onho; fluff

“Come on, that’s it..” Jinki urges. He wipes sweat from his brow, hot and over worked in all his policing body armor, but he’s still relaxed somehow in his current situation. He’s alone at least, or mostly. He’s been separated from his team in a raid on the undead, but after waking and under bodies and finding it quiet, Jinki explored only to run into a living uh.. undead.

This undead was somehow different, sure kinda gross and drooly, but it reminded Jinki of a small child more than anything else, and judging by the school uniform, the undead wasn’t very old. There was even a nametag on the uniform still, it read: Choi Minho.

Why Jinki was helping a dead teenager that’s sorta not dead, well his quirkiness is all he can blame it on. “Minho~,” Jinki calls, gloved hands out as he walks backwards for the boy to follow him. “You hungry?” He’s not sure what to feed the undead besides humans, and Jinki definitely isn’t tearing off an arm for the teenager. He sighs, stopping a moment to wait cause this kid is slower than a snail. 

It seems like forever before Jinki is in another room with dead bodies and the squeaks of whining animal. Looking around, he finds a caged dog looking worse for wear; blood coloring patches of fur. Jinki bites his lips and pulls out his knife with a thought. Put the animal out of its misery and feed his undead buddy still slowly following him. He makes the kill quick and merciful then tries to smile through the awful smell of the dead, offering the lifeless animal.

Minho looks at it, really looks, low voice a groggily question. 

“Eat eat.” Jinki says, setting the food down in front off him. He has to turn away while the undead eats, cause it’s just nasty. Jinki sighs and loosens his full body officer gear, sitting a sore and exhausted body down against a wall and finding the release of his suit more painful than relieving. He’s not sure what’s worse – the undead eating or all the dead bodies around. He keeps an eye on them instead, worried one might spring to life. Dead bodies had a funny way of doing that now. His hand stays near the knife.

Jinki bites back a laugh when Minho lifts his head, face full of blood that he could pretend was fruit juices. Jinki fears he’s losing his mind at this point. Well, alone and stuck with the undead, what is a person like Jinki to do? Roll with it. He slaps the floor beside him, and somehow the undead shows in intelligence Jinki had been specifically told in training no longer existed in the undead. 

Minho crawls over and Jinki swears the teenager smiles, nearly looking human again under all the red and torn clothes. It grumbles and groans, as if having a normal conversation. Jinki’s held tilts, eyes narrowing, and ears telling him he somehow understands.

“I like you, Choi Minho,” Jinki says sleepily.

The undead sits close to Jinki, picking at his clothes curiously, still reminding the cop of a little child.

Jinki laughs and it cuts off into a sore cough. Maybe if he sleeps a little, he’ll feel better and the zombie craze he feels will stop. But really, somehow, he would like to keep his new friend around – the friend shoving scraps of turn off strips by Jinki from the officer uniform into its mouth currently with a confused, and dear he admit it, ‘cute’ expression.

With another hard and heavy sigh, warm blood drips to the floor from beneath Jinki’s heavily layered armor.