Chapter Text
The world hadn’t ended in fire or explosions or some final dramatic moment where things just… stopped.
It ended slowly.
Jimin thought that was the worst thing about all of this.
If the cities had exploded overnight in war, or if the waves of the ocean had bled into the streets and drowned everything in their wake… maybe it would have felt more final. Maybe it would have comforted Jimin to know it would all be over quickly.
But instead the world had rotted slowly, chipping away at humanity until there was nothing left but fear and anger.
The first week, people still went to work.
Jimin remembered that part vividly. The strange normalcy of it all. The random news articles that the government quickly removed so the cities wouldn’t freak out. The nervous laughter Jimin heard when he was in the grocery store trying to stock up as the shelves slowly started to empty. The reporters standing outside the hospitals with nervous smiles plastered on their faces while words like “containment” and “isolated incident” repeated over and over again.
But Jimin knew that wasn’t true.
And he knew others believed it wasn’t true either.
He was still teaching that first week. Still trying to keep all of his first grade students happy and oblivious. Still trying to live his life.
But the kids started disappearing.
One by one, their parents started pulling them out of school… and soon it was just three, then two, then one, and then none.
Just Jimin.
Just Jimin left.
It was still just Jimin left.
The screaming started shortly after.
Then the smell.
A scent that haunts Jimin to this day, following him around like his own personal ghost. Blood and smoke and rot sweltering in the summer heat. The smell of death.
Then three months later, the world had become quiet in the most devastating ways possible.
Not true silence.
It could never be true silence.
There were still sounds everywhere if you listened carefully enough. Enough to drive Jimin absolutely crazy, keeping him up nearly all hours of the night from pure fear alone. Every little noise made him think something was coming after him.
But most times… it was just the sound of a dead world still revolving around the sun. The wind still whistled through broken windowpanes. The rusted signs on the shops in town creaked every time a breeze hit them. Rainwater constantly pooled and dripped down through all of the damaged and collapsed ceilings.
Sometimes there were distant gunshots. Jimin didn’t understand those. Why anyone would use a weapon that made that much noise… it could only be someone desperate.
Sometimes there were screams. Screams that made his ears ache, and then the pure silence as the sound cut off too quickly.
And sometimes… sometimes there were just the infected.
Those awful wet noises that no human should ever be able to make.
He hadn’t heard that type of sound in days.
And now it’s back.
Jimin pressed himself further into the little hiding spot he’d found, praying desperately that his breathing would stay calm despite his lungs seizing up his chest. Dust coated the inside of his nose every time he inhaled, making his throat itch painfully, but still, he didn’t dare cough. He could barely breathe. Not now.
Not when someone or something was inside of this building with him.
The footsteps moving slowly through the fabric store didn’t belong to one of those creatures.
They belonged to somebody alive.
And that… that could be worse.
Heavy boots crunched carefully over shattered glass near the front entrance while a flashlight beam moved over the dusty room and collapsed shelves. Whoever was here was moving slowly, like they’ve done this plenty of times. Confidently. Not scared like Jimin.
His grip tightened harder around the rusty scissors in his lap until the metal felt almost painful in his palms.
Please leave.
Please just take whatever you want and leave.
Jimin wasn’t sure if the person could smell him. He’d found some scent blockers in a pharmacy miles away from here just days ago. Something expired that burned against his scent glands when he rubbed too much of it onto himself. It was bad enough to make his eyes water in discomfort, but it was better than smelling like an omega.
Better than smelling soft.
Better than smelling vulnerable.
Better than smelling like an easy target.
The footsteps stopped.
For one terribly long second, silence settled through the entire store, and Jimin’s hands shook violently. He worried the person could hear his bones rattling beneath his skin.
Jimin prayed they’d just move on.
Please. Please just move on, he mentally begged them.
“Come out.”
Jimin’s shaking stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in fear.
“Come out,” the deep voice said it again with a hint of a snarl in the words. He sounded rough. Tired.
And… like an alpha with the way the threat laced the words.
Jimin knew it before the scent even fully reached him.
Before the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood met his nose. Before the thick and imposing scent of petrichor hit him, like rain on freshly dug-up soil.
Strong enough it met Jimin’s lungs despite the layers of dust and dirt and rubble in this abandoned building.
Jimin’s stomach clenched in fear.
Please just go.
Please just go.
“I already saw you run in here earlier,” the alpha continued after several seconds, and then Jimin heard his boot move, slowly. So slowly, testing. Waiting. “So either come out, or make me fucking drag you out.”
Fear ran down Jimin’s spine, and he tightened his trembling fingers harder around the scissors and stayed perfectly still.
And then the flashlight landed directly on him.
“There you are.”
Jimin flinched back violently at the brightness and scrambled backwards beneath the shelf instinctively, immediately lifting the scissors towards the stranger despite how pathetic they suddenly felt.
It was nothing compared to the rifle in the alpha’s hands.
He was standing near the middle of the room watching him carefully.
And Jimin was right. It was an alpha.
Broad shoulders hid beneath a weather damaged leather jacket still dripping in rain water. Heavy combat boots were streaked with mud and old blood. Dark hair fell messily over sharp eyes that looked over Jimin quickly, assessing him in one long gaze that made Jimin tremble even more.
He was calculating Jimin. Likely trying to figure out what he was, like it wasn’t obvious at this point.
Jimin hated that.
He hated that it was so easy to tell that he was an omega.
The alpha’s eyes finally dropped to the scissors in his hands. Then slowly back to Jimin’s face.
“You planning on using those?”
Jimin swallowed around the thickness in his throat, hoping his voice didn’t shake.
“If you come closer, I w-will.”
The alpha looked entirely unimpressed with him.
“You’d miss if you tried.”
Embarrassment flared hot underneath Jimin’s fear and he felt his ears burning red.
“I-I wouldn’t miss.”
The alpha cocked his head to the side as he looked at Jimin for a second, his eyes darkening a little even in this dimly lit room.
And then to Jimin’s surprise, the alpha crouched down in front of Jimin, still a few feet away.
Not enough to look any less threatening. Nothing about him stopped looking threatening. But he moved to rest his forearms lazily over his knees while he stared at Jimin, studying him.
“You alone?”
Jimin didn’t tell the truth. He couldn’t. If this alpha thought he was all alone, he might try to hurt Jimin.
“No.”
The alpha pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He didn’t buy it at all. His rain-soaked scent flared a little in the room, like the smell outside from the storm was sitting right in front of Jimin.
“I’m n-not alone. I have,” Jimin swallowed pathetically, anxious to make the alpha believe him. “I have a group outside, but I came-I came in here to look for something. They’re w-waiting on me,” he gave a paper thin lie.
Jimin immediately regretted it.
“You’re a shit liar,” the alpha said quietly.
Jimin’s heart beat faster in his chest, slamming into overdrive.
“I-I’m alone,” Jimin whispered finally, and the alpha stared at him for another few long seconds like he was deciding whether or not he wanted to believe him.
Jimin hated how badly he wanted him to.
Because the truth was, the alpha terrified him. Truly. Jimin has only seen a few alphas since the world went down months ago. And those… those all tried to catch him. Jimin had never let himself be caught, and he wasn’t willing to let it happen this time either.
But… this alpha was also the first living person Jimin had seen in almost three weeks.
Not from a distance.
Not running past him in panic.
Not dead.
Alive and breathing and still human.
The only person that has actually spoken to Jimin.
And somehow that alone makes desperation flood Jimin, despite every survival instinct screaming at him to stay cautious.
So when the alpha stands again and says, “fine,” Jimin inches forward a little bit, clinging to the hope that he won’t just leave.
The alpha shifts the rifle higher on his shoulder and starts backing towards the entrance again without fully showing his back to Jimin.
“I’ll be leaving then,” he said flatly. “But if I walk outside and get ambushed by any little friends of yours hiding nearby, I’ll come back in high and kill every last one of you myself.”
Panic hit Jimin immediately. “Wait,” he scrambled forward a few more inches, nearly leaving his little cubby hole of safety.
But the alpha just keeps moving away from him.
“Wait! You can’t just leave,” Jimin desperately throws the words out before he can stop himself. “I-I haven’t seen anybody in weeks, please just-”
“I don’t care what you’ve seen.”
The words are cold enough to make Jimin flinch at the harshness in them.
“You aren’t coming with me, and I’m not sharing what I have. You’re on your own omega.”
It’s so blunt that it hurts. Jimin thinks stabbing himself with these old rusty scissors might have been less painful. Because he knows the alpha doesn’t care. No one cares anymore. The world is overrun with greed and selfishness.
Jimin hated himself for still finding it in him to care.
“But I can help,” Jimin pleads in a strained voice, his throat catching, breaking a little with his exhaustion and desperation. “I can help you somehow, I swear.”
That finally made the alpha stop moving away from him.
Not because he seemed to consider it.
But because he looked truly irritated at Jimin’s audacity.
His eyes move over Jimin slowly again, just like they did before, taking in his oversized dirty clothes hanging from his smaller frame, the trembling hands holding tight to scissors too big for his hands, the fear and tiredness visible on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
“You’re weak,” the alpha says bluntly. “You look like your wrists would snap if somebody shoved you too hard. Those scissors are damn near too fucking big for your hands.”
Humiliation burns hot behind Jimin’s eyes and he wills himself not to cry.
“You’d drag me down and put my life at risk. There’s nothing you could help me with.”
The alpha clenched his jaw as he looked at Jimin for a few seconds longer, and then he just started walking away again. “I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. “But you’re on your own.”
Something crashes violently against the aisle behind him.
And then the alpha spins on his heel.
Just a second too late.
One of those creatures launches itself from in between the shelves with a scream so vicious and nasty that Jimin almost screams as well. It slams directly into the alpha, hard enough to send both of them crashing into the floor.
Jimin gasps and rushes backward, his back hitting the wall underneath the damaged desk he’d made his safe haven.
But the alpha’s rifle skids across the tiles. And another infected stumbles out from somewhere down another hall, rushing immediately after the noise, jaw hanging and black blood oozing from its face.
The alpha reacts instantly despite being pinned underneath the first creature.
A knife slips free from his clothing, fast and brutal, and he drives it upward through the zombie’s skull with enough force to send black tinged blood across the nearby shelves before shoving the twitching body away from him.
But the second is already lunging. The alpha barely gets his forearm up in time before decayed teeth are snapping just inches from his throat.
Jimin’s body is locked in panic.
At the sounds. At the violence of it all. The helplessness.
Because he does feel helpless.
He was lying before.
He said he could help this alpha. But he was lying.
He can’t do anything.
He can’t fight. He can’t even scream.
He just watches in horror as the alpha slams the second infected hard enough that Jimin hears bones crack against the floor, and screeching comes wailing further down the store.
Jimin stumbles backward blindly.
The flashlight rolled across the floor nearby, its beam catching against the shattered walls to Jimin’s left.
And Jimin sees it.
A hole blasted in the wall near the floor, barely large enough for someone small to force themselves through.
Too small for an alpha.
But not Jimin.
The alpha curses harshly as more of the dead grip at him harshly, and Jimin can only hear the sound of teeth snapping, the alpha’s low snarl, things crashing to the ground, just causing more and more noise.
Jimin’s hands are shaking.
He should run.
He really should run.
That was how people in this new world survived. They used the misfortune of others to save themselves.
That’s what this alpha was going to do to Jimin. Leave him here, all alone, to meet whatever fate came to find him.
But the image of walking back outside all alone again hits in his mind, and Jimin’s own desperation mixes with his sympathy.
He’s probably the only sympathetic person left in this world.
He thinks of three more weeks alone. Three more nights unable to sleep, terrified and wondering if it’s his last night on earth. Three more minutes of crying.
And then he thinks of three weeks of taking turns on who takes watch. Three days of sharing food or getting one decent night of rest. Three minutes of peace with the scent of an alpha to help calm his nerves.
It’s selfish.
Jimin is selfish.
This alpha doesn’t need Jimin.
But Jimin needs this alpha.
He drops to his knees beside the wall and shoves on the concrete, willing and praying it will move underneath his trembling hands.
He pushes hard and the opening widens just slightly. Just enough.
Jimin lowers himself down and squeezes through, hissing when the concrete scrapes over his ribs and stomach bad enough that he has to bite down against the whines trying to force their way out of his mouth.
His hoodie gets snagged and Jimin fears for one horrible second that he’s going to get stuck. But suddenly he falls through the other side, slamming hard into the ground as he falls a few feet into the floor, right into the edge of a room that’s untouched.
Jimin quickly moves around with the flashlight still tight in his shaking hands.
It looks like a storage room, dark and small and empty. And in the corner sits a massive locked metal door.
Jimin reaches for the lock right as another crash slams into the wall he just crawled through, and the alpha is shouting something that’s drowned out by groaning and screeching and the sound of something liquid rushing out of a body.
Jimin’s heart is racing, and he fumbles a few times with the lock because of how useless his fingers currently feel.
“Hurry, Jimin,” he whispers to himself. “Please, hurry, come on-”
The lock snaps open right as something slams against the door and Jimin hears an overwhelmed, “fuck!”
He yanks the door open just as the alpha bursts halfway through it, covered in blood and hatred, infected nearly on top of him.
Without thinking, Jimin grabs the back of the alpha’s jacket with both hands and pulls him back as hard as he can.
The alpha stumbles backwards into him so hard that they both go crashing to the floor, the alpha’s back plastered to his front.
An infected lunges after them, dripping hands outstretched, and the alpha reacts on instinct, his foot slamming into the large door, sending it flying shut.
And bodies fly at the door, one after another. Again and again and again. Hungry for flesh that Jimin doesn’t want it to have.
The alpha braces his boot against the door while breathing heavily, one hand still wrapped tightly around the bloody knife.
And Jimin just lies there, trapped underneath the alpha’s weight, chest heaving painfully beneath him as he stares over his shoulder at the ceiling.
For at least a full minute, neither of them say a single word.
It’s only harsh breathing and the sound of imminent death on the other side of the door, groaning and banging, like they’re begging to be let in.
But finally, the alpha drags himself up first, one hand braced against the wall beside the door while his chest rises heavily. Black blood is plastered over his leather jacket from the infected he just barely managed to fight off, and for one second, Jimin thinks maybe the alpha is hurt. Because he looks tired enough to collapse right back onto the floor next to him.
Instead, the alpha immediately starts checking himself over with rough, scattered but slow hands. He starts at his neck first, and then his arms, his torso, further and further. His fingers shove harshly through bloodstained fabric while he grits his teeth. Almost like he genuinely isn’t sure whether or not teeth managed to reach him during the struggle Jimin just witnessed.
Jimin stays where he is on the floor.
His lungs still burn in his chest while his entire body shakes from the leftover adrenaline and fear, and he props himself up slowly onto his elbows just to watch the alpha move around the cramped room. The storage room suddenly feels suffocatingly small now that the immediate danger has passed, but they both know that door won’t hold under the weight and amount of undead throwing themselves against it hard enough that it’s starting to groan.
The alpha seems finally satisfied that he wasn’t bitten, because his eyes finally land on Jimin and narrow.
Jimin slowly tries to push himself to sit up completely, but the movement sends a sharp pain across his stomach and sides, and he lets out a soft little sound of pain before he can stop it.
The alpha’s gaze drops instantly, straight to the blood soaked through both sides of Jimin’s hoodie.
“Where the fuck did all that blood come from?”
Jimin looks down at himself and winces.
The cuts burn horribly now that the adrenaline is starting to fade away. Every little scrape throbs beneath the wet fabric of his hoodie, and suddenly he feels painfully aware of how he must look, sitting half sprawled on the dirty floor while a large, armed, dangerous alpha towers over him inside of a locked room.
Jimin tries not to let his mind spiral into the awful things that could happen to him inside of this room. Things no one would ever live long enough to find out about.
The alpha takes one measured step forward. “You get bit?”
“No,” Jimin shakes his head immediately, the answer coming out too fast and too desperate. “No, I didn’t.”
“Show me.”
The words come out with bite in them, sharp and demanding that instinct takes over before Jimin can stop it, one arm immediately wrapping protectively across his stomach while he shakes his head hard in defiance.
The alpha’s expression darkens immediately at his refusal. Jimin worries he might just stab him to get it over with.
Jimin’s heart rate skyrockets.
“I didn’t get bit,” he says again, quieter now, worried, because suddenly the alpha looks angry in a way that Jimin feels genuine fear for his safety. “I didn’t get bit,” he whispers. “I cut myself… on the-on the concrete.”
The alpha keeps staring down at Jimin, so Jimin hurriedly gestures toward the jagged hole blasted through the wall.
“I couldn’t make it bigger,” he explains in a rush. “I had to squeeze through it, but… but it was very small, and I couldn’t-” he shakes his head wildly. “-I couldn’t fit even though I’m pretty small, so I just-I just… squeezed through anyway.”
For what feels like an eternity, the alpha just silently glares down at him, and Jimin sees him track the way Jimin’s throat works to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth. He honestly thinks he might throw up if he has to plead his case any longer.
But the alpha’s eyes move over to the narrow hole in the wall, seeing Jimin’s blood etched into some of the jagged edges. How evidence of Jimin’s sacrifice is right there as proof that they might only be alive because Jimin was willing to bleed a little.
He slowly looks back to Jimin, and Jimin swallows again.
“That was fucking stupid.”
Shame and embarrassment run through Jimin like lightning and he looks away from the alpha’s darkened eyes.
“You were the one making all the noise,” Jimin mumbles under his breath.
And then the room feels a little colder.
Jimin realizes… maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud, because surprise flashes across the alpha’s expression before irritation settles over it almost immediately after.
Like he certainly hadn’t expected the terrified omega on the floor to talk back to him.
He clenches his jaw before abruptly holding one hand out toward Jimin. “Give me the flashlight.”
Jimin immediately pulls it tighter against his chest.
“No.”
“What’s with you and that fucking word? Is that all you know how to say? It’s my fucking flashlight. Hand it over.”
Jimin says nothing in return.
He just stares up at the alpha warily while he holds the light tighter.
And the alpha exhales heavily through his nose, like his patience is being tested.
“You dragged me into this tiny ass room,” he snaps, his hands flying to his hips as he looks up at the ceiling like he’s needing a little blessing to get through the miniscule amount of time he’s been stuck with Jimin. “Now I have to figure out how to get us out before we end up trapped in here forever, so give me the damn flashlight.”
That same embarrassment crawls hot under Jimin’s skin again and he is so happy the room is kind of dark so the alpha hopefully misses it.
Right.
Right. Right. Right.
The alpha hadn’t asked to be saved.
Jimin did it for selfish reasons. And the alpha might have left him there to die if they were standing in the other person’s shoes.
Jimin reluctantly holds the flashlight out toward him, and the alpha snatches it immediately.
Jimin instinctively backs him further away toward the wall while he sweeps the flashlight over the cramped storage room. There's nothing but dust and cabinets in here. No windows or sunlight. No sign it’s been touched by the outside world. They might not be making it out of here.
The shuddering against the wall is proof of that.
That door won’t hold much longer.
And suddenly the awful thought hits him.
What if dragging the alpha in here trapped them both instead?
The alpha’s lips thin as he moves the light over the walls. And then he shines it upwards. The light lands on the ceiling, and Jimin’s eyes follow it automatically.
An air duct.
The alpha slowly traces the beam further along the ceiling until another vent becomes visible near the opposite wall.
Understanding and dread settles heavily in Jimin’s stomach.
Their only escape route from this hell… is climbing up into the vent, crawling sideways through the building, and praying it doesn’t collapse as it leads them somewhere that might not even be safer.
“No,” Jimin whispers before he can stop himself.
The alpha glances towards him briefly, flashlight still tilted toward the ceiling.
“We don’t exactly have better options.”
Jimin’s heart aches with anxiety so bad that it hurts.
The vent suddenly looks impossibly far away now that he looks at it. Now that it’s no longer just sitting above them in the dark.
Jimin’s eyes trace the narrow opening again, and fear turns cold in the back of his throat.
It’s too small.
Too high up.
Too closed in.
There’s no telling what’s up there.
The idea of squeezing himself through another tiny space after the concrete already tore him apart makes his stomach clench. All he can picture is getting stuck halfway through. Or the vent collapsing. Their bodies crashing through the ceiling straight into a room of zombies clawing and screeching and reaching for them.
The banging against the door rattles through the small room again, and Jimin flinches.
The alpha moves toward him suddenly.
Jimin barely has time to process it before large hands grab his waist.
He gasps sharply in panic, instinctively trying to recoil, but the movement only makes the pain flare like fire across his sides where the concrete cut his skin earlier.
A whine tears out of him before he can stop it, and the alpha’s grip pauses.
Just for a second.
Just for one second.
And Jimin thinks maybe he’ll let him go.
But instead the alpha’s hands tighten more carefully this time. Not softer. Not really. The alpha still holds him like he’s trying to move a problem out of the way, but his fingers shift away from the worst of the blood soaking through Jimin’s hoodie.
“Hold still,” he mutters, and the words come out rough and irritated, but not angry.
Before Jimin can process anything about that, the alpha lifts him up with terrifying ease.
The sudden height makes Jimin catch his breath, and his hands scramble against the wall, fingers slipping on the rough textured paper before finally catching the edge of the vent opening.
And the floor suddenly looks so far away.
Too far.
Way too fucking far. Oh God.
“It’s really high up,” Jimin whispers before he can stop himself, voice thin and shaky and way too high like this vent.
The alpha sounds deeply unimpressed beneath him. “Yeah. I noticed.”
Jimin swallows his embarrassment and tries to breathe.
Of course the alpha thinks he’s pathetic.
He probably is pathetic.
Jimin can barely breathe right now while this alpha sounds like he’s discussing the weather.
His grip slips a little when loud screeching comes outside of the storage room door, louder than any of the rest.
A frightened noise pours past his lips, and instantly, the alpha’s hands lock tighter around his ankles before he can fall. One slips up his calf muscle to hold him steady, and he grunts a little as he catches Jimin’s weight unexpectedly. All reflexive instinct. He caught Jimin before he even thought about it.
They both freeze for a slight moment, the room suddenly awfully quiet despite the chaos outside of it.
Because the alpha’s hands stay there, firm around Jimin’s leg and ankle, tight but not painful, supporting all of his weight.
“You’re fine,” the alpha says roughly after a second, like the reassurance physically pains him to offer. “Just pull yourself up.”
Jimin looks down at him, but the alpha avoids looking directly back. Like he regrets ever opening his mouth in the first place.
And that makes Jimin’s heart beat faster.
It shouldn’t. But it does.
Because this man clearly does not want to comfort him, and yet he did it anyway.
Another screech sounds off the building, and the alpha looks up sharply at him, something urgent replacing whatever encouragement slipped through a second ago.
“Either you go,” he snaps, “or you stay down here and get eaten. Honestly, I don’t care which one you pick, but you better fucking choose fast.”
There it is. That coldness again.
Jimin looks away quickly before the alpha can see his eyes sting with unshed tears.
The alpha already made himself painfully clear. He doesn’t want Jimin following him around like some scared little stray. Jimin should stop trying to pull softness out of somebody that doesn't have any to give.
But his hands are still wrapped around Jimin, holding him steady.
And Jimin realizes the alpha hasn’t let go once.
The contradiction makes his chest ache.
So instead of saying anything else, Jimin forces himself to start climbing. And every movement feels awful. His arms shake violently beneath his own weight while he drags himself into the vent, the narrow metal groaning softly underneath him. Dust immediately coats his palms and sleeves while darkness closes around him on all sides. It’s humid and hard to breathe and Jimin hates it.
He hates all of it.
The cramped space.
The way his breathing sounds like it’s over a megaphone.
The smell of rot clogged up in the space, trapped by the four corners.
The way the metal keeps making a sound every time he moves, like it might just rip out of the ceiling at any second.
And worst of all he hates the horrible awareness of the drop beneath them.
One wrong movement.
One weak panel.
One mistake.
That’s all it would take to send him crashing down into whatever nightmare waited below.
The alpha climbs into the vent behind him, and it groans much louder beneath the added weight.
Jimin nearly stops breathing entirely.
He’s convinced the whole thing is about to collapse.
But the alpha just mutters a low curse under his breath. “Move.”
Jimin forces himself forward. Slowly. One shaky little hand at a time. And he can feel the alpha right behind him, sucking up the rest of the oxygen. Close enough that warmth brushes faintly against the bottom of Jimin’s boots every time they stop moving. Close enough that if Jimin fell, he knows the alpha wouldn’t be able to do anything but fall with him.
Every few feet they pass another vent opening beneath them, and every single time, Jimin accidentally glances downward, and regret rushes through his brain.
Below them are dimly lit rooms, waning sunlight filtering through the windowpanes, illuminating dried up blood smeared across floors and black sludge that looks like something from outer space. Some of the bodies are still. And some drag themselves aimlessly through the ruined rooms with twitching movements that make Jimin’s skin crawl every time he sees one.
The further they crawl, the worse his fear becomes.
Every time the metal shifts under his weight, his pulse thuds so hard he feels it pounding behind his eyelids, dizziness rushing in. Because all he can think about is what would happen if the vent suddenly gave out underneath them. There would be no time to react. No time to catch himself. He’d slam through the ceiling and straight into the middle of those things before he even fully understood he was falling, and they would tear him apart while he was still alive enough to feel it happening.
His breathing starts getting worse the longer they crawl.
The air is suffocatingly wet and humid, but that putrid smell still clings to the inside, like it’s molded to the dust particles, burning his throat every time he inhales. His shoulders keep brushing against the metal because of how unsteady he is, and each time, it makes the vent feel smaller, like it’s just closing in on him the further they go.
It reminds him too much of being trapped.
Too much of hiding in cramped bathrooms while people screamed for help that wasn’t coming.
Too much of hiding under his blankets hoping the gunshots and screaming outside would just disappear.
Too much of listening to children cry because their parents never came home during those first few days of panic.
His lungs are burning like he’s running a marathon.
Jimin can imagine those creatures climbing into the vent after them through the darkness, reaching up through the opening, yanking him down through the ceiling while he screams for help.
His hands shake so badly he nearly slips on the metal.
He can’t do this.
God, he really can’t do this.
A large hand suddenly wraps tightly around his ankle before panic can fully take over.
“What’s your name, omega?”
The question barely registers at first through the panic spiraling through his body. His thoughts feel scattered and distant, impossible to hold onto properly while his heart pounds so hard he can hear blood rushing loudly in his ears.
His hands slip again.
Immediately, the grip around his ankle tightens harder, steadying him before he can collapse onto his stomach.
“Omega.”
The alpha’s voice changes then, dropping lower in a way that slices directly through the panic inside of Jimin’s head, his omega faltering.
“What is your name?”
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to force air back into his lungs.
“M-my name is J-Jimin,” he stammers shakily. “Park J-Jimin.”
For a second, the alpha stays quiet behind him, and Jimin becomes painfully aware of the warmth of that hand still wrapped around his ankle. The alpha can probably feel how badly he’s shaking. Can probably feel his pulse beating frantically, like a little rabbit fleeing a wolf.
“Alright… Jimin,” the alpha says his name quietly.
It’s been months since someone said his name like that. Not screamed in fear. Just spoken normally, like Jimin is a person instead of another terrified animal trying to survive until morning.
“Listen to me,” the alpha says, and although his voice still sounds rough around the edges, there’s something steadier underneath it now, like he’s actively aware that Jimin needs to be calmed down. “You have to keep moving or we’re gonna die in here. Do you understand?”
Jimin rapidly nods his head though the alpha can’t see it.
“I’m trying,” Jimin whispers, humiliated when his voice breaks.
The alpha goes quiet again like he’s trying to think carefully about what to say next. And that makes Jimin take a deep breath, because this alpha clearly isn’t used to comforting people. Every attempt sounds forced through gritted teeth, awkward and rough and almost irritated that he has to bother with it.
But he keeps trying anyway.
“We have to get out of this building,” the alpha continues, keeping his voice level. “So you need to be smart and be brave and keep fucking moving.”
Jimin doesn’t think he’s brave. Not one bit. He thinks he’s exhausted and frightened and so, so scared and lonely that he dragged a dangerous stranger into a room that they couldn’t escape because the thought of being alone for another week felt worse than risking his life beside somebody who doesn’t give a damn if Jimin died or not.
“But we’re r-really high up,” Jimin whispers helplessly, unable to stop himself. “And those things are d-down there.”
Behind him, the alpha exhales heavily through his nose, and Jimin braces for anger.
But instead, when the alpha speaks again, it sounds rougher somehow, like he’s forcing himself not to snap.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “I know.”
His thumb rubs once over Jimin’s ankle, almost absently, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s almost soft enough that Jimin thinks maybe he’s doing it so his words don’t sting as much. “It is a shitty situation. I know.”
Jimin stays frozen for a moment because the alpha is trying so hard not to sound like he’s irritated at Jimin, and yet he also seems like he’s trying hard to comfort him.
The hand around his ankle never lets go. His voice keeps softening despite how hard it sharpens right after.
“But do you wanna die up here?” The alpha asks bluntly after another second. “Or do you wanna die somewhere outside where you can at least see the sky again? The rain? The snow? Something better than these shitty walls.”
“T-the rain,” Jimin’s voice shakes when he whispers, and the hold on his ankle falters for just a second.
“What?” The word is rough, just a rasp.
“It’s s-summer,” Jimin whispers, swallowing hard. “It’s summer, no… there’s no snow. Just-just r-rain,” Jimin responds, and he can’t help but think how stupid it sounds. But as if the alpha could conjure it from outside… as if he realized something might help, his scent in the vent changes so violently Jimin couldn’t even compare it to the slow changing seasons.
Rain fills the entire ventilation system.
Strong, like drenched linens on the line, fresh water on grass.
Laced with the pheromones of an alpha.
Petrichor.
Jimin takes a ragged deep breath, the sound getting caught in his throat, and the hand around his ankle tightens as he takes another breath.
“If that’s what you want, then move your ass before the rain outside stops,” the alpha’s rough voice finally fills his ears again.
Jimin swallows hard against the dryness in his throat and forces himself forward again, dragging trembling hands across the dusty metal one shaky movement at a time.
Every time he slows his pace too much, the alpha’s hand tightens around his ankle again, like he’s reminding Jimin he’s still right there behind him.
The strange thing is, it works.
The touch keeps pulling him back out of his own head when the panic starts to settle in. Because as terrifying as all of this is, the alpha is real behind him. He’s here, and he’s stuck right where Jimin is, and he’s not scared. Not like Jimin. If he is, he doesn't show it. Every time his fingers close around Jimin’s ankle, it forces him to remember there’s another living person here in the dark with him.
Even if that person doesn’t want him here.
Even if that person clearly regrets being stuck with Jimin.
Eventually, blessedly, the vent opens up above another room near the edge of the building, and Jimin feels cooler air against his face through the grate.
The alpha shifts behind him, trying to maneuver awkwardly in the cramped space until Jimin can feel his body press closer so he can look down the vent opening.
Jimin’s pulse immediately spikes again when he gets close to Jimin.
It shouldn’t.
He doesn’t know why it does.
Jimin can hear his breathing now underneath the distant sounds of the infected behind them. It’s slightly heavier than before, probably because of the fighting and climbing and the lack of pure oxygen inside of these four walls, but all it does is remind Jimin again that he’s human and alive.
The alpha stays quiet for several seconds while looking down through the grate beneath them. Just listening.
And Jimin finds himself holding his breath automatically while he watches the sharp line of the alpha’s jaw tighten.
Please be empty.
Please.
“Looks empty,” the alpha breathes out in a quiet murmur, echoing Jimin’s thoughts.
Before Jimin can even fully process the words, the alpha suddenly drives one boot down hard, and the grate crashes violently onto the floor below with a deafening metallic bang that echoes through the room and somewhere down the hallway.
Jimin startles so hard his shoulder bumps into the alpha, and the alpha’s hand shoots out to grab his shoulder, one finger coming up to his mouth to shush him.
He holds Jimin like that for a full minute, listening, to see if any of those things are going to rush this way from the noise of the grate falling.
When nothing comes, the alpha slowly starts rearranging himself. He drops through the opening immediately afterward, landing heavily onto the floor below before straightening quickly and scanning the room in all directions.
Jimin stares down at him with his heart hammering violently in his chest.
He watches the alpha move from corner to corner in the room, and… for just a second, the fear that alpha might leave him crosses his mind, and Jimin’s scent flares so bitter that it breaks through even the awful blockers he slathered on earlier in the day.
But he forces himself to breathe, and forces his eyes to stay on the alpha.
And when he comes back to the grate and shoves his knife in the waistband of his pants, he looks back up at him and gestures with his hand.
“Come on.”
Jimin’s fingers tighten against the vent.
It looks high.
Everything looks too high lately.
The distance to the floor suddenly feels impossible now that he actually has to lower himself down.
His stomach clenches at the thought of falling. Missing. Slipping straight through the alpha’s arms and cracking his skull open on the concrete floor instead.
The alpha’s expression visibly darkens when Jimin doesn’t move.
“Get your ass down here before I leave you, omega,” he threatens.
But Jimin can only frantically shake his head.
And he sees the alpha take a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.
“I will leave you. I’m not fucking playing around.”
“W-what’s your name?” Jimin’s voice trembles, and it sounds pitiful.
He can tell at once the alpha doesn’t want to answer him, but he holds Jimin’s gaze for a long moment before gritting his teeth and shifting his weight to his right foot.
“Jungkook.”
Jimin nods, almost to himself.
Jungkook.
That’s a good name for an alpha. A strong name.
Good.
Right.
“A-are you going to-to catch me, Jungkook?” Jimin asks, his voice terribly small.
And he sees the alpha’s throat bob as he swallows.
But he stops gritting his teeth and just looks Jimin in the eyes.
“I will catch you, Jimin. Just fucking come down.”
The words should probably sound harsher than they do.
But all Jimin can focus on is the fact that the alpha said will instead of might.
Not try.
Not probably.
Will.
“You’ll catch me,” Jimin whispers.
His body shakes harder while he slowly scoots to the edge of the vent opening, every cell in his body screaming not to do it.
“You’ll catch me. Jungkook will catch me,” Jimin whispers to himself.
He hates this.
God, he hates this.
He moves his legs between the opening and his breathing turns fast when they dangle over the floor uselessly. He moves closer, teetering barely on the edge.
“Jimin.”
The alpha’s voice snaps up at him, focused and a little sharp, but not angry.
“You’ll catch me,” Jimin’s voice rises a little with his fear and he barely hears the alpha give a confirmation.
“I’ll catch you. Let go right now,” those words come deeper, a little more center chested, and Jimin thinks it might be an alpha command.
Because his fingers slip from the edge and he feels gravity tugging him down.
He squeezes his eyes shut tightly as he falls, but strong arms catch him.
The impact drags a startled breath out of him when the alpha’s arms lock around his waist, unyielding, like Jimin’s weight is nothing, and then he’s lowered to the floor.
Instinct takes over completely, and Jimin clings tightly to the alpha’s damp shirt while his heart races.
The alpha smells overwhelming this close.
Like the impact knocked his scent free.
Like rain, cutting through all of the other scents.
Drenching Jimin as it clouds over him.
The scent wraps around Jimin, warm and new, and terrifying all at once, because his omega breathes it in before his brain can catch up, and safety floods through his chest so abruptly it almost makes him dizzy.
And then his feet hit the floor.
“Th-thank you,” he whispers weakly as he pulls his hands away from the alpha’s shirt so mortifyingly fast.
And Jungkook immediately steps back from him.
Fast enough that Jimin can tell that he didn’t expect it either. Like touching Jimin any longer than necessary makes him uncomfortable.
Embarrassment burns hot across Jimin’s face and he quickly averts his eyes, trying to ignore how cold he suddenly feels without the alpha’s hands holding him upright anymore.
The alpha moves around him towards the windows lining the far wall and peers outside through the cracked blinds.
Outside, rain still falls steadily across the ruined streets, washing over abandoned cars and decay as it shuffles down the sidewalks.
Jimin told the alpha that he wanted to die staring up at the rain-filled sky.
He lied.
He can already see it standing right here in front of him.