the end // yoonkook

1 × rain

Min Yoongi is perched atop dewy, chartreuse colored grass in Jeon Jungkook's backyard. Jungkook himself is laying on a hammock beside Yoongi, phone in hand, scrolling through mindless posts on social media. Yoongi isn't one to be too fond of social media, so he fiddles with the book in his hand instead, the words barely coming together among his scattered string of speculation.

Yoongi and Jungkook aren't friends. Nobody is really friends in the preternatural district of Racamphill. Not when the constant enforcement of fighting for your lives is present. Monsters are everywhere—it's blatantly paradoxical to trust anyone. The two boys are waiting for their parents to finish discussing business in the Jeons' overly ornate kitchen, barely passing a glimpse at another, a "hi" being the only word exchanged between them.

Yoongi looks up, discovering sunny skies. Fluffy clouds of white dots the vast region above, which is a lovely shade of blue. He lets out a deep sigh. He just wants to go home, to his music equipment, so he can have something somewhat significant to do, and not be bored out of his mind, air around him reeking of such awkward silence.

Finally, his patience pays off. His parents step out, and he spares Jungkook a glance. The younger boy presents Yoongi a tight smile, and he returns it with one of his own.

---

Loneliness in school is almost fundamental at Racamphill. The building's modern architecture always leaves newcomers flummoxed and locals at times find abstruse to grasp, as the town is so ancient that they'd expect everything to look stony and gray. What people generally expect of the town is probably a more contemporary version of Transylvania. Then again, the common thing between Transylvania and Racamphill is death. Too much of it, even.

The inside of Racamphill High is seemingly endless hallways, dim lighting casting over individuals all tending to themselves. Yoongi listens to the sound of everyone's shoes walking along the linoleum floors, the sea of teenagers all heading for the auditorium for their morning assembly, barely any noise of incessant chatter.

The assembly starts as usual, as it is every Wednesday. There's the national anthem, then any announcements from teachers or students. It was so normal. Racamphill is one district far from normal, but the entire scene before the first bolt of lightning struck was the only way to describe it.

Thunder crashes. Just one strike. The growling sound of pummeling rainwater comes next. Everyone hears it. Everyone's heart stops. The lights go out. A scream is heard, just one—everyone else are speechless. What would you do if you knew you were going to die?

Yoongi always knew that if the rain happened in his lifetime, he wouldn't survive. It was much work, only the undaunted could push through. He wasn't one to do everything in his willpower to wrangle and struggle against something meant to happen. He valued life, but if it was time to die, then so be it.

The red eyes are now ambiguous. Only a few pairs at first, then some more. There are definitely more humans than monsters, but they were still much more unassailable and abundantly threatening. Yoongi feels something almost creep up his arm, like a gush of wind. Somebody has opened the door outside the auditorium and people are getting out. Monsters follow. They slither up against the humans, like trapping them in a flurry of air.

The air force is strong enough to float the human up in the air, not too high off the ground. Their heads spin and spin, turning so turbulent their neck snaps and their head falls to the ground. The bustling crowd around him has caused Yoongi to collapse to the ground. He has to run—why can't he move? He watches the fellow student, now headless and growing dead plants from his bloody neck area, swiftly dropping to the ground rather bleakly, and to his death.

Yoongi draws in a sharp intake of breath. He gets on his feet, and his brain feels like a feather. Everything spins, but what hurts most is his arm—the arm that was stroked by the monster. It was marked, and feels like it's on fire. He runs through the mob, consisting of both monsters and humans, the only distinguishable feature between the two being eyes so red they're neon lights.

He makes it outside, and another gust lingers on his right shoulder. Just then, the pummeling stops. No light drizzle is followed. It's just eerie solitude. The monsters get their normal eyes back, and the ones who've killed return from their wind form.

"That was only the first wave!" Someone yells. It had to be one of the adults, like teachers or staff, because the students weren't old enough to have experienced the rain before this one.

The remaining students would soon be evacuated, and sent home. Home to what? Their already dead family? Tears sting Yoongi's eyes, and he sort of hates himself for it. Then again, he's never been much of a survivor.