Archive of Our Own

The ground is still frozen, snow still on the mountains, when Yoongi leaves for his bi-yearly trip to Seoul.

This is a trip that Yoongi hates taking. He hates leaving his farm for almost two weeks, hates the risk of traveling, hates lugging his wares to and from the city, hates the claustrophobic closeness of the city itself after years of living on his own in the mountains. He'd tried to get by trading at the smaller markets, visiting the smaller cities, but Seoul is still Seoul, even now, and he makes this trip twice a year because he needs to, even if he hates it.

He makes good time through the mountains on the first day, the chill in the air speeding him along, and he's heading back towards the river, closing in on Gapyeong, when he sees something not twenty meters ahead of him, a vaguely human-shaped lump right there on the side of the road.

Yoongi curses himself for not having seen it sooner, ducking behind an abandoned car to get a better look.

The person—because it's clearly a person, whether alive or dead or undead, Yoongi can't tell—isn't moving, isn't making any noise at all. It's cold, so Yoongi's nose isn't terribly reliable, but he doesn't smell anything worse than normal, even though he knows that smell is a fucking useless criterion if the person was recently turned. He doesn't think it's a zombie, though, and anyway, it would have smelled him by now if it was, would be trying to get to him to feed.

So it's probably just a dead body, and it's not like Yoongi isn't used to that by now. There are significantly fewer dead bodies than there are undead bodies, sure, but Yoongi is still no stranger to a corpse. He approaches slowly, cautiously, in case the person—boy, it looks like—is alive after all. He eyes the pack a few feet from where the boy is splayed on the pavement, a bloody, well-used bat a few inches from his fingers.

Yoongi is sorting through the boy's supplies—a sad affair: a switch blade, some rope, a few packets of jerky—when he hears a soft moan, a rattling breath. He's on his feet with his knife unsheathed in a matter of seconds, about to get the fuck out of there before the boy can finish turning and bite him, when he finally looks down at the boy's bloody form, and really starts to see what he's looking at.

The gash on his cheek is freshly scabbed over, and he may be pale from blood loss and blue in the lips from cold, but his skin is still glowing, still obviously healing. The dried blood around his parted mouth is red, and his hair is clean and long enough to cover his face, fluttering as he breathes.

He's alive, Yoongi realizes, suddenly finding himself in an awkward situation.

The last thing he needs is to get involved with another person, to make someone else's problems his own. He doesn't even know if this kid will survive, doesn't know how bad his injuries really are, and there's no point in Yoongi wasting his time trying to save him if he's just going to die in a few days, anyway.

But for all that Yoongi is pretty jaded about corpses at this point, he's never come across someone still alive before, has never had to walk away from somebody still breathing, knowing that he did nothing to help them.

He swallows hard, about to get up anyway and try to forget the whole thing, when he catches sight of something in the boy's pocket, trails his eyes over a wire he didn't see before, leading up to each of his ears.

“Fuck me,” Yoongi says, exhaling harshly, reaching carefully over the boy to pull the phone out of his pocket, the solar chip on the back glinting in the slanting light of sunset. The screen lights up when Yoongi taps it, the music player turned off but still on the home screen, and it makes something inside of Yoongi ache.

Music is something he misses so much it kills him sometimes. Even before his tech broke, before he needed to repurpose it to survive, listening to music wasn't something he was willing to risk too often, living alone, always on the lookout. That kind of recklessness clearly ended badly for this kid: he made a stupid mistake and now he's paying the price, and it's not something that should immediately endear him to Yoongi, but it is.

And it does.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi says to himself, a question and a statement and a shrug all wrapped into one, and he wraps the headphones around the boy's phone and tucks it back into his pocket, shouldering both of their packs before hoisting the kid up from the ground. His skin is cold to the touch, and Yoongi checks once more for a pulse to make sure that he's really still alive.

It's lucky as hell they're in a city, lucky that Yoongi can find an abandoned house with relative ease, because the kid is fucking heavy, and Yoongi is weighed down already with their supplies and his trades. He idly hopes that the kid's spine isn't fucked up, because he's hardly being gentle with him, all but dropping him on the floor of the first house Yoongi finds when they finally stumble through the door.

“What the fuck am I doing,” Yoongi asks himself, as he stares at the stranger still bloody and unconscious on the floor. He barely has enough first aid for this, won't have enough left if anything happens to him on the way to Seoul, and for a second, he considers just leaving the kid here, having done enough just bringing him in the from the cold and the open road, where anyone or anything could stumble upon him.

But he's tired, and it's getting dark, and something about the thought of this kid—with his headphones and his baseball bat and his pitiful collection of supplies—getting left for dead just sort of—hurts him.

So he wastes some of his water cleaning up the blood on the boy's face and his hands—his injuries don't really seem that bad, now that Yoongi is looking closely—and he uses the supplies in his first aid kit to patch him up as best he can. Yoongi covers him with his blanket, tucking it under the boy's shoulders and hips, hoping it warms him up.

He waits a little bit for the boy to wake up, doesn't really want to sleep before he can at least talk to him, but his exhaustion creeps up on him, his eyes slipping closed against his will, and he's asleep before he can do much of anything to stop it.

He's woken up by a hand on his shoulder, and as soon as Yoongi remembers last night, he's up in a flash, going again for the knife strapped to his thigh. But the boy—man, Yoongi thinks, although he can't be much more than twenty—backs off immediately, scrambling away with his hands up, blood soaking through his bandages.

Yoongi softens at the sight, keeping his hand on the hilt of his knife but not drawing it, his eyes drawn to the fresh blood on the kid's palm. If he meant Yoongi any harm, he would have something while Yoongi slept, could have—at the very least—stolen his stuff and ran. But he's still here, looking at Yoongi with wide eyes and a parted mouth, and he's—beautiful, Yoongi notes distantly, before shaking his head to clear the thought.

They stare at each other for a prolonged moment, neither of them knowing what to say. When it looks like this could go on for a while, Yoongi finally sighs, pointing to the kid's hands.

“I need to change your bandages,” he says, and the kid quirks an eyebrow like it's the last thing he expected Yoongi to say. Yoongi bristles a little at his expression, because what else was he expecting Yoongi to say?

“Okay,” the boy says, shuffling closer, but he still doesn't offer Yoongi his hands. “Why are you helping me?” he asks instead, glancing around the room like he's just now realizing where they are.

“You needed help,” Yoongi tells him, even though that makes him sound like a better person than he is. It would be weird to mention his phone, Yoongi thinks. You were listening to music seems like a weird reason to save someone.

But then: “You saved my phone,” the boy says, sounding disbelieving but pleased.

“Seemed a shame to lose it,” Yoongi says truthfully. “Even if it'll probably get you killed one day.”

“Hasn't yet,” he points out, sounding altogether too smug.

“Because I just saved you, jackass,” Yoongi bites back, and then he scrambles for something to say to soften the blow of that a little bit, but the boy just laughs.

“I'm Jungkook,” he tells Yoongi, finally extending his hands, not for a handshake but for Yoongi to replace his bandages.

“Yoongi,” Yoongi says, turning Jungkook's hands over in his, inspecting his wounds.

“Thanks for saving me, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook says, suddenly earnest.

Yoongi, slightly uncomfortable with the attention and the sudden shift in mood, just hums. He starts to peel off the bandages, relieved to see that the gash across the boy's palm is clean, that the cuts look better than they did last night. The blood seeping from them is fresh and bright, nothing to be concerned about.

Jungkook hisses when Yoongi rubs an antiseptic wipe over the cuts, and Yoongi leans closer to blow on them without a thought, only realizing what he did when he senses Jungkook stiffen across from him.

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbles, backing away again, not looking Jungkook in the face. He feels supremely awkward, like this one moment of human interaction has made him embarrassingly vulnerable.

“It's okay,” Jungkook assures him, squeezing Yoongi's hand briefly. Yoongi looks back up at him in surprise, and Jungkook's mouth quirks in a half-smile, like he's trying to hold it back. Yoongi shakes his head, huffing out a laugh, and he doesn't know why, exactly, but he doesn't let go of Jungkook's hands.

The moment is more intimate than it has any right to be, speaks of a comfort with each other they don't have. They should already be going their separate ways; it wouldn't have been strange if they hadn't spoken to each other at all. But they're lingering, like they're both waiting for something else to happen.

Yoongi is surprised that he's not running from this. He's surprised that he feels no great inclination to do so. It unsettles him a little bit, actually, just how quickly this seems to be happening. He doesn't even know what this is.

Yoongi has been alone for a long time, for years, and he prefers it that way. It's easier to have only himself to look after; there's nothing holding him back from anything he wants to do or anywhere he wants to go; there's no one to argue with about the best way to do things, no one to worry about, no one to mourn. It's better this way, and yet here he is with a boy he just met, and it's already starting to feel like they've been together for a while, seems for this moment like it's always been this way.

He wonders if Jungkook is feeling the same thing—wonders, now, if Jungkook is alone, too, or if he has someone worrying about him, someone he needs to get back to. Yoongi doesn't know what happens now, and he's a little shocked to realize that he's not sure what he wants to happen, either.

“How did you find me?” Jungkook asks him, once the moment passes.

Yoongi starts to pack his first aid kit and re-pack their bags. “Are you serious?” he asks, glancing up at Jungkook in confusion. “You were literally lying in the middle of the road.”

Jungkook winces.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees. “You're lucky I was the one to find you, and not a fucking zombie.”

“That's true,” Jungkook grants, “but that's not what I meant. I meant, like, how did you find me? Where were you going?”

“Oh,” Yoongi says, instinctually hesitant to reply. He's been answerable to no one but himself for so long, it feels foreign to voice his plans, to discuss them with another person. It feels almost dangerous to tell someone else what he's doing, where he's going. An overabundance of caution has never been a bad thing, not for the past six years.

“You don't have to tell me,” Jungkook says, easily reading his discomfort. “Sorry. It's none of my business.”

Jungkook's face closes off for a second, and he looks down as if he's embarrassed, as if he regrets asking the question. It's one more thing that shouldn't affect Yoongi, one more thing that he shouldn't care about, but it makes a crack in one of his walls, a hairline fracture that makes him want to open up, even just a tiny bit. After all, he's curious about Jungkook, too, has questions of his own.

“It's fine,” Yoongi assures him, waving away his apology. He really doesn't think Jungkook means him any harm, and telling him where he's going can't really hurt. “I'm heading to Seoul, actually. I have a home around here,” Yoongi says, waving towards the mountains behind them, “but I need to do a supply run every now and then, a few times a year.”

“Alone?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah, I uh—I live alone.”

Jungkook must see the flash of fear that Yoongi is sure he can't keep off his face at the admission—that was way more than he should have told a complete fucking stranger—because he's quick to respond.

“Me, too,” Jungkook says. “It's only been a few months,” he admits, and Yoongi hears the pain of that in his voice, and tucks the observation away for later, “but I've been traveling alone.”

“You don't have a base?” Yoongi asks, softly.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but then—”

“Hey,” Yoongi says, cutting him off. He doesn't need the details, doesn't want Jungkook to tell him this story. Jungkook looks up at him, and even though Yoongi doesn't say anything else, Jungkook nods, grateful.

Yoongi has no fucking idea why the next words out of his mouth are, “You could come with me, if you wanted.”

“To Seoul?” Jungkook asks.

“No,” Yoongi says, already wondering what in the goddamn hell he's doing. “Or, well, yes—to Seoul first, but then—” he trails off, gesturing back to the mountains behind him, his meaning hard to misinterpret.

“Oh!” Jungkook says, in dawning realization of what exactly Yoongi is offering. He's clearly at a loss for words, and Yoongi curses himself for putting this out there, for making this weird. God, he just picked Jungkook up off the street—literally. Maybe his injuries weren't really that bad, and maybe he looks like an entirely different person after some medical attention and a full night's sleep, but Jungkook is probably still weak, probably still needs time to recover from the fight that left him unconscious and bleeding in the street.

“I mean,” Yoongi says, trying to play it off like it's not a big deal, “you don't have to. Obviously you don't have to, but—”

“I want to,” Jungkook says, immediately, almost bouncing on his feet with eagerness. “Please.”

And even though Yoongi was the one who asked, he looks up at Jungkook, taken aback by his answer.

Yoongi knows that Jungkook probably just doesn't want to be left alone again, knows that unlike him, Jungkook didn't choose to be alone, and is clearly much more afraid of being alone than he's letting on. But that doesn't explain his willingness to latch on to a stranger, doesn't explain him accepting the offer of a home from a person he's known for all of thirty minutes.

Of course, Yoongi has no explanation for offering it, either. He did choose to be alone, has chosen to be alone time and time again. He hasn't missed having company, hasn't missed sharing his life or his space with someone else, but something about this morning with Jungkook has been—well, it's been nice. And Yoongi thinks that maybe he hasn't missed having company only because he's forgotten what it's like to have any.

It's a reckless thing to do—it's a desperately stupid thing to do, really—but Yoongi looks at Jungkook's pleading eyes and his down-turned mouth and his tense, hopeful posture and says, “Okay.”

Jungkook lights up at that, smiling down at Yoongi more warmly than Yoongi thinks is warranted. “Okay!” he says, and then visibly checks himself, trying to play it cool. Yoongi tries not to smile. “When do we leave?”

Yoongi goes to the window and pulls back the shades, glances at the sun already making its way above the mountains. “I should have left a few hours ago,” he admits, and Jungkook's face falls again. The sight feels like a knife through Yoongi's heart.

“It's not your fault,” Yoongi is quick to assure him, aware even as it's happening that this whole thing is absurd. “I stayed because I wanted to. I absolutely could have left while you slept, you know?”

Jungkook considers that, nodding slowly. He doesn't need to know that Yoongi had thought about doing just that—definitely doesn't need to know that he hadn't even been able to make himself consider it.

“Let's go, then,” Jungkook says, shouldering his pack and brushing himself off, and Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him but follows, slinging his own pack over his shoulder.

“We'll have to forage,” Yoongi says, as they make their way to the road, as they head off towards the river. “I don't have enough food for us both.”

Jungkook nods. “I can make some trips after we've settled for the night. I don't want to hold you up any more than I already have.”

Yoongi spins around to face him, his innocuous suggestion kicking off a sense of panic that Yoongi doesn't think he's ever really felt before. “Absolutely not,” he says, looking at Jungkook bug-eyed. “Are you crazy?” God, he's been with this kid for one morning and already the idea of sitting around and waiting for him to come back, not knowing if he's even coming back, is unbearable.

This is why he's been alone for so long, he thinks. This is why he wants to be alone. And if he's not going to be alone, if he's going to change his whole way of life, here, then he sure as fuck isn't going to put energy into something that doesn't matter.

Into someone who doesn't feel the same.

“We do this together,” he says, looking Jungkook in the eye, making sure Jungkook understands just how serious he is about this, “or we don't do it at all, you got that?”

Yoongi is a little afraid that he's coming on too strong, taking this too seriously too soon, but to his relief, Jungkook nods quickly, looking suspiciously teary-eyed, like such a thing was more than he could have hoped for.

“Yeah, hyung,” he says, sounding emotional, “I got it.”

And Yoongi—even though he has absolutely no reason to—believes him.

Yoongi believes him for real the next day though, when they run into trouble heading through Hwado.

They approach the city from the east, and Yoongi doesn't know this area very well because he normally skirts around the city entirely, keeping to the river, but they need food: Yoongi packs light, for these trips, and Jungkook's recovery seems to have manifested in hunger, so they're getting low.

They need food, and Yoongi refused to let Jungkook go off alone, and Jungkook didn't. So they made a new plan, one that should cut off half a day of travel if nothing goes wrong: forage in Hwado, as the last major stop before Seoul, and then risk the highway through the mountains, crossing into Seoul at the Misa Bridge. It's risky, and Yoongi doesn't like that he's never done it before, but they don't have much else of a choice.

Yoongi had asked, as they traveled south, where Jungkook had been living, how he'd been feeding himself.

“Just, like, on the streets, I guess,” Jungkook had said with a shrug. “I raided stores and empty houses, mostly. I hunted a little bit, too, though, when I couldn't find anything else.”

Yoongi had looked at him in surprise, because hunting wasn't easy, and Jungkook didn't have any weapons on him, and without a place to live, hunting seemed impractical, at best.

“Nothing big,” Jungkook had clarified, noticing Yoongi's expression. “I had a trap for rabbits and squirrels and stuff.”

Yoongi didn't ask what happened to it, and Jungkook didn't tell him.

“I took everything from the house that I could,” Jungkook continued, “after. So I was fine for a while.” He shrugged again. “But I guess foraging like that was always going to catch up with me,” he'd finished, smiling grimly.

It was the closest Jungkook had come to talking about what had happened to him, and Yoongi hadn't pushed him any more, hadn't asked any other questions. They didn't know much about each other at all, but Yoongi had saved him, and Jungkook had asked to come with him, and that had seemed like enough.

They walk in silence now towards the city center, both of them moving quickly and quietly as they scope out the area around them, inspecting the stores and abandoned buildings they come across. Yoongi thankful for how good Jungkook seems to be at this, how easily they seem to work in each other's space.

Yoongi had been worried about having someone with him, about putting his own survival partly in someone else's hands. He's looking out for himself here, of course, because when it comes down to it, he really doesn't know anything about Jungkook, and trusting him unconditionally right now would not only be stupid, but dangerous—possibly deadly. But it still doesn't feel as strange as Yoongi thought it would, doesn't take as many adjustments as he'd imagined. He and Jungkook do seem to work well together, and he doesn't know if that's just because Jungkook is likable and unobtrusive, quietly competent, or because they haven't actually done much of anything yet.

Yoongi watches Jungkook out of the corner of his eye, letting himself get lost in his thoughts for just a moment before he focuses back on the road, more and more buildings starting to crop up the closer they get to downtown. The city is quiet, but not worryingly so, and Yoongi lets himself relax just a fraction, focusing on getting some supplies and getting back on the road as soon as they can.

They come upon a small store tucked in between two larger buildings, an alley running along the far side, looking mostly untouched. Such a thing is a rarity these days, and it puts Yoongi immediately back on edge. One glance at Jungkook tells Yoongi that he feels the same way.

Without speaking, without communicating at all, Jungkook tightens his grip on his bat, putting his back to the wall of the adjacent building as he inches closer to the door of the shop. Yoongi does the same on the other side of the door, his back to the shop itself to keep an eye on the street, his fingers tight around the hilt of his knife.

There doesn't seem to be anyone around, although Yoongi can see smoke rising from a building in the distance, can hear the dull hum of a generator from somewhere close by. If this was a trap, they've already walked into it, and Yoongi thinks that maybe there's just nothing in this store worth taking. He turns towards Jungkook, about to tell him as much, when he sees Jungkook's eyes widen at something over his shoulder.

Yoongi hears the tell-tale scraping and shuffling of an undead's approach at the same time Jungkook opens his mouth to warn him, his bat already over his shoulder, ready to swing. Yoongi doesn't bother turning around, doesn't really bother to think, just sprints the short distance between them and ducks behind Jungkook while he swings his bat at the zombie's head, taking it down in one hit.

They both freeze when it's over, listening intently over the sound of their breathing, but it doesn't seem like there's any more. They were quiet, and it doesn't seem like they've attracted any attention. Yoongi peeks into the alley his time, like they should have done before, but it's empty.

“Let's at least check it out, after that,” Jungkook says, casually stepping over the carnage to break into the shop. But Yoongi can hear the tremor in his voice, can see the way his hands are shaking, the way he's trying not to look at the gore at his feet.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, ignoring all of that for now, because they might as well.

They get supplies—several cans of food and bags of dried meat, as much water as they can carry—enough to last them at least a week on rations, more than they need. Yoongi doesn't want to linger, wants to get back on the road as soon as possible, so he waves Jungkook towards the exit, looking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook is following.

“Sure thing, hyung,” he says, close on Yoongi's heels as they make their way out of the shop and then out of the city, heading south. Yoongi is not thrilled with their travel plan, an unfamiliar highway through what is essentially a ravine, but they're already here, and the last thing Yoongi wants to do is backtrack.

Yoongi knows that if anything happens to them on the road, there's nowhere they can go, no quick escape to be had. They're only doing it at all because they're depending on speed and stealth, two things Jungkook has assured Yoongi he's capable of, despite him still recovering. Yoongi is only going along with it because Jungkook has proven himself so far, and Yoongi wants to get to Seoul as soon as he can.

Because the sooner he gets to Seoul, the sooner he gets to go home.

As it turns out, they don't even make it to the highway before their plan falls apart.

They're heading south, picking their way through the crumbled remains of an overpass when Yoongi steps on a concrete block that shifts unexpectedly under his foot, and he twists his ankle, hard, trying to keep his balance.

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaims, holding out a hand as Yoongi stumbles. “Are you okay?”

“Fuck!” Yoongi nearly shouts, in pain and anger both, latching onto Jungkook's hand and squeezing his fingers while pain shoots up his leg. “Fucking fuck,” he says again, trying to put weight on his foot and not quite managing it, barely holding back frustrated tears.

This trip was always going to be risky, and now Yoongi is doubting that he can do it at all. It's barely spring, his stores are almost spent, and he's going to get bitten by a fucking zombie on the side of a fucking abandoned highway because he sprained his fucking ankle, and he's too far away from home to turn back now.

Jungkook is looking at him with concern, and fuck, Jungkook. Jungkook just survived an attack that Yoongi presumes killed his entire family and now he's going to be alone again, because there's no way he's going to stay with Yoongi, not now—not now that he's a liability, an inconvenience at best and a deadly risk at worst. Yoongi should just tell him where the farm is and send him on his way, because he'd rather it go to Jungkook than get taken over by strangers.

“Come here, hyung,” Jungkook says softly, kneeling down to sift through the rubble for something. “Sit.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi argues, “we don't have time for this. You should go.”

“What?” Jungkook says, all softness gone from his voice, looking up at Yoongi in what he thinks might be anger. “Go where, exactly?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi would almost bristle at his tone if his fear wasn't so obvious in spite of it. “I have nowhere to go, hyung. You know that. And yeah, maybe I could go to Seoul on my own and find something, but fuck that.” He continues sifting through the rubble until he finds what he's looking for, standing back up and looking down at Yoongi defiantly. “We're doing this together or not at all,” he finishes. “Aren't we, hyung?”

Yoongi doesn't know how to respond to Jungkook's sudden outburst, so he just nods. It's true that Yoongi had wanted them to stick together, had said the very same thing, but he hadn't meant it about himself. He hadn't imagined that he would be the one holding Jungkook back, didn't mean that Jungkook had to stay even if it was going to get him killed.

He hadn't imagined that Jungkook would want to stay with him. Why would he?

Except here Jungkook is, stubbornly not leaving, a piece of rebar in his hand and a stern look on his face, pointing at a flat piece of concrete at his feet. “So sit,” Jungkook says again, and Yoongi, at a loss, does it.

“This is too heavy,” Jungkook says after a moment's contemplation, throwing the rebar away in frustration. “I'd like to splint it, but everything in the kit is too flimsy.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I'll just wrap it for now.”

Yoongi just nods, still slightly amazed that Jungkook is still even here. He lets Jungkook wrap his ankle, tying it off tightly, and Jungkook nods, satisfied, when he's done.

“It's not the best,” he says with a shrug, “but it'll do until we find something else. Some wood, or something. There's trees by the road.”

Yoongi looks up at him at that, eyes wide. “We can't go through the mountains now, Kook, not this close to the city. It's too risky.”

They can't. Yoongi isn't capable of speed or stealth anymore, so they can't do it. He tries not to think about their other options, because he knows they're bad, but they can't keep going. He can't let Jungkook help him limp through a fucking ravine.

But Jungkook just looks at him sharply, and if Yoongi didn't know any better, he'd say Jungkook was glaring at him.

“What are you suggesting, then?” Jungkook asks, the same steel in his tone from earlier. “We go back through town and keep following the river?” He shakes his head. “We don't have a choice, Yoongi-hyung.”

Jungkook looks like he's waiting for Yoongi to argue, but honestly, Yoongi agrees with him. He just wishes he didn't.

“And,” Jungkook adds, pressing his advantage, “walking more is not going to help, hyung. Our best shot is getting to the city as soon as we can.”

Yoongi doesn't argue, because Jungkook is right. He's right that it's too late to change their route, but there's another option that they're not considering.

“I'm not leaving you here,” Jungkook says, still glaring, cutting Yoongi off as soon as he opens his mouth.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi says anyway, looking up at him in something that isn't quite frustration—wonder, maybe. “You don't—you've known me for two days. There's no reason for you to do this. There's no reason to get yourself killed for someone you don't even know.”

“Maybe I don't care if I get myself killed, hyung,” Jungkook spits. “You ever think of that?”

Yoongi looks down at his swollen ankle awkwardly, because no, he hadn't thought of that.

“If I'm gonna die,” Jungkook says, softer this time, “dying with you is a lot better than dying alone on the side of the road, you know? And you saved me, when you had no reason to do that, either. So with all due respect, hyung,” he continues, smirking a little, and Yoongi braces himself for his next words, “shut your mouth and let's get the hell out of here. We've been standing on a hill for a the past twenty minutes and I'd like to not do that anymore, okay?”

Yoongi can only nod.

“Come here,” Jungkook finishes, reaching out a hand and hauling Yoongi to his feet.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi takes a tentative step. His ankle is still throbbing dully, and he still can't put all of his weight on it, but the pain is manageable, and he feels stable enough to walk.

“Good,” he says, his voice rougher than he expected, and he decides then and there to just—skip over everything Jungkook just said, at least for now. Jungkook seems more than willing to do the same, carrying on like it never happened. It gets them on the road again, which is the important thing.

They scamper over and down the rubble of the overpass, Yoongi following in Jungkook's path, and they make their way as quick as they can to the road. Yoongi wanted to be at the river by nightfall, and they're still going to try and make that goal.

“If you need a rest,” Jungkook says sternly as they start their winding climb, “tell me. Getting to the river doesn't mean anything if you can't walk after that, hyung.”

Yoongi nods. He may hate it, but he knows that Jungkook is right. He just hopes that he can hold out for another few days, that their luck turns and they make it out of Seoul in one piece.

They camp that night in sight of the river. Despite all of Yoongi's worst fears, despite the terrible scenarios that had been brewing in the back of his mind the whole day, they made it through unscathed, mostly unbothered. Jungkook fought the few undead who stumbled into their path, and Yoongi would normally feel awful about making someone who just survived an attack be solely responsible for their safety, but his ankle is hurting too much to have the energy for anything else.

Yoongi would kill for a fire, but he's not stupid enough to risk even digging one out this close to the city. Jungkook changed his wrappings, and piled rocks for him to elevate his leg on. It's the best he's going to get, and if anything, the chill is helping to numb the pain, so he shouldn't be complaining. They'll be in Seoul tomorrow, and then they can get the fuck home.

If Jungkook still wants to come home with him, that is. Jungkook hasn't made any indication that he doesn't want to, but Yoongi is letting himself get too attached to the idea, in case Jungkook comes to his senses and changes his mind. Because he is getting attached to it, and he has no idea why.

He looks at Jungkook now, leaning stiffly against a tree, his eyes closed while he chews his ration of jerky, listening to their surroundings. There's blood on his cheek, crusty and black, dried blood under his fingernails. His bat is leaning against his shoulder, just as dirty as he is. He looks almost peaceful, despite the carnage, and Yoongi is hit with a strange wave of emotion, a strong urge to make sure that Jungkook always looks like this, that he doesn't have to be afraid of losing anything ever again.

“You need to sleep, hyung,” Jungkook says, without opening his eyes, and even though Jungkook can't see him, Yoongi feels himself blush.

“Yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat, settling into his sleeping bag. “Goodnight, Kook-ah.”

“Goodnight, Yoongi-hyung.”

They get to the Misa Bridge at dawn. It's not the bridge Yoongi normally uses, but it doesn't matter. Somewhere around the second year, people realized that controlling bridges was more trouble than it was worth. Most of the bridges into Seoul were still intact, and crossing them hadn't been a problem in recent years. It's not a problem now.

Jungkook asks where exactly they're going—he knows they must have a specific destination in mind, because there's no reason Yoongi would make this trip at all if he was just after general supplies he could get from any town, at any store—and Yoongi points straight ahead.

“We should be there in a couple hours. Probably more, given my fucking ankle. Might as well just follow the river, at this point.”

“All right, hyung,” Jungkook says, agreeable. “Let's get it.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, trying not to limp after him. “Yeah,” he says. “Let's.”

His good humor is short lived, though, because when they approach the building that Yoongi has traded in for the last few years, they find that it's not a building anymore at all.

It's a burned-out husk.

“Woah,” Jungkook says, looking up at it wide-eyed.

“Well, fuck,” Yoongi says, looking around helplessly. He's trying not to let panic take over, even though he can feel it building somewhere deep down in his gut. This trip has been one disaster after another, and Yoongi is already doing calculations in his head of what alterations he'll need to make for this season, what things he'll need to scavenge, what things he'll need to build and what he'll have to do without. He can make do without fertilizer (he's made his own before and he can do it again), but he'll need to find iodine. He can make do without acetaminophen, but he'd really fucking rather not have to. Good rope is hard to come by nowadays, but he can look. He's been working on his seed vault, but he's been spoiled with variety. He needs a part for his solar panels, but he can probably risk a trip to the dam, once his ankle is healed.

Medicine is his priority here—it's always been the hardest to acquire. Fuck, Yoongi thinks, kicking a rock with his good foot towards the rubble of the building. All of this and he's injured now on top of it. All of this and he's already invited someone back to live with him, one more mouth to feed, one more person to look after.

(He still, for some reason he can't explain, doesn't regret it.)

He looks up at the building again and vaguely hopes that Donghyuk isn't dead, if only so he can find him and trade as planned. He doesn't want to have to find new contacts, too.

“What should we do, hyung?” Jungkook asks, after Yoongi has been silent for several minutes. “I'd say let's look for clues, but uh, it doesn't look like anything's left.”

“That's for sure,” Yoongi mumbles. “This fucking sucks, Kook.”

Jungkook, for some reason, smiles at him. “So what do we need to find? What were you trying to get?”

Yoongi is struck once again by Jungkook's competence, his tenacity, by how well they seem to work together. “Medicine, mostly,” Yoongi tells him. “We can bullshit everything else.”

Jungkook looks like he's going to say something, but Yoongi cuts him off before he can speak, because he hears something coming from the wreckage beside them, spins around to see a man emerging from one of the scorched doorways leading to the street.

“Oh, hello,” the man says when he sees them, and Yoongi almost wants to laugh at his nonchalance.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks instead, ignoring Jungkook's tut of disapproval from behind him.

“Were you here to trade?” the man asks instead of answering, and Yoongi can at least appreciate that he gets right to the point.

“I trade here a few times a year,” Yoongi tells him, hoping that he'll be able to give Yoongi some useful information, like where he can go now. Yoongi doesn't recognize him, but he'd only ever traded with Donghyuk, so that doesn't discourage him. “I was hoping to get some stuff while I'm in the city,” he says, being vague on purpose.

The man considers them, glancing once or twice at Jungkook, before nodding. “Come with me,” he says, already turning to lead them away, and Yoongi scoffs. Loudly.

The man turns backs to them with an annoyed expression that Yoongi really doesn't think they've earned.

“Look,” Yoongi says, raising his hands as a peace offering. “I appreciate that you seem like you want to help, but do you honestly expect me to blindly follow some random dude who just emerged from a pile of rubble? I mean, c'mon.”

The man considers them again. “That's fair,” he says. “Hyowon or Donghyuk?”

“Donghyuk,” Yoongi says after a moment. “You know him?”

“A partner, of sorts,” the man says. “All of the traders here work together to some degree. I haven't heard from either of them since,” he tells them, nodding towards what used to the warehouse. “I'm trying to find out what happened.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, waiting impatiently for the point.

“If you're here to trade,” the man says, obliging him, “we can go to my warehouse instead. I have almost everything Donghyuk offered.”

It's not a great choice, and Yoongi still isn't super comfortable with following a complete stranger to an unknown place, but hey, Donghyuk was a stranger once, too, and Yoongi would really like to trade for his shit and get the hell out of here. He glances back at Jungkook, who shrugs.

“After you,” Yoongi says, gesturing for the man to lead the way.

The man introduces himself a few minutes into their walk. “My name is Namjoon, by the way,” he says, offering a smile over his shoulder.

“I'm Jungkook!” Jungkook replies, leaving Yoongi no choice but to answer, as well.

“Yoongi,” Yoongi says, surprised when Namjoon stops.

“Min Yoongi?” he asks, and Yoongi is immediately guarded, narrowing his eyes at Namjoon instead of confirming.

Namjoon seems to note his discomfort and shrugs off his own question. “Donghyuk's mentioned you, is all,” he says. “I bought a few of your saplings,” he adds, in a quieter voice.

Yoongi doesn't know what to make of that.

They walk on in silence for maybe a mile or so, enough that Yoongi is gritting his teeth through the pain when Namjoon finally heads towards a nondescript door, ushering them through the vestibule of what looks like an office building, except Yoongi can see that the doors on the opposite side of the lobby open up into an equally nondescript warehouse.

“I can give you something for that,” Namjoon says, once they're inside, pointing at Yoongi's ankle. “It looks like you're in pain.”

Yoongi tries to control his grimace. He'd been trying to control his limp, too—trying to make it appear like nothing was wrong, trying not to show any weaknesses. But Namjoon has seen right through him, it looks like.

“That'd be nice,” Yoongi admits, because he might as well get medicine out of this, if the cat's already out of the bag.

Namjoon produces a key and rummages through what looks like a random filing cabinet, shaking out a bottle and handing Yoongi two white pills. Yoongi thinks he must be crazy to ingest unidentified medicine from someone he just met and hasn't vetted, but he is, in fact, in a lot of fucking pain. More than he's let on to Jungkook, more than he's let himself think about.

“Thanks,” he says, swallowing them down.

“No problem,” Namjoon says.

Instead of entering the warehouse proper, they head up a flight of stairs at the end of a hallway to their right, and Namjoon leads them into a room that clearly functions as his office, turning to face them once they've entered.

“Okay, so,” he begins, pulling out a tablet from the desk and scrolling through it casually. Yoongi looks at Namjoon in shock, but Namjoon isn't paying them any attention. Jungkook's phone working as a glorified MP3 player was rare enough, but a working tablet is probably worth more than anything Yoongi has ever traded, and Namjoon is using it for inventory.

“Iodine isn't a problem,” Namjoon tells them. “I can give you a supply of pain killers, too. Parts are scarce, but we have tools?” Namjoon looks up at them for the first time, gauging their reaction.

Yoongi, still a little shell-shocked, shakes his head.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, unconcerned. “Food—we have some seeds left, but they're damaged. Probably not worth trading for, if I'm being honest.”

“Why are you being honest?” Jungkook asks, like he can't quite believe Namjoon is actually here, telling them this. Yoongi would also like to know.

“Oh! Um, well—” Namjoon flounders, looking flustered at being called out. “I mean, the world sucks, right? The least we can do is be kind to each other, you know?”

“Jesus,” Yoongi says, but he marvels at Namjoon all the same.

They get some trading done. It's not the worst haul Yoongi's ever had, but it's not great, either. With a little bit of improvisation, and a few trips to the dam back home, he should be able to make it through until winter. If he can't get anything better on his next trip back down here, that's when he'll really need to worry.

The sun is already setting when they finish up, and while it's not uncommon for Yoongi to have spent the night in Donghyuk's place, he's not sure about the situation now, not sure if they'd be welcome to crash here until the morning. Yoongi has never needed any other place to go, and he's not sure what he'll do if Namjoon kicks them out.

“We have rooms on the other side of the hallway,” Namjoon offers, forestalling Yoongi's question. “You're welcome to spend the night. You have food?”

Yoongi nods.

“Good,” Namjoon says, leading them back out of his office and down the hallway, showing them to room almost identical to the one they just left, a few bedrolls against the wall. “There's another exit further down,” Namjoon tells them, pointing. “It's farther away than the main entrance we used,” he says, “but it's there, if you need one.”

He doesn't mention what they would need it for, because they all know.

“Thanks,” Yoongi says, meaning it. Namjoon nods, making his exit and leaving him and Jungkook alone. Yoongi slings off his pack—considerably lighter now, thank god—and lays out his bedroll, ready to fucking crash after they take a quick meal. Turns out that constant pain is a hell of a sedative.

“I'll take first watch,” Jungkook says, almost smiling at the way Yoongi has settled down so quickly, and it throws Yoongi for a second, how natural the suggestion seems to be for Jungkook. Watches are a foreign concept to Yoongi, naturally: he's always been alone. The idea of 'taking a watch' almost sounds fantastical to him, because for all that they're living in a dystopian hellscape, this has never been a part of it, for Yoongi. But it clearly has been for Jungkook, and it makes Yoongi feel like he's experiencing something new, like everything up to this point has been different from everything that will come after.

He's not sure how he feels about it.

“You know,” he says instead of voicing any of those thoughts, “I've never actually taken a watch before. I always get to sleep straight through the night.”

Jungkook looks back at him, like he can't tell if Yoongi is trying to make a joke or not. Yoongi isn't sure himself.

“Makes sense,” Jungkook says eventually, taking it as face value. “I didn't insist on it the past couple of nights, because we both needed the sleep. You feel safe though, sleeping alone?”

“Never really had a choice,” Yoongi says, instead of answering directly. The truth is that he does feel safe on his farm, although he thinks part of that is just long familiarity and habit. He never quite feels safe on the road, and he never sleeps that well in Seoul, anyway.

Jungkook hums, considering.

“Sorry this trip has been so shit,” Yoongi says abruptly, maybe unconsciously trying to change the subject. “I wanna say the trip back will be better, but it'll probably be terrible. And then we're probably gonna have to fight off a hostile takeover of my farm, I'll have been gone so fucking long. Fuck,” Yoongi groans, “I hope no one found the solar panels. I have to go to the dam anyway, but I can't rebuild the whole fucking thing.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, but Yoongi cuts him off, his anxiety getting the better of him.

“I'm surprised you still even want to live with me, given that everything has gone wrong so far,” Yoongi says, trying for offhand and not quite managing it.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says again, and it almost sounds like he's trying not to laugh. “Of course I wanna live with you. You have a farm, and you've survived for this long. Shit always happens, I don't blame you for that,” he says, seemingly shrugging off this entire terrible trip. “And all of that aside,” he adds, “I like you, hyung. I'd like to stay and help out, if you'll let me.”

Yoongi can't help the smile that he feels lighting up his face. “Yeah, Kook-ah,” he says. “That sounds nice, actually.”

“It's the actually that really sells me on it,” Jungkook says, deadpan, and Yoongi laughs. God, Yoongi can't believe that he's laughing on a trip that has been this fucking bad.

“But what if someone poisoned my rainwater reservoirs?” he asks, just to be dramatic. “What then?”

“Go to sleep, hyung,” Jungkook says, mouth turned up in amusement, something like fondness twinkling in his eyes. “I'll wake you up in a few hours.”

Yoongi isn't sure what wakes him, because it's not Jungkook. It's still dark, when he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he can see the darker outline of Jungkook still sitting in front of the open door, his back to Yoongi. Yoongi listens for a moment, almost falling asleep again, but then he hears a loud crash from somewhere in the building, sees a flickering yellow light in the hallway as his eyes start to adjust.

All at once, he's wide awake.

“Jungkook?” he asks, reaching out for him, trying not to panic but still confused. Something is clearly going on, so why didn't Jungkook wake him up? Yoongi considers that maybe Jungkook knows something he doesn't, and this isn't anything to be concerned about.

But then another loud crash reverberates through the walls, and Yoongi's adrenaline spikes. “Kook-ah,” he says again, shaking Jungkook's shoulder, kneeling next to him, now.

Jungkook doesn't look up at him, doesn't look away from the opening of the door frame, his eyes wide, his shoulders stiff. His face is illuminated as another wave of light rolls down the hallway, and Yoongi sees the terror etched on his face, the frozen panic in every line of his expression. The light gets increasingly brighter, and Yoongi can see Jungkook's hands shaking in his lap.

It's fire, Yoongi realizes suddenly. The building is on fire.

“Jungkook, we have to go,” Yoongi says, grabbing their packs and hauling an unresponsive Jungkook to his feet. Yoongi's ankle screams at him as he takes Jungkook's weight, but he grits his teeth and bears it, tightens his grip on Jungkook's waist as he steps them carefully into the hallway.

Fire has already consumed the staircase they came up earlier, but it hasn't stopped several zombies from reaching their floor, the smell of their scorched corpses adding to the general zombie-stench of rotted flesh and making Yoongi gag. They're not close enough yet that Yoongi needs to fight them, which is maybe his one turn of good luck this whole trip, because Yoongi couldn't fight them, anyway, not with Jungkook still hanging off his side.

He needs to get them the fuck out of here.

He gets them away before the undead get any closer, and he hopes to hell that the other staircase isn't on fire, too, because it's not like he's going to throw Jungkook out of a window or something, not like they have any other means of escape. Yoongi nearly laughs at the thought, because he's been afraid this whole trip that Jungkook was going to get himself killed for Yoongi, when really, it's going to be the other way around.

He drags Jungkook down the hallway, going the direction that Namjoon pointed them in, and he wishes now that Namjoon had been more specific about this other exit, had maybe shown them the way out, just in case.

Too bad Namjoon is probably dead.

Nevertheless, Yoongi makes it to the staircase and is flooded with relief when he sees that it's still intact. Still intact, and empty. It's dark at the bottom, so they need to watch out for undead, but at least the fire hasn't spread this far yet. At least they may still have a way out.

It's slower going than he'd like, limping down the stairs with Jungkook's dead weight, and sooner than he'd like he can start to hear the moans of the zombies at the top of the stairs they've barely left behind. He doesn't dare look back—just focuses on taking one step at a time, his ankle throbbing, Jungkook getting heavier by the second.

“We gotta go, Kook,” he says, as they reach the last step, and Yoongi thinks that maybe Jungkook nods, but he's still unresponsive, still staring ahead of them wide-eyed and frightened.

“All right,” Yoongi says, more to himself than to Jungkook, as he pokes his head into the hallway, making sure the coast is clear. There's a dull crash behind them as one of the undead tumbles down the stairs, reaching out for them with a mangled hand once it lands in a heap at the bottom. “Here we go,” Yoongi says, ignoring it, hoisting Jungkook up again and moving away from the noise and the heat, from the undead clamoring for them and the fire roaring at their backs.

He's searching intently for the exit, and he's watching the ground in front of him closely—afraid of losing his footing and hurting his ankle worse, afraid of stumbling with Jungkook so dependent on him—and he blames that for why he doesn't notice the cluster of undead just ahead of them, milling around in the shadows. He blames that for why he only sees them too late to avoid practically running into them and their grasping hands, the dead weight of their limbs pulling him and Jungkook down as they descend upon the pair of them.

Yoongi doesn't have the time or energy to even curse. He leans out of the way of their gaping mouths as much as he can while trying to shove Jungkook ahead of him, out of the fray, but it's not enough. It's not enough, and he can feel wet heat on his skin, can smell the putrid fumes of their breath too close to him, much too fucking close to him, and with a move that he knows he's going to regret like hell in a few hours, he manages to kick the closest one off of him, the shot of adrenaline through his veins at being so close to getting bitten masking the pain.

Immediately, his attention is back on Jungkook, on getting Jungkook the hell out of here. He seems to at least be standing on his own now, even if he's still frozen in place, more undead catching up to them now down the hallway, the heat of the fire building worryingly at their backs.

“Jungkook, come on,” Yoongi shouts, his voice hoarse with panic, dragging him away. He doesn't have high hopes of getting them out of here alive, but he has to try.

Before he can do anything, though—before he can even get them out of the crush of undead surrounding them, he hears a distinctly human shout from behind them, hears the unmistakable sound of a blunt object connecting with bone, the grotesque splatter of viscera across a wall.

He turns, and Namjoon is quickly closing in on them, swinging a crowbar against the few undead that still separate them. He goes immediately to Jungkook's side, taking down the zombie still clinging to him and grabbing Jungkook's arm, pulling Jungkook over his shoulder instead.

“Come on!” he shouts, checking to make sure that Yoongi is following them, which seems like an easy feat now that he's on his own, now that he can dodge and blindly follow Namjoon down the hall, worrying only about leaving this building behind. He can worry about trusting a stranger another time, because this attack wasn't Namjoon's fault, and Namjoon didn't have to save them, but he did.

“Almost there,” Namjoon pants, throwing his shoulder against a heavy door, one that Yoongi hopes leads to the outside. The blast of fresh air on his face is the best thing Yoongi thinks he's ever felt, the chill spring air feeling even colder on his fire-heated skin. But he gets what Namjoon meant when he said 'almost,' because they still have to maneuver their way down a winding exit ramp, since neither he nor Jungkook are in any condition to jump off the high edge of the loading dock straight ahead of them.

Nothing seems to be following them, though, and it seems as if they've outran the fire, the empty lot ahead of them lit only with a dull red glare from the flames licking the night sky on the other side of the building, spreading slowly if inexorably.

They keep moving for a few more minutes, down streets and alleys in a clearly intentional direction—Namjoon is obviously taking them somewhere, and once again Yoongi would normally object like all hell to that, but right now he can't bring himself to care, too tired and too scared to do anything but follow. (Besides, he realizes, it's not like he's leaving without Jungkook, and right now, Jungkook is wholly in Namjoon's hands, both literally and figuratively. If it was up to Yoongi, they'd probably both be dead or bitten by now).

Namjoon doesn't talk until he's banging on the door of another nondescript building, offering a quick explanation of, “They're friends of mine. We'll be safe here.”

Yoongi wants to scoff, because safety seems like a pretty foreign concept right now, but he bites it back. Namjoon saved them, and Yoongi's creeping discomfort with so many new people, so many new risks to assess, is not Namjoon's fault or problem. They need a place to stay, and if Namjoon trusts these people, then that will have to be good enough for now.

Namjoon raises his fist to bang on the door again right before it swings open, revealing a younger boy who looks up at Namjoon with worry on his face.

“Joon-hyung?” he asks, his sharp gaze taking in Yoongi and Jungkook before tipping up to the sky, eyes widening at the unnatural red glow of it. “The warehouse—?”

“It's gone,” Namjoon tells him, his voice the hardest Yoongi has heard it yet. “Can we come in?”

The boy startles, jumping back to make room for Namjoon in the doorway. “Yeah, of course,” he says, gesturing Yoongi inside as well with nothing but a quick assessing look. Yoongi watches as Namjoon gently sits Jungkook down on a ratty couch without so much as permission from the boy who let them in, but he doesn't seem to care. Yoongi sits carefully next to him, close enough that their legs are touching, that Jungkook knows he's there, but not too close, leaving him some space to breathe.

“What do you need, hyung?” the boy asks Namjoon, heading into a conjoining room and returning with unmarked bottles of water for all of them without being asked. He hands them off, and Yoongi takes Jungkook's when he doesn't reach for his own.

Jungkook seems much more aware than he did in the warehouse, his eyes taking in every corner of their new shelter, but his arms are wrapped tightly around himself and he's shaking, now, still hasn't said a word since he agreed to take first watch a few hours ago. Yoongi has the unexpected urge to put his arm around Jungkook's shoulders and pull him close to his side, but he's not sure if that would be welcome, not sure if that kind of contact would make it worse.

“A blanket,” he finds himself saying, instead, before Namjoon can even speak. He knows he's probably being rude, that it's probably not his place, but fuck it, he thinks. If this boy really wants to help them, and if Namjoon brought them here to get help, then this is what they need.

“A blanket, please, Yeonjun,” Namjoon agrees. “Food? Anything hot, if you can spare it,” he adds.

Yoongi looks up in time to see the boy—Yeonjun—nod, and he returns a moment later with a rough blanket that he hands off to Yoongi without a word.

“Just broth left over right now, hyung,” he tells Namjoon, sounding apologetic, but Namjoon waves it away.

“That's fine,” he says. “That's good. Thank you.”

Yeonjun nods again, heading back into the kitchen to heat up their food.

Yoongi drapes the blanket over Jungkook's shoulders, tips the water bottle against Jungkook's lips and makes him drink. Jungkook swallows eagerly, even going so far as to reach up and take the bottle from Yoongi's hands, his grip shaky but strong.

“Not all at once,” Yoongi says softly, not able to hide how pleased he sounds, not able to hide his smile when Jungkook nods, acknowledging him.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook says, his voice so small, and Yoongi takes what feels like his first deep breath since he woke up, a relief so profound washing over him that it feels like another shot of adrenaline flooding his veins.

“Of course, Kook-ah,” he answers, much too goddamn fond, but there's a list of things he can't bring himself to care about right now, and this is just one more thing. He knows they're far from out of the woods yet, knows they're still in the middle of the forest, even, but he'll take it. He'll take every inch of progress he can get right now.

“How is he?” Namjoon asks softly from across the room, sounding just as overly invested as Yoongi is.

“Seems better,” Yoongi tells him, not sure what else to say. He's clearly not okay, and Yoongi doesn't exactly feel right speaking for him, anyway. Namjoon doesn't know this, of course, doesn't know that they've only been traveling with each other for a matter of days and that Yoongi doesn't know Jungkook at all, really, when it comes down to it.

But Jungkook is still alive and that's entirely because of Namjoon, so the least Yoongi can do is thank him.

“Because of you,” Yoongi says, a little bit after the fact, but Namjoon looks at him knowingly anyway. “He's alive because of you. We both are.” Now that he's started talking, he can't seem to stop. “You didn't have to do that, to risk yourself like that. You could have left without us, you know? I wouldn't have blamed you. I mean,” Yoongi huffs out a laugh, even though the thought is anything but funny. “I was leaving without you, after all.”

Yoongi still hasn't said thank you outright, but he thinks that Namjoon understands anyway, sees the way his expression softens despite Yoongi's last remark.

“Sure,” Namjoon nods, “but I wasn't just going to run past you on my way out, and I don't know you, but I don't think you would have done that, either.”

Yoongi shrugs, not sure himself what exactly he'd do in that situation, a little afraid of looking at it too closely, but Jungkook is proof enough that Namjoon is probably right.

“Thank you, at any rate,” Yoongi finally says, and hopes Namjoon can hear how much he means it.

“How are you?” Namjoon asks, instead of responding, and Yoongi finds himself relieved that the moment has passed. “How's the ankle?”

“Fucking hurts,” Yoongi tells him honestly, because the throb in his leg has been getting worse and worse now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off. He's honestly not sure he'll even be able to walk on it tomorrow, but he's trying not to think about that. He needs to get the fuck home, and he's not sure how he's going to manage it.

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something, but Yeonjun comes back into the room then, a steaming pot of broth in his hands. Yoongi's stomach grumbles at the smell, and he finds himself relaxing incrementally as the warmth of the steam wafts over to him.

“Thank you,” he says, after Yeonjun has run back to the kitchen and returned once more to hand him bowls and spoons.

Yeonjun nods at him before taking a seat next to Namjoon, their soft voices lilting in the background as they talk. It's none of Yoongi's business, and he focuses on Jungkook, who takes his bowl and spoon when Yoongi offers them, who isn't shaking so much anymore but still looks small and cold and scared.

“Can you eat?” Yoongi asks, and Jungkook nods, holding out his bowl so Yoongi can serve him. They eat in silence, the whole situation starting to feel more and more real to Yoongi, reality starting to crash down around him now that he's warm and safe and fed. He tries to hold back the dread he feels, for Jungkook if not for himself, but he's not entirely successful. He at least tries to push it out of his mind until the morning.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, after a long while of silence, and Yoongi turns to him quickly, puts down his bowl without thinking and reaches out for him, his hand coming to rest above Jungkook's knee.

“Kook—” Yoongi begins, but Jungkook cuts him off before he can get any farther.

“I'm sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi is hushing him before he can even get the words out.

“Hey,” he tries, “you don't have to—”

“I do,” Jungkook insists, and his voice gets stronger the more he talks, as if proving to Yoongi that he needs to say this, as if he's been thinking about it for some time. “I do, hyung. What happened back there—” He falters, shakes his head, tries again. “I could have gotten you killed. Because I froze, and you had to drag me out.”

Yoongi wants to say that it wasn't him, actually, that they'd both be dead if not for Namjoon, but it's not like Jungkook doesn't know that, and it's not the right time to point it out.

“I couldn't control it,” Jungkook continues. “Like—I knew I had to get up, knew I had to run, but I couldn't force myself to move. It's like I couldn't do anything but watch. And what if that happens again?” Jungkook asks, his voice brittle. “I can't do that to you, Yoongi. I won't.”

Yoongi knows that Jungkook is being serious, that he probably has every intention of letting Yoongi go, or of leaving, but Yoongi can't take it seriously. For all that it turns his entire life upside down, Yoongi can't imagine going forward without him.

“You think I'm just gonna leave you here?” Yoongi asks, trying to keep his words heavy; he doesn't want Jungkook to think he's patronizing him.

“I'm telling you to leave me here,” Jungkook says, with a defiant tilt of his chin.

“No,” Yoongi says, without hesitation, and he can tell that it surprises Jungkook. “If you want to leave, I'm not going to stop you,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook squints at him suspiciously. “If you've forgotten, Kook-ah, I'm injured,” Yoongi reminds him. “Like, very injured, at this point. Staying with me is a liability, and I'm not going to force you to do it. But I'm not going to walk away from you if you want to stay with me.”

Jungkook looks at him, mouth still open in surprise, and Yoongi debates with himself about continuing. He wants Jungkook to know how he feels, but he doesn't want to pressure him if Jungkook decides after all that he's better off without Yoongi's problems. But he decides to say it, anyway, decides to put all of his cards on the table for once.

“And I want to stay with you,” Yoongi tells him. “You think you're gonna get me killed, Kook, but I think the same thing about me.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, his resolve already visibly crumbling, but he still looks serious when he adds, “I can't promise that this won't happen again.”

“And I absolutely can't promise you that I'll make it back home alive, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, blunt on purpose. “I can't promise you that I'll be able to walk tomorrow. But if you want to do this, then I'm in.”

Jungkook still looks like he can't quite believe what Yoongi is saying, but he's nodding almost before Yoongi is done speaking.

“I want to,” he says, and now it's Yoongi's turn to look surprised. “I want to stay with you, hyung. We're both not our best, you know? But that's okay,” he says, and Yoongi doesn't think he's imagining the tiniest upturn of Jungkook's lips. “This feels right, hyung. I feel like I belong with you.”

Less than a week ago, Yoongi would have laughed at the thought. He almost wants to laugh at it now. But he also can't argue with Jungkook about this, can't honestly say that he doesn't feel the same way. He's thought the whole time that being with Jungkook is easy, and if Jungkook agrees, then who is he to argue? So he nods, instead, manages a small smile in return.

“Okay,” he says.

“Good,” Jungkook agrees.

There's a few moments of silence between them, heavier than anything before, but before Yoongi can say something or look away, do anything to break the moment, Namjoon interrupts them.

“Oh, shit,” he says, “Yoongi—I almost forgot.” Namjoon starts to rummage through his pack, eventually producing the small bottle of pills he offered Yoongi before. “Here, take these. You'll need them.”

Instead of passing Yoongi a couple of pills, like Yoongi expects, he tosses the whole bottle in Yoongi's direction, who catches it, dumbfounded. “Are you sure?” he asks, holding up the bottle in his hands like he's afraid to touch it, taken aback once again by Namjoon's thoughtless kindness, his straightforward honesty.

“Yeah,” he says, like it's nothing. “Yeonjun told me that Soobin will back in the morning, too, so he can look at your ankle before we leave. He's as much of a doctor as we have, really,” Namjoon explains with a shrug, incorrectly interpreting Yoongi's silence.

“Before we leave?” Jungkook asks, looking up at Namjoon in confusion.

Namjoon blanches. “I mean, not we as a group,” he explains. “We as in you two, and me. Two groups.” He cringes, and Yoongi tries not to laugh. “I also have to leave in the morning,” he finishes.

“Where are you gonna go?” Jungkook asks, and it's something that Yoongi has been wondering, almost idly, but it's not like he was going to ask. Apparently Jungkook has no such qualms.

“Back to the warehouse, for starters,” Namjoon tells them. “I need to salvage what I can, if there's anything left. Then find Donghyuk, if he didn't burn up in the first warehouse with everything else.”

Yoongi notes that Namjoon doesn't seem all that torn up about the possibility. He'd wondered why Donghyuk had never mentioned Namjoon, why he'd never seen Namjoon around, but maybe they had even less of a relationship than Namjoon had made it seem. But it reminds him of why he'd met Namjoon to begin with.

“Seems strange,” Yoongi says, “that both of your warehouses burned down this year.”

“Doesn't it,” Namjoon agrees, and he doesn't sound surprised. So he's thought the same, Yoongi knows.

“What are you going to do?” Yoongi asks, hoping Namjoon will understand that he doesn't just mean tomorrow, or in general. That he means about this in particular. Yoongi would like to think he's asking because he cares about Namjoon and his livelihood, but they both know Yoongi has his own interests to look after. That Yoongi has been trading here for years, and will need to keep trading for years to come.

“I need to find Chris,” Namjoon says, but he doesn't sound particularly happy about it.

“Who's Chris?” Yoongi asks, because he thought he'd had pretty good connections, had made some good deals in the past, but he's never heard of this person, and he thinks he'd remember if he had.

“Another trader,” Namjoon says. “Leads a group of the best ones, besides us. I guess they're the best, now.”

“You don't suspect them?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi finds himself wondering the same thing.

“No,” Namjoon says, quickly but honestly. “We have a really good relationship with them. This hurts them, too. Too much to be worth any potential benefits.”

“If you have a good relationship with them, why do you look so unhappy about it?”

Namjoon almost smiles, but it's still more of a grimace. “They're a little—how can I put this—chaotic. Chan's fine on his own, but once he's with them, he's no better than the rest of them. I may not agree with their methods, but they're our best hope, right now.”

“Wait,” Yoongi cuts in, “Chan? Are you talking about Bang Chan?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, looking up at Yoongi with interest. “You know him?”

“Not personally,” Yoongi admits. “I've traded with one of his people a few times, though, a few years back. But they weren't super reliable.”

Namjoon does laugh at that. “That sounds like them. I'm hoping at least one of them heard about the fire and will be around. I imagine they'll be even harder to find, after this.”

“What will you do after you find them?” Jungkook asks.

“I'm not sure,” Namjoon admits. “Depends on how much they're willing or can do to help. If someone is targeting storehouses, then it's in their best interests to look into it, too. We could pool resources, share contacts, work more closely than we normally do. But they might just go underground—I wouldn't blame them.” Namjoon shrugs, and that's the end of that conversation.

“A long day tomorrow, at any rate,” Yoongi says.

“For sure,” Namjoon agrees. “I may be out early,” he tells Yoongi, “but Soobin will be here before midday. You're welcome here until then, even if I'm gone.”

Jungkook looks away but nods, and Yoongi tries to ignore the tiny spark of disappointment he feels, willing it away as irrational. “Thank you,” he tells Namjoon, meaning it, and Namjoon nods.

“Oh,” he says, “let me get you something for your leg.”

Yoongi doesn't get what he means, but before he can ask, Namjoon is rummaging through an adjoining room, and he returns with a thin bedroll and a plastic bin. “To prop your foot up when you sleep,” Namjoon explains, and Yoongi is oddly touched that he thought of it.

“Thanks, Joon-ah,” he says, taking both items and setting them up on the floor in front of the couch, where Jungkook is still sitting, looking like he's already halfway asleep.

“You should get some rest,” Yoongi tells him, as Namjoon waves to them both and heads into another room.

Jungkook has gone quiet again, from exhaustion or something else, Yoongi doesn't know. Jungkook nods, at least, and lets Yoongi tuck the blanket in around him when he lays down, his eyes fluttering shut.

Yoongi slips into his own modest bedroll, propping his leg up on the bin Namjoon had given him. The wood floor is less comfortable than sleeping outside, but Yoongi is still asleep in mere seconds.

There's wan sunlight filtering through the room when Yoongi wakes, his back stiff and his ankle throbbing, his foot swollen uncomfortably in his boots. He pops two pills as soon as he sits up, and the noise wakes Jungkook up, who looks spades better than he did the night before, color back in his cheeks and strength in his movements.

“Hyung?” he asks before he's fully awake, and Yoongi reaches for his hand without thinking about it, squeezing his fingers in answer. “How're you feeling?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi forces himself to nod.

“Better,” he lies. “You look better, too,” he tells Jungkook. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Jungkook says. “Yeah, definitely better. Is Namjoon-hyung here?”

“I'm not sure,” Yoongi tells him, noting the honorific, but before he can get up to look, another boy comes into the room, much too chipper for the early hour and the general circumstances they're in.

“Good morning,” he calls to them. “You must be Namjoon-hyung's friends.”

Yoongi doesn't feel right agreeing to that, and apparently neither does Jungkook, because they both stay silent. The boy doesn't seem to notice.

“He left about an hour ago,” the boy tells them. “Soobin-hyung should be here soon. Are you hungry?”

Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who nods for them both. “If you have anything,” Yoongi says, “that would be great.” They have some rations left in their packs, but they'll need it for the trip home, and anything they can supplement is welcome.

“Of course,” the boy says, like feeding extra people on a whim isn't a hardship at all.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, and the boy smiles at them before retreating back to the kitchen.

“Feels weird we won't see him again,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi knows immediately that he's talking about Namjoon.

“It does,” Yoongi says truthfully, surprised himself by just how weird it feels. Yoongi's never been saved by anyone before, has only ever saved Jungkook, so he thinks that maybe this is just what it feels like—what happens between people like them. He can't say for sure that he likes it.

“So what's the plan?” Jungkook asks, after they've been quiet for a moment, the sounds of the boy—they never got his name—filtering in from the kitchen.

“I don't want to stick around,” Yoongi says. “I didn't get everything I came for, but we got enough that I don't want to keep looking. Maybe under different circumstances—” he gestures at his ankle, and then towards the door to indicate the warehouses, “—but definitely not now. Getting home is the priority.”

Jungkook nods. “We'll get there, hyung,” he says, with a lot more confidence than Yoongi feels.

The boy comes back with two bowls of simple rice and tofu, and he hands them to Yoongi and Jungkook with a small smile.

“Thank you—?” Jungkook asks, and the boy laughs.

“Oh, sorry! I'm Hueningkai. Namjoon-hyung told us what happened. Said you were in the city to trade?”

Yoongi, fed and rested and still in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, has his defenses back up, and Hueningkai notices immediately.

“You don't have to tell me,” he shrugs. “I get it.”

But then Yoongi looks down at the bowl of food in his hands—the second bowl of their food he's eaten—and feels those defenses start to crumble. These people don't mean him any harm, and it's probably not a bad idea to befriend them, since Namjoon seems to be his closest connection, nowadays.

“It's fine,” Yoongi says, waving it away. “We are in the city to trade. Or at least we were. Now we're just trying to get back home. We have a base in the mountains, up north.”

Yoongi sees Jungkook glance at him out of the corner of his eye, his use of “we” not escaping him. He tries not to flush under the attention.

“I hope you get there,” Hueningkai says, and it sounds like he means it.

“Me, too,” Yoongi says.

Soobin shows up not an hour later, surprised to find two strangers in his living room but not terribly upset about it.

Hueningkai comes to greet him, and Soobin drops a kiss to the top of his head as he explains the situation in a low mumble. Soobin eyes them warmly, squeezing Hueningkai's hand before he heads back the way he came, leaving Soobin alone with them.

“You're hurt?” Soobin asks, lowering himself to the floor to look up at the two of them on the couch.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says. “Fucked up my ankle on the way here. It's not broken—it's probably not even that bad, just aggravated. Hurts like a bitch.”

“I'm sure it does,” Soobin laughs, gesturing for Yoongi's leg. “I'm going to take your shoe off, which will probably hurt, but I'm going to need to splint it, at the very least.”

“We tried, on the road,” Jungkook says, voice a strange mix of defensive and sad, and Yoongi can't help but smile at him reassuringly. “But we didn't have supplies.”

“He wrapped it well,” Yoongi says, for Jungkook's benefit as much as Soobin's. “We've been pretty busy since.”

“That's an understatement,” Soobin says, the most grave Yoongi has yet seen him. “That you've managed this far is a good sign, but I want to make sure it heals correctly. You know that not walking on it is the only thing that's going to make it better, but we both know that's not happening.”

Yoongi barely bothers to nod at him; that's definitely not happening.

“I'll do what I can,” Soobin says, and pries Yoongi's boot off.

A sharp pain shoots up Yoongi's leg as Soobin jostles him, and Soobin winces. “Sorry, Yoongi-ssi,” he says.

“It's fine,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth.

“Kai!” Soobin yells in the direction of the hallway. “Bring me the kit, please!”

Yoongi doesn't hear a response, but Soobin is unconcerned, inspecting Yoongi's ankle, pressing gently on various areas, asking about Yoongi's pain.

“Just a bad sprain, as you expected,” Soobin concludes, as Hueningkai returns with a plastic storage bin. Soobin sorts through it, pulling out a few large splints and a roll of tape. “I wish I could give you a brace,” he says regretfully, “but these are all we have left.”

Yoongi can't believe these people, truly. He can't believe that anyone he's run into since he found Jungkook on the side of the road are actually real. No one is this fucking nice. Especially not now.

“It's more than enough,” Yoongi says, instead of anything he's thinking. It is more than enough, it's way too much, and Yoongi can't believe his luck. “Thank you.”

Soobin just smiles up at him, wrapping his ankle expertly, setting aside a replacement splint and an extra roll of tape. The pressure hurts, at first, but Yoongi can already tell that it's helping, doesn't want to get ahead of himself to think that maybe he can crawl his way back home, after all.

“How does it feel?” Jungkook asks, after Soobin has made a quiet exit, wishing them luck on their trip, welcoming them back if they find themselves in the city again. It's still strange to Yoongi, how friendly they are, but he's already starting to get used to it, like it's something in the air.

He needs to make sure he doesn't.

“Feels good,” Yoongi tells him truthfully, pacing across the living room, feeling as stable as he's felt the whole trip. “We should probably get going while we have daylight.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, getting to his feet and collecting their bags, but he sounds hesitant, looking around the room like he doesn't want to leave.

“We actually will probably see him again,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook looks at him sharply. “I trade twice a year, remember? And I'd like to find him again.” He says it to comfort Jungkook, but he also means it—he'd really like to keep working with these people.

Jungkook gives him a small smile, and it's enough. “Yeah,” he says again, sounding marginally more hopeful if still a little sad. Yoongi watches him school his expression, stand up a little straighter, sling both of their packs over his shoulder. “Across the river today, right, hyung?” he asks, clearly trying to put Namjoon out of his mind.

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, gesturing Jungkook out of the door, following him down the street.

They almost make it to the bridge. It's lucky they weren't quite there yet.

The river is in sight, the concrete of the bridge glinting in the sunlight, when the first explosion rocks the pavement beneath their feet. The nearest twin piles of the bridge capsize with an ear-splitting roar, the river beginning to froth as debris rains down. Dust is hurtling their way in the air, adding to the confusion, when a second explosion happens, the next two piles going the same way as the first, the roadway breaking into pieces as it collapses.

Chaos descends.

Everyone who was near the bridge—whether coming or going—is now running back into the city, taking whatever shelter they can find. Only a few people run towards the crumbling wreckage of the bridge, weapons drawn and forming up as the dust cloud sweeps inland, looking blindly for any threat.

“Hyung!” Jungkook shouts, crowding in on him, and Yoongi returns the death grip Jungkook has on his arm, afraid of losing him, afraid of getting separated in the rush of activity, afraid of getting lost in the confusion. Visibility is a nightmare, and Yoongi has a spare moment to hope that none of the vague shapes he can make out through the dust are fucking zombies.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi shouts, his voice swallowed by the noise of the groaning bridge, the hissing water, the dust in the air—but Jungkook squeezes his hand, huddles even closer. “We have to go!”

He tugs on Jungkook's arm, his feet taking him where they need to go almost before conscious thought. Yoongi's mind is racing, his spiraling thoughts right now keeping the panic at bay. The warehouse fires. Namjoon's suspicions. And now an attack on one of the main ways in and out of the city. Yoongi hopes he's wrong, but he doesn't think it's going to end here. They need to get out of the city, and fast.

If someone is trying to take control of Seoul—and that really fucking seems to be the case—then Yoongi cannot get stuck here. Seoul is mostly self-sufficient, has been for years. People go to Seoul for things, not the other way around. If someone hoarded and controlled supplies (or destroyed whatever they didn't control), guarded the bridges (or got rid of them altogether), had enough resources and enough people in enough places, they could control the city with ease, along with everyone inside of it.

The people of Seoul have spent so many years preparing for an attack from the outside—from undead, first and foremost, but also from other people—that they're mostly unprepared for a coup.

It's an unexpected thought, and an odd moment—one that Yoongi is strangely and inappropriately nostalgic about. This is a purely human conflict, a matter of old-world politics that Yoongi has been mostly divorced from for years. The undead that have been Yoongi's only worry for the better part of a decade are now an afterthought, a secondary problem.

He still wants absolutely nothing to do with it, though.

Adrenaline and rising panic are once again the only things keeping Yoongi on his feet, letting them move as fast as they can southeast up the river, because time is against them in a way that makes this whole trip so far look like child's play, look like a stroll in the goddamn park.

They're still more than a kilometer away from the Paldang Bridge when they see another cloud of dust rise into the air, the boom of the explosion following a handful of seconds later. Yoongi screams in frustration, nearly in despair, and almost falls to his knees on the pavement as his ankle gives out, but Jungkook catches him, his grip tight around Yoongi's waist, keeping him upright.

“Hyung!” he exclaims, his voice thin with panic but laced with concern, which Yoongi thinks is fucking hilarious at this moment because his ankle is the least of their worries now.

“Fuck!” Yoongi shouts, shaking free of Jungkook's hold and sitting down heavily on the curb, hacking up the dust in his lungs. “Fuck,” he spits, the absolute and utter helplessness he's felt this whole trip not quite settling in, but hovering. “What the fuck!” he shouts again, just because it feels good to yell.

Jungkook stands over him, looking concerned. Through the fog in Yoongi's mind, the slow processing of losing his home, his life, through the haze of pain that makes it hard for him to think, their last possible hope comes to him.

“The dam,” he says, like a revelation.

Jungkook doesn't understand, cocking his head in confusion.

“The dam!” Yoongi repeats. “We have to get to the dam!”

He's up and running before he can think about it, before his ankle can protest, dragging Jungkook along with him. Yoongi has never crossed the dam before—not since the Change—but he passes it every time he comes to Seoul. It's the one bridge that has remained guarded, the one that an effort is actually made to keep people off of. It's too important, nowadays, the dam one of the main sources of power to the city.

If someone was trying to gain control of Seoul, they'd need the dam intact.

Which means they might still be able to cross it.

It also means that they'll need to fight, that they're almost guaranteed to meet resistance. It wouldn't be the first time Yoongi has fought other people—wouldn't be the first time he's killed somebody—but he still feels ill at the prospect. He's in no shape to fight, and even if Jungkook was in perfect health, it's still only the two of them, and they're sure to be outnumbered. But he doesn't have another plan, doesn't see any other way out of the city, and he needs to get out of the city.

They run straight past what's left of the Paldang Bridge, the scene mostly the same as up north, the chaos maybe a little more controlled this time, as people start to plan a response. No one stops them, though, and Yoongi is thankful for that, at least.

But they're now only halfway to the Paldang Dam, and as the crowd starts to thin, as the air starts to clear, Yoongi's panic starts to overtake him. His pain is getting harder to ignore; they're nearly walking at this point, and it'll take them longer than he'd like to get there. They still have to be careful, still need to conserve what strength they have left in case they need to fight their way out. They may get stuck here, trapped in a city under siege that Yoongi has never lived in before. They may die here, Yoongi realizes, trying to cross the dam. Yoongi's desire to get back home is the only thing keeping him going.

Jungkook is a solid presence at his side, and Yoongi doesn't quite believe that Jungkook is still here, still doesn't fully understand why Jungkook wants to stay with him, even now—even when things have gone this far sideways, when Jungkook has no reason to risk this, no real reason to leave the city at all. But he's still got a hand under Yoongi's elbow, still taking some of Yoongi's weight, and Yoongi is more grateful for it than he can say. Jungkook staying with him means more to him than he understands.

It's been nearly an hour, and the dam is still a thousand meters away or more, but they can start to hear the rush of the river through the gates, can start to feel clean mist on their faces, ashy after so long slogging through the dust. It's not until they're almost upon it that they hear something else, as well, a clamor rising above the roaring of the water.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Jungkook says in a rush, pulling on Yoongi's arm and tugging him down into a squat.

“Jungkook, what—?” Yoongi starts to ask, his ankle protesting the new position, but it's only a second before he realizes what exactly Jungkook has seen. At first, Yoongi thought it was just a group of people milling around—worrying, given their objective, even if Yoongi had expected it. But now he realizes that the group is more like groups, plural, and they're not milling around by any means, but fighting.

It's a skirmish, that much is clear, but the group of people no doubt sent to guard the dam by whoever blew up the bridges is not guarding much of anything right now.

They're fighting undead.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi whispers, afraid to attract attention but needing to scope out what's happening, needing to see if there's a way they can skirt by unnoticed, maybe cross while the guards are distracted.

“Do you think we can draw them out?” Jungkook asks, looking in the same direction as Yoongi, at the very narrow entrance to the bridge.

Yoongi scans the area frantically, trying to think, wondering for a wild second if he could use himself as bait to let Jungkook cross, at least—get at least one of them out of this alive. He's grasping at straws, Jungkook faring no better, when he notices a shift in the scene in front of him, and he thinks that maybe their luck is finally starting to turn because the whole scuffle starts to move away from the bridge, the remaining guards driving away the undead.

But that's also when Yoongi realizes there are very few guards actually remaining. There is a trail of corpses in the wake of the skirmish, but the blood that's running over the pavement is a vibrant mix of bright, fresh red, and the tacky black blood of the undead.

For the first time, Yoongi feels a spark of hope.

He pulls his knife out, psyching himself up to fight, and he's about to turn to Jungkook to discuss their plan of action when Jungkook gasps and shoots to his feet, running into the fray.

“Namjoon!” Jungkook shouts, and Yoongi is on his feet and running after Jungkook before he can even think about it, before he can even process what this means.

Now that Yoongi's looking for him, he spots Namjoon immediately. He's staggering under the weight of a man who's trying unsuccessfully to put him in a headlock, succeeding only in making it harder for him to dodge the undead that lunge at him from the front, their hands grasping and their bodies falling at his feet, boxing him in.

Jungkook clears a path to him through the undead, the sharp thud of his bat against their skulls dulled by the rushing water of the dam, lost in the general cacophony of battle. Without having to worry about the zombies at his six, Namjoon is able to turn in the man's grip, and Yoongi can't see what Namjoon does next, but the man slips motionless off of Namjoon's shoulder to the ground, a red patch soaking through his shirt just above his hip.

“Hyung,” Jungkook is panting, “are you okay? Are you hurt?” He turns Namjoon around, reaching out and gripping his shoulders, checking him over.

“I'm okay,” Namjoon says, something like a smile starting to break out on his face at the sight of Jungkook, and Yoongi doesn't begrudge them the reunion, but they are not in the clear yet and as if to prove his point, neither of them see the man coming up behind them, crowbar raised over his head to strike.

With speed and dexterity Yoongi wouldn't have thought himself capable of right now, if ever, without conscious thought or intention, he steps around the two of them, slips under the man's raised hands, and plunges his knife into the man's neck.

There's a moment of absolute stillness, and then blood spurts across Yoongi's face as the man crumples, as Yoongi yanks the knife out of his neck as he falls.

The roar of the battle is ebbing away, dull over the ringing in Yoongi's ears, and then someone is grabbing is hand and pulling him forward, and then there is an arm around his waist, practically carrying him over the wet cement of the bridge. He finds his footing about halfway across, blinking blood out of his eyes as the spray from the river starts to wash it away.

They cross the bridge.

They cross the bridge, and they take refuge in a nearby tunnel only for a moment, only long enough to regroup, for Namjoon to check that they aren't being followed, that there aren't any people—living or undead—ahead of them.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says frantically, holding Yoongi up against the wall of the tunnel, eyes searching over him quickly, wide with panic as he checks for any sign of blood, any indication of a wound. Yoongi realizes that they didn't see what happened, don't know exactly what he did. They're afraid he's injured—they don't realize that the blood on him is entirely someone else's.

“I'm fine, Kook,” Yoongi says, reaching out to take Jungkook's shoulders, trying to calm him down. “It's not mine,” he says, meaning the blood, gesturing to his face. “I'm not hurt.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook all but shouts, not looking convinced. “Yoongi, you fucking—you took that guy out. Are you sure you're not hurt? He didn't get you at all?”

“He didn't get me at all,” Yoongi confirms, standing more firmly on two feet even though he almost cries out at the pain of it, trying to convince Jungkook he's fine.

“How is he?” Namjoon shouts, as he rushes back to the mouth of the tunnel, pulling up short when he sees Yoongi standing there, no more injured than he was before.

“He is fine,” Yoongi answers, before Jungkook can say anything. “The blood—surprised me, is all. I got a little disoriented, but I'm good now. I promise,” he adds, when Namjoon opens his mouth, looking like he wants to protest.

“Thanks, hyung,” Namjoon says instead, his voice too quiet to echo in the tunnel. “Both of you,” he says, looking at Jungkook, too. “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't showed up just then.”

Jungkook nods, looking solemn, looking like he doesn't trust his voice to speak.

“Now we're even,” Yoongi says, because anything else seems too heavy, puts too much weight on this tentative thing between them. He doesn't mean to sound blasé about it, and he hopes Namjoon can sense the weight of his words, even if he can't actually say them.

Namjoon smiles, a small thing. “See, hyung?” he asks, voice as deceptively light as Yoongi's. “I told you you wouldn't have left me behind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi smiles back at him, waving it away. And then he remembers where they are, how close they are to a danger they've barely left behind. “Okay,” he says, serious again, breaking the moment between them. “We really need to get the fuck out of here. Joon-ah,” he asks, “you scoped out the area?”

“Yeah. A few people left on the other side of the bridge, but they aren't crossing. Nothing ahead of us that I could see.”

“Good enough for me,” Yoongi says, and he leads them out of the tunnel, starting their long journey back north.

In a turn of events that Yoongi is not thrilled with, they make camp just past Hwado. They're not as far out from the city as they'd like to be, but they've already risked traveling after dark, have already gone farther than Yoongi thought he'd be capable of.

At least they're not actually in the city, the river still to their right and a mountain between them.

All three of them are exhausted, nearly dead on their feet, but they can't risk sleeping, can't risk staying the night. They need rest—Yoongi knows for sure that he will not be able to walk any more without rest—but they take two-hour shifts, wanting to be up and on their way before sunrise.

Namjoon re-splints Yoongi's ankle, as swollen as it's been yet and a deep, splotchy purple, painful enough to the touch that Yoongi can't quite blink back his tears before Namjoon has finished. Jungkook lets Yoongi squeeze his fingers as Namjoon wraps it up, and he wipes his thumb across Yoongi's wet cheeks when he's done, stubbornly ignoring Yoongi's shocked expression at the touch.

Jungkook and Namjoon both argue when Yoongi says he'll take first watch, Namjoon insisting he sleep as much as he can.

“You'll take last watch,” Namjoon says, in a tone that brooks no argument, and Yoongi doesn't have the energy to argue, anyway, which he supposes proves their point.

Jungkook confesses that he's nervous about taking his watch, afraid that the same thing will happen to him that happened in Namjoon's warehouse.

“I can't control it, hyungs,” he tells them, sounding frustrated. “And I really can't promise that it won't happen again.”

Yoongi doesn't blame him, wouldn't hold it against him, but it does present a problem.

“I can stay up with you,” Namjoon says, shrugging like it's not a big deal. “I'm still too hyped up from the fight to sleep anyway.”

It's an obvious lie, as obvious as the exhaustion making his eyelids droop, but Jungkook's eyes light up at the offer, some weight clearly lifting from his shoulders.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook says, quietly pleased, and it makes Yoongi smile. He feels better with this arrangement, because even if he doesn't trust them yet, he feels safer with both of them looking out. Because even if he doesn't trust them yet, he wants to, and he thinks that this is as good a place as any to start.

He settles down, his head on his pack, and he's out in mere seconds, the quiet hum of Jungkook and Namjoon's voices the last thing he hears until Namjoon is jostling him awake.

“Everything's fine,” Namjoon assures him first thing, as Yoongi blinks into the darkness. “Your watch, hyung,” he says, and Yoongi nods, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He's still exhausted, his body protesting being awake already, but he accepts the canteen Namjoon passes him and gets to his feet, shakes the fatigue out of his limbs before settling in for his watch.

Jungkook is snoring by his side, motionless even as Namjoon lays down on his other side, and Yoongi watches them silently as Namjoon curls up against Jungkook and falls asleep. For all that Yoongi had tried to reassure Jungkook before, Yoongi wasn't really sure that he'd ever see Namjoon again. And now here is he, on the road with them, tagging along with them through the mountains like that was his plan all along. Of course, what happened in Seoul changed everything for him, and his priorities had changed with it, but it's still a coincidence that they're here at all, that they saved each other, that Yoongi could offer him a place to go while he figured out his next move, that Namjoon would accept it.

He feels himself starting to get used to it, the easy presence of the two of them at his side, and he shakes himself out of it, focusing once more on the forest around them.

It takes them almost a week to get to Chuncheon.

“My farm is definitely destroyed by now,” Yoongi tells them, for the hundredth time. Maybe if he says it enough, he'll start to make peace with it. At the very least, Jungkook and Namjoon deserve to know what they're getting into. “Or occupied, more likely. We'll probably be shot on sight.”

“Don't you have, like, secret ways in?” Jungkook asks, sounding mostly unconcerned with the prospect of getting blown away by persons unknown for trespassing on what used to be Yoongi's own farm.

“It's a plot of land, Kook,” Yoongi says despairingly, “not a medieval castle.” He doesn't mention that brief period, two years in, when he seriously considered digging a secret tunnel into the house before realizing what a truly absurd idea that was, how utterly impossible. He hadn't even been able to dig himself a well.

“We'll just have to see when we get there, hyung,” Namjoon says, also for the hundredth time.

They're off the major highways, have been for the last two days so it's even slower going in this last final push. Yoongi knows this area the best, of course, makes a point of taking day trips several times a year, whether sourcing from the local dams or just scoping out the area he'd chosen to settle down in. He still tends to avoid Chuncheon proper, still never liked the cities even before this disastrous trip to Seoul, but he's spent time in the outlying areas, knows the roads around the mountains well by now.

The farm is not easy to get to, but that's the point. He'd considered claiming a house on the other side of the river, somewhere with more than one road leading to it, something that wasn't a dead end. It was a risk boxing himself in the way he had, but the payoff had always been greater than that risk—he'd avoided some real trouble that way, when people would make their way out here, wanting to see what easy fruit there was for picking.

Yoongi points out the nearest bridge—another dam—when they hit their last stretch of road, the sun just starting to slink away behind them.

“It's this way,” he says, gesturing in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hyung?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi laughs for the first time in what feels like weeks when he sees Namjoon's confused expression.

“We'll camp by the river tonight,” Yoongi says, starting to hobble away from them both, knowing they'll have no choice but to catch up. “Hope my boat is still fucking there, or it's another day back around.”

“I'm sorry,” Jungkook says, shaking his head as if he's heard Yoongi wrong and is trying to clear his ears. “Your what?”

Yoongi's boat is exactly that—a small, beat up row boat, paint peeled away and blending in with the surrounding trees, but not well, by any means.

“You just leave this here?” Jungkook asks, looking around skeptically.

“Don't really have a choice,” Yoongi shrugs, because it's true. “Like I said, it's another day, maybe two, to head back to the dam and walk around. There are a few more bridges further up north. The boat's a convenience, not a necessity.”

“You're so cool, hyung,” Jungkook says, wide-eyed, and Yoongi snorts, even though he's pleased.

“You haven't seen me try to row yet,” he says, because that's also true. “Get some sleep. I'm gonna stay up for a bit and check things out.”

Neither Jungkook nor Namjoon complain, and they're both out before darkness has truly fallen. Yoongi is too keyed up to be tired, despite his exhaustion, his home literally in sight. He walks as close to the river as he dares, never truly leaving the thin cover of the trees, hoping to get some warning about what they'll be walking—or rowing—into tomorrow. That the boat is still there is a good sign: it's not just a convenience for Yoongi, but also serves as a sort of early warning system. If the boat was gone or damaged in some way, Yoongi would know that people had been here, if nothing else. (He knows it could work the other way around, that someone could use the boat as a trap for its owner, but he also knows that resources are far more precious than people, nowadays, that he's truly more in danger from roving bands of undead than he is from other people).

(For the most part).

The night stays silent, and the area stays dark, and Yoongi wakes Namjoon up a few hours later for his watch.

“Keep a close eye out on the house,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon nods. “Wake me if you see anything.”

Namjoon nods again, and then nods in Jungkook's direction, eyebrow raised. “Should we give him a watch?” He looks contrite, hesitant to even ask, but Yoongi is glad that he did. Yoongi is glad that they're still being careful around each other, that they're taking their time scraping together trust from nothing.

“We're close enough to home,” Yoongi says, “and the area should be quiet enough. Even if something happens, it shouldn't be anything nearly as dramatic as the warehouse. He should be fine.”

“That's a lot of 'should's,' hyung,” Namjoon points out, but he looks mollified. “I'm fucking tired, though.”

Yoongi almost laughs. “Yeah,” he agrees.

He's asleep immediately, even though he didn't expect to drop off so soon, as worried as he is about his farm, antsy with being so close. But before he knows it, Jungkook is shaking him awake, thin, pre-dawn light filtering through the bare branches overhead.

“Uneventful,” Jungkook says, reporting his watch, voice still a whisper. Yoongi nods, sitting up to properly take in the morning. Light is starting to reflect on the windows of the houses lining the river, and while visibility still isn't great, a low fog hovering over the water, the area looks like it always does—still, deserted, safe.

“Are we ready?” Yoongi asks them, glancing around at their packs while Namjoon hands him the last of their rations. “I want to cross before sunrise.”

“We're ready, hyung,” Namjoon says, handing off his pack to Yoongi. “Jungkook-ah,” he says, in response to Yoongi's questioning glance, “help me with the boat.”

Without needing direction from Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook push the boat to shore—much more efficiently than when Yoongi does it by himself. He trails them down to the riverbed, tucking their packs under the bow bench, accepting Jungkook's offered hand to help get into the boat.

He nearly yelps when Jungkook sweeps him off the ground into a bridal carry instead, lifting him over the gunwale and depositing him gently on the bench in one smooth move.

Namjoon laughs at his gaping expression, and Jungkook blushes. “Sorry, hyung,” he says, sounding sheepish but somehow not very sorry at the same time.

“That's fine,” Yoongi says stiffly after a moment, because he's not going to admit that he probably couldn't have gotten into the boat himself, but he doesn't want Jungkook to be embarrassed about it. He does, at least, move to the center bench on his own to give them room to hop in after they push off.

Yoongi is relieved from rowing duty as well, as Namjoon takes up the oars without command or complaint. It's not a long row, even by himself, and they make quick work of it, Yoongi's eyes glued to the far shore, attuned to any movement, anything at all out of place.

“Should I go to the boathouse or the dock?” Namjoon asks a few minutes later, looking back over his shoulder, the oars still for a moment.

“Go to the house,” Yoongi tells him, because if someone is here waiting for them, the dock will be harder to push off from, harder to navigate around, and the railing of the floating house leaves them at least some means of defense. They'll have time to asses their options, either way.

(Doesn't help if they're shot on sight, he reminds himself grimly).

Namjoon steers them to the floating house with only a few difficulties, which is fine because it gives Yoongi more time to scope it out. The doors inside are closed, the windows dark, the floorboards dry, the equipment he left against the walls untouched. Yoongi holds the boat in place once they land while Jungkook steps off, Namjoon poised with the oars for a quick escape if they need one.

Yoongi holds his breath as Jungkook peeks around the house, looks into the windows, makes sure the hallway is cleared, and finally checks the two rooms inside.

“Empty,” Jungkook reports, coming back to them in the boat while Yoongi frantically searches the shore, not quite believing this is really happening.

After this trip, this fucking trip from hell, can he really come home to a farm that's exactly as he left it? Is this karma for the rest of the bullshit? He doesn't let himself hope, or even think anything of the sort—not yet—because they're still on the fucking boat. They haven't even technically made it to land, never mind checked out the house.

“Might as well,” Yoongi says, gesturing Namjoon to the railing. Namjoon pulls in the oars and swings himself up onto the dock, and then he and Jungkook both help hoist Yoongi onto it, as well.

“Let's leave our packs for now,” Yoongi suggests, leaving the rest of that thought unspoken, and they nod.

The house, Yoongi discovers, is exactly how he left it. He still can't believe it, can't believe his fucking luck after everything that has happened, and he puts up with Jungkook's gentle ribbing about his worries of an occupation with barely more than a grimace. He can tell that Jungkook was worried, too, that he knows Yoongi's concern was warranted, but he'll be the butt of this joke if it means something about this trip has gone right.

“We should still take watches,” Yoongi tells them, almost an hour later, as they start to settle in, as Namjoon and Jungkook start to get a feel for the place as Yoongi makes his rounds, checking that everything is as it should be. “At least for a few days. I'm always paranoid my first week back, and I've obviously been gone for way fucking longer this time. For all we know, someone has moved in and is making a supply run of their own right now.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon whines, only mildly despairingly, resigning himself to another fortnight of Yoongi's doomful predictions.

He gives Namjoon the hint of a smirk. “Let's just be alert, okay?”

“I think watches are a good idea,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi narrows his eyes at his sincerity, “and me and Joon-hyung can take the first one this afternoon while you sleep.”

Yoongi can't even open his mouth to protest before Namjoon is nodding in agreement. “We need to reset your ankle,” he says, fishing through their packs for the supplies Soobin gave them in Seoul. “You need to take those painkillers, and then stop walking on it for at least a few days, otherwise it'll never heal.”

“More like a few weeks,” is Jungkook's contribution, and Namjoon doesn't hesitate to nod his agreement, looking thoughtful.

It takes Yoongi a few moments to get enough of his wits back to respond. “First of all,” he says, undeterred even when Namjoon gives him the stink eye at his tone. “First of all,” he repeats, “that's not happening. A few weeks? There are things that need to get done here. Obviously trading didn't go as intended, so I need to make plans. I have to go to the dam. I have to get seeds. I have to plant my seeds. I have to—”

“All things that hyung and I can do,” Jungkook says, like that's an easy solution, like the matter is settled. Of course Namjoon is nodding along like what Jungkook is saying makes perfect sense.

“Don't you have things to do?” Yoongi turns on Namjoon, pointing at him accusingly. “Isn't finding Chan's guy the most important thing here? Not to mention time-sensitive? Surely you can't stay here for weeks babysitting some random client of yours from Seoul.”

Jungkook scowls, and Namjoon frowns, and Yoongi—despite himself—feels bad.

“I don't see you as just another client, hyung,” Namjoon says, sharply disapproving. “And I think you know that.”

Yoongi bites his lip and nods.

“I'm not here because it's convenient,” Namjoon continues. “Or as part of some grand plan about what's happening in Seoul that I can assure you I don't have. I'm here because it feels like the right place to be.”

Jungkook nods at this, looking determined.

Namjoon pauses for just a second before he says, “I'm here because I want to be, okay?”

“Okay,” Yoongi croaks, strangely overcome with an emotion he can't place. He clears his throat and continues. “I know we're not just—that it's not—” Yoongi can't quite find the words he wants to say, the right way to express how he feels about them. “We saved each other,” he says in the end, coming at it from the side. “And we can stay together, if you want that.”

It's said in barely more than a whisper, something that Yoongi hasn't exactly let himself think about. Jungkook has been a pretty sure thing for a while now, but Namjoon was never meant to stay with them, was never supposed to come home with them. Even on the road, Yoongi always framed Namjoon's presence as something temporary, Namjoon himself as someone with a shared goal, up to a point. But Yoongi finds himself offering the same thing to Namjoon that he'd offered to Jungkook in that abandoned house's living room what seems like a million years ago.

He's offering him a place to call home.

“We're friends,” Jungkook says. “We should stick together.”

And Namjoon, of course, nods.

Living with people is neither as strange nor as eventful as Yoongi always thought it would be. While Yoongi wouldn't say they settle down, exactly, they do fall into a routine, get comfortable in each other's space. Yoongi's farm consists of several structures, and for the first time, really, Yoongi starts to use all of them.

He keeps the upper house to himself, because while living with people may not be as intrusive as he'd imagined, he still likes having his own space. The upper house was the one building he really kept up, small enough to do so and easy enough to defend. It wasn't as flashy as the one out front, didn't attract as much as attention as a solar panel on a riverfront building would have done. The air of abandonment on the other structures was intentional, a disincentive for anyone passing by to take a closer look.

This doesn't change, necessarily, but the main house finds itself with a new purpose, and the tattered boards on the windows get replaced to keep out the cold and the wet, and the door gets reinforced with one of Yoongi's last metal plates, and suddenly there are people living in a place Yoongi had mostly used for storage and subterfuge.

Jungkook insists on “securing” the floating house, whatever that means. From what Yoongi can gather, it means leaving three packs there instead of one, and a whole lot more rations besides. He sleeps there sometimes, too, Namjoon tells him, although neither of them can guess why.

Yoongi remembers what Jungkook said on that pile of rubble outside of Hwado, when he refused to leave Yoongi behind, no matter what happened to them after—when he told Yoongi that he didn't care if he died. Jungkook hasn't talked about the family he had before, about the attack that must have killed them, not even about how he ended up on the side of the road the day that Yoongi found him. Namjoon and Yoongi talk about it, sometimes, but neither of them want to push Jungkook into talking about it before he's ready. Neither of them would mind if Jungkook never wanted to talk about it at all, but they still worry. They still wonder if there's more they could be doing for him.

(For now, they just keep a close eye on him, and let him know they're there if he needs them).

Yoongi's ankle heals slowly, and he's ready to act the fuck up by his sixth day of rest—relegated to his couch when Jungkook can force him to stay there, sequestered in his house when he can't. He sleeps for about 30 hours straight the first few days, his worries about security be damned, and feels like a whole new person again when he wakes up, but it also gives him the energy to bitch about his situation all over again.

Through all of it, though, Yoongi is grateful beyond belief, even if he's quiet about it. Injury and illness were always possibilities, things Yoongi had planned for as best he could, but he admits that starting a new year like this would have been nigh impossible if not for Jungkook and Namjoon. He feels guilty directing them to work when he can't do any of it himself, but they are crystal clear about wanting him to heal, about enjoying doing the work for a place they've been invited to stay—a place, Jungkook reminds him, that they all now call home.

Yoongi still thinks sometimes that it should be strange, suddenly offering up a piece of himself like this, suddenly sharing what had always been his and his alone.

Instead, Yoongi feels a weird sense of relief. It's not comfort—not yet—but the promise of it is almost as good, a taste of what could happen here making him hungry for more. He was fine being alone; he's thought about it a lot, in his time on the couch, and he knows that it's true. But he thinks that maybe he wouldn't have been fine for much longer, that maybe living alone in a world like this wasn't a way to live, at all.

He hopes that the three of them can build something new here, and on his more sentimental days, he thinks that maybe this last trip to Seoul was the best trading trip of them all.

It's not another week before the weather turns and the ground starts to thaw, and they find themselves as busy as Yoongi has ever been.

Yoongi and Jungkook argue about how to plant their seeds, how to rotate their garden. Yoongi is pulling from his seed bank now, and he doesn't know when—if ever—he'll get different varieties, so they need to be careful. Namjoon, who had lived in the city since the Change and relied wholly on traded and packaged goods, left farming matters to the two of them and didn't get involved in their quarrels. He seemed to trust either of them to get it done, offering his help rather than his opinions.

Namjoon also offers to go to Soyang Dam, but Yoongi still feels uneasy about letting either of them out of his sight, especially when he couldn't go after them if anything happened, so he plans around whatever new-old tech he already had, fixing his solar panels as best as he could with whatever he had lying around. It's the same stuff he had lying around before he went to Seoul, but the lack of options makes him innovative, and he's proud of the work he does, is pretty sure it can get them through the season even if they don't make it to the dam at all, even if they don't find anything when they do.

Namjoon stays, settling into this new normal, for almost a month.

He would have stayed longer, too, if Yoongi hadn't assured him that he was fine, he was healing, he had Jungkook to look after him and Jungkook was more than up to the task. He also reminded Namjoon that it would be nice to be able to trade again sometime in the future, and shouldn't he be out making sure that would possible?

It took some convincing, but in the last month they had made all of the plans that they could, had discussed every possibility of what had happened in Seoul and what might happen in the future. They had no real way of getting news, the channels that Yoongi's radio could pick up mostly static, all lines out of Seoul empty air, and the uncertainty had started to visibly weigh on Namjoon, had made Yoongi uneasy in turn. The only thing left was for Namjoon to actually get out and look.

Jungkook cries the day he leaves, pulling Namjoon into a tight hug and making him swear to come back, making him promise to stay safe and stay alive. Namjoon, equally emotional, only nods.

“Don't die,” are Yoongi's parting words, but he knows that Namjoon can hear the tremor in his voice, knows that Namjoon knows what he means.

Yoongi is surprised to find that the place feels empty once Namjoon is gone, and he's even more surprised that it doesn't actually feel surprising at all.

When Namjoon comes back, he's not alone.

“Yoongi-hyung!” Jungkook calls out before he's even in the door of the upper house. Yoongi puts down his knife, looking up at Jungkook over his half-chopped vegetables.

“What's up?” he barely gets a chance to ask, before Jungkook is waving him over excitedly, already heading back out the door.

“Kook, what?” he asks, hurrying up and following, but he can already see what.

Namjoon is back, making his way slowly up the drive, and there is a man beside him, carrying one of his packs and waving at Jungkook hesitantly as Jungkook jogs down to meet them.

Namjoon greets Jungkook happily, but Yoongi can tell that he's anxious, and that anxiety seems to manifest when he looks behind Jungkook and makes eye contact with him, a question—or maybe an apology—written in his features.

Yoongi bristles for a moment, but only a moment. While Yoongi still feels some residual ownership of the place, still maintains some control of what happens here, he invited Namjoon and Jungkook to live with him, and Namjoon doesn't need to apologize for making choices about their shared space. Besides, Yoongi doesn't know what exactly is going on here, anyway.

“Hi, hyung,” Namjoon says, leaving Jungkook with a firm pat on his shoulder, looking as unsure as Yoongi has ever seen him. Jungkook steps up to the newcomer immediately, looking a little shy but excited, welcoming. The man smiles, and Yoongi finds himself a little distracted by the sight of it.

“Who's this?” Yoongi snaps himself out of it enough to ask, trying to keep his voice light, trying his best to sound simply curious and not accusatory.

“His name in Jimin,” Namjoon tells him. “It's a bit of a story,” he says, glancing around them, and Yoongi understands.

“Inside then,” he says, gesturing to the upper house. “You can keep me company while I cook. For one more, I assume?”

Namjoon nods, a bit sheepishly.

“It's fine,” Yoongi says, whatever fight he had left leaving him all at once. “We have enough.”

The four of them crowd around the kitchen island while Yoongi cooks and Namjoon recounts his trip.

“I just headed back to Seoul,” Namjoon says, shrugging, because this was the general basis of their plan; they didn't have enough intel to do anything else. “I didn't leave the city much before, you know, but even I could tell there was more activity than normal.”

“You ran into people?” Yoongi asks, because that's been a rarity in all of the time that Yoongi has made the trip. Sure, he's gone out of his way to avoid people since those first couple messy years, but it's never been particularly hard to do.

“Some,” Namjoon says, and he must catch the look of surprise and dismay on Yoongi's face, because he's quick to reassure him. “It was good, though, actually. Like, of course I was being careful—”

Yoongi remembers how nice Namjoon was when they first met, when he offered to take them back to his warehouse without knowing a thing about them, how honest he was about their stores, and is skeptical about that; but then he also remembers the fight at the dam, the no-fuss and efficient way Namjoon took out his attackers, and realizes that his skepticism is probably misplaced.

“—but everyone seemed too preoccupied with their own shit to bother anybody else. I got to talk to people who had just left Seoul, though.”

“The bridges?” Yoongi asks, truly curious about just how cut-off Seoul is now, just how powerful the people who claimed it are.

“Some are left,” Namjoon tells him. “A lot of them, honestly. They're just concentrated in the middle of the city. Easier to control.”

“How many fucking explosives did they have?” Jungkook wonders aloud, and to Yoongi's surprise, it's Jimin who answers, laughing.

“A lot,” he says, like that should have been obvious.

He sobers when Yoongi and Jungkook both turn their heads to look at him, lifting one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “Explosives aren't hard to make, you know? It's the planning and distribution that's the tricky part.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about it,” Yoongi says, not trying to control his tone.

“That's because I do,” Jimin says right back, and Yoongi opens his mouth to retort when Namjoon steps in.

“Okay, okay,” he says, raising a hand to each of them, diffusing the argument before it can start. “Hyung, can I finish, before you try to kill him, please?”

Yoongi snaps his mouth shut. Namjoon's right, of course. Yoongi's instincts aren't wrong, necessarily, but he keeps forgetting that he doesn't have to look out for things by himself, anymore. He keeps forgetting that he has other people to lean on, now. And he knows that Namjoon wouldn't bring someone here without a good reason, without knowing that they meant no harm.

“Okay, so,” Yoongi says, conceding. “The bridges. You saw them?”

“Didn't get that far, actually,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi raises an eyebrow in question. “I wasn't planning on trying to cross the river, and never got close enough to see it. I found a few of Chan's guys on the outskirts of the city, hanging around the train stations.”

“Waiting for you?” Jungkook asks.

“Sort of. Waiting for information, in general, really, but the kids had asked about me, so they were looking for me, too.”

“The kids?” Yoongi asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Namjoon's expression softens. “Yeonjun and them. Apparently they had tried to find me that day, but didn't know if I was still in Seoul or not. They're all still there, and didn't want to risk trying to leave so soon, which I don't blame for them. I'd be pissed if they had, honestly.”

“But Chan's guys could?”

“Wait,” Jungkook cuts in, “who is Chan?”

“Leader of another trading group,” Namjoon tells him. “We don't do a lot of business with them, but we're friendly. Friendly-ish, at least.”

“Friendly-ish?”

“We don't quite see eye-to-eye on some things,” Namjoon explains wryly. “We mostly try to stay out of each other's way. But we help each other out, when we can. The kids are closer to them than me, and definitely more than Donghyuk or Hyowon.”

“They got out of the city?” Yoongi asks.

“Most of them weren't in the city,” Namjoon says. “But yeah, one of them got out and met up with a few of the others.”

“And you found them at a train station.”

Namjoon nods. “Most of the stations got destroyed, either during the Change or right after, but a lot of them survived. Traders use them the most, as a network of sorts.”

It's Yoongi's turn to nod. “Sure, I met Donghyuk at one, actually.”

“That's not surprising. I was stopping by them on my way in, and Changbin found me. The kids are okay, first off. Seems like right now, if you don't try to leave the city or try to organize or anything, they leave you alone. Of course, the kids are organizing, but they're staying really underground right now. No doubt they know who all of the traders are, if they've done this much planning, but they're still just trying to secure the city.”

“Okay,” Yoongi cuts in, the obvious gap in this information too much to deal with. “Who the fuck are they?”

At this point, Namjoon tilts his head towards Jimin, letting him speak.

“You're both familiar with the Trials, right?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi and Jungkook both nod, nonplussed about where he's chosen to start his explanation. Everyone is familiar with the Trials, Yoongi thinks, although to certain extents, depending on how much you were paying attention to politics at the time. Yoongi was paying a fair deal of attention, and he's already thinking of ways this could be related.

“So you know the main three companies that were devastated by the ruling,” he continues, and Yoongi sighs, resigned to more bullshit.

“The CEO's?” he asks, exhausted by this already.

Jimin nods. “Most of the boards, and some of the scientists. They got hit by the courts, too, remember? The malpractice suits?"

“Violations of the Geneva Convention in human trials, if I'm remembering correctly,” Jungkook adds, deceptively flippant.

Jimin nods again, looking grim.

“So what?” Yoongi asks, “They got fucked out of their wealth and now they want to control a city? They know there's no actual money there, right?”

“It's not about money,” Jimin shrugs.

“Power?” Jungkook scoffs. “That's so fucking cliché.”

“I think it's partly that,” Namjoon says, when Jimin is silent for a beat too long.

“But?” Yoongi says, already coming up with worst case scenarios, hoping to god that he's wrong.

“But nothing, right now,” Jimin says, sounding as cynical as Yoongi feels despite his words. “They're still too busy with the logistics of their coup to worry about anything else. Explosives may have been easy to make, but legitimate medical supplies are, as I'm sure you know, a lot fucking harder to come by. We probably have years before anything worse starts to happen.”

“Well, in that case,” Jungkook mutters, and Yoongi nods to him in acknowledgment, but it's Namjoon who answers him.

“In that case,” he says, making Jungkook look up at him sharply, “we also have years to plan.”

That makes Yoongi look up at him, too. Yoongi doesn't know if he wants to make plans, if he wants to be involved with this at all. The whole point of settling down in the mountains was to be unbothered, to live out the rest of his life in relative peace. Finding a few people to share that life with was already a big enough thing, one that even now he's not sure is permanent. But getting involved in what sounds like is going to be a full-out war? That's a whole other thing entirely.

It's a whole other thing, and he's already not sure he can escape it. Namjoon, for one, is already heavily involved. One glance at Jungkook tells Yoongi that he's ready to jump in, as well. He's not going to give either of them up. And Yoongi thinks about the only people he knows in Seoul—the kids, as Namjoon calls them. The ones who fed them, and sheltered them, and fixed them up without asking for a single thing in return. The ones who were kind to them, because they had known Namjoon for all of a day, and that was enough. He thinks about them trapped in Seoul, monitored and maybe soon targeted, and tries to tell himself that it's not enough to risk everything he has to fight for.

He doesn't have to commit to anything right now, at least.

“This still doesn't tell me how you know so much about it,” Yoongi says to Jimin. “Or how you ended up here with Joon.”

He nods. “I have a friend,” he starts, “who's close to them. Or was. He was an intern when the Trials were happening—he wasn't involved, and wasn't held responsible, but he was close enough to those who were to still have ties with them, after. He got tied up in the bureaucracy like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, he also got to keep his job.”

“And they recruited him,” Yoongi says, filling in the blanks.

“They tried to,” Jimin clarifies, looking at Yoongi sternly, and Yoongi nods, acknowledging it.

“And you met hyung how?” Jungkook asks.

“I got smuggled out of the city,” Jimin says, “by Chan's guy. They're still vetting their safehouses, still re-securing their contacts. They needed a safe place for me, as Taemin's contact, and this was as good as any.”

“What the hell,” Yoongi says, only partly under his breath.

“Hyung?” Namjoon asks, sounding sheepish again.

“Don't you think you're all trusting me a little too much?” Yoongi asks, blunter than he meant to be. He points at Jimin. “You're their quote-unquote 'inside man' and yet they let you run off to the mountains with Namjoon on what? His word?” He glances at Namjoon apologetically. “No offense, Joon-ah, but if they're too busy checking the loyalties of their own goddamn contacts to find a place for you, Jimin, why in the hell would they let you run off to a place they've never seen, with a person they've never met? And why would you agree to it?”

There's silence after his outburst, and Yoongi would maybe be a little embarrassed by it but also, he's fucking right, and he wants answers. But the silence lingers, and now Yoongi feels distinctly uncomfortable, although he doesn't know why.

“Taemin,” Jimin says, sounding uncertain, “knew Jungkook.”

“Wait, what?” Jungkook says, looking at Jimin with wide eyes as Yoongi turns his head to look at him.

“Or, well, he knew of him, I guess. Mutual friends,” he says, and he sounds sad, and Yoongi starts to understand.

“He found out what happened,” Jimin says quietly, and Jungkook doesn't even ask how, just looks down with wet eyes, and nods. “I didn't know you were still alive,” Jimin continues. “But I figured that any place good enough for you after everything was good enough for me, too.”

Jungkook nods again, wiping at his eyes. It's the closest they've been to the topic, and Yoongi doesn't quite know what to do. But then Jungkook makes a strangled noise, clearly trying to hold back a sob, and Yoongi reacts like it's instinct, pulling Jungkook into his arms.

He doesn't need to say anything, just lets Jungkook cry into his neck, holding him tight. Jimin watches them sympathetically, and Namjoon wipes once at his own eyes, looking at Jungkook so tenderly that Yoongi nearly feels it himself.

“I can take over this,” Jimin says, soft and unobtrusive, pointing at their abandoned dinner, “if you need some time.”

Namjoon nods at him, thankful, and Yoongi starts to half-lead, half-carry Jungkook into his bedroom, Namjoon sliding the door shut behind them. Yoongi directs Jungkook to his bed, sitting down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, letting Jungkook lean into him as he cries. Namjoon sits on Jungkook's other side, a hand on his thigh, a reassuring touch. He makes eye contact with Yoongi over Jungkook's head, and something passes between them, something that Yoongi doesn't recognize at the time for what it is.

After a few minutes, Jungkook's tears start to lessen and his breathing starts to even out as he gets himself back under control. “Sorry, hyungs,” is the first thing he says, still sniffling, and Yoongi and Namjoon are both quick to reassure him.

“Absolutely not,” Namjoon says, sounding as tender as he looked in the kitchen. “You don't need to apologize for anything, Kook. Least of all for this.”

“I'm sorry I got it brought up so suddenly,” Yoongi says, because if he'd known, he never would pushed Jimin into explaining it in front of them. “I'm sorry I made you remember.”

“We're here for you whenever you need us, Jungkook,” Namjoon says, reaching out to take Jungkook's hand, who squeezes his fingers in return.

“Thanks, hyungs,” Jungkook says, voice heavy, “but I'm not talking about that.”

“Then what?” Yoongi asks, sharing another look with Namjoon.

Jungkook wipes his eyes one last time, clearing his throat before continuing. “I'm sorry I never told you what happened.”

Yoongi starts to protest, to tell Jungkook that he doesn't need to be sorry about that, either, but Jungkook cuts him off. “Yoongi-hyung,” he says, turning to face him, “I'm sorry I never even explained why you needed to save me in the first place.”

“We didn't need to know, Kook,” Namjoon says, speaking for both of them. “Your past is your business. We all have things we don't know about each other.”

Yoongi nods, because Namjoon is right, but Jungkook shakes his head.

“You shouldn't have trusted me,” he says, aiming this in particular towards Yoongi, who frowns. “I could have gotten you killed.”

Yoongi has heard this before, of course, in Yeonjun's living room in Seoul, and it hurts him to know that Jungkook is still beating himself up over it. He knocks his shoulder into Jungkook's, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey,” he says, “we've been over this, yeah? Neither of us were at our best that night.”

Jungkook smiles sadly, but shakes his head again. “Before that, hyung,” he says. “When you first found me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember what I said in Hwado?” he asks, and Yoongi feels a chill creep down his back.

“Yeah, I do,” he says softly, because he does. He's told Namjoon the story, too, and he senses Namjoon tense up on the other side of the bed.

“Well,” Jungkook says, “I ended up half-dead on the side of the road because I wasn't being careful. More than that—I was being reckless. My friends—my family—had just been killed.” He doesn't pause before he says, without question, “I should have been killed, too. It was just dumb luck that I survived.”

“Kook,” Namjoon says, pulling Jungkook's hand into his lap, their fingers still entwined.

“It's true,” Jungkook insists. “We were fighting, and we all got separated, and when it was over, I was the only one left.”

“I'm so sorry, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, pulling him a little tighter into his side.

“I took what I could from the house before I burned it to the ground, with their bodies inside, and then I left. I had nothing to live for without them, no place to go, and I just—”

He cuts himself off, gesturing vaguely. “I picked fights with undead,” he says, laughing humorlessly. “I would skirt past hordes and hoped they picked up my scent. I would raid occupied stores. I don't think I was actively trying to kill myself,” he says bluntly—too bluntly for the level-headed, kind, goofy kid Yoongi is starting to know—“but close calls never made me stop doing it. I remember the fight I had before Yoongi-hyung found me. I remember stumbling away from it, being so cold out on the street. I remember thinking to myself that that was finally how I was gonna die, and I didn't fucking care.”

“And then I found you,” Yoongi says, remembering that night himself. How he thought Jungkook was already dead, how cold he was to the touch. But Jungkook's account doesn't match up with the kid who woke Yoongi the next morning, who thanked him for saving his life, who seemed chipper and enthusiastic about tagging along with a complete stranger.

“You thanked me,” Yoongi says, frowning, “for saving you. You seemed...happy, almost.”

At this, Jungkook smiles. It's small, but genuine. “When I woke up that morning, I forgot for a second what had happened before. I almost thought I was back home. But then I saw you,” he says simply, “and I realized you must have saved me. Then I realized you wrapped up my headphones and saved my phone, too.”

“That's why I saved you,” Yoongi admits suddenly, unbidden. Jungkook's eyes widen.

“What?” Namjoon asks, looking at Yoongi confusedly.

“I saw you on the side of the road, Kook, and I thought you were dead. I was gonna just take your stuff and keep going,” Yoongi also admits, and Jungkook nods like that's a perfectly acceptable thing to do, “but then I saw your headphones. I realized you were listening to music, and I don't know—it just made me want to help you.” Jungkook smiles at him. “I miss music, a lot,” Yoongi explains. “And the fact that you seemed willing to risk your life to listen to it was actually endearing to me, for some fucking reason.”

“That's sweet, hyung,” Namjoon says, now smiling fondly at him.

“It's fucking absurd,” Yoongi counters, without heat. “But regardless,” he says, gesturing for Jungkook to continue.

“Right,” Jungkook says, getting back on track. “You saved my phone, and I guess it was the same for me, hyung. Right away, I knew I didn't want to lose you. That you were someone special.”

“I don't think you can tell that from this one thing,” Yoongi argues.

“You can,” Jungkook argues back, “and I did. And I was right. I thought I was going to die on that street, but then I woke up clean and warm and thought that maybe this was my second chance, and that I shouldn't waste it. And then I figured that Mingyu would kick my ass if he knew what I'd been doing, and that I should probably cut it out.”

“I'm glad,” Namjoon says, leaning in and dropping a kiss on the side of Jungkook's head. Jungkook smiles and leans into it, looking unsurprised by the gesture, and Yoongi spares a moment to think that maybe he's missed some things living in the upper house. But then Jungkook sighs, his mood serious again, and Yoongi files the thought away for later.

“I am, too,” Jungkook says. “You were the first thing since the attack that made me want to live, hyung, the first reason I had to be careful. But I was too used to being careless, and it would have been easy to slip up. I almost did a few times. I could have gotten you killed.” Jungkook shakes his head, lips pursed at the memory. “I knew I should have told you, or warned you, or something, but I was afraid you would have left if I had. Because you should have left. Any sane person would have, if I'd told them. But I didn't want to lose you, so I didn't tell you. And that's fucked up, hyung,” he says, starting to cry again, to Yoongi's dismay. “That's so fucked up. You have no fucking reason to trust me. And now Jimin is only here because of me, and that's even worse. He's here because he knew my dead friends, when I shouldn't even be here at all.”

“Fuck, Kook,” Yoongi says, pushing himself further onto his bed so he can pull Jungkook into his lap. Jungkook cries against his chest this time, while Yoongi cards his fingers through Jungkook's hair. “You're here now,” he says, sighing when Jungkook relaxes in his arms. “And I'm so glad you're here,” he says, meaning it more than he thought he would, maybe more than he realized.

“Maybe not telling me was the wrong thing to do,” Yoongi says after a moment, and Jungkook makes a wounded noise, “but I'm glad you didn't. Maybe that's fucked up, too, you know? But I'm glad I made that offer, and I'm glad we stayed together. You hear me?”

Jungkook nods, looking up at Yoongi with watery eyes. Yoongi brushes Jungkook's hair back from his face, swiping his thumb across Jungkook's cheeks to wipe away his tears.

“I'm glad I'm here, too,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi hears the different meanings behind it, how he doesn't just mean here, physically, on Yoongi's farm.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, and without thinking too much about it, he leans in and kisses Jungkook's forehead, because he wants to, because it feels right, because he remembers how easily Namjoon did it earlier and wants to offer Jungkook that same comfort, that same familiarity.

Jungkook smiles at him when he pulls back, looking surprised but pleased, and squeezes Yoongi's waist before pushing himself out of Yoongi's lap. Namjoon is smiling at them both, when Yoongi risks a glance at him, and it makes him feel warm, makes something melt somewhere inside his chest.

“We've been ages for dinner,” Jungkook says, a change of subject that Yoongi finds himself appreciating.

“Let's go check that Jimin-ssi hasn't run off with all of our goods,” Yoongi says, trying to lighten the mood, pleased when Jungkook groans.

“Not this again, hyung,” Namjoon says. “When are you going to get over your paranoia?”

“When are you going to stop bringing strange boys to my farm?”

“It's just been the one!”

Jungkook cackles, leading them out of the room.

Jimin's not there when they emerge, but a quick glance outside shows Yoongi that he's on one of Yoongi's benches, looking down towards the river.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, approaching him, leaving Jungkook and Namjoon to make them plates.

“Hi,” Jimin responds, standing up to face him. “Is Jungkook okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Yoongi nods. “He's okay. He uh—he told us what happened. With his friends.” There's a pause before he explains, “He hadn't, before.”

Jimin nods, looking sad again. “I'm sorry I brought it up,” he says, but Yoongi waves it away.

“I basically forced you to tell me. I wouldn't have stopped pushing until you did, too. You were kind about it.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says, quietly pleased. “I'm still sorry about it, though.”

“You made us dinner,” Yoongi says, “so it's forgiven. Come eat.” He tilts his head back towards the house, and catches Jimin's smile before he turns.

Jimin fits in with them like he had always been there, which Yoongi sort of thought would stop happening after Jungkook and then Namjoon, but apparently not.

He's as helpless about the garden as Namjoon is, but he's not afraid to get his hands dirty, and he makes the time go by quickly with idle chatter, telling Yoongi stories about his time in Seoul and in Busan before the Change that Yoongi's never quite sure are wholly true. He's funny, and surprisingly fierce about the things he cares about (his friends, mostly, but what else do people have nowadays?) and he fills up all of the spaces that were still empty, makes them echo with his laughter and light up with his presence, somehow undimmed despite all of the shit they've been through. He brings Yoongi coffee when he wakes him up for his watch and Yoongi is happy to see him, every single time.

Jungkook picks up trapping again, even though he tries to tell them multiple times that he's not any good at it.

“I think it's just luck when I actually manage to get something,” he says, two rabbits in his hand, his first bounty after a few weeks of setting traps. “And I don't actually know how to properly skin them or anything,” he says, holding them out to Yoongi. “They were never very nice to eat.”

“These are amazing,” Yoongi says honestly, genuinely thrilled with the prospect of meat. Every little bit they can get these days helps, and Yoongi is already thinking about what they can cure and dry, how much they can try to save for the winter.

Jimin and Namjoon are on kitchen clean-up duty most days, neither of them wanting (Jimin) or able (Namjoon) to cook, and they've all started to eat in the main house since since the two of them spend so much time lingering over the task that it begins to interrupt Yoongi's routine.

“Get out of my house,” he pokes his head out of his room to say to them one night, three full hours after dinner has ended, Jimin perched on the perfectly clean counter and Namjoon gazing up at him from his position against the sink, both of them looking startled by the interruption, Namjoon blushing when he catches Yoongi's eye.

“Come on,” Jimin says, tugging Namjoon out by the hand. “Let's go back to our house,” he says, ostensibly winking at Namjoon but making sure Yoongi sees it, too.

Jimin and Jungkook take to each other immediately, though, and they spend most of their time together, both working and not. Jungkook has moved permanently into the floating house (at least until the weather turns) with the addition of Jimin in the main house, but Yoongi sees Jimin leave Jungkook's room almost as often as he leaves his own, and Yoongi would envy the effortless way they've become so close if it didn't make him so goddamn happy to watch them find each other.

With the two of them often occupied, Yoongi finds himself spending more time with Namjoon. Yoongi learns, among other things, that Namjoon is a great conversationalist, smart and intuitive and easy to be around, and they spend hours by the river, just talking. It's not that there's nothing to do, because there are always things to do, but with three other people around to split the work load, Yoongi has more free time on his hands than he ever has before.

When he was alone, spare time was a curse more than a blessing: he didn't trust sleeping in, even though he'd be exhausted from a day's work; he didn't like relaxing for too long, because he'd always feel like there was something he could be doing instead; he didn't like having the time to think, for reasons he'd rather not think about.

He would miss music the most, at times like that, would want nothing more than to tune out the world and drown out his thoughts.

But now, with people filling up his space, he's starting to like the freedom of doing nothing, knowing that he can spare the time. The farm looks better than it has in years, which on one hand makes Yoongi nervous because it looks more lived-in than ever, potentially inviting trouble, but on the other hand makes Yoongi feel content, fulfilled in a way he's never been before. It's not so much pride of place, because he's always been proud of the life he'd built for himself, but more appreciation for it. The farm has been his home for years, but it's never felt this homey.

“You look contemplative,” Namjoon notes, putting his book aside, and Yoongi laughs.

“I'm always contemplating things,” Yoongi says, just to be a jackass.

“You look happy,” Namjoon counters, and Yoongi's smile dims, but not in a bad way. In a contemplative way.

“I'm just thinking about this,” Yoongi says, gesturing to the air around them. “About the four of us. How last year I was living alone and now I have you three ingrates to take care of.”

“You can act like you don't love us, hyung, but we all know better by now,” Namjoon smirks.

“Pity,” Yoongi says, but he can't hide his smile.

“Anything you wanna share?” Namjoon asks him after a moment, because he can read Yoongi too well already.

Yoongi sighs. “I'm happy here,” he says, and it sounds like a secret. “Is that terrible? The world is shit, we're on the verge of even bigger shit, and I'm happy here, away from it all.”

“That's not terrible, hyung,” Namjoon says, but Yoongi isn't finished.

“I'm happy with the four of us, and I didn't think I would be, before it happened, and now I don't want to lose it. But I'm going to lose it,” he says, his voice tight, “and I don't know if I'll be okay the same way that I was. I don't know that I can go back. And that terrifies me, Namjoon.”

“You're not going to lose us,” Namjoon says fiercely, reaching out to take Yoongi's hand.

“I'm not?” Yoongi asks, a little hysterical, but he grips Namjoon's hand even tighter. “Jimin is only here until he's needed in Seoul as Taemin's contact. Not a lot he can do for the cause up in the mountains. You live here now, sure, but your home is in Seoul. The kids are in Seoul; I know you can't leave them and I wouldn't ask you to. I wouldn't expect you to. But goddamn it, Namjoon,” he sighs, trying not to sound angry at himself and failing, “I want you to. I want to ask you to stay here, to not risk going back to the city, to not leave me here when I don't know if you're gonna come back, when I don't know if we'll ever be like this again—”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” Namjoon says, sounding pained, wrapping Yoongi in his arms, and Yoongi realizes, belatedly, that he's crying. He lets it happen now that it's started, lets himself be held, feeling small and cared for in Namjoon's tight embrace. He cries into Namjoon's shoulder, gripping the back of Namjoon's shirt so tightly his knuckles start to hurt.

“I can't lose you,” Yoongi admits between sobs, something he's known for a while but has never said out loud. “I can't lose Jungkook. Fuck,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing his tone lighter, “I don't even want to lose Jimin, the motherfucker.”

Namjoon huffs, almost a laugh, and just holds Yoongi tighter, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against Yoongi's temple, his lips brushing the curve of Yoongi's cheekbone.

“You won't,” Namjoon says, and it sounds like a promise, one there's no way he can make.

“You don't know that,” Yoongi argues, even though it would be so easy to accept it, to trust Namjoon with this like he has with everything else.

“No,” Namjoon admits. “But this is my home now, hyung. It has been for months. I love you, and Jungkook loves you, and we're not going anywhere, not if we can help it.”

“But Seoul—”

“Is happening, yeah,” Namjoon says, running his fingers through Yoongi's hair, feeling Yoongi's breathing even out against his neck. “And you're right—I'm not gonna abandon the kids. But we'll do what we can from here. And if we need to go, we'll go together. Right, hyung?”

Yoongi can't quite describe what he feels at Namjoon's words, how his heart simultaneously breaks and repairs itself, how what has become their mantra both saddens and comforts him.

“Right,” he says, not able to bring himself himself to look Namjoon in the face.

“Together, or not at all,” Namjoon repeats, and Yoongi nods, feeling overcome. Wondering how the hell he ever thought he could live without this.

He makes himself look at Namjoon after a moment, lifts his face from the crook of Namjoon's neck and looks into his eyes, sees the conviction there, the honesty, and Yoongi loves him so fucking much he doesn't understand it. Yoongi wants to reach out and touch him and never let him go.

“Can I kiss you?” Yoongi asks before he can second-guess himself, and Namjoon's expression flickers in a way that almost looks painful before he's nodding enthusiastically, already leaning in.

“Yeah, hyung,” he says, desperate. “Please. Please kiss me.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi says, and then he's kissing him, reaching up to take Namjoon's face between his palms, turning his whole body towards him like he wants to crawl right into Namjoon's lap.

Namjoon whimpers against Yoongi's mouth, his hands slipping around Yoongi's waist and pulling him closer, actually pulling him onto his lap, and Yoongi goes without hesitation, straddling him without breaking the kiss.

“Hyung, fuck,” Namjoon says, when Yoongi pushes him back onto the grass, following him down, kissing him with all of the pent-up desperation Yoongi has been harboring for weeks now, so afraid of them leaving and not entirely sure why, knowing only that he couldn't bear to be without them. He thinks of Jungkook, in the house with Jimin, and wants them here, too, wants them within his sight, within his reach.

Wants them under him like Namjoon is right now.

And fuck, he's so fucking fucked.

“Joon-ah,” Yoongi pants, finally breaking the kiss, resting his forehead against Namjoon's while they breathe each other's air, while they both start to collect themselves. “Fuck, Joon, I didn't—I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, what the fuck.”

Namjoon, the asshole, only laughs. “Don't tell that to Jungkook,” he says, smiling so big his dimples appear. “He's convinced this whole thing is fate.”

“Of course he is,” Yoongi says, playing up his exasperation but letting his fondness show, letting Namjoon know that he doesn't exactly disagree. “Wait,” Yoongi says, pushing off of Namjoon's chest to sit up for a moment. “Does this mean Jungkook—?”

“Is in love with us?” Namjoon asks wryly, and Yoongi tries his hardest not to blush as he shrugs and nods.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, voice soft. “He is. But he didn't want to say anything to you in case you didn't feel the same. I don't want to go so far as to say he was afraid of making it weird, but I think he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Wait,” Yoongi says again, “So he has said something to you?” Yoongi asks, and he can't help it if he's gaping at Namjoon just a little.

Namjoon laughs again, to Yoongi's disbelief. “You're a little behind the times, to be honest, hyung.”

“So,” Yoongi says, trying to keep the leer out of his voice, “have you guys, like...”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, which Yoongi thinks is both fair and incredibly uncalled for. “Why don't you talk to him first, hyung,” he says, nudging Yoongi off of him, rubbing feeling back into his thighs.

“Well fuck, guess I need to, now,” Yoongi says, and then he realizes something. “Hey, fucker,” he says, swatting at Namjoon's arm. “I just told you I'm in love with you, and what do you say about it? Nothing.”

Namjoon snorts. “Obviously I love you too, hyung,” he says, shaking his head, but reaching out to link his pinky with Yoongi's all the same.

“Obviously,” Yoongi repeats, questioning.

“Yes!” Namjoon says, only mildly indignant. “Obviously! I listened to your whole spiel about the solar panel and didn't complain once!”

“What?” Yoongi squawks. “That hardly counts, that's—”

“Hyung, I took notes.”

“That's for survival,” Yoongi argues, dismayed. “Ensuring your survival in the case of my death hardly counts as a show of affection, Namjoon, what the fuck—”

“I built a trellis outside of your house!”

“For grapes, to see if we'll be able to make wine, because Jimin is a terrible influence.”

Namjoon pouts at him. “Shirtless,” he mutters, barely under his breath. “Suppose you think it's a happy coincidence you never get fourth watch, too.”

Yoongi gapes at him again. “Is it not?”

Namjoon throws his hands up in despair. “Okay, how about this: I stole Jungkook's phone and made several playlists for you.”

“You did that for him, too!” Yoongi says triumphantly, before scaling it back. “Which I'm realizing now doesn't preclude it from a sign of affection,” he admits. “But that still wasn't obvious.”

“Maybe you're just hopeless,” Namjoon says, but he's smiling.

“Got there in the end, though,” Yoongi says, already leaning towards him again, and Namjoon's still smiling when their lips meet.

“So I guess you two had a nice afternoon,” Jimin smirks at them over dinner, and Yoongi is immediately suspicious. He glances out the window at the river, as if that will help his case; he glances at Namjoon, who is looking down at his plate and blushing; and then he glances at Jungkook, only to find Jungkook avoiding his gaze, picking idly at his food.

“Yeah,” he says, looking accusingly at Jimin, who fixes him with a “Who, me?” expression that doesn't fool Yoongi for a second. “It was really nice,” he adds, looking back at Jungkook as he says it, hoping Jungkook catches his tone. It seems to work, because Jungkook looks up at him, hopeful but guarded, and Yoongi counts it as a win.

They don't say anything else through dinner, and sensing the mood, Namjoon and Jimin are quick to excuse themselves afterwards. Jungkook helps Yoongi clean up, and seems hesitant to be the first to speak, even though Yoongi can tell he wants to.

“Kookie,” Yoongi says as they're finishing up, because he's more than happy to take the lead on this if Jungkook needs him to.

Jungkook hums, but doesn't stop cleaning, doesn't quite look Yoongi in the eye.

“Jungkook-ah,” he repeats, reaching out to touch Jungkook's forearm, and this time Jungkook stops and looks up at him.

“Hyung, I—”

“Let's sit, okay?” Yoongi suggests, and Jungkook nods, but the sudden formality of the situation makes Yoongi uneasy, so he leads them to the couch instead of the table, pulling Jungkook down after him, close enough to touch.

Yoongi leans against the backrest, spreading his legs for Jungkook to settle down between them. Yoongi pulls Jungkook back against his chest and plays with his hair for several minutes before he says anything, making sure Jungkook is comfortable, making sure they're both relaxed.

To be honest, he's not sure where to begin. Admitting that Namjoon told him everything seems too blunt, seems like it would embarrass Jungkook more anything else. But pretending he doesn't know how Jungkook feels is a waste of time, and he's not going to lie about this, not even for a few minutes.

“Namjoon and I talked today,” he starts with, and he's only mildly offended when Jungkook snorts in response.

“Interesting way to say 'made out on the front lawn for thirty minutes,' hyung.”

Yoongi chokes. “Excuse you,” he says, but he's glad to hear Jungkook laughing, can't keep the smile off his own face at the memory.

“If you don't want people to watch, do it inside like the rest of us,” Jungkook shrugs, deceptively casual, almost like a test. Yoongi should have known he wouldn't have control of this conversation for long.

“So you and Namjoon, you've—?”

Jungkook snorts again. “Made out? Yeah. Confessed our love for each other? Hey, we've done that, too.”

“Wow, okay,” Yoongi says, a little shocked in spite of himself. It's not like he didn't know that, because Namjoon told him as much. He's just wondering how in the actual fuck he missed it.

“You miss a lot living up there alone, hyung,” Jungkook says, like he's read Yoongi's mind. He doesn't sound upset by it, doesn't sound like he's blaming Yoongi for anything, but for the first time since Yoongi claimed the upper house for himself, he regrets it, just a little.

“Seems so,” he says, giving Jungkook's waist a squeeze.

“I'm in love with you, too, you know,” Jungkook says, his voice soft, in one of his characteristic bursts of bravery.

Yoongi lets the words settle around them for a moment, gives himself the time to properly feel them. After a few beats, he leans in and kisses Jungkook's temple, and then knocks his head against Jungkook's gently, staying close.

“I know that now,” Yoongi says quietly, and he takes Jungkook's hand, turns it palm-up and traces over the lines of his palm with gentle fingers, his touch soft but intentional. “I realized, talking to Namjoon, that I love you both, too. Realized that I have for a while.”

“But?” Jungkook asks, twisting his fingers to scratch at Yoongi's palm.

“No buts,” Yoongi tells him. “I love you, Kook. And Namjoon. I think I was just afraid of it.”

“Afraid of loving us, or admitting it to yourself?”

“Both, I'm pretty sure. But I also fell in love with you without realizing it was happening, so I guess I was actually just afraid of admitting it to myself.”

“Why?” he asks, and Yoongi knows he won't push if Yoongi really doesn't want to answer, but he sounds truly curious, and it's something Yoongi has thought about a lot.

“I've been alone for so long,” Yoongi starts, and he knows he sounds like a broken record at this point, but that's been his most constant truth, the one thing that has shaped everything he's done and became since the Change. “I had to depend on myself, you know? I couldn't afford to need anyone else.”

Jungkook hums.

“And then you guys came along, and that was a hard habit to break. One that I'm still working on, if I'm being honest. My first instinct, still, is to do things alone. And it's one thing to have help, to learn to accept it—it's another thing entirely to need it. So that's one thing.”

“That makes sense, hyung,” Jungkook says. “What's the other thing?”

“The other thing is that you're not just help, you're not just extra bodies I have around to do work. And I think I was scared of admitting that it's more than that. I was scared of needing you just because. With everything going on, I didn't want to let myself get used to this. I kept thinking—still do, sometimes—that I need to be able to go back to the way it was. And now...”

“What?” Jungkook asks, softly.

“Now, I don't think I'd be able to,” Yoongi tells him. “I know I wouldn't be able to. Admitting that I needed you, accepting my feelings for you, it meant that you were something I couldn't survive losing.”

Yoongi won't cry in front of Jungkook the way he cried in front of Namjoon, but it's a near thing. That same fear and hopelessness is rising again in his chest, that same desire to grab onto Jungkook and cling to him, to make sure he never goes anywhere that Yoongi can't follow, can't get him back from. “And with everything going on, that's a very real possibility.” He tries to keep it matter-of-fact, tries not to let his fear shine through the words, but it clearly doesn't work.

“Yoongi,” Jungkook says, sounding wounded, turning around between Yoongi's legs and reaching for him, pulling him closer, wrapping him up in his arms the way Namjoon had done earlier. “Hyung, you're not going to lose us.”

Yoongi muffles a humorless laugh into Jungkook's chest. “That's what Joon said earlier,” he tells Jungkook.

“Because it's true,” Jungkook says.

“We don't know that,” Yoongi says again, because that's also true. That's the only truth that Yoongi can accept right now.

“You heard what Jimin said,” Jungkook reminds him softly. “We have years before anything happens. And we don't know what will happen. All I know, hyung, is that we'll do it together. No matter what it is, we'll do it together.”

Yoongi can't quite choke back the sob this time, hearing Jungkook repeat those words, their words, the other truth that Yoongi is learning to accept. “Or not at all, right?” he asks, voice thick.

“Right,” Jungkook agrees easily, like he's never doubted it for a second.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, pushing himself upright again to look Jungkook in the eyes, blinking away his tears. It's unceremonious, and Yoongi knows he'll still doubt it from time to time, will still think that falling in love with these people was the mistake that'll cost him his life one day, but right now—it's enough. Right now, it's huge, and Jungkook's eyes light up like he recognizes the enormity of the moment, the scope of what Yoongi is agreeing to.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, hushed, and he brings his hand to Yoongi's cheek and leans in to kiss him, just as unceremonious, just as momentous. Yoongi meets him halfway, kisses him back eagerly, wonders how the hell he'd survived this long without kissing them both, without having them like this. Yoongi sighs as he licks past Jungkook's lips, feeling, all at once, like he's finally come home.

Jungkook is panting when they pull away some minutes later, and he smiles against Yoongi's lips, neither of them wanting to move too far away.

“Kook,” Yoongi starts, but he doesn't have words for how he feels right now, so he kisses Jungkook again instead, quick pecks to his lips and his chin and the curve of his cheek, until Jungkook is laughing and pulling away with a huff. They smile at each other for a long (sappy, Yoongi realizes) moment, and then Yoongi glances away, one more thing left unaddressed between them.

“So uh,” Yoongi says, unsure of how to start this part of the conversation, “what about Jimin?”

This time, Yoongi is moderately offended when Jungkook snorts in response. “What about him, hyung?” Jungkook asks, clearly teasing.

“Hey,” Yoongi reprimands jokingly, reaching out to pinch Jungkook's ear.

Jungkook giggles, which doesn't quite prepare Yoongi for when Jungkook says, “I don't think Namjoon-hyung would have made a move on me if Jimin-hyung hadn't first.”

“Okay, wow—again,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook's laugh this time is more of a cackle.

Yoongi takes a few moments to process this. “But does he—” Yoongi asks, serious again, “does he feel the same way?”

Jungkook hums in thought, taking his time before answering. “Not as much as us, I think,” Jungkook says, meaning the two of them and Namjoon. “I don't think he's in love with us. Which makes sense,” Jungkook allows, “given everything the three of us had been through before.”

Yoongi hums this time.

“Hyung,” Jungkook asks, “are you in love with him?”

“No,” Yoongi says honestly. “At least not yet. But I want him to stay here. I think of him when I think of you. And I think I could be, given time.”

“I think I am,” Jungkook admits, and Yoongi squeezes him tighter.

“Are you sure he's not?” Yoongi asks. “With you, at least?”

“I don't know,” Jungkook says, and he sounds uncertain. “We've talked about it a lot, but it was always about you and Namjoon-hyung, never about the two of us.”

“Different question,” Yoongi says, “are he and Namjoon—?”

Yoongi can hear Jungkook's smile when he says, “Duh, hyung. You think I moved into the floating house just for fun? I moved out to get some sleep. They stay up for hours just talking, gazing at each other. It's gross.”

“I kicked them out of my house for the same reason.”

“And also Jimin's loud.”

Yoongi chokes. Jungkook laughs at him.

“I think he's in love with you,” Yoongi says, after they've both quieted down again. “Jimin,” he specifies, unnecessarily.

“Maybe,” Jungkook allows. “Hey, hyung?” he asks, after a few more minutes have passed.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” he says again, seemingly just because he can.

Yoongi smiles. “I love you, too, Kook-ah.”

The summer passes, and it's both easier and harder than Yoongi had imagined it would be.

Even with Jungkook's trapping improving, food is a scarce commodity. It puts strain on all of them, but Yoongi is more concerned for the coming winter. His ankle heals better than he'd hoped for, with the ability to rest and take breaks, and he's able to go on foraging trips after a few months, takes a two-day walk through the mountains around the farm like he used to to check out the land, and feels better for it. None of them get sick or seriously hurt, which Yoongi thanks his lucky stars for every day.

They shore up their supplies wherever they can, trading at outlying train stations as much as they're able, and Jimin and Namjoon make several trips to the nearby dams, collecting materials and old tech. Namjoon redoes Yoongi's inventory, and Jimin redoes the main house's defenses, telling Yoongi wryly that it was obvious Yoongi had never lived in the city.

“But we're not in the city,” Yoongi argues, mostly for show. He's more than happy to let Jimin fix his mistakes and oversights if it means keeping them safe.

“Which means your defenses are stronger than everyone else's out here,” Jimin argues back, never having stopped what he was doing in the first place. “Just let me work, hyung, okay?”

Yoongi leaves him to it.

Namjoon makes his way through Yoongi's pile of books, and Yoongi takes up fishing as a way to supplement their food supplies.

“I'm surprised you hadn't before,” Jungkook notes one day while he's keeping Yoongi company on the deck of the floating house. “Seems like an easy way to get food.”

“Does this seem easy to you?” Yoongi asks grumpily, gesturing at his empty bucket. “We'll end up eating the worms I'm using for bait before we get any fucking fish,” he adds, and Jungkook laughs at him.

“First of all, gross. Second of all, you've been doing this for all of three days, hyung. I'm sure you'll get better with time. I caught three squirrels his week,” he says, trying to be reassuring but mostly just bragging.

“Maybe you can find me an actual fishing pole,” Yoongi suggests, only half-kidding.

Jungkook steps up behind him, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Maybe I will,” he says, and then doesn't move away, distracting Yoongi from his futile fishing attempts as he wraps his arms around Yoongi's waist in a back hug, kissing down the side of his neck.

(Jungkook does, actually, find him a fishing pole on one of his foraging trips through the mountains, and he presents it to Yoongi with a shit-eating grin. Yoongi rewards him with sushi and a blow job two days later).

“Kook,” Yoongi warns, but Jungkook just laughs when Yoongi tilts his head, giving Jungkook more skin to kiss.

“Fuck the fish,” Jungkook says suddenly, grabbing Yoongi's hand and tugging him towards his room.

They leave the floating house a couple of hours later and meet Namjoon halfway across the yard to the main house, who looks up at them, unimpressed.

“You didn't catch any fish, did you,” Namjoon says, and it's not a question.

Jimin goes back to Seoul twice, and the three of them are a nervous wreck the entire time he's gone. They don't talk about it, don't let themselves agonize over the possibilities, but they stay close, don't do much of anything for the weeks that he's gone.

Jungkook takes it the hardest, which is understandable. Yoongi also takes it pretty fucking hard, which is weird until Yoongi considers that maybe he's fucking in love with Jimin now, too, and then it makes sense.

“I'm in love with Jimin, I think,” Yoongi tells Namjoon later that night, and Namjoon quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, I don't think, I know,” Yoongi corrects, and Namjoon nods.

“Welcome to the club, hyung,” Namjoon says, shrugging.

“You're an asshole,” Yoongi tells him, without heat.

He shrugs again.

Jimin comes back the second time with a cut under his eye and a nasty-looking bruise that covers most of the left side of his abdomen, and he's limping as he runs the last stretch of road to the farm, calling out to them as he gets closer. They meet in the middle of the lawn in a sprawl of limbs and a yelp of pain as Jimin is tackled to the ground, showered with kisses and apologies and more kisses, and Jimin tells them he loves them, and all four of them cry in ridiculous but tender display of emotion that Yoongi will think back on fondly for years, even if he'll never admit it to another soul.

Jimin tells them, right there as they fawn over his injuries, that he got in and out of Seoul no problem, that they're starting to loosen the restrictions on the city, and that these—he gestures to his injuries—are because he ran into a few undead on the way back, taking a shortcut through the mountains.

“Jimin,” Yoongi admonishes, but he kisses Jimin for the first time to soften the blow, understanding why he did it, almost glad that he did.

“I know,” Jimin says, chasing after Yoongi's mouth with a smile, “it was careless. But the whole time I was in Seoul I was just thinking about getting back here, just wanting to see you again. I was supposed to stay in Seoul for another day or so, but Taemin told me I was an idiot and that he was already tired of listening to me pine.”

“You pined for us?” Namjoon asks, sounding disbelieving but pleased.

“Apparently so,” Jimin says.

“You love us?” Jungkook asks, sounding small but hopeful.

“Yeah, Kookie,” Jimin says, not wasting another second before crawling on top of Jungkook and kissing him, slow and deep, as Jungkook melts into the grass beneath him. “I've been in love with you for a while, actually,” he admits when they part, and Jungkook's eyes go wide. “I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure about the hyungs yet, and I knew how the three of you felt, and I didn't—I didn't want to mess anything up.”

“You could never,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi nods.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, tucking a strand of Jimin's hair behind his ear. “You could never mess anything up. We love you so much,” Jungkook tells him, and Jimin looks up at Yoongi and Namjoon with stars in his eyes.

“We do,” Yoongi agrees, and Namjoon laughs into his shoulder when Jimin is rendered speechless for the first time.

Another month passes, and the winds start to get cold, their garden slows down, and Yoongi starts to really worry about the winter. They hunker down as best they can, and Jimin re-redoes the defenses as they all agree to move in to the upper house for the winter. It's a tight fit, and Yoongi still grumbles about it here and there, but they all feel better staying together, favoring warmth and closeness, and an increased sense of security, over their own space.

(Yoongi gets significantly less sleep than he's used to, but he's also more relaxed than he's ever been, so it's fine, all things considered.)

Yoongi is still afraid sometimes to think of this as his life now, still afraid of accepting it in case he loses it in the future. But this is his life now, and the four of them settle into it like it was always meant to be this way, like they were always meant to find each other.

They still argue sometimes and they still go hungry some nights, still worry about each other on trips and in fights, but Yoongi is happier than he ever remembers being, happier than he ever thought he could be, and he doesn't consider for a moment that there could be anything else he would need, that there were still empty spaces just waiting to be filled.

Jungkook isn't wandering. He doesn't wander anymore, not since Yoongi saved him, not since he found three people to come home to. But he may be milling around, scoping out the station for anything that looks useful.

He's found and talked to Chan's guy, has news for Namjoon and Jimin, and so far, everyone is still alive and doing the best they can. Jungkook knows he should head back—knows that the hyungs will be worried about him, but it's only a four-day trip—three, if nothing goes wrong and Jungkook hustles—so he doesn't really see the harm in checking out the station, making the most of the trip if he has to take it at all. Winter is just around the corner, and Yoongi hasn't come out and said that he's worried about not doing his usual supply run, but Jungkook can that tell he's worried anyway. There's four of them now, and while they can mostly pull their own additional weight, forage more and more widely than Yoongi could have done on his own to make up the difference, the three of them are still a strain on his resources, a huge adjustment that it'll take them more than one season to accommodate.

So Jungkook is milling around the station, and then he's milling around the old amusement park next to the station, and maybe he's not paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should be as he strips a chain-link fence with his bolt cutters, because then there's somebody standing over his shoulder, seemingly inspecting his work.

“What the actual fuck,” Jungkook half yells, half mutters, when he senses the person behind him, scurrying away and trying to swing the bolt cutters in the direction of the stranger's face, but he stumbles over the detritus of the fence all over the ground around him, nearly losing his footing.

“Whoa, easy,” the stranger says, effortlessly dodging his (albeit sloppy) attack and reaching out to grab Jungkook's arm, steadying him.

“What the fuck,” Jungkook repeats, disoriented but still on guard, but also wildly distracted now that he's looking at the stranger's face.

“Didn't mean to startle you,” the man says, his offensively beautiful features lit up with hidden laughter, and Jungkook gapes at him.

“What do you want?” he asks, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say. He should be trying to deck this guy over the head again and run away, but he's apparently too stunned to do much more than stare at him incredulously.

“Some decent steel you've got,” the man says, pointing at the tidy pile of wire Jungkook had made amongst the larger amount of rusty scrap that he'd just tripped over.

“Okay?” Jungkook asks, realizing that the man has still not let go of his arm. Jungkook tugs it out of his grasp, secretly relieved that he was able to. The man raises his eyebrow, letting Jungkook connect the dots. “You want the wire?” Jungkook asks, and the man smiles and nods.

“Fuck you,” Jungkook says, refusing to acknowledge the way he feels almost bereft when the man stops smiling. “There are a ton of fences here, go cut your own.”

“Oh, I would,” the man says, before sighing deeply, “but I just hate doing work, you know? Much easier to just take yours.”

“What the fuck,” Jungkook repeats, nearly certain he's hallucinating this whole absurd exchange. Jungkook notes that the man has made no move to actually take Jungkook's stuff, but they can't just stand here staring at each other forever, so Jungkook moves first.

He kicks out at the man's knee, forcing him to the ground before jabbing the handle of the bolt cutters into his throat, making him cough and his eyes water, giving Jungkook enough time to get away. And because he didn't just spend the last two hours stripping a goddamn fence for nothing, Jungkook swipes most of his steel pile and tucks it under his arm before he takes off, figuring a blow to the head would be overkill.

The man is more resilient than Jungkook had given him credit for, though, because he's up and chasing after him sooner than Jungkook would like, and he's fast. He's also unencumbered by a pack of any kind and not trying to keep a loose bundle of steel wire together, so he catches up to Jungkook in no time, sticking out his foot to trip him like a cartoon villain.

Jungkook is ashamed to say that it works. He hits the pavement, his wire going every which way, which pisses Jungkook off more than he thought it would.

“You little shit,” the man says, and if Jungkook didn't know any better, he'd say the man was laughing. His voice is still a little scratchy from Jungkook's hit but he otherwise sounds unbothered, definitely amused.

Before Jungkook can pick himself back up, never mind start to collect his scattered wire, the man bends down to do it himself, leaving a few pieces in his haste, which also pisses Jungkook off—that he doesn't even seem to want them, just doesn't want Jungkook to have them. It pisses him off, but it also makes him want to beat this asshole at his own game. Jungkook shoots to his feet, ignoring the sting in his palms and elbows, and takes off after the man, who has the audacity to wave over his shoulder as he runs through the park.

“Oh, he fucking didn't,” Jungkook says, smirking in spite of himself, his long-dormant competitiveness rising to the surface. It doesn't take him long to catch up, and he crows in victory when he loops an arm around the man's neck from behind, pulling him against his chest in a firm hold.

“What the fuck is your deal?” Jungkook asks, more rhetorical than anything, because he doesn't expect the man to answer with Jungkook's forearm against his throat, cutting of his air supply. He can feel it when the man shrugs, and lets out a disbelieving laugh when he tries to answer.

“Just...bored...I guess,” he says, heaving for breath. Then he jams his heel down on Jungkook's foot and breaks out of the hold when Jungkook flinches away on instinct. He laughs as he runs away again, a high-pitched, squeaking sound that makes Jungkook laugh too just hearing it, despite their situation, despite their sudden and weird antagonism.

Jungkook notes dimly that the steel wire has been abandoned, and notes even more dimly that he has no reason to chase after the man anymore, but he's already running, the thrill of the chase reason enough at the moment. He's still laughing when he rounds the corner the man took, and then he's face-first up against the man's—very broad—back, confused for a moment about how he ended up there.

But it doesn't take him long to realize why the man stopped, as he peeks over the man's shoulder at the small group of undead that have gathered in front of them, whether already in the park and following their scent, or drawn by the noise they were making, Jungook doesn't know. Because fuck, Jungkook realizes, they were making a fucking shit-ton of noise.

“Come on,” Jungkook says, tugging at the back of the man's shirt, planning a hasty retreat, and he turns around only to face another group of undead at their backs, closing in on them slowly.

“Well, this is just peachy,” the man says, reaching under his clothes and pulling a kukri out of a hidden thigh holster. Jungkook spares just one second to wonder how the hell he missed that, before he swings his pack off his shoulder and fishes out his bat.

“How are you in a fight?” the man asks, all business now, standing back to back with Jungkook as they take in the encroaching undead.

“Good enough,” Jungkook responds, sizing up his side of the field, double-checking that there aren't any other ways out of this. Of course they ran down a long avenue, broken-down attractions on all sides. Their only option is to fight their way out and circle back to the entrance of the park.

“On three,” the man says, and of course he charges into the undead on two. Jungkook does the same a split second later, the clean adrenaline of a fight surging through his veins. He's thankful for it, distantly, because his last few fights haven't exactly gone to plan, and while he was pretty sure he was over it, pretty sure that he'd put his past to rest, there was never any way to be sure.

But he doesn't have time to think, right now, doesn't have time to focus on anything but taking down as many zombies as he can, one eye out behind him for the stranger who's currently his ally. He seems to be holding it down, the ground around him blotted with black blood like a Pollock painting, so Jungkook turns back to his own fight, a little overwhelmed but hardly panicking yet, until a rotting hand clamps down over his shoulder and shoves him sideways, hard enough that he loses his footing and hits the pavement for the second time that day. He crawls backwards away from the fray as fast as he can, hopefully buying himself some time to get back on his feet, but another zombie falls on him from the side, clinging to his legs and trying to bite him through his jeans, smearing a noxious mix of blood and mucus down his clothed thigh.

Jungkook tries to kick the zombie off of him, and when that doesn't work, he tries to at least drag himself away from it, but the zombie's hold is tight and the dead weight is too much for Jungkook's already busted-up palms, and he realizes with a fatalistic laugh that he doesn't even know the man's name to call out for help.

Turns out he doesn't have to, though, because in another second the man is there, his kukri sliced clean through the back of the zombie's neck, black blood dribbling onto Jungkook's already-ruined jeans.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, looking up at the man in wonder, and Jungkook sees him starts to smile back before a zombie slams into him from the side, a metallic clank echoing down the avenue as the man is shoved against the rusting wall of a games booth. Jungkook is on his feet to help him within seconds, but he turns towards the man just in time to see the zombie crumpling to the ground, its head rolling a few feet away.

“Fuck,” the man says, and Jungkook is about to laugh at their close escape when he sees the puddle of bright red blood pooling at the man's feet, fed by a steady trickle from somewhere on his back, before he, too, collapses to the ground.

Jungkook should have been back yesterday at the latest, and now the sun is starting to set behind the mountains, making him one more day behind schedule. The others must be going out of their minds with worry by now, and Jungkook hates that he's the cause of it, hates that his own recklessness put them in this position.

He knows he never should have tried to bring the man back with him, that it was nearly impossible to do by himself, that they were too far away and the man in too weak a condition to travel. But Jungkook couldn't just leave him there, not after he'd saved his life. Jungkook had never been any good with first aid, not like Namjoon and Yoongi, and he didn't have enough on him to do much of anything, anyways, but he did the best he could, cleaning the wound and making sure he wasn't bleeding out so much, making sure his fever didn't get any worse.

Now, Jungkook is worried that the man isn't going to make it back to the farm at all: his pulse is weak, and his moments of consciousness—when they happen—seem to be filled with pain and confusion, nothing but low moans in response to Jungkook's words, his quiet questions and gentle reassurances.

Jungkook had barely slept the first night, even though he knew he needed to take any rest he could, that he would need his strength in the coming days. The man's face was pale and his breathing was labored, and Jungkook took his pulse obsessively during the night, praying every time he woke up from his cat-napping that the man would still be alive. He held on for three days while Jungkook made very little progress through the mountains, changing his bandages more times than he could afford, resorting to stripping down most of his own clothes as makeshift materials.

And now the sun is setting and he's barely made it to Gadeoksan. He's exhausted, utterly drained, and still has probably another two days before he's even in sight of the farm. He considers leaving the man here and bringing Namjoon back, but he's certain the man would be dead by then, without Jungkook forcing him to drink and eat every bite of Jungkook's rations that he can. He considers leaving him anyway, but only for a second before the sheer thought of it eats Jungkook up from the inside.

There's nothing to do but wait out the night and keep going.

He sleeps soundly that night, his fatigue wiping him out, and the next morning he makes it another few miles to the church nestled in the mountains—one of their rendezvous points—before he sees something—someone—that makes his knees give out in relief.

“Hyung!” he calls, buckling under the man's weight now that help is in sight.

“Jungkook!” Namjoon calls back, spinning around and running to him, his face contorted with worry and fear. “Jungkook-ah!”

“I'm fine, hyung,” Jungkook says, knowing it's an empty platitude, but he can't stand to see that look on Namjoon's face for a second later. “I'm not hurt,” he says, just because he knows what they look like, can see Namjoon sizing him up with worry.

Without asking questions, Namjoon takes the man off of Jungkook's shoulder, carrying him to the church and laying him down gently, quickly checking his pulse before turning back to Jungkook, who curls in on himself, feeling helpless and lost and guilty, feeling relief like he's never felt before at the mere sight of Namjoon in front of him.

“I'm so sorry, hyung,” he says, tears springing unbidden to his eyes, and before he can explain, before he can apologize for not coming straight back to them, for wasting time and almost getting himself killed, Namjoon is pulling him in, grabbing his face and kissing him, Jungkook's sweat and tears and grime be damned. Jungkook melts into it, too exhausted to kiss him back but reveling in the taste of Namjoon's mouth, soaking up the comfort of it like a sponge soaks up water.

He doesn't let Jungkook go when they finally break apart, wrapping him up in a hug, squeezing the life out of him.

“Shh,” he says, rocking with Jungkook in his arms. “You're here now, we found you. It's okay, Kook. You're okay.”

Jungkook just bawls into Namjoon's shoulder, the stress and uncertainty of the past few days catching up to him all at once, the cold realization that he almost died taking his breath away.

He almost lost them, lost this, and he clings to Namjoon until he's too exhausted to cry anymore. Namjoon props him up on his own two feet, looking at him carefully as if he could assess Jungkook's well-being by sight alone.

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon says carefully after another long moment, gesturing behind him to the dilapidated building and the unconscious man leaning against its walls. “Who is this?”

“Oh!” Jungkook says, honestly having forgotten him for the moment, rushing back over to him and checking his wounds. Namjoon follows behind him, looking at the stranger curiously.

“He tried to steal my stuff,” Jungkook says, “and then he saved my life.”

Namjoon looks at him blankly. “You're gonna have to explain that one,” he says.

Jungkook hesitates, because explaining that means explaining what he was doing in the amusement park in the first place, and he'd rather not do that right now, too tired to tell the whole story and too guilty to face it right away. Namjoon reads his hesitation, even if he can't possibly know why, because he says, “Maybe later, yeah?” and Jungkook nods gratefully.

“I promise I'll explain everything,” Jungkook says, “but the important part is we got into a fight with some zombies and he got hurt saving me. I couldn't just leave him, and I didn't know what else to do, so I brought him back with me.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon says, eyeing him carefully, “how long have you been carrying him?”

Jungkook sighs. “The whole time. From Cheongpyeong.”

Namjoon looks at him in disbelief, reaching out to grip his shoulders again, tucking his hair back behind his ear. “Kook,” he says, wonder in his tone, “you've been carrying him for days?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, voice small, because in the retelling, it sounds impossible. Now that he's really thinking about it, he has no idea how he'd managed it this far, knows he would never be able to do it again.

“That's amazing,” Namjoon says, pulling Jungkook into another hug, one that Jungkook collapses into immediately. “But you must be exhausted.”

“I am,” Jungkook admits, and then, “I need to change his bandages, but I don't have any more supplies. I've gone through most of my clothes at this point,” he admits, and as if his words have reminded him of the fact, suddenly he's shivering in the cool mountain air, the gathering night sapping what's left of the sun's warmth.

Namjoon pulls off his sweatshirt immediately, handing it to Jungkook before heading back into the church, gesturing for Jungkook to follow.

“I'll bring him in,” Namjoon says, handing off his pack, and Jungkook sorts through the new supplies while Namjoon carries the man inside.

Jungkook grabs a blanket from Namjoon's pack and wraps it around the man's shoulders, trickling water from his water bottle onto the man's lips, carefully while he's still unconscious. But between the break in traveling and the newfound warmth of the church, it's not long before he wakes up, groaning in pain. He's still not lucid, but Jungkook takes advantage of the moment by making him drink, and then making him eat when he swallows down the water eagerly.

He passes out again quickly, but Jungkook has spent three days listening to him breathe, and it doesn't take him long to realize that he hasn't passed out again at all, but has gone to sleep. Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief, worried that his fever hasn't broken yet but greedy for any progress they can make. He's afraid to wake him by changing his bandages, but he doesn't have a choice.

“Can you do it?” Jungkook asks. “You're better at this than me. I'll hold him up.”

Namjoon nods, removing Jungkook's undershirt currently acting as gauze and taking in the man's wounds with a critical eye. Jungkook waits with baited breath, watching Namjoon's face closely, tentatively hopeful when Namjoon tends to him much the same way Jungkook had, looking neither unsure nor nervous.

“You did good, Kook-ah,” Namjoon says when he's finished, and Jungkook is relieved to hear it, because he owes this man his life and letting him die would have been a shitty start to their relationship.

“He's been bleeding a lot,” Jungkook can't help but point out, even though that's obvious by the amount of bandages Jungkook has gone through, by how his shirt is nearly soaked through. But Namjoon just nods.

“To be expected,” Namjoon says. “It's not like being carried is exactly gentle.”

Jungkook nods, having feared as much.

“There was nothing else you could've done, Kook,” Namjoon assures him. “You took good care of him.”

Jungkook nods morosely. “But you think he'll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon nods, “I do. I was worried that there'd be internal bleeding—because honestly, if that happens to any of us, we're fucked—or a severed vein or something, but it doesn't seem like it. His lat's probably all kinds of fucked up, and it'll be a bitch to heal, but he'll live.”

Jungkook sighs in relief, and he didn't know until that moment just how afraid he was that the man wouldn't make it.

“The dehydration is gonna do the worst damage, all said and done, I think,” Namjoon adds. “But let's just focus on getting home, and then we can go from there.”

Jungkook nods, scarfing down his rations now that he knows he doesn't actually need to ration them, now that the anxiety that's been churning his stomach for the past few days is gone, leaving him all but famished.

“I wish we had a tarp,” Namjoon says, “so we could make a stretcher of some kind. I don't think our clothes would be strong enough.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “They're not. I tried to build something so I could drag him instead of carrying him, but nothing worked.”

“Nothing for it then,” Namjoon says, leaning down and picking the man up bridal-style, leading the way down the mountain towards the dam.

Despite the short distance they had to go, it takes them almost the whole day to get home. Jungkook is nearly dead on his feet by the time the farm comes into view, and they hear Jimin's voice as they approach, yelling to Yoongi that they're back.

Namjoon is too winded to admonish him, but he does huff in disapproval at the racket Jimin is making, joined, to both of their surprise, by Yoongi himself.

“Joon-ah!” he yells, running down the path to them, hot on Jimin's heels. “Jungkook-ah!”

Neither of them respond, too exhausted to even acknowledge them, but Jimin takes Jungkook into his arms immediately, kissing his cheeks and his nose and his lips, sighing in relief against his skin.

“Kookie,” he says, voice wavering.

“I'm here, hyung,” Jungkook says, his voice like gravel, barely making a noise at all.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Jimin says, running his hands through Jungkook's hair now, checking him all over. “I'm so glad hyung found you.”

“Me, too,” Jungkook says, and means it more than he can say.

“Come on,” Jimin says, half-carrying Jungkook towards the house. “Are you hungry? You should eat something before you sleep. I'll heat up water for you to clean up.”

He hasn't mentioned the stranger draped over Namjoon's back, doesn't pay Namjoon and Yoongi any mind as he leads Jungkook away, and Jungkook is too exhausted to do anything but go with him. He's home, and his hyungs will take care of things now, will take care of him.

Yoongi comes in to the upper house while Jungkook is—well, he's eating, but it's more like being hand-fed by Jimin, his eyes barely open. Yoongi leans down to kiss him softly on the cheek, his hands resting on Jungkook's shoulders.

“He's okay,” Yoongi tells Jungkook. “He's resting in the main house. Me and Namjoon are gonna swap watches tonight and look after him.”

Jungkook nods, grateful, and reaches up to squeeze Yoongi's fingers in thanks.

“You're good here with Jimin?” Yoongi asks him, and Jungkook nods, smiling at Jimin when Jimin winks at him.

“Good,” Yoongi says, leaning in to kiss him once more. “We'll see you in the morning.”

Jimin offers to look after the man the next morning to give the others time to talk. Jimin knows Jungkook's history, of course, and he was just as worried about Jungkook as Yoongi and Namjoon, but he understands that this is something the three of them need to discuss first, that Jungkook will come to him in his own time.

It's not an easy conversation for Jungkook to have, explaining to Yoongi and Namjoon what happened, how he ended up cornered and trapped somewhere he shouldn't have been in the first place. But Jungkook sits them down on the lawn of the main house and explains it to them, because as hard as it is for him, they need to know. But neither of them see it quite as harshly as he does.

“You were trying to help,” Namjoon says. “And honestly, an amusement park wouldn't be a bad place to forage. We should probably go back at some point.”

“Together,” Yoongi stresses. “And yeah, Kook, you probably should have scoped the place out a bit more, but don't be too hard on yourself. Accidents happen to everyone. I'm more upset about the fact we weren't there to help you, to be honest.”

“I went on a loud chase with a strange man who stole my stuff,” Jungkook reminds them, and Yoongi winces.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges, “you probably shouldn't have done that, but it sounds like that's partially his fault, too. This isn't like before, Kook,” Yoongi assures him, getting to the heart of the matter. “You weren't trying to get into a fight. You weren't being careless on purpose.”

“At least, not with undead,” Namjoon clarifies, only somewhat helpfully.

Jungkook gives him a flat look. “He just pissed me off,” he explains, not for the first time. “Made me wanna fight him.”

“He does sound very annoying,” Yoongi agrees pleasantly.

“I'm still sorry about it,” Jungkook says, because he is.

“Don't be,” Namjoon says. “But we should plan our meetings with Chan's guys more carefully from now on. We've been getting careless, going off on our own here and there. We have each other now, we don't have to risk it anymore.”

Yoongi and Jungkook nod, and they fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying the last of the sun's warmth while they still can.

It's a silence broken by Jimin, who waves at them frantically while he runs across the yard.

“He's waking up!” he informs them, already turning tail and running back towards the house.

Jungkook is up and running after him in a flash.

The man is already sitting up when Jungkook stumbles in, and Jimin loiters at the door as Jungkook approaches him, his eyes widening in recognition.

“It's you,” the man says, and Jungkook nods.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook asks, because frankly, he still looks like shit.

“Shitty,” the man says, and Jungkook very nearly laughs. “Where am I?” he says, looking around in confusion. “What happened?”

“You don't remember?” Jungkook asks, just as Namjoon and Yoongi make their way inside. The man glances to them, and Jungkook catches a flicker of fear cross his face. “We're not going to hurt you,” Jungkook says, trying to reassure him. “You passed out after the fight at the amusement park. You were bleeding. A lot.”

The man just looks at him.

“I didn't know what to do,” Jungkook says, feeling strangely like he needs to defend himself. “I thought you were gonna die, so I brought you home with me.”

“Where am I?” the man repeats, sounding close to panic now.

“Just north of Chuncheon,” Yoongi steps in front of Jungkook to say, clearly not liking the man's tone.

“What?” he nearly shouts, trying to pick himself up off the cot they put him on, but hissing in pain as he exerts himself, falling heavily back onto it, curling in on himself as he rides out the fresh wave of pain.

“I need to get home,” the man says, looking around frantically once it passes. “How long has it been?” he asks, sounding like he's afraid of the answer.

“Almost a week,” Jungkook says, and even though he was expecting it, he still startles when the man shouts.

“Fuck,” he says, trying to sit up again, much slower this time. “I need to get home, I need to find—Chuncheon?” he clarifies, and Jungkook nods.

“Sorry,” Jungkook says, even though he's not sorry at all for saving his life.

The man softens at that, really looking at Jungkook for the first time since he woke up. “Don't apologize,” he says, deflating a bit. “I shouldn't—it's not your fault. Thank you,” he says, sounding incredibly sincere, “for not just leaving me there to bleed out. You should have, probably,” he says, with something like a wink in Jungkook's direction. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says, like it was no problem at all.

“But I really do need to get home,” the man says. “I live with someone. They have no idea where I am. Almost a week?” he clarifies again, and Jungkook nods again. “Fuck.”

“Where do you live?” Namjoon asks, and he holds his hands up in a placating gesture when the man narrows his eyes at him. “I get it,” Namjoon says. “I'm just wondering how far you have to go.”

“Close to Cheongpyeong,” the man says. “A little east of it.”

“I'm sorry,” Jungkook says again. “I took you really far out of your way.”

“Thought we'd been over this,” the man says, not unkindly. “Don't apologize. I'd rather be far away and alive than close by and dead. But I'm sorry,” he says, “I'm going to have to take your hospitality and run. I need to get back.”

“What's your name?” Jungkook asks, because he's been sort of dying to know.

The man looks at him, eyeing him critically. “Seokjin,” he says. “And you are?”

“Jungkook,” Jungkook says, offering a wry smile.

“Well, Jungkook,” Seokjin says, “it's been a pleasure, you have a lovely home, but I'll be taking my leave now.”

“Don't take any of our stuff,” Jungkook says, like it's a joke between them, and the man smiles, like maybe it is.

“Not this time,” Seokjin allows. “Need to travel light.”

“We'll come with you,” Jimin says, stepping away from the door for the first time. Seokjin looks at him like he's lost his mind, and Jimin—ever in character—glares at him.

“Don't look at me like that,” Jimin snaps. “You can't make that trip on your own, not yet. And if you die from exhaustion halfway there, Kook will have saved you for nothing, and that's not happening.”

“He's right,” Namjoon says, in a tone that says they've already made their decision, and now Seokjin looks like he's lost his own mind.

“You don't know me,” Seokjin says. “You don't owe me anything—the other way around, in fact. Why do you want to do this?”

“Jungkook likes you,” Yoongi says, like it's that simple. “He saved you. And you need help, so why shouldn't we help you?”

Seokjin looks like he wants to argue, but also like he doesn't want to jinx his good luck. “Okay,” he says eventually, relenting. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Yoongi says. “I'm Yoongi, by the way. This is Namjoon, and the tiny one is Jimin.”

“Excuse you, hyung,” Jimin scoffs, and Seokjin tries to hide a smile.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Seokjin says, nodding at them in turn. “When do we leave?”

In the end, they decide that Jimin and Namjoon should stay at the farm while Jungkook and Yoongi walk Seokjin back home. Yoongi was an obvious choice because he'd made the trip the most often and knew the terrain the best. Jimin had argued that Jungkook was still recovering himself, still too fatigued to help carry Seokjin through the mountains again, but Jungkook had rebuffed him with the argument that Seokjin felt the most comfortable with him, and that he felt more personally responsible and wanted to help make it right. Jimin wasn't pleased, but eventually he relented.

“We need to build walkie-talkies,” Namjoon says sadly as they huddle in front of the main house, saying their goodbyes.

“I've thought the same,” Jungkook says, because he had—just a few days ago when he questioned whether he would make it home.

“Setting up a radio here was hard enough,” Yoongi says, but he nods all the same. “Maybe that will be our winter project.”

“Five days,” Jimin says, reaching for Jungkook and Yoongi's hands. “You better be back in five days.”

“We will be,” Yoongi says, pulling Jimin in for a quick kiss, turning to Namjoon to do the same.

Seokjin clears his throat behind them. “Ready when you are,” he says, his ears red.

“Let's go,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin tells them, as they make slow progress through the mountains, his teeth clenched in pain, that his friend will start looking for him at Cheongpyeong Station, will always return there the most often, so they head straight for it.

They make decent time, mostly because Seokjin only takes half of the breaks that Yoongi suggests, and Jungkook is afraid that Seokjin is overexerting himself, but he also understands how Seokjin is feeling, doesn't underestimate how much Seokjin's desire to find his friend will carry him through. He's tired himself, Jimin was right about that, but he helps Seokjin as much as he can, lets Seokjin lean on him when the stiffness in his body becomes a little more pronounced, when his breathing gets more and more labored.

“No more today,” Yoongi says, as the sun starts to set behind the mountains. They're back alongside the river, and only have a few more miles to go. “We'll get there tomorrow, you need your rest.”

Seokjin nods, begrudgingly in agreement, and Yoongi checks his bandages, makes sure he hasn't reopened his wounds.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook asks, strangely tempted to take Seokjin's hand, to link their fingers together.

“Tired,” Seokjin admits, because to pretend otherwise would be pointless. “But I'm good. I just want to find Hoseok.”

“We will, hyung,” Jungkook says, trying to sound as confident as he can.

Yoongi lays out a sleeping bag for them, and Jungkook lets Seokjin settle in the least painful position he can find before crawling in after him. Yoongi wordlessly takes first watch, letting both of them get their sleep.

Jungkook huddles up to Seokjin for warmth, and neither of them say anything. Neither of them seem to mind.

Jungkook wakes them up just before sunrise, and they're back at Cheongpyeong Station in only a couple of hours. Seokjin is visibly on edge, his eyes scanning the area frantically, and this time Jungkook does reach out and take his hand, squeezing his fingers reassuringly.

“Don't worry, hyung,” he says, and Seokjin has barely tried to smile at him before they hear his name being called.

Seokjin whips his head around towards the voice, hissing at the pull of his muscles, and Jungkook turns to see a man running towards them, still shouting Seokjin's name.

“Hobi!” Seokjin calls back, and Seokjin catches him when the man—obviously Hoseok—all but jumps into Seokjin's arms, kissing him all over his face.

“You're hurt,” Hoseok says, backing off at once as Seokjin hisses in pain once more, trying his best to hide it. Hoseok runs his hands up Seokjin's side, across his chest and shoulders, turning Seokjin's face in his hands as if he could tell what was wrong with him just by looking at him.

“I'm fine now,” Seokjin says, reaching up and covering Hoseok's hands with his own, both of them just taking each other in, relaxing into each other's touch. Jungkook looks away, glancing at Yoongi, who seems both surprised and pleased that they found Hoseok this fast.

“Who is this?” Hoseok asks eventually, looking away from Seokjin for the first time, eyeing Jungkook and Yoongi curiously but kindly.

“This is Jungkook,” Seokjin says, gesturing to him, “and this is Yoongi. They saved my life, Hoseok,” Seokjin says, and Jungkook flushes pink when Hoseok looks at him.

“Thank you,” Hoseok says gravely, inclining his head to both of them. “What happened?”

“It's a bit of a story,” Seokjin says almost sheepishly, and Jungkook snorts, to Hoseok's clear confusion. “I'll tell you when we get home,” he says, and Jungkook realizes—all at once and rather unpleasantly—that this is where they say goodbye.

But Seokjin seems to be lingering just as much as Jungkook is, and both Hoseok and Yoongi notice. “You could come back with us,” Hoseok offers, and all three of them look at him. “You must be tired, and hungry. Come have a meal and take a nap before you head home. It's the least we could do.”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi, because while Jungkook is ready to follow them home, he knows that Yoongi will be more resistant to the idea. But to Jungkook's surprise, Yoongi just nods at him, smiling a little.

“Lead the way,” Yoongi says.

They're barely over a mile away, but they have a bit of a climb after they cross the canal which Seokjin struggles with until Hoseok tuts and says, “For god's sake, hyung,” and all but carries him up the mountain. They live in a more populated area than Yoongi's farm, in the mountains but off a paved road, and even though it's not dissimilar to where Jungkook lived before, he's gotten so used to the farm that he feels a little anxious as they reach the top of the hill, feels eyes on him even though there's no one but them on the trail.

But maybe Yoongi's skepticism is rubbing off on him, because he catches himself thinking that this trip has gone a little too smoothly so far. He tries to brush the thought off, but he's not terribly successful. They're in Seokjin and Hoseok's territory now, and Jungkook watches them for a sign of anything out of place, anything that catches their attention, but so far everything seems fine.

It takes them until they hit the main road to realize that anything is wrong.

“Woah,” is the first thing Hoseok says, when they see that the road is densely populated, a lot of people going the opposite way.

“What's going on?” Seokjin asks, glancing at Hoseok, who is taking in the people around them with quickly-spiraling worry.

“I don't know, hyung,” Hoseok says, all of them wordlessly picking up their pace, working their way through the fleeing groups of people, who leave them be. “I wasn't here last night,” Hoseok tells them. “I was checking the station a final time before heading home this morning.”

They're practically running now, Seokjin's arm slung over Jungkook's shoulder as Hoseok leads them, Yoongi bringing up the rear. They smell smoke before they see it, rising almost lazily over the peak in front of them, settling on the surface of the river as it flows towards them.

“Fuck,” Hoseok says, taking a sharp right, and Seokjin actually pushes off of Jungkook to run after him, coming up on what Jungkook figures is their home. What used to be their home. It's a solid wall of flame by the time they make it up the path to the house, and Jungkook and Yoongi stand a little ways back, watching Seokjin and Hoseok watch it burn, Hoseok crying into Seokjin's neck.

They're interrupted by someone stumbling out of the woods, coming towards them with hands raised. “Jin!” the man shouts, barely audible over the crackling of the blaze. “Hobi!”

“Kwon!” Hoseok shouts back, both of them running over to him. Jungkook watches as they talk animatedly, leaning close to be heard.

After a long few moments, the three of them embrace, and the man retreats back the way he came. Hoseok and Seokjin approach Jungkook and Yoongi, looking devastated and grim.

“Hyungs?” Jungkook asks, anxious but curious.

“Let's get back to the station,” Seokjin says, forestalling their questions. “This whole place is gonna be up in flames in no time.”

That very real threat hurries them along, and they join the crowds on the road, going back the way they just came. They turn from the river as it cuts south, trekking back up over the mountain towards Cheongpyeong. The smoke is clogging the air now, the heat from the fire warm on their backs.

They don't talk until they've crossed back over the canal, standing in the shadow of the station. “It wasn't malicious,” Hoseok tells them, and some of the tension Jungkook didn't even realize he was holding melts away.

“But it was fucking stupid,” Seokjin cuts in, cold with rage. “Trying to fight undead with fire, this far in the mountains. And now all of us are fucked.”

“Where will you go?” Yoongi asks, and only Jungkook knows him well enough to recognize the tone of his voice, know the way it isn't just an idle question.

“Kwon said a lot of people are heading further east,” Hoseok relays. “The rest are heading down the river.”

“To Seoul?” Yoongi asks, not quite flattening his inflection, and Seokjin looks at him inquisitively.

“Yeah,” he says, cocking his head. “Why not?”

Yoongi scoffs at him. “I'm guessing you know exactly why not,” he rebuts.

“I doubt Seoul will turn them away,” Hoseok says, diffusing the tension that had started to build between them. “Isn't their whole thing keeping people inside the city? You think they'd welcome a few more.”

“I doubt they want more people to try and subdue, though,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok shrugs.

“None of this answers where you're going,” Jungkook says, impatient with their bullshit, and Yoongi and Seokjin both look chastised.

Seokjin shrugs. “There's a pretty good scene up the road,” he says, pointing northwest towards a highway. “We've traded there before.”

“So you don't know,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok shrugs this time.

“It's not like we just had a spare house, you know,” he says. “We'll find something.”

“It's almost winter,” Jungkook says, as if none of them know that.

“We'll be all right, Kook,” Seokjin says, trying for reassuring and missing the mark. It's obvious they're worried, but Jungkook and Yoongi are practically strangers to them, and Seokjin clearly doesn't want to bother them any more than he already has. Being saved by them once is already too much of a debt to repay. Jungkook understands that better than most.

“Come back with us,” Yoongi says, seeming to surprise even himself. He lifts one shoulder in a flustered shrug, trying for casual, when three sets of eyes land on him. “Look,” he says, clearly digging himself into the idea, “you don't have anywhere to go, Jungkook is strangely fond of this one—” he points accusingly at Seokjin, and Jungkook notes with gleeful interest that Yoongi has used this excuse twice now without Jungkook ever having said anything of the sort, “—it's almost winter, and it doesn't feel right just leaving you here like this. We have the space.”

Jungkook is the last person who wants to argue with Yoongi about this, and he doesn't want Seokjin and Hoseok to feel like they're intruding, but he has to ask, since Yoongi seems to have temporarily lost his mind.

“But do we have the food, hyung?” he asks softly, refusing to look at Seokjin and Hoseok, hoping that they can see how much he wants them to join them, anyway.

“It'll be tight,” Yoongi admits. “But we won't starve. But with—jesus fuck—six of us, we'll be able to forage even more. That's risky, of course, especially once it snows, but we have some time to stock up. We can make it work.”

Yoongi fidgets under the attention this assessment has brought him. Jungkook gives him a private smile, and Yoongi softens at the look. Hoseok and Seokjin are quiet, whether hesitant or just surprised, Jungkook can't tell.

“God, are you sure?” Seokjin says eventually, and Jungkook can tell he's trying not to get his hopes up.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, and if Yoongi sounds like he's trying to convince himself of it, too—well, only Jungkook needs to know.

They still have three days to make it back to the farm, but they try to put the river behind them as quickly as they can, making camp a few hundred meters from its banks. Yoongi and Hoseok unanimously agree to split the watches and let Seokjin and Jungkook sleep through the night, and both Jungkook and Seokjin are too tired to argue, proving their point.

Hoseok wakes them before sunrise, and Jungkook is surprised at how much better he feels, surprised by how much better Seokjin looks, despite all of the shit he and Hoseok must be going through. They press on through the mountains, resting at the same church Namjoon found Jungkook at just a few days before.

It's early afternoon, and they want to push on to get home before dark, so Yoongi rummages through his pack and hands out some of his rations, and they eat in silence, saving their strength.

The push to the dam seems easy in comparison to the rest of the journey, and Jungkook finds himself side-by-side with Hoseok, Yoongi helping Seokjin through a rough patch of brush a handful of meters ahead of them. Jungkook knows it's not really his place to ask, not even sure why he's so curious about it to begin with, but the question has been floating around in his head since Hoseok found them, since Hoseok reunited with Seokjin the way he did.

“Hoseok-ssi,” Jungkook says, quieter than he needs to be, probably, but he doesn't want to be overheard.

“Hyung is fine, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok reminds him, probably figuring that formalities are pointless when they're on their way to live together for the next few months, but Jungkook doesn't correct himself, waiting to ask the question to see if Hoseok will still be okay without them. “What's up?” he asks, when Jungkook's question is not immediately forthcoming.

“I was just wondering,” he says, inclining his heads towards Seokjin and Yoongi further down the path. “Obviously you don't have to tell me,” he qualifies, “it's not my business, but—well, you and hyung, are you guys—?”

He trails off, hoping that Hoseok understands.

“Hm,” Hoseok hums, thoughtful. He doesn't seem put off by the question, and he doesn't seem surprised by it, either.

“No,” he says at last, glancing at Jungkook as they walk. “In another life, maybe,” he adds, and Jungkook can't tell if he's upset about it or not. He doesn't ask anything else.

Namjoon spots them first when they arrive, and he hustles to the upper house and comes back to meet them with Jimin in tow, both of them looking ready for anything, knowing that something has happened, since not only is Seokjin still with them, but they're up yet one more stranger.

“What happened?” Jimin asks, handing them fresh water, checking them over, his gaze lingering on Hoseok. Namjoon seems mollified that none of them are hurt (or at least, more hurt than they were when they left) but Yoongi can tell that he's still worried, can see him running different scenarios through his mind.

It's nearly dark, and Seokjin is barely keeping himself upright, and Yoongi's ankle is starting to twinge, and he wants nothing more than to be sitting down in his own house or huddled around their fire with a bowl of soup.

“Let's go inside,” Yoongi says, ushering everyone to the upper house. Namjoon leads the way, and Jungkook must be dead on his feet by now too but he still helps Seokjin up to the house, Hoseok on Seokjin's other side. Jimin follows after them, watching them curiously, looking at Yoongi over his shoulder with an expression Yoongi can't quite decipher.

They troop into the living room, and Namjoon pulls their two chairs and a crate in front of the couch so all of them can sit.

“So,” Yoongi says, once everyone is settled. “Introductions, I guess.” He nods towards Jimin and Namjoon. “You guys know Seokjin, of course. He lived with Hoseok.”

If either of them notice the past tense, they don't question it. At least not yet, waiting for Yoongi to explain.

“Hoseok, this is Jimin and Namjoon,” Yoongi continues.

“You all live here?” Hoseok asks, nodding politely at the others.

“Funny story,” Yoongi says in response, and Jimin snorts.

“Yes, we all live here,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes at Yoongi.

“I don't get it,” Seokjin says, looking between them blankly.

“It's a pretty new development,” Namjoon explains. “All of us living here. This is Yoongi-hyung's farm. He's lived here for almost six years.”

“And I'd lived here by myself until just this past spring. I picked up Jungkook and Joon on my last trip to Seoul.”

“And then I came along,” Jimin adds. “I may have to go back to Seoul eventually, but this is my home now, too.”

“And then you invited us to live here, too,” Seokjin says, sounding like he can't quite believe that it happened.

Yoongi feels Namjoon and Jimin's eyes on him and he chances a glance at them. Jimin's eyebrows are practically at his hairline, his lips quirked in a way where Yoongi can't tell if it's a smile or a smirk. Namjoon is looking at him more seriously, but he doesn't look angry. Worried, maybe. More curious than anything.

“You didn't have anywhere else to go,” Yoongi says, as if inviting them to live here was the only other possibility.

“So, what happened?” Jimin asks again, softer this time.

“There was a fight where we lived,” Hoseok explains. “Undead came down from the mountain, and some people decided it was a good idea to use flamethrowers to stop them.”

“Um, what,” Jimin says, forgetting to be polite.

“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees, bitter. “The whole side of the mountain was up in flames in no time. A lot of people lived there and now everything's fucking gone.”

“We showed up right after it started,” Jungkook says, hushed.

“One of our friends had been waiting for us,” Hoseok says. “He told us what happened. No point in staying after that.”

“I'm sorry,” Namjoon says, sounding genuinely devastated for them. “Of course you're both welcome here. We'll help however we can.”

“You're already doing plenty,” Seokjin says.

“Really,” Hoseok agrees. “We can't thank you enough.”

“Give me a few days,” Seokjin tells them, “and the two of us can go look for food. We've been to Chuncheon before, so I'm sure we can find something.”

“I can tag along,” Jimin offers. “I wanna check out the station, anyway.”

Yoongi nods. “Sounds good,” he says, “but no rush. You can recover for a bit before you go.”

Seokjin nods at him, grateful, recognizing the grace period on finding their own food that it is.

“Can we eat now?” Jungkook asks, and Namjoon and Jimin laugh, breaking the tension in the room. Eating in the main house never really took, and Yoongi can't say he's upset about it.

“Yeah, Kookie,” Namjoon says, sounding overly fond. “We can eat.”

“We're gonna run out of food, hyung,” Namjoon says softly that night, both of them curled up in Yoongi's bed as Jimin and Jungkook chat with Seokjin and Hoseok in the living room.

“I know,” Yoongi says, sighing. “Jungkook even brought it up when I invited them back.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I told him we'd be fine because I don't want him to worry, but—”

“But you're worried,” Namjoon finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon just pulls him closer, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I'm glad you offered them a place to stay, hyung,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi looks up at him in surprise. “Really,” Namjoon insists. “Despite everything, I think any of us would have done the same.”

“But what if we starve,” Yoongi says, because he has to, because he is genuinely worried about it, knows that all of them are. He didn't know how badly he needed to hear that Namjoon was okay with inviting them, didn't realize the guilt and apprehension he'd been carrying around since he brought them back until he feels some of it lift at Namjoon's words. But that doesn't mean there aren't still problems, aren't still hardships that Yoongi has forced them to bear without any say in the matter. Yoongi needs to make sure they survive the winter, because it'll be his fault if they don't.

“We won't,” Namjoon assures him.

“You literally just told me we're gonna run out of food,” Yoongi reminds him.

“We won't be able to ration what we have now to accommodate two more people,” Namjoon clarifies, and Yoongi doesn't let himself latch on to the inkling of hope that sentence implies. “But you heard them, hyung,” Namjoon says. “They know we need more supplies. Hell, they were going to risk living in the streets by themselves. I think we can trust them to forage most of what they need.”

“I think we should stop trusting people we met one week ago,” Yoongi grumbles, but his heart's not in it.

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees, and Yoongi squints at his obvious sarcasm. “We're much more the 'trust people we met yesterday' type.”

“I fucking hate you,” Yoongi says.

“You don't,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi kisses him. “You're right,” he says, “I don't.”

It takes a surprisingly short time for Seokjin and Hoseok to settle in. Yoongi thinks that maybe he should stop being surprised by this, given that every additional person on his farm had settled in with equal haste.

Yoongi gets along honestly surprisingly well with both Seokjin and Hoseok, and Yoongi is pleased and also so fucking relieved that they seem like really good people. Seokjin can't do much while his back heals, but he keeps their moods up, sits with them while they work and keeps them entertained, and he seems happy to be able to contribute in any way that he can. He also takes over half of the food prep, and he and Yoongi spend long hours in the kitchen, reorganizing their stores and arguing over the best way to stretch what they have.

Yoongi wants to strangle him whenever he and Jungkook are in the same room, but that seems to be the widely-accepted reaction to the two of them, so he lets it slide.

Hoseok is subdued, which Yoongi can't blame him for at all. Yoongi thinks about what he'd do if he ever lost this place—thinks that maybe he wouldn't ever get over it. For all that he joked about the possibility with Namjoon and Jungkook when they were first coming back, it's still his biggest fear, the one contingency plan he hopes he never has to enact. That Hoseok still has the will to get up in the morning is something that Yoongi respects him for, never mind how eager he is to help, how hard he tries to get to know each of them.

(Yoongi knows that Seokjin is grieving too, that he is loud where Hoseok is quiet, that Jungkook bickers with him as a means of distraction, that just because he laughs with them doesn't mean he isn't hurting).

(Yoongi wants them both to find a home here, even though he knows they've never talked about more than making it through the winter. He knows it's too soon to bring it up).

The floating house has been too cold to sleep in for almost a month now, but it hasn't stopped them spending time there during the day, groups of them breaking off for some quiet or some privacy. Jimin drags Yoongi to one of the rooms after he has an exaggeratedly animated fight with Seokjin over the best way to store rice.

“You're hot when you're mad, sue me,” Jimin says, before dropping to his knees.

Jungkook smirks at them when they reemerge, and to Yoongi's horror, Seokjin is smirking at them over Jungkook's shoulder.

“You're welcome,” Seokjin says as Yoongi passes him, and Yoongi doesn't even think before shoving him away, his still-healing muscles be damned.

Hoseok and Jungkook do fall asleep there once, their fingers tangled together between them and Jungkook's face still puffy with tears when Yoongi gently shakes them awake. He drapes a blanket over their shoulders and kisses them both on the top of their heads.

“You'll freeze out here,” he says, just as gentle, and heads back up to the house, letting them follow in their own time.

As promised, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin take a few trips into Chuncheon, Yoongi hitting some of the smaller towns to the north. They mostly find rice, which isn't great, but means at least they won't starve, and Yoongi allows himself to worry a little less about one more thing.

The weather keeps getting colder, and they consider moving back into the main house, now that there's six of them and the upper house is getting uncomfortably cramped. They only have a few more weeks to decide, and so their sleeping arrangements vary from night to night while they work it out.

When Yoongi walks in on Hoseok and Jimin giggling under the covers in his own goddamn bed, he makes the decision for them.

“But hyung,” Jungkook pouts, as Yoongi helps them pack up their stuff, “you'll freeze up here all by yourself.”

“I haven't yet, Kook-ah,” Yoongi reminds him, which makes Jungkook's pout more pronounced. Yoongi sighs, giving in to him already. “You'll just have to keep me company some nights, I guess,” he says, whispered close to Jungkook's ear, and all of them laugh as Jungkook can't contain his blush.

“Guess so,” he says mulishly, but he sounds pleased.

As it turns out, one or more of them stay in the upper house with him every night, although Namjoon is his most common visitor. There are nights when the four of them stay together, staying up too late and making too much noise, even though Seokjin and Hoseok have never seemed to mind, have never commented on their relationship or been anything but quietly supportive.

(Yoongi figures that surviving a literal zombie apocalypse sorts out your priorities).

He's still surprised, though, when Seokjin comes to the upper house one night, a few days after the first snowfall, knocking on Yoongi's door frame like he's not sure he's allowed inside the room.

“Hey,” he says, still hovering.

“Hey,” Yoongi responds, covering his surprise. “Come in, come here,” he says, waving Seokjin inside with a smile.

“Is this okay?” Seokjin asks, in the room now but still several feet from the bed, and Yoongi just turns down the covers in response.

“Don't let the heat out,” Yoongi says when he still hesitates, and Seokjin rolls his eyes as he finally climbs in.

They just lay there next to each other for a long moment, the silence between them a little bit awkward but not uncomfortable. Yoongi figures that Seokjin has a reason for being here, and he lets Seokjin get to it in his own time.

“I talked to Jungkook,” Seokjin says after a while, and Yoongi hums, not quite opening his eyes.

“You talk to Jungkook a lot,” he says mildly.

“Jungkook kissed me,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi's eyes fly open.

“He said you wouldn't be mad,” Seokjin says, turning to face him, watching Yoongi's expression with something like fear on his face.

Yoongi thinks about it, but only for a second. “I'm not mad,” he says, turning on his side as well, trying to sound as convincing as possible. He hates the look of uncertainty on Seokjin's face, hates that Seokjin had been worried about this.

“Are you sure?” Seokjin asks, sounding incredulous. “He kissed me, and I have to tell you that I did not push him away.”

That, actually, makes Yoongi laugh. “Thank you for your honesty,” Yoongi says, smiling at him. “I don't blame you.”

“You're really not mad?”

“I'm really not mad,” Yoongi confirms. “It would be pretty hypocritical of me to get mad about this now, given that I was the last one in on the whole thing to begin with.”

“You're joking.”

“I'm not. Oh, and I also fell in love with Jimin without talking to Joon or Kook about it, so it's not like this is a new thing with us.”

“Huh,” Seokjin says, accepting this with grace.

“So,” Yoongi scoots closer just to nudge at him. “You and Kook-ah, huh,” he says, opting to tease Seokjin about it immediately.

“Don't,” Seokjin whines, but he smiles at Yoongi all the same.

“Gotta say,” Yoongi says, having fun with it now, “given how you met, I wasn't really expecting this.”

“He kissed me in the middle of an argument,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi barks out a laugh, pleased.

“That does make more sense,” he agrees, reaching out to pinch at Seokjin's red ears.

“How is this fair?” Seokjin despairs, trying to burrow into Yoongi's pillows. “I thought you'd be upset and instead you're making fun of me.”

“You kissed my boyfriend,” Yoongi says, putting aside the weirdness of that statement for a moment, because they've never actually discussed what they were to each other, never labeled it so definitively. “I think this is my right.”

“I'll allow it,” Seokjin allows, after a moment.

“Hey, wait,” Yoongi says, just remembering something else that happened in this very bed. “You were worried that I'd be mad, but like, aren't Jimin and Hoseok—you know—involved? I didn't even ask Jimin about it because I thought he'd roll his eyes and accuse me of wasting his time.”

“And then blow you in the floating house?” Seokjin smirks.

“Excuse me!” Yoongi gasps, “That happened one time.”

Seokjin looks at him, unimpressed.

“This week,” Yoongi amends.

“Thank you,” Seokjin says, smug, before turning serious again. “But the two of them—they're not, as far as I'm aware, and I'm aware of quite a bit.”

“I've been told I miss things, living up here alone.”

“You're spared some things, I think they mean,” he says, and Yoongi smiles at him. “There's definitely something going on there, though,” Seokjin continues. “I've lived with Hobi since before the Change, but I've never seen him like this with somebody before.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says, feeling like it's not his place to ask about the two of them despite the topic of conversation, but wondering all the same. “I thought you two—were you not—?”

“Together?” Seokjin asks easily, “No. We could have been,” he says, sounding matter-of-fact, like this is something he's thought about before, and Yoongi figures it probably is. “I think we would have been, if the world hadn't gone to shit. But we were different people afterwards, you know? We needed different things from each other.”

Yoongi nods, because maybe he didn't have another person to change with, but he knows he changed, even all by himself.

“We got closer than ever,” Seokjin says, “living that way, and I love him to death—literally, I would die for him in a heartbeat—but...it just never happened.”

“Maybe it still will,” Yoongi offers, because he's only known them for a few months, but that was more than enough time to see how good they were together, how much they loved each other, how easy everything between them was. If this was something the Change ripped away from them, Yoongi wants them to get it back.

“Maybe,” Seokjin says, looking distant, like he doesn't want to let himself hope.

“I'm happy for you, hyung,” Yoongi says, pulling Seokjin in for a hug, cuddling into his chest. They've never been this physical with each other before, but Yoongi figures what the hell. “For you and Kook.”

Seokjin hugs him tighter, tucking Yoongi's head under his chin. “Thanks, Yoongi-yah,” he says, and before long, they fall asleep like that, warm in each other's space.

They're woken up like that, too, unfortunately, by Jimin, who hoots and hollers and sends them a lot of lewd looks despite how they're both still clean and clothed.

“Cheating on Kookie already, hyung?” he says, gleefully smacking Seokjin in the shoulder as he rips the covers off of them.

“Jimin,” Yoongi whines, fighting for the blankets and trying to burrow into Seokjin's warmth.

“Really don't think that's how this works,” Seokjin mumbles, and Yoongi laughs into his chest.

“Canoodling!” Jimin shouts, pointing at them accusingly. “Just wait until I tell our poor Jungkookie what went on during the night.”

“Pretty sure he'd just ask to watch,” Namjoon says offhandedly as he comes into the house.

“Fuck all of you,” Yoongi says, finally wrenching the covers out of Jimin's grasp, pulling them back over his and Seokjin's heads as they tune out the commotion around them, smiling at each other before they fall back asleep.

The most recent snow melts, and Hoseok kneels beside Yoongi, helping him dig out the vent for their fire pit in the frozen ground without being asked. They don't talk while they work, but Yoongi enjoys the company, doesn't feel any pressure to make conversation as they sit around the fire.

“Hey, hyung?” he asks eventually, and Yoongi finds he also doesn't mind the break in their silence, likes talking with Hoseok just as much as he likes sitting quietly with him.

“What's up?” Yoongi asks.

“Has Jungkookie ever hunted for bigger game?” Hoseok asks him, seemingly out of the blue.

“No,” Yoongi tells him, wondering where Hoseok is going with this, wondering if they have some sort of plan.

“Have you?”

“No,” Yoongi says again. “I've always made do with traded meat. I've thought about it, of course, and it's always been a back-up plan, but it never really made sense for me to do on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asks, looking confused.

Yoongi laughs, a little self-deprecatingly. “Most important, I guess, is that I wouldn't know what to do with it. Like how to properly butcher a big animal. I think I'd waste a lot of it, or be afraid that I didn't preserve it properly.”

Hoseok nods, thinking.

“Also just the logistics of it,” Yoongi continues. “I've seen deer around before, sure, but the idea of dragging one back here—if I even could by myself—always seemed too risky. Too much blood. Too much noise.”

“That makes sense,” Hoseok agrees.

“Why do you ask?”

Hoseok sighs, slow to answer like he's thinking about where to start. “Hyung and I know that we're using up your rations,” he says, waving Yoongi away when he opens his mouth to argue. “And that is what it is, now. But we're running out of meat, and it's been harder for Kook-ah to get out and trap lately, with the snow and everything.”

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi asks, because their dwindling meat supply has been back on his mind lately.

“On our mountain,” Hoseok says, “we were pretty communal. We shared work and we shared a lot of supplies, especially food.”

Yoongi doesn't say anything, because saying “That sounds nice,” like he wants to, seems insensitive, given that the whole mountain is now ash.

“People would hunt,” Hoseok continues, “and we would preserve the meat and distribute it to everyone who helped. Hyung and I never went on the actual hunts, but we would help with everything else.”

“So you know how to butcher a deer, is what you're saying.”

Hoseok smiles, a little grimly. “Yeah,” he confirms. “We probably should have told you earlier.”

“It never really came up,” Yoongi says.

“Hyung wasn't really up for it, before—it may still be a little much for him, to be honest—”

“Ah,” Yoongi interrupts, “but we have Jungkook for muscle now.”

“That's true,” Hoseok laughs. “But yeah, we didn't want to bring it up if we couldn't actually do it, and we've never done the actual hunting before so when it seemed like none of you had either, we thought—”

“Hey,” Yoongi interrupts him again, more serious this time. “It's fine. You don't need to apologize.”

“Okay,” Hoseok says, looking only half-convinced.

“Do you think we could? Hunt?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, nodding. “There's enough of us that we could cover each other. We all have some level of experience with, you know, hunting, as morbid as that is. You have a crossbow, and that's what our hunters always used.”

“The crossbow is mostly for like, long-range defense. Which sounds ridiculous to say because I've never really needed it. Like, yeah, I've picked off some undead in the woods before, but mostly, if I'm doing something that's going to attract them, I'm on the ground and ready for it.”

Yoongi doesn't tell him that he shot three people with it, the first year he was here, before things had settled down, when there were still more people alive to fight over land and resources, and it was kill or be killed. He doesn't tell him that he shot two more people with it just last year, even though one was already bitten so Yoongi tries to tell himself that that one doesn't count.

Maybe Hoseok can tell that it's an incomplete thought, only a partial explanation. Maybe Hoseok can tell that he's hiding something, because he nods but doesn't look convinced.

He's nice enough to leave it be, though. “Are you a good shot?” he asks, instead of calling Yoongi out on his bullshit.

“Pretty good,” Yoongi says, vague on purpose.

“I'm not saying we have to do this, you know,” Hoseok says, sounding uncertain, and Yoongi nods, not wanting Hoseok to feel like he's overstepped.

“I know,” he says. “But it's probably a good idea, anyway. I'll talk to Jungkook about it, and let you and hyung know.”

Hoseok nods, but he still looks like maybe he shouldn't have brought it up to begin with, and Yoongi hates it, wants to do whatever he can to make Hoseok smile again, to make him feel like this is his home and he's allowed to have a say in what goes on here.

Without thinking, almost like instinct, he reaches for Hoseok's hand. Hoseok looks up at him but doesn't pull away, relaxing the smallest amount when Yoongi smiles at him, linking their fingers together.

Hoseok smiles back at him, and Yoongi wants more, all of a sudden, wants to say something like Stay with me tonight, wants to offer Hoseok his bed and everything else he can give him.

He doesn't, but Jimin and Jungkook pile on top of him that night just to tell him that he's being stupid.

“We're not the ones who should be here right now, hyung,” Jimin says, burrowing into Yoongi's neck.

“And Namjoonie-hyung is getting real comfortable with them,” Jungkook says, fixing Yoongi with a knowing grin, “so you better act fast.”

“I really don't think Namjoon getting there first will mean I'm excluded, jackass,” Yoongi says, but fondly, still. “Seokjin-hyung was right about that—that's not really how this works.”

“It does work, though, doesn't it, hyung?” Jimin asks, sounding like he just wants confirmation of something he already knows. It's something they all know, even if they've never spoken about it, even if they've never given words to the thought. Yoongi thinks that maybe it was something he knew before he even invited Seokjin and Hoseok to live with them, when Jungkook nearly killed himself dragging Seokjin home with him because he just couldn't leave without him.

He's definitely known since that night with Seokjin, the easy way the two of them made breakfast in the morning, working quietly in each other's space like there had never been a time they weren't sharing it. He's known since Hoseok and Namjoon spent an entire day in the main house, wrapped up in blankets in Namjoon's room just talking, Jungkook and Jimin and even Yoongi himself volunteering to do their chores to give them time to be together. He's known since Jimin and Seokjin came back from a trip to Chuncheon with Seokjin trailing after Jimin with stars in his eyes, like he'd follow Jimin anywhere, and Yoongi didn't even have to ask why that was.

He's known since it felt like this was always meant to be, somewhere around the second week of Seokjin and Hoseok's stay. He's never told Jungkook, but he thinks sometimes, on his sappier days, that Jungkook was right about this being fate. There's no way they should work so well together otherwise.

“It does,” Yoongi says, as simple as that—because sometimes, it really does feel that simple.

Jungkook and Jimin both lean in to kiss one of his cheeks, and Yoongi tries to pretend that he hates it.

“Goodnight, hyung,” Jungkook says, tucking smaller into his side.

“Love you, hyung,” Jimin says, settling down half on top of him, and Yoongi just holds them both tight.

They do go hunting, on a clear, cold morning that promises good visibility and little chance for snow. Namjoon and Hoseok stay behind, and ideally the hunting party would just be three, but with Seokjin's back still not fully healed, and Yoongi's ankle only just back to good health, they risk Jimin coming along for the extra muscle, because he's quiet enough on his feet not to cause problems.

Yoongi leads them into the forests of Gail-ri, hesitant to wander too far from home, keeping to the land he knows best. As it turns out, they don't need to go any farther. They settle on a ridge on the northern slope right after sunrise, and before midday several deer have crossed their path. A small buck passes close by, and Yoongi takes his shot.

They haul it out whole, wrapped in a blanket to contain the blood, and with the four of them it is easy work. They go slow—slower than they would like—to listen to the woods around them, on edge for any sign of undead that might be drawn to their kill, alerted to their presence as they disturb the frozen acres of forest around them. They're lucky, though, and they make it back to the farm without incident.

Namjoon takes over hauling for Seokjin when they get there, and he and Hoseok gather their supplies, bringing buckets and knives and a couple of tarps to the floating house, where they've decided it's best to work.

“Easy clean-up,” Seokjin had said, gesturing to the river. “We'll have to keep an eye out downstream for a few days, but for this small of a kill? The river should dilute it before anything picks up the scent.”

“Won't it attract undead from the mountains?” Jungkook had asked, looking back towards the upper house and the hills behind it with trepidation.

“Probably,” Hoseok had said, sounding rather unconcerned, all things considered. “But we're protected on most sides by the river, and we have four of you to guard the house.”

So the four of them now take up their posts: Yoongi behind the upper house, the first line of defense; Namjoon on the east side of the road, Jimin to the west; Jungkook on the lawn of the main house, the last line and additional support for any of them that may need it.

Hoseok and Seokjin work fast, the sound of viscera and slopping water carrying across the frozen lawn, but it's not fifteen minutes before Namjoon alerts the others to movement in the woods. Yoongi's not surprised that they're coming from the east, probably following their earlier trail, but he keeps an eye out on his left all the same, careful not to leave Jimin on his own.

Namjoon is already duking it out with two zombies when Yoongi catches sight of Jungkook approaching the fight, hanging back as planned, knowing only to intervene if Namjoon gets overwhelmed. But Namjoon holds his ground, three and then four zombies falling at his feet.

They agreed ahead of time to limit their communication, preventing anyone else from becoming a target, so Yoongi doesn't know if Hoseok and Seokjin are almost done, and he's trusting that Jimin's silence is a good sign, means that his side of the mountain is clear.

But then he hears a rustling to his left, hoarse moans floating down to him in the air.

“Great,” he says, turning away from Namjoon's fight to face his own pair of undead, stumbling down the ravine to the north. He's still carrying the crossbow, his knife still sheathed on his thigh, so he takes them both down before they can get within fifty meters of him, without moving an inch from his position.

But by the time he's sure the area is clear and he turns back to Namjoon, Jungkook is fighting with him, a handful of zombies facing them down.

“Fuck,” he says, feeling the first creeping tendrils of fear, watching as Jungkook goes on the offensive, drawing a few of them away from Namjoon, heading down the road.

It's a stupid move, because that's where they're coming from, and Yoongi barely restrains himself from calling out to him, yelling at him to come back. But surprisingly—luckily—it works: Namjoon is able to take down the few that remain on him, and then he's chasing after Jungkook, taking down the ones following him from behind. They retreat quickly once they're in the clear in case more come down on them from the mountain, and Yoongi feels like he doesn't take a breath until they're both back on the lawn, safe and sound.

A few more minutes pass with no activity, and Jungkook resumes his position on the main lawn, checking in with Seokjin and Hoseok on the deck of the floating house. He gives Namjoon the signal that they're done, who then passes it on to Yoongi, who then hurries and collects Jimin, pale-faced and pacing in the aftermath of a fight he could hear but couldn't see.

“They're fine,” Yoongi tells him immediately, when Jimin runs across the garden to him. “They're both fine, baby,” he says, drawing Jimin in for a quick but fierce hug.

Jimin doesn't say anything, just nods against Yoongi's chest while Yoongi scans the mountains behind them, giving Jimin time to collect himself.

“Seokjin and Hoseok are done, so we still need to keep an eye out, but with everything cleaned and stored, we should be good.”

Jimin just nods again, pulling back from Yoongi only long enough to look him in the eyes before leaning in to kiss him, more tenderly than Yoongi is used to.

“Come on,” Yoongi says, just as tender in turn, taking Jimin's fingers in his. “Let's get back to them.”

“I fucking wish we had more salt,” Seokjin bemoans, watching over their strips of meat drying in the weak winter sunlight. They had no choice but to preserve what they wouldn't be able to eat within a week or so, but they used most of their salt for the brine.

“But fresh venison, hyung,” Jungkook says, almost drooling at the thought.

“It's brined, Kook, not fresh.”

“It's not jerky,” Jungkook argues, “which means it's fresh.”

“Now that's just not true. Besides, we eat your rabbits actually fresh, how are you so excited for this?”

“I've been eating rabbits for too long,” Jungkook says, scrunching his nose. “I'm excited about the variety.”

“I guess we'll take what we can get,” Seokjin concedes.

“Duh, hyung,” Jungkook says, barely even flinching when Seokjin reaches out to flick him on the forehead. He retaliates by kicking the back of Seokjin's thigh, who then turns around to karate-chop Jungkook in the neck. When Yoongi comes to find them for dinner not thirty minutes later, they're making out in the hallway, not even having made it to one of the rooms.

Yoongi sighs at them, but only after he's stood there and watched them for, oh, several minutes.

“Food's up,” he says, barely managing to keep a straight face as they jump apart in surprise. “This makes me feel really good about leaving the two of you alone,” he says, although he mostly doesn't mean it. He knows that they're alert when they need to be, would never let their guards now if they weren't safe at home, alone together with four other people watching their backs. He trusts them to keep themselves safe, but he is still a little surprised he was able to sneak up on them.

“You're fucking silent, hyung,” Jungkook complains, pushing off of Seokjin only to pull Yoongi towards him for a kiss. “Even the most stealthy zombie is louder than you.”

“He has a point, Yoongi,” Seokjin agrees, pulling on Yoongi's arm and leaning down for his own kiss. It's a quick thing, barely on the corner of Yoongi's mouth, but it still sends a shiver down Yoongi's entire body, making him want to lean in for more.

This is new, between them, and they're taking their time with it, stumbling forward step by step. Yoongi knows that he's the last one to get with the program once again, but at least he's aware of it this time. He's aware of it, and he's fine with it, more than happy to let whatever it is between him and Seokjin evolve slowly, night by night, touch by touch.

They spend hours talking, some nights, when Seokjin joins him in the upper house. Yoongi is glad to have someone he feels like he can be honest with, someone he isn't hesitant to share his worries with, his fears for the future. Of course he talks to the others, but he's always fighting an instinct to protect them from the worst of his concerns and fears, to carry the burden of it so they don't have to. With Seokjin, Yoongi can forget all of that. With Seokjin, Yoongi knows he's not letting anyone down.

Seokjin tells him more about his life with Hoseok, both before the Change and after, what it was like living on their mountain. Seokjin had told him about Hoseok before, in vague terms, but now he tells Yoongi that he was in love with Hoseok, once, and that he thinks he could be again.

“It was never right for us, after the Change,” Seokjin says. “We had to put too much energy into surviving. And we had each other, but it wasn't the same.”

“I wish I could tell you I understood,” Yoongi admits. “But I've been alone the whole time. I'm different, I think, but I never had to change with someone else.”

“You don't think you've changed since finding Jungkook?” Seokjin asks, like he knows the answer.

Yoongi knows the answer, too, but he doesn't reply.

Seokjin likes him for whoever he is, now—likes that he doesn't talk much in the morning, that he still tries to make their meals new and interesting even thought they've been eating the same thing for months, likes the steady way he lives his life, the things (and people) he chooses to love and care for. He's not quiet about it, the way he likes Yoongi, and Yoongi does his best to show Seokjin just how much he likes him, too, how much he wants Seokjin to be a part of his life.

He doesn't lean into the kiss that Seokjin leaves on the corner of the mouth, but he thinks that maybe Seokjin knows he wants to, and that's enough for right now.

Seokjin pulls away, and Jungkook looks delighted between them, his face lit up with genuine warmth. Yoongi can't help but smile back at him, and Seokjin joins them, taking both of their hands and pulling them down the hallway of the floating house and across the lawn. They hear the murmured chatter of the others as they approach the upper house, the light from their fire pit flickering ever stronger as the sun sinks below the mountains, leaving them in semi-darkness.

Seokjin hasn't let go of his hand, and Jungkook brings them both bowls of rice and venison when they take their seats, the others smiling at them just as warmly as Jungkook had not five minutes ago.

Yoongi is struck by something, then, as they sprawl across the living room, only some of them in chairs or on couches, the rest at their feet—a strange sense of belonging that he's never felt before in his own home, a sense that things have shifted into place and started to settle. He's struck by how right this feels, how something he never asked for and never looked for and never thought he'd want feels now like something he could never live without, like this was what he needed all along.

He sits with the feeling, lets it take up residence somewhere just under his ribcage, tucks it up somewhere far too close to his heart.

Namjoon and Hoseok stay with him that night, Yoongi small and warm and content between them, and he can't imagine, then, that there's still one more thing missing.

The snow melts for good, the river swollen along its banks, and Yoongi thinks about the trip to Seoul he'd usually be preparing for, thinks about all of the things they still need. He thinks about risking a trip to Seoul, anyway, before dismissing the thought only seconds later—even if he could get into the city, he wouldn't be able to find anyone to trade with.

Apparently Chan's crew has taken to outright subversion, transitioning into a black market supply chain with aplomb, trading information as well as goods. (“They were basically one already,” Namjoon tells him, shrugging. Yoongi remembers what he had said about them not always agreeing on their methods. “Now they're just doing it to disrupt a coup. Seems like they're thriving.”) Soobin and the kids still have control of most of their wares, if the information coming out of Seoul can be trusted, but they're still underground, not willing to risk exposure. No one's heard from Donghyuk, and it's pretty widely assumed that he's dead.

There's still the train stations, though, and they make use of them when they can. Two or three of them are often away, trading their preserved meat or tech they don't need mostly for medicine, but Yoongi is always in the market for new seed varieties—or even the old varieties to restock his vault; he can't afford to be picky. He is also—more recently—looking to get some more ammo.

Because he does have a gun, one that he'd bought with real money off of a questionable dealer back when the Change first happened and everyone was using the chaos to make some quick cash, but he's never told anyone about it. He'd be wary of using it nowadays, too, given that he hasn't done any target practice since he dragged Jungkook and Namjoon home with him. He doesn't know why he's keeping it a secret, exactly, other than he feels like he shouldn't have it at all.

He knows what he could get for it—keeps tabs on the weapons market just so he stays up to date on its worth—and it's always functioned in that capacity for him—as insurance, as a back-up plan if everything suddenly went to shit. But he's thinking about it more and more lately, as their situation continues to change.

They rarely go farther south than Cheongpyeong Station, and they rarely even need to go that far to begin with: things have been picking up in other areas, the business that's usually concentrated in Seoul starting to spread out, activity starting to seep into the outlying cities, even into the mountains.

“That just means more fucking people around here,” Yoongi says, a genuine fear couched in a complaint that Namjoon and Seokjin see right through.

“Most people are going south,” Namjoon reminds him. “The lines to Chuncheon are picking up, yeah, but imagine how they are to the bigger cities. To Daegu, or Busan? The coasts have always been populated.”

“Those are farther away,” Yoongi argues. “It's going to take time for people to get out there, even more to start going back and forth. We're a week away, if that. We're practically in Seoul's back yard. Don't act like this isn't a problem.”

“We're not saying it's not a problem, Yoongi,” Seokjin reminds him, as gently as he can. “It just doesn't mean it's the end of the world.”

“Because that's already happened,” Yoongi says darkly.

“Cute,” Seokjin says, deadpan. “I'm serious, though. Yes, there will be more people, but there are enough of us now to protect this place. We'll double down on watches, take fewer trips. It'll be okay.”

Yoongi wants to argue, but he knows there's no point. It'll either be okay or it won't be, and there's not a whole hell of a lot they can do about it either way. Yoongi wanting them to validate his cynicism isn't particularly helpful—he's not even sure it would make him feel better. He just wants to plan for the worst, so they're prepared for anything that comes their way. But he doesn't want to show too much of his hand, either, make them really question what they can do for defense.

They need intel in order to plan, though, and like Namjoon has read Yoongi's mind, he says, “Jungkook and Hoseok will be back in a few days. They'll have news, and we can ask them about the route. See just how active it is.”

“Spring is always more active, though,” Yoongi is quick to point out. “Even I would sometimes run into people down there in the spring.”

“But they both know the area,” Seokjin says. “They'll be able to tell if it's more than usual.”

“There's nothing we can do until then, hyung,” Namjoon says, reaching out to take his hand. “I know you're worried. I am, too. But we'll deal with this together, okay?”

Yoongi sighs, looking up at Namjoon in something close to resignation, or maybe just trust. “Okay,” he says, nodding. “Okay.”

Jungkook and Hoseok return the following evening, both of them looking grim. For all of Namjoon's reassurances, the knot of anxiety in Yoongi's stomach tightens.

“They're calling Jimin back to the city,” Hoseok says without preamble, once they have gathered in the yard. “Not permanently, but for a while, this time. They'll meet him in Cheonmasan Station in two weeks.”

They process it in silence, all of them doing the calculations in their heads, and then Yoongi realizes where exactly Cheonmasan Station is, and starts to laugh. “In fucking Hwado?” he asks, his nerves starting to splinter.

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, frowning, not getting the joke because it's not fucking funny, Yoongi knows. But Jungkook is frowning, too, and that makes Yoongi get at least a little bit of a grip on himself, because Jungkook should get the joke, funny or not.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says, knowing it sounds rude but not knowing where else to start. “Sorry, it's just. I don't have the best memories of Hwado, you know.”

They all know the story by now, and Yoongi sees recognition flash across Hoseok's face, sees Namjoon grimace in sympathy.

“So you're not gonna walk me there?” Jimin asks, smirking about it because he's the worst.

“Not a chance,” Yoongi says, smiling at him because Jimin can always make Yoongi feel better, can always bring him back from the brink of whatever breakdown he's on the edge of, can always lighten a situation that seems impossibly dark. Yoongi truly has no idea how he'd ever survived without him.

“That's okay,” he shrugs. “Hyung will go with me, I'm sure,” he adds, not specifying which one but making eyes at all of them in turn, Jungkook scoffing and kicking the still-frozen dirt by his side.

Yoongi laughs again, this time for real, and Jimin looks back at him like he's the best thing Jimin has ever seen.

The warmth of it stays in Yoongi's veins long after Jimin has left.

“I miss him,” Jungkook whines in Yoongi's bed, only two days after Jimin's departure. Hoseok and Namjoon went with him, in the end, and the farm feels emptier than ever, more so because they know that Jimin won't be coming back, at least for a while.

“Me, too,” Yoongi says, pulling Jungkook closer, kissing along the curve of his cheek.

“What if something happens to him?” Jungkook asks, and Yoongi knows that he's not looking for an answer, that he's just airing his fears in the easy way that Jungkook does that, but it still makes Yoongi's heart clench, considering it. He's known that it's a possibility with any of them—with all of them, all of the time. Even a routine trip into Chuncheon could go sideways, a random run-in with undead in the mountains could be their last. It's a risk they take daily, but it seems bigger now, with Jimin going to Seoul. With Jimin being so far out of their reach for so long. They knew that this was going to happen sooner or later, but Yoongi thinks that maybe, somewhere deep down, he banked too much on it being later, and didn't prepare himself for this moment. Didn't let himself anticipate how fucking hard it would be.

“We just have to hope that it doesn't,” Yoongi says, because when it comes right down to it, that's all any of them can do.

Jungkook nods, sighing against Yoongi's neck, and then raising his head to kiss the corner of Yoongi's mouth, tracing his tongue along Yoongi's lower lip.

“Kook,” Yoongi breathes, and then Jungkook leans in a little bit more and kisses him for real, a little desperately.

“Kook-ah,” Yoongi says again, pulling Jungkook on top of him, letting his weight and warmth ground him.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, grinding into him, and Yoongi gasps, gripping Jungkook's hips to pull him down. They move together, movements and breaths short and desperate, as desperate as Jungkook's earlier kiss.

They come down together, too, reluctant to let each other go, fighting off the chill of the early spring night and the growing emptiness of Jimin's absence.

“Wait, where is Jin-hyung?” Yoongi asks, much too late. “Did you abandon him?”

“It's either him or you, and I'm not gonna abandon either of you,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. A moment passes. “He's in the floating house,” Jungkook finally answers, and then he cups his hands to his mouth and stage-whispers, “I think he's pining.”

“For Jimin?” Yoongi asks, playing along with the bit, ignoring the part where they're both in bed pining for Jimin themselves.

Jungkook nods seriously.

“What a sucker,” Yoongi says after a beat, hearing the front door of the main house swing open.

“He's such a sucker,” Jungkook agrees happily, looking towards the door.

“Who's a sucker?” Seokjin asks as he comes into the room, rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold.

“You,” both Jungkook and Yoongi chorus, catching each other's eye and trying to contain their inane laughter.

“I feel like I should make a blowjob joke,” Seokjin says, yanking on the covers and pushing them both over. He pauses as they shuffle to give him room, and he sniffs the air dramatically, looking at both of them with a knowing expression. “I'd be too late anyway, it seems,” he says, sounding unconcerned, tucking the covers back over the three of them, burrowing into Jungkook's side.

“Never too late,” Jungkook says, kissing Seokjin on the tip of his nose before kissing him on the mouth. “You want something?” he asks, when they pull apart.

“Nah,” Seokjin says, stifling a yawn. He winks at Yoongi over Jungkook's shoulder. “Not tonight, anyway.”

“Go to sleep, hyung,” Yoongi says in response, but all three of them are smiling as they start to drift off.

They don't do much until Namjoon and Hoseok return, staying close to the farm and working on the land, cleaning up the detritus of winter. Even with only half of them there, it's quicker and easier work than Yoongi had ever dreamed it could be, and already the place looks neater than it ever had when Yoongi was alone.

“Don't do too much,” he reminds them, as they lay out wood for drying. “The abandoned air of the place is not just part of its charm, you know.”

“We know, hyung,” Jungkook says. “But we need to expand the garden this year, so we need to clear this patch up, anyway.”

“And if Jimin still insists on trying to make wine from grapes, then we need to trim the shit out of the vines,” Seokjin says.

The mention of Jimin's name hampers the mood for a moment, all of them no doubt thinking about what they'll do if Jimin doesn't make it back. Yoongi debates both making wine in his honor, and burning the vine to ash.

It's Jungkook, this time, who swings them back around. “He'll kill us if he comes back and we've let it die,” he says. “Better get the sheers, hyung.”

They work on and off, unhurried in a way that Yoongi has never been before. Once again he's left wondering how he ever did all of this alone, how he ever lived without them.

They don't let Hoseok do any work when he and Namjoon come back, given that he'd just made his second long trip in as many weeks. All of them are subdued without Jimin, but Hoseok still keeps their mood up, still keeps them company as they work and still helps them in the kitchen, because they can't keep him away.

“I need to do something,” he says, grabbing plates out of their hands, and they hear it for what it is, let him distract himself with small chores, deal with Jimin's absence in his own way.

They never seem to get used to it—not having Jimin around—and Yoongi would almost be surprised by it if he'd learned nothing from the past year, if he hadn't learned by now how these people turn his every expectation upside down. The space Jimin left behind him is gaping, something not even the five of them can hope to fill. But there is always work to be done, and they work around it, always with the stubborn belief that Jimin will return to fill the space once more.

Yoongi is never not worried about the influx of people making their way into the mountains, looking for new places to settle down, but they do increase their watches to actual walks of the perimeter, which has the added risk of attracting undead by spreading their scent, but makes Yoongi feel better, most nights, keeping a closer eye on what's going on around them. They haven't had any trouble yet, haven't even interacted with anyone yet, but Yoongi knows it's coming.

Hoseok and Seokjin do their best to assuage his fears, presenting the very real possibility that they could make something of a community, if more people came, reminding him that they had done it before. It's something Yoongi doesn't let himself hope for or even consider, resigned to fearing the worst. Yoongi knows there are plenty of empty houses in the area, but he also knows that they're a target because they're settled. His first two years here were hellish, plagued by hunger and cold and sheer terror, while he tried his best to make a home for himself. He doesn't want anyone else to go through that, but he knows they don't have the resources to help anybody, either, any way to dissuade someone from just taking what they have by force.

The most they can do is prepare and wait.

They stay busy, as the weather starts to warm up, as the ground starts to thaw and they select their crops for that year, tending the seedlings on the sunny patio of the main house. Seokjin caws in delight when he sees Yoongi's fishing pole, and the two of them spend too many hours on the deck of the floating house, trying to catch fish to supplement the venison they're all thoroughly sick of it at this point.

“Are there even any fish here?” Yoongi asks, after two hours of catching nothing but weeds in the swirling river.

“I have no idea,” Seokjin says mildly, casting his line once more.

Jungkook builds new traps and starts catching more rabbits than he ever had before, which Yoongi is happy about not because he isn't also sick of rabbit, but because they're starting to nibble on the barely-blooming garden.

They get news from Seoul, on what has become their bi-weekly trips to the surrounding train stations. Sometimes they trade goods, most of the time just information. Yoongi meets some of Chan's guys that he's never met before, and he meets some entirely new people as well.

Yeonjun leaves messages for Namjoon, and even though Jimin can't risk sending anything to them directly, his messages get passed on to them—mostly just confirmations that he's safe, but that's enough.

“Do they think anything will happen this year?” Yoongi asks Namjoon one night, as they sit by the fire pit, contemplating their most recent news. Apparently Taemin is getting more and more involved in their plans, getting harder for Jimin to contact, and the anticipation of it all ties Yoongi's stomach into knots, thinking about Jimin's precarious place there, how quickly everything could change.

“Soobin doesn't think so,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at him when he doesn't continue, because Yoongi may have only spent a night with them, but he's picked up pieces of their personalities here and there from Namjoon over the year, and he knows there's more to the story.

“But?” he prompts, when Namjoon still isn't forthcoming.

“But Yeonjun isn't so optimistic. Soobin says they don't have the means to do anything big yet—they barely have control over the city—but Yeonjun swears up and down that it doesn't matter.”

“Seems like it would matter,” Yoongi says.

“Seems like it,” Namjoon agrees. “But actually, I agree with him. They have what they want already,” Namjoon explains. “They've locked down the city—it doesn't matter if they can't control it.”

“Doesn't it?” Yoongi asks, confused. “What if they get overthrown?”

Namjoon points at him. “What if they get overthrown? They'll focus all of their energy on the bridges and still control who comes and goes. That's enough.”

“What if they're killed?” Yoongi asks, because he can't imagine a rebellion going any other way.

“Indeed. Which is why it makes more sense that they would act now, rather than later. Soobin's right—they barely have control over the city, but they do control it, right now. They were always going to take people against their will; it'll be easier to do while they still have access to the city as a whole.”

“And if they actually do it...” Yoongi trails off, imagining the kind of power they'd have, the unquestionable control over whatever comes next.

“If they can actually reverse a bite, they'll be heroes. Well,” he reconsiders, “maybe not heroes, but you can imagine.”

The worst thing, Yoongi thinks, is that this isn't even the worst thing. They haven't talked about it much, because the intel Taemin has been able to pass along is sketchy, at best, since he isn't trusted enough to be directly involved. But this conversation has opened Yoongi's eyes to just how bad things could get, and depending on how things go in the city, they could be dealing with it sooner rather than later.

“What about the other thing Taemin mentioned?” Yoongi asks. “Suppression.” Yoongi's pretty sure he sees where this is going now, but he still wants Namjoon to confirm his suspicions.

“That's the other thing,” Namjoon says, sighing. “They don't need to control the city or develop a working antidote if they can suppress a zombie's hunger. If they can do that, they can control them, and then it's game over.”

“I fucking hate this,” Yoongi says, because Namjoon has confirmed his suspicions, and it's worth stating.

“Me, too,” Namjoon says. “The kids are okay, but things could change so fast. And Jimin...” he trails off now, not wanting to voice it, not wanting to put all of the terrible things that could happen to him into words.

Yoongi has to choke back a sudden sob that lodges itself in his throat. “I know,” he says heavily, after he's swallowed it back down. Namjoon shuffles closer, tucking himself into Yoongi's side even though he doesn't really fit. Yoongi throws an arm over his shoulders, keeping him close. “I know, Joonie,” he repeats, and they're silent as the night closes in around them.

Summer is nearly upon them, and Seokjin and Hoseok don't mention that they had only planned to stay for the winter, and Yoongi, Jungkook, and Namjoon don't say anything about it, either. There's still a hesitant air about them, though, as if waiting to get kicked out at any moment, until Yoongi freely and willingly admits that he never expected them to leave, that when he had asked them back last winter, he had meant for them to stay.

“Of course, you could have been assholes, and then I would have kicked you out for sure,” he tells them, just to wipe the lovey-dovey look off of Hoseok's face.

“You do love us,” Seokjin coos, and it end with him chasing Yoongi around the yard, making over the top kissy faces at him as Yoongi tries to kick him in the knees.

“I'll still kick you out,” Yoongi threatens, resigned to his fate when Jungkook catches him, holding him still for Seokjin to kiss all over.

“You wouldn't,” Seokjin says, sounding almost blissful in his confidence, and Yoongi has to admit, against Seokjin's lips in between kisses that no, he really wouldn't.

Their crops grow, and they eat their fill for the first time since last autumn, marveling at fresh produce like they've never seen it before. Jungkook sprawls out on the lawn when they finish a rare mid-day meal, a hand over his stomach and a look of utter contentment on his face. Namjoon joins him, and they end up napping there for a few hours, while Yoongi watches them with something close to adoration.

The first group of people wanders close to the farm later that week, signaling them from the river's opposite bank.

“Should we go over?” Hoseok asks.

“Joon and I will take the canoe,” Yoongi says. “Go far enough that we can talk to them, but that's it.”

“You want to talk to them?” Namjoon asks, sounding surprised.

“I'd rather know what they're up to than not,” Yoongi says. “And if they leave now, I'll always be wondering where they went. They know we're here now, after all. I'd rather try to make friends with them, if we can.”

Seokjin nods, and Jungkook gives him a small smile. Yoongi tries not to think about the fact that if he was alone, he'd be watching them through his binoculars, his crossbow at the ready. “Let's go,” he says instead, waving Namjoon after him as they head to the floating house. Jungkook and Hoseok head back to the upper house, watching the road in case the whole thing is a trap of some kind. Seokjin watches the river, keeping an eye on movement on the far bank.

It turns out that the people—two friendly looking men, two fierce looking women—are harmless. They've come up from Seoul, as Yoongi expected, and after spending the winter in the now-crowded outlying towns, they've come looking for a new place to settle down. Yoongi directs them to the northwest, to a tributary of the Bukhan, or further due north, if they want to stay on the river. They seem genuinely grateful for the direction, and Yoongi risks getting close enough to the bank to throw them a small package of some of their leftover venison, tucked inside a length of tarp alongside a small bottle of iodine and a blueprint of one of Jungkook's rabbit traps.

“If you need any help,” he tells them, “you know where we are.”

Namjoon seems surprised that Yoongi offered so much, rather than using the package as a bargaining tool or a bribe, as planned, but Yoongi thinks that maybe being in love has made him soft, because he honestly hopes these people have good luck out here, and wants to help them, if he can. (Sure, he also hopes that his act of kindness will dissuade them from staging a hostile takeover of his farm, but that's neither here nor there).

Hoseok gives him the warmest smile Yoongi thinks he's ever received when he hears what happened, and Jungkook pulls him in for a kiss like he can't help it, smiling against his lips.

“It's good to have friends, hyung,” he says, and Yoongi can't do anything but smile back.

Summer passes in a haze, and while worry about Jimin hovers over them like a shadow, keeping them on edge for any news out of the city, Yoongi thinks that this is maybe the happiest he's ever been.

Of course, that's when everything goes to shit.

Jungkook and Seokjin return from a trip to Cheongpyeong Station at a full run, Jungkook yelling for them before they've even hit the lawn of the main house.

Hoseok runs over to meet them immediately, but Yoongi, on his hands and knees in the garden, feels a wave of nausea so strong at the note of panic in Jungkook's voice that he thinks for a second he might throw up right then and there. But then Namjoon is gripping his arm tightly enough that it hurts, the pain grounding him, and he takes several deeps breaths, trying to get himself back under control.

“Hyung,” Namjoon is saying, low and firm, “let's find out what they know, okay? C'mon, hyung.”

And then Namjoon is pulling Yoongi to his feet, and Yoongi goes without a fight.

“What happened?” Namjoon asks, his grip still tight on Yoongi's arm, keeping him present.

“Seoul's under attack,” Seokjin says. “Started last night.”

Yoongi feels his knees go weak, and a thousand questions cross his mind but the only thing he can think about is Jimin.

He thinks he might throw up again.

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asks, not sounding any better than Yoongi feels. “By who?”

“How do you know?” Namjoon asks, almost at the same time, the twinge of desperation and despair in his voice telling Yoongi that he's only thinking about Jimin, too.

“We met people, at the station,” Jungkook says, eyes wet like he's about to cry, which makes Yoongi feel sick all over again. “Tons of people coming out of the city.”

“So Jimin—” Yoongi says, not able to hold it back any longer, not able to ask the question.

“We don't know, hyung,” Jungkook says, stepping forward, stepping right up into Yoongi's space, which is good, because Yoongi's knees give out for real, right then. Jungkook catches him, one arm around his waist and his other hand on the back of Yoongi's head, letting Yoongi nearly hyperventilate into the crook of his shoulder.

Yoongi feels someone else at his back, Namjoon holding him up from behind, Namjoon whispering wetly into his ear, counting out his breaths.

It doesn't help, and Jungkook's tears wetting the side of Yoongi's face is what eventually brings him back, what jolts him back to the here and now. He sucks in a long, rattling breath, his instinct to comfort Jungkook overwriting everything else, and he feels better on the exhale, able to lift his face out of Jungkook's neck and look at him, seeing his own fear and pain mirrored on Jungkook's face.

“Kook,” he says, reaching out to thumb Jungkook's tears away, pulling Jungkook down to rest their foreheads together.

Namjoon wraps his arms even tighter around Yoongi's waist, taking most of Yoongi's weight as he tries to get back on his own two feet. They stay huddled together even after he manages it, letting the first wave of emotion ebb away. There's a lot they don't know, and a lot that could happen, and Yoongi knows he needs to get himself together to deal with it.

Jimin might be alive, and they need to do everything they can to get him back.

When the three of them finally pull apart, he sees Hoseok curled up against Seokjin's chest, his eyes rid-rimmed, Seokjin's head bowed as he holds him.

“He might still be alive,” Hoseok says, after another long moment, although he sounds like he doesn't want to let himself believe it, doesn't want to give himself hope.

“He might be,” Namjoon agrees, squeezing Yoongi's fingers as he says it.

“Start from the beginning,” Yoongi tells Seokjin and Jungkook, because they need to know everything before they can do anything else.

“Details are sparse,” Seokjin says, as they all try to collect themselves, as they sit down right there on the lawn, too eager to get caught up to bother moving somewhere else, “but some things became very clear to everyone over the course of the night.”

“Some things make more sense because we know what was going on with the Big Three's research,” Jungkook adds, sticking close to Yoongi's side, forcing his way under Yoongi's arm.

“But one thing that became very clear to everyone was that they were keeping a hell of a lot more zombies than anyone expected,” Seokjin says.

“Wait,” Namjoon says, “are you saying that zombies attacked the city?”

“Bingo,” Seokjin says. “Starting from inside the labs.”

“Why now, though?” Yoongi asks, wondering how the research plays into this, trying not to constantly turn the conversation back to worrying about Jimin.

“Suppression,” Jungkook says, sounding grim.

“It's only a hunch,” Seokjin admits, sharing a glance with Jungkook across their huddle, “but it makes sense. The people we talked to said the undead that attacked the city were—different.”

“Different how?” Hoseok asks.

“Faster,” Jungkook says. “Harder to evade. Harder to kill.”

“So we're thinking whatever suppressant they were testing just made them more aggressive, instead,” Namjoon says flatly.

Seokjin shoots finger guns at him.

“Not like every sci-fi movie ever made didn't warn them this would happen,” Jungkook says with a scoff.

“So people just think that they lost control of their test subjects,” Yoongi says. “Is there suspicion of anything worse?”

“Of course there is,” Seokjin says. “There's been suspicion about everything they've done since day one. Nothing they can prove, though.”

“We can't even prove it, though,” Hoseok reminds them.

“We can't,” Seokjin admits, letting the rest of the thought unspool between them.

But Jimin could, Yoongi thinks. Taemin could.

“Does proof even matter?” Jungkook asks. “Like what are we gonna do, hold another Trial? Whatever they did, they fucked themselves over, and now they're dead.”

“And now we have to deal with a breed of super-zombie,” Yoongi says, ever the optimist.

“So no one survived?” Namjoon asks carefully, bringing the conversation back to Jimin, after all. “From the labs?”

“We don't know for sure,” Seokjin says, just as carefully. “Obviously the labs were the hardest hit, but the attack spread fast, given the accounts we heard just from the people we ran into at the station.”

“And Jimin wasn't staying at the labs,” Jungkook reminds them. “It's unlikely he was even there when it happened.”

“He would come home, right?” Hoseok asks, after their silence has stretched on for a few minutes. “If he survived, if he got out of the city—he would make his way back here, wouldn't he?”

“If he could,” Jungkook says.

“We have to go look for him,” Yoongi says, not seeing what else they could possibly do. “Whether he's on his way back or stuck in the city, we just have to go look for him.”

“I agree,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi looks up at him gratefully, because he wasn't expecting immediate support of a plan even he recognizes as rash.

“But we can't leave the farm, especially not now,” Yoongi realizes, feeling an odd urge to pull at his hair in despair. He wants to leave, right now, wants to run down to Seoul and look for Jimin himself, but he can't do that anymore. He can't make decisions for all of them, and he can't risk losing what has become five other peoples' home, as well.

“Not all of us, no,” Jungkook agrees. “There are too many people on the move.”

“I think Namjoon and I should go,” Yoongi says, and he's almost surprised when everyone nods in agreement.

“I know the city the best,” Namjoon says, “and you know the land the best.”

At that, Seokjin looks like maybe he wants to disagree, and Yoongi doesn't begrudge him that—he maybe disagrees with it himself. Yoongi has done the full passage to Seoul more times than any of them, but Hoseok and Seokjin have gone further afield, far more aware of regional activity than him.

“He knows the city better than any of us, too,” Jungkook adds, unintentionally stopping Seokjin before he can speak.

“Why do you think I should go?” Yoongi asks, aiming it at Seokjin, because he must have his reasons for agreeing with him initially.

Seokjin looks uncomfortable for a moment, either with the attention or with the prospect of voicing his thoughts. But then he shrugs and says, “Because you want to find him the most.”

And then before any of them can speak, he adds, “Not that we don't want to find him. Not that you care about him any more or less than the rest of us, but it's just that—there's nothing you wouldn't do for us, Yoongi. When it comes to any of us, nothing can stop you. If anyone's gonna find him, it's you.”

Now it's Yoongi's turn to be uncomfortable with the attention, feeling like he doesn't deserve Seokjin's praise, like he's not worthy of that level of trust. But then Jungkook and Hoseok are nodding, and Namjoon is smiling at him, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Okay,” he croaks, feeling a little bit overcome.

“Okay,” Namjoon agrees. “Yoongi-hyung,” he says, “we leave at first light.”

Part of Yoongi—a not inconsiderate part—wants to leave right then. But the sun is already dropping towards the mountains, and they'll be better with a meal and full night's sleep.

“We'll split the watches,” Jungkook says, pointing to Hoseok and Seokjin, “and wake you up at dawn.”

Dawn comes both too soon and not soon enough.

Jungkook slides open Yoongi's bedroom door when it's still dark out, waking them both up with gentle whispers and soft kisses, and it's not twenty minutes later that they're donning their packs, saying their goodbyes to the others on the deck of the floating house.

“We'll back in three weeks, no matter what,” Namjoon says, his hand slipping out of Hoseok's as he stows his pack in the canoe.

“And you know the rendezvous if something happens here,” Jungkook says.

Yoongi and Namjoon both nod. They made what plans they could the night before, made contingencies for as many problems as they could foresee. Yoongi hates that most of them boil down to “Wait and see,” but there's so few things they can control that they don't have much of a choice.

They clamber into the canoe, opting to cross the river for speed, and Yoongi looks up at the three of them one last time, taking them in. “Three weeks,” he says again, and then he pushes off the deck, and then they're off.

They run into people as soon as they are off Gadeoksan, most of them—to Yoongi's relief—heading east to Chuncheon. Namjoon asks them questions, when both parties are willing to talk, and they confirm what Yoongi and Namjoon already know, what Seokjin and Jungkook had reported the day before.

There was an attack on the city by a type of undead no one had ever seen before, and a lot of people are dead. The city is open, and a lot of people are leaving it, at least until things calm down.

“But people are still there?” Namjoon asks a woman they've found near Gapyeong Station, traveling on her own.

“Of course,” the woman replies, looking at Namjoon like it's obvious. “Seoul is home for a lot of people,” she says. “They don't have anywhere else to go.”

“But you do?” Yoongi asks, more harshly than he meant to, his own anxiety about the farm sharpening his words.

She looks at him with steel in her gaze. “I've lost too much there already,” she says. “It's not a home for me anymore.”

“I'm sorry,” Yoongi says, dropping his eyes, feeling like shit. It's hard not to see these people as threats, as potential enemies, but he knows that right now, they are just as scared and hurt as him, and it softens him again, if only for a moment.

“You're looking for someone, yes?” the woman guesses, and Yoongi nods.

“I hope you find them,” she says, kinder than he deserves, and then she continues past them without a second glance.

They linger at the station for a little while, obsessively watching everyone that passes through, hoping to find Jimin, of course, but if not, then at least one of Chan or Jun's guys. They have no way of knowing if the kids are okay, but Namjoon finds it unlikely that they'd leave the city, so news of them is the best they can hope for.

It's late afternoon by the time they move on, continuing the few miles to Cheongpyeong Station, where they'll spend the night and most of the next morning, hoping to run into somebody they know. They don't want to get closer to Seoul if they don't have to, but Yoongi expects that they'll at least end up back in Hwado, since that was the last place they made contact and thus makes the most sense for a rendezvous.

Cheongpyeong is busy, as they expected it to be, and they spend a good hour scoping it out, getting a good look at everyone there. The slope to their left is still bare, even if the ash has been washed away by the summer rains, and they make camp at the base of it, more in the open than either of them would like, but they're too afraid of missing Jimin in the dark to camp any farther away, to take any more cover.

Yoongi's watch is uneventful, hardly anyone traveling at night. He hears the echoes of a fight from somewhere further in the city, but the noise stays distant until it dies away entirely, and he doesn't bother waking Namjoon until his watch is over.

“Some activity,” he reports, gesturing back across the canal. “No movement, though.”

Namjoon nods, settling into the spot Yoongi has vacated as Yoongi slips into their sleeping bag, the exertion and stress of the day knocking him right out.

The next morning is a bust, and they head on to Hwado before mid-day.

“I fucking hate this place,” Yoongi says, because he feels like he should voice it. He does. He fucking hates Hwado.

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says, indulging him. “Let's just get to the station.”

Yoongi is on his guard as they trek through the city, not just because of his previous bad experiences here, but because the closer they get to Seoul, the more they risk running into undead. Yoongi knows that he and Namjoon are both good fighters, that they've both gotten out of a lot scraps mostly unscathed, but they've never faced the new undead that the Big Three have made, and no description of their new abilities could ever fully prepare them for a fight.

“Hyung,” Namjoon says, as they approach the station, hitting him on the shoulder. “Shit, hyung, look!”

Yoongi looks where Namjoon is pointing, squinting into the distance. There are less people here than at Cheongpyeong, no doubt too close to the city for anyone to want to linger, but there are still several people outside of the doors, or gathered in groups in the courtyard.

“Joon, what—?” Yoongi starts to ask, but then he sees him, too, picking up his pace to match Namjoon's as they hurry towards the entrance to the station.

“Hyunjin!” Yoongi calls, when they're almost there.

Hyunjin spins around, eyes widening when he catches sight of them. “Holy shit,” he says, as they almost stumble into him in their haste, and he reaches out with a hand to steady them. “You guys got down here fast. Felix said he never even made it to Cheongpyeong.”

“Hyung and Kook talked to people coming out of the city,” Namjoon explains, “and then practically ran back home to tell us what happened. It's pure luck we were supposed to meet the other day, otherwise it would have been weeks until we found out.”

“Hyunjin,” Yoongi says, skipping past the bullshit now that someone might be able to tell them what's really going on. “What do you know?”

Hyunjin looks at them both for a moment before answering, which makes Yoongi brace himself for bad news.

“The labs are destroyed,” Hyunjin says. “Totally gone. Burned down last night. If anyone survived, any of the boards or the scientists, they're on their own.”

“Taemin?” Namjoon asks.

“We haven't found him,” Hyunjin says carefully, like he's well aware of the question Namjoon really wanted to ask. “Jisun checked in last night, hyung,” he continues. “No sign of Jimin-ssi, either.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi says, barely more than a hiss, and he has to turn away from Hyunjin as he feels another sob lodge itself in his throat, fighting to get out. He didn't realize how much hope he had put into someone knowing where Jimin was, finding out for sure if he was alive. Now that hope is gone, and it's like losing Jimin all over again.

“I'm sorry,” Hyunjin says, looking like he really is. “Jisun and Minho-hyung got separated when they were trying to get to the labs, and neither of them found him.”

“He was there?” Namjoon asks, sounding stricken, and Yoongi reaches for his hand on instinct, terrified of the answer even as Hyunjin nods.

“They were pretty tight-lipped about what they were doing,” Hyunjin explains, “up until they did it. Taemin had called him to the labs for something urgent, he'd said. Probably that they were going to start trials, looking back on it.”

“And what?” Yoongi asks, incredulous, “they did it all at once?”

Hyunjin shrugs, showing his palms. “Quick way to build an army,” he says.

“What a bunch of fucking imbeciles,” Yoongi says, and Hyunjin shrugs again in apparent agreement.

“What about Yeonjun and the kids?” Namjoon asks, worry creeping back into his voice, and Hyunjin is nodding before Namjoon is done speaking.

“They're fine, last I heard,” Hyunjin says, and Namjoon deflates a little in relief, but Yoongi steps up.

“When did you last hear?” he asks.

“I left the city at dawn,” Hyunjin says. “Seungmin checked in with them last night, and Chan-hyung should be there now. I'm supposed to meet him here in a few hours, actually.”

Yoongi looks at Namjoon, silently assessing their options.

“Hyunjin,” Namjoon says, not looking away from Yoongi for another long moment. “Where are they?”

They follow the road west, approaching the remaining bridges of Seoul from the north. There's a lot of activity this close to the city, and for the first time, they come across people heading to Seoul, rather than leaving it.

“Where are the fucking zombies?” Yoongi asks, as the bridges come into view. “With this many people around, they should be swarming us.”

“Maybe people are still controlling the bridges,” Namjoon suggests. “Maybe they all went south.”

“I don't fucking like it,” Yoongi says, feeling eyes on him everywhere, feeling a little like he's walking into a trap.

“Me, neither,” Namjoon says, scanning their surroundings. But they both continue on, determined to find their friends.

“Have you been to this safehouse of theirs?” Yoongi asks.

“No,” Namjoon says, “but I know of it. It's close to where my warehouse used to be.”

“Three miles from the bridge, Hyunjin said.”

“Sounds right,” Namjoon confirms.

They approach the Dongho Bridge, the first of the bridges still standing. No one questions them as they cross, but a group of people stop them on the other side, friendly enough that no weapons are drawn, but the air is still tense between them.

“What business do you have in the city?” one of them asks. “You live here?”

“We're looking for someone,” Namjoon responds. “One of our friends was here when it happened.”

Yoongi bristles at the questions, reminded of the first few years when he'd sometimes have to bargain his way into the city, back when people were still guarding the bridges. But then Yoongi considers that maybe these people are the reason there's barely any undead beyond the river, and he looks at them with new respect.

“I wouldn't hope, if I were you,” they say, but they move aside to let them pass.

As it is, they barely go a mile before someone finds them.

“Namjoon-hyung!” they hear someone shout from up ahead, and it's not hard to spot Soobin running towards them, throwing himself over both of them when he reaches them. “Yoongi-hyung, hi,” he says, breathless and excited.

It's been over a year since Yoongi and Namjoon have seen him, or any of the kids, and Namjoon takes him in with a critical eye before pulling him into a fierce hug.

“I'm glad you're okay,” Namjoon says, and Soobin smiles.

“You, too,” he says. “How's the ankle, Yoongi-hyung?”

“It's perfect,” Yoongi says.

“Good,” he says, smiling at Yoongi as well.

“The others—they're with you?” Namjoon asks. “They're fine?”

Impossibly, Soobin's smile grows. “Yes, yes, we're all fine,” Soobin says, as if they had no reason at all to worry. “A little banged up from fights here and there, but nothing we haven't had before.”

“That's the opposite of what everyone else is saying,” Namjoon observes, but Soobin's reassurances are enough for the time being.

“That's not all, though,” Soobin says, reaching out to grab Yoongi and Namjoon's hands, all but dragging them deeper into the city, back the way he came.

“Soobin,” Namjoon says, sounding as confused as Yoongi feels. “What's going on? What do you mean, 'That's not all'?”

“Just come on,” he insists, picking up their pace.

Namjoon glances at Yoongi and shrugs one shoulder, and they allow Soobin to lead them back east, dodging piles of rubble and debris, a few random fires, passing people who don't spare them a second glance. Yoongi takes in the city around them, and it doesn't look much different to him, although the evidence of recent skirmishes is obvious. Namjoon would be able to pick out the changes much better than he could, but right now, Namjoon is wholly focused on the building coming up ahead of them, what he must recognize as their safehouse. Yoongi had only been to Namjoon's warehouse the one time, and he doesn't know this part of the city well at all.

“Go,” Soobin says, when they reach it, shoving both of them towards the door ahead of him.

“What is up with you right now?” Namjoon asks, but he reaches for the door all the same. Yoongi follows him in, Soobin bouncing along on their heels.

They enter into a long hallway, and they make their way towards the single doorway at the end, stepping into a room that opens up into a large living space, a modest kitchen visible through another doorway. There are people sprawled on various couches in the space, Yoongi spotting Yeonjun and a few other boys he doesn't recognize, before his eyes land on the farthest couch and the two people sitting on it. One of them he doesn't know, his head in the other's lap, the other one of them staring back at them in shock.

“Jimin?” Namjoon asks from beside him, like he can't believe what he's seeing. There's a prolonged few seconds where they just stare at each other, Yoongi trying to process what the hell is happening when it feels like his brain is full of white noise and his knees are about to buckle, and then all three of move at the same time.

“Hyung!” Jimin cries, nearly throwing the other boy off his lap in his haste to get to them, limping as he runs the short distance across the room, meeting them in the middle.

Yoongi wants to scoop Jimin off of his feet, wants to crush him in a hug and never fucking let him go, but the sling on Jimin's arm stops him, makes him resort to taking Jimin's face in his hands and pulling him in for a bruising kiss, nearly sobbing into his mouth.

Jimin's face is wet with tears when they pull apart, and he barely takes a breath before he pulls Namjoon down, too, hiking his leg up over Namjoon's hip like he always does when they kiss, what started as a joke and then just became something they did, Namjoon's hand slotting into place under Jimin's knee.

“What the fuck,” Jimin says when they break apart, both of them gasping for breath. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi asks, sounding just a little bit crazed and not caring in the slightest. “We just talked to Hyunjin, he said they didn't know where you were!”

“We got here in the middle of the night,” Jimin says, at the same time Yeonjun says, “Chan just left to go meet with Hyunjin, to tell him Jimin-hyung was here. You must have just missed him.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi says, not quite believing that this is real, that Jimin is here. “What the fuck,” he repeats, pulling Jimin in for another kiss, softer this time, letting some of his desperation bleed out into it.

“Hyung,” Jimin says, whispering against Yoongi's lips. “I wanted to get back to you,” he says, and he sounds like he's apologizing, and Yoongi will absolutely not fucking allow it.

“It's okay,” he says. “It's okay, baby,” he assures him, aware they have a bit of an audience but not caring in the slightest about that, either. “We're here now. You're here.”

“You can't travel like this,” Namjoon says, reaching out to take Jimin's free hand, pulling him close. “Of course you couldn't hike through the mountains like this, Jimin. Don't blame yourself.”

Jimin nods, but he looks like he still wants to argue. “It felt awful, not being able to do anything,” Jimin says. “I wasn't even sure if you knew. What if I had died and you didn't even know anything was wrong?”

“Hey,” Namjoon says, tucking a finger under Jimin's chin, forcing Jimin to look at him. “None of this is your fault, Jimin. And that didn't happen, okay?”

Jimin nods again, teary this time.

“We'll never let that happen again,” Namjoon says, pressing the words into Jimin's skin as he kisses the curve of his cheekbone, the tender skin below his ear. “We're never letting you go again, do you hear me?” he asks, low enough that only Jimin and Yoongi hear him.

“Yes,” Jimin says, wiping away his tears with his good hand. “Please,” he adds, with a wet chuckle, drinking in the sight of Namjoon and Yoongi like he thought he'd never see them again.

By the time Yoongi tears his eyes away from Jimin's face, he realizes that they're alone in the room, the rest of the boys having made themselves scarce.

Or well, they're mostly alone, because the other boy Yoongi didn't recognize is still by the far couch, hovering over his seat like he's not sure whether he should sit back down or give them some space.

“Jimin,” Yoongi says, breaking his weirdly intense eye contact with the boy over Jimin's shoulder. Yoongi nods towards him. “What happened?”

“What do you know?” Jimin says, refusing to let go of Namjoon's hand, leading them both back to the couch. The boy stands as they approach, looking at Jimin with a question on his face.

“Sit, Tae,” Jimin says, smiling at him. The boy nods but scoots over, leaving most of the couch for them, letting them keep Jimin in between them.

“First things first, though,” Jimin says, leaning past Namjoon to smile at the boy again. “Hyungs, this is Taehyung.”

Taehyung smiles at them tentatively, wiggling his fingers in a small wave. Jimin chuckles fondly, and Yoongi immediately looks over Jimin at Namjoon, because Jimin is rarely this transparent and Yoongi feels like he's having an aneurysm listening to Jimin giggle at a cute boy.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow back at him, looking almost entertained by this development. Yoongi catches sight of the boy—Taehyung—behind Namjoon's back, looking unsure of himself now, and he clears his throat.

“Hi, Taehyung,” Yoongi says, offering him a smile. It's obvious that Jimin is attached to him, and the least he can do is be polite, make him feel welcome. “Good to meet you.”

“You, too,” he says, and Yoongi does a double-take at his voice. “Jiminie's talked about you guys a lot.”

“Taehyungie,” Jimin wines, burying his face in Yoongi's shoulder in what would be embarrassment if Yoongi thought Jimin had ever been embarrassed a day in his life. “It's been like four days, I can't possibly have talked about them that much.”

“Wait,” Namjoon cuts in, picking up on the same thing as Yoongi, sounding just as thrown by it. “You've only known each other for four days?”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, sounding small, and Yoongi already wants to do everything he can to stop Taehyung from sounding that way ever again. It's an unexpected development. “Yeah,” he finishes, unsure of himself.

“It's been a long four days though,” Jimin says brightly, almost too brightly, compensating for Taehyung's uncertainty. He reaches his good arm over the back of the couch, grabbing Taehyung's shoulder and then his hand, when Taehyung reaches up for him, too.

Namjoon looks at Yoongi this time, sort of squashed between the two of them, nonplussed. Yoongi raises both of his eyebrows and shrugs.

“So what happened?” Yoongi repeats, when it seems like the two of them are content just sitting there holding hands.

“What do you know?” Jimin repeats, already giving Yoongi attitude, and Yoongi will never admit it, but he's never loved Jimin more than he does in that moment.

“Nothing for sure,” Namjoon says, “besides the obvious. The city was under attack by a kind of undead no one had ever seen before, originating at the labs, which are now gone. A lot of people were killed. A lot of people have since left.”

“Very succinct,” Jimin says, and Namjoon flushes even though Yoongi can't tell if Jimin is being sarcastic or not. “That's the shape of it,” he continues, “and you're not wrong. Now what do you think happened?”

“Suppression,” Yoongi says. “It didn't work.”

To their surprise, Taehyung laughs at that, bright and loud. “Sure fucking didn't,” he says.

“But that's what they were trying to do?” Namjoon asks. “Instead of looking for an antidote, they were trying to control them?”

“Oh, they were trying to find an antidote, too,” Jimin says. “They just weren't trying very hard.”

“It was a cover,” Taehyung says. “A PR attempt, if you will. They tested a batch here and there on the zombies they turned, but curing them was never their goal.”

“The zombies they turned?”

“Not enough left in the city, as it turned out,” Jimin says. “And freshly turned ones were ideal for testing. They wanted to see if they could control them from the start.”

“Cleaner that way,” Taehyung says.

“Literally and medically,” Jimin says.

“But freshly-turned undead implies they had people to turn,” Namjoon says hesitantly, like he doesn't want them to confirm his suspicions.

Taehyung waves at him. “We were kept in clean rooms, mostly,” Taehyung says. “Never for more than a few days before we got taken by the scientists.”

“So the rumor about them kidnapping people, it was true?”

“Oh, for sure,” Taehyung confirms.

“Shit,” Yoongi says, for loss of better words. “I'm sorry.”

Taehyung shrugs.

“So the night of the attack,” Namjoon says, awkwardly moving them along, “they tried to turn them all at once? That doesn't make sense. Why would they inject so many if they knew the serum or whatever didn't work?”

“It did work,” Jimin says, “that was the problem.”

“I don't get it,” Yoongi says.

“Taemin kept me updated on the trials,” Jimin says. “He was never directly involved, but his scheduling worked around theirs. He was developing the antidote,” Jimin adds, as an aside. “He knew there were more undead in the lab than he had access to, and he could only assume why.”

“They were testing the suppressant.”

“Right. Well, Taemin broke into the lab one night and looked at the results of the tests. All positive.”

“Positive, as in good?”

“Positive as in good,” Jimin confirms. “Senses dimmed, hunger suppressed, muscle atrophy slowed. Nearly perfect puppets.”

“Doesn't explain how they could control them, though,” Yoongi points out, because he's been thinking about this a lot.

“Delayed presentation,” Jimin says, smiling coldly. “It was pretty genius, actually. See, there were three phases to every suppressant,” he explains. “Or it was more like a cycle: baseline, the suppressed state; elevation, which was triggered when there were multiple people in range; and then back to baseline once the hunger was satisfied.”

“How'd they figure out the trigger?” Yoongi asks, morbidly curious.

“Several dead scientists,” Jimin answers.

“And then after that, a lot of turned test subjects,” Taehyung adds grimly.

“Wouldn't other people be able to take control of them at baseline?” Namjoon asks, already running through scenarios.

“Sure, if they weren't dead.”

“But the suppressant didn't last forever,” Taehyung adds, “so unless you had more of it, they would eventually turn on you, too.”

“And they were very careful about the suppressant,” Jimin says. “Taemin never even found a record of where it was kept, never mind finding the stuff itself.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, getting them back on track. “So the suppressant worked, and they made their move. What went wrong?”

“Taehyung knows more about this part than I do,” Jimin says. “I was with Taemin in his quarters when the attack started, pretty far away from the labs. He was telling me about the results, and the increased numbers of undead they were keeping on site. We were heading over to his lab when we noticed something was wrong.”

“Like we said,” Taehyung begins, “elevation was triggered when the zombie came into contact with multiple people, meaning there were never more than two scientists to a zombie, meaning they had never really met or tested in groups.”

Namjoon sucks in a breath, clearly already seeing where this is going, and Yoongi thinks he can start to piece it together, too.

Taehyung smiles at Namjoon. “Yeah,” he says. “Bit of an oversight on their part, eh?”

Namjoon just shakes his head, looking grim.

“They started taking a lot of us at once,” Taehyung continues. “That whole day, until there were only a few of us left. They were turning and suppressing us in groups, keeping us locked up until they were ready to, like, I don't know, unleash us, I guess.”

“On the city?” Yoongi asks. “Sounds messy.”

“It wasn't a great plan,” Jimin agrees. “But they were running out of time, and options.”

“That night, we heard a big commotion coming from the labs,” Taehyung says. “Wasn't the first time, even in the few days I had been there, so we weren't too concerned. But then it kept getting louder, and it kept getting closer.

“Some of the scientists ran back into the clean rooms, past the holding cells we were in. It was obvious some of them had been bitten.”

“Did you try to escape?” Namjoon asks.

“We had been trying to escape,” Taehyung tells him. “New people always tried, no matter how pointless everyone else knew it was.”

“Would you have been safe there?” Yoongi asks.

“Against a horde of super-zombies?” Taehyung asks, scoffing. “No.”

“Right,” Yoongi acknowledges stiffly.

“Did they know they were going to be super-zombies?” Namjoon asks. “Like, was elevation always that intense?”

“As far as we can tell, no,” Jimin says. “The results never mentioned it, at any rate.”

“They never tried to fight an elevated zombie, though,” Taehyung adds, “so they wouldn't have known.”

“When did you realize they were different?” Yoongi asks. “I'm assuming the scientists that ran by didn't tell you anything.”

“Or like, let you go,” Namjoon adds, coldly furious.

“No, and obviously no,” Taehyung says, almost smiling. “We knew they were different when we saw them run.”

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi says, the thought of it making him shiver.

“We were still pretty far ahead of the main horde, but several had come into the clean rooms, or ran through them after the scientists. We were uninjured, which was the only thing that saved us, at that point. Too hard to scent over the actual blood on the ground.”

“Meanwhile,” Jimin cuts in, “me and Taemin were heading towards the labs, trying to figure out what was going on.”

“Jesus, Jimin,” Yoongi murmurs, wanting a little bit to strangle him for putting himself in harm's way.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jimin says, giving Yoongi the barest hint of a smirk, like he knows exactly what Yoongi wants to do. “We had a job to do, you know?”

“Not anymore,” he says, just about growling. He slides his hand up Jimin's thigh, gripping tight. “We're never letting you out of our sight again.”

“Okay, hyung,” Jimin says, outright laughing in delight now. “Save this energy for later,” he says, wagging his eyebrows at Yoongi.

“I'm serious,” Yoongi says, but he can't stay serious for long in the face of Jimin's flirtations.

“Oh, so am I,” Jimin responds, leaning in to kiss him, just once, teasingly.

“Anyway,” Namjoon says, from the other side of the couch.

Yoongi opens his eyes slowly, taking in Namjoon's bemusement and Taehyung's wide-eyed glee. “Right,” he says, feeling a flush creep up his neck under the attention. “Deadly attack. Super-zombies.”

“Right,” Jimin agrees. “So Taemin and I were heading into the labs, when we ran past those first few scientists that Taehyung had seen. They didn't stop when they saw us, didn't do anything but keep running, so we knew whatever it was, it was bad.”

“Did you run into the undead?” Namjoon asks.

“We did,” Jimin says. “Literally ran into them, like Taehyung said. We didn't realize they were undead at first, though, because of that. They were freshly turned—they looked like people. And they ran right past us.”

“Because you were uninjured, too?”

“Must have been. Horde behavior has always been different from single undead, you know? But either way, we got to the clean rooms right about the same time as the horde.”

“What the fuck,” Namjoon says, and now it's his turn to look at Jimin with worry in his eyes, his own hand clamped around Jimin's other thigh.

“We made it out, hyung,” Jimin says, trying not to appear too pleased with Namjoon's reaction, but there's something hollow about his expression, too, something Yoongi thinks he's trying to compensate for with flirting. “Taemin had copies of some the scientist's keycards, so we were able to get into the clean rooms, and free the few people that were left.”

At this, Taehyung throws his arm back over Namjoon's shoulder, reaching for Jimin, who takes his hand.

“I wish we could have done it sooner,” Jimin says, looking serious again, looking exhausted. “Taemin wanted to do it all of the time. But they were already suspicious of him, and they kept the clean rooms under constant surveillance. He couldn't risk blowing his cover.”

“You did what you could, Minie,” Taehyung says, squeezing his fingers.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees, but he doesn't sound convinced. “It was the first time either of us had been in the clean rooms, and by the time we got everyone out of the cells, we were surrounded.”

“You fought your way out?” Yoongi asks.

“We didn't have a choice,” Jimin says, looking haunted by the memory. “We couldn't risk getting pinned down there, and we couldn't just wait it out. There were too many.”

“A couple of the others had been there for almost a week,” Taehyung says, “and they led us out through a different door, one of the back ways they'd seen the scientists use, thinking it'd be safer. But the whole building was already overrun.”

“We had to fight,” Jimin says, “and we made it out.” His voice cracks as he speaks, and Yoongi finds himself holding his breath, because it sounds like an incomplete sentence.

“The two of us,” Taehyung finishes, and the implication of that slams into Yoongi like a ton of bricks, the breath stolen from his lungs.

No one speaks, and the tension in the room feels suffocating as Yoongi and Namjoon both process what that means.

It's Jimin's sob that breaks the echoing silence, and Yoongi pulls Jimin into his lap without conscious thought, mindful of his arm in its sling. Jimin curls into him immediately, crying against his chest, and Namjoon slips to his knees on the floor in front of them, his hands in Jimin's lap. Taehyung crawls into Namjoon's unoccupied space, leaning his head on Yoongi's shoulder to whisper into Jimin's ear, running a hand gently through his hair.

Jimin cries, and the three of them stay huddled close, comforting him however they can.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” Yoongi says, his lips pressed to the top of Jimin's head. “I'm so glad you're here.”

Jimin nods from where he's tucked into Yoongi's neck, but he doesn't stop crying.

“You, too,” Yoongi says, turning to look at Taehyung, knocking their heads together gently. “I'm glad you're here, too.” Yoongi doesn't know what they went through—what they had to do to survive, where they've been the last couple of days—but they've obviously been through a lot, and it's clearly made them incredibly close. Yoongi is glad that Taehyung is here, that both of them survived, that Jimin had someone through all of this, still has someone now.

Taehyung nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you,” he says, oddly formal, but he relaxes against Yoongi all the same, melting into him to get closer to Jimin, like he was hesitant to do it before.

They stay like that until Jimin exhausts himself, literally crying himself to sleep in Yoongi's arms.

“You said you'd just gotten here?” Namjoon asks Taehyung, speaking lowly across the couch.

“In the middle of the night,” Taehyung confirms. “We ran into someone Jimin knew and he brought us back here.”

“Where were you guys?” Yoongi asks.

“We'd been hiding out,” Taehyung says. “He was injured and I was weak, dehydrated and stuff from being kept in the labs, and we couldn't fight anymore. So we found an abandoned building and tried to wait out the attack.”

“Tried to?”

“It was fine, for a day or so, but then some other people came in and basically kicked us out. We had to find food, anyway, so we left.”

“You were back on the streets?”

“Most of the undead were gone by then,” Taehyung shrugs. “We were trying to find a place to sleep when one of the guys found us.”

“That's lucky,” Namjoon notes.

“I don't think so, honestly,” Taehyung says, squinting in thought. “Jimin was leading us somewhere, even if he didn't tell me. I think he was heading to one of their old hideouts. And obviously they still kept tabs on any movement in the area.”

“You must be exhausted,” Yoongi says, finally noticing the way Taehyung's eyelids droop, the way his voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Mm,” he hums, boneless against Yoongi's side.

“We should let you two sleep,” Namjoon says, helping Yoongi slip out from under Jimin, rearranging them on the couch, both of them already curling towards each other.

“What the fuck, hyung,” Namjoon says, as he and Yoongi stand over them, watching them sleep.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees.

Jimin and Taehyung sleep on and off throughout the day, waking only to eat and drink, and they sleep soundly through the night, too.

Yoongi and Namjoon regroup and debrief with the kids, catching each other up on the past year, on what they'd all been up to. Beomgyu tells them he wants to come to the farm, and Yeonjun says he wants stock in what will surely become a booming wine business.

“Fuck the grapes,” Yoongi says. “You guys already have wine, what is the big deal?”

“Bad rice wine,” Taehyun argues. “No one chooses to get drunk off bad rice wine, hyung, c'mon.”

“Our wine will probably also be bad,” Yoongi says.

“So you are going to make wine, then?” Yeonjun asks, and Yoongi flips him off.

“Like we've ever been able to say no to Jimin,” Yoongi says, rolling his eyes.

Yoongi and Namjoon sleep well that night, too, but they wake up to new worries, their thoughts back on the farm.

“Now that we have Jimin,” Namjoon says, as he and Yoongi eat cold rice and kimchi in the kitchen, “I want to get back. But they need to recover a bit more first.”

“We have time,” Yoongi says, but he's worried, too—worried about what might happen to the three of them in their absence.

“I wish we could send them a message or something,” Namjoon says. “But of course they're not going to the stations, even if Chan could spare someone to go out to Gapyeong. We agreed that they would stay at the house.”

“I almost want to suggest that we head home and come back for Jimin and Taehyung later, but I hate even saying it out loud.”

“I don't think I could step foot out of this city without him,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi nods. “So—Taehyung,” Namjoon says. “He's coming back with us?”

“Unless he has somewhere else to go,” Yoongi says, like it's obvious, and maybe it is. Maybe Namjoon is just asking to be polite.

“Something tells me he's not gonna leave Jimin, either,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi nods again. That much is obvious.

“I guess we just wait for them to heal up, then,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon nods.

Jimin and Taehyung both look better when they wake up, nearing mid-day. Yoongi and Namjoon are camped on the adjoining couch, keeping Jimin in sight, as they'd promised.

“Hyungs?” Jimin says as he wakes, immediately looking around for them, relaxing when he spots them a moment later, Namjoon already on his feet.

“Hey, baby,” Namjoon says, offering Jimin a kiss and a glass of water. Jimin takes both eagerly. “Good morning, Tae,” Namjoon says, offering him the same.

Taehyung blushes when Namjoon kisses the side of his head, sipping his water to hide his smile. Yoongi knows they're fucked, right then and there.

“How're you feeling?' Namjoon asks, and Yoongi can tell that he doesn't just mean physically.

“Better,” Jimin answers. “Really. I'm still—” he pauses, blinking rapidly, biting his lip. “It's still hard to think about,” he says eventually, “when I let myself think about it, which I haven't been. But I'll be okay, hyung,” he finishes, squeezing Namjoon's hand.

“We're right here,” Namjoon says, “whenever you need us, okay?”

Jimin nods, offering him a small smile.

“What about you, Taehyung-ah?” Namjoon asks softly, turning to him. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

“You're already doing enough,” Taehyung says, smiling up at him, too.

It's another week before they're ready to travel.

Taehyung, as it turns out, didn't have anywhere else to go—“I was sleeping on the streets,” he told them, “an easy target for kidnapping by evil corporations”—so their party is up one member, and they're all glad to have him along.

“We might need the whole three weeks after all,” Yoongi notes, when it takes them a few hours just to get out of the city. They're going slow on purpose, feeling out what Jimin and Taehyung are capable of doing, and they're weighed down by food and supplies that the kids wouldn't let them refuse.

“No way, hyung,” Jimin says. “We'll get there before that. I can't believe you left the fate of the farm in Jin-hyung and Jungkook's hands. What were you thinking?”

“Hobi's, too,” Namjoon says, nearly pouting. “Don't forget about Hobi.”

“I could never forget about Hobi-hyung,” Jimin says, looking at Namjoon pointedly. “But no one man—no matter how competent—is a match for the two of them. You both should know that.”

“Stop,” Yoongi says, nearly whining. “Stop talking about it. You're gonna give me heartburn, Jimin, christ.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin says, digging into the dramatics of it. “There's gonna be a hostile takeover for sure, hyung. I can't believe you'd let this happen.”

“If there is, we meet at the church,” Namjoon says, completely serious, and that, at least, seems to shock Jimin into silence.

“Wait,” he says, looking both horrified and delighted at the prospect. “You were really willing to risk losing the farm to come find me?” he asks.

“Yes,” Namjoon says, with the naked honesty that Jimin so often inspires, at the same time Yoongi says, “Well, we're trying really hard not to let that happen, actually.”

Delight wins out on Jimin's face, and he sticks his head between the two of them as they walk, unable to drape himself over their shoulders as he usually would, but they both understand his intention.

“Go away,” Yoongi says, with a gentle hand to Jimin's forehead that does nothing to actually move him.

“You love me,” he says, batting his eyelashes at them. Namjoon snorts.

“No shit,” Yoongi says, but it's soft.

“Taehyungie,” Jimin says, wonder still in his tone, “do you see that? They love me.”

“I knew that before, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says, just as fondly as the rest of them. “They're just as whipped for you as you said they were, too,” he adds, the smirk audible in his tone, and Yoongi can only splutter in response.

They head back the way the came, hitting the major stations, on the lookout for news and any normal undead in the area.

Jimin had gone into more detail about the attack while they recovered at the safehouse, more willing to talk about it as the days passed. The summary he and Taehyung had given that first morning was missing quite a bit, apparently, and Jimin had known a lot more than he'd had the energy or the wherewithal to disclose at the time.

He told all of them on their last night there, explaining the mechanics of the attack, why he and Namjoon hadn't run into any undead on their way into the city, and why they probably wouldn't have to worry about it going forward.

“As much as we can piece it together, heightened elevation only displayed once,” Jimin had said, “when they were all together. Taemin had told me a lot about the general research that had been done on undead before, the fears of a mutation, horde versus individual behavior, stuff like that.”

“Mutation was a big fear a couple of years ago,” Namjoon reminded them. “People were worried that they'd eventually get harder to kill.”

Jimin nodded. “And it's something they should have paid closer attention to, or modeled better, or something, because that's what happened.”

“They mutated?”

Jimin nodded again. “The suppressant made minor changes to the DNA of the corpse, which shouldn't have mattered because the people were dead, or so the scientists insisted. Taemin always said that was bullshit, because the whole point of the antidote was to manufacture CAR T-cells that literally reversed death. But anyway,” he said, waving that factoid away, “apparently the DNA modification in the suppressant also triggered a survival response when they were all grouped together like that. Such a large number of suppressed undead in one place registered in their—keep in mind—not-very-atrophied brains as low population, and heightened elevation was the result.”

“To turn as many people as they could,” Soobin concluded, nodding. “It makes sense.”

“Does it?” Yoongi asked.

“Sure,” Soobin said, continuing when Jimin nodded at him. “A wide-spread response like that, it's for survival of the species, rather than the individual. It's not uncommon that it's also self-destructive, because it's meant to increase their numbers beyond those that will die doing it.”

“So that's why we haven't run into any of these undead,” Yoongi said, the last piece falling into place. “Heightened elevation means they die.”

“I mean, they're already dead, technically, but yes,” Jimin had confirmed.

Which was all well and good, but it didn't mean that regular undead weren't still around, that they aren't still a threat as they make their way back home. Half of their party is in no condition to fight, and they still need to be careful. But they've been on the road for a few days now, and it's been uneventful. Yoongi is too tired and too stressed and too homesick to even be cynical about it, which Namjoon doesn't let go without comment.

“No dire predictions, hyung?” he asks, as they settle down for the night before they leave the river behind them. “No proclamations of doom?”

“Fuck off,” Yoongi says, throwing a piece of jerky at him, which Namjoon picks up and eats. “We've been through enough, haven't we?” he asks after a moment, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just want to get home.”

Namjoon reaches out for him, squeezing his thigh, leaning down to kiss his shoulder through his clothes. “We have, hyung,” he says. “Just a few more days.”

The next day, Jimin questions them when they carry on north, skirting Gadeoksan instead of climbing it.

“We took the boat,” Yoongi explains. “Cuts off almost a whole day.”

Jimin doesn't make the pithy remark that Yoongi's expecting, but he does smile at them, so big that his eyes turn into crescents.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi says, waving him along. “We love you, get over it.”

“Never.”

Jungkook is on watch on the deck of the floating house when they signal from their side of the river. They can't hear him as he runs across the lawn, but no doubt he's yelling for Seokjin and Hoseok, because then all three of them are running back down to meet them, Hoseok waving to them as they cross.

It's a tight fit in the canoe, but Namjoon rows them home with sure strokes, and Jungkook is openly sobbing by the time they pull up to the floating house. He lifts Jimin out of the canoe all by himself, his arms tight around Jimin's waist.

“I'm here, sweetheart,” Jimin croons, kissing the tears off of Jungkook's cheeks. “It's okay, I'm right here.”

“Never again,” Jungkook says between sniffles, hunkering down and burrowing into Jimin's unhurt shoulder. “We're never letting you go again.”

“That seems to be the general consensus,” Jimin says, sighing like he's put out about it rather than thrilled.

“How about some help for the rest of us, Kook-ah?” Yoongi asks, throwing their packs over the gate.

“Give him some time, Yoongi, geeze,” Seokjin chuckles, offering his own hand to help Yoongi out of the boat. He turns to Taehyung once Yoongi is out, and Yoongi watches with sudden interest as Seokjin falters, just for a moment, at the sight of him.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, offering his hand again, his ears quickly flushing red.

“Hi,” Taehyung says, as shyly as Yoongi has ever heard him, and he's starry-eyed as he takes Seokjin's hand.

“Oh, jesus,” Yoongi mumbles, watching with fascinated horror as Taehyung's foot gets caught in the gate and he stumbles into Seokjin, who catches him against his chest.

Jimin, watching over Hoseok's shoulder, hasn't missed this exchange, either.

“Taehyungie,” he says, appearing at Taehyung's side with a smirk, “I see you've met Seokjin-hyung. Jin-hyung, this is Taehyung.”

“Nice to meet you, Taehyung,” Seokjin says, apparently becoming aware of the fact that he hasn't looked away from Taehyung once, because he suddenly clears his throat and glances at the others, whose expressions range from delighted (Jimin) to jealous (Jungkook) to resigned (Hoseok) to intrigued (Namjoon).

“Nice to meet you, too, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Jimin allows whatever this is to happen for another few moments before he hauls Seokjin away.

“I'm in full support of this, hyung,” he says, gesturing between Seokjin and Taehyung, “but I'm also right here.”

“You are,” Seokjin agrees, running his hands through Jimin's hair, cupping Jimin's face in his hands, both of them just looking at each other for a long moment.

“Can you kiss me already?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin smiles.

“Of course,” he says, already leaning down.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi says, taking over introductions now that Jimin is otherwise occupied. Taehyung tears his gaze away from the admittingly distracting sight of Jimin and Seokjin making out in front of him. “This is Hoseok and Jungkook,” he says, gesturing to them.

“Nice to meet you, Taehyungie,” Hoseok says, pulling him into a hug, and Yoongi smiles at him behind Taehyung's back. Hoseok has no idea who this person is or why he's here, but his first priority is to make him feel welcomed, and Yoongi loves him so fucking much.

Jungkook is watching Taehyung with a familiar glint in his eyes, and Yoongi decides that he doesn't actually know which one Jungkook was more jealous of before. “Is he a hyung?” Jungkook asks, glancing at Yoongi for just a second.

“For you, kiddo?” Yoongi asks, just to see Jungkook glare at him. “He sure is.”

“Well, come on, hyung,” Jungkook says, taking Taehyung by the hand and leading him back up to the lawn. “We're not just gonna stand around on the dock all day, right?”

“Right,” Namjoon says, who's been watching all of them with a barely contained smile. He herds Jimin and Seokjin along, following them off the floating house and up to the lawn, where Jungkook and Taehyung have made themselves comfortable.

The day is still warm, so they debrief outside, Seokjin and Hoseok bringing them food so they can eat dinner while they talk. It takes hours for them to get caught up, and they relocate to their fire pit outside the upper house once the sun starts to set, Jimin giving Taehyung an impromptu tour as they make their way up.

Jungkook tells them about what's been happening there, the couple groups of people they talked to. “Honestly, though, it's been quiet,” he says. “A group of women passed through sometime in the second week, coming out of Chuncheon. We gave them some medical supplies they needed and they tried to give us food, but we didn't let them. They had nothing else on them and no place to go.”

“We let them stay for a few days,” Hoseok adds, eyeing Yoongi as he says it. “In the floating house.”

It takes Yoongi by surprise, and while he's not entirely sure how he feels about it, he's not immediately against it, either. He trusts their judgment, and he has been much more friendly himself, lately.

“Do you know where they went?” Yoongi asks.

Seokjin nods. “They said they were going head a little further up north. They're actually from Chuncheon, so they wanted to stay on the river, but somewhere a little less populated.”

Yoongi nods this time. Between the four they'd seen before they left, and now this new group of people to the north, Yoongi tries to get used to the idea of having neighbors. It's not as strange an idea as he thought it would be.

“You said a couple of groups, though,” Yoongi points out. “Who were the others?”

“Just some people passing through on the other side of the river,” Hoseok says. “Wondering if we knew anything about Seoul. We exchanged some news, and they left.”

“That's good,” Yoongi says, not quite sure how to express the relief he feels that nothing happened while they were gone, that everything might actually be okay. “That's good to hear.”

“Everything's fine, Yoongi,” Seokjin says, always able to read him. “We're gonna be okay.”

Yoongi nods, looking up at the six faces that look back at him around the fire. He thinks about everything they've been through, everything it took to get them here. He thinks about falling in love with them, and how they still had space for one more.

He thinks that maybe this was always how it should've been.

He thinks that nothing can take this away from him, now.

Winter comes quickly that year, the first snow falling almost a month earlier than Yoongi expected it, and his first thought, surprisingly, is about the others who have recently settled, wondering if they were prepared.

“We could go find them, hyung,” Hoseok says that night, when Yoongi airs his concerns as they make dinner.

“Not yet,” Yoongi says, because the thought of stretching themselves too thin still makes Yoongi worry more. “I don't think we're ready yet, but I'd like to, eventually.”

“Let's make it through winter first, yeah?” Hoseok agrees, and Yoongi nods, grateful.

“Yeah,” he says.

“We're a lot better off this year than we were last year,” Hoseok says, “even if we're up another person.”

“About that,” Yoongi says, smiling at Hoseok so he'll know he's joking. “Let's stop taking in strays next year, hmm?”

Hoseok smiles back at him. “Yeah. We're about at our quota, don't you think?”

They hunt another deer when the snow melts, and it goes much more smoothly than the first time.

“I can't believe you'd only done this once before,” Taehyung says, while Hoseok teaches him how to strip the meat for drying. “You looked like pros.”

“To be fair,” Seokjin says, “me and Hoseokie have done this part a lot.”

“Still cool,” Taehyung insists.

Yoongi doesn't let himself be surprised by how it feels like Taehyung has lived with them the whole time. Jungkook ropes him into being his best friend, and it's barely a couple of months before Jimin crawls into Yoongi's bed to tell him that he slept with him, which Yoongi does not find surprising in the slightest.

Jimin still hasn't talked about what happened in the labs, and Yoongi thinks that he never might. He and Taehyung talk between themselves a lot, though, so Yoongi hopes that they're dealing with it together, that they're helping each other through it.

It's equally unsurprising when he walks into the main house one mid-winter day to find Taehyung straddling Seokjin on one of their couches, a blanket thrown over them hiding the worst of their crimes, but the flush on Seokjin's face unmistakable, the hickeys on Taehyung's neck impossible to miss.

“Hi, hyung,” Taehyung says, looking up and smiling at Yoongi as he freezes in the doorway. “Don't mind us,” he says, moving something under the blanket and making Seokjin bite off a moan.

“That's asking the impossible, Tae-yah,” Yoongi says, several minutes too late, once he has forgotten what he even came into the house for.

Taehyung joins the ranks of non-cooks with Namjoon, and so Yoongi ends up spending a good deal of time with him, while he cleans up the kitchen in the upper house and Yoongi pretends not to help, because Taehyung wants to feel like he's earning his keep.

“You don't have to do anything, you know that, right?” Yoongi asks him, once he's gotten this admission out of him. “You don't have to like, prove you deserve a place here, or anything.”

Taehyung shrugs. “That's what Jimin and Kook keep telling me,” he says.

“And in this very one instance,” Yoongi insists, “they're both right.”

Taehyung puts down the sets of chopsticks he's cleaning. “You've just done so much for me, hyung,” he says, sounding small, and it cuts through Yoongi's heart the same way it did back in Seoul, a mere hour after they'd met. “You had no reason to trust me, no reason to offer me a place to stay, never mind live, and now here I am, and I—”

“I'm gonna stop you right there,” Yoongi says, coming around to the sink to pull Taehyung into his arms. “Because that is bullshit, Kim Taehyung, you hear me?”

Yoongi holds him at arm's length in order to look him in the eyes, but he makes sure his grip is gentle, makes sure his words are soft. “Jimin adores you, number one,” Yoongi says, “and that would be reason enough to keep you on its own. But now all of us adore you, and we all want you here. Just as you are.”

Taehyung doesn't nod, but he does catch Yoongi's eye, the start of a smile on his lips.

“And I trust you because you saved Jimin's life, because I trust him and he trusts you absolutely.”

“He saved me, hyung,” Taehyung says. “It's the other way around.”

“You saved each other, then,” Yoongi amends, “because you're saving him right now, Taehyung. You know that, right?”

This time, Taehyung nods.

“It's—hard,” Yoongi admits, dropping his hands from Taehyung's shoulders at last, “not knowing what he's gone through, not knowing how to help him. But we don't have to worry because he has you.”

“You do help him, hyung,” Taehyung insists, reaching out to take Yoongi's hands in his. “All of you do. He tells me all of the time how lucky he is to have all of you, how he doesn't think he deserves it.”

“God, don't tell me that,” Yoongi says, feeling tears start to well up in his eyes.

“But he does,” Taehyung continues. “Of course he does. And you deserve him, too, hyung. You're so fucking good to him. All of you are.”

“So are you,” Yoongi says, pulling a hand out of Taehyung's grip so he can wipe at his eyes. “We're talking about you, remember?”

Taehyung laughs wetly. “Right, hyung,” he says. “Sorry.”

“But fuck Jimin,” Yoongi says all of a sudden, and Taehyung's eyes widen in surprise, making Yoongi choke back a laugh. “Even without him,” Yoongi explains, “we'd still want you here. You're our friend, more than that to a few of us, and this is your home now, for as long as you want it.”

“I think I'll want it for a while, hyung,” Taehyung says, bringing their still-joined hands up to his chest, pulling Yoongi in closer.

Yoongi glances around the room, as if just noticing that he's made a critical error and checking to see if anyone is around to save him. It's not like it's escaped Yoongi's notice that Taehyung is beautiful, and smart, and kind. It's not like Yoongi hasn't noticed Taehyung watching him, Taehyung following him around asking questions about the farm. It's not like Yoongi doesn't enjoy his company, or answer all of his questions—even the silly ones—with patience and a smile, wishing he'd ask some more just so they can keep talking. It's not like Yoongi hasn't thought about him with Jimin, with Jungkook, with Seokjin, and maybe what it would be like with him, too.

It's just that Yoongi didn't think he'd be alone with him like this so soon, tension so thick in the air between them that he could cut it with the knife that Taehyung hasn't gotten around yet to washing.

“What about to you, hyung?” Taehyung asks, his voice low, and it throws Yoongi off for a second.

“What?” Yoongi asks, squinting in confusion, still not able to tear his eyes away from Taehyung's face.

“You said I'm more than a friend to a few of you,” Taehyung explains, taking another step closer to him, so they're nearly chest-to-chest. “What about to you?”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, more of a sigh than a word, and then Taehyung leans down and presses their lips together, kissing him softly, just for a moment before he pulls away.

It takes Yoongi several seconds to open his eyes, and when he does, Taehyung is watching him closely, a hint of worry around his eyes. Yoongi swallows thickly, licking his lips without thinking.

“Hyung?” Taehyung asks, “was that—”

He doesn't have the chance to finish, because Yoongi gets up on his tip-toes to kiss him again, yanking his hands out of Taehyung's grip to wrap them around the back of Taehyung's head instead, hauling him down.

Taehyung melts into him immediately, snaking his arms around Yoongi's waist and holding him close, kissing him deeply, sighing in contentment into Yoongi's open mouth.

“Tae-yah, fuck,” Yoongi groans, as Taehyung pulls back just to start kissing down Yoongi's throat, walking Yoongi backwards towards his bedroom without pulling away.

Yoongi lets himself get pushed backwards onto his bed, lets Taehyung crawl on top of him, rucking up his shirt and working his way down Yoongi's body to nose at the waistband of his pants.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, desperate for Taehyung's mouth on him, for anything Taehyung wants to give him. “Please.”

Taehyung doesn't make him wait, doesn't hold back, and Yoongi lets him rut against his hip after he's come, whispering encouragement into his ear.

He collapses on top of Yoongi when he's finished, and Yoongi takes his weight with complaint, tucks his hair behind his ear and kisses his temple, breathes heavily against his cheek.

“Guess that answers my question,” Taehyung says, when they've both calmed down, trading lazy kisses as the night deepens around them.

Yoongi huffs out a laugh. “Guess so,” he says, kissing Taehyung again just so he doesn't say anything else.

They stay in bed for a while, Yoongi starting to doze off a little, when he hears the front door open, and Namjoon calling through the house.

“Hyung?” he calls, shuffling around the kitchen. “Taehyung never came back to the house and Jimin wanted me to make sure he was okay,” Namjoon explains, to no one in particular.

Yoongi and Taehyung glance at each other at that, Taehyung looking sheepish, Yoongi incredulous, before Namjoon is sliding the door of Yoongi's bedroom open.

“Ah,” he says, several seconds after he spots them, still naked in Yoongi's bed. “Jimin's not worried about you at all, is he?” Namjoon asks, sounding like he should have expected this. And honestly, Yoongi thinks, he should have.

“I wouldn't think so,” Taehyung agrees pleasantly. “Come in, hyung,” he says a moment later. “Don't you know it's rude to leave the door open?”

“Are you always like this when you get caught with your pants down?” Yoongi asks him in despair, remembering how blasé he was about it when Yoongi had walked in on him and Seokjin in the main house.

“You're dating six people, hyung,” Taehyung says, sounding offended. “How is this what gets you flustered?”

“Six, now, is it?” Yoongi says, lowering his voice to something he hopes comes across as seductive.

“I thought we'd just established that, hyung,” Taehyung says, matching Yoongi's tone.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, from where he never quite moved out of the doorway, “I'll be going now, since you're both okay.”

Taehyung looks up at him immediately, giving Yoongi whiplash. “Are you sure you wanna leave, Namjoon-hyung?” he asks, the flirtation still obvious in his voice, even if it's softer, now, somehow more honest. “There's plenty of room for you here, you know.”

Taehyung pats the empty space next to them, but Namjoon looks back at Yoongi, who can't help but smile at him.

“There is plenty of space,” he says. “Besides, Jimin doesn't deserve you right now.”

Taehyung laughs into Yoongi's neck, hearing the echo of their earlier conversation in Yoongi's words.

“I don't disagree with you there,” Namjoon says, stepping out of his pants as he climbs into bed with them, Taehyung pulling him close against his side.

“Goodnight, hyungs,” Taehyung says, kissing them both on the cheek, falling asleep between them with a smile on his face.

“Good morning, hyung,” Jimin says the next morning, handing Yoongi a cup of tea as soon as he steps out of the upper house to sit around the fire pit. Yoongi looks down at the cup sadly, resolving that the first thing they need to look for this spring is coffee. They depleted their instant coffee reserves last month, and while Yoongi is glad they had the forethought last year to find and dry tea leaves, it's just not the fucking same.

“I will tell you anything you want to know if you can get me a cup of coffee in the next ten minutes,” Yoongi says, brushing past Jimin to plop down on the bench next to Hoseok. “Otherwise, you're dead to me.”

“That's not fair,” Jimin whines, following him doggedly. “I orchestrate a dick appointment for you and my punishment is death? That's harsh, hyung.”

“First of all, the punishment is for harassing me to talk about it,” Yoongi clarifies. “And second of all,” he says, reaching out to flick Jimin on the forehead, “don't talk about my boyfriend like that.”

Jimin squeals in delight at this divulgence, which makes Yoongi wince and spill his stupid tea all over his fingers.

“Fighting for his honor already, hyung, how noble of you,” Jimin says, and Yoongi would almost think Jimin was making fun of him, if it didn't sound like he was two seconds away from getting on his knees to blow him.

“He's still in bed, you know,” Yoongi tells him, gesturing back to the house, before his dick can get too interested. “I'm sure he'll tell you everything you want to know.”

“But I want to hear it from you, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whines again, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Tough shit, kid.”

“You're such a jackass,” Jimin says, sounding utterly unconcerned, getting to his feet and all but skipping into the house to crash with Taehyung in Yoongi's bed.

“So,” Hoseok says, into the silence that Jimin has left in his wake, smiling at him. “You and Taehyung-ah, huh?”

“God, not you, too,” Yoongi says, but he smiles back, and accepts Hoseok's kiss gladly when it comes.

They make it through winter without incident, but spring brings with it a rise in the number of undead that wander onto the farm, no doubt drawn by the increased numbers of people settled down in the area.

With seven of them, it's not hard to take care of, but Yoongi is never not nervous when any of them get into a fight, never stops thinking about how quickly things could turn bad. They put off their foraging trips for a month or so, at least until the activity dies down, and Yoongi is grateful beyond belief that they are able to, that they never went hungry this past winter and that they have enough for emergencies, should one arise.

As promised, they find their neighbors, checking that they made it through the winter, offering them meat in exchange for cloth and nails, and to Yoongi's delight, coffee.

Also as promised, the kids start showing up to the farm, in twos and threes. They host them for a week or so at a time, getting them to work in the garden or clean up the lawn, and they're happy to do it, claiming it's a nice break from life in the city.

“Our own vacation home,” Yeonjun says, before Namjoon smacks him upside the head and tells him to go pick some vegetables.

They keep in contact with Chan, still trading news and goods, and things start to settle, as summer wears on. Seoul is still a mess, and the bridges are a lost cause, but they're rebuilding, and people are starting to flock back to the city, those who didn't take to living in the outlying towns or in the countryside heading back to stake their claim before the weather turns.

Life goes on, in the mountains and all around them, and Yoongi looks around at what he's built and is happy—fiercely, absurdly happy—with what he has.

With who he has.

There's a day, in early autumn, when Yoongi stands on the lawn of the main house, while the boys chatter and flirt and work beside him, that he thinks, This is my life now.

Thinks, I am so fucking lucky to have it.

“You're contemplating things again,” Namjoon says, coming up behind him to drape himself over Yoongi's back.

Yoongi hums in agreement, tilting to head to let Namjoon's lips brush against his neck, his breath warm against his skin.

“What are you contemplating?”

“That I love you,” Yoongi says, satisfied when Namjoon chokes on his next breath.

“Yoongi,” he says, sounding flustered. “Don't just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” Yoongi asks, only kind of teasing. “Can't I tell you that I love you?”

Namjoon kisses under his jaw. “What's gotten into you today?” he laughs, nosing now at Yoongi's throat.

Yoongi shrugs. “Just feeling sentimental, I guess.”

“Mm,” Namjoon hums in acknowledgment. “I love you, too, hyung,” he says, just because he can.

“Hyungs!” Yoongi hears from behind them, accompanied by someone running towards them across the lawn. They both turn to face Taehyung, who's holding something delicately in his hands, hidden from view.

“Hyungs,” he says again, taking the time to lean in and kiss them both before continuing, as if he could do nothing else when presented with them.

“What is in your hand, Taehyung?” Yoongi asks warily, because he trusts these people with his life, but nothing less than that.

“Open your mouth,” Taehyung says.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Yoongi says.

Taehyung pouts. “Fine,” he says, sounding disappointed. “Hold out your hand.”

This is a more reasonable request, but Yoongi still does so tentatively, ready to drop whatever Taehyung gives him in a second if need be.

Taehyung grabs his upturned hand, because he knows Yoongi's tricks too well, and then he pours a handful of ripe grapes into Yoongi's waiting palm.

“Try one,” Taehyung says, taking one out of Yoongi's hand and bringing it to his mouth. “They're ready.”

Yoongi eats it out of Taehyung's fingers, and he smiles at Jimin when he joins them, too, his own bunch of grapes in his hand.

Yoongi plucks another one out of Jimin's palm, eating it thoughtfully, looking at each of them in turn, and then looking over Jimin's shoulder at Seokjin and Hoseok, lounging together on the lawn while Jungkook chatters on endlessly beside them, the setting sun bathing them all in a warm, golden glow.

He eats another grape. “So,” he says, casual as you please, “how do you feel about making wine?”