#it is actually still just violent and degrading and endless get in line and know your place. It is the same

[myrfing]

i guess maybe on a broader scale this is a Boyhood issue & I always reiterate this but like. getting your ass beat for crying or showing weakness or coming off as gay and having people grope you as a “joke” is like. Well congrats this is also a “girlhood” experience

[bts-love-sweat-tears]

The Boy at the End of the World 1

Title: The Boy at the End of the World, part 1

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Type:apocalypse!au; dystopian!au

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,955

Listening to: “Diamonds” by Jauz ft. Kiiara (I feel like Jungkook would actually be into this song? Kinda matches his GCF sound; maybe a little too bass-heavy?), “Bad Liar” by Krewella

A/N: Wasn’t planning on releasing this yet, but here’s something for everyone who is going through intense Bangtan withdrawal with me. Seriously, when was the last time they went 5 days without tweeting? Ever? Ofc they don’t owe us anything but I MISS THEM.

I’ve been feeling like it’s the end of the world recently, with various heat waves and political news coming out of my country, which you can definitely see in this fic. On a lighter note, Kook has been making me swerve madly lately, and I’m usually immune to his charms (*lies*) anyway, Mercury is definitely in retrograde or something.

Again I’m playing around with first person-the reader is the narrator <3 For once, I’ve planned out in advance, so there will be more parts to this. But the One Ring Series is a priority for now…

In some ways, the end of the world was a blessing. Of course, that was only once you got past the rather large inconveniences of having no functioning public services, grocery stores, air conditioning, and law enforcement-in no particular order.

But if you could get past the complete and utter lack of structure, it was actually kind of…freeing. When people would run into others they had known before, they were mostly impressed to find each other alive, yardsticks of career, marriage, and educational institutions long since cast aside. As long as your basic needs had been met for the day (not as easy as it might have once seemed), you were free to do whatever you wanted. Which for me meant roaming to what had once been one of the largest riverfront parks in the city and sketching the remains of once shiny skyscrapers, which now resembled crumbling teeth.

Before the fall,I had wanted to be an artist. I’d like to think that I had the talent, but I wasn’t willing to suffer for it-not when I saw the trepidation on my parent’s faces. So I chose the “safe” route, going to school for chemistry and later getting a job testing and refining polymers for various industrial uses. It was vastly more boring-and comfortable- than the starving artist gig, but I liked the precision and attention to detail required. It kept me focused and helped the days go by quickly.

At night, I was still an “artist” in whatever small ways I could be, going to community classes, visiting galleries, and spending more than was strictly necessary at the supply store. In the end though, my responsible choices were all for naught. The unstable lifestyle I had worked so hard to avoid had found me anyway, through circumstances outside of my control.

The art supply store: probably the creature comfort I missed the most from before-the building remained, but the stash and the staff long gone. Walking past it hurt me physically, like running into an ex, so I tried not to. I rationed the pastels and watercolors I had, knowing that after they ran out, I would have to created my own. I knew I could do it, what with my background but it would take a lot of trial and error. Before, I could have just looked it up in the internet, but even that was long gone. Plus, making my own seemed to be a concession, a surrender, an acceptance.

Anyway, I digress. What it meant though, was that due to my seemingly endless supply of hotel and promo pens from years ago, I mostly did ink drawings, in a small leather-bound notebook, in my spot at the riverfront park, always during daylight hours. Night was too dark now that the electric grid was off more reliably than it was on. Even if you had a generator or had jerry-rigged some kind of electrical access, it was better to not draw attention to yourself, unless you had some way to protect what was yours. The country I was from had been relatively safe before the fall, but it was good practice not to risk it. I’d heard rumors of vigilante groups out at night, though so far I’d been lucky not to have any run-ins. Though the line between luck and preparedness was a fine one. Anytime I’d see something that didn’t quite sit right, I’d slip away, drawing as little attention to myself as I could manage. Over the years, I’d become quite good at evasive maneuvers-surviving solo in this new world was no easy feat. I wish I could say I was braver than that, but it had kept me alive for this long in a city decaying from the inside out.

That’s another thing I should make clear- that although those of us who are lucky enough to still be around call it “The Fall” like something sudden, the end of the world was actually a gradual process. Maybe someday, historians (if there are such people still) will assign a set date, Even if they do, it will be for the Jenga block that toppled the tower, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sure, there were events large and small than led to this, but there were larger trends long before: unjust laws, political despots, environmental degradation, job loss, internal and external terrorism. It was like we tripped and were falling in slow motion, but we couldn’t see our fate until we hit the ground, already bleeding. These were useless thoughts to have, far too late to do anything about it, but they kept me up at night, wondering if I were complicit in myriad small ways for not doing more when I could have, the selfish desire for a quiet life overpowering all else.

The only time I was untroubled by these thoughts or the minutiae of my daily survival was when I was sketching. My mind didn’t wander and despite the limitations of my pen and paper, I was there fully, thinking only of the sunlight on the water, the shade of the clouds overhead, untroubled by the collapse of society below, how to best capture the breeze visibly. People would sometimes come up and watch me. I was always polite, but never took the conversation further than was strictly necessary. Normally they would drift off to seek a more willing conversation partner.

The last few times I’d gone to the park, however, I’d been haunted by a silent boy. Or man-I’d found it impossible to discern his age. He had traces of lingering baby fat, giving him a look of youthful innocence. But I could tell even through his oversized t-shirt that he was built. Not many people had the protein to spare anymore, so this told me that he was either very adept at surviving in this new world, or had people taking care of him. I didn’t ask questions. I couldn’t decide if he was the deer in the metaphorical headlights, or if I should be wary of him, the bunny pursued by the wolf. Everything was survival of the fittest in this world, and at first blush, he was definitely more fit than me. He had never done anything other than watch me sketch, but sometimes when others would approach, I could see a fierce, guarded look in his eye. But the siren song of my partially inked pages called me back, and I soon grew so accustomed to him that I could forget his presence at my back.

We likely could have continued forever in this way, me sketching and him silently at my back had it not been for my encounter with one of the vigilante groups I so feared. I was just arriving back from foraging in one of the now-overgrown parks, when I noticed a shadow slip stealthily past the window of my second-floor apartment-from the inside. With the subsequent adrenaline rush, I was able to hear snippets of a too-casual conversation. The voices were far too relaxed to be inexperienced-whoever was ransacking my apartment had done it many times before, and little fear of retribution. The lack of a visible lookout should have been a clue as well. Without a moment’s hesitation, I slipped back into the lengthening shadows of the early evening, knowing that I was outnumbered and not violent enough to confront them.

I had no plan but I knew better than to roam the remnants of the city looking lost. My purposeful, confident (though false) strides led me back to the riverfront park where I often sketched. Somehow, a solitary bench had been spared from the societal fallout, not yet stripped for kindling or god knows what else. I plopped down, allowing myself to take the first full breath since encountering the renegades at my house.

I was regretting my decision to remain in the city. Before the Fall, I had been a competent young professional, with my own place and all the independence that entailed. My parents had long since retired to their remote lake house, more of a glorified cabin than anything else. I had held on until the final moment, never fully believing that things would fall apart, even as gas was rationed, phones and internet went down, the lights flickered out. I thought my job would keep me safe. By the time I was ready to go, I would have had to walk or bike. Even though I knew the way, I could not be sure what I would encounter in the wilderness past the city limits- at least  here I knew what to expect. The devil you know,and all that.

I sat there, lost in my thoughts and cursing my previous naivety. As I pondered my next move, a towering figure lowered down next to me. I jumped, adrenaline from before still coursing through my veins, and berated myself further for letting my guard down yet again so soon. But my heartbeat settled somewhat when I noticed that it was only my sketching companion.  We sat silently, together but apart, and I was surprised to find that I found his presence comforting. When he spoke, his voice was smoother than I would have expected, a youthful edge still hanging on. It occurred to me that he might actually be younger than me, though I had no way of knowing.

“What are you doing out here so late?” He asked, a crease of concern marring the space between his brows. In my previous life, I would have dismissed such a question as patronizing, but now it only seemed curious that he had observed my coming and going so closely.

I paused, biting my lip. On the one hand, it would be a relief to share something of myself with someone. My mysterious friend had never given any indication that he meant me harm. But hadn’t my current predicament arisen because I had become too comfortable, too complacent? I knew literally nothing about him. He must have sensed my wavering, but he didn’t push it and I was grateful. You might think it awkward, but I found his silence a gentle acceptance that my frayed nerves needed in that moment.

The light faded further and the sky became that velvety indigo that can only be seen on those rare perfect summer nights that I used to take for granted but hadn’t seen in so long. If I hadn’t been so anxious, I would have appreciated it more, and would have wanted to linger longer. Though I no longer enjoyed the night, I felt inexplicably safe with him by my side. As the stars began to come out, he stood up to go, moving almost imperceptibly in the darkness.

“I should get going, or my hyungs will worry,” he said, hesitating. “My name’s Jungkook, by the way.” Though I couldn’t see his face well, the slight tremor in his voice made me thing that he must have been nervous. Did I make himnervous? But before I could continue down that particular train of thought, he continued.

“I know it’s not much, but you’re welcome to come with me. Normally you would have left by now….my hyungs are kind of crazy and loud, but mostly harmless. Only if you want to, though,” he trailed, running his hand through his overgrown hair.

Though I’d been wavering about admitting to needing help since we had sat down, the fondness in his voice when he talked about his brothers had convinced me. With only a little trepidation, I stood up and followed him into the night.