Chapter One:

for better, for worse

Far beyond what his eyes could see, that chain link fence stretched.

Zitao ran.

In the puddles he splashed through, his reflection was chasing him doggedly, jumping through the tracks of dirt and mud left behind by his bare feet.

He didn't remember how it had begun, but he couldn't look back, too afraid of catching a glimpse of whatever was following him.

As he moved to place his foot down on the ground once more though, with a horrifying snap, he felt something in his ankle give away.

He fell with a cry of pain, clinging to the chain fence desperately as he held his ankle through the spasms of pain. 

Frozen to the spot for what felt like minutes, he lay there, shivering in the cold, until - from somewhere behind him - he heard it emerge from the darkness.

It was a slow, quiet shuffle, a sound that sent chills up his spine.

With wide eyes and a shuddering breath, he began to turn his head, feeling the presence just behind him, standing on the other side.

The squeaking of shoes, as it crouched down beside him. 

He could feel its rancid breath on his skin, a hand reaching out from beyond the torn hole in the fence, pulling his own free with a touch that was almost gentle.

And as he finally turned to face the monster, he squinted, seeing a flicker of something recognizable in those eyes -

...with a crunch, it sunk its teeth down in the exposed flesh of his hand, chewing away at the tendons and snapping his fingers from the bone.

With a gasp -

He woke from his nightmare to a chorus of machines, beeping quietly around him.

Zitao shifted, stirring sluggishly from his medicine-induced coma as he finally opened his eyes to the pitch black of the hospital room.

In those first seconds, the off-white color of the cast surrounded his leg caught him off guard.

With a soft exhale, he attempted to move his arm, only to find that it was trapped.

He cast his glance further down the bed, waiting for his eyes to adjust slowly to the dark, taking in the image that began to form in front of his eyes.

Seated on the chair next to him, upper body lying half on top of Zitao's own, was Yifan.

His lover had been awake for what could have been hours, staring dully at the wall opposite him, completely obvious to the fact that Zitao was watching.

Zitao tried to make a sound - to let Yifan know he was awake - but found that he couldn't move at all.   His throat was too parched, his body still too shattered to wake from its sleeping state.

Instead, he was held as a captive audience, feeling the light, calming of fingers across the bare skin of his stomach, ears quickly tuning themselves to the sounds of whispers escaping the other man's mouth.

"I'm so sorry," Yifan was whispering repeatedly, a mantra that blew gentle waves of hot air onto his skin.  "I'm so sorry."

Yifan, Zitao wanted to say, it's okay, so please -

"...I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

In a world where mother nature was something of the past, seen only in the corpses of animals and plants that hung in the museums, 'progress for the sake of progress' - stopped for nothing.

And as their population grew exponentially, they expanded into what little free land was left, bringing with it The Fog. 

The air grew thick, covering the area in what seemed almost like snow - only that it was ash, the last remaining remnants of the trees that had once covered the land.

The dirt had long since turned hard and black, and from the tall smoke stacks, heavy clouds loomed overhead.

And then - one chilly fall morning in the 2039, just a week shy of their fifth anniversary - the world as they knew it came crumbling down around them.

// Soo-Man Corporation Intl. set to hold a press conference today over the major recall of their Curall drug which has left millions incapacitated globally, complaining of headaches, back pains and dry throat.  As we continue to give you updated coverage of the event, we urge the public to temporarily discontinue any and all usage of the drug as they ... //

// Hospitals are beginning to flood with hundreds of new cases by the hour, forcing some clinics to close their doors due to the rapidly rising number of patients reporting strange symptoms.  Patients unable to seek immediate care are urged to move to the secondary clinics which are listed below by county. //

// Reports have been rolling in of the first few patients who have just died of causes related to the supposedly contaminated batch of Curall drugs that were recalled this morning.  We will keep you updated as... //

// ...the shocking death of the victims within forty-eight hours.  If you had been there with me in the operating room this morning, you would have seen - the walls were completely spattered with blood.  One patient literally exploded, covering our cameraman with - //

// Doctors have officially classified it as an extremely lethal form of hemorrhagic fever.  Death rates are climbing at shocking rates - authorities are urging all citizens to seek isolation from anyone who may be displaying any of the symptoms listed on the screen right now.  If you have any information on... //

// Mourners are beginning to riot in the streets, demanding an explanation for the mysterious deaths - //

// ...city morgues have reported disturbing cases of disappearing cadavers - //

// BREAKING NEWS - massive panic rising as what appears to be small pockets of violent individuals have begun to attack victims rioting on the streets - authorities are attempting to try to figure out if this is an act of terrorism, or... //

// ...do not initiate contact, no matter how normal they may appear - riot teams are being deployed - citizens are urged to stay clear - //

// Do not panic.  I repeat - do not panic.  Citizens are to barricade themselves indoors - local police forces are being instructed as we speak on the proper evacuation protocol and will be making rounds to collect any healthy individuals for removal from the city.  Under no circumstances should you open your doors to anyone who is not dressed in riot gear.  I will repeat - do not - open - the door - //

Hello, you've reached the Wu residence, we are not home right now.  If you're looking for Police Chief Wu, you may reach him at his office at -

/ - YIFAN!  Yifan, it's - oh God - it's me!  Listen - someone brought a sick kid to s-school today, and they weren't - they weren't just sick!!  Th-that was two hours ago and - /

A banging of fists on wood and a responding, frightened shriek.

/ W-we can't get out!  The entire a-area is in lockdown.  The s-school is completely overrun - Luhan and I managed to barricade ourselves in our classroom, but - there's so many - /

Inhuman squeals, the pounding of tiny fists against the door.

/ Oh God, oh God, they're breaking in!  Y-Yifan - listen to me - there's too many here - there's no point in coming back for us, do you hear me? /

A frantic, hyperventilating breath, followed by a hysterical sob.

/ You have to listen to me, o-okay?  You need to leave - with the others.  When the convoy gets there - you need to leave. /

Luhan was screaming something frantically in the background.

/ I have to go!  Oh God, I have to go.  Please - leave while you still can!  Please.  Yifan... Yifan, I lo- /

- click.

When the convoy finally pulled out from the fog, rolling up to the abandoned complex, Deputy Chief Kim leapt from his seat as soon as it skidded to a stop, leaving behind dozens of frightened men, women and children as he burst through the front doors.

He slammed open the door of the tiny apartment, finding Yifan in the middle of packing his bags, stuffing supplies and mags into a large duffle bag as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

"Chief, oh thank God!  We don't have time - just grab what you can - we need to leave now!"

Yifan didn't respond, too busy pushing past his deputy to grab the aluminum baseball bat he had stored in a hallway closet and stuffing into his bag.  He began to move away again, but was stopped when a hand fell on his arm, pulling him back.

He finally paused, looking back to the haggard face of his friend.

Kim Joonmyun, thirty-five years old, one of his best friends.  Hard-working, serious, dedicated to his job.

Of all traits that stood out to him now though, it was his haunted look, the jittery hands that told Yifan what he already knew.

Just yesterday, his baby girl, just turned three, had been rushed to the hospital by her mother.  Neither had returned.

Yet here he was now, a hero to them all, still doing his duty as an officer - even as his hands shook on the rifle in his hands - even when he should have been allowed to grieve.

But there was no time, and Yifan knew that feeling all too well - because for as much as Yifan wanted to help him, to offer him a supporting shoulder - there was someone else ... someone else who needed him more.

"I can't."  Was all he could say in response, only to see his friend tense up.

"Why?  Are you going to go save Zitao?"  Joonmyun spoke through gritted teeth, shaking his head.  "You'll die if you go now - haven't you heard?  The whole district is condemned."

Yifan shook his head, moving past Joonmyun to set his bag on the table, cracking open his rifle to slide rounds into it.

"He needs me."

"WE need you!"  Joonmyun gasped, gripping Yifan by the arm.

"Yifan - you're the police chief, you can't just leave us now - there's are terrified civilians waiting for us to guide them to safety -"

Yifan straightened abruptly, turning to his friend with fire in his eyes.

"Zitao - can - barely - walk, Joonmyun!"

His deputy's eyes widened, taking a step back as Yifan pressed forward, snarling.

"When we met, Zitao had already grown used to being abandoned by those who were supposed to love him.  And that's why I won't, don't you understand?  Because I promised him I would always be there - because I promised to protect him - because I swore on this ring that I would never - leave - him - behind!  And just because you've forgotten your marriage vows doesn't mean I have!"

Yifan stopped, watching tears begin to fill his friend's eyes, slowly sliding down numb cheeks.  Deep remorse filling the place of anger for a minute, he stood back, taking a few heaving breaths as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"I... I'm sorry, Joonmyun.  About your daughter.  About Naeun.  About... about all of this."

But it didn't stop him from slinging the duffle bag from his shoulder, cocking his rifle.  He brushed gently past Joonmyun who remained frozen to the spot.

Yifan paused briefly, staring down at the badge which glittered back up to him.

Turning back, he slowly unclipped it, pinning it instead to Joonmyun's shirt, unable to meet his friend's gaze.

 "Go with the others, Joonmyun.  You're the Chief now.  Keep... keep everyone safe."

Clapping Joonmyun's shoulder just once, Yifan flew out the door.

It would be the very last time he ever saw Kim Joonmyun.

The waters had been toxic for as long as they could remember.

That didn't stop the two of them from heading to the empty beach though, one day when the fog had cleared enough for it to be safe. 

And even though they couldn't swim, they still found their own simple pleasures, Zitao walking carefully barefoot on the sand, feeling it sink between his toes. 

Yifan took his time, snapping pictures of the pale grey skies, of the curling waves, of Zitao's back as he walked slowly along the beach, looking so small from within the viewfinder. 

He pointed his camera down too, snapping a photo of the distinctive three tracks Zitao would always leave, beautiful in its own way.

Smiling down at the photos as they appeared, Yifan looked up, finding Zitao further ahead than he had anticipated.

"Hey." He called out, watching as his husband turned back with a question in his eyes.

"What's got you in such a hurry?  I thought we were going to take a walk on the beach together."

Zitao laughed, the sound muffled through his face mask.

"Maybe I like taking long walks on the beach by myself."

Yifan played along, muttering loudly about unloving husbands, faking a temper tantrum as he picked up a clod of sand and childishly tossed it away.

Zitao laughed again, quieter this time, holding out his free hand toward his husband, beckoning toward him.

"Really, Yifan.  As much as I take comfort in knowing you're always behind me, I wish you'd walk with me for once.  It gets annoying, trying to talk behind me, not knowing if you're paying attention or not."

Now it was Zitao's turn to mutter, side-eyeing Yifan with disdain.

"...especially when most of the time ...you're not."

Yifan grinned widely, stepping up to his husband as he took the extended hand, pretending to take a bite out of it before caressing it briefly against his cheek.

"I can't help the fact that your backside is so alluring.  Besides, you wound me with your distrust.  You know I always hear what you say."

"Mm-hmm."

Yifan feigned slow confusion.

"What's that?  Did you say something?"

Zitao pouted and Yifan found himself delighted at the sight, pulling at his husband's cheeks.

"Has anyone told you how cute you are?"

Zitao tried unsuccessfully to extract himself from Yifan's grip, nose scrunching in displeasure.  "Cute is for babies!"

Yifan had been waiting for that, sidling up alongside Zitao with a dopey looking grin (all teeth and gums) that Zitao had grown so accustomed to seeing.  Nobody would have believed him if he had told them Yifan had that type of expression in his repertoire.

Yifan leaned in close.

"But you're my baby."

Well, he had fallen right into that one.

Zitao shuddered with sudden goosebumps, groaning as he pushed Yifan's face away from his own.

"ing hell, Yifan.  Gross."

Yifan laughed deeply, catching his hand and looping it around his own shoulder as he took the camera that hung from the strap on his chest, turning it to face them. 

"Cheese!"

Click.

Yifan snarled, dropping his empty rifle back to his side as he pulled the baseball bat from his backpack, taking a batting swing at the monster that ran up to him.  With a crunch, he dented its head in, causing black, tar-like liquid to spew from its mouth, eyeballs popping out to hang limply from its crushed sockets, following the rest of its body as it fell to its side, this time not getting up.

Already surrounded by the first wave of corpses, he turned, eyeing the ones in the distance who had turned toward him, hands outstretched and screeching inhumanly as they ran closer and closer.

Not wasting any more time, he climbed in through the open window, bursting into the stairwell.

He took the stairs two at a time, hopping over bloodied bodies of students and teachers alike while reloading his rifle, slamming in new cartridges as fast as he could.

On the third floor, he cocked his gun with a jerk, bringing it up into proper position as he dispatched two more of them, watching them fall to the ground without even a chance to turn.

He stopped briefly, looking over their bodies with a sad grimace. 

Two schoolgirls who didn't look like they could be any older than sixteen, still wearing their uniforms.  Their ties were askew, their once pressed button-ups torn at the seams.  They hadn't even lived out a quarter of their lives - and yet here they were, corpses lining the hallways in twisted, rotting piles.  Poor things.

Yifan stepped over them, mouth pressed in a grim line as he neared the teacher's lounge, poking his gun in first as he swung in, eyes scanning the room.

At first, not noticing a thing, he made to move on - but then he paused, hearing a familiar voice calling out indistinctly.

There, standing by a desk in the corner, swaying slightly where he stood.

Yifan slowly lowered his weapon, staring in disbelief.

"Luhan...?"

It was so dark.

Each imaginary noise he heard echoed from beyond.

Everything was so new - and so terrifying - that he could do nothing but cover his head, shrinking deeper into the closet.

Every now and then, he'd hear the telltale shuffle of feet along the ground, something plodding closeby that had him watching the handle of the door with a gaze that shook, quivering in fear.

G-go away.  Goawaygoawaygoaway!

...unlike before though, this time the noises didn't fade away, instead growing closer and closer.

He held a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from screaming, trying to in quiet, hyperventilating breaths as he watched the handles begin to turn, jiggling the lock.

Abruptly, the movement stopped.

Seconds later, the latch was blown open with a bang that had Zitao about to scream.  He could see the door slamming open, arms reaching out toward him - but instead of gripping him in preparation for a feast, the arms pulled him in, lifting him from his place on the floor and holding him close to a warm, broad chest.

"Zitao - oh thank God - you're okay -"

Yifan had come back for him.

He took in briefly, the sight of his husband covered in blood -

Zitao began to beat Yifan's chest with his fist, bursting into tears of bitterness and relief.

"Y-you idiot... you i-idiot!  I told you not to come!"

Yifan nuzzled in briefly, smiling bitterly.

"Just because I hear you, doesn't mean I always listen."

Zitao sobbed harder, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly.

Yifan briefly regarded the bloodied, bent cane that lay at Zitao's side, no longer of any use.

No choice.

"Come on, we need to go."

Leaning down, he hooked an arm underneath Zitao's knees, pulling him up into his arms.

His husband yelped at the sudden movement, clutching to him tighter as he was lifted higher, the man stepping back out from the closet and back into the lounge, moving swiftly back the way he had come.

Zitao was babbling frantically - about the horrible things he had seen, the woman who had been torn into pieces by the Changed who had pulled at her in too many directions - of the student he had seen trying to crawl away, the bottom half of his body just barely trailing after him, still connected by the entrails that spilled out along the ground - of how he and Luhan had -

Of how he and Luhan...

As they were passing through, he spotted a motionless corpse in the corner of the room, brain matter seeping out of its cracked skull.

Even with the mess of blood and bone that matted his hair, Zitao could still recognize that distinctive chestnut brown. 

Yifan noticed his silence, and turned his body away from the sight.

He revved the engine of the police cruiser, stamping his foot into gas pedal as they peeled off.

Zitao was sobbing as they smashed through the bodies of his former students and coworkers - but Yifan had no time to comment - forced to focus on the road as they banged through the gates on their way down the road. 

And as much as Yifan was just as equally, if not more disturbed by the blood that trailed down the windshield - there was a shivering form, pressed up against his side.

Depending on him.

Needing him. 

Yifan had to hurry to get Zitao as far away from here as he could - there was only so much time left.

As if to remind him of the clock ticking down, his shoulder throbbed distantly and Yifan winced.

Glancing over at his husband, he reached over, grasping for Zitao's hand and twining their fingers together tightly.

Miraculously, Yifan dragged it out for three hours until, along a stretch of abandoned highway, surrounded by dense fog, he finally began to succumb, forced to come slowly to a stop.

Zitao looked over.

Yifan had been sweating before, but Zitao had just assumed it had been from the fear and rush of adrenaline. 

But now?  Now he was sweating more, the pallor of his skin deathly pale.

"...Yifan?"

Yifan turned to him, swallowing dryly.

Meeting his husband's troubled and questioning gaze, he could only squeeze the other's hand weakly as he confessed the truth.

"Zitao.  Don't be... don't be scared, okay?"

Zitao tackled him, ripping open his jacket and pulling down the collar of his shirt - to reveal the missing hunk of skin, a wound still bubbling red.

What he had thought was another's blood ...had been Yifan's all along.

He didn't have to explain it for Zitao to know what was happening.

"Yi...fan?"

Yifan pulled away from his grip to open the door, stumbling outside.

Zitao threw open his own door, supporting himself with one hand on the hood of the cruiser as he made his way around the side, eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to comprehend what was happening - what was happening so fast.

"YIFAN!"

His husband was lurching away unsteadily into the fog. 

Zitao followed as fast as he could, limping desperately fast after the shadow that he could barely see, finally able to catch up when the man leaned to rest against a dead tree, heaving for breath.

Yifan took a set of handcuffs from where they had always been in his pocket, cuffing his wrist onto a thick, sturdy branch before crumpling against the bark, slowly sliding down.

Zitao collapsed at his side, frantically ripping a strip of his own shirt off as he struggled to bind Yifan's wounds.

His hands were pushed away gently.

"Don't.  There's... there's no use."

Zitao sat back, his ears ringing for a second as he stared down at the man before him. 

Yifan was smiling up at him as best he could, still trying to maintain a brave front even as his health began to rapidly decline, the fever already beginning to run deep in his blood, changing him from the inside.

The thought - of the man who had come back to save him, knowing what he walking into, knowing what the outcome would be - it was too much for Zitao to bear.

With a low, keening wail, Zitao began to cry.

Yifan sat for the next hour, Zitao's back as the man held him close, weeping into his shoulder.

Over the sound of Zitao's tears, Yifan began to calmly describe the supplies that were packed in the cruiser - the fastest route to the closest town.  He told Zitao of the best way to kill of the Changed, should they bother him - a whack to the head, a shot to the face.

As he spoke though, he only grew quieter and quieter, the sickness slowly progressing to its final stages.

When blood began to trail from his lips, he patted Zitao's back lightly.

"You... you have... to go... before I..."

Fists curled tight in the fabric of his shirt.

"...NO!"

Choking back a gurgle as he felt his lungs begin to fill with blood, Yifan found energy enough to press the rifle into Zitao's hands, weakly curling his fingers around it and silently begging.

"Zitao, I..."

The look his husband gave him was of horror and denial, shaking his head vehemently as he threw the weapon far away from them. 

"No.  N-no!"

Zitao shifted forward, cradling Yifan to him as best as he could with Yifan's arm stretched out above them.

"E-everything's going to be okay!  Just stay with me, okay?  Just stay with me!"

Yifan's head was beginning to loll though, eyes rolling up his head, and Zitao made a low, trembling moan, hand reaching out to press against Yifan's cheek.  His heart throbbing, Zitao choked the next words through deep, heavy sobs.

"Don't leave.  You can't leave, not now, not when we've... not when we've only just started!"

Yifan could barely speak now, forcing Zitao to lean down to listen to the whispers that left his mouth, feeling a trembling hand run weakly through his hair.

I love you.

It was hard to say when exactly he died.

He fell silent minutes before his heart actually stopped, his eyes having long closed.

Zitao held the body of his husband tenderly in his arms for a long time afterward, still whispering to him as if he were alive.

Of the secrets he had never told.  Of the feelings he hadn't yet shared.  Of the hole in his heart that Yifan had filled.

Yifan had promised.

It was 4AM and Zitao couldn't sleep.

It took just fifteen minutes for Yifan to notice his disappearance.

When his husband padded quietly into the living room in nothing but his pajama bottoms, blearily asking for him, Zitao was standing in front of the window sill, cane propped against the wall.

Looking out from the window into nothing at all, he picked up a single dry leaf, pulling it from the potted plant which had long died.

"...Zitao?"

Zitao couldn't open his mouth, too fearful of what might spill out.  He was listening though, turning his head just slightly with a soft exhale.

Yifan was quiet for a second, moving around the room behind him, fiddling with something that he couldn't see.

When soft music broke from their stereo though, playing a song that he had always loved - Zitao could feel a shiver run up his spine.

為什麼要對你掉眼淚

He felt arms slip around his waist, drawing him in close.  A kiss was pressed into the back of his neck.

Yifan began to shift side to side to the sound of the music, hands pushing gently at his own stubborn body until he gave in, reluctantly swaying with the man behind him.

Deep vibrations passed against his skin as Yifan hummed the song softly into Zitao's neck, resting a chin against his shoulder.  Zitao shuddered, shifting in his embrace.

"What's wrong?  Another nightmare?"  Yifan murmured, nuzzling the other's hair comfortingly.

...was it?

Zitao couldn't quite remember.

He shook his head, shrugging helplessly.

"I just...  I have this overwhelming feeling that something's... about to happen.  I can't shake it."

He turned in the other's embrace, shifting heavily as his ankle gave way.  Yifan wrapped his grip tighter around him, letting Zitao lean onto him for support as Zitao reached up, eyes shining bright with emotion.

"I'm ...scared, Yifan."

Yifan bent down, kissing him gently across the lips.

"There's no need to be scared.  I'm here, aren't I?"

Zitao had no response, his heart still troubled.

Seeing the fear in his eyes, Yifan shifted to grab a hand in his own, leading him in a slow dance, allowing Zitao as much time as he needed to find his footing. 

Zitao felt the worry slip from him gradually, the tension in his muscles lessening as he allowed Yifan to pull him across the floor.

There were time enough to worry, and things enough to fear - but held by Yifan's warm arms, watched by a gaze that never left him - nothing else seemed important than the comfort he found in the other's embrace.

Zitao stared into the eyes of his husband, gripping the hand tight as he stepped forward.

This time, he reached in to press a kiss of gratitude against his taller lover's jaw, resting his cheek against a broad shoulder.

"Without you," Zitao began, finally closing his eyes, "I'd be nothing."

Kris shushed him quietly, leaning his head onto Zitao's own.

Everything faded quietly, washing out to colors of grey and white.

The wheel was clutched tightly between his fingers, but Zitao felt nothing at all, too busy reliving the memories of those nights that looped through his mind like a slideshow of days gone by.

The music kept winding back, playing again and again in his mind until Zitao could barely drive, unable to see neither through the fog, nor through the tears that continued to fall, his body shaking with the force of his wretched sobs.

He kept looking back in the rearview mirror, as if half expecting to see something -

His husband, behind him as usual.

'Are you leaving without me again, Zitao?'

He would say, slowly trailing after him with a smile.

...but just like his hopes and dreams, the white smoke and fog swallowed up that image, leaving him alone with his phantoms.

He lurched in his seat.

And began to scream.

Fingers twitched, digging into the ground.