ODDS OF SURVIVAL - TAEKOOK

CHAPTERTHIRTY

He didn't remember starting the car. He didn't remember driving. His perception of the world around him felt like it was filtered through a thick, suffocating fog that blocked out all sound and light.

Some fragment of his brain must have been able to function through it, running on base instinct to get to safety, to go home.

No, that wasn't entirely true. When he tried to focus he had vague memories of driving heedlessly through a small cluster of zombies as he left the pharmacy.

There were also moments of anxiety where he wasn't sure he was going the right way without Taehyung to guide him with his maps, but those were always drowned out with waves of apathy because what the fuck did it matter whether or not he got home?

What was waiting for him there? Suffering alone, waiting for his infected injuries to slowly kill him?

There were a few times where he thought he could just drive the car into a tree and end it sooner rather than later, but then he couldn't guarantee that the crash would kill him quickly.

The Falcon didn't deserve that, anyway. It hadn't done anything wrong except for that time it broke down and left them stranded for a day until they managed to fix it.

Memories from that day came flooding back vividly. The car sputtering and stalling. Checking under the hood.

Arguing with Taehyung about fixing it, how to fix it, if they should bother to fix it at all or just find a new car instead.

He remembered Taehyung getting in his face as they fought, thinking Taehyung might punch him and being surprised when Taehyung kissed him roughly instead; teeth sharp against his lower lip, Taehyung's hip bone grinding uncomfortably into his, frustrated hands fumbling with clothing, the smell of engine oil and antifreeze when Taehyung bent him over the front of the car and fucked him senseless.

Afterward, Taehyung had been distressed because he'd allowed himself to get carried away and had sex in public where anyone could have seen, and Jungkook had gestured to their desolate surroundings and laughed at him.

Why had he spent so much time laughing at Taehyung? Teasing him? Making his life miserable?

At the time it felt like Taehyung deserved it, but looking back now it all just seemed like unnecessary meanness.

He could've been nicer. He could've made sure Taehyung knew he cared. Did he even know?

Had Taehyung died thinking no one gave a shit about him?

With Jennie's insults fresh in his mind, and Jungkook calling him an asshole with the last words he spoke to him?

Why did he have to fuck up every single relationship in his life?

All of the people he'd cared for the most were dead now, and they'd all died thinking he didn't love them.

He should be dead. Every single thing he'd done since seeing Taehyung's bloodied jacket sleeve amid the crowd of zombies had been a mistake.

He should have quit right then and there, just walked out the door and into the nearest pack of corpses and let them tear him to pieces. He should have never come home, where all that awaited him was despair and a slow, painful death.

But he'd fucked up and now he was just sitting in his dad's old car, staring at the steering wheel because he didn't think he had the will or the strength to move ever again.

If he sat here and didn't move for the rest of his life, how long would it take him to die? Maybe he would find out.

His head hurt. His body hurt. He felt cold and sore all over, but his mind was numb and fuzzy as if his skull was stuffed with cotton swabs or pillow fibers.