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The late afternoon light was already starting to flatten everything into shades of gray by the time they moved past the broken convenience store windows. Dust drifted lazily in the stale air, catching in their throats. Every step seemed too loud.
They’d been combing the strip of abandoned shops for nearly an hour, splitting into pairs so they could check each building quickly. Shelves had long since been stripped bare, and anything left behind had either rotted or rusted. The smell of damp cardboard and old metal lingered in Jaehyun’s nose.
He paused near the entrance of a pharmacy, scanning the aisles. Sungho and Woonhak were across the street, knee-deep in a pile of discarded clothing, muttering to each other about what was salvageable. Riwoo was nearby, shaking an empty can of something as if hoping it might magically reveal contents.
Then Riwoo straightened, brow furrowed.
“Where’s Taesan?”
The question landed like a pebble dropped into water, rippling out in the quiet.
Jaehyun’s fingers tightened around the strap of his pack. “He’s probably just around back,” he said quickly, keeping his tone even. “You know how he is—wanders off when he sees something worth checking out.”
But his eyes darted automatically toward the far end of the street, scanning shadows.
They moved on to the next block, the sound of their boots crunching on glass filling the space between them. Jaehyun tried to keep his focus on the task—check shelves, check under counters, keep moving—but his attention kept snagging on the fact that Taesan wasn’t with them. He thought about how Taesan usually trailed at the back of the group, quiet but visible, head tilted toward the ground as he walked. The empty space where he should’ve been was too noticeable.
“Maybe he went to the market building,” Riwoo suggested, though his voice carried an edge.
Jaehyun forced a small nod. “Could have.”
The market wasn’t far, but it would take time to search—time they didn’t have if they wanted to be back before dark. He told himself Taesan knew that. He told himself Taesan was fine.
Still, as they stepped over a fallen street sign and into the yawning entrance of the next store, Jaehyun found himself glancing over his shoulder again and again, listening for the sound of footsteps that never came.
The store they were in had once been a bakery. The glass cases were cracked, their shelves stripped bare except for a few dusty trays. The air was faintly sweet with a stale, clinging scent that made Jaehyun’s stomach turn. Sunlight spilled weakly through a gap in the boarded-up front, cutting across the floor in pale lines.
They moved in silence, searching without speaking much. Every now and then, a bottle rattled or a drawer scraped open, and the sound seemed to echo too loudly in the emptiness.
Jaehyun found himself drifting toward the doorway, eyes sweeping the street again. Nothing. No movement. Just the wind lifting scraps of paper across the cracked asphalt.
“Hyung?”
He turned. Woonhak was standing a few steps away, his brows drawn together in worry. The younger’s voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant.
“Where’s Taesan?”
Jaehyun’s mouth opened, but no words came out right away. “I—” He stopped, realizing he was stalling, and forced something out. “He… uh… he was behind us a while ago. He probably—”
“He’s fine,” Leehan cut in smoothly from near the back of the store, not even looking up from the shelf he was checking. His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was stating a rule they all already knew. “You know him. He’s alright.”
Woonhak didn’t look convinced, but he nodded faintly, chewing his lip before bending to sift through a box of useless scraps.
They pushed on, crossing the street to the next row of buildings. The air felt heavier now, like the whole group was holding its breath. Jaehyun tried to keep his eyes on the doorframes and the piles of debris, but every few seconds his gaze flicked toward corners and alleys, searching for that familiar hoodie and long stride.
By the time they reached the edge of the block, the shadows were long enough to stretch across both sides of the street. Jaehyun’s pulse kicked up at every distant creak, at every leaf skittering in the breeze.
Then they heard footsteps.
At first, it was faint, almost blending with the wind, but it grew sharper, closer. The group turned toward the sound at the same time.
Taesan emerged from between two buildings, hood half-pulled up, face unreadable. He slowed when he saw them, as if nothing about the situation was unusual.
Woonhak didn’t wait. He bolted forward, closing the distance in seconds, and threw his arms around him in a tight, almost desperate hug. The force of it made Taesan sway a little.
“You can’t just disappear like that!” Woonhak muttered, voice thick.
Before Taesan could reply, Leehan was there too, wrapping his arms around both of them, relief written plainly on his face.
Jaehyun stayed where he was, shoulders easing but not completely loosening. He looked over at Sungho and Riwoo, catching both their eyes for a moment. The unspoken message passed between them easily—he’s back, but that doesn’t mean we’re not worried.
Still, Jaehyun let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
⸝⸝
The road back to their safehouse was the kind of quiet that made every sound stick. Their boots scuffed against the pavement in unsteady rhythm, crunching over broken glass and brittle leaves. Overhead, the clouds had thickened, muting the last of the sun until the light was a pale, washed-out gray.
Leehan stayed close to Taesan, grinning in that unrestrained way that made the edges of his eyes crease. Every few steps, he’d glance sideways at him like he couldn’t quite believe he was there again. Jaehyun noticed the small, almost protective way Leehan angled his body toward him as they walked, as if keeping some invisible barrier between Taesan and the rest of the world.
Woonhak lingered on Taesan’s other side, still within touching distance. Every now and then, his sleeve would brush Taesan’s, and his head would turn slightly, like he was checking that he hadn’t vanished again.
Jaehyun brought up the rear with Sungho and Riwoo, his gaze occasionally tracking the group ahead but mostly focused on the way Taesan’s shoulders moved under his hoodie—steady, deliberate, as though he was forcing each step to stay measured.
After a while, Riwoo leaned closer to Jaehyun, his voice low. “Where do you think he went?”
Jaehyun hesitated, eyes flicking from Riwoo to Sungho, who was watching him expectantly.
“I don’t know,” Jaehyun said finally. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either—because he had guesses, and they were all tangled up in questions he didn’t want to ask right now. “He’s back. That’s what matters.”
Sungho frowned faintly, the expression more thoughtful than suspicious. “Yeah… but he was gone a while.”
They let it hang there, the conversation swallowed up by the empty street.
A gust of wind rolled past, stirring the loose fabric of their jackets. Jaehyun caught the faint sound of Leehan laughing softly ahead, the kind of light, easy laugh he didn’t let out often these days. Taesan glanced at him in response, something flickering across his face that was too quick for Jaehyun to catch.
They rounded a corner, passing the rusted-out skeleton of a bus. Woonhak stepped onto the curb and kept talking to Taesan about something inconsequential—whether the apples they’d found last week would still be good, if the rain barrel by the safehouse was filling fast enough.
It was almost normal. Almost.
⸝⸝ ☽ ⸝⸝
The safehouse was quiet except for the low thud of bags hitting the floor and the scrape of boots on wood. They’d made it back just before dark, slipping through the barricaded door one by one. Woonhak and Leehan stuck close to Taesan until Jaehyun stepped in and wordlessly motioned for him to follow.
Taesan hesitated, glancing toward the others, but Jaehyun didn’t wait. He pushed open the door to one of the side rooms, stepping inside with a tightness in his shoulders that Taesan recognized but didn’t understand.
The room was dim, lit only by a small gap in the boarded-up window. Dust floated in the air, catching the last strands of fading daylight.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jaehyun’s voice came—low at first, almost like he was still deciding whether to raise it.
“Where the hell were you?”
Taesan froze. “I told you, I was just—”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” Jaehyun cut in, stepping forward. “You disappeared for almost an hour, Taesan. You know how dangerous that is.”
Taesan’s jaw tightened. “I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not the point!” Jaehyun’s voice cracked sharper now, his hands gesturing sharply before he shoved them into his pockets like he was trying to rein himself in. “You think I’m mad because I think you’re weak? No. I’m mad because I thought something happened to you and you weren’t there for me to stop it.”
Taesan shifted his weight, leaning back against the wall. “You worry too much. I wasn’t far.”
“Don’t—” Jaehyun’s breath came out hard, like he was trying to steady it and failing. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it sound like I’m overreacting just because nothing happened this time.”
“It’s not a big deal—”
“It is to me!” Jaehyun snapped, stepping in closer. His eyes locked on Taesan’s, unwavering. “It is to me, Taesan. Every time one of us doesn’t come back right away, I—” He broke off, shaking his head, frustrated by how raw it sounded.
Taesan swallowed, crossing his arms. “You think yelling at me is going to make me stay glued to your side?”
Jaehyun’s breath hitched, his expression twisting. “I think yelling at you is the only way I’m going to get you to tell me what the hell you were doing.” His voice wasn’t loud now—it was sharp, deliberate. “Because right now, all I see is you risking yourself for no reason, and I’m done pretending I’m okay with that.”
Taesan’s eyes narrowed, his own frustration flaring. “It wasn’t for no reason.”
“Then what?” Jaehyun pressed, stepping in closer. “What was worth disappearing for? What was worth making us all think—” He stopped short, his jaw tightening, then pushed again. “Tell me.”
Taesan’s eyes darted away, his voice quieter now but still edged. “I… found yarn. And this little fish patch.”
Jaehyun blinked, thrown by the answer.
“For Leehan’s bag,” Taesan went on, his gaze fixed on the floor. “The strap’s been tearing, and he keeps pretending it’s fine, but it’s not. I thought… I could fix it. Sew the patch on so it’d hold better.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Guess I lost track of time.”
His shoulders hunched slightly, and before Jaehyun could respond, Taesan’s voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have done it. It was stupid.” His eyes glistened now, his hands flexing restlessly at his sides. “We were out there for supplies, and I was wasting time on—”
“Hey.” Jaehyun’s tone had shifted entirely, the sharpness gone. He stepped in closer, his voice low but firm. “That’s not stupid.”
Taesan turned to leave the room, fists clenched at his sides, but Jaehyun stepped in front of him, stopping him without touching him.
“Taesan,” Jaehyun said, low and firm. “Look at me.”
Taesan froze, chest heaving. There was no hiding it—the tension in his hands, the tremor in his shoulders, the tightness around his jaw. Jaehyun could see it all. He could see the way Taesan had done this out of love, not thoughtlessness.
“I’m not mad at you,” Jaehyun said, his voice softening but still steady. “I know why you did it. I know it’s because you care. You always care.”
Something cracked then. Taesan’s body sagged against the wall as the tears broke through. He wiped at his face angrily, sniffing, trying to keep them from showing, but Jaehyun didn’t flinch.
“Look at me,” Jaehyun repeated gently, holding his gaze. “You’re okay. I know why you did it. It’s… it’s good. It’s not stupid.”
Taesan’s hands fell limp, and he finally let himself meet Jaehyun’s eyes. The tears were there, spilling freely now, but the anger hadn’t completely left—it was tangled up with relief, with love, with guilt at worrying him.
Jaehyun stepped a little closer, though still careful, and kept speaking, calm and unwavering. “It’s okay. You’re safe and you’re here. That’s what matters.”
Taesan let out a shaky breath, shoulders trembling as he tried to steady himself. “Everything is so hard…” The fight in him was fading, replaced by the quiet, overwhelming weight of being seen and understood.
Jaehyun finally closed the distance as a response, wrapping his arms around Taesan in a careful, steady hug. Not tight enough to smother, but strong enough to hold him upright, to keep him from backing away.
Taesan stiffened at first, a flash of his old defensiveness, but then the weight of everything—the worry, the relief, the exhaustion—hit him all at once. His arms came up slowly, almost reluctantly, but then he leaned into Jaehyun, letting himself be supported. His face pressed into Jaehyun’s shoulder as silent tears streaked down, shaking out the last of the panic and anger.
“It’s okay,” Jaehyun murmured against his hair. “Everything is hard, Taesan-ah. I’m not mad. I just… I care about you so much.”
Taesan hiccupped, a small, broken sound, and buried his face deeper for a moment before exhaling shakily. When he finally pulled back enough to look at Jaehyun, the tension had softened in his eyes. He was still trembling, but it was different now—lighter, calmer.
Then, almost imperceptibly, the door creaked. Leehan’s small head poked in, cautious. His eyes were wide, curious and worried at once.
“What… what was happening?” he asked softly.
Jaehyun looked over, giving a gentle shake of his head. “It’s okay, Leehan. Nothing bad. Taesan’s okay.”
Taesan, still catching his breath, gave a faint nod at Leehan, just enough to reassure him without words. Leehan’s small shoulders relaxed, and he stepped back quietly, leaving the two of them to finish their moment in peace.
Jaehyun stayed close in the quiet room, resting his forehead briefly against Taesan’s temple.