Chapter Text
10 days after the train
It’s heartbreaking.
The world ended last Saturday, and now she’s sitting next to her sister and brother in law as they try to get any news of their son. Her sister groans and taps her foot on the ground, looking exhausted and on the verge of tears.
“Good to see fucking burocracy survived the zombie apocalypse.” Her sister mutters, using anger to mask anxiety.
This morning, when they went to grab rations from one of the check-in centers, there was a poster on the wall.
With a picture of Jungkook.
Jungkook who they had thought to be dead. As the news poured in, with footage of the disaster spreading down the country, Areum could only watch. With Suho and Dohyun by her side they grieved, because their boy was never coming home. He was probably very close to them, but would never walk through the doors with his bunny smile and ask what was for dinner.
Except they found him. The picture had a request if one could help identify him, to get in contact with the military. So here they were, three adults carrying pictures and documents to prove to people that this is their boy, to take him home.
A young woman walks back from the bunker entrance towards them, all proper, and has the guts to smile after making them wait here for four hours while they checked and double checked everything. “You are the Jeons, correct?”
“Yes.” Areum and her brother in law say before her sister can be allowed to scream at the woman.
“Please come with me.”
They are guided to the bunker, a place mostly for refugees - the people that made it just before the entire city went on lockdown, before it was declared that Seoul had been lost. The idea that a city as big as Seoul has no survivors really shows what the fuck is the state of the new reality. It doesn’t matter right now though, because they are guided to a room and her nephew is there.
Jungkook looks… like someone that survived hell.
He has a few bruises and his hands are bandaged up, but nothing major. But then there's the hollowness in his eyes, how he doesn’t speak when his parents hug him tight. Or when they sign the papers and take him back to the apartment. It’s like he’s not quite here, which she understands. Maybe part of him is still in that train.
And still, he’s here.
He lived.
3 years after the train
His human is breathing.
Yeontan focuses his eyes on the way his chest is moving, even if the movement of the damned machine they are in makes it hard. Yeontan is sitting on his human’s lap on the backseat, and they are moving. He presumes it’s some big change, by the way his human’s mate was moving around earlier today. How they put their things into boxes, and Yeontan’s things in boxes.
At least his human is here, and Yeontan is not letting him out of sight.
Well, his humans plural.
He pants a bit, staring up. It's weird to imagine that his human pup turned into an adult, an adult that has marks of rough times. Yeontan can relate. The human picks him up and they touch noses.
"Taehyungie! Don't you dare kiss Tannie." His human's mate makes a high pitched whine and Yeontan turns worried, but it's clear he's not distressed.
His human does that thing where you can see his teeth but it's not aggressive. Which is fine even if Yeontan's little heart starts beating faster. He has to be so aware of everything, he wasn't aware in the Big City, and that took his first pack from him. Yeontan gets distracted from his own thoughts when his human touches their mouths.
The humans all makes noises and Yeontan has to close his eyes to focus that everything is fine. If things were severe, Bam would have made a noise. The pup might be too calm at points but Yeontan thinks they've gotten to an understanding where he can count on the big pup to help if things get dire. It's just Bam hasn't seen dire yet. And maybe he never will. Pups shouldn’t have to be aware, that’s for old souls like Yeontan.
“My cute Tannie.” His human says, holding Yeontan tightly against his chest. He closes his eyes, hearing the sound of his human’s heartbeat. “You are going to love the new house. There’s room for you to go on walks.”
That last noise makes Yeontan tense up. He knows what that sound means, it’s his humans taking him outside and… He burrows his face on his human’s clothes. Trying not to think of the humans who used to take him on walks, the old humans of his human’s pack, and of Bam’s pup’s parents. Walks don’t end in good things, he knows that. He was on a walk when the humans went feral, Yeontan still remembers having to run back home himself…. Leaving the elder humans behind.
He has already been separated from him for so long, he can’t lose his human again, he won’t.
3 years after the train
Ji-woo barely has time to put on her shoes before she is out through the open door after her brother. It’s so late and she’s not quite awake, but the thought of what could happen if someone spotted her baby brother alone running on the street makes her keep going.
Memories come of them being younger and walking together to school through the same path, Hoseok holding her hand and being such a tiny ray of sunshine. Now looking fixedly at his back as he rushes further down the street, all she can see is the way his shoulders are shaking. She can’t hear him crying, but she knows he is.
“Hoba!” She doesn’t shout, not wanting neighbors and busybodys to hear them, to see her brother in such a vulnerable state. She can't be sure they wouldn't call the cops to deal with a "rabid infected".
Finally he stops, and she has the time to catch up to him. He doesn't turn though, which she doesn't know how she feels about. Ji-woo knows he’s not wearing the make up or the lenses, their father wouldn't have screamed otherwise. They have only seen Hoseok bare in the pictures from before, the ones in which he didn't look like their Seokie.
It's been easy to ignore that the aggressive looking infected in those pictures is the same person standing in front of her, her baby brother. And still, could she ignore the fear if he turned right now? With eyes that are milky and so pale she could probably see their veins? She hopes she can, but she doesn’t want to risk it.
So instead, she hugs him from behind. Her arms wrap around his skinny midsection, and she rests her forehead on his shaking shoulder blade. “I’m sorry, Seokie.” She whispers. “I love you, he loves you too.” She means her words, but her brother doesn’t reply, just continues crying. Ji-woo really wishes she could fix everything, that her words could soothe the aches.
All she can do though is to hug harder and try to be here for him. “I’m so glad that you're here, that you're alive. No matter what anyone says.”
4 years after the train
Geumjae isn’t sure what exactly he expected when he first saw his little brother after everything.
He looks… healthy? Better? It’s weird. The last memory he has of Yoongi is during Seollal some seven years ago. Yoongi was a scrappy teen, with a very short haircut, anger and sadness consuming his every movement. The Yoongi in front of him is… different. His hair is longer, the bangs almost cover his eyes. The clothes he's wearing are far too big for him, making him look small even though he’s taller than Geumjae. It’s the scars that fuck him up though. The one on his neck from the mancatcher, the bite marks he sees poking under the sleeves and those Geumjae knows are under the facemask. He’s read the reports, he knows what Yoongi went through. Well, in the outbreak. He doesn’t even know what happened before that.
The first words out of his brother’s mouth feel like a slap to the face. “You didn’t come to see me at the Center.” There’s no real anger or hurt there, just a statement. And a correct one, Geumjae can’t deny it as he sits across from Yoongi in a teenager’s home. Not that there’s anything wrong with Jungkook, he has to thank the kid, but it makes it so painfully obvious how complicated everything is.
Because Geumjae had wanted to go visiting, but he was wrecked by guilt. How could he look Yoongi in the eyes after all these years? It’s not an excuse, he knows that. “It’s okay, they didn’t come either.” Yoongi continues, tilting his head slightly.
“I’ll do better now.” Geumjae stares at his own hands, gulping down his feelings. “I should have come sooner, but I was unsure if I was allowed to with the court case.”
There’s no reply to that comment, and he doesn’t quite know what to say besides that. His eyes go through the living room, trying to find something to start a conversation about. There are board games piled on a corner, and a few pictures of Yoongi’s housemates and their pets. He knows they are around, even if Geumjae has only seen Jungkook when he arrived. What really catches his eyes though, is something he doesn’t even know how he didn’t see the moment he walked in.
A piano.
“Have you been playing?”
“Yeah. My therapist recommended it, and I’m slowly going back to making music.” There’s a satisfaction in his tone, and Geumjae swears he can hear the smile under the mask. “Do you want me to show you?”
He has never nodded so quickly in his life. Yoongi half-chuckles and then gets up, walking across the living room and sitting in front of the piano, his back turned to Geumjae as his fingers find the keys. He knows the piece, he thinks, something from a movie soundtrack.
It’s quite sad how good his brother is at this. Geumjae feels a knot forming in his throat as he stares at his brother's back.
7 years after the train
There’s a ghost inside her phone.
Miss Kim never liked these phones with the big screens, too complicated to deal with, she doesn't feel like she quite controls it. But her son had insisted on it back in the day, it was good to keep in contact. It was good for them to have a last call with their Seokjinnie when he was in that train.
Yet now, he's on her phone.
No, he isn't. That can't be her grandson, her grandson died a hero in that train. Just like her son died a hero, sacrificing himself after being bitten months after they were forgotten in Seoul.
The fake Seokjin is one of those monsters. She can tell from his eyes, from the bite scar quite visible on his hand as he cooks. The video started playing automatically after the previous one had ended, and with a tight chest she hears the voice on the other end.
"Hey everyone! It's Jin here. This time I got Jungkookie helping me with the cooking."
She feels hatred for Jeon Jungkook flaring. The boy had been a balm at the beginning, making sure the world knew how her grandson was a hero. But he got co-opted by the government with their stupid plan to put monsters in people's homes. It's insanity. They spent years fighting those things, those things wanted them dead, they killed millions. And the government's abandonment killed the rest.
And now this thing that looks too much like her grandson is talking in that video. A mockery of the suffering they had to go through, a mockery of his sacrifice.
If he is alive like they say he is… Then the Kims a couple doors down… Her son… Every one of those things they shot down…
She shakes her head, trying to focus on the fact she knows she did the best she could. That she won't be caught unaware, when things go bad again.
"This is a recipe my grandfather taught me. He used to cook this for my grandmother on her birthdays, and it was his way of showing love. So, let's begin."
She blocks the phone at those words, tears stubbornly running down her face. She can't let her daughter in law see this monster posing as her son, she needs to forget and bury this.
7 years after the train
"Is everything done, dear?" Her husband asks, coming from the back of the house. Miss Park looks around the living room one more time, trying to make sure everything is perfect and tidy.
It's the first time Jimin is coming over in seven years. A tentative first meeting to rebuild bonds under the supervision of someone who all but hates them. And Miss Park can't even judge Jungkook, she still remembers her own words when he had come over excitedly telling her they could bring Jimin home. My son is dead.
How wrong she had been… After seeing him standing next to Jungkook and Taehyung, breathing and smiling and there, she knows how foolish she was.
And then her eyes land on the hallway, right in view of the main doorway of their shrine. Her blood goes cold. She can't let her son see that. The shrine they put up, with pictures of him and Taehyung to honor their losses. There's not much time left before Jimin arrives so she hurries over, her husband swearing behind her as he too notices the situation they have on their hands.
It's strange to bring this down so hurriedly, after so many years having this up with so much care. Grabbing the framed picture of her son smiling and putting it under the couch feels like an offense. Handing Taehyung's picture to her husband and ordering him to put it somewhere out of sight feels like they are doing something wrong.
And maybe they should leave it there and explain, own up to their mistakes… but all Miss Park wants is a chance. She'll admit to everything, but first she needs a chance. To be with her son, to allow herself the hope that someday things will be good.
9 years after the train
There is noise.
There is a body on a bed, and the girl who used to be inside of it barely notices as her dear brother walks in. She isn't there anymore and yet he still holds her hand and smiles.
"Happy birthday." He says and she doesn't move. The words mean nothing to her even if the sound resonates through her eardrums. There is no more meaning. She doesn't remember birthdays, or the man next to her teasing her about inviting a crush to one of her parties, or them eating cake until they got sick.
There's never a reaction, as her body can no longer move. It's been nine years since she moved anything under her own volition. First it was the parasite consuming and burrowing. Then there were not enough connections for anything to be done. The man sits there with her, talking about his life and their memories together. If she could understand, she’d know how sad his voice sounds.
“It’s gonna be the last time we talk, sis. I’ve hoped a lot that someday you would come back… But you won’t, will you? I’m glad your body held on, I’m glad even if you can't understand or hear what I say, you were here for me through these years. You should rest though, mom and dad will love to see you, if there's an afterlife and all.”
His warm tears fall on the back of her hand, and the young woman on the bed doesn’t feel it. She has never seen her brother crying. When she could see him he was her annoying big brother, sometimes her hero, more often than not just one of her best friends.
"Namjoon-ssi, are you ready?" A doctor asks, their voice soft.
"Ready? Probably never will be, but we should do it anyway."
She doesn't see her brother crying, and she doesn't feel a thing when the machines keeping her alive are turned off. She doesn't see the last of the hope her brother held for her waking up being replaced by grief.
But she'd be glad to know in the end, after he left the room, there were people waiting for him. He wasn't alone, would never be.