A WRECK LIKE THIS
Jungkook x Reader
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: apocalypse, quarantine, disease, pandemic, angst, major character death, anxiety/childhood trauma, horror, blood, gun, COVID-19, violence, cursing, grief, long death, reanimated (?)/ post mortem talk, unfortunate slow burn :/
Insp: Old Yeller by Joji (specifically, a tiktok by emeryhoneys using this audio that has since been deleted. :/ )
Playlist
Summary: You and Jungkook met online during the COVID-19 pandemic, and have been friends ever since, through everything. You each watched as the other healed from the trauma caused by growing up through such catastrophic events, and supported each other through it all. So when a new virus quickly starts to spread, you turn to each other to survive, making promises to each other that you later find very hard to keep.
Author’s note:
This oneshot has heavy themes and viewer discretion is strongly advised. While I have a warning list, I want to reiterate;please don’t read this if you are affected by death, violence, heavy grieving, and anything to do with disease. I know that this is a sensitive topic today and I would like to remind you that while this world is scary, the world I am showing in this story is entirely fictional and is not meant to reflect on what will happen during recent historical events, as it is entirely imagined. Thank you for reading and as always, if you have any questions or comments, my ask box is open. Thanks!
A HUGE THANK YOU to @kookoosbunnynose, @kinktae, and @cheeky-kookie for beta-reading the initial drafts of this monster of a project I have been working on forever lol. Y’all are the reason I kept going, seriously, and I appreciate each of your feedback and support so incredibly much.
20 December 2029, 03:35 PM
The trees are wilting.
Perhaps it is the lack of rain, perhaps the smog plaguing the cityscape you’re surrounded by, perhaps it’s too cold again, after a false spring. The image scares you though, and with the recent global situation, you could have used a nice depiction of the outside world.
You choose to look at the artificial grass instead, hearty plants laced with plastic that stay green year round. A blessing and a curse, you decide, to have a grey landscape with the only beacon of life being something so fabricated. Instead of a comfort, it feels like an omen.
You can’t stop yourself from looking once more at your phone.
BREAKING NEWS: REVII-29 OUTBREAK SPREADS TO EUROPE
You lock your screen as fast as you can, squeezing your eyes tight, banishing the notification from your mind. Your anxiety got the best of you, again. Frustrated, you struggle to regain your composure. You attempt to count the ducks in the manmade pond across the way from the bench you’re sitting on.
Four. No, five. One of them was too small to see at first, but he’s there.
“Y/N!”
You whip your head to the left to see Jungkook running up to you from the winding path, smiling brightly in your direction.
“Hey!” you say, standing just in time for a bone crushing hug. Your body relaxes in his embrace, and suddenly . . . shit’s not so scary anymore.
“Did you see the news?” he says, catching his breath and pointing his phone screen to you, eyes glinting.
“Yeah, I did.” You say back, returning your gaze to the ducks.
“Well… did you see that he’s recovering?”
You turn to him, eyes wide. “Who?”
“The first victim! His vitals are improving dramatically. According to the doctors, he should make a full recovery.”
You smile, sitting back on the bench below you. “Really?”
He ruffles your hair, a grin on his face. “Yeah, really. Why would I lie about that stuff?”
“I don’t know.” you say, looking down at your feet. He sits next to you, gazing out to the pond. It’s silent for a moment.
“How many?” he asks, gesturing over to the ducks. You look to him.
“Five.”
“Five?”
“Yeah, there’s one hiding behind the one on the right. Why?”
“You count when you’re anxious.” he smiles, catching your gaze. You frown. “What’s going on in that head of yours, dove?”
You sigh and suck in a breath, turning back to him.
“I’m trying to stay level headed and not look at the propaganda, it’s just… it’s scary, you know? It’s only been a week, and it’s already spread so quickly-”
“Hey,” he starts, eyes gazing firmly into yours and hands pressed gently to your shoulders. “Let’s remind ourselves of what we know, yeah?” You take a deep breath in. “What are the symptoms again? Coughing, fever, headaches. . .”
“Cases are now showing paralysis as well.”
“Yeah, that’s right. But no death. There hasn’t been a single death from this disease since the outbreak. It’s just some new flu or-”
“But paralyzed.”
“Yes,” a small frown appears on his face.
“Which makes it harder for those with breathing issues to breathe, and, like, ANYONE to eat or shower or sleep or get help-”
“Yes, but- nobody is dying. Okay?” he searches your eyes for any signs of distress, before smiling kindly and placing a comforting hand on the side of your face. “Nobody’s gonna die.”
It’s silent for a moment as you feel the weight lift from your heart and you lean into his hand, a smile spreading across your face. You lift your head and start to fix your hair, which has now been completely disheveled. Jungkook smirks at that, returning his gaze to the water.
“Why do you insist on fucking up my hair?” you whine with a pout.
“Your hair was fucked up before I got here.”
“Hey!” you hit him and he laughs, doubling over at the waist. You can’t help but laugh as well, abs hurting from the joy you feel. Finally it dies down, and Jungkook stands, brushing himself off before jogging down the path once more.
“Let’s go! Come on!” he encourages.
“Wait up!” you call, frantically tying your laces.
“You’re slow!” he calls back, rounding the corner. You groan, quickly tying off the knot in your shoelaces and sprinting after him.
15 January 2030, 01:33 PM
“Fuck yeah!” Jungkook cheers, jumping up and down on the grass. You groan, your footsteps stilling on the pavement.
“You cheated.” you grumble, bending down to retie your shoelace.
“How do you cheat at running?” Jungkook teases, bending to your level.
“I don’t know exactly, but you figured it out,” you pout, standing back up to sulk. He laughs and walks up to you, offering a hug. You cave and find yourself in his arms.
“Maybe next time, dove.” he muses, holding you close. You pull away to look up at him.
“Yeah, if you don’t cheat.”
“Maybe you should run faster,” he flicks your forehead, making your eyebrow furrow.
“Hey!” you smack him and he laughs, playfully jogging away from you. You go to chase after him when your phone starts blaring an alarm.
ATTENTION: FIRST VICTIM OF REVII-29 FOUND DEAD IN HIS HOME. CITY WIDE QUARANTINE WILL BE IMPLEMENTED IN 12 HOURS.
Your blood runs cold.
“Not again,” you whisper, starting to shake.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Jungkook calls, his voice sounding far away. Your body barely registers his grip on your shoulders as your vision pulsates, breaths uneven and shallow. One of his hands drops from your shoulder to pick up your phone. When he sees the alert, you hear him sigh in frustration and fear.
“Y/N!” Jungkook’s voice snaps him into focus again in front of you, eyebrows knit together with concern. Your lip trembles, and you wish you could will your body to stop shaking.
“I can’t do this again,” you whisper, voice cracking through the syllables. He lets out a painful breath and pulls you close.
“This isn’t COVID.” he says, voice low and soft. “This isn’t COVID, okay?” he whispers, holding you tighter, and you know that he is trying to convince himself as much as you. You nod, pulling him tighter. “And besides, we can FaceTime just like last time, okay? And play Animal Crossing…”
“That game is so old,” you say, attempting to bring a smile to his face, body starting to calm.
“Are you telling me you’ve abandoned the peach trees on your island?” he says, feigning shock. You laugh, the sound surprising you.
“Fine, maybe I’ll visit your shitty ass island, if you’re nice.”
“Hey, my island’s great. I got a raccoon and everything.”
“Jungkook, everyone has Tom Nook, you’re not special.”
It’s silent for a moment as you both relax into a small tremble, both obviously still scared for what’s to come but crippling panic gone, for the most part. You hold him for a little longer, wanting to hold on to the last moment of normalcy for the foreseeable future. Eventually, you let your grip loosen, and he slips from your arms, both now sitting in the grass.
“Hey, I don’t have to drag you from bed to come run with me anymore.” Jungkook says, the joke landing bittersweet on the both of you.
“You never had to drag me out, really.” you admit, smiling. “I like running with you.”
“Well, I’d hope so.” Jungkook scoffs, and you laugh, which makes him smile back.
“Maybe we can do virtual runs.” you muse.
“What?” Jungkook looks at you, confused.
“Yeah, like, running in place on FaceT-”
“Uh, no,” he laughs.
“And why not?”
“That’d be ridiculous!” He looks at you, grinning ear to ear. You notice you’re not shaking anymore.
“Okay, fine, fine. We’ll just get fat then,” you grin up at him before looking back to the grass.
It’s silent for a moment, both of you contemplating how to make the situation stay light and happy. Easy.
“He was old.” You say softly, looking at your feet in front of you, tapping your heel to the ground. He nods.
“He was. And he already had health issues.” he agrees, tone mostly convincing. You both nod to yourselves for a moment.
“We’ll be okay.” you say, voice stronger than it has been since the outbreak. Jungkook grips your hand and stands up.
“Yep, we will.” he says, offering to pull you up. You stand as he pulls on your hand, then follow as he keeps walking.
“Well, want to go get some food before the end of the world?” He says, looking back at you. You laugh and nod, standing on only slightly shaky legs, and walk forward down the concrete path.
12 February 2030, 08:59 PM
“Stop hitting me with your fucking net.” Jungkook deadpans, his Animal Crossing character running as fast as his little legs can carry him. You cackle into the microphone, glancing at his pixelated frame in the monitor as he frowns at his switch’s screen.
“You asked for this.” you say before turning and stealing cherries from his island’s native trees.
“God, you have not changed.” he sighs, a small smile on his face. You feel warmth in your chest.
“I like to think the me of today would not have named my island Fuit Gummy.”
“The you of today is not ten years old.” he reminds you, turning his character to smack you with the net. “And get off my trees, I work hard on those.”
“Shut up, you don’t do shit.” you grumble, getting off his trees. A moment later, you hear Jungkook gasp and look up.
“Didn’t you need to go grocery shopping?” he asks.
You look at the time. 9:00 PM.
“Oh, shit-” You say, cutting yourself off as you snap your laptop closed, grab the mask and keys dangling from your key holder and book it out the door, an hour left to get supplies.
-
With the panic following the announcement of the shutdown, supplies have run scarce amidst the shelves, dented cans of sweet corn rolling across the barren aisles before being snatched by greedy palms. You squeeze past a swarm of shoppers to crouch to the bottom shelf, grabbing the items shoved to the back of the shelving unit that others hadn’t seen yet; beans, sauces, canned pastas. In other aisles you’re able to find stray sanitizers and cleaners, even lucky enough to find a few extra masks, stuffed behind some bedding. You feel satisfied; it’s enough to live for a week before you’d have to make another run, enough time for the new shipments of emergency stock to come in. You take your place in line, basket only slightly digging into the soft bend of your arm as you shift foot to foot, watching customer after customer leave. Confusion and concern etches their worn faces, bags of rations stacked in their carts. You wonder for a brief moment how many of these people will survive this.
“Hi there, did you find everything okay?” a familiar cashier says in a flat tone, lips curling into a cautious smile as she starts to scan the items. You miss the way her smile used to light up her checklane, once bright eyes now dull and insipid.
Guess retail will do that to you, you muse.
“Hey, Stacy,” you say to the cashier, attempting to lighten the mood. “Haven’t seen-”
“Glad to hear that.” She says, dropping a can of black beans.
You blink, startled by the interruption. The incessant beep of the scanner is monotonous against the silence, filling the air instead of the usual pleasant conversation you’d have with Stacy. Suddenly you’re too aware of the mask against your skin, your jacket’s worn seam on your wrist, the murmurs of people muttering their concerns into the air, droning on and on. Worse, you are met with the sound of aluminum cans hitting the tile below, missing the bag and rolling away from the checkout. A can of SpaghettiOs drops, hitting Stacy directly on the top of her foot and bouncing to the toe of your shoe.
She doesn’t flinch.
“Stacy?” you call, waving your hand in front of her face in an attempt to snap her out of it.
“That will be $9.99,” she says, eyes not quite reaching yours. You give up, picking up the items and bagging them with the purchases that did make it in. You dig out the cash and put it on the counter, but realize she is already ringing up the next customer.
As you walk away, you hear the sound of cans hitting the tile floor.
“What are you doing?” the man exclaims, picking up a can-crushed loaf of garlic bread. “I oughta tell your ma-”
“That will be $9.99.”
Your blood runs cold.
You turn around to see an employee come behind Stacy, guiding her to walk to the employee’s entrance.
“Come on, Stacy. It’s time for your break,” she says, voice faltering. You turn sharply back around, leaving the store and heading down the cobblestone walkway to your street, shoes scuffing against the pavement.
At 9:54 PM, you get a text from Jungkook.
Jungkook: Did you grab toilet paper?
You manage a soft laugh, a sound tainted sour with dread.
You: didn’t even have a chance
28 February 2030 04:54 AM
[4 missed calls from: Jungkook]
Jungkook: CALL ME!!!!! (when you get a chance)
You stare at the text, eyes crusted from sleep. Your eyes flick to the time, then glare back down at the words on your screen. The son of a bitch woke you up at 5 in the goddamn morning. Why the hell is he up?
You call him, hoping it’s not something too important so you can go back to sleep.
Within two rings, your ears are assaulted with garbled english your brain is too tired to quite comprehend.
“THANKGODYOU’REAWAKE!DidyouheartheNEWS?SomepeopleIguessarelikewakingup rightliketheCASHIERbutit’snotwakingupexactlyit’slikethey’reZOMBIESwellnotquitezombiesBUTLIKE-”
“Jungkook slow the fuck down, it’s 5 AM-”
“SORRY- sorry.” he takes a quick breath. “The people that are waking up- you know about that right?”
“Yeah, I think I read something-” you mumble, sitting up in your bed to turn on a light.
“Like the cashier, the cashier from like two weeks ago -”
“Stacy, yeah, the one that woke back up-”
“That’s the thing- they AREN’T waking up.”
You pause, staring at a spot on the wall as you wrap your mind around the thought.
“What, so like a ghost?”
“Well, not exactly- Their body is there, but-” he sucks in a breath, tripping over jumbled thoughts.
“Then how-”
“It’s the virus, I guess. It’s lasting longer than the host.”
“...what?” you stand, your feet pacing in a figure 8 on the wooden floor of your apartment.
“They’re calling it a twitch. The host dies, but the virus attaches itself to the nervous system and takes over while the body goes through the motions of life until the virus is dead. It’s like the virus is trying to live and spread as much as possible before their lifespan is complete.”
“So, Stacy…”
“Full time cashier, clocks in and out everyday.. It’s probably muscle memory at that point.”
It’s silent, your brain running miles a minute.
“How is a virus even capable of this?” you ask.
“That’s what scientists can’t figure out! I mean, I guess it’s probable because like viruses are technically parasites and spread by taking over cells, but to take over an ENTIRE nervous system, I mean, they’d have to replicate by the thousands! And to get it to operate without the host being alive and retrieve memories and tasks-” Jungkook’s voice is excitable, growing in volume and energy as he continues on.
“Christ…”
“They were running tests on some of the bodies to try to figure it out but the government pulled funding-” “WHAT? Why the fuck would they do that!?” you stop in your tracks.
“They SAID they should focus on a cure, but-” he says, voice dropping in volume.
“But?”
“I don’t think so. I think something bigger is going on.” his tone shifts, more serious now.
“Like what?” you say, ignoring the goosebumps that have spread across your skin.
“Notice how the only ones getting infected are old, or had preexisting medical conditions?”
“Yeah, we talked about that.”
“I think that this is on purpose.”
Your eyes go wide.
“I think this is on purpose, some government issued assassination-”
“What-”
“Okay well not assassination, because that’s too like pointed but like I think this infection is manmade, on purpose. Maybe some sort of population control? It just makes too much sense, with the weak being killed off-”
“The WEAK? Jungkook, these are PEOPLE-” you start, incredulous at what he’s insinuating.
“I’m not saying it’s right! But like, with the population issue that’s been going on for decades now, global warming, and the end of the world looming over us, maybe the people in power are taking drastic measures to improve our odds as a whole. Including making a nearly indestructible virus.” he says, his voice so stable and nonchalant that you are taken aback. How could he not be terrified of the story he is spinning into existence?
Your pulse quickens as your vision blurs in front of you, the low light of your lamp spilling into the blues of the wall. Your knees start to shake, as Jungkook’s voice grows further and further away, before snapping back into the forefront of your mind.
“I’m just saying, if the government decides to zombify me, you better pull the trigger.” he says, a sharp laugh punctuating the thought.
This snaps you out of it, horror flooding your features.
“WHAT?”
“I said-”
“DONT fucking joke about that!” you bark, limbs trembling beneath you.
“I-”
“People aren’t being “zombified,” you aren’t catching the virus and you aren’t dying.” You sit on the bed now, rubbing your hand against the raised skin on your thighs.
“Okay! I’m sorry, I just... I’m sorry.” he says, voice laced with concern.
“Okay.” you breathe out.
“Are you okay?” his quiet voice calls over the phone.
“I don’t know.”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.
“Are you counting?”
“Nine.”
“Nine what?”
“Pens. And two birds outside my window.”
“What kind of birds?”
“Crows.”
“Are they pretty?”
You manage to smile.
“Of course, they’re pretty. They’re crows.”
You hear his soft laugh on the receiver.
“You’re right, stupid question.”
-
You find yourself tossing and turning, thinking of the implications of Jungkook’s theory. How many shells of people are walking among everyone else right now? How far has this virus spread? How many will be taken? Were they really sacrificed like that, without thought or care of the stories and memories attached? Would that even be moral? Killing millions, but potentially saving billions? Would it even be worth it? Would it even work, or be possible? You stare out at the moon, bright and waning amidst the sky. The stars are too faint to see, the city lights and smog drowning them out.
You really hope, with all of your might, that he is wrong, that this is just his overactive brain theorizing after playing too many video games in quarantine.
Yeah, maybe the quarantine is getting to you both.
Your phone vibrates.
Jungkook: Just checking in. I’m still really sorry about earlier. Maybe I was just trying to make it easier by making shit up, idk. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I wasn’t thinking and there’s no excuse to not be taking this thing seriously. I know what COVID did to you, to your family. Hell, what it did to mine. . . I shouldn’t have been saying what I was saying. I’m sorry.
You frown.
You: It’s okay. It’s just hard, right now. Being alone again is just hard, and thinking about stuff like that makes it so much harder.
Jungkook: yeah.
Jungkook: If I could I’d be holed up in there with you, but I don’t feel like going to jail right now.
Jungkook: tbh I’d sneak over anyway, if I knew you’d be safe.
Jungkook: Anyway, meet at town square tomorrow?
You: Yours or mine?
Jungkook: Mine, obviously. It’s fucking steller.
You snort.
You: give me one of your trees and we got a deal.
You put your phone down, smiling at the ceiling, before your phone buzzes once more.
Jungkook: I wasn’t kidding, though.
Jungkook: I don’t want to die like that.
You close your eyes, dismissing the thought of it before it plants roots in your mind.
You: Of course not. No one does. But you won’t die like that, I promise.
18 March 2030, 09:54 PM
Your vision tunnels as you stare at the screen, unmoving.
“-The bodies now dropping dead, again. That’s right; reports are now stating that the virus loses control and dies off around a week after ‘the twitch’ begins.” the news reporter states, no life in their eyes.
Thousands. Thousands of bodies are dropping by the second, the virus now spreading worldwide. This is so much worse than you could have imagined.
A third of the population, gone. 2.8 billion lives lost. Just like that.
You call Jungkook.
“Hello?” he says, voice hoarse, as if he just woke up.
“Jungkook, are you watching the news?”
“Yeah,” he croaks. “I am.”
“I can’t believe this.” you whisper, curling yourself into a ball on your mattress.
You both watch as a montage of bodies drop on the screen; parking lots, grocery stores, pharmacies, nursing homes, all filled with dropping corpses. It’s so much messier than you thought it’d be. Why are they showing such close up images? Why is there so much coverage? Why do they almost look alive, right until the very-
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks over the receiver.
You pause for a moment.
“I don’t think so.”
It’s silent over the line.
“Jungkook, what if it gets worse? Spreads more than we project? What if we can’t control it anymore?”
The static from the other end begins to feel unnerving.
“It won’t, dove. I can promise you that.”
“But how can you say that- how are you so sure?”
The air hangs heavy before you hear his heavy sigh.
“Y/N, I did something stupid.”
Your heart drops.
“What do you mean?”
“I- The more I thought about it, the more that our conversation the other day made sense. I started to get public records sorted, god, you should see my room- it’s plastered everywhere- but I started gathering more information and… Y/N, it was lining up so perfectly, too perfectly-”
“What did you do, Jungkook.”
“I needed to know more, I knew I was right about this, and… No one’s in the judicial offices right now, they’re too scared of catching REVII-29, so it’s not heavily guarded-”
“Oh my god-” you start, voice shaking.
“I went in through the window? You know, the one towards the top? It’s attached to an office, and I found the office of cases against hospitals and shit, and all of the REVII-29 cases are just… in the trash. Same with anything to do with life insurance from loss of family members through the outbreak. They aren’t helping the public with this, and the news-the news isn’t even covering it! I mean, why wouldn’t the news be covering this, and why did police not find the dead bodies before they started to twitch? Well, turns out, they’re being told to leave these claims.”
His voice is shaking now as you hear his footsteps against the carpeted floors of his room.
“I was right, don’t you get it? The virus- it really is population control. They really are killing all these people on purpose. Anyway, I grabbed all the files I could fit in my backpack and I left, but-” he falters, breath heavy against the receiver.
“But what?”
“I guess I was followed?” he says, his voice small. “I was grabbed from behind, in the alley by my apartment. Damn it, I was so close…” he trails off, voice trembling to a halt.
His footsteps stop, carpet shifting, and you hear a sharp inhale.
“I felt this pain, in my neck, and… I tried to fight against it, but there was something-I was being injected, so, the needle bent,”
“Oh my god,” you gasp, tears forming in your eyes.
“Y/N, I can’t feel my fingertips.”
Your phone shatters against the floor.
-
He looks terrible; knees shaking, shirt torn, neck bruised and bleeding. But he’s alive, in front of you, and for that, you feel relieved.
“What are you doing here?” his voice trembles, eyes brimming with tears and knuckles curling into the doorframe.
He has never looked so small.
“You can’t do this alone,” you smile, desperation clinging to your features. “I’m here to help-”
“Go home,” he starts to shut the door, but your foot catches it. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
“It’s too late, I’m already exposed,” you insist.
“If they catch you out here-” he says, glancing behind you, genuine fear behind his eyes.
“The ones that pumped you with this virus? Yeah, they can suck my ass, frankly.”
He looks back to you, wide-eyed.
“I’m not leaving you to die, Jungkook. I’m not fucking doing it.”
“No one has survived this, dove-”
“Yeah, well, no one has caught it this young, either.”
Jungkook backs away a little, lip trembling. You step forward.
“Please. Please, let me be here with you.” you say, forcing his gaze to lock with yours.
He drops his arms in defeat, a shaky breath leaving his lungs. Then, he steps forward, wrapping you in his arms. You can feel his body tremor, quiet sobs shaking his frame. You relax against him, pulling him tighter.
“I couldn’t leave you like that. I can’t- I can’t give up on you like that.” you say, tears staining your cheeks.
You hold each other for a moment, trembling limbs finding comfort in the tenderness of the other.
“I’m sorry.” he cries, and you don’t know what he’s apologizing for. “I’m so, so sorry.”
22 March 2030, 02:29 AM
You wake up to Jungkook screaming.
“Jungkook! Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you call, checking for any injury or progression of sickness.
“I can’t- fuck!” he screams, pounding on his thighs, whole body shaking. You grab his fists and hold them down, fear shooting through your body.
“Jungkook, breathe-” you start. He locks eyes with you, panting and dampened with sweat.
“I can’t feel my legs.” he whimpers, a strangled cry that sends another wave of anger through his body as he weakly pounds at his thighs. “They won’t move.”
You pull him to your lap, holding his fists until they slow to a dull thud against his flesh, then push his hair away from his sticky forehead.
“It’s okay,” you soothe, running your fingers through his hair, “I’m here.”
His fists eventually fall to either side, breaths heavy. Tears stain his face.
“I don’t wanna die, Y/N.”
You smile weakly, wiping the tears from his face and pulling him closer to you.
“Don’t think like that,” you whisper, barely audible.
He twists his torso to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging your waist tight. You smile and rub small circles on his back, watching the fabric fold and crease underneath your fingertips and his muscles relax beneath them.
You wait until he’s fast asleep against your chest to let the tears fall.
1 April 2030, 02:29 PM
This is a sick joke.
You can’t stop your mind from pounding the thought into your skull as you attempt to heat a kettle of water, shaking too hard to keep it from spilling over the edges and sizzling on the hot stove. A weak breath comes from your throat, strangled into a soft flutter of air against your lips as you allow your head to hang from your shoulders.
“Y/N?” Jungkook calls, his voice sounding broken, wilted.
“I’m coming, I just have to start the water for your tea,” You call, hating the way your voice trembles as you speak.
Today marks two weeks of paralysis. He’s regaining feeling in his limbs and spine. You know what’s happening, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it aloud. Besides, you can’t do that to him. You don’t want him to feel any worse, he’s already got a lot on his mind.
You grab the plate of sliced oranges you prepared for him and walk to his side.
“I know you’ve been having a hard time eating, but these are your favorite and I-”
“Y/N,” he calls, looking into your eyes. He looks tired, more beaten down than you’ve ever seen.
“Yes?” you breathe, counting the moles on his face to slow your breathing. Five. No, six, one was so small you hadn’t noticed it before.
“I already know.”
Your breath slows, like cement pouring into your lungs.
“Know what?” you smile, weakly.
“I’m dying.” he says, gaze searing into yours. “I’ve been counting.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your vision blurs and your stomach drops.
“Counting’s my thing.” you muster, voice quivering around the joke. No one laughs. You suck a breath in. “No one’s dying.”
“Everyone’s dying-”
“YOU’RE not dying! Okay? You’re not.” you say, setting the oranges down to hide the way your hands shake. “You’re not going to die. You’re regaining feeling in your arms and you’re breathing better-”
“You KNOW what that means-”
“-and if you just hold on and just keep fighting, then maybe-”
“Y/N!”
“WHAT?” you scream, eyes wide and panicked, tears trickling down your face, a small false smile on your lips. You look to him, laying on the floor, half his body limp and the other half propped on worn pillows. He looks so small, so frail. You wonder how much weight he’s lost.
“Stop.” he breathes, tears welling in his eyes. “Just stop.” he props himself on a trembling elbow, turning his body to reach for an orange slice, averting his gaze. You feel something in you break in that moment. Almost on autopilot, you find your body moving forward to help him peel the orange slice.
“I’m sorry.” you whisper, not trusting your voice of much more as you crouch down to the plate.
“It’s okay. I’m just.. Tired, you know?” he says, his soft laugh choked with a cough.
Fatigue is a late stage symptom.
You shake your head, trying desperately not to spiral.
“I know. You’ve been fighting for a long time.” you say, a smile on your face and an orange in your outstretched hand. He takes it in his fingertips, bringing the fruit to his mouth. It’s almost relieving to see the orange juice spill from the sides of his mouth as he bites down; some organic color amidst his paling skin. You look down to your hands, eyebrows furrowed.
“Do you remember a few months ago, what you said to me?” he asks, wiping the juice from his face absentmindedly with a shaky hand.
“You won’t die like that, I promise.”
“We talk nearly every day, I’ve said a lot to you-” you start, a light laugh lifting your words.
“You promised I wouldn’t die like this.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think-”
“Did you mean it?” he questions, searching your gaze for an answer. Your eyes well up with tears.
“Can we talk about something else?” you whisper, breath quickening.
“Y/N, I’m asking you to-”
“No-”
“Please, I NEED you to-”
“No, no-”
“Y/N, get the gun from my drawers and-”
“NO-”
“Shoot me! Please-” he chokes, tears streaming down his face as he grabs your hands in desperation. “I don’t wanna die like this. I don’t wanna die and forget who I am. I don’t want my body to be-”
“Jungkook, please-”
“Walking around without me being there, I don’t want to-” his voice breaks and he sobs, elbow giving out and his head landing in your lap, grasping your fists tightly. He sobs for a while, the sound piercing through you and sending shivers down your spine. You cry with him, petting his head and wiping the sweat from the back of his neck.
“I can’t taste anything.” he cries, voice cracking. “And my vision is getting blurry. Please, Y/N.”
It's silent between the two of you for some time, long enough that your knees grow numb, long enough for the sun to start setting and bathe the barren city in a golden glow, long enough for your tears to dry against your cheeks.
You’re really losing your best friend.
“Where is it.” you manage.
“In the top drawer of my dresser.”
You walk over, floorboards creaking under your weight, until you reach the door and pull it open. There sits a pistol, polished and loaded. The sight of it sends ice through your veins.
“Did you find it?” he says, looking in your direction. You manage a small nod and walk back to your place beside him, cold steel pressed against your hand. You can’t look anywhere but where the metal hits your skin, body going rigid beneath you. It isn’t until Jungkook’s hands wrap around yours that you look up.
One, two, three, four, five, six. Seven, if you count the one on his neck.
“We’re running out of time.” he says quietly, pleading and apologizing in the same breath. Your vision starts to blur again.
“I don’t know if I can do this, I-I know I promised but fuck, Jungkook, I didn’t think-”
“I’m asking you for a lot,” he starts, tears dripping from his chin to the fabric of your jeans, “but I only have you. That’s all I got left.”
You suck a breath in, an impossible smile forming on your face, despite it all. “How are you feeling?”
He laughs, a bitter one that barks its way from his lungs. “I’m scared.”
You feel the tears spill from your eyes as you laugh too. “Yeah.”
It’s silent for a moment, choked breaths and quiet sobs filling the air.
“Count with me, love.” he whispers, pushing the gun under his chin. Your hands start to shake again as he moves your finger to the trigger.
“Don’t…” you plead.
“One,” he starts, his faltering voice giving him away. “Two-”
“Jungkook I can’t, I can’t do this-”
“I love you.” he says, a small smile on his features, a goodbye in his eyes.
You stop, mind momentarily stunned. “W-what?”
You jump when his thumb runs across your hand, unintentionally pulling the trigger.
Your ears ring as the gunshot echoes off of the walls of the apartment, Jungkook’s body collapsing to the floor.
You barely start to register what’s happened when his body twitches and reanimates, lifting his torso from the ground, eyes vacant and half open. Terror fills your limbs as you fumble for the gun, shock still controlling your body. You lift the pistol to his chest, faltering before you can shoot, staring into the blank eyes of your best friend’s corpse and wondering how the world went this wrong.
You squeeze your eyes shut and pull the trigger, Jungkook’s body falling limp with the second gunshot as the bullet rips through the spinal cord. Shakily, you take your hand and wipe the blood from your eyes, lungs unable to catch a full breath.
The scream that comes from your body isn’t something you can control, but rather it’s primal, guttural, as it rips you wide open and tears spill from your eyes, pink staining your cheeks as the blood runs down your face. Sobs wreck your body as you double over onto his chest, pressing the remaining heat of his existence into your skin. The pistol clangs against the floor as it slips from your grasp, fingers curling into the blood-soaked cotton clinging to Jungkook’s back.
Hours later, you smell the stove, and realize you left the kettle on.
You wonder, for a fleeting moment, if water can burn.
