Archive of Our Own

There’s an eerie silence enveloping the abandoned hospital, and it sends chills down Soonyoung’s spine.

Thick clouds loom overhead, painting the already ominous-looking sky even more grim. Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance.

He’s out on a supply run, all by himself, and he’s beginning to feel like an idiot for getting himself into this situation.

It had only taken one look at the stress marring Seungcheol’s face and the weariness carving itself into a near-permanent frown, before Soonyoung had found himself offering to take on a run alone. The fighting within their little family was growing more frequent and it wasn’t hard to see how Seungcheol desperately tried to mask his building frustration. So, Soonyoung had pulled him aside, and had suggested he’d do a run by himself. They only needed a handful of medical supplies, after all, and he could easily fit everything in his bag. He could even carry some extra things in the pockets of his cargo pants, if he found anything interesting.

He had all his argument lined up neatly, reasons rolling smoothly off his tongue.

Soonyoung knows Seungcheol, and he knows exactly how weak the man is for his pleading eyes and sad pout. He had even thrown in some aegyo for good measure, and he’d threatened to tell Jeonghan about having seen Seungcheol overexerting his bad leg.

After a good thirty minutes of his pleading, begging and attempts at manipulating, Seungcheol had finally caved and agreed; but only after making sure that he was completely confident that he could and wanted to do this.

Soonyoung, naturally, had lied.

Truthfully, the thought of going alone scared him a lot more than he was ready to admit, even to himself. But the burning desire to help, to be useful to the others, to lift some of the heavy, suffocating burden weighing on everyone’s shoulders… that desire easily overtook his fear.

Sure, the others had always reassured him that he was doing more than enough by taking care of their little makeshift hideout, by patching others up or by lifting the mood. But the traumatized looks and the bone-deep exhaustion of those coming back from yet another supply run haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. Soonyoung wanted to do more.

He was tired of seeing Mingyu return with an empty, hollow look in his eyes instead of his usual playfulness, clothes splattered with blood and gore. He hated how Wonwoo would come back closed off, cold, and how he would shut everyone out for several days, refusing to talk. He can’t stand the sight of their injuries, some gruesome, but most of them hidden in an attempt not to worry everyone else.

The days where they needed to do several runs or if any of the usual runners were unable to go, were easily the worst. Soonyoung can still hear fragments of those fights rattle through his skull, the crying and screaming embedded into his brain. He would hear Chan bravely offering to go, anxiety dripping off every syllable, or he would see Seokmin trying to be strong but his hands would be shaking uncontrollably. The arguing, filled with their fears, insecurities, desperation, tainting his memories and sticking to every surface of their living area.

And probably the most horrible part, without fail, is the way Seungcheol’s facade cracks a little more each time. The heartbreak that slips through. Soonyoung knows their leader wants to appear in control, stable, like a rock for them to cling onto. He hates seeing the confidence slowly erode, wearing away with each vicious insult hurled between the others. Hates seeing Seungcheol look at them all like they’re slipping through his fingertips, like he’s failing.

So, Soonyoung makes a decision. In the middle of the night, after tossing and turning for hours with his mind full of worries and concerns, he forms a plan. The warmth of the bodies tucked next to him, cuddling him close despite his restless limbs, only serve to strengthen his resolve.

As he stares up at what once must’ve been a busy, bustling hospital, Soonyoung can’t help but feel a tiny sliver of regret creep up his throat. In theory, it was all good and fine. An abandoned hospital with calm and quiet surroundings, far away enough from any cities ruled by lawless gangs, with barely any recent sightings or activities reported. Seungcheol wouldn’t have given him this run if it hadn’t been the safest and easiest one on the list.

Now that he’s actually here, standing outside in the freezing cold for the first time in months, about an hour away from his favorite people that he would do anything for, completely alone… he can feel his initial enthusiasm and resolve slowly melt away, rolling off his limbs and disappearing through the cracks in the pavement.

But he has to do this. He can’t go back with his tail between his legs, showing up empty-handed. Not when he’s seen the stress, their dwindling medical supplies, and the way his family is falling apart at the seams. Not when he noticed the tension softening in Seungcheol’s shoulders, just the tiniest bit, when he said he’d do a run so Wonwoo could rest some more.

Soonyoung fixes his gaze on the upper row of windows, slowly observing the layout and mentally taking notes of anything that seems odd or out of place.

Before he’d set off on his little adventure, Seungcheol had given him a quick rundown of the situation. First and foremost, the hospital had been abandoned fairly quickly. It’s small in comparison to others, with less fancy equipment and less beds, therefore also keeping less supplies; chances are it hasn’t been fully raided yet. Not many people know of its existence, which is both a curse and a blessing. On one hand, it’s highly likely he’ll find what he’s looking for. On the other hand, there’s next to no information on the state of the hospital, or what exactly went down when everything went to shit.

It has three floors and only one entrance and exit: the front doors. Seungcheol had explained something about a system malfunction probably keeping all emergency doors shut tight, so he has to keep the front doors propped open to make sure he has a safe exit at all times, just in case.

There is no exact, useful knowledge about what awaits him inside. It could be empty, and it could be filled to the brim with the undead. There could be humans inside, who won’t waste a second before plunging a knife into his side, or he could find a bunch of survivors huddled together, trying to live despite it all.

After analyzing his surroundings one final time, ears strained for any shuffling or growling, Soonyoung heads for the hospital’s entrance.

The glass doors swing open, easily, without so much of a creak. They’re stained and battered, but they function just fine.

A metallic clanging surprises Soonyoung, and he looks down.

There’s a thick, iron chain dangling from one of the handles, with a padlock that has definitely seen better days. It’s scratched to all hell and back, no longer functioning properly. Soonyoung stares at it.

Really, there’s no good reason for a chain to be hanging off the door like that, least of all with a lock attached to it, and especially not since it’s on the inside. Locks are meant to keep things out— was this supposed to keep something in? Or maybe both?

He peeks into the hallway. As far as he can see, it’s empty, only a heavy silence filling the space.

Shrugging to himself, he decides to make use of the chain and use it to keep the door open for his eventual escape. He works up a sweat trying to get the metal to cooperate and keep the door wide open, but after a few minutes of wrangling the chain into submission he steps back, satisfied.

Soonyoung straightens out his hoodie, fiddles with the zipper for no other reason than to stall a little, and finally steps inside.

He’s not sure what he is expecting. For a zombie to jump out of the nook next to the entrance and start munching on his legs, maybe, or to be chased down by a rabid horde of them.

But nothing happens.

He holds his breath, listens carefully. The only sound reaching his ears is his own heartbeat, violently thumping beneath his ribs.

Soonyoung moves further, eyes and ears working overtime. There’s a reception desk, with a fake potted plant that’s been knocked over on the counter and several papers strewn around on the floor. He takes a quick look, snatching up a fancy looking ballpoint pen that someone might like, since Minghao has been trying to get everyone to start journalling. Something about processing your traumas, Soonyoung thinks.

He rummages through some drawers, but nothing useful comes up and he continues. His feet are light, as quiet as possible as he makes his way towards the hallway on his right.

“Why… why are you so empty,” Soonyoung whines, shoving another cupboard shut.

He’s gone through room after room of useless chaos, inspecting both hallways, and he’s almost back at the foyer where he started. He’d seen piles of paperwork, empty packaging, wrappers, ransacked closets and drawers, lots and lots of trash— but nothing of use.

Standing in the foyer, he glances at the staircase that seems to be taunting him. He’ll have to explore the middle floor, maybe even the upper floor too.

The thought makes him shiver, anxiety increasing tenfold. Going upstairs means more obstacles to go through if he needs to escape, his chances of getting out and surviving diminishing severely.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath. He’s fine. He has to do this. They need supplies; last week they’d gone through half a roll of bandaging because of a leg wound and their painkillers are dwindling at an alarming speed, so he has no choice.

He opens the door leading towards the stairs. It creaks, the sound grating his ears. Frozen in place, Soonyoung waits for something, anything to happen.

Again…

… there’s nothing.

Quickly, he steps through the doorway, letting it slam shut behind him. The noise makes him wince and he almost scolds the door for being so loud.

He shuffles up the stairs, slowly, waiting a few seconds in between each step. If there’s one thing he wants to prevent, it’s being caught off guard, because that’s certain death.

It seems to take forever yet he’s standing in front of the doors leading to the middle floor within seconds.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath, and another one, and another one. He’s fine.

The middle floor looks much like the first floor. Instead of the central point being a foyer, it immediately branches off into hallways; there’s only a small desk in the middle, previously meant to offer information for lost patients. The door closes behind him without much noise, and Soonyoung rolls his shoulders in an attempt to get rid of the stress trying to cramp them up.

Much like his earlier exploration, he heads for the desk first, only to promptly double over and empty his stomach onto the printer next to him.

There’s a half-eaten body slumped on the floor, mangled legs sticking out from underneath the desk and bent at an impossible angle. The smell that wafts off it is beyond disgusting and there’s dried blood splattered everywhere.

Soonyoung has heard of these before— the ones that don’t turn, but instead function as a snack for the undead. He’d heard Mingyu mutter something to Seungcheol about how they’re probably victims of newly turned zombies, whose venom hasn’t fully developed yet and therefore won’t turn; they just suffer and die instead.

He isn’t sure whether this is a better fate, or worse.

After wiping his mouth clean and taking a small sip of the water bottle he’d thrown into his bag before leaving, he leans against the wall, his back towards the poor receptionist.

Clearly, this means the zombies got inside the hospital at some point. Maybe through a patient, or maybe one was lucky enough to waddle inside when someone forgot to close the doors. Soonyoung has no idea, but the fact that there’s probably a few of them still stumbling throughout the hospital makes his stomach turn violently. He hopes he won’t have to throw up again.

Soonyoung firmly slaps his cheeks a few times to get himself together. He knew what he was getting into when he’d made the offer, he’ll have to battle through it somehow.

The first room he enters nearly makes him forget about the traumatizing sight he’d just encountered and Soonyoung feels like he’s hit the jackpot. A rush of adrenaline spikes through his body, making his hands shake as he shoves item after item into his bag.

There, tucked away in a corner that’s half hidden behind the open door, is a small cabinet mounted on the wall. When Soonyoung had wrenched it open, expecting nothing, his jaw had dropped when he realized the thing was practically untouched and fully stocked.

He checks all the bottles for their expiration dates, chucking the bad ones over his shoulder and carefully taking the ones that are still good. He also takes a bunch of band-aids, a full bottle of disinfectant and a few rolls of bandage before quietly closing the cabinet again. It clicks shut, softly. Soonyoung wipes some sweat off his forehead and inspects the rest of the room for any hidden treasures.

His eyes trail over the empty, unmade beds lining the walls in two rows. They’re all askew, like someone haphazardly pushed them aside in a desperate attempt to escape or fight, and the blankets and pillows are all over the place. He tugs everything from its place, meticulously searching every nook and cranny. He even crouches down to glance below the beds in case something useful has rolled away underneath, tightly clutching his bag to his chest because he’s half expecting a zombie to jump out and gnaw at his face. The only thing he finds hiding in the abyss below the beds are some dust bunnies, and he suppresses a sneeze.

Soonyoung quietly walks down the hallway after leaving the treasure room behind, bag lightly thumping against his back with the added weight of the medicine bottles. He pops his head into each room to make sure it’s safe, before going inside to explore.

He doesn’t find any more bodies, nor does he encounter any zombies. The baseball bat he brought as a weapon is still dangling from his belt, blissfully unused and unblemished.

It bothers him, though. So far, the only sign of life— or un-life, if he’s being honest— was the receptionist-turned-snack, and it makes Soonyoung uneasy.

There should be more. Either more bodies or more zombies, and he’s found neither; at this point, he’d rather hear the disgusting gurgling of the undead over the deafening silence filling his ears. He feels like a rat that has unknowingly walked into a pretty little trap, all for him, and with each step he’s getting closer towards his end.

When he’s finished going through all the rooms on the middle floor, his bag is even heavier than before and his muscles are beginning to ache with the strain of moving as silently as possible. He’s tired and he’s pretty sure his nerves are fried.

Still, Soonyoung hesitates and eyes the doors leading to the staircase.

Technically, he’s got enough supplies by now to take back with him, to begin his trek home. He managed to find a little bit everything they need, and he’s sure that the others will be more than happy.

Something makes him pause, though. Something he can’t really fully explain because he doesn’t even understand it himself.

There’s a small but insistent tug somewhere behind his ribcage that’s telling him not to leave, not yet. That there’s more, that he needs to do more, that he isn’t finished yet.

Soonyoung thinks of the unadulterated joy that had lit up the entire base when Jeonghan had returned with three extra bags of supplies, including a bunch of thoughtful gifts for them, and he thinks of the praise that everyone lovingly poured onto Vernon when he had dragged half a grocery store’s worth of food with him. Of Junhui practically skipping back into their living area, arms filled with silly knick-knacks to decorate their space with, and how happy that had made everyone, relishing in a sense of normalcy they hadn’t experienced in a while.

He thinks of the infected wound on Mingyu’s leg, the indents of a jagged set of teeth that had sunken deep into his tanned skin. The way he had pleaded and begged, stuttering and stumbling over his words, desperate to convince Seungcheol that it had been a dry bite and that no venom-laced saliva had touched the wound. He thinks of the stern look on their leader’s face, of how pale Joshua had gotten, and of how Wonwoo had bodily slammed Seungkwan out of the way to shut himself up in his bedroom and the crashing and shattering of furniture that followed.

His gaze drifts upwards, following the steps leading to the upper floor; his feet are moving before he’s aware of what he’s doing. He has to look, he has to. A sense of urgency he’s never felt before makes his chest seize painfully as he ascends the stairs.

It’s a silly thing to have these days: hope. The word has for all intents and purposes been banned from their base, because what could you possibly be hoping for in times like these? Even now, what the fuck is he hoping for, what is he trying to find? Why would there be a solution in this hospital, one that’s on the brink of falling apart? When none of the surviving scientists, who all combined their efforts in one of the big cities with their fancy laboratories, couldn’t find a cure? When they haven’t even found a way to relieve some of the infected’s suffering? So why, why is there a godforsaken spark of hope lighting up inside of him?

A giggle, short and stilted at an odd pitch, makes it’s way up Soonyoung’s throat, tumbling over his lips. It echoes strangely, sounding distorted. Is he going insane? Is that it? Has the apocalypse finally broken him and snapped his sanity in two like a dry twig underneath a heavy boot? He has to be going insane, there is no other reasonable explanation for why he’s heading for the upper floor, risking all of his scavenged medicine.

He reaches the final step. Blinks once. Twice.

He’s really losing it, isn’t he?

The doors to the upper floor are open, wide and inviting. Clean.

… clean?

Soonyoung rubs his eyes but it stays the same. The doors are pristine, much like the rest of the hallway within his line of sight. Like someone took a broom and a mop and had scrubbed the tiles until they sparkled. Not a single speck of dust, blood or rotten flesh to be seen.

Which is like, the exact opposite of what it should be.

Slowly, carefully, and beyond terrified, Soonyoung inches closer towards the doors. His right hand settles on top of the bat, even though he frantically prays that he won’t have to use it.

He sticks his head through the doorway.

“Hello,” a low, gravelly voice drawls and Soonyoung screams. He jumps, stumbling back behind the door and pressing himself flat against the cold wall. His chest rattles violently with how heavy he’s breathing and he unlatches the baseball bat from his side.

Gripping onto the weapon so tight his knuckles turn white, he shuffles the tiniest bit forward.

A head, with skin a sickly shade of green-grey and dark, mottled veins spread along the hairline, suddenly appears in the doorway. Soonyoung shrieks, swatting at the zombie with his bat to try and scare him off.

“Won’t… hurt…” the zombie growls. His arm, now also sticking through the doorway, twitches in what is supposed to be an appeasing movement, like he’s trying to soothe a feral kitten.

“P— please, don’t bite me,” Soonyoung pleads, his voice trembling. “I don’t care if it doesn’t hurt, please don’t, please, I—”

He’s hyperventilating, he realizes with an odd sort of detachment. His lungs burn with each heave.

“No… hurt…”

The zombie moves closer. His feet drag across the floor, his legs twitch constantly. He stops in front of Soonyoung, at about an arms length distance.

“Name… Seon…” he grunts. “Like… humans… am… friend…”

Soonyoung blinks, baseball bat limp in his hands. “No, my name is Soonyoung.”

Something that resembles exasperation flashes across the undead’s face. This entire situation is so completely surreal to Soonyoung that his fear disappears to the background, only a tiny shred of hesitation remaining.

He quickly thinks back to everything that he’s learned about zombies from the rest, but none of it includes anything about zombies that don’t immediately try to tear your limbs off to chew on them like chicken wings, nor can he recall hearing anything about them keeping the ability to talk.

“My… name… Seon.”

Oh, Soonyoung thinks. That makes sense.

“Your name is Seon?” he asks. The zombie nods. “Yes… am… friend…”

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. He’s talking to a zombie, who has a name and has declared himself a friend.

He’s gone insane. For real, this time.

“Like… humans… take… care… of… tiny… human…”

The growls, in combination with the liters of drool escaping the zombie’s nearly unhinged jaw, make it difficult for Soonyoung to understand what he means. His weak grip on reality is not making it any easier either.

“You… like humans, is that it?” Soonyoung tries, and at the enthusiastic nod that nearly decapitates Seon, he continues. “And, you’ve been taking care of a… tiny human?”

Again, the zombie nods a little too wild for comfort, but somehow keeps his head from rolling off his shoulders.

Soonyoung mulls over this newly gleaned information, until—

“You have a child here?!” he almost screams. Panic seizes him entirely, what if the child is starving? Obviously this is no place for a kid to be, the poor thing must be terrified. What if it was sick, what if the child was a patient? Oh no what if it’s a toddler—

An icy hand landing on his shoulder brings him back from spiraling.

Soonyoung screams again and shoves Seon’s hand away. His fingers touch the sickly, clammy skin of the zombie and he retches.

“No… human… just… small… not… child…” Seon tries to calm him down but it’s only marginally working. “Come…” he grunts and his voice sounds like old millstones grinding together, “follow… me… see…”

Against every single thing that the others have ever taught him, Soonyoung trails after Seon. If Seungcheol had been here, he would’ve escaped the second he saw a live zombie. If Wonwoo had been here, he would’ve sliced its head off its shoulders within seconds.

But they aren’t here, Soonyoung is, and if there’s one thing everyone knows about him, it’s that he has his own, odd way of doing things. Sometimes stupid, if you ask Jeonghan, sometimes surprisingly clever, if you ask Seokmin.

So he follows Seon, slowly walking just behind him at the pace of a snail, since the zombie can only move so fast with his disjointed limbs.

Somewhat in a daze, he takes note of how the entire hallway is just as clean as the first glimpse he’d gotten. Not a single thing out of place, no remnants of bloodshed or other horrors; he could almost delude himself into thinking everything is normal.

They reach the end of the hallway. Although Soonyoung had been observing his surroundings, clearly his braincells were occupied otherwise, because they’re standing in front of what seems to be a… laboratory?

Confused, Soonyoung looks at Seon like the undead man might have the explanation written on his veiny forehead, but he’s met with a blank stare instead.

Why would there be a lab on the upper floor? Aren’t they usually located in a secluded wing, safely out of reach from curious patients and wandering people with grabby hands?

Then, he realizes the sign that spells Laboratory is a little crooked, and the letters have been painted on by hand, and he feels like the universe is playing some sort of cosmic joke on him.

Seon gestures with his limp, twitchy hand for Soonyoung to go inside.

Usually, Soonyoung is offended whenever the others make fun of his lack of self-preservation skills. He can look after himself just fine! He’s an adult, he’s smart, and he can handle things on his own! He’s lost count of how many petty arguments he’s had with the others, trying to prove that he can in fact survive and not end up dead in a ditch because of some dumb decision he’d made on a whim.

If anyone would ask him now, though? He might just agree with them instead.

As he pushes the lab door open, he gets the feeling that whatever is behind it might have him fearing for his life, somehow. Sure, Seon had talked about a tiny human, but Seon is also a zombie with mushy grey soup for brains; you can’t exactly take his word for it.

Besides, hadn’t Mingyu pulled Seungcheol and Jeonghan aside to relay some information about how the undead were evolving? What if they were getting smarter, and this is some sort of elaborate setup to lure Soonyoung into an advanced trap so they can play with their food a little before feasting on his thighs?

So, the fact that he’s willingly entering a clearly fake laboratory has got to be some sort of testament of just how little self-preservation he actually possesses, really.

With a soft creak, the door opens fully. Deciding to look fate right in the eyes, even if it means death, Soonyoung confidently steps inside, ready to face whatever macabre destiny awaits him inside.

What he sees is beyond his expectations.

There’s a small man (he has to admit that Seon was pretty accurate in his description because he’s tiny) hunched over a table that’s filled with bubbling flasks and suspicious looking concoctions. His hair is black, nearly falling into his eyes, and he’s dressed in a white lab coat and kitty slippers. A bunch of tools peek out from his side pockets and there’s a pair of safety glasses tucked into the front.

“Seon, did you get the files I need?” he mutters, clearly distracted by the work in front of him.

Soonyoung hesitates for a second, before deciding to speak up. “Uh, I’m not Seon, but I could ask him for you?”

The strange man hums, then proceeds to continue swishing a flask around that looks dangerously close to boiling over.

Still confused and honestly a little disturbed, Soonyoung pokes his head out of the door to look for Seon. He sees the zombie leaning against the wall opposite of the lab, staring off into the distance. “Tiny dude inside is asking for… files? Or something?”

“Files… no… find… gone…” Is the very eloquent reply that he gets.

Nodding as though everything about this entire situation makes perfect sense, Soonyoung leans back and shuts the door again. The thought of doing the smart thing and keeping it open just the tiniest bit for an escape route doesn’t even pop up in his head.

He steps a little closer to the man inside the lab, torn between wanting to see what he’s doing and keeping a safe, respectful distance.

“Seon couldn’t find the files, he said.”

The only reply he gets is an absent-minded nod. Soonyoung bounces on his feet, unsure what to do and say, but also brimming with curiosity. He’s glad he isn’t a cat, or he would be dead, probably.

He’s drawn to a fluorescent liquid that’s moving in a way that reminds him of a lava lamp, and he reaches out with one finger to poke at it. It looks sticky and he’s pretty sure it’ll feel like slime. When the tip of his finger almost touches the surface, he’s startled by a loud bang next to him.

Soonyoung squeaks and almost sends the slimy stuff flying off the desk. The tiny guy is standing at his side, the hand that he just slammed down onto the surface planted next to the pot with liquid. The first thing Soonyoung notices is just how pretty the man is.

“Do you usually try to stick your hands in boiling hot fluids?”

Flustered at being caught, Soonyoung flails a little, not knowing where to put his hands. “N— no? Although, there was this one time where Jeonghan made this really good soup and he used some weird kinda vegetable and I didn’t know what it was so I got curious, and I guess I tried to grab it but he stopped me so technically I suppose I don’t rea—”

He gets cut off by a hand slapping his mouth shut.

“Stop rambling. I don’t care,” the man says, his voice low.

“Buhyuasd?” Soonyoung tries to reply, but it’s muffled by the soft hand across his lips. It’s a nice hand, he notices. Soft skin, pretty fingers, strong palm, probably very nice to hold.

The man removes his hand. “But you asked,” Soonyoung repeats. He receives a scathing glare in return, two sharp eyes pinning him to his place.

“I’m working. You’re distracting me. Stop.”

“Has Seon rubbed off on you or something? People usually speak in longer sentences, you know. And I don’t even know your name! You can’t just tell me to shut up and say that I’m distracting when you don’t even know who I am!”

Now, Soonyoung knows there’s a huge leap of logic in his reasoning right there. But here’s the thing: he doesn’t care. Not when there’s a pretty man right in front of him, looking far too attractive in his smudged coat. Obviously he has to get to know him, it’s not often he meets someone new; in fact, he can’t even remember the last time they came across a living, breathing person that was more interested in a conversation than blowing their brains out with a sawed-off shotgun.

He also knows how much the others back at their base love each other and how much they love him; when you spend several years cooped up together, many boundaries naturally end up blurred in an attempt to find a certain kind of comfort. Despite that, he’s noticed the obvious preferences some of them seem to have, seeking out the same person over and over again. He’s never part of those. No one seeks him out specifically, he’s more like a second if not third choice when nobody else is available.

So that’s what he blames his interest in the new man on: a need to have something, someone for himself, and he’s always been a little brash.

Plus, the man is stupidly beautiful and Soonyoung is only human.

The small man blinks at him. Observes him, head to toe, eyes trailing a scorching path over every inch of his body like he’s analyzing him like he’s a scientific research object.

“Have you lost your mind?” he bites out. Soonyoung thinks he should feel hurt, but he’s just happy the man is still talking to him.

“Hmm, probably,” he replies. “A zombie apocalypse will do that to you. What’s your name? Why hasn’t Mr. Zombie over there eaten you?” He points towards the hallway where Seon is still lingering.

A deep sigh fills the lab. The man perches onto the desk, not too close to his odd flasks but still creating a barrier between them and Soonyoung. “I suppose I can humor you, since you don’t seem like you’re leaving soon. My name is Jihoon. I’m a researcher, if you can’t tell. Seon hasn’t eaten me because he’s friendly.”

All of Soonyoung’s racing thoughts come to a screeching halt. First, the pretty man has a very fitting and equally pretty name. Second, zombies can be friendly?

“Friendly? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jihoon eyes him again and Soonyoung awkwardly shifts on his feet, feeling a little like he’s been put underneath a microscope again.

“Exactly what I said. Seon is friendly. He likes humans, for some reason. He talks to me, likes to learn about human things. Occasionally I ask him to run errands for me if I need anything and he likes being useful.”

“… eh?” Soonyoung replies, eloquently. It earns him another deep, tired sigh. “Look, he’s not bad. Most of them are, sure, but he’s fine. There are many minuscule evolutions to the DNA that causes the zombiefication, this is one of them. Don’t break your pretty little head over it.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Jihoon looks like he’s five seconds away from throttling him, hands balled into fists as he throws him a murderous glare. “That’s all you got from that?”

Soonyoung shrugs and waves his hand around, vaguely gesturing at nothing in particular.

“I’m Soonyoung, by the way, before you ask.” Jihoon throws him an unimpressed look. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Well now you know anyway!” he replies cheerfully.

A clang coming from the hallway, startles both of them. “Shit.”

Moving so quickly that Soonyoung barely has time to register what’s happening, the other man starts dragging him towards the opposite end of the room. He shoves Soonyoung behind a bigger, sturdier desk that’s been toppled over, acting like a shield.

“Hide here and don’t make a single fucking sound,” Jihoon hisses. Absolutely terrified and confused, Soonyoung can only nod.

Jihoon moves to crouch next to him, huddling so close their shoulders press together. This close to the other man, Soonyoung can see every detail of his face, from his eyelashes to the texture of his lips.

Not that he’s looking, of course.

Of course Jihoon notices and he shoots a glare at him. “Stop staring at me.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung whispers indignantly, which earns him another look.

“Quiet.”

They both fall silent, only the sound of their breathing filling the room. Even the bubbling liquid in the flasks seem to be quieter than before. Jihoon’s form is relaxed and calm, like he’s done this before.

Then, another clang, followed by the familiar sound of the growling and moaning of the undead. Soonyoung shudders.

“We’ll be fine,” Jihoon suddenly mutters, “Seon keeps them away from this room. I hide to be careful because they’re not dumb. If they notice anything remotely alive in here, they won’t hesitate to get rid of Seon to get inside.”

He’s not sure what prompted this sudden confession, but it helps ease some of the tension in his body.

Soon enough, there’s a single, clumsy knock on the door. “Gone… safe…” Seon grunts, the sound muffled.

“Thanks.” Jihoon’s reply is short and he stands up so fast he knocks Soonyoung over, sending him sprawling onto the floor. “Hey!” he squawks, before scrambling back up to follow the researcher.

Jihoon immediately dives back into his work, scribbling something on a notepad filled with numbers and crossed-out graphs, completely ignoring him. Soonyoung looks around, swaying back and forth on his feet, trying his best to ignore the curiosity that’s screaming at him to explore every single thing in the room.

He waits. Surely, Jihoon is just finishing up what he was working on, and then he’ll come back to him, right? Surely he’s glad to have someone other than Seon to talk to, right?

Well, apparently not.

If Soonyoung goes by his internal sense of time, he’s spent about thirty minutes loitering about in the lab, trying his very best not to touch anything. Jihoon hasn’t uttered a single word, not to him nor to Seon, and he’s deeply engrossed in his work. Soonyoung thinks he probably shouldn’t be disturbed with how focused he seems to be. Probably.

“Whatcha doing?” Soonyoung asks, voice lilting a little as he peeks over Jihoon’s shoulder at his notepad.

Jihoon jumps, the papers falling from his hands. “What is wrong with you! I’m working, don’t creep up on me like that!”

Soonyoung steps back, looking at him with a small pout and seeming just the tiniest bit remorseful. “I’m just curious! Why are you working? It’s not like you’re getting paid or anything.”

A single, raised eyebrow shuts him up before he can begin rambling again. It’s scarily close to getting scolded by Seungcheol, and Soonyoung clasps his hands behind his back. His eyes fall down to his worn shoes, chastised.

“I don’t care about getting paid. I care about my research.”

Despite feeling adequately reprimanded, Soonyoung can’t help blurting out another question. “What kind of research? It must be very important to you if you still spend all your time on it despite the entire world going to shit.”

The room goes quiet again. Then, Jihoon puts his hands on Soonyoung’s shoulder and drags him towards a small, wonky rolling chair and pushes him towards it. He grabs a different chair for himself and plunks it down nearby. When they’re both sitting, one awkwardly rubbing his thighs, the other seemingly unbothered, their knees brush lightly.

“Do you know how this shitshow started?”

Soonyoung blinks. “Obviously not, how could I? They haven’t told anyone a thing, and then most of them disappeared,” he replies, somewhat uneasy at the course of this conversation.

“Well, doesn’t matter. What does matter, is the fact that they saw it coming.”

“Who’s they?” Soonyoung interrupts despite knowing the man probably won’t appreciate it. Jihoon merely looks at him like he was expecting the intrusion.

“The government. The big wigs, the ones in charge. They knew,” Jihoon trails off, carefully choosing his words, “and they got a headstart. Funded a ton of research projects, throwing money at scientists and companies like crazy to get to the bottom of it, to find the cause.”

He shifts on the chair, crossing his legs.

“But it was too late. People started zombifying and they had no clue how or why. All the money went down the drain, every project completely useless. Whenever someone would question why they hadn’t invested in research towards a cure, they silenced them. Sudden deaths, a suicide with two holes in someone’s skull, you know, the usual.”

Soonyoung does in fact not know, but he nods anyway just to keep Jihoon talking.

“The scientists working in the big city now, looking for a cure? Bullshit. They don’t exist— a lie to keep the survivors from scaling the last government building and tearing their heads off,” Jihoon sneers. “I doubt they ever cared to look for a solution.”

“But… but why?” Soonyoung mumbles. He’s struggling to wrap his head around this new knowledge, though he supposes it sounds possible and he already knows a couple of the others wouldn’t hesitate to believe it.

“Why does anyone do anything? Fuck if I know, but it’s probably money. It always is, with those kinds of assholes.” Jihoon seems genuinely pissed off and Soonyoung feels a twinge of sympathy for him. “What about your work here though? Is that…” he trails off.

The smaller man nods curtly. “My team was working on a cure for a disease similar to the one causing the zombiefication. I only modified it and have been working on perfecting it since. Seon was kind enough to lend me some of his drool to inspect.”

Soonyoung tries to hide his disgust but judging from the small smile tugging at Jihoon’s lips, it doesn’t work.

“Are you even supposed to be telling me this? Isn’t this like, confidential or something?” he asks, and the other man snorts in response. “Probably not. But half of them are either dead or stumbling around hunting humans, so who’s going to check?”

They both chuckle at that, though their amusement fades away just as quickly.

“And… do you think you have a cure? Will it work?” His voice trembles with fear and hope.

“Probably. Won’t know until I test it on someone, but it’s likely to do the job. Don’t know how I’ll find a willing volunteer but technically… it should be done soon,” Jihoon replies, much softer than before. “I hope it works,” he adds, so softly that Soonyoung almost misses it.

Hesitantly, Soonyoung shuffles even closer on his rolling chair. It’s probably stupid to ask, he thinks, but he has to try. The grisly injury on Mingyu’s leg and his slowly waning health flash through his mind and he has to.

“What if… what if I knew someone who— who got infected? But hasn’t fully turned yet?” he asks, balling his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “He still has a few weeks left… Would that be good enough? To try your cure on?”

Jihoon stares at him. His eyes are steely, flitting across his face, observing.

“Tell me,” he demands, and Soonyoung does.

He talks about their little makeshift family, how they all found each other at some point during the fall of society, slowly melting together into one big group. He tells Jihoon about all of them, what they’re like, how they function and slot together like cogs in a machine.

Words tumble out of his mouth, making him feel lighter and lighter with every piece that he lays bare. His love for them, the fear of losing them. A boulder rolls off his heart when he explains the supply runs and how it’s tearing his family apart.

Then, with his voice pained and tight, he describes the run that ended up wounding Mingyu and how the bite on his leg will be the end of him. He mentions the teeth marks, the discoloration of the skin, the veins turning dark.

Bile rises up in his throat and he turns to look at Jihoon, his eyes burning with tears.

“Please,” he whispers, “you’re the only one— maybe you can—”

The words refuse to leave his mouth as he breaks down, sobs shaking his entire body. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, but there’s nothing he can do about it as all of his hurt pours out of him, tears streaming down his face.

He hides his face behind his hands, trying to save the last shred of dignity he has.

A firm hand, steady and soothing, appears on his back. It rubs calm circles, over and over again, a reassuring pattern tracing his spine. “It’s okay, please breathe Soonyoung, you need to breathe.”

He heaves a stuttering breath, but it’s like his lungs forgot how to function— and he panics. Did he forget how to breathe? Is this how he dies?

“Soonyoung!”

Suddenly, his entire upper body is surrounded by warmth.

Two surprisingly strong arms wrap around him, pressing him tightly against the source of the heat. He’s tucked against a chest, one hand coming up to cradle his head to keep him close, safe. A consistent rhythm beats underneath his ear, calming. Almost subconsciously, Soonyoung slows down and matches it with his own.

It takes a short while before his awareness is fully back. He feels fuzzy, like he just woke up from a nap that lasted a little too long. His sinuses are burning and he’s pretty sure his eyes are ridiculously swollen.

He untangles himself from Jihoon’s embrace. “Uh… sorry about that,” Soonyoung croaks out, voice hoarse from crying.

Jihoon gives him some space, his expression neutral.

“It’s fine. Now move, I have work to do,” he grumbles. After a short, awkward silence, he adds: “please.”

With a tiny nod, Soonyoung scoots out of the way on his chair. He harshly rubs his face with the sleeves of his hoodie and yawns.

“There’s a pile of blankets in the corner, you can sleep there,” Jihoon mutters without looking up from his work. When he glances around, Soonyoung’s eyes land on what he can only describe as a nest of blankets and pillows, probably scavenged from the beds on the other floors.

The promise of fluffy comfort lures him towards the corner and before he knows it he’s taking off his shoes and bag, shucking everything to the side, and then he’s wiggling himself into the middle of the pile.

It’s comfortable, and so, so much better than the lumpy mattresses at their hideout. He should convince Seungcheol to add more blankets to their supply run list, Soonyoung thinks as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

Soonyoung spends a full three weeks at Jihoon’s laboratory.

It wasn’t his intention to stay for so long, but the other man had offered him food and shared his blankets— who is he to say no to that?

Twice a day, Jihoon would ask Seon to go downstairs to grab some food for them from the hospital’s pantry. The zombie would return after roughly an hour, and he’d bring them canned vegetables and dried meat. Somehow, most of them were still good, nothing too far past it’s expiration date.

They ate together, making small talk and sometimes Seon would join them when he deemed the hallway safe enough to take his eyes off it. He explained in his slow, growling words, that a handful of feral zombies still lingered around, and that Soonyoung had been very lucky in somehow managing to avoid them.

He also got his explanation about the chain: Jihoon had teamed up with Seon to get downstairs safely, and had then locked the door in order to try and keep others out. A handful of undead was manageable— any additional visitors, whether it be aggressive survivors looking for supplies or hungry zombies, were not.

Jihoon continued to pour hours of his time on the cure, perfecting the concoction and fiddling with numbers and quantities. Soonyoung would occasionally help out by bringing him any tools he asked for, or gently reminding him to eat or drink. Sometimes, he would carefully wiggle the notepad out of Jihoon’s iron grip and tug him towards their unofficial bed.

After a few nights of awkward silence, limbs stiff and too aware of the other, they’d somehow shifted closer until one of them— Soonyoung can’t even remember who— closed the distance, slotting their bodies together. In the darkness of the night, they would hold each other, slowly growing more and more comfortable in reaching out until they’d naturally find the other’s arms. Jihoon would run his fingers through Soonyoung’s hair, or Soonyoung would gently rub small circles onto Jihoon’s skin with his thumb, desperate to provide comfort and relishing in their proximity.

When Soonyoung would startle awake from a nightmare, Jihoon would soothe him back to sleep, whispering soft words with his lips moving against Soonyoung’s temple. When Jihoon would struggle with insomnia, his entire body restless and mind still occupied by his work, Soonyoung would hold him close, folding him between his arms and distract him by humming an old song he loves.

But in the morning, they’d part ways; Jihoon immediately returning to his work and Soonyoung seeking out Seon to check if the bathroom is zombie-free, and neither of them would mention anything. They went about their day at the appropriate distance for acquaintances, pretending they weren’t spending their nights with their limbs tangled and skin pressed together.

Truthfully, Soonyoung wasn’t unhappy— but he’s also not sure what it means, or what to do about it. And now, many nights later, they’ve twisted themselves into some odd sort of limbo, their days and nights contradicting each other so starkly that it makes his head swim.

He likes Jihoon, that much is clear to him. There’s something about the man that has a firm hold on his attention, something that has reeled him in entirely. Whether it’s the sheer determination at creating a cure to save people or whether it’s the tiny pout of his lips when he’s asleep, Soonyoung doesn’t know. If he’s being honest though, it’s probably both. The duality of the man leaves him dizzy.

Yet, he keeps quiet. Jihoon doesn’t say anything and neither does he, scared to break the delicate balance they have, terrified to lose their nights.

A vicious, nasty voice in the back of his head sneers at him that Jihoon is only getting close to him because he’s lonely, starved for any sense of human touch. That it’s not him, that it could’ve been anyone else and Jihoon would’ve acted the same.

Soonyoung wrangles the voice back where it came from, chaining it to its confines somewhere in the back of his mind, unwilling to listen to it. Instead, he directs his concern towards the others, who must be out of their mind with worry because he hasn’t returned yet. They’re probably assuming he’s dead— or worse.

I’ll come back, he thinks.

Please wait for me to come back.

“It’s done.”

Soonyoung’s head shoots up so fast that his neck cracks and he looks at Jihoon, wide-eyed. “Done? Like, done done? Final version, completely finished, done?” he gasps.

Jihoon nods, glances at the one remaining flask still calmly bubbling, the others either empty or discarded. “This should be it. Can’t think of anything else, plus my calculations should be accurate, so… yes, done.”

Hurrying to his feet, Soonyoung dashes towards the desk. His foot gets caught in a rogue blanket and he nearly falls flat on his face, if not for the two muscled arms catching him.

“Try not to crash into my desk and send the cure flying, will you?” Jihoon scolds, but there’s no bite behind his words. If anything, he sounds relieved, and maybe even a little endeared at his tendency to be incredibly clumsy. But that could be wishful thinking on his part, Soonyoung supposes.

“You’re done?” he repeats.

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before Soonyoung is scooping the other up into an enthusiastic hug.

“Genius! You’re a genius Jihoon, a genius!” he squeals and he tightens the hug even more. There’s a small protesting grunt from the man wrapped in his arms but he doesn’t care, not now. “I knew you could do it, I really did, you worked so hard I knew you could do it Jihoon, I’m so proud of you!”

Reluctantly, Jihoon returns the hug. Soonyoung vaguely realizes they’ve never been this close during daylight, not after his crying session, but he quickly dismisses the thought in favor of praising him even more.

“You’re so smart I can’t believe you really finished the whole cure on your own, do you even know how unbelievably impressive that is?” he continues rambling. “And all this time I really know you would be able to do it Jihoon, if anyone could’ve done it, it would’ve been you. Whoa I can’t believe it, this is so amazing! I love you so much, you are a literal genius for this I can’t—”

“You what?”

Oh.

Oh— He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Can he still play this off as a joke?

“Uh— well, you know,” he stutters. Jihoon has gone still in his arms, frozen. “Like, like a friend? A bro? You know, like, I’m proud of you, I love you, bro? My pal? Buddy?”

Soonyoung swallows, his throat suddenly parched and he squeezes his eyes shut.

He knows he has grown attached to the other, even if they’d only spent three weeks together. Three weeks of near-constant proximity, getting to know the researcher in a way that took him at least several months with the rest. It had just been so easy to learn about Jihoon, to notice the little habits, to learn about his favorites and his dislikes; most of all, Soonyoung had noticed the subtle difference between the care he feels for the others, and the care growing and blooming for Jihoon.

After the past few weeks, he’s beginning to understand why the others couldn’t help but pair up, drifting towards the ones that offer a certain mix of home, comfort, safe that only they can.

Some might say he’s getting ahead of himself. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Minghao scolds him for using a word like love so carelessly.

But deep down, he knows that’s what it is. There’s no other explanation for it, no other term fits the sheer volume of his feelings like love. Is it silly? Probably. Does he care? Not really. Besides, Soonyoung has learned one thing over the past few years: the old ways of society don’t fit anymore. There’s no way to predict what might happen today, tomorrow, or next week; there’s no certainty or stability anymore, so you should hold onto the things you love, tightly.

Though, he is getting a little scared that he might’ve blurted out his feelings too fast, potentially scaring Jihoon away.

Soonyoung peeks through his eyelashes down at the man in his arms. Mentally, he prepares himself for the worst: an ice cold rejection or a knee to the groin. Or both, but hopefully not simultaneously. He can only handle so much pain at once.

Jihoon is staring at him, his eyes round and wide.

“I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

Well. There goes his excuse.

Soonyoung clears his throat and loosens his hold on Jihoon, unwrapping his arms. When he’s about to let go completely, a hand shoots out and grabs the fabric of his hoodie.

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon begins, tone stern and Soonyoung’s shoulders inch upwards to his ears, “what did you mean?”

“Well—”

Before he can either embarrass himself even further or potentially woo the man of his dreams, the laboratory door slams open. Seon limps inside, a concerning look on his mangled face.

“Need… go… zombies… hungry… won’t… stop…”

Jihoon curses and starts hurriedly shoving tools and supplies into his bag. He grabs an empty tote bag and flings it towards Soonyoung. “Grab that pile of notes and put them in the bag. We have to go.”

Panicked by the sudden urgency, Soonyoung does what he’s told with trembling hands.

“What’s going on?”

One quick glance at Jihoon shows that he’s carefully putting several full flasks in a sturdy-looking briefcase, taping them in place just to be safe.

“They’ve been evolving at a higher speed, these past few months,” Jihoon says while packing even more things into a bag. “Some of them seem to develop a hunger they cannot satisfy. Seon has kept an eye on the ones closest to the hospital, but it seems they’ve finally been driven inside thanks to their generous appetite.”

The sarcasm is icy but Soonyoung barely takes note of it as he runs around, gathering his own things before also shoving his newly appointed favorite pillow into a bag.

Both of them run through the room, haphazardly grabbing and shoving things all over the place in order to gather the necessities.

“Ready?” Jihoon asks, already standing near the doorway with Seon glued to his shoulder.

Soonyoung checks the room one more time and double-checks the bag with medical supplies. “Ready.”

Seon walks ahead, staggering down the hallway in his usual charming fashion. Jihoon is a few steps behind him, several bags strapped to his body and the suitcase containing the cure in one of his hands. He had thrown off the lab coat before leaving, now dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. His kitty slippers have been replaced with sensible boots.

Out of habit, Soonyoung rests a hand on the baseball bat that he had just fastened onto his belt again. He hasn’t needed it yet, and before he set off on this supply run, he wasn’t even sure that he would be able to use it at all. The mere thought of having to swing it at an undead’s head to send it rolling had made him queasy, and when he had waved it at Seon before, it was only to try and scare him off so he could make a run for it.

His eyes automatically land on the shorter figure in front of him, and a newfound sense of determination washes over him.

Now? He’s more than happy to use his weapon.

They quickly end up at the staircase that Soonyoung used three weeks ago. Seon stumbles down first to take stock of the middle floor, promising to call for them as soon as it’s safe. Jihoon takes Soonyoung over towards a small nook, mostly out of sight, and they wait.

It’s incredibly awkward as they stand toe to toe, both avoiding eye contact.

The unfinished conversation weighs heavily on Soonyoung’s mind and he’s practically itching to say something, anything but he can’t, not when they’re in direct danger of becoming zombie dinner.

He sighs, quietly. He would hate himself if he had somehow ruined whatever they had, but most importantly, he would never forgive himself if he’s wasted the one opportunity of saving Mingyu. The venom only fully takes control of a body after a month, and if he’s counted the days correctly, they could still make it in time.

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Soonyoung tries to fend off another panic attack since it’s the last thing they need. Then, a finger slides down his hand, curling around his pinky.

He glances down and sees Jihoon’s intertwined with his.

Oh.

“Calm down, it’ll be fine,” Jihoon whispers, nearly impossible to hear, but Soonyoung is close enough to pick it up. He swallows and nods, breathing deeply.

They both tense up as shuffling reaches the stairs beneath them.

“Safe… come…” Seon growls as quietly as possible. Jihoon takes hold of his sleeve and they head down together.

The middle floor is just as empty and desolated as the upper floor and Soonyoung is worried. The smell of the body beneath the information desk still lingers in the air, though he suspects they have been fully eaten by now.

“Where did the zombies go?” he whispers loudly and Jihoon immediately shushes him. They catch up with Seon, who heads further down the stairs. Soon, they get another sign to continue, and before Soonyoung has realized it they’re already taking the last step off the final staircase.

Jihoon tucks them into another corner, while their undead friend slowly shuffles into the foyer.

Instead of inspecting the surroundings, Seon immediately turns back and begins mumbling and grunting unintelligibly. Before Soonyoung can even consider asking anything, Jihoon nudges him with his elbow. “Zombies,” he mutters. “Must be close.”

Seon nods, jerky and stilted, to show that Jihoon is right.

“How are we going to do this?”

Jihoon doesn’t reply right away, clearly rifling through all the options in his mind. He glances towards Seon, then back to the foyer.

“Seon,” he hisses sharply. The zombie tilts his head, indicating that he’s listening. “What do you think we should do?”

After some more grunting, probably to keep the other undead from getting suspicious, Seon shuffles closer and pretends to be incredibly interested in the ratty wallpaper next to Jihoon’s head.

“Pretend… like… me…”

Soonyoung has to strain his ears to catch the garbled words, and he’s sure he misunderstood them entirely. Obviously Seon isn’t telling them to act like zombies, that would be silly. No, Soonyoung muses, they probably have to pretend like they don’t like him, and then swing the bat left and right to get through the horde.

When Jihoon quietly repeats what he said, to make sure they’re on the same page, the tiny sliver of hope that the zombie had meant anything else swiftly disappears. “We have to pretend to be like you? Like a zombie?”

Well, fuck.

Seon softly growls an affirmative and staggers back into the foyer. He’s greeted by a chorus of grunts and yowls, some sounding beyond feral. Soonyoung shivers.

He doesn’t want to be overly dramatic, he really doesn’t; he tends to leave that to Seokmin. But this has got to be the most ridiculous situation Soonyoung has heard of. None of the others have ever mentioned anything of the sort, ever. They all talk of making quick work of zombies with a nice, clean decapitation; nothing about putting on an act that will put Broadway to shame. He’s about to complain to Jihoon, a whine almost tumbling past his lips, when he receives a glare that promptly dissolves any words sitting on his tongue.

“Don’t. We have no choice,” Jihoon warns. “We need to get out. Once we’re outside, we’re good. Pretend to be a zombie and try not to get yourself killed, understood?”

Soonyoung doesn’t understand, not really. He still thinks wielding his bat is a more sensible way of dealing with things, even if he doesn’t have any actual experience to back it up with. One look at Jihoon’s grim expression has him swallowing down any objections however. He doesn’t really have much of a choice, so he nods. Jihoon nods back, and is about to head for the foyer when Soonyoung reaches out and stops him.

“I’ll go first,” he mumbles. “I have a weapon in case it goes wrong.”

Before Jihoon can retort, Soonyoung gently places a hand over his mouth. He tries his best to ignore the soft lips pressing against his palm, momentarily getting distracted and he simply stands there, eyes boring into the other man’s.

“Let me do this, please? I’ll be careful.”

Underneath his hand, Jihoon shakes his head and his fingers curl around Soonyoung’s wrist, though they don’t pry his hand away. “I’ll keep you safe,” he adds softly.

As they stand there, still hidden behind the doors with their bodies pressed together to stay out of sight, the nearly suffocating urge to keep Jihoon safe, alive, and away from danger and potential harm grows. He towers over the other man, having to angle his face downwards to maintain eye contact, and he wants nothing more than to protect him.

The thought of having to slay zombies makes him sick, but for Jihoon he would do anything.

They stare at each other, like it’s some sort of contest. A challenge. Soonyoung raises an eyebrow, Jihoon sharpens his glare and narrows his eyes.

Then, with a sigh that brushes against his fingers, Jihoon breaks their eye contact. He taps Soonyoung’s wrist, and he lets go.

The reply is muttered, soft, but Soonyoung hears it perfectly. “Fine.”

Soonyoung takes a step back, making sure he’s still out of sight of the foyer. He levels a steady look at Jihoon, and the corners of his lips turn upwards, just the tiniest bit.

He turns around and breathes, deeply, before adjusting his posture to resemble Seon’s. His head lolls forward, his knees slightly buckle and his feet drag across the floor as Soonyoung slowly sways into the foyer.

Keeping one hand hovering close to his bat, just in case, he hopes his performance is going to be convincing enough; he’s spent too many hours playing along with Seokmin and Chan’s spontaneous sketches for this to go wrong.

One step.

Another step, his toes scuffing along the floor.

Soonyoung lets his head roll around, like it’s sitting loosely on his spine.

His torso leans back, then to the side, then it teeters the other way.

Two steps this time.

He hears Jihoon behind him, also dragging his feet, moving at an odd, unnatural rhythm. Seon is casually leaning against the entrance with his knees knocking against each other, but his straying eyes keep track of the two humans trying to make their way through the handful of feral undead.

Some of the zombies seem to be more like Seon, fairly lucid and with a couple of functioning braincells. The other undead all behave like Soonyoung expects them to, based on what he’s heard: they communicate in growls and they walk head-first into walls because they don’t understand the concept of buildings. They mainly react to sound, immediately swiveling their heads towards the slightest disturbance.

They’re almost halfway through the foyer when a zombie stumbles into Soonyoung’s path, effectively blocking his route. He curses internally, but keeps his face blank.

“You… new…” the zombie drawls, teeth clacking together. The smell of rotting flesh invades all of his senses nearly making him gag.

“Yes…” Soonyoung grunts back in an attempt to mimic the way Seon speaks, “turned… not… long…”

It seems to appease the decaying creature in front of him, because she flops her head back and forth in a deranged sort of nod.

“What… you… doing…?” she asks.

Soonyoung blinks. Is he really being asked about his plans like they’re coworkers discussing the coming weekend? Is that what zombies do these days, when they’re not busy gnawing on a bone?

“Go… outside…”

It’s not his most genius reply, he’ll admit that. The frustrated noise Jihoon lets out behind him only confirms it.

“Out… why…?” The undead sways precariously on her feet and stumbles closer to Soonyoung, hissing out the question. Several drops of drool spray across his hoodie, just shy of his face. He can count all the small, discolored veins on her face and he notices most of her teeth are broken or chipped. Bits of her cheekbone are visible through her torn skin.

He jerks his limbs around, copying the way the other zombies move. “Find… food…” he growls.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because the zombie in front of him suddenly growls aggressively, getting into his face. Soonyoung takes a twitchy step backwards, hand resting on his bat. The violent reaction seems to trigger the other zombies, the most feral ones immediately swarming towards them.

“Food… here… you… lie…?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. His entire body is trembling by now, and not because he’s trying to. “Friend… picky… eater…”

The zombie stills. Cocks her head to the side, tilting a little too far for comfort and Soonyoung worries it’ll tumble right off and hit the ground with a disgusting smack. “Hmm…” she drawls, considering. “Understand… good… taste…”

And she leaves, abandoning Soonyoung in the middle of a drooling, rabid horde of undead. His lungs feel constricted and his vision blurs a little, but he keeps his zombie act up.

As soon as he spots a small opening in the mass of decomposing bodies, he shuffles towards it. He pushes himself past the feral zombies, growling and hissing right back at them when they refuse to budge.

Pausing briefly when he steps past the last one, he risks a glance over his shoulder. Jihoon is stumbling just off to the side, safely on the outside of the mass of undead. They exchange a look, silently communicating to keep going.

Soonyoung continues, shaking and jerking his limbs as he goes. His throat hurts from overuse, the growls and grumbles straining his vocal chords.

Excruciatingly slowly, they inch towards the entrance. Seon moves, heavily leaning on the wall, eyes glued to the horde behind them. At the jerk of his head, one that is too controlled to be an involuntary spasm, Soonyoung breaks out in a run, desperately hoping Jihoon will do the same.

He sprints outside, dodging a few sickly green-grey hands as he pumps his legs. When he bursts through the door that’s still propped open thanks to the chain, he screeches to a halt and whips his head around to look for Jihoon. He spots the other man running as well, smoothly weaving past the hungry zombies, briefcase clutched to his chest.

“Hurry!” Soonyoung screams, his voice cracking painfully and he starts undoing the metal chain.

Jihoon speeds up, feet slamming harshly against the foyer tiles as he makes his way towards the doors— but a body slams into him and he’s knocked to the ground just before he reaches the entrance.

It’s the zombie that had interrogated Soonyoung earlier, her stained eyes crazed and tongue lolling out of her mouth. “Food!” she howls, drool smearing across her face and she claws at Jihoon’s sweater.

Jihoon is curled up, protecting the briefcase underneath him, letting her paw at his back.

“Get up! Jihoon, for fuck’s sake get up!” Soonyoung cries out. He drops the chain and reaches for his baseball bat instead, feet already beginning to move.

“Stay there!” Jihoon yells back. “Don’t be dumb Soonyoung!”

The zombie hovering above Jihoon roars as the other feral undead swarm closer, threatening her food. She lashes out, keeping them at a distance.

Just as Soonyoung is about to ignore his words and storm in, bat ready above his head, another blur flies across the room. But instead of going for Jihoon, it rams into the zombie instead, launching her a good distance across the room.

Jihoon immediately clambers back to his feet and runs for the entrance, knocking another zombie off his feet as he goes.

Soonyoung quickly takes the chain back into his hands as he tries to understand what had just happened.

“Run! Friend!”

And it clicks.

Seon had thrown himself against the zombie on top of Jihoon, so he could escape. He had bowled her over, effectively freeing his favorite human and keeping her pinned down.

When Soonyoung looks over, he can see her thrashing underneath him and biting at his arms, snarling and screaming loudly. One of Seon’s knees is bent the wrong way and his shoulder has very clearly popped out of its socket.

Jihoon speeds past Soonyoung, startling him out of his shock. “Close the door!” he yells before doubling over, panting heavily.

Soonyoung shoves the door shut just in time— a few undead run straight against the glass panels and one of their fingers gets stuck in the middle before snapping clean in two.

He leans against the doors to keep them shut before wrapping the chain over the handles, looping it through them and making sure they’re firmly tied together. The zombies pile up against the entrance, desperately clawing at the glass.

His eyes glide back to Seon, who is now limply laying on the floor. There’s still a small spark of life in him, though, so Soonyoung folds his hands around his mouth to make sure the sound travels far enough.

“Thank you, Seon!” he shouts. “Thank you for taking care of Jihoon!”

Seon grins, and despite his gruesome appearance, Soonyoung can only think his expression looks fond.

Then, he feels a tug on his sleeve. “We need to start moving.”

Jihoon doesn’t spare the hospital a single glance and he doesn’t wait for Soonyoung to reply before stalking off towards the road.

Soonyoung looks back one more time, then follows him. After three steps, he stops.

“Uh— Jihoon?”

“What?” the other man spits out.

“Where… where are we going? What’s the plan?” Soonyoung fumbles with the zipper of his hoodie. He can’t read Jihoon’s features as the man turns around. “Where do you think?”

He shrugs. Of course, Soonyoung hopes they will head for his hideout, his home— he wants nothing more than to introduce Jihoon to his family and try the cure on Mingyu, but he also doesn’t want to assume anything.

Jihoon drops the briefcase, stalks over to where Soonyoung is awkwardly shuffling his feet and reaches out with both hands, grabbing the collar of his hoodie in tight fists. He tugs him close, harshly. “I did not just risk my life and my hard work for you to start acting like a dumbass,” he snaps, but Soonyoung can feel his hands shake.

With a surprisingly strong push, Jihoon lets go. He smacks his fist onto Soonyoung’s chest one more time for good measure, and then promptly turns around to snatch his briefcase off the ground.

“We’re going to your base. Now, show me the way or I’ll personally turn you into a zombie myself.”

They journey back to Soonyoung’s hideout is both familiar and new.

He’s walked the road several times before, though not as many times as the regular runners. Still, he knows it by heart.

What’s new though, is the fact that he’s traveling down the road with a hand tucked in his.

After they left the abandoned hospital behind, they had walked in silence for the first day. It was awful, if you ask Soonyoung. They didn’t talk, only communicating in short, cut-off sentences to confirm directions or to warn the other about potholes.

They stayed overnight in one the resting places Seungcheol had scouted out for this purpose exactly; a nondescript house, just off road and safe enough to use for a night.

There was a rift, a huge gaping cliff between them when they laid down on the mattress. Nothing like the nights in the hospital, where they had been so tangled together Soonyoung couldn’t tell where either of them began or ended.

He had fallen into a fitful sleep, waking up every thirty minutes. Then, he’d had another nightmare. The same one he always has, about his family falling apart and him disappointing Seungcheol. The one where Mingyu dies and he comes back from his supply run, only to find their home empty.

Soonyoung had woken up with a start, hair sticking to his face and his shirt soaked in sweat. His heart was in his throat and he’d run towards the hallway where he’d seen a bucket, hurling into it.

As he was slumped over the gaudy plastic thing, he suddenly felt the familiar sensation of warm hands on his back, rubbing a soothing pattern. Tears filled his eyes and he’d cried, but only a little.

They went back to bed together, this time with less space between them, and they laid on their sides facing each other. They hadn’t talked, not really, but something changed. Something felt different. They still needed to have a good conversation, but Soonyoung felt like they would be alright.

The following morning was less awkward, less cold. Soonyoung stuck closely to Jihoon, who in turn toned down his icy replies. When they resumed their journey, they walked next to each other with their shoulders brushing occasionally. Naturally, this turned into hand-holding after a few days, because Soonyoung is only human and Jihoon has ridiculously nice hands.

Soonyoung happily swings their tangled arms between them, a smile so wide it hurts his cheekbones almost permanently painted onto his lips. Not even the conversation looming over his head can dampen his mood.

They have a day or two left before they reach the base, hopefully still in time for Mingyu, and their trek has been relatively peaceful. Only a handful of undead had appeared so far, but they were easily avoided or dodged, the baseball bat still unused at Soonyoung’s side.

Even now, when the sun is just starting to rise, it’s quiet. No groaning or violence, just a songbird singing its little lungs out to accompany them on their way.

“Soonyoung…” Jihoon begins, trailing off.

Humming to show he’s listening, Soonyoung keeps his eyes on their surroundings, just in case.

“What did you mean?”

“Uh—” Soonyoung tries not to choke on his own spit at the sudden question. He knew this conversation was coming, and yes he’d been ignoring it because he didn’t know how it was going to go, but he felt so incredibly unprepared that Jihoon casually asking it took him off guard. “I mean…”

He sighs. The hand entwined with his squeezes softly.

“Okay, fine. I said what I meant— I mean, fuck, no wait, I meant what I said,” Soonyoung stutters out. Why are serious conversations so difficult? “I know I kind of blurted it out and tried to play it off as joke, but it was embarrassing okay? I meant it but I didn’t want to just… I don’t know, you just deserve some sort of fancy, heartfelt confession, not a stupid slip of the tongue.”

Their pace slows down to a stroll, and then they stop and stand still entirely. Soonyoung avoids looking at the other man as much as possible, his cheeks flaming red.

“And I know it’s weird, we haven’t know each other for very long, not at all but— I just, you’re different,” he confesses. “I love the others, but you’re… you feel different to me. I’m sorry if it’s too much or, I don’t know, weird? But I meant it. And I still mean it.”

Jihoon hums. “So you still love me?”

Beyond embarrassed, Soonyoung tries to hide behind his free hand, squeezing his eyes shut; potential zombie threats be damned.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “More than before, probably. More than I should, all things considered.”

“Good.”

His hand falls to his side in shock and he opens his eyes to stare at the man in front of him. Jihoon is looking away from him, a pretty pink dusting his face.

“G— good?”

“Yes. We should keep going or else we’ll never make it back in time.”

Soonyoung lets himself be dragged along like a lost puppy for about five seconds before he speeds up a few steps, catching up with Jihoon. “What do you mean? Good? What’s that supposed to mean, you can’t just say ‘good’ and call it a day? Explain yourself!”

They continue walking, Soonyoung half turned towards Jihoon, in grave danger of tripping over his own feet.

“Ah.” Jihoon says, usefully. He lightly tugs on Soonyoung’s hand to prevent him from breaking his neck over a branch that’s blocking his way. “Well, I already came to the conclusion that I liked you more than necessary when I couldn’t get mad at you for breaking several of my favorite flasks. They were expensive, you know.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “Money means nothing anymore, Jihoon.” A firm squeeze, almost cutting of the blood circulation in his hand, shuts him up.

“To be honest, I considered me liking you as a side effect from being on my own for too long. My only company these past few months was Seon. I don’t think I ever told you how I ended up in the lab, did I?”

His throat is suddenly dry and Soonyoung desperately tries to swallow down one of his worst fears. He shakes his head, and Jihoon begins to explain.

“My team usually worked on the ground floor, in one of the separate wings. When the thing happened,” he says while gesturing vaguely with his free hand, “there were only a few of us at work, and we realized our research wasn’t safe in all the chaos. We moved everything upstairs to try and create the biggest barrier possible. All of us knew we had valuable knowledge that we could put to good use.”

Jihoon’s eyes trail over the trees lining the road, but he isn’t really seeing them. Soonyoung moves the tiniest bit closer to him, strengthening the grasp on his hand for comfort. “It didn’t take long for most of my team to fall. Most of them succumbed pretty quickly. Some of them turned, some of them became food. We were lucky to have years worth of supplies in the hospital, relatively safe from being ransacked entirely because it’s so off-grid. Still, they all ended up leaving, one way or another.”

He sniffles.

“I promised to finish our work. For the ones that were turned, and for everyone else that has had to suffer. I’m sure you can imagine it was lonely, though. I don’t even know how I survived for so long. It wasn’t until Seon suddenly popped up months ago that I had company again. I owe him a lot, you know. Without him, I would’ve gone stir crazy, and the cure wouldn’t have developed nearly as quickly without his venom.”

The road gently curves to the right and they slow down like they usually do, checking for any potential danger laying beyond their sight. After a short peek, Soonyoung deems it safe enough and they move on. “I spent a lot of time thinking, after you showed up. I’ve never grown to like anyone as fast as I liked you, and it scared me. I was worried that I was getting attached, simply because you were the first human I had come across in a long, long time.”

Soonyoung feels his hands grow clammy, not sure where this conversation is heading.

“But then I realized I was lying to myself, because I know myself better than that,” Jihoon softly mumbles, his thumb running over Soonyoung’s knuckles in an attempt to soothe his obvious anxiety. “You are quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Soonyoung. That’s a compliment, by the way,” he adds when he sees the suspicious look on the other man’s face.

“And if you’re weird for loving me after such a short time, I must be just as weird for loving you back.”

The only thing keeping Soonyoung from falling over in shock is the firm grip on his hand. His mind reels; is he going insane again? Is this a very,very vivid hallucination?

Jihoon squeezes his hand, gently. “We’re not weird, Soonyoung,” he mutters. “The normal, usual rules society used to abide by no longer matter. Who cares about any of that in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Not me, that’s for sure.”

A bright smile appears on Soonyoung’s face, like the sun breaking through heavy rain clouds. “Me neither.”

“Good,” Jihoon says. “Can we get going now? I might love you but we still have a little while to go, and I’m sure your family would appreciate me sticking the cure into your friend’s thigh before he fully turns.”

He’s about to continue walking when Soonyoung stops him.

“One more thing, though,” he says, unable to hide the sly smile curling his lips.

Jihoon makes a curious sound, and it’s so adorable Soonyoung feels the last shred of his restraint go out the proverbial window. He untangles their fingers, cups Jihoon’s face between his hands, and firmly presses their lips together. It gets a surprised squeak out of the other man, who immediately latches onto his waist for stability. Jihoon’s fingers curl against his side as Soonyoung deepens their kiss, tongue sweeping across soft lips before diving deeper, exploring further, looking for more.

If you ask Soonyoung, it ends far too soon.

Jihoon slightly pulls back, trying to break the kiss but Soonyoung chases his lips. Slightly squishing Jihoon’s cheeks between his hands, he pecks the pout it creates over and over again. He then moves on to plant tiny kisses all over Jihoon’s face, relishing in the embarrassed noises he pulls from the man.

Somehow, Jihoon manages to wiggle his way out of Soonyoung’s grasp. He holds the suitcase containing the cure out in front of him, trying to seem threatening.

Soonyoung thinks he looks like a grumpy kitten.

“We are going,” Jihoon demands. And Soonyoung is nothing if not a weak, weak man, so he gives in.

“Alright, after you, darling!” he replies cheerfully.

The blush decorating Jihoon’s cheeks reaches all the way from the tips of his ears down to his neck, and Soonyoung’s giggles resonate through the area, echoing between the trees.

According to Soonyoung’s calculations, they should be on time.

When he spots the painfully familiar building of their base appearing from the horizon, he can barely contain himself. He’s practically vibrating, half because of excitement, half because of sheer anxiety.

All things considered, the rest of the way back was fine; no big undead hordes or fatal injuries, and they had managed to divide Soonyoung’s small batch of preserved food between the two of them. He’d only wielded his baseball bat once, to scare off a giant raccoon who had tried to get its grubby little hands on one of their backpacks.

Soonyoung all but bounds towards the heavy iron panels functioning as their first line of defense, and slams his fist down in a very specific manner. “I’m back!” he yells as he continues to pound the rhythm onto the gate. Jihoon stands next to him, eyeing the building with badly disguised curiosity.

It doesn’t take long before they hear muffled voices slowly coming closer, paired with thundering footsteps.

“Soonyoung!?” “Was that—?” “He’s back!?”

Before either of them can even blink, the panels have been shoved aside and Soonyoung is being scooped up into a bear hug by several people at once. “Soonyoungie! You’re alive!”

“I’m fine! Sorry it took so long—” his sentence is cut short as another person joins the hug, squeezing him so tight he can barely breathe.

“W— wait, let me go! Wait!” Soonyoung suddenly demands and they set him down. “How’s Mingyu?”

An uneasy silence settles over the small group, several glances being exchanged. “Not well, Soonyoungie. He’s not… doing great,” Seokmin answers.

“Is he still here? Where is Seungcheol? Jeonghan? We need to go!”

Soonyoung knows he’s rambling but he has to tell them, he needs to fix this, he can—

A hand, one that he knows well by now, comes to lay on his shoulder. The weight is grounding, the fingers pressing into his skin clearing his mind a little. “Let me, please.”

He nods, and Jihoon takes a step forward.

“I’m Jihoon. I met Soonyoung on his run, and I think I can help you.”

There’s a grim kind of silence filling the room.

Soonyoung’s eyes are glued to the bed in the middle, where Mingyu’s form is spread across the blanket. His leg looks much, much worse than he could have ever expected, and his skin is awfully close to the shade that had painted Seon’s features. Dark veins crawl up his arms and neck. He’s sweaty and restless, his head moving constantly over the pillow as he fights whatever demons are occupying his dreams.

At his bedside, Jihoon is rummaging through his bag, suitcase popped open on a small stool next to him.

Seungcheol is observing him intently, eyes stern and unwavering. Some of the others are piling into the doorway, a mixed bag of concern, curiosity and fear.

What surprises Soonyoung is Wonwoo, who’s leaning against one of the bedroom walls with his arms crossed. If he looks closely, he can see a muscle twitch in his jaw.

“All I have to do is prepare his arm, inject the cure and bandage it. If my predictions are correct, it should take effect shortly,” Jihoon states, his voice neutral and clinical. “I don’t know what exactly it will do to the body— I would advise you all to be prepared for anything.”

“Why the fuck would we do this to Mingyu? Cheol, what are you thinking?” Seungkwan exclaims, clearly not on board with any of this. “Yeah, this is not like you at all,” Vernon adds.

Seungcheol’s gaze doesn’t budge from the small man, who seems even tinier next to Mingyu. “This is our only option. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

Someone gasps at the cold tone of his voice, but nobody leaves.
“Soonyoung, please hold this for me,” Jihoon requests, holding out one of the flasks he’d been carrying. He then takes a syringe, some disinfectant and the other necessary supplies; some of them coming from the bag Soonyoung had filled.

As calm and collected as he’s trying to seem, it’s not difficult at all for Soonyoung to notice the nervous habits and tells of the other man. “It’ll be fine,” he murmurs, only for Jihoon to hear. “I trust you.”

The procedure itself is stupidly simple: one swipe across the skin revealing a thick vein, a quick injection and a bandage wrapped firmly around Mingyu’s arm.

Jihoon discards of his gloves and carefully tucks the used syringe into a separate container. He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs. “It’s done. Now we’ll have to wait and see.”

Seungcheol, with a gentle, low voice that allows no arguing, clears the room. Only Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Jihoon and himself are allowed to stay. Soonyoung clings to Jihoon, refusing to budge when Seungcheol’s demanding eyes land on him.

He gives in when Jeonghan whispers something in his ear, too soft for anyone else to hear; he briefly rests his head on Jeonghan’s shoulder before thanking him.

Soonyoung feels a little like he’s intruding on something, so he shifts his focus onto the smaller man that’s tucked into his side.

Despite his earlier bravado and professionalism, Jihoon is clearly nervous and uneasy. He picks at his nail beds, and Soonyoung slides their hands together to stop him from drawing blood.

“So, how long until it kicks in?”

The sound of Wonwoo’s low voice booming through the bedroom startles Jihoon, even if he tries not to show it. He just doesn’t know what the others are like yet, Soonyoung thinks. Wonwoo is all bark and no bite, though his intimidating aura seems to imply otherwise. It’s just the way he is, especially when someone dear to him gets hurt.

“Half an hour, give or take. Might take longer, might not. It depends on his immune system and how quickly his body still processes things,” Jihoon replies.

Wonwoo gives a short nod before he turns back to look at Mingyu, hyperfocused on any changes in the man’s state. His entire body is tense, every single muscle poised for action. Jeonghan is standing next to Seungcheol, both sporting matching concerned expressions. If Soonyoung looks close enough, he can see their pinkies linked together.

He hugs Jihoon a little closer, both to comfort the other and to slightly shield him, just in case Mingyu reacts violently to the cure.

There’s no clock anywhere near them, in fact, Soonyoung isn’t even sure they have one at all.

But he still hears time ticking away, seconds slowly slipping through their fingers, taking Mingyu away from them.

“He’s moving.”

“He has been moving for the past fifteen minutes, Wonwoo, this isn’t—”

“No, he’s moving.”

Suddenly, the previously dead quiet room is full of commotion. Wonwoo is at Mingyu’s side in the blink of an eye and Seungcheol is standing at the end of the bed, closely observing. Jihoon has perked up, leaving the warmth of Soonyoung’s arms to inspect the effects of his work.

A hoarse groan fills the air. Mingyu looks pained and he tries to move his injured leg, but Wonwoo keeps it still.

Sweat drips down his face, the sheets beneath him growing damp. He yells as his entire body begins to convulse, painful twitches causing his limbs to cramp up.

“Mingyu… please,” Wonwoo whispers. “You can do it, fight through it.”

Another pained sound leaves him as he thrashes around, and Wonwoo quickly moves to restrict his upper body. Seungcheol immediately holds onto Mingyu’s legs, careful of his injury.

Jeonghan notices the bedroom door slowly creaking open and swiftly shuts it again. “Not now, guys. Please wait,” he begs to whoever is trying to peek inside.

The grip Soonyoung has on Jihoon’s arm must hurt, but he can’t find it in himself to let go. He’s sure the tortured sounds coming from Mingyu will haunt him in his dreams, and he desperately prays that it means the cure is working.

Mingyu screams, groans and cries for what seems like an eternity, his body spasming endlessly.

Silent tears drip down Wonwoo’s face as he keeps Mingyu from moving, his gaze never straying from his face. Seungcheol looks like he’s about to throw up.

Soonyoung looks over to Jihoon, who’s standing perfectly still, observing Mingyu.

“Jihoon?” he whispers. He’s not sure the other can hear him over the noise so he shuffles a bit closer.

“It’s working.” He blinks. “What?”

Jihoon clears his throat and repeats himself, loud enough for the others to hear. “It’s working. Look at his skin, the veins.”

Everyone immediately zeroes in on them and— he’s right. The sickly green-grey hue is less apparent than before, and the dark veins seem to be retreating. As if he’s only noticing it himself, Mingyu’s limbs slow down their twitching and the pained groans have dwindled down to whines.

Jeonghan nearly rips the bandage off Mingyu’s leg to check, and it’s in a similar state: the infection is much calmer than before.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo gasps, before collapsing onto Mingyu’s chest.

The door flies open and the others come running in. “Is he okay?!”

Seungcheol turns to look at them with watery eyes and a relieved smile on his face.

“Yes, he’s okay.”

It takes a while before Mingyu opens his eyes, fully conscious. He drifts in and out of lucidity, never really aware enough to recognize his surroundings. Wonwoo is once again leaning against the wall, face unreadable.

The rest is settled in the room, spread across the chairs they’d dragged in. Some are planted on the floor, refusing to leave until they’ve seen Mingyu awake and well with their own two eyes.

Jihoon is settled on Soonyoung’s lap after Junhui had kindly given them a chair, herding them towards it.

With his arms firmly wrapped around the smaller man, Soonyoung tugs him closer, making him lean into him even further. Jihoon’s head falls onto his shoulder, exhaustion lining his entire body.

Everyone jumps up the second Mingyu’s eyelids start to flutter open. He makes a confused noise when he sees the room full of people, all staring at him with hopeful faces.

“Wh— what?” he breathes, voice raw. Someone instantly appears with a glass of water and a straw, putting it on the nightstand near the bed.

“Mingyu? Are you with us?” Seungcheol demands. He moves to the side of the bed that isn’t occupied by Wonwoo. “Do you know who I am?”

The tall man snorts weakly. “Like I could forget you, Cheol. What sort of question is tha—”

His attempt at humor is abruptly cut off by a resounding bang, shutting him up.

There’s a fist-shaped hole in the wall where Wonwoo had been standing, and the man stalks over to Mingyu’s recovering form. Several people move to block him but it’s too late.

Wonwoo holds Mingyu’s soaked shirt between his fists and nearly tugs him off the bed, angrily rattling him back and forth. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Kim Mingyu!? What the fuck was that, huh?”

Mingyu opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something but no words come out. It only serves to anger him even more.

“Fuck you for being such a self-sacrificing ass and fuck you for getting infected,” Wonwoo roars, breathing heavy. “Fuck you, Kim Mingyu.”

Soonyoung tugs Jihoon even closer to him. He’s never seen Wonwoo this angry before, ever. If anything, the man is the type to bottle things up and lock them away, processing his thoughts and emotions alone before acting on them. He wouldn’t hurt any of them, Soonyoung thinks, but the look of sheer pain on his face is hurting them in a different way. One look around the bedroom proves him right; several of the others are crying quietly, clinging together, the hurt in Wonwoo’s voice hitting them all deeply.

Instead of being equally sad or maybe even a little scared like Soonyoung expects him to be, Mingyu simply smiles. It’s his trademark grin, lopsided and showing a hint of the fangs that everyone loves.

“And I’ll do it again if it means I can keep you safe,” he admits quietly, pure conviction pouring into the words. Mingyu’s hands crawls upwards, gently moving for Wonwoo’s hands that are still bunched into his shirt.

It only takes a second or two before Wonwoo collapses onto his chest, heart-wrenching cries trembling through his entire body.

The bedroom empties quietly, giving them some space.

After a couple of days, both Jihoon and Seungcheol declare Mingyu fully healed. Aside from a nasty scar decorating his leg and some serious trauma, there’s no permanent damage. Everyone unanimously agrees that he’s banned from doing supply runs for the foreseeable future, and Mingyu reluctantly agrees. Soonyoung takes his place, now the most regular runner besides Wonwoo, and they find they work surprisingly well together.

The entire house falls into a new routine, quickly getting used to a new family member and the change in responsibilities. Though most things stay the same, but they’re all much more careful than they were before. No one wants a repeat of what happened with Mingyu.

Jihoon is accepted into their makeshift family with no hesitation, and Soonyoung frequently spots him quietly talking to or laughing with one of the others.

He even finds him playing games, sometimes, or sitting with Seokmin’s guitar in his hands, softly singing a song he still remembers from before.

They both have a lot of things to do, their days busy and filled with all sorts of work that occupies most of their time; but they always find their way back into each other’s arms. Soonyoung spends his days training or running for supplies, and Jihoon usually locks himself away in the laboratory they’d quickly set up for him in the basement.

Still, they find each other.

After one of those hectic days, they’re laying in bed, huddled close together as they’re facing each other. They’ve drowsily filled the other in on their respective days, like they always do, and they’re slowly drifting off to sleep when Jihoon suddenly begins to speak.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the sound slightly muffled by the pillow squishing his cheek. “For finding me. For bringing me here with you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes crinkle as his cheeks bunch up, a pleased smile on his face. “Of course, how could I leave the best researcher on the planet behind?”

A soft punch lands on his bicep. “Shut up.”

Nothing is prettier than a sleepy, rumpled-looking Jihoon settled snugly beneath his blankets, he thinks. Especially when he lets his guard down, abandoning his usual snark and inadvertently showing just how comfortable he feels around Soonyoung. It’s nothing short of an honor, really, if you ask him.

His smile only grows and he hums. “I want to thank you too, by the way.”

Jihoon frowns, confused. “For what?” he asks, with a pout. Soonyoung reaches out, caressing the lips jutting out so adorably with his thumb. He pushes, softly, just to feel the them give a little. Leaning in, he briefly presses his own lips to Jihoon’s.

He slightly shifts, arms coming up to sneak around the smaller man and tugging him closer, rearranging the both of them so they’re in peak cuddling position. Jihoon lets himself be manhandled, immediately hugging Soonyoung back once they’re settled comfortably. He gently noses at Jihoon’s hair, feeling short puffs of air hit his collarbones. “For being you. For coming back with me, for not declaring me insane. For loving me.”

Another hit to his arm, but it’s gentle, affectionate. “Sap,” Jihoon says, the sound muffled against Soonyoung’s skin.

Soonyoung snorts, amused. “Says you.” He sneaks a hand underneath Jihoon’s oversized shirt, which he vaguely recognizes as one of his own. His fingers dance across the exposed skin, tracing invisible shapes along the spine, between ribs. Jihoon relaxes into his hold, melting into him.

“Before I forget,” he begins, “is there anything you need or want? I’ll add it to my list for tomorrow.”

Jihoon grumbles something unintelligible into his chest.

“Baby, I didn’t understand a single word you just said.”

The term of endearment causes the other to curl up out of embarrassment, shoving his face between Soonyoung’s pecs like he can hide between them and a furious blush shoots up his neck.

Ever since Soonyoung discovered Jihoon’s weakness for certain terms he’s been generously exploiting it— anything to see the man reduced a blushing mess. A twitch against his hip reminds him of the other effect it tends to have on Jihoon, who is currently trying to crawl into his ribcage in an attempt to hide.

“Want a book,” Jihoon repeats, his face still squished against his chest.

Carding his fingers through the other’s soft, pitch black hair, Soonyoung mulls it over. He’s sure he could manage, somehow. “A book? What for book?”

Jihoon sighs. “One of my favorites when I was younger. It’s silly but I miss it.”

“It’s not silly, stop that,” Soonyoung replies, lightly tugging on a strand to show his displeasure. A small gasp falls from Jihoon’s lips. “Tell me the title and I’ll try to look for it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid to get it.”

Untangling himself just enough to lean onto an elbow, Jihoon levels a glare at the man laying half below him. “It’s just a book. I’ll kill you myself if you die over a bunch of paper.”

“I’ll try not to get myself killed over a book, I promise,” Soonyoung coos. “Now get back here and cuddle me before I die of Jihoon-deprivation. That’s a very serious, life-threatening issue too, you know.”

Muttering soft complaints that he doesn’t mean a single one of, Jihoon drapes himself back across Soonyoung’s chest, entwining their limbs and leaving absolutely no space between them. Soonyoung’s hands resume their wandering, trailing along every edge and line of the body safely tucked into his.

He files the information about the book away, searing it into his brain for his next run. For now, he focuses on the pretty man in his arms, gently scraping his nails over Jihoon’s scalp in a way he knows the other likes.

This kind of intimacy is new, a recent development since Jihoon had wordlessly moved into Soonyoung’s bedroom with him, a logical decision they didn’t even have to discuss.

During their nights at the abandoned hospital, they had clung together in a search for comfort and warmth, straddling the line between casual and something else. Now, it’s a different kind of comfort and there’s a deeper, much more meaningful bond that constantly draws them together like magnets. If they don’t have a single point of contact, it simply doesn’t feel right.

The both of them have changed, even in such a short span of time; Jihoon is more relaxed about his work, humming songs as he jots down notes, and Soonyoung is beginning to talk about the negative thoughts that plague him occasionally. They are both more open, more free, and expressing their love and affection comes more naturally and easily than either of them had expected. Jihoon knows when his standoffish responses hurt Soonyoung, and Soonyoung has learned how to read Jihoon’s body language to figure out what he needs.

Which is why he can tell from the lingering tension in Jihoon’s neck and shoulders that he needs to relax, unwind and stop thinking about his research.

“Tired, baby?” Soonyoung’s voice is a low whisper as he adjusts his leg, uncaring of how transparent his plans are. It slips further between Jihoon’s, pressing against him, and he flexes his thigh. Jihoon’s hips buck forward involuntarily, chasing the pressure.

“You worked so hard today,” he mumbles as he continues his ministrations to turn the smaller man into a puddle. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

“So did you,” Jihoon retorts, though he doesn’t halt the subtle movement of his hips. “And you still have a supply run tomorrow, so you should rest.”

Soonyoung responds by gripping Jihoon’s waist with firm hands, tilting his body and changing the angle. He knows by the way the other clenches his jaw that he’s fighting down a whine.

“I can’t think of a better way to relax.”

Any complaints die on Jihoon’s lips when Soonyoung dives forwards and connects them with his own.

From the moment Soonyoung had really gotten to know Jihoon, he’d simply known that he would fit right in with the rest of his family. Looking at him now, stuck in the middle of being teased by some of the younger ones with a grumpy look on his face (but willingly letting them do whatever they want because he secretly doesn’t mind at all), he’s pleased to find that he had been right.

Their eyes meet across the room. Soonyoung smiles, teasingly. Jihoon raises his eyebrows, but fails to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks and the tug of his lips.

Since Mingyu woke up, their home has filled with so much relief and happiness that Soonyoung barely recognizes it. It’s like a burden has been lifted from the entire building, making even the sunlight falling through the curtains seem brighter, warmer, happier.

Sure, it’s not like anything has actually changed. They’re still in the middle of an apocalypse, there’s still the threat of zombies dangling over their heads. Supply runs still need to be taken care of. But now, they have a cure, one that Jihoon has requested the help of the others for because he wants to spread it to try and save as many people as possible.

And Soonyoung has Jihoon; he can handle anything if he has him by his side.

When he gets back from another run, Jihoon is there to patch him up. When Jihoon has been working for too long, he drags him back to their bedroom, distracting him or forcing him into a cuddle. Much like their time in the hospital, they build a system, a routine, and it works.

Soonyoung makes his way over to where Jihoon is still being targeted by the others. “I’m leaving, don’t wait up for me.”

“You better be careful,” Jihoon replies, eyes narrowed threateningly. “I want you back in one piece.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He chuckles, and leans down to kiss Jihoon. When he tries to get up and head for his gear waiting at the door, the other man tugs him back for another kiss.

Grinning, Soonyoung gives in. He’s got some time to spare, after all. He’s a little early today.

Unfortunately, their precious moment is cut short. “Get a room you two.”

They let go of each other and Soonyoung snorts.

“You’re one to talk,” he teases, poking Wonwoo between the ribs. The man has practically been glued to Mingyu’s side ever since he healed, taking PDA to a whole new level. He’s seen the two in the most questionable positions possible.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “Let’s go.”

“Fine, I’m going! Bye! Don’t miss me too much, everyone! I love you, Jihoon! Bye!”

Just before the door shuts behind them, underneath the chorus of everyone’s goodbyes, he hears Jihoon’s voice clearly. “I love you too, Soonyoungie.”

The front door of the base flies open, violently clanging against the wall. “Cheol! Jihoon!” Jeonghan yells. “Get your asses down here! And bring a cure!”

Within seconds, the entire hideout is in commotion. There’s more yelling and running and Soonyoung tries his best not to faint from all the noise. The headache is pounding against his skull, making it hard to focus.

The next thing he knows is Jihoon’s face hovering above him, his expression pinched.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” he bites out. “You absolute fucking dumbass.”

“Whadid I do?”

It comes out slurred, the vowels and consonants sticking together, but Soonyoung is sure Jihoon will understand. It’s his Jihoon after all, and he’s a genius.

“I told you, I told you not to get yourself killed! So why the fuck are you laying here with a bite on your arm, huh?”

Soonyoung doesn’t think he likes seeing Jihoon upset. He tries to reach out and smooth the frown from his forehead, but his arm doesn’t cooperate. Oh.

His vision blurs a little and he groans.

“Soonyoung, I swear if you don’t stay awake I’m going to kill you.”

Oh, well, he better stay awake then. That doesn’t sound very nice. He pries his eyes open, wait— when did they close?

Someone sniffles. Jihoon wipes his face with his sleeve, back turned away from Soonyoung like he doesn’t want to be seen. “Jihoon…” His voice wobbles a little.

“You’ll be fine, you idiot. I already gave you the cure,” Jihoon says, softly. He still looks upset. “What did you even do? This isn’t like you.”

Though his brain is a little hazy, Soonyoung tries his best to remember. He sifts through his memories, some of them clearly a little out of order.

“I…” he trails off, wincing at a spike of pain traveling up his arm. “My bag.”

Confused, Jihoon eyes the bag that Jeonghan had thrown next to the bed. “Your bag? How is that connected to you ending up as a chew toy?”

Even in his addled state, Soonyoung knows not to take the cold, harsh tone personally. It’s Jihoon. “Look inside,” he whispers. He’s so tired. Everything hurts and he really wants to take a nap, preferably with Jihoon in his arms.

He doesn’t really remember what led to this, but there’s a feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction seated deep in his heart, so he probably succeeded in whatever he had been up to.

Jihoon stalks over to the backpack, snatching it off the floor. He all but rips it open, looking inside.

He blinks.

“You stupid…” Jihoon mumbles. From where he’s laying, Soonyoung can see tears welling up in his eyes. “Don’t— don’t cry, baby.”

It only makes the tears fall faster.

Jihoon fishes something out of the bag. It’s a book, with a brightly colored cover and fancy lettering across the front. It’s a hardback, in near perfect condition.

The books falls back onto the bag as Jihoon walks back to Soonyoung. He grabs a chair, sits down next to the bed and looks at him.

“Kwon Soonyoung, you are an idiot.”

The corner of Soonyoung’s mouth quirks up. “Only for you.”

Jihoon stares him down, looking fairly intimidating despite the tear tracks running down his cheeks. “I can’t believe you,” he says. “Kwon Soonyoung—”

“I’m an idiot, yeah I know,” Soonyoung cuts him off. It earns him another sharp glare.

“I love you.”

Oh. That’s what he was going to say.

“Well, I love you too.”

“You better. Now scoot over, you scared the shit out of me. I demand cuddles.”