donghae doesn't know what’s going on when the world around him crumbles to bits and pieces. he's just had a fight with his older brother over something insignificant and stormed out of the house angrily, yelling that no, you never listen to me, never ever, and donghwa's just laughing at him for being a spoilt brat who only knows how to throw tantrums whenever life doesn't go his way. he trudges along the sidewalk outside his house, angry at the world, sulking (although he’d never admit it to himself). he thinks that donghwa’s stupid – he’s already seventeen, almost a man, yet his older brother still seems to think of him as a stupid five-year-old year kid who knows nothing about the outside world. 


he’s stupid, he’s an idiot, he’s such an I don’t even know how to describe him properly. donghae kicks a small pebble with jagged edges along the sidewalk as he storms along, attempting to walk off his remaining anger. he realises that the pebble makes a strangely soothing sound whenever it hits the pavement (click, click, click). 

it’s strange, really, how he remembers that when he remembers little else from the world before.

he’s just walked to the end of his street and calmed down, ready to go back home and make peace with his brother once again. shaking his head, he makes a mental resolution to be nicer to his brother, maybe, since donghwa’s going off to university soon anyway. however, before he can even turn back, the ground under his feet rumbles loudly, cracks forming in the concrete. slowly (but at the same time way too quickly) the cracks give way to yawning chasms, stretching out to the very centre of the earth. however, he can’t see it, can’t see anything but darkness because by that time he’s already snapped out of his horrified stupor, legs carrying him away from the disaster in powerful strides. as he sprints, his mind is a jumble of confusion (he doesn’t even know where he’s running, doesn’t even know which direction he’s running in) and he’s panicking, almost crying with the fear building up in him. 

I need to get home – 

I don’t know if they know yet –

Seoul’s never had an earthquake, yet, has it

I still need to apologise


“is anybody here?” donghae yells as he runs, a stitch forming in his side. He’s almost out of breath and out of energy, but there’s a strange silence around him. It’s strange – shouldn’t everyone be tearing out of their homes, yelling and screaming about the earthquake? 

he rounds a corner and somehow, miraculously, turns into his street. whatever greets him, however, is a horrifying sight – his home is on fire. his humble little house, the place in which he’s lived for seventeen years – is burning, alight in the midst of a fiery blaze, slowly but surely razing itself to the ground. and it’s not the only one – each and every house is on fire, and the fire’s making its way towards him. an approaching monster consuming everything in his path. 

he runs. he doesn’t stop, just keeps running away as the life he knew previously falls apart in a flaming conflagration. 

it’s sometime later, when he’s stopped running (fleeing from the disaster behind) that he realises. he realises that for the second time today, he’s disorientated; he has no idea where he is. everywhere looks like it’s been through war – everything’s either burning, burnt or fallen to pieces. donghae thinks he can hear pained, anguished screams issuing from the rubble, but he shakes his head and nearly (nearly, but not quite, because to do so would be a sign of weakness) clamps his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the cries. 

he looks around at his surroundings, judging, taking in everything. the sky’s grey, just a large never-ending patch of moving cloud slowly roiling across the vast expanse of supposedly blue sky. it fits his mood, really – gloomy, dark, depressed. the loss of his family hasn’t exactly hit him hard yet, donghae supposes. right now, he’s emotionless, feelings on mute, not really realising anything. he knows that when the grief hits it’s going to be ten times worse, but right now, he’ll settle for the numbness because he really doesn’t want to feel anything. 

eyes wide open but not focusing on anything in particular, donghae inches his way to the nearest, still-intact house. he doesn’t really feel guilt in crashing at someone’s house, because somehow deep down inside he knows that the owner of this house isn’t going to come back. not now, not ever. 

he goes in, turning the doorknob with a soft ‘creaaaak’, the achy sound echoing in the vast expanse and emptiness of the hallway. gently, he treads on the thick carpet, the sounds of his footsteps muffled by the softness. ascending the spiral staircase, he reaches the master bedroom and sprawls on the bed, creasing the once-perfect comforter. 

donghae tries very hard not to think about the fact that someone else once lived here, someone else who breathed and laughed and loved. someone who was alive and healthy. 

the next morning, he wakes up and creeps out of the empty house. he’s not sure why he even feels the need to be silent, since there’s nobody left in this ghost town. perhaps the silence is a sign of respect toward the people who are gone and never coming back; perhaps it’s just been ingrained deeply in him. after all, when he was growing up, his mother always told him to be quiet. little children should be seen and not heard, she’d said one day after he’d been loud and rowdy in front of a crowd of visitors. 

donghae feels the prick of tears behind his eyelids. perhaps it’s time to get moving again. 

so this is how he lives – drifting  from house to house, street to street, sometimes even city to city. he’s surviving, walking into people’s pantries and just snatching food; taking the liberty of bathing in their homes; taking their clothes; glancing at their digital clocks just to find a way to tell the time and day; and of course, sneaking into their beds at night. every day he wakes up wondering if he’ll ever find another human soul in seoul (and here he laughs to himself because ‘seoul’ and ‘soul’ are so similar), if it’s possible to have found survivors. he still doesn’t know what had happened, what had caused the massive disaster that wiped out their whole town. he doesn’t know how he survived when everyone else obviously didn’t, but he thinks he really doesn’t want to know. 

some days the loneliness gets to him, hits him hard and makes him realise that he’s the only one left in seoul for some reason. he realises he’ll never see his mother, father and brother again; he’ll never see his annoying cousin kyuhyun, his best friend sungmin, his annoying teacher or the old lady who lived next to him. they’ve all been wiped out, and sometimes it makes donghae just a little mad to think that they’re all somewhere else, somewhere brighter and bigger and better, just hanging out together laughing while he suffers through such a lonely, solitary existence. on days like those, however, he walks – puts all his energy and thoughts into walking. just one step in front of the other and you’ll be fine, he tells himself, trotting along. 

one day, donghae walks along the rougher streets of seoul, the ones his father had always warned him about. the ones where es and drug dealers frequented back then in the old days. the seedier part of seoul, where the glitz and glamour of the city fell apart and gave way to shadier characters. he doesn’t know how he ended up here, but he’ll take whatever he can get. he steps into a motel, the interior dark and suffocating – heavy chandelier, dark red curtains and draperies, black carpets, yellow-white paint on the walls. 

he expects to see nobody, but a strange sight greets his eyes. there’s a man with white-blonde hair, lounging in the armchair nearest to the piano in the reception lobby. rubbing his eyes hard with his knuckles just to make sure it isn’t an illusion, donghae starts forward. 

“are you….real?” he asks, voice quavering after lack of use for so long. 

“i assume so,” the man shrugs, frowning. “at least I think I’m as real as you.” 

“i’m donghae,” donghae says, starting forward with his hand outstretched, tears almost forming in his eyes. “I’m so glad to see another human being in this deserted town –“ 

“oh, but I’m not human,” the strange man says, a certain glint in his eyes. “i’m an android. that’s what they told me, at least. so does this mean i’m not… real?” 

donghae sputters inwardly. has he gone mad? has he been trapped here, lonely, just like him? has the solitude slowly eaten away at him, driving him mad? 

“you never told me your name,” he says lamely, at a loss for any other words. 

in response, the man smiles, just a simple lifting of lips. “i’m hyukjae. that’s what they told me.” 

“well hi then, hyukjae, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“nice,” hyukjae repeats, staring at him with a strange look in his deep, dark eyes. “I guess so, I guess this is… nice?” 

hyukjae’s a little (or rather, very, donghae corrects himself) strange, but he’ll take whatever company he can get. even if company isn’t human, seeing as it’s not that weird anymore. after all, seoul’s disappeared, he’s all alone, and now his only friend is a robot. 

it could have been worse, donghae reasons with himself. hyukjae could be a vampire, or some bull monster he knows nothing about. 

“so, hyukjae… is there food in here?” 

the days pass, and slowly, donghae grows accustomed to spending time with hyukjae. he knows that hyukjae likes sleeping on beds near the window because the night breeze drifts in gently like an exhalation and cools down the whole room. he knows hyukjae doesn’t take baths but never smells; he knows hyukjae likes to walk sometimes, just letting his mind drift and his legs propel him forward. he decides that even though hyukjae’s a robot and he’s a human, he can deal with this. because somehow, he and hyukjae are similar, the same amongst their differences. 

“I like children. there’s something in their laughter that makes them seem so innocent and naïve, like they trust the world.” 

“oh, I prefer cats and dogs. they’re… nice. they don’t run away from me, like children tend to do. they say I’m… scary.” 

“it’s alright. kids at school never liked me much either.” 

“why? you’re a nice person, donghae.” 

“I don’t know. they said I was weird.” 

“but you’re not weird. not to me, at least. you’re a nice person, donghae. I like you.” donghae thinks there’s a smile in hyukjae’s words, but he doesn’t really know for sure. he’s ninety-nine percent sure, though.

“sometimes I miss my family. sometimes I think that I could have done something to prevent it, but other times I tell myself to stop thinking about them. am I callous for doing so? am I turning into an emotionless jerk?”

“tell me, donghae, what is emotion?” hyukjae says softly, intense stare trained on donghae’s face. “is it something you feel?” 

“I was made without a heart. there’s something missing inside me, something you humans have that I don’t. do you know what?” 

donghae holds his breath, shakes his head; he’s afraid of what he might hear, but he also wants to know. he wants to know what he has that hyukjae doesn’t. recently he may or may not have been a little distracted, thoughts lingering a little too much on hyukjae. 

“you have humanity. it’s what makes you human, after all. but the thing is that sometimes, you make me feel things. things I never felt before you came along.” and upon saying so, hyukjae gets up and stumbles away, much unlike his usual confident stride. 

donghae remains on the ground, hugging his legs to his chest, looking up at hyukjae’s retreating silhouette, thoughts nothing but a whirlwind in his head. 

does he mean what I think he means?

“I’m sorry,” hyukjae returns that evening, head down and looking crestfallen. “I’m not usually like this. I don’t normally lose control –“ 

“you don’t normally let your emotions take control of you,” donghae interjects, cutting across cleanly. 

“yes,” hyukjae stops, staring straight at donghae. looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t. because I didn’t used to feel emotion, before you came along.” 

“don’t be silly,” donghae laughs, trying to play it off, yet at the bottom of his heart he’s shouting and jumping up and down, celebrating for reasons unknown to himself. “I thought you said you couldn’t feel.” 

“I don’t know,” hyukjae shrugs. “maybe I can; after all, I’ve never tried. I’ve just been… alone. until you. until you came along.” 

don’t be silly now, maybe he just treats you as a friend, his mind warns him, but donghae’s heart takes over his head and there’s no going back. “so what does that mean?”

hyukjae stares at him again, that intense look he’s come to know (and maybe love, his heart screams). “I don’t know, but you make me feel. something to do with my heart, I think,” he mumbles the last sentence. donghae hears him though, and he grins. 

“what’s that?” 

“I said,” hyukjae repeats louder, sounding a little embarrassed, “I think you’re doing something to my heart. something good. something that feels nice.” 

donghae grins. “I’m glad.” 

hyukjae smiles. “me too.”

reaching over, donghae intertwines his fingers with hyukjae’s. they’re not human, yet they feel so much like his own that he can’t help but wonder whether they are indeed human – slightly rough with calluses, yet they feel firm and solid in his grasp, unbreakable and strong. 

donghae smiles, just a little, to himself when he senses hyukjae wrapping his fingers around his own. 

“I like you, donghae.”

“I like you too, hyukjae.” 




end