Work Text
The world doesn't end how anyone thinks it does.
There is no definite moment of when it happens, or why. The end of the world isn't anyone's fault either, though some still try to throw blame at whatever they can reach. The sky, the oceans, the mountains. The government. God, even, when they're feeling particularly spiteful. None of it really matters.
There's no one to complain to either, but Taeil still finds notices plastered in the oddest places, corners faded and peeling, preaching gospel to the empty space around them. He keeps a tally of how many he's seen, just for the fun of it. He doesn't know why it interests him, especially when he didn't care back then, and still doesn't care now.
He is angry with us, this paper reads, stuck to the middle of a window. This is His Judgment. Taeil rolls his eyes. What a waste of a perfectly good window. Look how it lasted, paper disintegrating, glue the only thing that survived the test of time, forever staining the glass that never once stood a chance. Maybe he would have ripped it down five years ago, still young and dumb and thinking that he could make a difference with the smallest of actions. Maybe he would've wondered if it had some truth to it, naive and hopeful and endlessly curious.
He's none of those things now.He leaves it as he turns, eyes dragging across the room once more. The shelves are lopsided and emptied, roots poking through the floor. Vines curl around what remains of the foundation, struggling their way upward. There's an empty banner hanging above where the register used to be, gloating clearance prices. Money is ripped to pieces and scattered like ashes around the room.
Glass crunches under his shoes as he moves forward and turns to the left, making his way over to the closed doors he had seen earlier. One of them must lead to what would have been the store owner's office, he knows, calloused fingers sliding against rusted knobs.
The first door doesn't move, even when he pushes his body weight against it. The second door is the same, and he sighs, wondering if this town was a mistake after all.
Most of the shops had been much the same, raided and abandoned, left to rot alongside the planet. He hadn't found anything he was looking for, and barely any other materials, least of all any he could make any use out of. At this rate, all he was doing was burning energy, and he didn't have enough food to validate such an endeavor.
He tries the third and final door just to make a point, and is surprised when the knob turns and the door swings open. Eyebrows shooting up, he checks the room behind him once more, still and listening. When nothing but the same silence he's listened to for years greats him, he turns back to the room and pushes onward.
The desk chair is nicer than the entire store, with custom arms and wheels that still shine even without polish. He's tempted to take a seat just to see what it would be like to sit on something with substance for a change, but knows he'll just miss it more after and decides against it. He glances at the walls.
A calendar hangs curling at the corners, red marker circled around the twenty-first of some month. One of the winter ones, if he had to guess. He had given up trying to remember days and months and years, because all it did was remind him all of the time since. There's a poster beside the calendar, meant to be encouraging, with bright colors now dulled to greys and blacks.
He shakes his head and turns to the desk, flicking through old paperwork and checkbooks. Nothing awaits him at the bottom of the stacks. He doesn't waste any more time and starts pulling open drawers, looking for anything of use. He finds a couple of screws that he pockets, and takes the coins he finds too; money might be useless now, but the material they're made of isn't. Making it to the bottom drawers, he isn't expecting much of anything as he tugs and shoves and tries to stay quiet through his disappointment.
The last drawer is heavier as he goes to pull it, and he slows to a stop when he sees why. Inside of it sits a magnum, loose and unloaded, bullets scattered alongside it. For as long as he's been scavenging, he still doesn't have a gun, and though he had been using his father's old military knife from the start, he knew it would only do so much good in a fight that wasn't up close and personal. He reaches down, fingers sliding around the handle—Only to freeze as the glass outside the room makes a loud crunch under somebody else's feet.
He waits a long moment, listening intently, pointedly ignoring the steady thump of his heartbeat, and then hears another loud crunch, and a muttered curse. He grabs the gun and a handful of bullets, carefully beginning to load them in as the stranger curses again and suddenly stops moving. He hears an inhale of breath.
"I know you're here," a rough voice says, scratchy from disuse. "I watched you come in here." Taeil's surprised at the words, and the noise. If nothing else, the end of the world meant staying away from strangers, not actively seeking them out. They also give him a sharp feeling of unease. He was being followed, and he had no idea? Had he really become so sloppy in surviving, after all this time?
Another breath from the stranger, this one longer.
"I'm sorry. I know it's not wise of me, and I don't mean you any harm. But you're the first person I've ever seen that acts like…" The stranger pauses, as if thinking on the words. Taeil finishes loading the gun, and holds it tightly in one hand as he dumps the excess bullets into his back pocket. "That acts like a normal human being." The stranger finishes quietly.
More glass crunches underfoot.
Taeil presses himself to the wall, preparing for a fight. It didn't matter what this man had to say, or how calmly he talked. People used ruses. He's been a part of too many to ignore how they go.
"I was...I was hoping that we could talk. I think we could benefit each other." Taeil bites back a humorless huff of air. Were they born yesterday? They knew how this world worked. Stay silent, stay away, and stay alive. That's how it's been. That's how it's always been, since everything else went away. No one ever challenged it, because no one wanted to stake their life on it. "I also know that I might just be walking into my own death but I...I just wanted to see, if what you are was true."
Taeil weighs his options for a long moment. If this was a ruse, then as soon as he walked out, he would see the truth. If this was not a ruse, and this man really did follow him and dare to confront him because of some sort of dumb reason, then Taeil might actually feel bad killing him. He thinks on it. Feels the pressure of the gun in his hand, readjusting to it, and then he decides to step out and into view.
The first thing he notices about this man are his eyes. They're kind and far too open for a world like this one, and it's the way in which he smiles at Taeil as soon as he sees him that he knows that this man was telling the truth. He's too soft for a world such as this one, and it's both a blessing and a curse, to have that now.
For as kind as the man looks, Taeil still chooses to keep his gun raised, muzzle pointing right at the man's heart.
"Well?" he says, the words feeling odd and misplaced on his tongue from having not spoken for so long. "Am I as true as you had hoped?"The man's smile doesn't waver, tugging more at the edges. "You didn't shoot me, so yes, I think you are."
Taeil keeps his face emotionless, giving the man a quick once over. His blonde hair is matted to his forehead with sweat and dirt, and carelessly cut unevenly, some strands shorter than others. A small scar sits unabashedly on the corner of his chin, light against the rest of his pale skin. The jacket he wears is a size too big for him, once a blueish color, and now nothing more than faded dye and grime, hanging loosely off his body.
Peeking out from underneath is a grey tank top, holes peppered across, and washed-out blue jeans to finish the look, which have obviously seen better days. His sneakers remind Taeil of a pair he had seen in a window once and had almost bought before deciding that he didn't need a new pair yet. Another thing he would have done differently, if he had known what was going to happen next.
"Who are you?" Taeil asks, eyes flicking back up to meet the stranger’s. A backpack similar to Taeil's own hangs from the stranger's left shoulder, zippered and nonthreatening. He doesn't see any sort of weapon anywhere on the other man.
"Lee Taeyong," the man offers far too openly, even bothering to bend in a slight bow, before returning to his full height once more. "I saw you down at the river."
Taeil nearly curses aloud at the information, yet another careless mistake he knew better than to make. It had been too exposed, too close to the town, too easy for anyone to find themselves at. He had been too desperate for fresh water. He could have been dead right now, if this man - Taeyong - hadn't taken a strange liking to him instead. His grip shifts on the magnum, and he catches Taeyong's eyes watching his hand carefully.
"Haven't you seen a gun before?" Taeil asks bluntly.
Taeyong huffs a short, nervous laugh. "Seen one, yes. Been held at gunpoint far too many times? Also yes." He glances back at Taeil's face for a beat before returning to the gun. For as much as Taeil thinks he might, he doesn't make an attempt to move away. He doesn't know if it's out of fear, or that kindness that bleeds too easily from every single part of him. "I wouldn't mind if it wasn't a part of our conversation, is all." He finishes, failing to hide the waver his words take as cleverly as he thinks he does.
Taeil doesn't want to lower the gun. Though both were messy, bullets were quicker to kill than a knife, and if needed, he would much rather prefer not to watch Taeyong bleed out slow in front of him. He doesn't want to lower the gun, and yet he can tell the other is steadily growing more terrified, the longer it points at him. For some reason, it makes Taeil feel bad.
He shouldn't feel bad for a stranger.
Taeyong breathes a heavy exhale of relief once the gun is tucked away safely in the band of Taeil's pants, though he keeps the handle in view just so that he's sure Taeyong doesn't get any ideas. Taeyong thanks him quietly instead, and then they lapse into silence. Taeil is used to the silence by now, but it feels different, sharing it with someone else. He doesn't know how to describe it. Maybe he should have just taken a seat on the comfy office chair after all, if standing around was all that was going to happen.
"I'm - I'm looking for my brother," Taeyong says, voice suddenly strangled. His hands fumble over one another, folding and unfolding. "I lost him not too long ago—"
"I'm sorry for your loss," Taeil interrupts, struggling to inject sincerity into his tone when he hasn't cared about the dead in a long, long time, "but it's never worth going back for the body. What's done is done. The end of the world hasn't changed that." He watches as Taeyong's face goes through a variety of different emotions, before he wordlessly shakes his head.
"No, no," he says, lips twisting.
Taeil thinks he should feel bad, feels like maybe he overstepped or said it too plainly. Maybe he's still grieving. A lot of people still didn't learn how to grieve, especially when it came to grieving for the world itself.
"No, he's - he's alive. He's not," he pauses, taking another breath. His eyes slip shut for a long moment, before opening again. "He's not dead. We were crossing through a different town, a city, really, and we weren't careful enough. We ended up being chased out, and I thought we had both gotten away." He looks down at the ground, as if it will say what he doesn't want to admit. Taeil thinks that hoping for such a thing is ridiculous. "When I looked from the hill, just outside the city, where we said we would meet, I saw him. They had him."The air around them feels thick with tension all too suddenly, and Taeil wonders if he should say what Taeyong doesn't want to hear. Because he knows which city this is sounding like, and he knows that the same one isn't too far from here. He knows what lurks within, and what hesitates just off the border between rotting forest and crumpled pavement. He goes to speak.
"I need your help," Taeyong continues, sounding sure, eyes lifting from the floor to meet with Taeil's. "I can't get him back myself."
Taeil shifts. The gun is heavy and cold against his waist.
"And what makes you think I can?" he replies slowly, sounding incredibly doubtful. "I'm just someone you apparently followed from the river."
Taeyong takes a step forward, forgetting himself. Taeil's fingers slide around the magnum's handle, bracing. But he doesn't pull it out, instead taking a step back and shooting the other a dangerous look. Taeyong chooses to ignore it, tone taking on a desperate note.
"You know how to handle yourself. You know how to survive. You know your way around a gun. I haven't - I'm useless, when it comes to all these things that should come naturally to me. I was useless in - in saving my brother then, and I'm just as useless in saving him now." He exhales, sharp and heavy. His eyes are far too kind, still. "Please," he finishes, nearly begging.
Taeil knows what the easy answer is. All he would have to do is say no, and then be on with his day, off to the next town over in search of food to make up for the waste of a trip today would turn out being. It's a simple equation with an even simpler answer. So why is he hesitating? Why is he standing here, already planning out the pros and cons in his head? Why is he giving someone he doesn't know the time of day?
He stopped trusting people the first time he was tricked by people. The world had only been over barely a week. That's all the time it took for Taeil to finally, finally learn the truth about other human beings. The truth being that nothing was ever the truth, that everything out of someone's mouth was twisted or manipulated before reaching its target, that some people took pride in saying what others wanted to hear.
People lie.
So why isn't Taeyong?"How long has he been missing?"
Taeyong winces at the wording. "A week," he supplies, quietly. "He's been gone a week."
Taeil nods, counting off the time in his head. One week would be one hundred and sixty-eight hours. A human could survive without food give or take three months, as long as they had proper access to fresh water. If they hadn't killed him already and he was compliant, he would be helping out around the city for pay of a daily meal and someplace to sleep. If he had disagreed in the slightest, or put up a fight..."What do I get in payment?" he continues, storing the numbers away somewhere safe and raising an eyebrow. "I know you think I'm some kind of nice guy, but I'm not doing this unless there's something good in it for me."
Taeyong hesitates.
When he shifts, the glass beneath his feet fills the sudden silence. Taeil looks on unimpressively, waiting impatiently. Whatever he thinks of, it better be the truth, and it better be worth it. Taeil's not charging headfirst into what would very likely be certain death for anyone who wasn't him without a good incentive. He wasn't even sure that he could get them both in and out unscathed, let alone a third person. He wasn't sure it was possible, in a city like that one. For some reason, he doesn't want to admit that outloud.
"My brother," Taeyong says with a start a moment later, eyes brightening as if he had just remembered something important. Taeil resists rolling his eyes. "My brother knows some safehouse locations, he got them off a map—""What makes you think I need, or want to go to, a safehouse?" Taeil interjects, lips turning downward. Maybe this was all going to just be a waste of time after all. "Don't you know that's just a quicker way to die?"
Taeyong shakes his head quickly, backtracking with a wave of his hands. "No, no. Abandoned safehouses." He clarifies, smiling wryly. "We came across the locations by accident, and hadn't gotten a chance to check them out. If one of them was empty, and small enough, we were thinking we could set up camp there."
Taeil can't help the scoff that shoots from his lips. "Yeah, until someone else comes along, accidentally finding the same map." The other chuckles lightly at his words. His eyes hold something Taeil thought he would never see again. Something akin to hope. It twists his gut sour, just thinking about it.
"What's so bad about that?" he asks, honestly. "Maybe we could help someone else someday. Or maybe because being lonely is no way to live, especially after the apocalypse we all didn't think would ever happen."Taeil ignores the latter half of his sentence. "And you don't know these locations? Only your brother?" At Taeyong's nod, Taeil sighs. "Of course only he would know," he mutters in poorly laced sarcasm. "Why would the universe ever want to throw me a bone?"Taeyong waits silently, hopeful eyes staring at Taeil. He rocks slightly on the balls of his feet, hands pulling at one another. It must be a nervous habit, Taeil thinks idly, watching the way smooth skin tugs at one another. He would need to get rid of that, before they attempted even getting close to the city full of ravenous eyes and sneering lips.
Taeil glances out the window, checking the time. It's just past midday, sun still shining resolutely on the destroyed buildings waiting around them. If they hope to make good time, they would have to leave soon. Traveling by night was sometimes easier, but not always wiser. Some people enjoyed the hunt at night.
He turns and starts to head for the door, purposely stepping over the glass as he goes. When Taeyong doesn't make to follow him, he turns in the doorway, one hand gripping tight to the strap of his backpack. He needs to cut his nails later, he reminds himself, at some point between trying to figure out the easiest route back and managing a guy who thinks he's a way better human than he actually is. He hasn't eaten today yet either, and he definitely doesn't have enough to offer Taeyong.
"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Taeyong jumps, Taeil's bored tone shaking him out of his thoughts. "We need to move."
He hurries to follow, securing his bag and giving the store around them one final look over before moving, Taeil turning away. His eyes struggle to adjust to the brightness of the sun for a long moment, and he tries not to think about how glasses probably would have been in his future by now, if the world wasn't how it was, one hand lifting to alleviate some of the light.
He's so distracted that he doesn't realize Taeyong is right beside him until the other's hand is reaching out and wrapping around Taeil's shoulder, causing him to flinch and pull away aggressively, heart pounding wildly as he levels Taeyong with a threatening look.
"Don't," he warns quietly, struggling to calm his heartbeat. The words are hard to get out. "Don't touch me. Ever."He can see the way Taeyong's eyebrows pull in confusion, but his face reacts otherwise, collected and apologetic as he nods his acknowledgment. Taeil pushes past him without another sound, allowing the bright light to engulf him as he steps out and into the open. Taeyong doesn't say anything else as they begin walking, and the only way Taeil knows he is, in fact, following is through the sounds of his shoes hitting softly against the crumbling pavement.
He prefers the silence to Taeyong's endless kindness anyway.
X
The lab is alive today, full of curious minds and open hearts as he tries to pay no mind to the coworker that stalls in his section, if only to get a rise out of the one person nobody can ever seem to bother.
"As you can see, nothing disturbs our scientists at work. Not earthquakes, not someone else eating their lunch, nor spiders crawling up their necks." The students he’s entertaining stifle small laughter as his coworker gestures to him, still working diligently at identifying the cells currently under his microscope. "Do you know that one time our boss tried to pull a prank on Mr. Moon here? And he didn't react? At all?" Playful gasps ripple quietly through the crowd. His coworker thrives in his newly created environment, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, can you believe that? Our boss . Our boss took time out of his day to pull the greatest prank ever thought of, and Mr. Moon didn't even entertain it. Not one bit. Could you imagine having such a cool boss, only to not appreciate his humor?"
Taeil shifts to the second slide, zooming in further. "Maybe it's because what he thinks is humor isn't proper humor at all?"He listens as the class reacts in utter shock, struggling to hide his smile as he watches the cells below him mutate slowly, nothing unusual to note. His coworker is speechless for a few seconds too long, and Taeil doesn't wait to further his stance as the best scientist there.
"Also, you wouldn't eat my lunch because you hate what I bring, and there are no spiders in here because it is a lab." He shifts to the third slide, and sees what he predicts will be there before clicking off the microscope and returning the slides to their proper place. He turns to the class watching him in awe as he removes his gloves and straightens his back. "Be careful with this one, as he's known to be less of a boss, and more of the kind of guy you would be embarrassed to be at a party with."
The class erupts into laughter as he makes his way over, smiling softly as he gives a short bow to the students in introduction. His coworker slings an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close and grinning wide, though he doesn't hesitate to push at his side in retaliation.
"Sorry to mislead you, but my hyung is impossible not to tease," he offers with a laugh, leaning more of his weight onto Taeil. "But yes, I am the manager who oversees everyone on this floor, including the rest of the building. We're not your ordinary research company."
"Obviously," Taeil mutters in jest, a few of the students catching his eye and sniggering. "I'm not his brother either, no matter what he says."
"He totally is," his boss continues, acting as though he didn't hear him.
"Anyway," Taeil says forcefully, drawing the class' attention back to him once more. "Having a job here entails looking at different things under microscopes, testing new age drugs, and dealing with our wonderful boss here, who never actually seems to help with our work."
"It's a talent of mine," he chimes in, before sliding from Taeil's side and approaching the class, hands clasping together. "If you chose to pursue a career path here, know that you won't only be getting the best job of your lifetime, but also a second family to replace your actual family with for when they get on your nerves. And yes, we do have company dinners far more often than one would think." He pauses to allow them to laugh some more and talk quietly among themselves, eyes sweeping across the crowd. "Thank you for your patience and time today, I appreciate you all coming out. My name is Kwan Hye, and if you have any questions at all, please either see me or the receptionist on your way out."The students applaud and then give bows in thanks, before mingling among themselves once more as they move away, allowing Hye to have the time to return to Taeil's side with a bright smile. Taeil gives him a look the other is all too familiar with.
"Using hyung to build rapport is a sneaky move," he says lowly, watching as Hye rolls his eyes with a scoff.
"Yes well, we're in desperate need of employees, and I'd prefer not to have to waste more of my time doing these things," he says in blatant disinterest, one eye on the students just in case one is eager enough to come over and speak to him. "Do you have the report?"Taeil turns and reaches behind him, snagging it from the table before passing the folder over to Hye. He flips it open roughly, careless in the way he handles the crisp paper within, fingers pulling and leaving wrinkles behind. "We're on schedule with most of our research for the week," Taeil supplies quietly, "but I do need extra time to take another look at Cell 362—"Hye doesn't bother to look up. "I sincerely hope you're not asking for overtime," he rebukes, flipping to the next page.
Taeil attempts to work past the abrupt anxiety that begins to claw at his stomach. He's never liked how fast Hye could go from being the nicest guy you've ever meant to the coldest person with the biggest chip on his shoulder. He supposes it's all part of the act, and why he's such a good actor in the first place. "I need more time. My schedule is filled. There's - There's no way for me to—"Hye slaps the folder shut audibly.
The students have dispersed, venturing off into different directions of the facility. Only a couple other coworkers linger, lab coats gleaming under the harsh light of the room, sweat sticking to their foreheads. Hye takes a step towards Taeil, and then shoves the paperwork against his chest in warning. Taeil's fingers struggle to find purchase on the folder.
"I think," he whispers slowly, taking extra effort to punicate every letter, "that your schedule has cleared up." He pushes hard at his chest, subtle enough that the rest of the room doesn't notice anything amiss, before retreating, Taeil reaching to catch the folder before it falls to the ground. "I want the full finished report of Cell 362, alongside the rest of the reports you are missing, on my desk by the end of the workday. Not one second later, understood?"
There's a lump in his throat. Something squeezes at his heart hard enough to be painful. The paperwork feels heavy in his hands. No one around him bats an eye. Hye looks down at him like he is nothing more than dirt stuck to the corner of his shoe, left there for somebody else to clean.
"I understand," Taeil says, struggling to keep his voice even.
Hye smiles. It's thin and barely anything close to one. "About time you did."
Taeil feels a mix of emotions winding tighter in his chest, twisting like rope. Anxiety, anger, sadness. Rejection, disappointment, hope. Hope that one day maybe Hye won't be his boss, because Taeil will be in his position instead, replacing all his callous words and rude gestures with something better. Fixing this company from the inside out, encouraging those around him to do better, adding bigger numbers onto paychecks and removing the awful things that are written in the bathroom stalls.
This job was supposed to be greater than the rest, bigger than the rest, and instead, it was turning out to be no better than dealing with bullies on the playground, back before anyone had a backbone. Taeil hadn't stood up to his bullies then, and he still doesn't stand up to them now, though he knows he's more than old enough to know how.
He blinks, hoping that maybe Hye will be gone by the time he looks again, on his way over to bother someone else who doesn't deserve it. What meets him instead is the deafening roar of absolute silence.
Hye is still standing in front of him, but his eyes are focused somewhere behind him, brows pulling in confusion. When Taeil looks to his right, he sees nothing. There were people standing there, a second ago. He had just seen them, white coats and gloved hands reaching for another tube. He looks behind Hye as the other takes a shocked step back, stumbling for words as his own eyes rake the room. The students, the entire class that had been branching off into different places, is gone.
His heartbeat quickens. Panic shoots through him like a bolt of lightning.
"What the fuck?" Hye finally spits, whirling around once more. He looks back at Taeil. "Where did everybody go?"
He tries to run through the logical explanations in his head, that maybe some of the students went to the bathroom, and some of his coworkers just decided to leave at the same time. Maybe Woo's mother had another emergency, maybe Jeong's sister was finally having her baby, maybe someone else finally had enough of Hye and quit on the spot, storming out the doors while Taeil was daydreaming about better tomorrows. Maybe they all somehow planned this together, as some big joke that they had purposely left them out on.
"Taeil!" Hye yells, now halfway across the room, papers thrown all around him, the secretary's desk beside him also void of Judy, the sweetest receptionist in a hundred miles. "What the fuck is going on?"
"I - I don't—" His words falter, eyes searching the floor again, and again, and again. They're all gone, every single one of them. Every single human being on this floor, suddenly gone, with no reasoning or trace. Did this only happen here? Or did the rest of the world...his family...?Hye grows louder at Taeil's lack of response, reaching for the phone while sputtering curses. He pulls it from the receiver, only to hear nothing on the other end of it, not even a dial tone. "The phone is dead," he calls out, angry, always angry around Taeil, around anybody that ever dared to step close to him. He throws it down, uncaring for how the noise makes Taeil flinch.If the phone was dead, then the lines were down, and if the lines were down, then—Taeil looks over at the window, searching the horizon for answers. His mouth feels dry, and his chest is heaving. He doesn't have time to worry if he's going into a panic attack, because the next thing he knows, noise returns all at once.
An explosion rocks the building they're standing in, the world turning violently bright before he's thrown backwards and everything else goes dark.
X
Taeyong talks where Taeil doesn't.
He fills the silence of the Earth with anything he can think of, from favorite songs to different types of fish Taeil would have never cared to hear about any other way, pushing on through Taeil's quiet hums or refusal to answer at all.
Their trek through the town and surrounding forest moves fast, and by the time the sun is falling, they're setting up camp just on the border of the next town. Taeil wouldn't ever say it out loud, but he's more than proud of the time they made.
They pick their way through an abandoned shack that Taeil once thinks was used as an entrance to the sewers, and is careful to look for other entrance points as Taeyong falls against the cleanest wall, before sliding down it in pure exhaustion.
Taeil finds some wooden planks thrown in a corner and moves them in front of where they came through, door squealing loudly and rocking unsteadily on its hinges as pressure is pushed against it. Taeil knows it's better to be prepared, and adjusts the planks until they're secure before he takes a seat across from Taeyong.
Taeyong watches him as he slings his backpack around, digging through it. He pulls out a beaten container that shakes with the water inside of it, a weathered can of corn, and a book that's seen much better days, leaving them all sitting together as he pushes his bag behind him.
"I don't have enough to share," he says as he reaches for the container, eyes meeting with Taeyong's. The other simply looks on in fatigue, arms crossed, head already lolling to one side.
For some reason, Taeil wants to apologize.
He shoves the feeling down as he lifts the container to his lips and takes a long drink, before replacing it with the can of corn. He hates having to eat with his fingers, but he hasn't found any packets of chopsticks in weeks, if not months, and knows being stupid will only kill him faster. He also knows it's a dumb thing to want, but he figures that he might as well retain some of his humanity, even if no one else ever sees it.He peels open the can's lid with ease, the sound snapping through the room. Taeyong's body jolts at the noise. Taeil almost feels a twinge of sympathy. He tosses the lid away, having also given up on littering far too long ago, and digs in, the corn cold and soggy to the touch.
He eats the slowest he has in years, if only because there's someone else there to keep watch, and savors the idea, eyes flickering between the corn and Taeyong's sunken cheeks. Something twists inside of him again, upon seeing the other's obvious lack of nutrition, but another part of him tries to shove the feeling away, repeating the reminder that Taeil isn't a charity, and that charity only leads to more beggars.
He barely has enough for him alone to eat. If he splits this can, he'll split everything else he has, until there's nothing left. If there's nothing left of him by the time the safehouse locations are revealed, then what's the point of risking his life in the first place?
"I never got your name," Taeyong says abruptly, eyes brightening against the dark contrast of the room around them. Taeil stops chewing and looks up at him for a long moment, assessing, before returning his gaze back down to his can.
"Why is that important?" he returns quietly, scooping out another helping. He pops it in his mouth. Tries to ignore the way Taeyong is looking at him, like he's some sort of enigma he wishes to figure out.
"Why wouldn't it be?" he says with half a laugh, though it fades towards the end. He shifts so that he can prop his head up on the arm that leans across his legs, shoes sliding loudly against the dirt of the floor. "Do you not have one?"Taeil tosses the idea around his head. He hasn't heard his name out loud in a while. Maybe that could equate to not having one, because he doesn't know if he quite remembers how it would sound anymore. Maybe it would be better to have no name at all, traveling with a stranger across the west.
Taeyong's already been far too open, far too easy to read and with his heart poorly stitched onto the outside of his sleeve. If they're caught, Taeil would still be able to sneak away, trading knowledge for salvation. Taeyong would be the one to suffer for being so trusting, if Taeil was no different from the hunters and scavengers and savages."I don't," he finally says, voice scraping against the walls of the room.
Taeyong waits a minute, and then smiles, cheeks pulling. "You're a bad liar."
Taeil says nothing as he finishes off his dinner, lifting the can to his lips and draining the rest of the liquid before throwing it aside, careless to where it falls. He looks back at Taeyong, still smiling, and still so ridiculously sure.
"I don't have one," he says again, firmly. He pointedly looks towards the door they entered through, eyes tracing the wooden planks, leaving no room for conversation. He can see that Taeyong is still smiling out of the corner of his eye."You do, but it's okay if you don't want to tell me yet. I get it," he concedes, letting out a long exhale before slipping his backpack from his shoulder. "I'll just continue to travel with someone whose name I don't happen to know in case of emergency." He softens the bag with a few hits of his palm and then places it strategically on the floor, laying down and using it as a pillow. His gaze settles heavily on the ceiling. The wood is rotting and pulling. It's a miracle nothing has caved in yet.
"You're not going to eat?"
Taeyong shrugs. "No. I don't get hungry much anymore."
Lies. Taeil knows it as soon as he hears it. It seems he wasn't the only one who had trouble with lying on the spot. From Taeyong's structure - the way his clothes hang off his body, the sharp jut of his hips, the gauntness of his cheeks - the best he can assume is that he's not a good hunter, or maybe he hasn't been able to gather much food from the places he's looked through.
It looks like he hasn't had anything solid to eat in a long while. It looks like it's become another part of his life. Taeil wonders if he knows that starvation has killed more than enough of the people that were left.
Taeil slides back and then leans against the wall behind him, feeling the chill in the air now that night has fallen. He knows how to make a fire, but knows it's nothing more than a beacon for those out on the hunt. He would rather be cold than dead.
He grabs his book by the spine, more flakes of worn paper falling softly to the ground, and opens it to a random page. He's read it enough times that it doesn't matter where he starts now, only where he ends. Taeyong tugs his jacket closer, one hand sliding down to clutch at where the zipper would be to keep his chest covered. Taeil pretends not to notice when he glances over, eyes drifting causally across the cover of his book."My brother and I passed through a few settlements where reading was more important than finding shelter," he comments, tone quieter now. "They offered us so many books about different religions, claiming it was the only way to be saved."
Taeil doesn't look up as he turns to the next page, eyes skimming across faded font. "Sounds like you escaped a cult to me."Taeyong huffs, smiling wryly. "One hell of a convincing cult, then.""You didn't take a book with you, did you?" It's his morbid curiosity that makes him ask, because he's always wondered how people talk other people into the craziest things. Is it the way they act, the way they talk, what they promise? He used to entertain people like them before. Now, the last time someone tried, he threatened to shoot them even without having a gun.
"So what if I did?" Taeyong shoots back, and Taeil does look up from his book this time, raising an eyebrow.
"So you do think it's the only way to be saved?" he asks, mouth twisting at the words.
Taeyong exhales, turning so that he faces the ceiling once more. He looks strangely solemn all of a sudden, all traces of a smile gone from his lips, eyes flickering back and forth as he traces the lines and divots. "Who knows," he says simply a moment later, sounding thoughtful. "Can any of us really be saved now?"
Taeil's thumb strokes the page he's paused on absentmindedly. "A lot of them still seem to think so."
The other hums, pulling his jacket closer. He looks small against the rest of the room, a smudge of dark colors left unbidden on a long-forgotten painting. "I think I just like how hopeful it sounds. How hopeful they sound, praising something no one is even sure exists as they shove readings at me." He scoffs, "I mean, how dedicated do you have to be, to still believe in something that was never supposed to allow the end of the world to happen?"
"And yet you still believe in humans," Taeil interrupts easily, gaze returning to his book.
"Of course," Taeyong says, almost distantly. Taeil wonders where at sea he's lost at, if it's the deep dark trenches of past events that he isn't privy to, or if it's someplace lighter, his brother's hand clamping tight onto his shoulder as they ride another wave forward. "In some of them, at least. I believe in you."
The words are too big for such a small room.
"All you did was follow me to the river," Taeil reminds, as if Taeyong's already forgotten that they're supposed to be strangers, not anything more, or less, or between."That's all I needed to do."He doesn't elaborate. Taeil isn't sure if he wants him to, or if he is more thankful for the silence that follows. Taeyong shifts, turning so that his back faces Taeil. He curls close to the wall in an effort to contain the little warmth his body has left. Something twists in his chest. He debates offering something, what, he doesn't know, but something inside of him does nothing but remind him that something is better than nothing—
Don't you want to help, Taeil?
His jaw clenches.
His stomach rolls uncomfortably.
His heartbeat quickens, echoing through his head.
He doesn't have enough, he tells himself. He will not give up his life for the sake of someone else's. Helping someone only ever goes wrong, or ends up with a knife in someone's else's back as soon as they turn away. All he's doing is helping him get his brother back, one piece or multiple, he doesn't care, and then they are going their separate ways.
This will not be something that lasts.Nothing ever does.Taeyong says nothing else. He falls asleep sometime later, soft, steady breaths echoing throughout the room as Taeil reads until his eyes grow tired. Taeil takes the first watch, the second, the third. The shack creaks with age as the wind picks up sometime during the night, before slacking off again.
The darkness lulls him to sleep before he can wake Taeyong for the rest.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The street is mangled.
Asphalt is ripped in two down the middle, cars tossed off to the sides, doors hanging off their hinges, and telephone poles skewing sideways. Glass litters the sidewalks he used to walk down every morning. Wires hang from clotheslines, sparking and hissing. A dead bird is caught between a mailbox and a trash bin, blood slashed across pastel colors.
It's hard to find his family home in the mess of the street, and it doesn't look how it should when he finally does, taking hesitant steps up to it before stopping in the middle of the yard.
There's a gaping hole in the roof, a tree trunk stabbed through what remains of rebar and brick. The windows are shattered and misshapen, shutters twisted outwards. His parents' room is gone from the foundation, torn from the rest like it was never there at all.
He takes a step forward, hands starting to shake as his eyes drop to his mother’s garden under the bay window his father had installed at her nagging, now decimated and nearly barren. The tomatoes she had been nurturing for months are smashed to pieces. The trellis behind them is warped in an unnatural way. The once beautiful flowers have been replaced by chunks of tarmac from the street, bits of metal and glass embedded deep into the dirt.
He forces himself to keep walking, against everything inside of him begging to turn back.The constant noise of sirens and screams that have followed him from the crumbled remains of his lab building. He can still hear them now, even though there isn’t anybody around that he can physically see. His left arm still aches from the way he had been slammed back from the force of the explosion downstairs - something left on as someone else disappeared, maybe - strong enough to have left a mark, blood stained across his sleeve. He thinks it was his bicep that was hit, a bone shifted without remorse for what it was disrupting. He can't be sure until he looks at it closely himself, or finds a hospital.
If there was even anyone left at any hospitals.
He approaches the door, which is spattered with something dark that he hopes isn’t blood. He reaches out for the knob, fingers suddenly cold as they clutch helplessly at the metal. He exhales, struggling to right himself, whispering nothings in his head. He refuses to believe otherwise until he sees it for himself, sees them, sitting in front of the television and asking why he came home without asking first, why he's come by without food or news of a promotion he swore to them that he'd get.
The door swings open without resistance, revealing a living room that can no longer be lived in.
Stuffing from the couch is sprawled across the room, cushions ripped from their rightful places. The grandfather clock is cracked and spewing numbers against the floor, hands tugged free from their holders. The stairs lead to nowhere, left to sit helpless against the storm like the rest of the house. He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat as his eyes drift over to the television, sputtering nothing but black and grey.
His heart lurches when he doesn't see his parents there, hopeful and pounding as he turns instead to the kitchen, hands shaking worse and palms sweaty. He doesn't know if he wants to find them anymore, or if it's better to hope that they had already left for someplace else.
Maybe they fled the town by some miracle and forgot to let him know. Maybe they were over the house next door, untouched and perfect against all odds, always far too kind to reject babysitting the neighboor’s mangey poodle. Maybe they were down at the shore, watching as the waves crashed against the sand his father despised but always walked through when his mother asked. Maybe they really were in the kitchen, and all he was doing was dreaming of better scenarios over what he dreaded to find.There's shattered plates in the doorway spilling towards the stairs. Moving closer, he can see what used to reside on top of them, crumbled milk bread and homemade jelly, farther into the kitchen. His eyes move up, away from the untouched dessert, something they only did when they were celebrating something, and it doesn’t take long for him to remember what today was supposed to be. What today is.
Their anniversary.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Of course everything would end where it all began, he thinks numbly as he takes a step closer, on a day supposed to be so full of joy. His eyes catch on something dark off to the side, sticking out slightly in front of the fridge. Heart jumping into his throat, he inches closer, only to see a wedding band still snug a ring finger that was pinned underneath pieces of the house, blood pooling—He freezes still, staring in pure horror, and then turns and runs out of the house.
He falls heavily against the grass outside, cold and damp and horribly welcoming as tears burn at his eyes and nausea twists at his gut. He feels sick, he feels sick, he feels disgusted and upset and in shock and all he wants to do is scream until his voice runs raw—"Taeil!"
Hye calls for him from somewhere behind him, cutting through the static screeching in his head. His hands push at the ground, nails digging deep into the dirt. "What the hell are you doing?"
Something bitter and hot crawls up the back of his throat, and he turns to the side just as Hye reaches down and grips at his shoulder hard, retching harshly into the grass. "Fuck," Hye spits as he takes a step back, Taeil struggling to breathe as he hacks bile, tears dripping from his cheeks. He doesn't say anything else as Taeil tries to calm himself, tries to forget the way his mother's body was bleeding and the way his father’s arm was torn—His arms shake as he expels the rest of his stomach's contents, feeling weak as he stares anywhere else. The grass is dying, he realizes with a start the longer he looks, green fading slowly into yellow as his eyes track to the farther corners of the front yard.
Everything around here is dying, he thinks, unable to stop thinking about the blood he had seen, the skin that was gaping, the house that was sideways, the rooms that were no longer meant to house anyone at all. It's all dying, just like the planet was. How else could you explain the world disappearing from around them?Taeil falls back onto his knees as Hye sighs impatiently from beside him, arms crossed and mouth twisted into a firm line. Taeil wonders what he did to be left behind with someone like Hye. He inhales deeply, chest still heaving, heart still pounding. He wipes at the corner of his mouth, and then drags that same hand through a patch of wilting grass.
"They were lucky," Hye says suddenly, almost matter of factly.
Taeil blinks, once, and then twice. He has trouble forming the word. Wonders if he heard right. "What?"
"I said, they were lucky," Hye repeats bluntly, and when Taeil turns his head to meet the other's cold gaze, he simply rolls his eyes and scoffs. "At least you know where they went," he continues, not bothering to soften his words at all. "We don't know where everyone else went, or why, or how. We don't know why we're still here. So, at least you know where they're at." He glances downwards, jerking his head. Taeil stares at him. A cruel smile curves at Hye's lips. "Kidding," he replies, tilting his head. "Or am I?"
For a long moment, there's nothing.
Nothing but the endless noise around them. Shrill cries as someone else finds what used to be their baby, wails of ambulances that will never arrive in time. Car doors slamming as police officers shamble out of their vehicles, blood stained to their coats. Two little kids holding hands as they run down the street beside them, the younger one sobbing as the other pulls him desperately along. Hye turns his head as they pass, watching impassively.
The noise doesn't stop.
"Stupid kids," he mutters, kicking hard enough at the ground that the grass starts to pull up. "Always whining about something or other—"Taeil's fist collides with Hye's jaw, interrupting the rest of his sentence.
A stunned shout erupts from him as he stumbles back. Blood drips from the corner of his lips as he clutches half-heartedly at his chin, dragging his hand down and then holding it out to see. Red slips from between his fingers. He looks at Taeil, anger boiling deep in his eyes, and then lunges.
He hits Taeil hard enough that they both fall to the ground, Hye heavy on top of him no matter how much he tries to fight him off. Blood sticks to his skin as Hye hits him once, twice, three times in succession, before his hands slide down and grip at the collar of his shirt, tugging upwards. Taeil's breath catches in his throat as he's brought face to face with Hye, skin flushed from anger.
"Now why in the fuck," he spits slowly, Taeil grimacing as it lands somewhere on his cheek, "would you go and do that?" Taeil doesn't answer and their shuffle in the grass comes to an abrupt stop. Hye laughs, squeezing tighter at Taeil's collar. "Wanted to do that since I hired you, right?" He grins. It's crooked, and Taeil hopes that he broke his jaw. "Well, there you go. I let you hit me, then I kicked your ass. Feel better now, Taeil?" The words drip slowly from his tongue, as if he’s making sure that Taeil hears every single one clearly.
Taeil shoves him back just when the other thinks he has the upper hand, scrambling to his feet as Hye coughs and slowly sits himself up on one arm.
"You're a horrible person," Taeil says, veins pumping with adrenaline, mind running a mile a minute, heart screaming from somewhere deep inside. "You're a horrible, fucked up person."
"Tell me something I don't know," Hye counters as he lifts a hand to his jaw before wincing and pulling it back. "Fuck."He wants to hit him again and again and again. He wants to hit him hard enough that he doesn't stand back up, that his mouth stops moving and his skin is bruised purple. His hands clench into fists at his sides. His left eye throbs, and his bottom lip is split straight down the middle. He hates him. He wants him gone. Why didn't Hye leave with the rest? Why did his parents have to..."I'll ask again," Hye continues when Taeil doesn't reply. "Feel better?"
"No," Taeil snaps, eyes flashing as he steadies Hye with a glare that could kill. "I don't feel better, Hye. I don't know what in the hell is going on, I don't know why everyone has disappeared up and out of nowhere, I don't know why you're still following me, and I don't know why my parents had to die." The words spill from him unbidden, relieving a pressure on his chest that he didn't even know was there.
Hye watches as Taeil shakes his head, eyes flicking back over to the torn-up street on the other side of them. The sirens aren't as loud now, but the hopelessness is still there in the screams and cries and pleads that resonate through a neighborhood Taeil once thought was too quiet for his parents to live in.
He feels like he could fall apart any second. He feels like he wants to scream, and cry, and plead until something is different too.
"We could go and check on my parents," Hye remarks abruptly. "But I don't think their graves could suffer any more damage that I didn't already do myself."
"Are you trying to be funny?" Taeil nearly yells, taking a step closer, knuckles pulling white. "Why are you still here? Go! Leave!"
When he doesn't make any effort to do so, Taeil closes the distance between them and grabs at his shirt, similarly to how Hye had him on the ground a few minutes ago. Hye doesn't fight him this time, hands simply coming to a rest over Taeil's as he pulls and begins to shout. "Leave me alone! Get out of here!"
Hye's hands squeeze at his own. His palms are stained with blood not yet dried, color smearing across the back of Taeil's hands. When Taeil looks up at him, his face is carefully blank, but for the first time, his lips aren't twisted, and there is no malice in his words as he speaks.
"Like it or not, I'm still with you because I don't have anywhere else to go. The entire world just disappeared before our fucking eyes, Taeil. What am I supposed to do after that? Just walk away from the one person that didn't disappear with the rest of the fucking lab? I don't think so. I might be fucked up, but I'm not dumb." Taeil's grip begins to slip, giving way. Hye lets him go as he falls back, eyes watching him all the while. "We're in this together, Taeil, and that's not going to change unless one of us dies or disappears like everyone else."
Taeil shakes his head.
He feels numb. He feels angry. He feels hurt. His family home waits in the corner of his eye. It doesn't feel like his family home anymore. There's blood on Hye's hands, blood on the collar of his shirt, blood on his chin.
But he stands waiting, unmoving in the face of everything around them still reacting. It's like he's already come to terms with this, as strange as it sounds, and Taeil doesn't know what to make of it. He hated his guts, hated everyone and everything in that lab that didn't benefit him, and now he was refusing to leave Taeil's side?
There's something behind his gaze. Something Taeil can't figure out no matter how long he stares and tries to read it, before he finally turns away, towards the house. Towards the one place where he never thought he would feel out of place at.
"I want to bury them," he whispers, uncaring if Hye hears him, or agrees.
He doesn't care.
He doesn't care if he has to go in there and look at them again as he wraps their bodies, as he carries them outside, as he lowers them into a makeshift grave, imperfect at best. He doesn't care if he'll feel nothing but sick as he does it, doesn't care if Hye walks away or sits by and watches. He doesn't care if the world is truly ending, or over, or just beginning. All he cares about are his parents, and his ability to give them a proper burial before that is taken away from him too.
"Okay," Hye says from somewhere behind him.
Taeil walks into the house alone.
Hye is waiting for him with two shovels when he exits sometime later. He doesn't have the strength to tell him that he would rather bury them himself.
X
Taeil awakes with a gun pressed to his head.
His heart pounds as he quickly assesses the room, and finds Taeyong already awake and in a similar position across from him, sitting up with his hands raised half-heartedly behind his head. The person beside him has a pistol aimed at his side, and though the shot wouldn't be fatal, it would definitely hurt - not that would stop Taeil.
He doesn't know why Taeyong hasn't made an attempt to overpower the person next to him, something he could do with ease, from the state of the young man standing beside him.
A short glance over tells Taeil that he's scared, uncertain, shaking. His hair is dirty, his shirt is worn, and his hands are scabbed over with callouses, probably from a rough winter he never got to recover from. He tries to peek at the person behind him, but the man catches the movement, eyes like a hawk.
"Sit up," he orders, though his words shake far too much to really be threatening. "Slowly."
Taeil listens, but only to humor him as he makes a show of lifting his hands and sitting up. He can feel the cloth of his bag pressing against the corner of his leg, still next to him. He had hidden the magnum underneath it last night, too comfortable in a world meant to be otherwise.
He was stupid for doing so, especially because of what was happening right now. Sometimes, the ones that fidgeted the most were the ones most dangerous. Was it Taeyong's fault, for saying what he had, leaving Taeil alone with nothing else to do but think? Was this what trusting blindly was like, threats waiting around every corner?
"Okay," the man says, eyes darting between Taeil and Taeyong. "Okay, all right. Where's your supplies?"
When neither answers, he readjusts the grip on his gun, fingers sweating. It's nothing special, just your everyday pistol. Taeil could knock it from his hands before he even realized it was gone. The muzzle against the back of his head wavers, just the slightest amount that he can feel as it swings back, and Taeil is suddenly all too sick of this game.
He whips around, hands slipping around the pistol and tearing it from the stranger's hands without much resistance as he jumps to his feet, switching the gun to his right hand before wrapping his left arm around the other's shoulders, muzzle shoving hard against the side of their head. By the time he's looking back at the other two people in the room, Taeyong is on his feet, hands still raised, but a step closer, and the man is simply watching, pale in the face, pistol raised to Taeil's head, finger tight on the trigger.
But he doesn't shoot.
Taeil almost smiles.
He presses the gun harder, knows that it hurts like hell, metal digging harshly into skin. They cry out, small and hoarse and—"Stop!" the man across from him says, sounding desperate.Taeil looks down, something sour curling around his gut and staying there as he sees that it's a child he has overpowered, breathing heavily and scraping at his arms in pure panic.
He looks no older than ten.
He looks no older than ten, and less than a minute ago, he had a gun to Taeil's head. Is this what the world is now? Is this what the world always has been?
"Please," the man all but begs, stuttering, falling apart, holding the gun up without having to be told to, eyes searching Taeil's face for any semblance of sympathy. "We'll leave, we'll leave and not tell a soul, please just - just let him go."
It isn't the first time Taeil's held a child in his arms, and it isn't the first time that he's had something that would kill them held tightly in his other hand.
This isn't the first time someone's begged for him to do something different than what he is about to do. That feeling winding through his stomach grows worse, makes him feel things he hasn't felt in a long time. He can't bring himself to move otherwise, even as the man continues to plead, placing the gun on the ground, growing louder and louder.
He thinks his arms are bleeding, small, pointless cuts along his arms from the kid's continuous struggle. All it does is remind him of somewhere else, a place he didn't think he could ever leave, a person he swore he would never be again.
"Hey," Taeyong says, and when he had inched closer, Taeil doesn't know, but his hands are no longer raised, and his voice is placating. "You can let him go now," he continues, close enough that he lifts a hand up and grabs at the top of the gun.
He's all too careful not to touch Taeil's hand as his fingers curl around the metal of the muzzle, tugging it away from the child's head. His eyes meet Taeil's, searching for something Taeil hopes he doesn't find.
"It's okay," he says, firmer this time, so that Taeil knows. "They're just hungry."Taeil lets go.
The kid runs for the man, tears already falling as he collides into him. He lets Taeyong take the gun from him, staring him down for a long moment before his eyes flicker back to the man. The kid is clutching him like he's the only thing he has left as the man crouches down and hugs him tightly, face pressing against his neck. The man’s pistol lays loaded and forgotten at their feet.
Taeyong looks down at the gun in his hands for a moment, passing its weight between his hands. When he looks back over at Taeil, he's reaching down and grabbing his pack, slipping the magnum from beneath it into his pants and slinging the bag onto his back.
"Keep the gun," he says quietly without looking over. "You'll need it for where we're going."
Taeyong looks down again.
"Why didn't you let him go?" he whispers, and it's nearly disturbing for Taeil to hear him sound so hopeless, after being so full of it the day before. "He was just a kid." He meets Taeil's eyes as he looks over, something distrustful staring back at him. He supposes he deserves it, after having to be talked down.
"I told you," he says after a long moment, eyes drifting down to the gun loosely held in his hands. "I'm not a nice guy." Taeyong looks like he has something else to say, but the words get stuck somewhere before they're able to make it out. Taeil nods toward the gun. "Do you know how to lock it?" he asks, trying not to sound impatient, glancing over his shoulder every once in a while to be sure the other two don't try anything.
Taeyong opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head instead.
Taeil can't help but think that he looks small all over again, smaller than the room around them, smaller than the kid just a few feet away. How had he protected his brother for so long? Or was it the other way around, and his brother was the one protecting him?
Taeil steps closer, taking the gun from Taeyong's hands and holding it so that he can watch. He hovers his finger over the small button near the hand grip. "Press this to eject the magazine, and don't aim at anything you aren't going to shoot."
The magazine unclicks and Taeil passes it to Taeyong to hold as he then pulls the top of the gun back, unloading the round loaded into the chamber, catching it in his other hand. They both could be dead right now, if either the man or the kid had wanted to. He doesn't want to think about nearly dying to something so stupid.
"Lock it by pulling this trigger," he tugs quickly on the safety to lock the gun, "and don't forget to unlock it before we go into any towns." He hands the gun to Taeyong, loading the lone bullet back into the magazine with the rest before giving it back. "Loading it works the same." He doesn't ask what goes unspoken into the air. "Don't shoot yourself, or me."
He watches Taeyong load the gun slowly but correctly, before nodding his approval and turning towards the other two people in the room, itching to leave. He takes a glance out the broken window to his right, showing that it's still early morning. They would have to move soon, if they wanted to make good time.
The man avoids Taeil's gaze and instead looks to Taeyong as he follows, coming to a stop beside Taeil. The gun is tucked away in his jacket pocket. Obvious, but efficient in emergencies.
"I'm sorry," the man says, sounding earnest. "We haven't eaten in a while. I - I thought you were..."
When Taeil glances over, Taeyong is smiling, soft and calming as he waves a hand in dismissal. Mistrust towards him, maybe, but still able to find the same hopefulness in others. He should've died a long time ago, allowing his heart to control so much of what he does.
"Is this your son?" he asks, nodding towards the child.
"My baby brother," he offers quietly, lips twitching. His brother clings to his side, and goes to burrow farther behind him when Taeil accidentally catches his eye. "Though, I guess he's not much of a baby anymore."
"I can see the resemblance," Taeyong responds, and looks happier when that succeeds in getting a small smile out of the man. "May I?" he asks, nodding towards his bag, sitting forgotten beside them. Taeil watches as Taeyong enters into another conversation as he grabs his bag and begins to dig through it, looking for something.
He glances out the window again. Impatience burns at his bones.
He hates wasting time, especially when they're on such a tight schedule. Taeyong didn't know it, but it was life or death for his own brother, every second they weren't there.
"I was saving this for a rainy day, but I want you to take it."
Taeil catches a glance of the inside of his pack as he wrestles with something at the bottom of it, tugging past a thin sweatshirt bundled into a tight ball, a yellowed plastic water bottle that's probably not safe to drink out of, a beaten wallet, and dirty white wires that lead to outdated headphones before revealing an unopened extra large can of smoked beans.
The man's eyes light up.
"Here, take it," Taeyong urges gently when neither of the man or his younger brother go to move, holding it out towards them.
Taeil almost voices an objection, if only because he knows that Taeyong will need his strength for the city ahead. He doesn't have any particular feelings about seeing that Taeyong did have food on him, and refused to eat anyway - something tells him he was saving it for the next time he saw his brother. But he does feel something else bristle inside of him, something dark and gnawing as it grows more angry with himself. He doesn't have food to spare for millions, but he has enough to feed Taeyong, at least once or twice, before they part ways. It was selfish of him to argue, when the other was too nice for his own good. Being selfish keeps you alive, chimes the better half of him, and this time, he doesn't know what to listen to.
"W-We can't take this," the man finally whispers, but it sounds as though it pains him to say the words, even as his brother tugs at his sleeve, eyes flicking from Taeyong to the weathered can. The man swallows nervously, shaking his head. "We tried to—""It doesn't matter what you've done. What matters is what you do next," Taeyong replies easily, smiling surely.
The words echo through the room, suddenly all too silent afterward. Taeil tries not to think too hard about what they mean, about how certain Taeyong is as he says it, about the way his eyes crinkle and how his smile is just bright enough at the corners to be the kind of genuine you can't make up.
He can't remember the last time someone took the time to be genuine after the apocalypse.
Taeyong approaches the two strangers after being given the okay, friendly and open as he crouches down in front of the man's brother, holding the can out once more. The child looks at the can for a long moment before glancing up at his older brother, who encourages him with a soft smile and a jerk of his head.
Taking a step closer to Taeyong, the other helps him when he goes to reach for the can, tiny hands barely able to hold it without struggle, Taeyong's hands covering his own as the child brings the can to his chest, before cradling it in his arms, looking down and then looking back at Taeyong, who waits there still, hands slowly retreating back to his sides.
The child carefully hands the can over to his brother, before turning back and running to Taeyong, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Taeil watches silently as Taeyong makes a soft sound at the sudden impact, hands hovering uncertainly above the child's back, before they slowly fall, and he embraces him back.
Taeil doesn't know what he feels as he watches the encounter.
He's not ready to find out.
He clears his throat loud enough that it causes the two to slowly pull apart, Taeyong glancing back at him in question. "We should get going," Taeil supplies in quick answer, avoiding the child's inquisitive gaze when he too looks over.
He doesn't join in on the goodbyes that the three share after, and watches without comment as the man tucks the can away in his backpack, thanking Taeyong profusely, before popping the door open and checking their surroundings, leaning back against the rotting door frame beside it. Neither the man or the child say anything more to Taeil as they brush by him, making their way outside, but Taeil catches the child looking back one last time as they hurry towards the horizon.
Taeyong appears at his side, taking care to keep space between them as they both watch them go. Taeil breaks the silence a bit unwillingly, sun lifting higher into the sky, the world around them quiet, morning peaceful, despite the circumstances. "We'll wait here awhile. I don't want them to follow, or see where we go."
Taeyong nods mutely, not one to argue a good point. Though things ended up going well, the last thing they needed was someone else to worry about, especially with where they were heading.
They both watch with curiosity as the man and his brother suddenly disappear into the overgrown forest to the right of them, disappearing for a long moment. When they reappear, the man is clutching a young girl's hand in his own. She looks identical to the brothers, and far younger. Taeil's stomach churns. Children didn't make it far at all, in what this world has turned into.
"What do you think happened to their mom?"Taeil doesn't know why Taeyong asks something he already knows the answer to.
He watches the man as he quickens his pace, checking to the left and then to the right before they return to the crumbling pavement, ugly weeds sprouting from between cracks, one hand holding each child, tugging the girl along when she tries to stop and grab at a particularly tall bit of grass.
"What always happens to people who care far too much," he says without bothering to soften his words, blunt and empty as they meet the open air. He feels Taeyong look over at him, and then look away. They watch the man and the children until they are nothing but a speck in the horizon.
Taeyong doesn't say anything else to him as they wait.
X
It's cold and endless and his jacket isn't helping at all in keeping him warm as he muddles on, dragging his tired feet across the asphalt, eyes blearily scanning the scrapyard around them. It's as empty as it should be, not a soul in sight, and he exhales as he shifts the brunt of the assault rifle to his other hand, gloves slipping against the freezing metal.
"What's the point of this again?" Yujun asks loudly enough to be heard over the blowing wind from his right, own weapon flagging as he allows it to slip from his fingers and catch on the strap, slinging it around to his back. He talks too much out of them all, so Taeil prefers the cold to his voice any day, but today doesn't seem to be that day as he then groans, long and exaggerated. "I mean, no one's going to mess with us. They would be stupid to even try."
"Some old metal twisted into a half-assed gate won't stop them from trying," Haneul mutters from Taeil's other side, shoulder brushing against his every step they take.
He's bigger, with broad shoulders and a low tolerance for people like Yujun. All the time in the world still wouldn't be enough to count the amount of times Taeil has had to stop a fight from starting between the two.
Haneul catches Taeil's eye as the wind blows again, rushing through his hair and sending a chill down his spine. He rolls his eyes and gestures at Yujun in annoyance, mouthing a few choice words Taeil wouldn't repeat himself. He smiles, if only to keep Haneul's attitude at bay.
"Stop complaining back there. I told you I saw something." Hye snaps from in front of them, words stinging more than the cold ever could.
He doesn't look back, too busy looking through the scope of his own rifle, dragging it back and forth across the darkness in front of them, power struck out by the wind hours beforehand, and hopefully nothing more. Taeil wouldn't be able to see his own hand in front of him, if not for the flashlight attached to the bottom of his gun, lighting the way for Yujun and Haneul beside him.
"There's no such thing as coincidence, especially when it comes to our power supply."
"What if you just rigged it wrong?" Yujun snipes back, stretching his arms high above his head. When Taeil glances over, the safety isn't even clicked on his shotgun, muzzle barely an inch from dragging across the ground. Sometimes he wonders if it would really kill him to act responsible for more than five minutes. "Something was done wrong, something else was a little loose and—""Fuck off," Hye responds, refusing to let even Yujun's spiteful teasing distract him from the task at hand.
"Why did we pick him up off the side of the road again?" Haneul grumbles, tugging his coat closer to his body, breath fogging out in front of him every time he talks. "We would have so many less headaches if one of you hadn't felt so inclined to save the brat."
"Taeil's been like that since forever," Hye replies in the silence afterward. "Still thinks there's things to save out there."
Haneul huffs, and Yujun actually laughs from beside him, even going as far as reaching out and shoving at Taeil's shoulder. "You're stupid," he says simply as soon as he's done laughing, readjusting the strap to his shotgun and looking over at Taeil with a lopsided grin. "With that idea in your head, you'll end up saving no one." He snorts another laugh, as if he's just said the funniest thing in the world. Taeil bristles from beside him, dragging his eyes away from the world around him to meet Yujun's gaze."If there's no humanity left, then what is there?" Taeil rebukes, glaring. His fingers tighten on his gun. He thinks Yujun pushes buttons on purpose, thinking that it garners him positive attention. It doesn't. "If you see someone who needs help, what are you going to do? Leave them to die?"
"Duh," Yujun shoots back, like Taeil is, in fact, stupid. "It's you or them."
"Not always," Taeil argues, quickly growing irritated at the smirk that now pulls at the corner of the younger's lips. "Are you saying I shouldn't have saved you? That I should've just left you on the side of that road, beaten and bloody and waiting for the final bullet?"
Taeil doesn't miss the way Hye glances over his shoulder at that, no stranger to the tone Taeil's voice has now taken. Haneul is respectfully silent on his other side, but he's not doing a very good job of pretending to look the other way.
Yujun laughs, loud and carefree. Hye shushes him with a curse from the front, muttering under his breath. Taeil feels something angry shoot through his veins, and has trouble reeling it in.
"That's exactly what I'm saying," he exclaims, disregarding the way Hye whips around and yells at him for being loud, again. "Imagine if someone had set me up. You see one bleeding kid on the side of the road, and you're ready to throw what's left of your life away? Come on," he shakes his head, "rookie mistake, Taeil."He ignores the blatant disrespect of his name, even as Haneul winces from beside him. It makes sense with what they know about him, as his family wasn't one to stray away from respect very often, and when it did happen, Haneul was the outlet. Taeil stays quiet long enough that Yujun goes to reach over and push at him again, only for Taeil to stop walking completely before he can.
Yujun slows to a stop as Haneul looks back and then decides to continue on with Hye, falling in step with him as he clicks on his own flashlight, sweeping it back and forth. It rakes over the edges of their compound, nothing but decrepit forklifts, decaying pallets, and a massive pile of unused rocks staring back at them.
Taeil squeezes tighter at his gun in an attempt to diffuse some of his anger, but it doesn't work much at all, and he settles on staring at Yujun instead, lips twisted into a frown, eyes shooting daggers.
"Uh," Yujun drawls, sounding suddenly nervous. "Taeil?" He shifts his body weight between his feet, eyes flicking between Taeil's face and lowered rifle. "Listen, I was just joking," he says, all bark and no bite, which they all already knew. Taeil would find it funny any other time, but now Yujun's gone too far. "Save whoever you want, whenever you want, and all that," he continues, fingers inching closer to his shotgun.
Taeil would be worried, if it was anyone else but Yujun.
"I saved you because you were a kid. A barely breathing, bloody mess of a kid." Yujun looks like he wants to interrupt, but Taeil doesn't let him, steadying him with another look. "Hye didn't even look at you, just walked on past. If Haneul was there, he probably would have done the same thing."
He glances away, collecting his thoughts. Thinking back to that day, to the blood stained across the pavement, to the way Yujun refused to lift his hand away from his stomach, protecting what was left of his organs. He remembers Hye telling him he wasn't worth the time, and that if he tried to save everyone, then he would be nothing but a target.
"But all I saw was a kid who needed help, and I didn't want to be the next one to walk past and do nothing."
Yujun is silent for a long moment, long enough that Taeil thinks maybe something he said actually made it through his thick skull, but instead, he simply looks down, and grumbles under his breath like someone being scolded. "I'm seventeen. I'm technically an adult,"
"In your dreams maybe," Taeil snaps back.
He's about to say more, only to be interrupted by the loud crack of a bullet flying from a chamber from a few feet away.
Taeil immediately turns and moves, heart pounding hard in his chest. Was someone shot? Was someone shooting at them? Did Hye really see something before? If one of them was shot, was another one of them next? Groups weren't always the better way to go. They could be clumsy, picky. Easier targets for the right gun.Yujun is right at his heels as Taeil catches up to Hye and Haneul, guns raised and pointing at a stack of metal beams that rest in a far corner, crossed and nearly toppling over one another. One wrong gust of wind and they would fall, pour out against the pavement like blood from a body.
Taeil lifts his own gun and shines his flashlight across the metal, breathing heavily, finger resting hard against the trigger.
The light catches on a bullet embedded clearly alongside a splatter of blood slashed across the beam, glossy and dark and already smeared by the outline of a handprint, edges sliding toward where the metal intercepts.
He glances over at Haneul, focused ahead of him, steady and stagnant, a soldier primed against a barrage, and then at Hye, who's smiling cruelly. His stomach twists uncomfortably at the look he sees there.
The same look he had back in Seoul, days slipping into nights like water through his fingers, the city becoming nothing but a nightmare. Hands sliding against heavy pipes slick with rain as they waited with bated breath for the officer to come barreling around the corner, thinking he could still protect and serve against people who knew no such thing. The sound of Hye's pipe smashing into the side of his head, sickening loud against the thunder.
Careless hands tugging off the badge against his coat, crude laughter as they had slipped lower, grazing against the man's belt before finding exactly what they were looking for. Taeil's hands shaking as the pistol is placed in his own hands, cold fingers pressing hard against his own.
Lightning flashing, illuminating Hye's face as he looks down at the officer with an expression Taeil will never forget, before reaching down and picking up his own pipe once more, and raising it against the rumble of the storm.
"Did you think those signs were suggestions?" Hye crows, startling Taeil back into the present. His finger squeezes tighter on the trigger, aiming at nothing but metal as Hye takes a confident step forward.Yujun is steady on Taeil's other side, unafraid as soon as Hye speaks and also moving closer, smiling like he's about to win a prize. Taeil scans the other two for injuries, only to find nothing. His pulse quickens. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like the look on Hye's face.
"Intruders?" he asks Haneul, who nods. Hye continues walking, Yujun following behind him. "Did they shoot?" he calls out, eyes flitting between the two. The gun is heavy in his hands. "You're not hit."
"Of course I'm not fucking hit," Hye growls without turning around. "I shot first. We have plenty of signs that promote our shoot first, ask questions later policy now, don't we?""That doesn't mean you shoot anyone in your sight," Taeil says, but the words are hollow as he straightens up and lowers his gun.
There's no side of Hye that he likes, even now, but this side is one he never wants to see, and sees most often because he's too afraid to just up and leave. Not when they've set up here, with water and blankets and a roof over their heads that only leaks when someone doesn't go up top and check the panels before a storm.
He doesn't know where he'd be without Hye, dragging him from one city to the next, finding them food and stealing bullets that always show up at just the right time, new guns strapped to his pants every time an old one outgrows its use, Taeil not questioning the way in which it happens so often, and so easily.
Haneul, a wall of a human, steadfast and stoic and strong, stronger than them all, and the only one able to cook canned food into something that reminds him of home. And Yujun, who Taeil found, and wouldn't walk away from. Who Hye didn't want, who struggled with understanding humanity because he had never had it, who fought him badly enough that Taeil thought he would leave them both to die.
Yujun, who was so scared of Hye in the beginning, who walked on eggshells around him, who clung to Taeil's side even though Taeil never knew how to tell him he would never last this way, needy and tiny and terrified. Yujun, who is now fearless and almost sadistic in the face of strangers, as he trails at Hye's heels like if he doesn't he'll miss out.
"Hye," Taeil starts again when the other doesn't reply, ignoring the bad feeling bubbling slow in his gut. "They're probably just waiting out the windstorm here."
"It's our property," he grits in reply, nearly close enough to reach out and knock over the metal slabs with a kick of his foot if he so wanted."What do you think this is?" Taeil retorts boldly, skin crawling with unease. "This isn't—""Shut the fuck up before I shoot you, Taeil, how about that?"Taeil's mouth snaps shut.
His voice is colder than the wind that batters his back, harsh and unforgiving as it barrels on through the night. He hates that Hye's threats still promise the same that they did back then. Hates that he's still letting someone control him, even when there are no more titles or jobs or places to be.
Usually, he'd fight Hye on it, and they'd both suffer bloody noses and bruised knuckles, but Hye's unpredictable at best, and holding a gun that can do a lot more damage than knuckles do. He doesn't know what would happen, if he risked it now, Yujun different than he used to be, Haneul always seeking out Hye when being alone isn't enough for him.
Uneasiness spins in his stomach.
Maybe he’s always been the outliner.
His eyes trace the metal beams over and over again, still not seeing anything. Whoever it is, they're hiding, and refusing to come out or make a sound. Hye is close enough now to reach in and grab them. Taeil wishes that he wouldn't, wishes that there was no one here at all but the wind and the stars and the moon. Yujun is beside him, smirking.
Taeil's eyes flick to him, and he wonders what changed. Was it all the nights where he went to bed early, and Yujun chose to stay up, finding himself next to Hye by the fire, still there talking by the time Taeil's dreams wouldn't let him sleep any longer?
He exhales, struggling to expel everything plaguing him.
Hye reaches in.
He grabs at someone who screams loud enough that it echoes and causes Taeil to flinch. Hye shuts them up fast enough, hooking a hand around their mouth and tugging them out as Yujun moves in close and shoves his shotgun into the face of someone else. Taeil's heart pounds as he hears someone begging hoarsely and the sound of Yujun cocking the gun.
How many were there?
He clutches the gun tighter, afraid of the unknown against all else. Yujun ushers the rest out from behind the beams, barking orders in a voice that sounds far too young to be doing such a thing. Hye doesn't let go of the one he's holding - a young girl from what Taeil can see, barely older than ten, dirt smeared across her cheeks - and Haneul watches the rest as Yujun ducks into their hiding spot to make sure no one else is there.
It looks like nothing more than a family, after all is said and done. The mother is older with laugh lines etched deep into her cheeks. The father is balding at the top of his head. Their son has blood painted across the sleeve of his jacket.
Taeil lowers his gun at the sight, something cold piercing straight through his chest. Yujun exits from between the beams, giving Hye a short nod in confirmation. The father is looking between all four of them, panicked and nearly wheezing. The daughter is crying silently from behind Hye's hand. Taeil can't bring himself to look at anything else than the blood on the son's arm.
"Now that we've all been acquainted," Hye begins, sickly sweet as his cold eyes rake over the three forced to their knees in front of him. "Does anyone want to tell me why our power shorted out this evening?"
He's met by nothing but silence.
The mother is looking down, finding a sudden interest in the ground. When Taeil tries to meet the father's gaze in an attempt at a question, he looks away too. They're hiding something. Something they think is important enough to hide in the face of armed strangers. Taeil would envy their bravery, if he wasn't worried for them. His brain can barely wrap around the fact that Hye shot at a child.
"Really?" Hye pushes, eyes flashing against the darkness that shrouds him. "Nothing to say?"
Yujun laughs. It makes Taeil jump as he looks over at him, swinging his shotgun around like an irresponsible child would. He watches the gun wearily. Wonders if he should take it from him before he does something—The gunshot is loud and unmistakable, followed by a scream and hysterical screeches.
Taeil looks back over, heart in his throat, only for it to stop all together.
There on the ground rests the father, a shell of who he used to be. The daughter is screaming, loud and inconsolable, and the mother has been reduced to sounds that are nearly that of a wounded animal, hands reaching for her husband, only to grasp nothing but thin air as Yujun shoves her back.
Hye struggles with the daughter as she fights madly to get away from him, gun still smoking, and Taeil finds himself stumbling back.
Yujun is smiling. Haneul is emotionless. Hye is angry.
"Waste of fucking time," he says, like this is nothing more than a hassle, and aims his gun at the mother with one hand. "Should've shot her first—"
"Wait!"
Taeil thinks he said it, until he realizes that he doesn't have any breath left in his throat to have said it, and then sees the son looking over at Hye with wide and frightened eyes. He has jumped up in front of his mother, but his eyes keep glancing over at the bloody remains of his father, lips trembling, snot running from his nose, tears steady and big. He's tiny compared to the gun barrels that swing to point at him. Taeil feels sick.
"D-Don't," he can barely get the words out, young and numb and probably going into shock. Taeil doesn't know how he's even talking, standing, eyes darting between Hye's face and his sister and his father on the ground.
He thinks he might just be the most fearless kid he's ever seen.
"S-Shoot." He exhales hard after stuttering clumsily on the first letter, squeezing his eyes shut so hard that the skin around the corners pulls, and then opens them again, looking directly at Hye. Taeil shifts half a step closer. "D-Don't shoot."The silence that follows from Hye is deafening.
"Don't shoot?" he finally repeats, almost in disbelief. He's holding the daughter tight enough now that Taeil can see the way she struggles to breathe from behind his palm, hands slowly sliding down his arms as she loses what strength she had left. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he spits, oil to a fire. He looks like he wants to say more, but is cut short by Yujun sauntering closer, lips tugged upward.
"I wanna hear what he has to say," Yujun interrupts, sounding far too excited by the prospect. He teases the son's right shoulder with the tip of his shotgun, pushing hard enough that the other flinches away, new tears racing down his cheeks.
Taeil moves, something inside pushing him forward. He still can't get any words out, doesn't know how to make them work, can't shove them away or out or think of some way out of this situation that doesn't result in someone getting hurt.
Their father was already dead, and their mother was rendered useless by it, children left to fend for themselves against savages. Taeil was a savage, for being a part of this, for not stopping it sooner. For never having the guts to stand up to Hye, even when it mattered.
He hates himself for it. Thinks that maybe this is why he was never good enough for a better job or a better position or a better life that didn't involve having to bury his parents' bodies before he was thirty.
Maybe he was just as weak as Hye said he was that night, hair soaked by the rain, blood dripping from his chin, moving far away from the alleyway, but never forgotten.
"M-Momma—"
The child stumbles over his words again. He pauses, and Taeil watches as he balls his little hands into fists before attempting to continue once more. "Momma saw the lights from the road." His voice is steadier now, though the rest of him isn't. He thinks Hye is allowing this to play out only because he’s said before that it's no fun to kill the ones that don't have any last words. "We haven't eaten. We-We hit the box by accident when we tried to hide from the wind. Dad tried to fix it but—""Fucking pathetic," Hye spits, growing bored, and pointing the gun at the daughter's head. "You have five seconds to tell me what your momma won't say."
The boy panics, and so does Taeil, who jumps across the way before his brain can even catch up with what he's doing, grabbing Hye's gun by the muzzle before he can shoot. Hye meets his eyes, and for a long moment, Taeil thinks he's going to shoot anyway. Then he scoffs, finger diverting from the trigger, as if Taeil is doing nothing but spoiling his fun."Going to save everybody, Taeilie? Even the ones that mess up our shit?"
Taeil struggles to push the words out and make them sound like they belong there. "And you're going to kill everybody. What the fuck is wrong with you, Hye? You just killed their father in front of them.""So?" Yujun mutters.
Taeil ignores him in favor of glaring at Hye, watching his face for a reaction. He's treading on mighty thin ice, and he doesn't know if he's brave enough to do this, to fight him to the ground again, to take all the hits and punches and spiteful words in the name of preserving humanity when he can barely preserve his own lifespan.
His mind reminds him of the child he's standing in front of, of someone's son who didn't ask for this, standing taller than Taeil ever has, and he tries not to think so hard about it."Do you not feel any remorse? Anything at all? You just killed someone's father." He pulls at the gun hard enough that Hye should let go, but he doesn't. "What if that had been your father?"Hye doesn't answer for a long time. Taeil takes the time to angle his body so that he's shielding the son more, one hand still grabbing at the gun. He's afraid to let go when Hye won't.
"I would have been thankful," Hye finally whispers.
A gunshot rings out from behind him, loud enough that it echoes through his ears and slices through his head. By the time he looks, he realizes all too late that it's abruptly quiet, and the sight that meets him is nothing but red.
Yujun is laughing as he rests the shotgun against his shoulder, admiring his work. The son doesn't move. The daughter is limp in Hye's hold. Hye lets her fall to the ground a moment later, and rips his rifle from Taeil's stunned grip. The sudden momentum sends him back, and then Hye is throwing the gun to the ground and grabbing at Taeil's neck, choking him before he can grasp anything at all.
His eyes are that of a killer's.
"You'll kill the kid," he says, like it's the only choice Taeil has.
Taeil struggles against him, blood sprouting on Hye's hands from the way he desperately tries to peel them away. "I won't," he gasps, drowning on his own lack of breath. "I-I won't."Hye grins. "You will," he replies easily, "or else I'll kill you myself."
"You wouldn't risk—"
He doesn't see the knife until he feels it, burying deep into his side, ripping through tensed skin like it's not there. Hye pulls him into the blade for the longest few seconds of Taeil's life before letting go and watching as he hits the ground hard, a scream catching in his throat.
The pain shoots through him like a bullet would, careless where it ends up. He can barely breathe alongside it, desperate for air, and only realizes that he's reaching to clot the wound when his fingers press against soaked through clothing, fire shooting up his side.
He doesn't see Hye, moving out of his vision and then coming back and pressing a cold pistol into his palm, forcing his fingers to wrap around it. He doesn't see Yujun drag the son in front of Taeil, and pin him against the metal beam. He doesn't feel Hye's fingers guiding his own, forced against the trigger. He hears the shot as it's fired, realizes a second too late.The son's body slumps against the ground, lifeless.
Hye's warm breath ghosts across his ear.
"Now you're one of us, Taeilie. Right where you belong."
X
Taeyong is talking about music, he thinks.
Some song he enjoys, but hasn't listened to in a while, because he didn't download it before the apocalypse happened. He was half-listening before, but now he's just letting him talk as they pick their way through a gas station just on the edge of the city, grass sprouting between rusted gas pumps.The day is nearly over.
He's hungry, and he thinks Taeyong is too.
Every time he glances over at him he's completely animated as he speaks, hands helping weave the stories he tells. His eyes shine with what Taeil thinks is the first true happiness he's seen from Taeyong as he talks about music, about doing nothing but copying beats and scribbling down scattered lyrics on whatever piece of paper he could reach, before, about how now he found an old pair of headphones and hopes to make them work again one day because he misses nothing more.
The way he talks about music is infectious, and Taeil catches himself before letting it slip that he used to sing when he was younger. He figures it's not a smart avenue to send Taeyong down when he's trying to keep everything about them separate, especially when it comes to topics about Taeyong's brother.
He had brought him up again briefly between two trucks that were riddled with bullet holes a few miles back, reminiscing about something or other. Taeil had changed the subject quickly, blunt and straight to the point as he pointed out something in the distance. But Taeyong didn't like the silence as much as Taeil did, so things were becoming difficult.
Taeil turns away when Taeyong shoots him a quick smile, and heads toward the small, shabby convenience store off to the left, a few feet back from where the gas pumps converge together.
There's multiple different cuts of boards spread across the windows, shielding the view of what rests within. A battered Sorry, We're Closed! sign is haphazardly shoved between them and the window, which is surprisingly intact. There are words spray painted in red, long dry. The End Is Here, they proclaim, obnoxious.
"Yeah, no shit," Taeil mutters.
He approaches the awaiting door and turns the handle, unlocked but stuck in place when he attempts to pry it open. He sighs as he moves to brace his shoulder against it, pushing once and then twice with no success. Taeyong is trailing a few feet behind him, still talking. He turns to face him, fighting against the part of him that tells him he can get past the stuck door without help.
"Something's blocking the door," he says loud enough for Taeyong to hear him.
He doesn't have the proper energy to feel bad about interrupting him. They've been walking for a long while, through spotty patches of grass and crumbling roads. Navigating between the two made his knees ache sometimes, a dull feeling that grew more persistent as time went on. He had wondered if it was because of the end of the world, or just age, and had resisted asking Taeyong if he had anything similar happen to him after too much.
Taeyong walks over to him, moving close as he tries to peek beyond the wood. He's close enough that he could reach out and touch Taeil if he wanted, and the idea makes Taeil take a step back, the feel of someone else's hands creeping up his back like a phantom's touch.
"Looks like this hasn't been touched," Taeyong says as he glances over at the rest of the windows, covered and hopefully abandoned.
"Or someone's boarded themselves in," Taeil mumbles, ever the pessimist.
Taeyong shrugs before pressing one shoulder against the door, leaving enough room for Taeil beside him. "Either way, we should be able to get it open. Maybe there's something worthwhile."
Taeil hesitates for a long moment, remembering himself against Taeyong's endless hope.
The sun was already beginning to bury itself behind the horizon, and he could see specks of buildings in the distance, showing just how close they were to Taeyong's brother. Time was extremely important, in a case like this one, and they had already wasted enough.
How much longer did his brother have? Did it even matter?
He bites his tongue against saying something bitter, and goes with what sounds better instead. He doesn't do it because he cares about how Taeyong will take it."If we want to reach your brother, we should probably keep going."
Taeyong freezes, as if the words have physically struck him. His weight sags against the door. Taeil doesn't think that he had forgotten; how could someone when it came to their family, but instead just chose not to think about it.
About the truth that he had lost his brother, and was helpless in getting him back without Taeil's help, that much he knew for certain. There was no lie to be found when Taeyong had said similar back in the town Taeil would have been better off skipping.
"You're probably right," he finally returns, all too suddenly quiet and faded. He straightens, gripping tightly to the strap of his backpack. His fingers pull white against the dark material. "He's probably already made friends, forgotten all about me." The smile he wears is thin. Something faraway sits in his eyes, refusing to let go.
He must know, Taeil thinks as he watches the way he stands there, stiff and still and thin against the backdrop of a small gas station, he must know that bad things could be happening to his brother, or could have already happened. There's no way someone, or anyone, could believe that everything out there doesn't want to kill, hurt, or steal. No matter the person, or the age—"Do you really believe that?"Taeyong doesn't look at him.
The sky is darker now, deep oranges and dark yellows streaked across the sky. Unsure where else to look when Taeyong is looking through him, he drags his gaze upwards.
It's the one thing the apocalypse didn't take away, the beauty of the sky. Usually, he's tired of it, of seeing the same colors a trillion different ways because there's nothing else to rely on besides the cycle of the sun, but today he takes it in. Catches glimmers of gold snuck between silver linings.
When the silence stretches on for what feels like too long, Taeil figures that Taeyong has decided just to ignore him for the sake of whatever lie he's crafted to keep himself functioning. Maybe it's for the better - for the unsaid to hang in the empty spaces around them, instead of tasting sour on the tip of his tongue.
Maybe all death would be better that way."Yes."
The word is sharp and loud enough that it echoes around them. Taeil calmly glances away from tracing the outline of a particularly interesting cloud to meet Taeyong's face once more. He still isn't looking at him.
"My brother's better than I am. Always has been." He exhales. His chest trembles against it. "Finds his way out of situations I never know how to handle, let alone how to avoid ending up in. I tell myself that I'm protecting him, but I don't think that's ever been true."
He huffs. It's not a laugh.
"I only know what it's like to be held at gunpoint because it's where I always end up, if my brother doesn't talk first." He blinks hard. He's not crying, but Taeil knows how hard it is to keep that in, when it builds and builds with nowhere else to go. "I'm a coward, you know," he continues in a whisper, eyes finally seeing Taeil.
There's something heavy in his stare that pins him there. Something that makes his heart beat faster, because he's seen it before. For a long moment, he struggles with remembering where he is.
"I was too much of a coward to do this all on my own, even if that meant asking help from someone whose name I don't even know." It hits Taeil with sudden clarity, why that look in his eyes feels familiar.
Hye's eyes would darken with it, whenever he made the decision to do something horrible. Determined. Unwavering.Taeyong's eyes aren't as bright as they usually are, but they still flicker with a flame. His eyes are heavy with the truth about himself, the truth about his brother. Something he hadn't admitted, until now. Heavy with the weight of so many wrongs, that all that was left to do was pretend that they were right.He breaks the silence with a shift of his hands, tucking them away in the pockets of the sweatshirt that swallows his body whole.
He needs better clothes, Taeil thinks amidst the small shake of Taeyong's head and twist of his lips, as though he's suddenly realizing how crazy all of this was. How you don't just follow someone across rivers without thinking twice about why they might be crossing.
"I'm so stupid," he spits, bitter and cold. It rubs Taeil the wrong way, to hear Taeyong sound just like everyone else he's ever come across. "I'm stupid and a coward," he continues, kicking at the dirt of the parking lot with the toe of his shoe.
The color is faded. The end is nearly run through. It must be like walking without any shoes on at all. When was the last time he found clothes? Food? A place to sleep that didn't end with being awoken at gunpoint?
"Who does this?" he asks, looking up, looking at Taeil like he is nothing more than a stranger. It hurts Taeil more than it should. "I should be dead.""It's more important that you're not," Taeil blurts, and then flinches back as if he's said something wrong. Taeyong stares as Taeil struggles to collect the scrambled thoughts spinning around his head. "You're not stupid," he states, to be sure that Taeyong hears him loud and clear, "and you're the farthest thing from a coward."
"I asked a stranger to help me save my own brother."
Taeil sighs.
He doesn't know how to talk to this Taeyong, this warped version of the man he thought he was beginning to know and understand. He doesn't know if it was the truth that had set him down this road, or the lack of one. Of course it was strange at first, but Taeil thought being alone was strange too.
"You did what anyone desperate would do," he tries to argue, the world around them quickly fading deeper into the evening. Night would be here before long, and Taeil wasn't keen with the idea. For as sensitive as the situation was, they needed to keep moving. Maybe this was the only way Taeil knew how to deal with any demons lingering in his head, because it was all he had ever known. "Come on. We need to keep going."
He starts to walk, hoping that Taeyong will follow his lead like he usually does after a moment or two. He crosses the threshold of the third gas pump and turns around when he doesn't hear the telltale sign of footsteps behind him, finding Taeyong in the exact same spot as before.
"Come on," he urges again, louder, cringing at the way his voice snaps across the falling darkness. Noise is the easiest way to get found when night falls and the hunters begin to roam.
"Why didn't you kill me?"
Taeil stills.
It's the same question he's been asking himself, and still doesn't have an answer to. How easy it would have been, to slip a bullet between his eyes and never have to wonder what it would be like to travel with someone else again. How hard it would have been for him to pull the trigger on someone whose heart was so easily seen. He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. Ignores the way his skin flushes, the way his brain tells him he's acting no better than those who end up dead on the side of the road."The same reason you followed me to the river," he finally says.
Taeyong's eyes widen at his admission. He stumbles over a few letters before finding the words he's looking for, mouth opening and then closing, as if he thinks better of it. Taeil turns back to the awaiting horizon, feeling strangely lighter.
"Come on," he says for the third time.
He takes a few steps, and feels his heart settle when he hears the sound of Taeyong following behind him.