Chapter Text
Taehyung had been in Hoseok’s home for a bit over twenty-four hours and Hoseok had yet to see him smile. That didn’t stop Hoseok from smiling at him and trying to get him to be happy and comfortable because, after all, Taehyung had only been released from the lab three days ago. It would take him time to relearn what life was like out here in the real world.
“Would you like jam on your toast again?" Hoseok asked him cheerfully.
“Yes please,” Taehyung replied, in the same subdued voice he’d been using since Hoseok met him.
Hoseok started applying it as requested, above the layer of butter he’d already scraped on. Then he scooped a dollop of scrambled eggs on top of that. In prior days - before everything changed and some things had gotten harder to buy - he would have topped it with a slice of bacon or two. But today a crisp-browned link of sausage would do instead. Hoseok slid the plate with the piled-high toast across the table to Taehyung, and then made one just the same for himself.
Taehyung took a bite, and halfway through chewing looked at Hoseok guilty.
“‘Ank ‘u,” he said, hand over his mouth.
“You’re very welcome,” Hoseok replied, satisfied that he was eating at least.
If you had asked Hoseok five years ago what he would do in the event of an apocalypse of some sort - zombies, nuclear winter, whatever - he would have laughed and said that his odds of being one of the survivors of such a thing were so low that it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t particularly strong, didn’t consider himself particularly brave, and while he was hard-working he didn’t have what seemed like would be the right skillset to withstand a global catastrophe.
So he was quite shocked when he took a look around one day and realized that he actually was living through one. Or rather, a terrifying and exhausting series of them. It had started slow and accelerated: first the virus that had swept the world and killed millions, then the invasions and civil wars that had killed millions more. Then extreme weather events started sweeping the globe - monsoons, droughts, blizzards, and heatwaves all hundreds of times more intense than they used to be. Then came the second virus that had killed an estimated two billion within the first month, and most recently the collapse, overthrow, or fragmentation of nearly every major government on the planet in the face of complete supply chain disintegration, resource shortages, corruption, riots, and mass deaths.
And here Hoseok was, still alive, having held on fiercely - more fiercely than he ever guessed he would have - the only way he could. He’d kept his friends and family close, held on to whatever sense of community they could as they hunkered down together and withstood hunger, violence, illness, and every other danger that swept around and around the world in waves.
Where they lived had once been Gwangju, but was now a nameless village existing in the mostly-vacant skeleton of the former city - a spot of fragile, determined vibrancy in a world descended into madness and danger. Hoseok’s heart still ached when caught snippets of the global news on days the internet was connected: of all the hardships wracking other parts of the world: the uncontrolled wildfires consuming North America, the floods in Europe and South America, the endless wars and waves of pandemic-level diseases everywhere. At least for now they had their own peaceful spot where they could take care of themselves.
To a point. In its last horrible years, certain factions inside the former iteration of the national government had undertaken a number of secret and unethical projects in an effort to find some kind of secret weapon to save the world. And some of those projects had been so secret and sealed away that they’d outlived the government that created them. But still, humans only had so much loyalty and dedication, especially when they were just as hungry and scared as everyone else, and thus any secret pocket of former government agents was bound to have to decide to give up and rejoin the current state of the world at some point.
Just a few days ago, Hoseok’s community had been thrown into absolute shock and chaos when they made contact with one of those secret facilities. It ended up being in a hardened bunker just a few miles north of where they lived. And from inside it emerged not only a handful of conflicted and fed-up scientists, but the people they had been experimenting on. Hoseok hadn’t been there when they contacted the outside world, and had certainly not wanted to know all the horrible details of whatever this lab specifically had been trying to accomplish. There had been other projects like this he’d heard of, all much further away: attempts to create genetically engineered people who could survive on much less nutritious food, or to create chips that could be implanted directly into human brains to take away their feelings of pain and hunger, or factories creating robots that could fight wars without any humans being involved. It seemed like all the worst, most repulsive ideas had been brought forward as the rich and powerful saw the world crumbling around them.
No matter his visceral horror at learning about this latest revelation, Hoseok knew he had to step up in some way. Despite everything (or more accurately, because of it) he still believed in the value of human life. Their community had already absorbed several other waves of refugees who had all both been traumatized, and still had something to contribute to the collective, in every possible degree and combination. So Hoseok did the only thing he could think of doing given this latest catastrophe: he volunteered to host one of the victims.
In former times, when there was a real government that provided social services, perhaps Hoseok would have gotten some kind of briefing on what sort of experimentation this person had suffered under, what support they might need, perhaps some extra supplies or, really, anything at all. But since all of that was gone and it was just up to those of them left to make the best of things, what he got was a very scared and quiet man who introduced himself as Taehyung, who flinched at loud noises and bright lights and was dropped off at his front door with nothing besides the clothes on his back. (And even worse, said clothes were no more substantial than a set of scrubs and cheap plastic clogs. Hoseok supposed he hadn’t needed anything else when he’d been imprisoned in the lab.)
Said man was sitting in Hoseok’s kitchen now, finishing up the last few bites of the piled-up toast Hoseok had made for him, wearing some of Hoseok’s clothes. Hoseok didn’t have the slightest idea of what he could do to actually help him be less scared and more willing to talk - but at least if he was willing to exist calmly in Hoseok’s house then at least Hoseok could know he’d be able to keep this poor man clothed and fed. At least he’d done something to counteract everything horrible that had happened in the world.
“It’s August thirty-first!” Hoseok announced brightly, standing up from the table and looking at the paper calendar he had hung up on the wall.
It was expensive to get the glossy pre-printed calendars any more - the ones with a picture of a puppy or what-have-you each month - so Hoseok had one that had been created locally. His friends Jimin and Namjoon had been experimenting with old methods of printing and, as a proof-of-concept, had made a few dozen copies of a block-printed calendar. It was twelve sheets of rustic paper - made from pulped-up scraps of useless printouts scrounged from abandoned office buildings nearby - printed with blocks carved from wood and ink made from soot. It was minimalistic - each page just a grid with slightly wonky words and numbers for the months, weekdays, and days - but it was theirs. It was something created and shared by their community, and a promise of something better to come as they kept learning.
“Three weeks until the official first day of autumn,” Hoseok went on thoughtfully, flipping up the thick top sheet so he could see the month of September underneath. “The weather won’t turn cold immediately, of course, but we still need to be ready…”
Hoseok let his voice trail off as thought about his own supplies. He needed to get clothes for Taehyung in general, but for him to last through the winter in good health he most urgently needed a coat and shoes of his own.
“It’s going to be a very cold winter,” Taehyung said, so softly that Hoseok could barely hear him.
Hoseok turned to look at him. Taehyung was sitting up straight, gazing off into space intently as if he was seeing things that Hoseok couldn’t. Something about the look in his eyes made the hairs on Hoseok’s arm raise up.
“And it’s going to rain today,” he went on, a little crease of concern showing up on his forehead.
Then the moment passed and the strange, intense expression on his face faded. He dropped his head and picked up his toast again, cramming the last big bite into his mouth.
“Could be,” Hoseok replied lightly, not so sure that the current sunny conditions indicated anything like that, but he was neither a meteorologist nor a fan of pointless contrarianism.
In any case, he’d gone over to the calendar with a purpose in mind: getting Taehyung on board with the plan for the day.
“We’ve got to head out to the market today to see if we can get a few things. Clothes, mostly, and then I want to see if Jungkook’s found anything good lately,” Hoseok explained.
Taehyung nodded, his head still down, his posture once again shrunken down and closed off. Well, Hoseok may not be able to do anything to help whatever was happening inside of the man’s head - but he could make sure he didn’t get cold over the winter.
Hoseok looked around his house. He’d done quite a bit over the last few years to insulate it against the extremes of weather, especially now that electricity wasn’t available entirely reliably any more. (The local power plant was a half-days walk to the south, and had its own haphazard little city around it. The folks that still knew how to maintain power lines were some of the most valued - and well fed - in the whole area.) The upsides of having a place this small - just a kitchen, a living space, a bathroom, and a bedroom - was that there was less to maintain and repair. He had everything he needed to be comfortable, carefully kept and scrounged and guarded over the recent hard, frightening years: dishes and pots and pans, table and chairs, a small couch, a bed. (Hoseok had given Taehyung the bed for now, happy for him to be a little more comfortable while Hoseok made himself a good-enough sleeping spot with a few extra blankets on the floor.)
Hoseok washed up the dishes, and by the time he was done Taehyung was sitting quietly on the couch, in his borrowed jeans and flannel shirt, with his horrid nearly-useless clogs on his feet. Hoseok really hoped that Jungkook would have some suitable gear he could trade for.
“I just have to water the garden, and then we’ll go,” Hoseok told him.
Taehyung shook his head.
“It’s going to rain today,” he repeated. “You don’t need to.”
Hoseok paused. He’d told Taehyung what he was doing, each of the two mornings they’d shared, before he went out to water his plants - cabbages and peppers were his personal specialty, the crops he’d chosen to grow an excess of for bartering purposes - and this was the first time Taehyung had said anything. He thought about how important his garden was. He peeked out the window.
There was, in fact, a line of clouds just visible at the horizon. Well, perhaps a little show of trust would be just the thing to build a little rapport here. And then in the worst case he’d have to work harder in the afternoon to catch up his watering and stay up a little later as a result.
“Okay,” Hoseok said lightly, hoping he sounded accepting and not condescending. “Are you ready to head out now? Or do you need a minute?”
“Ready,” Taehyung said quietly, standing up.
Hoseok smiled brightly, then grabbed his backpack - mostly empty except for a bottle of water and few other essentials, hopefully to be filled with the things he needed on the return journey. It was still warm enough that he decided he didn’t need a sweater - his long-sleeve shirt and jeans would be enough. Hoseok led them out, locking the door behind them. Neither of the houses on either side of Hoseok’s was occupied - most of the houses in this neighborhood weren’t. It hadn’t been so long that they’d started collapsing yet, though. Hoseok had expanded his garden to take over the former yards of the neighboring properties. (Nobody was bothered with lot boundaries these days.)
Still, his nearest neighbor wasn’t that far. Yoongi’s house - formerly the public library - was just two blocks away, down the street where the residential area had transitioned into a small business district. And Jungkook and Seokjin’s place was a few more blocks to the east, where they’d commandeered a former park to host their salvage yard on one side and flock of chickens on the other. (Hoseok got all his eggs from them.) Namjoon and Jimin lived closer to the former heart of the city, in a section of what had used to be a five-story hotel, the lobby of which they’d converted to be their workshop.
Jimin and Namjoon were the closest to the market where Hoseok was taking Taehyung now. In former days it had been the central square of an upscale business park, ringed with pricey little stores that sold premium coffees and whatnot, but now it hosted their regular community gatherings. It was the place they came together to trade what they all needed to live - and without it, probably none of them would still be alive.
Hoseok hadn’t brought anything. He grew enough cabbages to make kimchi for trade, but he didn’t have enough on hand today to make taking a wagon’s-load worth it. More normally though, he traded his time and skills - he’d learned a bit of plumbing and welding over the years. Taking care of yourself in as well-rounded a way but also specializing in something: that was the key these days.
Taehyung kept pace with him, keeping a half-step behind Hoseok despite his longer legs. They passed boarded-up restaurants, fenced-off empty lots, depots full of collapsed building fragments and rusty vehicles and equipment that had been bulldozed there by civil services before they’d completely ceased to function here. But there were still trees, and insects buzzing in the grass that was now growing through the streets and sidewalks, and vines growing over some of the unused buildings softening their appearance.
“It’s just up ahead,” Hoseok finally said, once they had reached the final turn.
The buildings were taller here, smooth facades of glass and steel, and had been cleared out fast enough in the early days that they hadn’t taken much damage. If it weren't for the eerie emptiness of the streets, you might think you were still back in the old days. Taehyung still didn’t answer, so Hoseok turned to check on him: he looked stiff and scared as usual, his face unreadable.
They turned past the nearest building then, past the now-empty planter box and the sequence of brutalist columns that set off what had once been the breezeway vestibule that would awe visitors with its grandeur before they stepped into the lobby. Now it was just one of the landmarks on the way to the market, because on the other side of the breezeway columns they emerged and found themselves on the outer ring of the tables and booths set up in the wide open paved space.
Hoseok felt Taehyung step closer to him, and heard him blow out a nervous breath. He wondered if this was the most people he’d ever seen in one spot before. There were at least sixty or seventy ramshackle little setups dotted everywhere: a big stand being run out of a refrigerated truck, from the pig-farming coop down the road, selling sausages and trotters and a few other more luxurious items; another large stand from the rice farmers with their coveted burlap sacks of grain; small salvage operations selling whatever random somewhat-usable items they’d gleaned from who-knows-where; sellers of candles and pottery bowls and cups and handwoven towels; backyard gardeners like Hoseok with a few extra baskets of corn, persimmons, onions, or chestnuts; and traveling traders who brought goods from Seoul or other larger cities like tea, glassware, fabric, and oil.
Hoseok eyed the fruits and vegetables in particular: vitamins, he thought to himself. Micronutrients. He’d have to be sure to snag a few things he didn’t grow himself. But first: keeping his guest warm.
“Just stick right next to me,” Hoseok murmured to Taehyung, winding his way deeper into the crowd.
He was a little surprised when Taehyung took him literally, pressing his body right to Hoseok’s rear quarter and staying glued there as they walked forward together. He was worried about him, but also touched at the level of trust he had seemed to inspire. (Or, if not trust, perhaps Hoseok was at least the lesser evil when compared to a bustling marketplace full of unknowns.)
Hoseok took them to Jungkook’s booth. He trusted him above all the other salvagers, knowing that he wouldn’t try to rip him off. Jungkook greeted him with a glowing smile to start with, his shaggy hair long over his forehead and neck, his form swallowed up by a giant hooded sweatshirt.
“Hobi!” he called out with a cute little wave.
“Hi Jaykay! This is Taehyung,” Hoseok greeted him, gesturing to his side.
Taehyung gave a shy little ghost of a wave in return, remaining shrunken at Hoseok’s side.
“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook replied politely, getting an equally-shy little ghost of a nod.
He knew about Hoseok’s guest, of course - all of Hoseok’s friends had heard about the lab and Hoseok’s attempt to help at least one unfortunate man who’d come out of it.
“I was hoping to find some boots and a coat,” Hoseok said, wishing he had time for more small talk but determined to get his trading done first.
Jungkook shook his head frustratedly.
“Boots, you might be able to get from one of the traveling merchants,” he said apologetically. “Nobody around here has had any luck finding things like that for months now. We’ve scraped what we can. But be warned - most of them are only accepting precious metals.”
Hoseok tilted his head to the side and hummed.
“And what about coats?” he prompted.
“Even harder to come by,” Jungkook informed him seriously. “I’d recommend getting some blankets and cutting them into one yourself.”
“Well, fair enough,” Hoseok accepted with a sigh.
He could do a little sewing. He was sure he could knock together a very basic coat if he had the materials - perhaps something like a poncho, at least. He started looking around, scoping out what he could see at other booths, figuring in his head what he had extra of, how he could bargain for what he needed.
Then he turned his attention back to Taehyung - the man had been perusing the various goods Jungkook had out on display while they’d chatted. He was curious to see what he would gravitate towards. As it so happened, his curious fingers and watchful eyes were pointed in the direction of a little pad of paper (still sealed in plastic from some abandoned office supply cabinet) and a set of ten colored pencils in a slim cardboard box.
“Do you like to draw?” Hoseok asked him.
Taehyung whipped his head over to meet Hoseok’s eyes with a guilty expression. But with a hopeful tinge in his face - something almost akin to puppy eyes. It was the most expressive Hoseok had seen him so far in their few days together.
“I used to…before. I wasn’t always in that facility,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
But still, his fingers twitched a little, and he didn’t move away from the item. The gentle pleading on his face went straight to Hoseok’s heart.
Well, warmth and food weren’t the only thing humans needed to remain human, after all.
“What are you asking for the paper and pencils?” Hoseok asked Jungkook.
No matter what the price ended up being, Hoseok already felt rewarded for his efforts by the way Taehyung’s face lit up. It wasn’t quite a smile - not yet. But Hoseok was sure he’d get one sooner or later.