Warning: This story is rated M. There is sexual content, swearing, drug use, violence, and adult themes ahead. You have been warned. This is a zombie story. Prepare for themes of depression/self-harm and character death. If you get triggered by either of those things this story is not for you. I'd rather you skip a story than be harmed by it, please protect yourself.
All characters are depicted as 18+ and please remember - this is a fictional story, I am not trying to sexualize any BTS member or interpret them as bad people. This is completely fictional, please don't take it too seriously. With that being said, enjoy In the Dead of Winter...
DAY 782
Jimin shuts the locket, tucking it under his shirt as he always does in the morning. He sighs and stares up at the wooden pallets, sunlight peeking through. His eyes squint at the rays peeping in, but he decides against vocally complaining. Not like he has anyone to complain to anyway.
Being in the apocalypse has been beyond difficult. Jimin's lived in more groups than he can count, each one ending in flames. He has a beard at this point, his hair almost down to his shoulders, his skin coated in dirt. It's not like he has access to much water. Jimin literally lives in a barn. Sounds gross, sure, but it protects him from the zombies. The Howlers that come out at night always keep him up. They're the most aggressive zombie variant. Every group he's been in has always had the same rule: don't go out at night.
Jimin strokes his hair with his long nails. He rarely cuts his hair, and his poor nails get the same treatment. Not by choice. Jimin sighs at the feeling of his greasy hair, his feet trudging him down into the main segment of the barn. The hay beneath his body squishes, his beat up converse kicking up some dirt as he goes. Today's the day. Scavenging day. The worst day of the week by far.
He gathers the little ammo he has, taking his pistol and shoving it in the waistband of his battered jeans, taking his tactical knife as well. He makes sure it's concealed in his pocket before swinging his backpack on and exiting the barn. Jimin groans at the sudden light, squinting right away. Great. Now he looks even older. He'll get wrinkles at this point.
With a small will to live still burning in the pits of his stomach, he starts trotting down the dirt road. He needs food and water. Only one problem: the town he goes to is slowly but surely getting drier. He gets as much as he can then comes back. Of course he'd love to take everything all at once or all in one day, but the trip into town is half an hour. Half an hour to and from, an hour total not counting the hours it takes to stealthily gather everything and try not to alert any zombie variants to his presence.
There's a few around during the day. The basic 'humanoid' zombie, where a human is infected from a bite and walks around undead. However, the longer the infection holds in a person, the more they mutate. The most deadly during the day are the Behemoths. Big fucking zombies the size of sumo wrestlers that have no face and swing their arms around like hammers. Doesn't sound like much, but those fuckers have good ears and take lots of bullets to kill. No knife will stop them. If one of those things finds Jimin, he's dead.
Luckily, Behemoths aren't common; they often stay underground. With no eyesight, there's no need for them to get any sun. A common during the day are Divas. A female variant that have slim legs and arms. Unlike the regular undead infected, the Divas can run and jump. They stick to rooftops. Similar to the Behemoths, they can't see. Jimin can't make a single noise while scavenging, otherwise he's dead.
Jimin pulls himself out of his thoughts. There's several zombie variants, but thinking about them won't help. It'll only make him feel worse. He frowns, and soon enough, the half hour trip flies by. He finds himself in the center of the small town, the wind hustling all around him, brushing through the dead trees and shaking their branches. Jimin can't stop his grunt. This is what his life has come to, huh?
Supplies: aka food. Food and water, whatever he can get. Jimin creeps down the sidewalk of the area, scanning over the vicinity as carefully as he can. Everything looks the same. Maroon brick buildings stacked up next to each other, a shredded flag swaying in the gentle wind on top of town hall, sidewalks littered with cracks and blood. Everything that made this place a town is gone. It's all destroyed now.
His eyes fall on the main grocery store, and he treks over, opening the door as quietly as he can. When he came here for the first time, the bell on the top of the door was still intact. Yeah, that caused a pack of Divas to come swarming his way. He would've died if it wasn't for the group he was with at the time. But not anymore. He's alone now, and he plans to always be alone. Maybe that's dark, but every time he trusts someone, it goes wrong. Every single fucking time.
The store appears deserted with the aisles empty and dust littering the corners. It's more deserted than the rest of the world. Jimin gags at the rotten smell, looking around for Deadbaits. Deadbaits, arguably the ones who cause the most infections. Humanoid zombies that can't walk; they lie on the ground. They make it their goal to seem dead, then when you walk by, they grab you and bite your ankles to infect you.
The stench of vile mixed with blood soaks the air, Jimin tip-toeing until he finds the aisle he hasn't touched that much of. It's all canned foods, like soup. He doesn't have a microwave, but he doesn't mind cold soup. In fact, he's used to it by now.
Jimin kneels and opens his backpack, piling a few of them inside, noticing how few of them there are left. Great. He'll be eating scraps tonight. And the next night. And the next night. And the next night. So on and so on. He can't remember the last time he had a cooked meal.
Jimin grumbles a few curses to himself. What's even the point of living? He has nothing. No one. No person to spend his days with, no love, no friends, no pets - nothing. What's the point if he doesn't talk throughout the day anymore? When's the last time he's had a conversation? Jimin can't remember.
A groan sounds off in the corner of the store, Jimin going still. Then, gunshots ring out. He jumps and falls on his ass, panting. Gunshots? Here? He's never seen other people here. He lives so far out he didn't think he'd ever see anyone again. Jimin whips around in time to see a zombie walking to him. He remains calm, opting to use his tactical knife rather than his pistol. Within a few seconds, Jimin stabs the thing in the brain and rushes out of the store with his bag on his shoulders.
More gunshots, Jimin biting back his yelp of surprise. Hissing and groaning. Those are the two sounds that surround him. He gulps as a Diva jumps off a rooftop, sprinting towards the shots. Jimin follows albeit quietly, making sure the Diva goes for the gunshots rather than his footsteps. Eventually he makes it to a section of the road where a group of survivors are. Jimin almost trips over the force of the realization that other people are here. Living and breathing people. A whole ass group of them.
Several Divas run in on them, but the infected get taken out. Jimin pulls out his pistol, feeling the urge to help, when a Diva rushes right at him. This time he lets himself yelp. He clicks off the safety and fires, hitting her in the neck. She stalls, but another bullet that isn't from Jimin kills her. "That's another down!" a child-like voice shouts.
"Nice one, Ves!" a female says.
Jimin turns to see who fired. A little boy? What the hell is a kid doing out here? A woman, probably a few years younger than Jimin, rushes up to him, tugging on her utility belt. His entire body goes still. This is the first human he's seen in lord knows how long. How the hell does he react to that?
"We lost a man to a Deadbait, we need to leave," she says as more gunshots go off around them. Jimin struggles to find words. Not because he doesn't want to, more because he doesn't remember how to talk. "I'm Y/n, I'll introduce you to the others later, but- watch out!" She pushes him aside and fires once, hitting a leaping Diva in the head. She falls in front of them, dead.
"Holy shit," Jimin finally manages to say. She nods in agreement, then, a man taller and wider than Jimin rushes over, a leather jacket covering his body.
"Hate to interrupt, but we need to go. Now," the man says, his voice deeper than Jimin was expecting.
"On it. We're taking this one with us," she replies.
"Y/n, are you insa-"
"Jungkook, listen to me this once. We don't have time to argue." She offers Jimin her hand, the three others behind them protecting them. "Are you in?" she asks.
He hasn't seen another human in at least three months. Now here they are, in this town - his town. The town that never got visitors. Everything's happening too fast for him to process. It's like the whiplash is making his brain hazy. He can't see or think straight right now. All he knows is that a stranger is offering him her hand and safety. Answers for why they're here. Jimin's worst trait has always been curiosity. If he suffers for it, what else does he have to lose at this point? He doesn't even know why he's living.
So, Jimin slips his grimy hand into hers. Their skin colliding makes his heart jump. Actually, it makes his entire body jump. Every cell in his body seems to light up at the skinship. For the first time in a long time, he's not only talking, but feeling again. It's beautiful.
She smiles, parting her lips to speak. "Welcome to my group, stranger."
And without another word, she leads them away.