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Chapter Text

“Speak.”

“What do you want me to say?” Yangyang lifts his head up from between his knees. 

“I don’t know.” Ten shifts. “The silence is just weird.”

“I thought you liked silence,” Yangyang huffs. “You’re always telling us to be quiet.”

Ten shoots Yangyang a cold Liu Yangyang, come on kind of glare. “This is different. Not with you, you know.”

“Why?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

Yangyang just blinks at him. 

Ten scrubs at his face. He half-groans half-shouts. “Because you’re you and because–just look around!” Ten gestures to the front yard.

Dutifully, Yangyang looks. Right. Well, it’s definitely not…vacation ready. 

There’s heavy streaks of blood on the grass, and the fence, and the path. Oh, and the cute little flower bed. The rain is doing a pathetic job at washing it away but beggars can’t be choosers?

Man, what the hell?

This was supposed to be fun . 

Yangyang looks back at Ten, who is still scrubbing at his face. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just—something!”

“But I don’t understand!” Yangyang cries helplessly. 

“Yangyang,” Ten turns to him with a don’t fuck with me look, “say something so I don’t go crazy because Xiaojun and Hendery and Kun are gone, we just got an alert that there's a-an ‘outbreak’? Whatever the hell that means. My iPad died and I can’t even charge it since the power went out meaning I can’t stress draw meaning I’m?” Ten scrubs at his face again. He smashes his head between his knees as he continues, switching between Thai, Mandarin, and English so quick that it makes Yangyang dizzy, “Meaning-I don’t even know! And we already ate enough for five people and I'm away from the cats! Winwin was supposed to be here tomorrow and now we don’t even know if he’s alive, a-and I just killed?? Our cameraman??? Because he wanted to bite our heads off??? I-I don’t even eat meat and now he’s dead in our backyard and you—“ Ten glares up at Yangyang, “you always have something to talk about so, for all that’s good Yangyang, just speak.” 

“Please,” Ten adds in English with a pointed exhale, rubbing his nose. 

Yangyang coughs. “Ah.”

Ten being crazy is kinda hot. Not that that’s new or anything. Because...the whole Nightwalker era and all. But anyways.

Ten sniffs and watches the rain flood the pool.

“So,” Yangyang says slowly, scratching the back of his neck, “Did you know that—“

Chapter Text

YESTERDAY

Yangyang presses his nose to the foggy window. 

He carves out a heart and shoots an arrow through it before filling it in. Now he can watch the trees pass by in blurs of deep green and rough bark. Yangyang smashes his cheek against the glass. Dark gray clouds loom over the trees. Ugh. According to their manager, the storm will pass in the next two days meaning their vacation won’t be ruined but it’s still harshing his vibe.

Yangyang feels lame for whining in his head, but being in the backseat of a car always reminds him of being a kid again. Well, not that he ever really stopped being one. Kid at heart! Or something like that…um YOLO!

Yangyang turns to look out the other window. Ten, resting on Yangyang’s shoulder, stirs but thankfully(!!) doesn’t wake. He just nuzzles into Yangyang’s neck. Who says guys pushing thirty can’t be cute too?* Justice for the elderly! 

*[Fact: Ten said guys pushing thirty have strong limitations on their displays of cuteness in both personal and professional settings due to societal views on adulthood, maturity, and masculinity. Failure to comply with these limitations will result in a) relentless teasing and b) public humiliation with a likely side effect of c) heightened homoromantic banter. If you are around or approaching 30 as a male, act cute at your own risk.]

Yangyang presses his cheek against Ten’s hair.

So soft. All those fancy shampoos are so worth it. He smells like a summer breeze. Man. Yangyang takes a deep breath in and finds himself focusing all his senses to where Ten and him are touching. His life is so good!!! The only downside is he can’t crawl into Ten’s skin and become one with him like some kind of alien symbiote. Super disappointing. 

Sloowwww breath. Not the time. Nooottt the time. 

It’s vacation time, summer time. Think with your dick, your heart, and your stomach time. Ooh that was kind of a line. 

Anyways. It is not the time for…whatever his subconscious wants to dip into. 

Yangyang shifts his shoulder slightly so he can face the other window, somehow managing not to wake Ten. Party rockers in the fucking house!!

Yangyang sighs and watches the coastline. This is that good life, for real . The tide is low, pushing and pulling frothy seawater to the shore. Yangyang times his breathing with the waves for a solid three seconds, then his eyes catch on Dejun.

Dejun, smoking hot guy that he is, has found himself squished against the window, snoring, eyes fluttering with a dream. He’s also drooling on himself. 

Yangyang giggles into his chest. 

Dejun just got off an 8-hour flight so Yangyang can’t blame him but Yangyang also can’t pass up a photo-op. Yangyang giggles again as he shows the picture to Hendery in the back row. Hendery giggles back, with more gusto than Yangyang expected and mouths, send that to me. Now!! Yangyang gives him a gleeful thumbs up. Hendery smiles back and then does an exaggerated imitation of Dejun‘s drooling, which of course makes Yangyang’s shoulders shake with laughter. Like a bloodhound, Ten tips his nose up to the sound and tuts sharply. 

Hendery and Yangyang immediately go quiet. 

Yangyang looks at Hendery again, who makes an indescribable face that might mean anything from ‘ugh no fun’ to ‘that was kinda hot’ but who knows? Either way, Hendery goes back to playing rhythm games and the car is quiet again, save for passionate phone tapping. 

Yangyang goes back to watching the coast, which blurs by in swaths of gray-blue water. Ten sighs and nuzzles into Yangyang’s neck. Cute!!!! Ten is so warm which is weird because he usually runs cold and it’s kinda pulling at this tangled indescribable ache of longing in Yangyang’s chest. Ten just brings out so many feelings in Yangyang he didn’t even know existed . It’s not his fault, okay?

Well. Hm.

So, here’s the thing: Renjun (and Chenle, and Jeno–okay basically all of the Dreamies) apparently believe Yangyang is ‘in love.’ However, Yangyang is like, 18 (24), and ‘in love’ is wayyyyy too big and crazy to even think about. He’s only been seriously considering his queerness for like two years! Okay, five years! Whatever! Time flies!

It’s not his fault! Being an idol doesn't give you a lot of time to do that kind of serious deep self-reflection, not when he’s gotta be ‘On’ basically all the time. He manages his life mostly by thinking of it like a movie, or a game. It’s not that he doesn’t love being an idol though! Like…obviously! 

Yangyang loves his job. He loves his job, seriously. 

But this whole sexuality shit is so complicated. Of course, he doesn’t have to put a label on anything, lord knows most of his friends don’t, but it nags at him: the fact that he actually likes boys. Apparently, he’s still in that whole ‘processing phase’ (Renjun’s words) and ‘acceptance is like, a journey’ (Mark’s words). 

A really really long journey! 

It’s just, it’s ridiculous! Sometimes he doesn’t think about it and it’s not a big deal at all , especially when he gets to just be himself with the members but other times…it’s like a pinball through his head. He just needs to know what it all means, why he feels that way. He needs words for it. He knows four languages but he can’t figure out being queer?! 

Also, does he even actually like girls?! 

Yangyang pictures boobs, soft and, fuck girls smell so nice and Ten smells so nice too and okay wow!

Anyways! Ten.

Sweet, evil, endlessly talented Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. Ten, object of all his desires. Ten, god of dance. Ten, still clinging to the whole baby Yangyang routine. Total mindfuck. 

All of that to say…being in love with Ten would be way too much. 

(And even if he was in love, what the fuck is he supposed to do about that?!)

Yangyang lets out a deep sigh. He stares at the back of Kun’s head. Something about Kun’s hair always seems to ground him, or Kun in general honestly. Yangyang fights the urge to sigh, again . 

Kun has one earbud in case anyone needs him but his music is so loud that Yangyang knows exactly what he’s listening to. He could recognize the sound of old-school Chinese ballads anywhere. Cute. Ugh. What the hell?

To make matters worse, Kun is cushioned by a comically large unicorn neck pillow, gifted to him by Hendery since ‘Kun-ge is one of a kind, like a unicorn’. Speaking of gay by the way, what is going on with those two? 

Hmm. Maybe Hendery has advice. 

Well. If Yangyang doesn’t figure out the whole ‘in love’ thing, at least he’ll still have his members.

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Yangyang pulls himself out of a daze as their manager slows the car to a stop. They made it!

Hendery bounces excitedly in the back row, rousing Ten and Dejun. Ten blinks sleepily while Dejun crashes into the waking world, face frozen like a cartoon character. On the right side of his chin is a crusted line of drool. 

Yangyang looks back at Hendery and instantly, they both burst out laughing. 

Ten squints. “Ya, what’s so funny?”

Yangyang snickers into his collar and nods in Dejun’s direction.

Ten looks over and breaks into a smile. “Aww, sleepy baby.” 

“Unh?”

Kun, already out of the car, loudly declares, “We’re here!”

Hendery starts bouncing in the backseat again. Kun goes around the back to let Hendery out as Ten unpeels himself from Yangyang, pushing them both out of the car. 

The rain stopped so it’s earthy and clean, with an edge of citrus. 

Yangyang looks around. The property is almost completely surrounded by forest.

The front yard is huge, mostly grass and trees with a cute swing set perfect for pictures. Kun will be all over that with his camera. There’s also a pool and a shaded hot tub, which is strange for the front/side yard but it’s far enough from the actual house and circled by trees and shrubbery that it looks perfectly in place. Weird but okay, who is he to judge? He’s never built a house before. Speaking of the house, the actual building is like if a rural Korean house and a skyscraper had nasty sex and the sheer force of their love spawned this thing . 

There’s even a pretty little stone path leading up to the porch with tastefully placed lanterns. Nice. Basically, Yangyang is pumped and ready to PARTY! 

Dejun and Hendery squeal over the pool while Ten teases Kun for stretching his back like an old man. Yangyang can’t even feel bad for him. Sometimes it’s like Kun wants Ten to tease him but Yangyang can’t really blame Kun and okay, now Ten’s sliding a hand under Kun’s shirt. God, watching them do crazy shit like that always makes Yangyang get all hot and, when he’s extra pent up, pop a half-chub. Which is weird but also sooo not weird? Another thing for the “Need to Deconstruct…But Later” list. 

Done annoying Kun, Ten heads over to sling an arm around Yangyang. “Hey, baby.”

Yangyang smiles. “Hi.”

“You excited?” Ten beams at him. 

Yangyang nods quickly. 

Nothing could possibly ruin this vacation. 

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Kun leads them through the house. They lug their suitcases up to the bedrooms, where there are only three beds in total so Kun emphasizes that everyone has to share, which is fine. 

Dejun however, rolls his eyes and loudly complains about Hendery’s sleeping habits. 

“Dude, I swear . The last time we shared a bed, Hendery attacked me.”

Said attacker points to himself with an eyebrow raise.

Ten laughs. “Oh, so that’s how you got those bruises?” He digs his thumb into a faded hickey at Dejun’s collarbone. Dejun shoves Ten away, barely hiding his sputtering.

Kun shouts a half-laugh half-scold at Ten but he’s not really listening. He just nudges Dejun again with a knowing smirk. Dejun nudges Ten back, less playful and more his personal brand of annoyed-competitive. He nods to a shadow of a bruise on Ten’s jaw. Yangyang doesn’t catch what Ten says because Hendery’s doing something confusing with his face that means something like about Dejun’s bruise umm won’t confirm nor deny :3! 

Hendery catches Yangyang staring and pulls him into a side hug with a predictable hair ruffle that Yangyang braces for. Unfortunately, he still fizzes like a lightly shaken soda bottle. 

Hendery smiles at Yangyang. “Yare yare,” he laughs, a ridiculous imitation of whatever anime he’s been watching recently. Yangyang huffs. “Crazy world. Right, young one?”

Yangyang smiles. “Yeah.” 

After organizing their things in the closet and the bathrooms, doing a bit of karaoke and overall getting settled in the house, everyone ends up in the kitchen for Way-Variety filming. 

Before they start, Kun claps to get his members’ attention. 

“Okay everyone,” he announces, “I bought some groceries so let’s eat a little first, then decide who’s going to go out to buy more food for the week. And remember, Sicheng is going to be here tomorrow, so let’s decorate to celebrate his return! No one bother him too much, but let’s make sure to show him our love, okay? We can go swimming tomorrow as well, if the weather allows, or biking if you all are up to it. Also—“

Ten and Hendery obnoxiously pretend to fall asleep. 

“Is that all?” Ten asks in a flat voice, which Hendery giggles at. 

Kun scowls. He sighs, a silent debate going on behind his eyes. He concedes, “Aiyah…yes. Fine. Okay everyone.” He claps again. “Let’s film.”

↟↟↟↟↟↟

“I brought goods.” 

Yangyang turns from his position on the couch to watch Kun hold up a bag of produce. He hands it to Dejun and Hendery hanging over the kitchen counter. Hendery claps like a seal once and then he and Dejun dig into the bags, showing each other the contents like it’s treasure before they file it away in the fridge. 

Kun walks over to the couch and sits to the side of Yangyang, brushing up against him in a warm familiar way. 

Yangyang turns back around and they fall into a peaceful silence watching the rain drench the backyard grass. 

Ten has busied himself shuffling through the games in the living room while the staff are focused on the Dejun/Hendery cooking show. 

And then Sicheng is going to show up tomorrow. Everything is kinda perfect. 

Yangyang glances at Kun. He’s still wearing his neck pillow, which is both ridiculous and completely adorable. His dark hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles because of the pillow and the brief encounter with the weather. 

Without thinking, Yangyang reaches over to pat Kun’s hair down.

Kun turns toward him, frowning, but Yangyang just says, “Your hair’s messy, Kun-ge,” which Kun decides not to argue with. He closes his eyes and lets himself be pet, slumping into the couch. 

“Oh, we have a new cat?” Ten walks in from the living room. 

“Huh?” Hendery asks from behind the kitchen counter.

“Fearless leader Kun!” Ten clarifies sarcastically. 

Dejun makes a confused puppy face and Hendery just laughs. Kun sits up immediately and makes a loud noise that is so old man Yangyang can’t help but giggle. 

He keeps petting Kun’s hair as Ten asks, “Pretty kitty. Right, Yangyang?”

Yangyang doesn’t really know what game Ten’s playing, or why he’s being roped into it, but it’s fun so Yangyang doesn’t think too hard about it. 

Yangyang laughs. “No, I think he’s an old cat.”

“Aiyah!” Kun glares at both of them. 

“It’s a compliment!” Ten smiles, albeit evilly.

“Oh, don’t worry Kun-ge,” Yangyang grins, still petting him, “we’ll take care of you in your old age!”

“I’m 28! If anything, you’re the real cat. Our precious little baby,” Kun teases, wiggling his fingers at Yangyang, trying to pull him into a cuteness-aggression squeeze. Yangyang rolls his eyes and lets himself be babied. Kun releases him after two good squeezes and Yangyang fights a blush.

“Ha ha.”

Ten sits down next to Yangyang on the couch. He squishes him closer to Kun so Yangyang is sandwiched between them. “No, it’s true. You really are.”

Yangyang’s hand falters on Kun’s head. “Huh?”

“Good kitty,” Ten smiles at Yangyang fondly, scratching behind his ear.

Smiling, Ten runs his finger against Yangyang’s cheek a couple times, and then pulls out his phone to check for notifications, but his petting hand doesn’t fall. Ten continues to absently scratch behind Yangyang’s ear.

Warmth shoots through Yangyang’s veins like a virus. Um! WTF!

Kun laughs and relaxes back into the couch with his eyes closed. Wow. Old man naptime. He shifts a little to get comfortable and lets out a slow rumbling hum which breaks some of the tension but now Yangyang is looking at Kun. Ha…ha. The line of his neck is so….wow….. 

Yangyang blinks.

Dejun and Hendery’s chatter fills the room—oh my god they’re still filming. All the staff are focusing on those two, so no one is paying attention to the pet play fest on the couch, thank god . Dejun and Hendery are just bickering about where they should put the water bottles. Meanwhile, Ten is gently scratching behind Yangyang’s ears without a care in the world, like this is just another normal fucking Tuesday. WTF!! (2)

It’s not like this is new (see: Ten calling Yangyang pet names, treating him like a cat, or babying him) but it’s different now that Yangyang actually knows and accepts that he has feelings for Ten, whatever those feelings may be.

This is especially Different and Weird because…it’s so casual! It’s like Yangyang is Louis or Leon, just another one of their cats. 

And yet, in a strange way, it’s…kinda good.

Yangyang isn’t stupid. He knows this is like, a legit thing people do and get off on. He’s just not super comfortable with being that kind of person. He doesn’t even know who he likes and he definitely doesn’t know what he likes!!! Sure, this could be fun, but what are the implications?! What does this mean?!??! Who is he?!?!?!??! AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (3)

Yangyang allows himself to minorly freak out for approximately two minutes before he goes back into the Real World. Deep breath.

Ten is still scratching at Yangyang’s neck and behind his ears and it’s not making him feel any less crazy but he does not want to tell Ten to stop and honestly that’s the scariest part.

Yangyang glances at Kun and he? His hand? Is calmly petting Kun’s hair? 

?!?!?!??!

So apparently Yangyang’s hand has a mind of its own and he’s just been petting Kun this whole time. Sure. Great.

Yangyang glances back at Ten, who only adjusts his hand to scratch under Yangyang’s chin, attention still fully occupied by his phone. Even better. Wow. 

Yangyang stares at the back porch again. It’s still raining.

Yangyang takes yet another deep breath. It’s time to face the facts.

• Fact #1: Ten is scratching Yangyang like he’s a cat.
• Fact #2: Yangyang doesn’t hate it. In fact, he kind of likes it. Might have popped a boner about it.
• Fact #3: Yangyang is petting Kun. On purpose.
• Fact #4: Yangyang is sandwiched in between two of the hottest guys he’s ever met, both of which he has varying degrees of attraction to.
• Fact #5: Yangyang has absolutely no idea what to do about any of those facts.

All considered, this might be one of the freakiest, queerest things he’s ever done, comparable only to actual gay sex.

↟↟↟↟↟↟

“Ugh!!!”

Dejun and Hendery slump against each other, patting their stomachs in sync. 

Kun laughs as he finishes his noodles. “Was it good?”

Dejun groans loudly and obnoxiously. Hendery sighs in a similar vigor. “Yeah, thanks for helping us, Kun,” Hendery switches to English, “felt like I ate a whole horse.”

Ten raises an eyebrow and no, Yangyang doesn’t not feel weird or warm when Ten gets all judgy. 

“We only had noodles,” Ten points out. 

“Well, it was ‘cause, you know,” Hendery continues in English, “I was hungry as a horse.” 

A laugh bubbles out of Dejun’s chest. He hits Hendery’s arm, making Hendery smile stupidly. 

Ten tilts his head like a cat. “Huh?”

Yangyang has to interject. “Those two don’t even make sense together,” he gestures vaguely. “If you were ‘hungry as a horse’, why would you eat a horse?”

“Cause I was hungry as a horse! Duh!”

Ten shakes his head with a laugh. He gets up to collect the empty bowls and pats Yangyang’s shoulder absently, sending a jolt of electricity through Yangyang, lighting him up down to the bone like a cartoon character. Curse his lingering touches and heated stares…

Dejun’s chair screeches as he gets up. “Wait. Yangyang’s right. Why the fuck are you eating a horse??”

Yangyang blinks. What are they talking about again?

“Ahhh,” Hendery sighs like an old man. “An apple a day…keeps the doctor away. Doctor…everyday.”

“That’s—not how the saying goes,” Ten interjects from behind the kitchen counter. He looks to the side to run it through his mind. “Well…I think?...”

Dejun pushes at Hendery’s arm. “That’s definitely not how it goes and you’re so full of it.”

Hendery just smiles at Dejun and holds his face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together. “Don’t bite the hand that eats you.”

“Huh?!” Yangyang shrieks in laughter. Kun giggles into his fist and Ten rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

Hendery smooshes Dejun’s cheeks and presses their foreheads together, blinking coquettishly. Dejun’s eyes go wide and he forces his bottom lip to quiver dramatically. 

Yangyang cackles. “I think he’s gonna cry.”

Dejun slowly turns to face the rest of the group. Squished between Hendery’s hands, eyes glassy with hysterical, unshed tears, Dejun says, “Save me,” and the whole room erupts in contagious laughter. 

After giggling until their stomachs hurt, everyone manages to clean up and gathers in the living room. Ten scavenges through the pile of games. There’s a deck of cards, three decks actually, chess, checkers, a stick-and-marble game Ten forgets the name of, and a half dozen more obscure 4+ player tabletop contraptions. 

Yangyang sunbathes near the window, halfway draped over Hendery, who is leaning against Dejun, who’s half-wrestling with Kun, trying to delete a particularly bad photo off his camera. 

“You can’t even delete it from here! This is film!”

Dejun keeps reaching for the camera as Kun holds it over his head. Dejun eventually just wraps his hands around Kun’s shoulders and gives him possibly the most threatening shoulder massage in the history of China. 

Ten stands above the dubious cuddle pile with a sharp grin and a deck of cards. “How about some games, then?”

Hendery, Dejun, Kun, and Yangyang peel off each other to sit down on the cushions.  

“Okay, how about this,” Ten suggests, “whoever loses goes to the store.”

Everyone more or less agrees as they get comfortable on the cushions. Of course, Dejun immediately announces that he’d rather die than go to the store, which Kun predicts will trigger his bad luck. Like clockwork, Dejun proceeds to lose three rounds of War in a row. 

Ten and Hendery cackle loudly as Dejun slumps against the wall.

“This is so not fair,” he mutters.

Yangyang feels kind of bad for Dejun but Dejun always looks so pretty when he pouts so he doesn’t feel that bad. They play a couple more games and Dejun keeps racking up losses, along with Kun and Hendery. On the other hand, Ten and Yangyang are fucking killing it at all the games because they’re awesome .

Dejun loudly complains about going to the store as he gets up.

Kun teases him playfully. “Next time, don’t say your intentions or you are sure to lose.”

Somehow, Hendery and Yangyang ‘ooh’ at Kun exactly in sync. They look at each other, laugh, and high five. “Nice!” they say in sync again, triggering more laughter. 

Eventually, they all manage to stop giggling (and poking fun at Dejun), letting the three store-goers leave. As the staff car backs out with 1/2 of WayV fully intact, Ten and Yangyang wave them off from the door like devout housewives, complete with dramatic blowing kisses. 

Nice. Now, Ten and Yangyang are all alone. 

(Well, you know. Except for the cameraman.)

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Yangyang loves his job. 

It’s like a mantra at this point. 

But you know, it’s a dream! He loves the fans, the music, the fashion, the opportunities, his members (which are actually his family), and most of all, Yangyang loves being busy . It means he doesn’t have to like, process anything that’s happening! 

“Yangyang,” Ten calls, “move your fingers.” Yangyang puts his hand in his pockets. 

He really needs this vacation. It’s like…a beach episode! There’s only so much company mandated homoeroticism and winking and waking up at 4am a 20-something year old teenage boy can take. But now, they get three weeks to just chill the fuck out in the middle of rural Korean nowhere and indulge in some good old Yangyang mandated bisexuality*. And Sicheng is going to be there tomorrow!!! Yangyang hasn’t seen him in forever with his lone wolf movie star moment in China, which Yangyang is definitely the right amount of excited for and totally not going insane about. (Sicheng is really gorgeous and it’s so surreal, okay?)

*[Fact: Whether or not Liu Yangyang is indeed bisexual is up for interpretation because he is, as they say, Going Through It in terms of Figuring Out His Sexuality. Please practice patience, kindness, and generosity with him at this vulnerable time.]

Man, this is the life! There’s a pool and a hot tub and the closest neighbors are like, a mile away so they can be as loud and crazy as they want. They’ve only got to shoot Way-Variety content for a couple days and then they’re totally free !

“Yangyangie, would you pass the carrot?”

And maybe something with Ten will finally break. Maybe he can figure this gay stuff out. Earlier today was…a lot and Yangyang has a feeling it’s only going to be more. Ten is devastatingly gorgeous, even more so than usual with his hair back to black and his general evil sexiness. The most frustrating thing is that Ten seems to be so chill about it. He’s always been more comfortable in his skin in general. Ten is like a geode to hold onto, glittering and sharp. He changes when you see him from different angles, but he stays solid. 

“Yangyangie, the carrot, please.”

Yangyang has never wanted to be Ten, just borrow some of that confidence. Obviously Yangyang knows a portion of it is just for show but it has always looked more real than what he feels. Sometimes he finds himself slipping back into that trainee mindset, where the ground is shaky beneath his feet, the only anchors to hold onto being the other trainees and their impossible dream. Whenever those feelings whistle through his mind, Yangyang feels thinner like the delicate bubble of Ten-induced yearning might actually burst.

“Yangyang,” Ten scolds, “the carrots.”

Yangyang blinks. 

Oh. Right. 

Food, which they are making. 

Yangyang shakes himself like a wet dog. “Carrots…” Yangyang murmurs as he walks to the fridge.

“Ya, they’re right next to you. What’s going on, Yangyang?”

“Nothing.” Yangyang looks to his right, then his left where the small bag of carrots sit on the counter. He grabs a particularly knobby one and passes it to Ten. 

“Are the noodles almost ready?” 

Ten squints at him as if to say Liu Yangyang, don’t think you can hide from me which absolutely does not make Yangyang feel any strange, trapped prey animal emotions at all, thank you very much. 

When Ten turns to the stove, Yangyang lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Ten picks up the tongs and lightly snaps them in Yangyang’s direction. 

“Hm. Noodles’re almost done. Find some bowls while I chop this up.”

Yangyang nods and shuffles through the kitchen, opening random cabinets. Ten murmurs to the cutting board, “How are you supposed to…” and looks around, frowning. 

“Yangyang,” Ten calls, “Should we peel this?”

“I don’t think so,” Yangyang frowns back, looking over his shoulder at Ten with a hand on a cabinet door. “I mean, I think you can um, julienne it?”

“Julie-anne?” Ten asks, raising an eyebrow impressively high, “isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“No, it’s,” Yangyang switches to English, “like the way you cut it. I just heard it one time. Renjun and I were watching a show. It’s strips. I think.”

“Yangyang, you’re crazy. I never heard of that,” Ten laughs, turning back to the cutting board, and proceeds to hack away at the poor carrot. 

After 20 more minutes of squinting at the directions, fumbling around for utensils, and almost setting Ten’s apron on fire not once, but twice, Ten and Yangyang finally sit down. 

Ten preens at their ultra-simple yet Instagram ready version of japchae. “My prize.”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow and his chopsticks, snapping them together. “Ready to try it?”

Ten nods. 

“Thank you for the food,” they say in unison (and out of habit), immediately digging in.

Yangyang hums, eyes crinkling with a smile. “This,” he says around a mouthful, “is surprisingly not bad.”

Ten rolls his eyes fondly. “Of course it isn’t. We’re a good team.”

Something tender flares white hot in Yangyang’s chest. He smiles at Ten like that’s all he knows how to do, and then into his bowl of japchae. 

Ten beams back as he stuffs his face with noodles. 

After a few short minutes of devouring the japchae, Yangyang’s eyes go wide, one cheek full. He chews slowly and then swallows. “ Shit , we didn’t save any.”

Ten freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth and then bursts out laughing. “Ohh, poor babies. But,” Ten shrugs, “they probably got snacks, it’ll be fine–”

The light over the dining table flickers. 

Ten and Yangyang look up in unison. The light’s already back to normal, a steady yellow-white glow. 

Yangyang speaks first, “Ha, weird…”

Ten gnaws on a particularly jagged slice of carrot. “Old house,” he says after swallowing, “I think.”

“Ah,” Yangyang agrees. He goes in for another mouthful of noodles. A couple minutes pass by filled only with silent chewing and the soft sound of chopsticks against their bowls. 

Ten starts in between a mouthful, “Baby, we–”

The light flickers again, faster this time, and then completely shuts off. 

Yangyang flinches and darts his head around. Thankfully, it’s only 6 o'clock and the rain has let up a little, sun peeking behind the swaths of dark clouds. Ten sets his chopsticks down slowly. Without the lights, large gray shadows fill the room and creep across the walls. 

Cold dread seeps through Yangyang’s veins. He shudders. “Woah. This is creepy .” He looks at Ten and wraps his arms around himself. “Do you think it’s because of the storm?”

Ten squints up at the overnight light. He looks back at Yangyang and then pulls his phone out. “I don’t know. It was raining, not thundering or anything.”

Yangyang shivers again. “Maybe it was somewhere else where like, the power plant is?”

Ten shrugs. He pushes his chair out and rubs Yangyang’s shoulder absently as he walks over to the living room. 

Yangyang stands up to follow Ten. He peeks out from the archway. “What are you doing?”

“There were candles upstairs, let’s light them in case the power doesn’t come back on.”

Yangyang’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Ten gets a matching buzz one second later.  

They pull their phones out in unison. 

Ten’s eyes go wide and then razor sharp. The muscles in his jaw work like he's grinding his teeth. Yangyang looks at his phone. “What–”

[MINISTRY OF PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION AND SECURITY]

EMERGENCY ALERT:

AS OF TODAY, JULY XX 202X, THE REPUBLIC OF KOREA WILL UNDERGO A MANDATORY LOCKDOWN . ALL CITIZENS ARE EXPECTED TO STAY INSIDE THEIR HOMES IN ORDER TO MINIMIZE THE SPREAD OF UNKNOWN PATHOGENS IN THE EVENT OF AN UNIDENTIFIABLE OUTBREAK . TRAVELING IS HIGHLY DISCOURAGED AT THIS TIME, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM ENTERING PUBLIC SPACES. 

Ten looks up. His eyes are bare with shock. “What,” he whispers.

“What did you get? This is mine,” Yangyang shows Ten his phone.

Ten frowns, eyes darting across Yangyang’s phone screen. “It’s…the same,” Ten says slowly.

“Huh.” Yangyang frowns. “Well, that’s—hm maybe it’s like COVID again. Man, this fucking sucks.” Yangyang falls backward into the couch. 

Ten frowns at his phone like someone just died.

Yangyang looks up at him from the couch. “What is it?”

“Well…the power went out too...” Ten looks like he’s about to say something else but, just in time, their cameraman returns from the bathroom. Yangyang totally did not forget that he was there.

The cameraman awkwardly waves. “Ah, hello. Did you…also get the alert?” The cameraman shows them his phone screen. The alert is identical to the one they received.

Ten and Yangyang nod. “Yeah,” Yangyang responds, “ours said to just stay inside? But they didn’t mention anything about power outages.”

“Ah,” the cameraman nods. “Maybe I can go check the neighbors, see if they have power. Remember COVID times? We may be stuck with no supplies too. I’ll go check.” He heads to the door. 

“Wait!” Ten walks toward him. “You shouldn’t go alone! We’re supposed to stay in.”

The cameraman waves at them as he sits down to put his shoes on. “No, no, please. Let me go. I need to exercise anyway haha,” he says as he pats his belly. “It’s not that far, just down the road. Please stay here. I would feel bad if you came with me.”

“What—please, you can’t just leave!” Yangyang stutters, trying to stop him.

Ten looks at Yangyang. “Wait! Wait, okay oh my god, I agree but—well, someone does need to stay back for when the members come back. It’s just–”

The cameraman interjects, “Please, let me do this. Stay and finish your food. I will be back very soon, do not worry about me.” He gets up hastily and dusts himself like an old dad. He gives them an awkward smile and head bow. He shoots them a, “See you soon,” and he leaves. 

Um. What?!

Ten shoots Yangyang a look that says I don’t have a good feeling about this.

Yangyang mouths back what the fuck????

Yangyang stands frozen in the doorway. “Um, wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what if—” Yangyang turns to Ten, “what if something happens to him, Ten?!”

“Don’t say that.” Ten glares at Yangyang before he walks over to the window by the front door to watch the cameraman leave. The man walks slow and measured. Ten frowns back at Yangyang. “I’m sure he’ll come back.”

“No, come on, Ten. The first rule of horror movies is don’t split up and—and we’re all split up, oh my god!!!” Yangyang shouts, pulling his hair frantically. 

“Yangyang,” Ten scolds. “He will come back.”

“Hah,” Yangyang laughs with little humor. He feels his eye twitch, mouth opening and closing like a frantic goldfish. “This is like–like the beginning of an apocalypse movie. Except…our life .”

“Yangyang! Oh my god, you’re horrible.”

“What?!” he squeals.

Ten rolls his eyes. “We are not in an apocalypse movie, this is real and we’re going to be fine .” Yangyang doesn’t miss the shaky edge to his voice. Well, at least he isn’t the only one who’s sorta kinda freaking the fuck out!!!! 

“So,” Yangyang wobbles, “what do we do now?”

“We calm down and keep busy.”

“And how do we do that?!”

Ten pockets his phone. “I have an idea.”

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Yangyang throws his shovel into the dirt to wipe his forehead sweat. 

“Ugh,” he groans. “I mean, good idea but like, oh my god.”

Ten stands up and dusts his hands on his jeans. He smiles down at their makeshift in-ground fridge. He justified its creation as, “Well, we don’t know how long the power will be out, so who knows when the fridge will come back? Kun brought yogurt and it might spoil. We need to keep it cool, Yangyang!”

It’s basically just a cooler in a dirt hole they dug, wrapped in trash bags and covered with a tarp to protect it from the rain and bugs. 

Ten nods to himself. “Ha. Nice. We’re like those survival youtubers.” He elbows Yangyang. “You know those guys?”

“Oh, like the ones who build the houses? I love them.”

“Yeah. So, hopefully this will work when everyone gets here.”

Yangyang nods and then realizes, “Wait. How did you even know how to do this? I literally never would’ve thought of this.”

“I grew up in Thailand,” Ten shrugs. 

Yangyang must make a funny face because Ten laughs, “Baby, come on. You never kept drinks in a cooler and put it in the ground to keep it extra cold?”

Yangyang shakes his head. He laughs back, “Umm no, definitely not. I never even heard of that but it’s cool.”

Ten throws his head back with a laugh. “It better be.”

↟↟↟↟↟↟

“Hey,” Yangyang calls out to Ten, “it’s been a while. Shouldn’t the staff member be back by now?”

Ten frowns. “Huh. Yeah, it’s almost dark out. He left like 2 hours ago.”

“Shit. So, what should we do?”

Ten crosses his arms. “Well, he’ll probably be back soon. Let’s make some tea and wait for him. I feel weird going to sleep and he’s not back.”

"Yeah, same. Like, that’s rude.”

After making tea and scouring the house for candles, Ten and Yangyang cozy up near the front door, waiting for the cameraman.

Ten sips his tea. “Ugh, I wish we had wine.”

“I know Kun-ge brought some but I don’t know where it is.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Ugh, where is that guy when we need him?” Ten asks with an eye roll and a flippant wave, but the pinch in his forehead gives him away.

But Yangyang doesn’t really know what to do when Ten’s stressed so he looks out the screen door for something to comment on. There’s the pool and—oh! Oh? Oh.

“What the fuck?” Yangyang hears himself say.

“What?” Ten asks. He sets down his tea and looks out the screen door too. “Oh.”

They stare at the figure walking, no it’s—moving, wobbling? up the long pathway to the house. It’s—oh my god, it’s twitching and, jesus fuck. 

What the hell?!?! This was supposed to be a vacation . 

Yangyang’s life cannot be real.

Ten tortures him with homoromantic pet play and sexual tension? Fine, he can figure that out. The power goes out? Sure, okay. He can live with that. A mysterious alert from the government about an outbreak? Well! Nothing he can deal with, it’s like COVID all over again. Yangyang can stay inside. He’s not going to die even if that’s a total bummer. His members being sort of MIA? Okay yeah, that’s freaking him out, but Yangyang would feel it in his bones if anything happened to them and he hasn't felt anything in his bones, so they’re fine. But this ???? Weird alien creatures from hell??!?!?!?! This is absolutely, completely, no doubt about it, for real batshit insane. -100million aura. It’s so off the charts the way he cannot take this anymore.

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of his chest against his will.

“What,” he laughs with very little humor, “what the shit, man?”

Ten does not reply. His eyes are glued to the creature.

The movements have only gotten worse because it’s closer now. It’s slow and awkward, managing to stumble over a small lantern. It takes a whole minute to stand on its feet again before it continues toward the house. As it shuffles closer, the muddle of its features come together, pulling from Yangyang’s memories until he recognizes him. A stone drops to the bottom of his stomach.

“Ten…” Yangyang whispers, shivering. “It’s the cameraman.”

Ten breathes through his nose. He doesn’t respond.

Full minutes pass of them watching the cameraman in silence. He moves slowly from side to side, wandering a little but never moving out of sight. 

Ten doesn’t look at Yangyang, he barely moves a muscle. After 5 minutes of watching their cameraman, Ten whispers, “Yangyang, get the knife.”

Yangyang freezes. “The knife?”

“Yangyang,” Ten says with his stern, no-bullshit voice.

“Yes?”

Ten looks at him with bright fear frozen over his face. “Just do it. Don’t argue with me right now.”

“O-okay.”

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Yangyang scrambles to the kitchen as Ten sits behind the curtain, peeking out to watch their staff member slowly make his way up the path.

It’s not like anything from the movies. 

The staff’s eyes are the same, not clouded or red. His face is blank but the way he moves, the way he walks is animalistic, leaning towards other . 

His joints turn horribly, his knees knocking together like a newborn deer.  

Yangyang stumbles when he returns, nearly startling Ten. Yangyang hands Ten the knife handle-first with the safety guard still on. He leans close to watch the cameraman through the gap in the curtain with Ten.

Yangyang whispers, in a small voice, “Are we—do we have to kill him?”

Of course, Ten doesn’t say.

But there’s no we, it’s just one person. 

Ten has to kill their cameraman. 

Ten is not stupid. He’s run through all the options in his head.

Ten and Yangyang cannot pretend that everyone will suddenly get back from the store. They’ve been gone for hours, they likely just got stuck there. Ten can’t pretend Sicheng will suddenly show up to save them either, he’s probably stuck in the airport or maybe he never even made his flight. 

Yangyang cannot kill the cameraman nor would Ten want him to. The police or fire department are useless because they can’t contact them. Their neighbors are clearly more dangerous than helpful because the cameraman went to visit them and he’s come back like that . Like a fucking zombie. They can’t just get in the car and make a run for it either because Kun and the others could be back tomorrow. They need to be there in case they arrive. 

The last thing that comes to mind is containing the cameraman. He could potentially be treated or healed but there’s way too much risk in that. They could just as likely be infected or slaughtered. Ten refuses to risk his and Yangyang’s safety like that even if everything in him screams not to kill . 

He just can’t see any other way. The cameraman they knew and said a hasty goodbye to mere hours ago is not the same man walking across the front lawn. This man is twisting, contorting his limbs in ways that sicken Ten just to look at. He feels a phantom pain in his legs every step the cameraman takes. The man’s mouth moves like he’s yelling out and Ten has to rip his eyes away.

Yangyang pulls him into a crushing hug. 

If the cameraman proves to be still human, proves to be competent, of course Ten won’t kill him, but he has to prepare for the worst case scenario. It’s just him and Yangyang and between the two of them, there’s only one that can wield a knife. 

Ten is their only option. He has to kill the cameraman. 

A loud animal noise reverberates across the lawn and into the center of Ten’s chest. A roar. 

Ten looks up. The cameraman spots them behind the curtain. His head twitches and whirls like an owl, turning more than a human neck should. Yangyang’s arms drop from Ten’s body. The cameraman’s dull eyes bore into Ten’s. And then the man sprints right at them. 

The next moments come in flashes. Ten sees it more than he feels it. 

A thick silver butcher’s knife out of its case. The slide of a screen door. A human body contorting to accommodate a monster, slipping and falling on the grass. Ten sees the man widen his mouth to let out a wordless screech. He sees clawing, the sounds come in and out like he’s underwater coming up for air. He hears flashes of screeching and words repeated but not understood, like how a parrot can learn to talk. He hears sobs, sees his vision get blurry. He hears the rain fall gently, steadily. He sees blood and that silver knife again, and again, and again. The last flashes come in a cycle: knife, blood, sobs, knife, blood, sobs, until the man finally crumples. His body hits the ground with a single dull thud.

And then Ten breathes. 

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Time is strange. It stretches and hollows out and falls away. It doesn’t follow the laws of reality because Ten crashes back into reality like the dissonant smash of an accordion. 

At some point, Yangyang must have gotten too antsy to stay inside and decided to go out but Ten doesn’t know when. He only notices Yangyang’s presence because of how warm he is. His own little heater.

Yangyang takes Ten’s hand into his own. It’s damp. Still raining lightly. Waning out to a mist.

The sky is clear. The moon is bright. Ten is standing over the dead body of their cameraman. Large bloodied butcher’s knife in his left hand and Yangyang’s hand in his right, Ten is a killer.

Yangyang crushes Ten’s hand in his grip like a lifeline and it flings Ten through the atmosphere, out of his body and back into it. He still has Yangyang to take care of.

Awareness of his body and his feelings sink into Ten as they stand still, neither of them being able to peel their eyes off the cameraman’s body. His blood spills out of his neck out onto the grass in a steadily growing red patch. It’s almost hypnotic until Ten feels everything too much and tears his eyes away.

Ten lets go of Yangyang’s hand and drops the knife on the grass. It hits the ground with a dull thud.

Slowly, Ten walks to the porch. He holds his breath. He sits down on the steps. Yangyang follows and sits a foot away. Their breath turns white in the cool night air. It’s almost completely dark out. The moon is still bright against thick patches of clouds. 

As the tension thin out, Ten glances at Yangyang. 

“Speak.”

Chapter Text

YESTERDAY

Kun flips the chilled vacuum sealed packages of meat over with one hand, the other behind his back. He sniffs with his chin tipped up, surveying the cuts like your average Chinese dad. Disciplinary, appraising. He takes his steps with a careful measure and it ripples through the air, strangely attractive, just like everything Kun does. 

Hendery shivers with the feeling and smiles into his collar. 

Dejun groans. He’s slumped over the cart, a little damp from being out in the rain. “Just pick something.” 

“One must be careful about what they put into their bodies, especially when it comes to food.”

“Literally what else do you put in your body?”

Too easy. “ I’ll show you something.” Hendery wiggles, poking Dejun in the side but immediately, without a glance or hesitation, Dejun elbows him back hard, right under Hendery’s ribs. 

Hendery shrieks a giggle and throws his arms around Dejun’s shoulders, shaking him around so hard the cart rattles. Dejun fights a smile.

Behind the counter, the butcher glares, mask-covered face pinched and severe. Kun smiles pleasantly at the man to placate him and then slowly, in a threateningly owlish move, turns his neck to glare at Dejun and Hendery. 

“Watch. It.” Kun’s smile is straight up crazy. 

Dejun and Hendery go stick straight until Kun turns around and they break out into silent giggles, hitting each other’s arms. 

“Wait!” Dejun turns to Hendery. “I’ve got to get something.”

Hendery frowns. “Huh?”

“For my dish!”

“What dish—oh the ramyeon-rice thing,” Hendery remembers but Dejun’s already rushing away, so he shouts, “O—kay, good luck!” and watches Dejun disappear into the noodle aisle.

Hendery looks back and oh, Kun decided on the meat. Nice, now they’re headed for produce.

Kun has a plan for the meal, Hendery believes this much to be true. He’s not really sure what it is because Kun forgot to actually include them in the plan so Dejun and Hendery have kind of just been following him around the store. Kun mutters things to himself every now and then. It’s unclear whether or not Kun is aware he isn’t voicing the plans aloud because he’ll look to Hendery, question on his lips, and then turn away to the produce again, silent decision made. It’s either that or he’ll randomly blurt out a question like “Do you think Ten will like this?” while pointing to something Ten has been known to like, to which Hendery has to reply, “ yes , Kun-ge, put it in the cart.” 

Dejun stays mostly in his own world because every time he comes back to the cart to deposit ingredients for his rice-ramyeon, Kun realizes, “Wait, we need more leeks,” or “one bunch of bok choy is not enough…” to which Dejun listens with minimal complaint and lugs himself back to the wall of greens. Hendery’s still on cart duty, Kun isn’t paying much attention to him, clearly, but it’s okay because he gets to admire Kun’s side profile without him realizing. Not that he wouldn't just do that any other day, but now it’s Uninterrupted Kun Staring Time, which is only the second best kind. The first best is when Kun notices him staring and smiles bashfully.

This time, Dejun catches him looking. Hendery blinks owlishly out of his stare.

“What are we making, again?”

Hendery nods to Kun. “Ask him.”

Kun tears his eyes away from the carrots with some difficulty. “What?”

“What are we making?” Dejun crosses his arms over his chest.

Kun hums and turns back.

Dejun makes an incredulous face. Hendery just shrugs.

“Told ya!”

Dejun rolls his eyes. “Well, whatever I guess.” He taps Hendery’s elbow so he can lean against the cart next to him. “So, you excited to see Sicheng?”

Hendery raises an eyebrow. “Of course, what kinda question?”

Dejun huffs. “I guess I’m being kind of–I don’t know. It’s just—” Dejun sighs, “he hasn’t been messaging me.”

“I mean, me either.”

“Well, aren’t you worried? What if—what if he’s,” Dejun cuts himself off and looks to the side.

“What if he’s what?” Hendery puts his arm around Dejun. “Hey, come on.”

Dejun shrugs. He starts and stops a few times, before taking a breath, forcing himself to get the words out. “He’s been gone so long this time, what if we don’t—click like we used to? What if we’ve changed too much?” Dejun immediately cringes at his words. “Ugh, that’s so stupid, just forget—”

“Hey.” Hendery squeezes Dejun’s arm. “You don’t know if that’s true.”

“It really feels like it is, though!”

Hendery forces Dejun to meet his eyes. “Hey,” he says again, softer, “Come on, it’s not personal. He’s always been a shitty texter, don’t worry about that.”

Dejun sighs. “It feels different this time. I miss him.”

A heaviness falls over Hendery. He knows exactly what Dejun means. 

Hendery slings his arm around Dejun’s shoulders and shakes him a little, trying to lighten the mood, “He still cares about you.”

Dejun shrugs, huffing. 

Hendery smiles. “It’s going to be okay, this is Sicheng . Winwin . We’ve just gotta,” Hendery rolls back his shoulders in a demonstration of what ‘getting your shit together’ looks like, “and figure out if Kun is gonna poison us or not.”

Dejun rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He poorly hides a hesitant smile into his shoulder.

“He’s probably going to have some great traveling stories.”

Dejun considers this, tilting his head. Kun wanders over to the fruits and Dejun pushes the cart with his arms stacked on the handlebar.

“Maybe I’m just being selfish.”

Hendery stops. On a split second decision, he reaches out, hands beelining Dejun’s ribs, and tickles him. 

Dejun jumps with a yelp. “What was that for?”

“Come again? What were you saying?”

“I said, I’m sel—”

Hendery tickles him again, digging his fingers into Dejun’s ribs harder, smiling wide.

Dejun growls, “What the hell is wrong with you?” and then lunges, trying to choke Hendery, but miscalculates due to his strangled giggles and lands on Hendery’s jaw, digging his thumbs into his cheeks. Hendery, of course, snaps his teeth at Dejun’s thumbs, turning his head side to side like a wild horse or a rabid dog. Naturally, this triggers Dejun to smoosh Hendery’s cheeks together, mirroring Hendery’s earlier attack on Dejun’s dignity.

“Revenge!” Dejun declares, triumphant. He rubs his palms in circles on Hendery’s cheeks, forcing Hendery to make ridiculous faces. Hendery feints an attack and then brings his arms up to tickle Dejun’s neck again. Dejun cringes away as he breaks out in loud, high-pitched laughter and ends up doubling over, crashing into Hendery’s chest as giggles rack through his shoulders. 

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Kun appears in front of the shopping cart holding a sweet potato like a knife. It’s honestly quite large. Hendery sees imaginary lightning crack like Kun’s Cruella De Vil or some other fashionable maniac.

Hendery and Dejun straighten, letting go of each other. Hendery goes so far as to salute Kun and says, “Sir, yes sir!”

Kun raises an eyebrow and god, if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen? He looks at Dejun.

“You like sweet potato,” Kun says, a question without the whole asking part. Hendery fights the urge to sigh wistfully.

Dejun nods, still a little flushed from embarrassment. Kun places the sweet potato in the cart and goes back to the wall of greens with a crinkle in his brow. A crack in Kun’s focus! Hendery is obligated by the laws of the universe* to take it. He slides next to Kun. “Hey.” he says, with a smile.

[Fact: Hendery is not obligated by the laws of the universe but rather by his own, innate desires to make Kun smile. Whether this is divined by an outward being or not has been studied and debated for years with no clear answer in sight. However, researchers are making new discoveries every day, bringing us one step closer to the truth of Kun and Hendery’s dubiously romantic friendship.] 

Kun nods back with a quarter-smile.

“Soo, are we going to have a feast? That’s a lot of food.”

Kun tuts, acting annoyed. Hendery’s got him. “It’s for the week and we’re six people. Of course we need a lot of food.”

Hendery grins. “You excited for Sicheng to be back?”

“Of course, why are you asking?” Kun shuffles through bunches of chives, inspecting them for limpness. 

“Yangyang. He’s been hung up on something recently. I was thinking it must be either Sicheng or Ten.”

Kun side-eyes Hendery. “That’s interesting. Hopefully they’ll work it out. Anything more I should know about?”

“Not really, but your sweater is very flattering. Accentuates the shoulders.” Hendery smooths his hands over Kun’s shoulders with a smile. 

Kun flushes and shakes him off bashfully. “Sure. Thanks.”

Hendery beams. “So, how about you and Ten?”

Kun’s face does something weird. “What about me and Ten?”

“What’s going on with you? Like—anything new .” What? Color him intrigued!

Kun’s ears go a bright shade of pink and yanks a little too hard on the plastic bag dispenser. “Nothing’s new. He’s the same. I’m the same. It’s all the same.” Kun tugs harder and the bag finally comes out. 

Hendery rubs Kun’s shoulder as Kun bags the chives. “That’s too bad.”

Kun grunts and walks around Hendery to place the chives in the cart.

“Sooo, Ten feeling you up’s just the norm?” Dejun butts in. Hendery smiles. Dejun’s never had a filter, he’s so awesome.

The fading pink on Kun’s cheeks flares up again. “What are you talking about.”

“Um, when we got out of the car? I wasn’t that sleepy to miss that whole—” Dejun shudders, “—thing you were doing.”

Kun glares at both of them. “You can kiss your dinner goodbye, you evil little—”

Hendery smirks, “But Kun- ge , that’s not what you told me last night.” He can’t help it, Kun just brings this out of him!

Kun almost growls. “I am going to kill you.”

Dejun raises an eyebrow. “Ew. TMI.”

“That’s—!” Kun splutters and Dejun just looks more faux-disgusted, while Hendery cackles, hitting Kun’s arm with obnoxious laughter.

“Go get snacks! And leave me alone!” Kun turns away as he drags the cart toward the apples. “Meddling kids,” Kun mutters to himself.

Dejun and Hendery fall over themselves in laughter, heading for the snack aisle.

“So,” Dejun glances at Hendery, switching to Cantonese, “what are we getting again?”

Dejun’s eyelashes are so pretty, it’s actually crazy. His cute little moles, too. And his soft lips, kittenish when he smiles. He’s genuinely one of the most gorgeous people Hendery’s had the pleasure of meeting, and he’s met a lot of beautiful people. Idol life!

Hendery does a quick right-left to check if the coast is clear and swoops down to sneak a quick kiss to Dejun’s cheek. Dejun blushes but doesn’t splutter or push him away, he just grins at Hendery and warmth is but a flower that blooms in Hendery’s chest. Dejun’s been less bashful lately, less shy about affection, both giving and receiving. It makes Hendery want to do it more, show him his love bigger, wider. It makes him stupid and he loves it.

Dejun rests his head on Hendery’s shoulder and mumbles, “So, what're we getting?”

“I’m thinking something for Ten that isn’t meat, of course,” Hendery looks down at Dejun for his approval and Dejun nods, “and something good for Sicheng since he’s traveling,” Dejun nods again, “and then, something for Yangyang.”

“Okay. What about us?”

“What do you want, bro?” 

Dejun laughs, “Wait wait, I was just saying that. I don’t know yet. Okay, let’s get theirs first.”

They scour the aisle for something semi-decent and appealing for Ten, Sicheng, themselves, and Kun, ending up with an armful of snacks between the two of them. Hendery tries to give Dejun his snacks when Dejun isn’t looking which results in the stupidest game they’ve ever played. Hendery tries to sneak a couple kisses too, to which Dejun tries to bite his lip off at one point. All’s fair in love and war! Hendery eventually relents and turns to the snack aisle, no future plan to piss Dejun off. What can he say? Yangyang influences him. Speaking of Yangyang, they’ve only got his snack left.

“Hmm.” Hendery puts a finger to his lip, making an exaggerated thinking face. “For the young lad.”

Dejun makes a face.

“Come on, we’re trying to get him in on this, are we not?”

Dejun rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but he’s not our young lad . You’re so weird.”

Hendery hip bumps Dejun in retaliation, grinning. God, isn’t this just the life? Annoying your sort-of boyfriend while talking about the guy you both like? He’s living the dream!

“So, super sour gummy worms orrrr Monster?”

Dejun makes a face. “That looks nasty.”

“No, it’s an energy drink. It’s good.”

“Whatever you say, Hendery,” Dejun says as he allows Hendery to dump the gummy worms on the pile of stuff in his arms. 

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Kun gathers two grocery bags into his arms as Dejun finishes bagging the ramen. Hendery’s got two bags in his own arms, busy checking out the gum. Ooh, cotton candy rainbow peach. Hendery carefully places it on the conveyor belt right after the last head of cabbage. Dejun huffs as he fits ramen into the bag. 

Kun’s over at the exit doors now. He nods for Dejun and Hendery to hurry since they’ve started poking each other in the ribs. “Come on, we don’t have all day! It's raining.”

Hendery takes a bag from Kun. “Hey, we—”

The lights flicker and Dejun yelps like a kicked puppy, immediately clinging to Hendery’s arm.

“What the fuck was that?” Dejun whimpers.

Kun cranes his neck up. “Hm…strange. Probably due to the weather.”

Hendery shrugs. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Dejun frowns. Now that he’s blonde, he looks like a golden retriever with eyebrows.

“What are you laughing at?!” Dejun scowls.

Oops. “Oh, nothing.” Hendery smiles at the rain. It’s really pouring out there. 

Kun nods to the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

Kun shuffles them in the car along with the groceries and takes the passenger seat again, leaving Dejun and Hendery to bicker in the back. It’s rainy, more of a heavy drizzle really, coming and going. Hendery opens his window on a dry moment but they immediately get sprayed with rain again. Dejun hides inside Hendery’s jacket. They also almost hydroplane on a sharp curve and Dejun’s eyes go so far out of his skull, it might be a world record. The driver apologizes profusely but Hendery gets a good laugh out of it. A couple more minutes pass and Hendery recognizes a particular patch of evergreens. 

Out of nowhere, the driver slams on the brakes, hard . 

Dejun shouts in Hendery’s ear. “Fuck!”

Hendery almost hits his head on Kun’s headrest and stops himself just in time. 

“Something came out of nowhere! I—I think I hit it!” The driver scrambles, shifting to park as he unbuckles himself and rushes out of the car. 

Hastily, Hendery unbuckles himself too and throws the door open, dragging Dejun with him. Dejun shakes his head but follows anyway. Kun’s already out of the car. He approaches the front with careful steps.

“Kun,” Hendery calls out with Dejun latched onto his arm, “what is it?”

Kun freezes for a second and then rushes down.

“Holy shit!” Their driver pulls at his hair. “Sir! Sir, are you okay? Check his pulse!”

Hendery rushes around the side of the car. Oh fuck . They hit someone, hard . They’re not bleeding much but their skin is pale and bruised against the wet earth, leg contorted in a horribly unnatural shape that hurts Hendery to look at.

Dejun whimpers and clutches Hendery’s arm. “Holy fucking shit.”

Kun presses two fingers to the man’s pulse point and does a series of checks that go over Hendery’s head. Kun’s facial expression doesn’t change. There’s a deep crease between his eyebrows and a hardness Hendery’s never seen before. “His heart is beating,” Kun announces, “but I—how are they—” 

The man leaps up to a sitting position. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, but they catch on Hendery and then it sharpens to pure predator instinct. He growls like a bobcat ready to strike.

Hendery scrambles back inside to the car, Dejun on his tail, Kun and their driver thinking the same thing. But the driver is too slow. He reaches the door just as the man he hit growls. The man latches onto him with superhuman strength and tears off a chunk off the driver’s ear. The driver screams, doubling over in the doorway. Hendery can’t move. Dejun, shaking violently, digs his nails into Hendery’s forearm but it’s only a phantom pain because he can’t move .

Kun strikes the rabid man with his water bottle and tries to tug the driver into the car but the driver only manages to twist himself painfully. He’s caught between the car door and the asphalt, arching up like he’s trying to get out of his body. He twitches like something wild. His neck snaps back, farther than any human neck should be able to. He screams in pain; sobs tumble out of his mouth as he claws at the leather of the driver’s seat. With the force of his scratching, the seams break and the soft yellow stuffing goes exposed.

There’s screaming. It could be Kun, the driver, Dejun, or Hendery himself; he can’t tell because his vision goes black, all he hears is pain and thudding.

Hendery blinks.

Kun slams the driver’s seat door shut as he climbs over the middle console. He speeds them away and shouts something as Dejun clutches onto Hendery for dear life but Hendery doesn’t know what he’s saying. Blood rushes through his ears at breakneck speeds, as fast as Kun’s willing this car to go.

Another figure runs out onto the road and Kun panics. He swerves into the wall of trees, slamming straight into the trunk of an evergreen. 

TODAY

Ten is a vision in the moonlight. The frayed edges of his overgrown hair glow and he just looks completely unreal. Or maybe that’s just because everything else feels unreal right now. Yangyang has learned it's something his brain does when he’s stressed, a filter goes over his life to separate him from what’s actually happening. There’s probably a word for that but it’s not really any of Yangyang’s business to know. Some things are better left…unknown. NCT Dream song! Man. Fuck.

Ten hands him a shovel wordlessly and nods to the jagged rectangle he carved out earlier. Well, what else is there to do but dig? Shit, man. This is fucking insane. With a heaving breath, Yangyang drives his shovel into the ground. After about a minute of this whole shoveling dirt thing, Yangyang looks back to Ten. He’s just standing there, knuckles white around his own shovel’s handle. 

Yangyang nudges Ten with his elbow. “Come on.”

Ten blinks, out of it. Yangyang nudges him again. 

Ten loosens his grip on the shovel and shoots Yangyang a tired smile. “I’m–I’m okay.”

Yangyang frowns. “You’re not.”

“I will be.” Ten raises his shovel and in one clean motion, he stabs it into the dirt.

It’s not very reassuring. 

After about an hour of digging and Yangyang bringing up random topics to fill the silence, Ten’s responses gradually grow more playful. Yangyang wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and leans down to crouch above the dark, rectangular gap in the ground. It’s definitely surreal. 

“Teamwork makes the dream work…” Yangyang puts a limp arm up for Ten to high five. Ten slaps his hand weakly and throws his shovel down into the dirt. 

“Now, the hard part.” Ten turns to the blue lump on the side of the house. Yangyang blinks. Fuck.

They wrapped the cameraman in a light blue curtain they found in the closet. Ten grabs under his shoulders and Yangyang grabs his feet, heaving him up at the count of three. 

The blue fabric shimmers in the moonlight. It was his favorite color. 

Neither Ten nor Yangyang knew much about him because he hadn’t worked with them for very long. All the basic information they gathered was inferred from the members and various staff. He was rumored to be divorced. He might’ve had a daughter, or maybe a sister or a niece because he kept a photograph of a little girl in his wallet. He lived his whole life in Korea. He never went out for drinks with the other staff no matter how much they asked him. Well, according to Kun, who seemed to know everything about everyone. He’s always been better at talking to people. Ten is always polite, of course, he just feels awkward sometimes. As does Yangyang.

Yangyang stumbles on a rock and nearly drops their cameraman’s feet but he barely catches them just in time. Ten huffs and heaves the man’s body up higher, adjusting his grip. 

“Be careful,” Ten says. 

Yangyang replies in a quiet voice. “Okay.”

The fabric over the cameraman shifts. Yangyang gets a peak of his bloodied hair and pale forehead. The scent protruding from his body makes him gag.

“Come on,” Ten encourages, “it’s okay. A couple more steps.”

Tears burn behind Yangyang’s eyes from nausea. He chokes down an inexplicable ache, like his insides are being rubbed against sandpaper. He feels wrong . 

They worked with him just yesterday. He filmed them in the kitchen making noodles. He was a constant in their lives but as they haul the heavy weight of his body down into his grave, Yangyang realizes that they really didn’t know Ahn Junghwa at all. 

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Yangyang puts a hand on Ten’s shoulder. “Hey, let’s sleep now. We can make a plan to find the others in the morning, but we can't do anything in the middle of the night.”

Sleep. Sleep is the last thing Ten needs right now. He’ll probably have some kind of horrifying stress nightmare, somehow worse than whatever his reality is cooking up right now. He can’t just lay down right now. He can’t hold Yangyang, he can’t be what he knows Yangyang needs.

Yangyang tugs on Ten’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go.”

Ten interjects, “I’m taking first watch.”

“First watch?” Yangyang leans back in disbelief. “What are you talking about? We both need to sleep, come on–”

“Yangyang.” Ten stares at him. He feels his eyes go wide, a little frantic. He’s probably pale, sweaty. He has no doubt that he looks crazy because he feels crazy. Worn around the edges. “We just got attacked by a fucking zombie. I’m taking first watch.”

Yangyang blinks. The tension in his shoulders dissolves slowly. “U-um okay. Will—you stay with me, until I fall asleep?”

Ten softens. Fuck. He’s making Yangyang sad? Ten rubs his arm and pulls him into a hug. “Shit–no need to ask baby, of course.”

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Ten ends up spooning Yangyang, with his face in his neck, arm tight around his waist. Yangyang made Ten promise that he'd wake him up for a second watch, since it was only fair that Ten had to take the first. Obviously, Ten is not going to do that but the sentiment is cute. 

Yangyang shivers as Ten holds him, not from the cold, he’s got three blankets and Ten’s body heat. He still falls asleep in record time. 

Ten doesn’t want to leave Yangyang alone but he’s restless in a way that can’t be solved by someone else’s body heat. He needs to work it out with his hands so he peels away from Yangyang very very carefully. The boy whimpers in his sleep at the loss of Ten so Ten encases him with pillows to mimic his body weight. When Yangyang’s shivers die down and he stops moving, Ten creeps out of the room.

Every shadow and pit of darkness startles Ten so much that he almost drops his candle as he makes his way down the stairs. He owes it to Yangyang and himself to protect the house if they’re going to be stuck there. Burglars could take advantage of the outbreak and it’s Ten’s job to make sure they don’t.

The first thing he needs to make is an alarm.

Ten’s never made tripwire but it can’t be that difficult. He scours the house for supplies, finding most of what would be considered useful in the garage and in the kitchen. He creates a specific collection of all the weapons, most of them being kitchen utensils. Surprisingly, there’s a small tool box near the bikes in the garage with basic but essential wrenches and such. He even makes it up to the attic, which takes all of his strength, both mental and physical. He finds some random junk and, carelessly tossed across a table, a radio. Communication. It could be…useful. Well, if he knew how a radio worked. Finding it feels like a key moment in a video game or the first major plot point in a movie. It feels like a spark of hope. He allows himself to bask in it for a second, stupidly staring at the thing before he remembers everything going on right now is real. It’s not happening to some stupid hope-heavy protagonist. It’s not something he’s watching on a screen, he can’t yell at his TV and point out the obvious stupidity of the character’s choices, he can’t just turn it off and walk away. It’s all really happening and it’s happening to him . He is in the thick of it.

Ten blinks.

The sky has brightened with daylight, the dark blue of night fading. He’s really been up all night ? Wow. Ten shakes himself and climbs down the attic ladder and with each step, the weight of exhaustion sinks a little further into his bones. Is the whole world terrified or is this only happening to them? Ten has never been one to catastrophize. He doesn’t spend his time thinking about stuff like this: what would happen if nuclear war were to split their world open, if people turned into brain-eating zombies. He doesn’t think about any of that because it’s useless, Ten lives in the moment. He’s an artist after all. But now that he’s in it, maybe he should’ve thought about it.

Ten finds himself back in the living room, facing the backyard. He folds himself into a ball on the hardwood floor.

What’s really getting him is the disconnect from the rest of the world. He can’t just turn on his phone and message the members, his siblings, or his friends and see how they’re doing. The radio is a lifeline but a spark of hope is not a promise.

Ten pulls his head up from his between his knees and stares at the backyard. He didn’t even notice it yesterday. The grass is wet with morning dew and last night’s rain. Ten’s eyes drift up, past the grassy backyard, the dense forest, toward the hills carved by wind and rain. The sun’s rays, blinding and glorious, cut through puffy white clouds that peek out over the grassy hills.

No one is coming to save him, to save any of them. Ten and Yangyang have to get the members. No one else is coming. 

Ten pulls himself back up the stairs. He slips back into bed and gently, as carefully as he can, fits himself against the curved line of Yangyang’s back. He’s still clutching the pillow Ten gave him, his fingers flex over it. Ten nuzzles his forehead to the back of Yangyang’s neck and hopes to dream of absolutely nothing.

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Ten startles awake. 

The tail end of a crash rings in his ears. It’s faint but violent, coming from downstairs. Yangyang’s gone, his pillow already cold. Ten flings the comforter off himself and darts his head around, scrambling to the closet to grab a coat hanger. 

He rushes downstairs, weapon at the ready. There’s more clashing, quiet huffs. A struggle! Ten rounds the corner, ready to strike and—

"What the hell?!”

Ten slips, falling forward, coat hanger slipping from his hand. “Yangyang!”

“Te—whoa!” They both go crashing down onto the hardwood floor, breaking each other’s fall.

Yangyang gasps out a laugh. Ten’s heart stutters in his throat. Their limbs knock against each other and tangle. Ten rolls them so that Ten’s over Yangyang. He clutches Yangyang’s face and forces their foreheads together. “Ugh! You ridiculous boy.”

Ten releases him and falls back on the kitchen floor. His breathing slows as Yangyang’s nervous laugh snowballs to a giggle. “Hey, I’m just cooking!” Yangyang pushes himself up on an elbow and squints down at Ten. “Wait, are you okay?”

Ten huffs and looks away to avoid Yangyang’s eyes. “I thought—you were an intruder.”

Yangyang shouts a loud ha! and shoves at Ten’s shoulders. “Come on, are you actually being serious?”

Ten rolls his eyes and untangles himself from Yangyang, pushing himself up. He offers a hand down to Yangyang, who immediately takes it and pulls himself up as well but in an obnoxious full-body roll.

Yangyang puts his hands on his hips. “Ha! I’d never intrude anywhere, I’m like, the least likely guy to ever intrude, honestly.”

Ten raises an eyebrow. “Um, okay.”

“I’m making breakfast!” Yangyang gestures to the kitchen counter, where smears of an off-white substance snake in-between a dozen kitchen utensils and a large bowl of the same off-white substance, all circling the portable stove. A tiny, pathetic lump bubbles in the pan, swimming in oil. 

Ten raises his eyebrow higher, feeling himself cringe away. “And what…is that supposed to be?”

“Pancakes!”

Ten raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“Oh, by the way, what’s this?” Yangyang points to the radio on the coffee table, a hopeful little glint in his eyes.

“A radio, baby,” Ten teases.

Yangyang rolls his eyes. “Okay, obviously but like, does it work? Also, where did you find it?”

Ten walks over to it. “I found it in the attic—”

“There’s an attic?!”

Ten smiles. “Yeah, there’s an attic. I found it last night—”

Yangyang pouts. “Without me?”

Ten stands up and walks over to Yangyang to rub his arm. “We can explore more if you want, I didn’t venture much up there. I only found this.”

Yangyang leans into Ten’s touch. “Okay. So, does it work?”

Ten puts a hand on his hip. “I mean, I think so? I tried messing with it last night and it turned on but all I got was,” Ten gestures to the radio with a dismissive flick of his hand, “static.”

Yangyang tilts his head at the radio. "Maybe let’s just leave it on and change the channel every now and then, see if something pops up.”

Ten shrugs. “Okay, sure. Why not?”

Ten ends helping Yangyang make the pancakes. It’s still early in the morning, barely a couple hours after sunrise. It goes well even though they’re both clueless. Unfortunately, they only have each other so they’ve got to make do. Ten forces them to clean before he helps or else he might actually lose his fucking mind. They manage to make about four genuinely good, edible pancakes, all of their limbs still intact. It’s not filling so they raid the pantry and find protein bars.

Yangyang keeps sneaking glances at him. He’s worried, probably. It’s sweet but Ten doesn’t know what to do with it so he pretends he doesn't notice, polishing off the rest of his bar. 

YESTERDAY

Sicheng sleeps through most of his flights, unable to keep his eyes open. It’s all blurs of dim blue lights, tiny paper cups of water, and plush leather seats. He’s so tired, he doesn't even remember to play any music so it’s just the dull roar of the plane engine and low background chatter his brain can’t decipher, all things terribly familiar and yet so alien. 

When they land, it’s pitch black out and he’s bleary with sleep. He stumbles his way out of his seat, barely registering anything beyond four feet in front of him. He wraps his scarf around him at the insistence of his staff because apparently it’s chilly. Well, it’s Ten’s scarf really, or it might be Kun’s because he’s seen Kun wear it too. One day, maybe a month before he left, he found it in his closet so he just decided to wear it. It had to have come from either Ten or Kun, forgotten or purposely given, he’s not sure. No one ever confronted him about it or asked him to give it back. 

Ten looked happy to see him wearing it and Kun made one of those indescribable faces that Sicheng thinks must be positive, but other than that, it’s been nothing. He wears it because–why not? It hurts his brain to think too much about what it all means and he’s not going to ask too many questions. He just knows that it’s either gifted or borrowed. It’s been in his possession long enough for it to be his but he can’t know for sure. If Ten asked him to give it back, he would, begrudgingly, but he would. He just likes how it feels. Sometimes, stupidly, Sicheng thinks he can feel the phantom presence of Ten there, thinks he can smell a light cloud of Ten’s perfume. It’s dumb, though. Sentimental. But it always seems to find him when he’s spread a little thinner, like after a flight, one speck against the dark blanket of sky. 

He’s just tired from his flight, that’s all.  

Sicheng gets shuffled through the airport. Careful hands push him forward until he remembers his feet and he glides through. 

There’s a couple announcements that are gibberish to Sicheng’s ears. All the TVs are turned to the news, relaying some kind of car crash on the highway, over a dozen people dead, hopefully not where he’s headed. It’s probably important but it all gets drowned out by Sicheng’s earplugs and the thick safety of Ten’s scarf. If there’s something important he needs to know, Sicheng trusts that the staff will relay it to him. 

He just needs to breathe right now because he misses his members. He misses them far too much to ever admit. The hurt has swelled ever since he stepped off the plane and back on Korean soil because he knows he’s close and a fragile bubble inside him might actually burst.

It’s easy to be okay with these feelings when he doesn’t have to see them, when he doesn’t watch the interviews he’s not in, when he dedicates himself to his work, when he lets himself be happy. He can’t be just one thing, he’s made to fucking shine, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. Still, something old and cement-thick in him says all these feelings are useless: this sentimental bullshit, this longing. It usually doesn’t bother him but it’s just fucking bothering him right him. He’s limp yet tense. Puffy. Tired . 

His bodyguards surround him and he’s whirled into signing albums, smile-and-wave comboing his way to the car. He can’t pretend he doesn’t love it so he smiles wide. He’s carefully jostled into the car because he means money and then the journey starts. 

He slides into the backseat. His feet still haven’t quite hit the ground. The thick silence between him and the driver stretches and compresses and thickens for miles of heavy gray clouds and rain slick roads. The AC’s running to defog the windows so Sicheng is still cold. He buries his face into Ten’s scarf and pretends he’s already with them. 

After a couple miles, the weather clears up a bit, sun peeking through the gray. Childishly, without thinking, Sicheng rolls down the window to stick his face out, letting the cool mist of wind and concentrated rays of sun whip around him, painting him golden. In the back of his mind, there’s voices he can’t pinpoint that worry about his hair getting tangled, about this being bad for his complexion but it seems so stupid after such a long flight. He doesn’t have to perform, not for a while even if he misses it. 

Sicheng just wants to go home. 

Maybe the members will tease him for his messy hair and his wind chafed skin. He’s beautiful, isn’t he? He’s always been beautiful to them. Will they comment on his tan? Ask him about filming? Will they touch him like before, hands lingering? Will it be so different? He knows Dejun especially will have mixed emotions, he’s always been a bit of a wild card, a little more free with his emotions, letting himself feel them stronger than the others. Sicheng finds it difficult to be upset about, so he takes it as a compliment. He’s wanted. God, he’s wanted. 

Sicheng smiles wide, squeezing his eyes shut to the wind. He shimmers . 

Eventually, the driver calls back to him, warning that he’ll get a cold so Sicheng pulls himself back inside and makes no effort to hide the stupid grin smeared all across his face. Quickly, Sicheng queues up a playlist Yangyang made of sleazy club smashers, and then zones out for the rest of the ride, thinking about all the things they’re going to do together. 

He’s like that one stupid meme Yangyang keeps referencing…home…he’s going home.  

TODAY

“Fuck.” Ten lets his protein bar fall to the table. “Sicheng should be in Seoul right now.”

Yangyang swallows his bite of pancake. “What should we do?”

Ten looks at his blistered hands and slightly flexes them but winces immediately. “I—well, we’ve got to find him, right?”

“What if his flight never even came in?”

Ten blows out a sigh and scrubs at his eyes. “It probably did, since he was set to arrive last night and supposed to be here today.”

“Ahhh,” Yangyang nods. “You’re right.” He wipes his hands and stands up, heading for the sink with his plate. “Well, we can just figure it out when we get everyone else back from the store, right?”

Yangyang offers a hand to Ten. Ten laughs but takes it and lets himself be pulled up from his chair. “You’re optimistic. You still want to go out there?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

Ten’s face must do something concerning because Yangyang rubs Ten’s arm and frowns. “This isn’t like some crazy movie and there’s no zombie hordes. There was like, one zombie. Dejun’s so loud, the zombies are probably scared of him . And we can defend ourselves.”

Ten sighs and a tangle in his chest loosens. He yanks Yangyang into a tight hug, squeezing him enough to kick the breath out of his lungs like when they were younger and Yangyang really was Ten’s baby. Yangyang’s still his baby, it’s just different. They know each other better now. 

Ten pulls back to put his hands on Yangyang’s shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get ready.”

They end up making a list of potential items they might need, led by Ten who’s already scoured the house. It would’ve been nice if they did it together but Yangyang’s not mad, of course.

Nothing like this has ever happened before so there’s nothing to compare it to. COVID was scary but it wasn’t fucking zombies . It feels weird to call it zombies because that seems so stupid. Video game shit, not like, real life. 

Upstairs, they find flashlights, more candles, and matches. Eventually, they end up back in the living room with all their supplies. 

Yangyang looks up at Ten. “Where are we gonna put all this?”

Ten looks at him like he’s really thinking hard but refusing to share whatever those thoughts are until he finds the best one to say out loud. 

“We can empty our backpacks, most of my stuff is in the bathroom or the closet anyway.”

Yangyang nods. “Okay, let’s do it,” he says and then shoots Ten a shit-eating grin. “Race ya,” he says, already sprinting to the staircase. Ten barely allows himself to sigh before he races after Yangyang, feet hitting the cool hardwood in strides. Somehow, he gets to the staircase faster, probably because he’s barefoot and Yangyang’s wearing socks, slipping a little.

Yangyang grips the railing, cackling, hysterical almost as they push each other, racing up the stairs like children. Ten yelps as Yangyang slaps his ass. He turns halfway to shove the heel of his palm into Yangyang’s forehead. Yangyang, horny, bisexual, and tortured, subconsciously pushes back into Ten touch, letting Ten take the lead in the race, he leaps up the stairs two at a time until he’s reached the landing.

Ten stands at the top with his hands on his hips. He tosses his head side to side like he’s got long, pretty hair, but his short, blonde hair still makes waves through Yangyang. He’s so fucking pretty, flushed and happy and proud.

“So, you wanna submit, puppy?”

Yangyang chokes. What?

He can barely get words out, whatever he was going to say before Ten opened his mouth dissolving like candy floss on his tongue under Ten’s stare. He feels the tick of a lighter in his chest, or the tick of a time bomb, it’s hard to tell the difference with Ten. Ten cocks his head to the side. Jesus Christ, are they really doing this? Yangyang pushes himself up the stairs slowly, mostly with his hands, and shakes his head. 

Ten laughs. “Kitty, then?”

Yangyang could disintegrate. He will disintegrate. He looks up at Ten and feels his knees already getting sore, his whole body buckling, burning under the gravity of Ten.

Ten looks at him like it doesn’t matter if Yangyang answers or not because he already knows what he’s going to say. 

Yangyang swallows a whine. Instinctively, he raises his hand to paw at Ten’s knee, looking up at him, trying to be coy and not just stupid. Fuck, Ten’s eyes are dark, pupils blown out to the max, shining with something Yangyang can’t place and it makes him scared in another way he can’t place. Yangyang looks away. Ten offers his hand and Yangyang reaches out but Ten pulls it back at the last second. “Ah. You’ll be good, baby?”

Yangyang flushes, humiliated. The feeling prickles through his chest. He whines without meaning to. “Y—yeah,” he says, not really knowing why.

Ten crouches down to thumb at Yangyang’s cheek, his fingers cold against how hot Yangyang’s face is.

“Really? You mean it?” Ten asks, just to be cheeky and still, Yangyang doesn’t really know why he’s just going with it. His heart jackhammers in his chest. He can’t make any sense of this. He’s just letting his cock lead him. Maybe some part of him doesn’t want to know because that’d be too embarrassing. Or maybe nothing is that deep and he likes Ten and he likes these feelings and it’s not stupid, it’s just good. God. It’s not like anyone wants to know the answers to these questions, Ten just lets him be who he needs to be in these moments. He never pries like this but Yangyang conjures these concepts in his head, these ideas of explaining himself, and he can’t stop. 

“Good kitty.” Ten crouches down to meet Yangyang closer to eye-level, but he’s still, marginally, above him. The weight of his gaze almost makes Yangyang’s hand buckle where it’s holding him up, braced against the stair. Yangyang’s mouth falls open in anticipation. 

Ten reaches out to cup Yangyang’s elbow to keep him steady. Yangyang keeps his chin lifted and Ten’s sweet, spicy perfume prickles arousal all across his body like goosebumps.

Ten coos as he rubs his knuckles under Yangyang’s chin. “Pretty baby.” He places his hands on his knees to push himself up again.

He offers a hand out to Yangyang. “Come on.”

Yangyang takes it. 

↟↟↟↟↟↟

They finish packing and by then, it’s only late morning. Yangyang almost forgets about the radio until it crackles to life, the familiar fuzz breaking to spill out a voice.

Ten and Yangyang scramble to the couch, huddled around it. Without a word between them, they listen. It’s a girl. Her voice comes in with a sharp crackle and the fuzzy white noise of machine trying to find a signal but it clears up quick. 

The girl’s voice is tired and low, young enough to be straight out of high school. 

“—hn Mincha for those–” and there’s just static “–or just tuning in. I’m safe now, I made it out of Incheon but,” she coughs, “it’s not getting any better. Joon-ssi is gone, he—he didn’t make it past the lake. He...” Static fills the silence, falls over the room and sinks into everything like a cold, heavy blanket. Ten and Yangyang hold their breath, clutching each other with bruising intensity before she speaks again.

Her voice shakes, breaks on stutters as she continues, “So, I don’t have anyone. I don’t know where my father is. I don’t know where to go. I hope that…this can help someone and that I’m not just speaking into nothing. If you haven’t tuned in before, I’ll,” a sniffle and a woosh of air, like that of a heavy deep breath crackles fizzes, “I’ll help you.”

Rustling crackles over the radio for a couple moments and she begins, “Incheon, where I escaped from, has been overtaken by people going…rabid. I ran into some people escaping from Seoul, it’s a bloodbath there too. These people…this disease, it’s like zombies ,” she says, in disbelief, “I think it is zombies. I feel crazy for saying that but please don’t think I’m lying. It’s true, it’s all true. Before I left Seoul, the president gave a speech. He said not to worry, just to stay inside. I don’t think he knows what’s really happening because why would he say that, my whole school–,” she stops, voice breaking on a sob. “I’m sorry.” She sniffles and for a minute, it’s just breathing and the quiet, wet sound of Mincha crying.

“We have no one but ourselves. I’m trying to get somewhere safe, maybe where there’s less people. I have some food, and shelter for now, so please don’t worry about me. Arm yourself. And if anyone can hear me, if—Baba if you’re out there, please tell me. Please tell me, I know I’ll feel it if you tell me,” she cries.

Ten turns and buries his face in Yangyang’s neck. His cheeks are wet with tears and they don’t stop, dampening Yangyang’s collar. Seawater rushes through Yangyang’s chest. 

Mincha sniffles and then continues. The outbreak seems to be concentrated in Incheon. Some people Mincha met along the way mentioned zombie-like creatures in outlier farmer towns. Mincha got a similar alert on her phone to Ten and Yangyang–a mandate requiring everyone to barricade their doors and quarantine until ‘the situation has been handled.’ Mincha doesn’t believe that though, she doesn’t think the government will help them at all. Almost all shops have closed. All travel in or out of Korea or within have shut down; every airline, bus, or train. The only available transportation are cars, bikes, and walking but those are risky since most gas stations are closed and the obvious danger. 

Mincha takes a deep breath, speaking with the voice of a young girl but the weariness of someone older, and she says, “We have no one but each other.” 

Chapter Text

TODAY

What gets Yangyang the most about this whole apocalypse thing is how natural it feels to rely on Ten. 

It’s second nature to move in tandem with him, to protect him, and be protected. Quite literally.

Ten’s pressed up against Yangyang’s right, sweaty and sharp, jittery with fear. Yangyang’s got Ten’s butcher knife, Ten’s got a bat. The zombified farmer swipes at Ten in a maneuver too quick for Yangyang to understand, some kind of jerky clawing motion, and suddenly, Ten’s on the ground. Animal instinct, rage, fear, whatever, jolts through Yangyang and he knows exactly what he needs to do. 

Yangyang wraps both hands around his knife and slams it down into the zombie's neck. Immediately, it falls to the ground, limp. Yangyang brings the knife back in a clean slice. Ten exhales like he got the wind knocked out of him, which he did. Together, they shove the zombie’s body off Ten. 

Ten stares at Yangyang wide-eyed. After a few beats, Ten tugs Yangyang into a hug. Yangyang lets his knife drop to the ground to crush him right back. His breath is hot on Yangyang’s neck, both their chests heave in time with each other. 

It takes a few endless moments of holding each other for their breathing to peter out. 

Ten pulls away first to knock his forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder. Yangyang squeezes Ten’s shoulders again, grounding himself. He flattens his palm on Ten’s back and gently rubs his back, half to comfort Ten, half to comfort himself.

“Fuck,” Ten exhales. 

“Fuck,” Yangyang parrots. “We’re alive.”

↟↟↟↟↟↟

“We’re looking for our friends.”

One older lady peeks out from behind an aisle. Another auntie peeks out behind her, and then a little girl. They push the back of the first auntie’s shoulders, goading her to the door. She walks slowly, carefully to the front. 

Yangyang smiles, softly, which seems to ease her mind. She walks slightly faster, double-checking behind them and snapping a mask on. She keeps looking around but reaches the end of the barricade they made and says, “Go in through the back door. We can’t open this one, it’s just around the corner,” gesturing to the right. 

Ten nods and pulls Yangyang’s hand into his own. “Okay! Thank you.”

The auntie nods vigorously and then turns back into the aisles, heading towards the far right.

They enter through the back door and ask about the others. 

Life drains from Ten’s eyes. 

“When did they leave?”

“Yesterday, a little after sunset.”

Yangyang can’t take his eyes off Ten. 

“Did–how did they look? Were they okay?” Ten swallows and it hurts to watch his face pale, paler than he already is. 

“Oh, they looked alright. They were smiling, having fun. Gots lots of food, thought they’ve must’ve been cooking for a whole family!” One of the aunties exclaims, nudging one of the other aunties. 

“Okay.” Yangyang nodded at the aunties. “Thank you very much.” Yangyang bowed his head slightly. “We’ve got to go back and find them now.”

One of the aunties put a hand out to stop him. “Take some food with you!”

The aunties advise Ten and Yangyang to go out the back way again so they can avoid the zombie near the front and get supplies from a shed out back. 

Yangyang laughs when they find it. “Oh, they weren’t joking about it being old.”

Ten shushes him. “Quiet. Stop joking around, just open it.”

Yangyang rolls his eyes, still high off the auntie’s cooing. He walks over to the door and tries the handle, no luck. He turns around and plucks a bobby pin from Ten’s hair, without even asking. Ten almost bites him. “You little–”

Yangyang turns away again, trying his hand at picking the lock, and turns back, hand on the open door. 

“Hey, I did it!”

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

“An undisclosed location.” 

Ten rolls his eyes. 

The shed is slightly bigger than he expected, but also dirtier, full of old tools. Ten looks over his shoulder. No zombies. Yangyang walks in and closes the door behind them. Smart, since zombies can’t unlock doors. Would be annoying if the door gets jammed but that’s unlikely. 

“Yangyang, don’t touch them, okay?” Ten advises, pointing to the tools, “You could get a disease or something…”

Yangyang’s face contorts like he wants to protest but he just nods the closer he gets. “Yeah…you’re probably right. These are useful but we need gloves, and like, a hose or something.”

Ten eyes a thick cord of rope. “This could be useful.” Ten turns to Yangyang. “I don’t think we should take anything just yet since we already have a lot to carry, with the food and we don’t know…” Ten falters. He clears his throat. “We don’t know when we’ll find the members but we can come back, leave these weapons in case we lose the ones we have and…and end up here.”

Yangyang nods slowly. “Okay.” He turns to the fishing rods, equally old as the rest of the shed. He spins the reel once, more to listen to it click than anything else. A small puff of dust scatters in the air. Yangyang cranes his neck back, coughing a little. “Women hate me, fish mock me...”

Ten snorts. “Okay, watch the door while I check under this–thing here.”

Yangyang nods and faces the door, but crouches so the zombies won’t be able to see him from the windows. The coast is clear pretty much, the zombie at the front hasn’t made their way over to them, thankfully. 

All of this is like, objectively terrifying but Yangyang is honestly chilling right now so maybe they’ve got this zombie thing figured out. Like, they still have to find the members but, they’re going to find them, right? 

Right?

Yangyang glances back at Ten. He’s shuffling through the old chest, muttering to himself in Thai, and then, all of a sudden, Ten slaps his hand over Yangyang’s mouth. 

Yangyang stills immediately. He spots the zombie limping around the shed from the window and his eyes go wide, darting around, heart jackrabbiting against his ribcage, pulse pounding in his ears. He forces himself to breathe through his nose in slow and measured inhales, hot puffs of air falling over Ten’s hands. What the fuck?! What the fuck!!! What the fuck?!??!!?

Ten pulls Yangyang closer to his chest, engulfing him, protecting him, surrounding him. It’s overwhelming but…safe. Yangyang tries to stay still, for about 15 seconds but it feels like an eternity so he squirms a little because he can’t help it. It’s difficult sitting still when he knows he has to. He’s restless, even more so when they could die . It electrifies him in jolts shooting up his veins. Thankfully, Ten, knowing how Yangyang is, braces his other arm across Yangyang’s chest, pulling him closer against Ten, into his embrace. 

Yangyang tenses and relaxes in the same breath and their body heat melts into each other, the quiet chorus of their breathing loud in Yangyang’s ears. He feels Ten’s quick heartbeat against his back, feels Ten’s breath on his ear. Ten engulfs him over and over in waves and pulses and Yangyang can’t even register anything else. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels himself drifting off into a heavy fog. He’s lightheaded almost, but that’s not quite the right word because he’s heavy in Ten’s arms. He feels like he could give himself away completely to Ten, he’s limp and warm, soft and pliant. He trusts Ten so implicitly, would let him do anything. It’s not scary. It blooms through him slowly, the petals of his trust unfurling in Ten’s arms, the tensions dissipating in the pale sunlight. 

Despite this trust, his nerves are set on fire. He can feel everything to the highest degree, every pore opening, his whole body a live wire. Yangyang peels his eyes open slowly, allowing himself to come back to the real world. Dread creeps back as the room comes into focus. Each heavy blink reveals faded paint, an overturned mop bucket, dirty windows. The smell is what really gets him. Death frozen over. It’s so strong that it transmutes to a feeling, crawling over Yangyang’s skin in cold, spiderweb-thin tendrils, dipping into his mouth, his nose, his ears, and into his bloodstream. If he makes one wrong move, one muffled sound, they could be dead. 

And yet, Yangyang’s body can’t turn away from the simple pressure of Ten’s hand against his mouth. Something primal in him wants to chase that feeling to its end goal. 

He’s hard. He feels it now, the evidence heavy between his legs. He squeezes his thighs together on instinct and it just barely releases the pressure but the burn of arousal still simmers in his core, throbbing in his boxers, straining against his jeans. Genuinely, what the hell? Of all the fucking times?!?!

Yangyang fights a whimper and lets his eyes fall shut, squeezing his thighs again. 

There’s a distant crash and Ten tightens his grip over Yangyang’s mouth, bringing the hand at Yangyang’s shoulder also over Yangyang’s mouth.

A whimper catches in Yangyang’s throat, but it doesn’t sound. He grits his teeth to suppress it. Pressing his thighs together again, Yangyang lets his head fall backwards onto Ten’s shoulder. His eyes roll to the back of his head as blood roars in his ears, throat clicking with a swallow. He’s warm. He feels himself sweating, an uncomfortable drip from the back of his neck, his underarms, between his thighs, at the backs of his knees. Yangyang squirms. He’s wet , everywhere. Wet and desperate and this is insane and inappropriate and dirty. His stupid monkey brain wants Ten to keep holding him there and whisper filthy things in his ear as Yangyang gets himself off, grinding back against Ten’s cock. He gets flashes of Ten’s fingers in his mouth running over and under and around his teeth, down his throat. He sees Ten fucking his thighs from behind with Yangyang’s face buried in the sheets, sees them grinding against each other, forehead to forehead, panting into each other’s mouths, exchanging burning kisses. He wants, he wants, he wants, so much that the desire licks through his body in ice-blue flames. He wants Ten to know how much this affects him, wants to scratch that itch for him, wants to get off. It feels so wrong which is the best indicator that he’ll bust like nothing else but this is a life or death situation. 

Does he have a death wish? Is he just a daredevil? Does he like being trapped? Well, obviously he does a little, right? God, he’s so hard, it’s ridiculous. 

Yangyang digs his hands into his jeans and tries to just breathe . 

He scratches his jeans harder. The rough material in his nails distracts him for a little while, just a minute really, but then Ten’s heart rate picks up, his breathing growing hot in Yangyang’s ear. Yangyang lifts his head up. The zombie slumps against the window. There’s blood crusted on her hairline, disturbing the clean lines of her ponytail. She’s still wandering around in a daze and then bangs herself into the door. Ten jumps. He tightens his hands around Yangyang again, bringing him closer. 

Yangyang closes his eyes and focuses on the heavy pressure of Ten’s arms as fear spikes through him 

As the zombie girl passes, Ten slowly pulls his hand away from Yangyang’s mouth. Yangyang falls forward and lets out a deep breath. 

Ten rubs Yangyang’s arm. “Fuck,” he breathes out. 

The sharp smell of sweat cuts through the air, offset by the clean perfume of Ten’s deodorant. The fog in Yangyang’s head clears, the dust settling and coming together to form real thoughts again. Yangyang blinks and shakes himself a little, shaking the feeling off himself. 

He looks back at Ten, who’s stopped rubbing Yangyang’s arm. “Do you think it’s safe to leave now?”

Ten blinks and then nods. Sweat pastes dark hair to his forehead, against his neck. Goosebumps dot Ten’s shoulders, raising the fine hairs. Yangyang reaches out to cup the back of Ten’s neck, hand connecting with his damp, clammy skin. Ten tilts his head to the side, closing his eyes. He looks exhausted. 

More goosebumps trail up his neck, along with the beads of sweat. They connect at the collar of his tank top, darkening it to a pale gray. Gaps in the covered windows allow pale sunlight to stream through, exaggerating the hollows in Ten’s cheekbones, the dramatic sweep of his eyelashes, the faded violet under his eyes.  

Ten tips his head towards Yangyang’s, knocking their foreheads together clumsily. He pants and the hot puff of air reaches Yangyang’s neck. Yangyang shivers and moves his hand at Ten’s neck, collecting sweat under his thumb as he rubs between Ten’s ear and his jawline absently.

Ten sighs. His eyelashes flutter. It plucks something warm in Yangyang’s chest, thrumming, reverberating against his ribcage. Yangyang sighs back and Ten falls into Yangyang’s neck. 

↟↟↟↟↟↟

Eventually, they part from each other and make it out of the shed. They follow the road in careful silence, filled only by birdsong, wind, and breathing. The forest is really so beautiful. There’s pretty purple flowers dotting the long grass, tiny yellow ones splitting the asphalt. But soon, there’s footsteps.

Yangyang breaks the silence, “Do you hear that?”

Ten’s still dazed. “Hear what?”

Yangyang slows but doesn’t stop. “I don’t know–just thought I heard like, someone’s footsteps,” Yangyang cuts himself off, “it was probably just the leaves, it’s whatever, come on.”

Ten decides to stop. “No. No, I think I heard something too.”

Yangyang slows and then backpedals. “Are you sure? If it’s something, wouldn’t it be smarter to outrun it? Come on, let’s go.”

Ten puts a hand out. “What if someone’s hurt?”

“Then, they would cry out, right? I don’t want to risk it.”

Ten nods. 

Yangyang nods back, he glances at the tall towering trees, the thick brush and then a man with stumbles out–he’s a dozen yards away, foot catching on vines, with a large gash splitting his face in two. He stumbles, snarling, sluggish. 

Yangyang’s feet catch on the pedals and he can’t breathe. Ten yells out to him but he can’t hear it over the high-pitched whine cutting through his ears. He scrambles to follow Ten. 

“Ten!” he hears but it isn’t his voice.

“Yangyang!” he hears but it isn’t Ten’s voice. 

He keeps pedaling.