how could it not when they’d been running these forests for the last seven years.
jaeyun’s mind wandered despite himself.
he’d been hunting since he was small enough to struggle with the bow. sunghoon had stood behind him then too, hands over his, correcting the angle of his draw. sunghoon had always been set to present as an alpha – it only made sense that his father had taught him all of this before the dreadful mine accident. jaeyun hadn’t had that luxury. if it weren’t for sunghoon, he’d have had to teach himself everything from scratch.
back then, neither of them had cared much about secondary genders. at least sunghoon hadn’t. no one had seen jaeyun as anything more than a pup.
things had shifted around fourteen.
the way people watched him changed.
the alphas always lingered more when he watched into the black markets.
sunghoon had started standing closer after that, whenever they were together in there.
jaeyun noticed most of the things sunghoon attempted to do subtly. he just didn’t comment on them.
“we don’t have long today,” sunghoon murmured now.
“i know.”
“we need to aim for something worth selling.”
jaeyun gave him a side eye, “since when do we aim for anything else?” he asked.
sunghoon shrugged faintly.
the forest felt different today. too quiet. or maybe that was just the weight in jaeyun’s chest amplifying every small sound.
there was a sudden rustle to their right.
sunghoon’s hand shot out automatically, catching jaeyun’s wrist. he stilled at once, turning slowly in the direction where the alpha was looking. there was movement between the trees and jaeyun strained his eyes to catch sight of what was making the movement.
and there it was.
a young stag, thin from the approaching winter but still decent sized. its head was lowered, it was gnawing at the dew wet grass along the forest floor. it was the first deer either of them had seen in the past two months. a deer… that was enough to keep food on both their tables for at least two to three weeks.
sunghoon’s grip loosened from jaeyun’s hand but didn’t drop. his thumb pressed once against jaeyun’s pulse before he let go.
jaeyun stepped forward slowly.
he let his world narrow. until there was nothing but himself, his bow and the deer which moved calmly, unsuspecting of the danger which lurked around it. the bow felt natural in his hands, almost like an extension of himself. he inhaled, steady and controlled. the cold air filled his lungs and sharpened everything.
he thought, fleetingly, of how the deer was almost like the people of district twelve. completely unaware of the danger of the capitol, beyond the more obvious dangers of starvation.
his fingers tightened on the bow.
focus.
the wind was in his favour. he shifted the angle, drawing the string just far enough not to overshoot.
as he released, the arrow cut through the clearing and struck cleanly just above the eye of the deer. jaeyun always shot the head – that way it was faster on themselves and the animal. the stag let out a high pitched sound, and stumbled, hooves hitting the ground in two desperate step before it collapsed onto the forest floor.
then silence fell again.
sunghoon exhaled first and that’s what made jaeyun let out a breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding.
“perfect,” the alpha said under his breath.
jaeyun lowered his bow, a small flicker of satisfaction warming his chest. it wasn’t quite pride – it would’ve been pride once upon a time but he’d been doing this far too long for that emotion to surface anymore. now it just felt like an affirmation to his own competence, proof that some things still worked out the way they were supposed to for him.
“its not pathetic, at least,” jaeyun said, sounding a little breathless.
sunghoon stepped closer, gaze sweeping over jaeyun as if checking for invisible damage.
jaeyun huffed at that, a little annoyed at the overprotectiveness, before stepped through the foliage towards the unmoving stag. he knelt beside it, placing a hand briefly against its flank. it was still warm but there was no movement of its hide under his skin – it wasn’t breathing anymore. sunghoon handed him the knife as jaeyun settled down in a more comfortable position on his knees. he leaned down closer to the head of the animal, and murmured a quick apology under his breath.
he didn’t know why he always did that, before he got to work.
blood darkened the pale ground quickly as jaeyun efficiently skinned the hide, handing the knife back to sunghoon to finish up the distribution. sunghoon knelt on the opposite side as jaeyun stood up, straightening himself as the alpha got to work. he grimaced once at the crusted blood on his hands, making a mental note to wash up by the stream they always passed during their hunts.
“you know,” sunghoon said suddenly, breaking the normalcy of silence during the hunts, “if it's you… reaped today you know?” jaeyun’s blood went cold at the thought and he almost held up his hand to stop sunghoon but by some stroke of bad judgement, let sunghoon continue, “i’ll volunteer from the alpha side…”
jaeyun’s hands stilled next to him.
he looked down sharply, eyes meeting sunghoon as he snapped, “don’t.”
“i’m not letting you go there alone.”
“you don’t even know it’ll be me.”
sunghoon held his gaze without blinking, “i don’t care,” he said, “i needed to put this out there.”
jaeyun felt something twist in his chest – frustration and something softer tangling together.
“sunghoon,” he said carefully, “your name is in there eight four times… you don’t need to add to your chances by tempting fate with something like this.”
the alpha’s expression didn’t change, “that’s not how the reaping works,” he said.
jaeyun chose instead to look at sunghoon’s hands as he worked efficiently despite his mind obviously being elsewhere. his cuts were precise. controlled and clean so that none of the vendors could dock his pay by yelling about jagged edges.
“it won’t be either of us,” jaeyun said, his voice sounding more detached than he’d like.
he believed that. he had to.
sunghoon didn’t argue further, but the set of his shoulders told jaeyun that this conversation was far from over between them. he could only be glad that the other chose this moment to bring this up because they hardly had an hour together before the reaping, which meant breaking it as a topic would be next to impossible. and jaeyun wouldn’t be the one bringing it up.
sunghoon continued his work, while jaeyun took the moment to walk to the stream, washing up as much as he could in the outdoors, and cleaning off the arrow he’d shot. he still felt a little grimy but that came with the job really. you didn’t go hunting in the woods, and come back feeling clean and refreshed.
once the bundles were tied up, they worked together, dragging the two hauls back towards the fence. by then, the sun had risen higher, burning off the last of the mist and greying skies. the district had woken up now, small but deceptively calm.
smoke curled thicker from the freshly lit chimneys. from their vantage point here, up the hill and on the other side of the fence, an odd sense of melancholy threatened to eat jaeyun up. he shook it off immediately.
but somehow he couldn’t get rid of the thought.
what if this was the last time they were walking down this hill together?
jaeyun bit down at his bottom lip, hating how a sudden burning sensation erupted behind his eyelids. the last thing he needed was to start crying, especially now.
he wasn’t the dramatic sort. he didn’t indulge in worst-case fantasies. that had always been sunghoon’s territory.
“after we sell this,” jaeyun said instead, ignoring the shakiness in his voice, “i’m getting something for jungwon. and you’re going to get something for yeji and sooha and you’re going to stop glaring at the horizon like it offended you.”
sunghoon glanced at him, while keeping his footing on the uneven edge, “i don’t glare,” he said.
“you absolutely do.”
sunghoon bumped his shoulder with a quiet kind of familiarity.
but his eyes drifted off somewhere that jaeyun couldn’t follow.
—
the black markets were already swelling with people by the time they reached it.
it always was on reaping day – as if trading hard and fast could somehow outrun the afternoon. not to mention, a lot of people seemed to want to keep a feast ready to celebrate bringing their children home without having to go through the horror.
their tarps today were hung lower than usual. the voices were louder, laughter sharper around the edges. jaeyun took in the faintly nauseating but simultaneously calming smell of frying oil mixed with coal dust and damp wool.
jaeyun shifted the deer’s weight on his shoulder and glanced at sunghoon.
“same as always?” he asked.
sunghoon nodded, “meet up at the clock tower in thirty,” he repeated.
“twenty.”
sunghoon’s mouth twitched, “don’t get distracted,” he said, teasingly.
jaeyun offered him a look that was almost offended, “i’m efficient,” he said indignantly. sunghoon just stared at him in that way, which meant he didn’t trust the world around jaeyun, even if he trusted jaeyun himself.
they split without another word.
—
jaeyun didn’t have to call out what he had for people to notice. most of them always expected him to bring back something – and he always brought in things of quality.
“jaeyun-ah!” mrs. choi waved him over from behind her stall of greens and fruits. she’d called him with the added affection since he was small enough to hide behind her crates, “that looks heavy. you trying to impress someone?”
“only you, ma’am,” jaeyun shot back easily, lowering his half of the deer onto her wooden counter.
a couple of vendors around him leaned in the moment jaeyun spoke.
“that deer?” one of them asked.
“clean shot,” jaeyun said, unwrapping the cloth slowly, “through the eye. i don’t miss.”
“of course he doesn’t,” mrs. choi said to the interested group, “this kid has been shooting straighter than my husband could since he was eleven.”
jaeyun grinned at the praise.
mrs. choi had always been among his regular customers. he’d been eleven when he’d first stood before her stall, weeks after his father’s death, a messily shot rabbit, unskinned and meagre in his hands, tears streaking his cheeks because he couldn’t stop crying. she’d simply taken the rabbit out of his hand, no questions asked and paid him enough for it to make sure he and jungwon didn’t starve that week.
he knew now that the amount she had paid him was far more than what that rabbit had been worth in the market.
she was perhaps the reason he’d survived that month. that he’d had the chance to grow up between these stalls, learning to haggle like a professional, and tell apart the honest from the crooks. he’d learnt to think like a supplier, to add a pound here and there for certain people without making it obvious when he could afford to.
mrs. choi inspected the meat with sharp practiced eyes.
“you’ll get a good price for this today,” she said, “people always want something a little grand on reaping day.”
jaeyun didn’t comment on that. he just nodded.
she named a number for him.
jaeyun raised his eyebrow at that, “come on,” he said, no malice in his tone, “you’re robbing me here.”
“i am not!” mrs. choi gasped, feigning horror.
“you absolutely are.”
they went back and forth for a minute, not because either of them needed to but because this was the dance they always needed to maintain in the black market. when they settled on a decent price, she pressed a bag of coins into his palm, with a squeeze that lingered for a moment.
“you’ll be fine today, son,” she said slowly, a gentle smile on her face.
jaeyun mimicked that, “i know,” he said.
and he told himself he believed that fully.
—
the rest of the portion went quickly.
- lee from the bakery took a generous cut in exchange for coin and an additional two warm rolls wrapped in butter paper.
“for jungwon,” he said gruffly, as it was an afterthought but jaeyun knew better. mr. lee had worked as a teacher in the district school for a while, until last year. he’d always had a soft spot for children, jungwon included.
jaeyun chuckled, “he’ll pretend he doesn’t care,” he said.
“he’s twelve.”
“exactly.”
they shared a brief quiet laugh.
near the alley mouth, a pair of peacekeepers stood half in uniform, with their helmets off and jackets unbuttoned. everyone knew them – they’d grown up here too in their own way. chaewon and woojin if jaeyun remembered correctly. it had been years since the two had actually introduced themselves to him.
“well, well, if it isn’t my favourite criminal,” woojin drawled when he spotted jaeyun.
jaeyun didn’t even pause in his stride, “if you had to arrest me, you should’ve done that years ago, sir,” he said, knowing full well that this exchange had no actual bite to it.
chaewon stepped forward, eyes sweeping over the meat.
“venison?” he asked.
“you’ve got a good eye,” jaeyun replied.
“i’ve got good taste,” chaewon corrected, this time looking at jaeyun instead of the meat. his gaze lingered in that specific way on the omega. it wasn’t threatening of course, but there was no way he could call this entirely appropriately either.
jaeyun was used to it.
being an omega in district twelve meant learning early how to deflect without provoking. he had a separate smile for it. an easy laugh. it was never encouraging for further action but it wasn’t cold, and certainly not hostile.
“careful,” jaeyun said lightly, “your captain might think you’re playing favorites out here.”
chaewon snorted, “i think everyone knows i am,” he said with a chuckle.
coins changed hands quickly as he took a chunk of the packed meet.
“you’re still eligible?” woojin asked from behind him, “you’re standing in the square again today?”
“unfortunately one more year to go.”
“don’t smudge your face up too much alright? the capitol cameras love pretty faces like yours.”
jaeyun rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint flush which rose in his cheeks. he was only human after all. compliments had its way of effecting the inner omega jaeyun didn’t often like to bring out. not to mention more often than not, the alphas in his life always made it a point to not acknowledge him being an omega.
“i will try to remain as devastating to the crowds as always,” he replied with a quick wink, which earned him genuine smiles from the two. they laughed together, like it was any other day. like there was really no power difference between the herds of district twelve and the assigned guards meant to keep them in check.
when he finally stepped away with grain and oil in his satchel, his pockets were still heavier than they’d been in a long time. he slipped into the narrow space between one of the fabric stalls and counted through the coins quickly. this was more than enough to buy them grain and oil for the next two weeks at least when the present haul ran out. maybe even put meat on their table once this month.
jaeyun hardly even remembered what the taste of meat was like despite selling it almost every other day.
he sighed heavily, calculating in his head another time. he took out a small stack, pushing them around in his fingers. he’d have this much to spare even if he accounted for all of that. it felt so unfamiliar that it bordered on dangerous. like he was holding something foreign instead of the same coin they traded around everyday.
before he could overthink it, he drifted towards the cleaner side of the market.
“jaeyun!” the candy seller, mrs. chen called, already scooping something into a paper, “don’t tell me you’re buying for yourself today?” there was a hint of surprise in her tone, and jaeyun didn’t blame her. he hadn’t ventured into this side of the market for over a year. perhaps the last time he’d done that it had been a year ago during jungwon’s birthday. he’d been wanting a hairpin for such a long time and jaeyun drew the conclusion that he could give up on his bread for one day if it meant seeing the kid smile as bright as he had when he’d handed him the pin.
“i’m wounded, mrs. chen!” jaeyun called back, twinkle in his eyes, “you should know i’m the most selfless person out there~”
“hmm, or that’s what you think,” she teased back.
he stepped closer to the stall, his eyes scanning over the variety she had spread out in front of her. they were probably among the most colourful things district twelve had to offer. red jelly candies to the bright yellow lemon drops and the rainbow of the sour candy – jaeyun had taught himself to believe that this was nothing more than colourful chunks of sugar. that they could never taste as good as they looked. he could never contradict his own words because his father had never really bought them a lot of candy before his passing and he had never been able to afford it after.
he still went for it, pointing out the honeyed almonds without hesitation. with his take on candy, jungwon had always tried to act mature about sweets but jaeyun always saw the way he’d eat these super slowly if a friend at school ever gave him one, savouring each one like they were rare jewels that wouldn’t come back to him.
they were expensive but jaeyun hadn’t been able to afford a gift for jungwon’s birthday this year so it was only fair.
“extra handful,” mrs. chen muttered with a smile, pretending not to look at him as she poured in more than the coins he’d put down paid for, “for some good luck for both of you kids.”
jaeyun’s throat tightened briefly.
“thank you,” he said, and he knew he meant it.
a few stalls down, something fluffy and blue caught his eye.
he quickly walked over, running his hands through the soft wool. it was a scarf. the material wasn’t new – there were edges which were frayed, but it wasn’t worse for wear. like even if it wasn’t first hand it hadn’t been used a lot. it was dyed deep, the blue bright and eye-catching unlike most of the coal faded colours of the clothes they wore on the usual. it was thick enough to keep someone warm.
jungwon’s current scarf had more patches than fabric.
“how much?” jaeyun asked.
the vendor at this stall was a young alpha. he didn’t remember seeing him in school so jaeyun could only assume he’d be around nineteen or maybe in his early twenties at most. he smiled brightly at jaeyun, making him mimic the expression.
“thirty coins,” he said, “but for a pretty face like yours? i’ll do twenty.”
jaeyun let out a small chuckle, “don’t do that,” he said, shaking his head.
the vendor shrugged, the smile still playing on his lips, “i’m not doing anything,” he said, taking the scarf off the stand and handed it to jaeyun. he didn’t often flirt around in this part of the market but jaeyun smiled playfully all the same as he put down the twenty coin, and folded the scarf up, putting it into his satchel. he could already picture jungwon pretending like the gifts were too much, unnecessary but wrapping it around his neck in excitement all the same.
then, almost without meaning to, jaeyun slowed down in front of a tray of small trinkets, about three stalls away.
they were… pretty. jaeyun would be blind to say anything else. jewellery in district twelve was never much of a big deal but jaeyun could never really help himself when he’d see some of the other omegas, from other parts of twelve other than the seam show up in school with a silver necklace or a bracelet with a design that jaeyun couldn’t take his eyes off of. he’d never brought one for himself before.
not since he’d been eleven, since he’d been left to take care of his entire family alone. since his very first hunger games, when the only way to put food on their table was putting in his name more times into the ballot under the system of tesserae. not since luxuries of any kind had fallen so far to the back of his mind that he barely remembered he was his own person at times.
his fingers hovered over the options before settling on a narrow silver ring. it was plain mostly, with a chain like design. it wasn’t the most perfect craftsmanship – you could see it in the unevenness of the edges. a small part of him didn’t want to put it down.
he turned it over in his palm, before slipping it onto his ring finger.
“it suits you,” the young girl behind the tray said.
“does it?”
“its simple. but effortlessly beautiful.”
jaeyun huffed softly at that, not quite understanding if that was a sales’ tactic or a compliment on his appearance. he didn’t often get hit on by younger girls so he assumed it was the former. but he took it to heart anyways because he liked the way it fit snug on his finger, just the right size without any adjustments.
like it had been waiting to be put onto his finger.
as silly as that thought sounded in his own head.
he flexed his hand once, watching how the shine caught the light. it was plainer than your average idea of jewellery. most people wouldn’t even look at it twice. but that only added to his appeal and it felt like something which belonged to him.
“i’ll take it,” he whispered out, putting down some coins before tucking the rest away into the back pocket of his satchel. he couldn’t help feel this strange and quiet sense of satisfaction as he walked away. a kind of warmth which spread through his chest.
the ring was small.
a small indulgence he’d allowed himself for as long as he could remember.
—
with his eyes still glancing at the ring, he nearly walked straight into someone turning the corner.
“oh-” the person gasped out, “jaeyun-hyung!”
sunoo’s voice was soft but bright enough to cut through most of the market noise which only seemed to rise as the minutes passed.
the younger omega – the mayor’s son – looked like he’d stepped out of a different world entirely. his clothes, unlike almost everyone in this marketplace, were neatly pressed and his hair was carefully done up in an intricate braid that only came when you had enough free time to put into regularly taking care of your hair. the style was fancy but not extravagant, but entirely untouched by the usual dirt which matted their hair.
“sunoo-ah,” jaeyun said, stepping back with an easy smile.
sunoo’s gaze flickered over him quickly. the rope over his shoulder from where he’d tied the meat bundle to, the slight smear of blood near his jacket sleeve from when he’d been skinning the stag in the forest. he’d apparently missed a bit when he’d been washing up, given how sunoo’s gaze lingered on the patch.
“you went hunting today?” he asked, brows knitted faintly.
“there’s no reason not to,” jaeyun replied, “the weather is good for a hunt.”
sunoo’s lips curved but worry lingered in his eyes, “you shouldn’t have to, at least not today,” he said quietly.
jaeyun shrugged, still smiling at him, “it's really not a big deal,” he said, “i like the woods.” and the company.
but that remained unsaid.
sunoo hesitated, then glanced towards the opposite side over his shoulder, in the direction of the town square. even a decent distance away, over the din of everything, they could hear the metallic clank of peacekeepers putting up the barricades and decorating the stage which remained abandoned for the rest of the year.
“are you-” sunoo cut himself off with a heavy breath, as though he was unsure of what he wanted to say, “jungwon told riki the other day that he was nervous.”
jaeyun’s expression softened instantly.
“i know.”
“but then i met him near the school yesterday, tried to talk to him a little. he pretended he wasn’t.”
“he… probably gets that from me.”
sunoo studied him carefully, reaching out to tug out a stray thread which had been coming out from a frayed edge on his jacket for a while now, “so does that mean you’re scared too?” he asked with a strange amount of confidence in his knowledge of jaeyun at this moment. he would be lying if he claimed sunoo hadn’t hit the nail on the head. so he chose the easier option.
jaeyun laughed, as he dusted off the part of his jacket sunoo fixed, “of what?” he said, “frayed edges?”
sunoo didn’t laugh at the forced joke even though jaeyun could swear he was actually funny most of the time. he simply looked at him in a way that made jaeyun feel more seen than he’d like – like irrespective of how much he pretended to be indestructible, sunoo was looking at that little boy seven years ago who had resorted to crying with the hope that someone would come out and protect him from the terrifying woods.
he eventually looked away, putting away whatever conversation this was into the back of their roster.
“sunghoon-hyung’s looking for you by the way,” sunoo said finally.
“is he glaring at something again?”
sunoo chuckled at that, “the-the… sky? i think?” he said, a little uncertain but clearly wanted to join in on the harmless backbiting.
jaeyun smiled at that, warm and genuine.
“i’ll go over and try to rescue it from his disapproval then.”
sunoo’s gaze brushed over jaeyun again, this time stopping around his hand, “that’s new,” he said softly, nodding towards the silver band on his finger. jaeyun glanced down, pretending he’d forgotten it was even there.
“impulse buy,” he admitted, shrugging it off.
sunoo nodded, “it suits you,” he said, mimicking the words of the sales girl despite clearly haven’t had this interaction planned. but despite the genuinity, there was something in his tone that jaeyun couldn’t quite label, a kind of melancholy that seemed misplaced in this whole conversation.
he usually caught on things like this, even if he didn’t quite understand all of it.
but he smiled instead.
“i’ll see you in the square then?”
sunoo nodded, before waving a goodbye as he made his way in the direction he’d been walking, probably into the market.
as jaeyun stepped back into the current of people moving from the market towards the clock tower at the centre of the town, the warmth of the bread rolls and the steady weight of the grain and oil in his satchel felt almost surreal.
just as much as the silver band on his finger, which seemed to have more metaphysical weight than he’d accounted for.
—
sunghoon was waiting exactly where they’d agreed upon, leaning against the base of the clock tower, arms crossed and jaw set in a firm line like he’d been personally offended by something. he straightened the moment he saw jaeyun but instead his expression took on a mildly accusatory one.
“you took longer than we agreed on.”
jaeyun rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue, “you’re too dramatic,” he said.
sunghoon pushed off the tower, closing the distance between them in two long strides.
“how much did you get for it?”
the question came everyday after their time in the black market. back when they’d first started, jaeyun had had no idea on how things worked here. his father had always handled things like that, and sunghoon had been certain that there would be people ready to take advantage of jaeyun. he had been far from wrong but him being there had helped – he’d been the same age as jaeyun, but he’d been an alpha all the same.
they always took alphas more seriously in spaces like this.
of course, years in jaeyun knew the insides of this place, of the trading secrets of the black market but time hadn’t torn down at sunghoon’s protectiveness on the matter.
“more than enough,” jaeyun said, refusing to name a number, “mrs. choi tried to rob me but we came to an agreement. mr. lee gave me extra bread for jungwon.”
sunghoon’s expression seemed to ease on that. like he finally came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t have to battle someone to the death today. they fell into an easy walk, not quite towards the way home yet but enough to get them moving.
“did the peacekeepers give you any trouble?”
“does flirting account for trouble?”
sunghoon gave him a pointed look, which fell somewhere between disapproval and telling jaeyun he was ridiculous but a far cry from anger. jaeyun always loved the way the alpha reacted to woojin and chaewon’s advances. it wasn’t quite jealousy – he and sunghoon were never like that. even if sometimes jaeyun wondered how things would be different if they were.
but they weren’t quite as casual as they made it out to be, and the disapproval of flirting felt like a step in a direction of a fantasy jaeyun couldn’t afford to indulge in on most days.
jaeyun bumped his shoulder into sunghoon’s.
“you know i’m charming.”
“you’re oblivious.”
jaeyun held his hands up in mock surrender, opening his mouth to argue – and that was when sunghoon’s gaze landed on his hand, his face immediately shifting expression to something jaeyun couldn’t understand. he stopped in his tracks.
“... what is that?”
jaeyun followed sunghoon’s sight, his own eyes falling on the ring. he flexed his fingers once, as though he was still testing out the waters on how the weight felt on his finger.
“this?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
sunghoon grabbed his wrist before he could pull it away, turning his hand to catch the light, letting the golden glint off the metal in a way which just made it took prettier on his hand. it glinted against his soot smudged skin and sunghoon simply stared at it.
“you bought jewellery,” he said, more as a statement than a question. but jaeyun decided to answer anyway.
“i did.”
“with what money?”
a flare of annoyance went through him at that. jaeyun of all people knew well enough about his own financial problems. he didn’t need judgement from someone else, especially not an alpha who just happened to be his best friend. he was allowed a one time leeway, even if it meant attempting to temporarily forget that he wasn’t an ordinary teenager.
“with my money. i earned it,” he couldn’t help biting back, even though he felt a bit guilty given the hurt expression that fell onto sunghoon’s face. but the alpha didn’t let go of the steely touch that he was still sporting.
“on reaping day?” he continued, “from the black market?”
jaeyun tried to tug his hand back but sunghoon didn’t let go. for all of his athletic prowess, jaeyun couldn’t really overpower sunghoon even if he tried, and right now, he hadn’t really had enough reason to fight against him full fledged.
“it was cheap!” jaeyun defended, “and i haven’t bought anything for myself in–”
“years,” sunghoon breathed out suddenly.
his thumb brushed once over jaeyun’s knuckle before he seemed to realize what he was doing. the steely look flooded out of his eyes, like he just woke up from a daze. he abruptly loosened his hand, letting jaeyun’s hand drop down but with his fingers still laced around his wrist. he didn’t look up at him, suddenly acting more like a kicked puppy than jaeyun could handle despite his obvious frustration at him.
“it suits you,” sunghoon said instead, finally letting go of jaeyun’s hand.
jaeyun’s lips finally curved upward, “you sound like sunoo,” he said, trying to bring the conversation back to normal, even though he subconsciously rubbed his wrist, where the alpha’s fingers had tightened.
“you ran into him?” sunghoon asked instead.
“briefly.”
sunghoon didn’t respond to that, just started walking towards the direction of home, leaving jaeyun to half sprint after him, keeping up with his longer strides. the people running around and the obvious chatter on the road back had begun to thin out as the streets narrowed towards the seam. people had begun to head home now with midday approaching to change into their reaping clothes.
the sound of doors shutting felt more like a sentence than jaeyun liked to admit.
the back of sunghoon’s hand brushed against jaeyun’s as they walked ahead.
“how much did you make?” jaeyun asked after a moment, notioning towards the obviously heavy pouch hanging on his waist. he knew sunghoon had to be in a good mood about that too – financial troubles ran in both their families. after all, sunghoon’s father had passed away in the same coal mine accident as jaeyun’s. he’d been a month younger than jaeyun, and he had more mouths to feed. even if he did have more support from his mom than jaeyun did, sunghoon had things just as hard as he did.
he deserved nice things and relaxation even if he didn’t get it for himself.
“enough,” sunghoon answered, mimicking the answer jaeyun had given him before.
“that’s not an answer and both of us know it.”
sunghoon exhaled slowly, the corner of his lips curving upward slightly, “enough that my mom won’t have to bother about flour this month,” he said, voice relaxing for the first time since they’d left the woods. jaeyun reached out and squeezed his hand before nodding.
sunghoon had two younger sisters – eight and ten. both of them were alphas, both loud and sharp and fiercely attached to their older brother. it made sense. yeji had been only a year old and sooha three when their father passed away and their mother worked out most of the day to ensure there was enough food in the house. it had been sunghoon and sometimes jaeyun who had raised the two girls.
jaeyun had lost count of how many afternoons he’d spent in their kitchen, teaching sunghoon how to braid the girls’ hair and helping patch the girls’ uniforms while jungwon ran around the place with sunghoon chasing him, after having been snuck out of the school for the day. they’d always had their own kind of home – one which had been jaeyun’s and sunghoon’s.
he didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to let that go even when jungwon and the girls grew up.
“they’ll look nice today,” jaeyun said, “yeji and sooha.”
sunghoon hummed.
they walked in silence for a few more steps before sunghoon spoke again, voice lower now.
“you know my name is in there more times than probably anyone else in district twelve and i…” he took a breath, “if it’s me today…”
jaeyun didn’t look at him, shoulders tensing immediately, “sunghoon–”
the alpha held his hand up, “just hear me out here,” he said, “if it's me, you’ve got to promise to look after them. mom and yeji and sooha.”
the air shifted and jaeyun stopped walking and sunghoon turned around to face him fully.
“you know my mom,” sunghoon continued, “she’ll pretend she’s fine. but she won’t be. and the girls–”
“don’t,” jaeyun said quietly.
“promise me, jaeyun.”
there was no more teasing or annoyance in sunghoon’s face now. there were no sharp edges and he looked moments away from actually tearing up. this was just something raw and unguarded – something he would only ever let jaeyun see.
jaeyun felt something twist in his chest to an almost painful level.
“you’re not going,” he said, voice cracking noticeably.
“that’s not what i asked.”
jaeyun stepped closer, hating how his voice trembled, blinking away tears that gathered on the edge of his lashes.
“if it's you,” he said evenly, “i’ll look after them. obviously, you don’t need to ask that of me.”
sunghoon’s shoulders relaxed a bit at that and he closed his eyes, face scrunching up as he seemed to register what they were talking about. emotions always ran wild during reaping day. it had last year and it would again next year – it had to. but jaeyun wasn’t done.
“but,” he added, “you promise me the same.”
sunghoon’s jaw tightened.
“jaeyun, i told you-”
“no,” jaeyun interrupted, voice sharp and firm like there wasn’t any space for arguments, “none of this volunteering nonsense you’re on.”
sunghoon looked away.
“you can’t,” jaeyun continued, “you can’t throw yourself into that after me. i need you to be here for them. for your family and mine.”
sunghoon didn’t answer. he didn’t even open his eyes, shaking his head slightly.
jaeyun’s heart broke at that.
“no, no, sunghoon-” he breathed out, “sunghoon, you can’t.”
there was a moment of silence between them.
“jaeyun, i can’t let you–”
“you don’t get to decide that,” jaeyun cut in.
the words hung between them, heavier than before. jaeyun swallowed, then forced his voice to come out steady.
“it was always the agreement. yeji and sooha before you. and jungwon before me.”
sunghoon’s eyes snapped back open.
“always,” jaeyun said, “if it's me, you keep hunting. you keep going to the market, you keep earning and you ensure, jungwon doesn’t starve here. that’s far more important to me than any other heroic idea you’ve built in your head. nothing will ever add up to more.”
sunghoon stared at him like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to shake off everything jaeyun had just told him.
“i can’t just-”
“you can,” jaeyun said, “you’ve done it before.”
they both knew what he meant.
sunghoon swallowed thickly, not sure how to continue this conversation without biting off something neither of them could afford to chew.
“promise,” jaeyun pressed.
sunghoon closed his eyes again, like the word itself cost him something that was too dear to him.
“... i promise,” he said.
jaeyun exhaled softly. and he didn’t give themselves time to ponder on that too much as he continued onwards, sunghoon following in his shoulders.
the seam grew quieter the deeper they went. doors closed all around with parents shuffling children inside, and other pulled in the massive wooden tubs, perhaps to scrub out all the grime from their hair before the bells chimed to signify their reporting, and the dreadful moment when one out of all the families fell apart.
they reached sunghoon’s house first. it was a narrow structure with peeling paint and a crooked step leading to the outside door. sometimes it was hard to believe a family of four could exist within such a small place but their family made well with what they had. their house was homely in a way jaeyun’s would never be.
from inside they could hear voices. it was most certainly his sisters arguing about who got to get their braid done first.
sunghoon stopped at the base of the step. for a moment, neither of them moved. the world felt suspended between the two of them.
sunghoon looked at him, really looked at him, eyes tracing the line of his face, the faint smear directly near his temple, the silver ring glinting against his hand.
“it does look good on you,” sunghoon said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.
jaeyun’s breath hitched unexpectedly at the softness in his tone.
“you’ve said that already.”
“i know.”
they were standing too close now, sunghoon on the higher step and jaeyun looking up at him. they were close enough that jaeyun could feel the steady heat radiating off him, even through the layers of the worn fabric, wrapped around him. sunghoon’s scent had been muted all morning, flickering slightly – a touch of pine swept though them and he doubted he would’ve caught a whiff of that if he hadn’t almost been touching him.
but jaeyun still didn’t step back.
sunghoon’s hand lifted, hesitated for a moment, then brushed lightly against the collar of jaeyun’s jacket, straightening it for no real reason. his fingers lingered there, brushing against the back of his neck, dangerously close to his scent glands.
their eyes met, hanging there instead of looking for an alternate place to gaze into.
for a split second, the noise of the district vanished. there were no sounds, no terror, no threat looming in the distance.
just this.
just the two of them.
sunghoon’s gaze briefly dropped to jaeyun’s mouth and jaeyun’s heart thudded once, hard enough to hurt. the distance between them felt thinner and more fragile than it ever had and he didn’t and knew exactly why that was. and before they knew it, sunghoon leaned in slightly–
and then one of his sisters shrieked from inside the house, followed by a resounding crash.
sunghoon blinked once, twice, before snapping back into reality. he pulled away, stepping further up a step, breaking eye contact.
“i should-” he gestured vaguely towards the door.
“yeah,” jaeyun said, voice steadier than he actually felt.
sunghoon hovered for half a second longer, “i’ll see in the square?” he asked.
“you will.”
sunghoon turned around, still facing him though. he seemed to search his face, as though he was trying to memorize something about him and failing at that. but then he nodded at him, before turning around and opening the door, walking into his house.
jaeyun didn’t get to say goodbye.
he simply stood there outside the wooden door for a moment after it was closed, staring at the peeling paint. his fingers brushed unconsciously against the ring on the finger, remembering how sunghoon had said it looked good before the… thing.
he made a small mental note to not take it off.
then he inhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of his bag, and continued down the narrow lane, towards his own house – towards jungwon and whatever awaited them at the reaping today.