#Kim sunoo

[cafeartemesia]

Love these. Genuinely laughed. Jungwon’s and Sunoo’s are just too good.

you accidentally text them 'let me ride you' - enhypen

PAIRING: best friend enhypen x female reader GENRE: crack, very suggestive ; mdni AU: best friends to ??? WARNINGS: very suggestive and strong language, one kms joke, they're all stupid, heeseung kinda freaky 😕, no one has learned their lesson SNAIL TRAIL: this is kind of a part 2 to my 'you text them 'wanna bang?'' fake text! you dont need to read that one first, but it will provide more context to these c: thank you as always to @sungbeams and @dazzlingjaeyun for helping me draft these!

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 01/28/25 do not copy, repost, or translate

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SAFE & SOUND — part 4

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 20k

MASTERLIST

Blood.

The warm, red liquid splatters onto your face, dripping down your neck and soaking into your clothes. For a split second, your mind blanks. You’ve been shot?

You freeze, waiting for the pain to hit, for the sting of a bullet tearing through flesh. But there’s nothing. No sharp ache. No burning sensation.

Not you.

Your gaze shifts downward. The woman in front of you staggers, her breath hitching painfully in her throat. Her wide eyes stare at the man in front of her in shock, unblinking, as blood pours from the gaping wound in her neck. The bullet has lodged itself on the right side, just above her collarbone. Her lips move—trying to form words, trying to breathe—but all that comes out is a gurgled wheeze.

Your heart pounds violently in your chest, the world tilting sideways as you try to make sense of what just happened. You turn your head, slow and deliberate, your body moving on instinct rather than thought.

Jungwon. He’s still crouched near the van, his hands empty. The rifle remains untouched on the ground beside him, exactly where he left it. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, wide with alarm, but it’s not him.

Your gaze shifts forward.

Sunoo. He’s mid-tackle, slamming into the man with the rifle. Smoke curls lazily from the barrel, the sharp scent of gunpowder stinging your nose.

The woman collapses into a heap at your feet, her blood pooling beneath her.

For a moment, everything stands still.

Silent.

Still.

Then—

Chaos.

A heart-wrenching scream cuts through the silence, raw and broken.

“No!” The man in front of you drops to his knees, his voice cracking as he cradles the woman’s body.

It’s a sound you’ll never forget. Pure grief. Devastation.

Your hands tremble, the knife slipping from your fingers and clattering uselessly to the ground. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Your mind races, but your body remains frozen, your legs rooted in place. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin, smell the metallic tang in the air, taste the bitterness on your tongue.

You blink once. Twice.

No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The plan was to scare them off. To protect your people. To survive.

But now there’s a woman lying dead at your feet, and you’re the one who held her hostage. You’re the one who brought her into this.

Would this be how it played out in Jay’s mind every night since it happened—the same nightmare on repeat? The man with the knife. The girl he cared so much for held hostage, and later had her life ripped away from her right in front of him. The choice he made to satisfy his hunger for revenge.

Would you now become the monster in someone else’s story? The monster who leaves nothing but broken people in their wake? The one they obsess over, hunt down, seeking revenge? You’ve seen what grief can do, how it festers and twists until there’s nothing left but hatred and the singular need for retribution.

Your chest tightens painfully, tears pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision. You don’t even realise you’re shaking until you feel the tremor in your legs. Everything feels wrong—so, so wrong.

Movement.

Ni-ki sprints across from the front of the van, no longer bound. He’s quick, his hands working fast to untie the ropes holding Sunghoon, Jake and Heeseung. Jake is already moving, reaching for the med kit, but he falters, his gaze falling on the lifeless body on the ground.

Sunoo is still wrestling the man with the rifle, their grunts and shouts blending into the background noise of your panic. The other two attackers stand frozen, clearly in shock. They don’t move. They don’t reach for their weapons.

Maybe they’re victims too.

Maybe they didn’t want this.

None of you did.

Everything is happening too fast.

Your mind screams at you to move, to react, but your body refuses to obey. You don’t even catch the shift in the man at your feet—the subtle way his grief twists into rage—until it’s too late.

His hand shoots out, grabbing you by the throat.

You gasp, your hands flying to his arm, trying to pry his fingers loose. His grip is like iron, crushing your windpipe, cutting off your air. Black spots dance in your vision as he drags you closer, his bloodshot eyes locking onto yours with pure hatred. His face is twisted, consumed by pain, fury, and vengeance.

“You—” he spits, his voice raw with grief. “You did this. You—”

A gunshot. Sudden. Sharp. Deafening.

The pressure around your neck disappears instantly. The man collapses to the ground, his body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut, right next to the woman. Blood seeps from the bullet wound in his temple, his expression frozen in an eternal snarl.

Your hands fly to your throat, coughing and gasping for breath as you stumble backwards. The world spins, your lungs burning as you suck in desperate gulps of air.

Jungwon. He’s standing now, rifle in hand, his gaze locked on the lifeless man on the ground. His expression is unreadable—calm, composed—but there’s something dark lurking behind his eyes.

You wipe the blood from your face with trembling hands, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Everything feels surreal. Disjointed. Like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

Jungwon steps closer, lowering the rifle. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet. Controlled. “Are you alright?”

You nod, though you’re not sure if it’s true. Your voice won’t come, stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled with the sobs you’re trying to suppress.

You don’t even have time to catch your breath when you hear the scream tear through the air, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Your head snaps forward, your heart plummeting into your stomach. Sunoo’s down—pinned to the dirt—his hands grappling uselessly as the man he tackled scrambles to his feet, grabbing the fallen rifle.

Sunghoon is already sprinting toward him, but he’s too far. He won’t make it in time. The man grips the rifle tightly, his eyes wild with panic and grief, and before you can even think to move, he spins—locking the crosshairs squarely on you.

The world slows. You see it all in perfect, horrifying detail. His hands trembling as he raises the weapon. His lips pressed into a thin line. The way his chest heaves with shallow, erratic breaths. And the tears. The tears welling up in his eyes, glistening as they fall.

He’s going to do it.

Your feet won’t move. You’re rooted to the ground, frozen by the realisation.

He’s going to kill you.

And you deserve it, don’t you? After what just happened—after the woman died at your hands, after everything that’s led to this moment—maybe this is the inevitable outcome. His finger tightens on the trigger.

You close your eyes. You’re not ready. You’ll never be ready. The thought crashes over you like a wave. This is it.

And then—

The gunshot.

It echoes through the surrounding, deafening, final.

You’re not dead. Slowly, shakily, you open your eyes. Your knees buckle, nearly giving out beneath you at the sight before you.

Jay.

With his pistol in hand, dangling at his side. He must’ve circled around to retrieve it—used the chaos, used you as the distraction. He could’ve taken the shot clean. He could’ve stayed hidden, waited for the right angle, and taken down the guy aiming for you without risking himself.

But he didn’t.

Jay is standing in front of you.

His body sways slightly, his stance unsteady, but he holds firm. There’s blood—so much blood—it seeps through his shirt, dark and spreading fast, soaking the fabric and dripping down his side. So much blood. It stains the hem of his jacket and clings to his skin like oil, like ink.

You blink, unable to process what you’re seeing, unwilling to believe it.

Jay took a bullet for you.

The bullet hit him in the side, just below his ribs—aimed for him but meant for you. If he hadn’t taken it, it would’ve hit you square in the heart.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Then he drops to his knees.

“No. No, no, no.” The words tumble from your lips as you rush to his side, your hands shaking as you reach out to steady him. “Jay, why—why would you—”

He lets out a sharp breath, cutting you off. His usual glare is gone, replaced with something softer. Weaker. Human.

“Couldn’t let you die,” he says, his voice strained but steady. “Not like that.”

Your chest tightens painfully, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “You—stupid—”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, managing a weak chuckle. “I’ve heard that before.”

Ahead of you, Sunghoon reaches Sunoo, pulling him to his feet. The shooter is on his knees, his hands raised in surrender, his rifle now in the hands of Ni-ki.

But none of that matters right now. All you can see is Jay. All you can think about is the blood on your hands—his blood—and how he took that bullet for you.

“We need to get him back to the van,” Jake’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind, calm but urgent. He kneels beside you, his gaze locking onto Jay’s. “You’ll be alright. Just hold on.”

Jay’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Didn’t… think you cared.”

Jake’s jaw clenches. “Shut up.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon sprint over, their footsteps pounding against the dirt. “We’ve got him,” Heeseung says, already lifting Jay’s arm over his shoulder.

Jake rushes forward with the med kit, his face pale. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

You stay by Jay’s side, your hands hovering uselessly. Why did he do it? Why would he risk everything for you?

As they lift him, Jay’s gaze meets yours again, his eyes slightly glassy. “Don’t…,” he murmurs, barely audible.

“What?” you lean in closer, holding your ear close to his lips but he fails to conjure enough energy to speak.

Guilt. Fear. Regret. It all coils inside you, twisting and knotting until it takes shape—rage.

White-hot, blinding rage.

You barely register your own movements as you lunge forward, your hand closing around Jay’s pistol lying in a pool of his own blood. The metal feels cold against your skin, slick with crimson that seeps between your fingers. It makes you sick, but not enough to stop you. Not enough to drown out the fury coursing through your veins.

Your legs move on their own, shaky but determined, carrying you over the lifeless bodies sprawled across the dirt. The crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot echoes in your ears, drowned out by the pounding of your heart. You don’t falter. Not when you reach him—the one who pulled the trigger.

He’s on his knees, trembling, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and disbelief. His hands are raised in a futile plea for mercy, but you’ve got none to give. Not now. Not after Jay.

The gun feels heavier in your hand than it should, weighted down by blood and grief. You raise it slowly, deliberately, your aim locking onto his forehead. He flinches, his lips trembling as if to beg, but you don’t hear his words. You don’t care.

Your finger curls around the trigger. But just as you’re about to squeeze, a deafening gunshot shatters the air.

Your body jolts, your eyes snapping wide as the man before you crumples to the ground, blood pooling from a clean shot through his skull. You freeze, the gun still raised, your breathing ragged as you process what just happened.

Slowly, you turn.

Jungwon stands a few feet behind you, the rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder, barrel still smoking. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—dark and piercing—say everything he doesn’t. His hands are steady, his grip unwavering. There’s no hesitation in him. No regret.

He lowers the rifle slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. The silence between you is deafening, save for the fading echo of the gunshot ringing in your ears.

You drop the pistol, the weight of it suddenly too much to bear. It hits the ground with a dull thud, splattering crimson droplets across the dirt and all over your boots. Your arms fall limply to your sides, trembling as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jungwon steps closer, each footfall deliberate, cautious. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet but firm. “You don’t need to carry that weight.”

His words linger in the air, but they don’t sink in—not yet. Your gaze drifts back to the lifeless bodies, to Jay lying still in the back of the van, blood staining the carpet beneath him.

You swallow hard, your voice barely a whisper. “He saved me.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to Jay before settling back on you. “I know.”

You close your eyes briefly, guilt gnawing at your insides, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “I was going to kill him.”

“I know that too.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. “And you did it for me.”

Jungwon exhales softly, his voice steady. “No. I did it for me.”

The weight of his words sinks in, pressing down on your chest. There’s no solace in them, no comfort. What did he mean? He did it for himself?

The echo of the gunshot lingers in the air, a haunting reminder of what just happened. But it doesn’t linger alone for long. The groans begin—a low, guttural sound that rises from the treeline like a warning bell.

The dead are coming.

Jungwon hears it too. His head snaps toward the trees, his hand tightening around the rifle. "We need to go," he says, voice clipped and urgent.

You nod numbly, forcing your legs to move. You turn back towards the van, your steps unsteady, mind racing to catch up with the chaos around you. Sunghoon is already at the van, throwing the back doors open. Jake is inside, frantically working with Heeseung and Sunoo to keep pressure on Jay’s wound, their hands slick with blood. Jay groans, shifting weakly, his eyes fluttering open for a brief second before closing again.

"Let’s go!" Ni-ki quickly pours however much gas he can from the canister into the fuel tank, packs up whatever's left and jumps into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. The engine sputters to life, the familiar rumble somehow grounding you in reality. You climb into the van, pulling the door shut behind you.

The van rumbles down the cracked road, each bump jostling Jay in the back as Jake works tirelessly to slow the bleeding. The tension is suffocating, thick and heavy in the air. The only sounds inside are laboured breaths, the low hum of the engine, and the faint groans of the dead growing more distant.

Then—footsteps. Rapid. Desperate.

You glance out the back window and see them—the two remaining men from the other group. It was so chaotic that you don’t even remember seeing them around the area. Maybe they hid in fear. Doesn't matter. Because they're running now, stumbling over roots and rocks, trying to keep up with the van. They’ve ditched their weapons. They’re unarmed, vulnerable. And terrified.

One of them shouts, his voice hoarse. "Wait! Please! Don’t leave us!"

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. Your mind flashes back to the chaos moments earlier—the gunfire, the blood, the woman collapsing at your feet. These two men had stood by, not pulling the trigger but not stopping it either. Complicit of your actions.

"Jungwon," you whisper, your gaze flicking to him. He’s sitting in the front passenger seat, his rifle resting on his lap. His eyes are hard, his jaw set. He doesn’t look back at you.

Behind the van, the men stumble again. One of them falls to his knees, chest heaving, before scrambling back to his feet. "We’re sorry!" the other shouts, his voice cracking. "We didn’t want it to go this far! Please, we just want to live!"

The van lurches forward, and you feel the weight of their desperation pressing down on your chest.

"They’re unarmed," you say quietly, though you’re not sure if it’s a statement or an excuse. "They don’t have anything left."

Jungwon finally speaks, his voice low and steady. "Neither did we. Didn’t stop them from coming after us."

"They’re running," you counter. "Not fighting."

"They’re running because they lost," Jungwon says coldly, his gaze locked on the road ahead. "If we stop, they’ll turn on us the second they get the chance."

In the rearview mirror, you catch Ni-ki’s expression—stoic, but his clenched jaw betrays his unease. Jake doesn’t look up from Jay, focused on keeping him alive, while Sunghoon grips the other rifle tighter, his knuckles white.

The men’s voices grow louder, more desperate. "We’ll do anything!" one of them screams. "We’ll work for you—protect you! Please, just don’t leave us here!"

You can feel the eyes of the group on you, waiting for your reaction. It’s suffocating.

And then, one of the men stumbles again, falling hard to the ground. He stays there this time, his hands pressed to his knees as he gasps for air. The other one slows down, grabbing his friend’s arm, pulling him up.

"Y/N." It’s Jungwon’s voice, cutting through your thoughts like a blade. "We don’t have time for this."

Your gaze flicks to him. His eyes meet yours—steady, unwavering. But there’s something else in them. Something more. Regret? Sadness? You can’t tell.

"They don’t have a weapon," you say again, quieter this time. "They’re not a threat."

Jungwon exhales sharply. "They were part of the group that almost killed you. That shot Jay. That held the rest of them hostage."

"That woman—" you start, but the words catch in your throat. That woman begged for her life. She was just as scared as they are now. And you stood there. You let her die.

Your heart twists painfully in your chest.

Sunghoon, sitting in the corner with his arms hanging over his knees, finally speaks. His voice is softer than usual. "We can’t save everyone."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. He’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

Jungwon nods once, his expression hardening again. "Keep driving," he says to Ni-ki. The latter hesitates for a moment, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. Then he presses his foot on the accelerator, and the van picks up speed.

"No!" the man screams behind you, his voice breaking. "Please! We don’t want to die!"

You can’t look away as they fade into the distance. One of them collapses again, clutching his chest as he gasps for air. The other tries to pull him up, but they’re too slow. Too weak.

And then, the groans return. The dead have caught their scent.

They’re going to die.

Your chest feels like it’s being crushed. You press your hand against the window, watching as the two men disappear from sight. Jungwon doesn’t say anything. Neither does anyone else.

You lean back against the van, the weight of what just happened settles over you, suffocating and inescapable.

They begged for mercy but you left them anyway. This shouldn’t surprise you. It’s the right call, after all. And if you’d been alone, you know you’d have done the same thing. Survival over sympathy—that’s the rule you’ve lived by since the community building fell. You don’t waste time mourning strangers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’re not alone anymore.

And as the van jolts over the uneven road, the weight of that difference presses heavily on your chest. Jay’s words from earlier echo in your mind, cutting through the silence like a knife:

The whole point of this group—the way Jungwon leads us—is to make sure we don’t become the monsters we ran away from.

It hits you then, the realisation settling like a stone in your stomach. Maybe a part of you wanted to protect something for them. To preserve that fragile thread of humanity they’ve managed to hold onto in this fucked up world.

But all you did was shatter it. Leaving behind the cold hard truth of survival.

You see it in their faces now. The way Sunoo curls in on himself, as if he’s trying to disappear. The way Sunghoon’s jaw clenches tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. The way Jake’s hands tremble ever so slightly as he presses another bandage to Jay’s side. The way Heeseung is wiping away the sweat forming on Jay’s forehead, almost absentmindely. Even Ni-ki, who’s been quiet since you left that village, looks lost in thought, his grip on the wheel a little too tight.

And then there’s Jungwon.

He’s always been the calm in the storm. The one who makes the hard decisions so no one else has to carry that weight. But right now, he looks as hollow as you feel. He’s sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, his gaze locked on the road ahead. His rifle rests across his lap, but his hands aren’t on it. They’re clenched into fists, pressed tightly against his thighs, like he’s carrying something far too heavy for one person to bear.

You glance down at your hands, noticing the faint red stains on your palms. Blood of all that lost and almost lost their lives. You wipe them on your jeans, but the stain lingers in your mind.

If you’d run into this group back at that auto shop—if they were the people they are now: hardened, desperate, with the blood of three strangers on their hands—they wouldn’t have kept you alive.

They wouldn’t have let you speak.

They wouldn’t have given you a chance to prove your worth.

It would’ve been a cold, practical choice. Eliminate the threat before it had the chance to grow. And you wouldn’t have blamed them.

But now? You wonder if they’re blaming you. Blaming you for the decision to leave those two men behind. For the way things spiralled.

The woman’s face flashes in your mind. Her wide, terrified eyes. The blood pooling around her body. “We’ve crossed a line,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the hum of the van’s engine. Jungwon’s head tilts slightly, but he doesn’t look at you.

No one argues. No one tries to convince you otherwise.

Because they all know it’s true.

Sunoo finally speaks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “We’ve crossed plenty of lines before.”

“Not like this,” you murmur, your words settling heavily between you all.

Ni-ki shifts in the driver’s seat, breaking the silence. “What do we do now?”

No one answers. Because none of you know. Not even Jungwon. And you can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of the end. Not for the world—it ended a long time ago.

But for this group. For the fragile hope that’s kept them all going.

You lean your head back against the window, eyes drifting shut.

You’ve crossed a line. And you know you’re going to keep crossing lines, one after another, until there’s no point of return.

Ironically, that’s the one thing you’ve been trying so desperately to hold onto—your sanity, your humanity.

And now you’re afraid. Afriad of how the weight of their survival—the choices you’ll have to make, the risks you’ll have to take—is going to change you.

You’ve spent so long fighting to hold onto the parts of yourself that still feel human. That separates you from the dead that damned the earth.

Your boundaries, your morals, the thin, fragile line between surviving and losing who you are. You told yourself that as long as you had those things—those pieces of yourself—you wouldn’t become just another product of this world’s cruelty.

But now, you can feel that line blurring.

Whatever you said to Jay back in that field, about how wanting justice or revenge makes you human—you’re not so sure if you believe that anymore.

Because protecting them might mean crossing lines you swore you never would. It might mean compromising the very things that make you you.

And isn’t that how it starts?

One compromise. One choice made out of desperation. One decision that feels necessary in the moment.

Then another.

And another.

Until one day, you look at yourself and don’t recognise the person staring back. Until you realise you’re no different from the people you swore you’d never become.

And that’s what terrifies you.

Not them.

But the person you might become for them.

“Ni-ki pull over. We’ll stop here for today.” Jungwon speaks, the first words uttered from any of you in the past hour and a half or so. The sun is still out, early afternoon by what you can tell.

Ni-ki’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as he glances in the rear-view mirror. “We’ve still got a few hours of sunlight. We can keep going. We’ll reach the rest stop by dusk,” he says, confusion lacing his voice. But despite his words, he slows the van and pulls it to the side of the cracked road.

“We’ll stop here for today,” Jungwon repeats softly, his gaze fixed ahead. His tone leaves no room for argument.

The van grinds to a halt with a jolt, the engine ticking as it cools in the quiet. For a moment, no one moves.

“I can hear your stomach growling,” Jungwon says, glancing at Ni-ki with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s take a short break. Eat something before we move on, yeah?”

It’s a lie. You all know it. His voice lacks its usual firmness, and there’s no mistaking the heaviness in the air. No one argues, though. There’s a quiet understanding that Jungwon needs space, and this cramped van isn’t offering him any. So, without a word, everyone begins moving, stretching out stiff limbs and gathering what little supplies remain to set up camp by the roadside.

Jungwon heads straight for the edge of the road, lowering himself onto the ground with a weary sigh. He pulls his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around them as he stares into the distance. The way he sits—hunched, small—makes your chest ache. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and for once, you can’t blame him. He had to pull the trigger today. Twice. On strangers who, by all rights, had it coming. But that doesn’t make it any easier. Killing people, even in self-defence, leaves a mark. One that never quite fades.

You take a hesitant step toward him, considering whether to offer him someone to talk to. But before you can get far, Heeseung catches your arm, shaking his head. His gaze is soft but firm.

“Let him be,” Heeseung murmurs. “He needs time.”

You nod, pulling back, though the guilt lingers in your chest. Jungwon shouldn’t have to bear this alone. None of you should.

Behind you, Sunoo’s voice breaks the tense silence. “Seriously? This is all we’ve got left?” His frustration is palpable as he crouches by the van, rummaging through the supply bag. “I swear we had five extra cans of beans last night.”

You tear your gaze away from Jungwon, forcing yourself to focus on the immediate problem. Food. Or rather, the lack of it. You walk over to where Ni-ki and Sunoo are crouched, the bag of supplies between them. The way they sift through it—careful, precise—makes the meagre contents all the more depressing.

“Are we running low?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intend.

“Yeah.” Sunoo’s lips twist into a grimace. “Those bastards—sorry, I mean, those men from earlier—they ate some of our food while we were waiting for you to get back.”

Even in the apocalypse, it seems disrespecting the dead doesn’t sit well.

You peer into the bag, taking stock. Two dented cans of baked beans. Five energy bars. One sad little sachet of instant coffee. And a leftover packet of ramen seasoning. It’s pitiful. Barely enough to sustain eight people. And Jay needs more than this. He needs proper food. Protein. Calories to help his body recover.

Your gaze shifts to the van. Jay is still lying flat on his back, propped up by makeshift bedding. His chest rises and falls slowly, his bandages soaked through with dried blood. His eyes are closed, but the furrow in his brow betrays the pain he’s in.

“We’re not going to make it far on this,” you say, glancing at Heeseung. “Not with Jay in that state.”

Heeseung sighs, running a hand through his hair. His fingers snag on the tangles, and he winces, but he doesn’t stop. “I know. We’ll reach the rest stop soon, hopefully they left something for us there.”

“Soon isn’t good enough.” Jake crouches down, picking up one of the cans, it looks almost too light in his hands. “Jay’s barely hanging on.”

Sunghoon nods in agreement. “And Ni-ki’s right. We could’ve kept going. We should’ve kept going.”

“We can’t push too hard,” Heeseung counters gently. “Jungwon…” His gaze flickers toward the figure still sitting at the roadside. “He’s trying to keep it together, but he’s hanging by a thread.”

You follow his gaze, watching Jungwon’s silhouette against the pale afternoon sky. He hasn’t moved from his spot. He sits so still, like a statue carved from grief and exhaustion.

“What do we do?” you ask quietly.

Heeseung exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for hours. “We give him a moment. And then we keep moving. We don’t have a choice.”

The words sit heavy in the air. You know he’s right. There’s no time to stop, no time to rest—not really. The dead don’t wait. And neither does the world that’s out to kill you.

You glance at Jay again. His lips are pale, his skin clammy. He shifts slightly, letting out a soft groan of pain.

“We’ll get him through this,” Heeseung says, his voice firm with quiet determination. “We’ve made it this far. We’re not losing anyone else.”

His words aren’t loud, but they don’t need to be. They carry weight, grounding everyone in a way that feels almost tangible. You watch as the effect of his reassurance ripples through the group, see how the flicker of hope reignites in their faces, how determination replaces the exhaustion etched into their features.

Your respect for Heeseung grows.

He isn’t trying to be the leader, isn’t trying to take Jungwon’s place, but his presence is undeniable. He’s become the steady force they need right now, the glue holding them together when everything feels like it’s about to fall apart.

And in that moment, you realise something you hadn’t before: maybe the strength of this group doesn’t rest on just one person. Maybe it’s not just Jungwon who holds them together.

It’s all of them.

All of them, picking up the pieces when one of them falters, stepping in without hesitation when someone needs support. Even if it means carrying more weight than they’re used to, they do it. Without complaint. Without hesitation.

And you can’t help but wonder if Jungwon knows.

Knows how much they lean on each other when he can’t carry the weight himself. Knows how much his own silence and retreat weigh on the group. Knows how they’re quietly filling the gaps he’s leaving behind, steadying themselves and each other without blame or resentment.

You wonder if he realises that even though he leads, it’s not his burden alone. It never was. It’s all of theirs, shared in a way that keeps them moving forward—even when it feels impossible.

And you want to believe him. Believe that you’ll get through this. But as you look at the dwindling supplies and the fading light of day, a gnawing doubt takes root in your chest.

You push yourself to your feet, brushing dirt from your hands as you glance around the makeshift camp.

“We can’t just sit here waiting for the rest of the world to collapse around us,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’m going into the forest to hunt. I could bring back some game for all of us.”

Heeseung immediately rises to his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” you reply quickly. The sharpness in your tone makes him pause. “I’m going alone.”

Heeseung’s brows knit together, concern flickering across his face. “It’s not safe out there. You shouldn’t—”

“I said no,” you cut him off, your gaze locking with his. There’s a finality in your voice that stops him from pressing further. Heeseung knows better than to argue with a woman bleeding her fury. His shoulders slump slightly, and he nods once, reluctantly stepping back.

The group needs Heeseung to rely on at the moment, and having him come along will only plunge them into deeper anxiety.

You know it’s dangerous not having anyone to watch your back. One wrong step or a moment of inattention could end everything. But that also means you don’t have to worry about watching someone else’s back.

And frankly, you’d rather be alone right now. You don’t have the capacity to look out for someone else. You’re mentally disoriented, emotions frayed and teetering on the edge of control. In this state, you’re probably more dangerous than the dead if someone presses the wrong buttons.

Human beings, right? How weak they are. Easily impressionable, quick to trust the wrong person, to follow blindly. Stupid, with an unmatched talent for self-destruction. They build, only to tear themselves apart. They cling to fragile hopes and ideals that crumble at the first sign of adversity.

It’s baffling how you and these people even made it through the initial chaos of the outbreak that rattled the world.

Without another word, you head toward the van. The air feels heavier with each step, your thoughts churning in your mind as you approach the vehicle. You reach the foot of the van, reaching down to grab your bag and Jay’s bow, when a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

You freeze, your hand still on the strap of your bag. Slowly, you turn to see Jay sitting upright in the van, his eyes half-lidded but sharp, piercing through the haze of pain he’s in.

Your heart skips a beat. He knows.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Jay’s lips twitch into a faint, humourless smile. “Because I was going to. Back then… when I lost her.” His gaze drops to his lap, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket covering his legs. “The pain was so unbearable that I didn’t think I could handle losing anyone else. I just wanted to be alone with her ghost.”

Your chest tightens at his words. There’s so much grief buried in his voice, a sadness so deep that it feels like it could swallow you whole.

“She must’ve really meant a lot to you,” you say.

“The world,” says Jay, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was my world. But then I found new meaning to keep going. To keep these people safe, no matter what it costs me.”

You shake your head, guilt settling in your chest like a stone. “Now, look at the state I’ve got you in,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re not keeping anybody safe like this.”

Jay’s gaze lifts, his eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity that takes you by surprise. “I kept you safe, didn’t I?”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a wave. You don’t know what to say. You’ve never thought of yourself as someone worth saving—worth sacrificing for.

“Jay…” you trail off, your throat tight.

“Just promise me,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the pain etched into his features. “Promise me you won’t run off.”

You hesitate, your grip tightening on your bag. Lying to him feels wrong, but you can’t give him false hope. You can’t promise something you know you won’t keep.

So you compromise.

“I’ll make sure you’re alive before I do,” you say, your voice wavering with a bitter edge of truth.

Jay chuckles quietly, though it sounds more like a soft exhale of exhaustion. “That’s the best I’m going to get from you, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer, but your silence speaks volumes.

He leans back against the van’s wall, his gaze drifting to the sky outside. “You’re stronger than you think, you know. But you’re also more stubborn than you realise.”

You laugh softly, a sound that surprises even you. “Takes one to know one.”

Jay smiles faintly, but the warmth of it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just… be careful. You’ve got more people who care about you than you think.”

His words settle into your chest, heavy and uncomfortable. You don’t respond. You can’t. The knot in your throat makes it impossible to speak.

Instead, you sling your bag over your shoulder and adjust your weapon, giving Jay one last look before turning away. His eyes follow you, but he doesn’t say anything more. As you walk toward the treeline, your footsteps slow. The implication of Jay’s words hangs over you, intertwining with the growing ache in your chest.

The forest feels heavier than it should. Each step you take presses down on the dry leaves and twigs beneath your boots, the crunch echoing in the otherwise still air. You keep your grip firm on the knife in your hand, eyes scanning your surroundings for any sign of movement. It’s eerily quiet, but that’s how it always is now. The world hasn’t made a sound in a long time—at least not the kind that reassures you that life still exists.

You don’t know how far you’ve walked. Maybe a mile. Maybe more. The camp is long out of sight, and the silence in the trees feels more oppressive with each step. There’s no wind, no birdsong, no rustling of leaves. Just you, your footsteps, and your thoughts.

I kept you safe, didn’t I?

It stings. Not because it’s untrue, but because it is. He did keep you safe. He took a bullet for you, risked his life more times than you can count. And what are you doing in return? Hunting pathetic game and picking berries hanging heavy off bushes.

You shake your head, forcing the thoughts away as you crouch near a patch of moss. There are tracks—faint, but there. Rabbits, maybe. Or something smaller. You run your fingers over the prints, noting their direction. They lead deeper into the forest.

The sun filters through the canopy above, casting long shadows across the forest floor. You keep your steps light, your ears straining for any sound of movement. A rustle in the bushes makes you freeze, your grip tightening on your weapon.

There—just ahead. A rabbit. It’s small, barely enough to feed one person, but it’s something.

You lower yourself into a crouch, holding your breath as you inch closer. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline sharpening your senses. You’re close enough now. Just a little further—

A snap of a twig under your foot.

The rabbit bolts, disappearing into the undergrowth.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, rising to your full height.

Frustration prickles at the edge of your nerves, but you force yourself to stay calm. This isn’t like the hunts you’ve seen on TV. There’s no waiting in a tree stand with a high-powered rifle. No camouflage, no bait. This is raw survival, and more often than not, you walk away empty-handed.

But you can’t go back empty-handed. Not today.

Determined, you keep moving, weaving through the trees with renewed focus. You’ve lost track of time, your eyes scan for more tracks, more signs of life. And then you hear it: the soft, melodic trickle of a stream.

A water source. Not just for you, but the animals. You move toward the sound, careful with your steps, until the trees part to reveal a small clearing. The stream cuts through the earth like a silver ribbon, its water sparkling in the late afternoon light.

And there it is. A deer. It’s young—small, but it’s enough. Enough to feed the group, to keep Jay’s strength up. Enough to make this trip worth it.

It stands on the other side of the stream. Its oblivious as it dips its head to drink from the cool water. The sight is almost magical, like a scene pulled from a world that doesn’t exist anymore.

For a moment, you just watch. You can’t help it. The way the deer moves, the way the light plays on its fur—it feels like something out of a movie. You’re struck by how much has changed, how far removed the world has become from anything remotely beautiful. And yet here it is: beauty, in its purest, most natural form.

But reality quickly pulls you back. This isn’t a movie, and you’re not here to admire the scenery.

You crouch slowly, your movements calculated and silent. You reach for the bow slung over your shoulder, your fingers steady as you pull it into position. The string hums softly as you notch an arrow, your heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the forest. You take aim, your breath slow and controlled, the deer still unaware of your presence.

The release is smooth, and the arrow flies true. A soft thud follows as the arrow finds its mark. The deer stumbles, collapsing to the ground with barely a sound. Relief washes over you, but it’s tempered by a twinge of guilt. It’s fleeting, though.

You move quickly, crossing the stream and kneeling beside the deer. Your hands are steady as you check its pulse, ensuring it passed without much suffering. You offer a silent thanks—not to a god, but to the animal itself—for what it’s giving you, for what it’ll mean to the others.

You do your best to drain the blood and skin the deer by the stream. It’s messy, your hands slick and trembling from the sheer mass of it, and the finished product is far from professional. But who’s complaining about fresh venison meat in the middle of an apocalypse?

When you return to the camp, the pleased expressions on their faces ignite a spark of accomplishment in your chest.

“Holy shit, you actually did it,” Sunoo breathes, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief as he stares at the game you’ve brought back.

Jake wastes no time updating you. “Jay’s been going in and out of consciousness. He’s desperate for something—anything—other than beans.”

You glance at Jungwon, half-expecting some critique or lecture about risks. But he doesn’t say a word. Instead, you catch the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. Enough to know he’s grateful.

The rest of the group gets to work immediately, dividing the meat. Half of it is chopped into small cubes and added to the bubbling concoction of beans and ramen soup seasoning. The other half is sliced into smaller pieces, skewered onto sticks, and slowly roasted over the flames.

The waiting process is brutal.

The fire crackles, filling the silence as everyone stares at the cooking meat with unwavering focus, as if sheer willpower could make it cook faster. The air is thick with the scent of roasting venison, and stomachs rumble audibly, a cruel reminder of how long it’s been since anyone had a real meal.

Finally, Heeseung gives the go-ahead, and no one hesitates. They dig in with abandon, the first taste of fresh meat in what feels like forever sending a ripple of relief through the group.

Jake carefully scoops some of the broth into a makeshift bowl carved from wood and brings it to Jay in the van. When you catch Jay’s gaze, the look in his eyes says it all.

He’s grateful—not just for the food, but for the fact that you didn’t take off running into the woods.

The next morning—or afternoon, rather—everyone except Jungwon sleeps in, a luxury that feels foreign in this world. You never thought you’d use the phrase “overate” in the middle of an apocalypse, but that’s exactly what happened. With no way to preserve the meat, everyone unanimously agreed to finish it off while it was still good.

Jungwon looks noticeably better—calmer, more grounded—compared to the tense, hollow version of himself from the day before. By the time the camp starts packing up, he’s fully back in his role, directing the group with quiet authority.

Before long, you’re all on the move again, resuming the trip to the rest stop. The exhaustion lingers, but for now, this is a win. And in this world, wins like these are few and far between.

The sun dips low on the horizon by the time you arrive at the bus terminal leading out of the city, signalling that the rest stop is not far now—about another thirty minutes' drive. That is if you can get past the bus terminal without any hiccups.

The terminal looms like a forgotten monument—its once-bustling gates now a graveyard of cars, all frozen in time from when people tried to flee the city. Some doors hang ajar, others sealed shut. Windows cracked, tyres deflated, their drivers long gone—or worse, still inside.

The terminal is a bottleneck, leading into a wide expanse of roads out of Seoul. But it’s a choke point, too—a trap. You know that every car out there is a potential coffin, and every shadow could be hiding something worse. The dead don’t move until they hear or smell something alive. Something warm. Something vulnerable.

Like a van carrying eight passengers. One of which is bleeding out of a hole in his body.

The scent of Jay’s blood is thick in the confined space, metallic and unforgiving. It clings to your skin, your clothes, your thoughts. You glance back at him. He’s still pale, still barely holding on, Jake pressing a bloodied cloth against his side to stem the bleeding. But it won’t be enough. Not if you don’t keep moving.

“The last time I was here, I went on foot,” you murmur quietly to nobody in particular—maybe someone in particular but you try not to make it obvious. Your voice feels too loud in the tense silence. “Even then, it was risky. There are too many cars, too many places for them to hide.”

Jungwon doesn’t look at you. His gaze is fixed ahead, his grip on the rifle tightening with every passing second. “We don’t have that option now.”

No. You don’t.

“Why does this feel so eerie?” Sunoo’s voice breaks the silence, his usual sarcasm stripped down to unease. He leans forward from the back seat, resting his arms on the centre console. His eyes dart around the scene outside, scanning the cars and the deserted terminal. “Like we’re being watched.”

You don’t respond, but you feel it too—that creeping sense that you’ve just walked into something far more dangerous than you anticipated.

“Ni-ki, switch off the headlights,” Jungwon orders quietly. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an edge to it. A tension that pulls tighter with each passing second.

Ni-ki reaches for the switch, cutting the lights. Darkness swallows the road ahead, the only illumination now coming from the fading light of the setting sun. He carefully guides the van up the curb, circling around the edges of the terminal as quietly as possible.

You crane your neck, glancing out the window. Bodies sit slumped in the front seats of cars, their heads tilted at unnatural angles. Their hands still grip steering wheels, as though they never made it out of the city. Some are fully decayed, little more than skeletal remains in tattered clothes. Others… others look almost whole.

Your stomach churns. You’ve seen enough to know the difference.

The van bumps gently as it rolls over debris—discarded suitcases, backpacks, remnants of lives left behind. You catch sight of a baby seat in the back of one of the cars, a blanket still draped over it.

Don’t look too closely.

Don’t think about it.

“There,” Jungwon whispers, pointing to a narrow gap between two cars ahead. It’s barely wide enough for the van to squeeze through. “Go slow. Keep the engine quiet.”

Ni-ki nods, his hands steady on the wheel as he manoeuvres the van through the gap. The tyres crunch softly over gravel and shattered glass.

“Do you think they’re dead?” Sunoo whispers, his voice low and tense. You glance at him. His gaze is locked on a car to your right—a man slumped against the window, his face pressed to the glass. His eyes are closed, his mouth slack. He looks dead. But you’ve seen them wake before.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But we shouldn’t stay to find out.”

Jungwon presses his hand against the dashboard, leaning forward to get a better look at the road ahead. His knuckles are white, his expression unreadable. “Keep moving. Slowly.”

The van inches forward, navigating the maze of cars and debris. You press your hand against the door, your fingers twitching near the knife strapped to your leg. Every instinct in your body screams to stay alert, to be ready for anything.

But nothing happens. The van makes it through the terminal without incident. No sudden lurches of movement from the cars, no decayed hands clawing at the windows. Just silence. You exhale slowly, the tension in your chest easing ever so slightly.

Maybe the dead aren’t here after all.

Ni-ki steers the van onto the open road beyond the terminal, the cracked asphalt stretching endlessly ahead. The trees lining the road sway gently in the breeze, their rustling leaves the only sound aside from the low hum of the engine.

“We made it,” Ni-ki breathes out, leaning back in his seat with a relieved sigh. “Thank fuck.”

Even Jungwon’s shoulders relax, his grip on the rifle loosening just a fraction.

But the moment is fleeting.

A wet, rattling cough echoes from the back of the van and everyone’s heads snap toward the sound.

Jay.

He’s laying flat on the carpet, his face pale and slick with sweat. His hand, trembling slightly, presses against his wounded side. But it’s the blood staining his lips that catches your attention—the dark red smear he tries to wipe away before anyone can see.

“Jay?” Jake is the first to move, scrambling to his side. “Hey, look at me.”

Jay coughs again, harder this time, his whole body shaking with the effort. Blood spatters onto his shirt, onto Jake’s hands as he tries to steady him.

“Pull over!” Jake snaps, his voice urgent. “Now!”

Ni-ki doesn’t hesitate, swerving the van to the side of the road and bringing it to a screeching halt. The tyres crunch against the gravel, and the van shudders as it comes to a stop.

Jake lifts the cloth that’s been pressing onto the wound, checking with practised hands. His fingers come away slick with fresh blood. Too much blood.

Your eyes dart to the wound, taking in the angry, swollen edges and the telltale patches of red creeping outward, spidering across his skin. You don’t have to be a doctor to recognise the symptoms of blood poisoning.

“Fuck,” Jake mutters under his breath, grabbing a clean cloth from the med kit. He presses it against Jay’s side, applying pressure. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Jay lets out a weak laugh, his voice strained. “Yeah… figured.”

“Don’t joke about this,” Jake snaps, his usual calm demeanour cracking under the weight of the situation. “You should’ve told me the moment it got worse.”

Jay doesn’t respond. He just leans back against the carpet, his chest heaving with laboured breaths. His gaze flickers to you for a brief moment before closing again, like he’s too exhausted to hold it.

Jungwon is out of the van in seconds, sliding open the side door with a sharp tug. His movements are sharp, precise, but there’s an edge to them—a barely concealed frustration that you can practically feel radiating off him.

His footsteps crunch against the gravel as he paces in front of the vehicle, his hands resting on his hips, fingers digging into his sides. His shoulders are tense, rising and falling with each heavy breath, and his jaw clenches and unclenches in a steady rhythm. You can see it clearly: his mind spiralling through every possible scenario, none of them ending well.

And if you know Jungwon the way you think you do, he’s probably blaming himself. Blaming himself for stopping yesterday. Telling himself that if he hadn’t broken down, if he hadn’t let himself falter for even a moment, they’d have reached the rest stop by now. They’d be safer, better prepared, instead of stuck here with too many variables and not enough solutions.

It’s a vicious cycle. And no matter how many times you tell him it’s not his fault, you know he’ll never believe it.

Because that’s who Jungwon is. The leader who carries the weight of everyone’s survival. The one who always blames himself when things go wrong.

But it’s something you all should’ve seen coming. Considering the conditions and the crude materials Jake had to work with just to stem the bleeding, infection was always a risk—one you all silently hoped wouldn’t happen. But now, staring at the unmistakable signs spreading across his skin, you realise there’s no more denying it.

It also means his countdown has started. Time is slipping away, and with every passing minute, his chances of survival grow thinner.

“What do we do?” Sunoo asks quietly from inside the van. His usual sarcasm is gone, replaced by a cautious uncertainty that makes your chest tighten.

Jake doesn’t lift his head from where he’s crouched beside Jay, his hands pressing down on the makeshift bandage to stem the bleeding. “We need to stop the bleeding,” he says firmly. “But he needs rest. Proper rest.”

“There’s nowhere safe,” Jungwon mutters, still pacing, his eyes darting to the road and back again. “Not out here.”

You watch him carefully, noting the way he keeps flexing his fingers, like he’s trying to ground himself. Then, as if sensing your gaze, he stops abruptly and turns to you. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of something vulnerable slipping through the cracks of his usual calm exterior.

He’s looking to you for help.

It catches you off guard—this boy, who always seems to have the answers, who leads with quiet confidence and keeps the group together through sheer willpower. And now he’s standing there, staring at you like he’s out of ideas, like he needs you to have the solution he doesn’t.

Your gaze flickers to Jay. His chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. His skin is deathly pale, and sweat beads along his hairline. He’s slipping, and fast.

Your thoughts flash back to the moment he jumped in front of you, taking the bullet that should’ve been yours. The memory hits you like a punch to the gut. Hell, you don’t even know how you’d handle it if he died because of you.

Your mind races, turning over every possibility, every bit of knowledge you’ve gathered from surviving on your own. And then your eyes land on the bus terminal in the distance.

“Jake, what do you need?” you speak up, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind.

Jake blinks, startled. “What?”

“What do you need to keep him alive?” you press. “Just name it. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.”

Jake’s brow furrows in thought, his hands still working on Jay’s bandages. “Well, it doesn’t look like it hit any major organs. That’s the only good news. The bullet is still inside, and I can’t wedge it out now without any equipment or at least antiseptic, it’ll only worsen the infection. He’s also lost way too much blood and is starting to burn up. If we don’t get antibiotics into him and stabilise his blood pressure, he’ll go into septic shock.”

“Jake, layman terms, please.” Sunghoon says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated.

Jake sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Basically, if we don’t find the medicine and supplies he needs soon, he’ll die.”

The words hang there, unspoken fears suddenly given form. Silence falls over the group like a heavy blanket, pressing down on all of you harder than ever. The only sounds are Jay’s laboured breaths and the distant rustle of wind through the abandoned cars. You glance around at the others—Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Ni-ki, and Sunoo—all of them wearing the same haunted expressions.

“There’s a drug store at the terminal,” you say, your voice breaking the silence. Everyone turns to you, hope flickering in their eyes, fragile but present. “If we can get behind the counters where they keep the prescription meds, we might find antibiotics. Maybe corticosteroids, TXA—whatever Jake needs.”

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens, locking onto you with unwavering focus. “You’ve been there?”

You nod, brushing stray hair from your face. “I passed through. There were supplies. But the locked room at the back? I couldn’t get in without making a lot of noise. I doubt anyone else would’ve been desperate enough to risk it, so there’s a good chance the medicine is still there.”

Jungwon straightens, adjusting the strap of his rifle across his chest. The cracks you saw earlier—the uncertainty, the fear—are gone, buried beneath that steely mask of determination he always wears when the group needs him most.

“We don’t have a choice,” says Jungwon, his tone resolute. “We’ll go. We’ll find what we need.”

“We?” Sunoo’s sceptical voice cuts through the tense air, his eyebrow arching. “Who’s we?”

“Me and Y/N,” Jungwon replies without hesitation. “The rest of you stay here with Jay.” His words leave no room for debate, but Ni-ki shifts uncomfortably, clearly wanting to protest. The severity in Jungwon’s voice, however, stops him in his tracks.

Jake speaks next, his eyes darting between you and Jungwon before ultimately fixing on you. “You can recognise the medicine, right? Make sure you get the antibiotics. Hard, strong ones. If we don’t hit him with the right stuff, it won’t make a difference.”

“I know what to look for,” you assure him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll grab everything we can.”

Jake exhales deeply, but his jaw remains tight. “I would offer to go myself, but if anything happens to him while I’m gone…” He trails off, glancing at Jay, who looks pale and lifeless where he lies.

“We got this,” you promise, your voice unwavering. “You focus on keeping him alive until we get back.”

“In the meantime,” you add, turning to the others, “two of you should head to the rest stop on foot. Scout the area for any signs of trouble. But be careful. If I’m wrong and The Future is still there, at least we won’t be driving straight into their crosshairs.”

Jungwon’s eyes linger on you again, something flickering behind his expression. It’s not just relief—it’s trust. He trusts you. Despite everything that’s happened, despite how little time you’ve spent with the group, he’s relying on you now.

“Yeah, that would be smart,” Heeseung says, stepping forward. “Sunoo and I can handle it. Ni-ki, Sunghoon and Jake should stay here and keep watch.”

“If we’re not back before you two, just leave without us. We’ll meet you halfway.” Heeseung adds, his voice even.

“And if we’re not back before you two, and the rest stop is safe, leave without us,” Jungwon says, his words carrying a weight that, unlike Heeseung, seems to hang in the air. His eyes lift to meet yours for a fleeting second—a silent understanding passing between you. “We’ll catch up.”

You give him a firm nod, mirroring his determination. Neither of you says it aloud, but the message is clear.

Failure isn’t an option.

“Let’s move,” Jungwon says, gripping his rifle tighter.

You and Jungwon move in silence, weaving between abandoned cars and twisted metal barricades. The stench of rot hangs in the air, thick and cloying, as if the dead themselves are watching, waiting for the right moment to lurch forward.

“Stay low,” Jungwon whispers, his voice barely audible over the crunch of gravel beneath your boots.

You nod, gripping your knife tightly as you press yourself against the side of a rusted bus. The terminal doors are just ahead, glass cracked but still intact. You glance at Jungwon, who gestures for you to move forward, his rifle at the ready.

The two of you approach cautiously, your steps light, deliberate. You catch a glimpse of movement inside—a lone zombie shuffling aimlessly near the entrance. Its clothes are tattered, blood smeared across its face, and its eyes… lifeless, yet all too aware of any sound that might bring it to life.

“I’ve got it,” you mouth, stepping forward. One quick jab to the temple and the zombie crumples to the floor, lifeless once more.

Jungwon nods approvingly, motioning for you to follow him inside. The terminal is eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl. Dust clings to every surface, softening the outlines of benches and kiosks that haven’t been touched in what seems like forever. Abandoned bags and scattered belongings lie across the floor like forgotten memories, each one telling a story you’ll never know.

Your eyes settle on a battered duffle bag near the entrance. The fabric is torn in places, and the faded logo suggests it once belonged to someone travelling light, someone who never made it to their destination. You crouch down, brushing off the dust before carefully tipping out its contents—clothes, a water bottle, a crumpled photograph. The remnants of a life reduced to debris.

You shake the bag to make sure it’s empty, then stretch it open to inspect the inside. It’s worn but sturdy. This should be big enough to store the medicine you need.

You make your way toward the drugstore tucked in the corner of the terminal. The moonlight reflects faintly off the sign above it, and the sliding doors are stuck a quarter-open, jammed by an overturned display rack.

Inside, shelves are mostly bare, but you search diligently. Bandages, aspirin, paracetamol—all over-the-counter stuff. Useful, but not what you need.

“Jake said we need antibiotics,” Jungwon reminds you, scanning the shelves. “Strong ones.”

“I know.” You crouch down, rifling through the lower shelves, frustration growing with each passing second. “But they’re not here. They’re probably locked in the backroom.”

Jungwon’s gaze shifts toward the heavy door at the back of the store. It’s secured with a sturdy lock, the kind that won’t budge without serious force.

You try the handle out of instinct, even though you already know it’s pointless. Yet, there’s that stubborn flicker of hope gnawing at you, the same irrational hope that’s kept you going this far. Who knows? Maybe some other stragglers came through, just as desperate as you to save a life, and managed to open it. But alas, it’s locked tight.

“Of course it is,” you mutter, brushing dust off your hands.

“We could try prying it open,” Jungwon suggests, but you both know it’ll take too long—and make too much noise.

“The longer we’re here, the more we’ll draw them in,” you say, casting a wary glance toward the entrance. You’ve already seen a few zombies shuffle past the glass doors, their hollow eyes scanning the streets for movement. They’re not inside yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Jungwon steps closer to the door, inspecting the lock with a critical eye. His fingers tighten around the rifle slung across his chest.

“I could shoot it,” he offers, his tone calm, measured. “One shot to take the lock out. We grab what we need and get out.”

You hesitate, weighing the risks. The sound will draw them in, no question. But how long would it take to pry the door open? Too long. Far too long.

Jungwon sees the conflict in your eyes and steps into your line of sight, forcing you to look at him. “We don’t have time to think this through,” he says softly. “Jay doesn’t have time.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jay—lying back at the van, clinging to life.

Time is not on your side.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Do it.”

Jungwon raises his rifle, aiming directly at the lock. His hands are steady, his breathing controlled. “On my signal, we run in, grab everything we can, and get out. Don’t stop. Don’t second-guess. Just grab and go.”

“Understood.”

You brace yourself as he pulls the trigger. The shot echoes through the terminal, deafening in the stillness. The lock shatters, pieces of metal scattering across the floor. The backroom door swings open, revealing shelves packed with boxes of prescription medication.

But the noise has done its job.

From outside, you hear them—the unmistakable groans of the dead, drawn to the sound like moths to a flame.

“They’re coming,” you whisper.

Jungwon glances over his shoulder, then back at you. “Move. Now.”

You bolt inside, heart pounding as you grab boxes at random—anything that looks remotely useful. Antibiotics. Painkillers. Anti-inflammatory meds. You shove them into the duffle bag with shaking hands, your mind racing.

Behind you, Jungwon is doing the same, his movements quick and efficient. But you can hear the groans getting louder, the shuffling of feet growing closer.

“They’re inside,” Jungwon warns, his voice tight with urgency.

You glance toward the entrance of the store. Shadows flicker across the broken glass as the first zombie pushes its way inside, its dead eyes locking onto you.

“We need to go,” you say, slinging the duffle bag over your head, the straps digging into your shoulders. Your voice is steady, but your pulse thunders in your ears. You can’t stay here any longer. The scent of blood and decay is thick in the air, and every second you linger feels like borrowed time.

Jungwon nods without a word, grabbing one last box before turning toward the door. The corridor is filled with the low, guttural moans of the undead, their decayed bodies pressing forward in a relentless wave. They trip over each other, stumbling through the narrow store entrance, their milky eyes locked on the two of you.

Another shot rings out as Jungwon takes down a zombie clawing its way through the entrance. The recoil barely seems to faze him, but you notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands tighten around the rifle. He’s running out of bullets, and both of you know it.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, glancing back at the growing horde. “We’re trapped.”

Your eyes dart around the store, searching desperately for another way out. There’s no back exit. The front is swarming with rotters. But then—your gaze catches on something above. A hatch in the ceiling, barely noticeable through the dim lighting.

“There!” you shout, pointing.

Jungwon follows your line of sight, spotting the hatch. Without a word, he slings the rifle over his shoulder and moves toward it. “I’ll boost you up,” he says quickly, lacing his fingers together to form a step.

“No,” you say, shaking your head as you glance back at the corridor. More zombies are pushing through, their groans growing louder, more desperate. “You go first. I’m lighter. It'll be easier for you to pull me up.”

Jungwon looks at you, torn. His jaw clenches, his eyes flicking between you and the hatch. “We don’t have time to argue—”

“Exactly!” you snap, your voice cutting through the rising noise. “There’s no time. Quick—go!”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. His expression is hard, conflicted. But then he nods sharply, understanding that there’s no time for stubbornness. He turns and grabs the edge of the shelf beneath the hatch, pulling himself up with a grunt. The wood creaks under his weight, but it holds.

As soon as he’s up, he reaches down, his hand outstretched. “Grab on.”

You don’t hesitate. Throwing the duffle bag behind you, you jump, gripping his wrist tightly as he pulls you up. The muscles in his arm flex with the strain, his face set in determination. But just as you reach the edge of the crawlspace, a hand shoots up.

The rotted hand grabs your ankle, its grip like a vice, fingers digging into your skin. You let out a startled gasp, kicking instinctively, but the zombie holds on tight, pulling with surprising strength.

“No—shit!” you hiss, panic lacing your voice as you scramble to free yourself. The jagged wood around the hole splinters under your weight, cracking with each tug of the zombie’s hand.

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s expression shifting from urgency to pure panic in an instant.

Your body jerks violently, your chest slamming against the rough edges of the hatch. Pain blossoms through your ribs, but you barely register it over the sheer terror coursing through you. You kick wildly, your free leg connecting with something solid—bone, maybe—but it’s not enough to break its grip.

“I’ve got you,” Jungwon says through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist tightening as he pulls you back. His eyes burn with determination, his muscles straining as he fights to keep you from being dragged into the swarm below.

“Fuck, fuck—” Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears. You twist your body, trying to free your leg, but the zombie’s fingers are locked around your ankle like steel clamps.

More hands start clawing up, fingers reaching, desperate to grab hold of anything living.

Jungwon shifts, bracing his feet against the frame of the hatch for leverage. “Hold on! Don’t let go.”

“I’m trying!” you snap, panic making your voice sharper than intended. But your hands are sweating, your grip slipping, your strength waning. Faster now that the duffle bag is weighing you down.

You feel the zombie’s filthy nails scrape against your skin, digging in deep enough to draw blood. The rancid smell of decay wafts up from below, making your stomach churn.

Then you hear it—the unmistakable growl of another one joining the frenzy. They’re piling up, climbing over each other to get to you.

“Jungwon!” you gasp, desperation clawing at your throat. “They’re going to—”

He doesn’t let you finish. In one swift move, he lets go of one hand holding onto you and reaches for his rifle, swinging it around with practiced precision. He doesn’t hesitate. He aims down through the gap and fires.

The zombie’s head jerks back, a sickening crack echoing through the crawlspace as the bullet finds its mark. The grip on your ankle loosens, and with a final desperate kick, you free yourself.

Jungwon grabs your arm again, hauling you up with a grunt. You collapse onto the platform beside him, gasping for breath, your chest heaving.

“Are you hurt?” Jungwon’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge of urgency to it. His eyes scan you quickly, looking for any signs of a bite.

“I’m fine,” you manage, still catching your breath. “It didn’t get me.”

He nods, stepping closer to you, his hand hovering near your shoulder. “You sure?”

You nod, though your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest. “Yeah… yeah.”

But you both know it’s a lie. You’re not okay. Neither of you is. You can still feel the ghost of that grip around your ankle, the way it clung to you like death itself. You meet his gaze, and for a moment, you see the concern etched into his features—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips press into a thin line. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“We need to go,” Jungwon says, his voice softer now but still firm. He brushes a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a second too long before he pulls back.

You nod again, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You could’ve died. But even worse—if you hadn’t insisted Jungwon go first, he could have—no, there’s no “could’ve” about it. He would have died. You wouldn’t have had the strength to pull him up if the roles were reversed.

It’s always like this, isn’t it? The small choices. The split-second decisions that separate life from death. The apocalypse doesn’t give you time to reconsider, to take back your mistakes. If it had played out differently, if Jungwon hadn’t made it out of that hatch… you don’t think you’ll ever be able to face them again. Then, Jay would die. And The others wouldn’t survive much longer either.

The thought churns in your stomach, twisting like a knife. You force it down. There’s no room for regret. No time for fear. You’re still here. You’re not dead. Not yet. And you’ll make damn sure it stays that way.

“Y/N.” Jungwon’s voice pulls you from your spiralling thoughts. He’s a few paces ahead, glancing over his shoulder, his expression grim and serious. There’s a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there before, something raw and unspoken.

“Stay close. Please.”

His voice is quieter on that last word—almost a plea. It startles you more than anything else that’s happened so far.

You nod. “Got it.”

He peers over the edge of the roof, scanning the ground below for anything that can cushion your descent. His movements are quick, efficient, but you can see the weight he carries pressing down on his shoulders. He’s not just leading you right now; he’s holding everything together—the group, the plan, your survival—but more so himself.

“There.” Jungwon points to a vending machine tipped against the side of the terminal building. Its display glass is shattered, shards glinting in the fading light, and the machine itself is battered and empty. Still, it looks sturdy enough.

“We can use that to climb down.” says Jungwon.

He takes the lead without hesitation, lowering himself carefully over the edge and testing the machine’s stability before finding a footing on top of it.

Once he’s sure it can hold both your weight, he glances up at you and stretches out a hand.

“Come on.”

You hesitate for half a second. Not because you’re scared, but because something about the sight of him—standing there with his hand outstretched, waiting for you—makes your chest tighten. He doesn’t have to do that. He doesn’t have to look back for you. But he always does.

You slowly ease into him. His grip around your waist is firm, steady as he lands you gently beside him on the machine. And for a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe that everything will be fine.

However, the moment your feet touches the ground, the sound of distant groans reaches your ears. It’s faint, but growing louder.

Jungwon’s fingers slip into yours without warning, his grip firm but not crushing. It’s instinctive—there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing, as though the simple act of interlocking his hand with yours is the most natural thing in the world.

You don’t pull away.

His palm is calloused, but his touch is grounding, like a tether keeping you from spiralling into the chaos around you. The warmth of his hand seeps into your skin, anchoring you to this moment.

The world around you feels like a blur—half-destroyed buildings and rusting cars blending together in the fading light. The distant groans of the undead echo from somewhere behind you, a haunting reminder that danger is never far. But Jungwon’s focus never wavers. His steps are quick but deliberate, each one calculated.

It’s like he knows exactly where to go.

The path ahead seems impossible to see—fog, shadow and debris blocking your view—but Jungwon moves with certainty, his eyes scanning the terrain with a sharpness that only someone used to surviving in this world could possess.

“Watch your step,” he says softly, guiding you around a cluster of jagged rocks and broken glass. His hand tightens slightly around yours as you stumble over a crack in the pavement. His fingers squeeze gently, a silent reassurance.

You glance at him, and for a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of something rare—something softer beneath the hardened exterior he wears so well. His brows are drawn together in concentration, but his lips press into a line that seems more anxious than confident.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” you ask, your voice hushed.

“We just need to make it past the gate, can’t be that hard,” Jungwon says, his voice steady and composed, but the lack of conviction in his tone is deafening. He doesn’t look back as he speaks, his pace quickening as if he’s trying to outrun the weight of his own words.

It makes your chest ache. Even when he’s unsure, he keeps the facade up—for you, for everyone. To keep you hoping. To give you something to cling to, no matter how thin it might be. But Jungwon knows better than to hold you to meaningless reassurances. He knows you don’t believe it, not really. Yet he says it anyway, maybe out of habit. Maybe because it’s all he knows how to do.

You wonder if he’s afraid. Surely, he must be. Only you’re not sure if that fear is directed towards the dead.

Before you can think too much, Jungwon halts abruptly, the sudden stop jolting you out of your spiralling thoughts. His hand clamps around your wrist as he pulls you forward, weaving through the maze of rusted and abandoned cars, his grip firm, unrelenting. His movements are sharper now, deliberate, and it doesn’t take much to realise he’s actually running from something.

You want to turn back, to see what it is that’s chasing you, but Jungwon doesn’t give you the chance. His arm loops around your waist, and before you know it, he’s hoisting you onto the back of a battered lorry that looks like it’s barely holding itself together. You don’t have time to ask what’s going on before he’s climbing up after you, throwing a filthy, moth-eaten tarp over the both of you, cocooning you in darkness.

“What—” The question barely escapes your lips before his hand presses against your mouth, silencing you. His other arm braces over your body, shielding you.

Then you hear it.

A sound that chills you to your very core. Low, guttural groans, and the unmistakable shuffle of dozens—no, more than dozens—of dragging feet. The dead are close. Too close.

They’re moving past you, the tarp hiding you from their vacant stares, but the proximity makes your breath hitch in your throat. It’s not just one or two. The sound is overwhelming, the groans echoing all around you like a sinister symphony of death. You can feel the vibrations through the lorry’s frame, the weight of their movements too much to ignore.

But it’s not just the horde that sends a chill down your spine. It’s the direction they came from.

The van.

Your mind races, panic clawing at the edges of your thoughts. Did Heeseung and Sunoo make it back to the van? Did the dead catch onto Jay’s blood? Are they— No. You can’t think about that. You can’t let your mind spiral like this. Not now.

Jungwon’s hand shifts slightly, his grip loosening as he removes it from your mouth. You’re on the verge of falling apart, the weight of everything threatening to crush you. But then you feel it—a gentle squeeze around your waist. Reassuring, grounding.

You glance up, meeting Jungwon’s eyes in the dim light filtering through the tarp. His gaze locks onto yours, steady and calm despite the chaos around you. He’s saying something without words, speaking to you through his expression.

They’re okay. I know they are.

The words ring silently in your mind, a fragile lifeline in the sea of doubt. But even as you hold onto that unspoken promise, you know.

Even Jungwon can’t say for sure.

The tension is suffocating, thick enough to choke on as the minutes crawl by at an excruciating pace. Every second drags painfully, your body tense and your breathing shallow, afraid that even the smallest sound will betray your presence. The groans of the undead echo just beyond the tarp, their shuffling feet and guttural rasps terrifyingly close.

You force yourself to take stock of your position, assess how easy it would be for you to get up and run if the situation permits. You’re lying on your side, pressed tightly against Jungwon. His body is turned towards you, his arm cradling your head while his other hand rests firmly on your waist.

You try to shift slightly, attempting to ease the weight off his arm. The last thing you want is to make this uncomfortable for him on top of everything else. But before you can move much further, Jungwon’s grip tightens. His hand presses gently but firmly against the back of your head, pulling you closer to his chest until your cheek is practically resting against his collarbone.

“Stop moving, will you?” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. The low timbre of his voice sends a chill down your spine, a contrast to the heat emitting from his body.

Your breath hitches, not just from the tension of the situation but from the unexpected intimacy of it. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, grounding you in a way that feels strange and unsettling. You nod slightly, a silent agreement to stay still, and Jungwon relaxes just a fraction, his hand still resting on the curve of your waist.

The world outside the tarp feels like it’s closing in, the groans of the dead growing louder before tapering off again as the horde slowly moves on. Each sound sets your nerves alight, your muscles tensing involuntarily as you wait for the inevitable moment when one of them will catch a whiff of life and turn back. But that moment doesn’t come. Not yet.

Beneath the tarp, the silence between you is thick, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged emotions. You can’t bring yourself to look up at him, but you feel the weight of his gaze, protective and steady even in this precarious situation.

You stay under the tarp for what feels like hours, though you’re not sure how much time has passed. The groans of the horde slowly grow more distant, but the occasional shuffle of feet or guttural rasp reminds you they’re still out there—stragglers lingering behind.

Jungwon hasn’t moved, his arm still lightly draped around your waist. His breathing is steady, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. He’s waiting, listening, calculating. You don’t dare to speak, your heart hammering against your ribs as you lie there in silence.

Eventually, the noise dwindles to nothing more than faint echoes. Jungwon tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as he listens intently for any signs of danger. After what feels like an eternity, he lets out a quiet exhale and shifts slightly, lifting the edge of the tarp just enough to peer out.

“Come on,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. You nod, following his lead as he slides out from under the tarp and drops to the ground.

The air feels heavier now, thick with the stench of decay. The horde might have passed, but the stragglers are everywhere.

Jungwon motions for you to follow, his movements silent and deliberate. You mimic his steps, keeping low and hugging the shadows of the abandoned vehicles. The slightest misstep could draw their attention, and you’re hyper-aware of every rustle of fabric as you move.

As you near the edge of the terminal, your eyes dart frantically across the barren lot, scanning for any sign of the van, of Heeseung and Sunoo, of the others. The silence feels heavy, pressing against your ears as you search. But all you see is emptiness—the van is gone.

For a moment, dread begins to creep in, whispering that maybe—just maybe—they didn’t make it. And then it hits you.

The van is gone.

Thank fucking god.

Jungwon’s hand brushes against yours, snapping you out of your thoughts. He points towards the tyre tracks leading away from the terminal, faint but unmistakable in the dirt.

“They made it out, they’re alive,” Jungwon murmurs, his voice low but filled with conviction. His words aren’t just for you—they’re for himself too. A reassurance that the others are okay. That the plan worked.

Relief washes over you like a wave, but it’s quickly replaced by a new urgency. Your thoughts snap back to the weight of the bag on your shoulder, heavy with the precious medicines and supplies you risked everything to find.

“Jay’s medicine,” you say, your voice breaking the silence.

Jungwon nods, already stepping forward, his rifle at the ready as his eyes sweep the path ahead. There’s no time to waste. Not with Jay’s life hanging on a silver thread.

“Let’s go, it’s not far now.”

The walk to the rest stop is weighed down by silence. Every step feels heavier than the last, each one dragging you further into your own thoughts. There’s a thousand things you want to say—words that linger at the back of your throat, pressing against your chest—but you can’t seem to summon the courage to speak them out loud.

You glance at Jungwon from the corner of your eye, half-expecting to catch him doing the thing. The thing where he sneaks glances at you when he has something to say but is not sure how, only to avert his gaze nervously the moment your eyes meet. But this time, there’s none of that. His focus is locked ahead, his expression unreadable.

He has nothing to say to you.

The silence follows you like a shadow, lingering even as you catch sight of the van parked in the clearing. Relief flickers in your chest for a brief moment, but it’s quickly snuffed out when your gaze shifts to the towering barricade surrounding the rest stop.

It’s clearly the work of some powerful force. Military-grade equipment is woven through the defences, the barb wire circling the top of the enclosure glinting under the moonlight. Wooden spikes line the perimeter like jagged teeth, making it abundantly clear that this place was never meant to welcome anyone.

Which is weird because the last time you passed through this place in search for food, it was nothing more than an open rest stop. It’s not one of the sprawling ones you’d find further down the expressway, but it’s big enough. Big enough to refuel, grab a bite, and carry on your way.

Jungwon’s eyes narrow as he takes in the scene. His hand hovers near his rifle, fingers flexing restlessly. “Looks fortified,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Too fortified,” you mutter, your gaze following the stretch of barricades. The gas station and the attached convenience store sit within the enclosure like something out of a nightmare—a beacon of hope warped into something far more sinister.

The location is perfect. Open road for miles, no trees or buildings to block your view. If a horde approached, you’d see it long before it became a threat. Which begs the question...

Why the hell is it abandoned?

You approach the van slowly, your footsteps crunching softly against the gravel. With every step, your heart pounds louder in your chest. Half of you expects to see it empty, and when you peek inside, you find that you’re right.

“They must be inside,” you murmur, glancing towards the barricade.

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his tension in the way he grips his rifle tighter. He’s thinking what you are—if they’re inside, why is everything so quiet?

You both make your way to the gate. It’s slightly ajar, swaying just enough to make you think it’s been left that way deliberately. You hesitate before pushing it open, and the rusty metal gives a screech that cuts through the eerie silence. The sound makes you wince, setting your teeth on edge. But nothing stirs.

You step inside cautiously, your eyes sweeping the area. The gas station looms ahead, the broken windows glinting like jagged shards of glass. The convenience store sits just beyond it, the door perfectly intact which is more than what you can say for other places you’ve scavenged. Everything looks wrong—too clean, too still, too quiet.

Not a single living soul in sight.

You glance at Jungwon, who’s scanning the surroundings just as intently as you are. His brow is furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. You know what he knows, even without him telling you. In this case, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

People like The Future don’t abandon their posts. Not without a damn good reason.

“No way they’d leave a set-up like this behind.” Jungwon whispers, the words barely audible

The door to the convenience store glides smoothly as you push it open, the stale air inside rushing out to meet you. The smell of dust and old wood fills your lungs as you step inside cautiously, your eyes darting around the room. It’s dark, but even with the dim light filtering through the cracked windows, you can see the shelves are completely gone.

In their place are makeshift beddings—sleeping bags spread out haphazardly, blankets thrown over crates to make impromptu mattresses. There are even personal belongings scattered around—boots lined neatly by a corner, a few scattered pieces of clothing draped over the back of chairs.

Your stomach knots. This wasn’t how the place looked the last time you were here.

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and that’s when you see them—a cluster of bags, familiar ones. Your breath catches in your throat as you step closer. You kneel down, running your hands over the straps, the worn fabric.

These aren’t just any bags. They belong to your group.

Heeseung’s patch-covered backpack. Jake’s med kit bag. Even Sunoo’s colourful duffle that Ni-ki has been begging him to cover with mud to conceal the colours.

Panic rises in your chest like a tidal wave. “No,” you whisper under your breath, shaking your head. “No, no, no…”

You scramble to your feet, stumbling towards the back of the store. “Heeseung? Sunoo? Jake?” Your voice echoes through the empty space, growing more frantic with each name. “Sunghoon? Ni-ki? Jay?”

Silence.

“Where are they?” you mutter, spinning around, eyes darting from one shadowed corner to the next. “Where the fuck are they?”

“Y/N.” Jungwon’s voice is firm, grounding. “We’ll find them.”

But you’re already moving, your gaze locking onto something near the far wall—a door. It’s subtle, blending almost perfectly into the wallpaper, but the peeling edges give it away. There’s no handle, just a faint outline of a frame.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you approach it cautiously. You glance at Jungwon, who gives a small nod, his rifle raised. With a deep breath, you press your hand to the door and push.

The door swings open easily, revealing a dimly lit room beyond. The room must be soundproof, because the moment the door opens, the noise rushes out—a mixture of hushed conversation and distant shuffling. The voices are familiar. Too familiar.

Your hand trembles as you push the door fully open, stepping inside.

The first thing you see is Jay.

He’s sitting upright right beside the door frame, leaning against the wall, his head resting back. His shirt is still stained with blood, but you can see his torso is wrapped up with fresh bandages. His eyes flutter open when he hears the door creak, and he turns his head slowly to look at you.

“Hey,” you whisper, crouching low to meet his eye, your voice cracking with emotion. “Are you okay?”

Jay gives you a weak smile, his lips twitching at the corners. He doesn’t speak but you can tell he’s happy to see you two alive.

Relief crashes over you, so overwhelming that your knees nearly give out beneath you. Before you can say anything else, Jungwon’s voice pulls your attention.

“Y/N,” he calls out, stepping into the room behind you. His voice holds a mix of awe and disbelief. “Look.”

You follow his gaze and finally take a good look around.

The shelves—the ones that had been removed from the front of the store—are all here. Lined neatly in rows, stacked with canned goods, MREs, bottles of water, medical supplies, ammos. Enough to last an entire year or more with careful rationing. More than you’ve ever seen in one place since the world ended.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, taking a slow step forward.

Jungwon lowers his rifle, his expression unreadable as he scans the room. “They’ve been stockpiling.”

Your fingers brush over a can of soup on one of the shelves. It’s pristine, untouched. Like it’s been waiting here just for you.

“Jungwon? Y/N?”

The voice comes from the back of the room, faint but unmistakable. Your head snaps around, your heart thumping in your chest. It’s too dim to make out his face at first, but the familiarity of that voice cuts through the haze of exhaustion like a knife.

“Jake,” Jungwon breathes, his steps quickening as he strides toward the figure emerging from the shadows.

Jake barely has time to react before Jungwon wraps him in a tight hug, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. “Fuck, man,” Jungwon mutters, his voice rough with relief. “I’m glad you lot are okay.”

Jake pats him on the back, his own relief evident in the way he sags slightly into the embrace. “We thought something happened,” he says, pulling away. His face is tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We heard the gunshot. Sunghoon and Ni-ki wanted to go after you, but then the horde started coming down on us.”

He pauses, glancing over at you. “We waited as long as we could, but Jay’s wound…” Jake’s voice trails off, his expression tightening. “We were afraid the dead would catch the scent of his blood.”

You barely process what he’s saying. Your mind is too busy counting heads, scanning the room for the others. They’re safe. They’re alive

“Yeah, we ran into a bit of trouble,” Jungwon says, glancing at you briefly before turning back to Jake. “But good news—we got the antibiotics you needed.” He pulls the bag from his shoulder and opens it, revealing boxes of prescription medicine that even The Future can’t get their hands on.

Jake’s eyes widen as he takes in the haul. “Shit. Damn. Don’t be disappointed, Jay. Looks like you’re living another day.” His grin is infectious, a flash of humour cutting through the tension. “That rhymes, by the way. And that too.”

Jay lets out a weak laugh from his spot on the floor. “Looks like you’re the one disappointed, Jake.”

The warmth of their banter spreads through the room, and for a brief moment, everything feels normal. The tension in your chest loosens slightly, but you know it won’t last. It feels fragile. Like a glass bubble that could shatter at any second.

“I already took the bullet out,” Jake says, pulling you from your thoughts. “Thanks to the supplies stockpiled here. And thank fuck this room’s soundproof, because he was screaming like a bloody baby.” Jake crushes a tablet into a cup of water and holds it out to Jay, who takes it with a grimace.

Your gaze drifts across the room. It’s genuinely surreal. “What is this place?” you murmur, still taking it all in.

Jake shrugs. “Heaven in hell, apparently.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “There’s a basement too. Stocked to the brim.”

The sound of footsteps draws your attention. From the shadows, Sunoo emerges, a flashlight in hand, its beam bouncing off the walls in jagged patterns. His grin is wide, lighting up his face in a way you’ve rarely seen since you’ve been with this group. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, his steps light, his voice carrying a note of relief that feels almost out of place in this grim, desolate world.

“Thank god you’re both okay!” he exclaims, rushing towards you and Jungwon, his feet barely touching the ground as he moves. The rest of them follow suit, trailing beind him.

“Have you seen this place? The supplies would last us for months! And that barricade outside—it’s miles better than the one we had before.” Sunoo exclaims.

That’s the thing. You have seen this place. And it wasn’t like this.

Your stomach twists as dread coils in your chest. Slowly, you shake your head. “Something’s not right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else. “When I came here two months ago, it wasn’t like this. There were no barricades. No fortifications. It was just… a regular rest stop.”

Heeseung turns towards you with a frown. His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his face. “I could’ve sworn they marked this place on one of their maps back at base camp. Captain Hwang showed it to me when I got promoted in the security department.”

“Maybe it was a work-in-progress,” Jake suggests, his voice steady but thoughtful. “They could’ve started building it but hadn’t fully moved in when Y/N passed through.”

You can hear the curiosity in his voice, the way he’s already trying to rationalise what you’re saying. It’s how they survive—by making sense of things, by explaining away every lingering threat until it no longer feels like one.

“Maybe,” you admit reluctantly, though the unease gnawing at your gut doesn’t let up. ”But it’s clearly no longer a work-in-progress. Whoever built this will come back.”

Heeseung runs his finger along one of the shelves, lifting a thick layer of grime and holding it up for everyone to see. “No one’s been here in a while. Those sleeping bags outside? Covered in dust. Same with these shelves.”

Dust means time. Time means abandonment. But why? Why would anyone leave behind a place fortified this well, stocked with enough supplies to last a year? Which in apocalypse standard time, it might as well be a lifetime.

Your gut twists uncomfortably. “Like Jake said, this is heaven in hell. An oasis in the desert. It just doesn’t make sense, why would anyone leave all this behind? It’s not safe to stay here. We should grab whatever we can carry and keep moving.”

The moment those words leave your mouth however, a heavy silence falls over the room, heavy and suffocating. You glance around, catching the way their faces shift—how exhaustion weighs down their expressions, dulling the sharp edges of fear and worry. That’s when it hits you.

They’ve already made up their minds.

They’re tired. Tired of running. Tired of scraping by on borrowed time. Tired of surviving without truly living. And this place, with its sturdy barricades and stockpiled supplies, promises them something they haven’t had in a long time.

A home.

They see this place as a refuge. A chance to finally stop running. The desire to settle down, to stop looking over their shoulders, has taken root, pulling them in like a siren’s song. But it’s nothing but a lie—a lie that this world has dangled in front of you far too many times.

You turn to Jungwon, hoping—praying—that he’ll say something. That he’ll back you up. That he’ll remind them of what you all know deep down: nothing good ever comes easy in this world.

But when your eyes meet his, your heart sinks.

Because you see it in him too. That same exhaustion. That same longing for rest. The desire to finally stop running.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice amidst the rising panic in your chest. “Jungwon, you know we can’t stay,” you say, your voice quieter than you’d like.

Jungwon looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. There’s a heaviness in his gaze, a weariness that mirrors your own. He knows you’re right. You can see it in the way his shoulders sag just slightly, in the way he presses his lips together like he’s trying to stop himself from agreeing.

Because places like this don’t just get abandoned without a reason. The apocalypse is full of these places, scattered across the country like cursed relics of a civilisation long gone. You’ve learned the hard way that anything that looks too good to be true usually is.

But before Jungwon can say anything, Ni-ki steps forward. His expression is calm, collected, his eyes calculating as they sweep across the room. “Whoever left these supplies behind will come back,” he says, his voice steady. “But when they do, they’ll find eight armed individuals. If we play our cards right, we could secure this place.”

Jake nods. “Jay isn’t fit to move. He needs rest if he’s going to fight off the infection. We’ve got medicine, sure, but if we keep running, he won’t stand a chance.”

“I’m with Ni-ki on this,” Sunoo adds. “This place is too good to give up. It gives us a fighting chance against whatever’s out there.”

Your frustration boils over before you can stop it. “And what makes you think whatever’s out there won’t find a way in here?” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. The room falls silent again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ni-ki’s glare cuts through the stillness like ice. His jaw tightens, his arms crossing over his chest. “You’re the one who led us here,” he says, his voice low and biting. “And now you want us to leave all this behind?”

The guilt hits you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. He’s right. You did lead them here. Just like you led them into every bit of danger that almost cost them their lives; the motel, the village, the bus terminal—and now, here. Every risk, every danger—it all ties back to you. And now they’re looking at you like you’ve betrayed them.

“I didn’t bring you here to settle,” you say quietly, the weight of your own words pressing down on your chest. “I brought you here to survive.”

Ni-ki doesn’t waver. His voice remains steady, calm. “We will survive. We can survive here. We don’t need to keep running.”

And that’s when you realise.

They’ve already stopped running.

Your chest tightens as Ni-ki’s words settle over the group like a final verdict. The exhaustion, the constant fear—it’s worn them down to the point where even the slightest hope of stability feels like salvation.

And who could blame them? You’ve all been running for so long, barely surviving. This place offers a lifeline, however fragile it may be.

But it doesn’t feel right.

It can’t be right.

Jungwon hasn’t spoken since you addressed him directly, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. You watch him carefully, hoping for that flicker of leadership you’ve come to depend on, the clarity he always brings in moments of uncertainty. But it’s not there. Instead, there’s a weariness that drags him down like chains around his ankles.

“You’re right,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It catches you off guard, making your heart skip a beat.

“We’ve been running for too long.”

Your stomach twists. No. He’s giving in.

“But—” he adds, glancing up to meet your gaze. “We’re not settling blindly. We don’t know why this place was abandoned, and we can’t afford to assume it’s safe. We secure it. We prepare for the worst.”

There’s a collective exhale from the group, the tension easing slightly. Ni-ki nods in agreement. “We fortify the barricade. Set up traps, expand our perimeter. If anyone comes back, they’ll regret it.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Jay. He’s stable for now, but he needs proper rest.” Jake says, wiping his hands on his jeans as he rises from where he was crouching beside Jay.

Sunoo chimes in next, his voice lighter than before. “I’ll start taking stock of the supplies. We need to ration carefully if we’re staying.”

Everyone seems to fall into place, tasks assigned and agreed upon with a silent understanding. But you remain still, your hands clenched at your sides, heart pounding in your chest.

“Jungwon.” You call his name softly, pulling him aside as the others begin to disperse.

He follows you out of the room without question, the two of you stepping into the cool night air outside the barricade. The wind carries the faint scent of petrol and dust, mingling with the metallic tang of lingering fear.

Jungwon’s gaze is locked on the barricade, his rifle hanging loosely in his grip. You watch him for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly. There’s exhaustion in the way he stands, a bone-deep weariness that makes your chest ache. And it’s more than just physical fatigue. You see it in the way his jaw clenches, in the void behind his eyes.

“You know this is a mistake,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “You know better than anyone that places like this don’t stay safe.”

Jungwon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know it’s a risk.”

“Then why are you letting them believe it’s safe?”

He looks at you for a long moment, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “Because they need it. We need it.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling over. “And what happens when whoever built this place comes back? When they’re more armed, more prepared than we are?”

“We’ll handle it,” he says firmly.

“Jungwon—”

“I can’t keep running.”

You blink, taken aback by the vulnerability in his tone. You’ve seen him tired, stressed, angry—but this is different. He’s crumbling under pressure.

“I can’t keep dragging them from place to place, always looking over my shoulder,” he continues, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Y/N. We all are. This might not be the perfect solution, but it’s what we have right now.”

The words settle between you like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. They’re heavy, filled with truths you know too well. But another weight—one you’ve been carrying since the village—presses down on you harder.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Your voice comes out quieter than you expect, almost swallowed by the night air. It’s not really a question. More of a statement.

Jungwon’s brow furrows as he glances at you. “I don’t.”

“You regret letting me come along,” you press, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I’ve done nothing but put you all through hell since you let me in.”

“Y/N—”

“No, listen.” You take a breath, forcing yourself to keep going. “Ni-ki doesn’t have to say it, but I know he thinks I’ve got no clue what I’m doing most of the time. And he’s right! Half the time, I’m winging it.”

“Y/N.”

“And you—” Your voice trembles as you continue. “You keep risking your life to protect me, and I don’t even know why. I should’ve just let that zombie bite me in the auto shop. I was supposed to go down with the city that day. Hell, I should’ve taken that bullet. I—”

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s voice cuts through your rambling like a knife, sharp and commanding. He steps closer, turning to face you fully. His eyes bore into yours, intense and unwavering.

It silences you instantly.

“Stop,” he says quietly, almost pleading. “Stop doing this to yourself.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Ni-ki’s just frustrated. He doesn’t think that about you. And you can’t put us through hell if we’re already living in it.” His voice softens further, exhaustion creeping into his words. “I don’t regret making the decision to keep you. Jay would never forgive himself if something happened to you. And I don’t hate you.”

There’s a pause, and then he adds, so quietly you almost miss it, “I hate myself. For letting the world get to me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. For a moment, you can’t think of anything to say. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable, this open. It’s both unsettling and grounding, and you feel the cracks in your own walls widening.

“No.” You shake your head slowly, your voice trembling. “You hate me for driving you this way. It’s not the world. The world doesn’t have anything on you.”

Jungwon tilts his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. “And you think you have the power to influence me in ways the world can’t?”

You let out a shaky laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “No. But I think you look at me like I could be someone who can finally lift the burden of leadership off your shoulders. You trust my calls. You listen to my opinions. And what I said back at the field, about justice and revenge—you weren’t just listening. You were thinking.”

He doesn’t deny it. His gaze flickers, but he stays quiet, letting you speak.

“Thinking about how maybe I might have a point,” you continue. “Thinking about how you might have been approaching the world the wrong way. But that’s the thing—I don’t want you to think. To second-guess what you’ve always believed in just to weigh mine in.”

Your voice falters slightly, but you push on. “I don’t want you to change. You don’t owe me or the world anything. Fuck the world. To hell with it.”

Jungwon lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re cute when you’re hating the world. As ironic as that is.”

The comment catches you off guard. Cute? Your brows furrow in confusion as your mind scrambles to process his words. How can he crack a joke right now?

But there’s something about the way he says it—the way his lips twitch into the faintest smile, the way his eyes soften just a little. He’s trying to lighten the moment, to ease the tension that hangs between you like a noose.

And it works. Sort of.

“I don’t want to hate the world,” you murmur, your gaze locking onto his. Your voice is softer now, raw. “After all, it has all of you in it.”

Jungwon’s expression shifts, his playful smirk fading into something more serious. His gaze lingers on you, studying your face like he’s searching for something he can’t quite name.

“It’s not just about what you said. If that’s what you’re wondering.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “I felt it—the blinding rage for justice… or revenge.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you turn to him fully, waiting for him to continue.

“When he had you in that chokehold,” he says, his jaw tightening at the memory, “my mind switched off. I wasn’t even thinking. All I knew was that I couldn’t let you die. I picked up that rifle and pulled the trigger without a second thought. And when Jay…” ”

His voice cracks, the name catching in his throat. He stops, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself before speaking again. “When Jay took that bullet for you, I lost it. I completely lost it. That’s when I started thinking about what you said.”

“And you’re right,” he continues, voice quieter now. “If either of you had died right there and then, I would’ve done worse than just give him a quick death.”

You blink rapidly, struggling to process his words. The sheer depth of his emotions is overwhelming, leaving your mind scrambling for a response.

What Jungwon is saying is valid. You know that deep down. You would’ve done things—unimaginable, unspeakable things—if Jay, Jungwon, or anyone else had died. You would’ve burned the world down, torn apart every last remnant of civilisation if it meant protecting them.

But that’s what makes this even harder to hear. Because it also means Jungwon truly, deeply cares for you. The same way you truly, deeply care for them.

And that wasn’t part of your plan.

Noticing your loss for words, Jungwon seizes the moment to press on, his tone quieter, more reflective. “And you’re also right… I don’t like the fact that their lives are practically in my hands. It’s suffocating.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “But when you came along… I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. You know how to make the hard calls, the split-second decisions that mean life or death. And all I’ve been doing is leading this group away from those problems. Trying to avoid them. Making decisions in their stead so they don’t have to. Hoping they’ll never have to face it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a good problem to have,” you shake your head, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Jungwon huffs out a dry laugh, one that barely passes for amusement. “No, it’s not.” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaustion evident in every movement.

“Jungwon,” you say softly, your voice careful. He doesn’t look at you immediately, so you step closer, catching his gaze. “You’re not sheltering them the way you think you are.”

That gets his attention. His brows furrow slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“These people aren’t following you because you’re their leader,” you continue, your tone gentle but firm. “They’re following you because you’re you. They trust you, even if it costs them everything.”

“And you’ve done a phenomenal job keeping them alive, better than most would” you add, your voice softening. Jungwon stays quiet, his gaze flicking to the ground, as if he’s trying to process your words. You can tell he’s not used to hearing this—compliments don’t seem like something he knows how to take.

He exhales sharply, a sound caught between frustration and exhaustion, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he’s been carrying has suddenly doubled.

“I never asked to lead,” he murmurs, the words heavy with quiet resentment.

“But that’s the thing about responsibility, isn’t it? You don’t get to pick and choose when it falls on you.” you say.

For a moment, he just stands there, his lips pressed into a thin line. You can see the conflict playing out in his expression—the part of him that wants to argue, to deny what you’re saying, because he doesn’t believe it himself. But there’s another part—a quieter, more vulnerable part—that knows you’re right. That knows he’s been carrying this burden far longer than anyone should have to.

“Jungwon,” you whisper, stepping closer. “This place… it feels wrong, and you know it. They trust you. If you tell them to leave, they’ll listen. They’ll pack up and—”

“This place,” he interrupts, his tone deliberate and resolute, cutting through your words like a blade. “It’s hope. Something that these people need now more than anything. And if they think it’s worth fighting for, it is.”

His voice carries the finality of someone who’s already made up his mind. You don’t miss the way his gaze hardens, the way his jaw tightens as he speaks. He doesn’t say it outright, but you can tell he’s not just talking about the others.

This place is hope for him too.

It’s all they have left now, after everything else has crumbled—their faith, their humanity, their belief in something better. And now that their previous hope of holding on to what made them human has shattered—by the likes of you—they’re desperate. Clinging to anything that might give their lives meaning.

And once hope takes root, there’s nothing you can do to convince him otherwise. Jungwon has already decided that this is where they’ll make their stand, no matter how dangerous it might be.

And if Jungwon isn’t leaving, none of them will.

They’ll stay. They’ll fight. And they’ll fall right into the trap of whoever left it here. And the worst part?

They’ll do it willingly.

For hope. For him.

You glance at Jungwon again, noticing the way his eyes drift toward the barricade behind you, scanning the treeline and the roads as if he’s mapping out every possible threat in his head. Even in a rare moment of rest, he’s on guard. Always looking out for them. Always protecting. Always leading.

And in this moment, a realisation settles heavily in your chest—you don’t actually know him the way you think you do.

Because unlike Jungwon, you’ve never had to carry the weight of leading people. You’ve never had to shoulder the responsibility of keeping them alive, day after day. You’ve never had to watch people you care about die because of decisions you made.

You wouldn’t even count the people back at the community building among the people you care about. Sure, you’d shared meals, traded supplies, and worked together to keep the place standing. But at the end of the day, that’s all it was—a band of survivors benefiting from each other’s abilities. A mutual arrangement, nothing more.

When it really comes down to it, you wouldn’t take a bullet for any of them. Not the way Jungwon would. Not the way you’ve seen him do—standing between danger and his people, no hesitation, no second-guessing.

And in that sense, you and Jungwon are different.

Where he sees people worth saving, you see liabilities. Where he sees hope, you see a death trap waiting to happen. Where he takes on the burden of leadership, you’ve kept your distance, never letting yourself get too close. Never letting yourself care too much.

You tell yourself it’s because caring makes you vulnerable. But deep down, you know it’s because you’re afraid—afraid of the weight Jungwon carries every day. Afraid you wouldn’t be able to bear it.

And you’d be right, because you see the toll it’s taken on him written all over his face. The haunted look in his eyes, the tension in his posture, the weariness in his voice. It’s all there. And it’s breaking him, piece by piece.

“I don’t want to see you lose yourself,” you say softly, your words hanging in the air between you.

Jungwon sighs, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. His voice lowers, as if speaking any louder would make him crumble. “I’m not losing myself. And I won’t let the group lose themselves either.” He pauses, his gaze meeting yours with quiet intensity. “That’s why you’re here. You keep me grounded.”

You scoff quietly, shaking your head. “I’m not exactly the best moral compass.”

“You are for me,” he says simply.

The honesty in his words makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s raw. Unfiltered. And it terrifies you.

“I hope you’d stop looking at me like I could solve all your problems. I could never replace you. Even if you wanted me to,” you say, your voice wavering slightly before you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. You glance at Jungwon, searching his expression for any sign that he might push back, but he’s listening—silent, thoughtful, waiting.

“But what you can do,” you continue, softer this time, “is share the burden. Share it with the people who’ll gladly bear it with you. Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Ni-ki… they're not helpless, you know? And I know for one that they’ll follow you anywhere.”

His gaze shifts ever so slightly, something flickering in his eyes at the mention of their names. A hint of guilt, maybe. Or perhaps a deep-rooted fear that he’s failed them somehow, that he’s not enough.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes searching yours. And his next words hit harder than you’re prepared for.

“Will you?”

Your chest tightens, and for a second, you hesitate. But before you can stop yourself, the word slips out.

“Yeah.”

The lie falls from your lips so easily, it surprises even you.

Jungwon’s expression softens, relief flickering in his eyes. He nods once, quietly accepting your answer. But as soon as the word is out, regret crashes over you like a wave, cold and unrelenting. Because you know the truth.

You’re not going to stay.

You’re not going to help him carry that burden.

You’re going to run.

And Jungwon doesn’t know it yet, but when you leave—when you inevitably abandon them—he’ll have to pick up that burden all over again.

And somehow, you know that will hurt more than anything the world could throw at him.

part 3 - whispers | masterlist | part 5 - people

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: happy lunar new year to all celebrating! this is actually the last part i have in drafts... meaning i have to race against time to get the next part written and ready by next week... don't hold me to that though. i'll try my best 🫡 and shoutout to @youcancometome for guessing the title of this part right!!!

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taglist open. 1/2 @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @strawberryhotlips @baedreamverse

non-gray/underlined = cannot tag

[elysianiki]

୨୧　𝑈𝑁𝐶𝑂𝑁𝐷𝐼𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑌 ─ 니키

𝑆𝒴𝑁.　　──　　❛ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗇 , 𝗇𝗂-𝗄𝗂’𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝖺𝗎𝖼𝖾𝗍 ❜

𝐶𝓁𝐴𝑆𝑆ℐ𝐶 𓈒𓈒𓈒 𝗇𝗂-𝗄𝗂 ⋆ 𝑓𝑒𝑚 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ・ 𝑐𝑤. 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ・ 𝑤𝑐. 2OO ・ 𝑔. 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿　—　𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑒̀𝑟𝑒.

　 ﹙ ℰ ﹚ ⟡　just a short riki drabble because i lwk felt bad for ghosting, but trust, it will happen again

Riki’s fingers twirled within the strands of silky, curled hair that strayed from the rest, his movements careful. His expression was warm and soft as his eyes shifted across the delicate features of your face. He traced the curve of your cheek with his gaze, every detail entrancing him. It was a gentle, loving appearance that plastered his face as if you were the only thing worth being loved. His mind was always traced with the thought of you, every time he spoke, somehow, you were always the topic of conversation. Your existence was woven into the fabric of his life, everything circling back to you no matter how hard he tried.

You lay curled against him, warmth radiating from your body as light snores escaped the lips he so desperately wanted to kiss in that moment. The soft beat of your heart against his side, a soothing rhythm.

As tenderness overflowed him as he leaned closer, the familiar scent of your perfume filling his nose before he placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmured, a smile curving his lips as he watched your eyes flutter open, a sleepy gaze meeting his. He would cherish these moments, these little pieces of eternity, unconditionally.

　　𖥔 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 :　@ourhees @flwrstqr @mygnolia @bnkiz @myungsua @kairoot @ancnymcnzjy

[deer-hunter]

SUNOO: -note

[heeluvv]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ( ၴႅၴ

pairing ༒︎ yandere/psycho!kim sunoo x student!reader

genre ༒︎ dark romance

warnings ༒︎ stalking, possession, masturbation (slight), forced love, obsession, etc.

natty’s notes ༒︎ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

sunoo never meant to fall this deep.

he was just watching. studying. learning.

he memorized your schedule, your favorite snacks, the exact way your lips curved when you smiled.

at first, he was content with the distance. watching from the back of the classroom. listening when you spoke—soaking in every word like it was meant for him.

then, he started following just to make sure you were safe. just to protect you.

but then—he saw you with them. laughing. touching. letting someone else be close to you.

something snapped.

you were his.

you just didn’t realize it yet.

he thought he could be patient. he thought he could wait for you to see him but watching you with them—watching their hands touch what was his—he couldn’t take it anymore.

so he took you.

your head feels heavy. clouded. wrong. when you try to move, your wrists won’t budge. your vision is blurry, the dim light in the room barely enough to make sense of your surroundings.

and then—you hear it.

soft breathing. close. too close.

“you’re awake.” your stomach drops.

sunoo.

he’s sitting beside you, watching. waiting. loving. his glasses are slightly fogged, his lips parted in quiet relief. he reaches forward, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“you slept for so long, baby.” your blood runs cold.

“let me go.” his smile softens—as if you just said something silly.

“i can’t do that.” he tilts his head, eyes filled with something too dark. too tender. too in love.

“you’re finally where you belong.”

you struggle. scream. beg.

but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t react. he just watches because he knows you’ll break eventually.

one night, you hear it.

soft, shaky breaths.

the quiet sound of frustration and want.

you turn your head—and freeze.

sunoo is sitting in his chair, his back is to you, but you can see the tension in his shoulders.

his head tilts back slightly, a soft, broken sigh slipping past his lips.

“baby…”

his voice is wrecked. desperate. longing.

his fingers tremble against his skin.

you don’t have to see to know.

he’s thinking about you. he’s touching himself to the thought of you.

your stomach twists.

you want to look away but you can’t. not when he breathes your name like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. not when you realize—he’s been waiting for you to love him, but he can’t wait any longer.

the room is too quiet.

except for him.

except for his breath hitching, his soft, broken sighs, the quiet sound of frustration and want.

your hands tremble against the restraints. you shouldn't look but your body betrays you.

the way his shoulders rise and fall, his muscles tense as his fingers curl—digging into his own skin, his body tight with something unbearable.

his head tilts back slightly, a breath escaping in a soft, shuddering moan.

your name slips past his lips—raw, wrecked, desperate.

your stomach twists.

he's thinking about you.

no—he's consumed by you.

you move too much.

a soft creak of the mattress beneath you.

his breath catches.

he stills then—he turns his head.

your stomach drops.

his glasses slide down his nose, his wide eyes locking onto yours-lips still parted, pupils blown, face flushed with heat.

the room is too hot. too heavy. too much.

but sunoo? he smiles like he's won.

like you just gave him exactly what he wanted. his breathing is still uneven, his fingers still shaking, but his gaze never wavers.

"you were watching me." his voice is soft. breathless. smug.

you shake your head, your throat too tight to speak but his smile only deepens.

"don't lie, baby." he steps forward.

"you saw, didn't you?" your pulse races. he moves closer, until he's standing at the edge of the bed-so close, too close. his fingers reach out, brushing against your cheek, trailing down your jaw. his touch is warm. lingering. inescapable.

his voice drops to a whisper.

"it's okay."

his forehead presses against yours, his breath fanning against your lips.

"it just means you're finally starting to love me back." but your body betrays you. your breathing hitches. your fingers twitch. you feel trapped in his warmth, drowning in his scent, his touch, his presence.

his lips hover just above yours, teasing, waiting.

"see, baby?" his fingers trace down your throat, pressing just lightly against your racing pulse.

"you can't hide from me." his lips brush against your skin-your temple, your jaw, down to the base of your throat. his hands slide over your wrists, fingers grazing your pulse as if to remind you that he owns it now.

"don't fight it, baby." his breath is warm, intoxicating.

"i'll love you enough for both of us."

natty's notes ༒︎ okayyy i hope you guys like it or something, i appreciate you all for the likes and reblogs, tysmm!! (also if you guys have any request please send them in!)

[s2la02]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 이희승 lhs ig bf stories bf.heeseung x fem!reader genre: est relationship, fluff, crack, sunoo cameo

warnings: hee being mint choco hater>-<, mentions of speeding and throwing up, not really any other unless you hate fluff but lmk if I missed something !

images from pinterest

@ s2la02

[heelicopteur]

"chill the food's not even THAT hot" the food:

(whoever made this, this belongs in the museum of art<33)

[hypndiary]

ㅤ𔓘 𓈒♡͙ೃ࿔ ͙ㅤ𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘ㅤ░͟ㅤ ೃ❀𓈒𓏶ྀི

ㅤㅤㅤ ࿔﮾ㅤ♥︎̼̻ㅤ༺ ༽♡༼ ༻ㅤ‎⎯‎⎯‎⎯‎⎯‎⎯‎ㅤ✞ ͜͡꒱

[007chan]

dream of me

"i've missed you y'know."

sunoo felt his face get warm at riki's words. he had no idea those four simple words could make him feel so flustered. sunoo smiles at the younger cheekily, "yeah? didn't know you liked me that much."

riki snickers, sticking his fork into sunoo's half eaten cake. "you're not denying it?" sunoo asks with a tilt of his head. the younger shakes head disapprovingly and lets out a dramatic sigh, "and to think i was about to invite you to my game friday."

a part of sunoo wants to bring up riki's sudden change in the subject yet he feels too giddy over the idea of riki wanting him to be at his game to even mention it. "i'd love to go." sunoo says, shyness clear in his voice. riki looks down at his hands timidly a small smile forming on his face. "would you wear my jersey?" riki asks, his cheeks turning a pale pink.

sunoo looks up at riki so fast he swears he gets whiplash, "you're what?" sunoo watches as a flash of panic washes over riki's features. "my jersey. it's a tradition for players who are dating, it's good luck or something." riki scratches his neck awkwardly, "it was stupid. forget i said anything." the taller flushes deeper as he turns his attention back to his cake. sunoo lets out a soft laugh reaching over to poke riki's forehead gently, "i'll wear your jersey, idiot." a calm comfortable silence falls over them as they eat. sunoo can feel riki's not so subtle gaze on him making his already present blush deepen.

he can't wait for friday.

SUMMARY: riki has seen many things as sunoo's neighbor. he's seen him late for school rushing out the door, he's seen him help his mother bring in groceries, and he's even seen him get dropped off by friends. what riki hasnt seen is sunoo asking him to be his fake boyfriend.

#sawry for the late update ^-^ plz forgive me

↩︎ back | next ↪︎

boy next door masterlist

tags: @heejamas @miniw0nz @sunghoonzzzz @enhasnoo @rairaiblog @lov3lyaaru @orangemintsq @chandmyseven @sunkismau @cheesepuffcat @paradiseoflosers @wongghhh @cl4ir0l0v3r @nene-starz @ddolleri @reikaxslvr @steddie-steddie

taglist is open!

[sunoovamp]

you said it before..

..you wish i'd seen the saint you were before

[yourislandgirl]

*:ꔫ:*ₓₒ KISS ME, DON’T SAY NO ˚ ༘♡ੈ✩ || OT7 엔하이픈 x fem!reader || drabbles — mini masterlist !!

summary: scenarios where enhypen ask for a kiss — insp. ‘XO (Only If You Say Yes)’

genre: fluff, romance, non-idol!enhypen x non-idol!reader, est. relationship, enha as simps

warnings: attempts at humour, the smallest hint of angst for some members, a little suggestiveness for some members but nothing major

[archive]

・❥・ heeseung — ramen resolutions

sometimes all you need is someone who tries, because they love you. heeseung was your someone, and he’d move mountains to prove it . or make you some ramen.. rain check on the mountains

・❥・ jay — let me treat you

jay was a giver, he always has been. so when your darling boyfriend decided to treat you with his new pay check, you were as grateful as always, but you soon decide that there were more important things than a new pair of jeans

・❥・ jake — tbd

blurb tbd

・❥・ sunghoon — tbd

blurb tbd

・❥・ sunoo — tbd

blurb tbd

・❥・ jungwon — tbd

blurb tbd

・❥・ ni-ki — tbd

blurb tbd

a.n: been so tired and trying to find the motivation to write has been tough bcs i Want to write but i cant bring myself to type?? anyway, enough woe is me victimising . here is a start to a mini series of themed drabbles. i was gonna do it all in one post but i feel like that’s what’s holding me back from writing, a task too big (even tho it’s not even that big) so i reckon posting smth will bring me some motivation ?? hope you liked them :)

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2025 © yourislandgirl

[bang-chan-my-man]

[deer-hunter]

SUNOO: walk the line

[flufflights]

ᯓ★ BAD BOY , BAD IDEA

: ✮ "he was trouble wrapped in leather & you ran straight into the fire."

── .✦ Memories and memories . Prompt 18

✦ PAIRING ⸻ badboy!ni-ki x goodgirl!fem-reader

✦ GENRE ⸻ high school romance, fluff, angst, drama

✦ WARNINGS ⸻ kissing, skinship, heartbreak, betrayal, cheating

✦ WORD COUNT ⸻ 1k+

౨ৎ SYNOPSIS :

you weren’t the type to fall for bad boys. but then again, ni-ki wasn’t just any bad boy. he was a storm you didn’t see coming, all sharp grins and reckless charm, making you feel like you were the only girl in the world. but the thing about storms? they leave nothing but ruins behind.

Y/n had a huge crush on Ni-ki since middle school. It wasn’t a normal crush. It was the kind where she would daydream about him in class and then pretend she wasn’t staring when he turned around. The kind where her heart did stupid gymnastics every time he walked by.

But the problem?

Ni-ki was Ni-ki.

He was the school’s bad boy. Too cool, too handsome, too untouchable. He skipped class, talked back to teachers, and somehow always smelled really good?? He had a leather jacket, a motorcycle (even though he was probably too young for a license), and an attitude that made girls fall at his feet.

And Y/n? She was just… Y/n.

“Girl, stop,” Minji, her best friend, groaned as Y/n stared at Ni-ki across the cafeteria. “You’ve been crushing on him for years. It’s embarrassing.”

“I can’t help it,” Y/n whispered, watching as Ni-ki leaned back in his chair, spinning a basketball in his hands, totally ignoring the girls giggling around him.

Minji rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t even know you exist.”

But oh, Minji was wrong.

Because that same day, something crazy happened.

Ni-ki walked up to her locker, leaned against it like in a movie, and smirked.

“Hey, princess.”

Y/n almost died on the spot.

Ever since that day, Ni-ki started showing up.

Like, everywhere.

He sat behind her in class. He “accidentally” bumped into her in the hallway. He stole food off her lunch tray like they’d been dating for years.

“You’re so annoying,” Y/n pouted one day as he took another one of her fries.

Ni-ki just grinned. “Nah, you love it.”

Her heart did a backflip.

Minji, of course, was suspicious. “This is weird,” she said one afternoon. “Ni-ki doesn’t just talk to girls. He destroys them.”

Y/n ignored her. Because suddenly, Ni-ki was hers.

One day after school, Ni-ki was waiting by his motorcycle, licking a cherry lollipop.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked, twirling the candy in his mouth.

“I-I don’t know…”

“You scared?” He tilted his head, his smirk making her weak in the knees.

“N-no!” she stuttered.

“Then get on, princess.”

And she did.

And it was the best (and scariest) ride of her life.

Y/n and Ni-ki got close.

Too close.

He started texting her at night. He’d throw pebbles at her window and laugh when she peeked out. He’d pull her into empty hallways and whisper things that made her blush like crazy.

One night, he snuck her out to the basketball court. It was just them, the cool night air, and the sound of crickets.

Ni-ki spun the ball on his finger. “You’re different,” he muttered.

Y/n blinked. “Different how?”

“You actually look at me like I’m a person.” He flicked the ball away and stepped closer. “Not just some bad boy.”

Her heart pounded.

And then — BOOM— he kissed her.

It was warm. A little rough. A little sweet.

Her brain stopped working.

When he pulled away, he smirked. “Knew you wanted me, princess.”

Y/n smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

But she was smiling like an idiot.

Everything was perfect right ?

Until it wasn’t.

One day, Y/n walked into school and everything felt off.

Girls were whispering. Some were crying.

Minji looked pale.

“What’s going on?” Y/n asked, her stomach twisting.

Minji swallowed. “Ni-ki… he…”

And then Y/n saw it.

A video was playing on the school TV.

It was Ni-ki and another girl. KISSING.

Y/n’s heart shattered.

She stormed outside and found him leaning against his motorcycle, looking guilty.

“HOW COULD YOU?!” she yelled, voice shaking.

Ni-ki sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

“NOT WHAT I THINK? YOU’RE LITERALLY KISSING SOME RANDOM GIRL ON A BIG SCREEN.”

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Y/n—”

“NO! I WAS SO STUPID FOR FALLING FOR YOU!” She turned to leave, but then—

“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist. “I did it to protect you.”

Y/n froze. “What?”

Ni-ki clenched his jaw. “That girl… she’s the principal’s daughter. He found out about us and told me to break up with you. If I didn’t, he’d expel you.”

Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“So… you fake cheated on me?” she whispered.

Ni-ki looked away. “Yeah.”

Y/n felt like she couldn’t breathe. “You could’ve just told me!”

“Would you have let me do it?”

She didn’t answer.

Ni-ki sighed. “I did it to protect you, princess.”

But Y/n just shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“You broke my heart, Ni-ki.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t need your protection anymore.”

And with that, she walked away.

Y/n ignored Ni-ki after that.

No more texts. No more motorcycle rides. No more stolen fries.

Ni-ki still watched her from afar, regret in his eyes.

Minji patted Y/n’s back. “You finally got over him, huh?”

Y/n hesitated.

She knew bad boys where bad news. And this time, she wasnt falling for it.

.... Or was she?

── .✦ @slayyuna @sugarikiz @amoressb @irasvr

[jungmeowz]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈ secret letters to you - OT7

001; Kim Sunoo the Childhood Best Friend

synops: seven boys who have all had a crush on you, and mayhaps one or two of them are still in love with you, and who knows? But at one point all of them liked you, just in different timelines. sum: seven anonymous letters arrived at your mailbox with seven different boys names, but there's ONE secret confession letter that's fresh and newly written. Who wrote the letter?

genre: fluff, angst(?)

pairing: ot7 x reader

inspo: lowkey based on en-drama and to all the boys i've loved before

word count: 3.5k+ (not proof-read)

a/n: im sorry for the delay... i've been super busy and just trying to get my life together (its not going so well so yeah...)

I’ve known Sunoo ever since we were kids, so I guess maybe it can rule out at least one of the letters but still? My childhood best friend liking me? I mean it’s like a typical cliche but still… but it was still a shocker to me. So out of these eight letters, you’re telling me one of them is written by Sunoo, my childhood best friend.

Sunoo and I have been through everything together, we have shared and created so many memories together, from our first time trying ice cream to our first time underestimating high school. He’s seen me at my worst and at my best, but I've also seen him at his worst and best. We’ve seen each other's weaknesses and strongest perks, but after all that’s what makes us best friends. But I’ve never once thought of him that way, and I’ve never exactly developed romantic feelings for him either. So now that I’m aware of his feelings, I essentially feel bad for never being able to return his feelings, or ever consider those romantic feelings.

“So Kim Sunoo… isn’t he like your childhood best friend?” Aerai questioned. “You know, it’s no surprise if he liked you, I mean it's a typical cliche,” my brother noted. “Yeah perhaps, but the real question is, does he still like me?” I wondered. “I mean if he did, how would you feel about it?” Aerai asked. “Well, I don’t know. I mean I’ve never looked at him that way, nor have I ever developed romantic feelings for him, but even thinking about him like that, it’s a bit weird to me,” I answered.

After answering Aerai’s question, I started to think more about Sunoo and how things would change if we did date, or if I developed romantic feelings for him, and well after briefly thinking about the situation, it still seemed weird to me, and I don’t know how I would feel about the transition of a best friend to a boyfriend, but maybe I’m also scared of jeopardizing our friendship if we ever did cross that line. But he wasn’t the only one that liked me, so either way things would still be complicated as ever. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you don’t like him, because if you’re saying it’s weird and you’ve never thought about it, there’s probably no feelings,” Aerai said. “Okay, well let’s try to figure out which letter he wrote,” I said. “And if we do, how will we confirm it’s him?” Aerai asked. “Well, there’s only one way and that’s asking him, or maybe trying to make moves on him and see,” my brother answered. “First off, no. I’m not gonna make moves on my best friend because that’s weird, and what if he doesn’t even like me anymore… Majority of these confessions seem like past tense and they’re dated kinda far back,” I replied.

After finishing replying to my brother's comment, I looked at him and he shrugged in his defense and put his hands up as a surrender not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “It’s a suggestion, you didn’t need to take it personally,” my brother said. “Well okay, let’s take a look at the letters,” Aerai said. “Well maybe it could be May 23rd 2021, it mentions the word “kids” so maybe it could be Sunoo?” I questioned. “Well what about the one that's dated in 2020? I feel like maybe the older the year is, maybe it could be him?” Aerai replied. “You make a fair point, and I thought about it, but that letter says ‘sidelines’, so I’m wondering if maybe that one could be Heeseung? I mean like, I’m always cheering for Heeseung on the sidelines when he’s playing basketball? So that could be it?” I wondered. “But that doesn’t make any sense, didn’t you meet Heeseung in like 2022” Aerai asked. “Shit you’re right, that’s also roughly the time I met the other guys as well,” I replied. 

Honestly there were so many things I needed to consider about these letters, but my brain had no capacity to understand and comprehend these letters as these dates were throwing me off. It didn’t help that my memory isn’t the best either. I felt like every time I kept reading these letters I ended up being more confused and lost. 

“Well, I definitely don’t think it’s one of the most recent dated letters…“ Aerai trailed off. “Yeah, I agree. I don’t think the recently dated letters would be Sunoo’s,” I replied. “Okay, so then let's just assume it’s either the oldest dated letter, or the letter that mentions ‘kids’,” Aerai said. “Well one of them says they would rather stay friends, and then the other one is expecting me to feel the same way,” I said. 

After making that comment, the thought didn’t occur to me that maybe potentially one of the boys could still like me, and I would need to face that later on. It doesn’t help that I’m no good at responding to people's feelings either. “Wait, do you by any chance like someone at the moment?” My brother asked. My face turned red when the thought of Heeseung appeared in my mind, and then I immediately brushed it off. “No, it’s not like that really,” I quietly said. “You’re lying, you’re just like me! Your ears get red when you get embarrassed or shy,” My brother laughed. “Wait, you’re telling me this whole time you liked someone and you didn’t even tell me?” Aerai frowned. “It’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry about it,” I replied. “Well then, if it’s not a big deal then tell me who it is,” Aerai smirked as she crossed her arms. “It’s Hee..Heeseung,” I stuttered. “I knew it! You’re always going to his basketball games, I thought it was because of Jongseong or Riki, but no, it’s because of Heeseung,” Aerai smiled. “Shut up,” I blushed. “Poor Yunnie, you always dragged him to these basketball games even though he would much rather stay at home and build legos” Aerai snickered. “What? He was always eager to come with me though,” I said. “Yeah, and it’s probably because he gets to spend more time with you,” My brother snickered. 

My best friend and brother weren’t wrong, but the thought never occurred to me that Jaeyun would want to only come just to spend time with me. I sincerely thought he wanted to go these games because he wanted too and support his friends, but after receiving the confession letters and coming to the conclusion all of them liked me at one point, it would make sense why Jaeyun would come with me to these basketball games and give up some nights to build legos just to accompany me on the bleachers to support the team. 

“That’s not the point, we’re here to identify which letter Sunoo wrote!” I exclaimed. “Well we have a movie night hangout tonight at Sunoo’s. Maybe you should head over there early and talk to him privately,” Aerai suggested. I groaned and put my hands on my cheek in distress, “Ugh, what am I suppose to say? Uhm hey which letter did you write?”I panicked. “You can, or you can snoop around his room and try to find something. The letters seemed typed out, so obviously there’s probably a written letter or diary!” Aerai said. “So invasion of privacy…” I whispered. “Okay, let’s not do that. If I was a guy, I wouldn't like it if my crush was snooping around my room to find my confession letter. Just be bold and ask him, but don’t expect him to be honest with you,” My brother said. I darted my eyes at my brother and heavily sighed, he looked at me and shrugged. I rolled my eyes at him. “Did anyone ever tell you how unhelpful you are?” I commented. “Yeah.. you’re not really helping your sister right now. Well, I have to head home and get ready for the movie night. You should head over there early and maybe talk to Sunoo about it,” Aerai suggested. “I could… and I know I should. I just don’t know how to bring it up still,” I sighed. 

Aerai got up from the couch and put her hand on my shoulder and then patted it as an attempt to give me reassurance of the whole situation. She gave me a warm smile and then waved off and left the house. I slumped back onto the couch in defeat, frowning at the situation. My brother looked at me and then decided to plop down next to me. “So Heeseung huh,” he said as he nudged my shoulder. “Don’t even, that's the least of my concerns right now. I don’t even care if Heeseung  likes me back, or used to like me. It’s not going to happen,” I replied. “Since when did you even start liking him,” he asked. “Since the day we met, I mean have you looked at him… he’s just so cute, but when he steps onto the court he’s like the coolest guy ever,” I said. “So you’re telling me you’ve only liked Heeseung out of everyone from that group?” he questioned..

For a moment, I sat there wondering if I should confess to my brother about my feelings and thoughts about the boys. Besides Lee Heeseung, there was also another guy I had feelings for, Sim Jaeyun, the next door neighbor. At one point I really did like him, I liked him for quite a while, but I told myself to give up on liking him just because I never thought he would feel the same way. He seemed like the type who wasn’t interested in dating or relationships. He never mentioned having crushes or liking anyone, he always minded his own business focusing on school, and building legos, but to know in the end he did like me, I couldn’t help but think how things would’ve turned out if we knew we both liked each other at one point and maybe confess. 

“Well… I mean Jaeyun… But I don’t anymore. I gave up years ago, it seems like he was never interested in love and such,” I trailed off. “Oh, so you liked the golden retriever boy,” my brother said. “I mean not anymore, he’s cute and adorable when he builds he’s super focused on building his legos, and he’s always been there for me, but there’s no way he feels the same way about me now. I think one of the letters from him is probably the letter that he wishes to just be friends,” I shrugged. “And what if it’s not? What will you do?” he asked. “I don’t know, re-think about it?” I replied. “So just Heeseung and Jaeyun?” he hummed. “I mean liking Sunghoon would be weird, that’s like your best friend, and that would just kinda be a sin in my book and maybe in your book, liking Jongseong is no question asked because that's your roommate, and Jungwon and Riki are like my bro’s. I can’t look at them like that, and well Sunoo.. we’re just best friends and I would like to keep it like that,” I answered. “I mean I don’t mind Sunghoon liking you, it’s his life. I shouldn’t stop him from liking someone and stop him from how he feels, like it or not, emotions are hard to deal with, and forcing someone not to like someone isn’t right either,” he replies. “Well it doesn’t matter. I still think it’s weird. Besides, Sunghoon is such a huge flirt, I could never, we’re like total opposites,” I shrugged. “Hey, you never know, opposites attract sometimes,” he joked. 

I looked at my brother and rolled my eyes at him, I proceeded to get up and drag myself off the couch and walk towards my room and plopped down onto my bed. I pulled out the letters again and decided to re-read them again, and after re-reading them multiple times, I threw the letters aside and screamed into my pillow with frustration. It’s not like I was expecting any of them to like me to be honest, because literally why would anyone like me? I’m a hot mess, but that’s just me. 

After screaming and laying in bed staring off into space looking at my ceiling, I looked at the time and realized it was almost time to head over to Sunoo’s house for movie night. I braced myself and decided it was time to get ready, as I slipped on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, I grabbed the letters and shoved them into my bag and left the house and headed over to Sunoo’s house.  

It didn't take long to head over to Sunoo’s house. I knocked on his door and he opened it and smiled at me and gave me a hug. There was a part of me that felt weirded out hugging him, just because of those confession letters I read, but I tried to brush it off and proceeded to hug him back. As he let me in, he greeted me and told me to head upstairs first as he still needed to finish some things up.

I nodded and headed over into his room, as I walked towards his bed and sat down, I took a look around his room and couldn’t help but let Aerai’s suggestion get to me. Should I look around or is this an invasion of privacy? But at this point curiosity got the better of me and I decided to snoop around his desk looking for papers or anything that could be letter related. 

Eventually after a couple minutes of rummaging, I got distracted and didn’t realize Sunoo had entered his room. I felt my body freeze as I could feel him staring at me, I was caught red-handed. “What are you doing?” Sunoo asked. “Nothing, I just thought your desk needed some cleaning, jeez Sunoo. Keep your desk clean,” I lied. “My desk is clean, what were you doing snooping around?” he asked. “I can explain?” I answered in surrender. “I’m not mad, it just seems unlike you,” he said. 

My hands were shaking, it was nice to know that Sunoo wasn’t mad that I had just lied to him while snooping around his room. My mind went blank and I didn’t know how to respond to him. There were two options, it was either to tell the truth or continue to lie to him, but with barely time to think and the extended awkward silence forming, I shut my eyes and trusted my gut, and blurted out everything from the top of my head. 

“Sunoo, did you ever like me? I got home today. These eight confession letters were handed to me from my brother and they’re all dated differently and I don’t know… One of these letters seemed like it was written from you but then again I don’t know, because I only talk to you and the other boys, so then it makes sense, but then again who would like me I don’t know what I'm saying. I just, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snoop around I just really wanted to confirm it, and I didn’t know how and I wasn’t going to ask you because I was scared you were going to lie but now that my mind is blank, and I’m out here babbling like a complete mess, I feel like I just messed things up,” I ranted. “Okay, first of all, breathe, and calm down, I’m not mad. Please one thing at a time, because you literally talked so fast that I lost track of what you said,” Sunoo replied. I hesitated for a second, but there was no point going back because if I asked once already, I might as well ask again and repeat myself. “Did you ever write a confession letter to me?” I asked. “...What makes you say that?” he answered. “Because of this,” I replied as I pulled out the letters out of my bag. 

Sunoo took the letters out of my hand and read the letters and his eyes widened as his face and ears turned super red and then he looked at me. “Where did you find this?” he asked. “My brother told me it was mailed to me?” I answered. “Who on earth would mail this to you?” he said. “I don’t know! But that’s not the point right now. Did you or did you not like me, and did you write one of these letters,” I asked. “Okay fine. At one point I did like you, but that was years ago! I don’t like you anymore, and yes I did write a confession letter, but this was suppose to be a secret. It was never meant to be leaked or anything. I don’t know who the hell leaked my letter, but I don’t like you like that anymore. I look at you as my best friend, and I hope you’re not weirded out or have feelings for me because I’m sorry..” he panicked. “Which one did you write…?” I trailed off. “I wrote the October 13th 2020,” he confessed. “I’m sorry I never noticed your feelings Sunoo,” I apologized. “Please don’t be. It was a long time ago, and besides I’m over it and it was for the best anyways. Like the letter said, I'd rather keep this friendship than lose you,” he smiled. “I know but still. I feel like I still hurt you in some way,” I said. “It’s really okay y/n,” Sunoo smiled. 

I was really thankful to know that Sunoo didn’t have feelings for me anymore, because now that was one less thing to worry about. I still felt bad that he did like me years ago, but I’m glad that he’s over it. “It’s a relief you’re over me, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t,” I said. “Well that’s a relief then? Glad we’re on the same page,” he said. “So… Do you know by chance who wrote the other letters?” I asked. “It’s true that all of us liked you at one point, and we did keep it a secret, but we never showed each other our confession letters. So I’m not sure which letter belongs to who,” he answered. “And here I thought you could help me,” I frowned. “As much as I want to help, It’s not my job to reveal their feelings. This is something you’re going to have to solve on your own, as much as I love you, I can’t intervene in this because it’s not my feelings. I mean you figured out mine, but you should give the others a chance to speak like you’re doing with me,” he defended. “But I’m scared. There’s someone out there right now who still likes me currently, and I’m scared. What if I don’t like them back? What if it’s someone I hoped it would be, but isn’t?” I sighed. “I know, but whatever happens, it’s meant to happen. Just know that we all care about you,” Sunoo comforted. “Can I get a hint at least?” I asked. “Fine, someone who has the letter N in their name is still in love with you,” he answered. “Kim Sunoo, that is the most useless hint ever. All of their names have N, aside from Riki! But he even goes by Ni-Ki sometimes!” I whined. “Well you eliminated me! You asked for a hint, and I gave you one,” he laughed. “This is why I favor Aerai over you,” I joked. “How dare you, and here I thought I was being nice,” he gasped. “Yeah whatever,” I scoffed. “The utter disrespect,” he laughed.

A part of me was really curious in wanting to ask why Sunoo liked me, I mean it’s obvious that I lacked self-confidence considering the fact I just don’t understand who could like me, but after receiving confession letters, it definitely sparked my curiosity. “Quick question though.. Why did you like me? I mean it says in the letter but still?” I asked. “I mean listen, I liked you because you were always so forward about things, I mean yes, you were a bit strong headed and stubborn, and sometimes annoying and shy but it’s cute and that’s what I liked about you. I think you’re different from the other girls in a way, you’re very unique,” he answered honestly. 

After hearing Sunoo’s answer, I could feel my face turn sour, it was so weird to hear that come out of his mouth. I knew he was being honest with his feelings with me, but I don’t know, for some reason it just didn’t sound right to me. “I kinda just gagged, hearing my best friend talk about me and admiring me. That was kinda disgusting. Why did I even ask?” I joked. “You’re absolutely such a dork,” he rolled his eyes. “Yeah well you liked this dork at one point,” I retorted. “Yeah, not anymore because you’re such a prick,” he laughed. “Insults? Okay keep it coming, we’ll see who gets the last laugh,” I smiled. 

With that conversation out of the way, I felt relieved knowing Sunoo didn’t feel the same way anymore, but there was still an unheavy feeling because there were still seven letters to figure out with basically no clues. Which meant I still had no idea where to start, and Sunoo’s hint didn’t exactly help me either and so I was stuck at a dead end. I guess the next person I could go to is Sim Jaeyun, he’s the second longest person I’ve known, but the thought of confronting him about these letters was a bit scary considering at one point I did like him, but there was no going back after receiving these letters, I had to face it.

002; Sim Jaeyun - The Next Door Neighbor

from me to you; secret letters to you - masterlist

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