Dodging Danger Everywhere
He sat on the wood looking floor, facing the wall to wall and ceiling to floor mirror.
He had a leg stretched before him, and was bending towards his foot. Truly stretching to feel a slight burn. He was warming up for some dance practice. It was where he felt most alive, and truly himself. Dance was an artform. A form of expression. Of one's self, one's emotions, and one's thoughts. The music was the paintbrush, his body the canvas. The emotions the color. And the result the masterpiece. He often did his dancing alone. Preferring a more freestyle dance. Freer to express himself and all the feelings and emotions he held deep inside.
Anyone who met him, would think he was a very harsh and stern omega. He was serious and stubborn. Often having a more alpha-like attitude than the soft gentility of an omega. But those who truly got to know him, knew he was soft and sweet on the inside. But seeing as how omegas like himself were seen as nothing more than bed warmers, he had to protect himself from alphas like that. Only for his alpha mate would he truly show he was what an omega could be like.
And he decidedly had very few friends who knew this side of him.
He was trying to keep himself calm. For a beta-alpha female has been after him for some unknown reason. He did know she had a thing for those with breasts. She was a boob female, apparently. She chased anything with a pair. From male omegas to female alphas. A bit disturbing, but he hardly complained. Until she started to really come after him. What made it worse, was she was a performer of some kind. And was looking for new creative dances.
So, he was unfortunately expecting her today.
Normally, he wouldn't mind helping someone find a new rhythm for dance. Normally, he wouldn't mind a dance partner now and again. It was wonderful. Even if he had yet to find someone he could truly connect with in such a way. And normally, he wouldn't mind a performer needing his help. They were artists as well. But he was decidedly uncomfortable with her. He felt preyed upon. Like she was going to use this opportunity to do things he wasn't comfortable with. Thank the universe he wore a sports bra, to help flatten his chest enough to not get her attention so easily.
Deciding to use his more alpha-like attitude on her and be harsh when it came to the art he took pride in, he would just have to put up with it.
He shouldn't have to.
But he would.
//
After having done a warmup dance, the beta-alpha finally arrived.
He could go off on her enough to prove to her he wasn't a pushover. He hated when other wolves were late. He took his art of performative art very seriously. He wished they would as well. However as he turned to yell at her, he paused. She didn't look too hot. Pale and sickly. Sweating a little. Before he could ask if she was really up for dance today, she gave him an up down feasting. Deciding he'd really make her work her ass off in such a condition, he decidedly didn't care how she felt.
She gave a slight trill as she approached, "Hello, Minho."
Minho rolled his intense fire blue eyes as he turned away, "You're late. I don't like being kept waiting."
She replied as sweetly as she could, "I am so sorry, Minho. This random guy came up to me and just bit me. Not deep or anything, but it was random. He looked sick, and I think he passed it on to me."
Minho watched her. He hummed, unsure how to feel about such information. Likely half of that was true. She was sick, clearly. But being bitten randomly? That was a bit farfetched.
Unaware she was telling the truth.
Deciding to just ignore her odd story, Minho got her started on some warm up stretches. He made sure she couldn't peak down his shirt as they did them. Seriously, she wasn't being stealthy about her attempts. Once he felt she was thoroughly warmed up, he proceeded to guide her through more intense choreography. Normally, Minho preferred freestyle. To just let his body and inner self be expressive with the music. But she was a public performer. He had to fine tune it for her field of career.
And yes, he truly made her work for it.
If she was sweating before, he made her really sweat during. However, he noticed her growing increasingly pale. And rather gaunt. Despite his desire to not be seen as a pushover or a meal she could have, Minho didn't want her to get any worse. After a few more times to just get the choreography down, he decided it was time to call it a day. He finally paused the music and spoke, "I think we've done enough for the day. You're clearly not doing too hot. Why don't you go home and get some rest. We can pick up again when you're feeling better."
She spoke, brushing his words off, "I'm fine."
"No, you're not. You look about ready to pass out."
She watched him a moment. For a moment, he thought she was actually going to faint. Then a rather predatory smirk appeared across her face. She prowled towards him. Not liking the way she was acting, Minho backed up. All the way, until his back was against the wall. She inquired, "Oh, is this your attempt to spend more personal time with me? Making it seem to whomever may be listening you're being professional, when all you want is some fun?"
Minho replied in slight discomfort, "Um, n-no. You really do look like you're about to faceplant. I am worried for your health."
She hummed, seemingly unconvinced. Upon cornering him, she reached towards him. Her hand managed to slip into the collar of his shirt, and her finger caressed along his breast. He shuddered, and felt extremely uncomfortable and violated, "Sure you are."
He tried to flatten himself as best he could as she leaned in. Clearly, she was aiming for what he wasn't willing to give her. To be honest, Minho had a slight preference for male alphas. But even then he didn't care too much for them. Just as she leaned in, he heard it. A banging, and possibly screaming. Along with a lot of running and things hitting the floor.
What had her finally jumping back, was a heavy bang on the door.
//
Minho with her distracted, finally slipped from where she'd cornered him.
He then went to where his things were, and spoke, "We need to go. You're sick, and I want to shower."
She huffed.
As Minho made to ensure he hid well and put a hand over his mouth, he watched as she opened the door to leave. Immediately, she was tackled to the floor. His eyes bugged as the other began to actually eat her, despite her screams. Now, he had a feeling her story was accurate. He wasn't sure why he thought it was a good idea to hide and remain quiet. Perhaps a gut instinct. Though, the heavy smell of rotting flesh was a bit of a giveaway. He shook himself of his horror watch, and silently pulled his things close. Then carefully and quietly, he rose to his feet.
The undead was unaware.
Unfortunately, they were between him and his quick exit. Minho knew he had to get out of there as soon as he could. It was essential for his survival. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or not when the lights finally went out. The hum of the electrical currents gone. Power outage. Likely, an eternal one. He didn't know how far spread this illness was. But he's seen enough movies and shows about this to know, the power wasn't coming back on for a while.
Maybe never.
He could have huffed.
All the scenarios were so similar regardless of the length of showing, yet the real world couldn't plan properly for it? He always thought it best to prepare for a possibility. With the cover of darkness, Minho had a chance to sneak around them. He just had to not really breathe or make a sound.
He had just reached the door frame. Keeping himself facing the horrific scene, when the undead stopped. He sniffed, before turning to him. And gave a bit of a roar. With his heart rate increased, Minho turned and bolted from the room.
Well, shit.
As the first gave chase, Minho did his best to dodge any others coming at him. Hearing his heavy breathing, and clearly the sounds they were making. He could thank his quick feet and dancing capabilities for his ability to swerve well out of their reach. He had to get home, just to plan things out better. Upon reaching the outside, he didn't take the time to take in the chaos around him. He did as he bolted. He turned and raced for his home with his parents. He wasn't sure if they were home or not. Changed or not. But he had to get back. If nothing more than for a place to bunker for a bit.
Plan.
And then, ultimately leave.
He wasn't sure where he'd go. But he'd go where the winds took him. He would probably wait until the mass panic and hysteria were over. The crowds and hordes moved on. Then he'd start his scavenging, and migrating. He had to be smarter than the average wolf panicking about him. That was often how it was to work.
Only after he got to their unit and slammed and locked the door, did he grant himself a chance to catch his breath. He listened carefully through the puffs of air he was exhaling. It was silent. No movement, no unnatural groaning. Nothing. He looked to his phone, not yet dead. Merely messages of love from his parents, and to take care of himself.
A farewell, basically.
He'd miss them.
But he'd do as his father said. He'd not look back too often in sadness. He'd move forward, and try and find a future. A mate, if he was lucky. And a possible cure. Maybe the end of the apocalypse. Was that even possible? The ending of the movies and shows were often bleak. Some had some hope. And others, made it seem as if there was no hope left. Deciding there was nothing he could do at the moment, Minho decided it was best he got some sleep. He'd be here a few days, and it would be beneficiary for him.
How he managed to ignore all the screaming and squelching sounds. The smells of blood and rotten flesh, he would never truly know. But somehow, he managed to fall asleep.
Tomorrow looked very different.
It was the dawn of a new and destroyed world.