Chapter Text
A cloud of air leaves past the seams of your lips when you exhale, skin littered with goosebumps as a cause of the chilly temperature around you. Nervously pulling at the sleeve of your jacket, adjusting the cotton sweater you’re wearing underneath, you look up at the house in front of you.
Its size is relatively normal for being located in the Victor’s Village, wooden facade painted in a summery green—a stark contrast from the faded colors around it and the frost covering the bare tree branches. Winter is slowly rolling in and summer is leaving, taking the warmth with it, and yet the house seems to cling to the flourishing season. Though despite the welcoming atmosphere, there’s a certain loneliness hanging over the building, like it’s isolated from the rest of the world.
This is where Jung Hoseok lives.
It’s taken you some time to get here—to this very spot—but now you’re finally right where you wanted to be when you were standing on the metal platform waiting to be raised up on stage in front of the entire country. To you, this is your first step as a victor of the Hunger Games.
“Are you ready?” you ask.
Jungkook turns to you (and the sight of your boyfriend with a beanie pulled over his head, the ends of his fringe curling around the knitted edge, makes warmth blossom in your chest), head falling forward in a small nod.
“Yeah, are you?”
You shrug, fingers curling into your palm in an effort to contain your body heat. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
The two of you make your way over to the house, paying careful attention not to step on anything but the thin path leading up to the porch. The garden has since long withered from the cold, but there are still a few freesias clinging to life by the windowsills and in the pots just next to the front door. The curtains are pulled back, but there’s no sight of movement inside and you definitely don’t want to peek in. That’s just plain rude.
It’s tidy, you note, though if you spent most of your time on your own you would probably end up cleaning most of the time too.
Stopping in front of the door, you raise your hand to knock, only to stop in the middle of the movement. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous, because you are. Even though you’ve thought a lot about meeting Hoseok, you really don’t know what he’s like as a person. You know firsthand the lies you’ll spout to the capitol in order to stay alive, and for what you know the person he’s been on camera might not be who he is at all.
You just hope you won’t start things off on the wrong foot.
Jungkook places his hand on your lower back—where your waist meets your spine—as a way to let you know he’s there, and you take a deep breath before you let your curled fingers rap three times against the smooth wood.
You hear the knocks echo throughout the house, and you silently pray that someone, Hoseok, will come and open the door. If not, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to gather the same amount of confidence next time.
But then you hear shuffling from the other side of the door, most likely socked feet padding over to where you stand, and moments later someone is indeed standing a mere few feet away from you, voice muffled by the wooden object in between.
“Who is it?” they ask.
You immediately recognize the voice as Hoseok’s, having seen most of his interviews and other appearances on TV. You tell him your name but stumble over the words, not expecting the need to introduce yourself this way. It almost feels like you’re standing outside the entrance to a secret lair that no one is supposed to know about.
At the mention of your name, the door handle is pushed down, and before you know it the door is swung open, revealing the person you’ve been wanting to meet.
The first thought that hits you is that he’s taller than you originally believed, but then again, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear—especially when it comes to Hoseok. He’s wearing a loosely fitted t-shirt and sweats with socked feet tucked in a pair of sneakers. His hair is messy, like he’s carded his fingers through it one too many times, but it’s still managed to remain parted in the middle, crowning his head in ruffled locks.
For a moment you simply stare, baffled that he opened the door so quickly, but then you direct your gaze elsewhere—towards the white freesias to his right—all while ignoring the embarrassment heating your cheeks. If it was cold enough, it’d probably look like your face is producing steam.
In the corner of your eye you watch him eye you up and down, before doing the same to Jungkook. You’re a little intimidated by his watchful gaze, a trait probably given to him from years of experience within both combat and spotlight.
Then he sighs softly. “Come inside”, he says and takes a few steps back into the house to leave room for the both of you in the hall.
At first, you’re a little dumbfounded, but you manage to shuffle after him, your muscles whining in protest after having stiffened in the cold. Jungkook follows, using one hand to close the door behind him and the other to push the hem of his beanie further up his forehead, as it slipped down to his eye level.
Hoseok’s hall is small. In fact, it’s—design-wise—an exact copy of your own (seeing as all the houses in the Victor’s Village are constructed the same) and yet it gives off a completely different vibe. Your hall is not only occupied by your clothes, but by several other people as well (Jungkook and Jimin included), however, Hoseok’s is devoid of any other outside wear besides what appears to be his own.
It’s because he lives alone, you remind yourself.
You unwind your scarf from your neck, hanging it next to your jacket on the nearest coat hanger, and just as you’re about to untie your shoes, Hoseok’s voice interrupts you.
“You can leave them on”, he says quietly. “I don’t mind.”
“Okay.” You straighten up and flash him a small smile. “Thank you.”
He shrugs, and when he moves to the right—the direction you know to be the kitchen—you jump into action and silently follow him. Turning back to make sure you’re not leaving Jungkook behind, you take his outstretched hand when you notice he’s right behind you. His thumb immediately begins to draw random patterns on the back of your hand, and you smile.
If you thought Hoseok’s porch was clean, his kitchen looks straight out of a soap advertisement. Every surface is spotless, almost shining in the light from the ceiling lamps. It’s like he pulled out the entire cleaning cavalry and made it his life mission to clean every inch of the room. You immediately feel out of place—and the fact that you’re still wearing your shoes does not make it any better—making you come to a stop in the doorway, your shoes inches from the glossy floor.
The male victor notices, and for the first time since today he gives you a smile. It’s so small though, only the corners of his mouth quirk up a little, and you almost miss it.
“It’s alright”, he says. “Just because it looks clean doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed in.”
You reluctantly step inside the kitchen—because it feels like you just defiled a piece of artwork by dumping a can of oil over the beautiful strokes—and move towards the kitchen isle, elbows easily finding their place against the surface when you lean your chin on your palm.
“Can I get you anything?” Hoseok asks, and you notice the nervousness in his voice, the almost unnoticeable tremble in each syllable. “Tea, coffee?”
“Tea would be nice”, you answer, fingers once again coming to fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater.
Hoseok nods and turns to Jungkook. “You?”
“Tea is perfect”, your boyfriend answers with ease, to which the male victor turns, opening a few cabinets to take out three mugs respectively three tea bags. You watch in silence as he fills the black jug kettle situated next to the sink with water before turning it on, followed with a hissing sound as the machine comes to life and begins to heat the cold liquid. He works systematically, like he’s been through the exact same motion multiple times, and it’s almost sad to watch how robotic it is.
You remain, almost awkwardly, by the kitchen isle, too nervous about the entire situation to know what would be appropriate to say. Rather, you keep quiet as to not disturb the faint sense of peace that has been built in the small room.
Shortly after the water has been boiled, Hoseok pours it into each cup before moving to place them on the kitchen table just to your right. He gestures for you to sit down, and the two of you take one chair each out of the four available.
You end up sitting next to the window with Jungkook on your left and Hoseok just across from you. The bitter cold outside licks your bare hands through the glass, however, you pay it no mind, instead you ease the chilly temperature by cupping the warm mug in front of you, right index and long finger threading through its ear.
“So”, Hoseok starts, hand bending at the wrist when he adds milk into his tea. “Why are you here?”
Silence follows his inquiry as you try to find a good answer to his question. Maybe he thinks you’re trying to take advantage of him, though that’s the last thing you want him to believe.
“There’s not really a particular reason”, Jungkook suddenly says, as if he noticed your uneasiness. “We just wanted to meet you and talk to you, if you’ll let us.”
The male victor chuckles at that, and though he falls silent at the apparent confusion on your face, a smile still lingers on his lips. “Sorry, it’s just been a long time since anyone’s come to see me without wanting something in return.”
“We know what that feels like”, you mumble, taking the tea bag out of your mug and placing it on a nearby plate.
Hoseok gives you a sympathetic smile, but there is so much pain hidden underneath his attempt to be cheery. “Let me guess, what was shown on TV wasn’t really what happened, was it?”
Shaking your head, your fingers tighten their hold around the cup so harshly you’re afraid you’ll break the ceramic. “No.” You pause, taking a deep breath. “Jungkook, um …”
It’s surprising how much of a touchy subject the outcome of your games still is, and yet, at the same time it isn’t. What the capitol did was both an act of kindness as well as cruel. They let Jungkook live, they let you be able to hold him again, but they also took away his freedom. As far as the world knows, he’s a phantom, someone who was left in the past only to be forgotten.
And you absolutely despise it.
“The government erased me”, Jungkook explains quietly, and the bitterness in his tone is clear, albeit a little softer than you would have imagined, like he feels both hatred and gratefulness for the result. “To every district besides ours, I don’t exist.”
“So, officially, it’s just you who’s leaving for the tour tomorrow?” Hoseok inquires, eyes drifting over to you, and you almost want to shrink underneath his gaze before you remind yourself it’s not his intent to belittle you or your feelings.
You can only manage a small nod.
The victory tour is orchestrated to occur half a year after the annual Hunger Games, in order for the government to continually remind the districts of the power they hold over the country. It is also what you have been dreading these past few months, the days ticking down towards the day of departure like sand dribbling down an hourglass.
For the coming few days, you’ll be placed on a train—yet again—to travel to all the different districts where you will praise the capitol and celebrate the games in front of people who hate you as well as the people whose friends and family you have killed. Maybe not literally, but definitely figuratively seeing as you’re the one who emerged alive from it all.
The worst part? You have to do it all on your own.
It’s under direct orders of the government that, while he accompanies you on the trip, Jungkook is not to be seen by anyone, especially not on live TV. Should he be spotted, it would no doubt start a controversy that might as well lead to a revolution against the capitol, and as you all know that is the last thing that they want. If it were to happen, Jungkook would with most certainty be killed, and you would meet the same fate.
You hate everything about it, because you can’t show him, your boyfriend, off to the world. Rather, it feels like your relationship is restricted, kept tethered and controlled in a way that would best benefit the capitol. You feel like a circus animal, and even though you were aware that you would be used like this, exploited like this, it doesn’t make it any easier.
Jungkook takes your hand across the table, intertwining your cold fingers with his warmer ones, and you give it a gentle squeeze in appreciation, tearing your eyes from the swirling tea in your mug to look at him, at the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips.
“I was very lucky though, I know that”, he continues, holding your gaze with his own. “We both were.”
In the corner of your eye you see Hoseok watch the two of you, almost fondly, before taking a sip of his tea. The movement is much more relaxed than the previous one, and the subtle change in his body language lets you ease up a little, stiff shoulders loosening and fingers relieving pressure against your cup when you bring it to your mouth and take a taste.
The warm liquid soothes your chilly body, like ice melting next to an open fire, and you unwillingly let out a sigh of content. Jungkook follows your lead, thumb stroking against the back of your hand as he swallows a mouthful of his drink.
The male victor chuckles awkwardly. “Wow, it’s really been a long time since I spoke to anyone like this, huh?” His fingers move to fidget with the watch around his left wrist, clasping and unclasping the metal keeping the object secure against his skin.
“Do you think we could speak like this more?” Jungkook asks.
Hoseok doesn’t respond, but he gives a silent nod. You realize it must be extremely hard for him to open up, and perhaps that’s why he’s not saying much. Somewhere inside he might be afraid you’ll end up using him like the capitol did, but you would never do that.
In an effort to convince him that your intentions are pure (or maybe you’re just convincing yourself?) your lips curl into a smile and he returns the gesture, albeit it being small.
Then, in the corner of your eye, you see big fluffy flakes, seemingly like cotton, dipping elegantly from the cloud-filled sky and down into the garden outside where they rest on top of the rough gravel and smooth bends of grass. Within a few minutes there’s already a thin layer of white covering the terrain as far as you can see, like someone sprinkled powdered sugar over the entire uneven plane.
Hoseok notices it too, and turns his head to look outside the open window.
“Hey”, he says. “It’s snowing.”