Chapter Text
Keonho had Juhoon pressed firmly against the cold wall of the storage room, his hand tilting Juhoon’s chin upward just enough to deepen the kiss. His other hand roamed freely across the boy’s body, reckless and unbothered, as if the world outside their little hideout didn’t exist. Their lips moved feverishly, the dark room swallowing them whole, while somewhere in the distance, classes carried on without them.
This wasn’t unusual for them. Keonho and Juhoon snatched whatever moments they could throughout the day, because their separate classes kept them apart. It was nearly impossible to meet otherwise, so they skipped whenever the temptation was too strong, like today, mid–third period, when Keonho had sent Juhoon a quick message, telling him to meet in their secret spot before the bell.
It wasn’t as if they were keeping their relationship a secret. Almost everyone in the school knew by now. How could they not?
Keonho, captain of the soccer team, untouchably popular, the boy every girl wanted and half the boys envied, had chosen Juhoon. And Juhoon wasn’t just anyone either. Student council president, ranked number one in the entire school, his looks sharp enough to be mistaken for an idol’s. Teachers regularly pestered him about modeling, entertainment scouts lingered at the school gates, waiting for a chance to recruit him.
If Keonho ever bragged, which he constantly did, it was always about Juhoon.
My boyfriend’s hotter than anyone else on campus.
My boyfriend’s smarter than you’ll ever be.
It was no wonder the school had caught on so quickly. After all, Keonho hadn’t exactly tried to hide it, posting that Instagram photo two years ago of their hands clasped together, captioned with a smug little "finally mine" and a tag of Juhoon's account that left no room for questions.
Now, Juhoon tipped his head back, letting Keonho trail slow, consecutive kisses down his neck. A quiet sound slipped from his lips, soft enough to vanish into the dim air, as his eyes fluttered shut. His hand tightened on Keonho’s sleeve, caught in the moment, until the sharp clang of the bell tore through the silence.
Juhoon exhaled sharply, pushing at Keonho’s chest in half-hearted resistance. “The bell rang,” he muttered, though his voice wavered.
Keonho only leaned back up to capture his lips again, smirking against them. “Let’s stay a little longer.”
Juhoon rolled his eyes, finally forcing himself to shove Keonho away. “Or,” he said with exasperated fondness, “we could go eat something.”
Breathing unevenly, Keonho grinned as Juhoon moved to crack the door open and peek into the hallway. Just as he was about to slip out, Keonho’s hand darted forward, seizing his waist and pulling him back in. Juhoon stumbled into him with a muffled laugh, only to be spun around and kissed again, slow, deep, a parting claim.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Keonho whispered against his ear, teasing.
Juhoon’s lips curved despite himself, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner. With a soft chuckle, he slipped his fingers through Keonho’s and gave a gentle tug.
“Come on, big boy,” he teased, his tone light but laced with affection as he pulled him toward the door. Stepping into the light of the hallway, he added with a knowing glance, “I’m sure the others are already waiting.”
They walked hand in hand down the crowded hallway until they reached the cafeteria, the noise of chattering students and clattering trays filled the air.
Stopping in front of the buffet line, they scanned the day’s options. Juhoon leaned into Keonho’s side, lightly holding onto his arm as he peered over the trays of food.
“What do you want?” Keonho asked, tilting his head toward him.
Juhoon pressed his finger thoughtfully against his lips, eyes flicking over the choices as though it were the most serious decision of the day. It was a habit, one that always left Keonho staring with that soft grin he could never quite hide.
Leaning closer, Keonho lowered his voice. “Hm? Rice or ramen?” he offered, trying to narrow it down for him.
Juhoon glanced at him. “Rice.”
“Got it. Go sit with the others, I’ll grab it.”
Juhoon let go of him, weaving through the tables until he reached their usual spot. Martin was already there, sipping from a carton of milk with an unimpressed look.
“Where were you? I had to cover for you,” Martin muttered, raising an eyebrow.
Juhoon slid into the seat beside him, unbothered. “Did the teacher mark me absent?” he asked, tone light, as if the answer hardly mattered. His spotless reputation had always been enough to shield him from small slips like this.
Martin smirked, shaking his head. “Nah. I told her you’d been sent to the nurse.”
Before Juhoon could reply, a familiar voice chimed in. “What about me?”
Keonho appeared from behind, balancing two trays. He set one down in front of Juhoon and dropped into the seat beside him, placing his own tray on the table.
James glanced up lazily. “What about you?”
Keonho turned to Seonghyeon, raising his brows. “Did you cover for me?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Seonghyeon only shrugged, uninterested. “I told the teacher I didn’t know where you went.”
Keonho clicked his tongue, glaring. “Asshole.” He dug into his noodles with exaggerated frustration, slurping a huge bite just to make a point.
James laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re probably getting called in later.”
Keonho rolled his eyes, stabbing the rice cakes with his chopsticks. “What am I even supposed to tell them? Coach is gonna bench me for a week if he finds out, just like last time.”
It wasn’t an empty threat. Keonho had been in trouble more times than he could count, and for his coach, discipline was everything. Once, he’d even been forced to sit out an important match as punishment, benched for the entire game while the team struggled without their captain. Still, none of it seemed to stick. Not when it came to Juhoon.
Seonghyeon barked a laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “Tell him you were busy making babies. He’ll understand.” His words slurred into laughter by the end, barely coherent.
The table burst into snickers, but Keonho only leaned closer to Juhoon, eyes fixed mischievously on him. “I wish,” he murmured with a flirty smirk, close enough that his breath brushed Juhoon’s cheek.
Juhoon sighed, but the chuckle that slipped from him betrayed him. “Stop,” he said lightly, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth to cover his smile.
The rest of the day passed in its usual rhythm, classes dragging until the final bell released them. By the time Juhoon and the others gathered at the school gates, the sun was already dipping low, painting the sky in hazy gold. All four stood waiting, but there was no sign of Keonho.
“Bro, just text him or something,” Martin groaned, rocking on his heels impatiently.
Juhoon sighed, pulling out his phone. “Fine.” He called Keonho, letting it ring and ring, but no answer came. The boys exchanged a look.
“Let’s just go without him,” James muttered, stretching his arms overhead.
Just then, a figure appeared in the distance, sprinting across the courtyard. Keonho came barreling toward them, slightly out of breath, hair mussed as if he’d been in a rush.
“Took you long enough,” Seonghyeon drawled, tossing his head back with exaggerated boredom.
“Sorry, sorry, I had to talk to Coach,” Keonho said quickly, brushing it off as he threw his arm around Juhoon’s shoulders.
But something about it made Juhoon’s chest tighten.
Coach?
That didn’t make sense. He was almost certain he’d overheard earlier that the football coach had left right after break for personal reasons. If that was true, then what exactly had Keonho been doing?
“Juhoon?” Martin’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Huh?” He blinked, snapping out of it.
“You coming to get chicken or what?” Martin asked, already half-turned toward the street.
Juhoon hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve got an appointment. You guys go.” He slipped out of Keonho’s arm before the other could protest. “Next time,” he added, unapologetic.
“See you tomorrow, babe,” Keonho said smoothly, leaning in for a kiss. But Juhoon barely moved his lips, letting Keonho take it from him rather than giving it back.
He hummed something vague in response and turned away, walking down the street toward home with his thoughts racing.
Maybe he was just overthinking. He was prone to it, and he knew it. But this didn’t feel like a harmless slip-up, it felt deliberate. Keonho had flat-out lied about talking to someone who hadn’t even been there. Which meant he was hiding something.
By the time Juhoon got home, unease still gnawed at him. He changed quickly, tossing his uniform aside, and collapsed into bed. The ceiling stared back at him as his mind replayed the afternoon over and over.
“I’m just overthinking it,” he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud would make it true. He shut his eyes, trying to drown the thoughts in sleep, but the weight of doubt lingered even as he drifted off.
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Juhoon woke to the shrill buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. His screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls, unread messages, and buzzing group chats, almost everyone he knew trying to reach him. Still half-asleep, he opened the first message from his father.
Hey son, your mom and I are leaving on a sudden trip to Europe. Stay safe and have fun.
Juhoon didn’t bother replying. His eyes slid over to the long string of missed calls and desperate messages from Keonho, but he ignored those too. He didn’t want to see them, not yet. That was when something else caught his eye. A text from an unknown number, timestamped just minutes ago.
His stomach twisted. A heavy, unexplainable weight sank into his gut as he tapped it open. One message. A video.
The thumbnail looked blurry, grainy, whoever had filmed it had zoomed in as far as possible. With a shaky thumb, Juhoon pressed play.
The screen flickered to life, and his chest tightened.
Keonho. In what looked like a club, dark, crowded. Music thumped faintly in the background as the camera struggled to focus. And there was Keonho, leaning close, whispering into another boy’s ear.
Juhoon froze, brows knitting. The boy wasn’t unfamiliar. He squinted, zooming in with his fingers until the pixels broke apart, but even then, he was sure, he’d seen him at school. He didn’t know his name, but he knew his face.
The video continued. Two minutes of them pressed together, laughing, dancing far too close, Keonho’s smile bright like he knew what he was doing. Then the clip cut out.
Juhoon’s fingers trembled. His chest rose and fell unevenly, breath shallow as he stared at the black screen. What was he supposed to do? Call Keonho? Reply to the unknown sender?
He wasn’t the type to crumble. Juhoon had always been strong, sharp-tongued, the kind of person who stood his ground no matter what. But right now, he could only sit frozen in place, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
He forced himself to act, thumbs moving stiffly across the keyboard.
Who is this?
The message sent. Then, instantly, the three words appeared beneath it.
This number is no longer available.
Blocked.
Juhoon cursed under his breath. His chest tightened with a sick heat, like his body wanted to throw up everything at once. The only person he could think to call was Seonghyeon. His fingers dialed automatically, pressing the phone to his ear as the dial tone dragged on.
Finally, the call was picked up.
“Seonghyeon, where are you?” Juhoon asked without bothering to explain anything first, his voice tight with urgency.
On the other end, Seonghyeon answered brightly, his tone playful. “Partying all night long,” he joked, laughter in his voice.
“Where are you!?” Juhoon cut him off quickly, his question sharp, almost desperate.
There was a pause. Seonghyeon’s voice softened, the humor fading instantly. “Uh, I was just trying to be funny,” he said quickly, now sounding uneasy. “I’m at home. Why?”
Juhoon let out a shaky sigh, pressing the phone tighter against his ear.
“Seonghyeon... I just got a video from some random number,” he said, his voice low and tight. “And Keonho, he was in it. He was dancing in some club... with that guy from History class.”
There was a pause before Seonghyeon’s curious voice came through. “Who?”
“That boy,” Juhoon muttered, his chest tightening as he forced the words out. “I knew it. He’s always giving him these looks.” He sank deeper into his pillow, trying to calm his racing heart. Overreacting wasn’t going to change anything. But the video kept replaying in his head, each frame like a knife twisting deeper.
“Oh, that guy,” Seonghyeon said slowly, trying to recall. “What was his name... Aalan? Something like that?”
Juhoon didn’t answer. He just put the phone on speaker, his eyes glued to the glowing screen. The video was already downloaded, he couldn’t risk losing it. He pressed play again, hoping that maybe, somehow, the person in the blurry lighting wasn’t Keonho after all.
But it was. Every time, it was.
“And why is he even in a club?” Juhoon asked bitterly, frustration bleeding through his voice.
“Hey,” Seonghyeon said softly, trying to steady him. “Show me the video tomorrow at school. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry too much tonight.”
Juhoon let out a long breath, his hand dragging over his face. “...Let’s just talk tomorrow.”
“Mm. Tomorrow,” Seonghyeon hummed in agreement.
The line clicked dead, leaving Juhoon alone with the silence of his room and the faint glow of his phone. He replayed the video one last time, his stomach churning as his pulse hammered in his ears.
He clenched his jaw and told himself this wasn’t how it was going to end, not with him lying in bed, spiraling. He was going to talk to Keonho and get an answer.
But for now, he needed to close his eyes, to breathe, and get some rest.
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The next morning dragged on slowly, each minute in class feeling heavier than the last. Juhoon sat at his desk, notebook open but unread, eyes flicking to the clock every few seconds, waiting for third period to end so he could finally see Keonho.
A light nudge on his back startled him. He turned to see Seonghyeon grinning mischievously.
“Hm?”
“Show me the video later, alright?” Seonghyeon asked, leaning casually over Juhoon’s shoulder.
Juhoon didn’t look up from his notebook, keeping his voice calm, measured. “Yeah... and I’ll show it to Keonho too. We'll see what he has to say about it.”
Finally, the bell rang. Without grabbing food, the two boys made their way to the cafeteria, weaving through the usual morning crowd and settling in at their usual table. Juhoon stood just outside the circle of their friends, spotting Keonho as he looked up from his tray.
“Juhoon! I called you so many times, where have you been?” Keonho’s voice was half concern, half irritation, and he rose from his seat.
Juhoon crossed his arms, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “Let’s talk,” he said simply, stepping away without waiting for an answer.
Keonho’s brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at Seonghyeon. “What...”
“You’re fucked,” Seonghyeon said bluntly, smirking before sliding into his seat beside Martin, leaving James fidgeting with curiosity, peppering them with questions about what was going on.
Keonho hesitated only a moment before following Juhoon out of the cafeteria, quickening his pace until he caught up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and urgent.
Juhoon gave him a side glance, his expression unreadable but cold. Without a word, he walked past the glass doors and onto the narrow bridge that led to the back school grounds. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of morning dew and asphalt. Juhoon stopped at the edge near the railing, leaning slightly as he faced Keonho.
His eyes, usually soft with affection, were now sharp, full of disbelief and disgust. “Wanna tell me something before I start?” he asked, arms crossed tightly.
Keonho chuckled, the sound confident but unnervingly casual. “No,” he said, his tone almost daring.
This wasn’t going to be easy. Not anymore.
Juhoon pulled out his phone and pressed play, holding the screen up so Keonho could see.
The moment Keonho caught sight of it, his face twisted in shock. “Wha- where did you get that from?” he stammered, words catching in his throat.
Juhoon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Asking that first thing? That only makes things worse.” He switched off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, locking eyes with Keonho. “What was that?”
Keonho swallowed, silent. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by something heavier, regret. But regret didn’t undo what had been done, and it didn’t erase the betrayal lingering in Juhoon’s chest.
“It’s not like that,” he muttered finally, his voice almost too soft to be heard.
Juhoon exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. “Alright. Then explain.”
Keonho’s throat worked as he tried to form words. “I... It was because at that time I—” He trailed off, eyes darting away, unable to meet Juhoon’s steady stare.
Juhoon clicked his tongue in frustration, rolling his eyes. Without another word, he pivoted and started walking back toward the doors leading into the school.
Keonho was quick to follow, jogging to catch up and grabbing Juhoon’s arm. “Juhoon, wait.”
Juhoon stopped and looked at him, wary.
“It's not the right time to talk about it, but it’s seriously not like that,” Keonho pleaded, desperation cracking his voice.
Juhoon pulled his arm free, stepping back. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline and hurt coiling inside him. But he forced himself to stay calm.
If Keonho doesn’t care enough to be honest, why should I let him play me?
He turned back toward the school, his mind set.
Not even a few seconds later, screams tore through the air from behind Juhoon. He spun around slowly and saw a tide of students stampeding back into the building. Panic clawed at his chest before he could even process what was happening.
A hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, yanking him forward. Juhoon’s eyes widened as he looked ahead and saw Keonho sprinting in front of him, pulling him along.
“What’s happening?” Juhoon shouted, running to keep pace.
“I’m not sure, but I saw bloody students!” Keonho yelled, dodging fallen kids and chaos as they barreled up the stairs. Students shoved past them, some falling and screaming, their panicked cries echoing off the walls.
They climbed faster, barely having space to move through the frantic crowd, but finally made it to a hallway that seemed unnaturally quiet. The stampeding students had vanished. Keonho’s grip on Juhoon’s sweaty palm tightened instinctively as they stopped to take in the eerie stillness.
Then Juhoon saw it. A lone student staggered toward them, covered in blood. Bits of flesh had been torn from his cheek, and his movements were jerky and unnatural, like someone high.
Keonho didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Juhoon and bolted down the stairs toward the second floor, weaving through another deserted hallway until they found a classroom with a group of students huddled inside. Keonho pounded on the door frantically.
“Guys! Let us in!” he yelled. Behind them, the sound of shuffling and guttural moans grew louder.
From inside, a shaky voice answered, hesitant. “We... we can’t. Sorry!”
Keonho slammed against the door again, frustration and fear fueling him. “Ugh! Fuck- open the door! We’ll die out here!”
Juhoon’s eyes darted down the hallway. At the far end, a cluster of the infected was advancing toward them, moving with that terrifying, relentless shuffle. He grabbed Keonho’s upper arms, voice tight with panic.
“They’re coming,” he whispered.
Keonho kept banging on the door, desperation etched across his face, until a familiar voice echoed from inside.
“Oh shit, that’s Keonho!” Martin’s voice called out.
The sound of tramping grew louder behind them, the student dangerously close now. Keonho leaned toward Juhoon, voice low and urgent.
“We might have to make a run for it,” he whispered.
Juhoon’s heart pounded violently in his chest as he glanced over his shoulder. The zombies weren’t just lumbering anymore, they were sprinting, their grotesque, distorted faces fixed on him and Keonho.
The classroom door suddenly slammed open, a fleeting glimmer of hope, but it was too late. The zombies lunged forward, their claws and teeth snapping dangerously close. Juhoon barely had time to react before he felt Keonho’s hands shove him hard into the room. He stumbled, knee striking the floor painfully, and let out a hiss of sharp pain.
He glanced back in horror and froze. The door slammed shut, but Keonho was still outside, trapped beneath the mass of lunging, snarling zombies.
“No!” Juhoon screamed, the sound tearing through the chaotic silence of the classroom.
Instinct took over, but pain slowed him. He struggled to his feet, grimacing from the sprain in his knee. Martin was immediately at his side, steadying him.
Juhoon grabbed his head, trying to collect his racing thoughts, then pushed himself up, limping toward the door with Martin’s help, desperate to see what had happened. But when he reached it, there was nothing, no zombie creatures, no Keonho.
Just an empty hallway.
“Fuck!” he yelled, dropping to the floor for a moment in frustration and fear. “What happened to him?!”
The two other students holding the doors closed shook their heads helplessly, they hadn’t seen because they’d been focused on barricading the classroom.
Martin crouched beside Juhoon. “Are you okay?”
Juhoon looked up at him, desperation in his eyes. “Where are the others?”
“We got split up back in the cafeteria,” Martin explained, guiding Juhoon toward the other side of the room, letting the other students stack up chairs and tables to reinforce the barricade.
Juhoon sank back into a chair, throwing his head against the wall, the weight of panic pressing down on him.
What happened to Keonho?