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Even in the end of everything, life remained. Cycling again and again, following the ebb and flow of the seasons.
In the span of five years, Mother Nature had retaken the land. Plants grew ravenously, tall and proud as they reached towards the harsh sunlight before they were to die in their endless cycle as winter approached. The leaves browned, wrinkling as they detached from their homes in the branches to fall to the cold ground.
The roads were cracked, allowing plants to sprout up between the sun bleached pieces of concrete. Houses throughout town were crumbling, succumbing to the elements and the earth. A few had collapsed completely while others had simply begun to fall apart from the outside.
Minho trekked down the main road of his once bustling small town, crossbow loaded and ready for any surprises.
The wind blew softly around him as he walked, stirring the leaves up around his feet and letting him know he was never truly alone.
It had been weeks since his last supply run and he was running low on food. One could only eat the same staples daily for so long. Deciding it was time for a hunting and looting run, he set out in the hopes of finding a house he’d somehow missed, which was unlikely in his five years of staying stagnant.
He’d chosen to venture a little further than usual, to a part of town he didn’t normally traverse on his gathering days. This part of town housed familiar buildings, the home his grandparents once called their own, the restaurant he’d once been a chef in, and even the pharmacy he’d used to feed stray cats behind.
Minho hadn’t seen any living creatures within the town’s borders for months, both human or otherwise. Any animals that still survived avoided developed areas, keeping to themselves in the woods behind his own home or even further out into the opposite end of town where it was nothing but rolling fields and more forest.
The outbreak had infected only humans, leaving animals to fend for themselves and follow the cycles of life in their natural order. They were born, they bred, and they died without human intervention– until Minho hunted them.
Keeping his eyes sharp, he continued down the road towards the restaurant, hoping he’d somehow forgotten to loot one of the homes past it in the last few years. He was dying for a canned good of any kind– preferably soup or beans to break up his endless diet of meat and vegetables. Minho knew he was eating much better than mostly any survivors but he couldn’t help getting sick of the same meal multiple times a day for years.
A rustling to his right caught his attention. Minho whipped his head around, nearly giving himself whiplash at the speed. His eyes scanned his surroundings for anything out of the ordinary before he landed on a figure hunched in the alley beside the restaurant.
Raising his crossbow, he aimed and waited.
The figure paid him no mind for multiple minutes, and Minho sat patiently. It continued to stay hunched, appearing to be eating something from the ground.
Wind continued to whirl around Minho, catching the edges of his jacket and making them flap in the breeze. Leaves spun in a tornado of brown and orange around his feet, skidding across the pavement in quiet motions.
He knew exactly what it was, but wanted to be completely sure before shooting; it had been months since he’d seen one. Just as he was about to make a sound and force it to turn around, another figure appeared further down the alley, emerging from the darkness.
Its dead eyes locked on him immediately, and he readjusted his aim before pulling the trigger and sending the arrow flying.
The point connected with the Hollow’s eye, digging itself deep into the rotting skull and rendering the creature dead, again.
Upon impact, the first creature’s head turned to the sound, jolting upright when the second Hollow’s body hit the ground in front of it. Before Minho could blink, the remaining Hollow turned and sniffed the air before locking on Minho.
It bolted for him, the limbs of its body moving unnaturally as it ran. One leg was clearly broken, dragging underneath it as it struggled to run at its full capacity.
Minho wasted no time, drawing another arrow from the quiver attached to his backpack, nocking it and aiming once again. His finger pulled the trigger with ease, sending the arrow soaring straight into the Hollow’s forehead.
It collapsed to the pavement with a dull thud.
Without a second glance, Minho continued on his way.
Only a few blocks more into his journey, he spotted another figure turning a corner and disappearing around one of the larger buildings in town– once the main grocery store. He rounded the corner to scope it out and take care of the Hollow, but saw no figure.
Minho decided it wasn’t worth hunting down and would find it later on his way home.
He caught sight of a few houses further up the street in a cul-de-sac that he didn’t think he’d looted before and headed there. The wind was picking up, whipping his jacket all around him as he strode down the cracked pavement. It was cloudy, much like every day, but the sun made herself known as she peeked through various open patches in the sky, shining her light down on Minho’s back.
He reached the cluster of houses in minutes, being careful of any noises he made as he approached.
The door to the first house was open and already his hopes were being dashed. The interior was ransacked, furniture strewn every which way in a clear sign that the previous inhabitants– or trespassers– had looted every possible resource already.
Every other house in the cluster was in a similar state, trashed or collapsing to the point Minho didn’t dare enter.
His hopes dragged along the concrete as he exited the cul-de-sac, chipping further down until there was nothing left of them.
It had been silly to hope for new resources, let alone canned goods, when he’d been here so long. Countless people had probably been through his town without his knowledge.
Minho was a sentimental person, so though he knew early on that staying in one place with dwindling resources and the danger of overhunting, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He’d lived here before the outbreak, his grandparents had lived here, he had lived here– though the last was briefest of all.
He would stay as long as he could.
With a heavy heart and crushed ambitions, Minho began his journey back home, retracing his steps through the same streets. When he reached the stretch of road with the restaurant, movement on his left caught his eye.
The same figure he’d seen less than half an hour ago, headed the opposite direction, was now lurking around the entrance to the restaurant. Maybe spurred on by the scent of whatever the Hollows in the alleyway had been feasting on, the figure moved slowly around the front of the building. It seemed to not hear Minho’s soft footfalls– something he’d trained himself to minimize over his time in the forest hunting.
Minho readied his crossbow once again, nocking an arrow and holding it steady in preparation.
Just as he was about to shoot, the figure turned and met Minho’s eyes. The eyes were distinctly not dead, full of life and terror.
His finger slipped, pulling the trigger just as he tried to lower his arms. The arrow soared, meeting a target much lower than he’d intended. It struck the figure’s thigh, piercing deep into the flesh.
A scream sounded, much more human and much less dead than Minho had heard in a long time. A chill ran down his spine, aided by the breeze, as the figure looked at Minho with so much fright he was frozen in place.
The figure– no, the man– took off, limping yet running as fast as he possibly could. Minho stared after him, unable to move in his shock.
That was no Hollow. That was a human.
And he’d just shot him.
He took off after him, praying to whatever Gods may be left that a Hollow didn’t get to him before Minho.
➳
“Shit, shit– fuck, holy shit that hurts.” Jisung hissed, trying not to jostle the arrow literally lodged in his thigh muscle. He sat in the remains of an old house, tucked away in the back corner of what was once a living room.
“Shit.”
Jisung’s eyes shot up at the sound, landing on a young man with dark, messy hair and equally dark eyes that were wide in shock.
“You’re not a Hollow.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Jisung snapped, his attention torn between the pain in his leg and the man who caused it. “Now are you gonna help me fix what you caused, or just stand there like an idiot?”
“Y-you’re not a Hollow.” The man simply repeated, his eyes fixed on his own arrow that sunk deep into Jisung’s flesh.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna end up Hollow food if you don’t get over here and help me.”
This caught the man’s attention. Jisung watched as he shook his head, his eyes narrowing in on the arrow as he hesitantly stepped forward to where Jisung sat slumped against the wall. When he drew near enough, he sucked in a breath at the sight.
The arrow was splintered halfway down the shaft, clearly breaking and possibly shredding the inside of the hole it created in Jisung’s thigh. Around the wood, his flesh was inflamed with an angry red, fresh blood continuing to seep from the wound in thick waves. Too much blood.
“Shit.” The man repeated once again, seemingly unable to say anything but those two phrases.
Jisung adjusted his position on the ground, keeping his leg as straight as possible while not moving the arrow. He winced, his breath hitching as pain shot through his nerves.
“Do you have any spare cloth?” The man suddenly asked, pulling his pack off his shoulders and beginning to dig through it. His crossbow sat propped up on the wall beside him and Jisung recoiled at the sight. Noticing Jisung’s apprehension, the man mumbled out an apology and moved the weapon, sliding behind him and facing away from the both of them.
Realizing he was asked a question, Jisung nodded. “In my pack, behind you. There should be a spare shirt in there. Was my only one, but I’d rather live than have a change of clothes.”
The man let out a humorless chuckle, reaching back to find Jisung’s tattered backpack. “Is it okay if I dig through here for it?”
“Buddy, I would love to not bleed out right now. Do whatever you gotta do.”
Shaking his head, the man unzipped Jisung’s prized possession and began rummaging through.
“I’m less worried about you bleeding out and more about infection. We need to stop the bleeding and clean the wound.” He spoke as he dug, finally pulling out a dark, torn shirt. Turning back to Jisung, the man took the collar of the shirt and gripped it between his teeth, pulling it away and tearing it with ease. He created multiple strips varying in sizes, holding them out for Jisung to hold before he dove into his own pack, pulling out a bottle of alcohol– not the drinking kind, though.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Jisung gasped, sitting up straighter before immediately groaning at the pain.
The man snorted, grabbing one strip of cloth from Jisung’s hand and setting the bottle down between his legs. “I’ve had it since the beginning, but I’ve never had to use it myself. Not sure if it’ll work well now, since it’s been expired for,” he paused, glancing down at the bottle. “Three years.”
“Better than nothing, right?” Jisung tried to joke, and the man’s mouth turned up with the hint of a smile as he nodded.
Turning his full attention to the wound, and subsequently the arrow, the man began to wrap the piece of cloth around the upper part of Jisung’s thigh, above the wound. Pulling it tight, he grabbed another arrow from his quiver still settled on his back and broke the tip off against the ground with ease. He tucked the wooden shaft into the fabric, tied a knot over the wood and twisted, creating a painfully tight tourniquet around Jisung’s leg.
He grabbed another strip of the shirt from Jisung’s hand, wrapping it above the tourniquet and tying it around the broken arrow to keep it twisted in place.
Once done, he placed his hands around the wound and made eye contact with Jisung. His eyes were full of regret and Jisung suddenly felt bad about being shot.
“This is going to hurt. A lot.”
The man didn’t give Jisung a moment to even think about the words before one hand was firmly gripping Jisung’s thigh and the other was wrapped around the arrow. In one fluid motion, he pulled the shaft upward and out of Jisung’s flesh.
Jisung bit down on the hand not holding the cloth as he tried to keep in a scream. His body writhed in agony as the tip of the arrow passed through his muscle, tearing further and possibly creating more damage than it had going in.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I know it hurts.” The man shushed him, tossing the bloody arrow aside without care. He hurriedly grabbed one of the last strips of shirt from Jisung’s hand and pressed it to the wound, trying to keep the remaining blood at bay.
“Can we at least count to three next time? Fuck!” Jisung seethed, pulling his hand away from his mouth.
“It hurts more when you’re anticipating it.” The man stated, taking the final piece of cloth from Jisung and unscrewing the lid of the rubbing alcohol. He tipped the bottle upside down with the cloth covering the mouth, coating it in the liquid.
The man reached forward again, hesitating this time and he peered into Jisung’s eyes. “This is going to sting too.”
Jisung nodded as the man moved on, replacing the blood soaked cloth with the alcohol one. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad, but the sting made him stiffen and whine at the feeling.
“Sorry.” The man spoke once again, his voice hushed this time. “I really didn’t think you were human.”
Jisung scoffed. “What, do I look that dead? I know I’m skinny, but jeez.”
The man shook his head, dabbing the cloth around the torn skin of the wound, drawing a hiss from Jisung once again. “No, I just… I haven’t seen a living human in over a year. I guess I forgot what real people look like.”
“Hollows are real people, just not living anymore.” Jisung pointed out. “They were all human.”
“Right, sorry.” The man nodded, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he worked to clean the wound. There was some wood splintered in the flesh and he did his best to pull each one out, squinting in concentration.
It was silent for a few moments. Jisung watched the man work, taking in everything he could about him. He hadn’t seen another person in quite some time either, but not as long as this man had.
“Thank you.” Jisung suddenly spoke, making the man stiffen. “You didn’t have to help me, but you did, so… thank you.”
“I’m the one that shot you.” The man pointed out, finishing up his cleaning job and wrapping the now blood and alcohol soaked cloth around the wound and tying it.
Jisung allowed a laugh. “True, but I don’t think most people would go looking for someone they shot to make sure they were okay. If it were anyone else, I would’ve been left for the Hollows.”
The hint of a smile returned as the man gathered the dirtied supplies and rubbing alcohol. He tucked the bottle back into his bag, making sure to wipe off any blood before doing so. As he stood up, he held the bloody cloth and arrow in his hands. Setting them aside to dispose of later, he held a hand out to Jisung.
Jisung hesitated, staring at the offered hand. The man seemed nice, even if he had shot Jisung, he helped patch him up. Jisung couldn’t really even blame him for the first action, if he had been in the other’s position he might have done the same.
It was rare to see other people out in the world now. Five years had passed since the breakout and within the first year, more than half of the world’s population had diminished. What remained dwindled down as the years passed, dying to a variety of issues– starvation, infection, hypothermia in the winter, or the worst, being bitten.
Being bitten wasn’t just a death sentence, it was pure torture. To know you were doomed to turn, to not even have a chance of survival, it was total agony.
Jisung had seen it, he would know.
Becoming a Hollow was the worst fate you could wish upon someone. It meant being stripped of all your humanity, everything that makes someone a person. Emotions, speech, thoughts– all that remained in Hollows was one thing. Hunger. The desire to feast on nothing but human flesh, bones, blood, everything living people possessed.
It wasn’t unheard of to see Hollows eating animals either, if food sources were scarce. Jisung had witnessed it once, and he shuddered at the memory each time.
“Uh- hello?”
Jisung blinked, his eyes refocusing on the hand still stretched out in offering. He flushed, reaching for the hand and wincing when the man assisted him to his feet. He tried to keep all his weight off his right leg, but it was difficult without any support.
The man noticed immediately and took the hand still in his, swinging it around him to bring Jisung’s arm to rest on his neck. He wrapped his arm around Jisung’s waist, supporting most of his weight as he helped Jisung move to a dusty, mildew smelling armchair in the corner of the room.
Jisung watched the man search around for a moment before he found a rickety stool, pulling it over to sit in front of Jisung.
“What brought you out here? I mean, this isn’t exactly a town with the potential for many supplies.” He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him.
Jisung shrugged. “That was sort of the lure. I was hoping other people would have thought the same thing and ignored the town completely. Guess it was dumb to think that though, since you clearly wiped everything.”
“That’s what happens when you stay in one place for five years. You end up drying out your stock.”
Jisung’s eyes widened, his eyebrows disappearing into the shaggy bangs he’d cut only weeks ago. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
The man nodded, looking to the left and out the partially boarded windows to the outside world. The house they were in was old, extremely so, with paneled walls and peeling wallpaper that seemed like it belonged back in the fifties. Jisung vaguely noticed the faded plaid pattern on the chair he sat in, underneath all the grime and years of dust. The ceiling in the adjacent room had caved in, likely leading to the majority of the dust and debris around the living room they sat in.
“I moved here right before the outbreak. Got a job at one of the only restaurants in town, just a mom and pop diner– culinary arts degree, can you believe it?” The man laughed, a dry, humorless tone before he continued. “Actually… we’re sitting in my grandparents’ house right now. I moved here for them, so I could help them when they needed anything.”
Jisung’s heart shattered in an instant. Even though he didn’t know this man, he could tell he had truly cared for his grandparents and the look on his face told Jisung whatever end they met was not to be spoken about.
“Sorry, I’m telling you my life story and I haven’t even told you my name.” He gave Jisung a slight smile, just one side of his mouth upturned. “I’m Minho.”
“Jisung.”
No more discussion was had as Minho assisted Jisung in standing. Minho silently guided him to his feet and swung Jisung’s arm around his shoulder. Pain shot through Jisung’s body as some of his weight fell onto his right leg, but he gritted his teeth to avoid crying out in pain.
Minho quickly gathered their things, sliding Jisung’s backpack and his own onto his shoulders, despite Jisung’s protests that he could carry his bag himself. The man simply ignored him, gathering his crossbow as well and piling it all onto his back.
Together they moved slowly across the house, avoiding any and all debris when possible. Jisung didn’t question where Minho was leading him, allowing the man to simply guide him as they exited the house and began shuffling down the barren street.
Minho could’ve been leading him to his death at any moment, but Jisung figured the other wouldn’t have bothered patching him up if that were the case.
As they walked Jisung was overly conscious of how much weight he was putting on Minho and tried his best to keep his weight on his left leg and not lean on the other man too much.
The wind whipped around them, the chilly late-autumn air, or what Jisung thought to be autumn, nipping at their exposed skin and bringing chills to both men. There were dead, decaying leaves scattered all around them and the ground beyond, bringing a dull brown tint to the already dreary atmosphere.
That was the thing about the end of the world. Nature stopped for no one. It continued to cycle and thrive, growing and dying again and again while humanity dwindled out of existence. A bittersweet feeling.
They staggered down the road for only a few minutes, a distance Jisung counted as barely over a block. They turned the corner around a tall fence bordering a collapsed house’s yard and that’s when Jisung’s eyes fell upon their destination.
How he hadn’t noticed it before, he was unsure. It was so obvious.
Across the street, down only a short distance, was a two story house that Jisung could only describe as armored.
The building wasn’t huge, a modest two story nestled between two larger homes. Nature seemed to have reclaimed the exterior as winding vines of ivy trailed up the sides. Around the house were countless wooden spiked barricades, angled upward tall enough that if Jisung were to walk into one at normal height, it would pierce his jaw from the underside.
Perfect for Hollows.
Jisung shuddered at the sight and shifted his eyes to observe the rest of the defenses. On the outer perimeter of the yard was a tall iron fence, boxing in the house and the spikes as the first line of defense.
How Minho had done this all on his own, Jisung wasn’t sure, but five years was a lot of time– and maybe he hadn’t always been alone.
The fence wasn’t put up by a professional, that much was obvious, but it seemed sturdy enough. It appeared to be stuck in the ground and surrounded by rocks to keep each post in place rather than cement– Jisung assumed Minho would have used it were it available.
Minho must have noticed Jisung’s gaze on the rocks as they neared the gate since he spoke up. “I just did this recently, but the ground is too frozen already to dig holes for cement.”
Jisung nodded silently, unsure of how to respond. He felt Minho remove his arm from around his waist, so he braced his good leg to hold his entire weight as he slid his arm from around the man’s neck. He stood and watched, his balance being tested as Minho dug a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock chained around the fence. The man then uncoiled the chain, allowing the gate to swing open freely.
Quickly helping Jisung through the gate, Minho leaned him against the inside of the fence and turned back to secure the chain once more.
Once he deemed it up to standard, he swung his arm back around Jisung’s waist and guided him through the winding path he’d left in the spikes to the front door. As they neared the stairs up to the door, Jisung noticed the boarded windows and additional smaller spikes around the porch.
The two took careful steps up to the door, Minho bearing most of Jisung’s weight on each step up– not that he weighed much to begin with, but it was enough to make Minho brace his legs each time he lifted Jisung.
Jisung was left to his own devices once again as Minho unlocked the front door– and then another door behind that one.
“Can never be too safe.” He smiled at Jisung, wrapping his arm back around him once both doors were unlocked and open for easy entry. They stepped over the threshold and Jisung peered around while trying not to look like a creep. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
The interior of Minho’s house could only be described as cozy. It was a stark contrast from the world around them, almost a time capsule of what existed before the outbreak. Something most remaining humans only dreamed of experiencing again.
Where they stood was simply the entry, or mudroom, as Jisung quickly realized. The walls were creamy off-white, the tile beneath their feet almost in perfect condition. To Jisung’s left hung a row of hooks, all adorned with a variety of coats, sweaters and various outerwear necessities.
Through the open archway in front of him, he could see a living room that was just as clean as the entryway. Vintage looking furniture sat perfectly arranged, their surfaces void of any traces of dust or lack of use.
Jisung was in awe and he had only seen two rooms.
Minho laughed as he caught Jisung’s dumbfounded expression and began leading him into the main living space, not before forcing him to take off his ‘disgustingly dirty’ boots. His socks weren’t much better, but Minho didn’t comment on the state of them.
The other man dumped their bags in the entryway, propping his crossbow up so it wouldn’t go off on its own before he slipped his own shoes off and tucked them beside Jisung’s.
As they made their way further into the room, Jisung could see more of the house. To the left on the far side of the room he could see the staircase leading to the second floor. The right side held another archway into what looked like the kitchen and possibly dining room, appearing just as pristine and preserved as the rest of the house.
Taking in more of the living room, Jisung’s eye caught on something across the room. A tall tower, almost as tall as him, covered in carpet.
A cat tree?
“Why do you have a cat tree–“ His voice was cut off by a small noise, something he hadn’t heard in years.
A cat.
The brown tabby wove its body between Minho’s legs, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. It meowed as it peered up at him, clearly expecting something from the man.
Minho chuckled, releasing his hold on Jisung and allowing him to lean back against the wall before he knelt down to greet his pet. After a moment of running his hand down the cat’s back, he scooped the creature up and held it like a baby and turned towards Jisung. “I have a cat tree because I have a cat. This is Dori.”
Jisung was awestruck to say the least. He had assumed– wrongfully so, apparently– that most domesticated animals had died, either from their owners dying and losing access to food, or the worse outcome Jisung didn’t want to think of.
“How?” Was all that Jisung could form with his lips, the word coming out sounding dumber than he thought.
Minho smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Dori’s forehead before releasing the animal back on the floor.
“He was my grandparents’, before the outbreak. When everything happened, he ran off. I thought he was gone for good, and when my grandparents–“ he cut himself off, the sound catching in his throat in a way Jisung noticed but didn’t point out. “Anyway, he came back a few weeks later, meowing at their door. I happened to be headed there to grab the rest of their nonperishable food, so I brought him back with me.”
“You’ve been able to feed him for… five years?” Jisung asked, curious.
Minho nodded, peering down at the tabby. “Yeah, for a while I was able to scrounge up any remaining cat food in town, luckily he’s not picky. That all lasted a while, probably more than a year, until I had to start feeding him whatever meat I could get.”
Jisung’s blood ran cold for a moment, worried about the implication of those words. Minho must’ve noticed because he barked out a laugh.
“I don’t feed him humans, Jisung. I go hunting. Rabbits, squirrels, whatever wildlife still breeds around here.”
Jisung let out a breath of relief.
“Besides, would I really waste my good rubbing alcohol on you if I was planning on feeding you to my cat?”
“Well– no, I don’t think so.” Jisung sighed, leaning more of his weight against the wall as he gazed down at his wrecked leg.
Why did you help me? Why’d you bring me here? He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to push his luck.
“Come on, let’s get you settled. I’ll make some food if you’re hungry.” Minho shot him another wide smile, his eyes creasing at the corners. His arm took its place around Jisung’s waist once again as they shuffled over to the pristine couch.
The moment Jisung’s back hit the cushion, his stomach grumbled loudly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Minho laughed as Jisung sheepishly nodded.
Minho stood up straighter once he made sure Jisung was securely on the sofa. Turning on his heel, he stepped across the room and through the archway into the kitchen.
As Jisung heard clattering in the kitchen, he realized he hadn’t eaten in days. He’s lost track of how many at this point.
That was the thing about survival of the fittest. Those like Minho, over-prepared and willing to fight were so much better off than those like Jisung– the ones that usually became Hollow food in the smallest of situations.
Jisung didn’t even know how he had survived this long on his own.
Well, he wasn’t always on his own, but he didn’t want to think about that anymore.
His journey here, to Minho’s town, had been born out of desperation, a final grasp at the rope dangling above him as he sank deeper into the pit. Before now, he had been wandering for days, maybe more than a week, in a pitiful attempt to find any food scraps left in towns.
It was beyond difficult to score food that wasn’t hunted or grown nowadays. Almost all the canned goods and nonperishables had been scavenged, a finite source when the world ended five years ago.
A sizzling caught Jisung’s attention from the kitchen and he focused his hearing as much as he could. As he listened closer, he realized he heard the distinct crackling of a fire and the chopping of a knife on a cutting board, making his mouth water instantly.
The sounds were so mundane, so normal, that Jisung almost forgot where he was. It thrust him back to five years ago, when he was barely eighteen, still living with his parents and older brother. When they had a pet dog, when he was still planning on attending university with his best friend.
When everything was so simple, so peaceful.
“I forgot to ask, are you allergic to–“ Minho’s voice trailed in from the kitchen. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”
Hands were on Jisung’s face in moments, and it was so sudden it made him nearly jump out of his skin. It had been so long since he’d had any type of physical affection, the gentle touch was a shock to his system.
He hadn’t even realized he’d started crying.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m okay.” He tried to laugh, bringing his hands up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks as Minho removed his own.
“Did something happen? Is it your leg?” Minho spoke softly, taking a seat beside Jisung.
Jisung shook his head, willing his strength back to his body. “No, I just– the sound of you cooking brought back a lot of memories.”
When Jisung turned his head to look at Minho, there was a soft smile on the other man’s face. The expression was so comforting it nearly made Jisung cry again.
“I understand.” A hand placed itself on Jisung’s good thigh, the ghost of a touch for only a brief moment before it disappeared again. “Would you like to help me? You can sit at the dining table, don’t worry about standing.”
Jisung nodded, trying to muster up as much of a smile as he could. He was still in an immense amount of pain, but having something to do would help keep his mind off it.
Minho’s smile grew and he stood, offering a hand down to Jisung. He took it with little hesitation, but the moment he tried to pull himself up pain wracked through his body and he stiffened, sucking in a breath and squeezing his eyes shut. The other man reacted quickly, keeping a firm hold on his hand while bringing his other arm to wrap around Jisung’s waist, hoisting him up to stand on one leg while supporting most of his weight.
“I’ve got you. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been shot.”
Minho let out a laugh through his nose. His grip on Jisung’s waist tightened, helping him to step forward slowly. They made it to the kitchen with small, methodical shuffles. Jisung kept his eyes on his feet, trying to make sure he didn’t trip or put much pressure on his right leg.
When he was guided to sit at the dining table, lowering himself into a chair with a thin cushion, he finally looked up to thank Minho.
The man simply smiled and pulled another chair over, assisting Jisung to rest his calf on it to keep his leg elevated.
Jisung finally took a glance around the room and froze. The kitchen was so similar to his own from before, with the same style cabinets and even a similar color scheme. It was missing his mother’s touch though, lacking the colorful towels and tchotchkes that she had displayed around the room in their house growing up. There were no marks on the door frame tracking he and his brother’s growth through the years, but still…
It felt like home.
He willed the tears away as soon as he felt them brimming in his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tore his gaze away from the bare door frame they had just walked through. Instead, Jisung forced himself to focus on Minho’s movements as the other man began gathering ingredients for him.
Minho brought a cutting board over, large carrots and some smaller onions lying atop it along with a knife that looked too pristine to be old. He set it down on the table with a smile.
“Here, cut these into small pieces.” He explained, picking up the knife and demonstrating a few chops for Jisung before he set it back down. “Just like that.”
Jisung nodded, staring at the vegetables for a moment. It felt so foreign to have produce, especially in such a perfect state, sitting in front of him.
“Got it.”
Minho nodded, turning back to the stove that Jisung realized had been converted into what could only be considered a campfire. Below where Minho had set a pan, there was a hole cut into the metal where a burner would have normally resided. In its place was an actual fire, coming up from the oven. Upon further inspection, he noticed there was a makeshift compartment that held firewood, the metal rack that once served as a shelf in the oven bent into a U that held the wood high enough so the flames licked at the opening to the stove. The oven door had been removed, allowing plenty of airflow into the space to keep the fire alive.
It was genius. Maybe a little excessive, but genius.
Jisung gazed down at the cutting board, eyeing the vegetables lying in wait. He picked up the knife, grasping it firmly in his fingers. Trying to muster up the same expertise that Minho had demonstrated, Jisung concentrated on each cut he made.
A comfortable silence fell between the two men, the silence broken only by the chopping and sizzling of their respective kitchen tools.
As Jisung finished cutting the last carrot into thin slices, he realized something.
“Hey, where did you get these? It’s too cold for anything to grow outside,” He turned his body towards Minho. “And these are fresh.”
Minho tensed ever so slightly, minuscule enough that Jisung wouldn’t have noticed had he not been observing him closely. He didn’t turn to meet Jisung’s gaze, but simply tilted his head so his eye could peer over his shoulder at the injured man.
“I can’t tell you.” He looked away again, focusing on his task. “Not yet, at least.”
Jisung supposed that was fair– they didn’t really know each other, it made sense that Minho would be apprehensive about sharing any of his survival secrets.
That was another thing about survival of the fittest– trusting people gets you killed. It was every man for himself, and stopping to help the man that fell meant you would fall too.
Sometimes, the one that stopped to help ended up worse than the one that fell first. Jisung knew that very well.
A metal taste spread over Jisung’s taste buds and that’s when he registered the pain in his lip. He sucked in a breath, releasing the flesh he had bit down so hard on that it bled. He licked at it with the tip of his tongue, trying to swipe away the blood beading up.
He picked the knife back up before continuing with his own task of clumsily dicing the onions on his board. Once he was done, he turned back around in his seat, calling to the other man that he was finished.
“Perfect.” Minho spun around and smiled softly, coming over and picking the board up to take back to the stove. As he left Jisung’s space, his hand lifted and moved in a way Jisung’s could never have predicted nor expected.
His hand settled atop Jisung’s shaggy hair, ruffling it softly.
Minho froze in an instant as he gazed down at Jisung, realizing exactly what he had done. He retracted his hand in a flash, sputtering apologies and turning his body away. Jisung could see the tips of his ears turning rosy.
“Sorry, I uh–“
“It’s fine.” Jisung’s voice was soft, airy.
I didn’t mind, he didn’t dare say aloud.
Minho let out a strained breath, his back tense as he poured the diced vegetables into the pan with whatever he was cooking. As they hit the pan, the sizzling grew in volume. The smell of meat and the vegetables hit Jisung’s senses and his stomach growled once again.
“What is that?” He asked, nearly salivating.
Minho chuckled, loosening his posture as he grabbed a wooden spatula and began stirring the contents of the pan. “Rabbit. I was lucky enough to snag a few before they all burrowed for the winter.”
“Doesn’t the meat spoil fast?” Jisung questioned. In the few times he had been able to trap any animals worth more than a single meal, the meat had gone rancid in only a few days.
“Well this is the last of one of them, and I have another drying outside to make jerky for the road, so I don’t have to worry about that one.” He turned his body slightly, pointing at the refrigerator. “I use the fridge as a salt box, so the last one should last a bit longer in there. Plus, it’ll all go quicker with another mouth to feed.”
Minho didn’t realize the implications of his words, but Jisung did. He would let him stay, if he wanted.
Jisung chose not to mention it, knowing if the roles were switched he wouldn’t want to be confronted by a stranger begging to stay with him. If Minho didn’t want him to leave– not that he could in his current state, anyway– then he wouldn’t bring it up, wouldn’t cause any issues.
If Minho had the space for him here, and was willing to allow him to remain, he would gladly take it.
➳
It may have been a little premature to welcome a stranger into his home, and even less thought out, but Minho felt drawn to the other man.
While it was possible that this was just a response to his guilt over shooting Jisung, Minho felt it was more than that. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he hadn’t had human interaction in over a year and was deprived of it.
Either way, he wouldn’t make Jisung leave if the man didn’t want to– not now, possibly not ever.
The adjustment period wasn’t very difficult in his opinion, and within a week the two were coexisting in a hospitable manner.
Since Jisung was virtually unable to move from his position on the sofa without assistance, Minho had taken up the role of caregiver for the time being. While Jisung was recovering he slept on the couch, unable to make the trek up the flight of stairs to the extra bedroom Minho had. Minho made sure he was comfortable, constantly checking on him or fussing over his wound. They cleaned it regularly to avoid infection, and it was beginning to heal externally, but they had no idea how much muscle and nerve damage the tip of the arrow may have caused.
Each day Minho would make a simple breakfast, usually just heated jerky from the rabbit he had dried outside. Today, Minho had chosen to surprise Jisung with something different.
Minho had been foraging in the woods outside his town for years and knew it like the back of his hand. He knew the locations of every bush and tree bearing fruits and nuts, as well as the spots that animals burrowed. Over time, he had begun charting out where the hazelnut bushes grew, and had collected them on occasion for baking. Flour was impossible to come by this far into the destruction of society, and any that he did find was long past the time that it would be usable. While it didn’t technically expire, it was difficult to work with and often had a terrible taste.
His alternative became grinding hazelnuts into a fine powder using a manual coffee grinder he found in one of the houses on his street. The powder served its purpose and worked well as a flour substitute. It wasn’t perfect, and the pancakes he cooked with them weren’t quite the same as before the outbreak, but it was a nice indulgence.
Minho was just drizzling honey over the golden delicacy when he heard Jisung stirring in the room over.
“Minho? What’s that smell?” He heard the younger call out, sleep still laced in his voice. Minho had learned Jisung was younger than him, by nearly two years, after the first day.
It made sense considering how young he looked, but it didn’t surprise the elder any less that someone who was barely an adult at the beginning of the outbreak had survived so long.
Especially when Minho thought of his younger former companion that hadn’t made it that far.
A bittersweet smile crossed Minho’s face as the thought entered his mind. He shook it off to respond to Jisung. “One second, don’t try to get up!”
Something Minho had also learned in their week together was that Jisung was virtually incapable of sitting still. The man was always antsy, and now that he was inhibited in his movements he didn’t hesitate to let the world know. He constantly complained, whining and groaning about wanting to get up and move around only to cry out when he actually tried.
Minho hurriedly finished topping the pancakes, grabbing both plates in his hands and heading out into the living room.
The nice thing about living in his own home was access to his dinnerware and cutlery, even if he hated wasting water to clean them.
It took a year of him hauling a bucket back and forth through the woods to a flowing stream before he decided to dig a well in his backyard. That had been just as difficult, spending months trying to figure out how to reinforce the walls of the well so they wouldn’t cave in. Eventually he’d figured it out, and now had access to water consistently– though he still had to boil it before consumption to be safe.
Jisung was pushing himself to sit up on the couch, shifting his leg as slowly as possible while clearly holding in a wince. Minho shook his head, rolling his eyes as he approached.
Setting both plates down on the coffee table, he assisted the younger in sitting up, tucking a pillow under his foot so he could rest it on the table in front of him.
“Are those—“
“Pancakes, yes.” Minho finished for him.
The older man took a seat next to Jisung, leaning forward to snag the plates and pass Jisung’s to him. He watched as the younger stared at them in wonder, his eyes shining.
Minho thought Jisung might cry, and he told himself he wouldn’t tease him if he did.
“How did you…” His voice trailed off, catching in his throat. “How’d you make these?”
Part of Minho wondered if making them had been a bad idea– he hadn’t expected him to cry. “They’re made with hazelnut flour. Don’t expect them to taste the same, but they should be similar enough.”
Jisung stared at the plate in his hands, unmoving. Then, he broke.
A pathetic sob came from the younger man and Minho instantly wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer.
“Shit— hey, shh, what’s wrong?” He tried to sooth him, rubbing a hand up and down Jisung’s back. “Do you hate pancakes that much?”
Jisung tried to laugh, but it came out broken. He shook his head and took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain his composure.
They sat like that for a while, with Minho rubbing the younger man’s back and Jisung trying to calm himself enough to form a coherent sentence.
“They were my favorite.” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “You know, before…”
Minho did know.
“Well, if you like these, I can make them again. They can still be your favorite.”
Jisung finally looked at him and Minho realized how close he had leaned into the younger man, but he forced himself not to shy away as Jisung graced him with a heart shaped smile.
“Thank you.” Jisung mumbled the words, but his voice was full of sincerity. Minho simply returned his smile, nodding at the plate. He removed himself from the man’s side but stayed seated near him.
Jisung took the indication, picking up the fork and cutting a small piece from the pancake. Minho observed with anticipation, hoping Jisung wouldn’t hate them– especially now that he knew he had a lot to live up to.
The moment the food hit Jisung’s tongue, his eyes widened. Minho watched while he chewed, though he tried not to appear creepy. He noticed the man’s cheeks puffed even more when he ate and he found it adorable. Endearing, even.
One thing Minho knew about the end of the world was there was a lack of beautiful things, but one of them was seated right beside him.
This feeling was odd to Minho. It felt foreign to feel fond of anything in this world, but here he was.
“This is so good!” Jisung exclaimed, his mouth still full. He raised a hand to cover his mouth as he chewed when Minho gave him a pointed look. Minho caught the redness creeping up his neck and chuckled under his breath.
“I guess I’ll have to go gather some more hazelnuts, huh?”
Jisung nodded rapidly, his head moving like one of those bobblehead figurines when you flicked them.
They ate in peace after that, the conversation bouncing between them light. Jisung asked what else Minho had managed to bake or cook, which sent the elder into an excited tangent about the discovery he had made when trying to render animal fat from one of his recent hunts. He had been able to render enough rabbit fat into a sort of butter or oil substitute which was a long and somewhat difficult process, but it was helpful when he had no way to create cooking oil and no access to dairy.
“I used a coffee filter to strain it–“ Minho paused his speech, glancing up from his plate to see Jisung peering at him with an amused expression. “What?”
“Nothing.” Jisung giggled with a shake of his head.
“I was rambling, wasn’t I?”
Minho could practically feel his ears reddening in embarrassment, but Jisung only chuckled louder and leaned back against the couch cushion.
“You were, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to hear about something that’s so… normal. For once it’s not a conversation about where my next meal is going to come from, or the disease, or the end of the world. So really, please, continue.”
And really, who was Minho to deny an injured man?
With his face heated and most definitely reddened, Minho continued his explanation. He spoke more about hunting, the best techniques for properly skinning and cleaning his catches. Jisung was attentive, inserting questions at the perfect times and entertaining Minho’s monologues with a fondness Minho hadn’t felt in years.
The conversation flowed easily and Minho found solace in that realization. Though they had only known each other for a little over a week and their meeting had been anything but amicable, Jisung was someone Minho was beyond comfortable with.
Jisung held himself so normally, his attitude so laid back that he didn’t seem like someone who spent the last five years in the absence of society. He acted like someone who still held a normal nine to five job, lived in a nice apartment and had never seen a Hollow in his life.
He laughed without care, his eyes creasing and his smile so wide Minho thought he might pull a muscle.
It was refreshing to say the least, and Minho enjoyed every moment.
➳
On the first trip back out after bringing Jisung home, Minho returned with a board game.
Now, Minho had never been one to shy away from board games, especially not Monopoly, but the way Jisung played was terrifying.
The younger had somehow managed to secure over half the board and build on the properties before they’d even passed the first hour.
“You owe me another six hundred.” He proudly stated, looking at Minho expectantly.
Minho groaned, throwing his money down on the board. “I have nothing left, Sungie! You win.”
“How do you manage to land on Boardwalk three times in a row?” Jisung giggled, picking the money up from the center of the board and counting it with precise fingers.
Leaning back against the couch, Minho stared up at Jisung. They were positioned beside each other, though on opposite ends of the couch; Minho on the floor and Jisung comfortably stretched out on the cushions. Minho had given him the room so he wouldn’t have to move his leg too much, and they’d pushed the coffee table closer to the sofa for him to reach.
Jisung’s smile was wide as he counted his money, the wads of fake cash bringing him a joy that Minho found contagious– even if the elder had been the loser. It was such a trivial matter, counting money that had no purpose, yet being so incredibly serious about it.
Minho couldn’t stop his staring, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Jisung was so entrancing, from his heart shaped smile to the little hum he did as he flipped through the colorful paper.
Trying to give himself a distraction, Minho pulled himself up from the ground using the cushion near Jisung’s feet, which also happened to be inhabited by a sleeping Dori. The tabby stirred, making a noise of discontent as his eyes cracked open to glare at Minho.
“Sorry, baby.” He apologized quickly, reaching forward to scratch between Dori’s ears as he finished rising to his feet.
Jisung moved to follow, but Minho quickly put a hand up. “Nope, loser makes dinner. You stay, clean up.”
Giving one last pet to Dori, Minho stepped around the coffee table and into the kitchen.
He cooked mindlessly, his muscle memory serving him well as he navigated the kitchen without really seeing where he was going. His mind was too focused on the man in the other room, who he could hear moving about and cleaning up the board while cooing at Dori.
Jisung was a freshness in his life that he hadn’t known he’d needed. It was a welcome change for his isolated existence; Minho had begun to think he was the last human in the world. As unreasonable as it was, it started to feel real after so long being alone.
Having someone in the house, someone else to care for– even if he had been the one to cause the injury– brought Minho a new sense of purpose.
Minho finished cooking before he even realized, blinking when the completed dish was in front of him.
As they sat together, thighs brushing as they ate dinner on the couch and stealing glances at the younger man, Minho thought he could get used to this.
➳
The two fell into a routine fairly quickly. Jisung was unable to move much for weeks following their meeting, which meant mostly everything fell upon Minho. He hunted and foraged what he could, showing Jisung how to properly prepare and store whatever could be preserved. He cooked, cleaned, and fussed over Jisung’s wound daily.
He didn’t mind in the slightest– it was nice to feel needed again, to have someone to go home to after hunting all day.
Home. He supposed that’s what his house was, as it had been before the outbreak. It hadn’t felt much like home in years, though, simply just a place to stay. In the few weeks Jisung had been with him– nearly a month now– it had begun to feel more like home again.
Was he considering Jisung part of that home? It wasn’t an absurd thought, seeing as the younger man was living in his house, eating his food, sleeping on his couch. But having a roommate and having someone to call home were two very separate things, and Minho wasn’t sure which category the squirrel-cheeked man fell under.
As Minho followed the familiar path he had created out of the forest back to his house, he thought about the implications of allowing such connections in his mind.
It wasn’t necessarily dangerous to feel so strongly about Jisung, just as he had with his last companion. That situation had been different, however. It had been more of a brotherly situation, taking someone under his wing who was in need and treating them like family.
While Jisung was already so important to him, the opinions he had about the younger man were much less familial. He couldn’t ignore the feelings that crept up whenever Jisung was around– the increased heart rate, the blood rushing in his ears, how he blushed at the smallest comment or touch. Minho knew the signs well, he wasn’t born yesterday. The question was, was Minho willing to allow these feelings? Was it even an option in the state their world was in?
Would Jisung allow these feelings? Did he return them?
He contemplated the way Jisung interacted with him, how the younger reacted to his words and touches. Minho realized early on that the other man was very physical, always bumping Minho’s shoulder or tapping his knee whenever they sat together on the sofa– they had taken up eating meals there to minimize stress on Jisung’s wound.
A few times he had even gone so far as to link his fingers with Minho’s, an action that Minho thought completely platonic and a way to seek out human touch, until he looked further into it.
Perhaps Jisung did hold similar feelings towards him. Regardless, Minho wasn’t planning on being forward about anything. It was just them against the world, and whatever was meant to happen would happen naturally.
A thought struck Minho as he approached the gate at the front of his home.
Jisung had been complaining for a few days about his inability to move, being forced to call upon Minho for the smallest things– which included assistance getting up to relieve himself.
If Minho could find a way to get Jisung mobile again, even just a little bit, it could allow for them to interact more naturally. Maybe Jisung would seek out physical affection more, and it would give Minho a better idea of how the other felt about him.
It was a little selfish, yes, but it would also be a nice gesture on the elder’s behalf.
Instead of heading inside once he had unlocked the gate and approached the porch, Minho took his haul out of his pack– two rabbits that were much too large to be considered normal, a small pouch of hazelnuts, and surprisingly half a dozen persimmons.
Minho had known the tree existed, growing on the edge of the stream he used to gather water, but since he didn’t know the growth cycle, he had never bothered to check it during the late fall months. He was glad he had decided to try his hand at spearfishing today, though that endeavor was unsuccessful, since it brought him to pass the tree.
He tucked the items into the corner between his house and the staircase, hidden behind a bush. While it was completely unlikely that any living person– Jisung’s term for humans– would be hanging around, he didn’t want his supplies out in the open, and he wanted Jisung to think he was still out hunting.
Deeming the hiding place satisfactory, he set back out onto the road, heading in the direction of the small clinic his town had once run.
The clinic was extremely primitive, used only for the most minor of injuries and check ups. Any larger medical need was always directed to the larger hospital a few towns over. He had never checked the clinic for supplies other than antiseptic and stitching tools, not having the need for anything else and assuming it had all been taken during the chaos of the outbreak.
It took only a handful of minutes to reach the clinic, a small white building that resembled a residence rather than a hospital setting. The glass on the front entrance was missing, shattered long ago, and the door itself was left partially ajar.
Minho approached with caution, his crossbow in one hand and hoisted up to rest on his shoulder, and a knife in his other. Though he had cleared out all Hollows he encountered years ago, there was always the possibility of migrating Hollows or even people.
Pushing the door open slowly, he peered inside the darkness.
It was nearly impossible to see in the waiting area, let alone down the hall to any of the exam rooms. Cursing under his breath, Minho crouched down and set his crossbow down, keeping his knife clutched backwards in his fist. He swung his pack off his back, digging through it to find the flashlight he tried to use as sparingly as possible. He had a small stash of batteries, but even those had a shelf life and died eventually, so they were precious. The ones in the device currently were on their last leg, often flickering in and out of function whenever he turned it on.
With the light in his grip, he stood back up and situated himself. He tucked the barrel of the flashlight under his backpack strap, keeping it in place and as straight as he could without using his hands.
He tiptoed through the threshold, doing his best to avoid stepping on any glass that littered the floor. Reaching up to switch his light on, he braced his eyes as the darkness lit up.
The ground was covered in various furniture items and debris, and some stains he didn’t want to even begin to imagine the cause of.
Moving further into the room, he maneuvered between a broken couch and the front desk, sliding himself into the opening of the hallway. Internally crossing his fingers, he headed down the hall and into the first room on his left.
The door was open, and light poured into the room from the window where the blinds had been ripped down, but it was still dim enough to require his flashlight. Minho looked around, trying to spot any type of supply closet or spare equipment. It wasn’t an exam room, but seemed like a storage space, so his hopes were higher as he turned towards a door on the wall to his right.
It was small enough to not have to brace himself for a possible attack when he swung the door open. Inside was a narrow storage space, holding nothing but a lone vacuum and broom.
A stupid, literal broom closet.
Deeming the room useless after another glance around, he made his way from room to room, checking each and every crevice for a pair of crutches, a wheelchair, even a walker. Anything to help Jisung keep pressure off his leg so he could move around more.
At the end of the hall there was a closed door labeled ‘staff only’. Minho assumed it was a break room or something of the sort, seeing as the rest of the rooms not meant for patients hadn’t been labeled.
The slightest sound stopped Minho in his tracks. It was so quiet it was almost imperceptible. The sound seemed like a creaking, something like someone stepping over an old floorboard. His blood ran cold and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Just as he reached his knife hand towards the closed door, it occurred again. Such a simple sound, yet it made him fear for his life.
It was inside the closed room.
That room was his last chance to find any mobility aids. He had to go in.
Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s just a… squirrel? He tried to convince himself.
No amount of false confidence could make him feel like he wasn’t in danger.
With a heavy sigh, he gripped the doorknob with his knife hand, pulling the crossbow from his shoulder to hold out in front of him. Minho turned the knob, giving the slightest force he could, allowing the door to swing open slowly.
The room was dark, but larger than the other rooms he had been in. He could see shelves lining the walls, and his flashlight’s beam landed on a group of desks in the middle of the room. Minho assumed this had been the actual staff office room, and hopefully, where they kept medicines and equipment.
He stepped inside cautiously, keeping his crossbow at the ready and his knife in an iron grip in his fingers.
Shifting his body so the light hit the shelves to his left, he saw rows of pill bottles, all disjointed and misaligned.
But at least there still were some, that was a good sign.
Minho shuffled closer, staying as silent as possible. He hadn’t heard any more creaking since entering the room and hoped it had simply been something settling.
When he reached the shelf, he was able to read some of the labels a bit better. Most of them were allergy medications, some things he didn’t recognize, and even some for conditions like arthritis. He found a small batch of pain medication, feeling pleasantly surprised that there was even any left.
Keeping his knife clutched in his grip, Minho lowered his crossbow and leaned it against the shelving as quietly as he could. Even if he hadn’t heard anything since he entered the room, he still had an uneasy feeling.
He slid his pack off his shoulder, swinging it around to his front and unzipping it. Taking the remaining pain medication, as well as some of the other ones just in case, he stuffed them into the space in his bag and zipped it once again, trying not to jostle the pills as he slid the strap back over his shoulder.
It wasn’t quiet enough, though.
Just as the material settled over his shoulder, Minho was struck in the side, sending him stumbling to the left into another shelving unit. His body shook the metal, rattling it and its contents.
A putrid smell filled his nostrils and he whipped his head around to the attacker.
The Hollow gripped him firmly, snapping its jaws towards his flesh. Minho pushed, thrusting his knife arm forward as he fought off the creature. His force broke the Hollow’s grip on him, and he ducked as he leaned forward towards his crossbow. In close quarters like this, he wouldn’t be able to line up a shot– but he could use it as a barrier.
His fingers barely grazed the handle before he was thrust to the ground. Minho’s hip hit the ground first and he was able to brace himself on his elbow as the Hollow collapsed atop him. The thing growled, its eyes wide and hungry as it scrambled for his neck, his face, anything it could bite. Shoving his arm in between him, he used his forearm to push against the Hollow’s neck. Minho brought his knife forward, angling his wrist and shoving the blade into the skin of the creature’s neck with as much force as he could muster. With a harsh pull, he brought the blade towards himself, creating a jagged slice in the flesh of the Hollow, spewing blackened blood all around. The rancid liquid leaked onto Minho, staining his jacket sleeve instantly and spraying onto his torso and neck.
The Hollow let out a guttural screech, not one of pain but of hunger. It continued its fight, reaching its arms forward as it attempted to grasp Minho, the slice in its neck seemingly not bothering it.
Before it had a chance to take a chunk out of Minho’s forearm, he dropped the blade into his other hand and thrust it into the creature’s temple.
Any light that may have remained in the Hollow’s eyes went out, the decaying body instantly slumping against him.
With a grunt, Minho shoved the creature away from his body, letting it crumple to the floor in a mangled heap. He pulled himself up, groaning at the pain in his hip. Bracing himself on the shelf behind him, he leaned down and grabbed his crossbow. As he straightened himself out, he peered down at the Hollow to get a closer look, trying to see if he recognized it.
The flesh of the creature was peeling in various places, hanging off it to reveal the decaying muscle and bone beneath. Whatever hair was left attached to its scalp was stringy and thin, leaving clumps of rotting skin in the empty patches. Minho didn’t recognize the person it may have once been, allowing him to assume it had either migrated or was once a survivor that met a terrible fate and locked themselves inside as they turned.
Attempting– and failing– to wipe his neck of the disgusting liquid still sticking to it, Minho looked around the room once more. He saw nothing of use to him, only more pills and useless medical devices that wouldn’t function without electricity.
Just as Minho was about to give up and return home with wounded pride and nothing to show for his efforts, his eyes landed on a silver shine in the corner of the room, tucked behind a filing cabinet.
He grinned, relief flooding his system. Perfect.
➳
The moment Jisung heard the gate open for the second time, he shot up, trying his best to ignore the sting in his thigh muscles as he forced himself to stand from the sofa. Dori stirred beside him and he reached down, petting softly between the cat’s ears in apology.
He had heard the gate open the first time, and had also heard the rustling in the bushes. That time, Jisung had been prepared to begin the complaints about his pain and being unable to move, ready to irritate Minho as per usual.
When the front door never opened, when he heard the clink of the gate closing again, worry settled itself deep in his bones.
Jisung hobbled over to the mudroom, leaning himself on every available surface for extra support as he limped across the floor. Just as he made it to the doorway, the front door swung open and his gaze fell upon an unnerving sight.
Minho stood on the porch, his face falling from a wide grin into a look of shock as his eyes met Jisung’s.
“What the hell happened to you?” Jisung exclaimed at the same moment that Minho spoke, “Why are you up?”
Jisung’s eyebrows shot up to hide in his bangs, the hair long enough now to almost touch his eyes. Minho’s gaze shifted, avoiding eye contact with the younger man. Jisung crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame as he took in Minho’s appearance.
The older man was covered in blood. It stained his skin, his hands, even a bit of his face. Minho could see it sticking in his hair, clumping the already dark strands and turning them into a matted mess. His jacket was covered in the substance, the smell permeating the room and making Jisung want to gag.
Then Jisung’s eyes fell upon the objects by Minho’s side.
“You found crutches?” He questioned.
Minho nodded, the smile returning to his face. “Someone really didn’t want me to have them.”
This made Jisung shake his head, turning his body away from Minho as he waddled back to the couch.
“Are you not happy?” Minho asked, trailing behind him after setting his belongings down in the mudroom. Only the crutches remained in his grip.
Jisung settled himself back on the sofa beside Dori who barely stirred at the disruption. Instead of responding, he simply picked up the book he had been reading while Minho was out– a fantasy story the older man had lying around.
“Sungie?” Minho spoke softly, as if to a wounded animal. Jisung watched from the corner of his eye as Minho propped the crutches up against the fireplace before he crouched in front of Jisung. “What’s wrong?”
“Where did you get them?” He asked, his tone flat and feigning disinterest while his mind reeled.
He was angry. Angry that Minho would go out somewhere without letting him know, putting himself in danger for him without saying a thing. Not just because Jisung was basically a cripple for the time being, but because without Minho he would be alone– again. The elder had become part of his lifeline, even if he hated to admit it to him.
Minho tilted his head, setting one hand dangerously close to Jisung’s thigh on the couch cushion and the other reaching up to pet Dori. “The clinic on the edge of town.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” Jisung turned the page of his book, even though he wasn’t retaining any of the words printed on it.
“I wanted to surprise you. Why is it such a big deal?”
This made Jisung slam the book closed, causing Dori to jump. “Why is it such a big deal? Are you kidding me? Look at you! You’re covered in Hollow blood!”
Minho looked taken aback, but Jisung could have cared less at the moment.
He felt himself getting upset and he tried his best to cover it up as his anger morphed into the fright he truly felt.
“I was safe, Jisung.” Minho argued back, but his jaw tightened as he shifted in his crouch.
Jisung scoffed. “Bullshit. If you were being safe, you wouldn’t be covered in blood. Plus, I can see you wincing every time you move. What happened?”
Minho sighed, looking down at his lap as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
“I cleared everything before I started searching, but I missed one. It snuck up on me, tackled me as I was about to leave.”
“You could have been hurt.” Jisung stated, his anger shifted completely into distress. “It could have bit you.”
Minho looked back up at him, moving his hand from the cushion to rest on Jisung’s thigh. “But it didn’t. I’m fine, Sungie.”
Jisung felt himself losing control of his emotions and he attempted to hold the tears back as he could feel them building in his eyes. Minho noticed immediately, shifting to crouch directly in front of the younger man and placed both hands on Jisung’s thighs, careful of his injured one.
“What’s wrong?” He spoke, massaging his fingers into Jisung’s good leg in calming motions.
The gentleness of the action only made Jisung break down further. The tears broke free from his eyes, running down his cheeks as he attempted to wipe them away.
“But what if you weren’t? What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t have known, I would’ve been here all alone.” He sobbed, sucking in a breath when he could. “I can’t lose someone else. Not you too.”
“Jisungie, I’m okay. We’re okay. I’m sorry for not letting you know, I won’t do it again.”
Jisung shook his head, sniffling. “I hate you.”
That made Minho smile, his bunny teeth peeking out from his lips.
“No you don’t.”
“You shot me, yes I do.”
Minho’s smile grew. He reached up to wipe Jisung’s tears from his cheeks, his thumb lingering on his skin for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Jisung felt his heart swell at the words and the sincerity in Minho’s voice. Then, he felt himself flush at the implication.
“You can start with making some more pancakes, I saw the pouch you were carrying.” He teased, trying to hide the redness behind his hands as he falsely wiped at his already drying tears.
Minho chuckled, patting Jisung’s thighs firmly before he stood. Jisung watched as the older man made his way back to the mudroom, disappearing through the doorway before returning with his hands full. In one hand, he held two rabbits strung together at their feet with a fraying rope. In his other, he held two canvas bags, one small and one much larger and bulging with rounded contents.
“What else did you find?” JIsung questioned, perking up.
“Fruit.” Minho stated with vagueness, much to the annoyance of Jisung. When he saw the younger boy glare, he laughed. A full, unrestricted belly laugh that made Jisung smile. “Okay, okay. I found persimmons.”
Jisung was surprised, he didn’t think any fruits would be ripening this late into the year. The first frost had already happened, letting them know it was close to winter. Even if it hadn’t frosted, Jisung would have known the month thanks to Minho.
He discovered the older man kept a calendar, although outdated, in the kitchen. Each year, he sat down and created a new one based on the last official one he had. He had shown Jisung the last four as well as the current one. Though it may not be completely accurate and possibly off by a few days, he was grateful to know it was nearing November.
That meant his birthday had passed not too long ago. When he realized it, gazing at the calendar the week prior, he had shuddered at the thought.
Then a small detail had caught his attention. On the twenty-fifth of the month, he noticed a sloppily drawn star. When he asked Minho about it, the elder told him with a blush that it was his birthday. Now, that date was only a week away.
“Do you still want pancakes?” Minho’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he glanced back up to see the elder gazing at him with amusement.
Jisung nodded, his cheeks flaring red. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
Minho’s smile was bright as he nodded. Jisung watched as he turned away and headed into the kitchen, taking his haul with him.
Opening his book once again, Jisung tried to focus on the words on the page rather than the feeling in his chest. It was as if his heart were playing hopscotch in his chest, skipping beats as he contemplated the words and actions of his housemate. It was possible that the words were empty, with no real meaning behind them, but he couldn’t fight the feeling that Minho was sincere in his feelings.
Jisung cared for Minho, truly, possibly more than he should for having known him for only a month. He felt a sense of comfort around the older man, a sensation he hadn’t had in what could’ve been an eternity. It made him want to protect the elder, hold him close and never let him leave the safety of his– their– home. He wanted to never let Minho risk his life for his sake again, especially not for something as trivial as crutches, in the middle of a literal apocalypse. He would rather be bedridden and have Minho be safely by his side than have mobility and be without the man.
In a moment of impulsiveness, Jisung set his book down on the coffee table and used his good leg to push himself to stand. He could hear the clanging of pans and utensils in the kitchen as he shuffled over to the fireplace and grabbed the crutches. He observed them for a moment, testing the height of them under his armpits before he adjusted them slightly.
With a timid step, Jisung tested the sturdiness of the crutches, swinging his weight back and forth while keeping his right leg off the ground. The feeling of tensing his thigh muscle to keep his foot in the air was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. It was a much better solution than trying to drag himself around on a limp leg.
Once he decided the crutches were adjusted correctly and he was confident they wouldn’t collapse under his weight, he hobbled his way into the kitchen.
He heard Minho call out to him as he rounded the corner. “Sungie, you good out there? What’s that—“ Minho froze as his eyes landed on Jisung. “Nevermind, then! How are the crutches?”
Jisung giggled at Minho’s shocked expression, dragging himself over to the dining table and all but throwing himself into one of the chairs.
“They’re great. A little noisy, but I guess I can’t be picky when you risked your neck for them.” He teased, leaning the crutches against the wall behind him.
Minho rolled his eyes, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips that Jisung might have missed had he not been observing the older man closely. He watched as Minho turned back to the stove, flipping a perfectly round pancake in the pan.
Jisung watched with interest as Minho moved, observing every muscle shift under the tight material of his shirt. He could see every curve, from the slope of his shoulders to the width of his biceps as they pulled the sleeves of the shirt taut around them. His hair was still messy, clumped together with the disgusting dried Hollow blood.
With horror, Jisung realized Minho hadn’t cleaned up at all. He could see the blood still splattered on his neck each time he turned, the smell still sticking to him. “Minho!” He exclaimed, his jaw slack. “Why didn’t you clean yourself off? Pancakes can wait!”
Minho turned slowly, his brows furrowed. He slowly looked down at himself, the crease between his brows deepening as he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“It’s on your neck, idiot.” Jisung sighed. With a groan, he pushed his weight up and off the chair using the table to leverage. He waddled over to Minho, not bothering to use the crutches for the short distance. Nabbing a rag off the spot where it dangled from a hook above the sink, he dipped it into the bucket of water that sat within the sink– freshly pulled from the well that morning by Minho himself.
Pressing his hip against the counter for support, he raised his hand and began wiping at the blackened mess on Minho’s neck.
He heard Minho’s breath hitch at the touch, but he paid it no mind as he continued to clean the other’s skin. Jisung avoided eye contact as he wiped a splotch of blood that had made its way onto his cheek.
This close, Jisung tried not to let the smell nauseate him. He didn’t know how Minho couldn’t smell it; it was so potent. But this close, he was also able to notice so many more things about the other man. The small mole on the tip of his nose, how his teeth peeked out from between his lips when they parted. The way he blinked in bursts rather than equally spaced. The bob of his Adam’s apple each time he swallowed– and the muscles in his neck that flexed each time the gulp was harder than necessary.
Up close, Minho was handsome. Extremely so. Even more so than from the normal distance Jisung viewed him.
He lingered once the dark liquid was gone, his hand hovering over Minho’s neck. Jisung could feel Minho’s hand hovering over his hip, the ghost of a touch he craved all too much, but too afraid to press into. He saw redness creeping up the elder’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears, but wasn’t sure if it was from the drag of the cloth against his skin or whatever effect he hoped he had on Minho.
A burning smell caught their attention at the same time, bursting whatever bubble had settled around them. Jisung stepped back as Minho turned and cursed at the sight of the burnt pancake.
“Shit,” He muttered. “Sorry, Sungie. I’ll make another.”
Jisung shook his head, tossing the soiled rag into the empty side of the sink for later washing. “No need, I’ll eat it. Wouldn’t want to waste food, y’know?”
Minho raised a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Plus, if I have to sit near you with that disgusting smell for another minute, I might lose my appetite all together. Go wash your hair.”
The older man clutched his chest in mock offense. “I almost died for you, and this is the thanks I get?”
Jisung scoffed. “Well if someone hadn’t shot me, I wouldn’t have needed the crutches in the first place.”
Minho rolled his eyes before he turned back to the stove, shaking his head in lieu of an answer. He quickly plated the burnt pancake, along with another now cold one that had been sitting aside since Jisung entered the kitchen.
The younger man thought his heart wouldn’t be able to take any more when Minho took the extra moments to drizzle honey over the pancakes. He was proven wrong as Minho grabbed one of the persimmons and began to expertly peel it and pull the wedges apart before setting them beside the pancakes on the plate.
It felt so domestic, the simplicity yet tenderness of the actions, and Jisung’s heart was ready to burst from the gesture.
Just as Jisung attempted to convince himself he was fine, that he was totally in control of his emotions, Minho decided he wasn’t done.
As he turned with the plate in hand, Jisung made to take it from him, but Minho shook his head and gestured to the table with nothing but a smile. Jisung hesitated, debating whether it was worth it to be stubborn in the moment, but acquiesced.
With a sigh, he waddled back to the table with Minho patiently trailing behind him.
As soon as Jisung settled back into his chair, Minho was at his side. The older man leaned down, much closer than necessary, and placed the plate on the table in front of Jisung.
Leaning even closer, so near to him that he could feel his breath fanning his ear, Minho spoke in a soft tone. “Dinner is served, your majesty.”
Oh. Jisung was definitely no longer in control of his emotions.
He was certainly no longer the pilot of his own body as, when Minho leaned back to straighten himself, Jisung’s head turned and his lips were planting the softest of kisses on the older man’s cheek.
A tiny moment, fully suspended in time. The action was so minuscule, so innocent, yet causing the largest change in dynamic. So unintentional, so meaningless, while meaning everything all the same. A perfect opening, the ultimate gesture– a showing of everything in Jisung’s hand all at once.
Both souls were frozen. One in mortification over his actions, and the other in absolute shock from the boldness of the action– though not against it.
Their eyes were locked on each other, both unable to tear their gazes away. Jisung’s eyes were wide, terrified. Minho’s eyes were just as wide, if not more, but there was no hint of any negative emotion swimming in them.
Jisung was the first to break, his mind forcing him to lean back and clear his throat with a dry, awkward laugh.
“Thank you, loyal servant.”
If he thought nothing could send him spiraling more than his previous action, Minho was once again determined to prove him wrong.
A pressure atop his head, just the slightest feeling. The lips didn’t touch his skin, only the barrier of his bangs across his forehead, but it was felt all the same. It was brief, less than a second, but it felt like a lifetime.
Just as quickly as it occurred, Minho pulled back and stood up. His smile held such a fondness that Jisung thought he would melt under the gaze.
Neither spoke of the actions, the words unneeded. There was an understanding. An understanding that everything was changing, that feelings could be expressed without words, and they both had done so. In such small actions, they both laid themselves out bare.
With only a smile, Minho departed to clean up, leaving Jisung to fall down the rabbit hole of his own emotions.
➳
With Jisung able to navigate around the house more or less on his own with the crutches, his complaints became much less frequent.
Minho quickly realized, however, that they were replaced with a different annoyance.
Now that Jisung was able to move around and do things on his own, he was much more interested in involving himself in everything Minho did. It wasn’t a nuisance, per se, but having a pair of crutches only feet away from him at any given moment was certainly a cause for disaster.
In just two days, Minho had tripped over one of the metal legs a handful of times, almost falling on a knife that was in his hand during one of the instances.
Jisung had apologized profusely every time, sputtering out a million sorry’s at a rate Minho hadn’t thought possible. It was fine, really, as Minho hadn’t badly hurt himself any of the times.
He could also tell the movement was helping Jisung, the muscles and nerves having needed the physical therapy even if he still tried to keep his weight off the leg as much as possible. The younger man was complaining much less, only periodically asking for some of the pain medication Minho had brought back with the crutches. Whenever Minho looked at the wound, the outside was now almost entirely healed, only a faint red scar remaining. The skin was slightly indented, hinting at some muscle damage, but he was optimistic that Jisung would regain full mobility eventually. They just had to be patient, and he needed to be persistent with the movement.
Even if having the crutches around were a little inconvenient for the elder, he was happy to have the company more often. It was nice to be able to talk to Jisung in the same room rather than shouting out their conversation between rooms or having to assist Jisung into the kitchen to sit at the table with him.
As Minho had hypothesized when he retrieved the crutches, Jisung was much more physically affectionate when he had the ability to move about freely.
Arms wrapped loosely around his waist, making his abdominal muscles stiffen for a moment before he relaxed into the touch. A chin came to rest at his shoulder, breath fanning his neck.
“What’cha making?” Jisung spoke, his voice bright and inquisitive in Minho’s ear.
Minho continued to slice the rabbit meat in front of him, chuckling softly. “Stew. Actually, I need to go get some vegetables. Would you care to join me?”
He felt Jisung pull back and he heard the clang of the metal legs hitting each other as the younger man held them together in one hand.
“Outside?”
His voice was curious and Minho could tell he was trying to hold in his excitement. They both had agreed it was too dangerous for him to leave the house when he was unable to move freely in case of any danger.
Minho felt his heart crack as he turned, seeing the wide eyes of Jisung’s gaze. He shook his head, setting the knife down on the cutting board.
“Sorry, Sungie, but no. Come with me.”
Guiding the younger man back through the doorway into the living room and across to the opposite side of the house, Minho paused in front of the door that led to the attached garage.
He could tell Jisung was confused, but instead of trying to explain, he simply opened the door.
Where one would expect to see a cluttered concrete space or possibly a useless car stood an unlikely sight. Across the floor were rows of wooden planters, built up to hip height and filled with soil. Within that soil stood tens of plants, all varying in size, shape and color. There were lights overhead, something Minho knew Jisung would freak out over.
“W-what is this? You have electricity?” Jisung questioned, his voice full of confusion.
Minho scratched the back of his neck. “Not exactly?” It came out as more of a question than a statement. “They’re solar lights. They’re connected to solar panels on the roof.”
“Where did you get solar panels?”
“I sort of stole them off the primary school roof.”
Jisung was silent for a moment, gaping openly at the garden in front of him. Then, he scoffed. “Of course you’d figure out a way to grow an indoor garden after the world ends.”
Minho watched as Jisung hobbled his way into the room, examining each and every plant he passed. He bent downward to read the signs Minho had placed to label each plot, chuckling at the crude drawings of each vegetable the elder had included on the cards.
“If you have power in here, why doesn’t the rest of the house?”
Stepping inside the room, Minho grabbed a pair of gardening gloves from a table beside the door. As he slid them on his fingers, he headed towards the carrot plots. “I couldn’t figure out how to wire the panels to the main grid for the house. These lights are hooked directly to the reserves that store any of the energy the panels generate.”
Jisung hummed, examining the lights overhead. Some of the bulbs were meant to be heat lamps, allowing the plants to get some extra warmth and simulate the sun.
“I could look at it, if you want.” Jisung suggested. “I was pretty good with technology. Not sure how good I’d be with electricity, but I could give it a shot.”
Minho glanced over at him as he began to pull up a few carrots. “Don’t worry about it. It would feel too weird to have power now. Besides, having food in here is probably more important than having lights on in the house.”
Standing at his full height once again, Minho stepped around the plots to where Jisung stood. He held up the carrots, dangling them in front of the younger.
Minho only ever harvested what he needed, never more. Some ended up needing to be harvested and pickled in his fridge to prevent over ripening or rotting, but he tried to let everything grow as much as he could so as to not waste anything. This time, he uprooted only three carrots, all small in size but the perfect portion for the two of them.
“How did you even start this?” Jisung questioned, eyeing the carrots.
Minho shrugged, letting his arm fall. “I knew I’d need food, so I started small. First I used whatever vegetables I had already, just planted them and hoped they’d take root. Then whenever I looted houses I started looking for seed packets. You’d be surprised how many people just had hordes of seeds in their junk drawers.”
Jisung chuckled, the sound soft and beautiful in Minho’s ears.
In the bright lights rather than whatever sunlight reached into the house, Jisung was even more stunning than Minho had seen before. His cheeks were filling back out, a sure sign he was getting plenty of nutrients. His body appeared less malnourished in general, a far cry from the man Minho had shot only weeks prior. It was a pleasant change and Minho’s chest filled with a sense of pride over being able to care for the younger man.
Looking at Jisung, it was hard to believe he had been alone in the wilderness, for who knows how long, until nearly six weeks ago. He looked more lively, his skin golden and full of a vibrance that made Minho want to paint the sunsets for him. His deep eyes were equally bright, filled with a happiness that was rare in their new world.
Minho guided Jisung back to the kitchen, gaining a willing assistant for his cooking.
If the cooking time took nearly twice as long due to Jisung’s newfound clinginess and Minho’s inability to protest, that was between the two of them and their furry witness.
➳
That was the first night Jisung hobbled up the steps with Minho, his back having gotten sick of sleeping on the couch long ago and craving the softness of a regular mattress. Before meeting Minho, he had slept wherever he could, but now that he was given the option of a bed his body protested any other surface.
Minho was patient, taking each step with him, his hands hovering closely behind him in case his leg were to give out.
Without his crutches it was an uncomfortable experience, but they would be more burdensome than assistive in the task.
Once they were both safely up the stairs, Dori trailing behind, Minho guided Jisung to the first room directly to their right. He allowed Jisung to lean on him, which the younger boy gratefully accepted, pushing most of his weight onto one leg and leaning into Minho’s side. The older man’s arm wrapped around him instantly, making him fight away the blush he felt creeping up his neck.
The room was quaint, nothing extravagant and barely large enough to fit a twin bed and a dresser, but it was perfect for Jisung’s tired mind. Minho helped him get settled, waddling with him to the bed to let him sit down and rest his leg.
It was getting better, slowly but surely. Even just a few days with the crutches had worked wonders for the unused muscles, helping bring strength back to his leg the more he used it. He had started doing small, easy exercises to assist the regeneration of any deteriorated muscle and to regain his range of motion.
He still had a long way to go, but he would get there eventually. In the meantime, Minho was to be his humble servant.
“Are you good? Do you need anything?” The elder asked, helping Jisung get his leg in a comfortable position on the bed.
Jisung shook his head. “I’m good, Min. You don’t need to worry about me. If I need anything, I’ll just ring my little bell.”
He mimed swinging a tiny bell back and forth in his fingers, drawing a chuckle and an eye roll from Minho.
“Okay, well please don’t try to get up and go downstairs on your own. If you need anything, I’m just in the other room.”
Minho turned to leave the room, taking only one step forward before he paused. Jisung watched with interest as Minho turned on his heel, coming to face Jisung once again.
The elder leaned down, pressing the briefest of kisses to Jisung’s forehead, pulling away before the younger man could even blink. As he pulled back, a smile graced his lips.
“Goodnight, Sungie.”
Then he spun around again, heading out the door and to his own room without another word.
Jisung blinked, staring at the space Minho had occupied. He wasn’t sure if he had imagined it, but he couldn’t put that idea past his mind. It felt so real, surely it had been. He raised a hand, feeling the exposed skin between his bangs that Minho’s lips had touched. His hair had been parted this time, giving the elder the opportunity to kiss skin rather than hair.
Flopping backwards and throwing his head down onto the surprisingly soft pillow, Jisung stared up at the ceiling deep in thought.
Should he have been entertaining these thoughts? Was it really appropriate to feel this way when the world had gone to absolute shit? It wasn’t as if anyone was around to judge their relationship– not that they had one.
Minho was an amazing person in Jisung’s eyes. He was caring, always so selfless and doting on the younger man– even if he had been the one to shoot him. Though they hadn’t known each other for very long, Jisung could tell the man was passionate about the things he loved, which was something rare in their situation. Life had devolved into a cycle of nothing but survival for most, often struggling to feed themselves or stay out of the path of Hollows. Not for Minho, though. The man had turned their circumstances into something positive, creating a life for himself and those he chose to include in it.
It was admirable, the way Minho was so willing to fight for a sense of normality in a world where the word had lost all meaning. Maybe that was the root of his attraction to the older man, simply a draw towards the way they used to live and the man that gave him a taste of that memory.
Jisung hadn’t wanted to form such a strong attachment to the older man, he’d wanted to simply get well and move on. He had never been one to stay in one place for long, especially when he wasn’t alone. Being stagnant meant there was a higher chance of being attacked– something he wouldn’t survive. Not now, not injured, and especially not after the last time.
But Minho had saved him, truly, even if the process had been a little unconventional. Perhaps being shot was the best thing to ever happen to him. The situation that presented itself to Jisung was a possible opening for him to settle down, to stop running.
Deep down, that was all Jisung yearned for. A sense of safety, the ability to stay in one place without panic in his bones every waking moment. Someone to confide in as he’d had before.
Someone like Minho.
As Jisung lay on the bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, he realized he hadn’t slept in a bed on his own in years. The couch was one thing, but this bed, even as small as it was, felt too empty and too cold for him.
It brought back too many memories, things he didn’t want to remember.
His body made the decision for him before he even had time for his brain to ponder the thought that entered his mind. Swinging his legs back over the edge of the bed, Jisung hauled himself up to a standing position, bracing himself against the dresser. He shuffled to the door, grasping the handle and opening it fully.
The hall was dark, the deep midnight sky visible beyond the pane of the window at the landing of the stairs. With no light pollution from surrounding cities, Jisung could see countless clusters of stars. Thousands, possibly even millions.
In his time alone, he had spent numerous hours staring up at those same stars. He had nearly memorized their positions, though he was unaware of the constellation's names.
Sending the stars one more glance, Jisung stepped towards his destination, hoping this idea wouldn’t be a complete and total disaster.
Minho’s door was slightly ajar, allowing Jisung to silently push it open. He was hoping he’d be able to simply crawl in beside the older man without disturbing him. He didn’t need to touch him at all, he just needed to know there was someone beside him to keep his dreaded thoughts at bay.
When Jisung reached the side of Minho’s bed, his eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that he could see there was plenty enough room for him to slip in without jostling Minho.
The problem was Dori.
A little ball of brown fur was curled up beside Minho’s head, lying on the pillow Jisung would need to occupy. The cat didn’t shift when Jisung approached, seemingly as deeply asleep as Minho.
Jisung cursed internally, praying he’d be able to move Dori without disturbing Minho. Reaching forward, Jisung slid his hands under the fur ball, picking the sleeping creature up with little difficulty. Dori barely moved, still in his balled up position as Jisung set him down at Minho’s feet.
As soon as he touched the bed, he let out an annoyed meow and uncurled.
Jisung froze as Minho stirred slightly. The man was facing away from him, making it impossible to tell if he woke up. After a moment, Minho settled back into his still position, allowing Jisung to release the breath he had been holding.
He pulled the covers back slowly, steadily, making sure they made as little noise as possible. Once he had enough room to slide in, he lifted his bad leg and slipped it under the blanket, the rest of his body following silently.
The only noise in the room was their breathing, one steady and slow, the other shallow and shaky. Dori curled himself back into a ball, his earlier protest forgotten in favor of sleep. Jisung welcomed the silence, not needing any type of conversation to ease his mind as long as he could convince himself he was safe, that he wasn’t alone. Loneliness was a scary feeling, far more terrifying than even the Hollows lurking in the shadows. Jisung couldn’t handle being alone anymore, not after everything he’d been through.
He definitely wouldn’t be able to go back to being alone after meeting Minho.
Jisung settled himself on the mattress, pulling the blanket over his torso and turning onto his side to face the door, away from Minho.
“Jisung?”
The younger man froze, his breathing paused as he heard Minho stirring behind him. He dared not move as he felt the blanket shift from Minho turning around.
“Sungie?” Minho repeated, his voice rough with sleep. It made Jisung’s heart leap in his chest and he slowly craned his neck, rotating to look at the elder.
“Hi.” He breathed, a sheepish smile on his lips. He could barely make out Minho’s face, but could see his dark brows furrowed in drowsy confusion.
Minho propped himself up on an elbow, looking directly at Jisung. “What’s wrong? Does your leg hurt?”
He suddenly sounded more awake and much more concerned, making Jisung’s heart swell.
“No, no, nothing like that. I just…” He trailed off, embarrassment flaring on his cheeks and he was suddenly glad the room was dark.
“What is it, Sungie?”
Jisung sighed, avoiding looking in Minho’s direction. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He was prepared for a laugh, for Minho to possibly even make fun of him, but that wasn’t like Minho. The man was never one to tease him over something like that, only trivial things that Jisung could have a rebuttal for.
What Jisung didn’t expect, though, was for Minho to let out a soft sigh and lean back against his pillow. He then opened his arms, tapping the top of Jisung’s head with a finger.
“Come here.”
Jisung weighed his options for a moment. He could have refused, telling himself he’d be fine just lying beside Minho, but the offer was too good to resist. Physical affection was rare and he’d be rude to refuse.
So, he scooted himself closer and hesitantly rested his head on the junction between Minho’s arm and chest. The older man’s arm instantly came to rest around him, a firm hold on his torso but not too tight. Jisung kept his feet tucked together, trying not to kick Minho, but it was as if Minho could sense his apprehension and soon sought out space between Jisung’s legs with his own, intertwining them easily.
He could feel the rise and fall of Minho’s chest against his cheek, as well as the slow exhales against the top of his head.
Minho’s voice was low in his ear when he spoke. “Goodnight, Jisungie.”
Jisung was especially grateful for how dark the room was at that moment.
➳
When Jisung woke the next morning, wrapped in too much heat to be considered normal, his brain began to panic. That was, until he felt the steady rise and fall beneath his head and the arms that tightened around his body when he moved.
He pulled his head back enough to gaze at Minho’s still sleeping form.
This close, Jisung could see every detail of Minho’s face. He could see the stubble painted across his chin, the remnants of a dull razor. The man’s eyelashes were extremely long, curling against the tops of his cheeks. His hair fell messily over his forehead, hiding his brows and nearly covering his eyes. From this angle, Jisung was unable to see the birthmark on Minho’s nose, but he could see two on the column of his neck, reminiscent of a vampire bite.
“Enjoying the view?”
Jisung hadn’t even realized Minho’s lips moved until he jumped at the voice. He sheepishly lifted his gaze from Minho’s neck to his face, seeing the elder’s eyes open and an amused smile on his lips.
“Sorry, I—“ Jisung tried to back up, spewing a string of apologies, but Minho didn’t let him. He chuckled, pulling Jisung closer to his chest and positioning him practically halfway on top of himself.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The smile on his face was evident in his voice. “Don’t be embarrassed, I’m flattered.”
Tucking his face into Minho’s neck, Jisung felt the flush on his skin rising up his ears. The room felt warm and Minho was even warmer.
“What did I just say? Don’t be embarrassed.”
Jisung huffed, the hot air blowing right into Minho’s skin and making him chuckle. The sound rumbled in his chest and Jisung could feel it in his own.
“Jisungie, look at me.”
The younger boy shook his head, the movement restricted by his position against Minho’s neck.
“Fine, you asked for it. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”
As Minho finished speaking, fingers snaked under Jisung’s shirt and began rapid movement against his sides. The younger man instantly flinched, tightening his abdominal muscles and jerking away from the touch. Minho didn’t relent, digging deeper into Jisung’s sides and drawing out a choked laugh from him.
The laughing evolved into giggles and Jisung pulled his head away from Minho’s neck to gasp for breath. As soon as he did, Minho gripped his sides firmly and held him in place, ceasing his attack on Jisung’s sensitive skin.
Jisung quickly realized their position, his chest pressed fully against Minho’s and their faces only inches from each other. Minho’s hands were still firmly on his bare skin underneath his shirt, and he vaguely registered the circular movements Minho’s thumbs were making against his hips.
“See, was that so hard?” Minho smirked at him, his eyes glinting. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Jisung choked out, cursing internally at his inability to keep his voice steady.
A hand detached itself from Jisung’s side and reached up to brush the hair away from his forehead. His cheeks flared at the touch.
Minho didn’t remove his hand once the hair was brushed back, keeping his fingertips pressed softly against Jisung’s cheekbone. He slowly dragged them down, tracing the outline of Jisung’s jaw. Minho’s stare was so intense that Jisung looked down to avoid his gaze, but his head was quickly lifted once again by a finger under his chin.
“Can I ask you something?” Minho’s voice was soft, barely a whisper. Jisung nodded. “I haven’t been reading this wrong, have I?”
Jisung felt his heart stop in his chest, if only for a moment, before he shook his head.
“No.”
The air around them was palpable as Minho’s gaze took him apart. Jisung thought his eyes were tricking him as he saw Minho leaning his head down further, but knew he wasn’t hallucinating when he felt the elder’s breath fanning his cheeks.
“Is this okay?”
Rather than respond, Jisung let his emotions take control as he leaned forward. Closing the short distance between them, he slotted their lips together. He could feel Minho’s lips relax against his own, the corners turning upward in a soft smile.
It went no further than a few short pecks, nothing more than fleeting touches between them. Neither man was in any rush, they had all the time in the world– or lack thereof.
When Jisung finally gathered himself enough to pull away, he realized just how close they were and the tips of his ears burned. Their chests were pressed flush, Jisung basically on top of the older man, but Minho paid it no mind.
In the golden rays of the rising sun through the window, Minho simply smiled and tugged Jisung back down.
If Jisung fell, he knew Minho would catch him.
➳
In the days following, the two developed a domesticity Minho hadn’t felt since before the outbreak. There was comfort in knowing he could come home– now their home, not just his– and be welcomed with a kiss and meow or two from their furry child.
Comfort was something Minho hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he was basking in it.
“Jisungie, I’m back!” Minho called as he opened the front door, swinging his pack off his shoulder and setting it on the bench beside the door. He slipped off his shoes before stepping into the living space to greet his two housemates.
When there was no response and Minho’s eyes settled on the abandoned crutches left resting against the couch, his brows furrowed. Jisung had begun to walk around without his crutches in short bursts, trying to train his muscles back to a functioning capability. Still, Minho warned him to only do so when he wasn’t alone, in case he fell or needed Minho’s help.
The sound of a door opening caught Minho’s attention and he whipped around, hearing a quiet hum coming from the kitchen. Tiptoeing around the corner, Minho’s hand pressed tightly into the handle of his knife that was strapped to his thigh.
He let out a sigh of relief and released his grip on his knife as he watched Jisung closing the back door, a bucket of water in his hand.
“What did I say about using your leg without me around?” Minho leaned himself against the archway, folding his arms in front of his chest.
Jisung jumped, splashing some of the water over the rim of the bucket and onto the tile. “Minho, what the hell? You can’t sneak up on a guy like that!”
“Maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings,” Minho pointed out, “even at home. You never know what’s behind you.”
He watched as Jisung hauled the bucket up over the counter and into the sink. Once it was out of his hands, he turned to Minho, wiping his palms on his jeans.
“I wasn’t expecting you back for a little while. I was gonna make dinner.” He was eager to change the subject, Minho could tell, but the elder wasn’t about to let it go.
Pushing himself off the wall, Minho crossed the room in swift movements and reached behind Jisung, placing his hands on either side of him on the counter, pinning him in place.
“What did I say?” He repeated, his voice even. He wasn’t angry, just frustrated. If Jisung were to get hurt and he wasn’t there to help, well… he didn’t even want to think about a worst case scenario.
Jisung hung his head, staring at their feet. “Don’t walk around without you.”
Minho removed a hand from the counter, reaching up to cup Jisung’s cheek. The younger raised his head, eyes meeting Minho’s.
“Jisung, I just want you to be safe. I’m not upset, I just wanna be there in case something happens. You know your leg isn’t back to normal yet.” He caressed the skin under his thumb, rubbing it back and worth softly. “You’ve been doing so good, I would hate to see you hurt it again.”
Jisung nodded. “I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make dinner for once, and we were out of water, so…”
“I appreciate it, Sungie. Would you like me to help, or do you wanna do it?”
“Go relax with Dori.”
The order was clear, so with a small smile Minho pressed a chaste kiss to Jisung’s lips before pushing off the counter. “Holler if you need anything.”
Just as Minho reached the sofa, getting ready to lean down to pet Dori, he heard Jisung call out, “Actually, could you bring me some carrots?”
With a chuckle, Minho passed the couch and headed into their little greenhouse. He navigated to the carrots’ plot easily, kneeling down to harvest a few. He dug around for a few moments, pulling up the ones he deemed ready.
His joints popped as he stood, but he ignored them as he trailed back across the house and into the kitchen.
“Delivery for one Han Jisung.” He spoke, stepping up behind Jisung as the younger was setting a pot on the burner. Wrapping an arm around Jisung’s front, he dangled the carrots in front of them.
Jisung giggled, turning on his heel as Minho brought his other arm around his waist to pull him into an embrace. “Why, thank you. Now go relax.”
Minho shook his head. “The delivery fee must be paid.”
“And what’s the fee?” Jisung raised a brow.
Minho just puckered his lips.
The laugh he received was like music to his ears, and he vowed to himself to continue making Jisung laugh for as long as he could. It was a sound so special it made colors bloom in his chest that he long thought gone. Laughter was a rare commodity in this world and Minho planned to cherish every instance.
Jisung’s was especially beautiful. It was loud and staccato, gasping in bursts as if he were unable to get air in his lungs. It was so fresh, so youthful that Minho felt the need to protect its owner by any means necessary.
A soft kiss was pressed to Minho’s lips, but as Jisung attempted to pull away Minho chased him. The giggle that resulted slipped into Minho’s mouth, filling him with a sense of joy he held onto intently.
He let Jisung go after a moment, unwrapping his arms from their firm hold around the younger’s waist.
With one last peck, he left Jisung to his task.
➳
The following morning sent Minho into a panic much too similar to the day prior.
When he awoke to the sun’s rays shining in through his window and onto his face, he turned to his side to greet Jisung. They had taken to sleeping in the same bed, seeing no point in Jisung sleeping alone when they’d both fallen into the ebb and flow of what could only be called a relationship.
As he turned, he saw the ruffled sheets and empty half of the bed. Sitting up with rapid speed, Minho looked around the room. There was nowhere for Jisung to be, and no reason for him to be loitering anywhere within the four walls of their room unless on the bed.
“Jisung?” Minho called out, hoping the younger had simply down downstairs to relieve himself. When no answer came, Minho shoved the blankets off his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed.
Worry crept into Minho’s bones as he descended the stairs. The quiet emptiness of the house only furthered his fear as he reached the bottom.
“Sungie?” He tried again to no avail.
Quickening his steps, he crossed the house and made his way to the back door. He peered out, glimpsing the well in the hopes that Jisung had simply made another water run.
Nothing.
The panic settled deep in his soul. Jisung was getting better at walking without assistance, the limp barely hindering him, but he was in no shape to be going out on his own.
A thought poked into Minho’s mind and he dreaded every step he took towards the mudroom.
His suspicions were proven correct as he rounded the corner and found his crossbow missing.
In a frenzy Minho grabbed his coat, slid his shoes on and threw his bag over his shoulder. He reached down to the bench and grabbed his larger knife, nearly a machete, and bolted out the door.
He couldn’t lose someone else. It couldn’t happen again.
The lock on the front gate was intact, telling Minho that Jisung had stolen the keys– he hadn’t even thought of that. Swearing under his breath, Minho looked around until he spotted a rock near their front steps. He sprinted to grab it, returning with haste. Sliding the chain so the lock was inside the fence posts, he lifted the rock and brought it down hard on the metal.
There was a resounding clank as the rock hit, but the lock stayed intact. He tried again, one, two, three more times, until the lock finally popped open and fell to the ground with a clatter.
Uncoiling the chain from the post, he swung the gate open and closed it again once he passed through, wrapping it back up haphazardly. There weren’t many people left, and he doubted anyone would come in the time it took for him to locate Jisung.
Turning on his heel, Minho began to run.
He had no idea where Jisung would have gone and he wracked his brain trying to just think. What would be so important to Jisung that he’d need to go out without Minho, without even telling him?
Minho’s first thought was food, specifically candy, seeing as he’d learned Jisung was the biggest sweet tooth he’d ever met. But that wouldn’t have mattered as Jisung knew all the manufactured food in the area was long gone, and that included any sugary goodness.
Continuing to spring down the road, Minho’s lungs began to burn as he struggled for air. But he couldn’t stop, not until he found Jisung.
He made a turn onto another street, the same one his grandparents had lived on, and the same one he had found Jisung. It wasn’t far from where he’d shot the man, and the memory running through his brain made him shiver.
As Minho made it to the same building he used to work in, the tiny restaurant looking much dimmer and run down than he’d ever remembered, he heard a rustling to his right. Pausing, he gripped his knife tighter and turned towards the alley between the restaurant and a clothing store Minho had raided once or twice.
Peering down the narrow alley, ice filled his veins.
A Hollow crouched over something but it blocked whatever it was from Minho’s line of sight. The panic Minho had felt multiplied tenfold as he dashed forward, any of his inhibitions flying out the window at the thought of that something being Jisung.
Silently, without hesitation, Minho raised the knife and plunged it down into the Hollow’s skull before it could even react. It slumped instantly, collapsing forward into a crumpled pile on top of what it had been feasting on.
Minho’s heart ran a marathon through his chest as he pushed the body off to peer at what lay beneath. Then, relief replaced the ice.
As sad as it was, the sight of an animal laying the concrete was much better than the imagery Minho’s mind had conjured of Jisung laying there instead.
Leaving the corpses to the elements and other possible Hollows, Minho continued on his hunt.
He hurried down the road again, keeping his head on a swivel as he looked for any sign of Jisung. He couldn’t have gotten that far with a limp and no crutches.
Passing by the house that once was called home by his grandparents, Minho spared it only a short glance before he continued on his way. Then he paused, turning his head back to gaze at the front door.
It had definitely been left open when he had hauled Jisung home, but now it was closed.
His suspicions grew as he ascended the stairs. A soft rustling inside stirred his panic, but he satiated it with the knowledge that he’d heard no distress. If Jisung had been in trouble, there was no way he’d be silent.
Turning the handle slowly, Minho pushed the front door open to step inside the dark house.
It was just as he’d left it, the collapsed ceiling impeding on his ability to see into the living room properly. Light peeked in through holes in the roof, casting halos on random spots in the room.
The rustling continued and he swore he heard a sniffle.
“Jisung? Are you in here?” He spoke softly, but clutched his knife just as tightly as before.
A pause hung in the air as he held his breath, waiting for a response. The rustling was gone, but a small sniffle occurred once again before Minho’s heart was able to settle.
“Minho?”
The relief flooding Minho’s system should’ve been concerning, but he didn’t care as he dropped his weapon, the knife clattering to the ground. He raced forward, rounding the debris of the ceiling and peering around the living room to find Jisung.
He sat huddled in the darkest corner, his legs pulled tight into his chest as he looked up at Minho with reddened eyes.
“Oh honey, what happened?” Minho spoke, coming to crouch beside the younger. He reached up, wiping a stray tear away from Jisung’s cheek.
Jisung took a shaky breath, letting it out with a small laugh. “I shouldn’t have come out here without you.”
“We’ll talk about that later. Tell me what happened, why are you crying?”
Minho slid his hand down to rest on Jisung’s knee and he felt him relax beneath his touch. “A Hollow.”
The fear returned, hitting Minho like a brick. He tensed, his eyes roaming Jisung’s body until the younger noticed and placed his hand on top of Minho’s, squeezing gently.
“It didn’t get me, I didn’t even interact with it. Don’t worry.” He sighed, looking down at their hands. “I just… got scared. Ran here.”
Minho stroked Jisung’s cheek, turning the hand in his grasp upward until their fingers intertwined.
“Panic attack?” He asked, to which Jisung nodded.
“That, and I think I hurt my leg running. It really fucking hurts.”
The elder snorted, tapping his finger against Jisung’s cheek. “That’s why you don’t leave without me. I have to go find a new lock, too, so thanks for that.”
Jisung’s cheeks glowed red as he avoided Minho’s gaze, but Minho chuckled and bent his neck down to press a kiss to the younger’s forehead.
Together they stood and Minho gathered his belongings– including reclaiming his crossbow, to which Jisung sheepishly smiled– before they set out for home.
As they walked, Minho allowed Jisung to hang on his arm for support. The going was slow, but they trudged along. “Please don’t do that again, okay? If you wanna go out, just ask me.” He looked at Jisung, raising a brow when the younger shook his head.
“I needed to get something on my own.”
“And what was so important?” Minho challenged.
“Your birthday present.”
Minho stopped in his tracks, Jisung jolting to a halt beside him. Minho turned his body, looking straight at Jisung with furrowed brows. “My birthday?”
“It’s your birthday. Did you- did you not know?” Jisung asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.
“No, I guess I forgot. I didn’t think it was important, not anymore”
Jisung tilted his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Well, it’s important to me and it should be to you too. Come on, let’s go celebrate.”
As soon as they arrived home, Minho dug through the junk in their garage to find a spare lock, to which Jisung pouted over, claiming ‘you said you had to get a new one’.
With a new lock secured on their gate, Jisung sat Minho down and told him to close his eyes.
“You’re not gonna murder me, are you?” Minho joked, earning a soft hit to his arm. “Okay, okay, sorry!”
There was some rustling before he felt Jisung take his hands and place a small object in his palm.
“Okay, you can open your eyes.”
When Minho cracked his eyes open he stared down at the object in his palm. Laid delicately against his skin was a bracelet, one of those you would get for a loved one and add charms to for different milestones and accomplishments.
Hooked onto the thin silver chain were two small charms– a cat, and a bejeweled heart. Both made of silver and glimmering in the sunlight shining through their windows.
It was beautiful, and much more meaningful than Minho had ever expected. His heart swelled and threatened to overflow. There was no word to describe this feeling blooming in his chest other than love.
“Jisung, I…” Minho trailed off, at a loss for words in his whirlwind of emotions.
“Oh you hate it, don’t you? I knew I should’ve looked for something more practical, who wants a bracelet in the middle of an apocalypse, I’m sorry, I’ll—“
“Jisung. I love it.” Minho stopped him, tugging his hands until Jisung was pulled down into his lap. The younger let out a surprised gasp, trying his best to not land hard as Minho wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him tight against his chest. “Really. I love y— it. I love it.”
The word went unspoken, but it hung in the air as he held the younger man in his arms. He hoped Jisung wasn’t able to feel the thumping of his heart against his back, but the way the younger man twisted in his arms to stare at him told him it didn’t matter. Jisung knew.
Grabbing hold of Minho’s hand, Jisung peeled the bracelet out of his grasp and wrapped the chain around Minho’s wrist, clasping it with ease. His gaze left Minho’s only for a moment, but returned as soon as the jewelry was secure. With warm hands, he caressed Minho’s cheeks.
“I love you too.”
Jisung knew, and felt the same.
➳
Weeks passed as they settled into a life of domesticity Minho had always thought impossible. They went hunting, gathering, and exploring together weekly, always coming back to a hungry cat and a perfect home.
Jisung had regained a majority of control over his leg, the limb cooperating more often than not and allowing him to walk without the aid of crutches and only a slight limp.
The days they didn’t go out hunting, they spent time in each other’s arms, reading or playing one of the countless board games they’d acquired over the months. Some nights they spent their time tangled together under their sheets in intimacy, hidden away from the world.
Minho enjoyed every moment with Jisung, the beauty of the man in front of him masking all of the pain he’d ever experienced and allowing him to feel truly happy despite their circumstances. He could tell Jisung felt the same, taking every opportunity to keep his body connected to Minho’s in some way, down to the gentle touch of their pinkies when they sat beside each other.
On a cold night in the early days of December, sitting at the table eating a meal Jisung demanded on preparing himself, the younger prompted a conversation Minho hadn’t expected.
“Minho?” Jisung spoke, his voice soft, hesitant. “How do you do this?”
Minho’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, Sungie?”
“This. How do you just live? Like there’s nothing happening outside, like the world didn’t literally end five years ago.” He huffed as his voice grew louder. “How is it so easy for you?”
“It’s not easy for me, Jisung.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Jisung remarked.
Minho shook his head, sighing. “I’m not pretending nothing happened, I’m not pretending we both didn’t lose people close to us. But I made a promise to the person who meant the most to me, and that’s why I live like this.”
Now it was Jisung’s turn to look confused. “What kind of promise?”
Minho paused for a moment. He supposed now was as good a time as ever to expose his past.
“I can’t just tell you that without explaining, so get ready for a long story.” He tried to joke, but it came out emotionless. “A few weeks into the outbreak most of this town was already either dead or gone. It was around the same time I found Dori outside my grandparents’ house. I was headed to the convenience store to see what was left for me to raid, but the store wasn’t empty.”
He paused, gauging Jisung’s interest. He was leaning forward, his eyes focused on Minho in rapt attention.
“When I got to the entrance, the glass on the doors was already broken, which I knew, but there was blood on some of the edges left in the frame. It looked fresh, so I made sure my crossbow was loaded and ready if I needed to shoot. I heard some noises near the back of the store, but I couldn’t see if it was a living person or a Hollow.” He avoided using the word human since he was aware of Jisung’s stance on the two being differentiated. “When I got down the middle aisle and turned around the corner, something moving scared me enough to pull the trigger.”
“Don’t tell me you shot another person.” Jisung interjected.
Minho’s silence and flushed expression was enough of an answer for the younger man.
“You did! What’s with you and shooting people? Do you enjoy it?”
“Sungie, please.” Minho laughed, setting a hand on Jisung’s that lay atop the table. It did the job, shutting Jisung up instantly.
“Continue.”
“Thank you.” Minho rolled his eyes. “To answer your question, yes. I did shoot him. I didn’t mean to, just like with you, but I was luckier with him. It barely went into his arm, so it was an easy cleanup. I brought him here–“
Jisung’s mouth opened to interrupt , but Minho was quicker. “Jisung, I won’t get through this if you don’t listen. Comments at the end, please.”
“Sorry.” Jisung blushed, looking down at their hands.
“I know what you’re thinking, and no, it wasn’t anything like this. He became my best friend, and he was like a little brother to me. When all this started, he was barely seventeen. He was just a kid, and it was so unfair at the time. The world had gone to shit and he was all alone, I couldn’t just leave him. We came back here, did what we could to reinforce the house, and just… survived. It was okay, for a while.
“One day, probably a year into him staying with me, a few weeks before we finished the well in the backyard, he was heading to the woods to get water. I was working on the well when I heard him scream. You know when you hear something so terrifying your blood runs cold, your whole body feels frozen? That’s exactly what happened. I was never someone who was easily scared, I loved horror movies, I thought they were funny– normally laughed at them. But hearing that, that was the only time I felt truly terrified.”
Minho was getting choked up now, his voice catching the more he forced himself to recall the events. Jisung squeezed his hand in encouragement.
“I tried to climb out of the hole so fast I knocked the ladder loose. It took so much longer to get up than it should’ve and if I had been quicker–“ Minho cut himself off, shaking his head.
“No, it doesn’t matter. What happened, happened. Once I was out of the well, I ran. I ran all the way to the edge of the woods. I didn’t see anything, but then I heard him scream again. He screamed my name and I wasn’t there to save him.
“I followed his voice, and I eventually found him… but it was too late. There was much blood, Jisung, I-I couldn’t have stopped it even if I tried. There was nothing I could do to help him. He killed the Hollow, but it didn’t matter. The worst part was I recognized it– she was one of my neighbors. I thought I had cleared them all out… but I missed her.
“His stomach– the Hollow had torn it open. All I could do was hold him. I just held him, rocked him, tried to keep him as comfortable as possible when his insides were literally outside his body. He was so calm and I was falling apart. It was like he wasn’t in any pain, and to this day I hope he didn’t feel any of it.
“I tried so hard to keep myself together, but he was the one taking care of me when that should have been my job. The last thing he said to me was that he wanted me to promise to live, to not let this fucking hellhole ruin me, to keep on going in his honor. To live for him.”
Silence hung around them as Minho finished speaking. It had been so long since he had thought about it, about him, so vividly. He had done everything in his power to force those thoughts and memories into the deepest, darkest part of his mind and lock them away.
“What was his name?” Jisung asked in a hushed tone.
It wasn’t an apology, no condolences for a life lost that he did not know, and Minho was grateful.
Jisung had nothing to be sorry about, and Minho had spent the last four years feeling the guilt of the events. He was sick of feeling sorry for himself, for his brother. Nothing would bring him back, nothing would be gained from voicing condolences.
“Jeongin. Yang Jeongin.”
The name felt foreign on his tongue, yet oh so familiar. A fragment of a memory once so potent it felt as if it had only been mere moments since he last spoke the words.
“What was he like?”
Minho smiled at that. He appreciated Jisung’s efforts, wanting to honor someone he didn’t even know, to reminisce in memories he hadn’t partaken in.
“I have a photo of him. Hold on.” Minho pushed his chair back and headed for the stairs. He hurried up the steps into his room and over to his dresser, opening the top drawer and flipping through a pile of clothes until he found the small photo album. Pulling it out, he paged through until he settled on one he had taken only a few years ago with a polaroid camera he and Jeongin had found while digging through someone’s house a neighborhood over.
Photo album in hand, he descended the stairs in a hurry and returned to sit across from Jisung, handing him the open album. Jisung peered down, taking in the photo of the two men while Minho began to speak. Their hands found each other once again with ease.
“To answer your question, he was feisty. Sort of like you, in ways. He always had something to say, no matter what it was. Never afraid to voice his thoughts, never scared to tell me when I was wrong. But he was loving and so, so caring. He was like the perfect annoying little brother I never had growing up.” Minho felt a tear trail down his cheek, escaping from the gates of his eyelashes. “I wish I had known him back then.”
“He would be proud of you.”
Jisung’s words were so simple, so sincere, so innocent. Still, they opened the floodgates.
Minho’s tears fell like a downpour after a drought. His body needed the tears, the closure, the same way plants needed water. The instant feeling of relief as he finally allowed himself to release the built up emotions within his heart was so strong he had to grip Jisung’s hand tighter. The younger man mirrored the action without complaint.
“I hope so, Sungie. I really do.”
➳
The next time they spoke about their past was a week later, amidst a peaceful evening watching the sunset from the comfort of Minho’s roof. As soon as his leg felt better from his little excursion, he demanded they climb onto the roof from Minho’s bedroom window. They had been doing so every night since.
“His name was Felix.”
Jisung saw Minho’s head turn to him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t return the gaze. He kept his eyes focused on the colorful sunset on the horizon, the vivid kaleidoscope of color falling behind the trees of the forest.
He tucked his knees into his chest, hugging them close. “He was my best friend from the time I was thirteen. I had just moved back here from Malaysia and didn’t know anyone– we didn’t move back to the town I grew up in. His family had just relocated from Australia, so we were in the same boat. We became friends pretty fast once I found out he was only a day younger than me. We called ourselves twins.”
He waited for Minho to interrupt, to ask where he was going with this, but Jisung realized Minho knew– this was his story.
“We were supposed to go to university together, he wanted to dance and I wanted to produce. I can’t remember a day we spent apart during our teen years. Our parents said it was like they both had an extra child, we would switch off from one house to the other, never apart.
“When the outbreak happened, or I guess when it finally reached our town, we were out. The chaos started and we rushed home– we lived on the same street– and we checked his house first. His family was gone. Their car was gone. They had left without their son. I mean, who does that? Who leaves their son to die?
“My family was just as bad. I’m not sure what happened to my brother, but he was gone. He’s probably dead, but I would have no way of knowing otherwise. Somehow, my dad had been bit early on and was almost fully gone. My mom had locked him in the basement, but refused to leave him. She begged us to leave them, to get out and get as far away as we could. So we did. We ran, took my beat up old car and drove until the tank was empty.”
Jisung finally spared a glance at Minho and it nearly broke him. There was no pity in his eyes. All Jisung saw was pure sadness.
Knowing he needed to push through or he’d never get it out, Jisung continued.
“We survived a lot longer than I thought we ever would. For years we traveled around, we never stayed in one place for too long. We did our best to avoid any large cities or towns, staying mostly off any main roads. A few times, we ran into trouble with either Hollows or other people, but never anything dangerous. Until, I think, ten months ago.”
Time had passed easily for them, he realized. It had been four months since Minho had shot him, though it felt like yesterday. Although, time passed differently when there was nowhere to be.
“We ran into a small hoard. They must’ve been migrating, but we didn’t know where. There were around a dozen and we tried to avoid them, but one of them must have smelled us. We ran, I don’t even know for how long, but they just kept chasing. Those fuckers can be fast when they want to be. One g-grabbed Felix, and I tried, I fought so hard. I got a hold on him, and I yanked, and we fell. Ended up rolling down a giant hill and into a river. It carried us downstream, which saved us, but it didn’t matter. When we finally got to a bank we could climb out, I saw it. H-he had a giant bite, right on his neck.”
Jisung lifted a hand and pointed at the junction between his neck and shoulder. A quickly fatal bite. Close enough to the heart and brain that the disease took over quickly, but just slow enough to make the victim suffer.
“Oh, Sung.” Jisung could tell Minho knew exactly where this story was going.
“He begged me to do it, he didn’t want to turn.” Jisung whispered, staring off at the sunset once again. “You know, I used to call him my sunshine. He was the light I needed in my life, when I thought things were over, way back in the beginning, he kept me going. Felix was such a beautiful person, inside and out. His heart was so pure. It wasn’t fair. Why did it have to be him?”
Tears were streaming down his face at this point, but his features remained emotionless. He simply let them flow, the cathartic feeling too overwhelming to move. Minho scooted closer, wrapping an arm around him and allowing a small show of sympathy to seep out.
“Sunsets remind me of him. He was my sunshine, and each time I see one, it’s like he’s saying goodbye all over again.”
He managed a smile, leaning his head on Minho’s shoulder.
“But then the sun rises again, and I realize he’s not gone. He’s watching over me.”
Minho turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jisung’s head. He held him closer as they gazed at the sunset, the colors fading into the night as the stars began to show themselves.
“You did the right thing. He would’ve suffered, and no one deserves that.” He spoke softly, mumbling the words into Jisung’s hair. The younger boy simply nodded, sniffling.
“I hope he’s happy, wherever he is. I hope he’s not mad at me.”
“He’d be happy you’re living, Sungie. Keep living for him.”
They both had lost people, albeit in different ways but the loss hurt all the same. Loss did not discriminate, it dug into the deepest part of your soul and settled there, winding its roots into each and every crack.
Loss was painful, but that was okay. They would learn to live with it.
They would live for those they had lost, and they would live for each other.