Sunggyu had been unconsciously expecting it for a few miles now judging from the rusty street signs placed at every length of road, but he’d perfected the art of blanking out while moving. He nearly fell asleep standing only a while ago. Everything about him feels dead tired. His joints ache and feel vaguely stiff, and he craves sleep so much that his eyes hurt, like open sores in the bright sun. The cold drains him, and every cough slams his stomach and leaves him reeling from the pain. If he doesn’t get medicine soon, he will die. He’s no doctor to judge, but taking history in high school has taught him enough about illnesses to know that his condition is quickly deteriorating. He might not die today or tomorrow, but maybe in a week or two, he’ll die, gasping in a ditch, deprived of air—if he doesn’t get his hands on something. But once he walks past the city welcoming sign, he adds “pharmacy” to the to-do list. Pharmacies and supermarkets and Myungsoo’s apartment or lab.

If he squints really hard, he can see a figure approaching in the distance. Sunggyu can’t even muster the will to pull out the gun. All he wants is to crumple into someone’s arms and throw away the gun and forget about the End and make everything go back to normal. He can see it so vividly that it tears a little at his chest. He blinks hard and rubs his eyes.

He’s read some post-apocalyptic novels before, but he has never truly identified with the protagonist, all alone in the ruins of the world. Stop ing around and actually live, Sunggyu has always wanted to yell at them, but now he understands. When he was with the others, he had people to interact with, to be all smart-aleck with. Now he’s all alone. He’s so goddamn lonely that he’d talk to anyone at all.

-

Sunggyu doesn’t remember how he gets there, but he is surrounded by something warm and rank and soft, an animal pelt. He feels like a sack of stones. He hurts. He curls himself back into the fur, and someone passes a gentle, heavy hand over his face. “You made it,” the stranger tells him. “I knew you could do it.”

“Made it where?” he asks, but it comes out as a croak.

“The city.”

He wants to ask more, but he’s too tired and the warmth is inviting him back into the clutches of a peaceful, black sleep.

-

The next time he wakes up, his eyes no longer hurt, and he feels groggy—a feeling he recognizes as associated with too much sleep. “Where am I?” he wonders, trying to open and close his hand. It opens and closes. He still has all of his limbs. He’s feeling much better than before, although he still feels a cough coming on and suppresses it so it shudders weakly in his throat. His other hand is entangled in something knotty and soft. Animal fur. He feels warm all over for the first time in his life.

Someone is breathing in his face. Meat.

Dongwoo is leaning over him, his wild eyes looking down at him expectantly. When he sees him awake, he breaks out into a sharp-toothed smile that doesn’t slip, even when Sunggyu’s nerves freeze and he tries to shove Dongwoo away. Sunggyu feels as though someone has punched him in the stomach when he fumbles for the Lemon Squeezer and realizes it’s gone. The pocketknife. Gone too. Of course Dongwoo wouldn’t be so stupid as to let him keep those weapons. His whole body trembles from fear and adrenaline, and he’s so scared that he thinks he might as well just drop dead.

“Relax,” Dongwoo whispers. “I won’t hurt you.”

Bull, Sunggyu wants to yell, but his throat is constricted.

“If I did, I would’ve killed you by now,” he continues soothingly. “Here.” He fishes a pill out of his pocket and tries to push it past Sunggyu’s sealed lips. His face contorts into something angry, something even more frightening. “Sunggyu, open your mouth.”

Sunggyu opens, and Dongwoo s the pill in—and Sunggyu bites down, hard.

Suddenly, the whole world tips sideways and everything is black and white and green and pink and Sunggyu tastes iron in his mouth. “You little er!” Dongwoo hisses, his eyes blazing, his teeth bared in a grimacing snarl.

I’m going to die, Sunggyu realizes. Dongwoo’s going to kill me. He just fed me something unknown. I could die.

And as soon as it happened, Dongwoo’s face softens. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cradles Sunggyu in his arms and wraps the fur pelt tighter around his shoulders while the drug is slowly taking effect. He can’t move his legs. But he can open and close his hand. His hand is still there. His limbs are still there.

This is so weird, Sunggyu thinks, and Dongwoo’s saying, “If you don’t bite me, I won’t hit you,” and, “This was a bad idea; I should’ve just left you here,” and, “I’ll let you figure things out by yourself for now.”

Figure things out? Figure what out? 

whoa so I took my sweet time to write this. and it wasn't even that long! it's almost been a month! o____o this was a little weird, but Sunggyu's...out of it. eh. that doesn't sound very convincing, but...

I'll make it up in the next chapter. I hope. my creative brain juices have been depleted recently because they're all going into other endeavours. :(

I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!!! <3