#so it was just weird all the way around bc i thought my professor reported that i was scared for my grade | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junghelioseok · 5 years

Text

pronoia.

↳ you can definitively say that you did not sign up for this.

◇ namjoon x reader ◇ zombie apocalypse!au | college!au ◇ 15k [1/1]

notes: a very late birthday present for @imaginationofacrazyfangirl, who i kind of like for some reason.

⇢ pronoia (n): a state of mind that is the opposite of paranoia. a suspicion that the universe is conspiring in your favor.

warnings: some violence obviously. some gore. mostly just me trying to be funny. irreverent humor, zombieland jokes, and a couple bad philosophy references bc idk what i’m talking about. exactly one (1) brooklyn 99 joke. yoongi is lowkey a badass bc u cannot convince me his crafty, conniving ass wouldn’t be good in this kind of situation. jk’s ready to risk it all for a twinkie. tbh this is kind of a mess and the ending might be rushed but i still worked really hard on it so please leave feedback sndfjfkjsksds 🙈

It’s too quiet.

Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, the dull hum fading into the background as water starts dripping somewhere to your left. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically against your ribcage as you suck in a deep breath and tighten your grip on your baseball bat.

It’s hard to believe that just three days ago, you were a regular college student. Three days ago, your biggest concerns were finding a decently paid summer job and getting through your last philosophy lecture without daydreaming about the cute teaching assistant bending you over his desk. But now, sandwiched between two rows in the back of your university’s biggest auditorium, you have several new concerns. Bigger concerns.

And first and foremost among them, are the zombies.

To be honest, you still aren’t entirely sure how it happened. The last emergency alert had killed your phone’s battery for good, and you’d only just managed to catch a glimpse of the words “mutated virus” and “nationwide epidemic” before the screen faded to black. And a good thing too—the undead guy trying to sneak up on you from behind definitely would have gotten you had you not seen his reflection in your now-useless hunk of metal and glass.

Thank god for the softball unit in high school gym class, you think to yourself, trying in vain to wipe the blood and brain matter off of your bat. Sure, you didn’t think you’d be utilizing those skills to kill zombies, but at this new low point in your life, anything that aids your survival is a home run in your book.

Deeming your weapon sufficiently clean, you tuck it back into a makeshift sling you’d fashioned out of an old scarf, adjusting it so that it lays flat against your spine. With both hands now free, you begin inching toward the back exit. There’s a growing ache in your bladder that you can no longer ignore, and you send a quick prayer up to any gods that may exist before cracking the auditorium door open, glancing left and right down the seemingly empty hallway. Silently, you count to ten.

After a few more moments of deliberation, you decide the coast is clear. The restrooms are at the very end of the hall, and you can’t help but feel like the little gendered stick figures are taunting you as you cautiously make your way toward them, your shoes silent against the linoleum floor.

You are approximately fifteen feet away from your destination when you hear footsteps. Your heart kicks into overdrive at the unsteady rhythm—a short tap followed by a long dragging sound, as if the approaching individual were limping. For a moment, you debate running for the nearest bathroom and barricading yourself inside, but enclosed spaces are a bad idea according to every zombie movie you’ve ever seen, and you aren’t particularly keen on the idea of becoming zombie food.

Instead, you steel yourself and turn around, pulling out your bat. The approaching zombie doesn’t look like a student—in fact, you’re pretty sure he was your trigonometry teacher for a semester during freshman year—but that’s hardly important right now.

What is important, however, is the black-and-white figure that’s just rounded the corner behind the limping math professor-turned-zombie. And it’s running toward you—fast. Far faster than any of the undead beings you’ve seen, and, upon closer inspection, faster than most of the human beings you know.

And that can only mean one thing.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, half in surprise and half in horror as the dark-haired track star pulls even with your former professor and swings at his head, using all of his momentum and landing a solid crack. The zombie crumples to the linoleum floor, blood and viscera seeping from the crack in his skull, and you frown in distaste before looking up at your classmate. “Uh, hi?”

“{Name}?” Jungkook asks in disbelief, skidding to a stop. He’s wearing a single boxing glove on one hand and wielding a smashed wine bottle in the other, and you almost want to laugh at his appearance. After all, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure he was wearing the exact same thing at the last house party you both attended. But now—with a bloodied zombie still twitching at your feet and the imminent threat of even more coming after you—probably isn’t the best time to bring that up.

“It is you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, his eyes widening. “Are you alone?”

You nod. “Yeah. You?”

Jungkook nods back. “Yeah. You’re the first person I’ve come across who hasn’t—well… you know.” He gestures downward vaguely.

“Yeah. I know.”

For a few seconds, the two of you stand in silence, ruminating on how everything managed to change so quickly. Just last week, you and Jungkook were regular college students. He ran track and and co-captained the campus dance crew, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lab partners, you aren’t sure you ever would have met. But after months of sitting together in class, equally stumped by the biology textbooks you were forced to buy and elbow-deep in formaldehyde far too often for your liking, you’ve grown to consider him a friend. And right now, you really, really needed a friend.

“Jungkook,” you begin, laying an arm on his shoulder, “I need your help.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he says, shaking his shaggy hair out of his face like a dog and glancing around the hallway. “We should team up. I mean, we’ve been lab partners for months so we already know we work great togethe—“

“We’ve failed almost half of our lab reports, and you nearly set the table on fire last Tuesday,” you cut in. “But that’s not the point. The point is the current state of my bladder and how you can help me with it.”

Jungkook blinks. “Uh.”

“I need to pee,�� you clarify.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about that?”

“Come with me,” you reply, grabbing his wrist. Jungkook lets out a protesting grunt when you begin pulling him down the hallway toward the restrooms, struggling even more vigorously when you try to make him follow you inside.

“This is the girl’s bathroom!” he gasps, wrenching out of your grasp.

You stare at him. “The entire city is overrun by zombies and that’s what you’re worried about?”

“It’s weird!” he protests. Nevertheless, he trots in on your heels, peering around curiously as you bang on the wall of the nearest stall in an attempt to draw any lurkers out into the open.

“Check for zombies, idiot,” you instruct when Jungkook gets distracted by his own reflection in the mirror. “I don’t wanna get eaten.”

He huffs but complies nonetheless. Raising his broken wine bottle, he glances into each stall, kicking open the doors with unnecessary force. “Clear,” he reports once he’s checked the last one, offering you a mock salute. The effect is ruined by the bright red boxing glove still on his hand, but you bite back the snide remark on your tongue and instead walk into the nearest stall.

“Plug your ears or something,” you tell him as you lock the door. “I don’t want you listening to me pee.”

“Why the hell would I listen?” Jungkook retorts, sounding thoroughly horrified.

“Some people are into that,” you reply, wagging a finger at him despite the fact that he can’t see you through the closed door. “It’s called urolagnia. Don’t kinkshame.”

“I don’t want to know why you know that,” he grumbles under his breath. “Shut up and pee already. I have to go too.”

“But this is the girls’ room,” you snipe, finishing your business and stepping out to wash your hands. Jungkook takes your place inside the stall while you turn on the sink, eyeing his reflection pointedly in the mirror. “You’re gonna get cooties.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha,” he says dryly. “You’re hilarious.”

And then he’s turning around, flipping you the bird before slamming the metal door in your face.

You shrug, unfazed. “I know I am,” you say, addressing your own reflection in the mirror. “Also, do you by any chance own a car?”

///

“This feels like a bad idea,” Jungkook mutters, eyeing the quiet parking lot. It’s nowhere near full, but there are still several dozen cars scattered around, empty and abandoned with no owners to be found. At the far end lies your prize—a black SUV with tinted windows and a bicycle strapped to the roof. “Should we make a run for it?” Jungkook asks. “I mean, we don’t really have any other options if we wanna make it out of here with our brains intact, and—”

“Hang on a sec,” you interrupt, grabbing his arm. “We can create a diversion first. Give me your wine bottle—I’m gonna throw it.”

Jungkook hugs the glass bottle to his chest, eyes round and expression aghast. “And leave myself defenseless? What do you want me to do, punch the zombies away?”

“That’s literally what you did ten minutes ago,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

He pauses for a long moment before a resigned sigh leaves his lips. “Fine. I get to throw it, though.”

“Whatever,” you reply, waving a hand at him. “Knock yourself out. Or them. You should really knock them out, on second thought.”

Jungkook wisely chooses to ignore your rambling, hefting the bottle and testing its weight. Rearing back, he tosses it in a perfect arc, and you watch in fascination as it somersaults through the air before crashing down onto the asphalt in an explosion of shattered glass. “There!” you hiss urgently, tugging on Jungkook’s sleeve when a zombie immediately lumbers out from behind a nearby sedan, searching for the source of the noise. “We run on three, got it?”

“Got it,” he whispers back, watching raptly as several more zombies follow the first. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Together, you make a mad dash for the SUV. Jungkook gets there first, skidding to a stop and trying the driver’s side door only to find it locked. “I’ll check the other side,” you tell him, glancing around to make sure the zombies are still distracted. “Work on breaking a window or something, fast!”

The sound of a throat being cleared stops you dead in your tracks. “You’ll do no such thing,” a low voice drawls. A moment later, the platinum blond head of Min Yoongi—a reclusive senior you only know because he deejays at your favorite club every Friday night— pops out from behind the hood of the car, his dark eyes narrowed at you accusingly. “We got dibs on this one.”

“Yoongi?” you ask in surprise. “What are you—wait. We? Who’s we?”

“I’m we,” a new voice announces—one that you’re very, very familiar with. Kim Namjoon steps into view behind Yoongi, and you aren’t sure whether to be horrified or thrilled to see your philosophy TA alive and well, with what looks like a metal fence pole perched on his shoulder like a bayonet. “Hey, {Name},” Namjoon says, offering you a small smile. “Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“N-Namjoon,” you stammer, your heart skipping a beat and racing to catch back up. “You’re… okay.”

“More or less,” the tall man replies agreeably, shrugging. Then he glances toward his blond companion, raising a quizzical brow. “Come on, Yoongi. We’ve got room for two more, don’t we?”

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath that sounds like acquiescence, and Namjoon grins, patting him on the back. “Welcome aboard,” he says, turning back to face you and Jungkook. “We’ve got to move fast. You’re Jeon Jungkook, right? I’ve seen you around the track field. Can you do me a favor and watch my back while I open this door?”

Jungkook nods, accepting Namjoon’s brief handshake and the metal pole he hands over. Namjoon then pulls a wire coat hanger out of his jacket pocket, and you watch, awestruck, as he jimmies the car door open.

“There aren’t any keys,” Jungkook points out, peering over the taller man’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the ignition. “Now what? Does anyone know how to hotwire a car?”

“Yes,” Namjoon and Yoongi say simultaneously.

“Well, only in theory,” Namjoon adds when Yoongi rolls his eyes and brushes past him to duck underneath the steering wheel. “Yoongi’s the real expert here.”

“That makes me sound like a criminal,” the blond man grumbles as he sets his toolbox on the ground and gets to work. “For the record, I only know how to do this because of all the times my keys have gone missing. I’m not the fucking Pontiac Bandit.”

“Sounds exactly like what the fucking Pontiac Bandit would say,” you and Jungkook say at the same time, high-fiving each other.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “This isn’t even a Pontiac,” he grumbles, hissing through his teeth as he pulls a few wires free and begins fiddling with them. “Quit watching me and make yourselves useful. Go check the trunk for supplies, or something. Christ.”

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, eyeing the surrounding cars. “That’s actually a good idea. There might be something useful in some of these other cars too. {Name}, why don’t you come with me? Jungkook should probably stay here and keep watch.”

Your mouth goes dry at his suggestion, but you nod hurriedly before your brain can short-circuit at the sound of your name leaving his lips so casually. “That… yeah. That sounds good. Let’s do that.”

“Good luck!” Jungkook calls cheerily as you walk off, earning himself a hard kick in the shins from Yoongi, who’s still flat on his back on the floor of the car.

“Dude, shut the fuck up! Do you want to die?”

Jungkook looks properly abashed. “Right,” he says, lowering his voice. “My bad.”

To your left, Namjoon muffles his laugh behind his hand. Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, and you grin, waving at the two before departing with Namjoon. Together, you wander deeper back into the maze of abandoned vehicles scattered around the lot, peering inside for anything that might be useful. Stopping at a sedan with open windows, you slip a hand inside and unlock the door. There’s an unopened bottle of soda in the cupholder, and Namjoon smiles as he reaches into the backseat and pulls out a few grocery bags.

“Try popping the trunk,” he suggests.

“On it,” you reply, searching for the right button. Namjoon walks around back to open the lid, grinning triumphantly when he sees what’s inside.

“More groceries,” he says, hefting another bag. “And half a case of bottled water. This should be enough to get us started.” Beckoning for you to join him, he hands over the three bags before hefting the case of water over one shoulder. “You okay? I can take a bag if you want.”

You shake your head, threading your baseball bat through the handles of each bag and hefting it onto your shoulder. “I’m fine. Thanks, though,” you tell him, trying to ignore the way your heart rate picks up when he gives you a look of approval, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth and dimpling his cheeks.

“So,” you begin as the two of you start trekking back toward the SUV, “where are we headed, anyway? It seems like you and Yoongi have a plan.”

Namjoon nods. “We do. There’s a reported quarantine zone up north—it’s all over Twitter.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out his cellphone, along with a massive battery pack. “I’ve been conserving my phone battery as much as I can, keeping track of any news, and I think it’s our best bet.”

“Smart.” Ruefully, you pull out your own device and show him the black screen. “My phone died ages ago.”

“You still might be able to charge it,” Namjoon points out. “The electrical grids haven’t gone down yet. And I know Yoongi’s got a cord back at the car, so we can charge our devices on the road too. He’s got all sorts of stuff—this battery pack is his, actually. I couldn’t find mine.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” you mutter, thinking back to every time he’s misplaced his laser pointer or lecture notes during class.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. Off in the distance, you spot a few zombies shambling along, no doubt searching for their next meal. Silently, you and Namjoon begin walking faster.

Yoongi and Jungkook are both seated inside the car by the time you return. Jungkook hops out to help you load the bags, and you shoot him a grateful grin as you climb into the backseat alongside him. Namjoon takes the passenger seat, kindly plugging in your phone while Yoongi adjusts his mirrors with a frown. “The engine’s gonna draw their attention,” he says. “They probably won’t be able to get us in the car, but hang onto your weapons just in case.” Then he pauses, glancing back at the metal pole in Jungkook’s hands and the wooden bat in yours. “Well. We’ll need to make a stop and get actual weapons.”

“We can try the police station,” Namjoon suggests. “I’m sure others will have had the same idea, but it’s really our only option. Then we’ll have to load up on food, water, and gas.”

Curiously, you peer into the grocery bags sitting on the floor between you and Jungkook. “Most of this stuff’s perishable. We’ll need to get non-perishable stuff if we’re going to be on the road for a long time. How far did you say that quarantined zone is, Namjoon?”

“I didn’t. I’m not actually one-hundred percent sure myself. Social media is a mess, as you might imagine.” Turning around in his seat, Namjoon shows you his Twitter feed—conflicting news alerts interspersed with grisly photos of the destroyed city and panicked requests for aid. “The last emergency alert said that the military base just outside of city limits is safe, but I’m not so sure.” He scrolls down, revealing several videos of zombies staggering around a helicopter, and upon closer inspection, you realize that they’re in full military garb. Horrified, you take his phone to get a closer look, thumbing down the page to reveal even more atrocities.

“Shit,” Jungkook breathes, sidling over to look over your shoulder. “That’s not good.”

Yoongi sighs, eyeing both of you in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, no kidding. The only thing we’re sure about so far is that the infection started in the south, so heading north is our best bet. And hopefully, we’ll find—”

THWUMP!

Namjoon’s phone clatters out of your hands as the parked car suddenly tilts, swaying dangerously to the left before all four wheels return to the asphalt once more. Horrified, you stare at the huddled horde of zombies that has suddenly appeared at your window, bloodstained hands trying in vain to reach you through the glass. “Yoongi, I think you need to drive now!” you shout, wincing as they begin thumping on the window in earnest.

The blond man curses when the car rocks again, his eyes flickering between the dashboard and the zombies swarming on Namjoon’s side of the car. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfu—HA!”

The engine roars to life, and you watch as the zombies closest to you flinch at the sudden noise before renewing their efforts, banging on the window until spiderwebbing cracks begin to form.

“Dude, floor it!” Jungkook yells.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. The car lurches forward, tires squealing, and you yelp as you’re slammed back against the seat. Instinctively, you fumble for your seat belt, ignoring the stunned look Jungkook shoots you in favor of buckling yourself in and watching the undead horde recede in the distance as you pull farther and farther away. “Holy shit,” you mutter, your head falling back against the backrest, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Holy fucking shit.”

Yoongi huffs out a sardonic chuckle as he slows ever so slightly to turn onto the main road. “Yeah. Welcome to the apocalypse.”

///

It’s odd, seeing the city you know and love in ruins. Billowing black smoke rises in the distance, filling the air with an acrid stench and a metallic tinge that you don’t want to think about. The roar of the SUV’s engine sounds like a siren’s song in the eerie silence of the streets, drawing unwanted attention from the undead. Everywhere you look, soulless eyes follow. Some zombies even try to chase the car, but they are quickly left behind as Yoongi slams down on the gas pedal, weaving past overturned vehicles and prone bodies.

You don’t wait to see if any of the bodies will rise up again.

Namjoon begins fiddling with the radio as Yoongi turns down yet another street, heading downtown. Static blares from the speakers, and you watch his frown get deeper the further along he scrolls through the stations. “Nothing,” he mutters after a few long minutes. “That’s not a good sign. The infrastructure is crumbling.”

Jungkook tears his gaze from the window. “What do you mean?”

Namjoon switches off the radio, letting silence envelop the car for a few seconds before speaking again. “I mean everything that sustains our way of life—the things we take for granted most days, like running water and electricity and the internet. We aren’t going to have them for much longer. Without workers to run things, we…” He sighs. “I figure we have maybe a week, at the most.”

“And then what happens?” you ask, your voice soft.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon admits. “To be honest, we might not even survive long enough to find out.”

“But we have to try,” you murmur. “Sure, we’re outnumbered and weaponless, but we have a car. We’re faster and smarter. I don’t think things are hopeless just yet.”

Namjoon shakes his head at your optimism, but Yoongi’s nodding, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Don’t mind him,” he advises. “Joon likes to overthink things and work himself up into a frenzy, but I think we’ve got a chance at making it through. Besides...” He gestures out the window with his thumb. “We won’t be weaponless for much longer.”

The car rolls to a stop in front of a square brick building that you recognize as the police station, the dark windows overlooking the street like gaping mouths. Most of the glass is broken—even on the higher stories—and you shiver at the sight of the jagged edges glinting like teeth in the wan afternoon sun.

“So... getting inside won’t be a problem,” Jungkook says dryly.

“Guess not,” Namjoon says, frowning. “Somebody definitely beat us here. Should we chance it? Everything could already be gone.”

“We’re already here, man,” Yoongi drawls, already beginning to open the door. “We may as well check it out.”

Cautiously, the four of you pile out of the SUV, eyes darting left and right as you make your way toward the front door with Jungkook in the lead. It’s hanging off its hinges and the glass is pocked with bullet holes, and a frown spreads across your face as you trace one lightly with your index finger. “Looks like there was a fight,” you murmur quietly to Namjoon, who’s standing just behind you with a rather large rock that he must have just picked up from outside. Yoongi takes up the rear with a hammer grasped tightly in his hand, and you bite back the Thor joke that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here anymore, though,” Jungkook says, winding his way farther into the lobby. “Think these elevators still work?” he asks, gesturing at the twin metal doors on the far wall.

“Not worth the risk,” Namjoon decides, walking over to the stairwell and opening the door. He peers inside before gesturing for you to enter, allowing everyone to step past him before quietly shutting the door and eyeing the two sets of stairs branching out from the landing. “We’re looking for the station’s armory,” he whispers. “What do you guys think? Up or down?”

“We could split u—” Jungkook begins to suggest, but you cut him off before he can even finish the sentence.

“And get killed off one by one like in every horror movie ever? Are you serious, Jeon?”

Jungkook blinks. “Fine. What do you think, then?”

“I think the parking garage is probably downstairs,” you muse, peering over the railing to look at the lower landing. “And it doesn’t look like there’s another level below that, so I’d say going up is our best bet.”

A smile curls the corner of Namjoon’s mouth, dimpling one cheek as he follows your lead and glances downstairs. “Nice observation,” he says once he’s straightened up again, laying a hand on your shoulder. The gentle pressure sends a shiver up your spine, a butterfly taking flight in your stomach on fluttering, iridescent wings. It’s all you can do to smile back, thanking him softly as he retracts his hand. Already, you miss the warmth of his palm.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says, effectively ruining the moment as he begins the ascent with his pole at the ready. Yoongi follows, and Namjoon gestures for you to go ahead of him, tucking his rock under one arm.

“It’s not the best weapon,” he says when he catches you looking, a rueful chuckle escaping him.

You grin back. “Better than nothing.”

Up ahead, Jungkook stops on the second floor landing, pressing his ear against the door. “I can’t hear anything,” he grumbles, fumbling for the doorknob and cracking the door open. “But it looks like the coast is cle— oh, shit!” Jungkook pulls the door shut again, his eyes wide.

“What happened?” Yoongi hisses. “What did you see?”

“There’s a bunch of them in the corner,” Jungkook whispers. “They’re… eating something.”

“Someone,” Yoongi corrects wryly, earning himself an elbow in the ribs courtesy of Namjoon. “Sorry,” he mutters, not sounding very sorry at all.

“How many are there?” Namjoon asks.

Jungkook pauses, casting his gaze upward as he does a mental tally. “At least seven or eight that I saw. There could be more though.”

“Did you see anything that could’ve been an armory? Some place where weapons would be stored?” Namjoon presses.

“Nah. Looked like a bunch of desks, mostly. Offices and whatnot.”

Namjoon nods slowly, tapping his chin. “Okay,” he says after a few seconds of deliberation. “Let’s keep going.” He takes the lead this time, stepping past Jungkook to the next staircase, and you follow after him, struggling to keep up when he elects to take the steps two at a time. His long legs span the increased distance with ease, and it takes every ounce of self-control you possess to refrain from staring at his flexing thigh muscles.

One flight of stairs and several instances of shameless ogling later, you find yourselves on the third floor, tiptoeing through a darkened hallway lined with doors and peering inside one by one.

“These all look like interrogation rooms,” Yoongi grumbles after a few fruitless minutes.

“Nope, this one’s a closet,” Jungkook pipes up, walking inside and exiting with a mop. The door slams shut behind him, and he winces under the absolutely withering glare Namjoon shoots at him. “My bad,” he whispers, offering the taller man the mop. “But on the bright side, I think this might be a better weapon than a rock.”

Namjoon sighs and accepts the mop. “Fine. Let’s make the rest of this search quick though. And be quiet,” he adds, with a pointed look at Jungkook. “We might be close to where the weapons are kept now, since we’ve left the administrative areas behind.”

And as it turns out, he’s right. The very next door you open is a room with a multitude of industrial shelves and racks lining the walls. Much to your disappointment, most of them are empty, but a more thorough search turns up a couple of handguns along with several cases of ammunition. Jungkook finds a stockpile of smoke grenades that he refuses to part with, and you roll your eyes as he shoves them into his pockets. “What the hell are smoke grenades going to do against zombies?”

“You never know,” Jungkook retorts. “Besides, I don’t see anything else in here. Do you?”

Dejected, you shake your head. “No, I don’t. Guess Namjoon was right—someone had the same idea as us.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Namjoon says, picking up one of the guns and peering closely at it. “Who here knows how to handle a firearm?”

Yoongi grunts. “My uncle used to take us hunting on camping trips. I’m not a great shot, but I’m all right.”

Namjoon glances over at you Jungkook. “What about you guys? No?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Do shooting games count?”

“No.”

“Okay, then no.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the other gun to Yoongi, who accepts it and checks the safety before tucking it safely into his belt. You watch as Namjoon checks his own gun, unloading the magazine and inserting a new one. “I take it you know a thing or two about guns,” you remark, inching closer to him as he engages the safety with deft fingers.

“My grandfather was a cop,” he replies softly. “He taught me a lot before he passed away.”

You bite your lip as his brow furrows, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs, his gaze sliding up to meet yours. “It’s alright. It happened years ago.” Then he glances down at your hand, his expression softening just the tiniest bit. “But I appreciate it. Thanks.”

The next few minutes pass in silence as the four of you complete your sweep of the room, peering at the bottommost shelves for any equipment you might have missed. “Hey,” Yoongi says suddenly, his voice hushed. “Hand me your bat, {Name}.”

Both you and Namjoon turn to face him. “Why?” you ask curiously, handing it over and watching as he lays it on the table and pulls his hammer from his waistband.

“Nails,” he says shortly. “Found some in that drawer and figured I’d make you a proper apocalypse weapon.”

“Wait,” Namjoon interrupts, striding over as Yoongi begins hammering nails into your wooden bat. “You’re making too much noise. Someone’s going to hear us.”

“Uh, it’s kinda already too late for that,” Jungkook hisses from the entrance. He’s peering through a little square window that sits about two-thirds of the way up the door, and flinches when a bloody, pale fist slams against it, splintering the glass. “We’ve got company, guys,” he grunts, pressing his full weight against the door and wincing as the glass shatters over his head. “Anyone got any bright ideas to get us out of here in one piece?”

“No,” Namjoon says slowly. “Unless…”

“Unless?” you press.

“We need a diversion,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t see how we’ll create one unless… well, unless one of us goes out there and leads them away from here. But that’s asking way too much, and—“

“I’ll do it.”

All three of you whirl around to face Yoongi, who looks thoroughly unfazed by the sudden scrutiny, picking idly at a frayed corner on his jacket. “You can’t be serious,” Namjoon says, finding his voice first. “It’s dangerous.”

“So is staying here,” Yoongi replies. “Besides, aren’t you always going on about the greater good? Altruism and Comte and all that shit? Let me do this, man. I can handle it.”

“That’s not—” Namjoon stops, rubbing the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. “That’s not the point. It’s just not practical, Yoongi. You’ll be vulnerable if you’re alone.”

“No, I’ll be fast,” Yoongi corrects, pulling out his gun and clicking off the safety. “You think we’ll do any better as groups of two? I don’t.”

“But—“ Namjoon tries again, his brow creasing, but Yoongi shakes his head and strides to the door.

“I’m gonna go left,” he says, his hand on the handle. “We came from the right, so you guys should be able to retrace our steps and get out.”

Jungkook stops him before he can exit, pressing a handful of smoke grenades into his palm. “Hang on,” he says, his throat tight. “You might need these.”

Yoongi pockets them, nodding. “Thanks, man.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue some more, but finally bites his lip and nods, his face resolute. “Good luck,” he says after a long, heavy pause. “Stay safe.”

Yoongi flashes you all a crooked grin. “See you soon.”

And then he’s flinging open the door, swinging his hammer into one zombie’s skull and kicking another in the knees. Namjoon stays in the doorway, shooting any and every zombie that he can see through the smashed window. You can just barely hear Yoongi jeering insults over the sound of gunfire and stumbling footsteps, the occasional thud of something heavy against the linoleum floor letting you know that Namjoon has successfully found his mark.

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally pulls back from the window and turns back to you and Jungkook. “Coast is clear,” he whispers. “Let’s go.”

“And Yoongi?” you ask, anxiety roiling in your gut at the thought of the blond man facing the horde of undead alone.

“He’ll be fine,” Namjoon says automatically, and you know he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s reassuring you. His grip is tight on his gun as he wrenches open the door and ushers the two of you out into the hallway, and even in the dimness you see the worried glance he shoots over his shoulder, lingering on the corner that Yoongi has disappeared around.

“Come on, Joon,” you murmur, nudging his arm gently. “Yoongi’s gonna beat us back to the car at the rate we’re going.”

That draws a soft chuckle from your companion. “You’re right,” he murmurs back. “Let’s go.”

///

As it turns out, however, Yoongi does not beat you back to the SUV. The blond-haired man is nowhere to be found, and you see concern etch itself permanently onto Namjoon’s forehead as he peers around the eerily quiet street. The air feels too still, and every crunch of gravel from underneath your sneakers sounds like a gunshot.

“He’ll be back, right?” Jungkook whispers urgently to you while Namjoon is out of earshot, his doe eyes wide and beseeching. “You don’t think he got…”

He trails off, and you shake your head, unwilling to even think of the possibility that harm has befallen the blond-haired man. “Yoongi’s tough,” you declare. “He’ll be back any minute, and we should be ready to take off when he does. In case, you know, he’s still being chased.”

“Right,” Jungkook says, glancing over at Namjoon, who’s standing closest to the driver’s side and is suddenly beginning to look very sheepish.

“So… I can’t actually drive,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as your jaw drops.

“Wait, you can’t drive? Don’t you live off-campus? How do you get to class?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I usually bike. Sometimes I walk to class, if the weather’s nice.” Then he pauses, dejection settling on his features. “Although I guess I won’t be teaching classes again any time soon.”

Your heart sinks. You know from the syllabus that he handed out on the first day that this was his first semester as a teaching assistant, his passion for philosophy shining through in every lecture he’s given. “You’re a great teacher,” you tell him, intent on cheering him up. “I learned so much from you. I mean, nobody likes moral philosophy, but you somehow managed to even make that interesting, which is pretty damn incredible.”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “Thanks. You were a pretty damn incredible student, yourself.”

“Why, thank you,” you tell him with a grin.

Beside you, Jungkook rolls his eyes and pretends to retch. “Fine, I guess I’ll drive.” Grumbling, he swings open the driver’s side door and plops down onto the seat, adjusting it for his longer legs. “Now how the hell do I start this thing?”

Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly and tears his gaze away from yours, reaching underneath the steering wheel and pulling out a tangle of wires. You stop listening as he explains to Jungkook how to spark them together and instead turn your gaze back to the looming police station, watching intently for any sign of Yoongi’s return. Crumpled newspapers and stray plastic bags roll by, buoyed by the spring breeze. Across the street, a lone pigeon roams, head bobbing as it searches for crumbs.

“Looking for me?”

You jump, letting out a surprised shriek as Yoongi’s blond head of hair suddenly pops out from behind the trunk. “Jesus Christ, Yoongi, what the hell? Where did you come from?”

“Originally? My mother’s womb,” he replies, shrugging. The movement draws your attention to the sleeves of his jacket, newly tattered and splattered with crimson, and any witty retort you might have had is immediately swallowed up by concern.

“Is that blood? Oh my god, is that your blood?”

Your shout alerts Namjoon and Jungkook, twin looks of concern marring their faces as they clamber out of the SUV and join the two of you. “No, no—I’m not hurt,” Yoongi reassures, dismissing your worries with a wave of his hand. “Things did get a little dicey, but it all worked out in the end.”

“How exactly did you escape?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi grins crookedly. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Jungkook blinks. “What?”

“If I couldn’t beat them, I had to join them,” Yoongi elaborates, gesturing to his tattered, dirty clothing. “I stumbled across the evidence room while I was trying to find another way out, and got an idea. This—” he gestures at the red stains splattered across his clothing, “—is actually spray paint. The police must’ve confiscated it from graffiti artists or something. Then all I had to do was rip up my jacket and limp a little and, well, here we are.”

“And that worked?” you ask in disbelief. “You just… pretended to be a zombie and walked out?”

“More or less,” Yoongi says with another shrug. “Now come on, let’s blow this joint. They could find us any second, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t really wanna die just yet. Pretending was enough.”

You have about a million more questions, but Yoongi takes his spot in the driver’s seat before you can ask any of them, readjusting the seat and promising an inquisitive Jungkook that he’ll teach him how to drive the hotwired vehicle next time. The rest of you take your seats as the engine roars to life underneath the blond man’s skilled fingertips, and with a squeal of tires against asphalt, you are off once again, heading toward the great unknown.

///

“Wait, wait, no, stop!”

Yoongi slams on the brakes at Jungkook’s shout, the car skidding to an abrupt halt. “What is it?” he demands, his gaze darting around frantically as his fingers reach for his gun. “Is there a problem?”

Jungkook winces. “Sorry. I was talking to Namjoon, actually.”

Yoongi visibly relaxes, shaking his head as he resumes driving. Namjoon glances back at Jungkook, his eyebrows disappearing behind his dark hair in silent inquiry. “Yes?”

“The radio,” Jungkook says, gesturing at the dashboard buttons that Namjoon has been fiddling with incessantly for the last several minutes. “Go back to the last station for a sec.”

Obediently, Namjoon turns the dial. Staticky white noise fills the air, and Jungkook frowns. Then a few jumbled words filter through the static, and he lets out a triumphant shout. “There!”

“Huh,” Namjoon says, leaning closer to the speaker. “I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. We must be out of range.”

“But we must be getting closer—I think I can make out a few words,” Jungkook says. “Everyone shut up and let me listen…” He trails off, and for a few moments, there is only the sound of garbled static and the low whir of the tires against pavement. Then Jungkook flops back against the seat, a pensive frown settling on his face. “Huh.”

You nudge his shoulder. “Well? What did you hear?”

“Not a whole lot,” he admits. “And I can’t be sure that what I heard was right, but… I think the broadcast is coming from Sonyeo City.”

Namjoon purses his lips, his chin jutting out in the way it does whenever he’s deep in thought. “Sonyeo City… that’s about six hours away, isn’t it?”

Yoongi hums. “Yeah, just about.”

“Do you think…” you trail off, hesitant. “Do you think that this means Sonyeo City’s… safe?”

“There’s no way to be sure.” Namjoon casts his gaze out the window, and you get the feeling he’s looking far beyond the crumbling streets and dark buildings, to the horizon where there still may be a glimmer of hope. “But at least we now have a destination in mind.”

The rest of the ride is quiet. Namjoon keeps the radio on just in case another snippet of discernible audio comes through, but none of you manage to catch anything important. Yoongi stops at a gas station to refuel, and a few minutes after that, finally manages to find a grocery store that looks to be mostly intact and devoid of any immediate threats.

“Let’s get this bread,” Jungkook proclaims as he slides out of the backseat, walking toward the entrance of the store. “And by bread, I mean Twinkies.”

You gape at his retreating back. “Is that a Zombieland reference?”

“Maybe,” he replies, shooting you a playful grin over his shoulder.

Shaking your head, you follow him through the automatic doors and glance around the interior of the store. Row after row of shelves take up the majority of the room, with an open space on the far right for fresh produce and glass-paneled refrigerators lining the wall. Behind you, the doors slide open again with a whoosh, and you turn to meet Namjoon’s eyes as he steps inside with Yoongi. “We should lock the doors,” you point out.

“You’re right,” Namjoon agrees, inspecting the metal frame surrounding the glass.

“Hang on,” Jungkook interrupts, eyes wide as he watches Namjoon fumble with the mechanism. “Are you locking us in?”

“For the time being,” Namjoon says absentmindedly, still focused on the door.

You walk over to Jungkook and pat his cheek. “He’s not locking us in; he’s locking them out. Or would you rather have a horde of zombies stumble in while we’re grabbing supplies?”

“... fair point.”

“Exactly.”

Yoongi, meanwhile, is gazing around the store, leery as always. “Hello?” he calls, his voice cutting through the silence. “Anyone home?”

Not even two seconds later, a shambling, shuffling figure emerges from a far aisle, moving surprisingly quickly despite its odd, lopsided gait. Two more follow, and Yoongi raises his gun, clicking off the safety and narrowing his eyes.

Toward the other end of the store, you spot another zombie dragging itself along the floor, leaving a trail of streaky, bloody handprints in its wake. Three more shuffle out from behind a display of watermelons, heading toward you, and you tighten your grip on your nail-studded bat as they draw ever closer.

Shots ring out behind you, but you don’t chance a glance backward. Out of your peripheral vision you spot Jungkook on your left, bringing his metal pole down onto the crawling zombie’s head with a sickening crunch. Leaping into action, you swing at the closest zombie’s head. It was once a woman, you notice—long stringy hair falling around her decaying face, the bottom half of her jaw visible through the peeling skin. “Sorry about this,” you say, wincing as your bat makes impact. The nails catch in her skin, her neck cracking under the force of the blow, and you yelp as she falls over and the other two zombies take her place.

“Watch out!”

Namjoon’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you, and you instinctively duck as he sprints over and shoots one point blank. Jungkook takes out the other, driving the pole through its chest before pulling it out and smashing it over the zombie’s head. “Are there more?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

“Not sure,” Yoongi says, rejoining you. “I would think most of the lurkers were drawn out by all the noise.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Namjoon says. Walking over to a checkout lane, he grabs a pile of plastic bags and an abandoned cart. “Let’s stay together and take the aisles one at a time. We’ll take as much as we can carry.”

“Don’t forget bottled water,” you pipe up, pointing at the stack of water bottles piled next to the door. “We’ve already drank most of what we have. And if we’re getting canned food, we’ll need a can opener too.”

Namjoon follows the direction of your finger. “Good call.”

“I’ll get it,” Jungkook volunteers, jogging over to select a twenty-four pack of bottles and heaving it into the cart. “Now what?”

“Let’s grab the can opener first,” you say. “Maybe some other utensils too. Sound good?”

Namjoon nods. “Sounds great,” he says, handing you one of the bags. Jungkook and Yoongi accept the other bags that Namjoon doles out, and together the four of you head farther into the store, scanning the signs until you come across the one labeled household goods. It’s clear that others have been here before you, but a quick raid of the shelves yields two can openers and a set of silverware, all of which you deposit into your bag. Namjoon grabs four unbroken bowls, mismatched and in varying sizes, and you hold out your bag for him to drop them inside.

Next up is the canned food aisle, where you stock up on various vegetables and far more beans than you care to think about. Jungkook grabs a box of instant coffee, and Yoongi disappears for a few seconds and returns with a massive jar of vitamin supplements. “Gotta stay healthy,” he says in response to your raised eyebrows, adding it to the growing pile in Namjoon’s cart.

“Speaking of healthy, we should grab some produce,” you say. “It won’t stay good forever, but we can at least get some apples and oranges. And we should probably grab some stuff for dinner too. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

As if on cue, Namjoon’s stomach rumbles. “Dinner would be nice,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Let’s finish up here and then eat in the car. We probably don’t want to stick around here for much longer than we have to.”

After some discussion, the four of you decide on sandwiches for dinner and set about gathering the necessary ingredients. Yoongi wanders to the deli area to pick out a selection of meats that haven’t yet spoiled, and even manages to locate some cheese. You peruse the produce, selecting a head of lettuce and several ripe tomatoes while Namjoon fills a bag with apples and grabs a bunch of bananas. Jungkook raids the bread display, shoving two whole loaves and a box of dinner rolls into his bag. Several bags of chips and a pack of juice boxes later, you are ready to go, heading back out into the parking lot where the SUV is parked.

“Wait!” Jungkook suddenly yelps, stopping dead in the middle of loading the trunk. “I forgot my Twinkies!”

“Are you serious right now, Jeon?” you hiss, watching in disbelief as he hurriedly drops his bags and turns back toward the entrance.

“Yes,” he says stubbornly, already beginning to jog away.

Yoongi groans and flops down into the driver’s seat. “Sartre was right,” he grumbles under his breath. “Hell is other people.”

Namjoon gives him an astonished look, mouth already open and ready to question what exactly his friend knew about the French existentialist philosopher, but quickly snaps back to the issue at hand when you abandon your own bags and dart after Jungkook. Immediately, Namjoon follows, nearly tripping in his efforts to keep up with you, and you whirl in concern when he lets out a sudden, startled shout. “What is it?”

Namjoon grimaces, brushing a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Sorry, it’s just—holy shit!”

A skeletal, gaunt hand is grasping at Namjoon’s ankle, and you gasp when you realize that it belongs to the female zombie from before, her milky eyes gazing unseeingly out from beneath stringy hair. Cursing, Namjoon shakes her off and fumbles for his gun. Pointing it down, he aims and pulls the trigger.

Click.

“I’m out of bullets,” he whispers in dawning horror.

You reach for your trusty bat, tucked away in its sling on your back, but the handle keeps evading your grasping fingers, the nails catching in the fabric. Your palms begin to sweat as Namjoon kicks at the zombie, stomping on her arm and cracking all the bones. He’s glancing around frantically for something he can use as a weapon, but to no avail. And all the while, the undead woman continues her dogged pursuit, crawling after him with one good arm like a lopsided cockroach, teeth gnashing furiously in anticipation of her next meal.

“NOT TODAY, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Jungkook barges onto the scene with his metal pole in hand, glinting dull silver in the flickering fluorescent lights. He smashes the zombie over the head once, twice, three times before relenting, his chest heaving with exertion. Namjoon sucks in a deep breath when she finally falls limp, reaching out to clap Jungkook on the back. “Wow,” he says shakily. “Thanks, man. That was a close call.”

Jungkook straightens up and hefts his weapon over his shoulder. “And that’s why we have rule number two here in Zombieland,” he says proudly.

Namjoon asks the question before you even have a chance to stop him. “What’s rule two?”

Jungkook grins a grin so wide, you’re surprised his mouth doesn’t fall off altogether. “The Double Tap, of course.” Then his gaze flickers downward, to where a familiar blue-and-white box lies crumpled against the linoleum. “Oh, no. My Twinkies!”

You sigh.

///

Dinner—if it can even be called that—is a quick affair, eaten while huddled in the SUV and parked in an alley. The sun is setting rapidly, dipping beyond the horizon and bathing the surrounding buildings in a fiery orange glow. It’s been mercifully quiet for the past half hour, broken only by the occasional crunch of a chip or a slurp from a juice box.

Yoongi starts driving again after he’s polished off the last of his sandwich. Dusky twilight cloaks the city in purple—turning it into something strange and unfamiliar. Normally, the streets would be aglow with lit lamps and illuminated homes, crowded with people returning home after a long day of work or classes. Now, though, the streets are silent and abandoned. The few zombified citizens you pass are quickly left behind, and you know you aren’t imagining the melancholy air that’s settled over your companions, nestling deep into the nooks and crannies of the SUV, stagnant and unshakable. It grows stronger the farther Yoongi drives, the buildings getting shorter and the space between them growing longer, and your heart breaks a little in your chest when you turn for one last look at the city you’ve all come to call home.

You can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you know you won’t ever be coming back.

Namjoon begins fiddling with the radio dials again as Yoongi turns onto the highway, a burst of static breaking the stifling silence in the car. Jungkook startles slightly at the sharp sound, looking up from where he’d been staring out the window. “Is that the station from before?”

Namjoon hums in affirmation, adjusting the volume until the white noise is just a low buzz. Jungkook settles back into his seat, but you can see that he’s listening carefully, his knee bouncing in anticipation.

And then, without any warning whatsoever, a voice comes through the static, clear as day.

Testing, one, two. Is anybody out there?

If you’ve still got a functioning brain and at least one ear, congratulations! another voice chimes in, brighter than the first. You’re listening to 2J! Straight out of Sonyeo City, we’re your premier source of zombie news—

—your only source, really—

—and we’re here to bring you all the latest so that you can stay safe out there, the second voice continues as if there was no interruption at all.

Unfortunately, the first voice says, adopting a more somber tone now, there isn’t a lot of good news. We’re still in the dark about how this epidemic started. Reports claim that it began in a city in the south, which multiple sources have confirmed, but the government has yet to put out an official statement regarding the situation.

They’re being pretty dodgy about the whole thing, to be honest, the second voice continues. The first emergency alert said it was a mutated virus, but the second claimed it was a contaminated water reservoir. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some super-secret experiment gone wrong, Jin.

Honestly, me neither, the man named Jin says. But that’s enough of the conspiracies for now, Jay. Let’s talk survival! First thing you’ll want to do, dear listeners, is head north toward Sonyeo City, where a quarantine zone has been set up.

Jungkook releases a long, pent-up breath. “We were right,” he whispers. “Thank god.”

Namjoon flashes him a little smile and cranks up the volume, listening carefully as Jin’s voice fills the car.

Your best bet is to drive, of course, hop in your car and get going. Stock up on gas and non-perishable food, and some weapons certainly wouldn’t hurt either.

If worst comes to worst and you have to kill a zombie, the best way to do it is to smash its head in, Jay pipes up. You can also break their kneecaps to slow them down, but that won’t kill them for good. They’ll keep coming as long as they can still move—and if they bite you, you’re a goner.

Now onto ways to avoid zombies! Jin says, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. One thing I’ve noticed during my research is how quickly their optic nerves deteriorate once they’re infected. In fact, the rate of deterioration is second only to that of their vocal chords!

And now tell them what that means in plain English, Jay prods, laughing.

Jin chortles. Basically, they have shit eyesight, especially in the dark, he clarifies. If it’s nighttime and you find yourself surrounded somehow, your best bet is to stay quiet and move slowly. If they hear you, well…

You’re a goner, Jay supplies helpfully.

Exactly. Thanks, Jay.

No problem, Jin.

And that brings us to the end of this broadcast, Jin says, clapping his hands. Thanks for tuning in today, and we’ll see you next time.

Until then, this has been 2J. Stay safe out there!

There’s a dull click, and then the static resumes, filling the silence left in the wake of the broadcast. “Well, at least we’re headed in the right direction,” Yoongi says after a few long moments. “It’s a long drive though, and I don’t think I can stay awake for much longer. We might want to start looking for a place to sleep for the night.”

“That’s a good idea,” Namjoon says. “I’m pretty sure we’ve all been running on pure adrenaline up to this point, so we definitely need some rest. We’ll start fresh tomorrow morning.”

Mumbles of agreement all around. Ten minutes later, Jungkook points to a quaint little farmhouse on the right side of the road, the windows dark. “Think anyone’s home?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Yoongi replies, slowly pulling off the road and into the winding driveway, watching for any movement from the house or the surrounding fields. The hum of the engine doesn’t draw any unwanted attention, and you breathe a tentative sigh of relief as he parks the car beneath a large oak tree. Together, the four of you pile out and approach the house, weapons at the ready.

“Should we knock?” you whisper, looking at the little brass knocker in the middle of the front door. “Ring the doorbell, maybe?”

“Can’t hurt, right?” Jungkook jabs his thumb into the button by the doorknob, listening intently as the bell chimes inside the house. After a few beats of silence, he shrugs. “Guess no one’s home.”

“And the door’s locked,” Yoongi says, trying the knob. “Maybe they’re away on vacation or something.” Wandering over to a nearby window, he jimmies the frame, a wry grin crossing his features when it pops open easily. “They should probably invest in better locks, though.”

One by one, you climb through the window. Namjoon is the last one inside, folding his tall frame through the small space, and as soon as both his feet touch carpet, Yoongi shuts the window again and closes the curtains. “Don’t wanna be seen from the street,” he explains as he pulls out his cell phone and taps the flashlight button, illuminating the room in harsh white light. Namjoon does the same, as does Jungkook, and you pull your own phone out as well—now fully charged from the long car ride. A quick sweep of the house reveals that it is indeed empty, and Jungkook whoops when his flashlight falls upon a rifle mounted over the fireplace. Further investigation reveals two more pistols in a cabinet, along with ample ammunition, and Yoongi grins as he loads all three guns and hands one over to you.

“You ever shot one of these before?”

The gun is heavy in your palm. Slowly, you shake your head.

Yoongi glances over at Namjoon slyly. “Why don’t you give her a lesson out back, then?”

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s ears flush pink, his feet scuffing nervously against the carpeted floor before he chances a look at you. The smile that he offers you is warm but hesitant, and when he speaks, his voice is even more so. “Sure,” he says. “I can show you how, if you’d like.”

“I’d really like that,” you tell him, the butterflies erupting in your chest when his smile widens. Together, the two of you head toward the back of the house, taking a detour to the kitchen where Namjoon grabs an armful of empty soda cans. His shoulder brushes against yours as you walk, but neither of you pull away. Even as you step onto the wooden patio that leads into the rest of the yard, you remain side by side, admiring the full moon that hangs bright in the sky, providing just enough illumination to view your surroundings.

“I suppose we should start with the basics,” Namjoon begins, his gaze alighting on a low fence lining the property. Jogging over, he lines the cans up on the wooden beam before returning to your side and gesturing for you to raise the pistol. His fingers skim across yours as he shows you how to disengage the safety, and your heart skips a beat when he explains how to reload once you run out of bullets, his large hands guiding yours through each step.

There’s a damp chill in the evening air, but you don’t even feel it. Namjoon is so close by this point, his chest pressed almost flush against your back as he shows you how to aim. His fingers wrap around your wrist, warm and gentle, and you shiver when he speaks again, his mouth at your ear, his voice rumbling through his chest.

“Ready?”

You nod, almost afraid to breathe as your finger finds the trigger. Namjoon’s grip on your wrist loosens but doesn’t disappear entirely, and you steel yourself for the recoil as you finally pull the trigger. The loud crack has you wincing, but Namjoon is laughing, the sound deep and husky as he urges you to lower the gun.

“Nice shot.”

You turn to look at the fence, now missing one soda can. “Oh, wow,” you breathe. “That was… kind of therapeutic, actually. Can we try again?”

Namjoon grins. “Of course we can.”

///

Ten cans and a box of ammunition later, you and Namjoon find yourselves lounging on the steps of the patio, staring up at the velvety night sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars before,” you murmur, a little awestruck by the sight. “But now that we’re away from the city and all that light pollution… wow. It’s amazing.”

“It’s beautiful,” Namjoon agrees, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before he collects himself and looks up at the sky once more.

“I wish I knew more constellations,” you say, laughing softly. “I can really only pick out the Big Dipper. And even then, I can only find it about eighty percent of the time.”

“What about the Little Dipper?” Namjoon asks. He scoots a little closer to you, pointing upward. “Do you see that really bright star up above the Big Dipper? That’s Polaris—the north star. It’s the end of the handle.”

You follow the trajectory of his finger curiously, eyes widening when you spot the smaller, but still distinctive, spoon shape. “Oh! Yes, I see it now. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before.”

Namjoon chuckles. “I can show you where Orion is too,” he says. “That’s as far as my knowledge of constellations goes, though.”

“You know more than I do,” you reply, smiling up at him. Softly, you lay a hand on his arm. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, cheeks dimpling as he gazes down at you. This close, you can see all the stars reflected in his irises, his skin glowing silver under the luminescence of the full moon. And in a sudden surge of boldness, you allow your hand to slide down until it’s laying atop his, your fingers settling in the spaces between his own.

Namjoon glances down at your intertwined hands, his lips twitching with a barely restrained smile. “You know,” he murmurs, his breath visible in the chilly air, “I’ve always kind of liked you.”

You blink at the admission. “Really?”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, his chest rumbling with the sound. “It’s crazy, right? But it’s true. Ever since you sat down in the front row on the first day of my class with a bright pink pen and no laptop… do you know how rare it is to see someone take handwritten notes in this day and age?”

Your cheeks heat up. “You noticed that?”

“I did,” he replies, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together properly. “Do you remember that essay the professor assigned? It must have been the second or third assignment—the one about moral responsibility in modern society?” At your nod, he smiles and continues. “Yours was the best one I read, hands down.”

“Yeah, he talked about it for three days straight,” a new voice says. Whirling around, you see Yoongi’s head poking out the back door, smirking like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. It was annoying as hell.”

Namjoon groans. “Seriously, Yoongi?”

The blond man puts his hands up innocently. “Just stopping by to make sure you guys weren’t dead,” he says before letting the door shut again, chortling to himself.

Namjoon sighs and turns back to you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t have much of a filter.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand. “Don’t worry about it. He’s gone now, so I can finally do this.”

Namjoon tilts his head curiously. “Do wha—?” he begins to say, only to be cut off by your mouth on his. The kiss is soft and slow, your lips moving lazily against his, and by the time you pull away, both of you are breathing much more heavily. Namjoon’s hands find their way around your waist, tugging you close, and you nestle deeper into the warmth of his embrace, enjoying how it wards off the chill in the air.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you know,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He chuckles and chases after your mouth, his nose bumping affectionately against yours. “Yeah. Me too.”

///

You wake up the next morning to golden sunlight streaming in through the window and an arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Namjoon hasn’t opened his eyes yet, his hair sticking every which way, but his grip on you tightens when he feels you begin to stir. “Good morning,” he mumbles, finally cracking an eye open and smiling down at you.

“Good morning,” you whisper back. You’re positive that you look like an absolute mess—hair in disarray, face crusty from sleep, body desperately in need of a shower—and yet Namjoon is staring at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, dimples dotting his cheeks as he reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. You reciprocate with a kiss to his palm, and he grins. Grabbing your chin, he tilts your face up so he can kiss you properly—his lips soft and gentle against yours. It almost feels like an ordinary morning, and for a few moments, you can pretend that there isn’t a monstrous epidemic running rampant through large swathes of the country. For a few moments, you’re just a girl and a boy, basking in the idyllic haze of each other’s presence.

But then there’s a knock on the door, followed by Yoongi’s low drawl. “Get dressed and come eat, lovebirds. Sooner we get on the road, the better.”

You break apart from Namjoon, giggling when you see the dopey grin stretched across his face. “Why are you looking at me like that, you weirdo?”

His grin only widens, his arms looping around your waist. “It’s just funny,” he says. “Waking up with you, Yoongi yelling at us—this is the first ordinary morning I’ve had in a long time. And I’ve missed it. I’ve missed it a lot.”

“So have I,” you murmur, burying your face into the warm cotton of his t-shirt and allowing yourself one more moment of normalcy before getting out of bed. Walking into the bathroom, you are pleased to discover that the water is still running, and Namjoon even manages to unearth some unused toothbrushes and toothpaste from underneath the sink. The bristles are a little too stiff for your liking and the water has a metallic tinge that refuses to dissipate, but being able to brush your teeth makes a world of difference. There’s a noticeable bounce in your step as you make your way downstairs with Namjoon, and Yoongi and Jungkook pick up on it right away.

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” Yoongi says without looking up from his bowl of dry cereal. “The sex was that good, huh?”

“W-we didn’t…” Namjoon stammers, his cheeks flushing. “That’s not what we—”

You squeeze his hand, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Let them think what they want,” you advise. “They’re just jealous of your dick game, anyway.”

“Ew,” Jungkook grumbles, throwing an apple at you. “Way too much information, {Name}.”

You shrug, just barely managing to catch the piece of fruit. “You guys brought it up first. Not my fault.”

The remainder of breakfast passes quickly. Yoongi and Jungkook head outside to start loading the car while you and Namjoon scour the house one last time for anything that might be useful, and within the hour, you are back on the road toward Sonyeo City.

“You know, this Jin character sounds like a piece of work,” Yoongi grumbles from the passenger seat for what feels like the millionth time. Jungkook is driving today, which leaves you and Namjoon in the backseat with the eclectic collection of food and weapons you’ve amassed. The four of you are listening to the 2J broadcast again, and after a rather lengthy discussion of zombie evasion techniques, Jin has lapsed into telling the worst dad jokes you’ve ever heard.

What does a vegetarian zombie eat? Graaains!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Yoongi groans.

Morning turns into midday, the sun high in the sky. The road winds on, through green cornfields and grassy plains and the occasional small town. Several times, you spot a zombie or two shambling around aimlessly through the windows, but they’re quickly forgotten as Jungkook slams on the gas pedal. You get the feeling that he’s relishing the lack of an enforced speed limit, and taking full advantage of the empty highway.

It’s late afternoon by the time you arrive on the outskirts of Sonyeo City. Off in the distance, you can see taller skyscrapers rising up, gray and hazy against the horizon, but the area you’re in right now seems to be the warehouse district. Low, squat factories sit on either side of the road and a branching network of railroad tracks weaves throughout, but everything is eerily still and deathly quiet. No smoke rises up from the smokestacks, and you’re pretty sure you spot a train that’s been toppled over onto its side before Jungkook hits the gas again and takes you deeper into the city. The buildings get taller the farther you drive, but you still have yet to see any signs of life besides the occasional bobbing pigeon or scurrying rat.

That all changes when the car rounds the next corner. It looks as if a bomb has gone off in one of the largest brick buildings lining the street, covering the entire block in a layer of rubble. Zombified citizens mill around in the debris, and Jungkook slams on the brakes, his eyes wide with panic.

“Dude, just back up and try another street,” Yoongi says when he doesn’t move. “They haven’t noticed us yet.”

“No, that’s not it,” Jungkook says, his voice shaking. “We’re… we’re low on gas. Like, really, really low.”

Yoongi takes another look outside and blanches. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’ll get killed if we try to refuel now!”

“I’ll—I’ll get us as far away as I can,” Jungkook stammers, throwing the vehicle into reverse and beginning to back away from the mayhem. He clears the corner and continues backward for another two blocks before the car slows to a full stop, a groan escaping his lips. “Fuck.”

Glancing out the window, you see four stray zombies stumbling toward you. “Uh, guys? We have a bit of a problem.”

Namjoon curses and begins digging through the stash of weapons at his feet, pulling out several long knives and an axe you’d taken from the farmhouse. “We don’t stand a chance without a car,” he mutters as he pulls out supplies. “Yoongi, grab the gas. I’ll watch your back while you fill up the tank. Jungkook, be ready to drive at a moment’s notice. {Name}...” He grins, handing you the rifle to join the pistol you already have at your side. “You’re on sniper duty. But save it as a last resort, okay? Gunshots will draw even more attention to us, which is the last thing we need right now.”

“Got it,” you say, accepting the box of ammunition he slides over and ignoring the way your heart begins to pound in your chest. “Stay safe out there, okay?”

Namjoon presses a quick kiss to your mouth, ignoring the disgusted sound Jungkook makes. “I will, don’t worry. Be back soon.” And then he’s hopping out of the car, joining Yoongi at the gas tank and scanning the street for any approaching threats. The four zombies at the end of the street are still a block and a half away, but the distance doesn’t make you feel any better as you watch Namjoon and Yoongi standing out in the open, unprotected. Through the open window, you can hear Yoongi cursing, hands shaking as he opens up the gas can.

Bang!

A young man bursts out of an apartment complex just up the street, the door slamming against the brick wall behind it. Even from a block away, you can see the frantic expression on his face as he dashes outside without taking proper stock of his surroundings. Your mouth opens to shout a warning—beside you, you can see Jungkook about to do the same—but it’s already too late. The zombies are upon him before he can even scream, rotting teeth tearing into his flesh and ripping chunks away until he’s reduced to a huddled mass of blood and viscera on the ground, deathly still and silent.

Then, to your absolute disbelief, the man is crawling to his feet again, his stance lopsided and his expression blank. Half of his jaw has been torn away, exposing teeth, and your stomach squirms at the sight of his fresh wounds still oozing crimson.

“Holy shit!” Jungkook screeches, whirling around to face you with wild eyes. “We need to get out of here!”

“I know, dumbass!” you yell back, craning your head back to check on your other two companions only to nearly jump out of your skin when the door flies open in your face.

“It’s me!” Namjoon shouts, sliding into his seat. Up front, Yoongi is already seated, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Drive, Jungkook!”

Jungkook lets loose a colorful string of curses and fumbles to start the engine, eyes skittering between the steering wheel and the approaching zombies. “Come on, come on—”

“WAIT!”

All four of you whirl around, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. A split second later, a young man with fluffy blond hair pops up in your window, followed quickly by another man with longer, dark brown hair. “Please wait!” the blond man entreaties, wincing when you let out a startled yelp and slam a hand against the glass. “Please!”

“Who the fuck are you?” you gasp.

“My name’s Jimin, and this is Taehyung,” he says, glancing over to where the zombies are rapidly approaching. “You have to take us with you!”

Jungkook chooses that moment to butt in. “What the fuck? No way! How do we know you’re not infected?”

“We’re not!” It’s Taehyung who speaks this time, his voice low but no less urgent than Jimin’s. “Please, you have to believe us.”

“How do you expect us to do that?” Yoongi growls. “We don’t know you—you could be trying to kill us, for all we know.”

“Why the hell would we kill you?” Jimin yelps, looking offended by the very idea.

“We’re not zombies, I promise” Taehyung adds, frowning. “No need to be so paranoid.”

“I think a healthy dose of paranoia is a good thing in this situation!” Yoongi snaps.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Namjoon’s pensive expression, his chin jutting out in the way it does when he’s focused. “Joon? You okay?”

His frown deepens. “I think we have to let them in.”

Yoongi balks. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, seriously. Remember what Jin said in that broadcast—about how quickly an infected person’s vocal chords deteriorate? There’s no way they’d be talking if they were infected. Absolutely none.”

Jimin claps. “Exactly! Now can you please unlock the door?”

You look at Namjoon, who nods. Jungkook groans and Yoongi slaps a hand over his eyes, but you nod back and reach over to flip the switch, the door unlocking with an audible click.

“Thank you so much,” Jimin chants as he piles into the backseat in a mess of limbs. “Thank you. Holy shit, thank you.” Taehyung follows after him, slamming the door shut, and you grunt when Jimin scoots over to give him a little more room and nearly elbows you in the face.

“Careful,” Namjoon cautions, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging until you are practically seated in his lap. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung make themselves comfortable, carefully avoiding the bags of supplies on the floor as Jungkook starts the car.

“Thanks again,” Jimin repeats earnestly once he’s settled in. “I know it must’ve been hard sticking your necks out like that, but we really do appreciate it.”

“Why were you even out in the open like that?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at Jimin. “Isn’t there supposed to be a quarantine zone somewhere in this godforsaken city?”

Taehyung nods. “Yeah, it’s in the city center, past the river. We were headed there ourselves, but then the explosion happened.”

“You guys must’ve seen it,” Jimin says. “Few blocks back, rocks and garbage everywhere? We think it was a gas leak, but who knows? It totaled our car, and we’ve been on foot ever since.”

Yoongi looks a little abashed. “Sorry to hear that.”

Jimin shrugs and offers him a crooked grin. “It’s all good. We’re still here now, and we’re still alive. That’s really all that matters.”

///

As it turns out, Jimin is a cadet in the local police academy—something you discover when his jacket falls open to reveal an impressive array of weapons strapped to his belt. Taehyung is an art history student, but between his fondness for paintball and his childhood on a farm, you quickly find that he’s almost just as well-versed in marksmanship as Jimin.

In the last ten minutes, however, Taehyung has fallen oddly silent. A glance over at the brown-haired man reveals that he is staring out the window, lost in thought as buildings rush by. Jimin is still chattering about the academy to a very interested Namjoon, but you don’t miss the occasional furtive glance he gives his friend, his brow creasing briefly in concern before he manages to smooth his expression out again.

Up ahead, you catch a glimpse of the river—a ribbon of blue snaking its way through the city. “There’s a big bend in the river, kind of like a horseshoe, right around the downtown area,” Jimin explains. “I think it was some kind of fortress back in the day, before the rest of the city was built around it. Most of the walls are still standing—historical preservation and whatnot—so the only way to get there is by crossing the bridge or going through the tunnel. And I’m like ninety percent sure they’ve already closed the tunnel down.”

“Bridge it is, then,” Yoongi says. “You know how to get us there?”

“Yeah, you take a left at the next light and then—”

“Can we actually stop here for a minute?”

Everyone glances back at Taehyung, who seems to have finally found his voice again. “Stop?” Namjoon asks, a frown etching its way across his face. “Why?”

Taehyung sucks in a deep breath, his gaze darting over to an unassuming brick building on the corner. “It’s just that… that’s where my little sister lives.”

And in an instant, you understand. You understand why he’s been so quiet this entire time, and why he’s been gazing out the window so wistfully. Jungkook steps on the brake, and the car rolls to a slow stop at the curb. “I get it,” he mutters, his fingers tight around the steering wheel. “I’d… I’d want to check too, if it were my brother.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung smiles weakly, mumbling his thanks, and Jimin takes his hand with a reassuring smile. “Come on, Tae. Let’s go get Eonjin.”

“I’ll come too,” Jungkook volunteers, hopping out of the driver’s seat. “You might need the extra help.”

Yoongi sighs and exits the car as well, glancing back at you and Namjoon. “Guess I should stretch my legs too. You two wanna watch the car?

You nod. “We can do that.”

Yoongi nods back and follows the other three men into the building. You watch as they disappear into its dark depths, letting out a soft sigh.

“Do you think they’ll find her?”

Namjoon hums. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I hope so, for Taehyung’s sake. But I really don’t know if they will.”

You sigh again, shifting into a more comfortable position on his lap and letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. His arms tighten around your waist, and you shiver as his warm breath caresses your neck. “I’m glad my parents are overseas on a cruise right now,” you say softly. “They posted photos just yesterday, so I guess that means that whatever this epidemic is, it isn’t a global thing.”

“You’re lucky,” Namjoon mumbles. “I haven’t heard from my parents yet.”

You stiffen in his embrace. “You… you haven’t? Oh my god, Joon, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to shrug off your concern, but you don’t miss the way his throat bobs harshly as he swallows. “It is what it is,” he says after a few seconds. “I’ve heard from my sister, at least. She says she’ll be making her way here in the next day or two.”

“That’s good,” you murmur. You don’t know what else you could possibly say, and Namjoon, luckily, seems to understand.

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over the two of you, then—each of you lost in your own thoughts. Even though you’re so close to your destination now, it still feels far—as if it’s a mirage that will disappear if you so much as breathe the wrong way. You don’t know what awaits you, and for a moment, you’re terrified of the possibilities. But Namjoon’s arms remain wound around you, his presence warm and reassuring even now, and you think to yourself that maybe—just maybe—everything will be all right.

And then Jimin’s banging on your window again, forcibly pulling you out of your stupor. “Guys! Guys! It’s Tae—he’s been bitten!”

A beat passes. His words take a second to register in your brain—Tae, bitten—almost as if they don’t make sense together. It’s a sentence you never wanted to hear, and your limbs suddenly feel like they’ve been submerged in water, slow and heavy and dragging.

Namjoon, however, is up in an instant. “Where is he now?” he asks, throwing the door open and laying a hand on Jimin’s shoulder as he blabbers on. “Is he bleeding? Is he hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no—” Jimin looks close to tears. “It’s just—it all happened so fast. We were in Eonjin’s apartment but she wasn’t home, and then this guy came out of nowhere and—and…” He trails off, gesturing weakly behind him. “Look for yourselves.”

Yoongi and Jungkook stumble their way out of the building, supporting a pale-looking Taehyung between them. Blood drips down his wrist and onto the sidewalk, and the sight of the bright red liquid shakes off any stupor you might have been under. Delving into the backpack full of supplies from the farmhouse, you pull out the first-aid kit, brandishing it in the air as you jump out of the SUV. “He’s losing way too much blood,” you say, pulling out a roll of bandages and a tube of ointment, handing the rest of the kit over to Namjoon. “We have to stop it.”

“This isn’t exactly a safe spot for medical procedures,” Yoongi points out, gesturing around the street with his free hand. “We’re out in the open, totally exposed.”

“Then we’ll get back in the car,” Namjoon says. “We can drive and patch him up at the same time.”

“But he’s infected,” Jungkook whispers. “What happens when he… y’know. Turns?”

None of you have an answer for that. Jimin’s running his hands frantically through his hair, and you can practically see the desperation swimming in his honey brown eyes. “We can’t just leave him behind,” he murmurs. “We can’t.”

“Then we won’t,” you tell him, stepping up to Taehyung and slathering a generous amount of ointment on the bite wound. Then you pull off a short section of bandage, tying it around his upper arm like a tourniquet. “We’re going to get you in the car now, Tae. Is that okay? Can you still walk?”

Taehyung blinks dazedly, his brown eyes taking a few seconds to focus properly on you. “I… I think so. Hang on. Lemme try.”

Namjoon nearly drops the first-aid kit. “Wait, did you just talk?”

Taehyung blinks again, swaying slightly on his feet. “Yes?”

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Wait, but infected people can’t talk. Their vocal chords…”

“... deteriorate,” Namjoon finishes for you. “Yeah. So then that begs the question: why can Taehyung still talk?”

For the second time in as many minutes, none of you have an answer. “Tae,” you try again. “How do you feel right now?”

Taehyung’s mouth pulls down into a slow frown. “I feel… slow. A little muddled, I guess? No brain eating urges or anything though, which is nice. Brains probably don’t taste very good.”

“No,” you say, exchanging a glance with your equally flabbergasted companions. “I can’t imagine they would.”

///

Not twenty minutes later, you are driving across the bridge that leads to your final destination. A rather formidable wall with an even more formidable gate stands in your way, and you watch as several guards peer out from over the top, weapons drawn and at the ready.

“Stop right there!” the guard stationed on the ground commands, his gun trained on the SUV. “Get out of the vehicle with your hands up and identify yourselves one by one.”

“My name is Kim Namjoon,” Namjoon says, clambering out with his palms extended. You follow after him, stating your name as well, and the guard directs both of you to stand against the wall, calling for a man named Seokjin to come check your vitals as your companions continue introducing themselves.

A minute later, a smaller door to the right of the gate opens, and out walks a man wearing a white coat and a genial smile. “Sorry about this,” he says, adjusting his stethoscope. “Proper procedure and all that. You can never be too careful, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, pulling the collar of your shirt aside so he can listen to your heartbeat. “This is hardly the worst thing to happen to us in the last few days.”

The young doctor laughs—a high, squeaky sound that reminds you of a windshield wiper. “Touché,” he says, waving Namjoon over so he can listen to his heart as well. “Well, look at that! You both appear to be alive—congratulations! It’s nice to meet you.”

His laughter is contagious, and you can’t help the answering giggle that bubbles up in your chest and escapes into the open air. “Nice to meet you too, Doctor.”

He grimaces, flapping a hand at you. “Please, call me Jin. Everyone does. Doctor makes me sound way too stuffy.”

The sound of the familiar name has your eyebrows flying up into your hairline. You exchange a glance with Namjoon, who looks equally shocked, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he ventures, “Jin? Does that mean you’re one half of the 2J radio broadcast?”

Jin’s face splits into a delighted grin. “It sure does! Were you guys listening to us?”

You nod. “It was the only station we could find. I don’t think we’d be here if it weren’t for you and Jay.”

His grin broadens. “His real name’s Hoseok, actually—I had to talk him into the nickname. Took me ages.” Then his expression sobers. “That’s great to hear about the broadcast, though. Really. We weren’t sure that we were reaching people, but it’s nice to know that we definitely are. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him earnestly.

Jin grins. “You’re welcome,” he says, waving goodbye as he moves on to check on everyone else’s vitals. He makes friendly smalltalk with Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin as he listens to their heartbeats, but frowns when he reaches Taehyung, regarding him a little more closely. Jimin looks on anxiously, twisting the hem of his jacket, and you and Namjoon wordlessly sidle closer, ready to defend your friend if the need arose.

“You look a little pale,” Jin says, but his voice isn’t accusatory. “Are you feeling okay?”

Taehyung shrugs vaguely, his eyes unfocused. “I’ve been better.”

Namjoon chooses that moment to step forward, keeping his voice low and guarded. “Jin, you know a lot about the zombies, right?”

Jin nods. “I’ve been conducting research, yeah. It’s slow going though.”

Jimin eyes Jin warily. “What would you say if we told you that one of us was immune to the zombie virus?”

Jin’s mouth falls open, his gaze immediately landing on Taehyung again as he leans closer and stares intently at his pupils. “Immunity? Now that’s interesting,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing his hands together. “That could change everything.”

Taehyung blinks blearily at him. “What are you going on about?”

Jin just laughs. “They’re clear,” he calls to the guard, who nods and returns to the guardhouse. Once he’s gone, Jin claps his hands together and beams. “All right!” he exclaims. “Let’s get you all settled in, shall we?”

“What are you going to do to Tae?” Jimin asks suspiciously, scooting a little closer to his friend.

“Absolutely nothing, if I don’t have his permission,” Jin promises. “But guys, think about it. Someone who’s immune? I could learn so much about what’s causing that immunity if I ran a few tests… maybe even find a cure, eventually. It’s an incredible opportunity.” Upon seeing Jimin’s lingering distrust, however, he stops and laughs again. “But honestly, I won’t do a thing if he doesn’t want me to. Right now, I just want to help you get settled in. All of you need lots of rest and a proper meal. Doctor’s orders, okay?”

Jimin nods. “Fine.”

Up ahead, the gate is slowly beginning to creak open. Jin is welcoming all of you to Sonyeo City, but you barely hear him. Your focus is on Namjoon and Namjoon alone, his presence warm and reassuring as he finds your hand and laces your fingers together.

“Ready?” he asks.

You suck in a deep, steadying breath and squeeze his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

#namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #kim namjoon #rm #zombie apocalypse au #bts fanfic #kpop scenarios #lia writes

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