a/n I'll fix the cover later. Oof, I feel like I've spent too long actually trying to figure out what I'd do for a Zombie fanfic. This is significantly different than the original idea I had in mind. Have a good day <3
+ the Lub dub (it'll make sense when you read it/ get to that part) is the sound a heartbeat makes. I always thought it was more of a ba-dum noise but you know, whatever google says is law.
The institution is tall, a hulking mass of coal that juts out of the ground like a broken bone and blends in with the inky canvas of the night sky. Several large hollow eyes fit with tattered print curtains gape onto a small sidewalk down below. The little face of a child with straggly hair like spaghetti peers down from a one. His eyes are wide pools of dark chocolate framed by delicate, long eyelashes; he stares mesmerised in wonder at the outside world that stretches beyond the building. Beyond all he has ever known his entire life.
He cocks his head in wonder, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. Taehyung's tiny wiry fingers clasp the window ledge and he smudges his cheek against the cold surface to peer further. To be one with the glass and feel the warm summer night air beat down on his skin and rake its warm fingers through his limp hair.
Outside, houses sit prim and proper in white picket fence cages in orderly rows tucked behind freshly cut grass and perfectly trimmed bushes. The epitome of demure. Each house lay betrothed to delicate flowers and the sweet scent of bloomed marigolds and apple blossom trees. Taehyung sniffs and with a pleasing jolt, he finds out that he can smell the faint scent of grass and the distinctive orange scent of summer. The sky is a pretty shade of dark blue, speckled with golden freckles and a large wise moon that stares back at the pale-cheeked little boy. His eyes trace the constellations sewn into the blue canvas in awe and he can't help but feel that feeling again.
The feeling that the matron of the orphanage told him is bad. When he blinks he can see her imprinted on the backs of his fragile eyelids, her eyes scorching with anger and wielding a beating stick with an emotion akin to rage. He can hear her firm stern-voiced words in his mind, stuck on repeat like a broken old cassette-tape.
But he wants that feeling. That feeling fuels him. The familiar yearning to be outside the Institute for at least once in his life builds up in his lungs and overcrowds rational thought in his brain. He wants to run on the well-pressed tarmac pavements, feel the wind's cold breeze press against his eyelids, brushing his cheek. He wants to laugh and roll around in wet grass starlit with drops of dew in an early morning and hear the singing of birds soaring across the sky.
There is a sudden shout behind him and he whirls around in sudden fear, his heart races inside the constraints of his chest. In front of him descends a trail of stairs that drown into darkness. He polished the staircase yesterday but despite what the matron says, nothing will restore the archaic staircase back to its former glory. With a quivering hand, he presses against the surface of peeling away wallpaper to stabilise himself so his knees don't give out.
The noise is bad. Very bad news.
The staircase creaks and groans with a perturbing sound and with it comes the heavy fat steps of someone clunking up the old withered steps. Taehyung's tiny heart shudders in fear and shrinks against the brittle bones of his ribcage.
There is no question of who is walking up the stairs. No one else in the orphanage is allowed out of their rooms past six O'clock—including himself. Using his frail feet, he stumbles away from the staircase and merges in with the shadows that crawl across the corridor leading on from the staircase. His best hope of survival is to hide.
With bated breath, clutching his ribcage with a boney hand that is discoloured and a pale, pale beige, he waits.
And waits.
It feels like years until a tall looming figure emerges from the depths of the staircase. Their silhouette is black against the drab grey patterned wallpaper. A plump hand clasps onto the knob of the staircase as the person rotates their hand like a machine to scan the area. As their cagelike gaze passes the corridor leading on from the staircase Taehyung's breath hitches. Gets caught in his throat that is clogged with a thick paste of trepidation.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
The figure freezes instantly—spine straightening and face alarmingly pointed towards Taehyung's exact location. Their body is odd: a mismatch of a thin reed-like neck, plump thighs and a bulging stomach that hangs over two bulking monstrous contraptions that should not be defined as boots.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
Taehyung's heart screams from inside his ribcage and everything in his body screams along with it. He pushes down to the ground silently and scrambles backwards further into the darkness, hands grasping at the floor uselessly. The darkness crawling from the walls of the corridor trails a cold finger down the nape of his neck eliciting a startled shiver. He fights another shudder as the shadows teasingly coil a strand of his brown, lusterless hair.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
The thing moves a foot towards his direction but halts. Taehyung's eyes latch onto the hesitant posture. His blood runs cold. Stings with a prolonged icy pang that he has learnt over the course of his lifetime to associate with the thing that currently lurks by the stairs.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
From outside the building, a church bell clamours, breaking the tense atmosphere. Suddenly the figure abruptly turns around and trunches down the steps, the loud noises haunting the silence in the area. The room seems to lighten with the figure's departure. With that Taehyung leaves, slinks away towards his room, his heartbeat resounding like a drumbeat in the hollow pits of his ears.
