A Day In September - BTS Zombie au

18: Dead to You

Jimin took a deep breath before gently setting the girl to the side, his surroundings now in full view. He refrained from hissing as he stood up, his cramped muscles begging for him to move. His silent movement was aggravating to his body, which craved to stretch. He stifled a groan, fully aware of what roamed around him. Jimin scanned the streets, eyes searching for something—for someone. They glossed over at the sight of nothing.

There was a very dreadful stillness in the air, one that reminded you of every single loss, of the neglected grief following years of countless misfortunes. The strive to move forward onto a better tomorrow was a mirage, the puddle on the road in the far distance on a hot day that never seems to get any closer. If anything, the future was at a standstill, if not already abandoned.

Jimin looked back down at the brutes he'd pushed off of him, noticing the gaping holes in their backs. After fighting off the brutes for a while, Jimin had slashed the two brutes nearest to him, struggling to push them away with loud cries and groans. Instead of killing them off, Jimin resorted to using them as shields. The surrounding brutes had pounced on him, knocking Jimin down and tearing into flesh that smelled human. Once realizing that they were eating rotten and not human flesh, the brutes were quick to look for a new prey. Masked by the scent of brutes, Jimin internally sighed with relief. There were large chunks missing from the backs of those two brutes, and the sight was appalling.

"That could've been me," Jimin whispered to himself.

Jimin was surprised his backpack was mere feet from him, as he thought it would've been dragged away in the stampede. He shrugged the backpack on, picking up his axe with a sigh. Luckily for Jimin, the odds seemed to be in his favor on this eventful day.

At least partially.

"What now?" He asked himself, looking around for...something, anything that could tell him where to go or what to do. However, not a clue lay in that barren land. Not a soul lingered in sight-

"Hey,"

Jimin froze.

"Jimin?"

Jimin placed his mostly empty backpack on his desk, plopping down with an annoyed sigh. The class was filled with noise. Restless teens endlessly rambled about incomprehensible things that Jimin couldn't tune into nor wanted to. Jimin was fidgeting in his seat, flinching at the cold metal that pressed against his thighs. He cursed himself for wearing shorts, but the bright sun and the hot breeze outside had him refraining from even considering jeans.

Jimin looked to his right, where the windows sat to illuminate the room with natural light. He watched the trees blithely sway, and he listened to the white noise of children playing and, farther away, a lawn mower. Jimin stared at the fence that sat in the distance, wondering when he'd step out those doors into an ethereal unknown.

Just minutes before class and in walked the two lecturers, clad in black and white attire covering them from head to toe. They peered at the class over their tiny old spectacles, noses wide and pointy and eyes narrowed with skepticism. This was only for a few seconds before they continued whatever they were going to do.

The nuns stood by the desk at the front of the room, setting down the books they carried in their wrinkly hands. Their nails were grown out and polished. Jimin knew it was the only part of themselves, besides their face, that they were allowed to show, and giving their hands proper care was a sign of good hygiene and God-honoring habits.

Jimin glanced away, catching sight of eyes on him that prompted a double-take.

He sat on the desk next to Jimin, eyes staring at him over his forearms, which he rested on the desk as he laid his face down. Jimin was reminded of a painting.