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“Phone.” Jimin repeats for the nth time. They’ve been going through random things lined on the dining table, identifying which is which, until Jeongguk memorizes or at least familiarizes himself with them all.
“P..p-ponn…” Jeongguk copies him, and Jimin can’t help but sigh in frustration.
They still have a long way to go.
Jimin drops the phone back on the table a little too loud, and Jeongguk gets startled, eyes wide and round, fixed on the object. His eyes slowly become glassy. Is he crying? Jimin panics.
“Shit, I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” he comforts Jeongguk by rubbing both of the zombie’s arms, watching as his face turn from almost crying to almost... blushing?
“M-me. S-sorry.” Jeongguk mutters, unsure of his words. Jeongguk seems to exhibit more signs of emotions as the days go by, and Jimin just wants to coo. But of course he doesn’t. All he can do is give a reassuring smile.
“It’s okay, Jeongguk.” He pets his hair softly. And Jimin swears he can really see a faint blush on the other’s cheeks, which in return makes him giddy.
But these weird feelings can be dealt with later; they have a lot of words to work on.
Jeongguk is still new to human behavior and lifestyle—well, Jimin IS the first human the creature has ever interacted with. Most humans Jeongguk meet are all intentionally regarded as a meal.
You see, Jeongguk is a zombie.
For how long? Jimin would probably answer with “Beats me.” All Jimin knows is that, after years of being alone in an abandoned library, his safe place is invaded by a lone zombie, who made its way inside through the door which Jimin accidentally left open after a drunken night, having discovered a generous stash of beer at a convenience store blocked by several trucks.
When Jimin woke up that morning (it was actually noon), the zombie’s face was right in front of his, which made him scream and jump and run and stumble on books and chairs, almost wetting himself in fear. But after a while, there were no signs that the zombie is running after him. When he crept back, he saw the zombie looking around the spacious library, doe eyes almost filled with wonder, mouth ajar.
That’s when Jimin realized that the zombie is harmless.
He thought he was one of the few new generation of zombies whose mutation has become weaker, and therefore has a high recovery rate. Jimin heard about it from random frequencies he’s come across his phone radio, and although it was good news, Jimin still wishes he wouldn’t encounter any zombies AT ALL.
Well, at least Jeongguk can recover.
Hence, the human-world lessons. He’s been teaching Jeongguk the names of various stuff like books, pen, food, pillow, shoes—everything he can find inside the library. So far, Jeongguk can remember and identify most of them.
“Okay, that’s enough for today, let’s get some rest,” Jimin ends the lesson with another huff. He’s been spending most of his time teaching Jeongguk and less time scavenging for food and other essentials.
“Rest.” Jeongguk repeats after him, face looking like he’s recalling the meaning of the word, until his lips form a small “o.”
“Rest.” He says it again, voice now filled with more confidence.
Jimin turns his back and smiles.
“Good job, Jeonggukie.”
He hums while walking across the main hall of the library, towards the room where he keeps all his food locked, and he picks a few canned goods and bottles of water. If there’s something that Jeongguk does that’s similar to a human’s behavior, that would be eating. Like, eating a lot.
The first time Jimin offered him some canned meatloaf, Jeongguk ate it like he hasn’t eaten anything for years. Well, if brains of humans don’t count, then that is most probably true. When Jimin introduced him to Coke, Jeongguk became insatiable.
And hyper.
As soon as the sugar hit his system, Jeongguk turned into a happy puppy, playing around the library, exploring rooms and flipping through books and ooh-ing and aah-ing over pictures and paintings on the wall. Right then and there, Jimin promises to help the zombie turn into human again.
Jimin smiles at the thought, so he always makes sure to bring Jeongguk some Coke.
Except this time, Jeongguk fetches them himself.
When Jimin turns around, he is met with Jeongguk’s bigger frame, eyes as shocked as his, and Jimin loses balance, but Jeongguk holds him steady by the crook of his arms. It’s Jimin’s turn to blush.
Jeongguk notices it, eyes locked on his cheeks.
“What.” He whispers, his fore finger gently poking directly at Jimin’s blush.
“What?” Jimin whispers, too. He doesn’t know why they’re whispering. It’s not like anyone can hear them.
“There.” Jeongguk points again. “Cute.” The zombie giggles.
“What?” Jimin asks again. He definitely didn’t teach the zombie that word. So where did he get it?
“Cute. You.” Jeongguk smiles shyly.
“Me.” Jimin tries to absorb those two simple words. It’s like he’s the zombie learning words.
“Jimin. Cute.” Jeongguk says it again, as if really teaching Jimin. “Okay?”
“Okay.” is all Jimin can say.
Jeongguk keeps on following him around for the next days. He never keeps his distance, sometimes his chest bumping against Jimin’s back, which makes the latter jump away no matter how many times it happens in a day. He can never get used to the zombie following him around.
And when he tries to walk faster, Jeongguk simply holds on to the hem of his shirt.
It doesn’t help that he begins to see the small changes the zombie is going through—from the way he walks to the way he eats. Jeongguk even sleeps for a couple of hours nowadays. During his first evenings, Jimin would lock him up in one of the rooms at the farther side of the library just to make sure he won’t get attacked while he’s asleep. He would unlock the door, only to find him standing exactly where he left him at night.
Now, he just lets him roam around the hall while Jimin dozes off for as long as he like. He would wake up to Jeongguk bringing him books with interesting pictures, doe eyes glistening in amusement and wonder.
A few weeks later, Jeongguk started taking naps.
Another significant change is how Jeongguk smells. The first time he stood close to the zombie, Jimin almost throws up with the mix of blood and rotten flesh exuding from the other creature, not to mention the pale face and greasy hair and blood and dirt-stained clothes. As soon as Jeongguk was able to understand basic words, Jimin encouraged him to change his clothes, handing him a set of clothing he got from an abandoned shopping mall.
From there he also taught him how to brush his teeth, and after several days, take a bath.
Which was a total disaster, Jimin recalls, the memory of the zombie wailing in fear of the cold water, until Jimin couldn’t hold in anymore, falling forward while he laughs to his heart’s content.
When his laughter subsided, Jeongguk was staring at him, jaw dropped.
Lately, Jeongguk has been bathing more frequently, his smell turning into a clean, cottony scent, which Jimin now enjoys. Even the assortment of cuts and wounds start healing by itself.
As to how the zombie started to express emotions, he still has no idea. Nevertheless, it makes him warm inside, a tingle in his chest where his heart is located.
Today they’re studying adjectives.
Jimin lines up several things on the table as usual—photos of both men and women, a flower he picked up when he went outside earlier, a dusty copy of a Van Gogh painting, a small carving of a bird, and a woman’s dress.
“Okay,” Jimin starts. “Let’s learn the word, ‘pretty.’”
Jeongguk looks at him without blinking.
“Pretty,” Jimin repeats, “means something looks good.”
“Good.” Jeongguk processes the word for a moment, and like a bulb switching on, his eyes glow in realization.
“GOOD.” He now says it with conviction.
“Yes!” Jimin smiles in triumph. “Pretty means good! Now all these things,” Jimin draws his hand to present the objects on the table, “are pretty.”
“Pretty.”
Jimin knows Jeongguk needs time to store all those new words he’s taught him, so he waits until the zombie stops murmuring the new word, head tilted upwards, eyes looking up but not really looking at anything—just like how humans memorize. Jimin beams with pride.
Jeongguk looks back at him.
“Okay.”
Jimin proceeds with the lesson.
After a solid half an hour, Jeongguk almost gets it.
“Let’s continue tomorrow, I need to go back to the convenience store. We’re running out of Coke ‘cos you can’t stop drinking them.” Jimin announces, collecting the random objects with a smile on his face.
“Coke. Me. Go.” Jeongguk bolts up, feet ready to go outside, gulping loudly that Jimin can hear it from where he’s packing his things.
“No, no—just stay here, Jeongguk. I’ll go so I can walk faster. We won’t make it before sunset if you come with me.” Jimin reasons out. It’s half past three, and as soon as the sun sets, the streets will be filled with different mutations of zombies—walkers, runners, idle ones. The idle ones die most of the time because they walk for a few steps and then stops for a few minutes, and when the sun rises, their bodies dry up and they finally expire.
Fortunately, Jeongguk can both go outside during the day and at night. Unfortunately, if Jimin goes out at night, he’ll become dinner.
So he promises Jeongguk he’ll be back soon, making him sit on his favorite chair by the furnace, a few cans of Coke at his side, the Van Gogh painting in his hands, and the promise that Jimin will get him another pretty thing when he gets back.
Jimin glances back at Jeongguk before he closes the door, and he’s still there on his chair, knees jerking, eyes fixed on him.
He’s almost human, he thinks, before locking the door.
When he gets back, the sun is almost gone, and the door creaks because he needs to open it wider than normal. He brought almost everything from the convenience store using two shopping carts he found a few blocks from the library.
Jeongguk jolts from the chair, hair (now a little shinier, thanks to Jimin’s shampoos) messy and drool dried up on the side of his mouth. The zombie was napping, and Jimin is glad he didn’t stay put while waiting for him.
“Jeonggukie, I got you something,” he singsongs.
As soon as he locks the door, Jeongguk rushes to him, ignoring the carts overflowing with food, fastening him in a tight embrace.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk’s voice shakes, and Jimin worries. “Jimin. Jimin. Jimin.”
“Jeongguk, what happened?” he asks, arms holding the zombie closer. His smell doesn’t bother him anymore. The trace of blood and human flesh is almost indistinct, replaced by the scent of fresh skin and a little sweat, which Jimin weirdly finds comfort in. Maybe, Jeongguk is the closest thing he ever has to a family. To home.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk repeats, breath hitching. Is he crying? “Dream.”
Dream. Jimin didn’t teach him that word yet.
“You had a dream?” he asks.
“You. Dream.” Jeongguk tries to explain between sobs. Jimin’s heart breaks. “You. Jimin. Jimin.”
“You dreamt of me? What happened to me in your dream?”
“You. Go. Me… m-me, alone.”
Alone. Another new word.
“I left you alone? That’s your dream?” Jimin draws back to look at the other’s face, and he confirms that the zombie is indeed crying.
Despite the lonely dream, Jimin can’t help but wonder why his tears aren’t made of Coke. After all, that’s all the zombie has been drinking for the past days, ignoring his orders to drink more water. The zombie is clueless and naïve, but he also sure is stubborn and a brat.
“Alone. Me.” Jeongguk continues to sob, burying his face in the crook of Jimin’s neck.
Jimin’s chin quivers, remembering how he used to be alone, cold and hungry, and how he managed to fend for himself, how he got used to solitude. It's been years since he lost his parents in a zombie attack at the town. He can't remember how it feels to have another person beside him anymore. Until he found Jeongguk.
Or was it Jeongguk who found him?
“Don’t go.” Jeongguk mumbles, and Jimin wants to cheer him for making a complete sentence, but all he can do is to hug him back, feel each other’s warmth, hoping that it will make them feel less scared and homesick.
“I won’t go. I won’t leave you, I promise.”
“Promise.” Jeongguk echoes the new word without difficulty.
“Promise.”
They eat together, sharing a spam and some honey butter chips, with Coke of course. Jimin teaches him new words, and sleepily, Jeongguk learns the names of the parts of the face.
“Noooose.” Jimin pronounces slowly, emphasizing the “o” sound.
“Noooooooooosssseee,” Jeongguk makes a longer “o” sound, which makes Jimin giggle and fall to his side. He can’t see when he’s laughing that hard, but he can hear Jeongguk making deep sounds almost similar to a laugh.
He keeps on laughing, arms holding his tummy, and then silence.
He stops with a hiccup and opens his eyes.
Jeongguk is staring at him with a content smile, eyes twinkling, reflecting the pale light from the table lamp beside them.
“Pretty,” Jeongguk breathlessly whispers. “Jimin. Pretty.”
They fall asleep side by side. Well, Jimin is spooning Jeongguk at the latter’s request, a proof that Jimin won’t ever leave him in the night.
Days go by and Jeongguk is learning faster than before. He now easily picks up words, and able to form more sentences. He can now follow simple instructions, except when Jimin tells him to stop following him around.
“No.” the zombie coldly answers him.
The once clueless zombie has now become determined and insistent with what he wants.
Today, they’re learning how to say “please.”
“Your turn,” Jimin orders him.
“Uhm,” Jeongguk clears his throat after taking a few gulps of Coke. “Give me. Coke. Please.”
“Now say that again without pausing.”
Jeongguk takes a deep breath.
“Give me Coke, please.”
“You got it!” Jimin shrieks and Jeongguk startles when Jimin grabs him in a tight hug, pulling him to his height. Jimin can feel Jeongguk cheering happily, his chest shaking with laughter.
“GIVE ME COKE PLEASE!!!” Jeongguk shouts, and Jimin falls on the floor, laughing hard.
The next day, Jimin almost loses his sanity because Jeongguk keeps on shouting he wants Coke all day, right behind his back, the back of his shirt being aggressively pulled in excitement.
“Now make a sentence using ‘I want,’” Jimin tells him, and Jeongguk tilts his head funnily, earning a giggle from Jimin.
“I waaaannnnttt… Coke!” Jeongguk squeaks.
“Noooo make another one, you keep on saying Coke!”
“I waaaaaant pretty Coke!”
Laughing is easier for Jimin now; he hasn’t laughed so much in all the years he lived alone after the zombie invasion. He was so young when the pandemic happened, and mutations upon mutations of the virus caused infected people to become zombies. Several years later, most zombies are now either killed, apprehended, or self-expired. The remaining ones are either too few, too weak, or just like Jeongguk, almost human.
With Jeongguk by his side, he finally gives himself the freedom to hope that everything will get better, and from now on, he won’t be alone anymore.
“C’mon, stop playing… give me a proper sentence.” He whines, and yet he can’t stop smiling.
“I want… Jimin. Smile.”
They look at each other, Jimin’s eyes shiny with tears.
He tosses himself on Jeongguk for a hug.
For the next week, Jeongguk talks more, shares more of his thoughts, and Jimin shares his, and everything is almost perfect. The zombie is a lot more like a human now. They do chores together, because even when Jeongguk can basically do anything by himself now, he still sticks to Jimin all the time, never keeping him out of sight even for a second.
“Jeongguk, just sit there and wait for me,” Jimin gets a little more irritated one day. “It’s almost done, just sit down and then we’ll eat okay?” He instructs him, voice a firmer than before. At first, it was amusing that Jeongguk couldn’t stay away from him, always seeks his warmth, but after weeks of the same routine, Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop.
“No. Together.” Jeongguk deadpan answers.
“No. Sometimes we have to do things on our own. Go there and sit down.”
“No. Together.”
“Jeongguk.”
“Together.”
“Jeong—“
“Together, BAM!” Jeongguk shouts, lifting Jimin by the waist, smile blinding. Jimin forgets what he is angry about, and just looks at Jeongguk in a new light. He isn’t the zombie he saw months ago—this is a whole new person.
His Jeongguk.
Jeongguk may not find the right words yet, but Jimin can understand his heart. He can feel it beat against his ears when they cuddle at night. He feels it when he does the bare minimum, and yet makes Jimin’s own heart flutter.
They stop spinning, but they don’t stop looking at each other. There's a new world out there, the cure to the virus is finally emerging, and they can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. There's so much that needs to be said. But at this point, they don’t really need words. They just feel. They just know.
No words, head empty. Just two hearts beating.