DEATHDAYS - a BTS OT7 post-apocalypse au

/one

The earth had had enough.

The world, the vast expanses of land and cobalt oceans, dotted with human creations and human's destruction. Our pretty blue planet had had enough.

War had broken out among people. They laid waste to the land that they had so proudly claimed, civil fights and nuclear attacks and they had used up all their resources in a battle that was won by no one.

It didn't take much. A bomb meant for the U.S. had been dropped in southern Quebec, and another two in Russia. Each event had rivaled those of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; millions were killed, wiped off the face of the earth like they had been nothing but dust, as they were now. If they weren't slaughtered by the impact, they were poisoned by the radiation. If not the radiation, then they were lost to the riots that burned through cities like they were nothing but paper.

The world's population dropped from nearly eight billion to a flat seven.

The world had ended, although it still spun. All had been lost in a span of five days.

People always grieved in November. It had happened in November, and such things could not be forgotten. Those who felt lighter in turning their pain to comedy would laugh and pretend it didn't matter, but of course it did—no one who had lost a parent, a sibling, a friend, or a lover was special anymore, and life was cruel.

After the Deathdays, as they came to be known, the earth had its time for retaliation.

Plagues broke out everywhere, families fragmented already were sick and dying and it spread like wildfire. Tsunamis ravaged the land miles beyond shores and hurricanes tore the inland to shreds, earthquakes shattering the ground, and it rained until urban land had become swamped, all in constant harmony. Lightning struck fires that swallowed up towns and the world's population went from seven billion to six again.

Not that there was any way of knowing, after all. The phones had cut out sometime after the Deathdays, and power and electricity and running water soon followed. The highways were flooded by traffic, people eager to escape hell even though there was nowhere else to go, but now it's nearly seven years later and all there is to show for it all is streets and roads covered in the rusting carcasses of cars, seats empty and torn, carved out by the animals that had recovered better than the humans had from the end of the world.

The rest of the humans had gathered; after all, to be alone is to be dead in the way the world was now. Markets sprung up, and bartering was the only way now because money had little value anymore. There were those who traveled in gangs, seeking only violence as a way to channel their anger about their losses.

There are no rules anymore. No need for phones or computers or much of anything at all. Nobody exists to keep humanity in line anymore, and yet somehow, it is more civil than before. As it turned out, humanity could excel in peace if only left alone, to some extent.

The world had collapsed. And that was beginning to become okay. Ivy vines crawled over structures built by man and broken by time and rain, and a light rain drizzled along the cracked cement streets.

Min Yoongi made his way through this world alone.

His scuffed, muddy sneakers that had once been red and white beat against the uneven ground, although what little noise was made was softened by the moss that seemed abundant everywhere you went.

His hair had been blond when the Deathdays had occurred and the end of the world had taken place, but it had grown out over the years and his brother had cut it a few times to keep it out of his eyes, resulting in a head of blond hair with grown in brown roots. Now though, his hair was rather long—he couldn't be bothered to do it himself, and his brother was long dead now.