Chapter Text
Taeyong awakens to a blinding light.
He feels like his eyes have been closed for years, and he squeezes them shut again as the daylight pours in. His body aches settle in much slower, comparatively. His eyes burn up in his skull, spreading to his spine and down his arms that reflexively fly up to cover his face.
But something tugs them back down again — down to the white sheets, where the thin, clear tube leads to a needle stuck up into his vein. His fingers lift slower this time, up to touch the tape holding the tubing down against his skin, stopping before he can do anything rash.
He looks up and realizes he is in the corner of a hospital room. Strangely, surrounded by turned off screens, the single window in the room offering a total silence from the street.
The uneasy feeling wrecks him immediately, throwing his legs off the bed with the need to be anywhere but in the hospital bed. He's still wildly disoriented, cold and weak — he stops himself with the thought that he should yell for help, try call out for someone first. But eerily it seems like nothing could stop him from just walking out of here, other than the tubes tying down his arms.
He takes the edge of the first piece of tape and rips it clean off. He does not hesitate reaching for the next, not letting the pain hit until it all comes at once. He feels weak beyond belief, but something about being here does not feel right, so he decides to gather just enough strength to make it out of here.
A yelp tears out of him when he rips out the first needle, throws it off to the floor. He looks down at his arm and sees little else than skin and bone, the veins protruding harshly from beneath the thin skin. His trembling fingers reach for the tape on the other arm, giving it the same treatment. There is little hesitation as he pushes a groan through his teeth, bracing for the rush of pain into his weakened body from where the needle pulls out of his skin.
He pushes up off the bed, his knees trembling and nearly buckling under him. He catches himself on the nurse's cart and it rackets — a squeaky old, unreliable thing, and yet it stays steady enough to keep him up. When he feels strong enough to stand on his own, he allows himself to release it.
Each step gets easier than the one before it, and before he knows it he is making it across the room, the pain that was previously so prevalent in his body toning down into a dull ache. His hand reaches out for the door and he leans his whole body into the handle.
He opens it to a completely deserted hallway.
The uneasy feeling begins to spin out into a panic. He takes in a breath, and before he can start hyperventilating, he shouts out.
“Hello?”
Dead silence, so still that for a moment he wonders if he has gone deaf. But he hears the door softly click closed behind him, disturbing neither the echo of footsteps nor the noise of the staff.
There seemed to be no one else here but Taeyong, and he is more disturbed by that fact than he thought he could ever be.
“Hello?!”
His second call goes unanswered just like the first, so he takes a hesitant step down the hallway to look for any signs of life.
Slowly filling with dread he looks around as he walks, peeking past each door left ajar, into empty rooms and empty offices. When he makes it to the reception desk, it is scattered with a mess of papers and abandoned stationery. The hospital seems like it has been frozen in time, and in this moment Taeyong starts to hope that this is not what hell looks like.
The entrance to the hospital is a set of automatic glass doors, and as he approaches them they do not pull apart to make way. But he can still see past them onto the road where it is blocked off with cars, strewn about the street and some ever stacked upon one another, bumpers smashed up against light poles. It’s the same the further he looks — toppled over streetlamps, metal scraps and trash scattered about.
He tries to push his fingers into the slit between the doors, tugging hard to pry it open. He has to get outside, as if the world would become different once he gets past these cursed doors.
The smell of decay is the first thing that hits him, along with something like burnt rubber under a layer of rain. Not that Taeyong is not used to the street smelling of trash and vomit — he lives in a college town, more recently in the university's hospital. But now it seems as if something like a tornado ripped through the campus streets, its threat much more harrowing, something much worse than spring break.
The wind is cold, unpleasant, yet somehow it still feels better than being within the hospital's walls. Still Taeyong is at a complete loss of what to do — he knows which direction his apartment is in but not a single bus is running, nothing moving but the scattered leaves from underneath the nearby trees.
He thinks he should call out again but his throat closes up and goes completely dry. He does not know who he would be calling out to, alone against the world again.
Suddenly his eyes catch a movement in the distance — maybe it's him trying to convince himself that he hasn't woken up in a nightmare with nothing but his own mind to keep him company. Better than anyone he knows how much that can get him into trouble.
Still he follows the noise where it originates, from within the car garage. There are faith footsteps, then a rhythmic scraping — Taeyong thinks maybe it's a car trying to start, maybe someone trying to tinker with it.
His own footsteps feel heavy underneath his exhaustion as he walks down the ramp, coming down into a garage that he realizes is nearly empty, save for the few cars parked in handicap spots. Something about their presence here feels eerie, like they've been collecting dust for weeks.
From behind it he catches a moving shadow, the source of the footsteps and the faint scrapes. It's an elderly man making his way towards him, walking so slowly, almost limping.
“Excuse me?” Taeyong calls out, his throat horse and words echoing harshly against the concrete around them. The man barely reacts, little other than the drooping of his head.
“Uh, sir?” Taeyong tries again, taking another step closer. Maybe this person is feeling just as lost and disoriented as Taeyong is, not knowing what to make of finding every corner he turns into so devastatingly empty.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything switches.
The man's neck snaps up and the second his eyes meet Taeyong's, he lunges for him.
Taeyong does not immediately move, caught frozen in disbelief. The split second of a look in this man's eyes and Taeyong's heart is shattered — his eyes are bloodshot, full of sickness, enraged and filled with so much sorrow that it burns into Taeyong's memory.
Then, an adrenaline shoots down his spine and his legs take off running.
In between his own ragged breaths he hears the footsteps of the man following behind him, running faster than he can even think. Taeyong has never seen someone so old move so insanely fast, let alone while looking so sick. His mind races, in between trying to put the pieces together and surviving long enough to get the chance to complete the picture.
In the corner of the garage he spots a ladder — it's a fire escape that with a little bit of effort, he can jump just high enough to catch. His sore arms tense at the thought, protesting, but he feels like he has to try this, because he simply isn't making it out of this garage on foot. In due time the man would catch up to him, whether it is before or after Taeyong passes out from exhaustion.
The last few steps he takes are leaps, the final launching him up towards the wall. His right hand slips past the lower bar but the left catches on, holding on with all his strength as his feet find purchase up against the wall and push him up.
He gets the right hand on the ladder and starts to pull up, feeling his muscles tremble under his skin and spasm out, spending the effort they simply did not have. If only he could just get his leg up on the first step, he is in the clear.
But as he tries to lift it something wraps around his ankle and yanks him down, with Taeyong having little chance to stand against the strength sending him back onto the ground.
He pushes up off the ground and away until he is backed up into the wall, the hold on his ankle loosening until he is face to face with the old man again.
Taeyong figures he should face his death head-on this time and fights the urge to close his eyes. As he fixates them on the man he sees that same expression — a face like he is being torn up from the inside.
The man opens his mouth with an incoherent groan and inside is a pool of blood, pieces of flesh stuck in between filthy teeth.
Taeyong bids his life goodbye.
Then, there's a loud gunshot.
Something wet hits his forehead but he can only focus on the face, half of it blown off by the shot as the man falls limp on top of him.
Taeyong's chest heaves with fast and shallow breaths, still not seeming to take in enough air. It's the body of the man crushing him, pushing him back into the concrete. With what feels like the last bit of strength that he can muster, Taeyong takes what remains of the body by the shoulders and pushes him off.
When he looks up in his view is a man — tall, taking up his entire field of vision and blocking out the light, drowning out everything around him until even his own breaths start to quiet. Then in his view is a hand, reaching out for him.
“We have to go!”
Taeyong takes it without hesitation to be pulled up. This stranger's hand tugs him until his feet are on the ground and moving again. This hand is the warmest thing that Taeyong has felt in months.
He's running behind a man and can only see the back of his head, still noticeably taller than Taeyong even when he's up on his feet. He has dark brown hair just tickling his neck, a flannel stretched over his back and a shotgun hanging off a strap thrown over his shoulder. Taeyong's hand is in his firm hold the entire way back up the garage ramp as together they run out into the street.
Meanwhile Taeyong does not understand what they are running from. As far as he knew, the crazed old man was certifiably dead. And yet the stranger does not let them slow down for a single breath, all but booking it towards a seemingly random pickup truck standing in the alley across the street.
“In!”
The door is thrown open for him and the man rushes him inside the car, barely letting Taeyong arrange his own limbs as he nearly falls on top of the person sitting in the driver seat.
“Way to fucking go, Johnny,” the driver grumbles.
“Just move it,” Johnny says, slamming the passenger door behind himself and effectively sandwiching Taeyong between himself and the other man. He's clutching the shotgun in his hands now, lowering it between his legs onto the floor.
“We agreed that fighting was the last resort,” the man behind the wheel says. By his expression he seems all the way pissed off, exaggerated even more so by the sharp features on his small face. Still he presses hard on the gas, swerving out between all the other abandoned cars. “This is about to attract so much attention.”
Johnny refuses to look at him, like he can't really argue against him. “I wouldn't do it if it wasn't an emergency.”
“Yeah? Well, thanks to that, our plan is fucked now,” the driver grips the wheel again, his foot anything but easing into the brake, throwing them all forward before taking a turn. “Who the fuck is this anyway?”
Johnny adjusts himself to look at Taeyong, as much as he can in this cramped space. And in turn, Taeyong gets the first good look at Johnny too, finally seeing his face, the lines of light passing over it through the windows of the moving car. He seems just as kind as he is beautiful, but maybe that's Taeyong's thoughts drifting back to the memory of his warm hand.
“What’s your name?” Johnny asks.
“You brought him here and you don't even know his name?” the other cuts in immediately, not seeming to cool off for a moment as his eyes dart between him and the road.
“It's Taeyong.”
The driver sighs and slows the car down for another turn, seeming to pull back from taking his frustration out on the truck. Taeyong can see him shaking his head next to him but does not turn to look. Somehow despite the circumstances, Taeyong finds himself grateful to not be alone.
“Johnny,” the man presses through his teeth, eyes fixating intently on the road ahead of him. “We can't take him with us.”
“Why not?” Johnny immediately argues. “He's the first survivor we've seen for weeks.”
“Weeks?”
Taeyong glances between two of them as they quiet down, both surprised by his speaking. He is just as confused as they are.
His track of thoughts is thrown off by Johnny shifting in his seat again, leaning forward to take the shirt off his shoulders and leaving him in a tank top. His shoulder has tattoos running along the skin, following the lines of his arm.
“Taeyong,” Johnny's tone lightens as he directs it at him, handing his shirt over to Taeyong. “You still have blood on your face.”
Taeyong's eyes widen at that and he instantly takes Johnny's offering, bringing the shirt to his forehead. He wipes at the skin, pulling back to look at the fabric staining with more and more blood.
At his right Johnny clears his throat, then with a calmer voice turns to ask. “How come you were alone out there?”
Taeyong's hands bundle Johnny's shirt and fall to his lap.
“I-I came from the hospital.”
“We can tell,” the driver snaps back, pointedly looking over what Taeyong is wearing. He is still in the white hospital gown that is little more than a sheet, and with dread Taeyong realizes that he most likely flashed Johnny as he climbed into the truck. “But how is that possible?”
Taeyong swallows and tries to calm his racing heartbeat, digging into his own memories and finding nothing of what happened but only how he felt back then. So abandoned, drowning under all the feelings he had brought upon himself.
“It feels like I've been asleep for ages.”
Neither Johnny nor the driver say anything, but Taeyong can almost hear how hard everyone is thinking. His mind is spinning too, wondering why he finds himself in the place of begging for trust again.
Still, Taeyong knows that there are bigger things to worry about — like why they were speeding away from the center of the city and merging onto the road that takes them to the edge of the town.
“What happened here?” Taeyong asks with the calmest voice that he can manage.
Johnny lets out an uncomfortable, airy laugh, like this is the first time he has had to choose the words for a conversation like this.
“You saw that old man,” he says.
Taeyong gulps, the memory still potent. The weakened, broken posture, the unhinged jaw, the pale tone of his skin. “He looked kind of… sick?”
The driver is the one cutting in this time, impatient to get them to the point.
“Zombie apocalypse,” he says. “It's fucking real, Taeyong. It's happening. It's been happening.”
Taeyong's mouth falls open with a loss for words. For a moment the revelation refuses to make it inside his psyche and he almost does not let it all the way in. This couldn’t possibly be what his second chance at life looked like.
“H-how long?”
“Almost four weeks now? A month?” Johnny says, the nonchalance in his voice a bit disturbing.
Taeyong does not know what to say in response to him, and the silence his speechlessness leaves is heavy and palpable, especially in the small space of the car. But Johnny finds this as his moment to keep explaining.
“Most of the students had gone for spring break,” he says. “I stayed back to work on my defense, and was honestly just procrastinating, scrolling on my phone. Then suddenly the news was everywhere.”
“What did they say?” Taeyong asks, finding it hard to look at Johnny and rather opting to stare at his pale knees poking through the gown.
“An outbreak at the vet hospital. Some strain of rabies that somehow mutated in people,” Johnny says, and from the periphery Taeyong can see him shaking his head, like he is still in his own disbelief.
As Johnny quiets down into the settling of his own words, the driver is the one to continue.
“The half of the town that did not flee ended up getting infected within the first week,” he says, seeming to have the habit of finding the most cutting things to say. Still, Taeyong finds himself appreciating his forwardness.
“And you?” he asks.
“We were all on the west side, so far from the main campus that we actually had a chance when the news broke,” Johnny explains, looking out the window this time. “But right now it's only me, Kihyun here and Minjeong.”
Taeyong turns to the driver — Kihyun — whose fingers squeeze down on the tattered cover of the wheel as he keeps driving.
“She's the reason we were at the hospital in the first place,” he says, followed by a long sigh.
Taeyong's face changes. “What do you mean?”
Though intensity seems to run in the very fabric of Kihyun's being, he still visibly softens as he thinks about the mentioned name. Even Johnny changes, shifting the entire atmosphere of the car.
Kihyun hesitates for another moment before answering. “She can't seem to recover from that first week.”
“She got hurt pretty bad trying to make it out before we found her,” Johnny follows him in explaining. “We thought we could find something at the hospital that might help.”
It settles quickly into Taeyong that he is the reason that they were unsuccessful.
“I'm sorry,” he says, trying to show all his sincerity because he does mean it. He would never be delusional enough to think that his life is more valuable than the life of someone they care about.
“It's not your fault,” Johnny still offers, with a soft and gentle smile. “I'm glad we found you too.”
Taeyong feels his heart skip, surprised that it has the energy to. Something about it makes him feel lightheaded, or maybe it's the month-long sleep.
“Have you eaten?” Johnny asks, somehow seeming to notice him fading away too. “You've been asleep for weeks, of course you haven't.”
The ease of the care in his words takes Taeyong for a whiplash, but thankfully Kihyun cuts in his stead.
“We'll have to get him some clothes first,” he says, not caring to hide how bothered he is by Taeyong's state of little dress. He turns to Johnny instead, gesturing out towards the window. “But can you be my lookout now, Johnny, please?”
Johnny nods, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to bring the window down.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says to Kihyun with a nod, then gives Taeyong a final, reassuring look. “Just hang in there for now, Taeyong.”
From there on the ride is mostly quiet save for Kihyun's tapping on the wheel, restless along with his thoughts. The tension is unbearably palpable for the first leg of the ride but starts to ease up as time passes. They see less and less infected wandering the streets, Kihyun picking the exact right times to haul ass. A few try to chase after the truck but Kihyun puts the pedal to the metal, outdoing them at every turn. Him and Johnny seem to make a good team, wordlessly working to keep the three of them protected.
Meanwhile Taeyong tries to make himself as small as possible in between the two of them, especially knowing he is likely Kihyun's least favorite person in the world right now. Taeyong wants to give him space but does not entirely feel right about edging into Johnny's space even more than he already is — pressed thigh to thigh, knees knocking against each other when Johnny spreads.
And when Taeyong decides to turn his attention more into himself, he is only reminded of the aches that he brought with him from the hospital, all slowly crawling back into him. The side of his body that landed when he was thrown on the ground pulses with a pain, his arms feeling too weak to wrap around and soothe its sting. He looks down at his hands and only sees bright blue veins under nearly transparent skin.
For a moment he considers closing his eyes, but then when the road starts looking suspiciously remote, Taeyong realizes then where they're going.
“The lake?” he asks, the first to speak in what feels like ages.
Johnny slips back inside the car and works on getting his window closed. The truck continues to take the winding road down to the empty lot at the edge of the water, towards where there sits a small boat tied to the dock.
“We figured, maybe… zombies can't swim?” Johnny says, the car throwing him back when Kihyun parks it into a spot.
Taeyong watches him get out of the car and lags to follow behind.
He hesitates to ask. “…Maybe?”
“Yeah, come on,” Johnny says as he turns around back to him, already reaching out his hand. Taeyong takes it without hesitation, letting himself be led out until he is back on his feet again. He thinks he will have to find some way to thank Johnny later, for being there for him when he feels like he wouldn't be able to even stand without.
He leads Taeyong into the boat, finally letting his hand go to grab onto the edge of it, motioning Taeyong inside as he holds it still. Taeyong steps in, hugging his gown closer to himself as the wind threatens to render it completely useless against its chill. He sits and brings his knees up to his chest, waiting as Johnny gets behind him and Kihyun gets in the front.
They push the boat off the shore and row it towards a tiny island just a short distance across the water. Taeyong never even knew this island existed, since he had only been at the lake once and did not fully grasp how far out it could go. His old life did not allow him much time to explore university property, all of its hidden gems and quirks.
He feels strange thinking about it, the life that feels so different now. It feels misguided to think that he would find safety in his new life here, with these strangers, but Taeyong has no other way to go.
Besides the fact that he is the one with a major disadvantage here — four weeks of sleep, as Johnny had said — Taeyong doesn't have the slightest idea of what has really become of the world around him. Nothing of the nature of the infected, how dangerous they could really be, what motivated them to attack. Taeyong can't help but start to think about everything at once, mind spinning until he feels nauseous.
The nose of the boat finally hits the grassy shore of the island, where Taeyong can clearly spot two tents on either side of the pit of glowing charcoals. Taeyong wonders if this was really their best option, to seek out and try to survive remote locations rather than be closer to the city and what it had to offer in terms of supplies.
“Minjeong-ah?” Johnny calls out as the boat dips under his weight, him stepping out of it as soon as it touches land.
Kihyun sighs in tow, reaching for the rope to tie the vessel down to the nearest tree trunk. Taeyong tries to maneuver himself out of the boat too, doing his best not to trip on his way. He doesn't know how much more strength he has left in him before he collapses entirely — but with everything around him happening to him, he finds himself chasing his second, his third wind.
Taeyong watches Johnny dip into a tent, calling out her name again. His own attention is caught by Kihyun, who turns to him and addresses him directly.
“You can have some of my clothes, since I don't think Johnny's would fit you very well.”
With that he turns away and walks towards a tent on the opposite end, and Taeyong takes this as his cue to follow him. He looks as Kihyun pushes apart the tarp and enters the tent, leaving the opening for Taeyong to follow.
The space is just tall enough for them to stand, and Kihyun crouches down to his backpack on the floor, sifting through its things. Taeyong so sorely feels like an intruder here even though he has nowhere else to go. In his state, he has absolutely no chance of surviving on his own. He is surprised at himself, at his ability to care for his own survival.
A bundle of clothes is thrown at his chest, with Taeyong catching it just before it falls out of his grasp. He unravels it as separates out a hoodie, cargos and a pair of boxers. Taeyong figures this is better than nothing.
He looks up at Kihyun — blinks once, twice, waiting for him to exit the tent so that he can change.
“What were you doing in the hospital?”
Well, he is just going to have to do this here, regardless.
He pulls at the rough neckline of the hospital gown to take it over his head, wiggling it through the opening. It's a wonder this thing even made it this far, because it rips off his body easily, the single layer between him and the stale air of the camp.
“Whoa, you're sickly,” Kihyun offers a comment this time, eyes scanning his torso. “Are you sure you're not patient zero?”
Taeyong holds back a scoff, too exhausted to keep his attention on anything but how his feet step into the legs of the boxers, one by one.
“I don't even work near the vet school,” he says.
“Where do you work?”
Taeyong's lips press together, instantly defensive about having to talk. With his attitude and complete lack of trust, Kihyun makes him feel exposed, in more ways than one. But Taeyong knows better than to brush him off.
“I'm at the college of pharmacy,” he says. “Or… was.”
Kihyun closes his mouth and pushes out a breath, nothing in his expression giving away if this helped his case against him at all. His feet start into a dragging pace, circling around Taeyong.
“Asleep for a month and not a single one of them got to you?” he asks.
Taeyong straightens out again, getting his arms into the holes of the hoodie.
“Maybe I repulse them,” he says. “Like I repulse you.”
He ducks into it and pulls it over his head, finding the fit of Kihyun's clothes just right for him. He turns to look at him again and finds that they're nearly the same height, except Kihyun gains an inch in his conviction alone, straightening out his spine.
“Not true,” Kihyun's face twists. “You can't fault me for asking questions.”
Taeyong shrugs. “Ask away.”
In response Kihyun shakes his head, this time his bitter expression cracking into a laugh.
“You're not very good at answering,” he says.
This time Taeyong cannot hold back a scoff. “You want me to go into depth about why I'm repulsive?”
“Taeyong, here,” Johnny's voice comes from the entry of the tent, his arm reaching out with another offering. “You should take a jacket. It gets much colder when the sun sets.”
There is a long, lingering pause, the stinging of the words still forming on Taeyong's tongue, ready to cut. But the tension is deflated the instant that Kihyun turns away and heads out of the tent, whipping past Johnny and out across the campsite.
Taeyong steps forward and takes what Johnny is holding out — his own jacket. When Taeyong pulls it over his shoulders there is an excess of width that he doesn't quite fill out, the fabric swallowing his form. Still he finds it exceedingly comfortable, Johnny's scent all over it surprisingly pleasant though it does not smell like anything particularly special.
“I heard you say you're in pharmacy,” Johnny says, glancing over how his jacket fits Taeyong's build. “That's close enough to doctor, right?”
Taeyong shifts under his gaze, arms wrapping around himself.
“Uhm, not really.”
Johnny does not look completely defeated at that, rather stepping closer towards Taeyong and placing a hand on his shoulder. He pauses when he grips it for a moment, feeling it under his palm.
“Could you… take a look at Minjeong? Please?” Johnny's voice is softer now, really pleading his case for his friend. “We're just… We're really at a loss for what to do.”
Taeyong feels much less than confident in his medical skills — his knowledge is entirely theoretical with little experimental medical practice. He spends most of his time in labs with liquids and powders, instruments and cold metal, then the rest buried in books. He has always been better at working inside his own head.
Still, he figures it would not hurt to try. It's hard to say no being put in this position, under Johnny's sincere gaze. So he reluctantly nods to Johnny, who immediately ushers him out of the tent with a hand on his back, guiding Taeyong towards the one that has its entrance entirely open. Kihyun pensively pokes at the coals of the fire in the center as the two of them pass him.
There is a glow of a single lantern from within the tent where Minjeong rests, laid up on top of sleeping bags where the light washes over her. Even with the little that this light has to offer, it's enough to show her condition clearly.
She looks sicker than even Taeyong does, sunken eyes and trembling, pointy shoulders. She's doubled over herself, holding onto her stomach, unfolding only enough to get a look at Taeyong as he steps inside the tent. Her pupils follow him but she doesn't move her head, like it would exhaust her too much to.
“Hi,” Taeyong says, feeling the need to break the silence. “I'm Taeyong.”
“Hi,” is all she says with a crackling voice before she looks away from him, curling back into herself. Taeyong's gaze follows where hers goes, sweeping over the bucket at her side, a towel. He looks at the shine on her forehead, how sweat glistens on her skin, sticks her hair to her neck.
“Did she get bitten?” Taeyong asks.
“No,” Johnny instantly answers. “She only tripped up, but none of them touched her.”
As if on cue Minjeong moves to grab onto the blanket covering her legs, gripping it and throwing it aside. It reveals her leg, the lower half of it certainly bruised up but the bruises look old, a settled-in yellow like they've been doing their work to heal for a while.
“Maybe it's infected or something?” Johnny offers.
“It's not,” Minjeong is the one that answers, and before Johnny can argue, Taeyong nods along in agreement.
“Yeah, the leg seems okay,” Taeyong steps forward and sits down next to her. A visible tremor runs up her arms and she seems to have trouble breathing.
Taeyong thinks for a moment, dryly gulping before asking. “Do you feel nauseous?”
“All the time,” she says and her eyes jump back to look at him, this time holding his gaze. It's confusing and a bit unsettling at the same time — the darkness of her pupils and something about the way she looks at him, warning him not to pry too close.
“She might just need some painkiller,” he eventually says.
“Incredible,” Kihyun's voice comes from behind them, one foot into the tent with the fire going behind him. He passes between them holding a metal cup in his hands, steaming as he walks and hands it over to Minjeong. “Glad we brought this genius.”
Johnny sighs, turning to him with a look of disappointment.
“Come on—”
“Let's go eat,” Kihyun cuts in, straightening himself back out. “Taeyong needs it more than anyone.”
Despite himself, Taeyong agrees with him, following him back out towards the firepit. There are three soup cans warming on a rack over the fire, the open lids shaking as the liquid inside boils. Taeyong hungrily swallows even at the thought of soup, suddenly no longer a picky eater.
By the time he arranges himself near the fire the can has started to cool down. He holds it between a layer of jacket sleeve, afraid to burn himself, but still dips into it with a spoon and tries to go for the first sip. As expected, it is still hot enough to burn his tongue, but the first taste of it has Taeyong struggling to hold himself back.
“Last night's was better,” Johnny comments and Taeyong barely hears it over the scraping of his spoon against the aluminum walls of the can.
He is done with his own before the other two can even start to make a dent in their own. He puts the can down and feels how being fed confuses his stomach, settling down heavy and uncomfortable. He takes in a breath and tries not to overthink himself into nausea.
He picks one out of the million thoughts in his head and decides to ask. “How much longer do you plan to stay here?”
Kihyun is visibly taken aback at the question. “You just got here.”
“We haven't thought about it,” Johnny answers instead. “Why?”
Taeyong licks his lips, still salty from the meal but decreasingly more so as he works his lip back into his mouth, thinking.
“Just not that confident that they won't know how to cross water,” Taeyong explains.
The other two are quiet as they think, and Taeyong would bet they have thought the same, which is why they don't deny him outright.
Still, Johnny answers with his own reasoning. “It has been fine so far.”
“Have you been out here this whole time?” Taeyong asks.
“Can't exactly maneuver around easily with Minjeong's state,” Kihyun explains, a sting in his voice remaining even though he is getting more tired with each word. “It was a pain to get here from graduate housing already.”
Taeyong perks up. “You're all students too?”
Johnny nods, speaking for all of them. “I'm third year computer engineering. Kihyun is a year above me. Minjeong is still an undergraduate, but in the same department.”
“We all lived in the same building when it all… went down,” Kihyun adds.
Taeyong nods as he takes in the information, and something about it makes him want to laugh. How little these things matter now, now that they're sat around the fire, afraid of every little movement outside them.
“How long does it take for them to… turn?” Taeyong asks, staring into the small fire. He hears Johnny take in a deep breath and let it all out at once, like he's trying not to get anxious just thinking of it. The way he acted in the garage, taking the man out with a single shot to save Taeyong, he wouldn't think that Johnny felt any other type of way about it.
“A minute? Maybe a couple?” Kihyun answers, seemingly more comfortable with the information. Maybe he has learned to have a healthy level of detachment from it all. “It happens in the blink of an eye. So, Minjeong, she's not…”
“I believe you,” Taeyong turns to him and nods with reassurance, noticing how the other looks more vulnerable than he has yet to see.
“We had no plan other than going to the hospital, trying to find anything to help,” Johnny explains, his words sounding so unsure because truthfully, they were really taking a shot in the dark with that plan, not knowing what Minjeong needs for her condition.
Taeyong has more than a hunch about what is wrong with her, and the other two would likely never know where to look. And for now, it seems like there is no way that Minjeong herself would admit it to them.
“So now what?” Taeyong asks. “Sit here and wait to be found?”
Kihyun lets out a bitter laugh at that, everything about the sound sharp and cutting.
“It's been absolute hell surviving the last few weeks,” Kihyun raises his voice and even the firepit spits. “You have no fucking idea what we had to do to get here.”
Taeyong is about to argue back but the words die before they find the steam. Because Kihyun is right in every way — Taeyong has not the slightest idea what he is faced with, past his one encounter with the old man. He had just woken up into a suddenly new world, a world much worse than the one he lived in before it, almost impossibly worse.
And now that he has started to slowly put the pieces together, he realizes he would have to fight for himself when he had never wanted to do it in the first place. Not in this life nor the one before it.
“Sorry, I—” the words come and stumble over themselves. “Yeah… You— You're right.”
Taeyong pushes up off the ground where he is sat, gripping the empty can in his hand. He turns away from the fire before its glow can make his thoughts spin out of control. He feels the weight of it all latch onto his feet and drag down each step he takes away from the firepit into the dark, heavy with everything he now has to make amends with.
That first night Taeyong absolutely can't get any sleep.
He could deal with the thin sleeping bag, the cold hardness of the ground under his back. His stomach growls at him, interrupting the beats of Kihyun's snores deep in his sleep. There's also the soft, distant crackling of the fire outside the tent, where Johnny is still awake watching the campsite.
Taeyong learned that they had been taking turns, Johnny responsible for the night shift and Kihyun taking the early mornings. The three of them now share one tent and allow Minjeong privacy in her own, still always close enough to be able to hear her. Taeyong thinks about how much they care for her, undoubtedly the reason that she has managed to get this far.
He sits up and drags the sleeping bag with him, wrapping it around himself as he stands up and steps out of the tent, quiet and careful enough to not wake anyone else up.
Johnny’s back is a dark silhouette in the glow of the flame, hunched over it before he picks up on the sound and turns around. He looks tired but still smiles when he sees Taeyong. Gathering up where the length of the sleeping bag drags on the ground, Taeyong slowly makes his way closer.
“Can’t sleep?” Johnny asks, a raspy voice just above a whisper.
Taeyong comes up to sit on the grass next to him. “Not even a little.”
Johnny nods, putting his hands together. Taeyong just then notices what he's been holding between them, a tiny book and a pencil no larger than a pinky finger.
“Yeah,” Johnny says, nodding. “I couldn't sleep the first few nights either.”
Taeyong's attention is still on the booklet in his hands. “What's that?”
Johnny looks down like he forgot what he was holding — he turns the book out to show Taeyong the pages with grids of numbers.
“Sudoku,” Johnny says. “I miss my phone.”
Taeyong tries to smile back but finds it difficult to. He is so aware of how stiff he is being and it makes him shut down into himself, even though Johnny is leaning back with ease, turning to reach for something behind his back.
It's his backpack that he takes and pulls into his lap. Taeyong hears the clinking of metal, the scattering of bullets, then Johnny pulls out a bag of what seems like dried jerky.
“I figured you'd still be starving,” he says, handing it over to Taeyong.
Johnny is absolutely right, Taeyong thinks, and his stomach agrees in unison. He takes the offering and rips into the package, taking the first bite. He tries to be mindful and eat slowly, if only not to seem like a complete savage.
“I guess it makes sense you can't sleep,” Johnny starts, like he's thinking out loud to himself. “Were you in a coma before this or something?”
Taeyong pauses chewing. “I think… exactly that.”
“You think?” Johnny asks with an amused smile, but his expression is much more curious than the one Kihyun gave him, open to being challenged. “Was it an accident?”
Strangely Taeyong finds himself enjoying how curious Johnny is about him. He can't help but be curious about him too, this same man that is his savior. Maybe his mind has been too poisoned by heartbreak.
“You and Kihyun don't hold back,” Taeyong comments instead, avoiding the topic entirely. He takes another bite of the meat if only to not have to talk.
Johnny doesn't seem to think twice about it, shrugging and willingly taking the bait.
“After all this time I think I'm forgetting how to be around other people,” Johnny explains.
Taeyong takes this moment to look Johnny over again, catching him as he turns back to look at the fire, then past it, to the darkness over the lake. Even his profile is stark and strong, his hair grown out as he tries to keep it out of his face. He pushes it back but it returns to the same place, unkempt.
“How have you even managed this far?” Taeyong asks. “When it all started, how did you…”
“We ran for our fucking lives,” Johnny says, shaking his head. “Listen, it wasn't… the best, but the truck is someone else's. They were already… Fuck— I know it's fucked up, but we just took it and drove.”
Johnny pauses to let out a sharp exhale. “Once someone gets bit, it just all happens… so fucking fast.”
The wheels in Taeyong's head start to spin, remembering the shotgun in Johnny's hands, the hole in the old man's head.
“Did you have to—”
“We didn't have a choice.”
Taeyong nods, understanding. He doesn't know if he would have done the same — if he could have killed the old man in the garage instead of running.
“The campus looks like it completely emptied out,” Taeyong says.
“Most people evacuated. At least, that's what I hope…” Johnny explains, voice lowering as it trails off. Taeyong wonders if he regrets staying here with the rest, but something tells him that Johnny is the kind of person to give selflessly.
Taeyong feels himself holding his breath as his thoughts race, trying again to put together all the pieces. Between the man lunging at him at his careless calls, to the silence of the university streets.
“Do they need to eat people?” Taeyong mumbles. “Or do their instincts just tell them to?”
Johnny's brows furrow over his eyes. “Why else would they bite us?”
Taeyong's lips close up with a hum and he hesitates to say anything else.
Meanwhile Johnny's eyes jump in between his, like they're so carefully picking up on all of Taeyong's movements. Taeyong feels the wholeness of his gaze but does not mind it. Somehow the weight of Johnny's attention does not suffocate him but rather makes him comfortable. The fire crackles between them, and it's not a particularly cold night, but Taeyong still hugs the covers closer to himself.
“I wonder if they starve out then, if they're not fed,” Taeyong says the thought as it comes to him.
“That would explain the empty roads,” Johnny reasons along with him, the pencil playing in his hand, trading off between his fingers. “They could have also wandered off to look for more… people.”
Taeyong watches Johnny's hands as his mind continues to spin.
“Is the infection curable?” Taeyong thinks out loud. “Or does the person inside become something else entirely?”
Johnny does not immediately have an answer for him, and Taeyong did not necessarily expect one.
Then, after a moment of thought, Johnny says. “You seem to be very… analytical about all of this.”
Taeyong cannot tell if he means it in a bad way.
“No, I— I like that,” Johnny adds, instantly sensing the change in Taeyong. “I'm glad you’re with us.”
Taeyong's heart picks up in his chest, and he bids farewell to any sleep he could have had that night.
“Just want to be prepared,” he says, because going quiet now would feel strange. It would leave just enough space to let in a sense of hope, a feeling that Taeyong finds completely unfamiliar.
“Johnny!”
The calling of the name comes as an echo through his sleep, still distant from somewhere outside the tent.
“Fuck— Johnny!?”
This one cuts straight through his conscience, forcing Taeyong awake. He hears the splashing of water outside, and Kihyun screaming his head off again.
“Taeyong! Johnny— They're fucking here!”
Taeyong whips his head to Johnny who is finally stirring awake, catching onto the last few words. He leaps up, nearly trips over his sleeping bag, tangling in his legs where he throws it off himself.
“Fuck!”
With that comes Kihyun's first gunshot, and Johnny's expression changes from drowsiness into an instant panic.
“Shit, shit!” he mumbles to himself, throwing his pillow aside and taking from under it a pistol. He nearly launches himself out of the tent before he turns to Taeyong, like he'd almost forgotten he's there.
Taeyong is shaking but nevertheless gets up to his feet, his heart racing all the way up into his throat.
“Johnny, what do I—”
“Ever used a gun?”
Taeyong goes lightheaded with terror, a chill running down his spine at the thought.
“N-no.”
“Here,” Johnny takes the back of Taeyong's hand and turns it palm up, placing the pistol into it. Taeyong's hand trembles when the cold metal touches his skin, and it takes Johnny's fingers wrapping around his for him to take hold of the grip.
“There's already a round in the chamber,” Johnny explains, his hand leaving Taeyong's and instead reaching around him, where his jacket hangs in the entryway. His breaths are heavy but his voice doesn't waver when he brings out his shotgun and cocks it back. “You have ten shots, remember to count.”
“Johnny, I—”
“I need you to do this, Taeyong,” Johnny says to him, already pushing the tarp aside. “Just aim before you shoot.”
With that he runs out of the tent, leaving Taeyong hyperventilating in his wake.
He has no other choice but to step outside too, so Taeyong does — barefoot and twisted up in his own clothes. His eyes don't know where to look, jumping from infected to infected, a horde completely surrounding the four of them on the small island. He counts four approaching Kihyun, with Johnny charging into the crowd of them with a yell to get their attention.
Taeyong grips the gun with both hands, still shaking as he points it towards the ground. He tries to quickly put together what he sees — that the infected are crawling up onto the shores soaking wet, that they can somehow wade through water. He wonders what attracted them to that island, if they reacted to more than just sound. If it was the fire, or maybe their scents that had drifted far enough.
His heartbeat is in his ears when Taeyong raises the gun, then quickly realizes that everyone is all too close together. He can't guarantee that he will not hit one of the survivors if he tries to shoot.
There are terrible sounds coming from the crowd of the undead, their scratchy groans, gargling on their own blood. There are more heavy blasts ringing out as Johnny shoots two of them down and gives them a chance to retreat, finally freeing Kihyun from their ambush.
“Get Minjeong out,” Johnny shoves Kihyun towards her tent, manually loading the bullets into his gun. “Everyone to the boat!”
Taeyong is frozen in his place, stuck to the earth looking out into the water, where another horde wades through the lake, swallowing the water in open mouths as they stagger towards them. Taeyong knows they're beyond outnumbered.
Kihyun is quick to get Minjeong, all but carrying her on his back as he hurries them towards the boat. He shoves his gun in his back pocket as he reaches for the vessel, holding onto the side to let Minjeong climb in.
“Johnny!” Minjeong cries out, her face wet with tears.
“Hurry!” Kihyun yells out, in a full-blown panic but still somehow managing to keep it together enough to untie the ropes keeping the boat docked.
Then Kihyun looks up at him and they lock eyes. “Taeyong, move!”
That shakes him awake, just enough to force his legs to move towards his voice. He stares down at the gun in his hands and feels it be more of a danger to himself than anyone else around him. It doesn't feel as foreign as it should, another option.
When he reaches the boat he tosses it in, ready to climb inside before he turns around.
He thought Johnny was invincible right up until this point. But the horde has already started closing in, all of them surrounding him. The boat rocks as Taeyong kicks off it, grabbing a paddle into his hands and running for him.
“Johnny!”
When Taeyong calls his name he whips around, only one of the infected standing in between them. Taeyong is closer but he does not turn to attack him, only continuing to take charged steps towards Johnny.
Taeyong grips the paddle — and without another thought, with as much strength as he can muster, he swings it at the zombie's head.
The man falls to his side, knocked over from the force of Taeyong's hit as he thrashes on the ground. Taeyong gets closer, and gripping harder onto the wooden stem of the paddle, he stabs it down into the infected man's face until he sees the inside of his head.
His blood squelches and splashes as Taeyong beats him until he stops writhing on the ground, skull dug into the soft ground.
“Jesus Christ,” Johnny says, wide eyes staring at Taeyong. “Are you fucking insane?”
“No head, no zombie,” Taeyong says, his gaze almost glossed over as he thinks about the barrel of Johnny's gun, seeing it through the hole in the old man's head. “We won't have to attract attention by shooting them.”
“A little too late for that!”
Johnny frantically motions for him to hurry, not taking off running towards the boat until Taeyong passes him. The boat is already drifting into the water, with Kihyun keeping it tethered by the second paddle in his hands, stuck down into the bottom of the lake.
“Let's go!” he urges them on, watching as they step into the water to wade towards them. “As soon as we hit the shore, we run for the truck.”
Johnny allows Taeyong to climb in before him, steadying the boat as Kihyun helps pull him in. He takes the paddle still painted with the blood of the infected, dipping it down into the water to push them though the lake.
Most of the horde has waded towards the island, and their speed is increasingly slowed by the water. Paddling through it, the four reach the dock in no time, with Taeyong mentally forcing himself to pick the gun up off the floor, jumping at every little sound coming up from the water.
He hops out of the boat as soon as it hits the dock, helping to hold it stationed when the other two drape Minjeong around their shoulders and get her out.
“Get her in the front,” Kihyun commands as they haul towards the truck, parked just a few feet away from where they docked. “You two in the back.”
Taeyong throws the passenger door open for Minjeong to climb into, who all but whines as she's maneuvered. Then, he follows Johnny into the back of the truck, preparing to ride in the open space as Kihyun assumes his place behind the wheel.
Looking out to the island with their tents he sees the fire is still going in the breaking of dawn, and the infected stand around it like they've been suddenly frozen in time. Taeyong ducks down to sit on the hard floor of the back of the truck, looking across at Johnny who only throws his head back, letting out a long, relieved sigh.
They're driving a minimum of half an hour without an instance of the infected before they finally decide to make a stop.
Kihyun brings them to a small storefront, the brake throwing them all back as he parks with little finesse. Taeyong can feel his nerves even when they're still separated by the window closing them off from the interior.
Johnny jumps out first, his gun idling in his hands as he scans the area, waiting for the rest of them to get out of the car. Taeyong walks around to the driver's side, looking between the two men.
“I’ll stay with her,” he says, and they do not object before they turn and walk into the building shoulder-to-shoulder.
Taeyong climbs into the driver's side, feeling Minjeong's heavy gaze on him from the passenger seat, her eyes so big even if they're halfway closed. He sighs, so unsure in not knowing how she feels about him, about his intrusion into the group. If she understands just how much he knows.
Her hand comes up to the door handle, yanks at it and pulls it open. Then she's unfolding, heaving over to vomit onto the pavement outside of the car.
Taeyong watches her, holding his breath.
When she finally stops, leans back into the car with the back of her hand wiping her mouth, Taeyong asks her. “What did you take it for?”
Minjeong laughs at that, small and dry, seeming to know exactly what he means.
“Insomnia, mood swings, you name it,” she says, the bitter smile never leaving her lips. She looks utterly ready to give in. “I should have never even made it this far.”
“They…” Taeyong starts, not really knowing where he's going with this. He thinks about Johnny, how he anchors all of them together, and Kihyun's own character that comes through in all the right moments. “They should know.”
“I can't tell them,” she says, and Taeyong can feel the tension in her break.
Still, he urges her. “You have to.”
When he watches Minjeong he sees a part of himself reflecting in her — that readiness to surrender, to leave everything behind if only to make it easier. How convinced she is that it's better without.
She curls, shrinking into herself, her eyes sunken deep into her skull. She might as well have been one of the undead.
“Do you really think I can be helped?” she asks.
Taeyong thinks about how Johnny dotes on her, leaving him only one answer. “Of course.”
“It was eerily quiet in there,” Johnny voice comes from outside the car, and Taeyong catches it from the open window. They returned so quickly, their guns still hanging cold on their hips. They're carrying two backpacks each, all of them stuffed to the brim.
Kihyun comes around to the passenger side of the car, and Taeyong soon hears his quiet voice come. “You okay, Minjeong-ah?”
He can probably smell the vomit that hit the ground. Hopefully he hasn't stepped in it.
“You should have left me behind,” she says.
The three are stunned into a silence, while she simply closes her eyes, her forehead resting against the edge of the open window.
“Don't say that,” Kihyun says, unable to hide to worry in his voice.
Taeyong looks at Johnny and the other is already looking back, silently questioning what they had been talking about prior to their return.
“You should have,” she argues, nevertheless. “I've been nothing but a burden to you. Just give up on me and worry about saving yourself.”
“Please, don't…” Kihyun pleads, coming close enough to her side of the car to reach in. “Why are you saying this?”
He watches as Minjeong gives him no attention, even as Kihyun takes her by the shoulder, shakes her, trying to do anything to earn it back on him.
“Minjeong, just…” Taeyong starts, swallowing down his own racing pulse. “Just tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Johnny speaks up this time, the tension in him pulling his voice high. “You know what's going on with her?”
He speaks the words into a question but his face says that he already knows. It's otherwise an unreadable look that Johnny gives him, and Taeyong cannot seem to rip away from it as it digs into him.
Then he feels something on his hand — Minjeong's thin, cold fingers covering it and gripping. He turns back to look at her and he's hit with a devastating look from her, begging him without even having to ask.
“She…” he starts, watching as her expression changes, ready to release her exhaustion all at once. “She's going through withdrawal. Benzodiazepines, if I'm not wrong.”
More stunned silence from the other two, wrapping around them to let in only the howling of the wind through the empty parking lot. Neither of them says anything for a long minute, but Taeyong can hear in the ringing silence how hard the two of them are thinking.
“Is it life-threatening?” Kihyun asks, cold and matter-of-fact.
Taeyong stops himself from fidgeting, not wanting to give away the discomfort through his body.
“It… can be.”
“Then what…” Johnny starts, still searching for the words halfway through his sentence. “Then what would she need? What would help?”
Taeyong feels a strange feeling in his chest at the words, light and aching at the same time. He hears the rattling of Johnny's belt as he shifts, glancing between him and the woman.
“To wean off,” Taeyong says, still holding Minjeong's gaze as he carefully chooses his words. “A controlled dose reduction.”
Her breaths come out even smaller but calmer than they were a minute ago, when they were still holding back her secret. As sick as she looks she seems to still be keeping it together, enough to keep going. Maybe easing her stomach helped, if only for now.
“We can try the hospital again,” Johnny suddenly says. “They would have what we need, right?”
Johnny's weighted gaze prods at Taeyong and he finally meets it, finding it impossible to reject the optimism in it. Johnny seems to always wear his heart on his sleeve, and Taeyong wonders how it could be possible to give something so pure so readily.
“We'll have to find a different one, then,” Kihyun says. “I refuse to go back to campus.”
“We can try the next town over,” Johnny says, nodding more as the plan starts to come together.
“Guys…” she starts, but Taeyong takes advantage of the hold she still has on his hand. He turns it over to squeeze it, to bring her attention back to his face where he manages a smile. He thinks that if not for himself, at least for her he can.
“We can make it happen,” he says with an assuring nod.
He lets Kihyun to get back into the driver seat while himself climbing into the back with Johnny. He wonders how far the infection has made it out of the university. If they will find that the next town over is just as ravaged, or if they would find other survivors.
Taeyong thinks back to the hordes on the island, all closing in on Johnny. Taeyong thinks of them ignoring him completely. He remembers the old man's hesitation just before Taeyong saw the inside of his head.
“Johnny,” he says before he can stop himself, unable to hold the thoughts back to himself, his mind overfilled.
The other perks up instantly, a curious look back on him. “Yeah?”
“The infected on the island, they didn't… they didn't attack me,” he starts, sounding more and more unsure with each word. He thinks back to the look in the old man's eyes, wondering if something like a soul of that same man was still somewhere within.
“What do you mean?” Johnny asks.
Taeyong looks up and sees the thoughts racing in Johnny's eyes. He takes one look at Johnny's face and finds himself wanting to bare everything to him, knowing there is no feeling more dangerous to him than this.
He shakes his head, forcing him back into himself.
“Nothing,” he says. “Forget I said anything.”
As they journey out of the university town they have to make frequent stops. The first few times are due to Minjeong's car sickness, pulling over for her to heave up whatever drinks she tried to fill herself up with on the ride.
This time they stop to switch drivers, Kihyun finally giving up his seat behind the wheel. Johnny climbs out of the bed of the truck with a parting grin, leaving Taeyong behind. He'd much rather have Johnny over Kihyun. Johnny fills the space so easily, going between conversation to quiet as Taeyong's attention wavers.
Kihyun, on the other hand, sits across from him and seems ready to fire off. But to Taeyong's surprise, he doesn't do it, leaving Taeyong in his quiet pensiveness, looking back at the road passing under them.
He peeks into the interior of the truck, where Johnny adjusts the map on the dashboard. He was following the main road to the hospital before pulling off into a small town street, taking the road down to the gas station.
Kihyun props himself on his knees to look over the walls, scanning around themselves as Johnny slows the car down into a stop among the abandoned pumps. Taeyong thinks that surely fueling the old way wouldn't work, then watches Johnny pull a hose out from behind his seat, throwing it down onto the ground. It coils around a metal lid cemented into the ground, which Johnny crouches next to and pries open with a metal tool.
With some effort and huffing he gets it off, sliding it aside. He then unravels the hose and dips it into the hole, letting Kihyun lead the other end into the gas tank of the truck.
Meanwhile Taeyong pushes open the window to the interior of the truck, tapping Minjeong's shoulder to get her attention.
“Need anything?” he asks.
He sees her shake her head, her face covered with a sheen of sweat. “I don't feel so good.”
“Try to eat again,” he offers, nodding at the bag of food between her knees.
When they're back on the road Taeyong feels more nervous than ever. This next town is technically unknown territory, and they have absolutely no way of knowing if they are walking into something they will not be able to deal with. Kihyun feels that tension too, with the way his hand hovers over his gun sitting in his hip holster.
He holds onto the side of the car, scanning the first buildings they pass as they breach the city limits. They drive by the population sign, and contrary to its contents see no one wandering out in the streets.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Kihyun says, his voice quiet just for the two of them to hear. Johnny seems to pick up on it too, slowing the car down as he pulls through the first roundabout.
“It’s the same as back on campus,” Taeyong reasons through it if only to bring his nerves down.
“How far out could they have gone?” Kihyun wonders out loud.
There's a tapping on the side of the car from the driver's side, Johnny trying to get their attention.
“Hospital is in two more blocks,” Johnny calls back to them. “We’re gonna need to leave the truck.”
“We can't split up anymore,” Kihyun says, still distrustful of each passing street.
“What about Minjeong?” Taeyong asks.
“Try to find a way to the back of the building,” Kihyun raises his voice so that Johnny can hear from the front. “Maybe there's a way to go in discreetly.”
Johnny is shaking his head but still takes the turn. “I don't like this.”
“It'll be—”
A gunshot rings out. Followed by three more.
Taeyong dives down to plaster himself against the floor of the truck bed, Kihyun bumping into him as he does the same. More gunshots, then the screeching of tires as Johnny swerves the car, making a turn out of the view of the hospital and side-swiping the corner.
Johnny steadies the truck but brakes even harder, wheels screeching across the white lines. The car manages to lose only part of its momentum, then hard stopped by the blockade closing off the road.
Taeyong is thrown around with Kihyun in the back, tumbling into the hard walls of the car and hitting his head in the process. Despite a ringing in his ears drowning out most of what happens around him, Taeyong can still hear a booming voice.
“Out of the car! Now!”
He scrambles back up to all fours but Kihyun's hand grabs onto him, holding him back. Taeyong watches him whip out his gun, pointing it behind him before he can steady himself to his feet.
“Don't even think about it.”
Taeyong looks down the street and sees a masked man running up, a rifle in his arms pointing directly at Taeyong's head. There's a taller, blonde mall following behind him, taking calmer steps as he switches his aim between Taeyong and Kihyun.
Kihyun takes the threat seriously, dropping the gun onto the ground and slowly raising his hands.
“Wait—”
“I said out, all of you.”
Taeyong listens to the click of the door as Johnny gets out behind him. The masked man watches him closely, pointing the barrel at Johnny this time. He nods towards the front of the truck.
“And her?”
Kihyun steps forward, making both of them jerk towards him.
“Please, she's…” he swallows hard, still holding his hands up next to his head. “She's really hurt.”
The man's expression changes into a frown, at least of what they can see. “What do you mean?”
Taeyong's breath catches, knowing that none of them want to expose Minjeong. Thay also couldn't have them thinking she is infected.
The hordes of the undead, as terrifying as they could be, were at least predictable. But with the other survivors, Taeyong had no idea what to expect.
“We just need to get to the hospital,” Johnny speaks up, his voice oddly calm for the situation.
“We’ll offer you something in exchange,” Kihyun pleads along.
The man cocks his head. “Like what?”
“Him,” Kihyun points toward Taeyong. “He's a medic.”
Not that Taeyong had agreed to be a bargaining chip, still he doesn't push against him.
But the other man seems unconvinced. “Really?”
“He is.”
“S-somewhat,” Taeyong adds.
“Yeah, well, he is too,” the man points back to his companion, who has not said a single word as he holds his rifle in its same position. “I really don’t think you're in a place to bargain.”
Taeyong's heart sinks with the realization that they're doing terribly for themselves. The other survivors have the upper hand, cornering them back into their broken truck. They could rob them, kill them if they wanted to. Taeyong holds his breath anticipating their next move.
But the masked man lowers his rifle and hooks a finger onto the edge of his scarf, pulling it off his face.
“…Changkyun?”
It's Kihyun saying his name, recognizing the man. He's astounded for a moment, feet frozen and unmoving. Then he lets out a huff and hops off the truck to rush towards him.
As soon as he's face to face with him he's shoving him back by his shoulders, while Changkyun's face spreads into a grin that can't be wiped off by Kihyun's frustration.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kihyun shrieks, riled on even more by Changkyun's dismissive laugh.
“Sorry, Kihyun-ah, I had to make sure,” Changkyun says, moving his rifle back around him. Taeyong finally feels his own shoulders relax, watching the two of them interact. “Some of the other survivors we've come across — they're not as friendly.”
Taeyong wonders who had made them have such a violent reaction to outsiders.
“You've met?” Taeyong asks.
They nod in unison, with the shorter man introducing himself first.
“We were on the same teaching assignment last year,” he says. “I'm Changkyun. And this is Hyunjin. His gun isn't actually loaded, he doesn't like to use it.”
Taeyong nods with an understanding deeper than anyone could know. Meanwhile Johnny comes around the car and reaches out a polite hand, introducing himself to the two. Then when Taeyong says nothing, Johnny introduces him too.
“And Minjeong is still in the car,” Johnny explains. “We came here to try to help her.”
Hyunjin walks past them, his attention perking up as soon as she is spoken about again.
“Could I take a look at her?” he asks, his voice soft.
“Please,” Taeyong nods, stepping aside and averting his gaze as he allows Hyunjin to wiggle in between the barricade and the passenger side of the car, pulling the door open.
He speaks so gently to Minjeong that it's hard to make out their conversation from inside the car. Taeyong turns his attention to the three men, none of them as shaken from their standoff as he is.
“We actually wanted to go into the hospital ourselves in search of supplies, but it's completely infested,” Changkyun explains.
Taeyong's shoulders sink with the revelation.
“We can try clearing it out together,” Johnny offers.
Changkyun holds a pensive look. “True, four of us could have a better chance.”
“Is it just you two?” Kihyun asks him, glancing back to where Hyunjin is still doting on Minjeong in the car.
“Two more are back holding down a hotel as our base,” Changkyun says. “We could wait until they make their way here.”
“She can't really afford to wait,” Taeyong says, and the rest of them go quiet for a moment.
“Then we have no choice but to try,” Changkyun says.
It surprises Taeyong how readily he joins forces with their cause, even if it is somewhat mutually beneficial for them. Still, maybe he underestimates his kinship with Kihyun.
Taeyong himself was quick to face everything that was thrown along their way to helping Minjeong recover — but to him it was not the same. This gave him a reason to survive again, another excuse to keep living, something that could be so easily taken away.
“I'm gonna need way more than what I'm carrying if that's the plan,” Kihyun explains, holding up his pistol and letting the clip slide out of the chamber, shining with his final few bullets still intact.
Changkyun glances between the three of them — the few, dirty clothes they're still wearing, the single weapons they sport.
“Is that really all you came with?” incredulously he asks.
“We were ambushed,” Johnny explains. “Didn't really have much time to pack.”
“No kidding,” Changkyun scoffs, turning around and looking down the street where in the view is a hospital. “We've got more stashed at the supply closets. We can leave Hyunjin with Minjeong there, then make our way inside.”
Hyunjin helps Minjeong out of the car and she insists on walking herself this time. Taeyong wonders if all the doting is exhausting her just as much, but then sees her legs take their steps down the street and sees her small improvement, little by little. He knows she will probably waver for a while, but without the help to get her strength back, it's difficult to tell how long this upswing will last.
Kihyun joins Changkyun up in conversation as they take off on their way down to the hospital gates, half scanning around them and half looking to each other, with Hyunjin and Minjeong following in tow. Their hands always idle on their weapons even as they use them to speak, and Taeyong thinks about what a strange life this must be to get used to living.
“Taeyong.”
Johnny calls his name next to him and startles his attention back.
“I didn't get a chance to show you properly last time,” he says, nodding to the bulge of the gun in the pocket of Taeyong's cargos.
Taeyong turns to him, watching him stand still in anticipation.
“We were in a bit of a hurry,” he says.
Johnny breaks into a grin at that, taking his response as permission to get closer to him. He reaches for Taeyong and his hand slips under the flap of the pocket to grab onto the handle, pulling the gun out before the two of them.
“Both hands on it. Grip with your dominant, the other supports,” Johnny says, reaching for Taeyong's hands that loosen so easily to him, arranging his fingers around the grip, squeezing them on. “Like this.”
Taeyong takes in a breath and holds it on his tongue with Johnny stepping around him, raising Taeyong's arms in front as he gets behind.
“Line up the front sight,” Johnny's hand props Taeyong's arms up, his lips hovering just over his shoulder. “With the space in the rear sight.”
Taeyong squeezes both eyes shut for a moment then opens just one, trying to focus it in with Johnny's instruction. His mind is a second away from going hazy but Johnny's grip on his arm keeps his sight clear, finding the parts and fitting the sight as he said.
“Holding your breath helps to aim,” Johnny says, his hands releasing him but he does immediately not step away, as if he's still trying to see the same target from Taeyong's point of view. He feels the heat of Johnny's body on his back, centering him in here in between all the abandoned buildings.
“Got it?” he asks, voice gentle but confident.
Taeyong thinks that maybe this time, just maybe, he can do it.
“I think so,” he answers, lowering his gun and releasing his breath, his fingers still tight on the grip.
“The first is always the hardest,” Johnny says. “And the loudest.”
They have to jog to catch up with Kihyun and Changkyun who have gone way ahead of them, standing and waiting for them at the first gate. Changkyun shows them a way past the entrance, using the security doors which have been deactivated as the electricity in the city has gone dead. They make their way through the loading docks, sneaking into rows of storage. Just past these first few walls it is still quiet, the six of them moving in a quiet but steady line with Changkyun in the lead.
He leads them to a back room with a door that even from a distance Taeyong can tell has been tampered with. It has been upgraded with metal bars on the small window, a tiny light glowing from within.
“We had stashed what we brought in here,” Changkyun says when he gets the door open, letting them file in one by one. “Thought we could clear them out wave by wave.”
Johnny nods to him, quietly listening as a tension weighs down his expression. He gets so quiet that Taeyong can almost feel the whirring of his thoughts. He still says nothing as they fill their belts with ammo and wrap up their hands.
Changkyun grabs a few more clips for his rifle and earns a look from Kihyun like he has gone completely insane.
“How about something quieter?” he asks, not really asking.
Changkyun pauses. “For what?”
“They'll all hear it?” Kihyun presses on.
Changkyun shakes his head.
“It’s not about sound.”
A pause from them all.
“What?”
Taeyong thinks he should have realized this sooner. They had still somehow found them on that island, so distant and separated by water, led by something so much more potent that the sound traveling through the air, dying out with each gust of wind.
“Then how?” he asks.
Changkyun shrugs at that, his helpfulness waning with each thing he says.
“Don't know, doesn't matter though — they find you no matter what,” he says. “So just kill everything you see.”
Leaving Hyunjin behind to care for Minjeong, the rest make their way into the emergency care wing, their steps confident and hands tense on the straps of their guns. Johnny and Changkyun lead in front, shuffling from corner to corner to clear the path first. They step between bodies, the corpses of the infected littering the halls along with streaks of dried out blood on the walls. The interior reeks of death but for now that is the least of their worries.
Now that Taeyong knows it's not sound that brings them, he feels himself left much worse off. The known could be anticipated, controlled, and now they were left in total darkness, with nothing to mask the beating of their hearts, their very human presence.
Eventually they hear the echoing of groans, the dragging footsteps as the first encounter gets closer.
“I thought you said infested,” Kihyun comments under his breath.
“This is as far as we made it,” Changkyun throws back.
He gets out from around the corner and lifts his rifle, tilting his head for quicker aim.
“Are you sure this is the best way to—”
“Light, sound, smell, we're fucked either way!” Changkyun’s voice is loud enough to raise the undead. “Stop making excuses and just do it!”
That snaps something in place inside Taeyong, right as the first gunshots ring out and tremble through his chest. Johnny and Kihyun follow in suit too, raising their weapons and letting the shots ring out.
The crowd of shots is nearly deafening but Taeyong feels the noise close up around him, raising a wall between him and the terrifying tremor of the floor as the horde closes in.
But looking around he sees only bodies falling around him, the three doing their job to mow out the fastest ones. They're backed into closed double doors that stand unyielding behind him and there's no way to look but ahead, where he lifts his gun until it makes a direct line of sight with the incoming wave.
His finger slides over onto the trigger, feeling it press cold against the pad of his finger. And with the gunshots still hammering around them, blood splatters hitting the walls, he lets out his first shot.
It trembles through his bones and it's the most chilling feeling that leaves as quickly as it comes. It’s a hit that jolts its way through his entire body, leaving him emptier than before he pulled the trigger.
He takes another breath and aims steadier this time, focusing in on the fast moving heads of what he once considered human. He presses onto the trigger again, and again, and again until the tremor of the bullet matches up with the rate of his heart. He presses until his clip empties.
Johnny is immediately sliding another one over to him even though Taeyong's pockets are stuffed. He reloads it by pressing the single button on the side, releasing the magazine and shoving in the next, fifty percent chance that he had it in the correct orientation.
The horde soon dies out, most of the work done by Changkyun's rifle. A few straddlers crawl their way up the stairs down the hall, their heads blown off at the first peek of it by Johnny's gun, finger clicking again, just once, to an empty barrel.
“Not so bad, is it?” Johnny's voice comes over the ringing in Taeyong's ears.
Taeyong cannot describe to himself what it is — exhilarating, terrifying power.
“It's easier with a bit of help, I guess.”
They push further into the emergency care wing with the few infected still staggering the hallways, all of them strange and seemingly deaf, easily left to be taken down by whoever comes across them first. Taeyong leaves it up to the rest to clear out the rooms as he starts searching for the supplies — the bottles of diazepam, nausea medication. He searches in anticipation of the worser symptoms, possible seizures, something for the muscle spasms.
He never thought that his pharmacy studies would have led him here, with fate binding him to the group that still watches the hallways, ensuring his protection.
“You got everything you need?” Johnny comes up behind him when he hears Taeyong slam the last cabinet shut, throwing his bag over his shoulder as the buckles rattle.
“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek with palpable hesitation. “Listen, I can’t… I can’t promise anything.”
Johnny stops dead in his tracks and turns to him, eye to eye in the doorway.
“Hey,” he says, his hands fitting Taeyong’s shoulders between his palms, looking to him with a softest expression. “We do what we can, yeah?”
Taeyong hesitates but nods nonetheless, following Johnny to rejoin with the group to make their way back.
Changkyun's van successfully tows their truck out of the city, mostly the bumper suffering the damage from their crash. Kihyun tries to coax an apology out of Changkyun but finds himself receiving none. Rather, he is told to be grateful that they are being taken somewhere safe.
Their team has been holding down the hotel on the edge of the city as their base — successfully, from what Taeyong can tell. He notices quickly how well Changkyun's team is doing for themselves, so they're certainly in a much better condition having them around. Now stocked with medicine and supplies to last them months, they were together even better off.
Still Taeyong finds it a bit strange that Changkyun is trusting them so quickly. He remembers what he said about the other survivors and wonders what else waits for them out there, if they dare to venture out again.
“We keep a working shower in the pool area,” Changkyun explains once they've barricaded the double doors of the hotel. “You'll have to manually pump the boiler, so go in pairs.”
“Is that a hint?” Kihyun cocks a brow, his attitude visibly more relaxed than the entire time that Taeyong has been around. Maybe this was his first taste of safety since this all began.
“Yeah,” Changkyun says. “You guys smell like shit.”
Before Kihyun can pipe up with a response that derails them all again, Taeyong speaks up.
“We'll go,” he says, motioning to himself and Johnny.
Changkyun seems startled by his speaking and Taeyong realizes then that he probably hasn't said a word for the entire past hour. Still he waves Taeyong off, leading the rest of them towards the grand staircase.
“Everything you need will be in there,” Changkyun points in the vague direction of the stairs down to the pool before leaving them to it, turning to Hyunjin who has to bend down to hear what he has to say.
Johnny exchanges a curious glance with Taeyong but does not say anything else before they turn to make their way down to the floor below.
Johnny leads in front of him, towards the stairs illuminated by camping lights hanging off the railings and leading to the lower flood. They enter the basement — an overwhelmingly large and barely lit room that takes them a moment to take in before they spot the tile walls leading off into a corner, past the empty pool and into the shower rooms.
When they reach the room inside is a tank hooked up with hoses to one of the showers, siphoning the water from the hotel supply all while attached to a boiler with a pump, all taped up and tangled in cables. The whole scene seems very makeshift, but judging by the toiletries scattered around and towels stashed away, it seems to have been doing the job.
“You should go first,” Taeyong says when he spots a pillow on the floor meant as a seat, right next to a crank on the pump. He can figure this out easily enough, considering how much equipment he has had to fix in his university lab.
Johnny's backpack hits the floor in a clatter of buckles as he starts undressing, searching in the lockers around him for whatever he can use. Politely, Taeyong turns his attention to the switches, worn down by use and loosening. He tries to nudge some of them back into place, giving them an experimental push.
He takes the wrapped handle of the lever and gives it a few turns, revving it up as it roars and works and works then dies out as soon as Taeyong stops turning. He can certainly tell why Changkyun calls it manual.
He lets it run a few more times, still not exactly sure how it works but his mind drifting away from all reason of invention to the sounds of Johnny's bare feet, stepping across the tile and into the stall.
“Wow,” he hears Johnny almost moan when he steps under the stream, interrupting the sound of water slapping against the tile. “It’s actually kind of warm.”
A smile slips onto Taeyong's lips, despite how exhausted he is, looking back to the pump and continuing to steadily turn the handle.
It's a few quiet minutes filled with the staccato of the pump and the water falling off Johnny's back and hitting the tile under his feet. Taeyong listens to the characteristic scrubbing, smells the wafting of body wash drifting through the air.
“You did really well out there,” Johnny suddenly says.
Taeyong takes a moment to realize that Johnny is speaking to him. Though, there's no one else in the room, his back still turned to Johnny who's hidden in the shower stall, separated by very deliberate distance.
“Thanks,” Taeyong says, wanting to leave it there but guessing that Johnny didn't feel like staying quiet anymore. “With all of you there it didn't seem as bad.”
Johnny hums in response like he's got something stuck in his mouth, probably a toothbrush. Taeyong hears the bristles, keeps cranking the handle when he realizes the water quieted down.
“But it doesn't…” he starts again, swallowing and pushing on before he can take the thoughts back. “It doesn't feel easy. To me, they're still…”
His voice dies out at that, reminded of all the faces running at them, back then seeming so far from human, so far away from someone like himself. But Taeyong knows better than anyone that everyone is capable of changing.
“I always have to bring myself out of it, you know?” Johnny says, his voice quieter but still firm as it ricochets across the room. “What if one day it's someone you recognize?”
Taeyong cannot answer that, because he does not know what he would do either. The past few days have been nothing short of nightmarish — but something about being around Johnny, it made him feel invincible through it all.
“Once Minjeong gets better,” Taeyong asks before his thoughts drift. “What then?”
He almost expects Johnny to call him out for even daring to think about the next steps. That it took them so much to get here they could not possibly think of anything other than the counting of days, grateful for each moment that they spend alive. He expects the same reaction that Kihyun gave him at the lake, incredulous that he can think past mere survival.
But Johnny stays quiet for a long moment, even as the water dies down and goes quiet with him. Then before long, his voice comes again.
“I want to go back to my hometown,” he says, his voice ringing out against the tile. “I need to see my parents.”
Taeyong suspends into a total silence, hunching over in his place where he sits next to the quieted pump. His mind spins, fueled by the exhilaration of realizing that maybe Johnny is the person he thought him to be.
The ones who cares for everyone else, but who will spend the time caring for him? When it comes to Johnny, who protects the protector?
“I know the rest of them won't be happy about it, but I have to know,” Johnny says, and Taeyong wonders what kind of expression he is making, confessing this to him. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
The question seems misplaced, because as Taeyong works through Johnny’s words, slowly piecing together exactly the kind of person he is, he feels himself be pulled to him with a gravity he does not want to resist.
“If you have someone you care about so much, then that’s not crazy at all,” Taeyong says.
He imagines Johnny smiling at that, that glimmer in his eyes reignited. Taeyong wishes so badly that he could see it.
Then, with his voice comes a question. “Do you have someone like that?”
The words may as well have been a million bites, tearing into his flesh and gnawing it off. Whatever was left of his body from his month-long sleep, it feels like what happened to him before that tried to take everything from him.
His hand grips the handle again and turns hard, rushing the water into the shower stall again.
“Not anymore,” he says.
He hears little movement under the stream, wondering exactly what Johnny was thinking.
“What happened?” Johnny asks, seemingly still unafraid to be direct with him. Taeyong likes that, about all of them.
Taeyong takes in a breath, holds it, calculating how much he had to lose against what he had to gain. But something about Johnny’s patient silence makes him feel like maybe he can take its space up too.
“A broken off engagement,” he admits.
The sound of the water interrupts again as Johnny moves into it.
“Oh,” Taeyong hears him say. “Was she the one to break it off?”
Taeyong can’t hold back his laugh, a small and quiet push of dry air.
“He was,” Taeyong says.
Another silence falls, with Taeyong’s hand stopping the pumping off the water and Johnny standing still under its absence. Then, Taeyong hears his feet shuffle out of the stall but stop right before they turn the corner.
“That… couldn’t have been easy,” he says. “I’m really sorry.”
Taeyong says nothing to that, shrugging even though Johnny cannot see it. He should probably say something that makes Johnny feel better, but feels sudden relief, knowing that in this world he does not have to.
Johnny steps out from behind the wall and he's already dressed, his hair still hanging wet over his face. The towel comes up to squeeze the water out of it and Taeyong catches the sight of his profile, beautiful beyond words, eclipsing with the perfect peak of his lips. Taeyong finds it impossible to look away from the unique shape of them.
Johnny notices him staring but only smiles in return.
“Thanks for telling me,” he says through his brilliant smile. “Your turn.”
Taeyong feels his heart leap in his chest, looking up at Johnny from his space on the floor. His heart that was suddenly so alive in a world filled to the brim with the decay of death.
The heart that Taeyong brought with him into this world has not been simply broken apart and burned — it had become nothing but a pile of ash. The empty space in his chest has filled with so much loathing, his own endless self-pity. And before he knew it, he was drowning in all of it.
There is nothing that should have been able to bring him back from that, not even an apocalypse rebuilding the world.
Nearly another week passes as things quiet down. They make up a big group now, joining up with Changkyun and the two more women they meet at the hotel, Seulgi and Sana. They take Minjeong under their wing and with Hyunjin and Taeyong's guidance administer the remedies, helping her to start to get better. It's a slow progress at first, but they all patiently wait out the days until she starts to seem more like herself again.
It's an unspoken agreement between them all to lie low in the hotel for now, with Changkyun graciously offering the space and the rest of them knowing they did not really have any better options. Taeyong manages to eat enough to start gaining weight, holding down food better and better with each day. He feels his body growing back into itself again, and even he can let himself relax sometimes. Still, the calmness that settles in, it is always suspicious — as in Taeyong’s old life, in his new one too.
He thinks back to what Johnny said about leaving, wonders if he will ever bring it up. The day comes when Changkyun is the one to start the conversation.
“I think you should all stick around, permanently,” he says over the sound of splashing water in a bucket as he dips a mug into it. “We'd all be better off staying together.”
He says it so matter-of-factly that the forwardness even catches Kihyun off-guard. His hands do not stop scrubbing though, always trying to give Changkyun the feign of nonchalance.
But before he can say anything, Johnny is the one to speak up.
“I don't intend to stay,” Johnny says, his words like a bullet through the air.
Kihyun drops whatever dish he is holding in his hands right back down into the water.
“What?” his tone is not shy of anger. “Where would you go?”
The fact that Kihyun seems surprised by Johnny tells Taeyong that he is the only one that knew, that he is the only one that Johnny shared this with. He bites down on his lower lip and quietly listens, waiting for Johnny to explain.
“I want to go back to my family home,” he says, staring right down at his hands. “I want to see my parents.”
Taeyong watches how Kihyun exchanges a look with Changkyun, like he is checking to see if he is hearing the same thing. Kihyun's entire body turns towards Johnny then, an angry breath pushing past his lips.
“Johnny,” he says, his voice low this time. “Come on.”
His words are heavy with pity and Taeyong cannot stand it.
“I really don't think that's a good idea,” Changkyun pipes up this time, but Johnny doesn't even turn to him.
“I have to,” Johnny insists, looks at Kihyun directly this time. “Don't you want to know what else is out there?”
Kihyun is completely taken aback by that. Taeyong almost feels like an intruder in this conversation, knowing he is better off not getting in between.
“Alright, say you go out there, then what?” Kihyun presses on, but the anger in his voice turns into something else, something more desperate. “If your parents are dead — if everybody is dead. What then? What do you do with that?”
Johnny shakes his head, taking hit after hit in stride.
“And if they’re infected, are you just going to kill them all, Johnny?” Kihyun is relentless, an endless outpouring but Taeyong can tell that every word is laced with fear. “Everyone you knew, like you're so sure that there's no way to bring them back?”
Taeyong's heart sinks at that, Kihyun's words landing like a barrage of daggers. He remembers the look in the old man's eyes, the day that he woke up in this strange world. He remembers the pool of sorrow and endless rage, all there in that distant look.
“I'll do anything but sit in the same place and wait to die,” Johnny says.
Taeyong senses how Johnny's shoulders sink, a barely noticeable tremble in them as he stays in his convictions. If Taeyong could find it in him to speak, he thinks he would find himself agreeing with Johnny, more than agreeing with him. The thought disturbs him, how all his feelings about Johnny rush in all at once.
“So you'd rather make it easier then, right?” Kihyun asks, throwing his head back in exasperation like he's being made to argue with a child. “Are you even fucking hearing yourself?”
“Nothing you say will change my mind,” Johnny takes the rag off his shoulder and yanks it off, throwing it onto his stool as he stands up, letting Kihyun's final words follow him out of the room.
“Fine, then go!” Kihyun's voice pulls tight, shrill and enraged. “Fucking go and die.”
Johnny is already out of the kitchen. Taeyong doesn't think twice before getting up to follow him, only led by the sounds of the footsteps just barely heard over the pounding of his heartbeat. The pattering of footsteps takes him past the dining room and onto the balcony, high enough above the city to not need to be barricaded for safety.
When Taeyong finally steps out onto it he's met with Johnny's silhouette again, turned to look out over the empty streets. The line of buildings starting to surround with overgrown grass, the unkempt roads and empty highway.
“You don't need to tell me how badly I handled that,” Johnny says.
Taeyong was not going to. He watches how Johnny turns to look over his shoulder at Taeyong, turning away from the view past the railing of the balcony towards the grey wall, walking over to lean his back against it and sink onto the floor.
“Taeyong,” Johnny's voice comes, direct and with the glance of his earnest eyes up from the floor at him. “Do you agree with him?”
Taeyong presses his lips together before he can say something he regrets. So much goes through his head then, the time from waking up in the hospital to now feeling like it had been an eternity. He looks over Johnny's face then, the stubble growing in and his hair trying to escape his hair tie. He can hardly stand how gorgeous he is, how his kindness outpours from his eyes.
Taeyong comes up to the wall and sinks down against it too, bumping shoulders when he sits next to Johnny.
“I'll go with you,” he says.
Johnny whips his head to look at him, a few more strands of hair slipping out of place.
“What?” his face is so close that Taeyong can barely handle looking at it straight on, so so close. “Absolutely not.”
“Johnny…”
“Taeyong, no,” he argues back before he can even get another word out. “You're insane if you think I'm going to let you risk your life like that.”
Finally having gathered enough courage Taeyong looks up at him, holding his gaze even though it makes him feel like he's being taken apart from the inside, his thoughts completely transparent to Johnny. Maybe Taeyong did not have anything to hide anymore. Maybe Johnny already saw this in him, the agony that runs in the very fabric of his making.
“I was in the hospital because I tried to take my life,” he admits, the confession numbing him to his core. “After what happened with my fiancé, I couldn't… handle it anymore.”
He watches how Johnny holds his breath, his eyes widening. Still he pushes through the words, even as Johnny's pupils tremble in his eyes and make him want to collapse in on himself.
“My life mattered so little to me,” Taeyong says, all in one breath. “And then I woke up in… this. And met you. And now it feels like maybe my life might have a purpose.”
Johnny's lips part only a little as his gaze drops down to Taeyong's. They're so close that their foreheads are nearly touching, an invisible thread pulling them to each other.
“So I want to go with you,” Taeyong whispers now. “If you'll have me.”
“Taeyong…” Johnny gasps. “You— You're…”
He never finishes the thought, his hands coming up under Taeyong's chin and tilting it up, leaning down to meet him in a kiss. Taeyong freezes in response, the first touch of Johnny's warmth overwhelming, seeping into his pores all at once.
Then suddenly Johnny is pulling back, his eyes wide and breaths ragged.
“Fuck, sorry, I—” he cuts off again, pushing away from the wall and standing up. “You probably didn't… Fuck— Sorry…”
He's walking away from him now, towards the railing of the balcony again, and Taeyong is on his feet after him.
“Johnny,” he calls, reaching out for him and taking him by the shoulder.
He turns easily, and the look he gives Taeyong seems like regret at first but Taeyong can see the fear so visible behind it. His hands come up around Johnny's neck, walking him back into the column of the hotel to press him into it.
“Johnny, look at me.”
His hands slide up to fit on Johnny's cheeks, guiding his face until they're kissing again. Taeyong opens his mouth readily this time, letting the sounds of Johnny's moans tremble into him. He succumbs completely to Johnny's touch, to his arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him into himself. Every part of Johnny is so warm and Taeyong feels himself falling headfirst into it, wanting every part of himself to touch every part of him.
Johnny kisses back with just as much intent, leaving him breathless by the time he is pulling away. Meanwhile Taeyong's head spins, completely swept off his feet by Johnny.
“Are you sure?” Johnny's voice is raspy when he asks this, his hold on Taeyong still tight. Taeyong wants to laugh at the question, seeming so misled being asked when they're both flushed against each other, parted red lips panting for more.
“I want to be by your side,” Taeyong says, the words feeling like he is completely baring his soul with every syllable. “I'll go.”