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seonghyeon doesn't know how many days have passed. being surrounded by perpetual darkness and an uneasy mist doesn't help matters.
he hasn't left the room for days. his stomach feels like it's been carved out—he can't even remember the last time he ate—and dust smudges his shoes, his hands trembling.
there's blood on them. dry, bright red. real.
it doesn't belong to him, but it doesn't matter. they all thought it'd be okay that day—safe. it'd been right in the afternoon, the hot sun high in the sky. martin had been the one who'd suggested they leave the run-down warehouse, the hunger and thirst unbearable. the sky had been too clear, the lake frozen. they let their guard down.
martin just wanted to drink something.
the door pushes open, quiet, and seonghyeon startles, eyes snapping up. it's james and… keonho.
james meets his gaze, cheeks sunken in and eyes exhausted. he smiles at seonghyeon anyway.
“you okay?” james asks. seonghyeon doesn't answer, not with the blood on his hands and the blood smearing james’ old shirt, one sleeve torn by martin's frantic attempts to save himself.
seonghyeon shivers, wrapping his arms around his knees.
james sighs. “keonho, sit next to him please.”
seonghyeon normally would argue. juhoon had been the one who calmed him down whenever the panic sunk in and their situation became too dire. they knew each other before the outbreak began, after all—had been close. but juhoon wasn't there anymore, and james clearly had no other options.
seonghyeon stays silent as keonho slowly settles beside him, keeping some distance between them. but it isn't enough. seonghyeon is far too aware of his presence like a splinter under his skin. far too fixated on the way keonho's grimy boots brush his.
“i’m sorry about what happened to martin,” keonho speaks up after a while. seonghyeon almost wishes james hadn't left them alone, but someone had to keep watch, and seonghyeon hasn't been very useful as of late.
seonghyeon finally watches keonho, not surprised to find him staring back. seonghyeon never expected keonho to be a part of the little crew they'd formed, appearing a week after the outbreak began. it'd been martin who brought him along.
seonghyeon picks at his nails. he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get rid of the blood. it'll be there forever, ingrained in his fingers, latching onto him in his nightmares.
“seonghyeon…”
“it's not your fault,” seonghyeon says. “it wasn't anyone's fault.”
keonho frowns. after juhoon, he killed off the most crawlers, so good at it that seonghyeon had forgotten how young he was. how young they all were. there's soot on keonho's cheekbone. he and james had burned a crawler earlier since it'd ventured too close to their hideout, and seonghyeon resists the urge to lean in and wipe it off.
keonho notices, and smiles the way he used to back then. his eyes are sad, and seonghyeon has to look away. they'd dated for three months in high school. it really wasn't anything.
unfortunately, seonghyeon soon drifts asleep. he imagines his head resting on someone's lap, their fingers brushing through his hair, familiar.
“you almost got hurt that day,” a voice says right then, soft. it sounds like keonho. “i wouldn't forgive myself if you did.”
seonghyeon awakes to a sharp thud and guttural groans. it's much worse than he ever thought it could be. a crawler writhes on the ground, skin flayed and liquid oozing past its teeth. it growls in pain as keonho slashes through its neck, pinning it to the concrete.
seonghyeon leaps to his feet. “keonho—”
“stay where you are,” keonho commands. seonghyeon quickly searches his pockets for his knife. the window next to him shatters and his heart stops when another crawler enters, jaw snapping at him.
keonho is faster than seonghyeon is, something seonghyeon quickly regrets. he gets pushed away, the crawler diving on keonho.
“keonho!” seonghyeon yells, panicked. james rushes in and immediately joins them, bashing the crawler's head clean off.
“you guys okay?” james questions, breathless. there's a hollowness in his expression. ever since they lost martin and juhoon vanished the morning after, never to be seen again, he'd never been the same.
“um, yeah.” keonho hesitates, kneels to tie his shoelaces. his boots are even worse off now, battered and wet.
“...keonho,” seonghyeon begins.
“i'm okay.” moonlight filters through the cracked, bloody windows, illuminating keonho's broad smile. this is the happiest seonghyeon has seen him in a long time. “look at you, worrying so much about me.”
“you're infuriating.” seonghyeon scoffs, remembering when holding hands with keonho underneath the cafeteria table had been the highlight of his day. seonghyeon can't even remember the reason they broke up, only that he'd cried. so much.
he sits in the corner as james examines keonho, anxiety aging his features, while keonho continues to assure him he’s okay. he always did that, said he was fine so others could quickly get what they needed. so selfless it hurt.
seonghyeon volunteers to keep watch for the first few hours. he makes it to the front with james’ bat, observing the night sky when someone stops beside him.
“figured it's better for the two of us to be on the look out,” keonho says.
seonghyeon nods, clearing his throat. no one says a word, but seonghyeon can see it—keonho sneaking glances at him, this puzzling smile on his face.
“why do you keep smiling?” seonghyeon asks when he can't take it anymore.
keonho shrugs. “it's the first time in weeks you've really looked at me.”
the lump in seonghyeon's throat hardens. “i don't—i don't know what you're talking about.”
keonho's smile turns rueful. seonghyeon tries but fails to stifle his guilt. “the stars look beautiful tonight.”
seonghyeon's chest clenches. “...yeah, they do.”
“maybe juhoon's looking at them right now, too,” keonho says, “wherever he is.”
seonghyeon bites his lower lip to stop it from trembling. inhales a deep breath when keonho places his hand on top of his. they look at each other, tied by love, loss, and finally, understanding.
“thanks, keonho, for being here,” seonghyeon tells him.
keonho beams like he'd been waiting for seonghyeon to say that, eyes particularly bright, shiny. it makes seonghyeon's heart ache.
sunlight irritates seonghyeon's eyes. james is next to him, hurriedly shaking his shoulder.
“where's keonho?” he asks, pale from lack of sleep and fear.
“keonho?” seonghyeon stands, pulse racing as images of him and keonho hugging each other for warmth flood his mind. “he—he was with me last night—”
“he’s not in the hideout,” james reveals, and the world folds in on itself, seonghyeon unable to breathe.
he dashes out with james on his heels, the sun hot on his skin.
keonho is nowhere to be found. not by the table where he usually sharpens his weapons, or the old garage nearby he likes taking naps in.
there are footsteps leading out of the back and into the field, dark and sticky. the shape of keonho's boots. bile rises up seonghyeon's throat.
something falls out of his pocket. james retrieves it, the piece of paper streaked with red, uneven words.
“‘i'm sorry,” james reads, voice unsteady. “‘turns out my boots weren't as sturdy as i thought. remember when martin mentioned that having a crawler nearby attracts others? i—i didn't want to hurt you or james, or anyone else, so i'm leaving’.” james' mouth quivers, eyes bloodshot. “‘and d-don't worry, i'll tie myself to a tree or something. so don't look for me. thank you for everything. …love, keonho’.”
seonghyeon falls to his knees, sobbing into his arm. james hurries to hold him, comfort him—because all they have now is each other.
seonghyeon can't imagine how lonely keonho must have felt, how devastated. seonghyeon remembers martin's screams as he lost the ability to function, thinks of how juhoon kept to himself that night, deciding it'd be better for him and everyone else if he vanished.
for the second time in his life, seonghyeon feels his heart break.
“seonghyeon, it's okay,” james reassures, hugging him tight. “it—it will be okay.”
he sounds as defeated as seonghyeon feels, but seonghyeon holds on so james won't lose himself. the sun keeps shining.