Archive of Our Own

At the moment, his life… is not going swimmingly. 

For one, his skin is deathly pale, and his posture is absolutely terrible. He highly doubts his diet can be considered healthy, and furthermore, he doesn’t know the slightest thing about making friends and forming connections. Why is it so difficult to form friendships again? 

Oh, right. ‘Cause he’s dead.

Dead, living in a world of dead people. No wonder it’s impossible for any of them to connect. Hovering between the blurred lines of human and monster doesn’t exactly form an ideal situation for making friends and having cute tea parties. Which he would be extremely glad to have to at the moment.

Tea parties with pastel teacups and stuffed animals in a field of green? It sounds like a dream come true.

That’s off-topic. The point at hand is that he is in a world that is filled to the brim with corpses, and the people who are alive are holed up someplace, hidden away. He looks to his left. The guy scratching at his face with enough ferocity he rips off strips of skin? Dead. He glances to the right. The little girl stumbling around with her stained doll hanging limply from her hand? Dead. He looks down at himself. Him? Dead. 

Even without looking into the mirror for months, he’s sure he’s deteriorated to the point that he can’t pass off as human anymore. He definitely doesn’t have any memories of being human.

He doesn’t even know his name. All he knows is that his name has… had a y in it somewhere, so that’s what he refers to himself as in his head. Y. 

It’s kind of underwhelming, but he has to make do with what he has. He doesn’t remember his family, his friends (if he even had them in the first place), his job... Although, the dirty hoodie he sports suggests that he’s unemployed. 

To this day, he doesn’t have a clue as to how this entire apocalypse happened. Maybe it had been chemical warfare? An airborne virus? A radioactive outbreak monkey? 

He no longer bothers thinking about it, because at this point, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

Life as a zombie isn’t the worst. Sure, Y waits around doing nothing long enough that he loses count of the days, but isn’t that what an airport is for? Waiting? And sure, he has to stalk out of the airport every few days and chow down on some humans and return feeling as more of a monster every time, but it’s not the worst. He even has friends!

Friend. He has one friend. 

Y stumbles up next to another zombie who turns as he approaches, grunting in recognition. JJ, or his best friend. He’s certain that JJ isn’t that other’s actual name, but he had seemed persistent in it, grunting out “J-J” at every chance, and so Y had dubbed him as such in his head. 

JJ seems like he had been a funny, handsome guy when he was human. Probably popular with the girls for being good-looking and popular with the guys for making them laugh. It’s truly a pity that he had gotten eaten and ended up being stuck with Y, having boring conversations with him daily.

Not that they can be quite considered to be conversations. Their “conversations” consist of awkward staring and grunting and the occasional hungry. It’s frustrating, for Y to have all these thoughts stuck in his head, impossible to get them past his throat. Something he has learned, however, is that JJ’s grunts sound a little different depending on what he’s trying to say.

Today is going similarly. Y grunts, and JJ grunts back. It sounds like he’s trying to crack a joke, so Y gives him a barked laugh that’s more of a wet wheeze.

Grunt.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Grunt.

“Hungry,” JJ says and Y would have sighed if he could, but the thing is, he’s hungry too. 

“Hungry,” he responds, and he likes to imagine that JJ grins as he begins to stumble off in the direction that food is sure to be. Even if he doesn’t want to, Y joins him, lumbering slowly by his side. Others begin taking notice of them, joining in a big, groaning mass.

It seems smarter to go in pairs, or even individually. To ensure stealth or whatever. But zombies aren’t exactly the best when it comes to sneaking around, with their heavy, clunky limbs and limited control over them, so really, it’s better to gather into a group, flanked by meat shields on all sides. If they’re shot at in this formation, it’s less likely all of them will go down. 

God, we’re slow. 

As they shuffle down dirt roads and past abandoned houses and institutions, Y catches sight of the white figures that lurk the sides, flitting past like ghosts. If he could’ve, he would have shivered. Boneys. Zombies so far gone that they no longer have any desires other than securing their next meal. Or, what Y will turn into eventually. It’s a relief that the boneys don’t pay much attention to zombies, most likely because of the zombies’ lack of heartbeat.

If they sense even the slightest pump of a heart? Buckle up, because death is approaching. 

Y jerks his head away from the boneys. They always leave him feeling uncomfortable, and he’s dead . 

A delicious, enticing scent wafts past him and he stops short, his head tilting of its own accord and sniffing the air. He knows the rest of the group has smelled it as well, because they all stop, sniffing the air just like him. And then they lower their chins, their eyes locked onto their target. 

Humans. Fresh meat. Food. 

Y wishes he isn’t this way, but he can’t help the way his fingers twitch and saliva begins building up in his mouth and as if they’re moving as one, they break out in a run. Granted, it’s less of a run and more of an awkward gallop that definitely looks extremely stupid, but never underestimate a zombie who has their eyes set on their next meal. 

They break through the doors, JJ leading the front—Y has gathered this before, but JJ is strong —must have been a bodybuilder before the apocalypse—and they burst into the room. There are shrieks of terror—the humans—and loud, rumbled grunts—the zombies—as all hell breaks loose. Guns are nocked and claws are brandished, blood and guts splattering through the air and throughout the chaos, Y sees him. 

Had he been into blondes when he’d been alive? Y doesn’t remember. He’s definitely into it now, because the—the human boy is beautiful, with blonde hair and pretty eyes that must usually be bright but are now seized in terror. Because of him. Y suddenly feels like he’s done a great misdeed, to have such a cute boy look at him in such a way. Before he can lurch forward and wrack his zombie mind to somehow spurn out an apology, there’s a loud bang and his hoodie now has a perfectly symmetrical hole. 

Right. He’s in the midst of retrieving food. 

Y cocks his head as he studies the hole in his hoodie. As expected, no blood spurts from it. He looks back up, where a nasty-looking boy nocks a gun at him, a terrible smirk spreading across his face as he aims right at Y’s head. Y hates him instantly. 

“Smile, motherfucker-” The boy doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Y is swiping at his legs and he goes crashing down and-

Well, he eats him. All of him. Doesn’t spare a single part. He’s not proud of it either, but it has to be done, lest the boy rise and become a zombie just like him. And a deep, disgusting part of Y admits that he enjoys it, craves for the moment he can tear into the next human, not to stave off the hunger, but because of how he can cling to a semblance of humanity for at least a few minutes as he eats the brain. 

The person’s memories, thoughts, emotions. They flicker through his head, hazy and unfocused in one, sharp and detailed in the next.

A smiling woman, a stern-faced man. A rubber ball, bouncing from his hands, soaring into the sky. The taste of salt in his mouth as the waves crash over him. Graphite stained on his hands, like dust.

There’s—there’s the blonde boy who he’d been dazzled by earlier. Except he’s not blonde, but brunette. And then he’s not brunette any longer, but instead sporting a head of pink. It fits him surprisingly well. 

They’re running through the fields—the person whose brains he’d eaten and the boy—and the boy is looking back, grinning. His eyes sparkle impossibly bright, and his laugh is-

His laugh is-

“I think I love you," not-actually-blonde boy hums as they stare up at the sky, where the stars twinkle brightly, and yet somehow not brighter than the twinkle in the other’s eyes. 

“I think I love you too, Joochan."  

“Jonghyun! Jonghyun, where are you!” Someone’s screaming desperately and Y’s back, head rocking back and forth as he glances wildly. The scream is cut off and he can only assume that the owner had gotten silenced. Hurriedly, he stuffs the rest of the brains into his pocket, to save for later as he surveys the situation. 

Dead bodies litter the floor, more humans than zombies. The zombies lumber by the door as they file out, stomachs full and hunger sated, bumping into each other as they refuse to line up, and Y can’t help but feel a sudden sadness. Had the not-actually-blonde boy—Joochan—been eaten? That’s truly a shame-

His eyes catch onto a shine of golden and he wheels around. And there he is, hidden under the desk. Not-actually-blonde boy. Joochan. The other is looking up at him in pure terror, a palm pressed to his mouth to keep himself from emitting any sounds. He trembles more violently as he realizes that Y has noticed him. 

And strangely, Y doesn’t feel the impulse to bite him, to bury his teeth into the other, even as he kneels and gets closer and closer so that Joochan is pressed against the back of the desk. A choked sob escapes Joochan. He must think he’s going to be eaten, Y realizes. 

That can’t be. Because he’s not going to.

Before he can think, he’s struggling to formulate words. “J… Joochan-” Joochan’s eyes widen impossibly more and he scoots even further back as he possibly can, which is not much. “S-safe-” Y forces out. “C-come-” 

Joochan stares at him. And then, no louder than a mouse: “what?”

Y doesn’t exactly know either. 

What am I doing? 

The situation Y is currently in is not one he had ever imagined he’d be in. Then again, he highly doubts that he’d imagined turning into a zombie when he’d been a human, so.

But the matter at hand is that he has snuck a living person home! He glances back at said living person, Joochan, who’s still quaking uncontrollably, skin a sickly gray as his gaze darts from the zombies, to any possible exits, to Y. And then he repeats the cycle. 

He’d slathered Joochan in zombie remains, and it had hidden Joochan’s scent well enough that it's impossible for anyone to smell the living on him. It’s the only reason that the others haven't taken notice of Joochan and only assumed that he is a new addition to the family. 

Walking with Joochan through the airport is nerve-wracking. He’s more worried about Joochan doing something stupid like screaming and running in the opposite direction, which would give him away quicker than his scent would, but thankfully the only reaction Joochan has when spies the zombies clustered in the airport is turn another shade whiter. He’s almost just as pale as Y now, Y thinks. 

He rushes Joochan to “his” airplane, or the place he had named as his home. He had left quite the mark on it, stuffed with “his” CDs and blankets and dozens of nicknacks starting from pretty glass marbles to a set of glimmering silver earrings. He’s not sure if they’re his. He had just collected them over the years and stockpiled it all on the plane, so technically, they’re his. Besides, he highly doubts that their original owner will come up to him and demand for him to hand back their goods. Chances are they’re long dead or most probably, a boney by now. 

Y shuffles further into the plane, pausing when he notices Joochan hasn’t moved an inch from the entrance but instead continues to stand there, hands clutching his shirt. He looks pitiful, like a cat stranded out in the rain, and that’s coming from him, a zombie. 

It seems like he has a bit of coaxing to do. He stumbles back to Joochan, who, as expected, shrinks back. Y resists rolling his eyes. He has had plenty of chances to eat Joochan, and he hasn’t. Isn’t that enough? He gestures around the airplane the best he can. “H… Home,” he somehow gets out before he points at himself, then at Joochan. “No… No eat. Safe.”

Joochan stares at him like he doesn’t believe him. Y takes back what he had thought earlier: he doesn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have trusted himself either. Gingerly, he walks around Joochan, backing up with his hands up, trying to make it clear that he isn’t a threat before he slips out.

He thinks giving the other a little time to digest the series of events is a good idea, so he stumbles to “his” car to grasp at the wheel and think over his current predicament.

Y’s not sure if he’d been a casanova when he’d been human, but if he had, he thinks now is a good time to put those skills to use, especially with Joochan cowering away on the plane while Y wonders how flirting works when one-half of the pair is dead.

Well… 

He glances in his pocket, where the remnants of the boy who’d tried to shoot him’s brain is stored away. 

There are many ways to get to know a person. Y supposes that eating their dead boyfriend’s brain is one of the more... unorthodox methods, but he’ll have to make do with what he has.

He only hesitates for a moment before digging out a chunk of brain and pushing it past his lips. No sooner has he begun chewing and the memories are bursting like fireworks before him, he is-

He’s a little boy, staring up at the sky in wonder. He’s in middle school, and his mother is hugging him, whispering happy birthday into his ear. He’s an angsty teenager, getting into fights when he shouldn’t, and Joochan is beside him now, scolding him as he gently cleans the cuts and bruises littering his skin. He’s an adult and Joochan’s still here, complaining about his dad, convincing him to sneak out. 

“Come on, Jonghyun. He hasn’t checked in for days. We’ll be fine.”

He’s staring at his dad, except he doesn’t look as he should, with skin white and cracked and eyes light and gray. And he’s choking up and falling and Joochan’s whipping out a gun and there are three, neat, smoking holes through his father. 

“Let’s break up, Jonghyun.”

“Okay.”

Y’s vision clears and he’s back in his car, the image of Joochan, holding out a gun, trembling as he realizes what he’s done printed behind his eyelids. No wonder he’s so afraid of him. Looks like a different approach will be needed. 

When he returns to the airplane after deeming that a sufficient amount of time has passed, he’s greeted by the sound of sobs. It can only be one person. Seems like even after giving him space, Joochan isn’t handling his current situation well.

He stumbles into the plane, and immediately, Joochan is alert, body tense and fists balled as he leaps from where he’d been curled up. He doesn’t look much of a threat because of the tears that continue to stream down his face, and if Y’s heart still did its job, he’s sure it would have been aching from the sight. 

They stare at each other, with Joochan’s tears showing no sign of relenting, and Y wracking his mind and trying to figure out the best way to deal with a crying boy as a zombie. Surprisingly, it’s Joochan who speaks up first, spitting out a hate-filled, “why me?” 

Y stares at him. Joochan scowls. “Why did you save me?”

Y would answer, but the problem is he can’t. All he can do and say is lean forward and stutter out a “don’t… c… cry.” Joochan stares at him in disbelief as he continues, clearly struggling to get out every word. “Safe. Keep you safe.”

Joochan’s tears seem to have subsided for now, and instead, there is something else dawning on his face: surprise, amazement. “What are you?” He asks in awe.

As if Y would even be able to answer. 

The unfavorable result of Joochan finally growing comfortable and accepting that Y will not in fact eat him means that he gets quite vocal with his demands. 

“I want food,” Joochan announces, flopping down in front of Y. Y cocks his head.

“F… ood?” 

“Yes. Food. You should know all about it, right? And I’m hungry. Hun-gry.” He sounds out the word as if it isn’t one of the few words in Y’s vocabulary in the first place. Y furrows his brow, suspicious. The other isn't going to try and run, is he? Because that will be an extremely stupid move on his part.

But still… Y knows how it feels to go on without food, to be deprived of such an essential. And if he wants Joochan to like him, he’ll need to agree with what the other wants.

Fine then. He’ll go search and find some food that’s hopefully edible for humans. Jerkily getting to his feet, he shoots Joochan a look of warning. Well, a look with as much emotion as he can get behind it. 

“S-stay,” he says pointedly, then shuffles out of the lane. He has a sinking feeling in his gut that it’s the last thing Joochan is going to do. Okay then. 

As he walks away, he glances subtly at the plane and sure enough, Joochan’s face is pressed against the window, watching as he leaves. He shakes his head and continues walking, ducking behind a plane wheel as soon as he’s out of his eyesight. 

No sooner had he shuffled out of view before the door of the plane bursts open. Y truly wishes he had been able to sigh at the moment. The other is going to become a handful, huh?

The idiot doesn’t even spare a glance as he flees down the stairs, armed with nothing but a pole he must’ve snagged from his collection. Y realizes with despair that his face and body is clear of anything, which means his scent is sure to-

Shuffle. Grunt. Growl. 

And there it is.

Cursing in his head, he runs (well, runs as fast as he can) to where Joochan has crouched behind the plane’s wheel, terror written all over his face, the pole in his hands trembling. He grabs the other’s shoulders without warning, and it’s expected when Joochan shrieks and wheels around, ready to stab Y through the chest before he realizes who it is and relaxes. Y can’t help but feel a little smug that his appearance serves as a relief to the other. That is progress, right?

He decides to celebrate later, because the matter at hand is that more and more zombies are raising their heads and sniffing the air curiously, surely noticing Joochan’s scent. It’s a good thing that Y is covered in filth all the time. He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and take hold of Joochan’s face, ignoring the squeak of disgust the other makes as he slathers the zombie remains thoroughly on the other’s face. It occurs to Y then that he hasn’t touched anyone, let a human, this intimately, in… forever. 

Joochan’s face in his hands, he stares a little too long, the other blinking up at him in confusion before there’s the sound of growling, far closer than expected. He snaps out of it, shuffling back. Hopefully his momentarily daze can be passed off as a zombie thing.

A single sweep with his eyes is enough to glean their current situation. They’re surrounded, with no way to sneak through unless it’s through the crowd of zombies. He glances back at Joochan, who looks as if he regrets trying to escape in the first place, and rightfully so. If Y had been capable of it, he would have given the other an earful.

But that can wait for later. The zombies are beginning to close in, their noses in the air as they search for the owner of the scent. There’s only one way to get through this. Leaning closer to Joochan, he mumbles “be dead” before he begins to stagger through the crowd, not looking back to check if the other is following him or not.

A loud, over-exaggerated groan confirms that yes, he is. Y resists the urge to facepalm as he glances back to find Joochan staggering around like he’s had too much to drink and is about to pass out. The other isn’t blending in, if anything, he’s drawing more attention to himself by acting like an idiot!

“Too m.. much,” he whispers to the other, who looks at him puzzlingly before he tones it down, stumbling and groaning on a much more believable scale. Thank fuck. 

Somehow, they manage to shoulder through the mass of zombies and make it back to the plane in one piece, where Joochan collapses into a heap in the seat, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Oh, fuck.” Y glances over to him, Joochan looking up where he’d buried his face. His face is flushed bright red from the exertion, his pupils blown wide from fear. Y can hear the uneven beating of his heart even from where he stands. “I thought I was going to die. ”

That’s because you were, if it wasn’t for me, Y wants to point out. Since he can’t, he settles for a stuttered, “n-not safe.” Joochan sets his feet back onto the floor. 

“No shit,” he says. He has the audacity to roll his eyes like he hadn’t been the one who had just tried to make a run for it. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was hungry, though.” Y shifts uncomfortably. The prospect of going out and scouring for food doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore, not with how Joochan hadn’t even thought twice before taking off. Who’s to say the other won’t attempt such a feat again? Joochan notices his hesitance and stands up.

“I know you think I’m going to try and run out-” 

For good reason, Y thinks. 

“-but I’m not.” A sheepish look passes over his face and he scratches the back of his head. “I may have… failed to mention that there’s food on the plane after all. Since, you know. Was trying to escape?” He laughs, embarrassed, and Y thinks he’s beginning to regret picking up this boy after all. 

Y heaves out what can be translated to a frustrated huff. 

Joochan is right—there is food on the plane. He pulls open a cabinet in what was the kitchen to reveal rows of cans, laughing all the while. This is the closest Y will get to ever having a headache, he supposes.

All the cans are filled with beans but Joochan doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, popping the cans open and digging in as if it’s his last meal. It’s then Y learns that Joochan can eat . Like, a lot. He’s barely looked away and back before three empty cans surround them. Huh. The likelihood of needing to scour for food is looking more and more probable, especially if Joochan keeps this up. 

It’s quiet as Joochan inhales the beans in record timing (not that Y has a choice in speaking anyway) and it’s only when he places down the last of the cans that he looks up, opening his mouth as if to say something before closing it again. Y raises a brow curiously. 

“Uhm. Thank you.” Y nearly falls over. Out of everything that he had expected to come out of the other’s mouth, it had not been that. It’s even more surprising that Joochan doesn’t stop there and continues talking. “I mean like, for you know, saving my life and everything. Twice. I would’ve been dead meat-” He winces, “-quite literally—by now.” He drops the spoon into the can, plastic hitting metal bottom with a clunk. “So! I’ve concluded that you can’t be all that bad, Mr. Zombie.”

Had only taken Y saving his life twice for him to gather that, huh?

“My name…” Joochan perks up and cocks his head. 

“Name? You have a name?” Y nods stiffly. Joochan’s eyes widen. “What’s your name?”

Y pauses. He doesn’t exactly have a name, per se. Just a letter. But it’s better than being called “Mr. Zombie” by the other.

“...Y…” Joochan frowns. 

“...Why? I want to know.” Y wants to die all over again. He furiously shakes his head.

“Yyyyy …” He drawls out, hoping that the other gets the hint. Thankfully, the other isn’t as dumb as he seems, because his eyes light up with realization and he brightens up. 

“Your name starts with a Y?” He asks excitedly, leaning forward, suddenly very close. Y shrinks back on instinct. Not quite, but he supposes it would be too hard to explain that it’s more likely that his name has a Y somewhere in it and doesn’t necessarily start with it, so he nods instead. It’s just his luck that he had to remember a completely random letter from his name. Joochan purses his lips, tilting his head thoughtfully as he taps his chin and a stray thought of that’s cute flickers through Y’s head. 

“Yohan? Yeong?” Joochan tries, testing the waters. Y shakes his head.

“Youngtae?” Another shake of his head.

“Youngjae? Yoon?” Y makes to shake his head but hesitates. Yoon? There’s something familiar about the name, as if…

It’s his name?

He frowns. No, there’s something wrong about it, something missing. He shakes his head again, almost feeling bad for being honest when he sees the disappointed look on Joochan’s face.

“That’s too bad,” he sighs. “I’ll just call you ‘Y’ then,” He says, and then he smiles, and the other truly does have a beautiful smile, bright and sweet just like the one Y had seen in the other’s ex-boyfriend’s memories. He realizes with a start this is the first time he’s seen the other smile ever since running into him while searching for food. 

He makes up his mind then and there: he will make the other smile again, even bigger and more beautiful, if it’s the last thing he’ll do. 

The next words Joochan says destroy all and any means he had to reach his goal.

“I want to go home, Y.” Y jerks his head towards Joochan. Home? The other can’t go home! He just got here-

“N-not safe,” he says, and he’s grateful, for once, that being a zombie means that Joochan can’t detect the desperation behind his words. Joochan sighs. 

“I know.” He shifts in his seat. “I’m grateful to you for saving my life, but you walked me into this place, right? I’m sure you can walk me out again.”

He’s right. Y can walk Joochan out of this place, and easily. But…

But he doesn’t want to, because the past few hours he’s spent with Joochan has easily been the best hours of his life, even with the other pulling idiotic moves and not trusting Y until just minutes ago. 

And some part of Joochan, his smile, his boldness, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, makes Y feel alive, in a way he only feels when he tears into a human and experiences their memories, their feelings, their humanity. To lose this feeling of aliveness when he’s just been able to experience it-

His throat constricts. He needs to tell the other that he needs to wait, that the zombies will notice. 

“H… h… have to wait,” he somehow forces out, surprising himself. “Th… They’ll notice.” 

And right there is yet another reason why he can’t lose Joochan already—it’s as if the other’s presence has changed something in him, with how much more easily he’s forming words, full sentences, than he could before. It’s strange and doesn’t make much sense, but he’s sure of one thing: Joochan is good for him.

Joochan puffs his cheek, then deflates. “Okay. How long?”

“F… f… few d… days.” Y would have felt more guilty about lying, but honestly, he has already eaten Joochan’s ex-boyfriend and had felt no guilt about it, so what are a few lies? He tries to force his dry, dry lips into a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t work. “Y… Y… You’ll be o-okay.”

Joochan watches him closely as he tries to smile, brows furrowed, seemingly wondering over something. “Are there…” He’s leaning even closer. If he gets any nearer, they’ll be nose-to-nose, and Y’s not sure how he will react in a situation like that. Hopefully, his reaction won’t be to be suddenly overwhelmed by an intense craving and chomp his teeth into Joochan. “I’ve never heard a zombie talk. You know, apart from the groaning. And you didn’t even try to eat me…” And now he’s looking at Y a little differently, eyes a little brighter. 

It seems like his new talent in forming words fails him then and there and all he can do is shrug. Joochan leans back, to his relief. “Okay. A few days? I can do that. I need a break from my dad anyway. But…” He levels a look at Y. “What am I even supposed to do for a few days around here?” 

Y thinks he has a few ideas. 

Joochan quite likes his ideas, if the way his face lights up when Y leads him to where “his” car has been parked for the last few years is any indication. And it seems like Y’s goal in getting Joochan to smile at him again has already been kickstarted when Joochan shoots him an elated look as they slip into the car and he fits the key into the ignition lock. 

It occurs to Y then, that he doesn’t know how old Joochan is, if he even knows how to drive, if he’s even allowed to drive at his age. Then again, he supposes, in a world full of zombies, driving laws are the least of everyone’s concerns. Joochan notices his scrutinizing look as he adjusts himself in the driver’s seat, huffing. “I’m nineteen, okay. Stop looking at me doubtfully, I know how to drive.” That’s all it takes for Y to be convinced, and he settles back as Joochan slams his foot onto the accelerator- 

So Joochan’s a leadfoot, huh. 

Y praises his unconsciousness for buckling himself on instinct because he’s certain he would have been flung through the glass by now. It’s a little alarming when Joochan pokes his head outside the window, his hair whipping in the wind, to shout at the top of his lungs. 

“This is amazing!” He pops back in and settles into his seat, grinning and face flushed in exhilaration. “My father would’ve never let me do something like this,” he explains. It occurs to Y then that Joochan’s easy acceptance of Y’s lame excuse might have less to do with his fear of zombies and more to do with his home issues.

Joochan turns to him, eyes dancing. “Wanna try?”

It turns out that Y’s just as much of a leadfoot as Joochan. Maybe even more. Joochan lets out a surprised yelp as Y begins driving. 

“You’re using both feet! Come on, pick one…” He nods enthusiastically when the car begins to move less in jerks and more smoothly. Y looks from Joochan to the road in surprise. He’s driving! Years of having this car as his second hideout, and he’s finally driving it! His shock must be apparent on his face because Joochan chortles.

“You’re doing it! Now, two hands on the wheel…” 

They zoom down the barren, dusty streets, with Y doing his best to concentrate on the road ahead of him and not on Joochan’s gorgeous laughter, failing miserably at it. No longer needing to worry himself with driving, Joochan takes full advantage, sticking his head out the window as he whoops and screams to his heart’s content, reminiscent of a trapped bird finally freed from its cage. 

The sun begins to tuck itself to bed as they drive on and on, casting its golden rays over them as it sets, filtering across Joochan’s cheekbones, bringing out the caramel of his eyes, turning his blonde hair into fine, golden thread. A particularly loud laugh catches Y’s attention and he makes the mistake of turning to the other—because now, he can’t take his eyes off of the sight, lips parting in wonder as Joochan throws his head back and laughs, his eyes screwed tight, and at that moment, he’s sure, sure that even as a human, he’d never laid eyes on someone more beautiful than the boy sitting next to him. 

Joochan’s eyes open and he meets Y’s gaze, a warm smile stretched across his lips before he gasps in delight. “You’re smiling!” 

Smi… ling? It can’t be. He can’t… He touches his lips, flinching back when he finds his cracked, dry lips are curved like a crescent moon, the corners tugging upwards.  Smiling. He’s smiling. 

The realization that he’s smiling is strong enough that he forgets he’s at the wheel, both his hands coming up to touch his face which is contorted in a way it’s never been before. He snaps back into focus a moment too late as Joochan shouts, “Y! The car-!”

BANG. 

The two of them sit in stunned silence as they stare at the completely busted hood of the car, shattered glass sprinkled around them like candy. Joochan’s the first to speak up. “Jesus Christ. You didn't have to be that embarrassed.”

Y wants to argue that he hadn’t been embarrassed, and instead, shocked, but unfortunately, he can’t. 

They climb out of the no-longer functional car, Joochan sighing all the while. “This was such a nice car too,” he says mournfully, casting an eye over the battered red. “At least we’re lucky that the walk back isn’t that long.”

Turns out isn’t that long becomes very long when it’s a slow, groaning zombie you’re towing back with you. To his credit, Joochan doesn’t complain at all, in fact, he seems to rather enjoy the walk back, filling up the silence with his chatter, and Y the occasional word or grunt. 

He doesn’t lose his energy even when they finally reach the plane and lock the door behind them, taking an interest in Y’s collection, digging through the variety of objects scattered around. He seems especially thrilled as he pulls out a guitar from the clutter, stroking it as if it’s something precious. “You have so many cool things. How’d you get all these?”

Y shrugs. “I collect things.” Joochan cranes his head as he looks at the extent of Y’s belongings, at the assortment of what seems to have every useless thing one can think of. 

“I can see that. Someone’s a hoarder.” He picks up one of Y’s treasured vinyl, tilting his head as he studies it. If it had been anyone else, Y would have torn a bite out of them by now. “Even though you’re a zombie, you love music too, huh?” When Y nods, he gently sets it back down, turning to face Y. There’s a different look on his face, serious and dwelling. “That’s… so cool. It’s as if… as if we aren’t that different after all.”

Limited zombie vocabulary or not, Y doesn’t think he can formulate a reply to that as Joochan continues to rifle through his collection, the sudden quiet strange after hours of listening to Joochan ramble away. 

“...Y? Can I ask you something?” He looks up at Joochan, who isn’t looking at him, but out the window. He doesn’t check to see if Y nods or wait for him to make any noise of affirmation, continuing. “Jonghyun… Um, my ex-boyfriend.” Y stills. “He died back there. You know, the place where you found me.” Joochan turns, leaning against the wall. His eyes are downcast, lips pulled tight. “Will he come back? As one of you?”

Y doesn’t know if this Joochan is hoping he’ll have a chance to see Jonghyun again, but he won’t. Y had made sure of that. Slowly, he shakes his head. Joochan sucks in a breath. “That’s good. I mean, I don’t want to sound heartless but… it was better for him. He… something happened to him, and he just-” He stops, smiling wryly. “With his attitude, he was bound to die soon. But it happened sooner than I expected.” He turns away suddenly, looking out the window once again. There’s the tiniest of sniffles and Y realizes: he’s crying. “I’m not sad that he’s gone,” Joochan says, the way his voice cracks giving him away. “I guess I just wish I was able to at least say goodbye to him.” 

He moves before he can think, crossing the floor until he reaches Joochan, who looks up at him, startled. Gently, he places a hand on the other’s chest, where his heart flutters under his skin. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

“S… sorry,” he whispers, and surprise flickers across Joochan’s face. He makes no move to pull away, and Joochan doesn’t either, the two of them staring at each other silently. Joochan lips move around words silently, and Y doesn’t have to be a lip reader to know what the other is mouthing. What are you? 

Neither of them speak much after that, and they go to sleep in silence. Well, Joochan goes to sleep in silence. Zombies can’t sleep. Y wishes he could. It would have been an easy escape from the guilt and mental torment from eating humans, the headache of living day after day without doing anything but stumble around with no purpose in life. The closest they can get to it is consuming the memories of humans, but Y doesn’t have an appetite for brains at the moment.

He passes the night gazing into Joochan’s face, watching the pale moonlight cast shadows over his features, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with every breath, his lashes as they flutter with dreams. 

Joochan’s interest in his collection doesn’t wane away from his first search and Y finds himself watching as Joochan emerges countless times, different items in hand every time. He reappears this time carrying an armful of sunglasses that Y has no recollection of when and where he’d collected them. Maybe from the sunglasses store back at the airport? Joochan grins, tossing them into Y’s laps before holding up a mirror.

“These were caked in dust—I bet you haven’t tried any of them even once.” Y opens his mouth to argue, except he finds that even if he strains his head and tries to remember, Joochan’s right—he’s never tried them. He groans and shrugs. Joochan shakes his head. “Better late than never! You have dozens so let’s go through all of them!” A dread seizes Y.

It’s by the mercy of some higher being that Joochan tires of the glasses by the third dozen and abandons them in favor of digging through for something more interesting, retrieving the pair of silver earrings. He fingers them, eyes glimmering in interest. He throws a mischievous look at Y. “Got these from a zombie girlfriend or something?” Y blinks. Joochan takes that as a no, sighing in faux disappointment. “And here I thought I’d be able to hear some juicy gossip.” He shakes the earrings and stares at them a little more. “They’re pretty,” he hums. “Mind if I try it on?” 

Y blinks again. Not at all.

Joochan gets the hint and rubs at his ears before pressing something into Y’s hands for safekeeping—little heart-shaped earrings—busying himself with sliding in the dangling earrings. They clink against each other like little bells, Y tilting his head at the pretty sight of Joochan in the earrings. “Woah, these are pretty,” he exclaims before wincing. “And heavy.” 

His attention lingers on the earrings even less than they had on the glasses and soon he’s pulling them off and sifting through his collection again, gasping in delight as he pulls out something. “I haven’t seen these in forever!” There’s a coloring book and a box of crayons grasped in his hands, and the next hour consists of Joochan trying to “teach” Y how to color within the lines, Y’s shaking zombie hands betraying him. Joochan shakes his head good-naturally as they compare their drawings—Joochan’s neat and pretty, Y’s the scribbles of a child. 

Eventually, he picks up the guitar he’d found the day before, Y watching with interest as Joochan seats himself, crossing his legs as he rests the guitar in his lap. 

He points to the guitar, then Joochan. “P-play?” Joochan looks down at the guitar fondly, fingers drumming the surface of it. 

“I played a couple of instruments before this entire apocalypse thing happened,” he says, not taking his eyes off the guitar as he plucks at the strings, testing them. “Violin was always my favorite but guitar comes a close second.” He smiles. “Seems to be fine,” he looks up at Y. “I’m sure you haven’t heard music come from an instrument in a long time, so be prepared to have your socks blown away.” His fingers settle on the guitar, beginning to strum so naturally Y would not have believed he hadn’t played in years, and this on its own is already a breathtaking sight. 

And then Joochan opens his mouth and he begins to sing. 

Y isn’t blown away, no. He’s wonderstruck. He’s awed. He’s-

There aren’t enough words to describe Joochan’s voice, raw and slightly harsh from not singing for surely weeks, getting clearer and more melodious with every word. Every word, every syllable, it’s coated in honey, dripping with emotion and passion and fervor-

The slight huskiness in the undertones of his voice, the tapping of his foot that matches the pattern of his fingers as he strums, the afternoon sun as it filters in and paints Joochan in gold-

-he’s enamored. 

Joochan’s voice fades off into the afternoon as he reaches the last few words, his fingers slowing down, the last, final notes from the guitar dying off with his voice, and it’s just him and Joochan, seated in silence. Joochan’s eyes are still shut tight—somewhere along the way, they had fluttered shut and muscle memory had taken over and guided his fingers. 

His eyes flutter open, meeting Y’s. Y knows, he’s a zombie, but still, he can’t help but wonder what the expression on his face might be. 

“You’re staring,” Joochan says, but he doesn’t sound upset, a loopy smile spread across his face. Y shuffles his feet but doesn’t look away. Joochan sets the guitar down, taking care that it leans against the wall securely before he looks back. “So, how was it?”

Y’s fingers twitch. There’s no way to describe it, the sight of Joochan singing. “B… b…” 

Joochan tilts his head. “Bad? I know I’m a bit rusty, but that’s just harsh-”

“...beautiful,” Y finishes, eyes still on Joochan. Beats of silence pass between them with their eyes locked, and Joochan must be trying to figure out whether Y is talking about him or his song.

And honestly, Y doesn’t know which he’s talking about either. 

After that afternoon guitar session, a new sort of security and comfortableness settles between them. At the very least, Y knows that Joochan’s thoughts regarding him have progressed past something . The next few days are a blur: Joochan digs through his assemble of items and pulls out random things now and then, strolls around the plane and opens all the hatch doors for the heck of it, tries to teach Y card games and when that fails, swats at his hands to play hand games with him, quick to give up when he realizes that zombies limbs aren’t optimal for them, eats just as Y expects him to, and sings every night after the sun has gone down, leaving Y just as awed as the first time.

And every night, Y watches Joochan as he sleeps away peacefully, wondering if he, a zombie, deserves to feel such happiness. 

It must be the tenth or twelfth-day when Joochan finally reaches the most important of his items, his vinyl, looking over them curiously. “Do you have something to use these on?” He asks, holding up one of them. Y points to where his player is nestled away and Joochan bounces over eagerly, fitting in the record and turning it on.

Music fills the air and Joochan is clapping his hands and exclaiming “why didn’t I do this before?” The song is an old English song that definitely wouldn’t have fit the musical standards of the current years, but Joochan doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, dancing around gleefully. 

It’s an adorable sight to see, Joochan flitting around and singing along in broken English, Y’s lips twitching up into a smile until Joochan comes up to him and grabs his hands. A surprised grunt escapes him as Joochan pulls him up, beaming. “Come on! Dance!”

He can’t even shake his head in refusal, not with the way Joochan is looking up at him with such hopefulness, such excitement, so he allows himself to be whisked away, moving his heavy limbs in a way that he knows he looks like an idiot. Joochan doesn’t mind at all, smile becoming impossible brighter. 

And it must be the effect of him being dazed from looking at Joochan’s smile a little too long because Y swears his limbs feel lighter than before.

It’s fun—so fun, as he and Joochan dance around each other, Joochan’s human nature and body not doing him any favors in being better than Y. Joochan bumps into him at one point and Y’s hands shoot out to instinctively wrap around him and Joochan’s looking up at him, and his eyes are warm and soft, and it must be Y’s imagination, or his hunger finally kicking in and instead of making him hungry, it’s causing him to hallucinate.

From the ground, JJ stares at the plane, eyes big and gray and unblinking. Joyful beats of music reverberate through the walls and shadows dance past the windows, swaying past one another. He tilts his head and grunts. 

The dreaded day comes sooner than Y had wanted it to, but just as he’d expected it too. Because after all, he sees the way Joochan has been glancing out the window even while he’s laughing around with Y, the way his brows furrow, the way the corners of his lips tug down, the restlessness as he drums his fingers against his thigh.

It doesn’t mean he’s ready for it. 

He can already tell what’s coming by the somber look on Joochan’s face as he sets down his guitar, the last few notes still ringing in the air. Silence fills the room as they wait for one of them to bring up the elephant in the room. And since Joochan is the one with the more extensive vocabulary, he’s the one who starts.

“Y.” He grunts in response. “You said a few days.” An uncomfortable, itchy feeling seeps into him, crawling down his arms and his legs, and that’s something new: he doesn’t usually feel anything. “It’s… It’s been a few days.” 

Y doesn’t look in Joochan’s direction, focusing on his hands. “S… stay t… together,” he mumbles. Joochan sighs and then he’s moving forward, resting his hands on Y’s cold, gray ones. 

“I want to. But I can’t. I have… I have things to do. I have to get home. Y continues staring at his hands, at Joochan’s resting over his. Joochan’s skin is tinted a lovely sun-kissed honey, warm and alive, a stark contrast to his dead, cold ones. It serves as a reminder about their drastic differences: he doesn’t belong with Joochan, and Joochan does not belong with him. They’re from two different worlds. Joochan speaks up again and this time, he’s louder, more insistent, even with the tremble in his voice that indicates it’s taking him everything to say the words. “If you don’t help me get back, I’m going to go back myself.” 

They both know it will be suicide if Joochan tries to even step outside without Y. The message is laid out. And really, Joochan hadn’t even needed to go the extra step in threatening his own life, because right from his very first words, Y had already agreed. 

He meets Joochan’s eyes. “Okay.” Joochan smiles, strained and eyes dim, before he withdraws. 

“Thanks.” 

They set out that night, not that it makes any difference in the number of zombies. Y tries to reach out and cloak the other’s scent, but the other wrinkles in his nose and ducks away. “Not again, please.” Y tries to protest but his throat fails him once again, so he can only hopelessly lumber after Joochan. 

They’ve barely taken one step into the terminal of the airport and things go to shit almost immediately. 

He had known it had been a terrible idea to allow Joochan to walk around freely without any zombie scent muffling his own, and he probably should have counted on JJ barreling out of nowhere and into Joochan. A startled yelp leaves the other as he’s sent crashing to the floor, the only thing that saves him from having three, terrible wounds scarring his face the way he flinches back violently. JJ is upon him in a moment’s notice as Joochan struggles and shouts and Y doesn’t think twice.

Rushing forward with a roar, he shoves JJ off of Joochan, the other flailing to the floor in a heap of dead and cold flesh. Joochan inhales a shaky breath as he sits up, looking at Y from where he’s on the floor, a wry smile on his face. “Guess this makes it the third time I would’ve died if it wasn’t for you, huh?” 

A returning smile begins to tug at his lips, except it’s interrupted in the process as JJ slowly rises from the ground, little groans leaving his lips as his joints creak and protest. His head slowly swivels to Y, then Joochan, and back to Y. Confusion, hunger, realization, more confusion. And then he’s opening his mouth, and in a loud, terrible voice akin to that of nails scratching against a chalkboard, he shrieks. “What?”

Joochan backs away, face contorting into fear. Y holds up a shaking hand, gesturing to Joochan, then JJ. “J… Joochan. JJ.” JJ stares at him like he’s gone insane, which really, is unfair. They’re both zombies here!

JJ looks between the both of them again, like can’t quite comprehend it. “Living,” he says, pointing at Joochan. Yeah, Y gathered that long ago. JJ frowns. “Eat.”

This introduction is not going well. “N-no. No eat.” JJ’s frown deepens. 

“Eat,” he says again, louder. Y shakes his head furiously. JJ doesn’t like that, voice nearly doubling in pitch in his next shout. “Eat!”

“U-um, Y-” Joochan’s tugging at his sleeve, and Y glances back to find the other looking in the opposite direction, his eyes wide and filled with horror. “T-there’s-” 

An ear-splitting scream permeates the room and Y’s and JJ’s heads snap to their left. They’re met with the visage of white bones, teeth stained crimson, hallowed, dark eyes like the pits of hell. If Y had been human, he does not doubt that his blood would have run cold.

The boney takes one step toward them, then another one. Then yet another one. Then faster, and now it’s running and Joochan is shouting urgently now, and there’s no choice but for Y to send JJ an apologetic look over his shoulder before he breaks out into a sprint with Joochan, rushing out the abandoned terminal. He thinks he hears one last “eat?” from JJ, except this time, it sounds more confused than aggressive. 

Even with how fast they’re running, the boney is gaining on them, and all it will take is one missed step and they’ll be—Joochan will be—dinner for the monster. Y spies the open door to the closet at the exact moment Joochan does, and they lock eyes with an understanding.

And if Y hadn’t thought that he had worked with Joochan strangely well before, he does for sure now as they both skid to a stop, mirror images of each other as their shoulders bounce off the wall, the impact surely painful for Joochan. There’s no time for the boney to process their sudden stop, bolting into the closet past them, slamming against the wall. In one fluid motion, Joochan pulls the door shut, Y locking it immediately after. 

Fists pound against the door and they wait with bated breath, Joochan allowing himself to only exhale after the boney lets out one final howl before falling silent. Joochan cocks his head at Y. “We’re pretty good at this survival shit,” he says, grinning as if he hadn’t narrowly escaped death twice in a row in the span of the last few minutes alone. 

Don’t jinx it, Y wants to say as they slow down to a jog and sneak out into the parking lot. And for good reason, because they’ve hardly taken a step out before there are wet growls and throaty shrieks. They’re surrounded once again, four boney's stepping forth from the shadows, teeth clacking and tongues lolling. 

There’s no exit this time, nowhere to run, not with yet another boney showing up behind the door they had just exited, effectively cutting off all routes of escape. 

“I didn’t wanna die like this,” Joochan whimpers, hands fisted in Y’s hoodie, clinging to him. Y wants to tell him he won’t, that he’ll get them out of this but, he can’t think of anything, mind drawing a blank as his eyes dart desperately for something, anything, that can get them out of this-

BEEP BEEP!

Instinctively, Y moves back, jostling Joochan back with him. It’s a good move on his part because just where he’d been standing hardly seconds ago, a golf cart rushes past, railing into the boneys who go down with a wail. JJ sits triumphantly behind the wheel, and there’s an expression on his face that Y’s never seen before, an expression he had thought isn’t possible for zombies to make until he had made it himself: a smile. JJ’s smiling, and Y knows right then and there his inkling that JJ had been a joker had been correct because there’s nothing else he could have been with that smile. 

JJ leans over, gesturing to the two of them. “Come o… on.”

Y steps back, distrusting, even as Joochan starts forward. “What?”

“W… want to h-help.” Before Y can even get a word out, Joochan rushes forward and slings himself up and over into the golf cart, rushing into danger like always. 

“Yes! Thank fuck, I thought I was going to die.” He’s already beaming at JJ like the other hadn’t demanded Y to eat him hardly ten minutes ago. “I could kiss you right now.” 

Y lets out an offended wheeze. So, it had taken him saving Joochan’s life twice, without any threats of eating him to get the other to trust him, but JJ had run over a couple of boneys and already earned his trust? The world is unfair. 

He eyes JJ with apprehension. He doesn’t trust the other, no, but even with Joochan sitting next to him, defenseless, the other hadn’t made a move to chow down into him and feast on his guts. “W-why?”

JJ shrugs, grin growing larger. He must have missed being able to smile. “Like him.”

Joochan glares at Y, and hey, he’s just doing his best to ensure that the other doesn’t get eaten alive! “Just come on, we have nothing to lose.”

Y sighs and grudgingly hops onto the back of the cart, holding on tightly and sending a prayer above that JJ doesn’t immediately do his best to fling Y off. His prayer is not accepted, because that’s exactly what JJ tries to do. If the other is already this infuriating as a zombie, Y honestly does not want to know how he had been as a human. 

JJ drives them down to the lowest parking lot, where there are surely cars for the taking to be, Y clinging on all the while. Joochan has no shame in hollering and whooping just as he had in their car ride before, which feels like a distant memory to Y now. 

It’s only when JJ hits the brake (Y nearly goes flying but his zombie limbs prove themselves not completely useless) and they’re hopping off, Y unsticking himself from the back, when JJ grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him back. The look in his gray eyes is serious. “You okay?”

Y opens his mouth to answer, then hesitates. He doesn’t know himself, and he’s about to say as much when Joochan lets out a squeak. A tiny, terrified squeak. 

“Y-Y.” The tremble in his voice alone is enough for Y to know he is not going to appreciate what he’s going to see. He turns anyway. 

And god fucking dammit, how many more times will they have to risk their lives to get the fuck out of here? 

It’s as if there’s no end to them, zombies pouring from the cracks and crevices of the walls, surrounding them, sniffing curiously. Y can only thank the deity above that there are no boneys among them. He quickly realizes that something is off.

It’s unsettling, how they aren’t attacking right away, instead cocking their heads and making low noises as they stare at Joochan, at Y as he slows to stop next to Joochan and takes the other’s hand in his own, squeezing tight. Joochan looks up at him with wide, hopeless eyes. 

If this is how they’re going to go down, because there’s no doubt that if Joochan goes down he will too, Y wishes he had at least told the other how quick and hard he’s fallen for him.

The zombies inch closer, stare harder at their joined hands. Joochan’s body presses flush against Y’s, and he can feel every quiver that runs through his body, hear his pulse as it races and slams against his chest, smell the fear that radiates off of him. He squeezes Joochan’s hand harder. 

And then-

And then, they don’t rush at them, don’t snap their jaws and bite their teeth into Joochan, no. No, they part, shuffling aside, leaving a wide gap between them. A path, Y realizes. 

He can hear Joochan’s sharp inhale, the other surely shocked, Y just as shocked as him. But whatever this is—this sudden humanity seizing the zombies—he doesn’t dwell on it. Only grasps Joochan’s hand more firmly and trudges through the crowd, eyes focused in front of him. Joochan whispers his name before falling silent when it’s clear that Y will not answer.

It feels as if an eternity has passed when they finally reach the safety of the car, Joochan collapsing in with a gasp. There’s sweat shining on his face, his blonde bangs sticking to his face. Y reaches over to quietly brush them off, Joochan peering up at him.

“W-what was that?” Y pauses. What had been that? He doesn’t know. In all his life as a zombie, he’s never seen anything like it. Zombies, making way for a human? A human, the species they only considered to be their food? Unheard of. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t know.” Joochan sits up, Y pulling his hand back.

“Okay, this is fine.” He doesn’t sound like he believes himself. He turns to Y. “I’ll drive.”

“Good idea.” 

From somewhere within Y’s chest and in the countless zombies that watch them go, something stirs, something that hasn’t been used in a long, long time. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

It’s just their luck that the car they had stumbled into is one with an open roof, and furthermore, an open roof that can’t be closed. It’s even more of their luck that it begins to rain, biting cold droplets pelting them like bullets as they drive on.

While the rain is nothing more than a muted sensation against his dead skin, Joochan is faring much worse, shivers wracking his body as the rain soaks him wet, bangs clinging to his forehead. His hands that clutch the steering wheel twitch violently and it’s clear they need to take a break when Joochan accidentally tugs too hard and they nearly go careening off the road and into an abandoned store. 

Joochan looks up Y apologetically. “Sorry, I need to pull over. It’s just too cold and I’m starving.” The other should know by now that Y will always agree to whatever it is that he wants.

They pull into an abandoned neighborhood, surprisingly more intact than Y would have thought, with boards intact and hardly any peeling paint. Joochan notices his surprise. “This is one of the last neighborhoods my dad evacuated,” he explains, and it makes sense why the houses seem relatively untouched by the apocalypse. “Let’s hope they have some food.”

They try the first house. Y pulls back after trying the knob, dejected. “Locked-”

Joochan smashes through the door with no hesitation. Y thinks he’s chosen the right person to fall for.

They enter the house carefully, eyes and ears alert for any movements or noises. There’s nothing but silence and they set foot into what must be the living room, if the scattering of chairs around a low table is any indication. 

The house must have belonged to some old, sweet lady of sorts. The walls are painted a buttercup yellow, with a smattering of white daisies dotted here and there. Delicate, porcelain teacups decorate the mantel, and Y’s certain that if he pulls open one of the drawers, there’s sure to be a cookie box with sewing supplies inside it.

Joochan gasps and Y whirls around, immediately on high alert. A bright flash blinds him momentarily and has him flinching back, and then he’s blinking, black spots still dancing in his vision as he focuses on Joochan, who’s tittering in excitement. There’s a small, square piece of paper in his hand, which he holds out. Y takes it, looking down to find an image of himself, eyes squinting and face twisted in surprise. How ugly.

“Isn’t it so cool?” He chirrups, and now Y sees what he’s holding in his other hand; an old, clunky camera. “I haven’t seen one of these in forever.” He pushes the camera into Y’s hands. “Come on, take one of me!”

Y fumbles with the camera awkwardly, somehow succeeding in holding it up and pressing the right button. It only takes a few seconds for the picture to show up, showcasing Joochan’s bright smile, his head cocked to the side as he holds out two fingers in a peace sign. He must stare at it a little too long because Joochan giggles and doesn’t take it when Y tries to hand it over to him. “Keep it.” He waves the picture of Y. “I’ll keep this one instead.” 

Joochan’s continuous chirps of delight echo through the house as he digs through the cupboards, the happy sounds confirming that yes, there is indeed food in the house. While the other continues to hoard through the house’s food storage, Y takes an interest in the newspaper that lies unattended, raising a judgmental brow at the so-called “scandals” that emblazons the front cover. 

He looks up with a start as Joochan nearly trips into the living room, arms laden with countless cans, grinning from ear to ear. Y eyes the variety of labels on the cans: peas, corn, corned beef hash, peaches. “Look! There are so many different cans! No more canned beans!” He produces a can opener from his jacket. “And there’s even a can opener here! I don't have to wear down my teeth anymore!” 

With that, he flops down, working open the cans with an enthusiasm he doesn’t even have when trying to survive. Y watches him fondly as he digs in, finding the sight of Joochan chewing with such delight, his cheeks round and puffy quite endearing. 

In record timing, a dozen empty cans surround them and Joochan leans back, letting out a satisfied belch. He pats his belly. “Man, I’m exhausted.” His head lolls towards Y as he opens a single eye to peer at the other. “I checked upstairs, and the bed surprisingly isn’t too rotten. I think I may actually be able to get a good sleep for once.” Y nods. That’s good for Joochan. So why is the other still looking at him expectantly? Y tilts his head questioningly.

Joochan coughs. “Why don’t we both go up there together then?” 

Y stares at him. Oh. Sleep together. With Joochan? That—that sounds very nice. And the fact that Joochan asking him such a thing must be a testament to the trust the other must have in him now… When he offers no answer other than continuing to ogle the other, he begins to fluster, looking down at his hands and wringing them. “‘Cause these houses are like, kind of creepy and all, so…” He looks up quickly, and it must be Y’s imagination that spies the little tinge of pink tinting his nose. “Not that you have to.”

Y agrees, because why would he say no? 

The bedroom upstairs only strengthens Y’s belief that this house belonged to an old lady, because the sheets of the bed are pure white and frilly at the edges, the blankets ruffled in a bright Baker-Miller’s pink. Joochan seems to like it, patting at the bed like he’s testing it, the kneading motions reminding Y of a little cat. 

He turns his attention to the rest of the room: there’s a little wooden vanity set against the wall, littered with shimmery powders and gleaming trinkets to doll oneself up with, the open bottles and scattered brushes suggesting that the owner had been getting dressed before they’d been rushed out. A large wardrobe stands on the far end, looming and foreboding, heavy doors shut tight with a big, gold lock. Y and Joochan eye it warily before meeting eyes with an agreement: no getting near that. He’s about to make his way over to the vanity to pick up one of the glimmering earrings and wonder how it’d look on Joochan when beams of light shine through the window blinds, bright and white. They exchange an alarmed look. 

Cautiously, they creep up to the window, Joochan peeking over from the edge, pushing one of the blinds aside just slightly. And then gasping and jumping back. Y leans over curiously, to see what it is that has the other so shaken, but Joochan snags his hood and yanks him back before he can get a clear view. He catches a glimpse of military vehicles and soldiers. 

“That’s—That’s my dad,” Joochan whispers urgently, face white. Y frowns. Isn’t that a good thing? After all, Joochan is trying to get home. If anything, this can be a shortcut. He tries to say as much. Joochan shakes his head, taking another peek and pulling back even paler.

“No, you don’t get it. He—he hates zombies, I mean we all do-” Joochan offers Y a rueful look, which he responds to with a shrug. It’s hard not to be hated by humans when they are the ones being eaten for zombie’s dinners. “But he hates them on a different level. It’s kind of extreme, and it’s always concerned me how it’s almost consumed his life, but-” He catches himself and stops short, sucking in a breath. “Sorry. I’m rambling. The point is-” He levels Y with a look. “If he saw you, he wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet through your head. Wouldn’t even try to hear me out, or... or care that you’re different.”

Ah. He sees how it is. Joochan is still talking. “He must be patrolling. Let’s just stay out of sight of the window.” Y obediently shuffles back. 

It doesn’t take long for the lights to move away and die out as the vehicles move farther and farther. It’s only when it’s pitch dark once again that Joochan allows himself to relax. “I’m surprised they didn’t notice the car,” he mumbles. “Seems like they aren’t as thorough as they claim to be. That’s good for us.” 

Joochan plucks at his clothes, his shirt squelching with a wet sound. He winces. “Fuck, I’m soaked.” Y glances down at himself. He’s soaked as well, but as expected, he can’t feel the uncomfortable sensation the same way Joochan is probably feeling it. He looks back up and does a double-take as Joochan casually begins to peel off his shirt, suddenly feeling like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t. 

Joochan glances back at him, scowling. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m just gonna lay these out to dry.” Y gulps and nods, averting his gaze. Because he should give Joochan his privacy, right?

His eyes say otherwise, sliding to look back at Joochan, eying the stretch of honeyed skin over muscles as Joochan shifts and pulls his shirt over his head. 

The other’s… back muscles… are... quite... nice...

Y shuts his eyes and wishes that zombies weren’t capable of thinking. He only opens them once again when there are sounds of blankets shuffling and pillows shifting, peeking through squinted eyes. He’s thankful—kind of—that Joochan’s safely hidden under the covers now, only a tuft of blonde hair visible. 

He takes Joochan’s silence as a sign that the other is drifting off to sleep, and stretches out on the floor himself, readying himself for a long night of staring at the ceiling. Minutes pass and he’s staring off into empty air, eyes glazed, when Joochan speaks up. 

“Y.” He looks to the other with surprise, not expecting him to still be awake. Joochan’s regarding him with a raised brow. “What’re you doing there?” He pats the bed. “Come on up.”

Huh. Y points at himself, then at the bed. Me? Joochan rolls his eyes, patting the bed more firmly. “Do you see anyone else here? Come on.”

Joochan is inviting him to the bed—to sleep beside him—Y's more than a little shell-shocked. Numbly, he stands, making his way over to the bed and hesitating for a fraction of a second before Joochan nods, insistent, and he slips in and lies there stiffly. 

Neither of them speak; Y’s exceedingly aware of how Joochan’s hardly an inch away, their hands brushing just slightly, and he wonders if Joochan is too. Whether he is or not, the other makes no move to pull away. 

“Hey.” Joochan rolls over so he’s on his side, facing Y, who does his best to not shuffle back, not think about how Joochan’s lips are just a few breaths away from his, not think about how there’s only a blanket covering Joochan’s bare chest. “Do you have to eat people?”

The question sufficiently distracts him from his other thoughts. This certainly is a change of tempo.

“Y… yeah.” Joochan releases a puff of air, clearly disappointed even though it’s to be expected. 

“Or you’ll die?” Y nods. “But you didn’t eat me. And not even that… You rescued me like a bunch of times.” He looks up at Y through his lashes, and his eyes are swimming with something Y can’t place, something gentle and warm. He’s at a loss as to how he should react with that gaze directed towards him—his chest feels strangely tight and his hands tingle. “It must be hard being stuck in there, huh?”

Y offers no response.

Joochan reaches out carefully, pressing just the very tips of his fingers against Y’s shoulder. Y doesn’t dare to look away. “I can see you trying, like… like how people do. We try to be better.” He offers Y a wry smile. “Even if we suck at it. But… But I look at you and you’re trying so much harder to understand me, us, than any human has ever tried to understand all of you.” His lips curve into a gentle smile. “You’re… You’re a good person.” 

Y’s chest tightens even further. 

Joochan sees too much in him, thinks too highly of him. He’s not the good person—zombie—that the other has painted him to be, he’s—he’s eaten people before. And sometimes, with little to no guilt. Heck, he’d eaten Joochan’s ex-boyfriend, who, even if Joochan insisted his passing didn’t matter much to him, he must have felt something towards it. 

And Joochan doesn’t even know Y is the one who had done the deed.

His throat constricts. “It was me.”

Silence.

“What was you?” 

Y inhales (inhales?) a shaky breath. “Y-your…” Your ex, is what he’s going to say, but quickly backtracks. “J… Jonghyun.” 

The sound of Joochan’s heart beating is uncomfortably loud in the silence. “Oh,” Joochan says softly, and Y readies himself for Joochan to shove him off the bed, demand him to get lost, shout at him in betrayal, anything. 

Joochan does none of that. “I know.”

Y gapes at him. “Y… You do?” Joochan brings up the covers, hiding the lower of half of his face. Only his eyes are visible now, shining in the darkness. 

“I assumed as much. You knew my name, after all.”

That’s right. He had called Joochan by his name from the very start, when the other had been trembling under the desk and he’d leaned down and reached out to him. And Jonghyun had been killed and eaten right before then. It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. 

“J… Joochan. I’m-” The tightness in his chest squeezes his ribs, renders him unable to form words. “So s-sorry.” 

Joochan lowers the blanket. A relief fills Y when he sees the other is smiling, small as it may be. “I said before, didn’t I? I’m not sad. And…” He ducks his head to hide his face. “...You’ve already proved to me you’re so much more than just a zombie.”

“Oh.” 

Joochan falls asleep shortly after that, the cheek that’s pressed against his pillow pushing his lips into a pout. After watching the other’s face in his sleep for days, Y has memorized every detail of the other’s face: the gentle curve of his eye, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the angle of his chin, the slight puffiness under his eyes. The blonde hair fanned across his forehead only adds to his innocent features that are relaxed with sleep, the other seeming like an angel, a doll. 

He watches, entranced, as Joochan breathes out the tiniest of sighs, shifting in his sleep. The moonlight that filters in through the blinds reflects off of the sweet heart earrings studded in his ears, and he sighs once more before rolling over and settling into Y. 

Y freezes. He doesn’t dare to twitch a muscle, not when Joochan squirms into his arms before relaxing into him, deep in sleep and unaware of his actions. Testing the waters, Y tries to shift back except Joochan only curls into him even more, fingers latching onto his shirt and holding on tightly. He can’t believe this is happening.

“Joochan?” He tries, voice no louder than a whisper. Joochan doesn’t respond. 

He looks back down, taking note of the heavy bags under the other’s eyes, his drawn, tired face. This must be the first good sleep he is getting in days, and he’d have to be exceptionally cruel to even think about interrupting his rest, especially when Joochan looks this sweet and relaxed, curled against Y.

He lets out a shuddering breath. Then… it couldn’t hurt to-?

Touch lighter than a feather, he settles closer, gentle arms enveloping the other into his embrace. His hands rest on the small of Joochan’s back, the bare skin heated against his cold hands. Joochan makes a noise at the cold touch and Y tenses, a thousand different scenarios running through his head, all of them resulting in Joochan waking up and throwing him off of the bed.

None of them come to fruition. Joochan only sighs happily and buries his face into Y’s chest. 

This may very well be the best moment in Y’s life. 

Carefully, he raises a hand, brushing out the hair from Joochan’s face and tucking it behind an ear. His hand rests on a warm cheek. His eyes fall to Joochan’s lips, pink and slightly parted, and it takes everything in him to not lean forward and-

He drops his hand and looks away. He’s already taking advantage of Joochan’s sleeping state by holding him, doing anything more would not be fair to the other. 

It’s when he’s buried his head into the crook of Joochan’s neck and his eyes have fluttered shut that he registers the sound of heartbeats. He frowns. There’s something wrong about it, something different. 

Rather than the sound of one heartbeat, there’s the sound of two. 

It can’t be.

He gently presses a hand to Joochan’s bare chest. A familiar pattern that he’s gotten used to over the past few days beats against his fingers, and it should be the only one. 

But… 

His hand is shaking as he settles a hand over his chest, where it has been empty and lifeless for years. And he expects to be met with the same emptiness, the same lifelessness. 

His eyes widen.

It may be minuscule, so light it can be missed by the average ear, but there is no doubt. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

Something’s changed.

Something’s changed, in the air, in their bodies, in the way they look at each other. JJ doesn’t know what . 

The image of Y and Joochan, standing side-to-side as the danger rushes into them headfirst, their hands clasped firmly together as if they are each other’s lifelines, burns in his head. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Oh, that’s what’s changed. 

JJ glances to his left. A zombie stares aimlessly, his jaw slack. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen him before. He leans closer. 

“Do you feel it?”

The zombie looks at him with empty eyes that are not so empty anymore.

And nods.

Whispers fill the air like the sounds of leaves scattering, along with a new sound. 

Ba-dump.

“Do you feel it?”

Ba-dump.

“Do you feel it?”

Ba-dump.

And wherever the sound of hearts beating against ribs are-

A terrible scream fills the air. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

JJ turns and-

That’s new.

Fear fills him, fear for his life as the boney approaches and stares down at him, eyes hollow. It leans forward, sniffs him-

And releases the scream of a predator who has found its prey.

Y blinks. It’s… bright. He looks up at the sky—it’s smeared a gorgeous blue, a color he hasn’t seen in the sky in years. The sun shines blindingly, soaking him in warmth all the way into the depths of his bones.

Warmth? 

He lowers his gaze. He’s in a field. A field of fresh green, rolling on and on and on for what must be miles. And there’s-

Joochan? 

He blinks, rubs his eyes, and looks again. 

It’s definitely Joochan, crisscrossed on a blanket of pale pink, pouring tea into an array of porcelain teacups—pastel teacups. They look suspiciously like they’ve been taken from the set Y had spied on the mantel in the old lady’s house. Scattered round him are an assortment of stuffed toys, from a white bunny to a caramel bear.

Y slowly walks closer, not taking his eyes off the sight. There’s something… off about Joochan, and it’s only when the other sets down the teapot and looks up that he realizes what it is.

Instead of the blonde that Y has gotten familiar with, Joochan’s hair is stained pink, the pink he’d seen in Jonghyun’s memory. Joochan's gaze flickers up as he notices Y, and then there’s a beautiful smile breaking out across his face. He waves enthusiastically. “Y!”

He rises from where he’d been sitting to run over to Y, who’s still staring at the other in surprise. Joochan takes his hand in his own. It’s warm. “Come on, let’s sit.” 

Y follows him dumbly, staring at Joochan’s hand. Joochan’s hand, which is warm. And—he can feel it. Feel the heat radiating off the other and bleeding into his own skin. 

They take a seat while Y tries to make sense of the situation. Joochan’s warm—he’d felt it, and while he had felt Joochan’s warmth before, not in a way where he’d feel it sink into him so deeply and rush through his own body. He inhales and then-

Inhales? 

He breathes. In, out. 

In, out. 

Breathes.

“Joochan,” he begins and immediately stops, eyes widening. He touches his throat. His words—they aren’t rough and grunted but instead, his voice is strong and firm. “I’m breathing.” Joochan giggles at his words.

“Of course you are, you’d die otherwise.” Joochan prods at his lips, pushing a biscuit against his mouth. “Eat it, I made it for you.” Instinctively, Y’s lips part and close around the biscuit and then he’s chewing and-

He can taste it. Taste the rich and smooth chocolate cream, the butteriness of the biscuit as he chews slowly. Joochan watches him eagerly. “You like it?” Y can only nod. Joochan tilts his head and smiles, and it’s so fond that the breath is stolen from Y’s throat, even more breathless as the other leans forward and gently brushes off the crumbs from the corner of his lip. 

Y’s mind races, scrambling to put the pieces together. He can feel warmth, the sensation of Joochan’s fingers as they flutter across his skin. He’s breathing, his lungs filling with oxygen with every rise and fall of his chest. He can eat, eat something that isn’t tough and bloody human flesh. 

With a trembling hand, he touches his chest. And then jerks away. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

His heart pounds in his chest, struggling against his ribcage as if it is trying to escape.  This—This is-

Ignoring the startled yelp the other lets out, he snags Joochan’s wrist, pressing the other’s palm against his chest. “M-my heart,” he breathes out, voice shaky and filled with disbelief. “It’s—it’s beating.”

Joochan tilts his head up, that pretty, fond smile still on his face. “Yes.”

Y’s hold on Joochan’s wrist tightens. “Does this… Does this mean…” 

We can change?

I can change?

I can be-

“Do you really think you can be anything more than a walking corpse?”

A chill runs down Y’s spine. Slowly, he looks to his right. 

Jonghyun’s sitting there, a knee propped to his chest, face leaned on a palm. Shadows bruise the under of his eyes, and Y grimaces as he notices the bite marks that mar his skin, scattered across the length of his legs, his arms, his neck.

All from Y.

Jonghyun looks from Y to Joochan and then back, a slow smile spreading across his face, and it sends an unpleasant sensation scattering across Y’s skin, akin to the crawling of a bug. He wants to scrub it off, scrub his skin raw of it. “Oh. It’s less about being a corpse and more what will get him, huh?”

Bile rises in his throat as Jonghyun gets up and strides closer and closer and then he’s right there, leaning close until he’s hardly a nose-length away. “I’ve got news for you. It’s not happening.” 

A whimper leaves Y’s throat and yet Jonghyun persists. “You can’t be whatever you want, especially not when you’re a monster that eats the people he loves.”

I don’t! Y wants to scream and deny, but deep inside, he knows he did. He’d eaten countless people over the years, who’s to say he hadn’t eaten one of Joochan’s own family?

And he had eaten Jonghyun too, whom Joochan had clearly held dear for at least one part of his life.

Jonghyun leans even closer, and now Y can smell his rotting breath, fanning over his face. “Just give up.”

“Hey.” 

Y startles. A warm hand settles itself onto his cheek, gently turning his face and now Y’s staring back down, at Joochan. “You can be whatever you want.” 

His throat is tight, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “N-no, I can’t…”

Joochan presses forward more urgently, clasping Y’s face with both hands, forcing him to look down at him. “Yes, you can.” He tilts his head, and his eyes wrinkle with a smile. 

“After all, aren’t you dreaming right now?”

Y wakes up with a gasp. 

The space next to him is empty. 

So much for dreaming. 

Y trudges on, eyes downcast as he walks. Along with himself, Joochan had taken the car, leaving Y no choice but to brave the walk back.

Where he’s walking to, he doesn’t know.

He stumbles over a rock and goes plummeting. He doesn’t bother trying to cushion his fall, landing painfully. Slowly, he rolls over, laying there as he stares up at the sky, unseeing. 

What had he thought was going to happen?

That Joochan would actually want to stay with him? 

That their time together meant just as much to Joochan as it meant to him?

That he’d ever be able to be something more than a zombie? 

He throws an arm over his eyes, blocking out the glare of the sun. A choked sob works its way up his throat, spilling from his lips.

This is what he gets for wanting more, for not being satisfied with what he had.

You can’t be what you want to be after all.

He loses track of the time, clueless as to how long he lays there, on the dirt road, an arm laid over his eyes. It’s only when a cold breeze blows his way, lifting his shirt and sending a chill through his body that he finally moves, shivering. 

“Oh, shit, am I cold?” Sitting up, he pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees to try and generate warmth. “Is this what this is? Zombies don’t get cold…”

Then again, zombies don’t exactly have heartbeats either, and Y knows for certain he has one, the steady beating of it even now like an instrument. His mind wanders back to Joochan, to Joochan strumming the guitar on the plane and singing with his honey voice and his lashes fluttering with every word and… 

He shuts his thoughts out. He needs to stop thinking so much, needs to stop thinking about Joochan, stop thinking about everything. A humorless smile tugs at his lips. How ironic is it, that the moment Joochan turns tail and runs, he begins to change? 

“Yo!” Y jolts, and for one fleeting moment, he imagines wildly it's Joochan who has come back, sheepish grin on his face. He quickly abandons the thought. 

Instead, he’s met with the much-more-alive eyes of JJ. Eyes widening, he stands up, glancing behind JJ, where a crowd of zombies are gathered. “JJ? What’re you doing here?”

JJ scowls darkly. “Boneys chased us out. Came to find you.” He peers around Y, the other already knowing who it is he is looking for. “Where is he?”

Y clears his throat and tries not to think much, lest his thoughts show up on his face. “Went home.” A look of understanding passes over JJ’s face and he claps Y’s shoulder with a hand, shaking his head and sighing sympathetically. 

“You okay?”

Y breathes in, shuddering, on the verge of falling apart. “No.”

Another sympathetic sigh. “Bitches, man.” Reaching forward, he wraps his arms around Y’s slumped shoulders, squeezing hard before he steps back, expression morphing into something serious and somber. “Boneys are looking for you.” He pauses. “And him.” Y’s heard jerks up. “You… You started something.”

Y’s brows furrow. Started something? Him and Joochan? What could it be that they…

His body’s changes. Speaking easier. Breathing. Heartbeat. Feeling warmth. He casts a wide-eyed look at JJ. Was it possible that all of them were changing? Because of his changes, which had been a direct result of Joochan’s presence?

“Started… something?”

JJ gestures to his head. “Yesterday… I saw… pictures. My mom. Summertime. Cream of wheat. A boy.”

At every word that leaves JJ’s mouth, the realization grows stronger. “Dream,” he says, more to himself than the other. JJ’s eyes light up.

“Yes, a dream! We are changing. I have-” He taps his chest. Y doesn’t need words to know what it is he is referring to. 

Because him, JJ, the zombies behind them-

Their hearts beat, loud and clear. Y meets JJ’s eyes.

“We are.” And Joochan… and Joochan doesn’t know. They’re changing, evolving, and the one human that is sure to listen to him and believe him, is not here. A desperation seizes him. He needs to tell Joochan, about what’s happening, how they’re changing. He grabs JJ’s shoulders, the other wincing as his nails dig into his shoulders. “I… I have to tell him,” he says urgently, and then he faces the rest of the zombies. 

His fingers find what they’re looking for, the picture of Joochan he’d taken, and the other’s smile already a distant memory. He holds it up, high above his head. “W… Will you help?”

“H… Help?” The zombies glance at each other, and then at Y, at the picture in his hand.

“Yes, help. For happiness. A better future. Where we can all live and restore our memories.” The mumbles grow louder before they quiet down.  JJ turns to Y, somber look on his face. 

“They said…” His face clears, a manic grin overtaking his features. “Fuck, yeah!” 

“Identify yourself!”

Seungmin may be one of the names on Joochan’s concerningly-short friend list, but he’s clearly not one to prioritize friendship over his job, if the way he’s pointing his rifle at Joochan without any qualms is any indication. He holds up his hands, trying to calm down the other. 

“It’s just me, Seungmin, calm down-”

“Stop right there.” Joochan sighs. 

“I told you, I’m not infected-” 

Seungmin grits his teeth and grips his gun tighter. “I said stop, Joochan.” 

Joochan rolls his eyes and stops in place. “Okay! Fine! I stopped. Stop badgering!” Seungmin eyes him suspiciously before approaching slowly, as if he’s some wild animal. Joochan can’t help but snap his jaw playfully, if only to crack up as Seungmin bolts back before scowling.

“Not funny.” It’s plenty funny to Joochan.

From the corner of his eye, Joochan spies a tall, broad figure half-hidden by the entrance. His smiles fades away. The general, or as he is more commonly known to him, his father. 

Not even a minute back home, and already the suffocating presence of his father is choking him. 

Seungmin pulls back from studying his pupils, finally satisfied. The older man casts a watchful eye over Joochan. “Is he okay?”

Seungmin nods. “All clear, sir.” Joochan huffs and strides past Seungmin.

“I told you I wasn’t infected,” he grouses before turning to his father, plastering a smile onto his face, hoping it doesn’t seem too forced. “Hey.” 

The general doesn’t say anything for a bit, just stares at him. Joochan swallows down the bile that crawls up his throat, smiling nervously. 

“I sent half a dozen units out looking for you.”

Of course he had.

“Donghyun said you were taken by a zombie.” 

Joochan’s breath stutters in his throat as his mind returns back to Y, to Y and his awkward smiles and his wonder as he’d watched Joochan sing and his stubbornness is trying to speak and grow closer to Joochan. Tears prick his eyes. He quickly blinks them away. “Yes, but I escaped. Holed up in a house in the suburbs for a bit ‘till I found a car.” 

The general doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure that-”

“Yes, I am,” he snaps. Y had made sure of that, swooping in countless times to tackle Joochan out of harm’s way. The reminder of the zombie has his heart aching, desperately wishing he hadn’t crept out of bed and fled, but stayed in where he had woken up in Y’s arms, warm and safe. 

The other man exhales deeply, and then he’s rushing forward and scooping Joochan into his arms, embracing him tightly. “I thought I lost you.”

Joochan pats the other’s back gently. “Well, you didn’t, I’m here.” His father offers him a rare smile.

“Welcome home.”

He cracks a smile, and this time it’s the least bit genuine. “Yeah, good to be back.”

And he walks back into the city where he had been imprisoned for years, locked away without any hopes for the future. 

But now, it’s different. Now, he has a reason, a purpose for why he’s back.

And no matter how much every fiber in his being screams at him to run back to Y and leap into his arms, there are things he needs to do, things he needs to prove. 

Y, JJ, the zombies who had helped him escape. They’re not the monsters they had been portrayed as after all, and Joochan needs to convince the entire humanity that they’re more humane than they may seem. 

He inhales deeply. It’s a lofty goal, but he can do it. He will do it.

Surely, Donghyun will hear him out, right? 

Donghyun is not impressed.

“You know how you said, ‘I might sound insane’ at the start? Well, I agree. You do sound insane.” 

“Donghyun!” Joochan whines, “you said you were going to hear me out without any judgment!” 

“Yeah, that was until you started spouting some dumb shit about how zombies are changing and can actually feel -” 

“No, I’m being serious!” Joochan protests. “If you saw him, you’d understand-”

Donghyun stares at him as if he can’t believe him, then sighs. “Okay. Let’s assume you haven’t gone off your rocker. Him is this zombie you’ve been apparently tagging along with, isn’t he?” Joochan nods eagerly. 

“Yes! I told you, he didn’t even try to bite me-”

“Not even once?” Donghyun asks, sounding apprehensive. 

“Not once. In fact, he was trying so hard for me, it was so sweet.” Joochan sighs wistfully. “He’d try so hard to get out words and look dejected when he couldn’t, and he’d always tuck me into my blanket even when I forgot to, and the number of times he risked himself to protect me… And I can’t even begin talking about how fun -” He stops when he notices the look on Donghyun’s face. “What.”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you.” Joochan stills.

“In… In love-?”

In love… with Y?

Of course not- 

But yet, he keeps recalling memories, moments, Y stuttering out “beautiful,” Y smiling for the first time in their car ride, Y’s stuttered stay together, the serene look on Y’s face when Joochan had woken up and found the other fast asleep, so beautiful and peaceful that he’d had to hold back from stealing a kiss before sneaking out. 

“T-that’s!” Joochan clears his throat, Donghyun shaking his head. “That’s not important. What is important is that they’re—they’re changing, and I need to—we need to—show that they’re more than just these monsters we’ve painted them as.”

Donghyun raises a brow. “You say this, but what’s the plan? No one—other than you maybe—is willing to risk getting close enough to a zombie to talk to them. And I’m pretty sure the general won’t be too keen on letting his son walk into danger like that. Oh, God, I sound deranged-” 

Joochan ignores the last bit, deflating with a sigh. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “If only Y was here-”

“Y?” Joochan fixes Donghyun with a pointed look, who makes a sound of understanding. “Ah! Your zombie boyfriend.”

Despite himself, Joochan’s cheeks heat up at the other’s words, like he’s a schoolgirl with a crush and not an adult in the middle of an apocalypse. “He’s not my boyfriend,” Joochan grumbles, Donghyun responding with a “sure, sure.” 

Shaking his head, Donghyun slides off of the bed, stretching. “Now this was a very productive conversation, but I’m going to head to bed now.” Joochan hums in response, lost in thought.

“Hey.” He peeks up at Donghyun, who’s paused at the door frame. “I’m glad you’re back.”

He grins slyly. “Of course you are. Who else do you have to complain about if I’m not here?” Donghyun huffs, shaking his head once more as if he can’t believe him before he slips out the door, throwing a goodnight over his shoulder. 

Once the other’s out of sight and his footsteps fade down the hallway, Joochan flops onto the bed, heaving a sigh. This is going to be harder than he had expected. But if it’s for Y, he can do it. He can do anything.

A sudden bulb lights up in his head and he’s leaping off the bed, racing over to his sullied clothing to dig through the pockets, pulling out what he’s looking for with an ah-hah. It’s the picture of Y he had taken back at the house, with the other’s eyes squinted and his face morphed in surprise. He giggles, stroking his fingers over the picture fondly. The other really does look like an idiot here. A precious idiot. His fingers still.

Y… 

It’s hardly been a single day, and already, he misses him so terribly it frightens even himself. Joochan touches a hand to his chest, to where his heart pumps blood under his skin. A stray memory flits through his head, Y pressing his own hand to Joochan’s chest, his whisper of s-sorry. He drops his hand. 

“Joochan.” Joochan’s head jerks back, where he swears he just heard-

There’s nothing but emptiness. He blinks. He must miss the other enough that he’s started to hallucinate his voice. This is going to be a problem. Shaking his head, he pitter-patters back and collapses into his bed, trying to drown out all sounds and thoughts.

“-chan-” Had he imagined that as well? But it had been so crisp and clear, there’s no way his ears are playing tricks on him. Sitting up, he carefully strains his ears-

“Joochan!” He nearly throws himself off his bed in his haste to throw open the balcony doors and rush out, heart pounding against his chest. He glances around fervently. No one, nothing.

Then, lower, another shout. “Joochan!” He dashes over to the edge, leaning over to look into the garden-

And there he is. Y, in all his glory. There’s a hoodie drawn over his head, casting shadows over his face, but it doesn’t hide the way he’s smiling, wide and sweet as if he hasn’t just snuck into the only human-populated city in the country. Joochan gapes. 

“Oh, my God.” He can’t believe his eyes. "Y?”

Y’s grin turns sheepish, nodding. “What’re you doing here?” Joochan cries out, not quite believing that this isn’t a fever dream. 

“Came to see you.” The words are hurled at him unexpectedly and they strike him hard, turning his insides to liquid and sparking a fire that spreads across his face, burns at the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. Maybe he’s not too far off from being a blushing schoolgirl after all.

“Y…” He squeezes his eyes shut, ridding his mind of the hazy clouds. This is dangerous! Y, a zombie, sneaking into the city in which the last of humanity of the country lived- “You can’t just do that! It’s dangerous-”

“Joochan, shut up! I’m trying to sleep.” Joochan whips his head towards where Donghyun’s voice had come from, gulping. 

“Uh, sorry!” He turns back towards Y. “Are you crazy, Y?” He hisses. “The people here, they’re not like me. If they see you, you’ll get killed! Do you get that?”

Y doesn’t look the least bit fazed, if anything, he seems to become more determined, clenching his jaw as he locks eyes with Joochan. “Yes.” 

He’s at a loss for words as he stares at Y, at the zombie that had somehow wormed his way into his heart and stolen all of Joochan. “You…”

“Are you talking to yourself? I knew you were going insane.” Joochan sends another panicked glance towards the door. Donghyun’s voice is closer than he had expected it to be. If he gets any closer, or, God forbid, walks out-

“No!” Before he can gesture for Y to hide, Donghyun’s poking his head out the door and walking out, grumbling all the while.  

“Seriously, what’s going on here-” Joochan grimaces as Donghyun catches sight of Y, his jaw unhinging with an audible noise as he gawks. Y sheepishly waves. “Is that... Is that him.” It’s not a question, because there is only one person—zombie—he can be anyway.

Donghyun blinks, looking back at Y like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing in front of his eyes. He raises a hand. “‘Sup?”

Well, Joochan supposes there have been worse introductions. 

Reaching Joochan’s home hadn’t been hard. After all, Y had the advantage of being the host to Jonghyun’s memories, and the memory of Joochan convincing Jonghyun to sneak out through the city's secret passageway had been printed fresh in his head. 

He’d drawn his hood over his head securely and JJ had pulled him by a shoulder, looking into his eyes and telling him to be careful. 

Along the way, he’d mulled over the possible reasons for why the zombies were suddenly evolving and changing, and there had been only one conclusion he had reached.

Joochan and he had given the others hope, that there was a way for them to heal, and the hope was spreading fast, which explained why the boneys were after them. Clearly, they didn’t like what they were doing. 

The path through the city had gone smoothly with only minor inconveniences, such as when a couple of goats had taken a keen interest in Y’s shoes. He’d ducked behind an alley and hid until they’d lost interest in searching for him any further and tramped off. 

And now, he’s standing by the front door as it swings open and Joochan’s rushing into him, throwing his arms around Y’s shoulders, clinging to him as if it has been years since he’s last seen him. For once, Y allows himself to indulge, wrapping his arms around Joochan’s waist tightly, burying his face into the soft fabric of Joochan’s sweater. Joochan’s breath puffs against his ear as he holds on tightly, ragged and harsh. He makes a move to step back but stops when Joochan’s hands dig themselves deeper into his back, so they stand there, pressed flush against each other, reveling in the feeling of having the other back in their arms once again.

It’s only when the boy who must be Joochan’s friend clears his throat behind them that they separate, and Y knows now that the red dusted across Joochan’s cheeks is not his imagination after all. “You’re warmer than I remember,” Joochan notes, and those words can be translated to I missed you.

White, familiar lights beam across the road, and Joochan curses, shutting the door. “That’s the patrol. Come on, you’re safe here tonight.” He scrunches his nose. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do afterward.”

Joochan’s friend is named Donghyun. Y thinks he recognizes the other vaguely from his first meeting with Joochan, a blurry face somewhere in the background, but nothing concrete. And Joochan’s friend Donghyun is quite interested in him.

“How did you die?”

“Don’t remember.”

“How old are you? Because… you could be a teenager or you could also be an old man, and I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of Joochan being-” Joochan lets out a strangled sound, shoving Donghyun hard. 

“Shut up, Donghyun.”

“Fine, fine. Hm…” He draws a scrutinizing eye over Y before he leans in and sniffs him. Y draws back in surprise. “Huh. He doesn’t smell rotten.” 

Y shifts uneasily. “I don’t…”

Finally having enough, Joochan pushes them apart with a hand. “Donghyun, this isn’t an interview. You’re making him nervous. Stop.”

Donghyun laughs incredulously. “I'm making him nervous? That’s-” 

Whatever the other has to say, Joochan ignores in favor of turning to Y, gently taking the other’s hands in his own. “Why did you come here, Y?” 

Y licks his dry lips. “To show everyone…” Joochan prompts him to continue, nodding encouragingly.

“To show everyone that we can change.” He finishes. Joochan beams at him. “Lots of us changing… Dreaming-” Donghyun’s eyes widen. Y taps at his chest. “Heartbeat-”

Joochan gasps. “You have a heartbeat?” Without warning, he dives into Y’s lap, pressing his ear against Y’s chest, the other freezing on spot. “...Wow. This is—incredible. Although it’s a little faster than should be normal-”

Rolling his eyes, Donghyun grabs Joochan, yanking him back. “Knock it off. Now you’re the one making him nervous.” Joochan blinks in surprise. 

“Making him-?”

Donghyun doesn’t let him finish his question, instead, continuing to speak. “This is great and all, but no one is going to buy it. Not if we can’t even get you close enough to tell them.” Even if it’s harsh, it’s the truth. Joochan nods, disappointed. 

“I hate to admit it, but he’s right. As soon as anyone sees you, they’ll blow you to bits.” 

Y clenches his fists. “We have to move fast. Boneys chasing me.” He fixes Joochan with a look, whose brows are drawing together worryingly. “Boneys chasing us.” 

Donghyun glances at Joochan. “Boneys?”

“It’s what they call skeletons.” Donghyun’s brows shoot up in surprise. 

“Interesting.” 

Joochan chews on his lower lip, forehead scrunched in thought as he mulls over something before clapping his hands together. “Okay! We have to go to my dad.” Donghyun nearly falls off the bed.

“Out of all the bad ideas you’ve had, I will have to say this is the worst-” Joochan cuts him off.

“No, Donghyun, he was a reasonable guy once-”

“I think you’re confused,” Donghyun corrects. “It was your mom that was the reasonable one. The second she went down your dad went bonkers. He’s the one who loves to shoot zombies in the head, you think he’ll let Y go just because he seems a little different to you?” 

“Well, what other choice do we have, Donghyun?” Joochan snaps. Y watches their exchange quietly, not daring to inject his opinion. When Donghyun doesn’t offer any response, Joochan crosses his arms over his chest. “Exactly. We’ll have to get him through the city-”

“Someone will definitely see you.”

Joochan’s patience is running thin, his exasperated tone giving him away. “I know, but we don’t have much time.” Donghyun hums like he’s contemplating something, sweeping Y with yet another look.

“We could fix him up.” Joochan perks up, head whirling in Donghyun’s direction. 

“What?” 

“Jaehyun left some makeup when he stayed over last time,” Donghyun starts slowly, Joochan’s expression turning gleeful as he catches on. “We could put a little foundation… A little bit of lipstick…”

“Some blush…” Joochan glances back at Y. “...A lot of blush,” he amends. 

Twin grins spread across their faces as they turn to Y. “Well then,” Joochan starts, a little more excited than Y is comfortable with. He begins to fear for himself a little. “Let’s get this makeover started.”

Joochan pushes him into the bath for a much-needed shower, shoveling enough products into his hands that Y, overwhelmed, ends up setting them all aside. The hot water caressing his skin is a new sensation and he revels in it, body relaxing and joints loosening. His worries fade away just for a few, glorious moments, until Joochan starts impatiently knocking against his door. 

He blinks down at the black hoodie and ripped jeans Joochan shoves through the door in confusion. “These aren’t…”

“Oh, please. You think I’ll let you wear those ragged clothes of yours? Just try these, they should fit you.”

They do fit, surprisingly well. He wonders for a fleeting moment if they belong to Joochan before pushing the thought out of his head. He waddles back into Joochan’s room to find them sorting through an assortment of products. He gulps. 

Joochan notices him lingering by the door and perks up, eyes widening by just a fraction as he takes in the other’s new outfit. “Woah, you look-”  He stills, as if realizing what he’s saying and hurriedly looks away. “I mean, look at this! Jaehyun left more than we had expected, but this is good for us!” Hesitantly, Y leans over to eye the bottles, compacts, and brushes spread out on the bed. 

“Have you… done this before?” He asks, hoping it’s not the answer he thinks it may be. To his horror, both Donghyun and Joochan chirp out a cheery “nope!”

Y is not excited as they seat him in front of the vanity and hold up brushes, the thrilled look on Joochan’s face a direct contrast to his own. Joochan curses and grabs his face when he keeps backing away, scolding him for moving every time the brushes move closer to his face.

It’s a relief that they make quick work of his face, slathering on thick, cool creams and dusting on pink powder in record timing. At one point, he tries to move his head to check how he looks in the mirror except Joochan slaps his face back, tutting. “Not yet, you have to wait,” he says, glaring. Y complies. 

They draw back every once in a while, studying Y and then sharing a glance. 

“Think we used too much foundation?”

“Nah, it’s fine, we need it to cover the veins.”

“What is that blush? He looks like a clown. Why would you put that much-”

“You told me to put more blush!” 

“Oh.”

Finally, after much poking and prodding at his face, they withdraw, satisfied. “You know,” Joochan starts, “I think we did pretty good!” 

Donghyun tilts his head, blinking at Y. “Surprisingly, I think I can agree with you on something for once. You look…” He snaps his fingers with realization. “You look hot!” Joochan jabs Donghyun before whirling Y’s chair in one fluid motion. 

“Take a look!” He sings, eyes dancing. Y blinks rapidly at the sudden turn, his eyes focusing on himself in the mirror.

It’s… himself. 

Well, of course, it’s himself, but… He touches his face in wonder. Even if the foundation is a little too cakey and the lipstick that’s stained on his lips is a bit too bright, he looks…

He looks alive. 

“Woah,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face. He catches sight of Joochan staring at him. “What?”

Joochan flusters, realizing he’s been caught. “N-nothing. You look nice,” he says, and Y’s heart slams against his chest. Joochan throws a purposeful, sideways look at Donghyun. “Hey, Donghyun, can you…”

Donghyun gets the hint immediately, nodding quickly. “Gladly.” He’s out the door before Y can even blink, and once again, they’re alone. Y’s breath quickens as Joochan slowly reaches out, brushing a hand against Y’s cheek. It settles there, light and warm. His lips quirk up as he gazes into Y’s face. “We put a little too much lipstick, I think.” 

Y nods, mouth dry. “Yeah.” Joochan hums, lightly running a thumb across Y’s lips. He doesn’t dare to breathe until Joochan moves away, holding up his thumb. It’s stained red.

“That’s better.” He scrutinizes Y with an eye. “There’s something… Oh!” He shuffles over to his drawers, searching until he finds what he’s looking for: a comb. Y tilts his head questioningly. “You have a bird’s nest for a head,” Joochan explains, already reaching for Y’s hair, beginning to comb through it. As expected, it immediately snags onto the knots of his hair. Joochan shakes his head and chuckles. “This is going to take some muscles.” 

A comfortable silence descends over them, Y’s eyes fixed on the mirror as he watches Joochan work, admiring the scrunch of his brows and the purse of his lips as he concentrates. He gets through most of it before he speaks up again. “Hey.” Y’s eyes move down to meet Joochan’s in the mirror.

Joochan lightly runs a hand through his hair. “This, time, I’ll stay with you,” he says, quietly. A warmth blossoms in Y. 

“P… promise.”

“Promise,” Joochan agrees, and there’s nothing but honesty in his eyes as they look into Y’s. “We’re changing everything.” 

Before Y can respond, Donghyun’s sticking his head through the door. “We need to go now.” Joochan nods, pulling Y up. 

“Let’s go.” 

Y gapes in wonder as they weave through dozens of tents and crowds of people, reveling in the humanity present in every nook and cranny of the base. Chatter fills the air and soldiers lounge outside the tents, cans and beer in hand as they laugh and joke around. When sneaking through the city, he had been so focused on reaching Joochan that he hadn’t been able to soak it all in.

His head snaps from side to side, footsteps slowing as he tries to look at everything. Joochan glances back when he realizes the other isn’t by his side anymore, sighing when he finds him gawking at a pair of children who are being shooed out of the base and back into the city. Jogging over, he slips an arm through Y’s. “We need to hurry,” he reminds him. “You can have all the time in the world to look after-”

“Excuse me.” Joochan freezes, a soft fuck slipping from his lips. They turn around, Y looking on curiously as Joochan forces a smile as they’re met with the sight of a short boy with dark hair.

“Don’t act suspicious,” Joochan hisses to Y, who immediately tenses. Not act suspicious? How is he supposed to do that? “Hey, Seungmin,” Joochan says, a fake smile in place. “What’s up?”

The dark-haired boy, who must be Seungmin, glances between them suspiciously. There’s a gun in his hand, and with the way he’s fingering it, Y can tell he won’t hesitate to use it. Seungmin ignores Joochan’s question. “Where are you guys headed?” 

“To see my dad,” Joochan answers. His grip on Y’s arm tightens. 

Seungmin shakes his head. “Sorry, Joochan, but I can’t let you guys go. We’re on high alert.”

Donghyun, who had been watching from afar, finally pops in to see what all the fuss is about, frowning at Seungmin with eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s going on?” 

“It’s classified.” Donghyun harrumphs. 

“Well, we have our own classified business, so we’re leaving.” With that, he struts away. Y can’t help but be a bit impressed by the other’s boldness. Joochan juts his chin out.

“What he said.” He tugs on Y’s arm.  They haven’t moved one step before Seungmin has laid a hand on his shoulder. They meet eyes and Y desperately hopes that the abnormalities of his pupils aren’t noticeable. Maybe they should’ve tried finding some contacts. 

“Hey.”

Y gulps. “Hey.” 

Joochan’s words float back into his mind. Don’t act suspicious. Okay, he can do that. He just has to say something. Just has to say something human. He leans in. “How are you?” Seungmin’s expression morphs into surprise. 

Hah, nailed it. 

Joochan tugs on him more insistently and he allows himself to be led away, leaving the bewildered boy behind. Once they’re safely out of earshot, Joochan releases a sigh. “Fuck, that was close.” 

“Joochan…” Donghyun’s alarmed voice catches both their attention. They stop, staring wide-eyed at the frenzy of soldiers flooding the streets of the inner base, unloading and reloading cars, strapping on guns, checking for blind spots, clearly preparing themselves for something.

But for what?

“What’s…” Joochan’s lips thin into a line. “We need to find my father.” His eyes scan through the swarm of people and activity, Y with him. His eyes land on a man that looks familiar, and he vaguely remembers him as the one who had been driving through the neighborhood just days ago.

He points him out. “Isn’t that-” Joochan leaps up.

“Yes! Good eye!” He faces Donghyun and Y. “You both, stay here, and don’t come until I give a signal.” They both nod as Joochan flits off towards the general, who immediately takes notice of him. They begin talking, the general clearly having much to say, Joochan’s scowl becoming deeper and deeper. Y cocks his head and does his best to try and listen to what they are discussing, but even with his zombie-enhanced ears, the teeming base drowns it all out.

Donghyun expresses what he wants to say. “Let’s get closer,” he says, already inching closer. Y follows his lead and they sneak through the crowd until they’re just a few feet away, crouching behind boxes of provisions.

“-need to get home, lock down the house. I don’t know if it’s safe to trust you with the way you’re behaving right now, but I have the gun there-”

Joochan huffs impatiently. That alone tells Y that the conversation is not going the way the other wants it to. There’s a screech of metal which he assumes to be Joochan pulling out the gun he’d pocketed earlier. “Yes, I know, this gun. I have it. But you’re not listening to me and this is important!” 

“Joochan, there are more important matters at hand-”

“More important than the dead coming back to life? I know you don’t believe me, and it sounds crazy, but they’re… they’re changing.” The honesty in his voice is as clear as day as he pleads. “They’re somehow curing themselves, I saw it with my own eyes!”

“That does sound crazy.” The general’s voice is flat, devoid of any emotion. Donghyun and Y exchanged a pained look.

“It really is happening-”

“No. You know what’s happening?” And suddenly the flat tone is gone, replaced with one that seethes of hatred, so venomous that Y flinches. “What’s happening is that every day, there’s more and more of them, and there’s less of us. What’s happening is that they’re not curing themselves, we are their food course. They eat humans, you, your mother, and your boyfriend included. So wake up. ”

“He wasn’t even my boyfriend and you’re not being fair! I told you, I saw it myself, and, and you’re not listening-”

“Stop-”

“And you always do this, you never let me speak or give my own opinion, always cut me off. All my life I’ve been forced to just quietly agree to whatever it is that you want! It’s as if you think I’m an idiot who’s numb to all feelings! When you’re the one who’s become numb yourself!”

Donghyun and Y stare at each other in shocked silence as with every word, Joochan’s voice grows louder and more hysterical, years and years of bitter thoughts that had been bottled up now spilling loose as the sealed bottle cracks open. 

“The time I spent away from you and missing? Those were the best days I have ever had in my life because you weren’t there! And I was surrounded by zombies! ” In the midst of processing Joochan’s words, Y distantly wonders why his voice is growing nearer—he must be backing up as he speaks, Y realizes. Any moment now, he’ll knock over the boxes they are hiding behind and-

A moment too late, Donghyun has the same realization as him, scampering out of the way. There’s no time for Y to follow and take cover as well because Joochan’s back is thumping against the boxes, which wobble dangerously before-

Crash. 

Joochan and his father stare down at where Y’s on the ground, Joochan with horror, his father with confusion. “Why are you-” Joochan’s whispering in distress, mouth clicking shut as his eyes dart to the general.

Y nods in greeting. “Um… Hi.” The general’s eyes narrow, his hand dropping to his belt. Fuck.

“Who are you?” He asks, suspicion radiating off of him. Joochan runs to his side, helping him up.

“This is Y-” 

“I didn’t ask you,” the general snaps, and now Y knows exactly what Joochan had meant in his emotional outburst. “Who are you?”

“I’m-” He isn’t given the chance to wrack his mind for a plausible excuse or story when the general is leaning closer, staring into his eyes. Unlike Seungmin, there’s no confusion as his expression clears into realization.

“You’re a zombie?” He whispers, shock etched in the gape of his mouth, the widening of his eyes, the clench of his jaw, shock that his son had snuck in, in his eyes, a monster. 

“He—He saved my life,” Joochan stutters. Even with his voice trembling and the fear radiating off of him, he stands tall and firm. A rush of awe runs through Y, that even in such a situation, the other still has the bravery to hold himself up. “He took care of me, and, and he started to change—they all started to change-” Joochan turns to Y. “Right? Tell him!”

Y nods, gulping as he meets the general’s eyes. “We want to help. We’re… We’re getting better.”

The general regards them silently. Joochan looks on hopefully, only for it to be immediately crushed at his father’s next words. 

“No,” he starts slowly. “Things don’t get better. Things get worse.” Despair fills Joochan’s face. “People get bit, then they get infected, and then-” Darkness passes over his face. “I shoot them.”

He moves far too quick for either of them to process, a yelp that turns into a choked gasp escaping Y as the general is right there, pressing him up against the wall, arm at his throat, gun to his head. No, no, no it can’t end up like, he hasn’t been able to do anything yet, he hasn’t proved that they can become better, hasn’t learned his name, hasn’t told Joochan how he loves him-

Joochan’s begging and pleading now, pounding against his father’s arm. Y can’t make out any of his words, mind a garbled mess. He needs to escape, find a way out of this like he always does-

But there’s no escape this time, not when every little movement has the gun digging deeper into his skull. The general’s finger is pulling back the trigger and he can see it happening in slow motion, the end of his life, and he screws his eyes shut and- 

“I’m really sorry for this disrespect.” The sound of metal rings out and Joochan’s father tenses. Relief floods Y’s systems. Donghyun. 

The younger boy shifts from where he has the gun pressed to the general’s back. “Sorry it took me so long, finding a gun took longer than expected.” He juts his chin out. “Go. Get out of here and be safe, no matter what.” He focuses on Joochan. “Okay?”

Joochan nods, face pale and white as he clings to Y, the two of them slowly moving away. His father watches him go, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Joochan…” The blonde pauses at the other’s voice.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he says softly, and then he’s hurrying away, Y at his side.

The general shifts in place, eyes meeting Donghyun. “You're not going to shoot me.”

Donghyun raises a brow in challenge. “Yes. Yeah, I totally will.” He drives the nozzle of the gun more firmly into the other’s back. “Wanna try me?” 

They flee from the base as fast as their legs allow them to, Y’s newly-operating lungs working furiously to keep up with his speed. His heart slams against his chest with every slap of his feet against pavement, and he doesn’t trust himself to stop, lest it springs out from his chest.

“That-” Joochan’s gasping for breath, just as winded as Y feels. “That could have gone better.” He shakes his head regretfully. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t have listened,” he mutters bitterly. 

Y wants to reach out and comfort Joochan, hold him and reassure him that everything will be fine, but every second that ticks by they’re left with less and less time. “I need to warn my friends,” he gasps out. Joochan tosses his head towards him.

“Where?”

“The stadium.” Joochan nods grimly and then he’s changing routes, sharply turning left. Y reacts just in time and turns, saving himself from slamming bodily into the wall.

Their steps only slow when they’re safely in the alleys of the city, hidden in the web of streets. Joochan gropes at the walls, hands searching before he emits a noise, pleased. “Ah-hah.” He pushes aside a thick piece of wood to reveal a vent, Y peering inside of it to find only darkness. Joochan grins. “Here, we can use this as a shortcut.” With that, he jumps in, and Y doesn’t hesitate to follow him.

The floor is flooded with ankle-deep water, soaking into his shoes as they wade through it. He holds back from recoiling as the water sloshes inside his shoes. 

The water dries out eventually and their feet hit dry, damp ground and they’re hurrying up a flight of stairs. The inky darkness is fractured by the slightest glimpse of sunlight that emits through the cracks in the walls.

Finally, the stares open up to a wide space, where the ceiling curves up into a glass dome and the drip-drop of water accompanies them as they slow down into a walk once again. Here, sunlight filters in through the ceilings, bathing the space in light. They step forward, their eyes adjusting to the light. Joochan gasps. Y watches with apprehension, trying to gauge his reaction. 

Joochan ogles the sight before him, mouth open, then looks back at Y. “This is…” 

A broad grin is spread across JJ’s face as he stands proudly, arms crossed over his chest. “Hey, Y.” He nods at Joochan. “Joochan.”

“H-hey,” Joochan’s shell-shocked expression doesn’t fade away as he gazes around him, and Y doesn’t blame him. After all, it is a sight to behold.

Lined up behind JJ, in neat, solemn lines, are zombies. An army of zombies, stretching as far as an eye can see, filling up the space. They face forward, no movement, armed with poles and boards and some with just their bare hands. But what is truly astounding, is not the sheer number or their orderly fashion or how not a single one charges at Joochan, but-

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

The sound of heartbeats, ringing loud and clear in the space around them. The rise and fall of their chests as they inhale and exhale, air puffing from their lips. The resolve in their eyes, eyes that had been consumed with lifelessness and hunger for years now aflame and bright with will. JJ’s grin widens.

“We’re ready for a fight,” he says, gesturing to the mass around as if it isn’t clear to anyone with eyes. Joochan nods dumbly.

“Yeah. I can see that,” he replies, even as his expression is still slack with astonishment. Y starts forward. He has a reason for coming here—to warn JJ of what is to come.

“S-soldiers coming,” he tells the other, mouth forming the words urgently. JJ’s expression doesn’t flicker—he must have already known, or at the very least, expected as much. “Boneys closing in.”

No sooner have the words left his mouth when there are sounds of fists beating against glass and then- 

The telltale sound of glass breaking. Crack. 

Slowly, they tilt their heads up to stare at the glass ceiling above. The glass ceiling, where the shadows of boneys press against the glass, claws scratching, hands thrashing. Cracks spiderweb the glass as they hammer against it, fine dust sprinkling down like snow. JJ meets his eyes. 

“They’re here now.” JJ’s grin is less warm now and more chilling. “Run.”

The ceiling gives way and the first boney drops to the ground, straightening slowly. Y doesn’t need to be told twice, snatching Joochan’s hand in his and breaking out into a sprint.

Behind them, JJ and his mass of zombies release a war cry, a horrible, guttural noise, before they charge. 

And then another cry joins the fray, along with the pitter-patter of human feet and the sounds of nocked guns and rustling clothes. 

“Sir, your son is with the zombie. I’ve got eyes on them.” 

He doesn’t respond.

“I repeat, sir-”

“I heard you. Keep following.” 

Seungmin watches with horror as the skeleton slams into his fellow soldier, knocking him onto the floor and plowing into him with teeth, no regard for how the other screams and struggling and then horrifyingly—stills and goes quiet. 

Against his will, a whimper slips from his lips. Immediate regret seizes him as the skeleton stills and slowly lifts its head from where it had been feasting, turning to him with bone stained scarlet and eyes hollow pits.

He scrambles backward, hand desperately searching for his gun, closing around emptiness. If he stands, he still has a chance to run-

A groan rises from behind him and his head snaps back to watch as another skeleton approaches, and now he’s sandwiched in, with nowhere to go or run. He squeezes his eyes shut, curling into himself. Snapshots of his life flash before his eyes, pathetically short and stained with darkness, with death and blood and guts, his youth stolen by the apocalypse. 

The memories of his childhood flicker through his mind, of stealing candy from stores, of petting the little stray dog outside of his school, of swinging his legs from the top of a building, seated next to a boy whose face he can hardly remember anymore, only his red hair and sparkling eyes. Of the news of the apocalypse, of his mother being eaten before his eyes by a skeleton, the same way he is going to be now-

He had known, when he had enlisted into the military, that there had always been the looming possibility of being eaten alive, and he had accepted it years ago. But still, faced with it in reality, he doesn’t—he can’t-

A bellow erupts from somewhere, different from the skeleton’s even if it’s just as frightening. Seungmin peeks through his fingers and then his eyes snap wide open, gasping in shock as a zombie barrels into the skeletons, knocking one off its feet and through the window, driving a pole through the other. They go down with a gurgle.

Seungmin’s too shocked to even have fear creep upon him as the zombie straightens and wipes his face of gore as he approaches him, holding a hand out. 

Red hair, sparkling eyes. 

He takes it. 

Even with JJ engaging most of the boneys, at least a dozen stray ones follow after them, snapping at their heels as they run. Joochan whips out his gun without a second thought and doesn’t even bother with aiming, pointing the nozzle behind him and pulling the trigger.

The wounded wail of a boney tells Y that his shot had hit true. 

Another gunshot, followed by yet another one. Three, four. The stairs are getting harder to climb, Y’s aching legs screaming at him to stop and take a break, to take some rest. He doesn’t doubt that it is just as bad for Joochan, whose face is flushed, sweat beading his skin.

They reach the top of what must be the third flight of stairs and their luck runs out there, his foot catching onto the last stair and he goes hurtling to the ground, face smacking against the floor painfully. He narrowly avoids biting his tongue. There’s a boney on him in seconds, cold, dead hands grappling at his limbs and teeth snapping at him just centimeters away from his face. Joochan shouts, turning back, and the momentary hesitation is his bane, another boney flinging itself at him.

Joochan screams and Y can only think fuckfuckfuckgettoJoochanhelpJoochancan’tdie-

The other attempts to raise his hand and pull the trigger at the boney, except it swats it out of his hand, the gun skidding across the floor, just within Y’s reach. He makes a grab for it, fingers closing around cool metal. It’s a dangerous move—the loss of one hand holding back the boney allows for it to slam a fist down. He moves instinctively, the place where his head had been a moment ago now pummeled by the boney’s fist. 

With no hesitation, he angles the gun and shoots. Bang. The boney scrambles back, screaming as it grasps his head. Y’s ears ring from the close range of the bullet, but it’s a secondary concern as he leaps to his feet and rushes over to Joochan, driving his fist into the boney, sending it crashing. 

Joochan collapses into him, shivering, face pale and legs weak. Y hauls him up. “We need to go.” The cries of the boneys only strengthen his statement, as the boney who had been on Joochan a moment ago lowers its hands, fury radiating off it. Y raises the gun and pulls the trigger again. 

Click. 

Empty.

“Fuck,” he curses. The shrieks of the boneys are drawing nearer, far too close for comfort. Disposing of the now-useless gun, he yanks Joochan after him, and even with the shudders that wrack his body, Joochan follows, and they run, and run, and run-

“We see zombies fighting skeletons, sir.” 

“Copy that. We’re seeing that over here, too.”

“I know you don’t believe me, and it sounds crazy, but they’re… they’re changing.”

“And you always do this, you never let me speak or give my own opinion, always cut me off. All my life I’ve been forced to just quietly agree to whatever it is that you want! It’s as if you think I’m an idiot who’s numb to all feelings!  When you’re the one who’s become numb yourself!”

“The time I spent away from you and missing? Those were the best days I have ever had in my life, because you weren’t there! And I was surrounded by zombies!”

He inhales deeply. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” 

“Copy that. We’re seeing zombies fighting skeletons, sir. Our soldiers are joining them in and helping, they don’t seem to be making aggressive moves towards us…”

His fists clench into tense balls, knuckles white. 

It’s as if each time their feet slap against the ground, another boney joins the fray, chasing after them. There is no way they’ll be able to run for much longer, not with the way his lungs are struggling and his legs threaten to give out. With Joochan’s gun rendered useless and disposed of, there is nothing for them to fight back with. His eyes dart as they run, wishing hopelessly for a weapon, an exit route, anything-

A door!

Exuberance floods Y, not dampened by the sight of the neon yellow signs and tape that emblazon it, warning of danger. Joochan catches sight of it just as he does and they rush toward it, Y’s hand reaching out to grasp the handle, turning it and-

Empty air.

They’re met with empty air and he nearly goes plummeting if it hadn’t been for Joochan’s hand reaching out and yanking him back just in time, arms wrapping about Y’s middle. They stand there, staring over into the empty air, down at the water that if they take another step, they will surely hurtle into. 

Ear-splitting shrieks and moans fill the air. Their heads snap back as dozens of boneys approach, slowly advancing, closing in on them. 

And for once, there’s no way out. 

“I-It’s over-” He chokes out, and it really is. All this running, this surviving, it’s been all for naught. He can only be thankful that Joochan is in his arms in their last moments together. He desperately hopes that JJ is still out there, fighting and proving that they can be more than the monsters they have been for years.

A brush against his cheek brings him back to reality, looking down at Joochan. There’s a strange calmness in the other’s features, even as the boneys draw closer with every step, bones rattling. “No,” he says clearly, and now his touch is firmer as he thumbs Y’s cheekbone. “You said you would keep me safe, didn’t you?” 

He had. He had promised it to himself, that he’d keep Joochan safe no matter what. Joochan’s hold on him tightens.

“So, trust me, won’t you?”

And whatever it is that Joochan wants, Y will always agree for. 

They tip backward, and the boneys lunge.

Claws swipe through the air where they had been standing a moment ago. 

And then they’re plummeting, wrapped around each other, the wind slamming up against Y’s back, a ferocious woosh in his ears. Joochan smiles at him as they fall, the wind whipping his hair into his face. His hands clutch at Y’s shoulders, hold loosening as the water grows closer and closer. Y embraces the other tightly before he can spiral away, burying his head into his shoulder as he braces for the impact.

The ground swallows them up as they hit the water and then they’re sinking like a heavy rock dropped into a lake. The impact has his back arching painfully and against his will, his hands slip away from Joochan, the other floating away. No! He scrambles blindly as he tries to reach for him, his clothes billowing up around him and blocking his vision. 

The pressure in his lungs grows more painful with every second he stays under and he has no choice but to swim up, gasping for air. His head swings wildly as he searches, panic building up as he finds no sign of Joochan. 

“J-Joochan! Joochan!” He calls, voice raw in his throat. He ducks back underwater, flinching as the water stings his eyes. “Joochan-”

There’s a wet choke from somewhere behind him and he whirls around and there’s Joochan emerging from the water, eyes wide and sucking in air desperately. Y nearly falls over into the water once again with the urgency he paddles towards Joochan, snagging the other’s shoulders and wheeling him in his direction.

“Are you-” 

Joochan’s arms sling around his neck and then his mouth is on Y’s and he stops breathing for a moment. The cool press of Joochan’s lips against his own renders him unable to think, unable to process. A choked, pained noise emits from his throat at the warmth of Joochan pressed against him, at the realization that they’re alive and then he’s kissing back, desperate and bruising and relieved, relieved that they’re alive, that he hasn’t lost Joochan, that Joochan hasn’t lost him. His veins throb and heart along with it as he deepens the kiss, pressing against him insistently, senses subdued by the rush of adrenaline that’s roaring through his body. 

He chases for the other’s lips even as Joochan withdraws to catch his breath, hands cradling Y’s face, fluttering over his body, his jaw, his shoulders, his back, as if to reassure himself that this is reality, that Y's here, drenched in the pool with him. “Y-you’re okay?”

Y releases a breathless chuckle, slightly hysterical. “Y-yeah, because of you-”

Joochan kisses him again. Somehow, it’s more desperate than the last, with hands clutching at his face and the taste of salt—tears, Y realizes—staining his lips and the inside of his mouth. It doesn’t stop him from responding just as eagerly, cupping the back of Joochan’s head and gently tugging back so he can lick into the other’s mouth and spread the tang of salt, feeling drunk as he swallows up the groan that escapes Joochan. 

They part a second time, panting and breathless, and Y loses his breath all over again at the smile that graces Joochan’s lips, soft and fond like he had seen it in his dream, except it’s infinitely more breathtaking in person than he had ever imagined it to be.

Joochan’s hands still clasp at his face, thumbs tracing along the slope of his nose, the angles of his cheeks. He stops just short at the corner of Y’s eyes, gently smoothing a thumb over his brow when he stops, eyes narrowing in confusion before they widen. “Y-Your eyes—they’re-” 

Bang. 

A sharp pain bursts in Y’s chest, hot and blistering and intense. Head spinning he looks down to find a perfectly symmetrical hole in his hoodie, an echo of weeks ago, when Jonghyun had shot him. Then, it had been nothing more than an inconvenience, the bullet harmlessly bouncing off his chest.

Now, it burns, embedded in his chest, every breath he takes resulting in pain shooting up his body and leaving him paralyzed. Distantly, he registers the sound of Joochan’s shouts. 

“Next one’s the head,” someone states, loud and clear. The voice it’s familiar, it’s-

His eyes land first on a smoking gun, moving up to settle on the severe, battle-hardened face of the general. Joochan’s father. “Move away, Joochan.”

Panic is etched onto every feature of Joochan’s face as his hands scramble over Y, pupils blown in shock. “No!” 

Y slowly reaches up, pressing a hand against the hole in his chest. It hurts. 

“Joochan.” The general’s voice is harsh, unforgiving. “Move away from him.” 

Joochan shakes his head furiously, water droplets flying from his hair as he only presses himself closer to Y, who’s pulling his hand away from his chest. It comes away wet, slick with scarlet. 

He stares, transfixed, as beads of blood rolls down the length of his finger, dripping. 

“Please for once,” Joochan pleads, and the tears are cascading down his face, the words thick in his mouth. “Listen to me! For once, in your life. I know we lost everybody, I know you lost the one who loved the most, but-” He sucks in another breath. “We can fix all this, we can start over. They need our help, please! Look at him!” He grabs Y’s hands in his own, squeezing tightly. “He’s different! He’s-”

He stops as his eyes focus on their joined hands, drips of red painting their skin, and then to the hole in Y’s chest, where the red flows freely into the water, staining the water pink. “...Bleeding. He’s bleeding.” A choked sob works its way out from his throat. “He’s bleeding! Zombies don’t bleed!”

The soldiers lower their guns, looking to each other in confusion. Y can’t care less about them, not as Joochan’s hands are on his face again, sobbing as he looks into the other’s face. “You’re alive,” he says in a ragged whisper, and then louder, as if to attest to the fact. “You’re alive!” He grimaces as he pulls his hand back to reveal the bloody handprint he’s left on Y’s face. “S-sorry. Does it hurt?”

Y nods. The pain in his chest has only grown tenfold, and black spots are dancing in his vision, his head light and airy. “Yeah.” Joochan throws his arms around Y, pressing his face into his shoulder, the last bits of his self-control abandoning him as he breaks down. 

The soldiers glance at the general, who watches the exchange with hooded eyes. He raises a walkie-talkie. “This is Colonel Hong. The situation has changed.” He lowers it slowly, meeting Joochan’s eyes. “Let’s get the two of you the hell out of here.

Joochan’s big, round eyes tell Y that he can’t quite believe this is happening. He can’t believe this is happening. 

They’re helped out of the water and Joochan wastes no time in embracing his father, whispering thankyouthankthankyou over and over while his father gently pats his back. 

When he skips back to Y and lends his shoulder to help him limp into the vehicle, his face is still stained with tears and his eyes rimmed red, but there’s the twinkle in his eyes that Y loves so much, bright and more beautiful than anything in the universe. 

“Are you still bleeding?” Joochan’s father asks him as they drive back. Y shoots a bewildered look at Joochan, who nods encouragingly. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Good.” Joochan frowns and gently smacks the other, who sighs.

“I mean, sorry.” Joochan’s frown morphs into a smile, and Y watches as the general tenderly places a hand over his son’s. There’s much that needs to be repaired and healed in their relationship, but to Y, it’s a beautiful start. 

He spends enough time gazing at Joochan that he doesn’t realize the way his body tires and sags until his vision goes black. 

Y wakes up with blankets tucked around him, bandages wrapped tight around his chest, and Joochan sitting next to him, fingers scratching through his hair soothingly. He lets out a soft noise when he notices Y’s awake, the other blinking up at him, eyes unfocused and dim.

“D… Did we change everything?” He coughs out, and the corner of Joochan’s lips quirks up.

“We did,” he says softly, and then presses a kiss to Y’s forehead. Exhaustion seeps into Y and his eyes slide shut. 

On one hand, getting shot in the chest hurts. A lot. But on the other, it’s a testament to the fact that Y’s alive, that he’s breathing, that his heart is beating, that he can feel pain, warmth, love. 

It’s also a testament to the fact that yes, they changed everything. 

JJ, or as the name he goes by these days, Jangjun, had successfully joined the zombies and the humans, and their combined might overpowered the boneys in days, reducing them to nothing but piles of bone and dust. The other comes around often, chatting with Y over the new friends he’s made, the memories he’s remembered, the people he’s reconnected with. 

Even with the skepticism of humans towards zombies, over time, they began to hold their hands out to them to help them to learn how to live again, to cope as they regained their memories, their names, their identities. An era of peace settles over the world, after years and years of tensions and conflict. 

Acceptance and love grow and blossom between the two groups, natural as the beating of one’s heart. 

The key to the cure. 

And Joochan holds his hand and helps him through it all, eyes crinkled into crescents each time he meets Y’s eyes. 

“Y?” They’re laid out in a field of green, gazing up at the stars above. He hums to let the other know he’s heard him. “You’re regaining your memories, aren’t you?”

He is. Every night, brightly colored images float through his mind, faded at the edges and nostalgic. He remembers his family, his friends. He remembers that he prefers cats over dogs, that he enjoys running, that he loves the bitter taste of hot, scalding coffee on his tongue. And it turns out that he had been unemployed after all. 

“Do you remember your name yet?” 

Y maps out the constellations in the sky, his eyes settling on a particularly bright one. It reminds him of the way Joochan’s eyes sparkle, although the star can never match up to the brightness of Joochan’s. “Yeah.”

A shocked silence follows his admittance and then Joochan is lunging at him before he can roll away, battering him with a flurry of punches, legs straddling his waist in an effort to pin him down. “And you haven’t told me yet-!” Y laughs, batting away Joochan’s playful punches. 

“That’s because I was saving it,” he hums, eyes bright. “It’d be boring if I just nudged you and told you what it is, right?” Joochan pauses with grudging acceptance before he pouts, brows furrowing. 

“...true!” His defiance flares up again. “But still!” He narrows his eyes. “You didn’t tell Jangjun already, did you?” He asks, suspicious. Y’s quick to deny it, waving his hands.

“Of course I didn’t.” Reaching up, he gently presses a hand against Joochan’s cheek, the other unconsciously leaning into his touch. “You’ll always be the first person to know about my memories.” Joochan huffs a little, but it’s a pleased huff. “Of course I will be.” He blinks down at Y expectantly. “So, what is it?”

“Hm?” Y cocks his head in a show of cluelessness. Joochan groans.

“Your name!” 

“Oh, that.” A clever smile plays across his lips. He beckons Joochan with a finger. “Come closer.” Joochan does, obediently. “Closer… A little more…”

He’s close enough now that Y is drawing breath from Joochan, every little detail of Joochan’s face apparent from this distance. He smiles, and then leans up and kisses him.

Joochan melts into his embrace with a soft, satisfied noise, the hands that had been planted on either side of Y’s shoulders now cradling his face oh-so-gently, little sighs passing between the two of them as they kiss under the stars. Heat shoots through Y’s veins like a firecracker, popping and fizzing at every movement of Joochan’s body against his, every sound that falls from his lips. 

They pull apart only to return in seconds, soft and insistent, and in between kisses, Y whispers it out in an exhale, and then he brings Joochan down for more, peppering him in sweet little kisses that have Joochan biting back giggles and smiling against his lips. 

They’re laid out on the grass, their fingers intertwined and their hearts beating in a duet when Joochan breathes it out, softly, as if he’s tasting it, savoring a delectable meal. 

“Sungyoon.” 

Just the sound of his name from Joochan’s lips is enough to send him into euphoria, his mind emptying of all concerns and worries, only focused on the boy next to him. He turns his head. Joochan’s eyes shine in the night, brighter than any star. 

“I love you.” 

The euphoria spreads through him, tingling in his chest, in the tips of his fingers, his stomach. Hooking a finger through Joochan’s belt, he pulls him closer once more, kisses like butterflies as he whispers promises of love against Joochan’s skin. 

And at that moment, with Joochan in his arms and the galaxies glistening above them, Sungyoon’s life is going wonderfully.