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There are two big problems that come with the zombie apocalypse:
1. Zombies.
2. Getting a song stuck in your head that you can't remember the lyrics to but now you can't Google it either because the electricity hasn't been on for ages.
Now that's really just the worst.
"Hmm, hmmm, a-hmm hmm hmm hmm," Taehyung frowns, twirling the baseball bat in his hand. "Hmm - hmm, or is it? Hmm, hmhm?"
He wishes he hadn't spent the rest of his cell phone battery five months ago looking wistfully through his collection of porn videos. On second thought, nah. Totally worth it.
"Ah-hmm, hmm," Taehyung sings under his breath, nonchalantly looking around himself. There's a zombie in his close vicinity. It has a particularly stupid look on its face.
Taehyung stops and takes the Polaroid cam out of his backpack and snaps a photo. He waits for it to develop, the zombie slowly taking notice of him.
Taehyung checks out the photo, the zombie starting to realize that, oh shit, brains.
"Hey." Taehyung squints at the photo, then at the zombie's gaping mouth. "Feels like I know you. Were you an idol before?"
The zombie groans - "Yes?", "Brains?", "Oppa?" - who knows. Taehyung fixes his stance, raises his baseball bat and waits for the killer shot.
"No, seriously." Taehyung frowns. "Twice, Gfriend, SNSD... Red Velvet... hey! I remember!"
The zombie groans, its mouth soft gums with no teeth whatsoever - should've flossed while you had the chance.
"Ah lookie lookie, ah super lookie lookie lookie." Taehyung swings, the soft head bounding off from the impact. "Yes, yes, that... that... ah, I forgot it again."
Taehyung shakes some brain off his baseball bat. The zombie twitches on the floor, hand reaching for his leg.
"You don't even have a head," Taehyung tells it, a little sadly. "How are you even going to eat me like that?
He squashes the fingers with the sole of his shoe and it stops wriggling. He abandons the beheaded corpse and passes by empty houses and courtyards, singing the three words of lyrics he knows.
"Should be one of those there - aha!"
A small supermarket. Taehyung skips to it happily, resting his bat on top of his shoulder. It's bolted with wooden planks.
Taehyung breaks the glass, then breaks the planks.
He steps over the crunching glass and into the market.
"Lookie, lookie," he mutters, looking for the right aisle and keeping an eye out for zombies. He doubts anything is going to top the zombidol from earlier today, but there's always a chance.
It's not that big of a supermarket, but he gets lost. He grabs a chocolate bar from an aisle and walks on. There's a sleeping guy on the floor.
"Huh."
Taehyung crouches. Black hair, dirty and thin face. Cracked lips, stay hydrated. Cute guy, maybe, back when he showered more.
"Hello, good morning."
No budging. He's sleeping on a bunch of toilet paper, what a cute idea. Really bad survival instincts, though.
"Wakey wakey, I'm here to eat your brainey brainey."
Nothing. The guy drools on, peacefully, as if he's chilling out on the Bahamas and not in a crappily barricaded store.
Taehyung takes a Polaroid of him. He surveys the picture and finds himself satisfied - today is a day of big surprises.
"Lookie lookie, ah super lookie lookie lookie," he sings while he's putting away his stuff. When he looks back - eyes, open, staring right at him. What an efficient alarm clock.
"You've got an eye booger," Taehyung points out, and the guy screams.
Taehyung waits patiently as he scuttles up to his feet, messes around with his backpack - the zipper gets stuck, it's so awkward that it's a bit painful - and then takes out a gun. Neat.
"It's okay. Eye boogers are a thing, they happen to everyone."
"How - how did you get here?" the guy asks him gruffly. His hands are shaking.
"Don't be scared, I'm not a zombie. I don't eat brains, see." Taehyung lifts up his chocolate bar.
"Did you - break in?"
"Yup."
"You-" the boy starts, face going rapidly white. "But... the planks..."
"Demolished. Smashed to pieces. Gone-erino. Boom."
"The zombies... they can come in now..." The hand shaking increases.
"Not if we ask them to leave nicely."
"You-" the guy frowns, squaring his jaw. If he's trying to look scary, it's not working that well. "Who are you?"
"If you're trying to look scary, it's not working that well."
"I'm -" he scowls even deeper. "You're really freaking weird."
"Says the guy with an eye booger."
The guy rubs furiously at his eye with one hand. Taehyung knocks the pistol out of his rather loose grip - a risky thing, because while zombies can be trusted to keep their safety on, humans are usually not as smart - but it ends up okay.
Meaning, Taehyung has the gun and the guy is gaping at him, kinda scared.
"I don't like guns," Taehyung says mildly. He clicks the safety back on and gives it back to the guy, who scratches his hand while grabbing for it.
"Yeowch. Ever heard of a nail file?"
"You're so fucking weird. Can you just leave?"
"Alright," Taehyung stands up to his feet. He turns to leave when he remembers - "Ah, yeah. Do you know where the carbs aisle is?"
"The - carbs aisle?"
"Yeah, the one with all the pasta and stuff."
The guy frowns. "What'd you need pasta for? You got a stove somewhere?"
"She's not a stove," Taehyung pouts. "How rude of you."
"I'm sorry... I guess?"
"Linda says she'll call you back for that one. She's not ready to forgive and forget just yet."
"Who the fuck is Linda?"
"The stove? God, start paying attention."
The guy gets on his feet, slinging his backpack on. "I thought she - you didn't have a stove."
"A stove? What's that have to do with anything?"
The guy shifts from foot to foot, then cracks a pale smile. "Now you're just messing with me."
"I would never."
The guy just shakes his head and gestures him closer with his hand. "Come with me."
"Oooh, where are we going? Are there going to be balloons?"
"No."
The guy is half a head shorter than him. Taehyung feels like he's following a leprechaun to a great big pile of treasure. He tells him as much, to which the guy sends him a poisonous look over his shoulder.
"Lookie lookie, ah super - hey, I was wondering, where do you shit?"
"That's - wildly out of context," the guy stops and gestures to a couple of half empty shelves. "There's your pasta shelf."
"Aw, dude," Taehyung sulks. "Did you eat all of them?"
"What's it to you? Anyway, what's so good about pasta? You can take some cans or whatever."
"Yeah, you won't miss a can at all."
"I won't, there's plenty-"
"You can still use other verbs, like manage to. Is that the right category? I took a syntax class once but I forgot, like, everything."
The guy stares at him, his jaw slack and eyes wide. What an uncanny resemblance to a stupid zombie. Taehyung wonders if he could get away with snapping a shot - but he doesn't feel like explaining the Polaroid. He'd ask, probably. Ten more levels to go and five onion layers to unpeel until you've unlocked my tragic backstory, fool.
"That's such a shitty pun, I can't believe it."
"You literally can't, since I-"
"Stop." The boy lifts his hand.
Taehyung smiles at him. "And while we're on the subject of shit-"
"Stop, now." The boy lifts his other hand. Taehyung wonders how he's doing that with a gun in one hand, but then he sees the fanny pack around his waist. He's fanny packing a gun.
"I know times are hard, but there's literally no need to go this far."
"What are you talking about now?"
"The only worse thing than that are Crocs. And try running from a zombie in Crocs - you don't have to, they won't even try to go for your brains."
"What's your beef with Crocs? Like, I think they'd be pretty comfortable."
Taehyung squints. "Are you a Crocs apologist?"
"You keep saying these things, I wonder if you actually know what they mean."
"You look like a guy that'd wear Crocs. That must how you survived this long. Or maybe you just ducked and walked away?"
"Because I'm short, right? Ha-ha."
"Yeah." Taehyung holds his hand out. Why is he holding his hand out? Oh right, to introduce himself.
"I'm Taehyung."
Wait, why is he introducing himself? Which stupid emotion fairy in his head approved this rash decision? Even the guy isn't happy with it, he's looking at it kind of suspiciously.
"Don't worry, I think I washed it somewhere around a month ago."
"Cool." The guy grips his hand firmly. Slightly coarse skin, warm. Taehyung hasn't felt this in a while. "Month and a half. I'm Jimin."
"Now that's just unhygenic," Taehyung says mildly.
Jimin smiles. His teeth are white, and Taehyung thinks he's probably brushing his teeth in this supermarket. His own teeth probably aren't very white at all. Not that it matters, since zombie babes aren't usually all that picky.
"So now that you wrecked my shelter," Jimin says conversationally, letting go of his hand. "What are your other plans?"
"I was thinking of mugging you, but then I changed my mind."
Actually, I was thinking of leaving, right now, but somehow my mouth keeps talking to you. It has a mind of its own sometimes, or a mouth of its own, maybe?
"Oh? How come?"
"It's your Fanny Pack of Doom and ghost Crocs."
"Ghost Crocs?" Jimin beams again. "Boy, can't wait to hear this one."
"Whoever has once worn Crocs is doomed to always wear Crocs. Even in other shoes, the haunting shadow lingers, cursing the owner to Croc around in ugly rubber shoes."
"Ha, fuck!" Jimin laughs, quickly. A giggling sort of noise. Taehyung hasn't heard it in a long while. It's nice, somehow.
"I have to go." Taehyung turns on his heel, stiffly.
"Hey, wait!" a hand reaches out, touches his wrist. Taehyung jerks back, pulling his hand to his chest.
Jimin's eyes are wide, tentative. "Sorry, I - didn't mean to startle you. You - where are you going?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Why?" Jimin plays with his fingers. His hands are pretty small. He was probably really cute once. Super cute, even if he wore a fanny pack. Taehyung really wishes his brain mouth would shut up for once. "I just - ah. It's been a while since I've talked to someone."
Jimin looks up at him. Batting eyelashes, the whole arsenal. Boom, crash, the sound of Taehyung's resolve.
"I'm going to find a supermarket, and then look for a carbs aisle."
"You really love your carbs, huh?"
"Yeah. So, see you around-"
"Wait! I - Could I..."
Taehyung waits for it, the dreaded words.
"Come with you?"
Ugh, it's the worst. Worse than when you're asking a girl to the prom and she looks you up and down and her upper lip curls up like, ew, how dare you, you look like you don't wash your hands after you pee and you probably smell them too, right?
That's wildly out of context, that's what Jimin said, I'd be wearing gloves for the prom so even if I didn't wash my hands it would probably still be fine, and anyway, it's not like you wash your hands after you Number One, who even has that much time?
"Ah... Taehyung?"
Rambling. He's rambling again. Get a grip.
"Sure, you can come." No, not that, you idiot, the other one, the 'no' word. "Just wash your hands after you pee if you're taking me to prom."
"What?" Jimin smiles. "You're so strange."
You smile a whole lot. A zombie apocalypse isn't supposed to be so smiley. Taehyung turns around and starts shoving food into his backpack.
"We're rationing?"
"Yeah. Take anything delicious and with a high sugar rate."
"That seems... useful," Jimin says, referring to a bunch of cinnamon packets he's been pushing into his backpack.
"Yeah."
"I think I'm gonna go grab the water bottles," Jimin starts and then goes, "Oh, by the way. Which year are you?"
"'95."
"Really!" Jimin beams. He looks like he's about to clap him on the arm or execute another friendly gesture. Taehyung shoves more cinnamon in and grabs some ground clove for good measure. "We're the same age then, how cool!"
"Yeah, cool. Cool beans."
"Cool beans, haha!" Jimin turns around and waves. "Be right back!"
Taehyung watches him amble of out sight. He realizes that he could leave right now - not that Jimin would know, if he walks fast enough. If he slips around the curve of the shop, into the back alley, hops into a yard - he would be gone, and the smiling menace - vanquished.
Really, that's what he should do. Right now, actually. Taehyung puts the cinnamon packets back quickly, what the heck is up with that, anyway, he really doesn't have a stove and - comes to today's Polaroids.
The zombie and Jimin, a couple of minutes ago when he was a drooling, nameless idiot napping on a supermarket floor. Taehyung looks at it, a second, a moment too long, what a cute zombie, really-
"Hey, Taehyung," Jimin pokes his head around the corner. "Think we should take some vodka? Could use it for sterilizing."
"Or drinking," Taehyung mumbles, and in a louder voice. "Sure, take it."
Jimin smiles and gives him a thumbs up. "Cool beans."
Taehyung realises what it is. The planks weren't actually planks, but all of his remaining common sense. He shattered his common sense with a baseball bat. That's the only explanation.
Taehyung lets go of the photo and exhales a small breath.
Oh well. It's not like they last long out here. Gun or not, with shaky hands like that, he's more likely to shoot one of them than a zombie. That'd be fun. Pour some vodka over a gun wound, now that's party.
"Lookie lookie, ah super lookie lookie lookie..." Taehyung hums under his breath and goes to find some cans. Real ones this time. He should tell that one to Jimin.
He would laugh, probably.