𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 [TK]

prologue

Jeongguk let out a weak groan while rubbing his throbbing forehead in dismay. Throat burning dry from suffocation and taste of vomit soon enveloping his dried lips, which slightly parted away once realisation settled into the pit of his stomach.

Making it growl in the most ugliest way.

But fuck, where was he?

And then the last night events came dooming upon his fucked up mind.

He clearly remembered being dragged into a big building with lights flickering like madmen, by one of his friends. Then jamming along to some absolutely ear deafening beats and drinking like a typical high school teenager only to slack off later on a couch like the noob he was.

Not to mention the awful smell of his own vomit reeking off his clothes that probably-- as much as he tried hard to forget---was because of spilling whatever colourful liquids he had consumed earlier out on a random girl he had bumped into and over himself. He was drunk, okay?

That was probably the first thing he had ever done after getting wasted. But after getting a snap-hard slap in response on emptying nearly half of his stomach on her beautiful red velvety dress, he, like the good boy he was, went back to the ongoing afoot fuckery and slept on a couch, totally unbothered by the world revolving in circles around him.

Mainly because, firstly, he felt like dying. And secondly, he could care less.

Waow, so much happened. And there he was, squinting his eyes yet better in order to try adjusting to the blinding sunlight piercing through the mullioned windows of the building floor.

And as he sat up from the rather small couch, he winced in pain. Feeling some major parts of his body aching, probably because of the uncomfortable position he might have slept in.

Roaming his eyes around, his vision lacked in spotting any human presence. And was met with cheap bottles of alcohol covering the entire floor beneath and an empty hall with silence like he could even hear his breathing at this rate.

"Where has everybody gone?" He mumbled to himself. Soon after shrugging his shoulders past the sound of clock ticking nearby.

He scrunched his nose in distaste and got up before making his way inside the washroom to make sure he doesn't reek of vomit anymore.  

A splash of cold water was all that was required to bring him out of his sleepy state. And so, grabbing a pair of outfit hanging on the hook by the bathroom door, not knowing whose they were neither caring for a second thought, he discarded his own and changed into the fresh ones.

And as he made his way down the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder why everything seemed strange.

No, it wasn't strange in a way that he was all alone. It was as in, everything around him was way too quiet, unlike other days where there were honking of cars to the point one would prefer to go deaf.

And his pace fastened in horror once he hit the main road.

Was he dreaming?

Because it certainly seemed as if the entire town had been taken down over a night. Or an apocalypse, unknown to him had just occurred and gone in a poof by the time he woke up basically to nothing or yet better, no one.

"Hellooo?!" He screamed on top of his lungs, horrified. His voice echoing back to him, accompanied with lone newspapers flying over the dusty streets and cars which may cost one fortune abandoned like an old book in a library.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. ANYONE THERE?" okay, now he was panicking. What was even happening?

It's not like you wake up everyday to witness an entire town vanishing in thin air like its people weren't even there in the first place. And you're the only one who's left to wander aimlessly and in thoughts you don't even know whether to think anymore, because nothing seems to work even after you beat yourself, scream, and at some point pass out from the fucked situation you're being forcefully dragged into.