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Part One.

Six weeks.

“Six weeks.” She murmurs, her fingers stilling against the neck of her beer bottle, condensation wetting her fingertips.

The music rings in her ears, though it’s too soft to disturb the neighbors. Usually, they wouldn’t care, but tonight—it’s different. Her knees are crossed underneath the table in her living room, her bare skin pressed to both the table leg and Kim Jongdae’s jean covered thigh, the rough material somehow keeping her grounded despite the haziness—cloudiness—filling her head up to the brim.

Jongdae reaches under the table, she can see his hand dipping out of her view, obscured by the table. He touches her bare thigh and it’s a reassuring gesture, careful and not at all imposing. She still feels warm at the gesture though, warmer than she already does because of the alcohol in her system.

Her eyes flick up, to where Jongdae is sitting, back rigid, blond hair messy, lips pressed into a tight line, and eyes focused on her, filled with so much worry that she can’t help but breathe out shakily, softly, her eyes instantly dropping back down.

“Yeah.” Jongdae isn’t the one to sigh out the word, resignation resonating from the single syllable like an ocean wave. She looks up, tears her eyes off the edge of the table, just where Jongdae’s hand had disappeared, and looks at the way Byun Baekhyun is leaning forward, chin propped up on one hand as he stares sideways, away from Jongdae and her. His pink lips are jutting out ever so slightly, a red tinge to his cheeks and his eyes drooping. He looks ethereal almost, distant, as he stares and stares until she finally manages to look away from him, following his gaze to the muted television. His pretty fingers are curled, barely touching his chin, hovering over his lips.

The news anchor’s lips and hands move, the actions frantic in and of itself.

Soft piano drifts through the silence and her heart twists, her stomach churns. She can’t feel her fingertips.

“What do you think this means for u—”

Jongdae’s words are cut off by a loud crash from her kitchen that makes her yelp as she jumps, banging her knee against her table and sending an empty (thankfully) can of beer clattering as it rolls off the table.

“Jesus ing Christ.” Baekhyun mutters, grimacing.

“I prefer Chanyeol.” Park Chanyeol lumbers into the room, nearly dropping the bottle of soju in his hands as he makes a beeline for the table.

“You’re a dumbas—”

“Did you break something?” She interrupts Baekhyun because Baekhyun looks like he wants to smack Chanyeol over the head with the beer bottle in his hand, said bottle that is courtesy of a grinning Chanyeol who seems completely unaffected by Baekhyun’s expression (a fitting metaphor she thinks, of Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s friendship). She half wonders if it’s because of the sudden interruption, because they might have been getting somewhere and then Park Chanyeol had to come bumbling in the middle of it all. Even Jongdae looks like he’ll fight Chanyeol, his polite half smile on full display.

“Maybe.” Chanyeol responds, expression sheepish.

“I mean, I don’t really care what you broke. But Kyungri’s going to kick your the minute she gets home from work and notices it.”

For a moment, Chanyeol’s eyes widen.

She grins hazily at him, “Unless Kyungsoo gets to you first. He went on a beer run.”

Now, Chanyeol looks terrified.

He blinks, wobbles in place, before he makes a beeline for the kitchen, muttering under his breath about cleaning up ( and “Why are they both so scary?” she hears) while he disappears.

She laughs, she can’t help it, the giggles bubbling up out of her and she presses her hand to out of habit.

She can hear Baekhyun snorting in amusement and when she looks up, still laughing, her stomach cramping from the giggling, Jongdae’s eyes are curled into crescent moons and he’s grinning.

She glances at Baekhyun.

He’s smiling, softly, and his eyes are flickering between them.

She blinks.

Baekhyun keeps watching them, his chin still balanced precariously on the heel of his hand.

A series of beeps rings through the apartment and the door swings open, the sound of shuffling and plastic bags filling the apartment immediately. She can smell chicken and she immediately turns away from Baekhyun, cutting her own laughter off as she leans back and tries to glance past the divider blocking the view to the door.

“I’m back.” Do Kyungsoo calls out of habit at the doorway, voice low. He appears, finally, with slippers on his feet and the bag of beer and chicken held high in the air. “I brought chicken.”

“Ugh.” Baekhyun groans appreciatively, “Can I marry you, Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo puts the plastic bags down on the table in front of them, pausing as he carefully appraises Baekhyun for a moment, “No, thanks.”

“Why? I’ll give you anything you want.”

Kyungsoo raises a brow, “You don’t even remember to feed your dog. And I’ve seen your scores on League. Scores that high only mean one thing: you never leave your room.”

“And?” Baekhyun grins with all his teeth now as he leans closer to Kyungsoo, “I’ve been training to be a trophy husband, Soo. There’s no need for me to leave my room.”

Jongdae snorts, “Not to crush your hopes and dreams or anything—”

“Please do.” Kyungsoo mutters.

Jongdae grins, “But being a trophy husband means you have to be at least somewhat attractive.”

“Hey!” Baekhyun proceeds to throw an empty beer can at Jongdae, hitting him right in the middle of his forehead.

Kyungsoo is smiling, his lips forming a heart shape and his eyes forming crescents, even as he focuses on his food, handing her a couple drumsticks without being asked.

She grins, watching as Jongdae grabs the same empty beer can and chucks it right back. It hits Baekhyun square in the nose and Baekhyun grabs his nose with the most affronted gasp she’s ever heard.

“How dare you?” Baekhyun shrieks.

“Yeeun, where’s Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo asks, over the sounds of Baekhyun and Jongdae going at it.

She blinks, glancing away from the two of them throwing things at each other, thoughts awfully slow thanks to the alcohol, before she slurs, “In the kitchen. He broke something.”

Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes. “Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry, though.” She tells him, “Kyungri hides the expensive stuff so he can’t break it just by looking at it.”

Kyungsoo cackles and she giggles in amusement at the way his shoulders wiggle.

(For a moment, she can pretend this is just any other night in. She can pretend the muted television isn’t proving her otherwise.)

~.~.~.~.~

(Any other night in drinking would go something like this:

They’re eating takeout and she’s distracted by Jongdae’s pretty, curly lips. She tries not to think about them, tries not to dwell on how soft they look, how gentle, fond, his eyes are when he looks at her, at Baekhyun, at Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, Junmyeon, Kyungri, any of them. She tries not to think about how she’d like him to look down at her like that, caress her cheek the way he’d cup the side of her head affectionately, minus the hair ruffling, she thinks maybe hair pulling would be better, and—

A typical night in would require her tearing her eyes off of Jongdae one too many times, only to glance over at Baekhyun, the way he’s lounging back on her couch, phone balanced between his fingers as his thumbs flit across the screen at lightning speed, his black hair messy and his eyes twinkling in that same mischievous way it always does—it’s that look in his eyes, the way he juxtaposes his sideways smirks with boxy grins that can make the most stoic of hearts melt, the way his pretty fingers curl when he taps it against tables, the way he dresses, in ripped jeans and t-shirts, sometimes in leather jackets, sometimes in jean jackets—that’s what draws people in, wraps them around his pretty fingers so he can play them like a piano. She always finds her eyes drifting to Baekhyun often and sometimes she wonders if he knows; his deep, brown eyes are always too unreadable, and his tiny smirk is always ever-present. It drives her up a wall, all the time. Some nights, he’d glance sideways at her when she tears her eyes from Jongdae only to settle on him and they’d lock gazes for too long moments amid everything happening, so she’d look over his shoulder, looking for a distraction, and it’s like he knows because he’d play along, casually turning the screen, so she can watch him swiping through Tinder mindlessly.

“Ew, why’s he posing like that?” She’d ask, eventually resting her chin on his shoulder when resting her head on her hand gets tiring, mesmerized by all the terrible selfie angles the men on the app would have. “Like look at the difference between the girls showing up and the boys. Why are boys at angles? Why do they think it’s cute if I can see all the way up their noses?”

Baekhyun would giggle, a soft, adorable sound that’d be too close to her ears for the butterflies in her stomach. “You know what they say about big noses, right?”

(Of course, he would giggle because he’s a contradiction, a juxtaposition between adorable and enigmatic and she finds it irritating because they’ve been best friends for nearly a decade and why has she never noticed until a couple years ago?)

She’d make a face, grimacing as she shoves his shoulder, and Baekhyun’d laugh and laugh while she’d keep shoving him for laughing at her and she’d feel eyes on her. She’d look up and Jongdae’s gaze would lock with hers from somewhere within the room.

She’d feel strangely guilty, somehow, as if she’s been caught red-handed, though she’d never know for what.)

~.~.~.~.~

Kim Junmyeon is a man with many interesting (Jongdae would call them ing weird, but she’s not one to judge) characteristics. He communicates in a constant stream of bad puns, he’s a dad-at-the-barbeque-sandal enthusiast and owns like fifteen pairs, he went to Paris solely to see the bridge Inception was filmed on, rather than the Eiffel Tower right behind him, he’s passionate about girl groups, to the point where they’re all pretty sure he runs a Twitter about them, he takes Christmas and the Christmas spirit very seriously even though he’s Buddhist, he owns a tie for every holiday, in fact he owns at least fifty ties in every theme you can think of, and she’s pretty sure he used to write Star Wars fanfiction—maybe, just maybe, he still does. He doesn’t like it when people put their stuff on top of his, he chews loudly when he eats (which was part of the reason why Kyungsoo and Kyungri came to her first to rent out the extra room in the apartment rather than Junmyeon because apparently they hate loud chewers), he nags her about going to the gym and eating her multivitamins all the time, he picks up the phone at three in the morning when she’s having an existential crisis over her career choice and coursework and talks her through her panic when she’s franticly searching the web for answers about adding another minor so she can broaden her career aspects when she graduates, if she graduates on time (when she says if he reminds her she will, that it’ll take time), he busts out into dance moves in public, he listens to her sob like a baby when she gets dumped. He is many, many things, but he is not, by any means, spontaneous.

So, a road trip? That’s entirely too spontaneous for Kim Junmyeon to request, yet—

“I guess—wait, what?” Yeeun looks up from her textbook in confusion.

“A road trip.” Junmyeon repeats in a low voice, sighing as he shuts his notebook.

(Honestly, she wonders why they’re even in the library. There’s no reason to study, but perhaps studying, thinking about their future, gives her a sliver of hope that maybe this is all just a false alarm. It used to make her anxious, but now it comforts her. So many people seem to believe it to be exactly that, but she’s noticed the rising temperatures and the news reports coming in from around the world of a sickness, of both brain and body, of extreme weather changes that are destroying whole regions.)

Kyungri tugs at a strand of her long, dark hair and her brows furrow in a way that reminds her of Kyungsoo. Even though they’re not identical twins, they still look so similar that it’s strange, even though she’s known Kyungri and Kyungsoo since they were in middle school, when they were her next-door neighbors and Kyungri was still Kyungho and attended the boy’s school with Kyungsoo, instead of the girl’s school with her a couple years later. Kyungri presses her eraser to her full lips, tilting her head, forehead scrunched up, “But why?” She asks.

Junmyeon stares at her for a moment, almost contemplatively.

He opens his mouth and closes it, seemingly rethinking his words, before he settles on, “I want to see the ocean one last time.”

She can tell he’s not telling them everything, but the amount of longing, sadness, and resignation in his tone is enough for her to exchange a loo k with Kyungri.

“Okay. Yeah.” Yeeun blinks as she puts her pen down, “I think I do, too.”

Kyungri nods in agreement, her grip on her pencil tight.

~.~.~.~.~

“A road trip?” Baekhyun repeats and he sounds thoughtful, his pink lips pursed.

Chanyeol (finally) breaks his unusual silence, the sound of his voice echoing between them for the first time since they all stepped into Junmyeon’s shared apartment with his girlfriend—a sweet, beautiful girl named Bae Irene who’s so utterly calm and collected that she perfectly balances out Junmyeon’s neurotic behaviors, plus she gets him to clean the apartment, by himself, which is a feat all on its own—half an hour ago, Chanyeol’s big eyes focused on Junmyeon. He has no expression on his face when he says, “But why?” The same question Kyungri had asked in the library.

“I want to see the ocean one last time.” Junmyeon repeats, like a broken record machine.

“That’s not what I meant.” Chanyeol says, blinking at him, his big eyes unwavering, “Why Busan?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun nods, “It’s all the way on the other side of the country.”

“And there’s a beach like a couple hours that way,” Jongdae gestures vaguely to the left and she assumes he means to point eastward, towards Incheon.

“I know.” Junmyeon nods, sighing as he rubs the back of his neck in a strangely conscious manner, “It’s just—”

He cuts himself off, blinking rapidly as his eyes drop down and to the side. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bouncing in place, and she knows, right then and there, that there’s more to this than just wanting to see the ocean. She just can’t figure out what.

He rubs the back of his neck again, ruffling his hair, ruining the meticulous comb over he no doubt spends a good portion of his mornings perfecting because there is usually not a single hair out of place, at least not until this very moment. No one says a word, they just wait for Junmyeon to pull himself together and continue speaking because that’s what Junmyeon’s always needed, ever since she first met him: someone to listen and patiently wait for him to burst.

He sighs and the sound of it feels so, so heavy, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Perhaps he is. “I’ve never been to Busan before. I’d like to see the ocean from Busan.”

“It’s just water. It’s the same everywhere.” Kyungsoo mumbles under his breath.

Kyungri proceeds to smack Kyungsoo’s arm hard enough to make Kyungsoo glare daggers at Kyungri. She remains unfazed by Kyungsoo’s glare, which is really quite a feat, something she truly admires Kyungri for. Instead, Kyungri looks at Junmyeon, pursing her lips, “The beaches in Busan are definitely different from here. I mean it’s the actual ocean over there. We just get to see the Yellow Sea at Eurwangni. Besides, everyone has to see Busan at least once in their lives.”

Yeeun blinks at Kyungri and she’s nodding, her gaze on Junmyeon, as if she’s trying to mentally will the anxiety rolling off Junmyeon away.

“Okay, I’m down.” Jongdae is the first to speak, his voice quiet, raspy, and it makes the hairs on her arms stand on end for some godawful reason.

Jongdae is looking at Junmyeon and Junmyeon is staring right back. They seem to be having a silent conversation and Yeeun finds herself growing envious of it, because they all do it, Kyungri and Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, Baekhyun and Jongdae, Jongdae and Junmyeon, Junmyeon with everyone, and Yeeun only ever feels that sort of connection, that ability to have silent conversations through her eyes with Kyungri sometimes, maybe even Junmyeon occasionally. The boys do it more often (though she and Kyungri do it when they say something ridiculous or occasionally try to explain something to them that they already know because boys are idiots, even their boys). A small voice in her head whispers that maybe she wouldn’t feel this ugly, bitter feeling clawing at her insides if it was anyone but Jongdae, and she has no idea why she feels that way, at least that’s what she tells herself. It shouldn’t matter to her.

(It never did matter this much, not until recently.)

It takes only a moment for everyone else in the room to nod in agreement, first Baekhyun, then Chanyeol, then Kyungsoo, then Kyungri. It takes only a moment and then all eyes are on her and she’s blinking rapidly at the sudden attention.

She blinks, frowning, “If it’s a road trip, doesn’t that mean I’m going to have to drive? None of you have licenses except for Junmyeon and Irene.”

Jongdae gives her a grin, eyes twinkling, “You better do some stretches then, sweetheart. You’re in for a long ride.”

“Laugh one more time and I’m leaving you at the first rest stop.”

Jongdae cackles, the sound of his laughter loud, boisterous, all-encompassing, “I’m just saying.”

Yeeun scowls at him, “I’m only doing this for Junmyeon and Irene.” She pauses before adding, “And free food. Someone better buy me food.”

Junmyeon laughs, the sound like tinkling bells, “Don’t worry, we can switch off.”

“Great.” She mumbles.

No one ever agrees to buy her food, though.

~.~.~.~.~

“What about your families, though?” Junmyeon asks, adjusting the sick mask on his face, two weeks later when they’re loading a ty rental van up with their suitcases, on a particularly dry Tuesday morning. The sun is out and it’s so beautiful that one would think it’d be incapable of burning the entire planet alive, destroying everything in its path—yet here we are.

(It’s only nine in the morning though and it’s already hot, her cotton shirt sticking to her back in the dry heat. The air conditioning broke in their apartment last week, though Kyungsoo thinks it’s not necessarily broken but more abandoned, since people have been flocking out of Seoul, to head back to their hometowns and spend time with their families, just in case. Water levels are low, and they’re only allowed to use the faucets at certain times of the day, but the newscasters continue to have wide smiles plastered across their faces, so unlike the first announcement made at the six-week mark, two weeks ago. There have been more and more idol scandals filtering through the news, comebacks scheduled, as if their government is trying to distract them from everything—at least that’s what Kyungsoo says and Yeeun doesn’t dare contradict Kyungsoo when he goes on one of his conspiracy rants about governmental authority. Usually, she’d just roll her eyes and continue with her life, but Kyungsoo isn’t wrong, per se. Besides, she doesn’t think they’ve ever had water regulations like this before.

But the newscasters keep smiling, reminding them to ration their water and food, warning them to stay away from the soju and beer because of dehydration even though that’s the only thing available to drink nowadays thanks to the water shortage, being aware of the closest emergency bunker locations in their districts, advising everyone to wear a sick mask for the time being, and maintaining constant vigilance for any type of sickness that hits them or their loved ones and getting it treated as quickly as possible in order to protect public health.

News from around the world, on the other hand, is a jumbled mess on the internet she can’t make sense of.

(Kyungsoo says the government is censoring outside sources, as well, to keep mass panic at bay. She thinks the idea is absurd but the more nonsense articles she finds, the less skeptical she gets about Kyungsoo’s theories.)

All she knows is that the heat is getting worse, but they’ve filled like thirty gallons worth of milk cartons when the faucets would turn back on for its allotted forty-five minutes to an hour a day, divided by city sectors outlined on the news, and now they’re throwing those into the ty, giant van, too.)

Yeeun can tell, from the way Junmyeon is only glancing between Baekhyun and Yeeun, that he’s not asking just anyone about their families. Technically speaking, they’re all from the Gyeonggi Province, close enough to Seoul to easily visit their parents and siblings whenever they wanted. Junmyeon, Jongdae, and Chanyeol’s families live in Seoul and she gets snapchats from them playing with their family pets or taking their parents out for lunch enough times to know that they’re fine with this.

(Chanyeol’s older sister, Yoona, is one of those smiling newscasters and whenever she comes on TV, smile so wide, Chanyeol looks so, so worried, so uncharacteristically worried that Yeeun just wants to give him a hug and tell him everything will be all right. Because Yoona’s smile is the same as Chanyeol’s and she can see the rigidness to her smile every time she’s on TV, the same as Chanyeol’s nowadays, and it scares her, seeing someone who’s always so happy suddenly not.)

Kyungsoo answers instead, but Junmyeon doesn’t bother looking away from either Yeeun or Baekhyun, “Actually, we were wondering if we could stop by our parent’s place when we head back up to Seoul. They’re spending a couple days in Daegu with family, but they should be home in a couple weeks and…and we wanted to stay there.” Kyungsoo gestures to Kyungri while simultaneously turning to look at Yeeun, expression so utterly apologetic that it makes her heart twist.

Kyungri places a gentle hand on Yeeun’s shoulder, the gesture caring and apologetic.

They aren’t planning on coming back to the apartment.

Yeeun doesn’t begrudge them of deciding to stay with their parents, but the fact that, in the end, she’ll be left alone in their empty apartment building (aside from the weird neighbor who wears a metal foil baseball cap everyday now), surrounded by too many memories she won’t know what to do with, leaves her feeling strange, lonely mostly.

“You’re welcome to come with us.” Kyungri murmurs and Yeeun’s heart swells at the gesture.

But Yeeun shakes her head, a rapid sudden movement, and Kyungri just nods, her grip on Yeeun’s shoulder tightening. Yeeun doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but she honestly doesn’t think she could ever go back there, where her parents live right beside Kyungsoo and Kyungri.

Still, a part of her, that lonely part of her, wishes she could take up the offer. That small part of her that still yearns for her parents, still loves them so much despite everything, wants her to take up the offer and step through her childhood doors like nothing ever went wrong.

(She doesn’t want to be alone when the world is burnt to a crisp.)

Yeeun shakes her head and finally meets Junmyeon’s eyes, his inquiring gaze, and she thinks sometimes, Junmyeon is too kind, too forgiving for his own good because he thinks this means everyone else will be just like him. Maybe she’s kind, on a superficial level, but she is not forgiving. “It’s fine. I’ll come back here.”

No one says anything, but she can feel the disapproval rolling off them in waves, even Chanyeol. Jongdae’s eyes are on her too, she can feel it, but she can’t look at him, doesn’t want to.

And then Baekhyun says, nonchalant as ever, “My parents are out of the country and they took Mongryong with them.” He’s grinning, but there’s nothing funny about it. “Dunno where my brother went. Either way, I’ll be in Seoul when we come back.” His eyes flick sideways, settling on Yeeun, and there’s a moment where she sees them darken, ever so slightly, still twinkling in that utterly mischievous way of his, “Me and Yeeun can have an end of the world party. No parents allowed so you’re all not invited.”

Kyungsoo snorts, “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“More of a disaster than the impending apocalypse?” Yeeun asks, raising a brow.

Baekhyun grins, “I hope so. What a way to go out.”

Kyungsoo and Kyungri both pretend to gag at the way Baekhyun wiggles his brows at Yeeun before grinning at the whole group. Junmyeon smiles, softly, Chanyeol guffaws, clapping loudly, and Jongdae—well, she can’t bring herself to look at him, unexplainable embarrassment slithering up her spine at the thought.

She doesn’t hear him laugh.

~.~.~.~.~

Yeeun watches Jongdae and Baekhyun play rock-paper-scissors to determine who gets shotgun as she adjusts the driver’s seat, grimacing at how loudly Jongdae screeches when he wins, Baekhyun shouting you cheater, let’s go again!

Chanyeol leans forwards in his seat, sticking his head through the gap between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat, “I have to pee.”

Yeeun blinks, “We didn’t even leave yet.”

“I know, but, like,” Chanyeol gestures vaguely at Jongdae and Baekhyun, “They’ve been doing that for twenty minutes. I gotta pee.”

“Fine.” Yeeun spends a good minute trying to dislodge her set of apartment keys from the car keys before handing them off to Chanyeol, who mutters thanks.

She hears him mutter, Kyungsoo, I gotta pee, move over and Kyungsoo grumbling sleepily while the van door slides open and Yeeun watches as Chanyeol jogs to the apartment building, long limbs dangerously close to tangling together and causing some sort of broken-ankle-related injury.

Yeeun turns in her seat, glancing back at Junmyeon and Kyungri, who are supposed to share the backseat with whoever doesn’t get shotgun. Kyungri is glaring at Jongdae and Baekhyun like she’ll really kill them. Junmyeon looks exhausted already.

“When do you want to switch off?” Yeeun asks, peering back at Junmyeon, still immensely annoyed that only the two of them can drive legally.

(She tried to mention how it technically doesn’t even matter since the world is going to hell anyway. But Junmyeon won’t have it. And no one else wants to drive so they agree with Junmyeon instantly. She hates her friends.)

Junmyeon shrugs, “How about in a couple hours or whenever you get tired? Whatever you want, honestly.”

“‘Kay.” Yeeun nods, before she blinks and adds, “By the way, where’s Irene? We could really use a third driver.”

“We or you?” Junmyeon asks, grinning widely when Yeeun pouts. Then Junmyeon’s grin flattens out into a thin smile, “She has work to do at the hospital.”

Kyungsoo blinks, owlishly, before turning in his seat and eyeing Junmyeon with an expression that’s so serious that even Kyungri, who already has her headphones in, is raising a brow in question (though she doesn’t pull out her headphones). “How bad is it? The hospital?”

(“There’s no such thing as a tornado in rock paper scissors, nut.” Jongdae’s loud voice echoes all around them in the silence that follows Kyungsoo’s question.

“There is now, pencil !” Baekhyun snaps back coupled by a loud, distinct whine that belongs to none other than Jongdae.

“Take that back.”

“No way.”)

Junmyeon sighs, voice soft, “Pretty bad.” She sees him glance out the window, where Jongdae and Baekhyun are still fighting, “I haven’t seen Irene in a week.”

“Jun.” Kyungri murmurs, reaching out to rest a hand on his elbow, the movement hesitant.

Junmyeon shrugs Kyungri’s hand off. “It’s fine.” Junmyeon sighs, “It’s going to be fine.”

The silence stretches on for so long and Yeeun finds herself glancing around their street, homing in on the details while Junmyeon’s words echo in her head.

It’s going to be fine.

The streets are emptier than she ever remembers them being. The sun beats down on them, making her sweat. The air conditioning doesn’t work in the rental van. She sees the way some store windows are boarded up, while the convenience store lights are on, the worker, the only person in the street aside from them, is smoking a cigarette against the brick wall beside the store, his neck outstretched as he squints up at the sun. She wonders if he’s trying to find a difference in the sun, like she had caught herself doing, the many times she’d glance up at it, wondering how something she barely used to think about can have such a catastrophic impact on her life. Perhaps, it makes sense, because the only reason they, as a human race, are living on this planet is because of the sun. The sun birthed them, and it only makes sense that the sun will end them, too.

It’s going to be fine.

The back door slides open and Chanyeol lumbers into the middle seat, making Kyungsoo grumble when he practically elbows Kyungsoo in the face, thanks to his long arms. Those words ring like bells in her ears and she finds she can’t stand it, because they don’t know. They don’t know if they’ll be fine or not.

They don’t truly know.

She finds herself gripping the steering wheel before she presses the car horn, the loud beep, cutting off Jongdae and Baekhyun’s squabbling almost instantly.

She’s already rolled down the window—since it’s one of those manual roll-down windows she must lean over to roll down, which is astounding because Junmyeon has money, yet he got them the tiest van that he could ever possibly manage to obtain (Junmyeon had said it was the only one left and she wonders if everyone else had the same exact idea as Junmyeon).

“You have two seconds before we leave without you both.” Yeeun calls out, scowling at the two of them.

It’s amusing, almost, how Baekhyun lunges for the front door, moving faster than Yeeun has ever seen him move. He practically throws himself through the open window and Jongdae lets out a whine, pulling at the door handle, but Baekhyun’s already huddled in the passenger seat, one leg sticking out the window (a leg he uses to kick at Jongdae when he gets too close, nearly getting Jongdae in the jugular).

Baekhyun’s head sticks up, his hair standing on end, a static mess and he grins with all his teeth, his rectangular smile on full blast. He promptly sticks his tongue out at Jongdae who yanks at his leg.

Baekhyun does a scarily spot-on impression of that one iconic Nicki Minaj verse when he cackles and says, “I win, you lose.”

“I can’t believe you’re quoting Nicki at me.” Jongdae looks entirely too offended about Baekhyun using Nicki Minaj at him rather than losing shotgun.

Yeeun can’t help but laugh at them.

Jongdae grumbles his way into the back seat, between Junmyeon and Kyungri, pouting the whole time as he trips over Chanyeol’s long legs, Junmyeon patting his back reassuringly.

~.~.~.~.~

Apparently Kyungsoo has an extensive playlist filled with Disney songs and early 2000s hits.

Baekhyun looks slightly in awe, “I don’t know how I feel about going from Under the Sea to Bed Rock without any kind of warning?”

Yeeun doesn’t know how she feels about it either, but Jongdae had already tried to make fun of Kyungsoo for singing along loudly to Under the Sea and promptly shut up after Kyungsoo said something indecipherable under his breath to Jongdae in response.

(Yeeun had watched the interaction through glances at the rearview mirror and right after, Jongdae had locked eyes with her through the rearview mirror and glared at her while she grinned in amusement at the fear in his eyes. Kyungri was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.)

And now Kyungsoo’s gone from a loud, admittedly beautiful rendition of Under the Sea to a just as loud and admittedly beautiful rendition of Lil Wayne’s Bed Rock and Yeeun must consciously make the effort to avoid stomping on the brakes (or gas pedal) in surprise, though there seems to be no one on the road, especially going South. They have their windows down and the music turned up and it’s nice, she thinks, even with Lil Wayne (and Kyungsoo) crooning about how they can make your bed rock in the background.

Yeeun can see Baekhyun humming along, his phone plugged into the car charger as he nods his head, and Yeeun giggles, “You gotta admit, though. These are all jams.”

“You’re right. I never knew I needed Kyungsoo telling me he could make my bed rock until now.” Baekhyun responds, just as the song switches to The Lion King’s Circle of Life (which results in all of them singing along, not just Kyungsoo) and Yeeun is laughing as Baekhyun holds out a hand in her direction, dramatically pretending his hand is a microphone.

Then Nelly Furtado’s Promiscuous comes on right after and she’s joining in like nobody’s business and Baekhyun is grinning so widely, his eyes are forming crescent moons, laughing because she knows every single word.

They’re shouting lyrics dramatically after that, whether it’s a classic Disney song, H.O.T., or a classic Young Money hit.

“Don’t ever mock the ‘Oldies but Goodies Featuring Disney’ playlist ever again.” Kyungsoo tells them, quite seriously.

“I still think it’s a weird ing theme.” Kyungri tells him. Kyungsoo flicks her off.

“Especially for the end of the world.” Jongdae adds, nodding from beside Kyungri. Kyungsoo just turns his middle finger on Jongdae.

“Next time, I’ll be sure to compile the best songs about Death and Dying. Spotify has everything, right?” Kyungsoo mutters, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he rolls his eyes.

“You’re telling me that you don’t already have a playlist like that?” Chanyeol asks, raising a brow. “Never took you for a liar, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo gives Chanyeol a look. Chanyeol just giggles and it’s adorable, Yeeun thinks, the way Kyungsoo shoves at Chanyeol and Chanyeol curls away, but keeps giggling, all while Kyungsoo’s scowl melts with sweet fondness a tiny, little bit.

She sticks her hand out the window as she drives well above the speed limit—mostly because she hasn’t seen a single car (police or otherwise) since they’ve left Seoul—and the warmth of the sun on the back of her hands feel nice. It mixes with the warmth in her chest, at the pit of her stomach, and she thinks she wants to live in this moment forever, with her best friends talking over each other and giggling all around her as the warm sun fills her with utter peace, wind blowing through her hair. She wishes she could live in this moment, only this moment, BoA blasting in the background as they ride through a long, empty road.

~.~.~.~.~

The landscape doesn’t change much. It’s just green rolling hills and little houses passing by them over and over until it blurs together. She thinks it’s strange that they don’t see a single car, but she doesn’t dwell on it. They just blast music and keep driving and she refuses Junmyeon when he asks if she wants to switch. She isn’t tired, for some reason, and she thinks she can go the entire four hours it takes to get to Busan.

(Except it’s going to take more than four hours because they keep stopping at the side of the road for Chanyeol to pee and Junmyeon ran out of hand sanitizer two stops ago, when Kyungsoo made Chanyeol sit on his hands because there was no more sanitizer and Chanyeol kept pretending to poke at Kyungsoo while Kyungsoo swatted at him.)

She doesn’t miss the strange look from Baekhyun when she says that, tells Junmyeon nonchalantly that she can drive the whole way. He stays on his phone, seemingly immersed in whatever he’s doing and occasionally reading out end of the world memes to her, which are so utterly morbid that she ends up laughing anyway. Baekhyun hands her a water bottle when she asks for one, unscrewing the top for her, and takes it back without her having to ask, and just as the sky begins to transition into the evening sky, dark orange and purple seeping into the cloudless sky slowly, when Kyungsoo’s playlist is over and it’s now auto playing slow jams, Chanyeol passed out on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, mouth wide open and eyes not closed all the way.

(Kyungsoo, admittedly, does not look as off put as she thought he would.

“He’s drooling.” He had said, with as much inflection as one would have when they’re reading a science formula out loud. Another pause before, “It’s kind of cute.”

And then Jongdae had awwwwed so loudly, Baekhyun and Yeeun and Kyungri joining him quickly, making Junmyeon laugh in amusement and Kyungsoo glare daggers at all of them while Chanyeol stirred groggily against Kyungsoo’s shoulder before settling down.

“You tell him I said that, and I’ll deny it until my last breath.”

“That’s not very far from now, Kyungsoo.” Junmyeon had reminded him.

“Exactly.” Kyungsoo had whispered.

Yeeun had rolled her eyes, at the same time as Kyungri, “.” They both said, simultaneously, and Kyungsoo kicked the back of Yeeun’s seat, making her shriek and nearly stomp on the brakes.)

Then Yeeun goes over a particularly large pot hole and Chanyeol jolts awake, nearly hitting his head on both Kyungsoo’s chin and the roof of the car. He blinks.

“Sorry.” Yeeun says.

“I gotta pee.” Chanyeol says.

“We’ve only been driving a couple hours and this is like the fifth time you needed to pee. I can’t believe you’re the weakest pee link.” Baekhyun says, eyeing Chanyeol as he turns in his seat to stare at Chanyeol.

Yeeun snorts, “The weakest pee link?”

“Weakest peen.” Baekhyun whispers.

Yeeun, being incredibly immature at times, can’t help but giggle at the word peen and she thinks, maybe, just maybe she imagines Baekhyun smiling softly as he watches her giggle, hand covering while she tries to maintain control over the steering wheel with the other hand.

(Junmyeon’s frantic please stop making her laugh, she’s swerving, oh my god oh my god, echoing, a backdrop to Chanyeol’s whines and Kyungsoo muttering, are you two really laughing at the word peen? Are you twelve??? and Jongdae mutters, honestly, they’re, like, ten at most.)

“Hey!” Chanyeol’s pout is cute, especially coupled with how messy his hair is and how big his eyes look. “You guys are the worst! I have a small bladder, we all know this.”

(Yeeun manages to stop giggling, pulling the steering wheel straight.)

“We all know this because you love to tell us.” Kyungsoo grumbles.

Junmyeon reminds them that he’s run out of hand sanitizer and Kyungri complains about being stiff.

Yeeun sighs, knowing this means stopping by the side of the road won’t suffice, “Fine, I’ll find a rest stop.”

It’s quiet while she scopes out rest stop signs, finding one immediately for the next exit.

Baekhyun’s voice is so quiet, she’s sure she’s the only one that can hear him, especially when Jongdae starts up a conversation about whatever drama Junmyeon’s watching on his phone, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo joining in.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Baekhyun asks, his voice low, raspy.

She’d glance at him before glancing, mostly out of habit, into her side view mirror to make sure the lane is clear—of course it’s clear, no one’s on the road.

Her stomach flips at the question because, honestly, she doesn’t know, but she feels uneasy somehow, at the lack of cars, lack of people, especially after they left the outskirts of Seoul. They’re already near the edge of Gyeonggi Province and she’s expected to see more people. There were a couple cars near Seoul, mostly going in the direction of Seoul, and some parked near the houses they passed but there’s no one going south.

She shakes her head, “I don’t know. Am I?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun nods and she slows down as they reach the parking lot of the rest stop. The building lights are on, she notices, bright and almost blinding in the dimming afternoon sun (she can’t believe they left so late because of Jongdae and Baekhyun’s fight for shotgun). “Why?”

He asks it again. She purses her lips, searching for a closer parking spot, which isn’t difficult since there’s a bunch of empty parking spaces, though there are a lot more cars parked here, more than she’s seen on their way down here at least.

“I guess I’m just, nervous?” She pulls into the parking spot right in front of the building. “Everything is so empty.”

She doesn’t like it; emptiness. The emptiness around them makes her feel it in the inside, like the outside is projecting her insides and she tries to breathe, tries to come to terms with that. Her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

Baekhyun eyes her carefully, his gaze drifting over her face, her death grip on the steering wheel.

She parks the car right in front of the building and Chanyeol groans, his elbows pressing into the car’s roof because of how long they. “Finally.”

They all spill out the open doors, blinking at the blinding sun.

“It’s not as empty as you think.” Baekhyun says, his tone casual. She looks at him and he’s staring after Chanyeol, who’s sprinting into the rest stop, and Kyungsoo, who’s stretching, swatting at Jongdae when he pokes the strip of skin that shows when Kyungsoo stretches upwards and his t-shirt lifts, Jongdae laughing, and Kyungri yawning while she koala hugs Junmyeon as she complains about being tired, Junmyeon patting her head awkwardly, but so so fondly, while he joins in Jongdae and Kyungsoo’s conversation. She never really thought Baekhyun to be so sentimental, but she figures circumstances change people. She smiles, locks eyes with Baekhyun, and Baekhyun smiles back.

~.~.~.~.~

(Since they first met, they’ve been silent companions, the core of their friendship cultivated in wordless silences. He could pick the emotions and thoughts off her face like he’s reading a children’s book, yet she could never do the same to him, not the way he did it with her. Silent and Baekhyun never quite meshed. She met him freshman year of high school, when he’d stick his face into whatever Kyungsoo was reading, he’d stick his cute little nose into everybody’s damn business like it was his, and then loudly proclaim his thoughts on the subject, grinning that boxy grin of his. He had a certain charm about him that had everyone wrapped around his fingers, teachers, other students, her own parents, everyone but his own family, she’d later learn.

He was many things, kind, obnoxious, loud, class clown, respectful, but he was never, not once silent. Perhaps, when he’s angry he would be a silent storm of anger, holding it in until—well, she has no idea where his anger would go, it’d show on his face, but he’d never blow. At least, she’s never seen it explode out of him like she’s seen with the rest of their friends. He’d be calm and collected and rip people to shreds with controlled anger, controlled words. But, with her, he was silent. Not always, because this is Byun Baekhyun she’s talking about, hell, she’s never been much of the silent type either, but he’d always give her a look and just understand her, especially when she’d most need it. He’d get on her nerves every minute of every day when they first met, but when she’s especially upset because of the amount of yelling at home, when she’d answer his banter with clipped one worded answers instead of a sarcastic quip back, when she’d wear cakey foundation and would work to avoid all of them, he’d meet her gaze silently and he’d keep everyone away for a while.

(He was there, along with Kyungsoo and Kyungri, when she left her childhood home, her parents, for good. She was so young. She remembers how Kyungsoo and Kyungri’s parents would whisper those words, when they thought she couldn’t hear them.

And she remembers the way Kyungsoo’s fingers had balled into fists, Kyungri had fell into a crouch in front of her, cupping her bruised cheek gently, remembers the look in Baekhyun’s eyes. It’s not an expression, she thinks, anyone would ever forget.

She remembers how intent he was when he helped her sign the emancipation papers, helped her pay for an excellent attorney, no matter how much she tried to deny the money. “Pay me back double, then. I don’t care. But you need this. You need this.” He had said, expression stubborn, his fingers latched around hers and his eyes boring into hers while he made sure she met his gaze. “I won’t let them make you go back there.”)

In many ways, she understood him, too. She’d understand when he’d anyone who’d want him just for that single moment of intimacy, when he’d his problems away like others would pop pills. Hell, he’d do that, too. She’d understand when he’d go through relationship after relationship and almost none of them seemed good, all cultivated from soju or or lies, and the good ones? He’d let them go or, worse, he’d sabotage them.

(She was there, when he called her at three am, voice uncharacteristically soft, “Can you please pick me up?”

And she didn’t bother reminding him that her car was at the mechanic. She just murmured, “Where are you?”

She took a taxi and he blinked rapidly, as if remembering right there and then that she didn’t have her car on her, but she had shaken her head, refusing the apology dangling at the tip of his tongue, the big, hazy look in his eyes breaking her heart.

His head would rest on her shoulder, his breathing shallow, his eyes drooping, the smell of cigarette smoke, soju, and strong, and he’d whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so ing sorry.” She knows he’s thinking of gentle Taeyeon or perhaps sweet Yixing because those were the only two good relationships he had been in and he had told her about them last time she picked him up, about how he maybe loved them, and it terrified him. So, he ruined it, ruined them, ruined their love.

She had waited until they got into his apartment before she said, point blank, “You should be sorry. I’m not going to tell you that you weren’t wrong for the things you did.”

And she’d let him cry, hiccupping into the crook of her neck while she runs her fingers through his hair.)

They’ve always been best friends and nothing more because that more belonged to Kim Jongdae, belonged to the boy Baekhyun brought into her life with him, into their group, along with Park Chanyeol. Though she adored Chanyeol’s bumbling, loveable personality, his sociability, his amusing sense of humor, she instantly felt that something more with Jongdae from the minute they met. He was kind and soft, gentle, almost whiny, and he made her laugh, made her forget about her realities for hours at a time. He had the best hugs. She reveled in it, in the kindness radiating from him, because she grew up in an environment where kindness never dwelled.

(Perhaps, that’s why her friends are all kind, above all else. Yes, they’re sarcastic s, too, but they’re kind sarcastic s, and that’s what matters most to her.)

With Baekhyun, she never noticed how pretty he was, how lovely his smile was, not in that way, until a couple years ago, but with Jongdae, she noticed it right off the bat. Noticed the pretty way his lips would curl, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the way he’d back off immediately from his jokes if he noticed any kind of discomfort, the way his hands would linger on her waist, she noticed the way his eyes would linger on her.

(He was there, when she’d be upset, even when it was barely obvious to Kyungsoo or Kyungri, and he’d put a hand on her arm, warm and so so comforting, and he’d say, “Are you okay?”

And his eyes would be filled with so much sincerity and she’d never understood how he could just tell, and she’d find that she’s unable to use her words properly, she’d just shake her head, a quick back and forth.

And they’d sit in the yummiest, coziest diner in town and he’d listen to her bare her soul.

“Thank you.” She’d murmur, when he walks her back home, pausing at the corner beside her house, his eyes drifting to the house behind her with resentment, barely hidden.

He’d be hesitant as he reached for her hand, before he’d seem to decide to make up his mind, grabbing her hand only to squeeze it gently before dropping it. “I’m always going to be here for you.” He’d say, with the most dazzling smile.)

He’d always flip flop between hesitating with her and placing a warm hand against her skin, like an anchor. He’d pull her into hugs first whenever they’d meet up and Kyungsoo would joke about the two of them acting like they’re ing married or something, as if Kyungsoo and Chanyeol don’t argue like a married couple, as if Kyungsoo and Baekhyun don’t argue like a married couple already. If anyone’s going to get married in their group, it’s going to be Kyungsoo with one of them. Sometimes, she thinks Kyungsoo might marry Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Junmyeon, and Jongdae because he’s that much of a mess, though he’d never admit it.)

(She was there, when Jongdae’d throw sticks at her window and she’d sneak out her house just to sit in the park with him, lying in the grass as they’d both stare up at the night sky. If she’s one to bare her soul, her experiences, to him, he’s one to bare his heart to her.

“Do you ever feel like your life isn’t yours?” He’d whisper to the moon and stars. “Do you ever feel like you can’t feel anything, but you can feel everything all at once?”

“Dae.” She’d murmur, turning to look at him. His jaw would be clenched as he stared straight up, the moon casting shadows over his face.

He’d whisper, “I haven’t been through a tenth of what any of you guys have been through. You, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, Kyungri, even Junmyeon and the expectations his parents have of him. I have a loving family, parents who support me in everything I do, a great brother who cares about my life, six of the best friends I could ask for, good grades, I’m good at singing, a great girlfriend, but—but it still hurts. I don’t know why it hurts, Yeeun, but it hurts so, so bad.”

His voice would catch on the last sentence, lilt up and break, while he gestured at his chest.

“It—it doesn’t matter what we’ve been through. If you’re hurting, you’re hurting.”

“I don’t want to be alive.” Jongdae had breathed out shakily, a breathless sound that had sent chills down her back. She felt her chest constrict, her stomach churn, when he turned his head to look at her, his eyes glistening with emotions, with pain and hurt and infinite, age-old sorrow. “I can’t—I can’t feel anything anymore. Liyin tells me she loves me and I—I don’t feel anything. I was crossing the street and I saw a car coming and I just—” He breathes again and it’s a shaky, ragged sound, echoing between them, his eyes glistening, rimmed with unshed tears, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard she wonders if he’s drawing blood. “I just want everything to stop, Yeeun. I just want to die.”

I just want to die.

He repeated it, whispered it, and it settled over her, clawing its way into her bones.

Tears prickled at her eyes and she reached over, grasping blindly until she found his clenched fists. She put both hands over his and she squeezed and squeezed, as if she could take the pain from him somehow, absorb it somehow. “We—I don’t want you to die, Jongdae.” She had told him.

And his expression crumpled. He was crying when he spoke, soft noises that she can barely hear, aside from his sniffling, “I know. I just—I just—I don’t—” He wiped at his tears with the back of his free hand, his breathing heavy.

She just sat there, both hands wrapped around one if his, while he let out a jagged sob, and it tore at her heart, made her nose sting and her eyes water and the moon and stars lose their shine.

She was there, when he spoke to his parents about getting help and he had opened his mouth, words at the tip of his tongue, but before he can even utter an apology or even some thanks, she had cut him off with a, “You don’t have to say anything, I get it.”

His smile was so utterly dazzling that she remembered wishing she could live in that moment for the rest of her life.)

She knows he had been in the something more category since the very beginning and the worst part, she thinks, is that she has no idea if he thinks the same thing of her or if he just sees her as a best friend, nothing more.

Then she started to notice Baekhyun’s smiles, the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his jeans hugged his thighs, the cute way he’d scrunch up his nose, his little moles, and it only got worse from there.

Now, she’s just more confused than before.)

~.~.~.~.~

The rest stop itself is oddly silent, fluorescent lights shining so brightly that it makes the whole building feel like it’s not real, like she’s currently residing in between worlds, in a place where time is at a standstill.

“Where is everybody?” Kyungri asks and her voice echoes all around them. She wipes her wet hands on her jeans, joining Yeeun as she waits for everyone to finish up. Yeeun wonders the same thing because all the food shops are closed and there’s not a soul in sight. Hell, even the janitor’s mop and bucket just sit in the middle of the hall up ahead, beside a table, the mop lying across the floor like it’s been thrown there, a puddle of soapy, dirty water surrounding it.

“I don’t know, but it’s creepy as .” Yeeun says, eyeing the mop, the empty chairs, and the closed down food shops with warily apprehension.

The silence stretches out between them until Kyungri breaks it, her big, owlish eyes steady as they practically peer into Yeeun’s soul. Yeeun tries not to squirm under her gaze, and Yeeun is almost afraid that Kyungri’s going to say something serious, that, maybe, she’s going to tell her that her decision to stay in their empty apartment in Seoul during the end of the world, alone, is a bad idea.

(That, possibly, spending it with Baekhyun, might be even worse.)

Instead, Kyungri says, very seriously, “I’m hungry. Do you think they’d care if I took something?”

Yeeun follows her gaze, to the glass display cases, a couple cutely decorated cakes in a dark display as well as bags of chips hanging above the displays. The only problem is that the cases are behind metal gates that the storeowner had slid down to protect their goods. Yeeun blinks, “Is that a serious question?”

“I mean, it’s the end of the world. We’re all meant to die anyway. They wouldn’t send me to jail for taking a couple bags of chips and a cake?” Kyungri says, though it sounds more like a question.

“Yes, they would.” Yeeun says, frowning.

“Who’s this they we’re talking about, exactly?” Jongdae’s voice resounds from above her left shoulder and Yeeun jumps a little at the sudden sound of his voice. He grins down at her, clearly amused by her reaction.

Kyungri doesn’t bother looking in Jongdae’s direction, staring longingly at the cakes and chips on display. “The metaphorical oppressor keeping me from my cakes and chips aka the man.” She pauses dramatically before whispering, “The cis man.”

Yeeun giggles, she can’t help it. “You’re so dramatic. Besides, we all know cis men aren’t metaphorical oppressors. They’re pretty literal on that front.”

Kyungri grins, all teeth and approving nod, “You are absolutely not wrong.” Then she sighs, “And on the dramatic point, I am not dramatic.” Kyungri eyes the snacks longingly, holding her tummy lovingly the same way pregnant women do, “I just want cake.”

Baekhyun sighs from beside Jongdae, his hands raised upwards as if he’s lamenting God himself, “Don’t we all?”

His suggestive tone (especially about cake) isn’t lost on any of them. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and Junmyeon sighs, “Can we ever have just one wholesome conversation?”

“I can’t believe you just unironically used the word wholesome.” Chanyeol looks in awe. “That’s so…wholesome.”

“I’m going for it.” Kyungri decidedly whispers, while Junmyeon gives Chanyeol one of his looks that precedes a whole thirty-minute rant. Chanyeol smiles sheepishly, clearly regretting his comment when Junmyeon opens his mouth to start the rant off.

“Who uses wholesome ironically? Why would they do that? Also, you just used it unironically you—Kyungri.” Junmyeon cuts himself off, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. The sight is so amusing that Yeeun bursts into laughter, doubling over at the sight of Junmyeon looking like a fish out of water while Kyungri is lifting the metal gate meant to close the small shop.

Kyungri pauses, the gate held over her head like she’s come straight out of some old European knights and castles movie, the lock to the gate picked and on the floor next to her feet.

Jongdae says, “How the hell did she pick the lock so fast?”

Kyungsoo glares at Chanyeol, “Yeah, Chanyeol? How?”

“I didn’t think she’d get that good that fast.” Chanyeol says, cowering a little because of Kyungsoo’s glare, though Chanyeol has an immensely proud look in his eyes. Yeeun can practically imagine him praising Kyungri, when they’re out of Kyungsoo’s earshot, for surpassing the master of picking locks. “Wow.” Chanyeol breathes, grinning. Kyungsoo glares and Chanyeol doesn’t even notice, smiling like a proud father.

Yeeun frowns, “First, you teach Baekhyun and now Kyungri? Even after that whole Christmas Incident of 2012? Really, Chanyeol?”

(“I thought we agreed never to talk about the Christmas Incident of 2012!” Jongdae shouts in the background, sounding scarred. She snickers over her shoulder at him and Jongdae pouts in her direction Baekhyun just grins at Jongdae.)

“I wouldn’t have taught them if I knew they’d get better than me at it. Baekhyun won’t even teach me, his teacher, how he picks locks with chopsticks.” Chanyeol exclaims while Junmyeon ends up stomping across the empty corridor like an angry parent off to pull his child off a mannequin at a department store.

Kyungri is quick to grab a few bags of chips before letting the shop gate slide down closed, the gate rattling loudly. And then she runs back to them, making a huge half circle around Junmyeon, who’s just glaring after her. Yeeun watches Junmyeon glare, walk all the way to the store, sigh, and then slide a couple won notes onto the table through the cracks of the gate.

Kyungri nonchalantly offers Junmyeon a chip, ignoring Chanyeol’s half-assed speech about how with great power comes great responsibility so maybe please don’t pick locks and steal in front of people, namely Kyungsoo, especially when I’m the reason why you know how to pick locks in the first place. Junmyeon scowls and Kyungri just shakes the bag. It takes about five seconds before they all take an offered chip, possible accounts of robbery be damned.

“You’re an idiot.” Kyungsoo tells Kyungri while they walk out of the strange, abandoned rest stop with the too bright lights and the fallen mop, still wet. Kyungri grins at Kyungsoo who grins back, and they look so similar it’s jarring, even though she’s known them for years.

They walk out and there’s a strangeness to the air as they make their way to the rental van. Junmyeon takes the keys from her hands without asking and she yelps, “Junmyeon!”

Baekhyun gives her a look on par with the kind of looks Junmyeon is capable of, telling her that she’s being an idiot without saying it. She sticks her tongue out at Baekhyun, who just rolls his eyes and heads to the passenger side seat.

Junmyeon frowns, “You don’t have to drive the whole way. Get some rest.”

She wants to say no but she has no idea why she wants to say that. Her stomach churns, in nervous anticipation.

And then Jongdae throws an easy arm over her shoulders and steers her to the other side of the van. She tries to shrug his arm off, but for a moment, they’re alone on the other side of the car; Baekhyun’s already taken his seat in shotgun and the van door on their side isn’t open.

Jongdae says, “Your hands are shaking.”

She looks down, at the hands she has at her side. He’s looking at them, too.

Jongdae doesn’t even need to ask why, she just blurts out, “The mop. They didn’t even put it back.”

Jongdae’s eyes flit between hers, searching her face carefully. “It’s fine.” Jongdae says, facing her, his fingers gripping her upper arms.

“It’s not.” She tells him, blinking before glancing down, unable to look at him, “It’s—nothing feels fine.”

I’m scared, is left unsaid between them. Not nervous, scared.

It claws at her stomach, the fear. She can’t even look at him because it’s ridiculous. Nothing’s even happened yet, and here she is, terrified of empty roads and empty rest stops.

“We’ll be okay.” He says, voice gentle. He leans down and presses a quick kiss to the side of her head, at her temple, and her pulse shoots up, her stomach flips, her hands curl around the edge of her t-shirt. His smile is so utterly disarming that she loses her breath, forgets how to ing breathe. Her fingers are still shaking, for other reasons now, especially when she meets his eyes, his soft soft eyes. Jongdae leans in, close enough for her to smell the remnants of his detergent, the salty smell of sweat, and feel Jongdae’s soft warmth. He opens the door, his chest pressed to the side of her face for a moment and she reddens.

When he slides open the van door, Chanyeol grinning as he shows Kyungsoo something on his phone, leaning forward since his phone is plugged into the car charger at the front. Junmyeon’s settling into the driver’s seat, adjusting it, and Kyungri’s occupied with her chips. Jongdae’s arm slides off her shoulders, his hands slide down her back, down her spine, and she shivers, visibly shivers, yet no one else notices what she thinks is so ing monumental. She can feel his fingers splayed across her back, gentle and reassuring as he gestures for her to go inside.

(And she turns her head a little, notices the side-view mirror and Baekhyun’s dark eyes reflected in them, piercing, as if he’s staring into her soul. He’s been sitting there the whole time, she realizes, and he must have seen their exchange through the side view mirror.

She wonders why the thought makes her redder than before, cheeks hot.)

She breathes in and settles into the seat between Kyungri and Jongdae, inching further into the seat when she sees Baekhyun’s eyes follow her through the rearview mirror, darkening even more, though so, so unreadable. Jongdae rests a careful hand on her knee and she finds herself staring at it with red cheeks.

~.~.~.~.~

Junmyeon drives with the windows down and, this time, Baekhyun chooses the music, slow songs with rhythmic beats filling the car, the bass vibrating softly. Kyungri’s curled up against Yeeun, her head tucked into the crook of Yeeun’s neck and even though it’s warm and uncomfortable, Yeeun doesn’t want to wake Kyungri so she just lets it happen. Jongdae’s hand stays on her knee, his thumb tapping up and down to the beat of the music, his humming soft but beautiful, a lovely sound she thinks she could listen to for days on end.

Junmyeon and Baekhyun seem to be deep in conversation, hushed voices and soft laughs drifting back to them in waves of sudden noise, a sound she finds comforting, and Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are asleep on each other, a jumbled mess that’s entirely too adorable, making Yeeun grin involuntarily every time she glances up at the middle seat.

Yeeun just stares at Jongdae’s hand, at the pretty way the veins follow up his hand, along his forearm. There’s a faint scar along his wrist, raised and white and undetectable if she hadn’t been looking. It looks old and she can’t help but hold out a finger and trace it, the skin smooth. His hand tenses on her knee, the thumb taps stop.

The line is too straight, too perfect, for it to be an accident.

She looks up at him, peering at him through fallen strands of hair.

He opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something, but before he can, Junmyeon hits the brakes, tires screeching, and Yeeun jolts forewords, Kyungri shrieks, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol slam into the seats in front of them before falling through the gaps to the floor. Jongdae grabs her arm, steadying her before she smacks her face against the seat.

“Sorry!” Junmyeon calls back to them and when Yeeun looks up, because there’s a strained quality to Junmyeon’s tone, she blinks, confused at the amount of military presence blocking their path. Junmyeon slows to a stop and she watches as Junmyeon rolls down the window and speaks with a uniformed man, the man’s expression incredibly serious, eyes darting from Junmyeon to Baekhyun and back. There are other military men peering at them through the open windows. Yeeun tries to ignore the twist in her chest when Chanyeol and Kyungsoo scoot apart, Kyungsoo rubbing at his eyes sleepily while Chanyeol rests his hands in his lap, glancing at the military man shining a flashlight into their car through the open window. He pauses, for a moment, on Yeeun and Kyungri, his gaze lingering long enough on both their bare legs, visible since they both have their feet up on the seat, her thin, lowcut shirt and Kyungri’s loose t-shirt that always slides off her shoulder, for Jongdae to scoot foreword just enough to block them from view, smiling that thin, polite smile of his that makes the military officer look away instantly, turning his flashlight on Baekhyun, who’s scowling, dark eyes narrowed.

“Where are you kids headed?” She hears the officer ask Junmyeon.

“Busan.” Junmyeon says and before the office can ask why, Junmyeon’s already explaining, lying really, “We have family there.”

(She makes a mental note to ask Junmyeon why he lied.)

The officer frowns at them for a long, long time. He looks conflicted almost when he responds, “Are you going to come back up?”

She thinks it’s a strange question and apparently so does Junmyeon. Junmyeon frowns, “Yeah. Is something wrong, officer?”

The pause in the conversation is long enough for everyone in the car to look at each other, gazes wary. Kyungri’s big eyes meet hers and she shakes her head because she doesn’t understand. But then the officer says, “It’ll be difficult to come back up, that’s all.” The officer glances at Baekhyun and then back at the rest of them, “It’d be easier for you kids if you just stay there. Once you pass this blockade, there’s a chance you won’t be able to get back.”

Yeeun wants to ask why, what are you hiding, what’s happening, but Junmyeon just nods as if none of this is news to him and says, “We’ll stay healthy. Don’t worry.”

“I hope so.”

And then the officers back off, waving for the military officers up ahead to allow them to pass through the blockade.

“Good luck.” One of the officers calls after them, raising his fist in a weak fighting motion. The man who had been staring at Kyungri and Yeeun tips his hat in their direction and Yeeun feels a shiver trickle up her spine, her fingers curling around Jongdae’s arm.

Jongdae’s looking up ahead, at Junmyeon, who seems intent on the road, ignoring Baekhyun’s obvious questioning. Chanyeol, she notices, is quiet, ever-present smile gone. His head is turned and he’s watching as the military blockade disappears behind them.

“Hyung?” Chanyeol says and his deep voice cuts through Baekhyun’s questioning, through Kyungsoo’s soft words, through Kyungri questioning Kyungsoo.

Junmyeon glances back at them and says, “They’re worried about radiation sickness. Irene told me it’s a big issue. If we don’t get sick, they’ll let us through.”

Yeeun speaks quietly, “Is the radiation sickness that bad?”

All heads turn to Junmyeon who just stares straight down the road, expression passive.

Junmyeon doesn’t answer, however, he just shrugs.

~.~.~.~.~

They stop for gas at a station right beside the road and she follows Junmyeon into the convenience store, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Kyungri stumbling in behind her a few moments later while Kyungsoo and Jongdae stay in the car. The little bell rings and the television is on, playing reruns of old music shows. Chanyeol pauses when 2PM comes on stage, chairs read for A.D.T.O.Y. and Yeeun giggles at his awestruck expression, even as Kyungri gets on her tiptoes just to knock Chanyeol upside the head. “Keep it together, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol looks sheepish. Baekhyun snickers, “You’re still drooling, idiot.”

“I’m not drooling and I’m not an idiot, idiot.” Chanyeol responds. “I’m a third-year engineering student.”

Baekhyun nods, “Somehow that makes your idiot tendencies worse.”

Chanyeol kicks Baekhyun’s , his limbs flailing as he does it dramatically, and Baekhyun shrieks, jumping in place, hands on his backside, as he throws the nearest packet of chips at Chanyeol, causing Chanyeol to keel over and guffaw in amusement.

Yeeun turns to look at Junmyeon, who’s staring at the convenience store counter, where there’s a sign that says will be back in 5 minutes and a tiny clock detailing the exact time the cashiers supposed to be back. It’s set for four hours ago.

Yeeun looks up at Junmyeon, “Maybe they forgot to change the time.”

(But the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end, anyway.)

Junmyeon turns to look down at her and Yeeun can’t help but reach out and pat Junmyeon’s elbow gently, reassuringly. Junmyeon shakes his head a little, smiling slightly, “I’ll just use my card.”

Yeeun nods, watching as Junmyeon heads back to the pump, the convenience store bells ringing loudly in the store. Yeeun turns, grabbing an energy drink. She pauses, momentarily, at a cheap looking Polaroid camera, picking it up so she can examine it. The store doors ring again, but she ignores it, curiously eyeing the Polaroid camera. She contemplates buying it, especially since it’s so much cheaper than she expected, her fingers trailing over the extra pack of Polaroids next to the camera.

(Maybe, it’s stupid, but she wants to document this trip. Phone photos, she thinks, won’t last forever. Not when they don’t have forever. She wants something tangible, something they can hold, so she can hold her memories, physically hold them, before all hell breaks loose. Her mind reels over all the possibilities and she takes a second to mentally calculate how much cash she has—which is unnecessary, really, because she has thousands of won on her, had decided to take it all out because the end is nigh and she’s ready to blow it all on brief moments of happiness.)

“ it.” She whispers, wiggling the camera box off the display before she grabs a couple packs of extra Polaroid packs, her hands overflowing.

She’s thinking maybe she’s getting much more sentimental than she thought she’d ever get, at least not now, so early on, but the packages teeter in her fingers and she spins on her heels grinning to—

“What the .” She shrieks, dropping the camera and extra Polaroid packets and candy bar and energy drink as she stumbles back into the display case, the metal rods prodding into her back.

There’s a man, not much older than her, blinking at her with a dazed sort of look in his eyes. He’s pretty, she notes, but his eyes are huge, the skin under them a little swollen, and he has a sick mask on, the neon convenience store vest slipping off his shoulders. It looks too big for him, but she thinks all his clothes do. He’s wearing baggy track pants and a matching track jacket underneath the vest and his hair is blond. His name tag reads Lu Han.

She puts a hand over her racing heart, “Can I help you?” She asks, tone exasperated as she bends down and gathers her things.

The man sniffles, coughs a little, and she thinks he sounds downright pitiful. “Uh, sorry for the scare. I thought I said something, I guess I didn’t.”

It’s quiet while she straightens up, her arms overflowing with things, and she throws him an exasperated look because of his words. He blinks at her, the movement slow.

“Sorry.” He says again. Then he shakes his head, as if to clear it of stray thoughts, and he says, “Are you ready to check out?”

She nods, slightly exasperated because she can’t really help that, her heart still beating loudly in her chest, “Yeah.”

She puts her things on the counter and eyes his lethargic movements.

He doesn’t say anything, and she glances out the gas station windows, where Baekhyun’s gesturing for her to hurry up. Kyungsoo looks like he wants to tell her to hurry the up, though, squinting/glaring at her the way he always does because he’s blind as a bat. She holds up a finger and she watches the way Kyungsoo shrugs and turns back to the car, the way Baekhyun glances between her and Lu Han with brows raised so high, she can the movement from all the way over here.

She watches Lu Han bag her stuff, coughing after he hands her things off to her. “Have a nice day.” He says, bowing his head, “Please come again.”

“You should get some rest. You’re, like, really sick, dude.” She says, frowning at him.

“Yeah, but I need the money.” Even his voice is lethargic and scratchy from what clearly sounds like a sore throat.

“The money isn’t worth spending your last days in a convenience store.”

“You may be absolutely right about that.” Lu Han snorts, and it sounds like a wheeze, “But it is what it is.”

She nods, “Yeah?”

Lu Han nods vigorously, shooing her along, “I’m stuck here, anyway.”

“Why?” She asks, because she can’t figure out why he’d say that, why he’d sound so resigned while saying it.

Lu Han opens his mouth, as if to answer, but then a car horn blasts through the silence and she whisks around, frowning at her friends. “God, they’re so annoying. I’ll see you around.”

Chanyeol’s hanging halfway out the open window, Junmyeon’s sitting in the driver’s seat, Kyungri has her face pressed up against the window, and she can’t see Baekhyun and Jongdae.

She waves back at Lu Han, the cashier, “Bye!”

Lu Han just waves back, smiling, at least she thinks he does because all she can see is his eyes curling thanks to his sick mask.

“Oh, he’s cute.” Chanyeol tells her, his upper half hanging out the open window of the van while he grins at her, his eyes big and his teeth glinting at her. He jabs a thumb back towards the convenience store like she isn’t aware of which boy Chanyeol’s talking about.

“Is he?” She asks, shoving at Chanyeol’s head so she can open the door. Chanyeol lets her push him into the van, Kyungsoo grumbling without much conviction from within when Chanyeol undoubtedly falls on top of him. She digs through the bag when she settles in between Jongdae and Kyungri and she vaguely registers Baekhyun in the front seat, sipping on hot tea (because he’s strange and enjoys hot drinks in hot weather for some reason). She digs through the bag and finds the energy drink, handing it off to Jongdae.

“Oh, thanks.” Jongdae murmurs right against her ear and she stills, her fingers wrapped around the Polaroid camera box, her heart skipping a beat.

“No problem.” She says before she pulls out the camera. She sets it up and does a test shot, turning to Jongdae, the click echoing in the car.

“Oh, cool! You got a Polaroid!” Chanyeol says, making grabby hands at it while she shakes out the one she took of Jongdae, waiting for it to develop.

She lets Chanyeol peer through the lens, snapping a couple pictures, one of her and Kyungri, Kyungri hitting the peace sign like an expert, one of Junmyeon driving and glaring at Chanyeol for distracting him, and then one of Baekhyun drinking hot tea, wrinkling his nose cutely as he poses for the picture, the juxtaposition of him, of cute face wearing not-so-cute, rugged clothing, tight in all the right places, incredibly obvious.

“Never took you for a hipster.” Kyungsoo says, even though he’s staring intently at the Polaroid Chanyeol took of Kyungri and Yeeun, Kyungri grinning and Yeeun blowing a kiss at the camera, while half of Jongdae’s face is cut off, clearly posing as if he thought he’d be in the picture, too. The background of the picture is beautiful, she thinks, because the rear window gives way to an open road, the scenery of green rolling hills, vast open sky, and the empty gas station, the open sign shining brightly in the picture. There’s a figure, she notices, near one of the gas pumps, neon vest obvious in the picture. But before she can look closer, Jongdae diverts her attention to the one of Baekhyun, winking, nose scrunched, as he sips at his hot tea.

Yeeun just responds to Kyungsoo by sticking her tongue out at him. He laughs, but Jongdae says, “Look at Baekhyun. Why does he think he’s cute?”

“Maybe because I am.” Baekhyun calls back to them.

“Can you all sit down? I can’t see through the back window.”

“Junmyeon looks like a soccer mom.” Kyungri giggles, pointing at the other Polaroid, and Jongdae snorts, leaning into Yeeun to get a better look at the picture of Junmyeon, head turned slightly, his mouth wide open as if he’s lecturing them while he’s driving, sunglasses perched on his forehead.

“I heard that!” Junmyeon shouts back at them.

“You were supposed to!” Kyungri says.

“Sit down, buckle your seat belts, and stop talking before I kick you out.”

“Yes, mom.” Jongdae says and they all burst into giggles, even Baekhyun’s shoulders shake as Junmyeon splutters, makes a face, and shoves his sunglasses over his eyes.

(She puts the tiny Polaroids in her cross-body bag and smiles at her new Polaroid camera.

She feels eyes on her and she glances sideways, where Jongdae is looking down at her, his shoulder pressed against hers as he smiles, a gentle fond little thing.

“It’s a good idea.” He says.

He sounds almost sad and it reminds her that that’s why her chest feels so tight, even when she’s sitting in this stuffy rental van and giggling with her best friends.)

~.~.~.~.~

They make it into Busan quickly and it’s supposed to be dark when they do.

It’s not entirely dark, she notices. In fact, she’s noticed this for weeks, since week five, and how despite the sun setting, the moon would still shine bright. It’d never get darker than dusk and the scientists on television called it a side effect of an impending solar flares growing closer each day. It’s cooler out, but there’s a certain quality to the world, a little bright even at night, the same way it is when it snows and the moon reflects off the snow, brightening up the night.

It adds an eerie quality to Busan, she notices, like she’s entered an alternate dimension and she shouldn’t be here. It’s beautiful, though, and she snaps a picture, trying her best to keep from jostling Jongdae awake as he sleeps on her shoulder, his nose tucked in against her collarbone, his soft breathing tickling her a bit. She tries not to focus on it because her cheeks are already permanently warm and red and focusing on the details only makes it worse. When she turns her head, she can smell his hair, the distinct peppermint scent of his shampoo, and it’s calming. It almost settles her nerves. Almost.

But then her nerves skyrocket, especially when she sees the way the streets of Busan are absolutely deserted.

Yeeun blinks, watching as they zoom past a fallen street sign. The stop light blinks yellow, caution, and keeps flashing, on and off on and off and she thinks it’s the eeriest sight yet, the juxtaposition of bright yellow blinking over the almost desaturated night sky, bright but grey. She thinks colorless is a good word for it.

Kyungsoo is curled up under Chanyeol’s arm, fast asleep, Chanyeol’s mouth (and eyes) slightly open while he remains sprawled out, one of his legs resting on the armrest of Baekhyun’s seat up front. Baekhyun’s head is resting against the door and she can’t tell if he’s sleeping, but she thinks he is, if the steady rhythm of his shoulders, going up and down, is anything to go by.

She watches Junmyeon drive, the sound of his turn signal blinking overpowering the sounds of silent breathing in the car occasionally.

She turns to look at Kyungri, whose head is bouncing against the window while she sleeps, her neck pillow (she’s the only one who thought to bring one and Yeeun is beyond jealous, since she often wakes up with an aching neck) covering half of her face. She’s curled up on herself, fingers curled up into fists.

(She knows it’s a habit of hers, clearly remembers how unconfident Kyungri used to be, how she used to walk curled up on herself, clearly afraid of her surroundings, afraid of someone noticing her. Before, when she still let people call her Kyungho and she went to that horrible boy’s school, before she came out as transgendered to her parents, to Yeeun, trembling so hard Yeeun remembers worrying that Kyungri was going to break in half—because she really was that fragile back then.

Kyungsoo had told her, when she cornered him and asked the whys and whats of Kyungri’s shaking, her obvious fear, and Kyungsoo had sat, fists curled in his lap, and told her every disgusting thing that had happened at that horrible school, all the names and bullying Kyungsoo wasn’t around to try and stop, and Yeeun—well, she’s blocked out plenty of memories from middle school, because let’s face it, middle school is the most embarrassing time of anyone’s life, period, but she vividly remembers stomping into that school’s courtyard and shouting at some horrid middle school boy twice her size, one who had gotten up in her face after she started yelling, before angrily punching him right in the ing nose multiple times. She remembers a kind faced older kid, one who honestly looked like he didn’t belong in middle school in the first place, putting himself between them because the horrid, ty bully was about two seconds away from punching her right back. The too old middle schooler—Kim Junmyeon, she’d later learn, because she’d get into more trouble and he’d sigh and step in more often than she’d like to admit—had to calm her down and she was suspended from her school for starting a fight.

She thinks that was the beginning of her short stint into using violence as the answer to everything, anger fueling her every move, and though she doesn’t believe in responding with violence anymore, she still thinks that moment was the best decision of her life, on multiple fronts.)

Yeeun gently pats Kyungri’s hand, gently massaging the back of her hand, and Kyungri’s fists lose their tension.

She glances back up, at Junmyeon.

(She thinks of middle school him massaging her bruised knuckles and the pain shooting up her thumb. “I don’t think violence is the right answer.” He said, all prudish and straight laced.

She remembers wanting to tell him that all she ever knew was violence. She grew up on violence, it’s the only answer she knew of. But she doesn’t. She just blinks at him.

He sighs, “But next time you want to punch someone, don’t tuck your thumb inside your fist. You’re lucky you didn’t break it.”

She remembers how she had grinned at him, a slow thing that grew quickly.

He had smiled back, politely, his eyes shining bright. “I still don’t recommend it, though.”)

She notes the direction he’s heading, and she blinks rapidly, her voice, raspy from sleep, settling over the otherwise silent car. “Where are we going?”

Last time she came to Busan was a long, long time ago. She thinks it was a class trip. Or maybe one of few vacations she’d had with her parents, back when the good days used to barely outnumber the bad. That had been almost as short as her brief period of answering everything with fists. From what she remembers, all this turning didn’t lead to the beach. If she listens closely, she can hear waves in the distance. They’re currently cruising through neighborhoods she doesn’t recognize, and she knows they’re too far from the beach.

(And the emptiness in the streets, the drawn curtains, the lack of cars, leaves her insides shaken.)

Junmyeon doesn’t say anything.

(She thinks he’s driving like he knows where he’s going.)

“Junmyeon.” She speaks louder and Jongdae stirs against her shoulder. Kyungsoo nuzzles further under Chanyeol’s arm, eye twitching a bit.

“Jun.” She whispers, and she hates how scared she sounds.

He doesn’t answer, he just rolls to a stop, car jerking as he presses on the brakes, in front of a nondescript house. It’s not an apartment, it’s a single home and she thinks it’s a surprising sight to behold.

Junmyeon turns off the engine, the silence that follows for he split second after absolutely jarring.

And then Baekhyun moves, arms stretching over his head as the sound of him yawning drifts to the backseat, Kyungsoo stirs but doesn’t open his eyes, Chanyeol is dead asleep, Kyungri snuggles up against the window, and Jongdae’s head lifts off her shoulder, the sudden loss of his warmth leaving her disappointed.

“Where are we?” Baekhyun’s raspy, sleepy voice echoes softly in the car, a sound that makes the warmth that left with Jongdae trickle back into her veins, her blood. It calms her nerves just a little bit.

But not enough.

Not enough when she meets Junmyeon’s eyes through the rearview mirror and they remind her of the times she’s found him in the library, textbooks spread out all around him and an almost crazed look in his eyes, fingers clenched around a coffee cup, so utterly stressed that she always made sure to ask one of the other boys to come by to help her drag him out of the library and to the park, or a restaurant or sometimes even a bar, just to unwind. They remind her of the handful of times he’s sat across from her, picking at his fingernails and unable to really, truly meet her eyes, as he downplayed the amount of pressure his parents would drop on him daily. He’d tap his fingers to a chaotic beat and she’d reach out and grab them, squeeze tightly and watch his shoulders droop a bit, the tension ebb away the tiniest bit. They remind her of that, of stress and pressure, and something else entirely. Something tired, exhausted, anxious.

Something different. Something—

“I’ll catch up with you guys soon.” Junmyeon says. He’s looking at her, turned in his seat, keys dangling from his fingertips as he offers them up to her.

She starts, “What—”

“No questions.” Junmyeon cuts her off. Then, he sighs, “Please, not now.” His eyes drift past her, sideways, towards the house they’re parked next to, a house that looks so so empty, so lonely. “Not now.” He repeats.

It’s quiet for so so long and then Jongdae breaks it, his voice careful, soft, “Shoot us a text when you’re done.”

“We’re going to grab dinner.” Baekhyun adds and his tone is strangely gentle, uncharacteristically so.

Junmyeon nods, nods and nods and nods, even as he breathlessly whispers, “Yeah.”

Then he’s shutting the door softly and he’s walking around the car and before Yeeun can say anything, move at all, Jongdae’s nudging her with his elbow.

Her body is moving automatically as she quietly slides open the side door, careful not to wake Kyungsoo, Kyungri, or Chanyeol. She walks to the driver’s side slowly, her eyes on Junmyeon, watching as he stands in front of the house for a long time, seemingly preparing himself, his neck craned as he looks up at it, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck all the while, analyzes it the way he analyzes most things when he’s doing something he’s never done before, with careful, too long deliberation.

She watches as he steps forward, at long last, squaring his shoulders, and walks the paved path to the front door, the flowers lining the path wilting, leaves dried up, soil a light cracked brown. She’s startled out of watching Junmyeon’s every movement when there’s light tap on the window. She looks down and Baekhyun is leaning across the seat, blinking up at her, his eyes filled with concern. She shakes her head, clears her thoughts, before she opens the door and takes a seat, adjusting the rearview mirror as she starts up the car, the engine roaring to life. Junmyeon glances back at them before turning to the front door. She sees him knock and that’s when she finally looks away.

(For a moment, she feels like she should give him privacy, that whatever he’s doing at that house, whoever he’s going to see, is his own business and she shouldn’t watch, shouldn’t intrude on that.)

Instead, she looks at Baekhyun, looks over her shoulder at Jongdae, and says, “Is it okay to just leave?”

Jongdae is the one to nod, slowly, though he keeps glancing out the window, at Junmyeon, “He’ll come back.”

She thinks that sounds awfully ominous. It must show on her face because Baekhyun reaches over and places a gentle hand over hers, his pretty fingers warm. “He’ll tell us why when he does. Don’t worry.”

She nods, brisk and tight, before she shakes off his hand and reaches for the stick.

(Later, she will realize that this was the turning point into a slippery downhill slope.)

a/n: This one shot really turned into 53k omgjfdksfnskjdn

Anyways, I'm going to divide it into 3 parts even tho it's technically a oneshot and space out posting it by like one day, just because it feel like it's TOO MUCH to post it all at once lmao, so look out for that! I needed to get this over with so I could start drop the game for nanowrimo

Last, but not least!!! Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who commented and subscribed before I even posted anything, you're all so lovely and beautiful and sweet and I really don't deserve any of you omgjfdksf thank you!!!

xoxo