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Jungkook was truly a god among men.
Jimin nibbled slightly on his plump lower lip as he leaned back against the wall so as to casually check out the living god talking about something animatedly to Namjoon across the room. As the younger man waved his arms about, Jimin could see the fabric of his T-shirt sleeve stretched tight across his biceps. Jungkook suddenly thrust his arms over his head, and Jimin could make out the trim waist of his jeans and the slim line of his hips.
“Unnnngghhhh,” he whined with a pout. It was like being broke and staring at a cheesecake through a bakery window: you could look, but not touch. But Jimin really wanted to touch… and smell… and lick… and savour. “Mmmm….”
Wow, was it getting hot in here? He looked around to make sure no one had picked up that last moan that had slipped out, only to find Hobi standing next to him, shoulder propped up against the wall, looking fond but amused.
“You’ve got some—” Hobi gave a sharp jerk to his head and gestured toward Jimin’s face with his finger.
“What?” Jimin stood up straight and felt up his cheeks and around his mouth. God, he never could resist chips and dip, but if he’d been standing there, gawking at Jungkook with some dried-up dip gooped on his face… how mortifying.
“It’s just—there. No, lower.” Hobi helpfully gestured again, so Jimin dropped his hand lower to his chin, sliding against his skin hoping he could feel whatever it was Hobi saw. “You’ve just—it’s just a bit—”
“What?!” Jimin bit out, now irritated. “What’s there?”
“There’s just—you’ve got some drool,” Hobi said as he reached out a finger and traced a line from the corner of Jimin’s mouth down to his chin. “Right there.”
“Fuck you, Hobi!” Jimin slapped Hobi’s hand away as his so-called friend broke out into peals of loud, obnoxious laughter. Jimin slumped back against the wall with a pout.
“What gives, man? You’ve practically stared a hole through Jungkook, you’re so obvious. You’re freaking adorable, so what’s holding you back? Why don’t you just go over and talk to him?”
“I have talked to him,” Jimin whined. “All I ever do is talk to him. I’m done with talking—I want snuggles!”
“Snuggles,” Hobi popped an eyebrow at this.
“Preferably the X-rated kind,” Jimin’s bottom lip stuck out once more. But soon his eyes began to glaze over as his attention was drawn towards Jungkook’s behind, lovingly encased in soft worn denim, directly ahead in his line of sight.
“Hey Hobi, great party.” A low, deep voice interrupted the pornographic fantasy that was developing in Jimin’s mind.
Hobi stood up straight, a look of almost panic flashed across his face. Jimin leaned out a bit only to see Yoongi standing behind Hobi, two beers in his hand.
Ah, Jimin grinned at Hobi with understanding. Hobi shook his head almost imperceptibly at Jimin. But Jimin could already make out the potential for entertainment, along with just a faint whiff of revenge, floating in the air.
“I saw you were empty handed, so I brought you a beer, Hobi,” Yoongi held out a bottle toward the object of his obvious affections. “Sorry, Jimin, I wasn’t sure what you were drinking.”
“No worries,” Jimin smiled. “I’m still working on this one.” He held up his red solo cup of cranberry juice and orange vodka. “So, how you doing, Yoongi?” Jimin was impervious to Hobi’s death glare currently aimed at him.
“Oh, pretty good.” Yoongi looked hopefully at Hobi, who briefly made eye contact before looking down to pick at the label on the bottle in his hand. “Price of gold’s down, so that’s been good for me.”
“Oh yeah, you’re an investor?” Jimin asked politely. People who bragged about their stock portfolios were such a drag, particularly when you didn’t even have so much as a savings account.
“Sort of. I mostly buy gold to stockpile—it’s the only safe investment. No point putting money in the bank—once those fail, you’re shit out of luck.”
This was the first time Jimin had ever really talked to Yoongi, and this was not where he expected the conversation to go. This could turn into quite a ride.
“Oh wow, really?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi was warming up to the subject. “I believe in being prepared for the worst. I mean, it’s only a matter of time until some catastrophe happens. I’m not going to be caught off-guard. That’s why I’ve put most of my spare time into building my bunker.”
“Bunker?” Hobi interrupted, looking at Yoongi with wide eyes.
“Yeah—” Yoongi was practically eating up Hobi’s face with his gaze.
Oh, how Jimin hated to do this, but revenge was a dish best served by leaving Hobi alone with his fascinating suitor. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve just got to go do… something.”
“What?” Hobi huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Don’t go, Jimin. Yoongi was just going to tell us about his bunker.”
Jimin peeled away the fingers suddenly clutching onto his wrist one by one. “You’re going to be so proud of me, Hobi. I’ve decided to take your advice! Wish me luck!” Jimin cheered as he sidled away.
He firmly resolved not to look back at the feel of Hobi’s hot glare as Yoongi attempted to court his beloved: “I have a sweet plot of land up north, so I decided to put it to good use and…” Where to go now? He’d all but told Hobi he was going to go talk to Jungkook, so maybe he should just bite the bullet and see if he could finally seal the deal tonight.
Jimin wormed his way through the crowd huddled in the middle of the room as a game of quarters raged on around the coffee table over to where Jungkook had been talking to Namjoon. Breaking through the mass of people finally, Jimin found Namjoon standing by himself, bopping his head to the music.
“Hey Jimin,” Namjoon greeted him. “You just missed Jungkook.”
“What? You think I came over here because of Jungkook?” Jimin laughed with forced disbelief.
“Yeah,” Namjoon said plainly.
“What?” Jimin laughed again before abruptly dropping the act. Namjoon wasn’t buying it. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yeah.”
“Crud.” Jimin was deflated. So much for seducing his denim Adonis. Jungkook probably saw him coming and ran away.
“Dip?” Namjoon held out a platter of chips with some onion dip plopped in a well in the middle. Jimin stared at the offering.
“Yes, please.”
* * * * *
It was past 4 in the morning, the party had winded down finally, and Jimin was ready to go home. He’d eaten approximately his weight in chips and dip and could officially say this evening had not gone as hoped. It was time to say goodnight to his hosts.
He wandered around and finally found Hobi passed out, starfished on the floor in front of the living room window. Jin was splayed out on the couch, one arm dramatically flung over his eyes.
“Hey Jin, if you’re still alive, I’m going to head out. You guys are the party kings, as always.”
Jin lifted his arm up and peered up blearily at Jimin. “You got a ride home?”
“I was just going to walk. It’s not far from he—”
“Jungkook!” Jin suddenly bellowed. Jimin jumped a little, startled.
Jungkook’s head popped around the doorway. “You hollered?”
“Give Jimin a ride home,” Jin commanded
“Oh, really. You don’t have to bother. It’s not fa—”
“You need a ride?” Jungkook looked at him, his big brown doe eyes like pools Jimin could just drown in.
Jimin melted. “If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just let me grab my keys.”
Jimin was inwardly thrilled. Jin had just handed him some alone time with Jungkook on a silver platter. It was all he could do not to squeal and dance around in glee. Jin was the bestest friend anyone could have.
“Just go home already and lock the door on your way out!” Jin yelled out before dropping his arm over his eyes once more.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook looked at Jimin. “Ready?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jimin smiled widely.
“Taehyung!” Jungkook belted out over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Taehyung? Jimin looked over towards the kitchen where out wandered a guy wearing loose, wide red pants with a wrinkled, oversized white button-down shirt, a pair of sunglasses perched on the back of his head. He had a face from a Renaissance painting with the fashion sense of an eclectic hobo.
“My roommate,” Jungkook gestured at the third-wheeler, who was munching on some nuts out of a baggie.
“So noisy,” Jin moaned. “Please go now.”
“Cashews?” The interloper held out his baggie to Jimin.
“No thanks,” Jimin declined. “We should probably head out before Jin has an aneurysm.”
What the fuck, Jimin silently fumed as the three shuffled out of the house and began walking down the street towards Jungkook’s car. Here was his opportunity to dazzle Jungkook out of his pants—how was he supposed to do that with an audience? Especially one whose eyes appeared to be glued to Jimin’s butt.
The lech glanced up, caught in mid-ogle, and smiled shamelessly. “Taehyung,” he said pointing at himself.
Jimin narrowed his eyes at him. “Jimin.” This man was clearly trouble—achingly gorgeous, but trouble.
Jungkook tossed his keys at Taehyung, who caught them without once shifting his gaze away from Jimin. “You drive—I’ve been drinking.” He popped open the back door and turned to Jimin. “You can have shotgun. I’m going to stretch out in the back.”
Jimin’s heart sank. His plans for seduction would prove fruitless if Jungkook was planning to nap the whole way home. Could this night get any worse?
As if the universe had heard Jimin’s words as a challenge, a blood-curdling shriek pierced through the darkness.
“What the hell?” Jimin jumped in fright. Jungkook and Taehyung looked around for the source of the cry. But it was now eerily quiet, with only the slight breeze whispering through the trees to break the silence. “That was super creepy,” he whispered.
“Let’s go,” Jungkook said after taking one last look around. “It’s probably just someone drunk being stupid somewhere.” He crawled into the backseat, lying flat as he could, and closed his eyes.
Jimin opened the front passenger door and plopped himself down on the seat. A hand reached across him and pulled the seatbelt over to its clasp. “Safety first,” Taehyung smiled and patted Jimin’s thigh, which soon turned into a caress, the heat of his hand through his pant leg causing a tingle to run along Jimin’s skin. Jimin looked down at the hand, looked up at Taehyung, looked back at the hand, then looked up at Taehyung again. Taehyung smiled and pulled his hand back.
“Let me just turn on some driving tunes and we’ll head out,” he said, playing with his phone. Slow, throbbing music oozed out of the speakers at a low volume as the car pulled away from the curb. Jimin sunk farther back into the seat, looking out the window into the dark. There was something about driving at night—the darkness inside the car and out—soothing notes playing and Taehyung’s husky voice crooning along to the whiskey-soaked vocals, lulling him into a daze. If it wasn’t for Jungkook breathing in the backseat, Jimin would almost believe they were the only two people in the world.
The sound of tires squealing shattered the peace inside the car, the glare from oncoming headlights all but blinding them. Taehyung slowed to a stop as another vehicle sped past them at high speed.
“Jesus,” Jimin clutched his shirt over his pounding heart. “That scared the crap out of me.”
Taehyung looked in the rearview mirror at the other car, disappearing quickly into the darkness behind them. “This feels weird.”
“Weird?” Jimin parroted.
“Something does not feel right.” Taehyung turned in his seat towards Jimin. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’d planned to get you all relaxed with baby-making music wherein you would invite me back to your place so we could get to know each other in various, potentially perverted ways. However, I think we need to put those plans on hold.”
Jimin’s eyebrows rose dramatically up towards his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“I’m disappointed too, but I can’t in good conscience rock your world for the rest of the night when I’m beginning to worry something is seriously wrong.”
“Were you planning to leave Jungkook sleeping in the back of the car or had you not worked that detail out in your grand plan?”
Taehyung stroked his chin thoughtfully. “No, you’re right. I hadn’t given that much thought. But he’d be fine—he can sleep anywhere.”
“I literally just met you like 10 minutes ago! Aren’t you being just a tad presumptuous?”
“When you know, you know. And Jimin, I knew the moment I saw you.”
“You knew what?”
“That we had to do the horizontal mambo someday, or what’s the point of life and my presence on this earth?”
Jimin was speechless and could only stare at the gorgeous idiot in disbelief.
“Unfortunately, we’ll have to put a pin in that for now. My spidey senses are tingling and until I know why, I must focus on the situation at hand instead of your creamy skin and kissable lips and—Stop it!” Taehyung slapped himself and turned forward in his seat. “You are a tempting little morsel, for sure, but onward we go. Let’s get you home, and then I need to call Yoongi.”
“Yoongi? You mean the guy who’s hoarding gold and building a bunker for himself? That Yoongi?”
“Yes, if the shit truly is hitting the fan, Yoongi would know.”
“Yoongi would know about the shit?” Jimin was perplexed.
“I’m sure you have questions, but we’re sitting ducks here on the road like this, so we need to get moving.” Taehyung pressed on the gas and the car shot forward.
They drove along in silence for a bit until Jimin could see his street up ahead. “Turn right at the next corner,” Jimin instructed.
Taehyung turned as directed, but abruptly slammed on the brakes as a large shape stepped out in front of the moving car. The headlights illuminated the figure of a tall man, mouth open and hand reaching forward as, despite Taehyung’s efforts, the car rocked from the impact of plowing into him. The man quickly disappeared from view of the windshield as the car presumably rolled over him.
Jungkook rolled off the seat in the back, his head popping up as he mumbled, “Wha happ’nd?”
“Oh my God!” Jimin yelped. “We just hit someone! Oh my God!”
“We hit someone?” Jungkook repeated, fully awake. “With my car?”
The car now having fully come to a stop, Taehyung craned around in his seat to look through the back windshield. “Nobody move.”
“Oh my God! Oh my God! We need to check on him. We need to call 911!” Jimin was in full-on panic mode. He unclipped his seatbelt and grabbed onto the door handle.
“Everyone just stay in the car until I figure out what’s happening.” Taehyung ordered, his hand holding Jimin back by his shoulder.
Jungkook pulled himself up to sit on the seat. “But what if he’s hurt?”
“Of course he’s hurt,” Jimin wailed. “We literally drove over him. We can’t just leave him in the road.”
“Jimin, I’m serious. The guy was covered in blood and open wounds—”
“We hit an injured person? We hit someone who was hurt already? He was probably hoping we could help him and we ran over him!” Jimin wrenched open the door and shot out of the car.
“Jimin, no!” Taehyung wrestled with his seatbelt and sprang out of the car after Jimin. Jungkook quickly followed.
Jimin creeped to the back of the car. He was afraid to look, but knew if that man needed help, he had to gather his courage and do what he could. He just so was not good with blood and gore. He didn’t even like horror movies and had never had to deal with anything more serious than a cut in his life.
He spied the figure lying still, crumped on the road behind the car. “Oh! Oh no! Is he dead?”
Taehyung came up behind Jimin to hold him back. “Maybe. Or worse, undead.”
Jimin turned and began swatting at him. “Are you making jokes at a time like this?”
“Yeah, maybe not the best timing, my dude.” Jungkook winced as he looked down at the body. Which twitched. And then twitched again. “Whoa!” Jungkook backed away.
The man slowly pulled himself up on all fours and then rose up to full height. He staggered and swayed on his feet for a few moments.
“Sir, I think you should maybe sit down.” Jimin peeped. “I’m not sure you should be standing up. We’ll call an ambulance for you?” How was this man able to stand after they had run over him with their car?
“Jimin, this is your street, right?” Taehyung whispered in Jimin’s ear, grasping onto his shoulders. “Your place is nearby?”
“Yes, just a few houses away. Number 245.” Jimin replied. Was it so wrong that he really, really wanted to run home just now. Particularly as the man began to stagger again, turning himself around slowly to face them.
Taehyung quickly looked around him and then calmly called over to Jungkook. “Kook, got that? Number 245—on your right, behind you.”
Jungkook nodded, his eyes never straying from the figure now fully turned toward them. At the sight of the man, now fully illuminated by the rear lights of the car and the streetlight above, Jimin’s blood turned ice cold in fear.
“Taehyung,” he whimpered, shaking. “His leg….” The man’s leg was impossibly turned almost all the way inward. His left hand was dangling from his wrist, held only by a few ligaments.
“Are those—” Jungkook tilted his head. “Are those his intestines still lying on the road? Shouldn’t those be, you know, in him?”
“Run!” Taehyung screamed. He pulled Jimin along behind him as he ran at full force toward Jimin’s house. Unholy moaning trailed after them at a horrifying volume as they jumped the curb and skittered across the driveway. “Keys, Jimin!”
“In my pocket—here!” Jimin pulled them out triumphantly and, quickly as he could, his hands shaking, unlocked the door. They tumbled inside and Jungkook forcefully slammed the door behind them, flipping the deadbolt.
“Undead? You weren’t kidding, were you?” Jungkook heaved, trying to catch his breath from running.
“I need to call Yoongi,” Taehyung gasped. “Shit! My phone’s in the car. Jimin, I need your phone—”
“Why is there glass all over the floor?” Jungkook interrupted. He peered down the hallway, shards glinting in the light coming through the windows from the streetlights.
“Jimin,” Taehyung turned to him. “Do you live alone?”
“There’s my landlord, Mr. Lee. This is his house, I just rent my room from him.” With the creak of a floorboard, a shuffling noise could be heard coming from the dark end of the hallway.
“Mr. Lee?” Jimin called out. “Is that you?” No response, just more shuffling, followed by a thud. Like the sound of a body crashing into a wall. “M-m-mister L-lee?” Jimin shook in fear.
Peering into the inky darkness before him, Jimin could just make out a large mass coming down the hall towards them. As the mass moved closer to the living room, where streetlight flooded the room, Jimin could make out the face of his dear elderly landlord—now sporting a sizeable chunk missing from the side of his face, blood pouring down his cheek onto his shirt and with one less eye than he had this morning. His skin was unnaturally grey and his remaining eye filmy and white. “Basement door, first one down, on the left!”
Jimin dodged forward, wrenching open the basement door and trusting that Taehyung and Jungkook would follow. Taehyung slammed the door behind him and held onto the knob tight. “Kook, Jimin, give me something to brace the door.”
Jungkook found some rope on a workbench and ran up to help Taehyung hold the door shut, by tying the knob to the bannister. “Shut off the light for now. I don’t know if that will hold, I don’t know how strong or capable he is. But hopefully it will give us time to figure something out.”
Taehyung nodded. “Can I get your phone? I want to call Yoongi.” Jungkook pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Taehyung.
“Shit, I can’t get reception down here.” Taehyung ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t even know Yoongi’s number, anyway. Shit!”
“What’s happening?” Jimin’s voice wavered with his question. “Mr. Lee—he—he’s walking around with fatal injuries. How is that possible? Oh, God—Mr. Lee. Is he dead?”
“I think yes. And no.” Taehyung replied. “I think Mr. Lee is perhaps, maybe a… zombie?”
“Oh. Okay.”
* * * * *
“Jeez, Jungkook really can sleep anywhere. You weren’t kidding.” Jimin sat on a couch in the basement with Taehyung, doing what he could to keep himself calm while he waited for something—good or bad—to happen.
Taehyung looked over at his friend, splayed out on a ratty old loveseat, snoozing away without a care in the world. “Yup, that’s my boy.”
“This is really, really not how I imagined a night with Jungkook going. I’d hoped to tap that first before he fell asleep.” Jimin opened his eyes wide. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“S’okay. It’s pretty obvious you’re warm for Jungkook’s form, but you’re kind of setting yourself up for failure. How can I put this delicately? It’s never going to happen.”
“Oh, man—is he straight?” Jimin threw his head back with a huff. “That’s disappointing. Why are all the good ones straight?”
“Um, hello? But also—”
“So, you and Yoongi are like bunker mates or something?” Jimin interrupted.
“You make that sound so naughty. Not that I wouldn’t mind being naughty with Yoongi, but he’s had his eye on Hobi and I’m not the man to break that up.”
“Oh really? You seem like you could be very persistent and persuasive, if you wanted to be.”
“I’d be curious to hear more—”
“And Yoongi is some kind of doomsday guru or something?”
Taehyung smiled a beautiful, boxy smile at Jimin’s abrupt change in topic. “Ha. Um, Yoongi is—well, you could call him a prepper or a survivalist or something along those lines. He basically scopes out the major threats to this world and does what he can to make sure he’ll survive them. I mean, if we’re talking the end of civilization as we know it, Yoongi’s the kind of guy you want on your team.”
“So how did you get swept up in this? You two don’t seem like you have much in common.”
“Okay, yeah—you got me, I definitely wanted to get into his pants.” Jimin snorted in amusement. “I got him talking—you know, take an interest in his interests. Classic seduction manoeuvre. But as I learned more from him, I found it all fascinating. I’d never really thought about it before. I mean you’d hear about pandemic scares in the news or the nuclear clock ticking away, but it never really dawned on me that I might have to live through that. Or that hugely destructive things have happened so many times before in history. I was rooting for a comet strike, honestly—but I guess we’re living in walking undead times instead. Not what I would have chosen.”
“Yeah,” Jimin replied slowly. “I can’t say zombies would be my first choice either.”
“Right?” Taehyung beamed at him. “It’s like destiny brought us together tonight. Two peas in a pod, we are.”
“So you guys decided to build a bunker together? That’s pretty ambitious.”
“Yoongi talks it up like he built it from scratch or something. To be fair, we started with an existing structure that Yoongi’s grandfather made years and years ago. We took that and expanded from there. That was the challenge, you know? The bunker is a space to go to, but how do you stock it and for how long? Potentially a pandemic would mean less time within the structure than say nuclear winter, where we could be escaping radiation for an unknown amount of time. An EMP pulse would mean electronics would be shot, but we could use the bunker as a starting point to rebuild on the land itself. There are so many scenarios, so many contingencies. It’s been fun.”
“Yeah?” Jimin peered at Taehyung with a small smile. His enthusiasm was kind of cute.
“Really. I like to think about the challenges and then try to come up with the solutions. I like to research and tinker. I mean, it’s all been theoretical—like a game almost. Until now.” Taehyung leaned back against the couch, gazing up to the ceiling. “Now I guess we’ll see if we’re right or not.” Taehyung raised his head and leaned forward. “Wait. I’m so stupid.” He looked at Jimin. “The bunker. We need to get to the bunker, we’ll be safe there.”
“Do you really think it’s that dire?” Jimin asked with trepidation. “That we need to get out of the city? Wouldn’t we be safer with the police around? Or maybe the army?”
“We drove over a guy and he stood up, left his insides on the ground, and walked around. Your landlord is upstairs, shuffling around the first floor with part of his head and an eye missing. The dead… aren’t staying dead. If that’s true, it’s going to get bad. Really, really bad.”
“Oh, I guess I see what you mean.” Jimin stared down at his hands.
“And if civilization really is collapsing, well I’m staking my claim on you now.” Taehyung declared.
“I'm sorry, your what?” Jimin inquired calmly.
“Haven’t you seen the movies? People are going to start pairing up pronto. The danger and stress, it makes people horny. It’s basic human nature. And I want in, specifically with you.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Jimin hissed.
“Hear me out: Yoongi’s got Hobi tied up, no way he’s giving up that ass. Jin’s a drama queen and too high maintenance—you’d be waiting on him hand and foot, not the other way around. Namjoon is… well, he’s Namjoon, need I say more? And if you’re holding out any hope for Jungkook, let me say it again, not gonna happen.”
“Why not?” Jimin demanded. “If it all goes as you say, it’s the perfect opportunity.”
Taehyung shook his head. “My boy’s not interested. Really. Not interested.”
“I’m beginning to take this as a personal insult.” Jimin growled.
“Oh, please don’t—it’s not you. It’s everyone. Jungkook’s ace.” Taehyung pondered the blank look on Jimin’s face. “As in asexual,” he clarified. “So see, we’re meant to be. It’s fate, and you can’t fight fate.”
“Asexual?” Jimin parroted. Jungkook gave a snort and rolled over on the couch. Jimin pondered those biceps, that slim waist, that denim-covered ass, and could have cried. It was like some kind of cruel joke Mother Nature was playing.
“Hey now, I may not be as ab-tastic as my best bud here, but I do love to cuddle,” Taehyung gave Jimin a slow wink. “I can cuddle all night long and into the morning and still be ready for a quick afternoon cuddle if the mood strikes.”
A loud bang from upstairs interrupted Taehyung and rudely reminded them of where they were and their situation.
“Okay,” Taehyung was suddenly all business. “Here’s the plan: we need to deal with your landlord, get upstairs so I can use the phone. I noticed a car in the driveway—do you know where the keys are?”
“Yes, they should be hanging on a hook by the door.”
“Jungkook!” Taehyung reached over and slapped his friend on the butt. “Wake up and grab a weapon.”
“Mr. Lee?” Jimin cried softly.
“Sorry, babe, but that’s not your landlord anymore. Mr. Lee is gone and what’s up there is standing between us and escape.”
Jungkook stumbled over, carrying an old cast iron frying pan. “This is the best I could find.”
“Okay, man. So whenever you’re ready, I’ll untie the door and you put your muscles to good use. Don’t let him scratch or bite you.” Taehyung cautioned.
“Wait,” Jungkook held up a finger. “Why am I rushing the zombie?”
“Because I’m a lover, not a fighter.” Taehyung turned him around by the shoulders and pushed him towards the stairs.
“Still, I—” Jungkook started to object.
Taehyung leaned forward to whisper. “Do me a solid, okay? I can’t let Jimin see me turn his beloved elderly friend’s brain into mush. I’m trying to land that ass.”
“I can hear you, you know.” Jimin interjected.
“Fine, fine—I’ll do it.” Jungkook caved and started up the stairs, Taehyung following behind. Within minutes, poor Mr. Lee was laid out on the living room floor, what was left of his head covered by a throw from the couch. Jungkook stood at the sink, washing blood off himself and the frying pan. He shook the water off and gave it a swing. “This is actually a pretty decent weapon. I’m going to keep it. And we can fry stuff on it.”
“I’ve got the keys to the car,” Jimin held them up and jingled them. “Should we maybe pack up some water and food to take with us? It’s just going to waste otherwise.”
“Sounds good. You’ve got Namjoon’s number in your contacts? I’ll try him and see if I can get Yoongi’s number from him.”
“Jungkook,” Jimin called out. “Can you grab the cooler and a backpack from the hall closet. There’s some moose meat in the freezer we can take, and I’ll pack some water and other snacks in the pack.”
“Moose burgers?” Jungkook asked. “Excellent.”
“Wait,” Taehyung paused. “Was Mr. Lee a hunter?”
“Yeah,” Jimin nodded.
“Does that mean there’s a gun somewhere?”
“Yes, he kept his hunting stuff in the hall closet,” Jimin said.
“Jungkook, put down the pan. We’ve got ourselves a real weapon.” Taehyung rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.
Jungkook looked at the cooking utensil in his hands. “But I like the frying pan.”
“It’s okay, Jungkook—keep the pan, I’ll handle the gun.” Jimin pulled the rifle out, checked the ammunition, and cocked it.
“You shoot?” Taehyung asked with surprise.
Jimin held the gun by his side and looked at Taehyung dead in the eyes. “Who do you think took Mr. Lee hunting? I’m the one that bagged that moose in the freezer.”
Taehyung stared at Jimin in awe. “I’m so incredibly turned on right now. You’re the whole package: an angel with deadly aim.”
“Will you just pull yourself together and get a hold of Yoongi. Jungkook and I are going to pack up some supplies in the meantime.”
Taehyung was humming and smiling as he pulled up Namjoon in the contacts on Jimin’s phone and waited until the man picked up.
“Jimin?” He could hear Namjoon say.
“Namjoon, it’s Taehyung.”
“But this says it’s Jimin calling.” Namjoon said with confusion.
“I’m using his phone. Listen, do you have Yoongi’s number?”
“Yes,” Namjoon answered.
“Okay, great. I need you to text it to Jimin’s phone.”
“Don’t you have it already?”
Taehyung sighed with impatience. “I don’t have my phone with me and I don’t have it memorized. Could you please just send it to me.”
“I don’t know. Yoongi swore he’d kill me if I gave his number out to anyone.”
“He’d be okay with it if you sent it to me, it’s all right.”
“I don’t know. If he wanted you to have it, you’d have it already.”
“Oh my God, Namjoon! It’s an emergency and I need to talk to Yoongi.” Taehyung yelled in exasperation. “Okay, then— just tell Yoongi to call me on Jimin’s phone. And give him Jimin’s number in case he doesn’t have it. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course I can do that. I’m not an idiot, you know,” Namjoon replied, offended.
“Thanks, bud!” Taehyung trilled and hung up. “That was way more difficult than it needed to be.” He then headed over to help Jungkook and Jimin with the supplies. By the time they’d cleared out the medicine cabinet and packed up water and snacks, as well as filled the cooler with meat from the freezer along with some cheese and fruit, Yoongi called Jimin’s phone.
“It’s not a good situation,” Yoongi admitted. “I’m going to head over to Hobi and Jin’s place to pick them up—and I guess Namjoon too, since you let him know what was going on.”
“I had to!” Taehyung defended himself. “I needed your number and it’s not my fault you’ve got him scared witless of you.”
“Anyway, we’ll rendezvous at the bunker. Stay off the highways if you can, stick to back roads. You know the codes to get it. Hide your car in the bushes and don’t hang around outside. I don’t want anyone else to know that we’re there.”
“Got it. Stay safe, we’ll see you soon.” Taehyung signed off. “What’s it look like outside?”
“Quiet.” Jungkook peered out the kitchen window, overlooking the driveway where the car was parked.
“Looks clear out front,” Jimin called out from the living room.
“Okay, so this is it.” Taehyung grabbed the keys off the counter. “I’ll drive, Jimin you take shotgun, Jungkook in the back. Jimin you take the gun and any ammunition. I’ll grab the pack, Jungkook has the cooler. I’ll unlock the doors and pop the trunk—cooler goes in there and we’ll keep the pack and the gun with us. Everyone clear?”
Jungkook and Jimin nodded in agreement and everyone grabbed what they needed to bring with them. “We’ll need to be quick—we really don’t know what might be waiting out there. Ready?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook confirmed. “You’ll take my pan?”
“Wait,” Jimin held up a hand. “Just a second.” He looked around the kitchen in the house where he’d happily spent the last few years. In just a few short hours, his life had been completely upended. He was putting all his trust in these guys—Taehyung, Jungkook, and Yoongi too—who he hardly knew. It was all a bit overwhelming.
“Jimin,” Taehyung said kindly. “It’s time to go.” He held out his hand. “Ready?”
Jimin looked at his hand and, after a moment, reached out to slap his palm. “Ready.”
In less than a minute, the cooler was in the trunk and the three of them in place in the car, Taehyung already had the engine going. “Good news, the gas tank’s full. This should be more than enough to get us where we need to go without stopping.”
“Mr. Lee always was anal about keeping the tank full,” Jimin sniffed. Taehyung checked the rear mirror and as he pulled out of the driveway, Jimin waved out the passenger window at the house. “Goodbye, my friend. You didn’t deserve what happened to you and I’ll always remember you.”
They drove along empty streets dotted with abandoned cars, past empty houses and empty buildings. “Where is everyone?” Jungkook asked quizzically. “I expected more panicking in the streets.”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung said, peering out through the windshield. “Maybe we’re better off not knowing. Just keep moving.”
As they travelled outside of the city, buildings dwindled and were spaced further and further apart until there was nothing but grass and fields stretched alongside the road ahead of them. Jungkook decided to lay down for another nap.
Taehyung glanced quickly at Jimin beside him. “So,” he said casually. “About what we were discussing before.”
“Your ‘claim’, you mean?” Jimin inquired delicately. Jungkook snorted from the back seat and muttered, “good luck!” into the seat cushion.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Taehyung asked. “Because I do. The moment I first saw you, I knew you were it for me.”
“Oh, I cannot believe you,” Jimin sputtered. “You showed more interest in your nuts—and that’s not a double entendre—than you did me.”
“That may be the first time you saw me, but it’s not the first time I saw you.” Taehyung declared. “The first time I saw you, it was spring—six months ago. The sun was out, there was a warm breeze blowing, buds were coming out on the trees, and you stepped before me, holding a cup of coffee. You leaned you head back like you were soaking in the sun and you had the most beautiful smile on your face.”
Jimin watched quietly as Taehyung smiled his boxy smile at the memory. “After that, I would see you every now and then. Like a mirage, I wasn’t sure if you were real. How could you be? You were perfect, and I was too afraid to approach you. Until the party last night and you were there, I couldn’t believe it. Except that you were clearly thirsting after my roommate.” Taehyung tilted his head and winced.
Jimin hid a covert smile behind his hand. Taehyung was dangerously charming and he found himself softening into a metaphorical puddle of goo at his words. No one had ever said anything remotely like this to him before. He’d gotten so used to being “cute” and “adorable”, he’d given up thinking anyone might ever see him as anything more.
“So yeah,” Taehyung continued. “I checked out your ass. Why not? It’s a glorious ass—full and round and perky.”
“Okay, now,” Jimin interrupted.
“I just think, with everything that happened tonight to lead us to where we are now, the universe clearly means for us to be together. And so, I’m claiming you, Jimin. If you aren’t meant to be mine, and I’m not meant to be yours, what am I even doing here? What even is my purpose?”
Jimin felt a little breathless and warm. He ran a shaking hand through his hair to settle himself. “We may be getting a little ahead of ourselves. It was at the bunker that all the pairing up and stress relieving was supposed to happen. We’re not there yet. Get me to that bunker and then maybe, I’ll see—”
“Maybe?” Taehyung’s voice raised hopefully.
“Maybe,” Jimin smiled shyly and ran fingers through his hair once more.
“Hot damn! Maybe!” Taehyung struck the steering wheel in glee.
Jimin laughed and turned, smiling brightly, to watch the scenery pass by outside the passenger window.
“I will take that ‘maybe’, angel. You’ll see, I’ll convince you yet.”
“If there is one thing I know about you, Taetae, you are a very persistent and persuasive man.” And Jimin was genuinely looking forward to being thoroughly persuaded.