Sunggyu lives, while millions die, because of sheer, dumb, ironic luck. The best kind of luck, apparently. The kind of luck that affords him the ability to continue to breathe, and gives him the comfort of being wrapped up in his brother’s protective arms like he’s five again and just woke up from a terrible nightmare. He feels five again. Terrified, small, helpless.

Sunggyu lives because his mother plies him with guilt, forty-eight hours before the world ends, nagging on him, “You’ve only gone to see your brother twice since his service began. Does family mean so little to you, son?” She’s exceptionally good with guilt, being able to focus all her forces on him since Yunho, her favorite, took his two year mandatory service requirement.

“I write him all the time,” Sunggyu argues, because he knows exactly where she’s going with the conversation, and he’s got plans to take the train to Busan for the long holiday with Heechul and Jonghyun to see a mutual friend. “I probably write him more than you do, mom. It’s called e-mail.”

“Don’t you sass me,” she says, but her tone is light, which means he hasn’t offended her with his borderline insubordination. Then she repeats, “Yunho has been gone well over a year and you’ve visited too little. I think you should take this upcoming visitor’s weekend to go see him in my place. It would be a nice surprise for him, and a good deed as a brother.” The way she says it means he’ll be on the phone to Heechul in less than twenty minutes, having to cancel their plans.

It isn’t that Sunggyu doesn’t want to go visit Yunho. In fact, despite almost being a completely grown man, Sunggyu still sort of hero worships his older brother. Yunho is funny and smart, loyal and strong. He’s compassionate without being weak, and dedicated without being obsessive. He’s a good son, a better brother, and from all accounts, an amazing solider. Mandatory service is two years, but from what Sunggyu’s mother has been saying, Yunho may stay on, maybe make a career of it.

“It’s only a weekend,” his mother says.

“I have plans,” he argues back.

So she tries, “Your brother is running fleet maneuvers with the Americans from Camp Humphrey’s this weekend.” She waves her hand dismissively like she does every time the Americans are mentioned. “A show of good will for us and them. Publicity. Bah.” She focuses a second later. “Yunho promised me if I came this weekend he’d take me out on one of their more advanced ships and let me stand with him on the bridge. He was promoted to an officer’s rank four months ago, remember? But this is something I think you’d appreciate more than me.”

Not really, but Sunggyu doesn’t tell her that. The truth is, Sunggyu doesn’t like the water. He likes the land, with solid ground under his feet. He doesn’t care about the South Korean naval ships that Yunho always boasts about, and when Sunggyu goes to serve his time, he won’t be getting anywhere near them if he has anything to say on the matter. Neither does the little boy in him, a remnant from childhood, get excited at the prospect of standing on the bridge while men bark orders at each other and boast about their naval superiority.

Sunggyu would rather go to Busan with Jonghyun and Heechul. He’d rather go with his friends and eat chilled watermelon, play basketball and relax from the previous semester of school. Sunggyu has less than a year left before college and exams are weighing heavily on his mind.

“Do I have to?” Sunggyu asks, trying to make his eyes a little wider. He’s no good with trying to look adorable enough to get his way, and Yunho is his mother’s favorite, but Sunggyu is the baby. Maybe that counts for something.

It counts for nothing.

“Gyu!”

Yunho’s arms are too tight and it’s too warm outside when they see each other for the first time in eight months. Sunggyu is embarrassed for a second, being so old and being hugged so fully by his brother in public. But then he sort of melts into it, like going home, and the rest of the world falls away.

“Yunho,” Sunggyu says, being jostled a little by the endless stream of people around them. There are parents greeting children, siblings embracing each other, and shouts of joy everywhere. No one is looking at the way Sunggyu hangs off his big brother. It’s a relief. “Have you put on weight?”

Yunho laughs loudly, pinches Sunggyu’s side and says, “You’re the one who’s squishy.” He flexes a bicep and reports, “This is all muscle. You’ll put some on too, when you report for duty.” Then he holds Sunggyu back a little, at arm’s length and says honestly, “I’m really glad to see you. I’m really glad it’s you.”

“Mom been smothering you?” Sunggyu asks.

“To death!” Yunho laughs again, picking up Sunggyu’s overnight bag and swinging it easily up on his shoulder. “At least you won’t nag me about my laundry.” The next part Yunho whispers, “Mom won’t believe me when I tell her I mastered my laundry ages ago. Maybe it’s a mom thing.”

Sunggyu can’t help noticing how healthy his brother looks. Yunho’s skin is darker, kissed by the sun, and it almost glows. There are faint crinkles at the edges of his eyes, but they’re laugh lines. In fact Yunho has never looked better, the picture of male vitality.

“I’m happy I came,” Sunggyu admits, letting himself be pulled to his brother’s side. It’s not a lie.

They start the walk from the departure area where most of the civilians will be left, to the front gate of the naval base, Yunho’s arm never leaving around Sunggyu’s shoulders. Yunho tells him, “I tried to get as much of my shift for the next two days cut down. When mom comes to visit she spends most of her time with the other mothers, but this time around I knew that whoever came to see me was going to get the grand tour of the ship.” He explains that Sunggyu will spend both nights in the barracks with the other special guests, but his days will be spent on the ship with Yunho, getting to see what his daily activities are like.

Against his better judgment, Sunggyu is actually getting excited.

The world ends on a Saturday.

On Friday Sunggyu settles into his assigned bunk, meets an odd boy named Dongwoo who’s come to see his uncle for the weekend, and has the best night of his life. He and Yunho and about three hundred other people eat in the Mess Hall at their designated time and it’s loud and frenzied, with energy zapping about in the air. Sunggyu’s dressed in some fatigues that Yunho finds for him, and while it’s not strictly kosher that he’s dressed like an enlisted man, no one calls him on it.

Maybe no one calls him on it because his brother is a decorated officer. Or maybe it’s because everyone just seems to love Yunho. Everyone knows that Sunggyu is Yunho’s little brother and they’re especially nice to him because of it, genuinely so. Even the older, more experienced military men, the ones who don’t smile and watch the civilians with uneasy eyes, seem to be on the best of terms with Yunho. Yunho is apparently everyone’s darling.

At dinner Yunho’s bunkmate Changmin demands, “Come on, Sunggyu, you have to tell us some embarrassing stories from when Yunho was a kid. He can’t be as perfect as he seems.”

Yunho flings some peas at Changmin and says, “I’m not perfect. And I’m certainly not the one who spends twenty minutes at a time flossing and reflossing his teeth until he makes his gums bleed. Mr. Perfect Teeth.”

Changmin flashes pearly, absolutely symmetrical teeth at Yunho. “What can I say, I happen to appreciate the way the girls swoon at my feet when I smile at them for the first time.”

Halfway through the meal another officer, Donghae, drops by to steal half of Yunho’s desert and introduce himself to Sunggyu.

Yunho’s distracted by a younger solider with hair that can’t be regulation and a smile that paints him as too young to be serving his duty, when Donghae says to Sungguy, “Some of us were starting to wonder if you even existed.”

“Huh?” Sunggyu asks, distracted himself. He’s spotted Dongwoo across the commissary. His face is hard to miss and he’s talking to a group of people who seem to be their age. They’re all clustered together like they’ve been friends forever, laughing and chatting loudly. Sunggyu is a little jealous, because making friends doesn’t come easy for him. Sunggyu can be temperamental at best and impossible at worst. People don’t often stick around until he gets to know them well enough to feel comfortable opening up. Making friends is kind of a nightmare.

“I mean,” Donghae continues, “Yunho’s got a picture of you two up in his bunk, I’ve seen it before, but you never come to visit him on these visitor days. He talks about you all the time, but Sungmin talks about this supposed girlfriend he says he has and we’ve never seen her before.”

This catches Sunggyu off guard. “Yunho talks about me?”

“All the time,” Donghae scoffs. “You’re apparently his favorite person.” He points a finger over to where Yunho is chatting with the floppy haired man. “That’s Suho. I think Yunho picked that kid up because he missed you so much. When you’re not around, he jokes around that Suho is your substitute. He looks out for Suho like he’s you.” Donghae steals half of Sunggyu’s desert with a devilish smile, says, “You should come visit more often,” and then is out of his seat a second later, heading off towards some friends of his.

After dinner Yunho has to report back to the ship, tapping his watch and stating, “I’ve got some late night duties to attend to tonight. You remember where your bunk here is on the base?” When Sunggyu nods, Yunho pats the top of his head fondly. “Try to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll be by at oh-eight-hundred hours to pick you up and we’ll head directly to the ship afterwards.”

Sunggyu makes to answer him when suddenly Dongwoo is shouting loudly at him, “Sunggyu!” He flails a hand madly in the air, waving at him as he heads off with a man who bears enough a resemblance to him to likely be his uncle.

And just as Dongwoo finishes waving like an idiot, embarrassing Sunggyu, a new face comes into view. It’s one of the boys Dongwoo was hanging out with earlier, marked by the sky blue shirt he’s wearing, back always turned so Sunggyu could never see his face.

Only this time he can, and Sunggyu feels his heart stutter. It’s so abrupt, the feelings surging through him, and so shocking that he nearly lurches to the side.

“Gyu?” Yunho asks, holding his arm firmly. “Are you okay? His eyebrows are pulled together tightly in worry. “Gyu?”

Who is this person? Who is this stunningly handsome teen who’s there one second, saying some parting words to Dongwoo, and gone the next? Sunggyu wants to shout at him to come back, to tell Sunggyu his name, to simply be near him.

Sunggyu feels like the world is being pulled out from under him, and he’s not even on the ship yet.

“Gyu?” Yunho shakes him a little harder this time.

By the time Sunggyu says, “I’m fine,” the ebony haired teen of Sunggyu’s affection is gone, melting into the crowd around him. “Sorry.”

Hesitantly, Yunho asks, “Do you not want to go on the ship?” People are streaming out of the canteen around them and Yunho looks so earnest and worried that Sunggyu feels a mountain of guilt. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I arranged this before I knew it was you. I thought mom would like it, but it’s up to you, Gyu.”

“I want to,” Sunggyu says right away, determined to get the look of disappointment off his brother’s face. “Of course I want to.”

Yunho doesn’t seem convinced. “You’ve never expressed any interest in ships before.”

A group of teens pass them, talking in sharp words about how excited they are about tomorrow for the show. Some of them are going to get up early to claim front spots near the base’s overlook on the water.

Yunho says understandingly, “If you want to watch the maneuvers from shore, that’s fine. I’m sure you’d find plenty of people here your age to have fun with. It might be a lot better than being trapped on a ship with me.” He chuckles the last part, but it’s a bit of a forced chuckle. Sunggyu catches it.

Forcefully, he assures Yunho, “I want to be on the ship for the maneuvers. It’s going to be the best spot to get a full view of everything, right?” And the truth is Sunggyu understands what a big deal it is that he even gets to step foot on the ship itself. These ships, war ships, are not for civilians. Yunho must have pulled a lot of favors to get him up on the ship itself, and Sunggyu won’t let that be in vain.

“Okay,” Yunho says simply. “Look, I have a couple minutes. I’ll walk with you for a while.” He takes Sunggyu halfway to the barracks, then claps him on the back as a parting and heads towards the ship Sunggyu will board in less than twelve hours.

Dongwoo has already changed into his pajamas for the night and is sitting up in bed reading a manga when Sunggyu gets to their shared bunk beds. Sunggyu toes off his shoes, reaching for his own pajamas and regards Dongwoo carefully for a minute.

“What?” Dongwoo asks, looking up with a smile full of teeth. He tosses his copy of Inuyasha to the side and throws his hands behind his head. “Why’re you looking a me like that?”

Sunggyu broaches carefully, “That boy you were with during dinner …”

Dongwoo his head and Sunggyu lets the topic drop completely. It’s pointless, really. This is simple infatuation, even if this boy is the most handsome person Sunggyu has ever seen before. It’s a simple crush and it’s a pointless one. Why should Sunggyu go through the bother of even finding out the boy’s name? It won’t matter. No one that Sunggyu has ever liked, has liked him back.

Potential boyfriends and girlfriends all find Sunggyu too hard to manage. They don’t like his sarcasm, his odd sense of humor or his physique. There’s always something that keeps people from being interested in Sunggyu. This boy will be no different.

“Boy from dinner,” Dongwoo says, rolling the words over his tongue easily. “There were a lot of them. Can you be more specific?”

“Never mind,” Sunggy says, pulling his pajamas up into his arms.

“Minseok?” Dongwoo asks, and Sunggyu freezes.

Is this the handsome boy’s name? Minseok?

Then Dongwoo continues, “Wait, I also had dinner with Youngjae, Hongbin, Kevin, Woohyun and man, Sunggyu, you’re asking for a ton more names I don’t remember. There were like fifteen of us.”

Once more, Sunggyu grounds himself in reality. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s no big deal. I was just curious.”

He moves to change in the nearest bathroom, modesty something he can’t shake even surrounded by only men, when Dongwoo calls out, “If you really want to meet that guy, whoever he is, why not come with us tomorrow? We’re all going to watch the maneuvers together. There’s a spot for you, if you want it.”

This is the closest Sunggyu has ever come to regretting spending time with his brother. He desperately wants to join Dongwoo, more than he wanted to join Heechul and Jonghyun in Busam. But Yunho is surely looking forward to being with him tomorrow on the ship, and getting to show him everything. There’s no way Sunggyu can break his promise, no matter how badly he wants to now.

He feels shame again. Giving up time with his brother, the brother he hasn’t seen in almost a year, to moon over a boy who probably won’t give him the time of day.

“I’m going on a ship tomorrow,” Sunggyu says.

Dongwoo almost shoots out of bed. “No way!” He looks beyond jealous, and Sunggyu can’t really remember a time when someone has been jealous of him. It’s kind of a nice feeling, even if it probably shouldn’t be. “That’s so awesome! How’d you swing that?”

Sunggyu explains about his brother, then adds, “I promised him. I want to hang you with you tomorrow, but I promised him.”

“No hard feelings,” Dongwoo rushes to say. “I’d rather be on the ship than stuck on land. Man, you’re so lucky. I wish my uncle could get me on a ship for the maneuvers.” Dongwoo admits, “I probably won’t even see him tomorrow. He couldn’t get tomorrow off at all, so I’m stuck bumming around this place. I almost didn’t even come, but my uncle, he doesn’t have anyone else, so I thought I’d support him even if I couldn’t see him much. But Sunggyu, I hope you know how lucky you are.”

Lucky.

Sunggyu really doesn’t make friends easily. He just doesn’t. But Dongwoo is probably his friend now. They’re at least friends for the next few days, and that’s something. So on an impulse, Sunggyu says, “I don’t know for sure, and I might just be blowing smoke here, but I could talk to my brother tomorrow. Everyone seems to like him, and he has some pull around here. I might be able to get you on the ship, if you want. When my brother’s busy with his duties, you could keep me company there.”

Sunggyu isn’t normally very forward, not really, but he has little to fear from offering his companionship, not if the way Dongwoo tackles him onto his bunk with shouts of joy, mean anything.

“This is going to be awesome,” Dongwoo says, acting all of seven years old, not the seventeen that he actually is.

It’s a little adorable, actually. Sunggyu will never admit this.

They spend the rest of the night talking about everything from manga to school, to soccer to television, to college to the military. By the end of the night Sunggyu is sure they’re friends.

At eight-hundred hours the next morning Sunggyu relays his request to Yunho while Dongwoo bounces eagerly and anxiously on his feet. Sunggyu wishes he didn’t look so hopeful.

Yunho makes two phone calls, promises something to someone, and checks in with Dongwoo’s uncle before the three of them are headed up to the ship twenty minutes later.

The world ends on a Saturday morning.

Sunggyu never sees it coming.

The maneuvers are a big spectacle, full of egotistical horn blowing and the Americans competing with the South Koreans to see who can show the most pomp and circumstance. Sunggy and Dongwoo watch the whole thing with a bird’s eye view from the bridge of one of the war ships.

It’s awesome.

It’s more than awesome. Sunggyu has to admit, it’s pretty much one of the best things he’s seen in his life, and Dongwoo agrees.

But what’s better than that, and what surprises Sunggyu the most, is seeing the way Yunho handles himself. The crew of the ship don’t treat the maneuvers like anything but regular duty. They’re absolutely professional, not swayed in the least by the audience they have, and never show an inch of undisciplined behavior. Yunho is no exception. He mans his station with focus, headset blocking out anything but important information as he watches the waters for anything that might disrupt the show.

And when the maneuvers are over, until Yunho has been dismissed from his station, he stays glued to it, such professionalism on his face that it moves Sunggyu. If anything, it gives both himself and Dongwoo an idea of what the military can be to some people. What it should be to some people.

Half an hour after the maneuvers are over the ship rumbles under Sunggyu’s legs, making them feel a little like jelly, and the land starts to get further and further away. Yunho finally leaves his sation, handing it off to another young officer, and seems like a completely different person, now that he’s not to focused.

Yunho throws an arm around Sunggyu like he likes to, offers the same behavior to Dongwoo, and guides them up on one of the smaller observation decks. He says, “We’re going to take a quick trip out to check on a funky signal we’ve been getting. We’ll only be out to sea about an hour, then we’re going straight back. I promise, we’ll get back in time for the barbeque lunch that the colonel promised you all.

Sunggyu shrugs and leans his elbows on the railing. The wind pushes through his hair and he simply lets himself enjoy where he is. It’s probably the only time in his life when he will truly see Yunho in his element, and be able to share it with him.

“Do you think I could get up in one of those rail guns?” Dongwoo asks, pointing to a formidable looking cannon off the starboard side.

Yunho blinks at him like he isn’t sure what he just heard, and Sunggyu laughs.

The naval base and all the people on it for visitor’s weekend is just a speck of land in the distance when a solider comes sprinting up to Yunho. He talks to Sunggyu’s brother in hushed, frantic tones, and then Yunho shouts at Sunggyu, “Don’t move!” There is nothing else exchanged between them as Yunho disappears back inside to the bridge.

It’s the look of utter fear on Yunho’s face that makes Sunggyu’s stomach flop over in ways it never has before. Sunggyu has seen Yunho look upset, and apprehensive, but never scared. Yunho has never looked absolutely terrified before.

Quietly, and Sunggyu is almost more scared at the tone of Dongwoo’s voice, his companion asks, “Do you think something is wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Sunggyu returns just as quietly.

Then the world ends.

They can see the explosions from the ship. The warship arcs frantically back towards shore and Sunggyu loses sight of the land from his perch, but he’s already seen the explosions. He’s already seen the fireballs in the sky.

This, whatever it is, is more than something just being wrong. This is something else.

Sunggyu and Dongwoo grip the railing tightly as the ship storms back to where they came from. Sunggyu wants to go after Yunho. He wants to demand to know what Yunho knows. He wants answers to the questions he doesn’t know to ask. He wants … he doesn’t know what he wants, but he wants.

Then suddenly he gets.

The ship jerks to a stop so quickly that Sunggyu is almost thrown off his feet. He doesn’t know that ships can stop so fast, but Dongwoo is actually sprawled on the ground and yelling loudly about it.

Yunho is back just after that, pulling Sunggyu along so fast this time he does have whiplash. Yunho doesn’t even wait to see if Dongwoo is with them, he’s simply running along at breakneck speed, dragging Sunggyu with him, shouting at him to keep quiet and keep up.

Yunho all but flings Sungyu into a cabin three decks down and almost fifteen minutes from where they were. The etching on the door just outside that Sunggyu managed to read is of Yunho’s name, and this must be Yunho’s cabin.

There are two beds in the small room, one along each wall, and a series of photos lining the walls. Sunggyu sees the pendant that their mother bought Yunho for Christmas hanging from the small port window, gleaming in the light, and Yunho’s bed is distinguished by the small, gold colored handkerchief folded atop the pillow. It’s the handkerchief that their father bought him right before deployment, a memento of the dye factory their father works in.

“Sunggyu,” Yunho says, tears almost in his eyes. He tosses a startled Dongwoo into the small cabin but grips Sunggyu too harshly, his hand at Sunggyu’s chin. “I want you to listen to me. Listen to me now because I don’t have time to say it again.”

Sunggyu nods almost frantically. What else can he do?

“Something is happening,” Yunho rushes out, his hand still gripping Sunggyu’s chin, disallowing him to move even an inch. “Something very bad. Something so bad that this ship is not being allowed near the base. We’re not being allowed to return. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sunggyu grits out, even though he doesn’t.

That same terrified look is on Yunho’s face, but now he looks even more so, holding Sunggyu in place, almost as if he thinks Sunggyu might disappear on him.

“You need to stay here,” Yunho barks out, the most harsh he has ever been with Sunggyu in his life. “You do not leave this cabin. Do you understand me? You do not leave this cabin for anything!”

“What--” Dongwoo starts.

Yunho shouts now, “I don’t care what you see, what you hear, or how scared you are. You do not leave his cabin for anything! I will come and get you when it’s safe!”

Then Yunho lets go of Sunggyu, slams the door, and all is silent.

Voice shaking, Dongwoo asks in a timid voice, “When it’s safe?”

Sungyu all but throws himself towards the window, trying to see anything. But he can’t. All there is to see is water.

Water. Water. Water.

The ship’s angle is too odd to see anything but water and horizon. The frustration is agonizing.

Dongwoo perches on the very edge of the other bunk, not Yunho’s bunk, and repeats, “When it’s safe? What isn’t safe? Sunggyu?”

All Sunggyu can say is, “The explosions. Dongwoo, the explosions. There were explosions.” Explosions can mean anything. An accident, even. The explosions may be an accident happening.

But Yunho had said the ship wasn’t being allowed to return to land. If it was an accident, why wouldn’t they be allowed to return and help?

Sunggyu ends up sitting next to Dongwoo, on what must be Changmin’s bunk. Their knees and thighs press together, and before the hour is up, they’re holding hands. Dongwoo’s grip is sweaty and hot and nasty, but it’s the only thing Sunggyu can feel after a while.

Yunho doesn’t come back that night.

Sunggyu’s stomach rumbles and he has to pee badly as the sun goes down, but still, he doesn’t disregard Yunho’s words. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t leave. He ignores his hunger. He and Dongwoo take turns peeing into a near empty water bottle Yunho has stashed above his bunk.

Then they wait.

They don’t sleep.

The knock on the door comes around an hour after sunrise. It’s as much a surprise to Sunggyu as Dongwoo. It doesn’t seem like Yunho to knock on the door to his own cabin.

It isn’t Yunho, but Sunggyu recognizes him as the boy from the commissary, the one Donghae said his brother has all but taken under his wing. Suho.

“Hi,” the newcomer says, poking his head through the door a half second later. He has a careful, non threatening smile on his face, but it’s easy to see how fake the grin is. In any case, there’s no reason to be happy about anything. Sunggyu almost hates the man on principle alone.

“Where’s my brother?” Sunggyu demands. Yunho said not to leave the cabin under any circumstances, but what about people coming in? “Where is Yunho?”

The man tries again, “Hi. You must be Sunggyu. My name is Suho. Your brother sent me to talk to you. He’s very busy at the moment and he can’t come see you, but he knows how scared you must be, so he asked me to come and talk to you.”

Sunggyu’s eyes narrow. “Shouldn’t you be too busy, too?”

The fake smile on Suho’s face doesn’t waver. “I’m assigned to the ballistics department on this ship. At the moment, my job isn’t making any demands of me. Your brother will come and see you as soon as he can, but I’m here in the meanwhile.”

Something very heavy thuds above their head. Sunggyu has been hearing the sound for the past six hours. He demands to know, “What is that sound?” Dongwoo nods furiously in agreement.

“That’s a helicopter,” Suho explains patiently, not at all put off by Sunggyu’s tone. “Our class of ship doesn’t support the landing or takeoff of any size planes or aircraft of standard size, but helicopters are a different story. They can both take off and land without a runway of any kind.”

Dongwoo asks what Sunggyu‘s been thinking, “Why are there helicopters landing and taking off from this ship? We saw explosions yesterday. Are the North Koreans invading?”

Suho is so tightlipped for so long Sunggyu thinks he may have to shake the answers out of him, but finally he says, “There’s been an incident.”

“What kind of incident,” Sungyu demands. “A terrorist attack?”

“No.” Finally the smile falls from Suho’s face, and Sunggyu is left with only a scared man. “The incident was … viral. Or bacterial. Or something. We’re not sure. It’s … complicated. Or we’re in the dark. Whatever you prefer. The truth is there was an outbreak of disease of some kind. It spread like fire, it’s highly contagious and there wasn’t enough time to warn anyone of anything.”

Sunggyu’s mind is whirling. “I had my shots.” He’s had them all. They’re all required before he can attend school, and he’s very much up to date.

Dongwoo wants to know, “What kind of outbreak?”

“I told you,” Suho says, this time a little more tersely, “we don’t know. But it’s nothing we’ve seen before.”

“The explosions?” Sunggyu inquires.

“The outbreak caused mass hysteria. While we were safe here, out on the ocean where it couldn’t reach us, the people on the mainland were being overrun. They panicked. They … each other as the virus turned them.”

“Turned them?” Sunggyu repeats, voice dropping.

Suho shakes his head. “The point is, everyone scattered as the outbreak spread. Some of them tried to flee by vehicle, accidents happened. The explosions were … some were a result of those accidents. Others were not.”

“The helicopters,” Dongwoo reminds.

“This ship is relatively big,” Suho says, blowing out a long, frustrated breath. “It was running a bare bones crew of fifty-five when this outbreak reached the base. We can hold around three hundred. So those helicopters you’re hearing are the South Korean military mobilizing. They’re bringing the survivors they can find here. We’re one of a half dozen ships capable of hosting a full capacity at this time. Pretty soon you’ll start hearing movement outside your cabin. People will be assigned all these bunks. You won’t be alone.”

Sunggyu isn’t scared of being alone. He’s scared that his brother is alone. He’s scared that Yunho looked so terrified and Sunggyu doesn’t have any way to tell him it’ll be okay.

It’ll be okay, won’t it?

“Why would you be bringing survivors here?” Sunggyu questions. “Why not take them to hospitals? Why bring them out to sea? I don’t understand.”

“There … there are no hospitals.”

“No hospitals?” Sunggyu doesn’t understand.

“No hospitals.” Suho grimaces. “The reason we’re bringing the few survivors we’re finding out to sea is honestly because the land … the base … South Korea … it’s all …”

“What?” Dongwoo demands.

“Lost,” Suho says suddenly. “It’s lost. Everything is lost. It’s all overrun. This virus, whatever it is, it doesn’t just infect people and kill them. It turns them into these animals. They’re monsters after they get infected, and then they infect more people.” Suho’s voice pitches and he’s rushing the words out, face pulled tight into a look of fear that Sunggyu has seen before. He’s seen it on Yunho’s face. “These things, they’re not people anymore, they’re fast and vicious and strong and oh, god.” Suho bends forward, taking deep breaths.

“Can’t we go anywhere safe?” Sunggyu asks, panic welling up in him like a geyser. “Another military base?”

“No,” Suho remarks. “There’s no where safe. We weren’t the first ones to get hit. It was in other countries before it got to us. It was ripping them apart while we were completely ignorant of it. They just kept it quiet, trying to contain it. But it’s everywhere now. Everywhere.”

Sunggyu argues, “There has to be somewhere safe. If Korea isn’t safe anymore, there has to be another country that is.” He doesn’t realize he’s pleading by the end, overwhelmed by the idea of some kind of virus out of a horror movie that can turn people into monsters.

“Don’t you understand?” Suho shouts. “No where is safer than where we are, and that’s only because we’re isolated! The helicopters are brining in half a dozen people at a time. There are a handful of survivors. That’s it. Do you get it? Everyone is gone. Everyone is dead!”

Slowly Suho sinks to the ground and Sunggyu watches him. He can hear Dongwoo sniffling next to him, the levity of the words hitting full force. But Sunggyu can’t bring himself to do anything but breathe.

“What is this?” Sunggyu asks quietly. “What is this, Suho?”

After a moment more Suho regains his senses, clearing is throat. “Mass annihilation? The total extinction of the human race? Your guess is as good as mine. Now you know exactly as much as I do. You know as much as the highest ranking officer on this ship knows. South Korea is in a total blackout. We can’t get in touch with many people outside of South Korea, either. There are several military vessels on their way to this location. The whole of the Korean navy is coming. But as far as we know, all the survivors who have been found, are the ones we’re going to find. Maybe there are still people hiding out in the country, but for the time being, this is it. By tonight we’ll know how much of South Korea is left, but we don’t expect it to be much.”

Sunggyu sits hard on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, holding them tightly. “My parents?”

Suho opens the hatch to the cabin and true to word, Sunggyu can just make out the sounds of other people moving around.

With an even tone, Suho tells him, “Likely dead. All the major cities fell before lunch time yesterday. Everything else fell as soon as it the moon came up. Everyone you know is probably dead. I’m sorry for you, I really am. But be thankful for the small favors. Be thankful you decided to visit your brother this weekend. Be thankful he pulled some strings to bring you here. Be … be thankful you are a rare survivor of a dying race.”

And then Suho is gone, racing away, palming at his eyes. The door is still cracked and Suho’s footsteps quickly become one of many.

“I …” Dongwoo gets out, but not much else. He makes a few choking sounds, and then he’s muffling his sobs into his sleeve.

Sunggyu crawls forward and slams the door to the cabin closed.

Dongwoo wails out, “Sunggyu.”

“Shut up!” Sunggy snaps, his own eyes burning. He leans his forehead against the cold metal of the door. “Just … Dongwoo.”

Dongwoo barrels into him, wrapping his arms around Sunggyu’s waist. Sunggyu thinks he’s going to cry about all of their families. Maybe about the monsters that are real now, or how the world has gone and ended on them without so much as a warning in advance. At least not a warning they actually received in time.

Instead Dongwoo clings to him and sobs out, “Thank you, Sunggyu. Thank you so much.”

“What?” Sunggyu asks, appreciating the solid form of Dongwoo against him, grounding him as they sway on the ocean. “I don’t … Dongwoo?”

“Thank you,” Dongwoo cries out, again and again. “Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you so much. You saved my life, Sunggyu. You saved my life.”

Dongwoo thinks Sunggy saved his life, but saved him for what? If Suho is to be believed, there doesn’t seem to be much left out there to live. What’s the point of breathing when everyone they know is gone? What’s the point of living in a world that will never be like it was and will forever be a cataclysmic wasteland?

“Thank you,” Dongwoo says again, his tears soaking through Sunggyu’s shirt.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Sunggyu breathes out. Maybe Dongwoo should curse him for it.

“You saved me.”

Not knowing what else to do, Sunggyu finally wraps Dongwoo up in a hug. It’s a little awkward, and a lot desperate, but it’s okay. It’s the best the both of them can do.

This is how the world ends, with Sunggyu tucked safely away because of sheer dumb luck, while millions of people are being ripped to pieces in his stead. It ends on a Saturday, on a bright, clear day, and Sunggyu feels terrified, small and helpless.

Because he is.