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Chapter Text

The eerie house stood frozen in time as Taehyung stared at it, camera gripped tightly in his hands. His heart fluttered and his pulse quickened. This was the fourth season finale of Unscripted—his and Jungkook's YouTube show. His stomach churned with excitement. He couldn't wait to step inside, curious to see how it all felt during night time. The crew had just left them behind, leaving the two of them to tackle the challenge alone. They were staying inside this old mansion for 48 hours, investigating and gathering evidence.

It was the first time they'd ever done something like this. Staying in a haunted place for this long felt surreal—and, if he was being honest, a little uncomfortable. Taehyung, a firm believer in the paranormal, was eager to begin, but the fear still crept in. He lived for the thrill of facing his fears, even if the real challenge had little to do with ghosts.

Jungkook, his co-host, played the skeptical counterpart. His sarcasm was almost as irritating as it was entertaining. But it was also part of the show’s appeal—a believer and a non-believer, constantly clashing. Still, Jungkook’s arrogance could sting. He often came off as dismissive, almost as though Taehyung’s presence itself annoyed him.

On camera, they had great chemistry, but off-camera? Jungkook avoided eye contact, kept his responses short, and barely spoke unless necessary. It was something Taehyung had never fully understood, especially after two years of working together. The tension still stung in his chest.

The evening wind ruffled Taehyung's hair, sending a chill down his spine. He hoped the house's electricity wouldn’t fail—Jungkook’s complaints about it would be unbearable.

Sighing, Taehyung took a step toward the house. He’d just have to endure it, as usual.

"Are you ready, Jeon? I’m starting the recording," Taehyung called as he climbed the first step, pulling Jungkook from his thoughts. He had been glued to his phone, making the most of it because once they were inside, they wouldn't be able to use it anymore—unless it was an emergency, of course.

"Yeah, yeah. I wonder if my ears will finally bleed from your incessant screeching tonight," Jungkook replied, catching up to Taehyung with a grin.

"Charming, as always," Taehyung muttered bitterly, wondering if Jungkook even realized how hurtful his remarks were. With a resigned sigh, he pressed the recording button and turned the camera toward them. He flashed a bright smile as the “REC” sign blazed red.

"Guys, we're finally here!" Taehyung cheered, pumping his fist in the air, earning a snort from Jungkook. "Jungkook and I just arrived at Möller Mansion. We've heard the place has been active recently, so we’re really excited to stay and gather some compelling evidence." Taehyung greeted the camera, panning it over the darkened street before focusing on the creepy building as he unlocked the door.

"Yes, and as promised, we’re staying here for 48 hours" Jungkook added, letting out a little gasp for the camera. "We can’t leave until the time is up, and we have to keep the lights off at night". He paused, looking down reluctantly. "Taehyungie", he added with a grin. "I’m sure you won’t be scared of the dark, right?"

Taehyung clenched his fist at the nickname, leveling him with a look as he faked a smile. "Oh yeah, I'm actually excited. This might be a great opportunity... I'm also scared shitless" he chuckled. "Now, let's get in," he said as they both stepped inside and shut the door.

They squinted their eyes trying to adjust their vision. Dust floated around now, stirred by the draft from the door closing. The room flickered with the last light of the setting sun. Jungkookk sniffed loudly, the dust tickling his sensitive nose. He rubbed his nose as he stepped forward, searching for power outlets. Taehyung ignored him, walking down the entrance hall.

"Alright. You know this house is old and worn out, so expect a lot of creaking noises and unpleasant smells. I'll show you around as Jungkookie here unpacks some of our precious devices" Taehyung smirked, already teasing the younger man, to get him to interact more. He heard Jungkook scoff quietly, then felt the glare directed at him. Jungkook's face wasn't visible on the camera.

"Are you sure you want to leave me with the toys? Don't cry if I accidentally drop one or two" Jungkook replied smugly. Excited by the prospect of some alone time while Taehyung fucked off somewhere else.

Taehyung rolled his eyes and shook his head, annoyed at Jungkook's insistence on calling the equipment toys.

With a little stomp, he did his best to put a smile on for the camera. "So, this is the first floor, not much activity is said to happen here, aside from some footsteps" he scrunched up his nose as he glanced around the room. "This is a big space. We'll sleep in here." He made sure to film every dark corner.

"The upper floors, however, are said to be the most active" he said, approaching the staircase "a neighbor two houses down, told us that she can hear screaming coming from the second floor, mostly in the mornings when she goes for a run. And that one floor is where all the murders happened".

His voice faded as Jungkook rummaged through the bags. He spotted several batteries at the bottom, a constant reminder that their devices always seemed to turn off at the worst possible moments. He could never explain it—since they were always in top condition—but surely, there had to be a logical explanation other than "the ghosts did it".

In another bag he saw a large amount of small pastries—obviously Taehyung's. The dude had a serious sweet tooth. Still, he couldn't believe the man bought all this junk instead of nutritious food. They were here to work, after all. They would need proper energy to get through these 48 hours. Jungkook grabbed the bag taking everything to the kitchen.

He sighed quietly as he unpacked the goods, storing them in the cupboard. He wished his co-worker wasn't a literal child. He grabbed the gallon of water he'd bought and placed it on the dusty counter.

Then he checked if there was power, flipping the kitchen light switch, and when it flickered to life, he sighed in relief. If the power went out he didn't think he'd be able to stand it. He'd have to interact with Taehyung. He shivered at the thought. They had nothing to talk about so it'd be nothing but awkward silence.

Once done, Jungkook decided it was time to join Taehyung and do some actual investigating— otherwise he'll perish from boredom. So he grabbed the EMF reader, Maglite and the headset. He checked the mic while he walked upstairs to find his partner, glancing around the house. Turning on his Go Pro, he spoke to the camera. "I feel bad for the people who were murdered here. I am sorry." He glanced at his camera, adding with a small frown. "I always say this, but we don't mean to disrespect anyone."

Jungkook thought the house looked creepy but just because it was old and empty. Not necessarily because it was haunted. He sighed, hoping they can get this over with.

Taehyung was in the farthest room, the darkest one too, sitting on a very suspicious, dirty mattress. Jungkook scrunched up his nose in disgust, approaching the other man. Taehyung misinterpreted the look and scoffed.

"Look who's finally decided to come work". Taehyung said bitterly, sensing Jungkook pause at the doorframe, unimpressed. "I was asking some questions" Taehyung continued, pulling on his collar. "The temperature dropped a few degrees when I came in, but now it's way too hot."

Jungkook crossed his arms in front of his chest, jutting his chin up he ran his eyes up and down Taehyung's figure, noticing the shirt clinging to his chest. Accentuating the muscles there. He licked his lips and quickly cleared his throat, wishing he hadn't looked. He looked away, scratching his neck, his long hair sticking to the back of it.

"Can't we open the windows?" He asked nervously. Already avoiding eye contact with the other man as he stepped in the small bedroom.

Taehyung looked at him curiously and shook his head. "I tried them but the humidity must've damaged the frame. They won't open." He paused, his face flushed from the heat. Jungkook tried anyway, just to spite him, which only succeeded in annoying Taehyung who rolled his eyes and refocused on the camera.

When the window, as expected, didn't budge, Jungkook gave up and walked over the mattress. He sat down and it sank under his weight, throwing him off balance. He nearly dropped the EMF reader he was trying turn on.

"I set a motion sensor in the hall" Jungkook informed, avoiding Taehyung's gaze. "Maybe we could ask some questions, if that's okay with you?" He turned his head as he finished speaking, and was surprised by how close he was to Taehyung. He quickly scooted away, trying to act natural. He cleared his throat again.

"Is the heat drying your throat too?" Taehyung asked, raising his brows. "Anyway, I have been asking some questions. It's good you brought the Maglite, though." He added with a pointed look, glancing at the small lantern in Jungkook's hand.
Jungkook felt his hands growing clammy as he set the flashlight down on the bedside table. Stretching his body forward, he made sure to sit a bit farther away from Taehyung this time.

"I was about to tell them about the little girl that haunts this room." Taehyung continued, the camera still rolling "She passed from a fever during her mother's birthday party, when she was five. All the toys you see scattered in that corner are gifts from previous investigators". At that, Jungkook turned his camera and panned it toward the toys before focusing on Taehyung. "Her name is Lisa and she allegedly responds by moving the toys" Taehyung continued, nodding at Jungkook.

Jungkook took the hint and readied himself while accommodating Taehyung's camera on the tripod.

"Hello, Lisa. I'm Jungkook, and this is Taehyung. We... are very sorry that you were sick. We are not here to harm you in any way." Jungkook paused as an uncomfortable shiver ran down his spine "We just want to talk to you, to know if you are here?" His tone was soft, attempting to sound reassuring.
"Do you want to play a game?" He paused, glancing down at the Maglite "see this little lantern here? If you want us to stay here and talk, touch it and turn it on, okay?" Jungkook asked, his voice gentle.

Both of them stared at the flashlight in bated silence. Waiting for any sign.

The flashlight flicked on and Taehyung gasped, chills rushing through him. He felt the sudden urge to stomp his feet, his stomach fluttering as his eyes widened in shock. His reaction made Jungkook glance at him and give him a small, encouraging smile.

"Good job, Lisa. Do you like us staying here?" Jungkook asked, his voice still soft. He paused, realizing they'd be here for two days. "Actually, we'll be here for a while. We're staying in this house for two days. Do you like that? Touch the light if you do."

The light stayed on.

Taehyung pouted slightly, his tone expectant "Do you not like us Lisa? You can move the toys to—"

Right at that moment, a loud thud echoed from the floor above, followed by two more, like footsteps. Both men froze at the noise, exchanging a quick glance.

"Guys, it sounds like there's someone—or something—walking around on the third floor. Should we go check it out?" Taehyung asked, addressing the camera before turning to Jungkook as well. The other man nodded slowly, clearly on board. They both knew this was part of the job.

Taehyung was already on his feet when Jungkook grabbed the flashlight. "Lisa," he groaned, standing up. "We'll be right back," he added, his voice strained, mostly to humor the audience. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet Taehyung's, only to find him smiling—a very small smile.

"What?" Jungkook scoffed, slightly confused at the attention.

Taehyung shook his head, still smiling slightly, clearly amused that Jungkook was taking this seriously. "Let us go." He grabbed his camera firmly. The two of them stepped into the hallway, their footsteps careful as they moved.

The both of them flinched when the motion sensor went off—completely forgetting about it—"Jesus, fuck", Jungkook let out a nervous laugh, his voice a little higher than usual, his hand flew to grip at his chest as they hurried toward the staircase.

Their footsteps made distinct sounds when they walked on the wood boards. Jungkook made a mental note to compare this sound to the one they had heard earlier.

In front of him, Taehyung visibly shook and let out a long breath. "Here we go" he murmured, steadying himself as he ascended the creaky stairs. Jungkook following right behind him.

"Calm down, it's not like we'll be dealing with Anabelle" Jungkook tried to joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

But Taehyung glared at him, unamused. "This is serious to me"

"I'm serious too." Jungkook replied, offended. "But it's probably just a cat."

"It sounded too big for a cat" Taehyung retorted, irritation creeping into his voice as his heart raced.

"A lion, then" Jungkook shrugged, rolling his eyes as they reached the top of the stairs. He flashed a smile at the camera, amused by Taehyung's growing anxiety.

As they rounded the corner, Jungkook faced the camera with a mischievous smile "Guys, this could be the moment we've all been waiting for," he paused for dramatic effect. "I think we'll finally see our Taehyungie piss his pants. Can't wait to get that on camera" he winked, stepping back just as a hand swatted at his chest.

Taehyung gave him a dangerous smile "Or... I might get possessed and attack you" he gritted his teeth, winking back before walking away, but he paused when he realized Jungkook hadn't moved.

Jungkook gulped, suddenly aware of the camera. His face flushed, and he quickly turned the camera back to the empty hall. "I would love that, actually. Could be taken as evidence," he said with a light chuckle. Taehyung didn't respond, resuming his walk down the hall.

Taehyung paused again. "It just occurred to me, I don't need to get possessed to want to beat your ass." He scratched his chin putting on a dramatic show. He heard Jungkook let out a nervous laugh.

"Haha—hey, you can't say ass" he fake gasped, playing along.

"Yes, I can. This is not a show for children." He paused, glancing back at Jungkook with a smirk. "Despite you being a child yourself."

Jungkook gaped at him, his brows furrowing in disbelief, as Taehyung continued down the hall. He scoffed, itching to kick the back of Taehyung's leg, but contained himself—knowing that would just prove Taehyung's point. Instead, he exhaled sharply and kept walking.

As they walked, Taehyung noted that the third floor felt far more neglected than the rest. The smell of dampness was stronger here, and the paint on the walls had started to peel. But there was something far more unsettling about this floor. The darkness felt unnatural—despite the faint light seeping through the windows, nothing seemed to cast shadows. The air was colder, too, completely different from the warmer temperature on the floors below.

"This place is actually very creepy" Jungkook noted, pausing to zoom the camera into the dark. The whirring sound it made being the only noise breaking the silence. He felt the tension for a brief moment, the unease settling over him.

Taehyung, who was walking slower to shorten the distance between them, hummed in response "I feel very much observed right now—"

Another thud is heard, making Taehyung jump. A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, steadying him, and he glanced back to see Jungkook giving him a reassuring nod. Taehyung nodded back, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched as they continued to the first room, only to find it empty.

"It was the room right above Lisa's" Jungkook suggested when he saw Taehyung hesitate. He sighed and raised his arm to his side. "I can go first if you want" he added reluctantly, scratching his neck.

Taehyung met his gaze, shaking his head. "Together," his eyes were pleading, and Jungkook hesitated, sensing the fear in Taehyung that seemed to be growing. He bit his lip staring at him for a moment before nodding, a little concerned about how scared Taehyung was getting already. He turned back to the camera.

"I expect to see a window open, maybe. Make your bets" Jungkook grinned at the camera, then glanced at Taehyung, noticing him gnawing at his bottom lip.

Taehyung walked slowly, reaching the last room. "The door is closed". He gulped and, with trembling hands, reached for the doorknob. It wasn't locked. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, who stood beside him, left arm stretched forward, ready to push the door open, his other hand clutching the flashlight pointing it forward over his head.

"What's with the flashlight? You planning to Avada Kedavra whatever pops up?" Taehyung snorted, amusement creeping into his voice as he eyed Jungkook's posture.

Jungkook glared at him but pushed the door open anyway. Taehyung flinched holding his breath.

The hairs on the back of Jungkook's neck prickled as he struggled to adjust his vision in the pitch-black room. A musty scent of decay lingered in the air, and the silence felt unnaturally still. He sneezed, and as the sound echoed in the empty room, they both heard another thud. They froze.

Taehyung fumbled with his flashlight, finally pointing it toward the center of the room. There, lying on the floor, was a doll—porcelain, with sharp features and eyes that seemed to watch them both. A small, unnerving smile was painted on its face.

Taehyung moved the beam of light around, searching every corner, as Jungkook stepped further inside. He inhaled sharply, already feeling the unease gnaw at him. But Jungkook made it to the center of the room, next to the doll, and turned to glance back at Taehyung, his expression deadpan.

"It's clear," he called out, his voice flat.

"We don't know that," Taehyung replied, his voice wavering slightly as he shuddered from the coldness seeping from the room. The air had become stuffy, and an uncomfortable weight pressed on his chest. He licked his lips nervously and noticed Jungkook’s eyes follow the movement before they met his gaze.

"Yes, we do. Take a look." Jungkook reassured him, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. He swept his light around, taking in the room’s contents. "There’s a dresser, another dirty mattress, the doll, and me," he added, angling the flashlight from his chin upwards, giving himself an eerie look.

Taehyung grimaced at the sight. "We heard the noise again after you sneezed. Let's search," he ordered, his voice tight, but he remained frozen by the door.

"This room... allegedly belonged to John, Lisa's grandfather," Taehyung started, his expression turning somber. "He’s said to have taken his life here, overwhelmed by the sadness of Lisa’s passing."

"Oh. I’m very sorry, John." Jungkook muttered, scanning the room more thoroughly.

"Yeah" Taehyung continued, "it's said he hung himself right in the middle of this room" His gaze passed over the doll again.

"Oh. Is the doll Lisa’s, maybe?" Jungkook wondered aloud, eyes fixed on it.

"Could be. And maybe what we heard was an echo of him... You know." Taehyung suggested, cocking his head and fisting a hand next to his neck. Mimicking a noose.

"That would be... very upsetting if true," Jungkook lamented, scanning the ceiling with his flashlight. He pulled out the Ovilus and turned it on.

"If there’s anyone here, can you tell us your name?" Jungkook asked softly into the dark.

"Are you in this room, John? Or perhaps Lisa?" Taehyung added, stepping cautiously into the room, trying to push through the feeling of unease creeping up his spine. Seeing Jungkook so calm helped him find a little courage.

Jungkook, however, wasn’t as calm as he appeared. There was definitely something ominous about this room. The doll—placed unnervingly in the middle—seemed to be watching them with its lifeless eyes, and the air had grown heavier, the silence oppressive.

"Space, noodle," the Ovilus crackled, its words sharp in the quiet. Jungkook repeated it, thinking. "Space, huh. Maybe we’re invading your space. We’re sorry. Would you like us to leave?" he asked, waiting. Taehyung chuckled nervously behind him.

"Noodles? Are you hungry? I think we have some downstairs," he joked, pointing behind him.

"Chair"

"Chair? Is there a chair in here? Do you want us to sit?" Taehyung asked, confused. "I don’t see any chair though..."

"How nice, John. You wanna hang?" Jungkook joked, a little more relaxed, trying to keep the mood light.

"How can you say that? Oh my god," Taehyung hissed, glaring at him.

It took Jungkook a moment to realize his mistake. "Oh," he cackled nervously, "I’m very sorry. I—I didn’t mean to be rude. Forgive me." He quickly covered his mouth with his free hand, half out of embarrassment, half because he knew Taehyung would be mad at him for it.

Taehyung then noticed something next to the dresser, wedged between it and the wall. He pointed his flashlight in that direction, revealing a worn-out chair.

"Oh, there it is." He walked over and sat down, adjusting himself as he did. "Alright."

The room fell into silence. The air remained thick and cold, and the oppressive stillness weighed heavily on them both. Taehyung’s heart was racing, his senses heightened as he absorbed the eerie darkness surrounding them. He noticed Jungkook shifting impatiently from the corner of his eye, clearly uncomfortable and restless, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Chicken, chair, pendant."

They both laughed. "I guess someone is hungry after all. Should we bring food?" Jungkook supplied as he made to leave the room. Seemingly done with it.

"Wait, we didn't check where the noise came from" called Taehyung getting up hurriedly. Jungkook turned around, nodding back.

"Right, right. Let's see" Jungkook said with a whisper as to not disturb the place. Taehyung approached him, camera in hand and glanced at the dresser.

"Could it be that this doll" he picked it up "was sitting on top of the dresser and somehow fell?" Taehyung wondered while shivers ran down his spine when he touched the doll. He almost flinched at how cold the doll felt.

Jungkook, hesitantly, got closer to him and inspected the delicate toy "It is a possibility, yeah" he agreed, "but I don't see anything that could've caused it to fall" he added looking around "the only window here is boarded up".

"Well, I suppose we'll never know. There's nothing else in here" Taehyung hummed "let's set up a static cam and see what happens. I'll be back in a solo run later anyway."

"Man, door" the Ovilus let out.

Jungkook and Taehyung flinched at the words. Quickly turning and glancing at the door.

"What does that mean?" Jungkook muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, trying to calm his own nerves as much as possible. But there was a tension in his shoulders that betrayed him.

They couldn't make out anything by the door, only darkness.

Taehyung shook his head, his grip tightening on the flashlight. "I—I don't know" he swallowed and licked his drying lips "Hello? Is... Is anyone here with us right now?"

Jungkook scrambled trying to turn the EVP on with shaking hands, the uneasiness making him lose control of his limbs. He cursed quietly.

With the tension mounting, they stepped cautiously toward the door, their movements careful and deliberate. But the oppressive air and the lingering feeling of being watched weighted heavily on them both.

Taehyung felt the urge to grab Jungkook by the arm but stopped himself as Jungkook only created more distance between them, positioning himself in front of Taehyung.
He could see the back of his head and didn't miss the slight shiver that ran down his spine. He was affected after all. Taehyung didn't know if to smile or worry.

When they reached the door, the air grew thicker, and a cold shiver swept over them. Both of them shuddered.

"Look. Will. Water" the Ovilus spat.

Taehyung grimaced and exhaled deeply. "God, I hate it here" his heart pounded and the tension around him seemed to grow with every passing second.

Jungkook patted him on the back, about to speak, when the motion sensor downstairs blared. They both flinched at the sudden noise.

The Ovilus whirred to life again, its robotic voice echoing, "Danger"

"Oh. My. God" Taehyung gasped. His knees almost gave out beneath him. "What is going on?" his voice barely rose above a whisper. Jungkook glanced at him, eyes full of concern, before turning toward the camera.

"Guys, I don't know if you can hear it but the motion sensor went off down there" Jungkook said blinking rapidly trying to figure out what to do. "Do you want me to go there?" He asked Taehyung softly.

"No! No. You can't leave me here, are you crazy?" Taehyung muttered, gripping his arm tightly. He didn’t even notice how his fingers curled around Jungkook’s bicep, or how it made Jungkook’s heart race. Taehyung glanced down the hallway shaking his head, adding, “I’m coming with you.”

The Ovilus crackled again, spitting out: "Absent. Shoe. Leaf."

"I'm turning this off" Jungkook declared, his hands trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was the fear or the tension, but it was almost too much to handle—especially with Taehyung so on edge.

Silence fell over them when they started walking. The house groaned and the floorboards creaked underfoot as they moved, hunched slightly, like they were trying to avoid detection.

Taehyung had stopped holding onto Jungkook, but the lingering feeling of warmth from their earlier contact remained, tickling Jungkook’s arm with every step.

"Fuck, I feel like... heavy" Taehyung said, his legs starting to shake. There was an inexplicable weight pulling him down, and his body felt like it was slowly shutting down from fear.
He gritted his teeth, trying to push through it. It was barely 10 PM. An hour in, and things were already getting worse.

Jungkook glanced at him, unease lining his voice. "My skin feels... tight. Too dry" he said, trying to reassure Taehyung by letting him know he wasn’t the only one who felt off.

They both froze when they heard a few thuds coming from behind them. Taehyung immediately turned with the camera, scanning the hallway for any movement.

"Is anyone else here with us?" Taehyung's voice was shaky.

He stared into the dark hallway, eyes wide. After a tense silence, they resumed walking, both on high alert.

Soon, they reached the top of the stairs.
“What happened on this floor?” Jungkook asked, trying to focus their attention on something else. His hands were clammy, and the flashlight shook slightly.

Taehyung swallowed hard. "Nothing, actually. But some of the previous investigators said they felt... disturbed, up here. Some even mentioned a demon. They call it Shadow Mike from some of the Spirit Box responses.” He exhaled and glanced at Jungkook. “Some of them said they got scratched too.” He let out a nervous laugh.

Jungkook stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge whether he was joking. “I hope they scratch me then... or hit me,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, I hope they scratch or hit you too,” Taehyung replied with a dry chuckle. They both laughed before continuing down the stairs.

When they reached the second floor, the motion sensor alarm was jarringly loud. Taehyung winced, ears ringing, a slight headache creeping in.

They approached the offending device cautiously, looking everywhere as if checking if they could see what set it off.

"Ugh, this thing is killing me," Jungkook muttered, stretching his arm toward the sensor to turn it off. "Why do you have to be so damn loud!?" he complained. He shuddered as the alarm finally stopped. He turned to look at Taehyung—and froze.

 Fuck

Taehyung was standing motionless, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as he stared down the hallway, his gaze locked on the darkest part of it. "What is it?" Jungkook asked carefully, his own nerves fraying as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Kim?" He didn’t want to look, but slowly, hesitantly, he approached.

Taehyung’s eyes were wide, brimming with tears, his breath fogging in front of him. He was so still, unblinking. "I can't see anything but..." he whispered, his voice trembling, "it feels like there's an ominous presence right in front of us."
His body started to tremble uncontrollably. "If I look away, something's going to attack me," he gasped, barely able to get the words out between ragged breaths.

That's nonsense, Jungkook thought. But he knew Taehyung believed in this with a passion, so he was actually frightened right now. Still, he never encountered anyone having a panic attack. Jungkook knew about the breathing exercises but, would Taehyung even listen to him? They, for some odd reason, seemed to hate each other, so how was he supposed to comfort his enemy?

"Shit," Jungkook cursed, his pulse hammering in his throat. He quickly took the head strap off, camera dropping to the ground—he didn't have time to hesitate—then grabbed Taehyung by the shoulders, forcing his focus back to him.
"Kim!" He shook him slightly, gripping harder. "There's nothing there. Listen to me, you're safe. Nothing’s gonna hurt you." He spoke quickly, trying to reach him, but Taehyung’s trembling only seemed to intensify. He saw him glaring as if trying desperately to regain composure.

Jungkook felt it too now—his chest tightened, but he kept telling himself it was just his mind playing tricks. But with Taehyung so vulnerable, his panic made the air feel heavier, thicker.

Then Taehyung gasped again, tears spilling down his face. "J—Jungkook, I can't... I can't breathe," he choked, his voice barely audible. He hated this. He couldn't afford to have a panic attack now. Not now, not in front of Jungkook of all people. He never wanted to show this vulnerable side to anyone. His chest constricted painfully, his ears ringing, his throat closing. "P—please, Jungkook." His words were breaking apart.

Jungkook cursed under his breathe, frustrated. He had no idea what to do. He never expected this—never expected Taehyung to break down like this, not like this. "Okay, wait," he muttered, eyes darting to the dark end of the hall once more, searching for a reason behind this growing sense of dread. Anxiety crept in. Heart rate skyrocketed. Mouth drying. He racked his brain, trying to remember how to handle this.

Taehyung's vision blurred, his body dizzy, his head spinning. The cold sweat on his back was sticky, suffocating, he kept trying to regain composure by himself, but then... then something changed. Warmth enveloped him, pulling him from the dark corners of his panic. Jungkook’s presence was right in front of him, and he could feel his hands on him again, grounding him.

"Okay, can you... Can you look at me?" Jungkook whispered, his voice shaking. He felt so unsure if he could manage to calm Taehyung down. He let out a breath and forced a smile. He was so hesitant, he knew he probably was the last person Taehyung wanted in his face right now but, this is just how it was. Why did it have to happen when it was just the two of them?

Slowly, but surely, Taehyung lifted his gaze to Jungkook, still breathing in short, shaky puffs. He was glaring, not at Jungkook per se, he looked like he was restraining something. Jungkook just nodded.

"Good." Jungkook, hesitant but gently, took one of Taehyung's hands and guided it over his own chest, wondering if it would help since his heart was also racing. "Try to... Try to mimic my breathing, Taehyung," he said softly.

Taehyung's head was still spinning, but the dizziness wasn't as bad anymore. He felt the warmth of Jungkook's chest beneath his fingers, the skin pricking his senses. Jungkook breathed in and out slowly, and Taehyung focused, trying to match his rhythm as he screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to show more of his fear.

A thud echoed behind them, and Taehyung flinched, wide—eyed. But Jungkook didn’t let the sound break their connection. He gripped Taehyung’s hand firmly and held his gaze.

"With me. In..." Jungkook inhaled deeply. "And out..." He exhaled slowly. "Good. Again." He felt Taehyung's warm breath mixing with his. He thought he would be disgusted, but in reality he just felt relieved that the other man was following his instructions. Still, he wanted this to be over.

After what felt like an eternity, Taehyung finally exhaled deeply, his body relaxing. The warmth that Jungkook exuded helped to bring his senses back to normal. He wanted to laugh at the irony of Jungkook being the one calming him down.

Jungkook, on the other hand, felt his senses go high wire. Taehyung was touching him and staring at him. He was grateful for the darkness, otherwise he might see his flushed skin. He felt uncomfortable but glad he managed to calm him down. It had only been an hour and a half since they arrived and he hoped this wouldn't repeat.

Taehyung slowly retrieved his hand and let it fall on his side. He forced a small smile at him "Thanks for that. I'm sorry, I overreacted" he sighed about to turn around. His body buzzed and he felt cold. Uncomfortable with the other's presence.

A firm hand gripped his arm. He looked back at Jungkook, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Don’t apologize,” Jungkook murmured. His voice was low, sincere. “It was... a natural reaction. I should’ve handled it better.” His thumb rubbed over Taehyung’s wrist unconsciously, comforting him.

Taehyung stared at Jungkook’s hand, his breath hitching in his chest. Jungkook quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. “Anyways... it’s nothing,” he muttered, stepping away, trying to act normal.

But the moment lingered between them, leaving Taehyung and Jungkook with an unfamiliar warmth in their chests despite them both trying to brush it off.

To break that strange bubble, Jungkook went to busy himself by checking the equipment. The closeness from a moment ago left him a little confused. He had always preferred to keep his distance with Taehyung since there seemed to be a strange tension. He had always felt protective over the other man, despite being younger than him. To his defense, Taehyung could be very clumsy.

He could still feel Taehyung's presence on his body, his hand trembled as he tried to process what he felt. He felt good with himself. He guessed it was because he managed to keep the situation under control. Yet, there was an underlying feeling he couldn't pinpoint that was bothering him. But there was no time to dwell on it.

                     ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The both of them had decided to come downstairs and finish setting up their stuff for the first night.

Around midnight they would have to go through the social media challenges. Both were to investigate solo on each floor for half an hour.

Now Jungkook wasn't very happy with that. Not because he was scared or anything, but considering what just happened, he was sure it might happen again, so he was feeling apprehensive of having to keep an eye on Taehyung somehow. And he wanted to avoid a situation like that.

In the lounge area, Taehyung dragged his sleeping bag as far away from Jungkook's as possible, without being obvious.

He was already embarrassed enough from his panic attack to be close to the other man. Just the thought suffocated him. He wasn't sure if Jungkook was being genuinely nice or if he did it for the cameras. Either way, he did help and Taehyung was very grateful but it was still weird. He felt like telling Jungkook that it wont happen again, to say sorry for making him have to take care of him but he knew it wasn't his fault. And Jungkook knew it too. It was just unfortunate it happening when it was just the two of them.

He decided to listen to some music since Jungkook, as always, was giving him the silent treatment, like he often did off camera. He silently watched the man finish his bed.

Jungkook felt way too aware of the other’s presence and didn’t know how to shake it off. As a distraction, he went for a snack before the solo investigation began. When he returned, he noticed Taehyung watching him silently, lost in thought, and lifted an eyebrow at him. Taehyung was slouched, his shoulders slumped forward, exhaustion evident in his posture. Before Jungkook could give it a second thought, he walked back to the kitchen.

Taehyung was busy tracing imaginary lines with his eyes on the wall in front of him. The dim light helped him see strange shapes, and he chuckled when he thought he saw a cat loafing. Suddenly, something dropped into his lap, distracting him.

"So, you've finally gone mad" Jungkook joked standing in front of him. "Chuckling to yourself now, are you?" He pointed to the object on Taehyung's thighs "Eat that," he said with a smirk slightly. Taehyung just stared at him wide—eyed.

Taehyung glanced at the sandwich in Jungkook’s hand, then at the one sitting on his legs. His mouth began to water, and his exhaustion weighed heavily on him. "You didn’t have to do this," he muttered. He had been planning to grab something to eat, but now all he wanted was something sweet.

Is he crazy? Taehyung thought. He must be. Jungkook wasn't one to offer him a sandwich, to offer him comfort, but here he was. What exactly is he playing at?

Jungkook cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his unexpected kindness, "no, but I did. Deal with it." He gazed at Taehyung once more before making his way to his bed. He started to eat quietly, fiddling with his camera and the GO PRO's battery.

Taehyung watched the sandwich in his hand with intent, feeling its weight in his hand as it reminded him that this was real. He was no longer trapped in his head trembling in fear. He sighed.

Jungkook watched Taehyung, who studied the sandwich before taking a bite out of it. A small smile crept onto Jungkook's face when he noticed the other close his eyes, clearly enjoying his food. He was out of his mind, making him a sandwich. This was the last time.

As he savoured his food, Jungkook felt Taehyung standing up and he stared as he disappeared into the hall, walking towards the kitchen. He shrugged and continued eating.

The camera suddenly beeped, startling him, signaling that it was out of battery. Jungkook frowned—it had just shown as fully charged. He plugged it back in when Taehyung came back, holding Twinkies.

"Sandwich wasn't enough?" he questioned Taehyung, which startled the other man.

"I need more sugar to calm down" Taehyung shrugged and ate the pastry, relishing on the sweetness, feeling so much better already. His shoulders sagging with exhaustion, as he walked his bag.

Jungkook scoffed again. "Sugar's all you eat. Hell, how do you even manage on your own?" He got up, wanting to snatch the twinkie out of his hand. He wasn't ready to deal with Taehyung's ass high on sugar.

"Takeout," Taehyung replied simply, sitting down. "And it’s none of your business." He heard Jungkook mutter something unintelligible. Taehyung crossed his legs on the bed, giving Jungkook a pointed glare.

After a few minutes of silence, Taehyung couldn’t stand it any longer; the anxiety started creeping up again, and he felt a nervous sweat beginning to form. "I’m calling Jimin," he said. Jungkook looked up from his bed, his brows furrowing.

"You can't." He said quickly. "There's a punishment for calling someone from the outside" he pointed out the rule. Taehyung groaned in frustration.

"But I need to talk to someone" he said pointedly "About what happened" he whispered the last part, still embarrassed.

"Well, don't look at me" warned Jungkook widening his eyes. He rested his back on the wall, glaring. Taehyung scoffed.

"As if I'd want to talk to you" he spat back, scowling.

And why the fuck not? Jungkook thought. That stung in his chest, it offended him for some reason. But it was fine. He didn't want to talk to Taehyung either. "Anyway, unless you want to do any of the punishments, you shouldn't contact anyone" he reminded Taehyung.

Taehyung huffed and crossed his arms, feeling restless. He drummed his fingers on his forearm, letting out a little sigh, hoping Jungkook didn’t hear it. The silence settled again. Taehyung just wanted to distract himself. Maybe he should reassure Jungkook that it wouldn’t happen again… or maybe he just needed to reassure himself.

He felt exasperated as he continuously checked the time on his watch. He waved his hand at Jungkook. The other man glancing at him with annoyance written on his face. Still he nodded once at Taehyung, letting him know he got his attention.

"Which floor are you investigating?" Taehyung fiddled with his fingers. Jungkook cocked his head, giving him a strange look.

"Uh.. we decided I'd take the third, and you take the second" he said, his surprise evident.

"Alright." Taehyung grabbed another Twinkie and started toward the stairs, then paused, checking his watch again. He felt a desperate need to move, to avoid the creeping fear returning.

"We still have ten minutes left," Jungkook reminded him, checking the walkie-talkie’s battery.

"Yeah…" Taehyung muttered, fiddling with his fingers and gnawing on his lip. He turned off the dim light when Jungkook clipped the walkie onto his belt, leaving them bathed only in moonlight streaming through the windows.

Jungkook started to feel irritated at the other's restlessness. He knew the fucking twinkie would cause this.

"Why are you standing there like a fool?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him "sit and eat that, there's no rush" the frustration clear in Jungkook's voice.

Taehyung sat down in a random chair but immediately stood up when a loud siren wailed from the street outside. Both men shared a look. The piercing sound of the siren shattered the night’s silence, its echo filling the empty streets. It was relentless, a warning from the darkness itself.

They stared at each other as the lights twisted shadows around them in the darkness. Jungkook gulped as the hollow cry brought the sensation of something going wrong.

Dread started to build in the pit of Jungkook's  stomach, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. He glanced at Taehyung and saw the same flicker of unease in his eyes.

"Must be an accident, huh?" He got up, deciding it was time to start the challenge.

Taehyung straightened up and took the walkie that Jungkook was handing to him. "Thanks." His mind racing again. 

"Remember, it's half an hour. We can take breaks if it's too much" he nodded at a nervous Taehyung that fiddled with the buttons of the device.

"Tae, don't press the upper push to talk, drains the battery quickly. Use the lower one for quick transmissions" he explained when he saw Taehyung zoning out a bit. Didn't even notice the slip up of the nickname.

"Yeah, okay." They started to walk to the stairs.

On the second floor, they shared a moment of silence while adjusting the go pro's and chest lights.

Taehyung was feeling the prickly numbness on the tip of his fingers. He wasn’t really ready to be by himself, but he forced himself to push the fear down, not wanting Jungkook to see how much it was eating at him. He let out a long breath when he finished. "Okay"

Jungkook looked at him with a hint of worry. "I'll be right upstairs. Just call me if anything happens" he reassured. Taehyung spared him a look and nodded. Seeing the camera rolling, he wasn't sure if Jungkook was being genuine or doing it for show.

"I’ll be fine,” he said, giving Jungkook a reassuring pat on the shoulder, though his heart was hammering in his chest as he turned toward the pitch-black hallway. Taehyung felt his irritation spike. He hated this. Why couldn't Jungkook just be real?

Taehyung shoved the thought away, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more it gnawed at him. Jungkook’s fake concern—if that’s even what it was—was driving him mad. He didn’t want to care, but damn it, he couldn’t just pretend it didn’t bother him. And it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Jungkook’s concern; it was the way it felt hollow. Like a scripted performance meant to make them both feel better, but neither of them was buying it.

Jungkook watched him for a moment, a flicker of concern in his gaze, before he turned and ascended the stairs, trying to push away the unease crawling up his spine. He didn't want to care, but being just the two of them locked up inside this house, he felt responsible. He reached his floor and lifted up his arm to press the timer on his watch. And so their 30 minutes began.

Taehyung approached Lisa's room once more. He was scared shitless. The sweat clung to the back of his neck, and a cold shiver ran down his spine, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. His hand trembled as he swept his light across the room watching his steps, careful to not make too much sound.

"I know you're not really a child ghost, Lisa... or maybe you are. But you can't fool me,” he muttered, the suspicion crawling up his spine. “I know what they say—demons like to take that form to lure people in. It's all part of the act" He ventured inside holding the EVP tightly, waiting for any sound. The room wasn’t as suffocatingly hot as it had been an hour ago, but the still warmth clung to him, leaving an uncomfortable dampness on his skin.

He felt his ears tingle with how hard he was straining them. The soft sound of Jungkook’s footsteps from upstairs reached his ears, and for a moment, it was enough to steady his racing heart.

"I'm reaching out to whoever is in this room with me" Taehyung said, his voice wavering slightly "I'm Taehyung... what's your name?" He stood in the middle of the room. Watching the static cam he set up.

He waited for any sound but all he could hear was Jungkook roaming around.

"If you have anything you'd like to say, this is your moment" he paused to turn on the Spirit Box, hands shaking slightly "This will help you communicate with me".

The loud static crackled to life, making him jump despite the years of experience. He thought he’d be used to it by now after two years, but the noise still managed to fray his nerves.

He moved around the room, straining to make out any words, but all he got were jumbled static bursts.

He didn't notice the tapping sounds on the wall.

He approached the window, peering through the cracks of the paper-covered glass. Beyond the closest tree, there was only darkness.

The loud crackle of his walkie made him flinch, and bumped his knee on the bedside table. "Shit" he cursed, picking it up.

"Everything good?" Jungkook's distorted voice came through.

Taehyung scowled, huffing. He missed the faint sound in the room again. "Other than a bruised knee, yeah. Thanks, by the way."

He heard Jungkook hum. "I scared you?"

"As if." Taehyung rubbed his knee, moving his light around. Jungkook chuckled on the other side.

"Sorry." There was a brief, awkward pause. "Was just checking" he added.

Taehyung grunted, turning the walkie off. He scowled, rubbing his knee, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck. He hated how easily Jungkook managed to fluster him. "Weirdo," he muttered, just as the Spirit Box blurted a word.

"Hi," it said, loud and clear.

His breath hitched. His heart dropped. Frozen in place. His eyes darted around the room, confused by the location of the voice. He glanced at the machine, seeing the word glaring in the screen. He swallowed a lump and inhaled sharply, holding his breath. "Hello," Taehyung replied.

On the other floor, Jungkook chuckled softly, sweeping his light across the room above Taehyung. He made sure to walk slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. His nervousness had eased up, but he still felt a knot in his stomach when he saw Taehyung struggling.

Jungkook sat down in the chair, the creepy doll in his hand. He glanced at the camera, his lips curving into a small smile. "Are you possessed, little miss?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else, as he turned on the Ovilus.

"Is Shadow.. uh.. Mike, here?" He asked trying to remember the name Taehyung had called the demon. "Would you like to scratch me, friend? I'll even uncover my arm for you, how's that?" He rolled up the sleeve of his sweater, revealing his forearm. He listened closely, hoping to catch something—anything.

But the words that came through were a jumble of nonsense, leaving him with no answers. He sighed, frustration creeping in.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." He sighed dramatically. "Disappointed but not surprised." He knew nothing would happen.

Getting up, he heard a series of thuds coming from the hallway. That piqued his curiosity, his heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he left the room. The noise was too loud to ignore, too real to brush off.

"Hello?" Jungkook's voice broke the silence, but only the groan of the walls answered him. He sniffed, the air thick with unease. He spoke again, forced and self-conscious, as if trying to compensate for the growing unease. "Alright, alright. I know, you guys complain in the comments when I ramble... I’ll give it a rest this time. You’ll see how boring it gets." He glanced at his camera.

As he approached another room, a siren cut through the stillness of the night, scaring the soul out of him. The siren wailed, its shrill screech distorting the air around him, twisting the room into something foreign. He pressed his back against the nearest wall, as though it might ground him, but it only made the sound seem louder, closer. His heart raced, every thud syncing with the relentless blast.

"Ow, fuck"

His skin prickled as the blast echoed, growing louder and closer with each passing second—its shrill wail seeping into his bones, making his heart hammer against his chest.

Cursing under his breath and with his hands trembling, he grabbed the walkie-talkie again.

"Kim, you good?" he asked, his voice tight with concern. After a beat, Taehyung's shaky response crackled through the speaker.

"I'm hyperventilating, haha," Taehyung's voice came through, ragged and unsteady, his breaths erratic.

"Be there in a second" Jungkook said quickly, already on his way. But Taehyung's voice stopped him.

"No, no. I'm fine, Jeon." He reassured. "It's okay" his voice still trembled.

Jungkook groaned. "Are you sure? I don't mind—"

"I said, I’m fine,” Taehyung snapped, his voice sharp, but there was a crack in it that he quickly buried. “Thanks,” he whispered, trying to hide the strain.

Jungkook sighed, dragging a hand down his face "Okay." He understood that Taehyung wanted to be left alone. He trusted the man. But if Jungkook himself was spooked, he couldn't imagine what Taehyung was hiding under the words I'm fine. He turned back to the hall. Then added, unsure, "see you."

                     ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The solo challenge was nearing its end when Jungkook heard a loud bang from the second floor, above the kitchen area, where Taehyung was. He had been checking the stains on the wall with the UV light when he heard it.

Pausing for a moment, he was about to call out to Taehyung when his walkie crackled to life.

“Jeon, heard that?” came Taehyung’s voice. Surprisingly calm.

“Yeah, what happened?” Jungkook asked, his worry easing a little. He paused, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the echo of the bang reverberated through the house. He had to swallow before speaking, his voice strained as he tried to make light of it. "D'ya fall or something?" But the question didn't feel right. His heart was still hammering.

“No? I thought you did. It came from your floor.” Taehyung replied, confusion clear in his tone.

Jungkook snorted. “Kim, it’s so quiet here I was about to fall asleep.” Was what he said, yet his hands started to tremble a little, and he furrowed his brows at the unexpected reaction.

"Huh."

They heard the bang again. Weaker, but there.

"Shit," Taehyung cursed. "See? It's coming from your floor," he insisted.

"I'm telling you, it's not." Suddenly, Jungkook felt dread pooling in the pit of his stomach as an idea struck him. He shivered violently.

"Shit, Kim," he said, trying to sort out his thoughts. "Shit. I know the team checked this morning, but..." He nervously tapped his foot on the floor. "What if there’re squatters in here?"

"Not possible. We checked," Taehyung argued, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Yes, but they could’ve hidden well. It’s possible—"

"Jeon. There are no squatters in here," Taehyung reassured him, voice pointed.

"I hope so, because I’m sure as hell scared of those." And that was true. Nothing scarier than intruders in your house, or wherever you’re staying. They could do anything to you when you least expect it. That shit's terrifying.

"Sure," Taehyung muttered at the same time his watch beeped. "Come down now. Time’s up."

                  ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Back to the pseudo safety of the first floor. Jungkook found himself biting his nails as the worry of people hiding inside the walls, or the attic, grew incessantly. He glanced at Taehyung as he checked the static camera he'd set up. Seemingly without a care in the world.

Jungkook felt annoyance creeping in. "You're seriously not worried about squatters?" He approached the other man. He looked up and down at him, not understanding why he was so calm.

Taehyung looked up at him. Saw the other's eyes twitch and his jaw tense. He frowned.

"Yeah, I'm sure there's no one. The team checked twice. I trust Namjoonie" he continued to watch the footage, his eyes darting across the screen, searching in the darkness.

Jungkook huffed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I trust them too. But that was very loud. It wasn't the house settling—" He saw Taehyung giving him a hopeful look.
"It wasn't a ghost either" he added rolling his eyes. Taehyung pouted slightly.

"Well" Taehyung sighed tiredly and cocked his head at the other man. "Do you want us to go check?" He saw Jungkook widen his eyes and look around nervously.

"Maybe tomorrow morning" Jungkook muttered, scratching his head. Unable to hide his discomfort. He felt his skin prickle at the thought of strangers jumping him in the dark. He also felt exhausted from all the tension. He did get a big scare up there.

Right that moment a piercing scream was heard from outside. Echoing throughout the house.

Taehyung reflexively crouched and Jungkook flinched back, hugging himself.

"Damn, that sounded horrifying" Taehyung mumbled, he shivered and his ears rang. He glanced at Jungkook who had his eyes open wide, looking at the window. He got up, curious to see what could have made the noise.

"Could have been a mountain lion" Jungkook explained feeling disturbed, his knees trembled "They're that loud."

"Or an owl too. That kinda sounded like a screech" he approached Jungkook slowly, stretching his neck as if looking out the window.

Jungkook nodded slowly slightly stepping away from the other man. "Sure." He glanced at Taehyung. Now he wanted to distract his restless mind. "So..." He fumbled with his fingers. "Find anything in the tape?"

Taehyung gaped. "I did actually, yeah" he hesitated a bit. "Wanna... Wanna check?" Surprise clear in his tone. He didn't expect Jungkook wanting to check the footage. But then again, Jungkook had been acting unexpectedly so far.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jungkook blurted out. "Let's go." He didn't understand why he felt so nervous, his heart was pounding. A bad feeling settling in his gut. He needed to distract his mind with anything and using his phone was prohibited. So he might as well use Kim.

Taehyung wasn't sure how to handle awkward Jungkook, it made him awkward himself. Today he'd been acting off and that sent him spiraling. He wasn't sure if he should question him about it, or if he would like the answer. He was too tired to deal with unexpectedness.

Once the both of them reached the bed, neither sat down. Jungkook was staring at the wall and Taehyung was considering if he wanted the other to sit on his bed or not. Or maybe swat him in the head. He began to feel impatient.

"So" Jungkook jumped at Taehyung clearing his throat. "Let's sit and watch?" He faked a smile and Jungkook nodded, still looking at the wall.

"Right" Jungkook muttered as they slowly sat down. Pull yourself together he thought, gulping. "What is it that you found?" Jungkook raised both his legs and hugged them to his chest, protectively. Taehyung gave him a questioning look.

"Uh..." Taehyung scratched his face in contemplation. He knew Jungkook might probably dismiss everything he tells him. "I'm not sure. But it seems I got some responses from the earliest investigation." He gave Jungkook the headphones. "A couple of seconds after I asked if it was Lisa, you can clearly hear one tap, for yes."
Taehyung explained, his eyes shining and excitement clear in his voice.

"Hmm" Jungkook scrunched up his face in concentration and closed his eyes. He opened them wide in surprise after hearing the tap.

"You heard it?" Taehyung shuffled a little too close.

"G-give me a second" Jungkook spluttered leaning away slightly. He tried to focus, but the other was practically breathing down his neck and it was making him want to squirm.

Taehyung glanced at him, ignoring the short distance, and got strangely fascinated by the other man's blushing. It being a rare sight.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close they were, his heart racing as he tried to lean away more. "S-stop looking at me like that" Jungkook stuttered, raising his shoulder to put a barrier between them. Taehyung got out of his face and smirked.

"Eh? Like what?" Taehyung widened his eyes, feigning innocence. He scratched behind his ear.

"Just stop looking at me" Jungkook groaned annoyed. "Also, this sounds like water dripping" he removed the headphones fast. He felt his cheeks getting too warm and then heard Taehyung gasp loudly.

"That's bullshit, there're no leaks" Taehyung protested. He held the headphones tightly while he frowned at Jungkook. He didn't think of that, but he was sure there were no leaks in a fucking bedroom.

"The only bullshit here is you thinking it's an actual ghost" Jungkook spat, immediately regretting his words. Taehyung looked a tiny bit hurt. He didn't want to be insensitive after what happened, but Taehyung was getting on his nerves. He swallowed and started to get up and leave. He shook his head. It didn't really matter.

He heard Taehyung sigh in defeat, "there's more tapping. It's not a steady rhythm, that's why I found it interesting." He heard him whisper.

"Then, I'll give you that," Jungkook said as he walked to his bed. He didn’t mean to dismiss the discovery, but for some reason, he felt suffocated and needed to leave. Besides, he wasn’t one to apologize for things like this. Still, he gulped hard, the bitterness of guilt settling in.

None of them noticed the dragging sound coming from the outside. Both too busy brooding in their respective beds.

Taehyung set up the night camera and was the first to turn off his light and shuffle around to sleep.

Jungkook watched him quietly from the corner of his eye, wondering if he should apologize for being harsh. But that would mean apologizing for every time he'd been too honest with Taehyung, and that would take forever. Besides, Taehyung was older and could definitely handle Jungkook not agreeing with him—something that happened more often than not. And he actually didn't care. It was the usual.

He sighed and rolled over facing the wall. He tried to steady his breathing, still feeling nervous. He could hear Taehyung's own restless breathing, which only added to his anxiety. He hoped morning would come soon.

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Approximately half an hour later, they heard shooting and more screaming in the distance.

Jungkook's ears were still ringing, he was lying on his back and he felt the uncomfortable weight of dread pressing down on his chest. He glanced toward Taehyung, meeting his eyes for a split second. Neither said anything, but the fear in the air was palpable.

Without a word, they got up, grabbed the camera and began dragging their sleeping bags to the room farthest from the entrance. Wanting to hide from whatever it was that caused such a commotion.

The space was significantly smaller but more secluded. They unconsciously moved their beds closer together and sat up, trying to calm their erratic hearts. The shooting continued, somehow sounding closer to the residence.

Taehyung felt disoriented in this darkness. He picked up the camera and panned it around the room with the night vision. The room had a small window across from the door, it's view blocked by a tree. He set it up at his feet, in a corner—in case they catch something. Taehyung sat up, pressing his back to the wall now, as he visibly shaked. "What in the seven hells is going on out there?" He let out a nervous laugh.

Jungkook snorted, shaking, his ears feeling stuffed. "M-maybe a gang fight?" He cursed himself for letting his nervousness show. He didn’t like intruders, and he didn’t like shootings. And now, both felt suspiciously close to what was happening.

They shared a look and chuckled. "In this neighborhood?" Taehyung asked, disbelief written all over his face.

"Why not?" Jungkook shrugged and laid back down, pulling the covers up to his head. He also didn’t like feeling ridiculed. "Maybe another murder case," his voice was muffled.

Taehyung scoffed and mimicked the younger man. "Fuck," he cursed as his zipper got stuck. Even with Jungkook’s company, he didn’t feel safe. He had Jungkook there, but how much comfort would he be willing to provide? Probably none.

Another gunshot rang out, and both flinched.

"I guess it’s gonna be a sleepless night, huh?" Taehyung mumbled, staring at the closed door. He heard Jungkook grunt in agreement and smiled to himself, rolling to face the other.

He wondered if Jungkook was just as scared as he felt. He must be, with the way he’d been shaking a moment ago and his unsteady breathing. Taehyung felt the urge to keep talking, just to feel a bit more grounded. But he didn’t want to talk with Jungkook. It felt pointless and fake. Besides, it seemed that Jungkook was already fast asleep.

He heard Jungkook’s steady breathing and cursed him for being able to fall asleep. Taehyung rolled onto his back, exhaling all his exhaustion away, feeling his body deflate and relax.

His racing mind didn’t stop, though, making him groan in frustration. The noise made him turn his head to see if he’d woken the other man, but he was greeted by Jungkook’s soft snore.

"Guess it’s just me..." Taehyung glared, annoyed. He felt really alone at that moment, despite having Jungkook right next to him. His stomach felt tight for some reason.

There was something else mixed with the fear he felt—a sense of emptiness whenever he looked at Jungkook recently. All thanks to his damned hot and cold game.

That afternoon, he had felt it most, when Jungkook had been so close, guiding him through his panic attack. Taehyung thought it could be gratitude, and he hated it. He didn’t want to feel gratitude toward anyone. He was perfectly capable of handling things himself, and when someone helped him, it made him feel like he owed them. And then he'd have to do something in return, and that would mean being close to them in some way.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be close to anyone other than his best friend.

He glanced at Jungkook, only to see the man’s head uncovered. He probably got a little suffocated. His face, barely illuminated by the light from the window, had a hint of a blush. His lashes fluttered, and his lips were parted slightly, letting out warm puffs of air.

If Taehyung stretched his arm, he could feel those puffs of air. He could also touch his soft black curls. He gulped. That’s how close they were. At least physically.

Taehyung shifted in his bed, his heart racing. He wanted this challenge to be over. That way, he could go back to dealing with his problems on his own, without anyone’s prying eyes. He glanced at Jungkook again.

He hated that Jungkook saw him. He despised the fact that he had been weak enough to need help. Taehyung was used to this. He could handle it himself. It just caught him by surprise.

Jungkook suddenly blinked his eyes open, making Taehyung instantly shut his, hoping to hide the fact that he’d been staring at him. He prayed Jungkook wouldn’t notice his quickened pulse.

He heard rustling, followed by a sigh, and only when he felt warm air hit his face did he realize that Jungkook was now facing him, too. Afraid to give away what was going on—whatever it was—he decided to try to sleep. He sure as hell wasn’t opening his eyes again until morning.

Another long, heavy sigh escaped Jungkook, and Taehyung couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Jungkook had been battling with some internal feelings as well, or if he was just really tired. Taehyung was tired, too. He hated these moments when he tried to fall asleep. He thought too much, and it wasn’t good. He didn’t need more things to worry about. He just wanted this to end quickly.

Taehyung heard Jungkook move around again. He opened one eye and saw him facing up now. Taehyung relaxed a little, staring at the ceiling and trying to trace patterns with his eyes. He hoped he’d get tired soon and just pass out from exhaustion.

Chapter Text

At some point in the night, Taehyung woke with a start. His heart raced, with shallow breathing. He felt a constriction in his chest, accompanied by an inexplicable fear. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the ominous presence that had unsettled him, but only darkness greeted him. His heart lodged in his throat, thumping painfully. A cold layer of sweat made his skin bristle and Taehyung started to panic with his pulse hammering in his ears.

The house felt alive with whispers, even if there was only silence around him. His breath caught in his throat, and the shadows on the wall seemed to move with him. The thought of grabbing his camera crossed his mind, but his body was reluctant to move. He was frozen, unsure if he was really alone.

He glanced toward Jungkook, his back still turned. His breathing slow, but too still. Too quiet. Was he really asleep? Was he pretending? The unease in Taehyung's chest only deepened. The silence was broken by the sound of a car rushing by—then another—and then the sound was gone, leaving only the quiet of the house behind and more shadows dancing around him.

His breathing grew sharper and the fear washed over him like a wave. He started to let out small sobs and he covered his mouth with his shaky hands.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook again, considering asking for help, but figured he didn’t really need it. Instead, he stumbled out of his sleeping bag and stood with great effort. His legs were unsteady as he moved toward the door. The room closing in on him, making him feel trapped.

Stepping outside, Taehyung was greeted by nothing but darkness. His breath caught in his throat, the dry, ragged gasps making his sobs come out painfully. He pressed his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the sound and walked along the wall to the nearest window. He dragged his heavy body down the wall and sank to the floor, sitting there, trying desperately to calm down. But instead, only memories began to flood his mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on something else but he kept hearing voices. He raised one of his trembling hands and slapped hard against his cheek. It immediately made the voices go quiet, but the feeling of being trapped was still present, making his mind race as he looked around at the shadows across the wall. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm, a sharp pain making him wince.

The voices came back and he stood up, he walked on shaky legs through the hall and stumbled, leaning on the wall again. Another sharp slap, trying to gain composure. He let out a small helpless cry and his knees buckled. The cold, hard wooden floor brought sensation back on his body and he didn’t feel as disoriented anymore. He ran his eyes across the hall and focused his blurry gaze on a closed door, forcing himself to breath in and out.

Whenever a sob escaped his lips he would slap his face until he finally wasn’t shaking anymore. His face stung and his eyes burned with how hard he’d been crying. But it didn’t matter. He got this, this wasn’t new. He didn’t need anyone’s help.

It wasn’t the ghosts in the dark that frightened him the most. Not the creaking floors, or the whispers that rattled through the walls of this mansion. No—his most horrifying nightmares were the ones where those eyes gleamed in the shadows, filled with disappointment, as Taehyung was shoved deeper into the abyss of darkness, forcing him to face his fears alone.

The bitterness of the memories lingered on his mind and he could taste it in his mouth. As he knelt down on the floor, focusing on his calming breathing, he heard a couple of thuds coming from the end of the hall. He glanced at that direction only to see Jeon’s head peek out from their shared room’s door. He looked around with squinted eyes until they landed on Taehyung sitting on the floor.

Taehyung waited for something, anything the other man could do or say, but Jungkook only stared at him, his gaze unreadable. For a moment, Taehyung wondered if Jungkook could see right through him, if the darkness somehow couldn’t hide the tremble in his hands or the fear swirling in his eyes. He tried to steady his breath, but it came out jagged, like shards of glass scraping against his throat.

The silence between them stretched, and Taehyung forced himself to look away, to hide the vulnerability, but it felt like Jungkook’s eyes were still burning into him. The weight of it made his chest tighten even more. He cleared his throat, his voice barely a whisper, “I bumped into the wall while searching for the bathroom.”

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. He glanced at the bathroom door—right next to their bedroom—as if debating whether to say something. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, Taehyung thought he might ask him, Are you okay? Or maybe even do you need help?

But Jungkook only gave him a short nod, his face softening slightly as if he understood something Taehyung didn’t want to say. Without a word, he turned and disappeared back into the room.

The feeling of being seen stayed with Taehyung long after Jungkook was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could disappear too.

Taehyung slumped sighing deeply, his lips didn’t tremble as much anymore. He didn’t care if Jeon believed him or not. Jeon shouldn’t care either. It didn’t matter that Taehyung was obviously lying, he wanted to be left alone. He sighed again and decided to actually go to the bathroom to wash his face, and when he looked at his reflection he only felt sorry for himself. He had thought that this night would be different, despite it being Jeon, he was sharing a room with another person, but apparently that wasn’t enough.

He thought about ditching sleep altogether and just sit on a couch waiting for the sun to rise, but he felt really exhausted and couldn’t hold his body up anymore.

His heart still pounded in his chest as he cautiously approached the door to his and Jungkook’s room. He twisted the knob slowly, trying to avoid making noise, and a thin beam of light shot across the room above his head. His eyes fell on the mop of curls peeking out from beneath Jungkook's sleeping bag, and he exhaled softly.

He felt so drained. His eyelids were heavy, barely staying open, and his limbs felt like lead. With a soft groan, he sank onto all fours and crawled into his own sleeping bag, finally collapsing onto it with a sigh.

He glanced at Jungkook again, wondering if he was still awake. He didn’t feel bad for waking him up. But he did find Jeon seeing him in this state again a little problematic, he never allowed himself to show this vulnerable side of him to anyone. And this was the second time, Jeon just happened to be there with him.

A tired huff escaped his lips as he rubbed at his eyes, already feeling the puffiness settling in. He knew questions would come tomorrow, and he wasn’t ready for that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to deal with it. The whole situation had already left him anxious and on edge. This was the longest he’d ever stayed in a haunted place, and it was only made worse by the fact that Jungkook was here, too. Having him around made everything harder to process.

Taehyung’s glare lingered on the back of Jungkook’s head, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soft and quiet. He suspected Jungkook was just as irritated by the whole thing, if his usual behavior was anything to go by. He watched him for a moment longer, until his eyes began to sting. Outside, cars continued to rush by in the distance, but the noise had died down, and Taehyung couldn’t care less.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shifted onto his stomach, finding comfort in the position despite everything. Slowly, the weight of exhaustion pulled him under, and, eventually, he drifted back to sleep.

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The sunlight felt harsh against his face, its warmth almost unbearable. After the suffocating darkness of the night, the morning light seemed too bright, too aggressive. Jungkook stirred, burying his face in the pillow and rubbing it hard, hoping to push the sleepiness away. It felt eerily calm, though the fear from the night before still clung to Jungkook's thoughts. There had been little movement after they fell asleep.

When he turned to his side, his eyes blinked open, and there, was Taehyung. A mop of curls hid most of his face, but Jungkook could see the frown still etched into his features, even in his sleep. Taehyung looked troubled and ridiculous. His exhaustion was obvious, his skin pale and the puffiness under his eyes undeniable.

Jungkook had no problem waking up next to Taehyung—though usually, it was cramped in the back of the van. But right now, in the small room, the silence between them felt almost intimate, just the two of them, alone.

All memories of the previous night came rushing to him. Jungkook remembered straining his ears, hoping to catch something out of the ordinary, but soon gave up after hearing only faint chattering and the occasional rush of cars passing by. He had been on edge all night, scared of any potential intruders, but he knew the whole team had checked the house before filming started. Still, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. He just wanted to leave, but he trusted the team. For now.

He also remembered staring into the darkness, eyes drifting to where Taehyung lay and not finding the shape of his silhouette but only more darkness. He felt the air dense almost choking him up. He jumped when he had heard the broken sobs and the sound of skin slapping against skin. It had taken him a moment to connect Taehyung’s missing figure with the noises and he felt a rush of concern pooling in the bottom of his stomach.

He had decided to check on him, only to see if he wasn’t hurt. And the sight he was welcomed with upset him slightly. He didn’t like that Taehyung had indeed had another panic attack. One that he had decided to take care of on his own. And looking at his face, he knew Taehyung didn’t want him there, so he left. But then Taehyung came back and cried in his sleep.

It annoyed him. It annoyed him that he was witnessing this side of Taehyung—this vulnerable, broken version that Taehyung clearly didn’t want anyone to see. And now, Jungkook knew, he was going to be resented for it. It was inevitable. Taehyung wouldn’t appreciate anyone seeing him like this. He’d want to hide it. But Jungkook had seen it now, and there was no going back.

It wasn’t my fault, he thought. It wasn’t his fault that Taehyung was clearly traumatized, and yet here he was, helpless and caught in the mess of it. It wasn’t like he wanted any of this. He didn’t want to be involved in Taehyung’s nightmares or his breakdowns. Hell, he barely knew how to handle his own shit, let alone someone else’s. But now, he was tangled in it. And what did Taehyung even want from him?

Jungkook clenched his fists, a sense of irritation bubbling inside him. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be the person who saw Taehyung like this. But he was. And that didn’t make him a hero. It just made him a witness to something painful that he couldn’t fix.

Jungkook found himself glaring at Taehyung’s sleeping form until his eyes fluttered open, causing Jungkook to jerk back in surprise. He held his breath as he saw the other man coming around, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes until they landed on Jungkook and threw him a hard look before sitting up.

From Jungkook’s position he could still see his puffy eyes and a small pout on his lips. He saw Taehyung slump while zoning out with the saddest expression he’d seen and before he did something stupid, he turned around in his bag and squeezed his eyes shut, leaving Kim to deal with himself, as he should.

Taehyung glanced at the other man after he turned around dramatically and let out a long breath. His eyes felt heavy and his throat was sore. His lashes were a little sticky and moist and he just knew he cried in his sleep. His chest ached with sadness, it pulling at his heart. He stretched his arms and got up. It was nearing time to start the next investigation and he needed to fix his looks, although the audience knew he had rough nights sometimes, especially after ghost hunting.

Taehyung scratched his cheek—the one he had slapped last night—and felt it tender to the touch, he winced and twisted the door handle to go to the bathroom. He let his hands still beneath the cold running water as he checked himself in the mirror. His eyes were the worst of it all, red, puffy and evidently sad. His eyelids could barely keep themselves open and his eyes were too sensitive to light, it hurt. He pressed his cold wet fingers to his eyes as he breathed deeply, the air coming in raggedly. He washed his face and wet a towel to keep it pressed on his eyes as he walked back to his room.

Jungkook was up now apparently as he could hear him padding around the room. He went to his bag and pulled out his anti-inflammatory cream, applying it carefully after pat drying his face. He felt Jeon’s gaze on him but he didn’t acknowledge it. He’d have plenty of time to satiate his curiosity on his face later when they start shooting. Jungkook left to wash up and Taehyung grabbed the camera he left recording the whole night to start revising.

He skipped the part where his panic attack started, forwarding the tape. He saw Jeon sitting up for a while after Taehyung had left, and saw him hesitate before he got up to check on him last night.

He started a new recording, inhaling deeply before forcing his voice to steady.

“Morning, guys,” Taehyung greeted, his voice a little scratchy, almost foreign to him. He kept his eyes wide open, even though every part of him just wanted to close them and escape. His tongue felt like sandpaper against his teeth, but he pushed through. “So, first night…” he sighed, his breath coming out too heavy, too tired. “I had another rough one. Same old.” He chuckled, but it was hollow, and the sound didn’t reach his eyes.
He waved his hand around, rolling his eyes in a way that seemed almost mechanical. “Before we went to sleep, I forgot to record, so you don’t know. But we heard some interesting things. There were some screams and shots fired. Jungkook thought it was a gang... or something. We don’t know. But... it was enough to leave us nervous.” He smiled, but it felt more like a mask than anything real.
“In about twenty minutes, we’re starting the second-floor investigation. Stay tuned.”

He stopped the recording, feeling the weight of the words he had just forced out. There was no trace of what had actually happened. Just a performance. Just another day.
He saw Jungkook’s shadow looming outside the door. Another sigh escaped him, and he called out, “You can come in.”

Jungkook felt really awkward stepping into the room. He had stayed outside the room like an idiot and heard everything. He heard the pain in Kim’s voice and it bothered him. He scratched the back of his neck ready to ask Taehyung if he’s okay but as he opened his mouth, was interrupted.

“We’re doing the investigation and eat afterwards. That okay with you?” It was so obvious how Taehyung was trying to force his bitchy side on him. Jungkook was starting to feel exasperated at how Kim was looking at him with a hard stare, as if daring him to say otherwise. So Jungkook swallowed the annoyance and nodded.

“Listen—“

“I don’t care.” He was cut off again. Jungkook huffed as he put on his sweatshirt.

“I just wanted to ask who’s doing the filming” he blurted through greeted teeth. He scoffed when Taehyung just shrugged in response. What the hell am I supposed to do? He felt a tight knot form in his chest, a mixture of irritation and something heavier that he couldn’t name. His patience was wearing thin, but something in Taehyung’s tone, something in his guarded eyes, made him hesitate. Maybe if I just keep quiet, we can get through this day without making it worse.

“Just—” Taehyung cut himself off before rolling his eyes. “Just let’s go get it done” He left the room with the camera and his set. Why the hell did he keep trying to talk to me? Did he want an apology? Or did he want to make me feel worse? The tightness in his chest wouldn’t go away, and no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or forced out that sarcastic tone, it didn’t stop the sick feeling in his stomach. Fuck this, really. I just want this challenge to be over. “Shit” he muttered under his breath.

                     ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

On this session, they were supposed to contact with the victims of murder through the Estes method. They took turns on who’d wear the headphones and who’d make the questions. And, as expected, they only got nonsense responses that did little to contribute to the investigation.

The whole thing helped them both to loosen up a bit, at least, since the responses were hilarious and had some comedic timing.

Taehyung had laughed a lot and it didn’t seem disingenuous to Jungkook at all. At least the smiles reached his eyes those times. Jungkook ended doing most of the filming, he was used to it, after all, he much rather film than being so exposed to the world.

He had to do his session with the Estes method too, but since they were blindfolded to enhance their senses, he wasn’t aware of the camera. He did feel Taehyung’s staring, but he now knew not to comment on it.

After an hour, they came back down to eat breakfast and chill. Taehyung would have loved to sleep some more but despite feeling drained, he wasn’t sleepy and he knew better than to try to force himself to sleep. He sat on the couch closing his eyes. He focused on the noises the house made, feeling at ease. He felt the air humming and the birds chirping outside. Then a loud clattering sound interrupted his peace. He heard Jeon cursing loudly and he got up to check what had happened.

In the cramped kitchen, Jungkook fumbled with two plates of eggs and toast, his stomach twisting with hunger. He didn't give it much thought; he just cooked—something to occupy his hands. He set the mugs down on the counter with a bit too much force, hoping the sound would cover the annoyance gnawing at him. The footsteps came, predictable. He didn't look up, just stood there, pretending to focus on the mugs, biting back the urge to groan. What the hell was he doing making food for Taehyung anyway? It wasn’t like he wanted to—he didn’t even care. He just... did.

Jungkook felt the other man’s presence now and didn’t turn around, instead busied himself with the coffee. He heard Taehyung sigh heavily.

“Need some help?” the other man’s voice was tight, as if unwilling to speak.

“Not really, just grab your food and you can leave” Jungkook now turned around holding a mug in each hand, placing them carefully on the counter. He inhaled the scent of instant coffee and relaxed.

If there was something Taehyung despised the most, it was to be pitied. And he knew Jungkook pitied him after what had happened last night. Taehyung knew he looked like shit, he was pale and had dark rings under his eyes, but he wasn’t weak. He was used to it, yet Jungkook trying to… take care? Of him, was rubbing him the wrong way. If anything, it only annoyed him more. He was better off being ignored.

“Don’t expect me to thank you, Jeon,” Taehyung scoffed.

Jungkook let out a short laugh of his own. “Why would you thank me?” he asked, feigning ignorance as his gaze flicked to the counter. “It’s not like I’m sharing food with you or anything. Oh wait.” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he looked back at Taehyung.

The older man shot him a glare, eyes bloodshot but burning. “You didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart,” he said, voice hoarse but steady. Then his shoulders sagged, regret flashing across his face. He didn’t have the energy for this fight, but here they were.

“You’re right,” Jungkook snapped. His eyes gleamed with something sharp and unreadable. “I didn’t. Just feeding your sorry ass so I don’t have to call an ambulance when you pass the fuck out.” He turned his back deliberately, refusing to give Taehyung another glance.

Taehyung’s voice dropped, low and furious. “Stay out of my fucking business, Jeon.” Jungkook heard the scrape of a plate being lifted, the sound of footsteps heading toward the door. Then Taehyung muttered—too quiet to be casual, too loud to be ignored—

“Just like you stayed out of our friendship.”

Silence dropped between them like a stone.

Jungkook froze, the words landing heavier than they had any right to. He turned, slow and sharp. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His voice cracked with more anger than he expected. Taehyung had stopped in the doorway, his back tense.

“I’ve always been just your colleague,” Jungkook went on, louder now. “I’m not here to fucking make friends.”

His fists clenched at his sides, but his voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was defensive. Almost hurt. Almost.

                      ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Jungkook had finished doing the dishes when he heard movement outside. The kitchen had this backdoor with a transom window that was a bit too high, which required him to step on his tippy-toes. They weren’t allowed to step outside so he groaned looking out. He caught some movement by the corner of his eyes but it was quickly gone, he caught sight of a lone shoe lying there which was odd. He considered picking it up, but what was the point? It wasn’t his. Probably a neighbor’s—or worse, a leftover from someone who shouldn’t have been here.

He sighed and walked back to the lounge. At a first glance, he didn’t see Taehyung; he wasn’t in their room, nor the lounge. He thought the man might’ve gone up the stairs to spend time with his ghosts but there was no noise.

Jungkook walked near the window to see through the blinds and he got startled by soft snoring. Taehyung was lying on the couch, bent uncomfortably. The sun seeping in through the blinds, casted lines across his scrunched up face. Jungkook approached the window and tried to look out but the dirt on the glass didn’t allow for him to see anything but blurred smudges of dark. The chaos from last night had faded. In its place—silence. Boring, heavy silence.

Jungkook went back to the bedroom and sat cross-legged on his bag. He’d taken the camera and his laptop to get some editing done. He still had some hours before they had to move on with the investigation. Balancing the laptop on his legs and turning it on, he grabbed the camera that was left recording during the night. He knew he’d find footage of Taehyung’s panic attack and he didn’t like the idea of going back to that moment. It had felt really uncomfortable. He hadn’t been awake through all of it, but he remembers the tension and Taehyung crying in his sleep.

The footage played back in grainy black and white, the corner time stamp flicking away the seconds. Most of it was useless—just static silence, barely-there shadows, and the occasional groan of the house settling.

Then Taehyung moved.

It started subtle: a twitch of the hand, a stifled breath. Then came the sudden jerk upright. The footage caught it all—his wide eyes, the way his hand flew to his chest, clutching like something was tearing inside.

Jungkook frowned, fingers hovering over the spacebar. He didn’t pause it. He just watched. Watched Taehyung stumble out of the frame. Watched the panic unravel without a sound. He exhaled slowly through his nose. Leaned his head back against the wall. Closed his eyes for a moment.

This wasn’t his business.

The urge to delete the clip crawled into his hands like a second instinct. But instead, he saved it into a new folder. No title. No tags. Just buried somewhere he wouldn’t look again.

He shut the laptop and stood, brushing his hands off on his sweats like the weight of the footage might still be clinging to him.

Taehyung didn’t want help. That was clear.

And Jungkook wasn’t offering.

He moved to the lounge are again, restlessly clenching and unclenching his hands as he walked upstairs. He had remembered his concern about squatters and needed to check and to remove every image from that tape that was trying to ingrain in his brain. Taehyung had been very clear with him to stay out of his business and Jungkook was doing just that.

At the top of the stairs to the second floor he spotted the tripod and took it as a weapon, just in case. He wandered across the rooms that weren’t locked, knocking and hitting on walls with the stick to catch any noise or movement, but caught nothing. He thought about how different everything looked in daylight. The unnaturally dark spots were just that, dark spots with gross looking stains and the rooms with barred windows were less ominous, more depressing.

Jungkook moved upstairs and repeated, getting tired after half an hour of not sensing another presence. He thought that he should’ve brought his camera with him, would’ve been a good chance to fish for anything but, seeing that nothing happened, he was glad he didn’t take it. He still felt paranoid about other people hiding in the walls so on his way back downstairs he kept hitting the walls. If anyone would see him, they’d totally think he was crazy.

He came back downstairs and went to the spot he was sure the sound had come from last night. It was close to the backdoor in the kitchen. He thought about opening the door, Taehyung was asleep and wouldn’t know he broke the rules, and anyways, who gave a fuck about rules when safety was compromised.

He grabbed the handle and twisted it. It was locked.

“What are you doing?”

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The first thing Taehyung registered was how stupidly warm his face felt. The sunlight was slicing through the blinds like it had a personal vendetta, turning his skin into toast and his eyelids into sandpaper. He groaned, shifting on the couch, only to realize his entire body was bent at angles no human should willingly sleep in. Right. Full-blown panic spiral. Passed out like a pretzel. Not his finest moment. He ran a hand over his face and winced—his cheek still felt sore, the kind of sting that came from slapping yourself awake like a melodramatic idiot.

His mind buzzed in that weird way it always did after these episodes—like a hangover, but emotionally meaner. For a second, he thought maybe Jungkook was still nearby, sitting in silence like some weird ghost witness again, but the room was too quiet. No camera whirring. No pacing. No passive-aggressive breathing. Just the steady hum of old pipes and distant birdsong.

Taehyung sat up slowly, shoulders tense and neck popping like bubble wrap. He rubbed at his eyes, half-expecting them to still be swollen. Part of him felt relieved that Jungkook wasn’t hovering. The other part... wasn’t so sure.

He stretched his legs out slowly, groaning at the way his knees cracked in protest. His whole body ached like it had been rearranged by a drunk chiropractor. Sleep had come hard and fast—his version of passing out—and now that he was awake, he kind of hated it. There was a sour taste in his mouth, the aftermath of tears and adrenaline and too much silence.

Taehyung glanced toward the hallway, expecting to hear Jungkook’s rustling. But the room was still. No camera. No passive-aggressive clatter of coffee mugs. No sarcastic comments laced with pity. He’s probably filming something upstairs. Or just avoiding me like I asked. Whatever.

He blinked blearily, sitting forward. His chest felt tight again, but not in the panic way—more like… regret? No. No, he didn’t do regret. He did avoidance, and denial, and letting his mouth speak before his brain could interfere. Regret was reserved for people who didn’t already know better.

Still, he couldn't quite forget what he’d said in the kitchen. Or the look Jungkook gave him afterward. Like something had snapped and neither of them knew how to fix it.

Taehyung stood up, one hand pressed to his back like he was forty years older than he was, and padded across the room to peek out the window. Nothing. The sun was too bright, the outside too quiet. He caught a flicker of movement near the stairwell—then a soft, muffled thud. Instinct kicked in, stupidly protective, despite everything.

He crept toward the hallway, every footstep deliberately slow. As he neared the kitchen, something about the air shifted—cooler, heavier. The floor creaked under his weight, and just as he turned the corner, he caught sight of Jungkook hunched near the back door, hand on the knob like he was testing it.

Taehyung stopped in his tracks. His voice came out rougher than he intended, still gravelly from sleep and emotion he hadn’t quite shaken off.

“What are you doing?”

He saw Jungkook flinch and turn around quickly. His hand flying to his chest. He glared at Taehyung who just observed him in silence as Jungkook shut his eyes tightly, exhaling.

“There’s a fucking shoe outside” Jungkook had said as if that explained everything.

Taehyung’s eyes drifted down to Jungkook’s intact shoes, then back up with raised his eyebrows.

“So… Are you in need of a shoe?”

His gaze flicked to Jungkook’s hand still gripping the door handle—tight, unmoving.

Pfft. He probably couldn’t wait to get away from me. Good. I don’t need him anyway.

Jungkook furrowed his brows, squinting like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. He finally let go of the door handle and crossed his arms.

Taehyung cocked his head, a beat of awkward silence hanging between them. Okay, so maybe he had just woken up and said the first dumb thing that popped into his head. Still. He wasn’t about to explain himself. He turned around to leave.

“It’s obviously not mine. Nor yours” He heard Jungkook mutter finally.

Taehyung didn’t turn back around, but side-eyed him. Lips pressing into a hard line. Okay, so there was a shoe outside, so what?

The silence stretched until Jungkook added, more pointed this time,
“It’s a stranger’s shoe. And I think I’ve made my concern about squatters pretty fucking clear, Kim.”

Right. Squatters. He vaguely remembered Jungkook rambling about squatters in the walls last night.
Still seemed impossible.

Taehyung sighed and turned fully around. He almost took a step forward—but stopped himself. He scratched at his neck, catching the way Jungkook tracked his movements with guarded eyes. So he stayed where he was.

He hesitated. It felt out of place to say anything—especially after snapping at Jeon to stay out of his business. But this... this was different. Pointless, maybe. But still.

He grimaced, hands fidgeting behind his back.

“It’s safe inside these walls, okay?”
The words came out stilted, uncertain—like he didn’t know how to say it without it sounding like he gave a damn.

Jungkook frowned. His lips parted, and Taehyung braced himself. He wasn’t ready for whatever the other man was about to say.

“That’s something the two of us need to remember, I guess,” Jungkook muttered, brushing past him.

Taehyung didn’t move. He just stood there as the chill rolled in, as the warmth of the moment slipped away with Jeon’s footsteps.

He pressed his lips tightly.

He was never safe.

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Jungkook played with the Maglite on the counter, flipping it in his hand as he waited for the second investigation time to roll around. He and Taehyung had split up, avoiding each other like the plague. He’d come into the kitchen to make more coffee after spotting Taehyung stuffing his face with Twinkies—five of them, at least. The guy clearly needed comfort. Not that Jungkook cared.

He started half-heartedly filming, GoPro strapped to his head, pretending to ask questions to any ghost that might be around. The small torch flickered on and off at random, and he huffed in frustration when he couldn’t get the timing of his questions to match.

Eventually, he got fed up. He snatched the stupid flashlight and, feeling a chill, went to grab his padded jacket. The torch got shoved in his pocket as his fingers brushed the walkie clipped to his belt. He hesitated, then unhooked it and turned down the hallway.

He opened the bedroom door and found Taehyung hunched over the laptop, headphones on, frown locked in place as he watched the footage. Jungkook’s jacket was draped over his bag, just a few inches away.

Jungkook muttered a quiet curse under his breath as he walked in. He kept his back to Taehyung the entire time, refusing to look at him. He thought he heard a scoff, but ignored it. Jacket in hand, he walked right back out, speeding up as soon as the door closed behind him.

The stairs creaked under his boots as he climbed to the second floor, shrugging the jacket on. The halls had gone dark again now that the daylight was fading, and the cold bit at his face. He looked down at the walkie still in his hand and sighed.

Yeah. No way he was using it again.

He clipped it back on, switched on his UV light, and flicked the GoPro to record.

“Hello, ghouls,” he muttered, stepping forward—and right onto a loud floorboard that shifted oddly beneath his foot.

“I’m alone right now and I’m bored, so I hope you don’t mind my rambling,” Jungkook muttered, adjusting the GoPro strap before it could slip off his head.

He pulled his jacket tighter and had barely taken a few steps when a loud thud echoed through the house—this time, it sounded like it came from outside, not from within the walls. The same damned sound from the night before.

“Again with this? I’m getting tired, honestly,” he grumbled, pulling the flashlight from his pocket.

Back down the stairs he went, heading straight to the kitchen. His heart jumped when he caught a low shadow moving outside, close to the ground—right by the door.

He was not opening it.

Jungkook crept forward, careful to keep his steps light and his breath quiet. He clicked the flashlight off.

“It appears we’re not alone, guys,” he whispered to the camera, lips pulling into a nervous pout.

The sound stopped. There was a dragging noise, followed by rustling. It could’ve been an animal.

But then the smell hit him—thick and wet and rotten. His nose scrunched instantly.

The stench was so strong it stung his nose and made his eyes water.

“Fuck, that’s nasty.” He yanked his jacket sleeve up over his face and took another cautious step.

That’s when something growled.

Jungkook froze, blood gone cold. Maybe it was a wild animal, maybe it was feeding right outside the door.

“That’s going to stink up the whole place,” he muttered, grimacing. He thought about kicking the door to scare it off—but what if whatever was out there was big enough to kick back?

Fuck no.

“Uh… yeah, let’s go back,” he said quickly, already turning on his heel.

                        ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Taehyung was done editing out the parts that wouldn’t work for this episode. He hissed as he straightened his back, stiff and cold, his knees aching from being bent in that uncomfortable position for too long. He stood, grabbing his investigation kit. His eyes lingered on the walkie-talkie resting on his bag, but he left it there. No point using it anymore.

He pulled up his hoodie as he shrugged on his long coat. Footsteps echoed softly from upstairs, and he figured Jungkook had already started the investigation—or maybe he was just wandering around, blabbering to the camera again. Taehyung rolled his eyes at the more likely scenario.

Then, a soft thump echoed from the kitchen.

He paused.

A second later, he heard movement again—this time from above, where Jungkook definitely was.

Two distinct sounds. Two different places.

His blood ran cold. A tight, sour twist coiled in his gut.

He turned toward the kitchen, dread creeping up his spine. As he stepped into the hallway, a flicker of movement near the transom window made him freeze. A bloodied hand swept past it—quick, so quick he might’ve imagined it.

No. Not imagined. He knew better than to trust that doubt.

The air turned foul. A gut-wrenching stench of rot hit him, and he recoiled instantly. Without another second of hesitation, he spun on his heel and marched straight back to the bedroom. He snatched the walkie from his bag, then took the stairs two at a time.

Taehyung was quick to find Jungkook, who stood in Lisa’s room, sweeping his light across the toys, watching to see if any dared move.

Without a word, Taehyung reached out and turned him around by the shoulder.

Jungkook yelped, jerking back. “Shit! Ah—” He caught sight of Taehyung’s panicked expression and froze. “What? What, what, what… what?” he fumbled, both with his flashlight and his words, trying to make sense of the alarm in Taehyung’s eyes.

Taehyung looked like he’d run there, adrenaline still buzzing in his limbs, but hadn’t actually planned for what to say.

“There—” he groaned, frustrated. “There’s someone outside, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. His mouth tugged down. “Yeah, I mean—an animal, maybe? Something's feeding out there. It stinks like hell—”

“No,” Taehyung cut him off, voice sharp, fists clenching like the tension had nowhere else to go. “Not an animal.”

That made Jungkook stop cold.

“I saw a hand,” Taehyung added. His voice dropped like a stone.

Jungkook’s heart plummeted straight into the pit of his stomach and rocketed back up to lodge in his throat. He glanced sideways at his camera with a nervous, disbelieving laugh. “Come on—what? A hand?”

“Yeah. A b-bloodied hand,” Taehyung stammered. One of his legs was bouncing uncontrollably now.

Jungkook stared at it, then forced his gaze back up to Taehyung’s eyes. He saw the real fear there.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Okay. Uh… okay. Let’s go check it out—and call the police, I guess?”

Taehyung nodded quickly—too quickly.

“Jesus,” Jungkook mumbled. “Are you sure?”

Another nod. Just as frantic.

“Okay,” he repeated, mostly to himself.

He didn’t show it, but his hands had started to shake too. This was becoming too much—too real, too fast.

When they reached the kitchen, the smell had dulled a little. It still stank, but not enough to make them gag.

"Fuck" Jungkook cursed grimacing.

Taehyung walked in front—scared, but anxious to find out what the hell was out there. Or who. He swallowed hard and reached for the door handle.

“I don’t have my phone on me. Do you?” Jungkook whispered from right behind him. He had grabbed the tripod stick again, gripping it like a weapon. It felt dumb, but his legs wouldn’t stop trembling. People were unpredictable. People were scary.

Taehyung didn’t answer right away—he’d barely registered the question. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Jungkook and nodded slowly. His fingers twisted the handle so softly it didn’t even look like it was moving.

“Wait. Wait, Kim—” Jungkook let out a shaky breath and laid his hand over Taehyung’s to stop him. He wasn’t ready yet.

Taehyung raised his brows in question.

“Let’s check first,” Jungkook said, glancing around for something—anything—to step on and peek through the transom. Nothing.

“It’s too high for me too,” Taehyung said, already reading his mind.

“Step on my hands,” Jungkook said, dropping to one knee and pressing the other to the floor. He laced his fingers together, holding them out like a foothold. “You look.”

Taehyung hesitated, glancing down at Jungkook’s cupped hands. This wasn’t the best idea—he could slip, knock into the door, and blow their cover. But he didn’t have a better plan, so… he sighed, braced himself against the doorframe, and stepped onto Jungkook’s foothold.

“It was to the left last time,” Jungkook muttered, adjusting slightly to steady him.

“Yeah.”

Taehyung swept his eyes over the front yard. Nothing. But faint dragging marks etched into the dirt right outside the door caught his attention. No blood. No people. No animal. He tapped his leg to signal he was coming down.

“Find anything?” Jungkook exhaled, voice tight.

Taehyung shook his head. “Nothing.”

They locked eyes, letting the silence press down over them, thick and uneasy.

Jungkook glanced at the door again, scratching the back of his neck. What the fuck was going on here?

“Should I try calling still?” Taehyung asked, uncertain. He bit his lip glancing down at his phone.

“Uh… yeah. I’d feel safer if the police checked around.”
Jungkook leaned against the counter, watching him press the call button.

Taehyung frowned at his phone. “Line’s busy,” he muttered.

“Of fucking course.” Jungkook straightened up and laced his fingers at the back of his head, jaw tight.

Taehyung tried again. And again. Same result.
He sighed, feeling Jungkook’s silent gaze still on him.

“…Let’s barricade this door, just in case.”

“Okay.”

Together, they dragged the unused fridge in front of the back door.

“The front too?” Taehyung asked, fingers drumming nervously on his thigh.

“Yeah. Let’s use the couch.”

Jungkook moved quickly. Maybe too quickly.
He looked calm, but he was freezing on the inside—numb, brittle, stretched thin. He couldn't stand the idea of someone stalking around the house.

                   ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

They were back upstairs. Jungkook on the third floor, Taehyung on the second. They’d agreed to keep working, but something about it felt… wrong. Off.

Earlier, they were locked in by choice. The challenge had rules—no leaving until the forty-eight hours were up—and that was fine. That made sense. It was supposed to keep them from cheating. To prevent temptation.

Now?

Now the doors were barricaded. Not to keep them in—but to keep something else out.

And suddenly, the idea of walking out didn’t seem like it would break any unspoken pact. Jungkook was pretty sure no one would blame them. Hell, maybe no one would even notice. So why were they still here?

Simple.

They were out of their fucking minds.

Jungkook sat hunched on the edge of the third-floor hallway, camera off, UV light held uselessly in one hand. His other hand hovered over the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, fingers twitching, ready to grab it. Call Taehyung. Ask if he’d tried calling the police again. If the line had gone through. If anyone was coming… If he was okay.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

They weren’t helping each other anymore.

And he didn’t know why that made him feel even more distressed.

Taehyung paced in tight circles inside Lisa’s room, the carpet worn thin under his steps. The sun had long set, shadows now stretched across the walls again, but he didn’t care. He barely noticed them.

All he could focus on was the screen in his hand.

No signal.
That tiny, infuriating icon stared back at him like it knew something he didn’t.

He bit into his bottom lip, hard, tasting metal. His palms were slick with sweat, his grip on the useless phone growing more uncomfortable by the second. He’d been trying to call the police again, but the moment he’d stepped back upstairs, the signal had vanished. Gone. Like it was never there to begin with.

He stopped pacing, strained to listen. Any sound from outside. A footstep. A whisper. The wind.

Nothing.

The ghosts were long forgotten. Demons too.

Now it was something else.

He and Jungkook had set a few motion sensors downstairs. They’d seemed like a good idea at the time—some kind of warning system. Now he wasn’t sure. If something did trigger them… then what? What were they supposed to do? They were trapped up here. Trapped, and suddenly very, very small.

Taehyung’s fingers hovered over the walkie-talkie clipped to his hip. He should tell Jungkook. About the signal. About how nothing’s going through anymore. It concerned them both, didn’t it? It was important. A possible life or death situation.

But his stomach twisted.

He’d told Jungkook to stay out of his business.

This wasn’t that, though. Right?

Unless it was all in his head.
Maybe it wasn’t even a hand he saw.
Maybe—

“Shit,” he muttered, dragging a shaky hand down his face. “Shit, shit, shit.”

A string of curses followed him as he stepped into the hallway, phone gripped tight in one hand, walkie in the other.

Taehyung stood in front of the stairs, debating whether to find Jungkook in person instead of using the walkie. It felt kind of dumb… but also kind of right.
He raised one foot toward the first step when the sharp beep of one of the motion sensors shattered the silence. His heart plummeted into his stomach. The events of the night before were still too fresh, still curled under his skin like static. His whole body threatened to lock up from the fear.

He startled at the sound of rapid footsteps above—only to see Jungkook appear at the top of the stairs.
“Oh,” Jungkook said, looking surprised. “Were you coming to find me?”

Taehyung just nodded, jaw tight as the motion sensor continued its shrill cry.

Jungkook didn’t ask more—just moved quickly, silently, down the other flight to the first floor. Taehyung followed close, both crouched low and careful not to make a sound. Their hands gripped the banister like it was the only thing tethering them to reality. Neither spoke, but the same question screamed between them: What the hell set it off this time?

Both of them held makeshift weapons now—tripod sticks, repurposed for defense. Taehyung’s eyes darted to the front door as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Still locked. Still barricaded. Good.

They crept into the hall, hearts pounding in sync, and entered the kitchen.

The back door—also untouched. Still blocked.

Finally, they moved into the lounge, where the motion sensor kept screaming like a fire alarm.

It was nothing. Just like the night before. Gone off all by itself.

Jungkook let out a sigh, shoulders sagging with relief. He glanced at Taehyung and felt an even bigger wave of it—he wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t frozen. No panic attack this time. Just exhausted tension radiating from him in waves.

Jungkook turned off the alarm with a frustrated flick and a muttered curse.

“Oh, how I hate the fucking noise it makes,” Taehyung grumbled, flopping onto a stool facing the front door.

Jungkook huffed a laugh. “A hundred percent agree.” He checked his watch, eyebrows lifting. “Almost 24 hours down.”
Somehow, he hadn’t ripped all his hair out. Progress.

Taehyung groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “I’m so ready to leave.” He turned to face the window, despite not being able to see anything. Just an attempt of a reflection.

“Yeah? Your call.” Jungkook shrugged, though he knew the truth: they couldn’t leave yet. Not really. It wasn’t safe.
And judging by Taehyung’s silence, he knew it too.

                     ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

They went back into silent mode. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as Jungkook thought it’d be. But it was tense. Thick with gripping fear.

They’d ended their investigation earlier than planned, and quietly moved all their food supplies from the kitchen back into the lounge. There wasn’t much left, and they weren’t eating in that room ever again. It still smelled like something had died just outside.

Now that Jungkook thought about it, maybe that’s exactly what had happened.
Some animal, sick or wounded, crawled inside the walls sensing its death, then finally collapsed. Maybe that was what made the noises that spooked them the night before—not squatters.
And if that was true, then maybe the thing they saw outside was a predator. A bigger animal that picked up the scent and came to feed.

It was a reasonable explanation. Logical. Neat.
So why didn’t it make him feel better?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Taehyung dragging his bag into the lounge. Jungkook turned to see him layered up in more clothes, rummaging through his stuff. A second later, he was pulling out his sleeping bag and draping it over himself like a blanket.
Jungkook squinted, his brows furrowing. “What... are you doing?”

He scolded himself immediately. Mind your own fucking business, Jungkook.
But Taehyung didn’t seem bothered by the question. He just shrugged, looking like a cocoon of jackets and hoodie strings.
“I’m keeping watch tonight,” he said casually, walking past Jungkook and flopping onto the couch in front of the one barricading the door.

Jungkook blinked. Wait. He couldn’t actually mean there—right there?
He kept the questions in, but Taehyung must’ve seen them written all over his face.

“Look at it this way,” Taehyung said, sitting up to face him. “If there’s a breach, I’ll be the first to suffer the consequences. Maybe my screaming will be enough to wake you up and give you time to run.”
He shrugged like that wasn’t a completely fucked up thing to say. Like he didn’t just casually volunteer as bait.

Jungkook stared, silent. Taehyung looked away.

“Suit yourself, I guess,” Jungkook said, walking into the room.

Taehyung watched him leave, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned back into the couch and swept the flashlight across the lounge. A few seconds passed before the bedroom door creaked open again. Jungkook’s head poked out—like fucking déjà vu.

He didn’t speak at first, just stared with furrowed brows. Taehyung raised his own, silently prompting him.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed as he debated saying something. Maybe offering help. Maybe yelling at him for being reckless. They could take shifts, maybe even keep watch together. Not together together, but—well. He could take the kitchen.

“Wake me if anything happens,” he said at last. It felt like the safest choice. Acceptable. Decent. Until Taehyung snorted.

He shouldn’t have fucking said anything at all.

“Sure,” Taehyung muttered, rolling his eyes—but they softened a second later. “Go rest, Jeon.” He didn’t have the energy to keep fighting, and deep down, he appreciated that Jungkook was still willing to help, even if he hoped nothing would happen at all.

He watched Jungkook disappear back into the bedroom, then pulled the blanket up to his nose. It was a cold night. The wind howled outside.
Please, he thought, let it stay quiet.

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The glow of the laptop screen cast a pale light across Taehyung's face as he leaned forward, eyes scanning the live footage with meticulous attention. The lounge was eerily silent, save for the occasional hum of the computer and the distant creaks of the house settling. He adjusted the volume slightly, straining to catch any faint sounds that might indicate movement.

His thumb hovered over the play button, ready to rewind and review a particular segment once more. The footage had been uneventful so far—just the usual stillness of the night. But there was something about the silence that felt... off. Too quiet. As if the world outside had paused, holding its breath.

He unwrapped a Twinkie, taking a bite as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. “I’m living in that stupid ‘Observation Duty’ game” he muttered to himself as he zeroes in on the doll, convinced it had moved.

His back was stiff, and he had only himself to blame. He had decided to keep watch, not because he felt the need to, but because he couldn't stand the idea of last night repeating itself. He didn't want to seem vulnerable to Jungkook and, quite frankly didn't feel like sharing a space with him anymore than necessary. So If he could avoid that, he'd do it. Besides, it's not like he'd be able to sleep—

A sudden noise broke the stillness—a faint scraping sound, like something dragging across the floor. Taehyung's heart skipped a beat. He paused the video and replayed the segment, increasing the volume. The sound was barely audible, but it was there. Something—or someone—was moving.

He leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing as he analyzed the footage. The camera angle was limited, but he could make out a shadow passing by the edge of the frame. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to send a chill down his spine.

"Fuck" he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the hall. He hadn't heard any movement from there, but that didn't mean much. The house was large, and sound didn't always travel well.

He reached for the walkie-talkie, hesitated, then set it back down. No need to alarm Jungkook unnecessarily. They had been through enough tonight.

Instead, he rewound the footage to the beginning of the segment and watched it again, more slowly this time. The shadow appeared again, moving just beyond the camera's reach. It was deliberate, purposeful.

Taehyung's fingers hovered over the keyboard as he considered his options. Should he go to the kitchen and check? Or should he stay put and monitor the footage? He didn't want to overreact, but the unease gnawing at him was hard to ignore.

He glanced at the barricaded door, then at the windows, all securely shut. The house was as fortified as it could be. But that scraping sound... it sounded like it had come from inside.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft thud from the kitchen. He froze, listening intently. Another thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—slow, uneven, dragging.

Taehyung's breath caught in his throat. He knew that sound. He instinctively turned his EVP on and removed his blankets.

Without thinking, he grabbed the tripod stick and moved toward the hall, every muscle in his body tense. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, straining to hear. The footsteps had stopped. He jumped at his own reflection on the bathroom’s mirror when he walked past it.

He waited, heart pounding in his chest. Then, cautiously, he began to approach the kitchen, each step deliberate and quiet. As he reached the door, he peered around the doorframe.

Not a soul around the room. His eyes landed on the barricaded door, watching through the edges if anything blocked the light coming in through the cracks. His hand trembled gripping the EVP and the stepped inside the kitchen.

The awful smell remained in the room and it made him jerk back.

“Is anyone there?” he whispered into the silence, approaching the door. He didn’t pick up any noise or movement until he exhaled.

A growl. Faint. Sharp.

Taehyung stalled feeling his blood run cold. Whatever was out there had heard his breathing. He covered his mouth and strained his ears.

He stayed there in place for a couple of minutes, until there was no dragging or rustling. It did sound like an animal after all. He considered climbing the counter and try to look through the transom but it’d be too strained.

Taehyung turned the EVP off and walked back to the lounge. He sat on the couch and put the laptop on top of his legs again. Ignoring the surveillance app, he went to the search bar and looked up the link between demons and awful smells.

                     ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

“If there’s a breach, I’ll be the first to suffer the consequences.”

Jungkook closed his eyes harder. He hadn’t even known what to say to that. Didn’t even try. But the sentence kept playing like a broken tape in his head, warping more every time.

He hated how Taehyung said it like it didn’t matter. Like his safety wasn’t even on the list of priorities. Like Jungkook would actually let someone die for his sake.

Which—he wouldn’t. Right?

He turned to face the ceiling, blinking slowly.
No signal. No police. A corpse somewhere in the walls, maybe. Something else outside. The door barricaded like it was them against the world, and they were losing.

He pulled the blanket up higher, burying his face in the warmth. He didn’t feel safer. He didn’t feel tired, either.

He just felt... watched.

And a little guilty.

He drifted but didn’t sleep. His mind too loud tonight, making him stay in that state where you heard everything, from your own thoughts to every single creak and groan from the house. Luckily the world outside was quiet, not even crickets sang outside the window.

Taehyung didn’t find anything concrete in the articles. Some said the stench was sulfur, others called it decay. Theories ranged from spiritual warnings to full-blown possession. He stared blankly at the screen as the cursor blinked back at him, the flickering light casting shadows across the lounge.

He leaned his head back against the couch, Twinkie wrapper still clutched in his fingers, and closed his eyes for just a second.

                   ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The sun had barely risen. Pale light crept through the curtains in thin slats, painting golden stripes across the floor.

Jungkook blinked awake, groggy and disoriented. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what had woken him—until the silence registered again. That same too-heavy kind from the night before.

He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, then got up and padded barefoot toward the lounge.

The door creaked softly as he stepped out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The house was still, save for the faint static hum of the laptop. He stopped in the lounge doorway.

Taehyung had fallen asleep sitting up, head tilted to the side, the notebook cradled in his lap, screen dimmed but still glowing faintly. His brows were furrowed even in sleep.

Jungkook stood there, watching him for a moment, before quietly stepping closer.

Jungkook crouched down just enough to peek at the screen. Tabs open, playback paused, a Google search halfway down the page:
“can demons smell bad”

It was so stupid it was almost funny. Almost.

He huffed a short laugh through his nose and shook his head.

Then, without touching anything, without saying a word, he turned around and went to the bathroom—quiet, slow. The floor creaked beneath his steps. He didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

Jungkook stared at his reflection. Checking the dark circles under his eyes. Great. He combed the bird nest atop his head and hissed, his curls tangled.

He sighed as he exited the room. Heard the door click shut and stared at the light coming in through the blind at the lounge. Last morning here.

He pressed the tip of his fingers against his eyes, willing the puffiness away. His stomach grumbled.

Jungkook ate in silence by himself on the couch. It was a quiet morning, very still and calm since they didn’t need to rush for another shoot. That’s why he enjoyed his food while Taehyung was passed out on the other couch.

He’d barely slept, kept awake all night by thoughts of someone breaking into the house — hurting Taehyung, then finding him and killing him. Nothing happened of course, and he stayed awake pointlessly.

His body ached, the cold clinging to his bones like frost. He felt groggy and his eyes stung from the effort to remain open and were sensitive to light. Too bright. His neck popped like bubble wrap and he groaned from the stiffness.

He finished his sandwich with coffee and walked to the kitchen to wash the mug. The floor was cold beneath his feet, and a faint breeze brushed past him in the hall. He scrunched up his face while he did the dishes, holding his breath. It only took him a minute. Walking past the stairs, he heard a door creaking upstairs. He perked up and climbed up.

The floor felt sticky under his bare feet. He instantly regretted coming up barefoot — the sensation clung unpleasantly, like something wet and half-dried.

It was dark inside the room. The window had been crudely boarded up, as if someone was trying to keep something out—or in.

The sight reminded him — they were still trapped in here. Still trying to keep something out. He shuddered exiting the room. He examined the door’s hinges. They looked old, rusted — honestly, the owner could’ve worked on them. Then again, it fit the haunted house vibe. So, whatever.

Something hit one of the windows above and Jungkook jumped. He couldn’t even get a damn break. He walked silently toward the window, too high for him to check. He went to Lisa’s room and dragged a chair over, scraping it across the floor without caring if it woke Taehyung.

“What the fuck” he muttered as he saw something smudged on the glass. It looked like some kind of fluid — pinkish, streaky. Gross. Everything was gross this morning. He squinted and rolled his eyes at the feather floating down. Barely perceptible.

Right at that moment, the lamppost outside crackled. A second later, Jungkook saw it fuming — smoke curling into the air like the final straw. Fucking great. That meant no power, right? He sighed inwardly.

He didn’t even have the energy to be surprised anymore.

And, as if on cue, a siren wailed in the distance — shrill and unmistakable. One of those alarms they used for structural fires. Of course it did.

He nearly fell off the chair when he flinched. The lamppost outside was still crackling. It was too much. He dragged the chair back to Lisa’s room, then stomped his way downstairs.

In the lounge, Taehyung was sitting up with a bewildered look on his face — like someone had dropped him into a scene mid-chaos. He blinked, his back pressed against the couch, clearly trying to make sense of anything.

“Good morning?” Jungkook muttered, fists clenched at his sides.

Taehyung blinked. The siren blared on, a jagged sound that lodged Taehyung’s heart straight into his throat. What a way to wake up. Not that it was anything new. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook muttered, sitting down on the other couch with a heavy sigh as the cushion puffed out. “Power’s out, by the way. It exploded.” He threw his arms in the air like it was the final act of a play.

Taehyung blinked again, eyes still unfocused. Too much to process. Groggy. Needed coffee. Yesterday had been enough; he didn’t have the energy for more weird shit.

He checked his laptop, which had nearly slipped off his lap when he’d jerked awake. It was off. His frown deepened. He hoped he’d saved the files before he’d passed out last night.

“I hope your investigation on demon’s odor was helpful” Jungkook checked his cuticles yawning loudly. He saw Taehyung shoot him a glare. “What?”

“Were you fucking snooping, now?”

“Saw your screen when I came to see what was making that fuck-ass noise” Jungkook didn’t even look at him. “Turns out, it was your snoring” He got up, placing his hands on his hips. “Should get that checked, so loud.”

Taehyung rose. Jungkook flinched and Taehyung staggered. Got up too quickly.

The silence dropped like a stone when the both of them realized the distance separating them was scarce.

Taehyung moved first, not saying anything. He had just woken up from a two hour-sleep. He had that nightmare again and he couldn’t deal with anything but his hunger right now. Besides, he was already nursing a headache.

He got to his bag, taking out a Twinkie. He heard Jungkook click his tongue. He turned around, half pastry already shoved past his mouth.

“Are you seriously going to eat that as breakfast?”

“What about it?” Taehyung’s voice was muffled. Wrapper rustling in his hands obnoxiously.

Jungkook’s argument died as soon as he remembered the other man’s words. Not his business. He shook his head and sat back down staring at the floor. He watched as Taehyung lingered by the corner of his eye, before he turned, walking away.

                         ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The morning passed in silence. Taehyung sat at the worn out couch, absentmindedly flipping through his notes while Jungkook lay sprawled on the other couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. Neither had the energy to fight, and even if they did, the air felt too heavy—too still. Like the house was listening.

Occasionally, one of them would move—grab water, check the bags, fiddle with gear—but never speak.

By mid-afternoon, Taehyung began reviewing footage. He had forgotten about the spare batteries, and was glad he had something to do.

Jungkook wandered aimlessly from room to room with his camera still in hand, but the enthusiasm was gone. He wasn’t filming anymore—just... looking.

The power hadn’t come back.

The clocks were all off.

No new messages. Still no signal.

“Four more hours,” Jungkook muttered at some point, mostly to himself.

Taehyung didn’t answer. Just scratched at his cheek and kept staring at the screen in front of him, squinting slightly.

He came across the first night. When he had his first panic attack.

He adjusted the headphones. Turned volume up.

He watched how Jungkook had filmed up to the point when Taehyung started panicking.

Surprise washed over him as he realized Jungkook didn't film any of his panic. Instead he had dropped the camera to the floor and he could only hear what was happening.

He wasn't doing it for the cameras.

Wasn't doing it because he wanted to help, either. His voice had been tight with reluctance, as if the words themselves were a struggle.

Why help at all if he didn't want to?

And he didn't have to either, Taehyung was perfectly capable of handling it on his own, without anyone's help. He just needed a moment.

Taehyung’s heart raced, anger boiling up in his chest as he shot a glare at an unaware Jungkook.

He was so tired of his behaviour.

But it didn't matter. In a couple of hours, it would all end. One way or another.

                       ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Taehyung wanted to make one last shoot before ending the challenge. He was still pissed off and wanted a way out.

He’d been dared to lie down in the basement alone for fifteen minutes. They hadn’t touched the basement at all—something about it just felt… off—but they thought it would be a good distraction to kill time. Or maybe it was just something to prove.

He was excited in theory, but dread pooled low in his gut. After the nightmare he'd had last night, he wasn’t emotionally prepared for this shoot—not really. But he couldn’t back out. The camera was on, the dare had been issued, and Jungkook would be watching.

Jungkook climbed the basement stairs two at a time, the camera bag bouncing against his hip. His fingers still felt cold from adjusting the tripod in the dark—colder than they should’ve been. He didn’t like the way the air settled down there, like it was waiting.

He stepped into the hallway and shut the basement door gently, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Taehyung looked up as he entered the hallway, fiddling with his GoPro harness. “Tripod set?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, brushing his hands together. “Facing the center of the room. Should catch everything—if anything happens.”

He didn’t add as if, but it hovered unsaid in the air between them.

Taehyung smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nice. So I’ll get the Blair Witch angle and you’ll get the Exorcist one.”

Jungkook forced a chuckle. “Exactly.”

Taehyung clipped the EVP recorder to his belt, hands just slightly too fast. Nervous. He took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that he was okay. That this was just a challenge, nothing more. But the thought of the basement gnawed at him, and he pushed it down. “

You sure about this?” Jungkook asked. The words slipped out before he could stop them. He braced himself.

Taehyung hesitated, eyes flicking toward the closed basement door. “It’s the last challenge. I gotta finish it.”

It didn’t sound like confidence. More like obligation.

You don't have to. Jungkook thought, nodding as he picked up the walkie, pressing it into Taehyung’s hand when he saw him hesitate. “You’ll need this. I have to tell you when the time’s up.”

Taehyung frowned, raised an eyebrow. “Right. Not because you think I’ll freak out and need saving?”

“I didn’t—look, I didn't mean it like that,” Jungkook muttered, looking away. His jaw locked.

But Taehyung didn’t push. He gave a small, half-hearted salute, adjusted the GoPro, and turned toward the stairs.

“Be back in fifteen.” With that, he descended.

As soon as he took the first real step into the basement, the darkness wrapped around him like a wet blanket. The air felt thicker down here. Old, maybe even moldy. Each creak of the wooden steps groaned under his weight, announcing him to whatever might be waiting.

When he reached the bottom, the door clicked shut behind him. He flinched. His hands moved on instinct—GoPro on, flashlight in his grip.

He tried to keep his voice steady. “So,” he said, facing the camera, “this is the basement. We left it untouched because—as you know, I don’t particularly like basements. They’re always smelly, and I think they collect ghosts or trauma or something and—well—have you ever seen a ghost movie where a basement was a good idea?” He laughed, but it came out thin. “Anyway. Thanks to @itsmeyaboy for the great challenge, I love you, but also I hate you.”

He flicked the beam of his flashlight around, sweeping over crates and walls lined with flaking paint. “Oh, and yeah—we thought there was a leak somewhere around ‘cause we caught some tapping on the last EVP session. So if you hear that… probably just water. Probably.”

It didn't make sense the tapping he caught on the first night—on the second floor— would be heard from here. But he needed to convince himself it was the same thing he was hearing right now.

He sniffed the air and made a face. “Yup. Definitely smells like bad decisions and wet socks.”

His attempt at humor felt forced, and the silence that followed ate at his nerves.

He swept the flashlight beam around the room. Pale walls lined with dusty shelving. A workbench covered in old tools. The shadows seemed thicker here, like they had weight.

“I’m not lying down, by the way,” he muttered, stepping cautiously toward the center of the room. “It smells nasty, and I like having lungs.”

He stood still, letting the silence settle over him like dust. His breath came out shaky, fogging up in front of him. The chill in the room wrapped around his neck like fingers.

Then he heard it.

Tap.

Tap.

He froze.

Tap… ta-tap.

It was faint. Inconsistent.

His heart picked up.

They’d talked about that sound before. Heard it on the recording and assumed it was a leak. “It's just water,” he muttered. Probably.

But it didn’t sound like water. No drip. No splash. Just tapping—like fingers against wood. Or maybe knuckles.

“It’s just the leak,” he said out loud, trying to convince both himself and the camera. “Old pipes. Gravity. Nothing haunted about that.” He clicked off the flashlight for the challenge, the darkness swallowing him instantly.

Big mistake.

“You’re not getting out until you stop crying!”

The voice cut through the air like a blade. Taehyung’s breath caught. He spun toward the sound, his pulse exploding in his ears.

“A man is never scared of the dark!”

He dropped to a crouch, arms clamped over his ears, but the voice lived inside his head now. Familiar. Wrong. Painful.

The nightmare hadn’t ended.

He gasped, trying to breathe, trying not to sob. His chest ached from holding it in. The EVP on his belt flickered to life, the Spirit Box humming quietly. A hollow static filled the room like white noise over his panic.

He heard a slap. He almost felt the sting on his cheek. He gulped.

He stood again, swaying slightly, and raised the camera.

His vision blurred, a sharp pain blooming in his chest as the voice repeated in his head. Every part of him screamed to run, but his legs wouldn’t move.

“If there’s someone here with me…” His voice cracked. “This is your chance to talk to me.”

The flashlight came back on in a shaking hand. He swept it over the walls, the floor, the shadows that didn’t quite seem to behave.

“I’m Taehyung. What’s your name?”

No answer.

He laughed nervously, the sound brittle. “I’m very scared right now, so if you’re scared, just know that maybe I am more. So. I’d love for you to talk to me. But if you do—I might scream.”

A pause. The room responded only with the distant tapping again. Closer now. Almost above him.

His skin prickled as his instincts screamed. Something watched him.

The flashlight trembled in his grip as he backed toward the wall, needing something solid behind him. He reached it, leaned. It was cold and damp. His eyes searched the dark for anything—movement, light, logic—but there was only the void. Thick and hungry.

“Please, don't jump-scare me.”

His stomach twisted as if the air itself was trying to squeeze him out of existence.

“Five minutes, Kim,” Jungkook’s voice crackled through the walkie, distorted by static.

Taehyung almost didn’t recognize him. Everything felt warped.

He nodded to no one. “I’m Taehyung. If you have anything to say, this is your chance.”

He repeated it like a script, like it would anchor him. The EVP hummed again. Nothing but static.

He gripped the flashlight tighter, his palm aching. “Well… you blew your chance. I’m getting out.”

He turned toward the stairs, trying to keep his steps steady, his flashlight beam darting like a nervous eye. He was halfway across the room when—

He heard it—slam.

The door. It was rattling.

“Shut the fuck up!”

He blinked.

The door was still.

It stayed shut.

Then—YANK—it flew open.

Taehyung’s heart stopped.

Jungkook’s arm appeared, holding the door open. His watch beeped.

Time was up.

The basement air seemed to sigh, as if disappointed. Taehyung didn’t wait. He climbed the stairs, legs unsteady, and felt the brush of cold air chasing him up.

At the top, he turned off the GoPro. His chest heaved as he stood in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook looked at him—really looked—and saw the tear-streaked cheeks, the redness in his nose, the tremble in his fingers.

But he didn’t say anything.

He took the camera from Taehyung’s hands and turned away.

“I see it went well,” he said flatly.

Taehyung didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to. He just stared.

                       ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

They were finally done with all the investigations needed and had about three more hours until the production team came to pick them up. Restless and on edge, Jungkook decided to keep himself busy. He saw all their stuff scattered around the house and with his hands twitching he went to tidy up.

It didn’t take him long to pack up. There was still some food left so he put it in a small bag, then tucked that into the clothes bag. Unsatisfied with himself, he went to the kitchen, he had found his face mask, so he put it on to keep some of the smell out. He glanced at the fridge still barricading the door. Maybe he should move it—just in case the owner cared.

He lifted the old machine and moved it away. Then he softly twisted the door handle to make sure it was still locked. And sighed in relief. He glanced around the room, a flicker of nostalgia rising—until the smell hit. He gagged, bolting out of the kitchen.

Jungkook found Taehyung packing up his own stuff in the bedroom. He approached silently.

“I still have my camera out.” He pointed to the device perched on top of his bag. “Want me to do the final shoot of the other floors, while there’s still some light—and quiet?” His fingers laced behind his back as he rocked on his heels. He felt more energetic—ecstatic even— now that he knew they were finally leaving this forsaken place.

Taehyung didn’t look at him once but nodded. That small nod was all he needed. Jungkook snatched the camera and rushed upstairs, the silence closing in with every step, heavy and suffocating.

His hands had finally stopped shaking. He skipped the tripod—his pulse was steady enough now, and he prided himself on that, the footage would turn out fine.

He slowly panned the camera from one side to the other. Light filtered through the small windows, casting a soft golden hue that clashed against the sharp darkness beyond its reach. The creaking walls and floors were almost soothing now, a kind of calm wrapped in decay. He was numb at this point. His nerves seemed to shut down after everything that had happened.

A cold draft brushed past Jungkook as he walked into the rooms. He went to Lisa’s first and the nostalgia came back. He filmed the toys, then gently set down one of his own—a small bunny he’d picked up at a market. Just something to leave behind. He sighed and moved towards the other rooms, filming silently.

The third floor was colder—bone-deep and still, like the air itself was holding its breath. Jungkook tugged his jacket tighter around himself as he walked down the hall, the light barely reaching this floor. He filmed the rooms in silence, the low hum of the walls a strange, constant presence in his ears.

He filmed the porcelain doll still lying on the floor, before picking it up and placing it on top of the shelf. Her eyes were still hauntingly beautiful, staring back at him like they could see straight through to his soul. He felt shivers run down his spine and turned around. Leaving for good.

As he walked down the hall, he heard a series of thuds, as if someone was walking behind him. He didn’t turn, he kept walking. At the top of the stairs he looked back, there was only silence, swallowed by the floor’s familiar, unnatural darkness. He blinked a couple of times and climbed down.

He filmed the lounge and the entrance hall. The silence was making his stomach twist with dread. Ever since the power had gone out, the silence felt heavier—pressing down on his shoulders, like the quiet was hiding something, daring him to notice. He panned the camera toward the floor, at his enlarged shadow surrounded by soft light. He kept filming until his shadow dissolved into the dark, swallowed by the silence.

Taehyung had been sitting on the stool, quietly watching Jungkook be his usual dramatic self. He felt sort of calm now. He was satisfied with their footage despite how excruciatingly painful it was to get it.

He glanced at his watch—an hour and a half left. Honestly, he had no idea what to do with himself anymore. He hadn’t slept much, so maybe he could lay on the couch and rest until it was time to leave.

Taehyung got up, which snapped Jungkook out of his trance. He was so tired that he kept zoning out. The other man walked to the couch and laid there, Jungkook mirrored him, collapsing onto the other couch with a sigh. Close, but still distant.

                      ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Jungkook stirred awake first. The silence hadn’t changed, but something about it felt… wrong now. He blinked up at the ceiling, throat dry, and glanced toward the door. The clock ticked somewhere far away. They’d agreed the crew would come by sunset—and judging by the dim—fading light outside, that time had passed. Maybe by a lot.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, then turned to Taehyung who was stretching. “Should we check?” Taehyung just nodded, expression unreadable. Phones still dead. No signal. No buzz. No nothing.

It was time.

They both stood, moving slowly, quietly, out of habit more than caution. Jungkook reached the door first. The couch had already been pushed aside earlier. He unlocked the deadbolt with a soft click, then paused.

This was it. If there had been an animal or some creep yesterday, they’d see their traces. Hopefully they had left for good.

“Ready?”

Taehyung nodded again, a bit slower this time.

Jungkook cracked the door open just an inch, peering out through the narrow gap. And froze.

It wasn’t their crew.

It wasn’t a van.

It wasn’t anyone they knew.

Figures. Dozens. Frozen in place—twisted silhouettes soaked in blood, dirt, and something else. Movement. Jittery. Wrong. Not human. Not anymore.

Jungkook slammed the door shut. Locked it. Backed away fast.

Taehyung tracked his movements with a raised brow, questioning.

“There’s people out there,” Jungkook breathed, he sounded like he was choking.

Taehyung cocked his head in confusion.

“Not our people.”

Taehyung grunted at the lack of clarity. Of course, he had to do it all. He yanked the door open, and then jerked back, breath catching. People were moving fast toward them, jerking unnaturally. Taehyung’s stomach twisted in disgust. Jungkook brushed past him, eyes wide, breath shaky.

“What the fuck?” The younger muttered and, at that, the people growled in unison, twisting their heads at them.

Taehyung grabbed the back of Jungkook’s collar, pulling him inside before slamming the door shut and frantically scanning the room. He grabbed the couch and started to push it toward the door again as they heard bodies slamming against it and the walls.

“What the fuck is that?” Jungkook’s voice was loud and pitched, which made the grunts and snarls from outside grow in intensity.

Taehyung shot him a glare and slapped his hand over Jungkook’s mouth.

“Shut up,” he gritted through his teeth. “They can hear you.” His hand shook as he stared at Jungkook, who nodded frantically. He removed his hand as they both looked at the door thumping, wide eyed.

Jungkook’s heart thudded in his throat. He licked his lips, turning to Taehyung. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he cupped his hand around his mouth to muffle the sound. “What is going on?”

A shard of glass shattered as a hand pierced through the window. They both jerked back, hearts racing, barely keeping quiet. Jungkook crept to his bag, grabbed the tripod stick, and crouched back beside Taehyung, who had a wild look on his face looking at the hand trying to reach past the couch.

“Is this—” Jungkook gulped. “Is this for real?” He tightened his grip on the stick. “Is this some sort of prank? Are the guys pranking us?” He blurted out. This didn’t make any sense. It had to be a prank.

Taehyung didn’t have time to process the thought. He looked at Jungkook, puzzled, his mind struggling to catch up. It could be. How could they test it, though?

“Fuck” Jungkook muttered. The door was old and worn out. It seemed whatever those people were, were piling up against it. They might break it down any second.

Jungkook and Taehyung locked eyes. Hearts racing in sync. The window cracked under the weight of the hand still reaching through, the broken shards catching the dying light. Neither of them spoke for a second.

Then Jungkook’s voice came out in a whisper, ragged with panic. “Maybe—maybe we can throw something. See if they react. Or—fuck, I don’t know.” His hand tightened around the tripod, and his stomach twisted in that cold, real fear that something was deeply wrong.

Taehyung stayed silent for a moment. His brain churned over possibilities. They could test it, right? But how? What if they were real? What if they weren’t, but they made them believe they were?

He glanced at the couch. “I say we leave.”

He gasped when a particularly loud growl broke the silence.

Jungkook’s breath hitched as the door trembled under the weight of bodies slamming against it. His hands clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He nodded and shut his eyes tight. “W-we could try the back door,” he stammered.

Taehyung nodded frantically and crept toward their bags, picking them up. Jungkook followed, moving cautiously.

The sky had darkened, and nothing lit the hall. Shadows swallowed the space whole.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, straining to hear anything.

“Do you think they’ve rounded the house?” Taehyung whispered, biting his lip, fingers drumming nervously on the straps of his bag.

He glanced at Jungkook—his eyes were wide, childlike with terror.

Jungkook didn’t answer at first. His breath caught in his throat. His head buzzed, light and dizzy. He leaned against the bannister.

“What even are they?” he asked, voice breaking.

“I don’t know.” Taehyung glanced back toward the lounge. “I don’t think we can go up and ask them, though.”

He frowned and stepped forward toward the kitchen.

Jungkook peeked around the corner—clear. He waved Taehyung over.

They moved low and quiet, every creak of the floorboard like thunder.

They crouched low as they moved. Jungkook reached the door and gently twisted the deadbolt.

The soft click made them both flinch.

He cracked the door open—

Too late.

Three figures burst through the kitchen entrance, snarling.

Taehyung ducked behind the counter.

Jungkook flattened himself against the wall next to the door, slowly sliding down, his breath caught in horror as the creatures snapped their heads around, searching.

Taehyung watched them. Their eyes—clouded white—twitched in all directions. One of them jerked its head toward him and he flinched, but it didn’t see him. Its gaze skimmed past, empty and unfocused.

The front door thudded again.

They snarled low—feral, guttural—and turned toward the thud like dogs on a scent.

One stumbled toward the hall. The other two stood, eerily still in the middle of the kitchen.

Jungkook and Taehyung locked eyes, across from each other.

Taehyung slowly raised his arm so Jungkook could see, then pointed at the creatures… then at his own eyes.

They’re blind, he mouthed.

Jungkook just stared, stunned.

He furrowed his brows and mouthed back, But they saw us back there.

He pointed toward the lounge, gesturing behind him.

Taehyung shook his head and pointed to his ear. His hand shook.

They heard us.

Jungkook blinked.

The gears clicked into motion in his brain.

He spotted a lone apple on the counter and jutted his chin toward it, signaling Taehyung.

Taehyung followed his gaze, frowned.

Seriously? Now’s the time for a snack?

Jungkook nearly rolled his eyes. He puffed his cheeks out in frustration, then mimed throwing the apple—up the stairs.

Taehyung looked. The stairs weren’t far. From his angle, he could manage the throw.

It could work. A distraction.

But—

He leaned a little farther over the counter, listening. Watching. Was there someone else outside? Waiting?

Jungkook followed his gaze. He listened, too.

Nothing. Just silence.

Jungkook nodded. Coast was clear.

Taehyung glanced at the two creatures still standing in eerie quiet. They weren’t growling anymore. Their jaws hung open. Their pale skin shimmered faintly under the dim light, streaked with blood dried black down their necks and chests.

If this was a prank, someone had gone all in with makeup and effects.

He looked at Jungkook again and gave a small nod.

Okay. He’d try.

But the moment those things moved, they were gone.

Please, he thought as he reached for the apple.

Please take the bait.

If they made a sound—any sound—those things would be on them in seconds. No second chances. Just teeth.

Taehyung reached slowly toward the apple. Hand shaking violently. His jacket rustled. He grimaced, praying the sound wouldn’t attract them. He clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt and grabbed the apple, carefully lifting it up instead of dragging.

He felt Jungkook’s gaze on him and almost wanted to curse at him. His heart raced and he hoped they couldn’t hear it hammering against his chest.

Jungkook was so close to biting his own fist as he watched—with bated breath—Taehyung lifting the damn apple like it was a live grenade. He started getting dizzy by how tense his body was. And the kitchen reeked of blood and mildew, thick in his throat as he breathed through his mouth.

He was so scared watching the creatures swaying back and forth, gaping. Then Taehyung crept as close to the hallway as possible. Jungkook’s breath hitched as he followed the motion of Taehyung’s arm and then heard the apple thud upstairs.

It bounced, creating a series of thuds that resembled footsteps. They flinched as both creatures let out a low guttural growl and slammed their bodies into the doorframe trying to run towards the hall. They heard the one that had gone to the lounge make his way back and Taehyung stared, holding his breath, as the three of them stumbled up the stairs.

The monsters clawed their way up, slipping and climbing back up. The saliva mixed with blood streaked the steps. A foul smell crept up to Taehyung’s nostrils. The same stench they had smelled the previous day. So that was it.

Taehyung quickly signaled for Jungkook to move as soon as the monsters were on the second floor. They both rose and fled out the door. Jungkook spun, slammed the door, trapping the three inside.

He stumbled—that same damned mysterious shoe.

His eyes darted right.

Limbless corpse. Lying in a pool of blood, half-hidden in shadow. His stomach dropped. Not an animal. One of them.

He felt his arm being yanked and Taehyung started to run, with him following right behind.

Their bags bounced heavily against their backs as they ran, feet pounding the ground harder than they wanted. Behind them—stumbles, snarls. The creatures had heard.

Jungkook spotted a tree and pushed ahead. He stopped short and crouched by it, lacing his fingers together just like the night before.

“No! Let’s keep running!” Taehyung panicked when he saw Jungkook stop. But Jungkook stayed in place.

“We’re surrounded, Kim” he hissed, shaking his hands urgently as Taehyung approached.

“Fuck!” This better worked.

Taehyung groaned and stepped on Jungkook’s hands, bracing himself against the trunk. He scrambled up, bark scraping against his arms, just as a couple of the creatures came charging from the shadows.

He reached down in a rush, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and hauling him up with surprising ease.

They both grunted, dragging themselves nearly to the top of the tree.They found a stable place to sit. The branches, almost level with the trunk, formed a secure platform. They positioned themselves a little distance apart, enough to feel safer but still close enough to keep watch. From this height, the creatures were out of reach, at least for now.

The weight of their bags made it harder, their limbs shaking from effort. Below, the creatures gurgled and snarled, circling the trunk.

Taehyung’s hands were grazed and bleeding. Jungkook’s pant leg had torn open at the knee. But they didn’t make a sound. They clung to the branches, muffling their breaths with shaky palms.

Eventually, the monsters seemed to lose interest, stumbling away into the dark. Like a sea of bodies.

Jungkook dangled his feet as he let out a shaky breath when the monsters seemingly didn’t care about them anymore. “I’m gonna pass the fuck out” he leaned against a branch. “Nice one, Kim. You’re pretty strong” he glanced at Taehyung with one eye open.

Taehyung was flushed and his skin felt hot. He heaved—strong, sure, but it was pure adrenaline that let him pull Jungkook up. In a normal setting, he wouldn’t have managed. He grunted in response, too tired to formulate words.

“So,” Jungkook muttered, still dazed, “are these things real, then?”

He glanced down at the house below, where the group was still slamming themselves against the front door.

Apparently, it was holding up.

Good job, door.

Taehyung stared too, lips pressed tight.

Had they done the right thing leaving?

Now they were stuck at the top of a tree, in the freezing dark, and God knew how many degrees below zero. Thankfully this big ass tree was around, otherwise he wasn't sure if they'd have made it far.

But was it enough? Did these freaks know how to climb trees?

Taehyung glanced around while the chilly air bit at his cheeks, losing their warmth fast. He saw more houses, doors wide open, positively swarmed. Behind his back a thick mist.

“We should find shelter soon,” he muttered under his breath.

Jungkook blinked. The wind howled past them like it had a voice of its own.

He snorted.

“No,” Jungkook said quickly. “We should stay. Cover up with our blankets. Wait them out.”

He wasn’t about to give up the safety of the tree. No way.

“Fine.” Taehyung grumbled, unzipping his bag. He pulled out both of their blankets and handed Jungkook's with too much force.

"Oof" Jungkook grunted. "Asshole."

Then Taehyung's hand brushed against something else—his camera. He paused, then pulled it out too.

Without a word, he turned it on and began filming the scene below.

Jungkook squinted at him.

“Uh… what are you doing?”

“Documenting.” Taehyung panned the camera, zooming in on one of the creatures snapping its jaws like it was chewing air.

“For what?”

“In case we don’t survive and someone finds it. Could be helpful.”

Jungkook turned his whole head, staring at him like he’d grown a second one.

“Helpful for who? Fucking historians?”

“Future generations.”

Taehyung calmly filmed to the end of the street, adjusting the focus like it was just another day at the office.

Jungkook blinked slowly. “Did you fucking hit your head?”

The camera buzzed.

“Nope.”

Jungkook raised his brows and looked away before the urge to kick Taehyung out of the tree got the best of him.

He yanked the blanket over himself and curled up, knees to chest. His body already ached. Tomorrow was going to suck.

The camera whirred softly. The only sound breaking the stillness.

Jungkook exhaled and shut his eyes.

Then everything came crashing down.

Taehyung felt his throat tighten. His arms trembled as the camera shook slightly in his grip. His eyes stung and, finally, he let the tears fall—quiet and hot. The monsters below blurred in his view, their outlines smearing with movement as his vision broke apart.

Jungkook heard the sniffles, but kept his eyes shut. His lip trembled. The sob sat just behind his teeth like a threat. He clenched his jaw, but it punched through anyway—just a breathy, broken sound he couldn’t hold in.

This was real.

Too real to be a prank. No cameras. No crew. Just blood and shadows and things that shouldn’t exist.

He stifled another sob and slapped a hand over his mouth as a growl rose from below—close. Way too close.

He forced his body still. Willing his heartbeat to slow.

He opened his eyes and flicked a glance at Taehyung—only to find him shaking too. Whether from cold or fear didn’t matter.

They were done for.

The cold had settled deep into their bones, but neither moved. From up in the tree, the world looked far away—like it belonged to someone else now. The monsters below had grown quieter, less frantic, their shapes shifting slowly in the dark. Taehyung stared out over the ruined street, blinking sluggishly, his breath fogging in the cold air. Jungkook leaned against the trunk, eyes barely open, his hand still gripping the edge of the blanket as if it might keep him anchored.

Neither spoke.

There wasn’t anything left to say.

The weight of what they’d seen, what they’d escaped, hung between them. That first night—the sirens, the screams, the chaos they hadn’t understood—it made sense now.

Too much sense.

And yet, the numbness was stronger than the fear.

Taehyung shifted slightly, camera shaking a little.

Jungkook’s breathing evened out.

The tree creaked under their weight, but held.

For now.

                          ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Namjoon slammed the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt, making Jimin flinch.

A bloodied man sprinted across the street, screaming at them to “fucking leave!”

Behind him, five people snarled and twisted as they ran, limbs jerking at unnatural angles.

“They’re everywhere, Joon,” Jimin gasped, eyes wide with horror. His knuckles went white as he clutched the dashboard.

The creatures caught up—and tore into the man without hesitation.

Namjoon wiped the sweat from his brow. The windows were rolled up tight, the AC long dead. In the back seat, the production crew whimpered quietly.

They were supposed to pick up Taehyung and Jungkook at the mansion.

Two days ago people had started turning—no one knew how, and no one knew what to do.

“Do any of you know another way to the mansion—besides the main avenue?” Namjoon asked quietly, his voice barely audible despite the sealed windows.

He glanced at the crew through the rearview mirror. They sat frozen, eyes wide, shaking their heads—too rattled to think clearly.

Outside, the man's cries were muffled by the glass, but the horror in them still seeped through. Jimin shut his eyes and turned away, pressing a hand over his mouth as the sounds dragged on.

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, flicking his eyes toward Namjoon and clenching his fists. He avoided looking at the horror unfolding outside.

“I don’t know if we should go. Maybe—”

“You want to abandon them?” Namjoon hissed, his jaw tightening.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Of course not!”

The leather seat squeaked as he twisted around to face Namjoon fully. “I was gonna say we should wait for them to come—they must be on their way.”

Namjoon turned back to face the road. He didn’t look away from reality.

The creatures lingered near the body, no longer feeding—just listening.

Their heads shifted sharply at the slightest sound, ears tuned like predators in the dark.

Blind, but terrifyingly aware.

Namjoon watched one tilt its head toward the faint creak of metal as someone in the car shifted.

The sound guy whimpered.

Namjoon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

How the hell were Taehyung and Jungkook supposed to get past that?

He glanced at Jimin, who was staring straight ahead, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. He put his hand on Jimin’s thigh and squeezed gently.

“We’re heading for the plaza,” Namjoon said, eyes locked on the map taped to the dash. “If they break through, that’s the only fallback point we’ve got.” Though he wasn’t sure if it was to reassure Jimin or himself.

They had to hope Tae and Kook would make it there. If they could escape. If they could get past the monsters.

Please, be safe.

Please don’t be too late.

Chapter Text

The night was quiet—too quiet, the kind of stillness that settled like a heavy weight, suffocating the world around them. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open, the darkness swallowing him whole as the disorientation hit. His body felt stiff, numb—his legs completely unresponsive. He struggled to sit upright, but as he moved, a cold, jagged shock shot up his spine, making him wince. 

Jungkook squinted into the darkness, confusion clouding his mind, but then—bang. A sudden jolt ran through him, and his breath caught in his throat.

The helicopter’s whir was deafening.

It cut through the quiet like a blade slicing into the still morning, and the very air around them seemed to tremble beneath its weight. He could feel it in his chest, a low hum, vibrating through his ribs, making everything around him buzz with raw energy. The blades churned, forcing the world into a chaotic, artificial dawn. Jungkook’s senses snapped awake, pulse quickening. His feet bumped into something soft yet firm, and his heart skipped a beat.

Nearby, Taehyung groaned quietly at the unexpected bump to his leg. His camera, still clutched tightly in his hands, wavered slightly with the tremor in his body as the noise punched through the night.

“Shit,” he hissed, lowering the camera, irritated. “What the fuck, man?”

Taehyung's hair danced wildly from the force of the wind. His locks stuck to his forehead. His eyes were barely visible—a dark device quickly swiped his curls away, while glaring red lights at Jungkook.

Jungkook’s confusion turned to sudden realization, his eyes wide, blinking at the other man. "You’re still filming?"

Taehyung shrugged, unfazed by the chaos around. “They’re still here." He nodded at the creatures.

Jungkook’s gaze darted around, still absorbing the madness, and he muttered under his breath, “Are you crazy?”

His words were drowned out by the low snarls of the zombies below—heads snapping upward like they were all connected by some shared hunger. The hum of the chopper mixed with the primal sounds, sending a chill through the air. The world was shifting, waking up too violently. It was a sound, a feeling, that both of them knew too well.

Only a few meters away stood the monsters. They swayed side to side as they listened to their surroundings. Apparently Jungkook's voice didn't get to their ears and the realization made him sigh in relief.

They'd still have to speak in hushed voices though.

“Didn’t you sleep at all?” Jungkook blinked the heaviness away. Squeezed his eyes shut a couple of times.

He stared at the angry red light on the camera, waiting for a response he wasn’t sure he’d get—

“I don’t sleep at night,” came Taehyung’s tight voice. He was clenching the camera. Knuckles white. Maybe he was cold.

Jungkook lowered his gaze. It felt like he was getting into dangerous waters. Like he knew the reason. He wasn’t going to prod.

The chopper’s thunder soon became a soft hum that mixed with the low gurgles of the creatures and they both sighed quietly after the commotion.

A few strays started to follow the helicopter far into the street. Taehyung followed their movements quietly with his camera, filming for the first time the other side of the street. A blue tinted fog swallowed the figures as they slowly made their way into the mist.

The whirring of the camera was the only sound breaking the silence between them. Jungkook didn’t even dare move—unless he wanted to attract unwanted attention. He closed his eyes and slowly shifted position.

As he moved a few leaves rustled and twigs snapped making him stop in his tracks, breath catching in his throat as the most minimal sound would earn a couple of growls.

The contents of his backpack made it impossible to rest his head properly. His fingers ached with the bite of cold as he moved it around. The edges of his camera digging on his neck. He sighed and turned his head to look at the sky behind the leaves. It was ink-black, not a hint of morning light in sight. Not even stars—just an empty stretch, as if the world had shut its eyes.

He heard the distant chirping of birds and squinted his eyes, checking his watch. 5.00 AM, around an hour until dawn.

Taehyung gulped as he spotted a lone zombie-like creature venture back into the group. Their jaws snapped, almost as if in communication. His blood ran cold.

These creatures seemed… intelligent. That's bad.

“I’ve been observing them,” Taehyung whispered suddenly. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Trying to find us a way out.”

His movements were barely perceptible as he adjusted the camera.

“You think we can escape?” Jungkook sighed. Below them were a lot of those things. How could they climb down without making noise?

“There’s always a way.”

Taehyung shifted slightly, letting Jungkook stretch his leg properly. He zoomed in with the camera—

click-click-click

The device struggled to focus. His breath hitched at the sound.

Some of the creatures snapped their heads toward the noise. His heart skipped a beat.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook had caught the flicker of panic. He sat up again, pressing his hand to the trunk and glancing around it toward the monsters.

A few of them gurgled—loud, wet noises—as if alerting the others. Then, quiet again. He felt disgusted and scared. 

“I think they’re trying to locate us,” Taehyung whispered. His skin had paled; his bottom lip was tucked between his teeth.

Jungkook stared at him, wide-eyed. A shiver shot up his spine.

“That’s just great,” he muttered, slumping against the trunk with a huff. He bit his lip nervously, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We’re never getting out of here,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “...Stuck in this damn tree.”

Taehyung hummed again, and Jungkook’s blood boiled. He had just woken up and was already irritated. Not even by anything Taehyung had done—just… that he wasn’t doing anything.

And also because he couldn't think of a way out either. It was frustrating to say the least.

Jungkook shook his leg, the sharp taste of blood flooded his mouth from biting his lip too hard.

The motion made his clothes rustle—too loud in the quiet night. His breath caught.

Taehyung’s hand shot to his knee, gripping hard and stilling him. Jungkook flinched.

“Be quiet,” Taehyung gritted out.

“I am quiet,” Jungkook huffed, slapping his hand away.

“You just woke up and haven’t stopped complaining since.”

Taehyung’s voice wavered under the stress. He nearly dropped the camera in his haste to pull his hand back. Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me for disliking the situation.”

“You got us into this situation.”

Jungkook's jaw dropped. Mouth hung wide open.

“I'm pretty sure I saved our asses,” he squinted at the other man. Had he not thought about climbing up the tree, they'd have become monster food.

He sat cross-legged on the narrow branch and winced—the bark digging sharply into his skin.

Taehyung grunted and swung his legs over the branch. Jungkook’s breath hitched as he saw him nearly slip. His hand twitched toward Taehyung’s arm before stopping himself.

He was fine.

Yawning, Taehyung rummaged through his bag and pulled out a few old flashlight batteries. Jungkook furrowed his brows, curiosity piqued, as Taehyung balanced two small batteries in one hand.

Jungkook crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. “What’s that for?”

“I want to test something,” Taehyung said, gripping a battery and glancing down the street. Jungkook followed his gaze—and got it instantly.

“You’re insane,” Jungkook muttered. “This could go so badly.”

“Yeah, listen—”

Taehyung leaned forward.

“Throw it at the roof of the furthest house,” he pointed. Jungkook’s brows lifted. “We need to see how far they can hear.”

“We already know they’ve got insane hearing,” Jungkook hissed.

Taehyung sighed. “Yes. But—” he held up a finger, and Jungkook wanted to punch him. “We don’t know the range. And that’s the part we need.”

Jungkook stared at the far-off house. If the creatures heard it and went after the sound? They’d have a chance. If they didn’t? Wasted. If they traced the sound back to the tree?

...Disaster.

“So,” he breathed. “If they move, we climb down and run.”

Taehyung grinned. “Exactly, Jeon.”

He raised the camera again, filming as he narrated the plan. Jungkook juggled the battery nervously. Below them, the monsters twitched at every rustle in the trees.

“Wait,” Jungkook muttered. “How certain are you that this'll work?”

Taehyung scanned the street. “I’ve been watching them all night. They react to basically everything—except animals.”

Jungkook tensed.

“That’s why we test.”

Taehyung stumbled slightly, and Jungkook instinctively grabbed his arm. His nerves were stretched thin.

“Can you not fall off the damn branch?” Jungkook snapped. “Let go of the camera before it kills you.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue and shifted back, massaging his shoulder. “If I fall, I fall. Saves you the trouble.”

“Saves me the trouble,” Jungkook scoffed, jaw tight. “I just don’t want to see your stupid body hit the ground.”

Taehyung’s grin was smug. “Aw. Touching.”

Then, with a deliberate glance at Jungkook;

 “But the real question is… can you even throw it that far?”

Jungkook choked on a laugh. “You wish I’d miss.”

He rolled up his sleeves, cold air stinging his arms, and eyed the distance. Far—but doable. He clenched the battery.

“I got this,” he muttered.

“Let’s see it, then,” Taehyung said, camera zoomed in. He waved the battery he held to Jungkook. “In case you do miss it.”

Jungkook scowled, readied his arm, and flung the battery hard. It whistled through the air, vanishing into the dark.

Clank.

A second later—

A thunderous snarl erupted below.

Guttural howls. Screeches. The creatures surged toward the sound.

Jungkook flinched and instinctively grabbed Taehyung’s arm, who nearly lost his balance, breath catching.

“Their noise is loud enough to cover us climbing down,” Jungkook whispered.

Taehyung was still for a second, staring. The sound itself froze him to the spot. He let out a trembling sigh.

The scene terrified him, watching the monsters clawing and moving erratically around, trying to tear and bite, made him doubt his plan. With such a threat, were they even capable of moving, knowing those things were just meters away?

“We don’t need your throw, then,” Jungkook said, pulling him back.

Taehyung gulped and shoved the extra battery into his pocket with a trembling hand. His eyes flicked to his bag—and stopped on a small motion sensor.

Jungkook saw it too.

His stomach dropped.

“Please tell me that thing’s off,” he croaked.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s off, idiot.” He dug out the object from the bag and stared at it with furrowed brows.

Jungkook glared. “What are you planning now?”

Taehyung frowned while lost in thought, holding it like a fragile plan.

Jungkook's eyes flicked from the small device to Taehyung expectantly. His stomach churned and his breathing stuttered, feeling apprehensive.

“We could use it to buy more time.” Taehyung whispered suddenly, his voice raspy.

Jungkook considered it. The motion sensor would blare as long as there was movement. It would successfully attract attention—but how long before the monsters realized it meant nothing?

“There’s a problem, though,” Taehyung muttered, raising the camera again. His face had no emotion.

“It activates the second you switch it on.” Jungkook echoed. Already feeling the headache.

“Exactly,” Taehyung whispered, locking eyes with him.

They stared at each other in

silence.

If it worked—they could escape.

If it didn’t—

They’d die before they hit the ground.

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Jimin flinched when a body slammed against his side of the car.

 They had been driving slowly to avoid the monsters, but the chaos unfolding around them drew small cries from everyone inside.

 The crew in the back whimpered nonstop. They couldn’t see anything from where they sat, but the sounds—the snarls, the banging, the screams—were just as terrifying.

Namjoon gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white. They drove straight through the edge of a fire, his vision blurry—not just from the smoke, but from unshed tears.

 The thick smoke turned everything ahead into a shadowy screen, and each breath burned.

The fire crackled as it licked the undercarriage of the van. It got warmer, the air thicker.

The creature slammed into the passenger window, leaving a bloodied streak as it dragged its face across the glass—its jaw chomping mindlessly, desperate to get in.

“We’re two blocks from the plaza,” Namjoon muttered, eyes flicking to the smoke-stained map in his lap. He exhaled slowly. “Soldiers should be barricading the area—letting survivors into the shelter.”

Jimin’s voice was tight. “How far are Tae and Kook from the plaza?”

 He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sight of the scorched bodies out of his memory.

Namjoon didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched.

Too far.

“On foot? At least an hour,” he finally said. “Longer if they’re dodging those things.”

 If they had to keep hiding? If they had to wait for a chance to move?

God.

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered under his breath. The sky was beginning to pale—not quite morning, but the faintest suggestion of it lingered on the horizon.

Would daylight even help? These monsters couldn’t see. Maybe it would make it easier to navigate—but that didn’t matter when they weren’t the only threat out here.

As if to prove the thought true, Jimin’s gaze snapped to movement on the sidewalk.

Three people jumped an old woman.

 She screamed, clutching a small pack to her chest.

 They wrestled it from her—then ran, not even sparing a glance back.

Jimin watched in horror as the woman lay sprawled on the pavement, trembling.

 Helpless.

 Behind her, in the distance, the low gurgle of a monster’s growl echoed through the street.

She turned her head just enough to see them closing in.

And she knew.

Jimin lunged across the console, draping his body over Namjoon. Heart hammering, drenched in sweat, he slammed the horn, begging it to work.

The blaring sound ripped through the night.

Everyone in the car jumped. One of the crew stifled a scream.

Outside, the creature halted.

Its head jerked toward them, jaw twitching—snapping once, twice.

It had heard.

They froze.

Even Jimin held his breath, sprawled half over Namjoon’s lap, eyes wide with dread. He couldn't hear anything past his loud beating heart right in his ears. His blood rushed to his brain making him dizzy.

One... two... three...

Namjoon counted in his head.

Jimin did the same.

Four... five... six...

And then—

The monster turned back toward the old woman.

It resumed its slow, shuffling steps as she cried on the ground, unaware that her fate had only been delayed—by mere seconds.

Her screaming was cut off by the loud growling. She fought, kicking them away to no avail.

“Next time you do that, I’m throwing you out of the car,” a crew member whispered from the back.

The silence after was sharp—dangerous.

Namjoon’s eyes snapped up to the rearview mirror, his glare cutting through the smoke-filled car.

“Mind repeating that?”

His voice was tight. Controlled. But everyone could hear the edge beneath it.

Jimin slowly pulled himself off Namjoon’s lap, who cradled his arm protectively, his jaw clenched.

“I’m just saying,” the producer muttered, glaring right back. “Why endanger all of us like that?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I acted on impulse.”

 Jimin lowered his head, voice quiet.

Namjoon shot him a worried glance. It had been reckless—but he’d be lying if he said the same thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done for her,” Namjoon muttered, his hand brushing gently down Jimin’s arm.

Jimin nodded, throat tight. He swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in his eyes.

Namjoon turned his gaze to the others in the car, steady and unwavering.

 “And no one’s throwing anyone out of this car.”

 He held each gaze a moment longer than necessary—lingering on the producer’s.

The man exhaled and looked away.

 “I’m sorry too. It scared me.”

They continued down the street, swerving to avoid the mangled bodies strewn across the asphalt.

Suddenly—

 A single gunshot rang out.

Glass exploded. The side-view mirror on Namjoon’s side shattered, fragments slicing the air.

Jimin gasped sharply, eyes locking on the bright red dot now resting squarely on Namjoon’s forehead.

Namjoon didn’t move. Through the smoky haze, he could see the red light glowing steady—too steady to be anything else.

They had arrived.

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

“It’s becoming clearer now,” Jungkook shivered, clutching the blanket tighter around himself.

The leaves rustled softly and the wind howled. The figures below didn’t react.

“Do you think daylight would change anything?” Taehyung had stopped recording to stuff everything back into his bag. The motion sensor danced around his fingers.

“For these creatures maybe not.” Jungkook clenched his fists, lips pressing tight. “But it could attract some unwanted attention from… people,” the last word barely a whisper.

Taehyung flicked his eyes to him. Jungkook avoided his gaze. Taehyung hummed.

“You really hate people, huh?” He picked up the recording device again.

Jungkook sighed, looking at the paling sky.

“Humans are the worst.”

Taehyung didn’t answer but his silence said enough. He stared at him a bit longer before dropping the motion sensor into a side pocket of his bag. They had both agreed to try the plan as soon as light broke out—and well, it was time. He zipped the bag shut. The finality of the sound made both his and Jungkook’s pulse spike.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He felt like he was gonna be sick. This was a life or death situation after all. His fingers shook uncontrollably and his stomach churned uncomfortably. 

He heard teeth chattering and glanced at Jungkook who also seemed affected by the dread of having to climb down. Taehyung smiled to himself as Jungkook held onto a branch to sit upright.

“They’re so still you’d think they’re asleep,” Jungkook muttered craning his neck around the trunk. He slung his bag over his shoulder, bracing himself on the tree.

Taehyung hummed. “I wonder if they do sleep.”

“Didn’t catch that in your documentary?” Jungkook whipped his head at him. He tied his blanket around his bag’s strap.

Taehyung scoffed quietly. “If only I had an infinite supply of batteries.”

“Huh.” Jungkook shifted on the branch, pulling his legs up like he was prepping to pounce. He strapped his fat fanny pack securely around his hips—crotch now uncomfortably close to Taehyung’s face.

Taehyung shifted.

“So you’re saying you don’t have all the answers,” Jungkook teased.

“It’s been like seven hours. Give me a day and I’ll write you a thesis,” Taehyung muttered, swinging his leg over the branch until he straddled it.

They stared at each other. Breaths hitched. Jungkook swallowed.

 “It’s time,” Taehyung said softly, hand sliding into his jacket pocket.

“Where are we running to? Which direction?” Jungkook fumbled with his words—and with the straps on his bag.

“My house is pretty far” Taehyung tapped his chin thoughtful. “Yours was closer—”

“I don't live there anymore.” Jungkook cut him off. His jaw set.

Taehyung stared at him for a moment. Jungkook avoided his gaze, as usual.

“I didn't know you guys moved. Is it clos—”

“It's further.”

Alright, then.

Taehyung looked toward the hazy line of the horizon. East, where the creatures lingered. West, where only unknowns waited.

“We chuck this east,” he said, holding the device up between them.

“So we run west,” Jungkook finished.

Taehyung nodded. He strapped his camera around his neck, eyes locked on the shuffling bodies below.

The monsters twitched, bumping into one another. A constant hum had been droning on for some time, making them wonder if they'd even hear the sensor.

“Ready, Jeon?” His fingers shakily curled tight around the motion sensor, thumb hovering over the power button.

“As ready as I’ll be, Kim.” Jungkook leaned forward, preparing to drop.

Beep~. The sound stretched.

The second the device chirped to life, a dozen heads snapped upward in eerie unison.

Jaws slackened. Muscles tensed. Gurgles sharpened into full-throated snarls.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

Taehyung didn’t wait. He chucked the sensor as far as he could—watching it arc, then crash onto a crumpled car halfway down the street.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The car alarm blared to life, a warped howl of metal and static.

The monsters lost it.

They lunged, a clumsy mass of screeching limbs and teeth, tripping over one another to reach the noise. Bodies slammed into the vehicle, rocking it violently.

“GO!” Taehyung hissed, already swinging down.

They scrambled. Hands burned. Bark tore at their palms. Jungkook slipped halfway down but caught a branch. Landed hard.

Didn’t stop.

They ran.

Bags thudded against their backs, breath white in the frigid dawn air. The world was streaked in that too-real orange-pink—sunrise painted in blood.

A few twigs snapped under their weight as they made their way out of the backyard. The air cutting at their cheeks and stinging their eyes.

Behind them, a few stragglers veered off the main pack. Caught their movements. They moved fast.

Taehyung glanced back. His instincts screamed ‘run’.

 But the filmmaker in him twitched.

He turned, yanking the camera forward—and filmed.

He ran backwards as he zoomed in on the approaching figures. He stumbled on his feet and fell hard on his backpack.

Jungkook heard the thud and turned.

Taehyung was a second away from being bitten.

He pushed past. It felt like time slowed down. The adrenaline surged through as he ran.

Taehyung landed a kick on one's legs, making it stagger. Jungkook kicked another of the monsters straight in their stomach, sending it backwards. He punched one in the face and crouched down, grabbing Taehyung’s backpack.

He pulled hard, forcing Taehyung to stand up.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” he hissed as he tugged at him along the emerging street. More monsters following now.

At least the creatures weren't as fast thanks to their broken limbs. Not all of them, that is.

Taehyung pulled himself free and continued running beside Jungkook. The snarls were getting closer.

“If they catch us, Kim, I swear—” Jungkook cut himself off.

They veered left, sprinting past shattered storefronts and blackened wreckage. The air smelled like rot, smoke, and gasoline. Their throats started to sting.

Taehyung spotted a service alley and pointed.

They darted into the alley, their shoes slapping against cracked concrete, the sharp turn nearly throwing them off balance.

Taehyung skidded to a stop and yanked open a rusted door tucked between two dumpsters. 

Jungkook didn’t hesitate—he shoved Taehyung through and slammed it shut behind them, the screech of hinges echoing down the alley. He hoped they hadn't learned how to open doors overnight.

Darkness swallowed them.

Silence hung in the air as the both of them tried to catch their breaths as silently as possible. Jungkook wanted to cough all the smoke out but he could hear something shuffling outside.

It wasn't safe.

The air around them was stale and, as Taehyung walked toward the wall, the steps echoed in the room. It sounded wet.

Jungkook bent over, hands on his knees, gasping. “Kim” he panted, dragging a hand down his face. “What the hell was that?” He hissed now, eyes sharp on Taehyung.

“I wanted a close up.” Taehyung fixed the camera, seeing the low battery sign angrily staring at him.

“You wanted a close—” He cut himself off, disbelief sharp in his breath. “Kim, are you stupid? You could have died,” he gritted, cocking his head at him.

“So?” Taehyung finally looked at him. Unfazed.

“So—” Jungkook squinted at him. He noted his deadpan expression. His eyes were unreadable, sweat trailing down his brow. Jungkook’s jaw clenched hard.

 “If you’ve got a deathwish, don’t drag me into it.” He turned away, fingers raking through his hair—

“No one asked you to yank me up.”

Jungkook stopped mid-step, spine stiffening.

He turned his head just slightly, his voice flat. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

Taehyung didn’t answer. He was crouched again, adjusting the camera’s settings, like nothing had happened.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Or rather—What the fuck do I care.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “You could at least pretend to care you almost died.”

“I do care.” Taehyung didn’t look up. “Just not in the way you want me to.”

Jungkook stared at him for a long beat, his fingers twitched.

“And which fucking way is that?"

Taehyung flicked a glance at him. “You want me to thank you or something,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Jungkook snapped. “The least you could do is that."

Taehyung shrugged.

Jungkook's blood boiled, nodding his head. He opened his mouth to speak—

Outside, claws scraped against metal. Something snarled.

Taehyung held up a hand. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

Jungkook froze.

They stood there in breathless silence, staring at each other, listening as the creatures shuffled past the alley—one of them pausing right outside the door.

A low growl.

Taehyung stood up. Pressing his finger to his lips. He approached the door. Pressed his ear to it and the metal bit into his skin, cold and rust-flaked, humming faintly with the sound of gurgling on the other side. He tried to figure out how many were lurking outside.

It sounded like only one. He signalled for Jungkook to come and listen too.

“How many?” he mouthed, closing his eyes.

Jungkook huffed, shifting back into survival mode. He only heard faint shuffling. Distant. Moving away. He lifted one finger up.

Taehyung nodded and looked around. “We can’t use this door. It's too loud,” he spotted a window a few feet over the door. He pointed.

Jungkook inwardly groaned. He shook his head, the window was too damn high. There was no way they could get to it without making noise.

Looking around, he clicked his light on, the beam cutting through dust and shadows.

Taehyung kept guarding the door. "About time you got us out," he muttered to himself. Jungkook heard him.

Jungkook scoffed. “Okay,” he walked further into the room. “As if your escape was a total success.” He shrugged. Flicked his light to the back. Came face to face with another door.

He whistled softly and instantly regretted it when a growl rumbled from outside. He tried the handle. Not jammed. He heard Taehyung approach him.

“Good job, Jeon.” A pat on his back. Then, lower—“Keep it up and I might just promote you,” Taehyung murmured near his ear.

Jungkook recoiled like he'd been burned. “Who made you the boss?”

Taehyung smirked. “I was born the boss, Jeon.”

Gross. Jungkook wiped at the back of his neck like the words had stuck to his skin.

He pushed the door open slowly, light cutting into the dark like a blade. Dust swirled in the beam, and the air smelled like damp wood and mildew.

They both stilled.

Silence.

Then the faint scuttling of something—rats, maybe—disappeared into the corners. Their eyes scanned the room slowly. Alert.

The room had large windows and you could see cars parked outside. It smelled faintly of cigarettes and whiskey.

Jungkook exhaled. “Clear… for now.” 

“Only one way to find out,” Taehyung murmured, tightening the strap of his camera.

They stepped through the doorway—quiet as shadows. Jungkook moved to the right, his steps so light he seemed to float.

Taehyung took the left side. Hands itching to press record. It was a beautiful chaos.

They spotted broken glass littering the floor, stained with dried red wine—expensive, by the look of it, and chairs carelessly strewn around, blocking some of the way, as though it had been abandoned in a hurry.

It was a bar. And the front door wasn’t barricaded. Jungkook tiptoed to the window and looked outside. The sun was visible now. And so were a couple of the creatures stumbling around. Hopefully not looking for them.

Taehyung checked behind the counter before approaching the windows. He looked through the other one, humming.

“Fuck, where does this lead?” Jungkook breathed. He frowned, already lost in the mess of turns and shadows.

“Back to east, I’m afraid” Taehyung grimaced. He clutched his camera. It was hard to restrain himself.

Great. Jungkook moved toward Taehyung, jaw tight.

When he saw Taehyung holding the camera, he wanted to scream at him again. How was the man so careless? How could he prioritize a freaking camera over his own life? 

“But if we stay silent, it’ll be fine.” Taehyung turned to face the younger. He readjusted his backpack. Jungkook glared at him and adjusted his bag too.

“Sure,” Jungkook grunted. “As long as you don’t pull that shit again.”

“You don’t have to save me,” Taehyung muttered, not looking at him.

Jungkook turned, sharp and fast. Taehyung was smiling—but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did.

They approached the door.

The urge to punch him made him lock his jaw.

“I won't.” Jungkook whispered, holding the door handle. It felt cold and heavy in his hand. Here they were again, about to step straight into death’s grip. “Let’s go already.”

He stopped himself and whipped around suddenly. Eyes wide. He approached the counter slowly and rummaged around.

Taehyung stared at him with a raised brow, until he saw Jeon hold out a knife.

Jungkook observed the large knife and strapped it to his belt.

Taehyung went to look for a weapon himself. “So you do use your brain.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to the floor. He bent down and looked under the tables. “Sometimes,” he shoved some empty beer bottles in his bag. Then, walked back to the door and waited until Taehyung got close.

He glanced at Taehyung again. That damn camera still in his hands. But this time, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

He twisted the handle slowly, hearing it click. It opened softly, the hinges groaned. Both of them froze.

A few meters away, a creature snapped its head up. They held their breath.

It seemed like it was staring right back at them, waiting for them to make the first move before lurching at the two.

It stood still for a moment… then slumped back into its swaying pace, staggering into a wall with a grunt.

They tiptoed out of the bar, turning left where there was no noise.

Taehyung glanced around the streets they walked past.

“Fifteen blocks. Mostly open streets. One overpass.”

“Is this headed to the plaza?” Jungkook wondered when he recognized the bookstore he and Namjoon went to occasionally. They had managed to walk past two blocks unnoticed.

“Yeah” Taehyung looked around. “I’m sure it’s become a shelter—” He cut himself off when a monster turned their corner. They stopped and walked sideways—

The thunderous hum of another chopper cut through the air. It was too loud—like ringing a dinner bell for every monster within miles. The ground vibrated and the monsters snarled loudly. Jungkook flinched inwardly and Taehyung crouched.

“It’s going toward the plaza,” Jungkook whispered, pointing at it.

“We’re on the right track, then.” Taehyung squinted at it as it disappeared beyond the rooftops. Towards a thick column of smoke—too dark for a cooking fire. Too high for anything good.

Jungkook stared after the helicopter. Right track. Toward what, though? Toward safety, or just another swarmed burning wreck?

                    ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

“Jimin—all of you, raise your hands. Slowly.”

Namjoon could barely breathe. His heart pounded so loudly it felt like it echoed off the van walls.

The crumpled side-view mirror glittered faintly beside him. Smoke still lingered in the air.

Behind him, the production team quivered so violently the entire vehicle trembled.

He lifted his hands, slow and steady.

The red laser dot moved—sliding from his forehead to the center of his chest.

A sharp, metallic screech made everyone flinch.

A voice crackled over a megaphone, cold and distorted:

“Driver. Step out of the vehicle and raise your hands above your head. Anyone else moves—

We shoot.”

Namjoon stared ahead, trying to find whoever was speaking. He was only met with a crazy thick fog. He exhaled and unbuckled his belt. “Don't move guys.” He stepped out of the car with both hands raised.

He squinted his eyes. The dark smoke stung and he felt tears pooling in his eyes. The smell of burnt flesh crawled up his nose making it itch and he winced slightly.

As he couldn't see anything beyond three feet away, he started to get desperate. His pulse quickened and his heart lodged uncomfortably in his throat. He felt like his windpipe was closing off and his eyes flicked around, trying to find whoever spoke to them.

He wanted to show they were not a threat. Quickly. The monsters were still out there, getting closer. And they needed shelter.

His breathing quickened and his throat burned. He screwed his eyes shut.

“We're not infected!” He shouted, raising both arms, staying put. “Please—We're looking for our friends!”

The loud screech of the megaphone hurt his ears. He opened his eyes wide, feeling disoriented. The sound seemed to come from everywhere.

“Don't move!”

He stayed still. Broke a sweat.

“Now the rest! Step out one by one and line up next to the car!”

Inside the car, Jimin cursed. He met Namjoon's gaze who nodded almost imperceptibly. He seemed calm but Jimin could see his hands tremble every so often.

Suddenly the angry red dot went back to Namjoon's chest and Jimin’s eyes widened in fear.

“It's okay, come out.” Namjoon rasped. His voice quivered.

“Fuck,” the producer cursed under his breath as he climbed to the front seats. “They're going to kill us.”

The rest of the crew cried silently. The camera man almost puked when the stench hit him.

“They won't,” Namjoon muttered, jaw locked. “Just do as they say” he instructed.

Once all of them got out of the car, the loud screech made them flinch again, ears ringing.

“Hands up and walk toward the fence.”

They started to walk aimlessly, stuck to one another and the crackle came back.

“Walk straight, and slowly.”

“Slowly…as if we weren't surrounded by fucking monsters” Jimin hissed. He stayed as close to Namjoon as possible, staying away from the rest of the crew, suddenly too aware of their glaring.

Namjoon slowed his pace and let Jimin stick to him.

“It's okay, just stay calm.”

The producer whipped his head around trying to check if there were any monsters approaching, his hand twitched as his pulse picked up, unable to see anything past his hands.

The smoke seemed to hug him like vice, suffocating him and he felt short of breath.

The camera man heard the producer hyperventilating and got scared. He thought the other man could panic and start screaming, putting them all in danger, but thankfully he stayed quiet while he stumbled on his feet.

The production manager was sobbing quietly. She had her eyes screwed shut, her body trembling with fear as she clung to Jimin, whose back felt uncomfortable with the slick sweat sticking to his skin.

As they lined up, a soldier emerged from the fog—gun raised. Helmet, visor, body armor. Military.

“Hands on the fence. Now.”

They obeyed.

The soldier stepped forward, pulling a small lantern from his vest and shining it directly into their eyes.

“Bloodshot. Probably from the smoke,” he muttered into his radio. “No dilation. No visible bite marks.”

Namjoon swallowed hard.

“Sir—please,” he tried again. “Our friends might be out there. Two of them—”

“Quiet.” The soldier cut him off with a sharp look.

Namjoon swallowed. A bead of sweat travelled down from his temple all the way to his jawline, dangling there before dropping to his hands. He swore he heard the sweat hit his skin.

Time was bleeding out. The more they entertained these soldiers the less likely they were to get the help needed to rescue their friends.

Namjoon wanted to scream—wanted to shove past and run. But one wrong move, and they'd all be shot.

The soldier walked away to talk something on the radio while he had them with their hands stuck to the railing.

Namjoon needed to figure out a way for them to get in fast and arrange a search party or something.

“Jimin,” he whispered, leaning towards the shorter man. “We need a distraction, I have to get in—”

The crackle of the radio interrupted him while the soldier approached them.

“Two subjects nearing the east gate,” a new voice crackled through the soldier’s radio. “They’re being followed. Undead—fast ones.”

The soldier stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Let this group through. Get ready to fire.”

Namjoon whipped his head toward the east, eyes wide.

A screech pierced the air—a warped, familiar beep.

“That’s a Rem Pod,” Jimin gasped. “Taehyung—!”

They were here.

The gate groaned open with a metallic shriek. The soldier waved them in roughly.

“Inside. Move!”

They stumbled forward, boots thudding against the dirt.

From the fog—shouts.

“Wait! WAIT!”

“Don’t shoot! We’re not infected!”

Namjoon spun around.

Through the gray veil, two figures stumbled toward the fence—backs bent, panting hard. One limped slightly. The other waved both arms over his head.

“Hold your fire!” Namjoon shouted to the soldier. “I know them!”

The soldier raised his rifle. “Stay back!”

“It’s Jungkook!” Jimin yelled, his voice breaking.

“And Taehyung! Please!”

The younger men emerged into view, ragged and exhausted, faces streaked with ash and sweat. Taehyung clutched a camera to his chest like it was part of him. Jungkook’s shirt was torn at the shoulder, a long scratch across his collarbone. Neither of them was bleeding badly, but both looked one step from collapsing.

“Not infected,” Jungkook gasped. “No bites. No symptoms!”

Taehyung stumbled and caught himself. “We—we had to draw them away. They’re still coming.”

The snarls grew louder. Shadows twisted in the fog behind them.

The warning shot hit too close—dirt exploded at Jungkook’s feet, knocking him backward. He landed hard, dragging Taehyung with him.

They vanished in the fog. A loud, vicious snarl echoed.

"TAE!" Jimin yelled.

A creature lunged toward Taehyung who had been in the process of getting back up.

Taehyung whipped around quickly, shoved the camera lens on the monster's mouth and kicked its legs making it stumble. He grunted, falling on top and quickly sliced through the monster’s temple with the knife. The stench made him gag.

He was suddenly janked up by Jungkook. Who he almost stabbed him too. 

They re-emerged from the fog.

“We’re harmless!” Taehyung shouted, breath ragged. “Check us if you want—just let us in!”

The soldier hesitated for a second—then barked into his radio:

“Open the gate again—NOW!”

Jungkook and Taehyung darted through.

The soldier’s jaw ticked. He didn’t lower his weapon, not until the gate slammed shut behind the boys. Not until he saw the way Jungkook collapsed like he’d run through hell.

Jungkook dropped to his knees, gasping. Taehyung bent over, resting his palms on his thighs. The gurgling outside faded slightly, but the fence rattled from impact. Something had slammed against it.

Everyone stood still—frozen. Hearts pounding.

Namjoon reached Jungkook first and dropped to one knee beside him.

“You okay?”

Jungkook gave a breathless nod. His fingers clenched around the strap of his bag. “We made it.”

Jimin was already checking Taehyung for bites. “You stupid son of a—” he muttered, voice choked up.

Taehyung managed a crooked grin. “Did you see me stab that fucker?”

Jimin rolled his eyes and hugged him tightly anyway.

Namjoon turned to the soldier. “Sir—what now?”

The soldier lowered his weapon, just slightly. “All of you. Front yard. Don’t move unless you’re told.”

They all nodded without a word.

The sniper came rushing back holding Jungkook at gunpoint. “You, stand up, now!”

Everyone looked at Jungkook as he slowly got on his feet, hands raised. A confused look on his face.

“Explain that cut, now!”

Jungkook's mouth went agape. His eyes widened, lost for words. “I—” he looked around panicking, “I was climbing down a tre—”

“Branch scratch. I got it on camera.” Taehyung cut him off, waving the device next to his head.

The soldier pointed at him, then. He walked up to Taehyung and took the camera from his hands.

“You stay here.”

They all nodded. Watching the sniper run back inside. The other soldier went to speak on his radio. Standing still in front of them.

Taehyung walked past Jungkook to stand next to Namjoon.

"Aren't you glad I filmed it?" 

Jungkook sneered but his shoulders trembled slightly. “Lucky for me, huh?”

                   ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t notice,” Jimin grunted as he sank to the floor, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Namjoon sat beside him and handed him a cup of steaming tea. “It was all over the place. Sirens, screaming…”

Taehyung stretched his legs out on Jimin’s other side, leaning back on his hands, eyes drifting to the high ceiling above. “We were deep into the investigation. Pretty much tuned everything else out.”

“Still,” Namjoon said, “didn’t it seem strange? All that noise?”

Jungkook, who stood across from Namjoon, let out a long sigh. “We were near the forest. Thought it was maybe a deer or something.”

Taehyung nodded. “And sirens could’ve been anything.”

Silence settled over them for a beat as they watched the people around the shelter—some lining up for food, others accepting blankets and spare clothes.

The soldiers had let them in after a tense inspection. Jungkook had almost been denied entry because of the gash on his shoulder, but thankfully Taehyung had shown them the footage—proving it came from a fall, not a bite.

“It also didn’t help that we couldn’t use our phones,” Jungkook muttered. “And once the power cut, they were useless.”

“Right. That phone ban,” Jimin added, his voice tight. “I hated it the second everything went to hell.”

Taehyung didn’t reply. He was fiddling with his camera, the soft whirr of the lens clicking into place drawing Jimin’s attention.

Jungkook noticed too—and scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he nearly got himself killed for that stupid camera.”

Namjoon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He wouldn’t stop filming.” Jungkook lifted his hands, sarcastically air-quoting. “Documenting. We’d just climbed down from the tree and instead of running, he decided to record the monsters. Almost got himself eaten. If I hadn’t—”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit,” Taehyung cut in without looking up.

Jungkook shot him a glare. “No. I saved your ass.”

Taehyung finally looked up, locking eyes with Jungkook. His voice was cold. “Again. No one asked you to.”

Jungkook leaned forward, jaw clenched. “Yeah, I'm sorry for not being the jerk you want me to be.”

The glare they shared was sharp enough to slice through the room. Neither backed down.

Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples. “Nothing’s changed, huh.”

“Why would it?” Jungkook muttered, softer now. Almost like he didn’t expect an answer. He leaned against the wall and looked away.

Silence. Just the occasional clatter of trays and quiet murmurs from nearby survivors. The wind howled outside, followed by another low gurgling sound—closer this time.

Namjoon noticed Taehyung subtly lifting his camera, filming bits of the crowd again, especially when the noise outside intensified.

“I’m actually kind of impressed,” Namjoon said after a moment, tone lighter. “You two managed to survive all that with barely any info on these things.”

Jungkook shrugged, sitting down and pulling his knees to his chest. “Once you figure out they’re blind, it’s not hard to work around it.”

“Still,” Namjoon continued, “the way you used those sensors to throw them off? That was smart.”

Jungkook hummed, then flicked his gaze toward Taehyung. “That was him. He’s not as dumb as he looks.”

Jimin exhaled sharply. “Can you not?”

Jungkook shrugged again. “I’m just saying.”

Before anyone could respond, a soldier stepped onto a small platform, holding a notepad. He cleared his throat, and the low hum of conversation in the room quickly died.

“Everyone will be assigned to sleeping quarters,” he announced. “Women, children, and the elderly will be moved first. Please line up at the desk to provide your personal information before being escorted.”

Silence fell like a stone. It was as if, all at once, everyone became aware of just how tired they really were.

The soldier stepped down and made his way toward Namjoon.

“You’ll remain in the quarantine section,” he said firmly. “Medical clearance is still pending, so you’ll be staying down here. I expect full cooperation.”

“Yes, sir,” Namjoon replied, bowing his head.

“Thanks for not putting that bullet through my skull.” Jungkook tried to joke with the soldier who looked at him with unreadable eyes.

“I missed.”

The soldier turned and walked off without another word.

Jungkook gaped.

“I thought we were already cleared,” Taehyung muttered, rubbing his face.

“It takes a full day to process all the results,” Namjoon sighed, sinking back down beside Jimin. His shoulders were tight with tension.

“The least we can do is cooperate,” Jimin said gently, lacing his fingers through Namjoon’s. “We’ve got nothing to hide.”

Jungkook quietly watched their hands—fingers laced, movements in sync. He bit his lip and looked away.

 He’d known Jimin and Namjoon had something going on, but it still hit him weird. Like he needed time to digest it.

To his other side, Taehyung leaned against a pillar with his eyes closed, looking frustratingly at peace.

 So calm. So detached.

 Jungkook felt a flicker of envy. His own mind wouldn’t stop racing.

What happens tomorrow?

Will they move us? Force us into some frontline? What if—

A soft shuffle snapped him out of it. Namjoon had stood and was heading toward the line. Jimin followed closely behind.

 Jungkook sighed and got to his feet as well, noticing Taehyung rising beside him in near perfect sync.

They all filed in, gave their information, and returned to wait for further instructions. The tension had dulled into a heavy, collective exhaustion.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck as he sat again, eyes drifting around the shelter.

 He didn’t care where he slept at this point. A bed would be nice—but honestly, even the floor sounded better than a cold, wind-whipped tree branch.

Jungkook noticed Taehyung rubbing his lower back and smirked at his discomfort. At least I’m not the only one suffering.

“Can’t wait to not sleep on a tree branch,” he muttered, before he could stop himself.

Taehyung spared him a glance, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a smile.

“It was your idea,” he said, voice low. “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”

 He walked over and sat nearby—still keeping about ten feet between them.

Jungkook scoffed, blood rushing for no good reason. “It was the best option at the time.”

Taehyung shrugged. “We’ll never know.”

Their exchange was cut short as the soldier from earlier returned, clipboard in hand.

“We’ve arranged two rooms for your group. Rooms Three and Four,” he said.

 He motioned for them to follow as he led them out of the main shelter building and into a smaller one closer to the gates.

Taehyung visibly shivered as the cold night air hit him. “Jesus.”

Jungkook briefly considered offering his blanket—but stopped himself. Taehyung had already tugged his jacket tight around himself. He saw him flinch—barely noticeable—when the wind howled again.

Jungkook frowned.

The soldier halted at the end of a dim hallway, turning to face them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—dark circles under his eyes, face pale and drawn under the flickering fluorescent lights.

“Room Three has two beds. Room Four has two bunks. You’ll split between them as you see fit.”

 He gave a curt nod, then turned and walked off, boots echoing down the hall.

The group stood there for a beat, taking in the warm, stale air.

Namjoon broke the silence, stifling a yawn. “Me and Jimin will go together. Doesn’t matter which room.”

“I’m going with you guys,” Taehyung added, rubbing his eyes.

Jungkook opened his mouth, but the words stalled. He didn’t want to be left alone, but saying it felt weak. “Yeah. Me too,” he said, finally—hoping no one noticed the pause.

“Alright then,” Namjoon said, glancing between them. “We’ll take the bunk room. Anyone object?”

No one did.

After making their beds, they took turns using the shower.

Jungkook stood alone in the hallway, staring down at his arms. Ash clung to his skin in stubborn patches. Small streaks of dried blood—not his—were splattered along his forearm. Tiny cuts from the tree bark stung faintly.

The door creaked open behind him, then clicked softly shut. A hand landed gently on his shoulder, rubbing in a slow, familiar motion.

“Hey, Kook,” came Jimin’s voice—soft and tired.

“Hi.”

Jimin chuckled weakly. “Feels like forever since we last talked.”

Jungkook tried for a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Yeah... and everything has changed now.”

Jimin didn’t respond right away. He just gave his shoulder a small squeeze and stepped around to face him.

“How are you feeling?”

Jungkook took a breath, eyes flicking down the hallway. “I don’t know. Tired? Scared.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You?”

“Same, honestly.” Jimin huffed through his nose. “Can’t believe this is real.”

“Yeah.”

A brief silence stretched between them.

“How was it?” Jimin asked. “With Tae?”

As if summoned by his name, Taehyung stepped out of the shower room shirtless, towel around his neck. He glanced in their direction, then wordlessly disappeared into their room.

Both Jungkook and Jimin followed him with their eyes.

Jungkook sighed, unsure how much to say. Should he tell Jimin about the mansion? About the nightmare? Did Jimin even know about Taehyung’s insomnia? It didn’t feel right to talk about it—especially when things between him and Taehyung were... complicated.

So he fell back into what he did best—pretending not to care. He didn’t. Not really. Still, something about it sat wrong in his chest.

“Same old,” he muttered. “We mostly ignored each other. Kind of hard to do when it was just the two of us.”

Jimin hummed, looking slightly disappointed. “I was hoping you two would make up.”

It's too late for that.

“Nah. It’s fine the way it is.”

 Jungkook shifted, suddenly restless. He scratched his arm, avoiding Jimin’s gaze.

“I’m taking the shower next.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook gave him a tight lipped smile before disappearing into the shower room.

                   ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Taehyung stood outside, camera in hand, silently filming as it panned across the gate.

The sky had deepened to a bruised gray, night approaching as the last beams of orange filtered through the smoky screen. The cold was creeping in, biting at his fingers. It had been a long, exhausting day—physically, mentally, in ways he hadn’t fully processed yet.

He had almost died.

And yet... he felt nothing.

He didn’t understand why it wasn’t affecting him more. Maybe it was shock. Maybe his brain hadn't caught up. Everything still felt distant. Like it had happened to someone else.

The camera kept rolling.

He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He just couldn’t stop filming.

 Something about having them—the creatures—on screen, in frame, made them feel less real. Like they were characters in some horror documentary. Fictional. Contained. As if the lens could trap them.

It was stupid. He knew that.

 They had nearly killed him. His hand still ached from the fall. His ribs were sore. He could still feel the heat of their breath when they lunged.

But he was alive. And the camera was still on.

A low gust of wind whispered past him, ruffling his hair. It howled softly into the distance, carrying with it the last wisps of smoke and the stench of burnt, rotting flesh. The thick haze that had blanketed the sky earlier was finally thinning.

Still, the gurgling.

That awful, low hum—it was faint, but constant—echoing from the trees beyond the gate.

It made his skin crawl.

They were still out there.

 Watching.

 Waiting.

As he slowly zoomed out with his camera, something flickered at the edge of his vision.

A figure—just a blur by the corner of his eye.

Taehyung froze.

Lowering the camera, he turned toward the gate—and his breath caught in his throat.

A man stood there.

Still. Silent.

Even in the dim light, Taehyung knew exactly who it was. He would’ve recognized that posture anywhere—rigid, square-shouldered, eyes full of quiet disdain. That unreadable expression that made Taehyung feel eight years old again.

He hadn't seen that look since he was twelve.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He blinked, heart hammering. The man didn’t move.

Slowly, Taehyung lifted the camera again, angling it toward the gate. The screen adjusted—pixel by pixel, grain by grain—until the figure vanished.

Gone.

Like he’d never been there at all.

The gate creaked.

Taehyung jumped.

That was enough.

He turned and hurried back inside, heart racing, boots echoing against the cold floor.

He stepped into the room and paused.

Everyone else was fast asleep. Curled up, wrapped in blankets, breathing deep and steady—exhausted after the day they’d survived. The day he had survived.

He knew he wouldn’t sleep. Not after that. Not with his nerves strung so tight.

 Still, he crawled under the blanket, facing the underside of the top bunk—Jungkook’s bed—and stared at the wooden slats.

The voices in his head were quieter now, fading beneath the weight of the silence.

He let his eyes fall shut.

He tried to pretend it was over.

Taehyung jolted up drenched in sweat. As his eyes took in the dark surrounding him, he felt a soft sob escape his lips. He flinched. His voice was higher in pitch. He pulled his hands out of the covers and blinked. Child hands.

He felt another involuntary sob escape.

“Mommy~” he cried out. His chest hurt, he couldn't breathe. The shadows on his wall danced around him and he could almost hear them laughing.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. He rubbed his eyes, whimpering. When he looked up, it wasn't his mother the one standing at the door frame.

“D-daddy—”

“How many times have I told you not to wake me up at night, Taehyung?”

Taehyung's lips quivered. “I'm scared.”

“You shouldn't be.” The man stepped in fast, startling his son. “Get up,” he extended his arm and grabbed Taehyung's.

“Dad, where's mommy?” Taehyung felt the tears stream down his face. His heart raced as he felt the fear lock him up.

“Get. Up.” The man pulled him out. “Men don't fear the dark, Taehyung.” He pulled hard while walking out of the room. “Get it already.”

His father walked all the way to the door next to the staircase, leading down to the basement.

Taehyung squirmed in his arms, trying to pull free. “I don't w-want to go in there.”

“Quiet.” His father opened the door and shoved Taehyung inside. “You know how it is.” He muttered. The door rattled from Taehyung’s little pounding. “You can come out when you stop being afraid.”

Taehyung cried out, banging on the door.

“Let me out~! Pl-please!”

He heard his father walking away and Taehyung stuck his back to the door, sobbing uncontrollably. He shivered as he tried to adjust his vision. It was so dark he couldn't see his hands in front of him.

He climbed down the stairs and ran to his usual corner, crouching down. 

He tried to stifle his cries with his hands.

He felt watched. Pulled his knees to his chest starting to rock himself. A cold layer of sweat covered his small body.

Taehyung whimpered as he trembled violently.

"Mommy~" his pitiful cries echoed in the dark.

“Taehyung!”

He looked up, eyes moist and sticky. Only darkness.

“...Hey, T—” That voice sounded familiar.

Taehyung flinched hard.

“With me. In and out. In and out.”

It was Jungkook's voice. Distorted.

“J-jungkook?”

What was Jungkook doing here? They hadn't met yet. He covered his small ears and kept sobbing. But the voice was inside his head.

“Kim, you're safe here! Please breathe with me.”

He breathed in sharply and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Kim!"

He flinched.

“In and out.” Taehyung tried to focus on his breathing, following the voice. He felt his heart slowing down. It was working—

What the fuck.

He sighed. Chest fluttering.

A hand closed around his wrist and—suddenly, he wasn't in the basement anymore. 

He didn't recognize the room he was in, but he knew the man crouching next to him.

“W-what the fuck,” he rasped.

Jungkook let out a long sigh. “God, you were thrashing violently.” He let go of his wrist. “I thought you were having a seizure.”

“W-where are the others?” He looked around the dark room. “What time is it?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I don't know where they went. And it's past midnight.” 

Taehyung tried sitting up but felt too exhausted.

Jungkook pushed his shoulder back gently. “No, lay down and focus on breathing.”

Taehyung flinched.

Jungkook pulled away.

“Don't—” his voice trembled. “Don't touch me.”

“Okay.”

“Don't ever fucking touch me.”

Jungkook frowned. “I'm just helping.”

“No” Taehyung sat up. “You're being annoying again. Stop doing this.”

“What am I doing exactly?”

“Pretending you care.” His chest heaved. “Only to shut me out later. It's fucking annoying.”

Jungkook flinched. His hand hovered midair, unsure whether to stay or pull back. He gaped at Taehyung. “I… wasn’t pretending.”

He sat back. “I'm just trying to help you—” 

“Stop it.”

“What do you want from me, Kim?”

“No. What do you want from me?" He pointed accusingly. "Make up your fucking mind.”

Jungkook stared at him. His chest stung. He was  actually trying to help. Why did Taehyung have to make it so difficult.

“Ever since you came back. You've been giving me emotional whiplash and I'm fucking tired.” Taehyung spat. “If you dislike me so much, just stay away for good.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. He didn't dislike—anyone. His blood boiled. He was so tired of always being accused of some shit.

Enough.

“You're right," he stood up. "I shouldn't have come back at all.” 

Taehyung glared, unblinking, while the silence dragged on. Their hearts pounded in sync — too loud, too real.

Jungkook's eye twitched. He inhaled deeply as he glared back. He felt suffocated.

“Especially not after your fucking show ruined my life. Painting me like a fucking g—” he choked up. “You have no idea what it did to me.”

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to gape. His throat closed up. “What do you mean—”

A sharp buzzing sound cut him off, followed by a crash that made the ground shake. Instant screams erupted around the compound.

Taehyung shot to his feet as Jungkook flung the door open. They ran outside and saw Namjoon and Jimin running back at them. The filming crew scrambling behind.

“A helicopter crashed.” Jimin said hurriedly, trying to push them inside. “The fence is down!”

People were gathering. The producer gasped loudly. “Get back inside!”

Jungkook pushed past to get a better view and he saw some soldiers trying to force the gate closed—the fence was blown out.

"Stay back, kid!"

He was about to turn around— 

A low groan cut through the chaos. Peering through the smoke, he spotted a soldier pinned beneath the wreckage of the chopper. Flames licked dangerously close. The monsters were approaching, drawn by the burning soldiers. It was horrifying.

Before he knew it, he was sprinting. His blood pounded. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning out his friends’ shouts. All he could see was the soldier, hand outstretched, desperately trying to pull the twisted metal off himself.

“Kid! Get back here!” He heard in the distance.

He made it past the smoke. He saw the hand. He grabbed it.

“I'm here!”

The soldier groaned.

“W-watch out for them!”

He looked behind. A soldier had turned. They were biting another soldier on the ground.

“It's okay. I've got you” he lifted the tail with both his arms. The metal groaned under his grip. “Can you crawl out?”

“Yeah,” the man grunted.

“C-could you-hurry-the fuck out?” he gasped.

“Jungkook!!” They heard different voices calling.

Then the metal screech of the gate. Clank. It closed. The echo reached as they stared in shock.

They had just been locked out.

The soldier Jungkook was helping up chuckled humorlessly.

“Figures.”

Jungkook turned back toward the gates. He could still see Taehyung on the other side—frozen, mouth open, fists pressed against the bars. Behind him, Namjoon held the back of his head, fear in his eyes, while Jimin argued with the soldiers.

“I'm sorry.” Jungkook turned to look at the soldier.

The soldier hummed, shaking his head. “It's fine. Thank you—”

“Jungkook.”

“Thank you, Jungkook.” He cleared his throat. “‘m Yoongi,” he slumped slightly, looking at his ex-companions. "Let's get out of here.”

Jungkook nodded before turning to watch his friends again. The smoke and fire made their figures warp and he could barely make out their faces. But, as he looked at his friends, he met Taehyung's gaze, and for a split second, something unspoken flickered between them.

He gulped and walked to the other man, who was checking his gun. He saw some monster getting interested in the clicking sound and he clenched his fists.

“It's time to go.”

They hid behind a car. When all the monsters gathered around the wreckage, they heard the shrill creaking of the gate.

Jungkook looked past the fence. His friends were making noise for distraction. He saw Taehyung holding his camera and he sighed. Namjoon nodded at him. And he and Yoongi ran.

They ran until morning broke.

Chapter Text

Nothing could be heard but their harsh breathing,  wheezing.

Jungkook was almost certain he busted a lung by running nonstop. 

He had trouble breathing as they hid behind a wrecked car. The street had been swarmed by the monsters not long ago until some explosion diverted them away from them.

It had been… three days? Maybe—since he rescued Yoongi. They had not exchanged words other than some hurried signs. The soldier had cried the whole first day. He cried and threw up, then cried some more.

Jungkook didn't ask. He understood, to some extent. The man was probably in shock and sad about his colleagues. And Jungkook himself was too preoccupied with planning on how to get back to his friends. With this new addition too.

But the thing was that, thanks to that wreckage, the plaza was completely swarmed. Which meant that his friends were probably forced to flee the place. And he had no way of knowing where they could've gone. 

Yoongi had said they probably went to the palace, but that was pretty far.

Hopefully the creatures haven't found their way there.

And now they were just running. Running the opposite way to his friends, farther from safety, comfort. Normalcy.

After catching their breaths, Yoongi suggested they go to the mall a couple of blocks down. They could find some useful things there if the place hadn't been scavenged yet.

They were nearing the mall when they noticed the doors were blocked by wrecked cars. They would have to round the block.

“I must've freaked you with all my crying, the other day,” Yoongi suddenly rasped.

Jungkook, taken by surprise, gasped. “N-no. It's fine. T’was a pretty normal reaction a-after all.” He waved his hands nervously.

Yoongi chuckled. “I guess.” He kicked some lone rock. “Still, I'm sorry.”

Jungkook looked at him from the corner of his eye. It felt like Yoongi wanted to say more but had the words stuck in his mouth.

“I—” Yoongi's voice cracked a little. “I lost my lover there,” Jungkook's eyes widened. “It felt like my chest was ripped open.” 

They stopped walking. The wind howled as it caressed their red cheeks. Nothing was heard but their soft breathing.

Jungkook gaped, lost for words. He couldn't imagine losing a lover, but he knew about losing people you love. “I'm so sorry.” He raised his hand, about to pat the shorter one on the shoulder but restrained himself. 

Yoongi pressed his lips together and breathed out of his nose. “Thanks.” He looked at Jungkook. Eyes glazed over. “It hurts but, life goes on.” He started walking again. “Thanks to you”.

That made something uncomfortable sit in Jungkook's stomach. They way Yoongi said that felt wrong. Flat. 

Is he thanking me or... resenting me?

His tongue felt heavy and something lodged in his throat. What could he even say to that?

Yoongi realized that Jungkook hadn't started to walk yet and looked at him over his shoulder, stopping briefly.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound like that,” he tried a small smile. “It's true I wish you didn't, but you saving me had to be for the best.” He gave him a thumbs up. “Besides, I didn't want to turn into one of those monsters.”

Jungkook remained quiet. Unblinking. A pointed look on his face.

“Fine.” Yoongi sighed. “I hate you a little for helping me. But I hate myself the most for just lying there.”

This made Jungkook flinch. “You were crushed by the helicopter.” He furrowed his brows. “What could you have possibly done?”

Yoongi shrugged with raised brows. Somewhat taken aback by Jungkook's honest emotions. “I don't know. Not get crushed, maybe?” He turned around and kept walking.

Jungkook huffed and followed him quietly. The golden bath from the sunset long gone, making the world seem bleak.

Their only companions for now were their, barely there, shadows, they too on the verge of disappearing as the light faded.

“Can I ask what happened?” Jungkook asked softly.

“Why we crashed?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Hmm.” They walked slowly and cautiously. The gravel crunched underneath their feet. “The pilot turned, out of nowhere—"

They stopped at a gurgling sound. Distant, but there.

“Bit my partner—the copilot, and then everything went to shit. Lost control pretty fast. None of us reacted quick enough. The pilot went nuts and crashed the helicopter. Fire caught up fast. I don't even recall how I ended up under the tail.”

Jungkook could just blink in response. Yoongi chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. The odds were not in our favor.” He closed his eyes, the screaming suddenly flooding his mind. His friends were on fire while the pilot lunged at them, tearing their flesh away with every bite. 

He cleared his throat. “The belt buckles locked for some reason. We had to cut them while the ship swayed from side to side. My partner cried out for help and I couldn't get there in time.” He swallowed the bitter taste and squeezed his eyes shut. “Our pilot was restrained by the seatbelt but still managed to cause such damage—”

Yoongi felt a hesitant hand squeeze his shoulder. He nodded, swallowing the lump.

“Then we crashed and—” he sighed. “I thought everyone was dead.” He looked at Jungkook. “Then came the screaming—” he choked up.

He couldn't anymore. Yoongi ran his hand through his short hair. The screams fresh echoing in his mind. His hands shook and he rubbed circles on his chest, a sharp pain piercing through it.

Yoongi breathed. Calmed himself down. Squeezed his eyes shut when he felt them prickle. He saw Jungkook observing him and he nodded back at him with a tight lipped smile. He tried to focus his mind on the breathing, in the quiet of the disastrous world. On the horrible stench of charred skin and smoke.

“I'm fine.”

Jungkook shook his head. If he had learned anything from watching Taehyung during his panic attacks, it was to let it out and settle. “Y-you can cry.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “But now we need shelter.”

They both sighed, looking at the sky.

“This shall pass.” He patted Jungkook on the back and signalled for him to keep walking.

Jungkook felt numb. He saw tragedy wherever he looked. His hands twitched with his own anxiety.

Yoongi’s story made him think about his own struggles. Despite what others might call a heroic act, Jungkook knew it had been reckless. He’d just fought with Taehyung again, told him how hurt he was, but held back the full truth. Maybe he was still reeling from that urge to just let everything out.

He ran to Yoongi because he needed to escape. It wasn’t about saving him. He had said too much—felt too much—and the words, the feelings, were choking him. So he ran. He wasn’t sure what truth he was trying to escape, but it was there, breathing down his neck.

He physically ran from something that rang in his mind, something shapeless and formless. It made no sense. But it was there, a feeling that only sparked fear inside him.

And now this man—this stranger—was his companion. Jungkook hoped he could be of use. He felt too incapable, too explosive.

With both of them so vulnerable, it felt like something could go wrong at any moment. He only hoped he wouldn’t make any more hasty decisions.

They saw the other doors barricaded too. It was only a couple boards. A futile attempt to keep the monsters out… or in.

The air felt strangely warm out, so they stayed there staring at the broken city. The smoke of the fires curling into the sky. The burnt rubber smell, unpleasant.

Yoongi sat on the side of a fallen barrel, lighting his cigarette. He watched Jungkook run his fingers through his hair, getting stuck at the end. He pulled a little too hard, wincing.

“Relax, kid.” He blew out the smoke. “Take a seat.”

Jungkook turned to him, expression unsure. He hesitated before moving toward the barrel.

Yoongi looked past Jungkook’s shoulder and caught an interesting sight.

Among a row of dark, wall-mounted displays at the mall’s entrance, only one screen flickered to life. It showed the grinning faces of two young men—one very familiar—mid-laugh, with the title of their YouTube show glowing beneath them.

“Unscripted,” Yoongi muttered, making Jungkook lift his head with a shocked look. He pointed behind him. “That's you, isn't it?”

Jungkook whipped around and groaned—loudly. He clamped a hand over his mouth and glared at the ad.

He blushed. Of course it was the only one lit. The one they made to announce season two.

He took a good look at himself. Too young, too angry—you could practically see the annoyance written all over his face—

Fuck, did I always look like that?

“Isn't that other dude the one that screamed at you back at the plaza?” Yoongi whispered, way too close now, pulling him out of his thoughts. “The one holding the camera?”

Jungkook sighed, eyes screwed shut.

“Yeah… Kim.” He turned, walking back to the barrel. “Fuck him, really.”

“Woah.” Yoongi grimaced. “You’re not friends?”

He stepped in front of Jungkook now.

“He seemed pretty preoccupied with you back there.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Friends,” he let out a dry chuckle. “Anything but. He’s a control freak.”

Yoongi silently stared at him, watching Jungkook’s expression shift—from sour, to sad, to angry. His nostrils flared.

“He is also mad at me.”

Yoongi sat next to him, taking another drag of his cigarette. The dim orange glow barely stood out against the darkening sky.

“Why?”

Jungkook’s breath came out shaky. “He…” He shook his head.

“Come on. You can tell me.”

“I kept kind of helping him, and he kept saying I didn’t mean it.”

“What does that mean?” Yoongi let the smoke out softly, watching it curl into the empty air.

Jungkook clicked his tongue.

“I’m not sure. Like—he said I wasn't genuine with him,” he muttered, head hanging low, almost tucked into his chest. “When helping him.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah. I’m a decent person,” he replied—tone sharper than he meant it to be.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “So… were you doing it just to be decent?”

Jungkook stayed silent.

Of course he wasn't.

He knew he cared about Kim—even if just a little. They used to be closer than this.

The wind whistled, voicing its opinion, rustling the leaves. The sound tangled with the voices running through his mind.

He lifted his head, eyes landing on the smoke rising from the buildings far ahead—where they’d had to leave his friends behind.

He sighed. His chest stung.

“I—I actually don’t know what he wants from me,” he said, voice low. “But I wasn’t doing it just because.”

“You care,” Yoongi hummed.

“Sort of.”

“You either care, or you don’t.”

Jungkook swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and stood up.

“Sure.”

Yoongi watched him pace.

He turned his gaze toward the distant city—how far they’d had to run to get away from those creatures.

His eyes lingered on Jungkook, wearing nothing but a hoodie, stained in blood—Yoongi’s companions’ blood.

The kid looked shaken.

Jungkook had dragged him out from under the chopper, dodging fire and fangs, half-blind from the smoke.

He hadn’t even properly thanked him.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low and a little rough.

Jungkook stopped pacing. Looked at him.

Yoongi pointed at himself, pursing his lips.

Silence stretched between them.

Then he nodded.

“So… you’re famous?” Yoongi tried to lighten the mood.

Jungkook snorted and wandered back toward the screen.

He smiled sarcastically at himself.

“Far from it.”

“Really? You made it to a second season. You had to have had enough success to do that.”

Yoongi stepped closer, his presence solid, trying to offer some semblance of calm even as his own chest still felt tight.

He could tell the topic was getting to him—too raw, too soon.

Jungkook gulped and frowned.

“It was all thanks to him, anyway.”

His eyes scanned the ad. Scanned Taehyung’s smiling face.

He wanted to punch it. Hard.

“Yeah... all because of him,” he gritted out.

His fists clenched, trembling at his sides.

Yoongi placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

Jungkook’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Everything was still too fresh. Raw.

“You okay—of course not.” Yoongi corrected himself softly. “Want to tell me what happened?”

He rubbed Jungkook’s back in slow, soothing circles.

Jungkook tucked his chin to his chest again. His bottom lip pushed out slightly.

He sobbed. Just once. A sharp, pained sound that broke the quiet around them.

What could he lose?

Jungkook turned to face Yoongi.

Bloodshot eyes.

He trembled.

From the cold? The rage? The weight of everything inside him?

All of it.

He sighed—another sob slipping out with the breath, along with a strand of saliva he wiped away too late.

He bit down on his lip. Hard.

He had wanted to tell Taehyung everything. Back at the plaza. When he kept blaming him.

He had almost done it.

“This fucking show…”

His breath hitched. He swallowed hard.

“R—ruined my life.”

Yoongi's brows furrowed as he rubbed his back softly. Jungkook looked really affected by whatever happened. Maybe this wasn't the place to have this conversation. But Jungkook looked ready. 

He was also shivering.

Yoongi took off his army coat and pulled it around the younger. He took him to the barrel and made him sit, taking a seat next to him.

Jungkook took a sharp intake of breath.

October. Two and a half years before the outbreak.

Jungkook had finally finished his longs ass shift at the café and was so ready to pass out in bed until tomorrow.

But he knew he couldn’t.

They were all meeting back at the studio to celebrate the success of the pilot episode of Unscripted.

He still couldn’t believe it.

It had reached 10 million views in two weeks, and it seemed like everyone was loving the premise.

New subscribers. Overflowing comments. So much love.

They were gonna read the comments and reviews together but his impatient ass couldn’t wait to get home and read through all the feedback. His co-workers had told him everything was perfect.

He was curious because he knew he hadn’t performed that well—his growing social anxiety made sure of that.

But thanks to Taehyung doing most of the talking, no one even noticed he’d been panicking.

He could see his house now, just a few meters ahead. He glanced at the mailbox—stuffed.

He jogged the rest of the way and nearly squealed at the sight: letters, small packages, fan gifts.

This was crazy.

It was only a YouTube video. And he was only a nineteen year old boy trying to survive this crazy world.

He moved to his room.

Jungkook sat on his bed, letters scattered all over his duvet. His eyes red as a single tear slid down his face. 

Smile long gone.

The shock made his breath hitch and his heart hammered against his throat as he read the letter written in angry red ink. 

It was profanity after profanity thrown at him. Calling him derogatory names. Accusing him of being a dirty homosexual. A disgusting piece of— 

Jungkook finally let out a broken sob. It wasn't like that. He wasn't gay.

Why were all these people calling him one?

The door to his room flew open.

His father stood under the doorframe. His face red, eyes shaking in an intense glare directed at Jungkook.

What now?

“What is the meaning of this?” He threw more letters at his son's face. “What do they mean, Jungkook?”

Jungkook sniffled and gulped. He wiped at his eyes. “Dad—”

“Who's Taehyung?” His father cut him off while he stepped into the room. Roaming his eyes around at all the letters on the floor.

Jungkook's breathing picked up. “He-he’s my friend, dad. My coworker—”

Slap.

“Don't fucking lie to me Jungkook! He's your fucking boyfriend!”

“W-what? N-no, dad—” his cheek stung. His ears rang. 

His father stepped closer to him, he grabbed his own shirt, showing Jungkook a brown stain all over his chest. “Do you know what this is?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to answer—

“It's coffee. I went to grab coffee and the fucking kid at the counter spilled it on me. Do you know why?”

Jungkook shook his head while rubbing at his cheek.

“Because my son was a fucking homo. And he said it would get worse if he saw you.”

Jungkook's eyes widened.

His father pulled out his phone then. Showing Jungkook his most recent email.

“Read this”

 “Jeon. Hello. I just wanted to inform you that due to the revealed true nature of your son, the Jeon family is no longer welcome at my residence.”

Jungkook’s mind went blank.

Fucking unbelievable.

He started to shake uncontrollably. Tears spilled from his eyes, his mouth hanging open.

“D-Dad—”

“Don’t talk to me,” his father snapped. “This family's reputation is very important and you've just ruined it. My business is in danger because of you.” He pointed at him accusingly.

“Not only are you a useless man that barely graduated. You're also a fucki—”

Jungkook sobbed. “N-no, please, l-listen to m-me—”

“You’re a disgrace to this family—”

“LISTEN TO M-ME!!”

His pained scream cut through the air, silencing his father.

For a moment, they just stared at each other—Jungkook, trembling, pleading; his father, shaking his head in disgust.

“A-are you really going to believe them over your own son?”

“Jungkook, shut up.”

“No.” He let out another broken sob. “It’s not true— I-I’m not like that,” he choked. “Please—”

“I watched the video.”

Jungkook looked up, hope sparking as he reached out to grab his father's arm.

“You did? T-then—”

His father pulled away sharply.

“I saw the way you looked at him.”

Jungkook froze.

His eyes widened further.

He stared at his father, trying to understand, but the words didn’t make sense.

He shook his head.

“N-no. That’s not it,” he whispered. “Please, listen to me.”

“Why did you do this, Jungkook?”

His father stepped back, away from his reaching arm.

“You’ve destroyed this family.”

Jungkook didn't understand. He didn't do anything. He felt like spiraling. How could he solve a situation like this if his dad wasn't listening?

He desperately bit into his fist, sinking his teeth into his knuckles to stifle the cries ripping through his chest.

This couldn’t be real.

Tears flooded his eyes and clogged his breath, rising up his nose with every shaky inhale.

His father just stood there. Watching him.

“I want you to leave.”

The words hit harder than the slap.

They knocked the air out of his lungs.

“A-Are y-you serious?” he croaked out.

His chest ached. He was sure his heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

His father avoided his gaze.

He was abandoning him.

Jungkook coughed, choking on his own tears. He screwed his eyes shut, lips trembling.

“P-Please… d-don’t do this…”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You have one month.”

Jungkook looked up, stunned.

They locked eyes. There was no going back.

“Find your own place.”

His father’s eyes scanned him one last time—

Then he turned and walked away.

                ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Jungkook never went to the meeting.

In fact, he didn’t show up at the studio for the next six months.

He found a place close by. But he couldn’t find the strength to walk through that door again.

His father had stopped speaking to him completely.

His mother pleaded with him to come home, never understanding that it wasn’t his choice anymore. That he no longer had that right.

She would bring his little sister along—too young to grasp that their family had fallen apart.

Some people still recognized him from the show. Some still hurled insults. Others even got physical with him. Luckily he knew self defense. 

But Jungkook couldn’t care less.

There was nothing left to lose.

He switched jobs.

Taehyung was still working at the café.

He couldn’t face him. Too hurt.

So he just… left.

He didn't answer any phone calls, feeling too embarrassed. He thought his friends were only calling out of pity, that they thought the same about him as the rest of the people.

He tried not to blame Taehyung. He knew it wasn’t his fault.

But the resentment only kept growing.

Too loud.

Too bitter.

Then one day, coming home, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Jungkook?”

Jimin.

They’d been neighbors until six months ago.

Jungkook hadn’t answered his calls.

He never told him why he moved.

Jungkook took a breath, closing his eyes for a second before turning around.

“Hey.” He tried a smile. It came out more like a grimace.

“Hello to you too,” Jimin said with a soft laugh, jogging over. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook fiddled with his keys, searching his mind for an excuse. “I’ve been busy with work, actually.”

“I see. Not interested in the show anymore?”

Jimin’s tone was soft. Careful.

Jungkook felt horribly undeserving of it.

“We’ve missed you, you know?” Jimin paused. Smile faltering. “I kept texting. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong.”

He reached out, trying to hold Jungkook’s hand.

Jungkook pulled away—too quickly.

He hadn’t even realized he’d done it.

A flicker of hurt crossed Jimin’s face.

“Sorry,” Jungkook murmured. He rolled his shoulders back and tried to stand tall.

“I guess I really am too much of a skeptic for it.”

He crossed his arms.

Jimin snorted. “Yeah, right. You loved it. You looked like you had fun.”

Jungkook let a small smile creep onto his face.

It was true.

“Was making fun of Taehyung,” he said, almost fondly. “He’s so ridiculous.”

A beat of silence.

Jungkook gulped. His wound opening suddenly.

“He misses you too, you know. All of us do."

Yeah, right.

Why is he pretending so hard to not know?

Jimin gave him a long, pointed look.

“You kinda disappeared.”

He wished he’d vanished for real.

His bottom lip trembled. He bit it hard.

Too late. Jimin had already noticed.

“Are you okay?”

Jimin stepped closer, eyes scanning him up and down.

“You’re too thin, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stepped away.

"You read the comments too, didn't you?" His voice was small. His heart raced uncomfortably.

Jimin's eyes widening as he gaped. Lost for words.

Of course he did. They all did, so why are they insisting so much?

Want to laugh at my face?

“I thought it'd be obvious why I didn't come back after that."

Jimin sighed, his shoulders sagging.

"We read them but we didn't think it'd affect you so much. I mean—"

"My dad kicked me out."

Jimin's eyes almost bulged out in shock. He bit his lip hard, trying to stop it from quivering. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

Jungkook sighed, not having the energy in him for this anymore. 

"It's fine now." He lied.

He fiddled with his keys again.

Jimin nodded. Eyes glazed over and pursing lips.

Jungkook turned, about to open his door when—

“Will you come back?”

He froze.

He could feel Jimin still there, hovering, hesitating. A step closer.

Jungkook’s stomach twisted. Ears ringing.

“I don’t know.”

His voice came out tight. Almost bitter.

“Please, Jungkook. We’re friends.”

Jimin’s voice cracked just a little.

Jungkook closed his eyes.

He wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t sure he could see Taehyung without screaming at him. Without crumbling.

Taehyung hadn’t reached out.

Namjoon had.

Jimin had.

Even their freaking producer, Woo, had.

Was it worth it?

Maybe they were.

“I could give it a try.”

He heard Jimin smile before he saw it.

“Great.”

A step back. Some air returning between them.

“When are you free?”

He screwed his eyes shut. “Saturday.”

“Saturday it is. And since you’re basically across from the studio, no excuses. If you’re late, I’m kicking you. Seriously.”

They both laughed.

Jungkook opened his door.

He didn’t look back.

"Jimin."

"Y-yeah?"

"Not a word to anyone about this—"

"But—"

"It's my condition to coming back."

Jimin sighed.

"Alright."

They didn’t say goodbye.

Jungkook went to the studio that Saturday.

And the next.

And the one after that.

He kept going.

Hung out with them again.

It didn’t go back to normal.

He talked with everyone—except Taehyung.

And it was painfully obvious.

Taehyung didn’t try talking to him either, so Jungkook didn’t feel as guilty.

Maybe Taehyung also felt disgusted by Jungkook, by his presence, but he didn’t care.

It was easier this way.

Two months later, they resumed filming the show.

It was still mostly Taehyung doing the talking.

Jungkook did his best not to look at him more than necessary.

On camera, he engaged. He joked, bickered and laughed.

He tried to be genuine. To enjoy it.

But the moment they cut, he didn’t need to pretend.

So he'd just leave.

The fans and the comments quickly lost interest in the misunderstanding.

Surprisingly.

And he was proud of himself for that. Although he had to admit it hurt him how just a few of them talked about him. 

It only proved he wasn't remarkable. Just like his father used to say. 

He wondered sometimes if his father had ever watched another episode.

If he saw how wrong he’d been.

But it was better not to think about that.

Not unless he wanted to cry himself to sleep.

And that’s how two whole years passed.

Jungkook had his friends back.

He had another source of income.

And the people ignored him.

Just like before.

Just like he needed.

May. 78 hours after the outbreak.

Yoongi held Jungkook as sobs racked through him.

His shirt was damp with the younger’s tears and saliva.

Jungkook muffled his cries with a hand, face buried in the soldier’s chest.

Yoongi took a slow, steady breath.

What he’d just learned was some heavy shit.

Especially for a kid like this.

He ran a hand up and down Jungkook’s back, slow, unsure, soothing.

Lost for words.

It was ugly.

He could only imagine how it must’ve felt.

He had had a taste of rejection—

His own father had nearly disowned him for choosing a different path than the one mapped out for him.

But that? That was nothing compared to this.

This wasn’t about pride.

This was cruelty.

Yoongi stared into the darkness.

The thick clouds of smoke were the only thing he could still make out in front of them.

He listened carefully, just in case—

For that sick, familiar sound of the monsters.

“Jungkook.”

He swallowed.

The kid hiccuped, trembling.

“Jungkook,” he repeated, gently.

Jungkook pulled back and lifted his head.

Yoongi cradled his face gently, offering a small, sad smile.

“Kid… I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that,” he whispered.

Jungkook blinked, trying to hold back more tears. His bottom lip trembled.

He wiped his tear-streaked eyes and sighed, brushing his bangs away as he closed his eyes—trying to keep the cries from returning.

He'd never told this to anyone. It was shameful.

Yoongi let him sit properly next to him, arm still lightly around his back.

“Your old man was wrong,” he said quietly. “He should’ve listened to you.”

Jungkook sniffled and wiped his face again, his eyes glassy but calmer.

Yoongi let the silence stretch, just for a second.

The smoke still coiled through the dark. The world hadn’t stopped for either of them.

“But…”

He hesitated, choosing his words.

“You were also wrong for blaming Tae… Taeyang? Taesun—?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook corrected, voice small but steady.

“Right.” Yoongi gave a soft nod, turning to face him fully.

“You know that, don’t you?”

Jungkook nodded.

Of course he did.

“Good.” Yoongi sighed for nth time. “That's good.”

The silence could only be broken by Jungkook’s small sniffles.

“I can't figure out why—uh—Taehyung wouldn't contact you. But he must've had his reasons too—”

“I know—”

“But he was also wrong for not trying to mend things with you. For two. Fucking. Years.” Yoongi gritted.

A distant scream echoed—cut short. Jungkook flinched. Yoongi didn’t move.

“There w-were times I wondered if h-he got the same hate.” Jungkook hiccuped. “If he pulled away because of that. Or if he just… didn’t want to deal with me anymore. I don’t know what hurts more.”

“It hurts?” Yoongi asked softly, watching Jungkook slowly pull himself back together.

The younger clutched the coat tighter around his frame, as if it might hold him together.

Jungkook nodded, voice small.

“We were kind of friends, and then—it all went to shit.”

He gulped.

“And I just didn't dare talk to him. And it hurt that he didn't try either.”

His voice cracked, shattering the last word like glass.

Yoongi rubbed his arm gently, scanning the empty space around them. Their breaths began to fog in the air.

The temperature was dropping fast.

He leaned in, pressing the back of his hand against Jungkook’s forehead.

Still warm. Good.

Yoongi met his eyes. Steady, calm.

“Okay. Let’s wait until we have his version before we forgive him, alright?”

He said it softly, like it was the most logical thing in the world.

Jungkook frowned but nodded.

Then, quieter—more firmly—Yoongi added:

“For now… let’s work on forgiving you.”

Jungkook felt his nose sting. He tucked his chin into his chest again, shoulders curling inward like he was trying to disappear.

Another sob tore from his throat before he could catch it.

Forgive himself?

He couldn’t.

Not when every piece of him still believed it was his fault.

All of it.

Yoongi felt his chest tighten at the sight.

The kid looked wrecked—not just from what had happened, but from what he still believed about himself.

Guilt clung to him like smoke.

He was carrying more than just trauma. He was carrying blame. And he didn’t even know who he was allowed to be.

Yoongi watched him for a long moment.

This wasn’t about Taehyung anymore.

It was about a boy who had never been given the space to understand himself—who had been taught to hide, to shrink, to disappear.

Yoongi placed a steady hand on the back of Jungkook’s neck, grounding him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, voice firm but soft.

“You got hurt. And you’re still bleeding from it.”

“S-shit.” Jungkook cried quietly, breath hitching as he wiped at his face with shaking fingers.

The wind picked up, cutting through the stillness. Yoongi shivered.

Jungkook noticed.

He sniffled, already shrugging the coat off his shoulders.

“S-sorry. Y-you can have your coat back—”

Yoongi stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice steady. “I’d rather we look for shelter. What do you think?”

Jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy, but a little clearer now.

“Thank you.”

Yoongi gave him a small, tired smile.

“It’s okay, kid.”

He stood, brushing dust from his knees.

“Let’s survive the night.”

                  ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

After easily getting into the mall through the staff door—thanks to the power being out— the both of them sat behind a clothing shop counter.

They took winter coats and wrapped themselves in them while they waited for sleep to let them rest.

Jungkook's breathing was still raggedy and his head was pounding from all the crying and the cold but he felt more calm now that he got all of that out.

He had been so ashamed for feeling this way and he couldn't stand his guilt. And when Taehyung gave him that chance to explain himself, everything bubbled up uncomfortably in his chest. To the point of feeling sick.

“Why aren't you asleep, kid?” Yoongi's deep but soft voice startled him.

“Uh, too many things on my mind, really.” Might as well be honest at this point.

Yoongi hummed and turned around, resting on his side to look at Jungkook.

“You did recount a lot of shit so I'd say it's normal.” His eyes were closed now, relaxed.

“Hmm”

“Besides I get the feeling you've never told this to anyone, right?”

“Y-yeah”

“It's okay, kid. You've taken the first step to healing then.”

Jungkook's lip twitched. There was something that bothered him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘kid’?”

“Uh, because you're a kid.” He chuckled when Jungkook just shot him a glare. “Okay, how old are you?”

“21”

“Ah, sorry, you're right.” He sat up and brought a hand to his chest. “You're not a kid—” he paused for dramatic effect. “You're a baby.”

Jungkook sat up spluttering. “Hey—no, what? How old are you?” He crossed his arms.

Yoongi looked at him dead in his eyes. “27.”

Jungkook stopped breathing. His expression was incredulous. “27” he repeated. “Are you crazy?” He asked when Yoongi just nodded.

“Yeah, see, I'm older.” He laid back down.

Jungkook stared at him. A pout to his lips. He looked like a petulant child.

“You talk like a grandpa.”

Yoongi chuckled to himself. He remembered the other soldiers calling him old fox or grandpa Min. He frowned.

“I'm told that a lot.”

Jungkook didn't have time to notice his frown as it vanished as quickly as it came. He laid back down as well. Pulling the thick coat up to his nose.

“Then, if you're gonna call me kid—”

“Baby.”

“No fucking way.” He shot him a glare and Yoongi snorted. “Then, I'll call you grandpa.”

“Fine by me. From now on, you're my grandson.”

Jungkook scoffed. “This is so embarrassing” he muttered now. He felt tired, his eyes burned and his ears twitched. He was straining them in case he heard some monster walking around.

“As long as you don't feel sad anymore.” Yoongi let out a soft sigh.

Yeah. Not possible.

A tear rolled down Jungkook's cheek after that comment, and then another. He sniffled and felt his head getting hot again.

Yoongi's eyes softened, though he couldn’t see Jungkook’s face in the dark. He could hear enough to understand the weight of the silence between them. A lump settled in his throat.

Dealing with emotional pain, with the kind of pain Jungkook was carrying, was no easy task. Yoongi knew that all too well. But he couldn’t leave the kid feeling like this—like there was no way out. Healing wasn’t a straight path, and he didn’t have all the answers. Yoongi wasn’t completely healed himself, not by a long shot. But he had learned to live with it, to find moments of peace, however small.

He’d seen too much, lost too much, to not understand the importance of taking that first step toward healing. After losing his soldier friends, Yoongi knew: sometimes, you didn’t just heal on your own. You had to heal together.

He turned his head toward Jungkook, the soft rustle of movement pulling him from his thoughts.

“Even when the world comes to a stop and everything feels uncertain,” Yoongi said softly, his voice steady but with a quiet gravity, “time flows, and life goes on. Like the seasons that change without fail. We learn to heal, to grow, and to keep moving forward.”

A hiccup interrupted the stillness, sharp and fragile. Yoongi’s heart clenched.

“I don’t know h-how to move forward,” Jungkook’s voice wavered, the vulnerability cutting through the dark like a razor.

Yoongi sighed, deep but measured. He leaned closer, letting the weight of his words settle between them.

“Tonight, you took your first step. There’s no rush. Take your time. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

“What if I’m never able to heal?” Jungkook’s voice was small, but the desperation beneath it couldn’t be ignored.

“You will, kid.” Yoongi said firmly, with an unshakeable confidence that he didn’t quite feel himself but wanted desperately for Jungkook to believe. “You’re not alone in this. And the sun always comes out.”

There was a long pause, filled with the sound of Jungkook shifting beside him, his breathing still ragged, but quieter now.

“I feel like I’ve been away from it for the longest time,” Jungkook whispered, barely audible.

Yoongi’s heart twisted, but he didn't let it show. If Jungkook couldn't carry the light eight now—he would.

“I know,” he said softly. “I promise, you’ll feel its warmth again. You just have to give it time.”

Time. He'd had a lot of it. And it didn't make anything feel any better. Although Yoongi was right. Talking about it made him feel more at ease. Maybe he should have told Taehyung how he felt earlier. Not let it escalate this much. But how could he? 

“You know…” Jungkook just talked. He didn't wait for Yoongi to respond, didn't even know if he was still awake. “I didn't feel as guilty until we made this stupid challenge.”

He heard rustling.

“Challenge?” Yoongi's voice came out a little rough. Thick. Like he was also dealing with something aside from sleep.

“We had to stay together in this house for 48 hours. Just the two of us.”

“I see.”

“And it wasn't until I saw him suffering from his own shit, that I realized that I had been stupid.”

“How?”

“I a-always cared about him. He was a friend too. But after the incident, I stopped talking to him.” He sighed. “And pretended I felt nothing. During the show I pretended that I was pretending to tolerate him. But I was actually being genuine.”

“What does that mean?”

Jungkook felt his eyes brimming with unshed tears. This was another secret that he was about to reveal aloud for the first time. He swallowed the lump and screwed his eyes shut.

“I always tolerated him but pretended to ignore him. And… and at some point it all got mixed. I didn't know when I was pretending and when I wasn't. I-i got so into my “stoic” role that I came across as a jerk, I guess.”

He was met with silence. He turned his head and saw Yoongi staring at him, he smiled encouragingly.

“I guess I was missing the old times and just acted normal when I wasn't supposed to. I know it wasn't fair on Kim just as it wasn't fair on me. But I had already taken it too far.”

“And when I saw him hurting and tried to help, I suppose it makes sense I looked fake.”

Yoongi remained quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving Jungkook. The silence between them stretched for a little longer than either of them would’ve preferred.

“It's hard to know where to draw the line between what’s real and what’s not, when everything feels like a game," Yoongi said softly. He tilted his head slightly, his voice steady but carrying the weight of someone who knew what it was like to feel trapped in a role. “Especially when you're trying to protect yourself. But that doesn’t make it any less real, what you felt for him. Even if you were pretending.”

Jungkook shook his head, feeling the ache deepen. “But it wasn’t real, Yoongi. Not for him. I was so scared of being honest with him. I thought I was protecting myself, but I ended up hurting him more.”

Yoongi leaned forward, his face serious now. “You can’t always control how others feel, Jungkook. But you can learn to be real with yourself. And that’s the first step in fixing anything.”

Jungkook stayed quiet for a long moment, processing Yoongi’s words.

“I don't know if it’s fixable anymore,” he whispered, his voice shaky. "I don’t know if he’ll ever look at me the same way again.”

Yoongi let out a quiet sigh. “You’ll never know unless you try. It’s never too late to be honest. Even if it scares the hell out of you.”

Jungkook gave a small, bitter laugh. “It’s not about being scared anymore… It’s about not knowing if I even deserve to fix it.”

Yoongi didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at Jungkook, understanding and calm, said everything that needed to be said.

“I'm sorry, I—let’s go to sleep now.”

“Goodnight kid”

Jungkook pulled the coat tighter, letting the weight of everything settle into his chest. He didn’t feel better yet. But for the first time in years… he didn’t feel alone.

“Goodnight, Grandpa.”

                  ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Two days sleeping in the mall had left their backs aching. Yoongi had suggested breaking into the home decor store for beds, but they discovered it was crawling with monsters. The staff had met a brutal end during their shift, it seemed.

They hadn’t spoken of Taehyung, nor Jungkook’s trauma again—it didn’t feel right with so much else going on.

As they stepped out of the mall, Jungkook felt something pressing against his leg. He patted his pocket and gasped.

“What is it?” Yoongi whispered, bow and arrow slung over his shoulder. Jungkook held a combat knife and a machete.

Jungkook pulled out a single AA battery.

“What's that for?” Yoongi asked, frowning.

Jungkook grinned. “A distraction.”

“Distraction for what?”

“In case we need to run. Throw this into something noisy—it’ll draw them in.”

“Huh.” Yoongi took the battery and examined it. “This tiny thing? You think it'll work?”

Jungkook grinned. “Oh, it will.”

“Okay.” Yoongi shrugged. “Let’s get out of here.”

They headed downtown, the mall sitting near the coastline. They figured the sound of the waves might help cover their footsteps. Jungkook, however, worried it would also leave them too exposed—to the monsters, or worse, other people.

“What should we do if we come across other survivors?” Jungkook asked, chewing on his thumbnail, eyes scanning the area.

Yoongi kept his eyes on the path ahead—the same direction they had come from days ago, toward the plaza.

“Well, we’re armed now. That’ll make anyone think twice before coming at us. And I’m still a soldier. Don’t worry too much.” He patted Jungkook’s back.

As they moved through the streets, the full extent of the outbreak's devastation became clear. Fires still burned in some corners of the city, thick black smoke cloaking the sky. The stench of rot and burnt flesh clung to everything. Stores had been looted. Cars were overturned, glass shattered across sidewalks.

Some people were hiding in their homes. Others scavenged, desperately searching for food or medicine. And a few… a few had given in to the chaos, turning violent, attacking anyone in their path.

All the special forces had retreated to government buildings and the palace, guarding the powerful. Ordinary people were left to fend for themselves.

“Where were you headed before everything went to hell?” Jungkook broke the silence after checking the area. It was too quiet. That made him nervous.

“We were told to assist civilians,” Yoongi replied. “Guide them to the plaza. We were a first-aid unit—geared to treat the wounded and protect survivors.”

Jungkook hummed in response, gripping his machete tighter.

“And the accident? How did it happen?” He knew it was a sensitive topic, but after everything they'd shared, it felt okay to ask.

Yoongi let the silence stretch for a moment. He thought of his squad. How scared they’d been. The uncertainty. The chaos.

“We were just about to land when our pilot turned. Out of nowhere. She bit the copilot, and the chopper went out of control. Before we knew it, it hit the fence and we crashed.”

He paused, gaze distant.

“It happened near that damned horde. When the helicopter caught fire, I thought it was the end… until you showed up.”

He chuckled quietly, but there was no humor in it. Only disbelief.

“You were very brave. And very stupid,” Yoongi said, giving Jungkook a pointed look. “No wonder that Kim guy was screaming at you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jungkook groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just saw you trapped under the tail. You were the only one who was still… normal. So I pulled you out.”

Yoongi sighed, glancing around. It was too quiet.

“It’s strange, though. We were complete strangers.”

Jungkook shrugged.

“Well, not anymore. And you needed help. That’s all I needed to know.”

A distant gurgle made them flinch. They moved quietly across the street and peeked around the corner.

Five creatures staggered aimlessly, bumping into each other, snarling at every sudden noise.

Jungkook held his breath as he scanned for a detour. Yoongi, however, stepped into the street without hesitation. He turned back and signaled Jungkook to follow, pressing a finger to his lips.

Halfway down the block, they spotted a soldier. Yoongi rushed toward him, moving fast but silent.

Jungkook stayed behind, watching their surroundings. He kept his machete raised, eyes darting to every shadow. The street was deserted—except for the turned.

He backed up slowly, his shoulders brushing the wall, and strained to hear the conversation. His brows knit in concern.

“They were all escorted south. There’s nothing left to do here,” the soldier said coldly. “You can’t cross the border. You'll be shot on sight.”

“But our friends are there—” Yoongi started.

“You can’t cross the border,” the soldier repeated.

“Can’t you tell them there are two more survivors—”

The soldier cut him off. “You’re a soldier, aren’t you? You should be on duty. What happened to your unit?”

Yoongi stayed silent for a moment. He had forgotten he was still in uniform.

“Soldier—” the man started.

“A wreckage. At the plaza. Four days ago. Medical unit,” Yoongi said tightly, locking eyes with him. He jerked his head toward the street behind him. “That kid saved my life—from the turned, and from the fire. I’m escorting him back.”

The soldier shifted his gaze to Jungkook.

Jungkook swallowed hard under the scrutiny.

The soldier didn’t speak. His hand hovered over the walkie-talkie on his chest, thumb resting just a breath away from the push-to-talk button.

He stared at them, then finally lowered his hand from the walkie.

“You can’t go south,” he said. His voice was low, steady. “That sector's overrun. Two days ago, we lost contact with the last checkpoint. No one's made it out since.”

Jungkook felt something cold settle in his stomach.

“But... our friends—”

“If they made it in time, maybe they’re safe.” The soldier’s expression didn’t change. “But if they didn’t…” He shook his head.

Yoongi stepped forward, jaw clenched. “There has to be another way. We can't just—”

“There’s no border anymore,” the soldier cut him off. “It’s a death zone now. You go in, you die.”

He looked between the two of them again.

“If you're smart, you’ll turn around. Find high ground. Fortify. Stay put until extraction orders come through—if they ever do.”

Then, with one last glance, the soldier turned his back on them and walked off into the smoke.

“So what’s south of the south?” Jungkook asked, idly slicing the air with his combat knife, getting a feel for its weight.

They’d taken shelter in a café not far from where they’d spoken to the soldier. It was quiet, tucked away between buildings, with good visibility through the large front windows. A few pastries still sat behind the display glass—stale, but intact.

Jungkook thought about who would kill for one of those right now.

Behind the counter, Yoongi sat on a stool, humming a tune Jungkook didn’t recognize.

“That could work as a camp,” Yoongi said, still rummaging through the cabinets. “The Olympic gym. Two hospitals. And the Star Hotel.”

Jungkook stopped playing and walked over to sit across the counter, dropping into the chair with a soft grunt.

“The gymnasium’s pretty big.”

“Yeah. So is the hotel.”

“I doubt they’d let just anyone into that hotel,” Jungkook said, raising an eyebrow.

“You think they’d still discriminate in these circumstances?”

Jungkook scoffed.

“Obviously.”

They both chuckled.

“You’re right,” Yoongi said with a small smile.

Jungkook lifted his head and looked past Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Were you ever told to prioritize important people over regular ones?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered without hesitation.

“Shit,” Jungkook muttered.

“It’s pretty common. Prioritize the ones who can keep the country running.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s how it works.”

“Geez.”

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck.

“Would you still do it now?”

“It’s not a decision I make because I want to,” Yoongi replied. “It’s what I do because… that’s how it’s supposed to work. If it were up to me, I’d save whoever I wanted first. Loved ones and all that.”

“I get it.”

Yoongi let out a quiet breath.

“Besides... judging from what happened to my squad, no one’s really safe. That shit doesn’t discriminate.”

A sharp pang of fear settled in Jungkook’s gut.

“What do you mean? I thought you only got it from being bitten?”

He stood up suddenly, panic overtaking him.

“Shit! Is it airborne?”

Yoongi looked up at him and calmly motioned for him to sit back down.

“I don’t know much,” he said. “Back at the base, there were rumors. Transmission through bites, through vaccines, certain foods... even just touch. But it was all speculation.”

“You really don’t know?” Jungkook asked, eyes wide.

“I don’t,” Yoongi said firmly. “And I wouldn’t hide something like that. Not now. At first, they thought it was rabies. But it wasn’t. It spread too fast. Too erratic. I was just told to assist civilians—nothing more.”

They heard a radio crackle in the distance. Both of them stood up quickly and ducked behind the counter.

Yoongi peeked around the corner, bow and arrow at the ready.

After a minute, faint footsteps approached—along with ragged breathing.

“Fuck, where are they...” came the soldier’s voice.

Yoongi stepped out just as the soldier entered the small café.

“Oh—you’re here.”

“What is it?” Yoongi asked.

“I got word from my supervisor. The entire south’s been overrun.”

Yoongi felt his stomach drop.

“They moved the survivors to our base, southeast from here. Not many made it. Aside from first priority... maybe thirty.”

Yoongi frowned. The soldier gave him a tired, almost apologetic smile.

Thirty people.

“Thank you,” Yoongi muttered.

The soldier glanced over at Jungkook, who stepped out from behind the counter.

“Also... we’re on our own now. Government just issued a White Code announcement.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock. Jungkook looked between them, anxious.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” the soldier sighed.

“How long?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“Shit.” Yoongi gave him a hard look. “Thank you. Are you staying or...?”

“I’ll try to reach the base.”

Yoongi nodded, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“Right. Good luck.”

“You too.” The soldier turned and hurried out into the smoke.

Jungkook grabbed Yoongi’s arm, eyes wide.

“What? What? What’s a White Code?”

Yoongi looked straight at him.

“Bomb.”

Jungkook’s eyes filled with tears, his lower lip trembling.

“W-what do you mean? They’re going to bomb us?”

He covered his mouth the moment he heard his voice crack.

Yoongi turned and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Yes. Listen to me.” His voice wavered slightly, but he forced it steady. “This bomb—it's not whst you're probably thinking. But we need... we need to get underground.”

Jungkook shuddered, a cold layer of sweat settling over his skin.

“U-underground?” His hands were clammy now.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, voice tight. His own hands were trembling.

“The subway’s... i-it’s on the other side of the c-city,” Jungkook stammered.

Yoongi locked eyes with him, mind racing.

The metro station. A 10 kilometers walk. Through a city swarming with monsters. And God knew what else.

But they would make it. He would make sure of it.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

                   ༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The noise at the base was unbearable.

Taehyung couldn’t hear his own thoughts—not that he wanted to. He kept the viewfinder pressed to his eye, filming the chaotic mess of people herded into lines. Mothers clutched their children. The elderly held their government-issued bags. Soldiers barked orders, but the words were swallowed by the chaos.

His hand trembled, so he steadied it with the other. Zooming in, he focused on faces. They told better stories than any script ever could.

“We need all women and children on this side, now! We’re checking temperatures!”

The scene unfolded like a dystopian theatre piece. Taehyung filmed it all, adjusting the lens manually, following the line of frightened faces.

Behind him, Jimin groaned, hands pressed tightly to his ears.

“Tae, please… stop filming.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The camera was the only thing keeping the fear from eating him alive.

Then came fast footsteps.

Namjoon’s face appeared in front of the lens.

“Tae, turn that off.”

Taehyung didn’t.

“I’ve got bad news, guys.” Namjoon’s voice was low, urgent. He glanced around as if someone might be listening. “The south’s overrun. That’s why they rushed us here.”

Taehyung lowered the camera slowly. That, he expected.

But then:

“They’re bombing the city.”

Click.

He started filming again.

“What?” Jimin’s voice cracked, loud enough to draw stares. He didn’t care. “But Jungkook’s there!”

Taehyung flinched, just barely. The name hit like a pebble against a glass pane. Not enough to shatter it, but it left a mark.

Namjoon tried to soothe Jimin, his voice steady. “Let’s hope he’s not in that zone. It’s a big city.”

“And if he is?” Jimin’s voice cracked again, his eyes glassy, nose red.

Taehyung said nothing. He filmed Jimin’s face instead.

“If he dies out there…”

The thought wasn’t finished. Not out loud.

Taehyung lowered the camera. The guilt pricked at him, distant, like an itch under the skin he couldn’t quite reach.

“We have to go look for him,” Jimin pleaded.

Namjoon shook his head. “If we try to leave, we’re dead. They’ll shoot on sight.”

Taehyung stared past the fence, beyond the base. Toward the smoke. The ruins. The monsters.

He lifted the camera, hit record again.

"You have no idea what it did to me."

He lowered the camera, staring at it as it stared back.

“Painting me like a fucking—” Taehyung bit his lip, gripping the camera harder, the plastic creaking in his palm.

The words sliced through him, uninvited — Jungkook’s anger still lingering, still there, even now.

If he was gone, he wanted the footage. He wanted to be able to say: He was there. He mattered. I filmed it.

Taehyung walked toward the window, the camera sweeping across the city beyond the gates. He panned the lens, desperately searching for something — anything. He didn’t find it.

His nose stung, and the corner of his eye watered slightly. He zoomed in.

The camera’s whirring was all that filled the space, numbing his mind.

“What's wrong with Kim?” Woo’s voice came suddenly, behind Namjoon.

Namjoon stared at Taehyung, still at the window.

“We might’ve lost Jungkook,” he muttered.

“Jeon?”

Namjoon nodded.

“So what—he’s grieving now?” Woo chuckled, a sharp, hollow sound.

Namjoon shot him a glare.

Taehyung’s hand flinched, the camera shaking with the movement.

“Keep your mouth shut, Woo,” Jimin snapped, stepping in front of the man.

“Everyone to the gates! Meal distribution begins!” A soldier’s voice rang out, and people moved like cattle, voices blurring into background noise. Jimin didn’t move.

Woo frowned, turning to leave.

Namjoon sighed, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He grabbed Jimin, guiding him toward the window. “I’m sorry, guys. There’s nothing we can do.”

Jimin’s eyes flooded with tears.

Taehyung kept filming.

His voice came out quiet, almost like an afterthought.

“He’s got unfinished business.”

His friends stared at him in silence.

“So he’s fine?” Namjoon’s voice was cautious.

“What business?” Jimin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung didn’t answer.

The camera was still rolling.

He can’t die if I’m not there to capture it.