Chapter Text
The night stretched into restless, ragged fragments. The bare bulb above them hiccupped and sighed, throwing the classroom into stuttering pools of light, every distant groan or scrape sounded magnified in the hush. When dawn finally edged through the grime-streaked windows it leaked in a pale, thin wash, somehow, surviving another dark.
Martin eased the stiffness out of his back and blinked sleep from his eyes. Around him bodies shifted and faces came into focus, hollowed cheeks, dark crescents beneath tired eyes. No one spoke at first, words felt too heavy. The quiet carried a shared understanding: the time for waiting was over.
James broke it. “We can’t stay here. Supplies won’t last another week, and the noise outside keeps building.” His voice was rough but steady, the sort of bluntness that made decisions possible.
Juhoon nodded, eyes flicking to the barricaded doors. “The gym’s got storage, canned food, water. If all twenty of us make it there we can get back enough food to last us weeks.” He said, and for a moment the plan hung between them like a fragile thread.
They murmured agreement, barely a plan, but something to move toward, through the corridors, together, quiet. Survival had condensed down to momentum.
Martin met Seonghyeon’s gaze across the circle. Seonghyeon looked worn but unyielding, jaw clenched with a steady kind of resolve. That small, steady flame inside him steadied Martin in return. They sorted the details with the tired diligence of people who had learned the math of staying alive. Which corridors to avoid, who would take point, who would carry what.
“We will be quick and quiet,” Keonho warned. “No noise.” He said it like a prayer.
Dangerous and simple, that was the plan.
By late morning the barricade came down in slow, careful motions. The hallway beyond waited, hushed and echoing, the school felt hollowed out, as if the building itself were holding its breath.
Keonho led the twenty kids out, moving with practiced caution. Juhoon stayed just behind him, hands steady on the shoulders of the ones ahead, eyes scanning every shadow. Martin’s heart thudded at his ribs, but he forced his breathing shallow and even, his fingers found Seonghyeon’s and curled into them, a quiet anchor as they stepped into the corridor.
They walked quietly, breaths shallow and low. Then, just as they reached the stairwell, a sound split through the quiet. The distant thrum of blades. Everyone froze. The sound grew louder, echoing through the broken windows like thunder.
Everything froze. The thrum grew, a metallic heartbeat that rolled through broken windows and the ruined skyline beyond. A dozen heads turned as one toward the nearest window. Past the smoke and haze, rotors sliced the sky; a helicopter drifted closer, methodical, scanning.
The students breaths caught as they darted toward the nearest window looking out at the sky were the sound came from. There, beyond the smoke and haze of the city, rotors sliced through the air, a helicopter moving closer, scanning the skyline.
“Holy shit,” Juhoon whispered, his eyes wide.
“They’re searching,” James said, his voice shaking with sudden, desperate hope. “They’re looking for survivors.” The plan they’d made fell apart in an instant.
The plan unraveled in an instant. The gym, the storage, all of it was useless if they were spotted from above. One thought rose up, unspoken but unanimous: the roof.
Seonghyeon’s hand squeezed Martin’s until it hurt. “This is it,” he said, urgency braided with something steady and low. “If we get to the rooftop, they’ll see us.”
Martin’s pulse raced. The helicopter’s path wasn’t fixed, it was moving, searching, and every second they hesitated the chance slipped further away. “Then we move,” Martin said, louder than he intended. He turned to the others, voice steady despite the panic clawing at his chest. “Forget the gym. Forget the supplies. We head for the roof. Now.”
No one argued. Everyone looked around a quiet shared agreement. The decision was unanimous, born out of pure survival.
As they rushed up the stairwell, the groans below them began to rise, a chorus stirred by their movement. The air filled with tension, with fear, but also with something else, a spark of hope. The roof was their only chance.
The stairwell was a tomb of echoes, every zombies screech, every ragged breath bouncing off the concrete walls.
The group ran in a frenzy, twenty pairs of footsteps pounding upward, the drone of the helicopter in the distance fueling their urgency. But the undead were quicker to notice.
Halfway up the first flight something lunged from the shadow, a shape with slack skin and glassy eyes. Then another. And another. The corridor ahead erupted with wet, hollow groans.
Martin grabbed a broomstick from where it lay and swung with a guttural yell, the wooden haft connecting with a head and sending a body crashing. James kicked another down the stairs, its body crashing against the railing.
Screams tore free. Students shoved and clawed for space. A girl’s foot caught, she stumbled, and the nearest walker sank its teeth into her shoulder. Her scream cut the air raw as two more dragged her down the steps. Martin lunged, chest seizing as if he could pull her back, but the tide shoved him forward. Three others went with her, voices snatched away by the stairwell’s dark.
The group surged upward, now sixteen. Fear gnawed at them like fire at their heels. They tried to stay together, but panic split them, half of the students pushing ahead in a desperate rush, the others lagging behind, gasping for breath. Keonho turned at the landing, shouting, “Stay together! Don’t split!” But it was too late.
Seconds later, the pounding of feet behind them faltered. A chorus of screams erupted as a massive wave of zombies swarmed the slower ones. The sound of bones snapping, the wet tearing of flesh, the students didn’t need to look to know what was happening.
Six more were gone. Just like that.
Behind them the pace faltered. A chorus of screams rose as the slower students were overwhelmed, bones breaking, the sick wet sound of tearing. Martin didn’t look to know what was happening, the image planted itself in his bones without seeing.
When at last only ten of them scrambled up to the top flight, the roof door stood like salvation... until they found it locked.
“No, no, no!” Eunji wailed, knuckles white against the cold metal. She shook the handle until it rattled, tears streaking down her dust-stained face.
“Fuck, we’re all dying today!” Seonghyeon roared, shoulder battering the door until it didn’t even tremble.
Panic rippled through the group. Fists pounded the steel, some sobbed openly. Far below, the groans became a sinister, relentless tide as the horde climbed. The helicopter’s rotors thudded overhead, patient and probing.
“Think, think!” Martin barked, voice cracking with strain, his eyes darting madly across the rooftop landing for anything, an emergency latch, a rusty maintenance hatch, a fire-escape window, anything that could buy them a breath.
⁺⋅˚⍣❉⍣˚⋅⁺
“You coming, or what?” Seonghyeon asked with a grin so bright Martin almost forgot how to breathe. Maybe it was the sunlight filtering through the nearby window, gilding his face in warm gold, or maybe it was simply him, Seonghyeon, shining in a way Martin didn’t think people could.
“Huh?” Martin managed, blinking as if he’d just woken from a dream. How could he listen properly when the boy he’d been quietly in love with since kindergarten was standing here, next to him, so close, yet so far? Now, in their final year of high school, everything about it, the time, the weight of it, felt too sharp, too real.
Seonghyeon chuckled, shaking his head. “Skipping class with me? I’m not feeling calculus today.” His tone was careless, but his eyes were daring.
Martin gave a slow nod.
It had always been this way. If Seonghyeon cut class, Martin cut with him. If Seonghyeon fought with some guys, Martin beat them up the next day. If Seonghyeon ached, Martin found himself hurting in turn. His life had become a quiet echo of Seonghyeon’s, willingly so. The answer was never in question.
“Obviously,” Martin said with a shrug, trailing after him as Seonghyeon veered away from their classroom.
Martin's hands slid into his pockets, and he let himself watch the boy he knew would never look at him quite the same way he looked back, the boy he would bleed for without hesitation if it came to that.
“What are you thinking about?” Seonghyeon asked suddenly, cutting clean through Martin’s drifting thoughts.
Martin blinked, caught off guard. He hesitated, then said lightly, “We're graduating in a few months, and I still don’t have a girlfriend.” His eyes wandered to the window, the football game unfolding on the field, track runners pushing themselves in steady rhythm around it. He hated when he became hyperaware of the world around him, so he forced his gaze back to Seonghyeon, the only thing he could stand to look at forever.
Seonghyeon laughed, a short, easy sound. “Me neither.” He smirked, like it didn’t matter in the slightest.
Martin’s lips tugged into a smile, though he said nothing.
Then came the words, the kind that seemed casual, tossed out into the air, but landed with the weight of a lifetime in Martin's chest.
“If graduation comes and neither of us has a girlfriend,” Seonghyeon said, halting mid-step and turning fully to Martin. His eyes locked onto his, steady, almost mischievous. “We should just date each other.” His grin at the end of it was half challenge, half joke, like a bet he didn’t expect anyone to take.
But Martin would in a heartbeat.
He shook his head in disbelief, smiling as he brushed past him, leaving Seonghyeon a few steps behind. “Bet,” he said simply.
Seonghyeon laughed and jogged to catch up, their shoulders brushing as they fell back into step together.
And just like that, a promise hung between them.
⁺⋅˚⍣❉⍣˚⋅⁺
Then Martin finally saw it, an old maintenance cart shoved against the wall, tools scattered across its surface like a forgotten offering. A hammer glinted faintly among the mess. He lunged, snatched it up, and gripped the handle so tightly his knuckles blanched.
Just as he turned toward the rooftop door to swing, a scream ripped through the stairwell.
Juhoon.
Two zombies had him pinned, their clawed hands tearing at his arms, dragging him down with their dead weight. His eyes went wide with terror as he thrashed, voice shattering as he screamed.
“Fuck, move!” Keonho bellowed, charging without a shred of hesitation. His fists slammed into the undead with reckless fury, their nails raking his skin, but he didn’t care. He ripped one away, driving it against the wall so hard its skull cracked beneath his boot. The other he wrenched back with shaking hands, his only thought to save Juhoon.
“Martin! Hurry!” James shouted, panic roughening his voice as the pounding of the horde climbed the stairwell like a drumbeat of death.
Martin’s chest heaved. He raised the hammer, swung once, the lock buckled. Twice, metal shrieked. On the third strike it shattered, the sound ringing like salvation.
“Go! Go!” he roared.
The rooftop door burst open, sunlight flooding them in a cold, merciless blaze. One by one they stumbled out, the chill air biting their sweat-slicked faces. Keonho dragged Juhoon through by sheer force, and Martin slammed the door shut behind them, throwing his full weight against it as fists and claws thudded violently from the other side.
For a moment there was only breath, their ragged gasps, the furious pounding below, and above it all, the relentless thrum of rotor blades.
Then someone cried out, “There! Look!”
The helicopter cut through the sky, circling low above them. Its rotors beat the air into a frenzy, its shadow sweeping the rooftop like a holy sign. Students surged forward, screaming, waving, their voices raw.
“Here! We’re here!”
Ten voices rose together, desperate and breaking, clawing at the sky with sound. For an instant, hope bloomed sharp in their chests.
The helicopter tilted, just slightly, and in that instant, hope burned bright in their chests. Their voices cracked from screaming, their throats raw, but the helicopter seemed to drift farther, its steady roar fading into the distance.
The students’ hands faltered mid-wave, arms dropping weakly to their sides. A heavy silence blanketed the rooftop, broken only by the pounding on the door below as zombies clawed to get through.
“Oh my god, why is this happening right now,” Seonghyeon whispered, his voice sharp with frustrated disbelief.
Someone slammed a fist against the wall. Others sank to the ground, hollow-eyed and trembling. Martin pressed his palms to his face, voice muffled and hoarse. “We were so close.”
Juhoon crouched low, hood pulled over his head, shoulders shaking. Keonho’s eyes found him, pained, as if willing strength into him when his own felt brittle.
Even Keonho, who always tried to stay strong, stood frozen, jaw tight, as if holding back the same hopelessness threatening to consume them all.
Then James spotted it. Chalk. Broken sticks scattered by the rooftop’s edge, forgotten remnants from past students who must have used the place for games or notes.
“Wait, here!” James shouted, scrambling forward. Desperation sparked in his eyes as he grabbed a piece, crushing it under his shoe until it turned to pale dust. Others quickly joined in, stomping on every fragment they could find until their palms were coated in white powder.
They threw it upward, handfuls of chalk dust exploding into the air, carried high by the wind. The pale powder rose like smoke signals, a desperate beacon against the sky. Their hands moved faster, tossing, throwing, choking on the dust as they coughed and shouted again, voices fraying but still filled with stubborn will.
They screamed again, voices hoarse, arms flinging the pale powder skyward. Desperate signals, raw will against the impossible.
But as the helicopter tilted, continuing its slow departure, the last flicker of hope dimmed. It vanished behind the tall buildings, swallowed by the horizon.
The rooftop fell into silence. A few students broke down sobbing, some curled into themselves on the ground. Others leaned against the walls, staring blankly at the sky. The weight of finality pressed heavy on them, it was over. Their chance had passed.
And then... the roar returned.
Low at first, a whisper across the sky. Then louder. Stronger. The air trembled as the thrum of blades surged back, growing until the sky itself seemed to shatter.
“There!” a student screamed, voice cracking with disbelief.
The helicopter reappeared, this time flying lower, its lights sweeping across the rooftop. It hovered closer, closer, until the downdraft of its blades whipped their hair and clothes, kicking up dust and debris in a frenzy.
“Get back!” Martin yelled, waving his arms to herd the others away from the landing zone. The group scrambled to the far side of the rooftop, shielding their faces from the violent wind.
With a smooth, practiced descent, the helicopter touched down, its skids screeching against the concrete. The blades above continued to spin, roaring like thunder.
The side door slid open, and armed men poured out, faces hidden behind helmets and visors, their bodies heavy with tactical gear.
They moved with urgency, their weapons raised, scanning every shadow.
“Count them!” one barked over the noise, his voice distorted through his mask.
Another soldier began shouting numbers, pointing as he scanned the group.
“Ten survivors! Seven male, three female!” he called out, his voice projecting toward the inside of the helicopter.
“Come closer! Slowly!” one of the men yelled. His hands gestured firmly, not unkind but commanding, leaving no room for hesitation. The students obeyed, moving forward in small steps. Their hearts pounded, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t out of fear of death, it was the dizzying possibility of safety.
A soldier grabbed the first boy that reached him, his gloved hands inspecting his arms, neck, and face for bites. “Clear!” he shouted, then shoved the boy gently toward the helicopter.
Another man inside pulled him in, immediately strapping a headset over his ears and buckling him into a seat. Hope rippled through the rest of the group.
Juhoon turned toward Keonho, a trembling smile spreading across his face. For a moment, his exhaustion melted away, replaced by the glow of survival. Keonho’s arm tightened around his shoulders, pulling him close. He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. The warmth in his eyes said everything.
One by one, the students were ushered inside.
Seonghyeon’s turn came, Martin instinctively followed. They sat side by side on the bench, the noise of the rotors drowning out all but the closest voices.
Martin leaned slightly closer, his eyes bright with disbelief. “Can you believe this?” he said breathlessly. “We’re actually going somewhere safe.” Seonghyeon turned to him, and for the first time, his eyes glistened. Tears welled up, catching the harsh cabin light.
Martin’s smile faltered, concern flickering across his face. “W-why are you crying?” he asked, startled.
Seonghyeon laughed softly, almost embarrassed, swiping at his tears with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. It just... feels weird.” Martin frowned, leaning closer.
“What does?”
Seonghyeon met his gaze, his lips curling into the smallest of smiles. “Everything. Just... I’m happy I’m with you. I don’t know why, but the thought of not surviving with you, it scared me more than the zombies ever did.” His voice cracked near the end, but he pushed through, his hands reaching out.
He slipped his arms around Martin’s, resting his head against his best friend’s shoulder. The hum of the helicopter drowned out the rest of the world.
“Once this is all over,” Seonghyeon whispered, his words warm despite the chill in the cabin, “let’s eat something good. Just the two of us.” he asked Martin, stunned into silence, giving him a warm understanding smile, simply tightened his arm around him.
At the door, James had just been pulled in. Three boys remained.
Juhoon and Keonho stood together, the last line between death and survival. A soldier beckoned. The third boy stepped forward, inspected, cleared, and ushered inside.
Keonho turned to Juhoon, smiling faintly. “Go on.”
Juhoon hesitated, eyes locked on him, before returning a tired but soft smile. “You go first.”
Keonho nodded, stepping forward to be inspected.
“Clear!” another voice barked.
He walked toward the helicopter’s yawning door, but before stepping in, he paused. He looked back, his eyes finding Juhoon's.
⁺⋅˚⍣❉⍣˚⋅⁺
“Keonho, you’re so slow,” Juhoon teased, waving a popsicle in the air like a prize. The summer heat was already melting it, sugary drops sliding down the stick and onto his fingers. He licked it carelessly, grinning wide. “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll eat both.”
Keonho dropped his bag onto the bench with a dull thud before sitting down beside him. He was out of breath from running to catch up.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Keonho muttered, reaching for the second popsicle. Juhoon yanked it away at the last second, leaning back on one hand with a mischievous giggle.
“Maybe I will. What’ll you do if I do, huh?” he teased, his tone playful but his dark, steady eyes carrying something else. A challenge, and a warmth Keonho could never put into words.
Without thinking, Keonho leaned closer, fingers brushing Juhoon’s wrist as he snatched the treat in one swift move.
“I’ll do exactly this,” he said, taking a bold bite off of the second popsicle that was in Juhoon's closer hand.
Juhoon gaped at him. “Bro! That’s mine!” he whined, but laughter bubbled through, bright and sharp.
Keonho’s grin widened. “And I’ll do it again,” he teased.
“No you won’t,” Juhoon shot back, yanking the popsicle away to the opposite side.
Keonho chuckled, leaning across the small space between them.
He caught the drops of the melting treat slipping down Juhoon's lips with his tongue, then, before Juhoon could react, brushed a quick kiss against his lips, still cool and sticky from the sugar water dripping down.
Juhoon froze, his eyes widening as color rushed to his cheeks. “Hey-” he stammered, flustered.
“It was gonna drip on your clothes,” Keonho shrugged casually, biting into his own popsicle with a smug smile.
The world felt simple then.
Just the two of them, shoulders pressed together, hands sticky with sugar as the sky bled pink and violet above the buildings.
“Keonho,” Juhoon whispered after a long pause, his voice almost fragile, as though afraid to disturb the moment. “Do you ever think about the future? Like... if we’ll still be sitting together like this?”
Keonho didn’t answer right away. He felt Juhoon’s hand inching closer across the bench, hesitant, fingers brushing his. Keonho reached out without hesitation, lacing their hands together, gripping tight as if to ground them both.
“I don’t really care what the future looks like,” Keonho said at last, steady even though his heart was racing. “It could be ugly as fuck. But as long as you’re there with me, I’ll be fine.”
Juhoon turned, eyes glimmering in the fading light. His smile wasn’t the wide, playful grin he showed the world, it was softer, quieter, meant only for Keonho.
“Promise?” he whispered.
“Promise,” Keonho said.
⁺⋅˚⍣❉⍣˚⋅⁺
Juhoon took a step forward when the soldier waved him over, his sneakers scraping against the rooftop. His movements were slow, almost hesitant, as if every inch carried the weight of something unsaid. The rotor blades thundered overhead, kicking dust into his hair, tugging at his hood.
Then, Juhoon leaned closer to the soldier, his lips moving fast as he whispered something Keonho couldn’t catch over the roar of the blades. The man stiffened, eyes flicking between them, then gave a sharp nod. Without hesitation, he spun on his heel, vanishing back into the helicopter with a barked order.
It all happened too fast for Keonho to make sense of.
“What? What did you just say?” Keonho demanded, stepping forward, confusion rising like a knot in his chest. But before Juhoon could answer, hands clamped down on his shoulders. Strong, armored arms yanked him backward.
“Wait- no! Let go!” Keonho thrashed violently, his voice breaking as his eyes locked on Juhoon. Panic surged. “Juhoon! What are you doing?! Get in! Hurry!”
Juhoon just stood there for a moment, his face pale, lips pressed tightly together.
The sight made Keonho’s stomach drop, his protests turning desperate.
“Don’t you dare... don’t you dare leave me!” he screamed, his body bucking against the soldiers. The helicopter’s engine roared louder, drowning his voice. His chest heaved, his pulse hammered in his ears.
And then Juhoon finally looked at him. Their eyes met. There was something in his gaze, something final, irreversible.
“Stop pulling me! What the hell are you doing?!” Keonho’s voice cracked. The soldiers were shouting over the storm of the blades, counting down to departure. With a desperate surge, Keonho broke free, stumbling hard onto the rooftop as the helicopter rattled behind him.
“Keonho!” someone screamed from inside, but he didn’t listen.
He ran, lungs burning, until he reached Juhoon and seized his shoulders. “What are you doing?!” His eyes were wide, desperate. “You’re coming too- do you hear me?! We’re going together!”
Juhoon gave him a small, broken smile.
That smile.
The one that always left Keonho reeling.
Juhoon shook his head. “No, I’m not.” His hand trembled as he tugged his collar aside.
The bite. Fresh. Blood still spilling from it.
Keonho’s world shattered. His eyes darted between the wound and Juhoon’s face, refusing to believe. Behind them, soldiers screamed for him to get in. Inside the chopper, his friends’ faces pressed to the glass, terrified, pounding the windows, begging.
“Go,” Juhoon said firmly, his voice breaking as he tried to pry Keonho’s hands away from his shoulders.
But Keonho’s grip only tightened. Tears blurred his vision, burning hot trails down his face. He pulled Juhoon into a crushing embrace, burying his face in his neck like it was the last safe place left on earth.
“Five seconds until departure!” a voice roared.
Keonho heard it but didn’t lift his head. He didn’t care. His arms locked tighter around Juhoon’s body, as if he could hold back fate itself.
“Keonho- please!” Juhoon begged, voice cracking. “Don’t do this. You can still be safe. You can live—don’t throw it away because of me!” His hands shoved weakly at Keonho’s chest, panic rising as the helicopter’s engines roared louder. “Don’t be stupid!”
But then the helicopter began to lift. The noise grew deafening as its shadow swallowed them.
Keonho didn’t move. His nails dug into the back of Juhoon’s shirt, his tears falling freely.
Juhoon screamed over the roar. “Just go-live on, and... forget about me!”
But Keonho refused to react.
The helicopter rose higher, pulling away. The shouts of their friends faded into nothing, swallowed by the wind. The rooftop grew quiet again, save for the faint growls of the undead echoing from the streets below.
Finally, Keonho loosened his hold.
Juhoon stumbled back, staring at him in shock, frustration written across his face. He turned away, sliding down against the nearest wall, his hands covering his face. His voice came broken, strangled. “This is all because of me. Now you... now you can’t be saved...”
Keonho shook his head, chest heaving.
He lowered himself beside him, slipping an arm around Juhoon’s shoulders and pulling him in until there was no space left between them.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Keonho whispered, voice ragged but unshaken. “I don’t care how I end up... as long as I’m with you.”
Juhoon’s body shook. He pressed his forehead into Keonho’s chest, tears soaking through the fabric, his breath shuddering.
The infection was already spreading, crawling through his veins.
His eyes, red-rimmed and glossy with blood, finally lifted to meet Keonho’s.
And even as the world ended around them, Keonho held on.