For Hoya, the world ends like this:

Hoya has two older brothers. The eldest is eight years older and the other is six . His mom will never cop to it, praising his birth as a miracle and coddling him well into his teens, but his father is another story, calling him an oopsie baby with some fondness.

His father sits him down one day when his questions become too much and says, “Your mother babies you because you weren’t supposed to be possible. She wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant again, and the one other time she managed it she miscarried.” So maybe in a way he is kind of his mother’s miracle baby.

But the point is, he’s most certainly a surprise baby. He’s the baby his parents never expected, and it shows in how much older his brothers are.

By the time Hoya is old enough to want to play with them and run around with them, his brothers are studying for their high school entrance exams, and then they’re off to college just after that. Hoya grows up loving them, but he never really gets that close. Hoya grows close to his parents instead, hero worshiping his father and treating his mother like the princess she is to him.

When his youngest elder brother goes off to college on a full scholarship, leaving behind all the money their parents have set aside for tuition, this is the moment his parents decide to buy a boat and run one day trips out into the bay for fishing and sight seeing. Their customers are almost always tourists who tip generously, and when Hoya starts working side by side with his father on the boat, it’s something that he grows to love without hesitation.

Hoya sees himself finishing high school, maybe going to college part time, but most certainly sticking around to run the business with his father. He has no desire to go study in America like one of his brothers has, and he doesn’t care about becoming a corporate titan like the other brother. Hoya’s best friends are his parents and he finds complete satisfaction in working all day out at sea and then coming home to his mom’s wonderful cooking.

The day that the world ends Hoya and his father have been contracted by three Canadian tourists for the afternoon. They’re supposed to go out for a few hours after lunch and Hoya spends the morning prepping the boat.

His father tells him as he drags in a line of rope, “If business keeps going this well, we might be able to get a bigger boat next year. We could double our services.”

Hoya’s got his arms down into the crawlspace that houses a portion of the boat’s engine. He’s looking for the cause of a stall-out the other day, hoping to catch the problem before it becomes something much worse. Repairs are the bane of their existence.

“Double?” Hoya calls back with a laugh. “I don’t think there’s enough of us go around for that.”

His father’s head pops around and into sight and he says, “I’ve been thinking of hiring some help. Part time, of course.” They can afford it, but Hoya isn’t sure how he feels about anyone else coming into the space that he’s erected with his father.

It’s possible he’s still sore that neither of his brothers want to be the third person. He understands they have lives of their own to live, but they make him angry every time they come to visit. They always want to talk about themselves, and what they’re doing, and they don’t ask about how the family business is doing, or if their mother is keeping up with her heart medicine. They’re selfish in a way that Hoya supposes is natural for their ages, being that they’re about to start families of their own. But never more than when he’s with his brothers, does Hoya think about loyalty and family and looking out for others.

“How’s mom feel about this?” Hoya calls back. He feels triumphant when he feels along a hose and detects a small puncture.

“You know your mother,” his father laughs, and Hoya can see the smile on his face for what it is, a million watts of love and devotion and adoration for the woman he’s been with for three decades of his life. “She’s for anything that might let me take some time off.”

Hoya nods seriously. “You work too much.” His father works all the time, never stopping, never slacking. From his father Hoya’s learned a sense of self-fulfillment through hard work. He’s learned to value what he earns and appreciate the ability to earn anything in the first place.

With a sigh his father moves closer and says, “Found the problem?”

Hoya ambles his way up to his feet with a grin and says, “Found it. There’s a rupture in the fuel intake hose. It’s a cheap, easy fix. With a replacement hose I can have it in in about twenty minutes.”

This Hoya will reflect on later on, is how he gets his father killed.

Because his father says, “Then I’ll run into town and pick one up.”

Hoya’s conscience will forever been flooded with the knowledge that it’s him who sends his father to his death, inland to where there is no protection. Hoya is the one who gets his father killed.

Because when the zombies flood into the area Hoya is a mile and a half hour to sea, trying to judge if there’s anything else is wrong with the ship. There’s quiet chatter on the radio that he isn’t even paying attention as he feels out the vibrations going on around him.

It’s only when the screaming starts, so many voices screaming together that he can actually hear the sound so far away from land, that he realizes the chatter on the radio isn’t mere chatter at all. He reaches for the volume right away, turning it up almost too loud, and his ears register the frantic screaming on the radio. There are shouts of fear, pleas for help, and for one brief second Hoya thinks North Korea is finally doing it. They’re finally bat crazy enough to think they can invade South Korea.

Hoya throttles the engines to full speed, rushing back to land, desperate to get in contact with his father or see if he can help anyone.

Before he’s even halfway back to shore he sees the first person in the water. Then a second, and a third, and then dozens.

There are people everywhere, treading water, some trying to help others, some nearly drowning each other. But all of them are screaming for help, reaching for him, looking at Hoya with such fear that he almost freezes in place.

“Here!” Hoya shouts, tossing out a flotation ring to the nearest person while he jams a full stop to the boat. There are so many people in the water he can’t risk going forward. He’ll hit some of them if he does.

The first person he pulls onto his boat, others cling to the sides, is a sputtering, screaming, terrified woman. She clings to him as her legs give out, her nails digging into his skin as he begs for her to tell him what’s going on.

The explosions start then, and the port is on fire before Hoya can comprehend it.

“Monsters!” the girl screams at him, talking so fast that she’s spewing out more gibberish than anything else.

Hoya does what he can, pulling everyone on the boat that is near him, trying to make room for them all.

The sight of them makes him dizzy. He spins around, trying to understand. Monsters? Crazy people? Attacks? People eating each other? What does all this mean?

And as the screaming continues, making Hoya’s ears ring, he looks back to the port, which is close enough that he can make out a black mass of people moving together.

Only they’re not people.

They’re … monsters?

They’re something, tearing into innocent people, ripping them to pieces, ravaging everything and everyone.

Hoya makes the impossible choice to run. He has to. He turns the boat and he takes it further out to sea.

Two hours later they’re being rescued by the Korean Navy.

Two and a half hours later Hoya hears the world zombie for the first time.

Three hours later Hoya sees a group of older kids picking on a wide eyed, petite boy and he’s so angry from losing his father, losing his mother, losing everything, that he storms over. He grabs one of the bullies by the scruff of his collar, shakes him almost viciously and demands, “What’s wrong with you? Do you understand what’s just happened? Do you have any idea of how many people just died?”

The kids scatter and Hoya clenches his fists, not sure if he’s going to cry or punch something.

A soft voice says, “Thank you,” and then, “my name is Lee Sungjong.”

Hoya softens when he looks properly at the kid. He’s even softer and prettier than Hoya first thought, but there’s some kind of strength in him that Hoya sees right away. This kid, Sungjong, isn’t a victim. He isn’t weak, either. He’s a fighter, and Hoya knows in that very instant that he’s going to be something to the kid.

“I’m Lee Howon,” he returns. “But my parents … my mom …” He struggles to keep himself together, shuffling a little closer. There’ll be time for crying later on. He’ll get to scream and shout and be angry when there isn’t chaos around him, or a kid for that matter. “Everyone calls me Hoya. Call me Hoya.”

He doesn’t mean to make Sungjong so important to him. He doesn’t set out to adopt the kid or anything, or pick up luggage in a new world where he’s quickly learning the only person you should look out for is yourself.

But Hoya sees the way Sungjong’s father can barely stand to look at him. He sees the way the man flinches when Sungjong speaks or reaches for him, and Hoya can’t help wanting to make up for it.

“It’s because he had to pick,” Sungjong whispers to him the first night they spend on the ship. The loads of rescued people are becoming more and more scarce, Sungjong’s father has abandoned him for something he claims is more important, and Hoya’s officially considering Sungjong to be his kid brother.

Crowded into a single bunk, even though they’ve got one each, Hoya pushes his fingers gently through Sungjong’s hair and asks quietly, “What did he have to pick?”

Sungjong noses his face into Hoya’s shoulder and says, “My father is smart. Really smart. He works for the government. They made him pick. They said they could save him, and they’d save someone else too. They made my father pick between me and my sisters and my brother.”

Hoya holds him tighter. “That’s …”

Hoya doesn’t know what to say. How do you process the idea of a father having to choose which of his children lives.? How does a parent make that kind of choice and not be broken?

“My mom wanted him to pick my baby sister. She told him to. She picked my baby sister up and tried to make him take her. She is … was, four,” Sungjong whispers, sniffling.

It’s hard to imagine Sungjong standing there, seeing his father having to make an impossible choice, but worse, seeing his mother make it so easily.

Hoya pets his hair again. “But your father picked you. You are alive, Sungjong. He picked you.”

Sungjong is shaking after that, crying quietly as he hiccups out, “I don’t know why. I don’t know why he picked me. Why me? How could he pick me? I’m not smart. I’m not his favorite. I’m not the oldest or the youngest and I’m not good at anything. I’m not anything. They all died and he picked me so I could live.”

“Oh, Sungjong,” Hoya breathes out. For a kid to have to deal with such extreme survivor’s guilt is heart crushing.

Someone coughs across the room and Hoya drags the scratchy blanket they’re sharing up further.

“He hates me,” Sungjong sobs into Hoya’s shoulder. “He hates me for being alive.”

It’s not that at all, Hoya is certain. It’s the opposite, in fact, but he doesn’t know if Sungjong will be able to understand until he’s older. His father doesn’t hate him in the least bit. His father is just burdened and hurt and heartbroken. His father has to look at him now and see the only thing left of his family, and know that he’s the one who’s had to choose between his children.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Hoya promises, and when Sungjong cries halfway through the night, he’s calm and patient and comforting.

Things don’t exactly get better afterwards, but meeting Sunggyu changes something. Sunggyu is a little rough on the edges, abrasive at times, with a weird sense of humor and a defensiveness that Hoya doesn’t care for. But it doesn’t take Hoya long to figure out the real Sunggyu, and to appreciate how loyal, strong, brave, and kind that Sunggyu can be. Sunggyu is a fast friend, and then before Hoya knows it, he’s family.

Hoya seemingly inherits a whole new family after the death of his own, thanks to Sunggyu, and though Sungjong remains his first priority, there’s something about the others that makes Hoya vow to do whatever it takes to keep them alive. He’ll protect them the best he can, be there for them, and his feelings for them, combined with Sungjong’s inevitability of going to the island, makes Hoya’s choice easy for him when they reach the Japanese island.

He expects they’ll all go together.

It’s unimaginable that he loses Sungjong in the madness that is the disembarking.

Hoya gets pushed with others away from the main deck, held up and surrounded by chaos that reminds him of the first moments after the world ended. No one knows what’s going on, no one will answer them and Hoya feels like a riot is seconds away from breaking out.

“Please,” Hoya says, grabbing at the arm of a nearby soldier as a different one is shouting at them to calm down and wait for processing. “I lost my brother.” Sungjong has never been more his brother than he is in this moment. “I need to find him. He’s only twelve. Please, he’s just a kid.”

The soldier, who looks only a couple years older than Hoya, must find him a pitiful sight. Or maybe he’s just tired of hearing Hoya plead, because in a strained voice, he asks, “What’s your brother’s name?” He’s got a thick packet of papers attached to the clipboard in his hands. A closer look reveals rows and rows of names on the paper.

“Lee Sungjong,” Hoya says, then the ship shutters and Hoya sways on his feet nervously.

“It’s okay,” the soldier says quickly, not even looking at Hoya as he scans for Sungjong’s name. “That’s just the first group of people disembarking from the main ship down to the smaller ferry that’s going to take them to the island. Your turn will come soon.”

The words aren’t exactly comforting. Hoya can’t even think about leaving until he knows where Sungjong is, and he can’t trust Sungjong’s father to make sure he’s okay.

“Well,” the soldier says eventually, mouth pulled tight. “He’s not on my list.”

Hoya frowns. “What’s that mean?”

Only people fifteen or older are being allowed to join up with the military and stay on the ship. There’s no way Sungjong is being able to stay.

The soldier looks over his shoulder towards the direction of the other end of the ship. “It probably means he’s on the priority list.”

“Priority?” Hoya echoes. This is the first he’s hearing of this. “What’s the priority list?”

The soldier’s face tightens up. “That’s nothing you need to worry about. Now, sir, could you please take a step back and go stand with the others? You’ll be able to disembark shortly. Please be patient.”

Hoya feels the anger building. “I won’t. I want to know where Sungjong is. What’s this priority list? What’s going on?”

Before the young soldier can say anything a much older and harsher looking one is moving closer, demanding, “I need you to calm down and step back.” The man puts his hand on his gun.

The silent warning is effective.

In a show of good faith Hoya moves back a few feet. He can’t afford to get into a fight with a worked up brute. Not when he has to find Sungjong.

“Look,” the younger soldier says, as if he’s taking pity on Hoya, “even if you’re separated now, you’re all going to the same island. You’ll find him there.”

An hour later Hoya is on a ferry headed to the island. He still hasn’t seen Sungjong, or any of his other friends for that matter, but he’s so off balance with the entire situation that he doesn’t know what he can do to fix it.

The island means more waiting. It means blood work, medical tests, an identification bracelet and even more waiting. It means being surrounded by strangers, mixed in with people from other ships, lost and alone and finally put on a small, cramped bus that makes Hoya feel like he’s going even further from Sungjong. Not closer.

This safe haven that the island is supposed to be, this paradise compared to what they’re leaving behind, looks like a concentration camp.

The comparison is probably in bad taste, but it’s the only thing that Hoya can think of as they roll up to the first checkpoint. Looking out the bus window he can see tall buildings, an insane amount of soldiers, and gates. There are so many gates and barriers and fences. People are being ushered in in ways that imply they have no choice in the matter and Hoya feels like he’s being marched to his death.

Life on the island is nothing like he’s expected.

It’s abundantly clear that everything is hostile. From the guards to the other people. No one is happy, everyone is on edge, and Hoya still can’t find Sungjong.

He ends up assigned to a room in an apartment building that he’s expected to share with five other people. There’s less space for personal movement than on the ship, and already he can see the vultures looking for the weak. Hoya doesn’t sleep the first night, instead he stays awake, watching for threats. The people around him aren’t trustworthy. If he lets them, or gives them the opportunity, they’ll steal his ration card. They’ll steal his shoes. They could steal his life.

Another day and he learns their ration cards are good for nothing, the soldiers most certainly aren’t on their side, are Sungjong is not here.

“You’re looking for someone?” a quiet voice asks him the first morning Hoya stands in line for the breakfast meal. He’s been up for hours, walking the perimeter of the area, trying to judge the population number, hoping to spot any of his other friends. Because if they’re not here, where are they?

Hoya turns to see a young girl near him. She’s got a dark bruise on her cheekbone, a cut on her lip and a fierce look in her eyes. He blurts out, “Are you okay?”

She crosses her arms, almost put off by his concern. “This?” She turns her chin up a bit. “Some punks tried to jump me for my ration card. They thought I’d be an easy target because I’m a girl. I showed them.” Hoya notices for the first time she’s got bruised knuckles. He hopes she hit them hard enough to make them bleed.

“Yeah,” he says faintly, finally answering his question. “My friends. We left our ship at different times. I thought we were all going here. I don’t know where they are.”

“Obvious not,” she says. She’s abrupt like Sunggyu can be, but Hoya’s not offended. “A lot of us got put on this island. You’re crazy if you think everyone came to this one spot.” She’s got a faint accent when she talks, and when he asks about it, she says in perfect Korean, “I’m from Taiwan. But I studied in South Korea.”

He holds out his hand. “I’m Hoya.”

She shakes it firmly and replies, “Mei. Mei-hui.”

They chat easily in line as they wait for breakfast that ends up being cold porridge and lumpy fruit. Hoya tells her about Sungjong, and about Sunggyu about his desperation to be reunited with people he considers to be his family.

Mei offers him sounds of sympathy, but doesn’t think she can do anything to help.

At the end of the meal Hoya shrugs and says, “I didn’t think you could do anything anyway. But could you look out for anyone named Sungjong or Sunggyu?”

She promises and once more Hoya is alone.

Hoya is alone for what feels like forever.

The days crawl by. More people come into the limited space, making everything that much more cramped. The people get meaner, the soldiers are even less helpful. Crime starts to rise, starting with theft and fights. Hoya sleeps with his pocket knife in his hand, and only for a few hours at a time. A smell builds as trash starts to clutter everywhere, showers are in limited availability, fresh clothes are unheard of, and finally the meals begin to shrink.

Hoya spends more time with Mei whether she likes it or not the second he sees more bruises start to appear.

She gives him a dark look and says, “I don’t need you hovering over me.”

“Maybe not,” Hoya says.

“So leave me the alone,” She snaps at him.

Hoya rolls his eyes. “Look, me being your friend doesn’t mean I think you can’t take care of yourself. Me watching your back doesn’t mean you’re weak or in need of protection. But we’ve both been here long enough to know that there are thugs strolling around thinking they can do whatever they want to people that they think can’t fight back. And sure, you can fight back, but they won’t know that until they knock you around at least a little.”

“So you want to hold my hand and be my friend?” she asks with an arched eyebrow.

Hoya says, “I’m going to find my friends. This is only temporary. But I don’t see why we can’t watch out for each other. We’re both strong individually, but we’ll be stronger together. The soldiers aren’t going to help you if a couple of guys try to corner you and want more than your ration card. They aren’t going to help me either, for that matter, if a bunch of hoodlums decide to beat the hell out of me for my shoes.”

Her face looks a little less severe as she replies, “We could just make ourselves a target by teaming up.”

“It won’t just be us,” Hoya says. He’s been talking with one of his roommates, a skinny guy with cracked glasses who’s being bullied by another one of their roommates. And Hoya’s been watching some of the people he eats his meals with. There are plenty of people around Hoya who are afraid of being alone and all who have something to offer, even if it’s just companionship.

There are things he’s learned from his father, and others he’s learned from Sunggyu. But they all add up to looking out for others, not treating some people like they’re more important than others. If the degenerates and the violent hoodlums of the area are pulling together to terrorize people, Hoya doesn’t know why he can’t do the same with good people to help look out for each other.

Mei tells him bluntly, “I like you, Hoya. You seem nice. But this world is not a nice place. You want me to trust you knowing this.”

Hoya sees his roommate pass nearby, the guy with the glasses and gives Mei a wink. “One of the friends I’m looking for, he taught me a lot about taking risks on people. It’s hard to do at first, especially when you have something to lose, but sometimes it works out in the end. I’ll give you some time to figure out if you want to take a chance.” Then he’s off, calling after his roommate.

But he’s there in the morning, knocking on the door to where Mei stays.

“Christ,” she says in a tired voice when she answers the door looking sleepy. “Are you serious?”

“Come to breakfast with me,” Hoya says, fanning himself with his ration card. “I want you to meet someone.”

Mei shifts uneasily on her feet and then opens her door a bit wider, letting Hoya see inside for the first time.

Hoya blinks a bit stupidly at the sight of several young girls. “Mei?”

After a moment of quietness she says, “You want to team up with me? You want to have me watch your back? Then this is part of the deal.”

Hoya’s head . “Are these your … sisters?”

Mei steps out of the doorway and pulls the door shut behind him. “No,” she says quietly. “But I’ll protect them like they are.”

“I’ve got a brother,” Hoya says with a long exhale. “He’s not by blood, but he’s still mine. I guess, actually, I’ve got more than just him as brothers.”

Hoya feels more than a little light headed when she poses, “And did you have to save any of them from being ?”

“What?” Hoya demands, staggering a little.

Even Mei is pale in the face as she says, “Don’t be an idiot, Hoya. Use your eyes. The soldiers are here to keep us contained in their area. They’re not looking out for our well being. They don’t care that the girls here are starting to become victimized. Food is starting to run short already. How long do you think it’ll be before some of them are ing their bodies for food?” She runs a hand through her hair and says, “Some of those girls are afraid to walk down the streets by themselves. Some are so young you’ll make yourself sick thinking of how predators will still target them. And I’ve already lost a girl, Hoya, who thought someone else could protect her better than I can. And maybe she’s right.”

Mei, for all her worry and self doubt, is downright amazing in Hoya’s mind. She’s … sort of like a superhero. She’s gathered up all the stray girls she can, most of them incredibly young, and she’s protecting them. She’s making sure they get fed and can sleep safely at night.

“Come to breakfast with me,” Hoya repeats. “Come meet someone.”

Mei comes with him and Hoya introduces her to his roommate. Later on in the day Hoya’s introducing her to an older man who’s got his young son with him who Hoya saw try to keep the peace at the nearby laundry area the day before. And before the day is over Hoya’s shaking hands with one of the guys working in the rations station who says, “We’re not animals and I’m not going to stand for people treating each other like we are.” The guy swears he’s got at least three other friends who’ve been having the same thoughts as him, and brings them to meet Hoya the next day.

Hoya doesn’t mean to build up his own gang of do-gooders, it just sort of happens.

Every day Hoya thinks they get a little stronger, walking in packs to their meals, working a buddy system that keeps them safe, fending off the sharks that continue to pick on the weaker members of society. But Hoya also grows more and more scared that he’ll never see Sunggyu again, or Sungjong, or any of the others.

He tries to stay strong. He tries not to feel discouraged when the food rations hit an all time low. He tries not to get angry when he sees the soldiers encouraging the civilians to fight with each other. And he tries not to panic when the whispers start about missing people and unethical experiments in the name of a cure.

Then it happens.

Hoya knows absolutely what he’s capable with his temper. Most of the time he has a good cap on it, and he’s never been one for violence. But when he sees something unjust, and when he knows he can do something, his temper is often a catalyst to something much worse.

He hears the shouting before he actually sees anything, but it doesn’t take long to trace the noise to a nearby street where an impressively large man has one beefy hand wrapped around the arm of a tiny kid who’s fighting to pull away with all of his strength, but not getting very far.

The kid, a boy when Hoya moves closer, looks so much like Sungjong for a second that Hoya almost calls out for him.

But then it doesn’t matter if it’s Sungjong or not. Because Hoya can see the older man is trying to steal the can of food that the boy has tucked to his chest, and it’s all it takes.

Hoya launches himself at the man’s back screaming, “Get off him!” Then he’s swinging.

The man is bigger, and probably stronger, but Hoya is lean and agile and determined.

He and the man flip over, scraping their skin as they crash to the floor, and then it’s on. Hoya fight viciously, the man hits hard, and Hoya simply stops thinking.

He’s screaming something, yelling words at the man as he fights, but Hoya’s completely lost to himself. He doesn’t really care what he’s saying, or that a crowd is gathering around them, cheering them on. Some of them are probably even taking bets. The military likes to do that. They’re the only ones with things to bet.

Someone wrenches his shoulder, trying to pull him away and Hoya rounds on this person too, too worked up and frenzied to distinguish between friend or foe.

It’s worse.

It’s a soldier.

He’s punching a soldier and it’s all over after that.

It happens fast. In one second Hoya’s fist is smashing into a soldier’s face and in the next he’s face down on the asphalt, his arms wrenched up painfully behind him as a second soldier kicks solidly into his ribs. They pull him up just after that, more dragging him along than anything else, and he heads towards a building he’s never been to before.

They call it solitary confinement, as if he’s in prison.

Maybe he is.

They say he’s a danger to the security of the area, which only makes Hoya laugh because there’s nothing safe or secure about the area at all.

In solitary confinement he gets two meals a day, ironically more than he’s been getting otherwise, and all the time in the world to think. He doesn’t have to worry about people trying to steal from him, or hurt him.

He does, however, worry about Mei and the girls and all his other friends.

He’s going on his second day in solitary confinement, and his ribs are feeling better which means they aren’t cracked or even bruised, when a young soldier delivers his meal and asks in accented Korean, “Is it true what they’re saying?”

Hoya lounges on the bed, rolling his eyes. “That I’m a cold blooded killer? Totally.”

“No,” the soldier says. “That you knocked out two of the captain’s teeth.”

After debating for a second, Hoya says, “I didn’t mean to, actually. It was an accident. I just reacted.”

The soldier sets down Hoya’s meal and asks, “Why were you fighting in the first place?”

He debates not answering, but this soldier is the first person who’s spoken to him in two days, and his worry over his friends doesn’t mean he doesn’t get lonely. So he eventually says, “I saw a big guy trying to steal food from a little kid. The guy didn’t exactly look like he needed the food, and even if he did, that’s no excuse to steal from a child.”

“Oh,” the guy says.

Hoya presses on, “If you and your soldier buddies would do your jobs, I wouldn’t have to be the one to make sure the little guys aren’t getting taken advantage of.”

To this, the soldier has nothing to say. He merely turns and leaves. When he comes back with the next meal, there are double portions.

The food is more of a punishment than anything. It makes him feel guilty and anxious.

Mei will be okay. She has the others ,and with or without Hoya, they can make it. They’re strong.

But his thoughts drift back to Sungjong.

It eats away at Hoya that Sungjong may be somewhere unsafe. He could be the kid on the street, being taken being taken advantage of. What if there is no one to step in and stop this kind of injustice? Hoya can’t take the idea of Sungjong, who’s so sweet and innocent, being taken advantage of because of his age or size.

The worst part is, he’ll probably never know.

So when the door to his holding room opens, and Hoya is staring at Sunggyu’s hopeful but worried face, Hoya barely believes it. It feels like a dream, the good kind he hasn’t had for ages.

“Hoya!” Sunggyu shouts, and Hoya probably squeezes him so tightly in a hug that he causes him some kind of pain. Hoya doesn’t think Sunggyu cares much, because Sunggyu hugs him back just as tightly..

Then Hoya dares to ask, “Is Sungjong okay?”

If there’s any god in heaven, then Sunggyu will know something.

Sunggyu says, “Sungjong is perfectly fine.”

Hoya very nearly cries, sagging with relief. This is the most joy he’s felt in practically forever, and only now does he breathe easy.