you stop in your tracks.
the ferris wheel towers over the trees like the skeleton of a giant, frozen exactly where the world left it. faded paint peels from carousel horses. ticket booths sit empty beneath a blanket of dust. weeds crack through the pavement where children once raced between game stalls.
“…is this…”
jungkook steps beside you, eyes slowly traveling upward.
“a carnival.”
his voice barely rises above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might scare the place away.
there isn’t a single soul.
no footsteps.
no laughter.
no growling.
just the wind nudging forgotten prizes behind glass.
you wander through the midway together, brushing cobwebs from ring toss bottles and peeking into abandoned food stands. a faded stuffed wolf hangs from one claw, forever waiting for someone who never came back.
“i used to beg my parents to let me win one of those.”
you glance over.
“…did you ever?”
he laughs through his nose.
“no.”
for a moment, you aren’t survivors.
you’re just teenagers wondering what life would’ve been like if the moon had never split open.
hours pass before jungkook disappears behind one of the maintenance buildings.
you hear metal clatter.
a muttered, “come on…”
another loud bang.
“…please work.”
then…
click.
nothing.
he sighs dramatically.
you can’t help but laugh.
“you’re gonna electrocute yourself.”
“have a little faith.”
another switch.
another spark.
then every bulb along the carousel flickers once.
twice.
the world holds its breath.
FWOOOM.
gold spills across the carnival.
reds.
greens.
electric blues.
pink neon stretches across puddles left by old rain until the cracked pavement looks like stained glass. one by one, rides wake from years of silence. the carousel begins to turn with a tired creak. the ferris wheel groans somewhere above the trees before slowly beginning its climb into the night.
your mouth falls open.
“…you actually did it.”
jungkook is already grinning.
not the tired smile you’ve learned to expect.
a real one.
the kind neither of you remembered how to wear.
he turns toward you, carnival lights reflecting in his eyes.
“well?”
“…what?”
“are you gonna stand there all night?”
before you can answer, music crackles through ancient speakers. warped. scratchy. missing notes.
perfect.
you laugh harder than you have in years.
the smell of stale sugar drifts from an abandoned cotton candy machine someone somehow forgot to empty before the end of the world. it’s probably older than both of you now.
you don’t care.
for the first time since the moon split the sky apart…
tomorrow can wait.
tonight belongs to the lights.