Chapter Text
The world seems so normal if he looks up from the window.
Some evenings, that is all Beomgyu can do – watching the sky turn from unassuming blue to a clingy orange hue; stunning pinks to the darkest shade of violet. He dares to only look up, because if he looks down…
He glances down anyway, through the cracks of the windowsill. He lays one hand on his rounded stomach; their baby has been kicking all day, perhaps longing for their father's scent. Beomgyu soothes their little one with gentle rubs; their little one kicks despite, reminding Beomgyu of the fact that Kai has yet to return; it has been two hours later than he had promised, and the sun is setting soon.
Their makeshift home - the very top floor of an abandoned four-storey building - has never felt so empty, left emptier for every time Kai and their pack has to venture out to scavenge for goods. His nest has never felt more deprived of the familiar scent of frosty evergreens.
The streets below them are empty. Beomgyu's heart begins to race despite himself, desperately hoping to see his mate's familiar figure, coming back to him and their little one. He will make them dinner then, with whatever they have, as nice as he can make it. You always manage to make everything taste like home, Kai would say, even though Beomgyu thinks he is a horrible cook, I'm the luckiest alpha in the world.
Home, Beomgyu strokes his stomach; their little one stirs, and Beomgyu feels the baby's feet poking the top of his stomach. It has been six months since the day they left their once cosy apartment in Seoul, and eight months since the outbreak, though that feels like forever ago. Like the rot and decay has always been there, and not just one cruel gigantic fuck-up sent from the universe in the form of a zombie apocalypse, of all things.
The world has turned itself inward out since then.
Half of the world has been riddled with the infected ones ever since; in between alive and dead, roaming the streets for more people to bite on.
Maybe I'm having a nightmare, he thinks, his thoughts carrying him to places he really shouldn't dwell on. Where is Kai…
He probably reeks of spoiled and soured cream, with how distressed his omega is getting. Where is alpha, it cries, where is Kai, where is everyone…
He's going to return to a stinking home, or maybe he won't come back at all. Maybe he got hurt. Maybe he's turning too. How can I even live without him? The baby is coming so soon how will I ever be able to-
The streets below remain empty. A stray animal here and there, some adorning collars. It'll be dark soon. They usually pull the blinds closed at night, for that is when the infected ones are most rampant. The disease is a parasite that thrives in the darkness.
And Kai has yet to come home.
His stomach churns in both nausea and hunger; Beomgyu turns away from the window, pulls the blinds, and turns on a lantern.
Perhaps he should make dinner now. He has not eaten since the morning, despite their food supply being fortunately adequate to last for the next few weeks. Kai had a successful scavenge with the rest of their pack a week prior. He had come home on time, then. Right on the dot, perhaps even earlier.
I got us so much food, and Taehyun managed to get you some vitamins and medicine from the supply centre, he said with a triumphant, heart-shaped smile, his eyes practically sparkling.
Beomgyu had been so happy then, kissing him all over until it hurt, attempting to not notice the large bruises around his alpha's arms as he took off his clothes.
Do I make dinner for him, too? Will he be back for dinner?
He wants to scold himself for even thinking that his alpha would be gone so easily. Kai had left with their pack – him and Soobin, and Yeonjun and Taehyun. None of them have returned just yet. They should be safe, being in pairs.
Unless…
Instead of heading to the kitchen, he finds himself curled up in his nest, making himself as small as he can be despite the 34-week-old baby in his stomach. Their little one is knocking the wind out of his chest, or maybe it's just his anxiety at play. The sweaters and hoodies that his alpha has scented this morning smells more like him than Kai, and that upsets him even further. Tears well in his eyes; a choked sob escapes from his lips. The air feels like sandpaper against his skin.
So ridiculous, he scolds himself, it's barely been twelve hours. They have been apart for longer than that. Before they started living together, two years ago.
But that was two years ago, and evenings merely meant taking the less crowded train line back to their apartment.
He cried into one of the two plushies they had taken with them, this one a worn cartoon character he won for Kai in one of their very first dates, small enough to fit into the few bags they could carry with them out of Seoul. He inhales tirelessly for whatever scent that is left of his alpha, and regrets never stopping him from leaving. He sobs, and sobs, and at some point voices echo through the halls and the door to their living room unlocks and yet he's still hunched over in the corner of their nest like a pathetic little-
“Beomgyu?”
Kai.
The air is much kinder, with his alpha's scent permeating it. He hears Kai shaking his shoes off, a little clumsy, like he has always been. Beomgyu practically leaps his way to their front door, meeting his mate's wildly concerned eyes. Kai. Alpha.
“Oh, Beomgyu,” Kai's shoulders drop in realisation. He drops whatever he's holding in his hands, and opens his arms to let Beomgyu into his embrace. Beomgyu buries his face into his mate's neck, right against his scent gland. He brushes his nose against it, and feels Kai holding him even firmer, taking him in, too, his hands resting on the sides of Beomgyu's round stomach.
“I'm sorry I came back so late,” Kai rocks him with the heels of his feet, like how one cradles a precious pup. His voice is always so tender when he's with him. “There was- Soobin-hyung and I passed an old pharmacy by. We met an elderly couple and they…”
Beomgyu feels his tears trailing down his cheeks, to Kai's shoulder. He sobs, shaking his head wildly.
“Just happy you made it back,” he whispers shakily, feeling faint from the pure relief, “you don't need to explain, Kai-yah.”
“You must be worried sick,” Kai murmurs. One can hear the guilt in his words. “Are you okay? Is our little nugget alright? You looked so tired when I left this morning…”
Beomgyu chuckles, despite the tears.
“Your little nugget,” he whispers, “is still in my stomach. Safe and happy, and kicking the living shit out of my lungs while you're gone.”
His mate rubs soothing circles into the sides of his belly, his nose grazing on the marked scent gland on Beomgyu's neck. His body salivates having his mate so close once again, melting at the way Kai marks his own scent onto him – he has such a gentle scent, an even gentler soul. Beomgyu cannot imagine a better person to be the father of their child; a more attentive alpha as his lifelong partner.
The past eight months have been chaotic to say the least, but Kai has always been right by his side. From the day the outbreak was officially announced, to the failed lockdowns, the escapings, the loss, the scavenging. Their pack has stuck together, and Kai has taken care of him through it all, even when Beomgyu couldn't scavenge with them any longer.
“Soobin-hyung and I stopped by an old pharmacy,” Kai tells him, continuing his story amidst muffled voices, and soft rubs to his stomach. His scent releases like how the waves ebb and flow when the tide is low; in gentle streams until Beomgyu can feel it in every corner of their little apartment. “We met an elderly couple there. They gave us some soup bases… when they heard you're pregnant, they gave me something for the baby, too. Some sort of herbal tea.”
“That's good, Kai-yah,” Beomgyu nods. Had it been a year ago, he would have scowled at the mention of anything herbal. Yet, now that he's carrying their pup, now that everything has become a luxury… he will drink however many bitter teas it would take if it meant their little one will be as healthy as can be.
“Taehyun and Yeonjun went by the distribution centres, and the workers gave us some formula, too,” he feels relief in the way his alpha exhales, “and they refilled the vitamins for you; they said to call them if there's anything urgent, if Nugget is coming….”
With the cell towers working only half of the time for now, Beomgyu isn't quite sure if the workers will be useful when the time comes for him to deliver their pup. At least they can finally add to their collection of formula; being a male omega means it's likely his production of breast milk will stop sooner, although Beomgyu wishes to be able to feed their little nugget, as long as he can manage it.
They only have a few tins of formula so far; it can last maybe a fortnight, three weeks if he is being generous. The distribution centre is aware of his pregnancy, and so they will provide him formula so long as they receive supplies of it, but Beomgyu isn't sure if he can trust that they will always be able to supply them with it.
The infected ones roam the streets freely when it's dark, and even in the day, as many have evolved to withstand the sunlight.
At least the government was wise enough to build distribution centres all around the country, when all else had failed to contain the infection.
Whether a person is able to reach a distribution centre is a whole other story, however.
Zombies are scattered all along the streets; Seoul is inhabitable now, and even in a much smaller town like where they currently seek refuge, an hour away from Daegu, one can see zombies here and there.
Sometimes, the military will deploy their remaining men to sweep the streets – hours where everyone stays inside, and the sound of gunshots would deafen the neighbourhood, travelling from one end to another as a hoard of zombies are being dealt with. It is the only time where seeing blood splattered along the roads is a hopeful sight.
Beomgyu still hates to look anywhere but up, however.
“We got some more food, too, some instant rice and ramyeon, canned vegetables…” Kai continues on, his voice getting softer, less ragged and wary. “Hyung and I took some persimmons from this house we came across, and I got your favourite…”
If Beomgyu closes his eyes, and only hears his voice, it is as if they are back to their apartment in Seoul once more. I got your favourite, Kai would always say, kicking his sneakers off before he stepped into their cosy living room, a heart-shaped smile on his lips as he shrugged his jacket away.
Your favourite coffee. Your favourite gummy worms. Your favourite ribs. Your favourite…
We're still here, his heart whispers, and it'll be okay. It has to be okay.
“You did so well today, alpha,” he smiles, “brought back so many things for me and our pup.”
“I’ve been missing you all day,” he confesses quietly. There is so much vulnerability to be heard in his voice, and even more in the way his scent thickens; Kai has never been one to be so open to show his feelings. Yet, with every time he comes back…
Beomgyu presses his nose to his mate's scent gland, feeling his lungs taking in air once again.
“I miss you too, Kai-yah,” he whispers, pulling away for just a moment to look into Kai's eyes; ever so kind, ever so lovely, “are you hungry?”
“I've snacked on a cereal bar a while ago,” he tells him, “I just need you, jagi-yah. Can I hug you a little while more?”
Beomgyu's omega practically preens at the thought of having him so close for longer.
“We can cuddle in our nest,” he suggests immediately, and Kai huffs fondly at his eagerness, “you'll need to re-scent everything in there.”
“Of course,” he shakes off his coat – tattered in a few places and rough around the seams, Beomgyu tells himself he'll need to learn how to sew soon – and squeezes Beomgyu's hand, letting himself be guided to Beomgyu's nest.
It isn't much, barely anything compared to the nest that was Beomgyu's pride and joy back in their apartment, but it had clothes from each member of their pack of five, and half of all of Kai's clothes are laid nicely here, in an arrangement Kai doesn't quite understand, but loves nonetheless.
“My mate makes the prettiest nests,” he tells him everyday, regardless if the nest is framed by a dozen plush cushions, or carefully made on a naked mattress on the floor. He feels Kai's weight dip into the mattress, and opens his arms immediately, letting Beomgyu lay his back against his chest, and his head on his shoulder as Kai peppers him with kisses like he always does.
He feels a kick from within his stomach just then; their little pup, probably a bit squished now that Beomgyu is sitting down.
“Little nugget is kicking so much lately,” Kai notes, a hand on his stomach. “It isn't hurting too much, is it?”
“She's not being gentle about it that's for sure,” Beomgyu sighs, placing his hand on top of Kai's; they feel little nugget kicking right onto Kai's palm, perhaps sensing the weight and warmth.
“You're so sure that she'll be a girl,” Kai smiles.
“I have a feeling,” he says, “but if Nugget is a boy, I will love him all the same, too.”
“You'll be the best mother to our pup,” Kai rubs his scent onto Beomgyu's skin; Beomgyu takes it in like ink to paper. “Already so good to our baby.”
“Yeah?” He closes his eyes, but not before noticing a big, purple patch on his mate's forearm, right below his elbow. His scent begins to sour, then, and his heart begins to sink.
“Kai-yah,” he turns to face the alpha, who looks to him with concern as Beomgyu lifts his arm. “Where did you get such a horrible bruise?”
Kai's face reddens. Averting Beomgyu's eyes, his scent, too, is no longer as lovely as it is.
“It was just a fight,” he tells him in a murmur. When they bathe later, will Beomgyu uncover even more bruises? Another wound?
“What happened?” Beomgyu asks, kneeling before his mate with his chest feeling uneasy, his mind even further away, “Kai-yah…”
“It was just… another guy saw us. He wanted to take what we had, so he just ambushed us. Came at us with his fists,” he answers, because he can never lie to Beomgyu; they have loved each other for far too much to be able to veil things away from one another.
Their bond is like that of any other mates pairs; strong, unwavering, and deeply intimate. Enough for Beomgyu to feel when Kai breathes; enough for Kai to feel when Beomgyu exhales.
“One of his punches managed to knock me out of balance, and I clashed into Soobin-hyung, and the shelves behind us… I am sorry, Beomgyu-yah. I'm fine, I promise.”
Beomgyu looks him over once more, his face, his neck, his arms, anywhere where skin is exposed. You are a bad mate, he hears the ugly part of his heart whisper to him, if only you weren't staying here all day…
His hand reaches for his stomach, and he feels his own breathing lose balance on its thinning string.
And he feels Kai's hand grabbing loosely on his wrist, all he needs to bring him back to where they are. A world in apocalypse, but a world where they all still exist.
Yet still, Beomgyu cannot help but feel guilty; he has not scavenged with them ever since his condition became far too bothersome, which is to say he has been staying back alone for the majority of the past eight months. Kai has to be the one to find and gather every essential they need, and although Yeonjun, Soobin, and Taehyun joins Kai on his scavengings as well, one more person could have meant more supplies; more places explored, and perhaps, lesser burden on his mate, who often comes home to collapse right in their bed. Who leaves with a smile to brave the chaotic world outside, though the bond tells Beomgyu everything that does not need to be said.
“Jagi,” Kai calls softly, “I don't want you to think you're a burden to me.”
“I’m not. Not really, I-” his hand travels to frame Kai's face, right at his jawline. He has lost some weight. When they first fled from Seoul, and food was scarce, Kai had feigned fullness just so Beomgyu could eat before him, and their pup could be fed. There's no longer much softness in his cheeks; Beomgyu mourns it, grieves it like he does watching the streets below their apartment; catching the shorter route home, and hearing the door to their apartment be unlocked.
“Sometimes I just wish you don't have to go. Or I can go with you. To keep you safe,” he says, although he knows it's irrational – a pregnant omega like him should never be outside, especially since the infected can smell their condition from afar, like moths to a flame; “I don't- it's not fair, Kai-yah. I should be there for you.”
“You're always here for me,” Kai hushes, leaning his face into Beomgyu's palm, nuzzling at his touch, releasing as much calming pheromones as he can possibly manage. Good, too good to him. To think that Beomgyu had once teased him for being the younger one.
“You take such good care of me. Of our baby, too. You're doing such a good job already, jagi-yah,” Kai smiles. His eyes are terribly darling when he smiles, “a few scratches and a bruise here and there means nothing to me if I get to come back to both of you healthy and happy.”
“I'm just scared that one day…” Beomgyu shuts his eyes, hiding his face in Kai's sweater, their legs tangled in a mess of throws, and shirts, “one day, you won't come back, and I'll have to do this all alone.”
He feels his own tears spilling into Kai's worn cashmere, finally unable to hold back what his mind had been spiralling to the hours before Kai came back: that he would look out the window, to the streets below, and see that the only person he had ever loved so dearly become a person he had known. To see Kai infected like he did with his friends, his own father – to see the void in their eyes, his own despair reflected within them.
The infected are zombies with only inklings of their memories left; the infection spreads to one's mind until it corrupts every system within one's brain, and the parasite takes charge of your limbs, and your pursuit.
He had nightmares seeing Kai like that. He could throw up from the sheer horror of it all.
He sobs, and grips onto his sweater like a hook to a coat. Kai's heart is heavy, he knows. He wants to apologise for saying such negative things, for making their reunion such a hopeless occasion. He should have been preparing dinner by now; why is it always Kai who takes care of him?
Kai must have his worries too, he has seen the way his alpha frowns at the sight of their pantry, throwing a jab at himself here and there of how he must be the world's worst scavenger. Yet here Kai is, holding Beomgyu down, his weight a sanctuary which Beomgyu so helplessly indulges in.
“Jagi-yah,” he whispers, “I'll be here when Nugget is born. I'll be here until our baby turns three, five, seven, until she's no longer a baby anymore. I promise.”
Beomgyu cannot help but smile, then. Reality is cruel, but Kai's promises are warm. He pictures their little pup as they grow, in a world far brighter. Nugget always kicks when her parents sing; Beomgyu wonders if she'll love the sound of guitar; he has never played for her before.
“I want you to teach her the drums,” he whispers shakily, picturing their little pup with Hyuka’s smile, and his cheeks, as well, sitting by the drum kit of Kai's studio. I'll have to buy a mini one for the pup, Kai had told him the day Beomgyu found out he was pregnant, only a week before the outbreak. We can put it next to mine. It’ll be so cute, won't it? “I'll teach her guitar,” he adds, smiling despite the mess in his heart. “She'll be fluent in five different instruments by the time she's twelve, if that’s what Nugget wants..”
“She'll be as beautiful as you,” Kai tells him, “as kind as you.”
“Do you think Nugget will be an omega like me, Kai-yah?” Beomgyu whispers, “maybe Nugget will be an alpha. Our stubborn little alpha, just like her appa.”
His swollen belly pushes against Kai's stomach, and Beomgyu feels their pup kicking in protest, Kai's hands immediately going to where she kicks.
“I wouldn't mind either way,” he tells him, “you know that.”
“I hope she isn't as shy as both of us are,” Beomgyu adds, “I hope when she falls in love, she won't take years to admit it, just like we did. I hope she'll be the most beloved.”
He feels Kai chuckle, his chest rumbling in a way that feels right.
To be loved, to be safe; that is all Beomgyu hopes for their pup for now. The rest can come with time; the rest can only come with time.
They linger in the corner of Beomgyu's nest, Kai's back against a wall and Beomgyu in his embrace, taking in his scent. Kai is most sensitive on the glands right behind his ears; when Beomgyu rubs circles there, the most lovely burst of evergreens flood his fingertips, leaving them almost honeyed and sticky with it.
“Jagi-yah,” Kai mutters his name when the sky has fully darkened, early winter engulfing all the light the sun has left in its leaving. Only the lamp flickers; “I'll be able to stay here with you until Nugget is born, after next week.”
Beomgyu really needs to thank the rest of their pack for taking up so much work without complaint; Soobin, Yeonjun and Taehyun all live downstairs, although, seeing as they aren't here, they are probably all passed out from the day's worth of roaming about.
They all try their hardest to ensure Beomgyu wouldn't have to worry about anything but the pup.
“You've been gathering a lot of things for us…” he notes, seeing Kai's large hiking backpack by their door. It looks so heavy. His mate's shoulders must be aching.
“We're still short on diapers and wipes, aren't we?” Kai says rhetorically, before burying himself in Beomgyu's shoulder once more, “I'll find a way.”
Beomgyu hums, as assuredly as he can make himself.
“You'll always find a way,” he tells him, “we can make it work. We've made it so far.”
“We can,” Kai agrees, “you don't have to worry about me. The zombies aren't that bad; even Yeonjun-hyung can outrun them, healing ankle and all.”
Yeonjun had sprained his ankle while being chased by a hoard of zombies months ago. It had left him unable to scavenge for two weeks; the alpha felt so guilty, although him staying here meant he could prepare meals, and fix up the places Beomgyu could not.
Beomgyu still felt so sickly, then. It was good to have help, although it meant the other three of their pack had to go on longer excursions just to get enough.
Now that they know the people and the places in this town, supplies come a little easier.
“But still, be careful, Kai-yah,” Beomgyu urges him, “they're everywhere.”
“They are,” Kai admits, “but there are people everywhere too. I have Soobin-hyung, Yeonjun-hyung, Taehyunnie… and I have you, our pup. I won't lose to a zombie so easily. They don't scare me.”
“My alpha is so brave,” Beomgyu teases, though in his voice one can hear overflowing gratitude, and affection.
“I'd argue you're even braver than I am, Beomgyu-yah.”
Beomgyu falls silent.
“I need to be brave,” he murmurs, “when Nugget is born.”
“I'm scared of giving birth,” he then confesses to his mate, “I keep thinking, how can I possibly do it here? Now? The zombies will hear me, won't they? They'll hear me, and this building will be surrounded by them. What happens then?”
Is it even possible to birth their pup in silence? Beomgyu does not think he can be quiet; not during what's most likely the most painful experience of one's life.
They could have him bite on a piece of cloth like the people in ancient dramas… will that work?
“We'll place more barricades around the building, and the stairs,” Kai tells him, “and someone will be here to stand guard. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”
Nugget kicks once again, and this time, Kai feels it on his own abdomen.
But he also hears Beomgyu's stomach grumble right after. It is only then that Beomgyu is aware of his own hunger, having been so focused on drinking in his mate's scent for the past half an hour.
“Jagi,” Kai calls, “let's have dinner now?”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu agrees, but whines when Kai raises himself up from their nest on their mattress, and helps Beomgyu to stand, too. The cold of their apartment hits Beomgyu's skin, no longer so consumed by his alpha's warmth. At least Nugget seems more content with the additional space she gets.
Beomgyu lights up the burner with a lighter, the gas having run out long ago. The stove makes a swishing sound as the fire circles the burner, and he places a pot of water above it; the pot is big, enough to cook at least five packs of ramyeon.
The cabinet creaks as he pulls the door open, revealing a small pantry, half filled with food. He imagined it had once been full, the previous owner having left so many pots and cookwares, even a second freezer by the balcony.
“Are the rest going to have dinner with us?” He asks. Kai hums behind him.
“Probably not,” he replies, though his voice is contemplative, “Soobin-hyung told me he'll be cooking for himself after he wakes up. Yeonjun-hyung and Taehyun would probably be the same. They told me they're coming back in a few minutes.”
He would switch pots, but he is far too tired to do so.
Instead he retrieves three packs of ramyeon from the pantry, and watches as the flames sway here and there, and little bubbles begin to emerge from the bottom of the pot.
As the water comes to a boil, Beomgyu switches to watching his mate as Kai unloads everything from his backpack – soup bases in packs, some instant rice, persimmons, noodles, formula… Kai has also found a large bag of carrots, and some bundled up greens; fresh produce is a rarity nowadays, so Beomgyu is uncharacteristically happy at the sight of it.
Lastly, Kai pulls out a few bottles, one of which Beomgyu recognises immediately, almost unable to believe himself.
“You got my favourite lotion?” He whispers. From a distance, he hears the water about to bubble, but he doesn't pay his attention to it just yet.
Kai grins, his eyes filled with pride. “I did!” He says happily. How Beomgyu adores his toothy grin, as Kai nudges him to take the bottle of lotion in his hand. Lavender scented, pairing perfectly with his mate's scent. His skin has been too dry from the winter air; he didn't tell Kai of the rashes, or how his heart sinks at the sight of the stretch marks on his stomach, but his mate is far too attentive to not notice.
Beomgyu walks his way to Kai, and peppers him in kisses. “You're the best,” he says, “I'm so lucky. The luckiest in the world.”
Kai tilts his head, kissing Beomgyu's temple. “I’ll find more of them for you next time,” he says. Beomgyu cannot help but feel a squeeze in his chest at his words, a nowadays familiar mix of both sadness and affection.
But that is quickly swept away by a firm pat on his shoulder. Beomgyu lifts his head to look at Kai, whose eyes are now widened, his lips in a perfect ‘o’ as he gestures, with a somewhat strange contrasting calmness, to the kitchen.
“The water,” is all he says, before he heads towards their pot, now over spilling with bubbles all over. Beomgyu had forgotten it was there; Kai turns the fire on low, and Beomgyu can only look at him sheepishly, walking towards him with the most sorry look in his eyes.
“I forget things so easily nowadays,” he sighs, “let me cook for us, Kai-yah. I want to make dinner for us both.”
Kai lets him, although he remains in their small kitchen, replenishing their pantry with the newly gathered supplies as Beomgyu throws in the soup packets, and handfuls of bok choy too, with slices of spam.
“Some eggs would be perfect,” he says, knowing just how much Kai has missed the taste of eggs. His stomach rumbles once more as the smell of ramyeon fills the room. Some grilled meat would have made this even better, too.
“I think we'll be able to get eggs soon,” Kai perks up behind him, sorting the carrots. “Taehyunnie told me he and Yeonjun-hyung came across a family stuck in their house. They told them if they could help them make runs to the distribution centres, they could trade their help for some things in their home,” he explains, “and they do have chickens in their yard.”
“That's good,” Beomgyu smiles, stirring the eggless pot, for now, “I'll make us gyeran-jjim as soon as we get those eggs, Kai-yah.”
Behind him, Kai does a small celebration cheer. Beomgyu huffs with fondness. He is reminded of when he had first brought Kai to meet his colleagues for a drink; his peers and even his manager had thought Kai seemed much too shy, and even a little stoic. But the Kai he knows is so much more than that. He is the sun and moon, the clouds that hide his stars for only the ones he loves most to witness their light.
“It's good we live in a place with so many families with farms in their gardens,” Beomgyu says. “Maybe someday, we'll move to a house, and make our own garden.”
“Soobin-hyung and I talked about that today,” Kai says. “But taller buildings like these are safer for now. But, maybe, someday… if hyung and I find a large house that we can all move into somehow…”
“Our pup will grow well there,” Beomgyu smiles, and tries to not think of how difficult it would be to do something like that, especially with a pup, “and maybe we can have chickens of our own.”
The noodles have fully cooked by now. At least, Kai's portion is, for he likes his noodles a little undercooked (although he says he doesn't care, regardless). He puts it all into a bowl that doesn't belong to him; thinks of their bowls back in Seoul, and whether the owner of this place misses their own utensils, too.
He wonders where they could have fled; if they had even fled, or if they were infected.
He pours half of the boiling hot soup into the bowl, and sets it for Kai, who has now chosen to stand right beside him.
“Yours,” Beomgyu says, “eat lots, Kai-yah.”
Kai takes it easily, no sign of discomfort from the hot bowl in his hand.
“This is a lot of noodles,” he notes.
“I've cooked three packs; we deserve to splurge every once in a while.”
Kai chuckles, in a way that makes his eyes close tightly, his head lowering to reveal the bridge of his nose. How pretty he is.
“Are you sure you don't want more?” He asks, “you're hungrier than I am, jagi-yah.”
“I will throw up if I have more than one,” Beomgyu states as a matter of factly, “and you've had a long day; eat, Kai-yah. I like seeing you eat well.”
Kai can't argue with that, so he takes his chopsticks, and takes a seat on the dining set for four; the chairs feel a little loose if one so much as leans their back against them, but it's obviously well-loved for many years; if one is to lay below the table, you can see scribbles of a young child's imaginary world on the bottom of the tabletop, its ink worn, but its story of fairies and castles still comprehensible.
He serves himself his own portion of dinner, then he takes his seat right opposite of Kai, taking their lamp to the table. His heart quietly eases at the sight of Kai once more. It's all he has to rely on, now, the only constant things; his mate, their pack, and the little licks in his stomach that tells him their pup is alright.
The electricity is back in service tonight, so they watch the news from Kai's phone, leaning against the wall.
Another sudden outbreak in a small town in Gangwon; another neighborhood in Busan cleared of zombies. They exist in a time where it will take all the running to just remain at the very same spot.
They soon switch to watching older videos instead, ones made before the apocalypse began. Music performances from their favourite bands; video game playthroughs of Resident Evil from more than a decade ago. Looking at it now, it all feels a little silly, and also a little surreal.
Kai offers to do the dishes; that's when Beomgyu hears a creak of a door from below them. It is probably Yeonjun and Taehyun, having just returned to their temporary home.
Beomgyu begins to boil water in an even larger pot, to be used for their baths later on.
From the echoing walls of their little bathroom, even the crows do not dare to caw.
Only the occasional sounds of the winds whispering; a clatter of life here and there, downstairs, and the low, seemingly suffocating growls of an infected somewhere.
Beomgyu does not look down; he stares at the water heater instead, no longer in use.
His heart sings to him a song he once loved; Nugget kicks harshly as he towels himself in the cold. He lays a hand on his stomach; he sees the faintest bump of a foot through his skin.
“Stay in there a little longer,” he whispers so softly, “it's not so safe for you to come out to this world now.”
He dons an extra sweater, and lays on their mattress. It is barely ten o'clock. Yeonjun comes by their floor just to give him everything he has taken for him from the distribution centre this morning – prenatal vitamins, formula, and a booklet on how to prepare for a birth at home; numbers of the closest available clinics and hospitals that Beomgyu had already saved long ago.
There are dark circles beneath Yeonjun's eyes.
“Tell us if you need anything else, Beomgyu-yah,” he says. “You're alright, right? Nothing's wrong?”
He's always trying to be the oldest one, Beomgyu thinks to himself.
Yeonjun stays for a few minutes more, only until Kai has come out of the bathroom, and they exchange a few words of their plans for tomorrow. Then, Beomgyu stands by the stairway as Yeonjun makes his way down the stairs; he walks with the smallest limp on his left side, although he still gives Beomgyu an assuring smile and a wave as he enters his own room downstairs.
“Jagi,” Kai calls. Beomgyu makes his way to their bed; Kai breaks into a smile as he does.
“You're starting to walk like a little duckling,” he says teasingly. Beomgyu huffs.
“How dare you make fun of your pregnant husband,” he says, to which Kai clasps his hands together jestingly, as if he is praying for Beomgyu's forgiveness.
“Sorry, I really didn't mean it,” he smiles, “you look so pretty like this. I just can't help staring.”
“Alpha,” Beomgyu kneels to their mattress, sitting right between Kai's open arms once more, “admit it, you just like to watch me round with your pup.”
Kai has never been a socially stereotypical alpha – that is, the overwhelmingly ambitious kind with a dominating presence that Beomgyu found nauseating to be with – and it was the first thing Beomgyu noticed about him, when they first met a decade prior. Kai was with Soobin, a beta, and his scent was so undetectable as they greeted one another that Beomgyu had thought him to be a beta, too.
He has always been much more delicate than the other alphas Beomgyu has dared; Kai has never desired much fame or power, he just exists within his own world – his studio, their apartment, their pack's favourite places, his parent's home…– and Beomgyu liked that part of him so very much. He was attracted to his quiet charm; the way he handles everything so gently, how his heart must be so full of kindness, despite his aloof impression.
He still remembers Kai telling him to not think of him as an alpha, the first time Beomgyu had realised his gender.
Excluding Yeonjun and Taehyun, whom he has known since college, Kai was the first alpha Beomgyu had allowed himself to be so close to.
They were married two years ago, a simple ceremony with only their families and their closest friends; everyone had worried it was far too rushed, for they had only known one another for a year prior to that.
They were mated that very same night, and Beomgyu had never felt so content in his life.
When news first broke of the parasite having spread, and the news began to warn everyone to limit contact, to stock up on the essentials, to stay inside… Beomgyu was only a few weeks pregnant then.
Kai had held his hands that night, and kissed his knuckles, his actions carrying his promise to keep them safe.
“I'll take care of the two of you,” he told him, despite the worry in his voice, “you won't have to worry a thing.”
He had kept his promise well. They escaped in their car out of Seoul, when Seoul became more zombie than life and it was announced that their district would be barricaded for eradication efforts to take place. They fled to Daegu, then drove further past that. They found a rural town; an emptied out building. They built a life for themselves; the nest, the pantry, and their pup, growing stronger with every passing day.
Kai does not deny Beomgyu's claim. Instead, he locks his arms loosely around Beomgyu's belly. He has always been such a cuddly mate.
“When will you leave tomorrow?” Beomgyu asks quietly. Their lamp flickers; the moon and the stars bathe his mate in a silky, luminescent blue. There aren't any tall buildings to obstruct the stars, so Beomgyu admires them all.
“Nine,” Kai answers him. His hands have travelled to Beomgyu's hips, and he rubs his sore spots firmly; enough to make Beomgyu sigh in relief, “I'll be back before five, I promise.”
“A nine-to-five job,” Beomgyu jokes, though his heart aches at the thought of having this whole place to himself once more. “Please come back before sundown, jagi-yah.”
Kai, sensing his slight distress, releases more of his evergreen scent.
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd be late today,” he says, “I must have made you so worried.”
“But you're back,” Beomgyu hushes him, “that's the most important thing.”
“When this is all over, let's go to the Han River again, Beomgyu-yah.”
“We'll have our little Nugget with us by then,” Beomgyu smiles, stroking lightly on his stomach. He wonders if the outbreak will actually end; if apocalypses won't last forever, and their pup can grow up without a single memory of what her parents have endured before she came into the world. He prays, he prays, he prays.
That all their pup will ever recount will be the peaceful mornings with her parents preparing her favourite dishes in the kitchen, or buttoning her neatly ironed uniform; the precious evenings where they are at the park, watching ships sail by the Han River, or playing on a scooter.
It seems so impossible now, but he prays, nonetheless:
If not for an ending as happy as that, they will at least be able to watch their pup grow; that there will be safer, happier days ahead. That Nugget will not have to hunger, or sleep in fear. She will be sung lullabies to quiet away the groans of the infected; the gunshots that follow. She will run to her parents when she so wishes; she will play with her uncles whenever she desires.
They fall asleep to the sound of each other breathing, and wake to the sun already risen. They have breakfast together as a pack of five: pajeon without the spring onions, only the batter, which Taehyun is somehow able to make delicious. The persimmons they found yesterday; a strange combination.
Then Kai leaves, and Beomgyu hugs him tightly before he does, kissing his lips, the bridge of his nose, and his forehead; making him promise to return, as he always does.
He watches as they make their way down the stairs; as the echoes grow fainter, and his heart feels empty once more.
To distract himself, he calls his mother at noon, the cell towers in their area back in service for a moment. He asks if she is well; if his grandparents are well with her, too. He remembers his father; he tries not to sound so sad, before his own mother. He promises to be safe.
He cleans whatever his heart yells at him to clean, despite his swollen feet and his ever aching hips; wiping the kitchen down, washing their clothes, and dusting the bookshelves of books and trinkets that don't belong to him. Lunch is the pajeon that Taehyun has made extra; near evening, he watches out from the window once more, only looking up to the gloomy winter sky, making his complexion seem so much paler than it is.
Then the clock strikes four; then its hour arm inches closer to five. The sky begins to darken just slightly; the shadows grow longer.
True to his mate's words, he hears the distinct sound of the barricade to their stairwell being dismantled, and four pairs of footsteps.
Kai enters their home with a triumphant smile today, opening his arms to let Beomgyu engulf himself into his husband's embrace. He seems less exhausted than he was yesterday; what a relief.
“We got some more food today, Taehyun says we should all have dinner together,” Kai murmurs into his shoulder, “and I managed to buy some of the cloth diapers we talked about, too. Someone mentioned an old lady selling them. I'm not sure if they're the right size-”
“It's fine, Kai-yah,” Beomgyu smiles, “we'll make do with whatever we have.”
Kai hums.
“We will,” he tells him, “I love you, Beomgyu-yah.”
“I love you too,” he kisses his husband' dearly, “welcome home, Kai-yah.”
_____
Huening Nari was born on the tail end of winter, on a starry, moonlit night. Eight and a half months after the start of the outbreak.
She came out wailing after an arduous, but otherwise smooth labour; after a whole hour of pushing, and her father's hand almost crushed into bits and pieces. The whole pack has chosen to stay guard in the four-storey building that day, as soon as Beomgyu has shown the first signs of labour. Beomgyu had given birth with a cloth in his mouth, and they had closed most of the windows; barricaded the doors more than before.
The little girl (Beomgyu has been right all along of her primary gender, a mother's intuition, perhaps) was born in her parents’ nest, made cozier in anticipation of her arrival. She comes out wailing loudly, much to Beomgyu's immediate alert and fear (but also relief, which is such a conflicting mix of emotions), but she immediately quiets down once Beomgyu holds her on his chest, her umbilical cord still attached. She has the longest lashes, and her father's nose; she makes her parents cry as she squirms and opens her eyes, all healthy, with ten fingers and toes (Beomgyu counted!)
“She's beautiful,” Kai touches her ruddy cheek with his finger, careful and attentive to her every reaction. She smells so much like milk.
They name their little pup Nari; they shower her with love. She latches onto Beomgyu's breast easily, and her mother lays his head against his mate's bare chest, as all the adrenaline finally leaves his body, and he feels his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. Kai kisses his sweat-laden head, whispers praises that make his omega dizzy with joy. Nari is dressed in a onesie the distribution has given them; her socks and her mittens, too, are a size bigger than she is. A small little thing; Beomgyu wonders if she could've been bigger, had the apocalypse not have happened.
She is bundled up with the softest towels they have; Beomgyu delivers the afterbirth, and Soobin and Kai cleans up the nest promptly. A while later, Yeonjun and Taehyun meet the newest addition to their pack as well, Yeonjun absolutely awestruck and Taehyun clueless as to what he should do with the little one.
Beomgyu won't let go of his daughter, her body laying on his chest as she dozes off to sleep.
After it appears that Beomgyu isn't experiencing any complications from the birth of their pup, they all heave a sigh of relief, and Beomgyu gets to pay all of his attention to his daughter, who is clad in a sweet, milky scent. When the cell towers are functioning once more, he will have to call his mother. He caresses Nari's face, and takes note of every little feature of her darling face; it seems she has inherited his lips, though her ears look a little like Kai's. She's theirs; all theirs. His worries weigh as heavy as the world around them, but Nari's presence alone makes bearing it all so worth it.
Yeonjun and Soobin continues to be on the lookout around their building, while Taehyun offers to make breakfast from one of the soup bases they were given weeks ago. The rooms smells of herbs and seaweed, and though they have none of the usual meats to pair along with it, Taehyun uses whatever they have in the pantry – noodles, some the vegetables Soobin exchanged from a nearby farm, reclaimed by a bunch of youngsters, and the eggs they were given from helping the elderly family with their errands.
It's possibly the healthiest meal any of them have eaten for the past few months.
Nari cries for milk when she wakes; her every wail makes Beomgyu frantic with fear, but Nari only needs her parents close to calm her. She remains on either Beomgyu or Kai's chest the rest of the day, alternating between feeding and napping. Her parents wonder if she will grow to be an omega, just like her mother, or if she will be an alpha like Kai or his sister.
“Or maybe she'll be a beta instead,” Beomgyu watches with his heart swelling as Kai rocks her to sleep in the evening. “Maybe she'll be like Soobin.”
Nari is fed every two or three hours, with Beomgyu having to wake up throughout the night to reach into her crib; a firm little cardboard box that the distribution centres send to all expecting mothers, big enough to hold a pup safely as they sleep.
The pup is on the verge of tearing up before Beomgyu holds her into his arms, releasing his own pheromones to calm her poor little heart. Nari latches onto his nipple after a little trouble; Beomgyu makes himself comfortable against the wall, patting her bottom softly as he hums her a song.
Once more, he finds that he's hoping for many things for the little one snuggled in his arms. He looks up to see a night sky full of glowing stars, and he places a wish to each and every one: for Nari to be allowed to laugh freely, and scream and cry as loudly as she wants. For her to have a favourite snack, favourite café, favourite spot, to do all the things that children do. For Kai to send her to school, and for him to bring her her forgotten books; maybe a forgotten guitar. For many, many things. Seemingly impossible things. He thinks of ten more as he coaxes Nari to burp. Two more as he rocks her to sleep.
He settles carefully back into their mattress, and hopes with all his heart that one day, he will be able to look down from their window, and see Nari making her way back home, messed up hair and wrinkled school uniform and all.
As day breaks, Nari cries for milk once more, and Beomgyu hopes he will be able to feed her for much longer than what's expected.
The cell towers are in service today, and the news announces yet another new military strategy to get rid of all the infected ones in Seoul and Busan, the situation a little better than it was before. The map is more red and orange than it is green, and there are no news anchors, no radio station; merely a voice and what looks a lot like a PowerPoint presentation.
In spite of it all, hope is found in the way their daughter wakes and sleeps all unbothered. The way Kai looks at her with love making his scent that much sweeter, and how their pack remains intact; the rest of the world, too, trying to stay afloat.
There will always be tomorrow. One day, this will end.
Beomgyu chooses to believe that they will all be there to see that special tomorrow when they get to return home once again.