there's no god (yoonkook version)

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The first thing to fall was the media.

The state of alarm lasted a few days before it all came crashing down. They were told to stay home, to not open the door under any circumstance. There was always someone behind a screen telling the world not to panic, that the situation would be managed in a matter of weeks. Yoongi remembered screams coming from next door, and how he decided to play deaf as he stayed hidden in his bedroom, more confused that scared but still quite frightened.

The streets had never been emptier, he knew because he often peeked through his window. He knew it was far worse than they were letting on – everyone knew, but he still listened to every word they said as if it was a lifeline and he was one step away from death. It didn't take long for all kinds of communication to collapse, for the panic to kick in. Every word that was ever said through a screen long forgotten as people grabbed everything they could and got in their cars and left. Left the city, left their lives, left Yoongi for dead in his bedroom as he waited for his roommate to come back.

He stayed there for a few more days, until the screams died down. There was a backpack ready next to his bedside table and a sofa pushed against the front door as if it was enough of a barricade to keep himself safe from whatever it was that was taking over the world. He didn't want to leave, not when there were no more noises coming from outside but he couldn't be sure what the danger really looked like. He didn't want to leave because he didn't know whether he would be safer out there, whether everyone that ran away had actually made it.

But he still glued his ear to the door, careful not to even breath while he gripped the backpack a little too tightly. He still opened it when he thought it was safe enough, when he couldn't hear a single thing, and he was relieved to find an empty hallway. He locked the door using his key, out of habit, and silently prayed he would make it to his car.

...

The sky was clear for the first time in what felt like a hundred years, even if it was only a month into the first winter after Yoongi left home. He couldn't say he was thankful for the lack of rain – he was more likely to be heard if there was no background noise to cover the sound of his footsteps, but it was still nice for a change.

Yoongi liked to think he had matured a little, even if the reason for his growth was the blood on his hands and the knife hidden on his waist. He had no choice but to learn how to walk safely, to look out for himself, to keep moving. He felt safer on the go, with no real place to stay for more than a couple nights. Yoongi was sure there had been dried up blood on his face for at least two days, he knew it by the itch on his cheek and neck. He scratched his skin as he carefully pushed open the door to the abandoned store.

He knew the rules: get in, grab what you need, and leave fast. Don't get distracted, don't get distracted, don't get distracted.

Yoongi placed his hand on the handle of his knife, hidden carefully by his clothes. He gripped it firmly, just in case he needed to use it. His steps were careful, almost soundless, while he walked down one of the aisles. He just needed food to keep him strong for a few days, until he could reach the next village and start again. He had seen what happened to the people who had tried for big cities, he had seen the corpses, the blood, the undead.

He hung his backpack from only one of his shoulders as he quickly stocked up on everything he needed of what was left in the store. It wasn't until he closed his backpack that he heard it – a grunt, a groan, a cry.

Don't get distracted.

He secured his backpack and returned his hand to the knife, taking it out as he made his way back to the door. It's not your problem, it's not your fucking problem. Just get out. He heard another cry and cursed in his mind as he turned around and followed the noise.