Chapter Text
[No one spoke. There was no need.
One last breath. There was no turning back.
Namjoon opened his eyes again—clear. And said,
“We move.”]
They moved carefully but quickly. Seokjin led the way through the darkened apartment, past the kitchen and laundry room, to a small door built into the back of the unit. It opened onto a narrow service corridor that led directly to the northern emergency stairwell.
He stopped in front of the door and pressed his ear against it. Drawing in a slow breath, listened carefully for any sign of movement outside—footsteps, voices, anything at all, but only silence waited on the other side.
Seokjin glanced back. Namjoon met his eyes and gave a single nod.
Taking another breath, Seokjin opened the door.
The door swung inward without a sound. The side corridor was narrow and dim, lit by a small light at the far end that flickered weakly, never turned off because there were no windows for sunlight to reach this place. The walls were plain, paint peeling near the floor.
Seokjin had never paid much attention to this corridor before. Maybe it was meant for maintenance workers, or emergency access? He wasn’t entirely sure. He vaguely remembered asking about it after moving in, only to lose track halfway through the explanation. Now, that forgotten passage had suddenly become incredibly useful.
Seokjin raised a hand, signaling the others to wait. Leaned farther out, he checked the corridor, ensuring nothing unusual was visible, though it was almost impossible for anyone to be here because access to this hallway was limited. If someone was inside, that means they had to come from the emergency stairs, or from either his unit and the one across from it, both of which connected to the corridor. Still, after everything that had happened yesterday, it was better to be careful.
There was no one there, an oppressive silence stretching beneath the dim light all the way to the end of the passage, that for some reason made a chill run down Seokjin's spine.
He gave a small thumbs-up and stepped out first. Jeongguk followed immediately, shoulder almost brushing Seokjin's back. Namjoon came after them. Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung stayed behind in a tight line.
“The stairwell's at the end,” Seokjin whispered.
They walked silently, or at least, tried to, holding back their steps so the soles of their shoes wouldn't strike the floor too hard, moving on tiptoe, their breathing mingled, and every tiny sound felt like a potentially fatal mistake.
At the end of the corridor, Seokjin stopped once more in front of the stairwell door. Again, he pressed his ear against the cold iron surface. Silence. But unlike before, this quiet offered no comfort at all.
Swallowing hard, he slowly pushed the door open.
The north emergency stairwell was narrower than the one they had taken from the basement yesterday. Cold air drifted up from below, carrying the smell of concrete, dust, and the faint trace of smoke? Red emergency lights glowed every two floors, making the steps below appear as though submerged in a thin pool of blood.
Hoseok looked down reluctantly. “I hate stairs now.”
“Only now?” Yoongi muttered.
“Hyung.”
“Sorry.”
“Quiet,” Seokjin hissed.
They continued downward one careful step at a time. Jeongguk walked with one hand holding a small flashlight, while the other gripped his bag strap. Every so often, he would pause to listen before glancing back up the stairwell, checking whether anything had started following them.
Each floor connected through two crossing flights of stairs. They had just reached the seventh floor when Seokjin stopped abruptly. From behind the door, leading to the corridor, came a sound—scratch… A faint noise like fingernails dragging across wood.
Jimin held his breath. Hoseok unconsciously tightened his grip on his bag strap. All seven of them exchanged looks, waiting to see if the sound would come again.
For a few long seconds, only their breathing filled the stairwell, no signs of any other movement. Could have been a rat, or something that had fallen, whatever it was, they did not have time to find out.
Seokjin started moving again, the others followed.
By the sixth floor, the change in the air was more noticeable, warmer. The faint scent of smoke from earlier had grown stronger.
Taehyung frowned in concern. “Is something burning?”
Nobody answered, but when they reached the fifth floor, the answer was obvious, the concern became real. Smoke drifted through the stairwell in thin gray waves, dulling the red emergency lights until everything looked hazy and muted.
Jeongguk instinctively pulled his sleeve over his nose. Hoseok's face went pale. “You've got to be kidding me.”
Jimin recoiled, unable to believe the stroke of bad luck that had befallen them so early in the day. “We just started going down…”
Yoongi pressed his lips together, peered through the open center of the stairwell. No flames were visible, but smoke continued to rise from somewhere below, swallowing the lower floors in gray haze, obscuring the view beneath them. “It’s coming from bellow.”
“If it gets any thicker, we won’t be able to keep going,” Jeongguk added.
Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek. “Is there another way out from this floor?”
Seokjin frowned. “I can’t think of any.”
The air grew heavy around them, then, as if the rising panic weren’t enough, something suddenly slammed against the emergency stairwell door below.
BANG!
Everyone froze.
BANG!
The impact echoed upward through the concrete shaft, not close, perhaps two or three floors down, could have been someone trying to escape, finding themselves locked in, another resident who knew the same route, but the wet, guttural growl that followed sent a chill down everyone’s spines.
Taehyung took a step back. Hoseok's eyes darted upward. “Up?”
Jeongguk slowly shook his head. “We can’t stay up there if the smoke keeps rising.” Like a chimney, the stairwell would pull the smoke upward, sooner or later, the entire shaft would fill with it, trapping them on the upper floors with nowhere to go.
“Down?”
“The thing below us.”
Taehyung dragged a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I could die standing right here.”
They were trapped between two terrible choices. Seokjin forced himself to think.
Fifth floor, there was smoke rising from below, and something down there. Fifth floor, no way out from this floor. Fourth floor—the maintenance room.
The memory surfaced without warning.
A few months ago, Seokjin had helped Mr. Han carries a heavy box of tools there late at night. As the night security guard, Mr. Han had access to the room and seemed to come and go often to check various things.
The room itself had been cramped and cluttered, but one detail stayed vividly in Seokjin’s mind, a large window overlooking the low service building roof behind the main structure.
Before they left, Mr. Han had pointed out where the spare key was kept, joking, "If I ever forget my key, at least there's one person who knows."
Seokjin's chest tightened. For a split second, the memory of Mr. Han in the basement flashed through his mind. He shoved it down immediately.
“The fourth floor,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “There’s a maintenance room. The window faces the low roof of the service building. Not an official exit, but we might be able to climb down from there.”
Hoseok stared at him like he had just proposed a suicide pact. “Climb out a window? Seokjin-ah, I value my life.”
“Not a huge drop. There’s a concrete roof underneath. Maybe one and a half meters. Two, at most.”
“Maybe,” Yoongi repeated flatly. “Very reassuring.”
BANG!
The door below was hit again, harder this time. The smoke around them thickened.
Jeongguk snorted. “Either we choke to death or break a bone. Pick one.”
Namjoon nodded, the decision was made. “Fourth floor. Now.”
Hoseok cursed. “Fuck it.”
They moved faster, descending another floor with steps kept as light as possible. The smoke began to sting their throats. Jimin coughed once, without a word, Hoseok pulled masks from backpack and handed them out one by one.
On the fourth floor, Jeongguk carefully opened the stairwell door. The corridor outside was dark and in worse shape than the eighth floor. A toppled plant pot lay in the middle of the hallway, shards scattered across the floor with clumps of soil dragged in every direction by shoe prints. Here and there, dark red and brown stains had dried on the walls, their shapes irregular and impossible to ignore.
Seokjin peered out beside him, almost hesitating to step into the corridor, but they didn't have much time, and the hallway was empty, for now, at least, and the maintenance room was right beside the stairwell door.
He hurried over and felt along the top of the door frame, whispered without looking back, “Mr. Han said he kept the key here.”
Something cold and metallic brushed his fingertips. The key. A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding finally escaped him. Quickly, he unlocked the door.
The maintenance room was packed with metal shelves, fuse boxes, and coils of cable. In the corner, a mop and bucket sat stacked together. The sharp scent of chemical cleaner stung their noses. At the far side of the room, a small, tightly shut window faced downward.
Jeongguk unlatched it and pushed, it stuck. He tried again, exerting more force while steadying the frame to prevent it from jerking open abruptly, old windows like this often made a loud noise when opened.
At last, the window gave way with a stiff creak. Sure enough, beyond it lay the low concrete roof of the service building behind the apartment complex. The drop wasn’t too far, though someone’s knees would probably disagree if they landed wrong. Farther below, a narrow iron staircase descended into the back courtyard, likely meant for maintenance staff.
“It’s doable,” Jeongguk confirmed, glancing back at Seokjin.
Hoseok leaned over to look and grimaced. “We clearly have different definitions of doable.”
Namjoon stared at the seemingly solid concrete roof below, said, “We don’t have another choice.”
“I'll go first.”
“Be careful.”
Taehyung climbed onto the windowsill, carefully turned himself around and lowered his body over the edge, gripping the frame tightly until his feet found the concrete below. He released his hold and bent his knees to absorb the impact.
Taehyung gave a thumbs-up. The tension in their chests eased slightly.
“One by one. Quick,” Namjoon instructed.
Yoongi went next, landing with a quiet grunt, Jimin followed after him. When it became Hoseok’s turn, he stared at the open window like it had personally betrayed him. “Why has my life turned into one long extreme attraction for the past two days?”
“Think of it as the roller coaster sequel,” Jimin called from below.
“I’m going to throw up on your head.”
“Hobi, get down—hurry,” Namjoon urged.
Hoseok climbed out while muttering curses under his breath, followed shortly by Namjoon.
Only Seokjin and Jeongguk remained inside the maintenance room.
Then—from the corridor outside, came the sound of dragging footsteps breaking into a run, growing faster and closer, as if something had just caught their scent.
Both of them went rigid, turning toward the maintenance room door in unison. The door shuddered violently as something outside slammed into it.
BANG!
Jeongguk stepped in front of Seokjin on instinct, shielding him with his body. He was about to say something, but Seokjin spoke first. “Go down.”
Jeongguk's expression hardened instantly.
BANG! BANG!
The door shook again more violent, something outside was trying to force its way in.
There was no time to argue. Seokjin lifted a hand and pressed it briefly against Jeongguk's chest, right above his racing heartbeat. “I'll be right behind you, hm?”
Jeongguk froze. Seokjin held his gaze. “Go down. Catch me.”
Jeongguk's jaw tightened, every part of him resisted, unwilling to leave Seokjin behind, even for a few seconds, but the older man’s look remained unwavering, as if to say, trust me.
BANG! The door shuddered again.
Fuck. Jeongguk took a sharp breath, then gave a single nod.
Climbing out the window, Jeongguk dropped onto the concrete roof in one swift, controlled motion. At the same time, Seokjin turned and shoved the metal shelf beside the door—CRASH! the shelf toppled sideways, partially blocking the path to the window, creating a loud clatter that provoked even more aggressive pounding from outside.
Below, Jeongguk snapped his head up, both arms already raised toward the window. “Hyung!”
Seokjin had returned to the window, climbed onto the sill, and turned his body.
BANG!
The door burst open with a loud clang.
Seokjin didn't look back.
He jumped.
For one weightless second, there was nothing beneath him but empty air. Wind rushed past his ears, catching loose strands of his hair as he dropped. Behind him, the door slammed fully open. Then he hit Jeongguk.
Jeongguk caught him with both arms, but the impact still sent them stumbling backward across the concrete roof.
Seokjin landed badly, one knee buckling sharply beneath him—“Hyung!” Jeongguk immediately tightened his grip and hauled Seokjin against his chest before either of them could stumble too close to the edge.
“I'm okay,” Seokjin said at once, breathless.
“Your leg?”
“It’s fine.”
“Don't lie.”
“Jeongguk-ah, later.”
Now the sounds of impact and growling were close, something up there was still trying to reach them, held back only by the metal shelf Seokjin had knocked over, every slam dragged it farther across the floor with a screech of metal.
Taehyung inhaled sharply. “Get down! Get down now!”
Yoongi was already climbing down the narrow iron ladder attached to the side of the roof. The steps let out a long, protesting creak beneath his weight but held. Once he reached the ground, he looked up, waved them on. “Hurry! But don't jump! This thing's old!”
Just as Hoseok finished helping Jimin down, the shelving unit finally gave way, an infected figure burst through the shattered window frame.
Jeongguk looked up. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, its mouth was smeared with blood, and something slimy and stringy, like a scrap of flesh, was caught between its teeth. Dark veins bulged beneath its skin, crawling across its face like worms.
The infected tried to force itself through, but the window was too narrow, its chest became stuck on the sill while both arms reached desperately into the empty air below, pale nails scraping against the wall and leaving black streaks behind.
A chill crawled down Jeongguk's spine, and he looked away.
They continued down the ladder one by one. Jimin reached the ground first, followed by Hoseok. “I hate your building,” he hissed.
“Complaint received. I’ll pass it on to management later.” Seokjin snorted with crooked smile.
As soon as Namjoon reached the ground, he looked up at Seokjin and Jeongguk. “Hurry.”
The ladder was narrow. Seokjin forced his hands not to shake as he gripped the cold metal while the figure in the window continued to thrash behind them, its growls muffled by distance and concrete. Every scrape of its nails made his back tense.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Jeongguk moved in front of him. “Your leg okay?”
“Jeongguk.”
“I'm just asking.”
“I can walk.”
Jeongguk studied him for a split second, clearly unsatisfied, yet he didn't argue.
The apartment’s backyard was cramped, hemmed in by high concrete walls and a chain-link fence that separated the building grounds from the narrow alley behind. Usually, the space was used only by staff to dispose of trash or move items from the storage area. Now, however, large dumpsters lay toppled, plastic bags were strewn about, and the smell of smoke carried on the wind was unmistakable.
“The way to the main road?” Namjoon looked at Seokjin.
Seokjin pointed toward the end of the yard. “That gate leads to the back alley. From there, we can take a smaller street and turn west twice. If we're lucky, we should reach a quieter road.”
“And if we aren’t?” Hoseok asked.
Seokjin gave him an unimpressed look. Hoseok nodded. “Right. Don’t answer that.”
They moved toward the gate. Yoongi pushed against it, locked. “Of course it is.”
“Can we climb it?” Jimin looked up. The fence wasn't that high, but the top was lined with sharp metal spikes. Under normal circumstances, they might have managed it with thick jackets or by helping each other up, but now, with trembling hands, heavy bags, and the sound of growling from above that hadn't yet faded, it sounded like a very good way to lose blood.
Jeongguk crouched in front of the lock. “It's an old lock.”
“Can you open it?” Taehyung asked sounding far too hopeful.
“I’m trying, aren’t I?” Jeongguk picked up a large rock from the nearby garden bed and raised it. “Step back.”
“Keep it quiet.” Namjoon warned. They had already drawn attention once, attracting more wasn't a good idea.
“If we don't open it, we're trapped.”
Namjoon glanced back. Up above, the infected from the window finally crashed onto the awning—thud! The figure moved, crawling in a grotesque, unnatural way, then dropped down toward the iron stairs. “Open it,” Namjoon said.
Jeongguk smashed the rock against the padlock.
Once, the sound of the impact rang out too loudly in the cramped yard. Twice, Jimin glanced in every direction, his breathing quickening. Three times, the padlock snapped. Yoongi yanked the gate open just wide enough for them to slip through. “Go.”
They slipped out one by one into the back alley.
The buildings there loomed on either side of them, with pipes clinging to the walls like metal ribs. Sunlight barely reached the ground, filtering down in pale strips between the concrete shadows.
They had only taken a few steps, when the sound of running footsteps and a sudden scream echoed from the far end of the alley. Jeongguk stopped so abruptly that everyone behind him froze as well.
“Don’t go there,” Yoongi said automatically.
“Is there another way?” Namjoon asked.
Jeongguk lifted his head, trying to ignore the screaming coming from the end of the alley. This area should have been familiar, he had walked here countless times, carrying coffee for Seokjin, heading home late after practice, or stepping out at midnight for a sudden ramen craving, but this morning, everything looked different.
He pointed toward the intersection ahead. “The alley on the left. There’s a row of empty shop houses there. We can cut through to the road behind the market.”
“The market? That sounds crowded.” Hoseok sounded unconvinced.
“The main building is closed for renovations.” At least, it had been a few days ago. If it hadn't reopened yet, there shouldn't have been many people there recently, making it potentially one of the quietest spots in the area.
They started moving, walking quickly because running would make too much noise. Their bodies stayed close to the walls, eyes constantly moving, ears straining for every little sound. Seokjin took up the back with Yoongi, making sure no one was left behind. Namjoon and Jeongguk now led the way, following the directions Jeongguk murmured under his breath. In the middle, Jimin held onto Taehyung's arm while Hoseok stayed close beside them.
Behind them, from the direction of the gate, came the sound of metal rattling, that thing had made it down. No one stopped or looked back.
They reached the end of the first alley and pressed themselves against the wall before peeking out. The small street ahead was a mess, several cars had been abandoned haphazardly, a motorcycle still lay on its side in the middle of the asphalt, its rear wheel spinning lazily. Thin smoke drifted out of the half-open door of the bakery across the street. Nothing seemed to be moving, for now.
Jeongguk pointed left. “That way.”
They hurried across the street—and from one of the abandoned cars, the body slumped over the steering wheel.
HONK!
A long, blaring horn blast shattered the silence like an alarm.
Everyone froze. Taehyung muttered a panicked curse. “Shitshitshitshit!”
At the end of the street, something turned its head. One person, two—no, not people, not anymore. Another figure emerged from the bakery with jerky, unnatural movements, and then, from behind a white car parked at an angle, yet another stood up.
All of them turned toward Bangtan.
“Run!”
They moved at the same moment the infected did. Staying put wasn't an option.
They ran.
There was no more trying to keep their footsteps quiet, no more sticking close to the walls, every little rule they had made for themselves shattered in a single second when the blaring horn turned those heads toward them.
“Left!” Jeongguk shouted.
Rapid footsteps were closing in behind them. Jeongguk glanced over his shoulder. The two figures that had emerged from the bakery and behind the car were coming after them, one limping with a tilted neck, the other running with one arm hanging strangely at its side. They showed no signs of fatigue or hesitation, as if they had just spotted food after days of starvation.
“Don't look back!” Namjoon yelled.
“I’m checking the route!” Jeongguk shot back.
“You’re looking back at the zombies!”
“How else am I supposed to know where they are?!”
“You don’t need to know where they are if you just run!”
“And run straight into another dead end?!”
“Oh~! So we’re officially calling them zombies now?!” Yoongi muttered between breaths.
“Hyung! This is not the time—” Namjoon snapped.
“I'm just saying~! You've been avoiding the word since yesterday!”
Seokjin whipped his head around to stare at them. “Can you idiots argue after we survive?!”
They plunged into the alley Jeongguk had pointed out. It was even narrower, cluttered with soggy cardboard boxes, trash bins, and dripping air-conditioning pipes overhead. Hoseok nearly slipped on a puddle, but Jimin caught his arm before he could fall. “Hyung!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine—run!”
The things behind them were still coming. At the end of the alley, the sound of metal crashing made all of them flinch, a shop’s rolling shutter moved from within, not opening fully, but rattling twice, followed by the sound of scratching from the other side.
Jeongguk changed direction before anyone could ask. “Right!”
They turned into another alley, darker because it was covered by market canopies that hadn't yet been dismantled. Rows of closed market stalls lined the path. Promotional banners for fruits and vegetables swayed in the wind, some had come loose from their hooks, snapping against the air with a sound that made Jeongguk’s nerves feel raw.
A fishy stench wafted over them as they ran past an empty fish stall. Behind them, the sound of their pursuers’ footsteps entered the same alley, crashing into cardboard and slamming into trash cans, yet never slowing down.
Seokjin accelerated until he was nearly ahead of everyone else, then stopped abruptly beside a stack of plastic shelves. “Help me.”
Jeongguk moved without being told, joining Seokjin to push the plastic shelves into the middle of the alley. Taehyung stepped in to help, followed by Jimin. The shelves crashed over, blocking most of the passage and spilling empty boxes and old tarps across the ground.
“Is that enough?” Taehyung asked.
From behind, a figure slammed into the stack,sending the shelves skidding across the ground. Not enough.
“Run again!” Jeongguk shouted.
They moved.
On the other side of the market, sunlight spilled more brightly into view. The road behind the market lay ahead of them, wider than the alleys, lined with shops, some tightly shuttered, others left half-open. There was no one around, only a small truck parked crookedly beside a produce warehouse, its rear doors hanging open.
Seokjin pointed ahead. “That way. If we follow this road, we can cut through to the residential area.”
“The old dorm?” Namjoon asked.
“Still a long way.”
“How long?”
“Forty minutes on foot. Maybe.”
Hoseok looked horrified. “I take back every complaint I made about the eighth floor.”
They had only reached the middle of the road when the sound of a motorcycle came from their right.
Everyone stopped. A motorcycle shot around the corner far too fast, the rider wore a half-open helmet, face twisted with panic. Behind him, a woman sat sidesaddle, clutching a large bag to her chest. “Move!” the rider shouted.
They stepped aside. The motorcycle sped past so closely that the rush of air caught the hem of Taehyung's jacket. But before it could get past them, something emerged from the side of a shop. Another body lunging out, the rider swerved sharply, causing the bike to skid and crash with a violent impact.
Metal scraped against asphalt, bodies were thrown, and the woman screamed as she fell to the roadside. The bike slid on its side for several meters, scraping the asphalt and sending up small sparks before finally slamming into a pole.
Jimin took a single step forward, but Taehyung pulled him back. “Jimin!”
“They fell!”
“Jimin—”
The woman tried to push herself up, hands shaking on either side of her, blood running down one knee, while the rider lay motionless.
The figure that had lunged at them rose first, mouth agape. Jimin froze. Namjoon grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back just as the figure turned toward the sound of their voices. “We can’t.” he forced the words out of his throat.
Jimin’s face crumpled. “She’s still alive.”
“I know.”
“Hyung—”
“I know.”
The woman screamed as the figure lunged at her. Taehyung pulled Jimin against his chest, holding his head so he wouldn't look, but they all still heard it, the sounds of biting, chewing, and the woman's agony. Those sounds would stay with them longer than anything they had seen that day.
“Go,” Yoongi said. No one moved, it was as if their souls had suddenly vanished, leaving them utterly drained. “Go!” he repeated, louder, face pale and furious. “Move or we die here.”
Namjoon gripped Jimin’s shoulder tighter. “Move.”
Jimin seemed unable to breathe. Taehyung pulled him along, practically dragging him for the first few steps until Jimin’s legs finally began to move on their own again. They left the market’s back alley without looking back, yet the weight of guilt settled deep within them.
Not long after, they reached a residential area.
The street was eerily quiet, houses lined the road with low fences and potted plants by their front doors. A child’s bicycle lay abandoned on the sidewalk, and a family car sat stopped in the middle of the street with its rear door open, revealing an empty baby seat still strapped inside.
Seokjin studied the street ahead. If they continued west for two blocks, they would find a small lane leading to an old bus stop. From there, their old dorm wasn't far, they could make it. Maybe.
Namjoon bent over, hands on his knees. “Stop for a moment. We need to catch our breath. One minute. No more.”
They slipped into the yard of an empty house, its gate left half-open, and took shelter on the porch behind a low wall and overgrown bushes. Hoseok’s strength gave out immediately, and he sat down on the grass, stretching out his legs. Jimin stood beside him, expression blank.
Taehyung leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Yoongi peeked out at the street through the gate, meanwhile Namjoon pulled up an offline map on his phone, hoping he could still make out the area without a signal.
Seokjin leaned against the wall, only then realized how badly his hands were shaking. Jeongguk stepped in front of him, sais, “Your leg.”
Seokjin blinked. “What?”
“Your leg. From the jumped.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I said stop lying.”
Seokjin almost argued, but one look at Jeongguk’s face—no, he wasn’t angry, just focused, clearly unwilling to accept another excuse—Seokjin swallowed the words.
Carefully, he shifted his weight, pain shot sharply through his ankle, forcing a wince out of him before he could hide it. Of course Jeongguk noticed it. “Hyung.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Can you walk?”
“Yeah.”
“Run?”
Seokjin fell silent. Jeongguk got his answer.
Rubbing his face, he glanced around. Near the porch, a broken broom handle leaned against the wall, probably part of some cleaning supplies left behind. Jeongguk picked it up, snapped off the cracked end with his hands, and handed it to Seokjin. “Use this.”
Seokjin glared at the broom handle, offended. “I’m not an old man.”
“You kind of are today.”
Seokjin clicked his tongue, but he still took it, looking thoroughly displeased.
They didn’t stay there long. Namjoon put his phone away. “We’re moving.”
“To where?” Taehyung asked tiredly.
Seokjin pointed to a narrow alley between two houses. “Through there. It leads to the road behind the old bus stop.”
They left the yard one by one, entering the narrow alley between the houses, a space cluttered with dry leaves and water pipes. Open light awaited them at the far end. Jeongguk moved to Seokjin’s side, matching his pace, ready to catch him if he stumbled or lost his balance. Seokjin didn’t protest.
The alley brought them out onto the road behind the old bus stop. The bus stop was still there, though the metal roof had rusted in places, the benches were covered in graffiti, and the bus schedule sign leaned crookedly, as if no one had cared about it for years.
It used to be a small part of their route. They would wait for the bus there, complaining about the heat and hunger, and discussing a life that was far too expensive for people in their early twenties (though Jeongguk wasn't quite in that age bracket yet).
The bus stop now seemed like a relic from another world. No buses passed by, and no one waited there, only a single billboard remained partially lit, flickering to reveal the smiling face of a model holding an energy drink.
Taehyung recognized the model’s face and couldn't suppress a twinge of melancholy. It was hard not to picture his own face on another billboard, somewhere else in this city, smiling down at a dying metropolis.
They kept walking at last, needing no directions as they knew the area well. The backstreets were quiet, quiet did not mean safe, every half-open shop door felt like a dark mouth, every abandoned car seemed a potential hiding place for something lurking within.
In the distance, smoke began to rise from the direction of Seokjin and Jeongguk's apartment complex. A tightness gripped both their chests at the realization that home, place they always returned to, might never be the same again... And it wasn't just there, across several parts of the city, dark plumes of smoke scarred the blue morning sky.
Hoseok stared at the scene for a long moment before whispering, "Seoul is burning..."
No one answered. An uneasy heaviness weighed on their chests throughout the journey.
Jimin walked beside Taehyung, one hand clutching the strap of his medical kit. His eyes darted constantly, scanning their surroundings for injuries or danger, looking for something he could treat, even though everyone had told him not to act alone. Taehyung watched him but said nothing, simply gave Jimin’s elbow a gentle rub. Jimin took a shaky breath, finally relaxed, and returned the touch.
They passed a stationery shop whose front window was cracked from top to bottom. Behind the glass, shelves full of notebooks and pens still stood neatly in place, as if the owner had only closed for lunch. A small schoolbag lay abandoned in front of the shop, a cartoon keychain dangling from its zipper.
No one looked at it for very long.
They entered a more familiar alley. The brick wall on one side was still the same as before, though the paint had faded. The small corner stall that used to sell cheap tteokbokki was now shuttered tight, with plastic chairs stacked in front of the door. Power lines hung low overhead, slicing the sky into fragments. That sense of recognition made their chests feel a little lighter.
Hoseok gave a faint smile. “It’s still the same.”
“It looks worse,” Yoongi said.
“It always looked bad.”
“True.”
They moved on, a second alley lay ahead, and at its far end stood the building that had once been their old dorm.
The house was small, squeezed between other buildings, and almost unchanged.
Two stories, though the second floor was little more than a laundry room and a space for hanging clothes. The narrow balcony was still there, enclosed by black railings spotted with rust. The exterior walls looked duller than they remembered, and the flowerpots lined up by the fence remained in place, some of them dried out and overgrown with weeds.
They slowed down without realizing it.
The place was far too small for seven people, yet it was where they had once lived together, crowding into the living room, fighting over the bathroom every morning, eating ramen on the floor because the dining table couldn't accommodate everyone...
Years ago, they had moved to a better place, but this house was never sold. There was no practical reason to keep it, they just... couldn't let it go.
Taehyung lifted his head, gazing up at the small balcony. "Jimin almost fell from there once."
"I didn't almost fall. I just lost my balance," Jimin protested.
"You were dangling from the railing."
"That’s a lie."
The corners of everyone’s mouths twitched upward. For a moment, the world felt just as it used to be. Only for a moment.
They approached slowly. Yoongi checked the front of the house while Jeongguk kept watch on the back. Seokjin looked at every corner of the building with a mixture of longing and dread.
Namjoon tried to open the jammed iron gate, the hinges creaked softly. Everyone instantly tensed, gazes sweeping the street and the surrounding houses, waiting, but nothing appeared. He pushed again, more carefully, until the gate opened wide enough for them to slip through one by one.
Dry leaves littered the small front yard, and a plant pot, one Jimin had bought and then forgotten for three weeks, still sat in the corner of the porch. Beside it, a broken bucket held a pool of blackened rainwater.
They stopped in front of the door.
The doorknob had been replaced since the last time they had lived there, but the small scratch near the bottom was still there, a mark from when Jeongguk had first learned how to ride a motorcycle and had somehow ended up driving straight into the yard, smashing the handlebar against the door.
Seokjin almost laughed at the memory.
Yoongi turned to Jeongguk. “The key?”
Jeongguk reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. His hand, usually steady, was trembling slightly, and the tip of the key wouldn't slide in. He paused. On the second attempt, the key finally slid in. He turned it slowly, and with a soft click, the door opened.
Jeongguk switched on a small flashlight, shielding part of the beam with his palm so it wouldn't be too bright. The smell of dust greeted them—dust, old wood, a sealed-up room, not blood, smoke, or rot.
The living room of the old dorm stretched out before them, dark and dusty, but still recognizable. The old sofa they had left behind was draped with a thin white sheet, and the small table in the middle of the room had shifted slightly from where Seokjin remembered it. The TV stand sat empty, cables dangling from it, and on the wall, the nail holes where they had once hung a cheap calendar were still visible.
One by one, they stepped inside. Namjoon closed the door behind them and locked it. For a few seconds, they simply stood there, trying to process it all.
The world outside had cracked apart, the city beyond these walls was screaming, yet their old dorm, the place that had once held seven younger versions of themselves, still stood, and somehow, they had found their way back here.
Hoseok was the first to break the silence. He let out a short, wet laugh and sank to the floor, knees had finally given way. "Home," he murmured.
No one corrected him. Because even though the old sofa was covered in dust and the air smelled stale, even though there were no warm lights and no sounds of pots clattering in the kitchen like in the old days, the word still felt right. Home. The place where they had spent their youth.
They allowed themselves to believe in that word. The pressure that had been sitting in their chests ever since they left the apartment seemed to melt away.
Yoongi was the first to snap back to reality. "The door. We need to barricade it."
Like a spell breaking, everyone began moving again. Namjoon double-locked the door and checked the security chain, which was still attached despite the rust creeping over it. Jeongguk and Hoseok pushed the old shoe cabinet in front of the door. Taehyung added the small table over from the living room.
Jimin set down the bags beside the sofa and began unpacking it. Seokjin stood in the middle of the room, eyes scanning every corner. The kitchen to the left, the stain on the wall where Namjoon had once spilled coffee, insisting it “wasn’t that noticeable” even though everyone could see it, empty shelf where Yoongi used to keep his small speaker, the living room window facing the alley, now covered by a thin, dusty curtain.
Everything looked smaller than he remembered, or perhaps, they had simply grown too big.
“Hyung.” Jeongguk stood by the doorway, watching him.
Seokjin snapped out of his thoughts and nodded. “I’ll check the kitchen.”
Jeongguk followed without a word. The kitchen was still as cramped as ever, having two people stand side-by-side already felt like a squeeze.
Seokjin opened the cabinets one by one, they were all empty, save for a half-packet of salt that had clumped together and a bottle of oil that couldn't possibly still be usable. He let out a breath. “There’s no food.”
It was a shame. Even though they had brought supplies from the apartment, it would have been nice to stock up a bit more here.
“Not surprising. We haven't lived here in a long time,” Jeongguk replied.
“Yeah, but this place always had ramen.”
“Because hyung always stocked ramen.”
Seokjin glanced at him. Jeongguk was staring at the empty cabinet, a softness crossing his features, nostalgia slipping quietly into his expression. “You used to keep ramen in the top cabinet and call it our emergency stash.”
“It was an emergency stash.”
“The emergency was me getting hungry at two in the morning.”
“That’s a perfectly valid emergency.”
A small laugh escaped both of them, the first genuine laugh since the world had become something unrecognizable.
For a brief moment, they simply stayed like that, letting the familiar warmth of the place settle around them.
Soon, Namjoon and Yoongi joined them in the kitchen, with the others peering in from behind. “Water?” Namjoon asked from the doorway.
Seokjin turned the faucet. Nothing came out. He tried again, the pipes rattled, coughing with a metallic groan, a single drop of water fell from the tap before everything went still. “Nothing.”
Yoongi swore under his breath. Namjoon turned to Hoseok. “How many bottles do we have?”
“Six large ones, four small ones.”
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “For seven people?”
Jimin rubbed his chin, brow furrowing. “If we're careful, it'll last until tomorrow morning. But not much longer.”
Seokjin let out a long sigh. “We'll have to ration it, then.”
They returned to the living room. Namjoon sat on the floor, opening the offline map on his phone. Yoongi stood by the window, the curtains slightly parted to reveal a glimpse of the street outside.
Hoseok piled the blankets in one corner of the room, while Taehyung started wiping down the sofa with his bare hands until Jimin smacked his arm lightly and handed him a wet wipe. “Don't touch it with your hands.”
Slowly, the room transformed into a sort of fragile sanctuary. The door was barricaded, the curtains drawn, bags set against the wall, and the food they had managed to salvage gathered on the table. Everyone moved as if they knew exactly what to do, even though not one of them truly did.
Namjoon stared at the map, nodding as if convinced of something. “We’ll rest here for the night and set out again tomorrow morning.”
No one argued. It wasn't even evening yet, but they were already exhausted, both physically and mentally. In the end, they simply gathered in the living room. Occasionally, there was some small talk, at other times, silence took over.
All seven of them, together again in the old dorm, with the door locked and the world outside slowly falling apart.
They let the time pass.
Waiting for night to come.
Waiting, for morning to arrive once more.