Stand by me // pt. 1
SYNOPSIS: zombie apocalypse au. “I’m going to be stuck with you for what might be the rest of my whole life.”
GENRE: horror, angst + fluff
A/N: so this is the first part of my taekook apocalypse au! this is the first long taekook fic i have ever written and i really hope you guys like it! the only warnings i can think of to add are the obvious blood and gore one’s! thank you so much if you take the time to read it, it took me a few days to write, and if it’s really well liked i’ll have the next part up soon! thanks again. - mo.
“Just shoot it. Just fucking shoot it! Hurry up!”
“I can’t! I can’t do it, that’s a person, it’s a goddamn person and you expect me to shoot him? You’re fucking insane.”
“Jungkook, that’s not a person anymore, he’s not—that’s not Jimin. Shoot it.”
“I FUCKING CAN’T.”
Jungkook woke with a jolt, his hands gripping at the straw beneath him, the dirt ground cold and the gaps in the wooden roof letting the coolness of the night air seep through into the barn. Sitting up, he brought his arms around his knees, and hugged them close to his chest. His brow was damp with his own sweat, the clothes he’d been wearing all week were starting to become pungent and the blood on his shirt had dried to a brown stain, it was nothing but a memory now.
Slowing his breathing he could make out Taehyung in the dark, lying on his side, a shot gun they had found at an empty campsite, clutched to his chest as he slept. His dream was only a memory, a memory that only he had seemed to replay. How could they sleep knowing what they had done? Maybe that thing they shot wasn’t Jimin, but it was, once. And as Jungkook lays his head on his straw pillow he recollects that though Jimin had been bitten, pale and fading, he wasn’t gone when they shot him, the dead don’t look at past friends the way Jimin had looked at him when a bullet carved through his skull. Monsters don’t say “do it, kill me.”
Watching the stars through the breaks in the roof, even in his conscious state, he relived the gruesome day in his mind. The smell of burnt pigeon and exhaust fumes, the rustling of leaves. The three had found an abandoned camp site, the lodgers already gone when they got there. Dead probably, assuming what had happened. Jimin was bitten just once on the shoulder before they shot the fucker. But one bite is all it takes. Slumped and bloody, screaming in anguish, mind fading and conscience dying. Jimin wouldn’t be himself for very much longer.
“Give me the gun and I’ll do it.” Taehyung demands, holding a hand out. It was mercy more than anything else that Taehyung had in mind. Jimin was his best friend, and the last thing he would want is for him to turn into one of them. To live a life of something that doesn’t even live. Live a life of the thing that Jimin, out of all three boys, seemed to fear the most.