The second time they met, Junjin was the one that found the other first.

It had been another of Junjin’s daily strolls around Seoul, it was another cloudy day, and the air had been exceptionally chilly that day. Junjin figured it was almost wintertime, but he wouldn’t know. He never kept track of time after the war ended. Everyday was the same to him, the same routine, the same route, and the same broken Seoul. Change wasn’t something quite welcome to Junjin.

But that day, for some unexplainable reason, he decided to deviate a little from his usual path and walk down an unfamiliar neighborhood. Perhaps it was pure coincidence or fate in the working, but he found that person again, trying desperately to free his foot from a pile of rubble.

And for an even more unexplainable reason, Junjin found himself walking up to the other and trying to help him. Later at home, he would reflect upon the day and ask himself: “Why did I do that?” because bitter and abandoned Junjin would never help anyone without something in return.

However, bitter and abandoned Junjin decided to help the trapped man without even thinking of getting anything in return.

That was something only the old Junjin would do.

The naïve and weak Junjin.

The other retaliated harshly—very much like a frightened and wounded animal—shoving Junjin away with strength Junjin didn’t know the other had. Junjin landed on a pile of rocks with a loud thump and glared at the other from behind the gas mask he was wearing.

“I was only trying to help,” Junjin mumbled irately, standing up and dusting the ashes off of his only apocalypse-appropriate pants. Unfortunately (or more likely: as he expected), the other had not heard him and proceeded to throw pebbles at Junjin. While the barrage of small rocks did not hurt Junjin or sever skin—because most pelted off of his gas mask—it was downright annoying and Junjin nearly lost his patience.

“Get,” the other stammered, “Get away from me!” He threw another round of pebbles at Junjin as his other hand d the ground for more ammunition.

Taking a deep, calming breath (which turned out to be a huge mistake as he immediately fought down the urge to cough out the rancid air that invaded his lungs), he reminded himself that he needed to satisfy his conscience, and losing his patience would not help him in the least. He lunged forward and grabbed the other’s hand before the other pelted him with more pebbles.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Junjin ground out, making sure to be loud enough for the other to hear clearly, “I was just trying to help. But if you prefer to be stuck outside while you slowly die of starvation or poisoning, then please be my guest.”

The other seemed to have relaxed a little, and Junjin took it as his cue to release the hold he had on the other’s arm. The other let his arm fall limply on his side, though he still clenched his fist around the handful of small pebbles. Junjin sighed, but expected the other wouldn’t let down his guard just yet. Instead of provoking the other any further by idly standing, he bent down and set to dig the other’s foot out of the wreckage.

After a few minutes of Junjin digging using his bare hands (and sustaining a number of cuts and scrapes and chipped nails), the other’s foot was finally free. Junjin heaved a sigh and let himself fall onto the ground, the lack of proper nutrition taking a toll on his stamina. He should probably head home and disinfect his wounds before unwanted chemicals and bacteria seep into them, but he guessed a little rest wouldn’t hurt before he head back home.

Junjin watched as the other (Junjin should probably ask for his name instead of calling him ‘the other’ all the time) shakily got up on his feet. Walking around in circles to test his foot. Then stuck out a gloved hand towards Junjin. Junjin’s tired mind managed to process the fact that the other wanted to help him up.

Junjin gingerly took his hand and lifted himself off the ground, nearly sending them toppling backward with the marginal difference in both their weights, the other just barely managing to keep himself upright. Junjin was far from his original healthy weight of around 140 pounds, but this man was much lighter compared to the Junjin then. He briefly wondered if he was eating right, but immediately flung his thoughts out the proverbial window when he remembered that it was impossible for either of them to be eating well under their circumstances.

“Thank you,” the other said, words muffled slightly by the gas mask, but clear enough so Junjin understood what was being said. “I’m sorry for being hostile at first. It’s—it’s really been a while since I saw someone else.”

Junjin understood. The other had been the first person Junjin saw in a long while. Most everyone cleared out of Seoul when the air first showed signs of toxic substances. The ones who stayed were either crazy or already welcoming their deaths with open arms. The first few people (they’re all gone now, for some reason Junjin rather not know) he met were hostile and—from what Junjin had unfortunately seen—cannibalistic. The other no doubt had the experience of being attacked by those people. Junjin lifted himself up and gave the man a small nod to show that his apology was accepted.

“We seem to have gotten off on the wrong footing,” the other chuckled sheepishly, a weak, raspy cough-like laugh, “Let’s start over. Hello, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Lee Sunho, but I go by Andy.” The other—Andy—extended a hand out to Junjin, which Junjin tentatively shook, “And you?”

Junjin contemplated on whether or not to tell his real name for a split second before concluding that, what the hell, he had nothing to lose from this. “Park Choongjae, but everyone used to call me Junjin.”

Andy nodded—not even asking about the ‘used to’—and drew his hand back from Junjin’s grasp. “Junjin then, it’s very nice to meet someone that’s not trying to eat you.”

Junjin offered a small, polite chuckle at Andy’s attempt to lighten the mood. Andy looked down and seemed to finally take notice of Junjin’s wounded hands. His head swiveled up in what Junjin could guess as alarm and—in a panicky state that was almost comical—started to drag Junjin by the arm towards an obscure direction.

“Where are you taking me?” Junjin asked, calmly, as Andy pulled him inside a ruinous building stripped completely of its roofing.

“You’re wounded!” Andy shouted, facing Junjin for a split second before ducking underneath what could have been a doorway, “I’m sorry I didn’t—Why didn’t you tell me you were wounded? I could’ve taken care of it sooner! Don’t you know it’s dangerous to have open wounds?”

Junjin did know, and he didn’t really appreciate being yelled at for it. But Junjin didn’t have the energy or the will to rebuke, so he just let Andy mutter unintelligible words and drag him around like a rag doll.

Finally they reached a door, it was bulky and steel-enforced, not different from the one in Junjin’s own abode. Andy unlatched the lock and opened the door, motioning for Junjin to quickly follow him inside. With both on the other side, Andy swiftly closed the door before more poisonous air seeped in and locked it from the inside. Andy turned to a crank at the side of the door and began to rotate it with all his strength. A soft breeze flitted through Junjin’s hair, and he could see the yellowish-green air of the outside world being into an air vent and presumably transferred outside.

Andy sighed tiredly once he thought the air was clean, then remembered his companion and motioned for Junjin to follow him down the hall. While Andy’s strides were long and quick, Junjin’s were short and lazy, with all the energy of a world-weary old man. Junjin took in the unfamiliar surroundings around him and observed as much as he can. There were doors lining up the sides, and Junjin assumed these were one of the anti-apocalypse housing complexes. Junjin himself lived in one—albeit it was abandoned now. Junjin assumed this one was as well, with how eerily silent everything is and how some of the doors were ajar, showing the empty insides.

They reached the door at the end of the hallway. Andy opened the door and beckoned for Junjin to step in as well. Junjin watched as Andy a battery-powered lamp and disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms. Junjin decided it was a good time as any to take off his gas mask. He pulled on the straps and lifted the mask away from his face, heaving a sigh for finally being able to breathe normally. He took closed the door behind him and took his shoes off near the entryway before he walked inside. He set his mask on a coffee table and plopped himself onto the beige-colored sofa. Andy could still be heard fussing over something on the other room, so Junjin contented himself with looking around Andy’s home from his place on the couch.

Andy’s home wasn’t that big—though his was even smaller—but it had a nice homely feel to it. It was as if Andy tried his best to make the best out of everything even in harsh circumstances. There were framed pictures hanging on the walls, a vase of fake plastic flowers, a home-made calendar, and everything looked like it was meticulously cleaned everyday. In contrast to Junjin’s own empty and drab house, Andy’s was more welcoming and radiated a sort of liveliness that made it attractive to Junjin’s eyes.

Andy came back—mask already forgone—carrying a white box that was unmistakably a first-aid kit. Now that Andy had taken off his mask, Junjin could clearly see the face of the smaller man. Andy’s face held a look of someone Junjin’s age or younger, if it was not marred by eye-bags and a completely ashen complexion. There was a certain attractiveness to him that Junjin couldn’t quite place—he wasn’t handsome, and good-looking wasn’t exactly accurate…he was cute? Yeah, that was what Junjin was looking for. Junjin had no doubt that when before all this mess Andy had been praised for a natural air of cuteness about him.

“Oh,” Andy said, taking a seat next to Junjin and placing the box in front of him. “You’re actually unexpectedly quite good-looking. Were you a model before?”

Junjin, caught completely off-guard by the compliment, imitated a gaping fish before clearing his throat and finding his voice once again. “No, I was a dance instructor for an entertainment agency. My father used to be in the entertainment industry though.”

“I see,” Andy said absently as he began sorting through bandages and antiseptics. “I used to be just a normal businessman, but I worked part-time as a babysitter to some of my neighbors. I have some memorabilia from that time, and pictures of the kids I took care of. They were little angels,” Andy smiled fondly, lost in the memory of happier times, finally taking out a roll of bandages, a cotton swab and a bottle of antiseptic. “The eldest of them, Minsoo, would watch over the littler ones dutifully. Then Chanhee always acted like a mother hen around everyone, even me. And then there was little Changhyun, he was always being teased by the others, even the youngest Jonghyun. They were a handful, but it was so much fun taking care of them.”

Junjin nodded stiffly, unsure of how to react to Andy’s sudden trip down memory lane. He couldn’t exactly blame him for opening up so quickly to the first stranger who didn’t try to eat him. Loneliness could drive a person mad. So he just opted to just sit still and listen as Andy disinfected his wounds with the cotton swab.

“Their parents took them away to the countryside when the war started,” Andy continued, applying antiseptic meticulously on Junjin’s hands. “They were crying about how they didn’t want to leave me and wanted me to come with them,” Andy paused slightly, but quickly continued. “In the end their parents promised to contact me so we could talk. I kept in contact with them up until the first raid started. I don’t know where they are now, but hopefully they’re somewhere safe.” Andy ended wistfully.

Junjin bit back a pessimistic retort—what place was safe when the war started?—Andy’s hands were trembling over his own and if he concentrated enough, he could hear the slight hitch in his breath. But it was gone as fast as it came, and Andy was breathing normally and continuing his work.

“Why didn’t you leave as well?” Junjin found himself asking, immediately inwardly slapping himself for prying. It was Andy’s business, Junjin’s mind scolded, you keep to yourself, and he’ll do the same. Don’t pry anyone’s life if it was not your business. Junjin was about to apologize and take back what he said, but the sight of Andy smiling at him—sadly, serenely—took the words away from his mouth.

Andy spoke, softly barely above a whisper, but Junjin heard it clear as a bell, “Because I promised someone I’d wait for them.”

I'm finally satisfied enough to post this! :'D You cannot understand my happiness! I've been so busy with everything (My school is out to kill me :D) and when I finally have free time I had the worst writer's block I've had in a while and couldn't write anything without rage-quitting. I am so sorry for doing this to you all. I am so extremely sorry, no amount of words can express the guilt I feel. I'll be on a community service trip come Sunday for like a week, but hopefully after that I can post something before I'm drowned in orals and planning for a stupid fair my teacher put me as one of the supervisors because I attended a stupid conference D: I hope this will sate you all for now, I have other fics to update.