Chapter Text
"What it is, no need to make believe
Look beyond your world
Try to find, find a place for me"
///
When Chenle wakes up, he thinks he's dead.
There is this sort of uneasiness creeping all around his depth of perception (or lack thereof) and an all too maddening sensation from the deprivation of warmth his cold skin weeps for.
He takes a moment to gather his wits, swallowing his saliva and struggling to get past an absolute black and white static he feels consuming every single fiber within his being, rendering him in an almost paralyzed-like state, both mind, and body. He knows deep down something is wrong, that he normally doesn’t feel this shitty after waking up.
His limbs remain unresponsive and his vision aches with haziness as if he hasn't opened his eyes in eternity and he fears that maybe he hasn't, not with the way he can barely make out anything around him, his ears ringing slightly and his breathing heavy and a bit strained.
It doesn't help that the air around him feels too heavy and thick to the point where he feels like he could drown in it, visible particles of dust and debris floating around and making his parched throat itch.
He feels as if he just woke up from a nightmare and he's not sure whether he's still asleep or not.
In order to make sense of just what in the living hell is going on, he tries to make sense of his surroundings because as of the moment, his awareness of his consciousness is not much help.
Slowly, he surveys what’s to his nearest vicinity in order to not agitate the thick fog in his head. There is a frayed, thick rope sitting on his lap idly and he smacks his dry lips, trying to understand why his body still feels like it's slowly shutting down into a single state of nothing despite having felt so many sensations of pure uneasiness attack him just a few moments ago when he had come to. It’s making it hard to focus or make sense of anything.
He doesn't make to move from his position on the floor for fear of upsetting his hyperaware senses any further and continues to stare at the worn and long strands of rope draped over his stiff limbs like accessories. He follows its trail, noting that it looks like it's tied together at one end and has been snapped in half by the other end...as if it was meant to be holding something down but came apart by sheer force.
He doesn't want to know what the rope was supposed to keep down.
In a weak attempt to snap out of his sluggish daze, he decides to look away from the ominous rope and sweeps his heavy eyes slowly over to the rest of his surroundings, the quiet creaks of the old wood and invasive silence nag at him to recover from his stupor a bit faster.
These wretched sounds being created without any visible factors are plenty reason for him to try to get up.
For a moment, there's an emptiness within and around him that seamlessly blends together and makes it difficult to perceive reality, the silence so lethal in the way it succeeds in altering his focus.
All around him, it's dilapidated and worn, worn to the point where he feels like just standing in his place will make the floor give way. Rotting pieces of wooden furniture greet him in the form of chaotic silence, the majority of them strewn across the room and upside down or some other compromising position as if having been thrown carelessly about.
Besides the broken, decaying furniture, there's nothing that really stands out in the ominous cabin.
A mahogany bookcase that seems to have been the only thing left intact, stands tall and unmoving in the corner of the room where he's located, various books scattered around it, and what leads his eyes to look past the terrorized interior decorations and come across the broken windows.
It triggers something in his heavy mind that it’s his cue to think about the tiniest suggestion that maybe, just maybe there's something wrong, either with him or the cabin. Probably both, if he's being honest.
Miniscule pieces of broken glass glitter profusely from where they lay lifelessly all around, iridescent gleams of light bouncing off of the shards and hitting the ceiling and rotting walls and part of Chenle's unmoving hands marred red, a tint that is so unnatural that it looks like he's dipped his fingers in liquid crimson.
Before he can inspect his hands any closer though, the sound of heavy thuds approaching him catches his attention.
His head snaps up and his eyes dart quickly from every corner in the room to locate the sudden change in the atmosphere but all he sees is the same emptiness that he woke up to.
His mind begins to race the more the dull thumps become clearer and louder...until he recognizes them as footsteps.
"Hey kid, how long you just gonna sit there like an idiot? There ain't no food in this shit hole and this place is about to collapse, c'mon" a sudden voice speaks up in the hollow sadness of the breaking cabin, making Chenle startle and look towards the direction from where the voice came from.
He stares mutely up at what clearly looks and smells like a dead corpse standing in front of him, the putrid scent of rotting flesh making Chenle's eyes immediately water and throat close up with the sudden urge to retch. The man's whole being is a visual shock to the young boy unlike any other, clothes torn and missing in various places and skin tinted a sickly green decorated with actual open wounds that show unwanted flashes of bones and decomposing muscle tissue.
Chenle wants to ask the man what he's talking about and more importantly, why he smells like he's never heard of a bath.
Before his lagging thoughts can catch up to him though, he feels a bony hand as equally cold as his own take a hold of his arm, hauling him up effortlessly. Chenle's whole body lurches and he feels like he has the legs of a newborn calf, entirely weak and surprised by the weight of his body. He has to hold on to the beam he had been sitting against the entire time for support, not caring at the moment that the beam groans under his weight and small cracks start to form along the side.
The putrid smelling man doesn't give him time to grow used to the sensation of standing, briskly walking towards the door hanging open by a single hinge. Unseen pieces of glass crack underneath the man's boots as he shifts from foot to foot at the entrance, bringing the life of sound to the otherwise silent cabin.
He looks back at Chenle to make sure Chenle is at least still standing before exiting the crumbling cabin, the smell of decaying flesh following him and Chenle feels like he can finally breathe without doubling over now that the stranger left the cabin.
He takes a moment to look around at the cabin once more, noticing that the man has reason to claim that the cabin is about to topple over like dominos. He had noticed the evident and obvious signs a while ago but it now strikes him that the cabin isn't just worn down, it's dilapidated to the point of collapsing in a matter of moments, if the cacophony of creaking and groaning is anything to go by.
He decides in that moment that although the man is an utter stranger, he'd rather choose to face the consequences of following said stranger outside than being crushed to death while being in a state of confusion, not even aware of his own identity. Sure, the stranger could just turn around and snuff Chenle out like a small flame while he’s still weak and vulnerable but Chenle would at least have a small chance of running away from him or fighting back, since the man doesn’t look so good himself.
He doesn't stand a chance against a cabin falling apart on top of him and squishing him like a bug.
He steps forward slowly, his oddly tipsy body teetering like he's taking his very first baby steps, the floor and ceiling swirling together while gravity tries to act against him before he straightens up and catches his balance. Almost timidly, he walks over the thousands of pieces of glass that look a lot like glittering diamonds, watching as they crack harshly before breaking into even smaller, finer pieces.
He follows the trail of dried blood, noting the various hand and footprints marked red all over the dark floor. He hadn't noticed the blood when he had woken up. He wishes he still hadn't noticed them.
He grimaces and keeps walking atop the broken glass.
The door in front of him squeaks as he opens it as gently as he can and a visible tremble passes through the entire cabin as if it's on its last breath. The unforgiving movement makes Chenle pick up his pace and step out of the hazardous cabin without a second thought, nearly tripping over his own feet.
He's met with a world that's all too bright and land so flat and desolate that he can see what lies far past the horizon. It's all so desolate and lonely that he can practically hear his own thoughts.
He shades his sensitive eyes with his hand to lessen the harsh brightness of his new world and squints over at the mystery man with marred, red hands like his own, except the extent of the color surpasses Chenle's. While the young boy's fingertip pads are the only part of him tinted in crimson, the man's entire hands, palms included, are a vibrant red that stops right at his wrists.
" Thought you was food for a quick second there kid. You're recently turned, ain't that right?" the man in front of him asks, torn and dirty clothes doing little to cover him from the tremendous waves of too intense sunlight the young boy can physically see. Chenle knows he should be able to feel that dangerous sunlight, to feel how it's quickly turning both their exposed pale bodies something darker and redder.
He doesn't though, he doesn't feel the sting of heat that should come upon being exposed to the heatwaves he can feel at the tip of his tongue and rays of sunlight that have the rest of the world in various shades ranging from burnt umber to mustard yellow.
Why can't he feel it?
Chenle only nods mutely to whatever it is that the man could be talking about, still wondering why his own skin is quickly going from its abnormal milky complexion to an angry scarlet in mere minutes.
He peers at his exposed arms, watching as they blush dark tones to the exposure of the vengeful sun and he vaguely realizes that he should be sweating, that he should feel hot but all he can feel is an unnatural lack of heat preventing his skin from feeling the full effects of the visible rays of sunlight.
He doesn't feel anything and he doesn't know whether that fact alone should be comforting or not.
" I thought so" the man takes in a slow breath, eyes looking up at the sky overhead and his hands that had once been curled up into fists fall slack at his sides.
Something akin to a loud groan escapes from the cabin, making the man straighten up and turn to Chenle.
"Good luck out there kid. Our kind don't last too long" the older man mutters to him, giving Chenle a once-over, a certain heaviness in his dull eyes that make Chenle take a precautionary step back, eyeing the man right back.
Their kind?
There's a lot of questions swimming in the back of Chenle's head but his mouth refuses to voice his questions out loud, a certain sense of dread keeping his lips shut as he just watches the man carefully, ready for whatever hidden motives the man could spring on him.
Nothing follows, not for a while at least.
The man only continues to look back up at the sky with his eyes closed, breathing in the dust swirling around them and breathing out like he has all the time in the world.
To Chenle though, it seems as if the strange man is trying to hold onto every second that he can.
The continuous calls of the cabin seem to finally snap him out of his trance, eyes slowly opening and one last breath being released before he starts heading back towards the cabin, by no means implying that Chenle follow him this time.
There’s no reason the man should be going back in there, the man himself having warned Chenle that the old cabin was going to collapse at any second.
Chenle only watches, seemingly stuck in his spot and watching how the man doesn't look back at him and doesn't hesitate to step foot inside the dangerous cabin.
He thinks that the man didn't notice the windows are broken, giving Chenle a clear view of the inside of the entire cabin, letting him see everything from the strewn furniture to the impressive bookcase that stands alone in its spot.
He sees the man head directly to said bookcase and stands directly in front of it, his fingers caressing the smooth wood and causing more dust particles to float up and become highly visible due to the invasive rays of sunlight streaming and filtering into the small cabin.
There's a certain glint in the man's eyes Chenle hadn't noticed before, something vulnerable and frail and so unlike the empty gaze he had given Chenle. It makes the young boy realize that the man intends to stay in that cabin no matter what.
He sees the man take out the last remaining books, the yellowed and withered novels joining the rest of its brethren and the broken bits of glass on the floor. The paper books don’t seem to be his object of interest, the man seems rather uncaring towards the books as he reaches for something that was hidden behind them, the obscure object coming to light once Chenle squints his eyes at it for a few moments.
"Ah" Chenle whispers out, eyes unable to look away when he sees the man bring a small handgun to his temple. His eyes widen in horror as his body makes an attempt to rush towards the stranger while his mind still lingers behind, stupefied at the revelation of the man’s true intention.
A soft click to the safety before a pulling of the trigger in one fluid motion follows, not even giving Chenle the time to get anywhere near him.
A single gunshot echoes through the lonely landscape wherein Chenle is the only witness to the death of a man that never even introduced himself and the collapsing of the cabin, wooden logs that were barely hanging on by a thread falling one by one onto the ground where the man once stood, crushing what little was left of his body.
Chenle can only watch as the two-story cabin that probably belonged to that man unravels slowly, yet surely.
The sounds of old wood splintering and breaking, and a single resonating gunshot are all Chenle can hear for a while before he forces himself to turn around and starts wandering towards where a grove of pecan trees await him, their leafy branches providing him with some much-needed solace from the sun.
He silently grieves for the man and why the man had lied to him back to when they were inside the cabin. The man hadn't confused him for "food" at all. Chenle had seen it in his eyes that the man recognized who, or what Chenle was and had lied to the young boy to solace him from the truth.
"Our kind don't last too long"
Whatever the case may be, that prominent uneasiness continuously chews at his senses, coaxing him to abandon the remains of the cabin and to keep walking.
He does just that, leaving behind the nameless man in his cabin.
//
Soon enough, Chenle comes to a rather passive realization of what “their kind” meant-that he is, in fact, dead–or supposed to be dead anyway. Normally, such a shocking fact would bring about a variety of reactions or thoughts but Chenle can’t seem to fully care about the state of his own body, more invested in his mind-or why he can’t remember anything to be exact.
It terrifies him, more so than everything the man in the cabin had told him. His gruff words come to light, all too quickly as he walks under the descent of the giant pecan trees that seem to be the only form of greenery left standing anywhere. He comes across more of them. Each one ranging in different stages of decay-some of them looking extremely ravaged, to looking similar to Chenle in the way he has to do a double-take to confirm whether they're truly one of those or still living, breathing people.
At first, he's extremely anxious around the living corpses, mouth sewed shut and eyes cast downwards in order to attract little to no attention to himself but he's unmistakably impossible to ignore, more often than not confused as "food" (as they like to call the living) but never really coming near any real danger once the undead recognize him as one of them. These things that can't even be categorized as people anymore are supposed to be his kin, creatures just like him, and he’s learned that they have a particular taste for living humans.
There’s so many questions, so many thoughts haunting his head as to why humans aren’t just human anymore. What could have happened to the world for everything to be like it is right now.
He can’t even get a break to calm his anxious mind.
He’s constantly surrounded by them, be it humans or the undead. He doesn’t allow himself to relax around humans, even though he’s already learned it's always going to be the same situation when he runs into an occasional group of living people, since they assume him to be one of them as well. No one ever questions why his fingertips remain an alarming red or that he's alone and with no survival gear whatsoever.
He shows all the red flags in a world based on survival and he assumes his most dangerous enemies are the living yet he's pretty sure his unassuming appearance is his only savior from being targeted-at least Chenle hopes he comes off as weak and non-suspicious, since he doesn’t know what he looks like.
Neither group ever offers to take him in and he doesn't ask because he understands he's an aberration even to a world of deviation. There’s something off about him that makes both sides hesitate.
He gets past the initial denial of being one of the undead soon enough because it doesn't really bother him that he's something that doesn't belong in the category of dead or alive, not when he doesn't have a single clue as to his identity or former life as a human. The lack of his former ties to his human life is what gives him the ability to accept his current predicament actually.
He likes to think that what he doesn't know can't hurt him and all that he does know is that he needs to keep walking towards this unknown destination that pulls at him ever so gently, his body only naturally gravitating to where his feet take him.
///
Faint words partnered with traces of familiar touches and a voice unfamiliar to his own breathes over his skin, leaving traces of a certain yearning that keeps Chenle moving forward blindly. He doesn't know where he's going, doesn't understand what he'll find at the end of his journey but if it's an affirmation to the insistent tugging at his heart strings and consciousness, he'll think every step of the journey will be worth it.
He doesn't know how to describe the ghost of fingertips caressing his cold hands with a weight of a certain type of warmth, so caring and palpable that he swears it's real sometimes, that it's the only thing that gets him through the continuous dark and quiet nights when there's no one but him and the emptiness of what could be company.
Soft, feather soft prickles of longing warm up his skin for the first time in who knows how long, sometimes warm to the point where Chenle feels like he could survive off that warmth alone and forgets he can't really feel anything physically.
He forgets everything to bask in that overwhelming warmth.
He hopes that these hallucinations or whatever they are, won't be gone once he gets to his endpoint.
///
Chenle stares at the crimson bleeding into the dying glow of warmth up in the sky, the last remnants of daylight being overtaken by the impending darkness that will shroud over. Twilight threatens to tip over, the in-between of light and dark balancing out the sky in halves of colors that are as equally different as the other.
The dirty red intermingles and dances with the hues of purple and navy. The colder, more abrupt colors lead and overtake, slowly yet surely swallowing up the last remnants of warmer, brighter tones, an impending visual countdown towards the night becoming stronger the more the seconds' tick by.
For such a breathtaking sight, Chenle feels unmistakeably empty at the sight of it. Perhaps it has something to do with the others beside him, feasting and uncaring towards the wonderous visuals of the sunset.
He glances back at the mass of undead bodies a few feet away from where he sits on a patch of cracked dirt, multiple decaying forms hunching over the lifeless corpse of a young woman and painting their pale and stiff hands in the colors of her life, fleeting and deep like the sky above his heavy head.
Vaguely, he remembers how she tried to kill him earlier simply for the sake of satisfying the animalistic hunger for blood in her eyes mixed with something akin to near insanity, probably under an intense high after he had watched her consume some questionably colored mushrooms.
Now she's dead, simply because she couldn't outrun the pack of the undead that had simply watched her fall to the dry earth all on her own, her thin body convulsing in alternating jolts and croaks of evident fear and pain joining the foam at her mouth until she just froze, eyes remaining wide open and staring up into the unforgiving sky.
He watches as the small group of the undead take her apart, limb from limb, bone from bone, crimson-tinted teeth scraping against muscle fibers and stomach entrails being gorged into red-tinted mouths, their eyes unfocused and bodies moving mechanically, as if in no control of their actions. Her delicate skin tears and bones break easily, too easily.
The pool of blood escaping from her dismembered body trails all the way over to him, reeking of a certain fresh ripeness Chenle has noticed only contained by the living. He's come across enough bodies of the living to have concluded that this particular scent is what drives the undead wild, what drives them to eat the living.
He glimpses once more at the body of the woman that had become yet another meal, not really considering her a victim because in his mind, the living have just become part of the cycle of this newly formed life.
He watches as they eat on all fours like animals, chewing on whatever bits of open flesh they can find, and Chenle thinks that it's the opposite of the creation of life, like some kind of fucked up rewind where the human body gets taken apart until it's nonexistent–until it's not a human anymore but a simple meal inside the dysfunctional stomach of something that used to be human.
He wonders if this twisted play of cannibalism that tiptoes between choice and survival will continue to wreak havoc until there is nothing left to give.
" Hey man, you gonna have some? " one of them asks him, offering an eyeball–nerves, obliques, rectus' and all-towards Chenle, his own eyes looking away from the dismembered limbs and untouched golden halo of hair of the dead woman before looking at the undead boy offering him an entire eye socket.
It dangles and sways like a pendulum, loose tear duct fluids dripping down onto the ground, soft splat sounds wetting the dry earth.
His stomach, if he can even call it that anymore, lurches at the mere thought of holding the eye socket, let alone eating it.
It's been like this ever since he's started his journey, his appetite non-existent to the point where he feels like a sponge that only feeds off of the particles in the air. He doesn't know how long he'll last like that–if he'll last at all, that is. It gnaws at the back of his mind that he does not have that same appetite his brethren have towards humans.
So Chenle politely shakes his head and pats his stomach, feigning something akin to being full.
" Nah, 'm good. Thanks though" Chenle shoots the boy a reassuring thumbs up and hopes the heaviness in his stomach that he's feeling is not visible on his face. He watches carefully as the boy doesn't seem to think twice about his response, maybe a little too eagerly.
" Suit yourself " the boy merely shrugs and tilts his head back, scarlet mouth opening wide and the eyeball disappearing past it the next second. The fading sunlight glares right behind the boy's silhouette, shrouding him in a bath of soft light and his shadow covers what used to be the body of a living woman.
Chenle looks away and decides that the little detour he took in order to get a better view of the sunset is over and that it's time to walk once more.
///
It’s finally come to his attention that he's been sitting down more and more lately, not exactly feeling tired because technically, he can't really feel anything physically. His skin and bones are far too cold to let him feel anything besides their cold state.
He figures he sits under the towering pecan trees during the day to avoid the negligent and sinister UV rays that make his skin turn an angry, ugly red despite not being able to feel his flesh burning under the direct glare of the merciless sun.
So he sits by day to hide from the sun and walks by night to keep moving forward. It's come to the point where he's been sitting as much as he's been walking and he sometimes wonders at the tiny slithers of a doubt if he'll ever find what he's looking for.
He hopes he does in order to find a meaning within himself to keep going. Or else…what happens to him when there’s nothing left to keep him going?
Briefly, he thinks about the man he encountered in the cabin before blinking away the past memory, not in the particular mood to relive someone's (second?) death. Instead, he picks at his nails, the mysterious red tint in his fingertips having traveled to his nails and making it look like he painted them a transparent blush.
The only constant he's had so far is himself. He's not at risk of being killed off by living humans nor is he at risk of being eaten by the undead. He's just here, able to avoid danger while wandering towards this destination that he has no idea of.
He looks up from his nails after he's done checking to see whether the red tint has traveled anywhere further than his fingertips (it hasn't) and looks at his barren surroundings.
He has been sitting down at the base of a large, ancient pecan tree at the very top of a hill that slopes downwards gently, overlooking a dead field of withered and untended crops. The branches of the tree that extend over the soft and hazy horizon seem to be hanging over the far distance, looming and caging him in almost.
There's a dusty red barn and windmill sitting in the distance, just a little behind the small field of dead crops, and far enough that he decides against walking over there to check it out.
He's been sitting in his spot for what has probably been the whole day, having decided to stop and sit when he heard the wild chatter of cicadas and crickets begin dying off, a sure sign that the morning was fading away and turning into the time of day he likes to avoid walking in.
A deep sigh escapes him as he looks up aimlessly at the bright blue sky. He doesn't know how long he's been walking, how long it's been since the world turned to shit, and how long he's been dead. He sometimes likes to ponder about it, wondering if he was one of the first few that fell victim to the epidemic at the beginning stages or if he had somehow survived past the spread of fire and got turned while everything was in ashes.
It doesn't make him feel sad or anything, thinking that he was once human, that is.
To him, he still feels a little human, more so like he still has a bit of humanity within him. After all, it's what's kept him from harming any other humans he's encountered on his journey. Although, the line stops short and the little humanity residing within him hasn't made him play the role of a self-proclaimed God and help out any human when he sees them being ripped apart by the undead.
He just watches them kill or be killed because that's all it comes down to. That's the new course of mother nature that's evolved and he thinks he shouldn't mess with nature like that unless he wants to end up like that woman who ate those mushrooms.
It's these same thoughts that are running through his head when he sees a mop of bright red hair pop out from the field of withered wheat, honey-tinted skin glowing under the harsh rays of sunlight and seeming, at one point, to be the source of the harsh rays of light attacking Chenle's eyes to the point where he has to look away for a few seconds.
For some reason, the boy resembles a mirage in the way his figure melts in with the surrounding waves of heat, obstructing Chenle from being able to fully make out the features on his face, that is, until he's right in front of Chenle.
Ugh, Chenle thinks. That shade of red makes his eyes and head ache.
They stare at each other for a brief moment, each boy assessing the other for any signs of hidden agendas while the branches of the tree overhead move and rustle to the insufferable hot air. Chenle doesn't say a word, he just keeps marveling at the boy in front of him, amazed at how much the bright red hair contrasts with his golden skin.
He's the first beautiful sight that rivals all the sunsets and sunrises Chenle has witnessed.
" Huh, I thought you were one of those undead fuckers, lucky thing I didn't shoot aye?" a slightly high pitched voice asks him, bringing Chenle down from his heat-induced high as he stares back at the red haired boy who looks like he's glowing, radiating in something unknown in their new world.
He wonders how someone so bright hasn't withered like the dead crops and like the spirits of so many other humans he's encountered.
His eyes trail from the obviously dyed hair (he doesn't try to question how someone could even find hair dye) and land on the rifle the boy has clutched against his chest, too big in the hands of someone too young to be fighting for his life. His body tenses, hot flashes of the man in the cabin coming to mind as he swallows a lump in his throat.
Chenle fights against the words that flow seamlessly up his throat, the question of why didn't you? on the cusp of breaking free into the insatiable torrid air but the sound of a gunshot making him pause and flinch.
“Not again, please” Chenle whispers, breath hitching as his eyes desperately search for the source of the sound.
Before he gets a chance to understand what's happening or even see the direction from where the gunshot came from, the redhead acts quickly, unforgiving in the way he gives Chenle no time to look around and gather his wits about him. He yanks Chenle up on his feet and breaks out into a full sprint, long legs making him travel quicker while Chenle is dragged behind him, his short legs quaking in protest at the sudden forced movement.
He feels like they're flying for a brief moment, hot air hitting his face and making his tousled hair move wildly about. He looks at their connected hands and he thinks about the possibility of his arm being pulled right off with an audible pop.
The redhead makes them run so fast that Chenle feels something within him stir for the quickest second, something deep within the recess of his foggy memories but it's gone the second he blinks, all he has left to see is a head of vibrant crimson and unadulterated golden skin.
They go through the field of dead wheat he had been gazing down at earlier. Frail, brown stems and leaves hit his face every couple of seconds and fallen leaves crack under their feet but the redhead remains unbothered as he keeps their quick pace, looking back every couple of seconds until they've cleared the field and approach the barn Chenle had been gazing at earlier.
He realizes with a start that the barn wasn't abandoned as he previously thought.
Two other boys are waiting, one urging the redhead forward and the other looking off towards the far distance where Chenle had once been sitting while thinking he was alone.
Turning back to see the reason behind their sudden getaway, he sees that in his wake are the undead, their numbers rising and diminishing shot after shot being fired from somewhere.
Chenle doesn't feel anything specific at the sight of his own kind crumpling to the ground, he just stares at how easy they take it, how they face the bullets head first, faces splitting apart and dirty, infected colors of seal brown scattering over everything in sight. It confuses him, as to why he had felt so anxious earlier when he had thought the redhead was going to pull the trigger on himself.
He doesn't know if it's mindless bravery or lack of sense that keeps the undead facing those deadly bullets.
His eyes search for the source of the gunshots, squinting past the scorching rays of light and tracing the direction from where the bullets paint palettes of ugly colors, all the way back to the origin and finding that in the loft of the barn right above him, is another boy with glasses he had failed to see, holding a rifle and shooting at every undead body with an impassive expression, a precision like no other that makes him waste no more bullets than needed.
Chenle wonders what's running through his head, if that boy with the glasses feels even the slightest bit of heaviness in his heart to have to shoot at what could have been his friends or companions or people he used to know. After all, those things he’s shooting at used to be human.
"C'mon, get inside" the golden boy tugs at Chenle's stiff hand, pulling him into the barn with the other two boys entering and locking the front alley door after them. It's larger inside than what he had initially imagined, the beams of wood not threatening to fall at any moment's notice like the ones in the cabin and the scent of hay and summer heat all Chenle can smell around him.
There are rusting and most likely unusable tractors and other farming tools occupying one side of the barn that seems completely untouched. The other side looks more used, more lived-in, what with the bales of hay stacked alongside one another and worn wool blankets laid on top to resemble a makeshift bed. Backpacks and meager amounts of supplies litter the ground below the bales of hay.
Up in the loft, Chenle can see that the boy with the glasses has stopped shooting and is looking through the opening with a pair of binoculars. He wonders if he was being watched the entire time as well.
The redhead with the glowing skin finally lets go of Chenle's hand, coming to a standstill in front of him and honey brown eyes scanning him from head to toe, mouth pinched shut and eyebrows furrowed.
Chenle merely stares back at him, quietly asking why the redhead had decided against leaving him there under the pecan tree. He doesn't know Chenle, doesn't know whether Chenle could lash at them or bring them any trouble. This unusual behavior exhibited by the redhead sits heavily at the base of his consciousness, hesitance making itself clear in how Chenle takes a step back, eyeing them all and refusing to appear weak.
" Jaemin, get out the bucket and fill it up babe, thanks " the redhead speaks to one of the two boys approaching Chenle, the taller of the two with an easy-going smile nodding quietly and being followed by the smaller one despite not having been instructed to follow. He turns to analyze Chenle with an unamused expression, delicate lips set in a firm line and gaze steadily appraising Chenle before he exits with the other boy through the back alley door.
For a brief moment, Chenle felt like the smaller boy had seen right though him, having seen what Chenle truly was.
The redhead doesn't give Chenle a moment to breathe, turning him around and lifting his dirty shirt and humming in something close to what sounds like sadness. Chenle doesn't understand what's happening but he keeps still because he's not sure what else he should do.
" Don't know if you noticed or not but you got some gnarly cuts on your back that are going to need stitches. I noticed because you got a nasty hunch. How do you feel about taking off your shirt?" the redhead asks Chenle. The boy being addressed cranes his neck around to face the redhead, who's staring deeply at Chenle's back with his eyebrows still furrowed and teeth nibbling on his bottom lip.
He acts as if Chenle is someone he already knows, having bypassed even the regular interrogation of identity Chenle is usually asked by both the living and the dead alike. The boy doesn't even for a second, look at Chenle with suspicious eyes.
Maybe that's exactly why Chenle matches the boy's exact rhythm and shrugs his exposed shoulders, thinking that modesty is beyond him at this point and more focused on why the redhead is being so nice. He assumes they plan on making him bait later on, or something. It's the only plausible reason why initial hesitance and suspicions have been foregone by the redhead.
" I'm just going to need you bare enough to be able to stitch up your gashes. It's gonna hurt like a bitch though" the redhead supplies as he drops Chenle's faded and frayed shirt on the wooden floor. He watches as the other boy in the loft comes down with the rifle in one hand and binoculars in the other, setting them aside on a bale of hay once he sets foot on ground level.
Upon close inspection, Chenle duly notes that one of the lenses in his glasses is cracked. It's impressive yet terrifying how he had been able to shoot so precisely with a hindrance like that.
The boy with the long, shaggy black hair and cracked glasses gives Chenle a smile similar to the one Jaemin had given him earlier, his black eyes disappearing slightly into his risen cheeks and a quiet greeting making its way to Chenle's ears.
Chenle belatedly realizes that he could have been easily shot with the simplest of ease from the boy's side and with the barest of thought to boost.
Absolutely terrifying.
" Glad you're okay buddy. You were just sitting there all day and we were wondering whether you were an enemy or needed some help " glasses boy supplies, wiping one of his hands against the material of his jeans before offering it to Chenle.
He observes how both his hands are neatly wrapped up entirely in gauze bandages all the way to his thick wrists, tied off in a small bow. There are countless possibilities as to why his hands are covered and Chenle doesn't want to know a single one of them.
Despite his reluctance, he slowly shakes his hand, unable to ignore how his red fingertips contrast against the stark white of the bandages. He briefly looks up at the taller boy before looking back down at their hands.
This is his second time to come in physical contact with a living person and yet he still can't feel a thing.
" Name's Jeno" he adds, soon after letting go of Chenle's hand and looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for Chenle to say something but Chenle doesn't know what exactly he should say, how he should answer to the statement of a fact when he knows nothing about himself to retaliate with.
The redhead, thankfully, gains both of their attention as he fills in the silence with his honey tinted voice that matches his skin tone.
" We thought you were dead or sumn. You just sat there like that but I guess we know why. I wouldn't be able to move either with the wounds you got" he says, eyes looking down at Chenle and tone light despite the weight behind his gaze. There’s something hidden underneath that gaze, something akin to the look one of the other boys had given him earlier. It makes him slightly tense.
Glasses boy–Jeno–nudges the redhead with his elbow lightly and the redhead clears his throat. Chenle doesn't miss the way there's little to no distance between them despite the entirety of the space around them.
" My name is Donghyuck. And you're name would be...?" he looks at Chenle the same way Jeno had gazed at him, expectant in the way he thinks Chenle at least owes him a name in return. He appreciates the sentiment the redhead must have felt when he decided to take Chenle with him but it does not mean Chenle has to give answers he does not have.
There’s a moment of silence, a moment wherein Chenle debates whether to lie to these strangers to appease them (after all, humans are more dangerous than the undead) or be honest at the risk of getting his head shot off like the numerous unlucky ones laying underneath the large pecan tree.
"Dunno" Chenle shrugs listlessly once more, staring him straight in his eyes, unwavering and daring him to take his honesty as anything but.
Donghyuck doesn't seem fazed by his answer, staring back at Chenle while slowly nodding, his own eyes giving away nothing that could let Chenle understand the slightest bit of what's going on in his head.
" Understandable. You'll remember soon enough, don't worry " he reaches over and pats Chenle's mop of messy hair, maybe as a sort of way to offer his condolences for Chenle's loss of identity. Maybe it’s his way of accepting Chenle’s answer-whatever it may be, he didn't realize it would be that quick and simple, gaining acceptance in his lack of self-awareness through the unmistakable eyes of someone who's seen it before. Chenle peers up at him, refusing to gravitate towards him despite the energy he exudes but he doesn't make to take another step back away from them either.
He's at a standstill.
Why did the redhead choose to "save" him?
The back alley door groans loudly on its hinges, making the entrance of the other two boys known as the taller of them holds a tin bucket of water in his free hand. Jeno hurries over to close the exposed entrance to the barn, every second counting.
Chenle just watches because he knows for a fact that he might suffer the loss of an appendage if he tries to do anything more strenuous than lifting his own arm. He's seen it happen to others, how easily their decayed limbs break apart, joints popping right out their sockets and leaving an undead person missing their entire leg or arm in mere seconds.
The boy holding the tin bucket makes it look easy as he comes over to them and Chenle continues to only watch. A small plastic cup bobs up and down unsteadily with the movement of the water as he places it directly where the rays of sunlight enter through the window opening of the loft. Some of the water sloshes out and past the rim of the bucket, splattering on the old wooden floor and darkening the surface.
He stares at the bucket and wonders where they got all that water and how they can afford to use so much of it. Throughout his journey, he hasn't seen a single source of water nor experienced a single droplet of water falling from the sky. He figured water had become extinct, or something close to it.
The one who had given him that weird look earlier picks up on his confusion, clearing his throat to get Chenle's attention before addressing the bucket of water.
"We got lucky when we found this place. There's a well behind the barn so we can afford to stay hydrated and not smell like shit– no offense" the short boy adds hastily at the end and Chenle doesn't take offense. Not when the boy isn't wrong per-se.
Smelling decent or searching for a source to clean himself has been the last thing on his mind, especially since he hasn't come across any sort of water since the beginning.
" That's Renjun, that's Jaemin " Donghyuck points to each respective boy, Renjun not bothering to hide his suspicion towards Chenle and Jaemin smiling broadly and waving at him openly. They remind him of the sun and the moon, two different faces to the times of the day and one just as different as the other. They too, gravitate closely to one another, as if a magnetic force is pulling them together.
" Alrighty mister-no-name, please take off your shirt and sit " Donghyuck requests as Jeno comes back with a battered kit that has definitely seen better days, handing it to Donghyuck, both of them looking at each other briefly, fingers lingering on each other and reluctant to separate.
Chenle takes back what he said about not having any modesty left.
As he takes off his shirt, he feels a bit strange being the only one to take off his article of clothing, more so when he can feel their eyes on his back where he knows the wounds Donghyuck was talking about should be located.
From the corners of his eyes, he can see their varying expressions ranging from horror to disgust.
" What happened to you, dude? " the one called Jaemin hisses out as if he's the one that's sporting what appears to be something too painful to even look at. He wonders how the wounds on his back would feel like if he still had his sense of pain intact.
Chenle didn't realize he even had wounds or a hunched back.
Come to think of it, he still doesn't even know what he looks like, if he looks just as broken as he feels. He doesn't know what color his eyes are, if he has an easy going smile like Jaemin or if his nose is sharp like Renjun's. He doesn't know anything about himself besides the fact that he's not supposed to be caught in a limbo between being human and being something not so human.
" Wait, lemme guess...you don't know, right?" Donghyuck answers for him and Chenle nods, wondering why there's a faint smile that's formed on the redhead's lips.
It serves to make Chenle frown only further, not understanding what is so amusing.
" You can sit over here, kiddo" Donghyuck reminds him lightly as he roots through his own kit, bringing out a pair of gloves and asking one of them to bring him a bar of soap.
Chenle wonders how they have all these things, these luxuries that he forgot existed until this very moment.
His biggest concern is why the redhead knows how to administer stitches, how he had been able to pinpoint the wounds Chenle didn't even know existed. He wonders if the redhead can tell the rigor mortis-like stiffness in his limbs isn't because of his wounds.
He also thinks about why almost everyone calls him by a sort of nickname despite not having a single clue as to what his real name even is, and maybe that's exactly why they're finding alternatives to his name–in order to fill in the blanks.
Chenle wonders about too many things that are open-ended.
He sits where he's instructed, knees coming up so that he can hug them tightly to his chest. He does it to hide his visible ribs and pale skin that's unnaturally transparent, transparent to the point where he can see blue and purple veins coursing under his skin.
Donghyuck doesn't waste any time, kneeling by him and he begins muttering some routine under his breath, reaching for the plastic cup in the bucket and little by little, dumping water on Chenle's back until the water starts running clear.
" This is the part where it starts hurting like a bitch, you can hold someone's hand if you want" Donghyuck utters out from where he's reaching for something in his kit and Chenle instantly shakes his head because he knows he won't feel any sort of pain. Also, he doubts he'd feel comfort through holding someone else's hand when he has yet to become adjusted to merely coming in brief contact with someone.
He doubts he'd feel anything.
He can't even feel what the redhead is dabbing into his exposed tissue but by the sounds of grimacing and wincing coming from the others watching, he can tell it's nothing too nice and easy on the skin.
He stares up at the loft opening, watching as the cloudless blue sky seems motionless, seemingly stuck in time.
" It's a good thing you're not who we thought you were" Renjun brings up from where he stands, staring at whatever it is that Donghyuck is applying on Chenle's wounds.
"What do you mean?" Chenle asks, looking straight at him, eyes taking in his facial features and the tiniest slip of a snaggletooth.
"We thought you were either one of those undead uglies or someone from that annoying group nearby"
Ignoring the former part about the undead and focusing more on the aggression of a group of living people, Chenle tilts his head to the side. Renjun sees the clear confusion on his face and maybe it's why his shoulders relax a little bit and his eyes soften for the briefest second.
" They've tried to take our hideout from us before " the small boy murmurs and Chenle tilts his head more to the side. He still does not understand.
"Why would they do that?"
Donghyuck chuckles softly, so softly that it goes nearly unheard.
" The new fate of the world changes not only humans but their morals as well"
Chenle understands that much, but he can only understand it with the battle between the living and the dead, not conflict within each respective group.
"But you're all human, it doesn't make sense"
"You'd think that the end of the world would end antagonism and bring everyone together right?" he snorts, eyes far away as he hands something over to Donghyuck who's patting his back dry with a rag.
Chenle doesn't respond to that. He bore witness to the countless of times he’s witnessed a human die at the hands of a living corpse or vice-versa.
" Sadly, us humans aren't much different from those dead fuckers. We only have one thing on our minds and that's to survive at any cost, even if it means turning your back on your own kind. It's changed us, it forces you to change and to adapt" Donghyuck mutters from where he is and Chenle is about to shrug his shoulders but remembers he's not supposed to move.
They all sit in silence for a while, the occasional grimace from Jaemin filling the stillness in the air until Chenle finally asks his own question.
" Are you guys planning on staying here forever?" he whispers, looking up at no one in particular and all three heads turn to look at him.
" We got separated from our group some time ago. We're just waiting for our own people to come and get us" Jeno tells him softly, staring up at the open loft where the sunlight that filters through has dimmed.
So it's not just the four of them. It makes sense. Chenle has only ever run into numerously large groups of coherent people since the bigger the numbers, the greater the possibilities of living another day.
It’s also impressive that they hold that much faith and trust that their people will come for them. They could be dead or turned for all they know. Chenle suspects that must be the case, since it sounds like they’ve been here in this barn for a while.
"Where are you guys gonna go?" Chenle asks mainly out of curiosity. He wants to know if they too have this insistent tugging in their heartstrings that pulls them in specific directions, unwilling to stop pulling until they reach their destination.
"Anywhere but here, although there's no use in trying to escape the inevitable" Jaemin mutters, eyes widening and face losing a little of its color at something Donghyuck does on Chenle's back.
He watches as both Renjun and Jeno automatically move closer to him, the shortest out of the three murmuring something meant entirely for Jaemin only and Jeno patting his head in a way different from the way Donghyuck had patted Chenle's head earlier. It’s the same motion, yet there’s an entirely different meaning behind it.
He thinks he knows how they've survived together for so long despite being such a small group.
Chenle blinks and looks away, feeling like he's intruding.
"So where's the rest of your group?" Renjun asks him after a moment, dark eyes too sharp and calculating. The other two beside him give him a look and jab at his sides but Chenle doesn’t mind. He’s used to this sort of reaction, he relishes in it in-fact. It proves that there is at least one sane member out of them because who in the right mind would be so easy-going towards Chenle’s suspicious character.
Chenle doesn't look away. There’s no use in lying to them now that they know he doesn’t know jack about himself.
"Dunno. Woke up by myself in this cabin and I've just been traveling by myself ever since" Chenle whispers as he sees from his peripheral vision the redhead begin stitching his back, patching up what he makes known loud and clear, are gashes from the devil himself.
There's a brief pause in the air that follows Chenle's first piece of information about himself, the air thick and heavier than the sweat collecting at their temples as they all glimpse at one another, unspoken messages traveling between them along with a shift in their positions. He clenches his hands, unwilling to give them any more information than that. He doesn’t want to talk about the man in the cabin or the countless of instances wherein he’s almost been killed by both sides.
"I'm surprised you've lived long enough to find your way here" the redhead mutters from Chenle's back and Chenle merely hums his agreement, looking blankly at the wooden floor.
" Me too " Chenle agrees quietly, his words barely making it past his lips but apparently going heard loud and clear in the deafening silence surrounding them all.
Their uneventful conversation doesn't lag, surprisingly, although the redhead mainly does all of the talking about things ranging from nothing to everything.
He feels time pass in the way the sunlight thins and soon becomes non-existent.
Even after the redhead has announced he’s finished with the stitches, he doesn’t stop it at that. He makes sure to wash Chenle’s face and hair until the water runs clear and trim the long, thick hair that has been obscuring his vision for a while. It's then that Donghyuck finishes and hands him a clean, oversized t-shirt that drapes over him like a gown. He doesn't mind. This one smells better than his old one.
He makes sure to thank Donghyuck as he's swimming in the fabric of the shirt, his eyes unwavering from the redhead's in order to make sure his sincerity reaches the correspondent.
He doesn’t catch the way the others admire his fresh appearance, surprised to find a real boy underneath all that dirt and blood.
Donghyuck only smiles back and gives him another pat on the head, fingers making a mess of the already existent mess of his hair.
Chenle can see why they all do it to one another a lot. There's a sense of mutual understanding that can sometimes only be spoken by actions rather than words.
Later that night, after they tried and failed to get him to eat, they all go to sleep except for Donghyuck who climbs up to the loft and sits at the opening, staring out blankly at the hill where Chenle was earlier that day.
Chenle himself sits curled up and hunched over in a hidden corner, having refused to sleep with the other boys mainly because he doesn't sleep at night and there's something that's been ticking under his cold skin all day.
Kindness goes a long way and Chenle had thought that this sort of selflessness towards others was a thing of the past. He understands pretty well that their blood runs thicker than a normal team from just from watching as they looked at one another with their hearts on their sleeves throughout the whole day, how their eyes were only filled with an unattainable warmth.
They're the first group of humans he meets that have taken in him and are all bright smiles and unfazed optimism despite being stuck in a period where the unknown hangs over everyone like dark clouds.
They shine a little too bright in the dreary world around Chenle.
It's questionable how they haven't been broken or even bent to the whims of their new life but then he remembers Donghyuck telling him about how they learned to adapt specifically in order to avoid breaking under the pressure.
He glances over at the makeshift bed wherein they lay asleep, moonlight glowing softly upon their sleeping forms and he figures he shouldn't stay any longer, not when he knows deep down he doesn't belong with them and his own heart is still leading him somewhere else.
They have their own journey, their own paths to follow and Chenle knows he has to follow his own, no matter how little he knows of where he's going.
While Donghyuck takes the first lookout shift up on the open loft where Jeno had been hours earlier, and the other three are curled up against one another, limbs tangled into a mess of one single entity, Chenle feels lonelier than ever.
He doesn't understand whether it's the emptiness beside him that makes him feel lonely or if he's witnessed the type of love that can't be given or replaced so easily.
He sneaks out through the back alley door and makes sure to lock it up well before continuing on his journey, his heart restless in the way it seemingly pounds against his chest.
///
His otherwise uneventful journey bears witness to the fruit of his obscure labor when he dreams for the very first time later that following day when the sun is finally simmering down and the moon is tiptoeing up higher in the darkening sky.
He doesn’t know how it happened or when it started but he dreams of the cabin he woke up in, of his first moments when he turned, weak body struggling to get out of the binds of rope that had him secured to a beam post. It's soon followed up by flashes of how he turned in the first place.
He hates it. Hates how he’s forced to relive his point of no return or how he had been able to forget about the most traumatic experience of his human life.
It's not pretty, but he thinks that's beside the point because getting mauled by an undead, hunger-stricken nameless man isn't meant to paint a pretty picture. It makes sense because he remembers how Donghyuck had never stopped marveling at how Chenle had survived such life-threatening wounds.
It's because Chenle didn't survive at all. He succumbed just like anyone else would but unlike everyone else that just turns into a mindless living corpse, Chenle defied his fate.
He isn't sure if it's real or not, not when dreams are so unreliable but he chooses to believe it just to finally satisfy his hunger for more knowledge of himself.
///
That same dream becomes persistent in the way it goes from being just a dream to being the truth behind his actions, the invisible rope that drags him to where his whole journey leads him to. It carries and coaxes him forward, and with every night that passes him like a breath of humid air, he gets rewarded in the form of memories by day when he's lucid.
They start at a point where he's running, running, and running because he can feel his prior human life depending on it and all he can think and feel is the terror that pushes him past his limits to just run.
They're never consistent in the way Chenle can just piece them together and find out the whole picture of his life story. It's just snippets of this and that, small pieces that have him trying to put everything together like trying to put together bits of broken glass, all throughout the days that come and go.
And then finally, finally, he remembers his name.
Chenle.
It's like the key he needed to unlock the memories that kept him from knowing himself, the dreams becoming longer and too real to be fake until he's too sure he's not just making shit up.
He finds out he was 15 when the epidemic broke out. He had a typical nuclear family, typical in the way they were related but breaking apart in the way he could barely breathe around them without feeling the weight of their expectations on him.
He doesn't remember who turned first in his family or how he ended up in the middle of nowhere as opposed to the city he lived in where the skyscrapers kissed the endless skies and twinkled brighter than the stars during the night. It doesn't matter that much to him for he knows wherever he used to live must be in the same state as the cabin he woke up in.
In the midst of putting everything back piece by piece, there's a gaping hole in the middle of it all that still has yet to be remembered.
It comes in the form of a single name at the end of the countless days picking up the scattered bits of glass.
"Jisung"
///
He repeats the name, repeats it to the point that he breathes it in and out and it's all he can think about, all he can believe in.
Day in and day out, Chenle follows his heart and walks to the consonants in the name he whispers under his breath fervently.
In the beginning, it was only to remember the name and never let it go, but now, now that he knows where his destination lies, he doesn't want to stop saying it for the sole sake of speaking it into existence, of saying it enough times that it might come true, that the name he whispers out his mouth will come in the form of whoever he's chasing after.
At this point, chenle knows he's almost there, that his journey hasn't been for naught because the urgency taking a hold of his gradually stiffening body is so tangible that he can feel it at the very grasp of his red-tinted fingertips.
////
Chenle still doesn't know how many days and nights have passed by him, how many endless miles he's traveled to get where he is, or how many people, both undead and alive, he's seen dropping like flies along the way.
He's seen the worst of it, the way humanity shrivels to savagery and the way the undead take advantage of it.
For the most part, Chenle believes by the end of it all, no one will be left, alive or not. At least, he thinks it applies to himself. His weakening body that seems to get harder and harder to move hasn't once let him forget that everything must come to an end but its given him the privilege of finding his own end instead of granting it to him at once.
In the countless seas of searing heat and variations of bloodied skies, Chenle finds himself under a world of blue.
It's the first utterly blue and open sky he's been under since he woke up in the cabin.
There are no more reds or oranges mixed with yellow, it's all just blue and filled with slightly grey and puffy clouds that release tiny crystals of precipitation, so small and minuscule that they’re almost impossible to see.
Chenle thinks it's strange, in a pretty sort of way, that there are droplets of rain gracing the dry earth after months of deprivation–all while the sky refuses to turn anything but a cerulean blue and the sun is high and bright.
He's walking under the droplets of water when he hears him.
He feels the rain picking up its pace and weight before he sees him.
He feels so many things before he sees him.
The scent of wet earth mixing with his labored breaths, the flash of bodily movement in his direction and the way his heart suddenly stops like he's arrived at his destination.
There's a breathless chant of his name that travels to his ears, something of reverence and shock mixed together to make Chenle snap his head towards the direction from where his name was called.
And then he starts running.
He runs like he did when he was being chased by the undead man behind his severed state. Only this time, the only terror he feels is the fear of letting the boy running towards him slip past him for a second time.
It's him.
It's the reason behind his cause and the longing that's been accompanying his yearning.
His mind brings up the name he's been worshipping like a prayer, the name that was the missing piece of his life.
"Jisung" he feels a few droplets of rain slide past his thin cheeks, collecting at his chin continuously before dropping down into the gradually softening earth.
The missing pieces to his scattering and fleeting memories that had stubbornly refused to be known finally make themselves seen, sprouting underneath the heavy soil of his subconscious.
They flourish, flourish and bloom, scattering petals of repressed emotions and Chenle doesn't know whether he's the one watering them or the sky.
They meet in the middle only to clash together, bodies nearly toppling into one another and Chenle can finally feel past the rigid coldness of his skin and bones.
He feels the way the hardness of the other's body makes him feel human, entirely human with no fault in him whatsoever.
There's the longing, the longing that felt like those ghost fingertips along his skin that finally, finally lets him know what it actually feels like to have the actual warmth and affection and utter sense of belonging cover his entire soul.
He found his home.
He found Jisung.
"I found you" Chenle whispers into the wet and mud-ridden skin of the boy's neck, his shaking hands digging deep beneath what lies under the boy's wet t-shirt, the thought of ever letting go making him dig his nails deep enough so that they both know he's drawing blood from the skin and will most entirely leave crescent-shaped marks behind, his mark behind.
Neither of them makes to move apart.
The earth is shaking, the rain comes down harder and there's a clap of thunder overhead and Chenle thinks it's all so fucking beautiful.
His clothes cling to his body like a third skin because the boy currently engulfing him into his broad body is his second skin, pained sobs being drowned out by the calming downpour clouding their entire world in curtains of transparency.
It's only them two, only them two under the curtains closing in on them and Chenle makes sure to see past the curtains of rain and embed the face of his home deep into his mind.
There are traces of mud all over his body that slowly slide off his skin due to the rain, flattened hair sticking to his face and Chenle doesn't think he's ever seen a sight as ethereal as him.
" You found me " the boy heaves out, his puffy eyes too swollen in sentiment to be seen and large, warm hands that quake almost as much as Chenle's heart, snaking from holding him by the small of his back to caressing his face upwards, holding him with a softness like no other.
He holds Chenle like he's a figment of his imagination and delicate to the touch, that with one touch too many, Chenle will disappear. So unlike Chenle who holds the boy with a sense of desperation to never let go.
He feels himself melt into those same hands exactly like he's seen the sun melt into the earth countless times, sinking into the touch with a sense of acceptance and comfort. He closes his glassy eyes, soaking in the impression of rough palms against his cold cheeks and the way his thumbs rub warmth and renewed promises onto his touch-deprived skin.
He feels like the earth, like the roots of the trees of pecan all around them, snug underneath the soil and drowning in the rainstorm after months of destitution.
He feels alive.
" I had to come back for you. I couldn't-oh god Chenle, baby, I'm so sorry " Jisung whispers at the end, shoulders beginning to shake and salty tears intermingling with the droplets of water mercilessly sinking into their skin and clothes. His eyes force themselves open, darting from one corner of Chenle's face to the other as if in disbelief that he's right here with him.
He's breaking apart, breaking apart the same way Chenle is, the guilt tearing him from every fiber and face contorting into the agony of having left Chenle.
But the smaller of the two knows and understands the simplicity behind their separation, so simple like the stars in the sky and the ground beneath their soaked bodies.
Chenle had been infected and for the sake of not infecting Jisung, he had made the other tie him up in the cabin and face the imminent death of being crushed to death in the barely standing cabin instead of becoming one of them, just like he had begged and screamed for.
Except...Chenle was never crushed to death and never rotted away along with the wood and debris of the cabin that should have fallen apart.
The man he met at the very beginning of his afterlife had given Chenle the opportunity to seek his true ending.
There's nothing more that Chenle wants to do than comfort the very boy standing in front of him, shaking and heaving and begging for forgiveness but he's not the Chenle that Jisung can be comforted by. He's not the warm and soft body Jisung can hold in his arms and find amenity within.
He's just skin and bones and slowly yet surely decaying.
" You did what I told you to do. Don't be sorry " he murmurs into the burning heat of Jisung's palm, dry and chapped lips brushing against the textured roughness in barely-there caresses.
" But I left you. I left you all alone" Jisung sobs out, chest heaving from the weight of his remorse eating him alive.
" But you came back too. we found each other " he takes a hold of Jisung's hands, marveling at the feel of their hands together like they were made for one another, his small and brittle hands being swallowed by the other's bigger hand.
He looks up into the soft brown eyes refusing to ever look away from him. Nothing has changed to Chenle, not when everything is finally alright.
" Jisung... thank you " he breathes out, interlacing their fingers together and wishing so badly that he could hold his hand forever.
He feels it now, feels the same way those other boys in the barn felt being with one another. He feels the way his heart swells with emotions so strong and fierce that he'd be surprised if the boy holding him so close didn't feel it as well.
He doesn't look away from Jisung, not for a second. Neither of them looks away from one another, in fact. Their faces only inch closer and bodies hold each other impossibly closer.
" Thank you for coming back to me. Thank you for being my home" he breathes out, slowly meeting Jisung's eyes that are wide open, tears never ending and plump lips shaking in unspoken words.
Chenle feels his legs buckle underneath him, the impact of the ground never hitting him before he realizes Jisung never let him fall.
He can no longer feel his once heavy limbs, the blanket of warmth coming from Jisung blocking out every other sensation but he knows it's the pure exhaustion of the distance he's traveled and the way his body is finally at peace knowing he's arrived.
He doesn't think he could be any happier.
The world is still blue in Chenle's eyes as he stares overhead at the rain invading every inch of their bodies, dry lips stretching out into a smile that can only be described as content.
" You kept me going. Dunno how long it's been but it doesn't matter. I love you, I love you so fucking much it hurts " he breathes in, his own eyes burning from either refusing to blink or crying so much.
Jisung blubbers something out, rushed words and impending breakdown making it impossible to comprehend but he doesn't let Jisung talk for long because he needs to tell him everything he meant to say when they separated.
Chenle breathes in, chest stuttering and eyes unable to look away from the never-ending sky.
" And now that I found you, I can finally say goodbye properly " he smiles at the end, the warmth of Jisung's body filling him to the brim and making him overflow in a sort of satisfaction that can only be felt after countless of days without it.
He thinks he closes his eyes for a moment because it truly does feel like a single moment, time slowing down to the point where he can't feel it ticking under his skin like it used to.
He breathes in the rain falling down on him and breathes out his entire soul's worth of meaning to the boy holding him so lovingly.
" Jisung? It's funny...I can't hear you anymore. But I can feel you. You're so warm, you know that?" All he can hear is the continuous cascading of water echoing deep in his slowly darkening consciousness, so deep and calming that he feels his stiff body relaxing to the humming of the water that lulls him into a state of sleep unlike any other he's been in.
All he can feel is Jisung's warmth and the gentle caresses of the rain.
He's not scared, he thinks he shouldn't be.
He's not alone anymore. He's in the arms of his world, moon, and stars all mixed together into a single entity he considers his place of belonging.
And he thinks that's the only thing that matters.
" Jisung, Jisung I love you " Chenle breathes out all at once, his smile softening just like his features and body slowly giving way to the rain and looming darkness.
///
"Stay at your best baby
Let me know, let me know"