Archive of Our Own

The sun beats down onto Jeongin’s already burnt, tan cheeks with no remorse. He’s sweating so bad it’s getting into his eyes, and although his lungs are all but begging him to stop, Jeongin brings his knees up even higher.

He feels like his Halmeoni when she would drag him out of bed first thing in the morning to keep her company while exercising. Her beehived hair held back by a visor as they power walked through the busy market. Except this time he’s not listening to Halmeoni gossip about the young couple next door. No, instead he’s doing a stupidly long intense workout regimen instead. Jeongin can’t help but wonder what Halmeoni would think about his form. Would she be impressed?

Probably not.

“Alright, Ahjussi!” He calls out, palms slapping the top of his bony knees each time they’re brought up to his chest. They’re on the tenth circle around the courtyard now, and Jeongin knows these standing knee raises are only going to feel worse once they round the eleventh. “We’re going to do one more lap around and then call it quits, yeah?”

The only reply he gets is that of a long, snarled groan. A little rude if you ask Jeongin, but it’s not like he can scold the poor guy on his tone considering he’s—well, considering he’s dead . Like, dead dead. Dead in the physical sense…and Jeongin supposes Ahjussi is probably a bit brain dead, too.

Dead, but not really dead. The perfect limbo where there’s enough brain activity to keep your body going, but not enough for coherent thought. Once upon a time this kind of thing was a plot device for movies and games. Jeongin would have appreciated Dead Island 2 more if he knew it was an actual script of his future. 

Because now it’s real . Like, real real. It’s happening. Right now. A whole ass Zombie Apocalypse™. Who would have thought?

“Isn’t this great, Ahjussi?” Jeongin calls out as he looks over his shoulder. Ahjussi says nothing in return. Instead he reaches out with gnarled fingers, only three out of the five, in a sad attempt to swipe Jeongin’s way. He’s not very fast—mostly because of the busted knees Jeongin had given him out of fear the first time they met. He still feels guilty about it, okay?—but it still makes him the perfect workout buddy. You know, as long as you’re able to overlook his grotesque, unhinged and broken jaw. Jeongin grimaces deepily before turning back around. Definitely not a looker. But still, “Look at us go! Ahjussi, I feel like our time is getting better!”

No response, but that’s kind of expected. Jeongin would start questioning his own sanity if the dead-but-not-really-dead man opened his mouth and spoke.

…Or maybe he should already start questioning, considering he’s outside in the hot summer sun leading a Zed around the abandoned courtyard of his empty apartment building. 

(Yeah, Jeongin will leave that for another day. Pack it away in the box in the back of his brain labeled in thick, black sharpie: Repressed Emotional Trauma Due To Not Dealing With A Literal Apocalypse .)

Instead he’ll focus on the burning sting of his hamstrings. It’s surprising how hard it is to manage yourself during a zombie apocalypse. Like, sure staying alive is great, but Jeongin has learned there’s more than just waking up in the morning and wallowing in self pity. He did that for a few weeks when all of this started. Being depressed with his dick in his hand can only get him so far. It’s why he’s doing this now.

You see he’s got a list. A good one. A set of rules he’s learned along the way. Oh so ceremonially dubbed Jeongin’s Zombieland Survival Rules For Dummies ™ . It’s probably longer than it should be, and some situations are too specific to be considered universal but—anyway. A list. It’s why he’s leading a decaying man around the courtyard. It’s why Jeongin is sweating his ass off under the sun. Having a grand ol time with Ahjussi.

At the very top of Jeongin’s Zombieland Survival Rules For Dummies ™?

#1. CARDIO  

Stay limber. Stay quick. It’s always better to run than it is to shoot. Especially if your aim is as shit as Jeongin’s is . 

His hamstrings burn, and Jeongin thinks he feels the start of a sunburn on the back of his neck. His palms slap the top of his knees, and this is fine. He’s fine. Everything is fine. Just another day in paradise.

“What do you think, Ahjussi? Should we go for round twelve just for the hell of it?”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

It’s become routine to ride his shitty, blue, puttering electric scooter down to the small gas station left abandoned at the end of his street. Pointless, but routine, and Jeongin finds himself pathetically looking forward to it as he rests the rusty scooter down on its equally rusty kickstand. He makes quick work of the helmet protecting his head. 

Jeongin needs routine. It makes things feel…normal. Makes him feel like it’s just a hazy, humid summer day and the only thing that can quell the heat is an Icee . Benign and boring. God, Jeongin misses when things were just benign and boring. He’s pretty sure he’d kill a guy just to attend one of his college classes again. Never thought he’d think something like that before.

An aluminum can clatters loudly across the stained linoleum floor as Jeongin kicks it away from the entrance of the door. It’s empty, void and without a label. Jeongin could wax poetic about the irony staring him right back in the face, but that was something he did at the start of the apocalypse. Now he’s just sad that it’s not filled with food.

Emptiness surrounds him. A deep rooted kind of quiet that you can’t shake off anymore. Before the power went out, Jeongin would come down here to listen to the gas station’s music. 20 songs all on a loop. It drove him crazy, once. A Manic-Pixie-Dream-Girl level of a breakdown, and it was all accompanied by Cher’s crooning voice in If I Could Turn Back Time . His hair has yet to grow out of the chopped, messy cut he gave himself in the bathroom with craft scissors. 

The shelves are always empty, but Jeongin still turns down the next aisle to browse anyway. The wheels of his Heelys squeak against the floor.

He’s learned with time that the end of the world isn’t what the movies make it out to be. It’s, sadly, not some action-packed-sitting-at-the-edge-of-your-seat fiasco as you pray for the oh so handsome Gong Yoo to survive in the end. 

(Spoiler Alert: He doesn’t.)

It’s not anymore, anyway. If anything now it’s become…quiet. Quiet and fucking lonely. One would think the cars driving outside their window kept them up at night, but it’s nothing like deafening silence. There’s not even the sounds of birds in the morning, anymore. Talk about fucking depressing. 

But—Jeongin has gotten good at keeping himself entertained. Or so he likes to think, anyway. He always tries to look for books when he goes out scavenging. He updates his list when he, unfortunately, comes across something that needs to be added. Though, if nothing exciting happens, at least his left hand is there to keep him company enough.

Another aisle, and then another. Stress bitten fingers trail the shelves in hopes of something magically appearing. Of course nothing does, but Jeongin would be a liar if he said he didn’t wish for it to happen.

The last aisle of the store and Jeongin is about to call it for the day when a flash of pink catches his eye. His Heelys squeal at the sudden stop, and almost comically Jeongin brings his hands up to rub at his eyes. It takes a moment to blink the shapes away from his vision, but. Yep, still there.

It’s hidden deep inside of the shelves, easily skipped, and his eyebrows furrow as he reaches in to grab it. The squishiness of the texture makes Jeongin almost gag in apprehension, but when he pulls the secret out it’s just—Something wrapped in a sticky note?

It’s pink, in the shape of a crumpled bunny, and Jeongin turns it around in his hand. It’s always weird seeing the forgotten belongings of someone else, and it takes a moment for his brain to process the words of the scrawled out writing. 

DO NOT EAT

I’M SERIOUS! 

＞ˍ＜

Jeongin blinks confused as he brings the sticky note away from his face in favor of looking down at the prize in his hand.

…Holy shit. Holy fucking shit!

The mother of all holy grails. How could he have gotten so fucking lucky? Has this really been here the whole time? Jeongin cradles it in the palm of his hands and lifts it above his head in a silent, happy prayer to whatever god is out there blessing him today.

A Twinkie . 

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

The music is barely audible over the thick static of the broken radio of the store, but it’s okay. Everything is A-Oh-Fucking-Kay. Because Jeongin? God it still feels unreal to say. Jeongin’s got a fucking Twinkie . 

Ritchie Valens ’ crooning voice in We Belong Together is a perfect accompaniment to the sound of a crinkling wrapper. Jeongin allows himself to fall back against the empty checkout countertop, the register knocked off and onto the floor ages ago. He doesn’t even care that said registar is empty of useless money, because he’s got a fucking Twinkie everybody! 

“ You’re mine… ” Jeongin warbles along, hand holding the stuffed cake into the air delicately so he can admire it. The leg not resting on the counter dangles and rocks off the side like a happy little school girl. A stupid giggle tumbles past his lips as he brings the treat closer. “ And we belong together…”

It almost feels like a crime to eat this thing. Like it should be preserved in a museum. Right there in the Accademia Gallery next to the Statue of David himself. Junk food was the first thing to go at the end of the world. Jeongin didn’t even have the chance to get a damn bag of chips , but now…

Well, you know. Twinkie.

The music putters out, leaving static, before that crooning voice comes back full force. Jeongin closes his eyes as he brings the twinkie to his lips. It’s still so soft, moist on the outside, and the noise that leaves his lips sounds suspiciously like a moan at the sticky feel. He can’t help the way his fingers curl into his shirt in anticipation, toes curling in his shoes. Fuck. Fuck . Is it hot in here?

Cream gathers at the corner of his lips as Jeongin finally bites down, and for a moment he can’t even breathe. He writhes against the counter as he begins to chew.

It tastes so…It tastes—Jeongin pauses, eyebrows furrowing as he pushes himself back up into a sitting position. He pulls the twinkie away to look at it once more and licks the cream away from his lips. The song ends, and now there’s really nothing but static.

Dude. This thing tastes like shit .

Was this always what they tasted like? Jeongin honestly can’t remember the last time he’s eaten a Twinkie. It’s almost a little hesitant when he goes in for another bite, and his nose immediately crinkles. The filling is a little sour, probably because it’s expired , and the cake on the inside is…stale.

Let it be Jeongin’s luck that he gets theoretically blue-balled by a fucking hostess treat . 

It’s too late to toss it now, and Jeongin isn’t a quitter. He reluctantly finishes it off. The damn thing almost makes him a little queasy, so he gives a full body shake in hope of brushing off the impending nausea. It helps, at least a little.

Well, that was horrendously underwhelming. 

He grumbles as he slides off the counter, and the sound of his Heelys hitting the ground is barely audible over the radio static. Jeongin scratches at his stomach grumpily, lips thin and pouted in annoyance. Fuck today. He needs a nap. 

The apartment building is almost a ten minute scooter ride back, and even though he doesn’t want to, Jeongin eyes the bathroom warily. He’s never been a fan of public bathrooms, but now it’s worse . Imagine dying when you’re at your most vulnerable? Eugh . 

Luckily he cleaned the gas station out ages ago. There’s no stalls for the Zed to be hiding in, and instead it’s just a single, dingy toilet and sink that doesn’t even work. Jeongin relaxes as he steps in, but makes sure to leave the door cracked just in case.

The tension in his shoulders release with a sigh as he relieves himself, and the feeling of impending sickness quickly fades. It could be worse, Jeongin supposes. He couldn’t have found the damn thing at all. He could have gone home empty handed. He could have—

The bathroom door slams open from a booted foot and ricochets off the wall.

Jeongin barely even has any time to put his dick back into his pants before a gun is pointed his way. It even takes him a moment to register that he’s screaming.

He’s screaming , and the curly haired stranger that’s got him held up is screaming back at him mockingly. Jeongin doesn’t even have his fucking pants up around his waist before his knees are buckling and he’s falling to the grimy bathroom floor.

“You motherfucker!” The stranger yells.

And like the idiot he is, Jeongin yells back with his hands up high, “I’ve never fucked anyone’s mother!”

The body of the stranger, the gun , gets even closer now that he’s on the ground. The stranger squats before him, and this close Jeongin can see the ghost of a five o’clock shadow. Round teeth in a heart-shaped mouth. He’s even got fucking Boba Eyes, and he looks…Well, he looks around his age.

The barrel of the gun presses against his forehead, and Jeongin swallows thickly as the other assesses him. There’s a moment of silence before something crinkles, and Jeongin is quick to realize what the stranger is holding in his free hand is the wrapper of the Twinkie he just ate. His heart sinks fast into his ass. 

It’s so fucking quiet. Jeongin can hear the static from the radio that’s still on. He can hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. His fingers tick in fear as he waits for impending doom. 

And then finally, finally , the stranger’s voice is a nasally whine when he asks, “Did you eat my fucking Twinkie, dude?!”

…Fuck the apocalypse. 

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“You cannot be serious right now.”

The gun against his forehead cocks, and Jeongin can’t help his deep groan. Rough hands come up to cover his face before they’re being dragged down his cheeks in despair.

This would happen to him, wouldn’t it? All over a goddamn Twinkie.

“Oh I am very serious.” The nasally voice presses, but there’s a stutter in his voice that Jeongin almost feels is… Teasing . Boba Eyes’ eyebrows draw down into a dramatic furrow. “Do I not look serious to you?”

“I have my fucking pants around my ankles!” Jeongin screeches. There was literally a rule for this. A Rule! Number three to be exact, and he has been so good about not breaking it. Jeongin should have listened to his gut and got the fuck out of there after eating the shitty thing.

Hey dumbass! Remember me? Oh yeah—

#3. BEWARE OF BATHROOMS

You really want to die on the toilet with your dick out? Take some extra care when you’re vulnerable.

“Honestly you should have seen your face.” Boba Eyes chuckles. Fucking chuckles. “You were like AHH! you know?”

“My dick is out!...Dickhead!” 

“Awh, and it was cute and small. Haven’t seen one in ages if I’m being honest.”

Jeongin lets out a ragged, dramatic wail, before finally connecting his gaze to the figure that now stands above him. Such an unassuming face, and yet…! Here he was. Gun to his forehead, and shitty gas station toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Jeongin was probably kneeling in old piss right now.

“I’m sorry I ate your Twinkie, okay? How was I supposed to know that you were saving it?”

The stranger’s heart-shaped lips fall into a pout, and the gun presses harder against Jeongin’s forehead before easing up not a moment later. “I left a note on it. I’ve been saving those sticky notes for special occasions, you know. The pink one? They’re in the shape of a bunny. My friend Changbin found them for me.”

“Right, let me just honor a random sticky note I found in a random gas station in the middle of the fucking apocalypse!” Jeongin throws his hands out in exasperation. “I was hungry! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a Twinkie?!”

“ Yah! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had one? And now I’ll have to wait even longer, asshole!” The barrel of the gun finally falls away as the stranger’s shoulders droop. Jeongin releases the breath he’s been holding, and his legs shift out from under him in preparation to high tail it the fuck out of here.

“It tasted like shit anyway, dude. I’m pretty sure it expired. You’re welcome for saving you from food poisoning.” 

Expect he’s not going anywhere, apparently, because the gun is trained on him once more. Jeongin freezes.

“Why would you even say that to someone who has you at gunpoint right now? Can’t you see I’m in mourning?!”

Jeongin’s voice cracks, “You’ve got a gun pulled on me, dude! I’m panicking here! Where did you even find that thing?”

“Oh, this thing?” Boba Eyes looks at it in his hand, turning the weapon this way and that before pointing it back at Jeongin, “It’s a BB gun. See?” 

He shoots, with no fucking hesitation, and Jeongin doesn’t even have a single moment to prepare himself. He closes his eyes tightly for the Inevitable End, but all he gets instead is a stinging forehead and a growing welt from where the pellet hits. 

“ Fuck, dude! ” His hand comes up to slap over the sure to be bruising injury, curling in on himself at the sudden burst of pain. “This whole time it wasn’t even real? Are you crazy?! You could have taken out my fucking eye!”

“Don’t worry, baby, your forehead is big enough for me to not miss.” Boba Eyes lifts the gun to his mouth, blowing away imaginary smoke. “And you deserve it for eating my Twinkie.”

“Holy shit. Are you even a real person?” 

Boba Eyes hums as he runs a hand down his chest, hips, all the way to his ass where he gives it a squeeze. “Definitely real.” 

Jeongin groans once more, fingers pulling away from the large welt on his forehead to ask, “Am I bleeding?”

The other male leans forward to look, and the hand that tugs his wrist away is gentle in comparison to the way he just fucking shot him . “Nah, you’re not bleeding.”

Jeongin snatches his hand back and cradles it to his chest with a grimace. “It stings, asshole.” 

“Well I sure hope so. Matches the sting in my heart. My long lost Twinkie. How will I ever recover from this?” Boba Eyes slips the gun into the waistband of his worn jeans before offering a hand to Jeongin. “Need some help?”

Jeongin is quick to slap it away as he stands, securing his own hand around his waistband so he can finally pull up and zip his damn pants. “Something is seriously wrong with your brain.”

Boba Eyes pouts and says, “I’m sorry, I just think I’m just really hangry right now—Hey! Where are you going?”

The door isn’t close enough, and Jeongin trips over his own feet as he shoulders past the other male and makes a beeline for it. So much for a quiet day today. All he wants now is to get back to the apartment and wallow in misery. Lick his wounded pride.

Seriously, fuck the apocalypse. And fuck that Changbin guy and his pink bunny post-its. And fuck Twinkies for good measure, too!

“The fuck out of here. What does it look like?! And stop following me!” 

The hint’s not taken. Boba Eyes is back right by his side the moment the gas station doors open and Jeongin steps out into the setting sun. 

“Are you by yourself? Do you have a group?”

“Dude, are you serious right now? Do you even hear yourself?”

“What? You’re the first person I’ve seen in ages . I got separated from my group. They’re probably freaking out. Crying. Throwing up. Shitting their pants.” 

“Sucks for you,” Jeongin snaps, hands fumbling over the handlebars of his scooter as he attempts to get the rusted kickstand back up. “Why is that my problem?” 

“Wow, are you usually this cranky?” The other kicks out with a booted foot, and Jeongin watches in misery as the kickstand flips up and into place. 

“You fucking shot me!”

“It’s not even a real gun!”

Jeongin snatches the helmet balancing on his seat to put it on his head and click it into place. Boba Eyes is finally quiet, but only for a few seconds, before he bursts out laughing. 

“Are you seriously wearing a helmet?”

Jeongin’s neck practically breaks as he turns to look at Boba Eyes appalled. There’s no way this fucking guy is giving him shit over his helmet when he’s the one tossing around a damn BB gun with no reservation. Besides, he got this far following Jeongin’s Zombieland Survival Rules For Dummies ™ . It’s what kept him alive this long, god dammit. Jeongin isn’t ashamed to admit it.

Exhibit A: #6. SAFETY FIRST 

When you’re trying to get away from Zed, you should always be ready for a crash.

“Almost more than two percent of crash deaths are bicyclists and those who ride electric scooters.”

That only makes Boba Eyes laugh harder. There are actual tears in his eyes, and he’s bent over at the hip like he’s trying to catch his breath. This might actually be Jeongin’s 13th Reason. 

Welcome to your tape, asshole .

“Since when can Zed drive?”

Jeongin doesn’t respond. Can’t even find it in himself to do so. Instead he throws his leg over the scooter to take a seat. The sight causes Boba Eyes’ giggles to die down. 

“Wait, are you seriously leaving?”

“Well I’m sure as hell not staying here with you,” Jeongin grunts as he starts it to kick off. The scooter wobbles as the stranger latches both hands onto the back of his seat and tugs. “Dude! Read the room!” 

“Please don’t,” The curly haired male breathes, and the change of tone in his voice is what makes Jeongin pause. It sounds almost…earnest. “Please. I know I shot you. I was just in a silly goofy mood. I wasn’t actually going to kill you. I just wanted to scare and tease you a bit.” 

“That shit still hurts, asshole. Literally, who does that?”

“I was serious when I said you were the first person I’ve seen in weeks.”

“So you assault them?”

“My conversational skills are obviously rocky at best.”

Jeongin blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. This guy really can’t be serious. 

“You’re actually crazy, man.”

“Crazy lonely! ” Boba Eyes pleads, “You can’t just leave me here. You’re alone too, right? So let’s team up.”

Fingers curl knuckle white over the handlebars as Jeongin looks at him. God…how long has it been since he’s seen a real, breathing, living body in the flesh? The fact that he’s even entertaining this idea is apparent enough. 

(Don’t worry, he’ll be adding that realization to the trauma box, too.)

In the orange light of the sun, Jeongin can see that the other male is just like him. Scared. Lonely. Tired . A vulnerability that’s as jarring as it is relatable. He can’t help but wonder if Boba Eyes sees the same thing when he looks at him . If he’s just as transparent about his fear, too. 

“Please,” Boba Eyes pleads again. Softer this time. Almost a whisper that gets lost in the breeze when the wind picks up. “If it makes you feel better I’ll let you shoot me with the BB gun, too.” 

“How do you know I’m not some weirdo freak?” Like you , Jeongin wants to jab, but he decides against it. A hand falls down to his side as he sits his full weight onto the scooter seat. “What if I’m some sick twisted serial killer and the moment you come home with me I tie you up and feed you to my pet zombie?” 

The other’s eyes narrow. “...Are you? That was pretty specific, dude.” 

Jeongin lets out a huff of breath, “No you idiot.” 

“You won’t hear a single peep out of me, I swear! Quiet as a mouse! You won’t even know I’m there.”

Jeongin grimaces fully now, “Yeah, I don’t believe that. At all.” 

It’s as rewarding as it is pitiful to see the way the other male’s expression falls. Jeongin almost feels a little… bad . Which is stupid, all things considering. And yet…

Like holy shit, is he seriously about to do this? Maybe the BB pelt has made him delirious. He’ll blame it on that. And his loneliness. And maybe his fear of dying alone, too. Sure, Boba Eyes fucking shot him , but he’s still alive, right? So it can’t be that bad. 

God, look at him. He’s already making excuses . 

Jeongin groans annoyed. Loud and dramatic so Boba Eyes knows how much he’s being put out because of this. With a large roll of his eyes, he finally holds out his hand. Boba Eyes blinks in confusion.

“...Well? Give me the damn gun.” 

This guy must seriously be off his rocker if he’s smiling over the fact that Jeongin is about to shoot him with his own BB gun. But he is . Large and wide and just as heart-shaped as his pout. Smile lines creasing with the force of it. 

And god fucking dammit he’s beautiful . Boba Eyes can’t get even more annoying at this point. What is this shit? A crappy daytime drama?

Jeongin watches his fingers slip around the hilt of the gun as he pulls it out of his pants, and then it’s placed into his own outstretched palm. The stranger takes a deep breath as he steadies himself. Eyes closing tight in favor of not watching. 

“Okay, do it. I’m ready.”

He lifts the cool piece of metal, and just like the first time, the cock of the weapon makes Jeongin shiver. He knows it’s not a real gun, but even so his hand shakes slightly at the thought. So he closes an eye, steadies the BB gun and places his finger around the trigger.

Yeah, he’s going to get this fucking guy good . 

“Uh, dude?” Boba Eyes peeks an eye open after a beat. “It’s been like, two minutes. Are you going to do it?”

Fuck …No. No, Jeongin is not. 

As rewarding as the sight would be, he just can’t bring himself to do it. So he sucks his teeth annoyed as he drops his arm. 

“You swear you’re not going to kill me in the middle of the night and take all my shit?”

Boba Eyes blinks once, twice, three times before laughing again, “I swear it.”

Jeongin’s fingers curl over his handlebars once more, “Swear it — ”

“I just did dude —“

“ — On a Twinkie.”

He’s getting laughed at again, but this time it doesn’t seem so pointed . Instead Boba Eyes sounds relieved. Jeongin can see the way his posture relaxes. He ignores the way his own body relaxes at the thought of no longer being alone. 

“I swear it on a Twinkie, dude.” The stranger holds up three fingers, “Scouts Honor.”

Jeongin clicks his tongue, “Whatever, dumbass. Just get on so we can finally get out of here before it gets dark.” 

The scooter wobbles as the other male climbs on and balances himself onto the rear seat. Jeongin lets out a soft grunt as he steadies it, but it quickly dissolves into a choked noise as the curly-haired man wraps an arm around his torso tight. 

For a moment Jeongin stops breathing. The only thing his brain can supply is a mantra of warm warm warm. God he’s fucking starved for physical touch. It’s pathetic.

The other male wiggles his chin in between the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and Jeongin’s ears burn red as the small fist of the other male comes up to knock on the top of his helmet. “Onward!” 

So Jeongin pushes his foot off the ground. The scooter teeters with their combined weight, and for a moment he thinks they’re both going to go crashing down onto the pavement. His stomach sinks just as he straightens them out. 

Boba Eyes’ laugh is starting to sound a lot like windchimes. 

“Fuck, dude! You might be right about the crash deaths thing.” 

Jeongin’s lips almost quirk into a smile, “ Shut up .”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Shut the fuck up. Is this seriously a doily?” Boba Eyes— Jisung , he had finally introduced himself as on the way back—giggles as he flops the fabric of the lace around. Jeongin huffs and snatches it away from him to cradle it against his chest. “What are you, a grandmother?” 

“This isn’t even my apartment, dude. It is, quite literally, the apartment of an old lady.” Jeongin holds the doily up in his hand. “This matches the fucking curtains. It’s a good aesthetic. Leave me alone or I’ll kick you out.” 

Jisung does leave him alone in favor of looking around the apartment instead. The power has been out for weeks now, and the only light coming in through the window to help illuminate it is from the full moon. Jeongin watches as he picks up a Fabergé Egg and toys with it in his hands.

When Jeongin first started squatting here, he’d stay up until the sun rose thinking about the body of the old woman he had to drag out of the bathroom and down the hallway. He couldn’t stay in his own apartment once Halmeoni…you know, but he always wondered if he found her in time if she’d still be here. If she would have let Jeongin take care of her. He wondered if she was lonely just like he was. Just like he is . Just like Jisung probably is too.  

Now that he’s here, Jeongin isn’t quite sure what to do. He’s never been good at conversation, but he’s worse now that the world has ended. He still can’t get over that somebody is here . Somebody alive and breathing and warm . Honestly, Jeongin could cry a little.

But he’s never going to do that in front of Jisung. He’s only known him for a few hours, but it’s enough time to know the other male would never let him live it down. 

Jisung curses deep before there’s a shattering of glass. Jeongin turns just in time to watch the pieces of the Fabergé Egg scatter across the ground. He closes his eyes tightly and sighs. 

“Sorry,” Jisung says, at least sounding a little bit apologetic. “Slipped right through my fingers.” 

Jeongin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know those things are worth thousands of dollars, right?” 

Jisung gasps, “I’m gonna be in some serious debt.” 

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Do you seriously do this everyday? God, dude. It’s sooo fucking hot.”

Jeongin blinks the sweat away from his eyes. His thighs are burning, but he’s still got a few more rounds of lunges to go. Jisung had joined him in the beginning, but he quickly gave up in favor of sitting on top of a broken down car to watch. Jeongin ignores him as he drops into another lunge.

“I’m pretty sure Ahjussi is melting. You should have let me put him out of his misery. He fucking reeks .”

“Don’t you fucking dare. He’s a great workout buddy!” Jeongin grunts through another lunge. The burning in his legs is starting to make him feel a little sick, but he pushes through anyway. “...And I’m emotionally attached to him, okay? He’s basically been with me from the start.” 

He doesn’t even want to think about what he looked like as he all but tackled Jisung into the parking lot to stop him from giving Ahjussi the finishing blow to his head. Stupid? Probably. Crazy? Most definitely. The embarrassment is going to keep him up at night, but Jeongin needs his work out buddy, okay? Leave him alone.

It’s not like Jisung is going to replace him. All lounged out on top of the car like some kind of emperor straight out of a period drama. Jeongin has a strange and sudden urge to throttle him.

“Oh yeah, Innie.” He hates and loves when Jisung calls him that. It started once the other realized he was older, but Jeongin would rather die than call Jisung hyung. “He’s doing a really great job right now.”

Ahjussi is, indeed, not helping Jeongin at all. He’s long since abandoned him in favor of stumbling over to Jisung. He’s standing next to the car looking like a dumb, lost puppy as his rotting brain tries to figure out how to get up to Jisung. And Jisung? Unbothered.

“It’s because you’re distracting him,” Jeongin snaps, “He’s usually great at –– Stop trying to poke him with a stick! That’s rude!”

The stick goes into the soft, decaying flesh of Ahjussi’s cheek. Jisung gags and pulls his hand away to wipe the imaginary filth onto his shirt. “ Ughh, I’m gonna vom.”

“You should have just stayed inside. Seriously.”

Jisung sighs as he stretches out content in his warm patch of sun. Just like a cat. Jeongin has to tear his eyes away from the soft, exposed skin that’s shown as his shirt lifts due to the movement. 

Down boy. You’re practically drooling. Jesus. 

“I don’t know why you do this.”

“I told you why I do this. It’s because of Jeongin’s Zombieland Survival ––”

“ –– Rules For Dummies ™. Yeah yeah yeah. You should really think about shortening that name, Inyah.”

This one in particular is important . So pay attention. Unlike some people.

#7. LIMBER UP

Imagine getting eaten by a zombie because you got a muscle cramp? Fucking embarrassing. You better always be prepared to run.

“That list is like your bible, dude. I swear.”

Jeongin continues his lunges, “Wouldn’t have made it this far without it. Maybe instead of giving me shit about it you take a few pointers instead!” 

He hears Jisung sigh. It’s a thing he does often. Jeongin has learned Jisung can be quite…Dramatic. “Why do that when I can watch you instead, Innie? A hot, sweaty man running around the courtyard? For Free? ”

Blood rushes to the tips of Jeongin’s ears, and it’s not the first time he’s thankful that Jisung can’t see his burning face. It’s not the first time Jisung has said something so brazen, either. Sometimes it’s about Jeongin working out. Sometimes it’s about the size of his shoulders. Last night it was about the size of his hands.

Jeongin knows Jisung is just being nice. He’s learned pretty early on that the other has an affinity for touch and praise. He just…doesn’t know how to take it. The compliments, or the butterflies that bloom in his stomach because of them. 

The first person Jeongin has seen in months and he’s already frothing at the mouth. Something is seriously wrong with him.

“...You’re just trying to butter me up because you shot me.”

Another sigh, and he turns his head just in time to watch Jisung pick up the stick once more and tug it out of Ahjussi’s face. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Jeongin makes a face, “Of course not.”

A pout on heart-shaped lips, and Jeongin hates that Jisung is so fucking cute. Even when he’s doing what Jeongin just told him not to do. Shoving the stick right back into Ahjussi’s face with a sickening squelch.

“Dude! What did I just say?"

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Jeongin be honest. Do you have two left feet, or what?”

He collapses to the floor with a groan, and opts to roll over to smoosh his face into the old carpet. Jisung towers above him with hands on his hips.

“Jisung I don’t even like Twice. Why would I care about learning the damn dance to Fancy? ” 

The other huffs loudly, but the kick to the side that Jisung gives Jeongin is soft. “You should be thankful I’m helping you exercise. Isn’t this more fun than running a mile in the rain? You could be out there soaking it up with Ahjussi!” 

Jeongin groans. “I’d much rather be doing that, actually.” 

Jisung kicks him again, and with a grunt Jeongin rolls onto his side to grab his ankle. It only takes a small tug to bring the elder down onto the floor with him, but Jisung’s tumble is only satisfying for a moment before Jeongin gets the pointy end of his elbow to the throat.

His voice cracks. “I’m going to kill you and toss you outside for Ahjussi’s snack.”

Jisung pushes down against all of Jeongin’s soft bits as he sits back up, and snickers at Jeongin’s responding cry of pain. “No you’re not. You like my company, Innie. One day you’ll admit it. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But one day.”

Jeongin removes his face from the carpet in favor of giving Jisung a glare instead. The older male doesn’t seem phased by it one bit. He wasn’t the first day they met, either. Honestly Jeongin’s not even sure why he tries. So he reaches out to put a large palm over Jisung’s face instead, and gives it a little shake for good measure. 

“No more choreographies. Seriously, I’m going to ––Eugh , Jisung!” Jeongin rips his hand away, and Jisung looks far too smug for someone who has the tip of his tongue hanging out of his mouth. His palm feels slimy, and it’s batted away quickly when Jeongin attempts to smear the spit back across Jisung’s face. “You’re so annoying!” 

“Come on, Inyah! One more time and then we’ll be done.”

Jeongin doesn’t even want to think about what Past Jeongin would say as he pushes himself back up with a sigh. Surely nothing good. Maybe honestly a little mean. He can already hear him now, actually. You’re dancing to Fancy from Twice because a cute boy is asking you to do it? What a loser.

“...Fuck, I am a loser.”

Jisung reaches out and tugs Jeongin’s earlobe. “What did you say, Innie?”

“Nothing. Shut up. Let’s just get this over with.”

A loser indeed.

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Jisung, if you don’t stop looking at me I’m going to leave. Literally. I’m leaving this place and you .” 

“You don’t have the balls, Inyah.”

He turns to look at him incredulously, but Jisung is unphased from his spot atop the car. Ahjussi has given up his attempt at bumping it in hopes the elder will fall off. He lays dead still against the hood of the car instead. If Jeongin didn’t just see him twitch then he’d be a little worried.

He listens as Jisung fiddles with the dial of the radio in his hands. He can’t really hear the song from his stretching spot once Jisung finally lands on a channel, but the consistent background beat reminds Jeongin of Be My Baby . It seems the only thing that radio is good for is the Oldies.

“Why did you even come out here? You should have stayed inside. Even Ahjussi is getting tired of hearing your voice.” 

“Your words can’t hurt me.” In singsong, Jisung gives an out of tune to the beat of the song, “You liiiiike me!”

With a grunt Jeongin brings his calf up for a stretch. “In your dreams, dude. Bother me anymore and I’m seriously going to run away from you.”

Jisung laughs, and Jeongin hates how much he’s begun to look forward to the sound. His chest constricts in a way he’s not going to think about. “You won’t get very far. You need me.” 

The words sting, only because they hit a little too close to home. Jeongin does need him. He needs his presence. His warmth. He’s gotten too comfortable having another person around. Having the knowledge that somebody is here with him, sharing his space, so Jeongin isn’t alone anymore. He probably needs Jisung more than the elder needs him. The realization tastes bitter, so Jeongin shakes the thought away quickly.

“I need you like I need a concussion, Jisung.”

“Can you believe he speaks to me like this, Ahjussi?” There’s no response. Jisung leans back on his hands and sighs . “Both of you suck.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean to Ahjussi. He didn’t do anything to you.”

“We need to go somewhere, Inyah. I’m going stir crazy. I’m all cooped up like a feral dog. Like, really.” Jisung shifts his legs under himself, and when Jeongin looks back over towards him he’s resting atop the car on his knees. “I might just start barking.”

The sun is behind his head like a halo. The image almost makes Jeongin think about writing about it. God, he’s fucked . 

“It almost sounds like you haven’t noticed that we’re currently in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. You’ve noticed that, right? Surely you have.”

Jisung doesn’t look very amused. Jeongin smirks back at him.

“I don’t care where we go. Just somewhere that’s not here . You should make a rule about leaving the house!”

“Jisung, that’s the exact opposite of what the rules are for.” 

Jisung’s lip begins to quiver, and Jeongin stops to put his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Gross.

Too late. It’s already in motion. Jeongin watches in horror as Jisung starts to pout with all his might. His hand is smooshed against his cheek. He’s doing fucking aeygo now.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Innie,” Jisung whines, and Jeongin gags at him. “Can we please go on a trip?”

“Jisung, you don’t have vacations in the middle of an apocalypse! If you wanna leave so badly why don’t you go by yourself?”

“ Because , Innie. Rule number 9. What was it again? Oh yes ––” 

#9. KEEP YOUR BUDDY CLOSE

Someone’s gotta have your back, don’t they?

Jeongin would be impressed that Jisung was actually learning the rules if they weren’t currently being used against him. He frowns, and that only makes Jisung pout more.

“Fine! Fuck. Just stop it!”

He whips back around to continue his stretches, unable to stand the sight of Jisung’s heart-shaped pout any longer. It’s gross . It makes his stomach flutter . 

“And that’s how you do it, Ahjussi.” Jeongin hears. “Gets ‘em every time.”

Jeongin snorts, but even so he’s thankful that Jisung can’t see the start of his smile.

“You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met, dude.”

“Hey! Be nice! I just said you were my buddy!”

Jeongin drops into another stretch, and the warmth in his ears isn’t just from the sun. He kicks up and drops again with a grunted, “Swear to me you’ll behave or we’re not going.” 

“Ahh, Inyah~ I swear it on a Twinkie.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Do I seriously have to wear this?”

“I’ll have you know I spent hours searching the apartment complex for another helmet. So yes. You have to wear it.”

Jisung’s pouty cheeks are squished against the straps of the helmet cupping his jaw. It strikes Jeongin all of a sudden that he might actually like to kiss him. 

Haha. What the fuck?

“Seriously, dude? You’re pouting again? You were the one who wanted to go on a trip. This is the price you have to pay. We can go back inside if you want. I’d rather prefer that anyway.”

Jisung shoves him away and brings his hands up to cover the helmet protectively. “No way! You promised . Rule number six and all that.”

What was that thing about a kiss again? Nevermind. 

Jeongin’s expression falls unimpressed. “I know you’re just learning the rules to spite me now. Stop using them against me.” 

The cheeky smile he gets in response makes Jeongin’s heart flip, and he rubs at his chest with discomfort. The frown on his face deepens, but Jisung isn’t bothered by it one bit. Instead he throws a leg over Jeongin’s scooter and waits for him to join. Jeongin sighs, but follows after him anyway. When he settles down in front of him, Jisung wraps his arms around Jeongin’s waist with a squeeze.

He ignores the way his heart jumps into his throat. Maybe he might like to kiss him again.

“Whatever could you mean, Innie?”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“I now see why this might have been a bad idea, but hindsight 40/40 or whatever that saying is.” 

“It’s hindsight is 20/20 , Sung.” Jeongin grunts as he brings the baseball bat down across the zombie’s skull at his feet. Their fingers tick where they’re scraping against his shoes before stilling all together.

When he finally gets the chance to look at Jisung, his sheepish expression is splattered in blood.

“I told you the grocery store would be crawling with Zed. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“I know . I know. But—” At a garbled snarl, Jisung turns to shoot a Zed pinned beneath an aisle shelf. Jeongin watches tiredly as the BB pelts ping off their forehead and scatter across the floor. At least the Zed shuts up. “But! We found a bag of chips.”

“A singular bag of chips, Jisung!” 

“That’s better than nothing! We’re going to be snacking!”

“They’re sour cream and onion! That’s objectively the worst flavor!”

Jisung sighs. “You’re really ungrateful Inyah, you know that?”

Jeongin groans in despair, and if he didn’t know Jisung was the cause of his headaches lately, he’d be worried he was fucking dying . 

“You risked a bite for a bag of sour cream and onion chips, Sung.” 

And Jisung just…Looks at him. Really looks at him. Looks at Jeongin like he’s fucking stupid .

“Well, duh .” 

At this point Jeongin doesn’t even know what he was expecting. Not a single care in the world. It’s something he’s noticed about Jisung during their partnership.

He just…has no self-preservation. Jeongin wonders if he’s not even scared of dying. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if the fear he saw in his eyes the first day they met was all a ruse.

It’s a problem. Jeongin knows this. How bullheaded and impulsive Jisung tends to be is dangerous . For himself. For Jeongin.

And yet, it’s the fact that Jeongin might end up alone again because of it that scares him the most. 

Selfish? Maybe.

“I can’t tell if you’re thinking really hard, Innie, or if you need to take a shit. Do you? I’ll watch your back.” Jisung gives a flutter of his fingers. “ Buddy system~” 

…Or maybe it would be a blessing in disguise. 

“I don’t have to take a shi—Give me those.” Jeongin snatches the bag of chips away from the other with a threat of his hand, and the sound of annoyance Jisung lets out as he opens it to grab a handful is rewarding enough.

There’s absolutely no class as he shoves the handful of chips into his mouth, expression turning smug as he watches Jisung pout. The elder even goes as far as crossing his arms with a huff.

“Well? How are they?”

Jeongin swallows and looks at the bag. It’s passed the expiration date, and they are a little stale, but…

“Alright, they’re not that bad.”

Jisung’s smile is blinding as he all but crashes into Jeongin’s side, and he has the displeasure of watching as those small, grubby fingers disappear into the bag to grab a handful of his own.

“So I was right , Inyah?"

This time Jeongin doesn’t bother to shrug him off.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Sometimes during the night they don’t talk at all. Jeongin respects that. He’s not always one for conversation. It was like that the first two weeks or so. They sat in silence, only because Jeongin didn’t know what to say. Jisung was surprisingly good at keeping his distance, but now hearing the other talk so freely was almost comforting.

So now, sometimes, they’ll stay up until the morning talking about everything and nothing. Then they’ll sleep the rest of the day away, and Jisung will complain when they wake up about not being able to go and see Ahjussi. 

This night is a little bit of both. The long scooter ride home from their little escapade has made Jeongin’s legs sore, and he massages them out with a small grunt from the floor.

He can feel more than see Jisung standing in the doorway, and his suspicion is confirmed when he hears a crinkle of a bag of chips. Jeongin doesn’t turn to him, more focused on the task at hand. 

“Yes, Jisung?”

“ Ugh , can’t you call me hyung at least once? Would it really kill you?”

Jeongin is happy Jisung can’t see his smile. “Yeah, actually, it would kill me. Slowly. Painfully. We’re not even a year apart, dude…Is there a reason you’re standing in the doorway like a fucking weirdo?”

There’s a few minutes of silence. Jeongin listens to Jisung eat chips as he moves on to massage his other leg. 

Finally, the other gives a soft, “I wasn’t worried back there. About getting the bite.”

Jeongin snorts. “Oh? That’s because you have no self preservation, Sung.” 

A chip pings off the back of his head and scatters across the floor. Jeongin whips around towards him, “Yah! Don’t waste them!”

But Jisung is Jisung. Jisung doesn’t care. Jeongin hates that he likes that about him. He hates that it terrifies him. 

“Shut up. What I'm trying to say is I wasn't worried back there about getting the bite because…Because, you know. I knew you’d have my back.”

It takes a moment for Jisung’s words to register, but then Jeongin’s lips are curling into a large smirk before he can stop it. He giggles, long and dumb just to spite the other. It works, because Jisung flips him off with a stomp of his foot. 

“You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met. You know that?” 

“Hey! That’s my line! You can’t even say that when you’re the one who went around shooting people.” 

“It was one time!” Jisung crows, “and I’m trying to compliment you, dipshit. So take it.” 

Jeongin does take it, because…Well because it’s nice to hear. He’s able to protect Jisung. Jisung feels safe with him. All the working out he’s doing is paying off, and for once in his life Jeongin feels useful. Even if that use is doing something like going into Zed infested grocery stores because your partner in crime sees a bag of chips from the window. 

“You liked it, Inyah~ I can see you puffing your chest.”

Jeongin’s chest deflates immediately. “What the fuck? No I’m not.”

Jisung throws another chip his way, and Jeongin flops onto his arms trying to catch it in his mouth. It hits the floor anyway. “Dude!” 

Jisung doesn’t laugh. His expression is almost contemplative. The sight makes Jeongin pause. 

A few seconds of silence go by before Jisung tells him, “Thanks for letting me stay with you. Being by myself really sucked, and even though I miss my crew…It’s better than being alone.”

This time Jeongin’s giggle is nervous because Oh No. Feelings. “You’re not having a mental breakdown on me, Sung, are you?”

“I’m serious, Jeongin.” Oh No . His real name. “It’s really scary out there. You make it…less so.” 

Another round of silence, but this time it lasts a bit longer. Jeongin knows his cheeks are red by the warmth that blooms in them, and Jisung has yet to drop his gaze. 

This was the thing about having no social interaction for months when the world ended. Jeongin’s words get caught in his throat, gooey stuck, even though he doesn’t know what he wants to say. 

( The box of repressed feelings almost tips over onto its side .)

Jeongin wishes he had the courage to tell Jisung that maybe, just maybe, his presence here with him was— is —the only thing that’s kept him going these days. 

It’s almost nervous when Jisung asks, “...Aren’t you going to say something?” 

“You’re alright, I guess.” 

Jisung looks at him for a moment before those beautiful brown eyes are rolling. The groan he lets out makes Jeongin relax. “You’re so annoying.” 

“Just for you,” He quips, “Now come here and give me some chips.” 

Jeongin’s breaking a rule. Maybe the most important one, even if it’s not at the top of the list. Even if it’s not on the list. A special rule. One Jeongin made just for himself. 

#?. DON’T GET ATTACHED. 

It’s going to suck really fucking bad when they’re gone.

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

The sun beats down on them relentlessly. Jeongin is sweating more than he ever thought he could sweat. The white tank top he’s wearing clings to his chest like a second skin. Jeongin would be more shy about it if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s so fucking hot . 

The August heatwave is brutal as Jeongin anticipated it would be. Cooking Seoul one last time before autumn finally sets in. At least outside, on top of the roof, they have somewhat of a breeze. 

“ Jeongin .” 

“Mm?” Fuck, it’s so hot he barely even has the energy to say words . Jisung rolls onto his side to face him, and just the slight decrease in distance between them feels like a sauna. A hand finds his chest, and Jeongin cringes at the way it sounds wet when Jisung’s palm slaps against it.

The portable radio Jeongin snagged from the apartment is more static than music, but he can still pick up the sound of, arguably, INXS’ best song Never Tear Us Apart . If Jeongin tries hard enough he can pretend they're just wasting their summer away before the looming start of school.

“Are you listening to me? I asked where you could go if you could go anywhere.” 

“Hyung, my brain is fucking melting.”

Jeongin feels a huff against the side of his face, and he would be more embarrassed about the Hyung Slip Up if it wasn’t for the fact his brain was actively cooking instead his skull. He brings his own hand up to rest on his chest, and it lays just below Jisung’s. Not touching, but as close as Jeongin’s bravery will go.

“Humor me, asshole.”

So Jeongin hums. He thinks. Actually, not just sarcastically, for the answer to Jisung’s question.

“...Somewhere with a pool.”

“ Ugh , you’re so annoying.”

Jisung rolls back onto his back, takes his hand with him, and Jeongin can’t stop his frown. He blinks his eyes open against the torturous sun to look at him. “Well, where would you go?”

“I’d go back to Incheon.”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow. “...You’re from Incheon?”

“Yeah. I have—had, I guess—a lot of family there.”

He leans up on an elbow to look down at him, and Jisung sighs content as his head blocks the sun from his face. “How come I didn’t know that?”

Jisung shrugs like it’s simple. “You didn’t ask.”

It’s..a weird thing to realize, Jeongin muses, that even when you’ve been with someone for over a month you still might not know anything about him. It honestly tastes kind of bitter. When did he want to start knowing about Jisung anyway? It was a stupid road to let himself go down.

And yet…

Jeongin falls back onto his back. The pavement stings hot against his shoulder blades. They’re laying at an angle now, heads close but not touching.

“...I think that’s where I’d want to go, too.”

He feels Jisung shift to look at him. The other snorts. “Where? Incheon?”

Jeongin shakes his head and closes his eyes. “No, hyung. Home. Busan.”

It’s heavy now. Jeongin didn’t mean for it to go that way. He didn’t even mean to admit that out loud, but Jisung has always been so open with him.

So they lay there sweaty, and roasting, and sad—but at least they’re sweating and roasting and sad together .

Jeongin’s fingers tick when Jisung’s hand finds his own, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead Jeongin lets Jisung thread their fingers together. Together their hands are hot and sticky, but Jeongin doesn’t even care.

“I bet you were so annoying in grade school.” 

There’s that windchime laugh, again. Jeongin lets himself relish in it for a bit as Jisung presses close and hot and humid against his side. “Actually I do have a story to tell you. It was during lunch—”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“What are you looking at, Sung?”

And just like always Jisung clicks his tongue, “It’s hyung to you, Inyah.” 

At this point Jeongin goes out of his way to not call him the honorific as much as possible. It’s not like he even has to, considering they’re so close in age, but it’s cute to watch Jisung pout when he doesn’t.

The reaction he gets this time is a little less than enjoyable, but maybe it’s because Jisung has had his nose pressed to the dirty window for the last few minutes. Jeongin sighs from his dented cushioned spot on the couch, and with a small grunt he gets onto his feet.

“Seriously, what are you looking at?”

It’s easier now to let Jisung grab his hand and intertwine their fingers. Jeongin’s hand even subconsciously searches for the other’s. Like now. Jisung shows an open palm, and like a well trained dog, Jeongin immediately covers it with his own.

His grip is strong, not even in a playful way. Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow. “Hyung?”

“Outside, Jeongin.” Jisung is whispering. Why is he whispering? His hand feels sweaty. “Outside there’s…”

Jeongin lifts the crocheted curtains up and away. It’s dark out, but not quite as dark as it could be. The sun is just now creeping below the horizon. His eyes squint into the growing black.

“What? I don’t even… Holy shit. ”

One. Two. Three. Ten . They lumber around and wander aimlessly. Creeping out of the trees and surrounding the apartment complex in a pack. It’s been a long time since Jeongin has seen so many grouped together. Not since the start of the world. It’s a goddamn—

“Hoard.” Jisung finishes his train of thought for him. “A large one.”

Jeongin presses himself closer against the stained glass, but the distance won’t let him accurately count how many there actually are .

Before fear can clog his throat, vile and constricting, Jeongin attempts to take a deep breath. They’re on the 6th floor, and he worked hard enough when he first started squatting to make sure the ground floor doors were barred from the inside. The stairway doors to the upper floors were just as sealed, and even though sometimes in the middle of the night they can hear thumping, there’s no way for them to actually get down to their level.

Not unless Zed have started being able to climb . It’s the only reason Jeongin kept the old fire exit stairwells open.

So they’re fine. They’re safe. They’re okay. They’ve got to be. Jeongin works hard to make sure of it. He follows his list. He follows his fucking list to a T , but the way things seemed to be going rule five was looking less and less plausible. 

#5. KEEP AN EXIT FREE

Always know where the exit sign is. Don’t be that dumbass who gets stuck.

“Jeongin, hey.” Jisung’s hand disconnects with his own in favor of cupping his cheek. The action is comforting yet out of place. Out of place like the shake of his own hands. Out of place like his heaving chest. Jeongin feels like he can’t breathe fuck. “Jeongin, breathe. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

The first inhale is painful, sharp like needles, and when he exhales it doesn’t feel like enough . Jisung’s eyes are wide with worry, and Jeongin wants to soothe him but he can’t even soothe himself. He searches lost and panicky for something he doesn’t even know he’s looking for.

Jisung brings his other hand up, and they both run gently over his jaw before cupping his throat to feel his racing pulse. He then pushes at his shoulders, and Jeongin’s body gets the idea that Jisung is bringing them down to the floor.

The window is out of sight, and the only thing Jeongin can see now is Jisung. Jisung. Jisung . Jisung who is reaching out for him again. Jeongin goes into his arms without thought, chest shuddering once more as his hyung wraps his arms around him. Jisung’s nose rests against his temple.

“Breathe with me, Jeongin. In and out. Like this.”

Jeongin can feel Jisung’s chest expand against him as the other inhales deeply. He closes his eyes tight, and even though it feels impossible to catch any air, Jeongin follows.

In. One two three. Out. One two three. In. One two three. Out. One two three.

Jeongin isn’t sure how long they do this for. From the ache in his bones it feels like forever, but only now is his heart beat slowing down enough for him to think. The booming pulse in his ears fades away.

Everything is just—Everything is just Jisung .

They stay like that for a long time. Jeongin is embarrassed. Feels weak. He doesn’t feel strong or capable at all. It’s like the start of the apocalypse all over again. When he was scared. Scared of everything . Fuck, Jeongin still is , but at least he felt like he had better control over that fear. It’s been months since he’s had a panic attack this bad.

Jisung’s hand running through his hair is as comforting as it is scalding. Jeongin is supposed to be the strong one. But it’s Jisung who’s calming his frayed nerves.

“You with me, Innie?”

“Yeah.” Jeongin croaks out. His throat feels like he swallowed rocks. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, stupid.” He snorts, and Jisung clicks his tongue at the sound. “I’m serious. It’s a natural response. It’s okay to be scared, you know. I’m scared, too. I always am.”

It’s hard to believe when someone as brave and uncaring as Jisung says he’s afraid. Jeongin thinks he’s just saying it to soothe him more, but there’s a part of him that hopes it’s true. If someone like Jisung gets scared…Then maybe it’s not so bad.

Fingers curl into the back of Jisung’s shirt, and even though his brain is hating it, Jeongin’s body melts into the gentle hold of his hyung. How long has it been since he’s been held? Fuck.

(The box is tipped over now. It’s on its side. Its contents are threatening to spill out all over the floor.)

“They’ll pass through once they realize there’s nothing out there for them. They always do. We just gotta wait it out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll wait it out together.” Jeongin breathes.

“Yeah, Innie.” He can hear the smile in Jisung’s voice, and his eyes close as their foreheads press together. “We’ll wait it out together.”

There’s a small beat of silence before Jeongin whispers, “Swear it, hyung.”

Jisung’s laugh is warm against his lips. “On a Twinkie.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“You’re avoiding me.”

Jeongin’s back tenses, and he places the old tire atop the stack of the ones that came before in favor of not turning around to face Jisung. If it takes a little longer than usual for Jeongin to do, well, that’s neither here nor there.

“...What? I’m not avoiding you. I’m cleaning.”

Jeongin is, in fact, avoiding him. He’ll say it. He has been since his small breakdown a few nights ago. It’s hard to even think about that night, nevertheless look Jisung in the face now. He’s embarrassed, okay? He’s man enough to admit that.

He’s just also–you know. Not man enough to not avoid Jisung.

Jisung huffs. Jeongin can already imagine the look on the other’s face. Heart-shaped frown. Eyebrows pinched in annoyance. Not one of his favorite expressions on Jisung, that’s for sure. 

“Cleaning? Really? That’s what you’re worried about? Cleaning a dirty courtyard in the middle of an apocalypse?”

Jeongin’s ears burn red. “It’s important to keep your area clean, Jisung. It’s a rule. Uh…Number eleven—”

“It is not a rule, Jeongin. You’re a liar. I know all of the rules by heart .”

The air around them feels thick, and the crackle-filled backtrack of Out of Touch from the radio feels a little too on the nose. Jeongin’s always hated this damn song. 

“Can you just turn around and look at me?”

Jisung’s hand feels like a brand around his wrist, and Jeongin has to stop himself from snatching it away as he finally turns to face him. He’s standing close close close . Too close. It sends Jeongin’s stomach into knots. His gaze darts over Jisung’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare think about running. Do I seriously have to corner you?”

The hand that shoots out and slaps against the brick wall over his shoulder startles Jeongin out of his plan. He blinks as Jisung’s other hand follows suit. He’s seriously got Jeongin trapped . What the hell?

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” Jeongin’s laugh is nervous. “Seriously, hyung. I’m just—”

“Jeongin, please .” Words die in his throat as he finally gets a good look at Jisung's face. He looks more than annoyed. He almost looks… hurt . Jeongin’s stomach starts feeling ill for a different reason now. “You’ve barely talked to me in days since the hoard incident. We haven’t gone out at all. You haven’t even let Ahjussi free. So can you just please tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Okay, listen, Jeongin knows he’s being stupid, okay? He’s being stupid, and he’s panicking . Even before the end of the world, Jeongin was never good at shit like this. At—At feelings . Which he’s feeling a lot of, by the way. Way too many feelings. He doesn’t even know how to place or name them. All Jeongin knows is that they're because of Jisung .

Jisung and his stupid soft hands, and the way he brushes Jeongin’s hair out of his face, and the way he sits on the floor with him for hours to hold him through a panic attack. He always thought butterflies were supposed to feel good . They’ve only ever made Jeongin feel like he was going to puke.

“...Did I do something wrong?” Jisung’s voice sounds small. Hesitant. Fuck, Jeongin hates that the most. “Did I make you uncomfortable or something?”

“No!” Too quick! Jeongin’s cheeks burn at the urgent tone of his voice. Jisung doesn't tease him about the blush like he usually would. In fact, his hyung hasn’t taken his eyes off Jeongin since he turned around to look at him. So he takes a little breath. “No. No you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I’m just…I’m not good at this, okay?”

“You’re not good at what , Jeongin?” Jisung presses, because of course he does. Presses for his thoughts and presses closer against him. Jeongin’s hands hover over the curve of Jisung’s ribs, but he doesn’t dare touch yet. 

It’s like the words are stuck in the back of his throat, and no matter how thick Jeongin swallows, they stay there. He probably looks like an idiot the way his mouth opens and closes before his teeth finally bite down around actual words . 

“You…drive me crazy, Jisung. In a bad way.” Jisung’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, so Jeongin barrels on. “But also in a good way. I don’t know, okay? When I look at you I feel sick to my stomach and my hands sweat when you hold them and my heart feels like I’ve had at least six espresso shots.”

Now it’s Jisung’s turn to blink. He looks a little silly, if Jeongin is being honest. Eyes wide and soft lips parted in a little o . But Jeongin isn’t going to tease him like he usually would, because his heart is pounding too hard in his chest in a way that’s medically concerning at this point. The stretch of silence feels too long , and Jeongin is about to tear out of his skin before Jisung finally speaks.

“Jeongin…you like me.” 

The realization crashes onto Jeongin with no warning and no remorse. Oh fuck . Jeongin does like Jisung. Now it’s Jeongin’s turn for his lips to part in surprise, and his cheeks burn hotter than the receding summer sun. Is it too late to go feed himself to Ahjussi, yet?

“What the fuck? I do–I do not like you Jisung—” Words tumble over themselves with a nervous laugh as Jeongin watches the smile on Jisung’s face begin to grow. “You wish I liked you. Seriously.”

Jisung does nothing but laugh and press closer. The rough brick of the wall behind him bites into Jeongin’s shoulders, but the pain is almost grounding. This close he’s worried Jisung can hear the fast beat of his heart. Hell, at this point he can probably feel it with how pressed against Jeongin he is. His fingers tick, and finally, finally , Jeongin allows his hands to rest on his hyung’s tapered waist. They squeeze subconsciously.

“You totally like me, Inyah~ I was right. Remember when I said you liiiiked me? I was right!”

Jeongin’s face is so hot it feels like it’s seconds away from exploding. He brings up a hand to cover Jisung’s face once more, but this time when the other licks it, Jeongin keeps it right where it is. It’s Jisung who has to wrap his hands around his wrist to pull the appendage away from his face. Even though Jeongin knows Jisung is laughing at him…It’s still soothing to hear.

“Remember when I said I was going to feed you to Ahjussi as a snack?” The threat is empty. In fact, the words are mostly pouted out. Jisung brings his hands up to cup Jeongin’s cheeks and all of a sudden he feels dizzy. He feels stupid. “He’d love it, you know. He’s been wanting a bite since he first saw you.”

Jisung nudges a bony elbow into Jeongin’s side. “Like you have been, huh? You have more in common than I thought!” 

Jeongin groans and finally pushes Jisung away. It causes the elder to stumble, but Jisung takes it in stride. He’s back against Jeongin’s side before he can even blink. Jisung’s fingers dig into his sides teasingly, and the younger has to control the soft, albeit exasperated smile that’s threatening to show.

“You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever met.”

“Hmm, maybe! But that’s what you like about me isn’t it, Innie?” 

Jeongin isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to put into words how Jisung truly makes him feel or what he actually likes about him. All he knows is the more he thinks about it the more he’ll start to panic. That unspoken rule of JZSRFD ™ is a blazing alarm bell ringing in his head, but just this once, Jeongin will ignore it. Stupid. God, he’s so stupid. He likes Jisung so much. Jeongin likes his large, heart-shaped smile. He likes the way he’s laughing at him. He even likes the way Jisung reaches down to thread their fingers together to tug Jeongin closer than ever before.

“I actually think you’re super, super annoying.” 

Jisung reaches up to tug at his earlobe. “Liar!”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

So now it’s a thing but also not really…a thing. Jeongin isn’t entirely sure. His feelings are out in the open, and while Jisung hasn’t necessarily said that he feels the same way, the elder has definitely gotten much closer. He touches Jeongin more now. Holds his hands or grabs his waist or tugs at his ear. Sometimes Jeongin thinks that Jisung might kiss him, but he always chickens out before he has the chance to actually find out. 

Jeongin is learning quickly that liking someone is actually far scarier than being tossed into the middle of a zombie apocalypse. He’s lucky Jisung is at least nice enough to keep his teasing about it to a minimum.

He’s pent up, though. In more ways than one. Every time Jeongin looks at Jisung his skin crawls. Just the other day Jeongin was sure he was going to have an aneurysm when he walked in on Jisung wiping himself down after a supply run. He’s not even sure he said words , but whatever came out of his mouth made Jisung tip his head back in laughter. The noise followed him all the way back to his usual spot on the couch, tail tucked between his legs.

And it’s not even the first time they’ve been in a state of undress around each other! But now it’s different . Feels different. Looks different. At least to Jeongin. 

Sleep once again evades him, and Jeongin rolls onto his back with a slight groan. It’s hot again, almost insufferably so, and his clothes feel too heavy for his body. Jeongin’s skin feels too heavy for his body. He’s hot and miserable and fuck—He’s horny . That’s what this stupid feeling is that Jeongin couldn’t name! Oh my god. He’s horny . 

With horror he realizes he’s horny for Jisung . 

…How long has it even been? There hasn’t been much time. Not with Jisung’s company these days. Jeongin can no longer count on his fingers, which probably means it’s been too long.

It feels wrong, though, the idea of letting his fingers drift past the band of his sleeping shorts. He’s already fucking hard just thinking about the idea, but Jisung is right there . He’s right there sleeping beside him, and there’s got to be some kind of unspoken rule about this, right?

Jeongin breathes deep through his nose and shifts onto his side, fetal and back turned towards Jisung as though maybe that will help lessen the guilt. The squeeze of his thighs is merely just a taste, and Jeongin has to make sure to swallow the groan that threatens to tumble past his lips because of it.

Think of something…sad! Think of something gross . Jeongin, for the love of god, think of anything other than Jisung’s pretty mouth and his long fingers and the way those heart-shaped lips would probably looked wrapped around your—

Fuck . Okay, yeah. So Jeongin isn’t really that good at defusing the absolute ticking time bomb that’s his horniness. Duly noted.

His shoulders tense as he hears Jisung shift behind him, and his fingers freeze from where they’ve dipped subconsciously underneath his boxers, palm pressed against the growing hardness there. One second. Two seconds. Three. Jisung lets out a soft breath and settles again, and only when the other’s breathing evens out does Jeongin release a relieved exhale of his own. 

Soon there’s nothing but the sound of their own breathing, and the crackly, crooning voice of Sinatra through the radio Jisung has asked to keep on while they sleep. Strangers In The Night . Of course it’s more static than a song, but Jeongin couldn’t say no to Jisung’s heart-shaped pout when he said he liked the white noise. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have some background noise, now that Jeongin is thinking about it.

…As long as he’s quick there shouldn’t be a problem, right? It won’t be as satisfying as if he had the ability to take his time, but at this point anything was better than nothing. Jeongin just wants to come. God, his head feels dizzy at the mere thought.

It’s harder than it should be—pun…not intended?—to swallow down the sounds that threaten to spill when Jeongin finally wraps a hand around himself. Fuck, he’s so hard . Hard and hot and already weeping at the head. Jeongin knows better than to run his thumb against the crown, because his hips will kick and he definitely won’t be able to stay quiet. At this point it won’t take too long to come at all. It’s honestly a little pathetic.

Jeongin’s body is tense with nerves. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears. The attempt to go slow is already deemed futile, because once he starts a pace, light bursts behind his tightly closed eyes like stars. Lips part on a silent moan, and Jeongin has to hold tight around the base of his cock in an attempt to not finish too quickly—even though he’s starving for any kind of release.

Oh god…It’s good . Maybe it’s because it’s been so long. Maybe it’s because of the added shame of knowing that he’s going to come with a hand shoved down his pants when Jisung is asleep right there .

He doesn’t know when it’s become so enticing to see his own cock peeking through his tight grip, but his fist is so wet and warm that Jeongin has to bite his bottom lip hard in an attempt to stop the whine that threatens to slip past his lips. He could put his fingers into his mouth, Jeongin always liked having his mouth full, but he doesn’t trust himself not to make any noise at the thought of choking himself with them.

Fuck, fuck he’s going to come . It’s only been minutes but he already feels seconds from bursting. His legs tense before shaking, fingers finally circling around the crown of his dick, and the moan that tumbles from his chest is too quick to reign in. Jeongin can’t even bring it in himself to care anymore. He can lie. Say he’s having a bad dream. Right now all he wants to do is focus on the deep burn inside his groin. The way the head of his cock weeps and drips over the tight seal of his fingers. How his hips kick, and grind, and writhe into the tight pump of his fist—

“Are you going to come, Innie?” Jisung sounds breathless behind him. “You sound close.”

It takes a moment for the alarm bells to ring, but once they start, Jeongin quickly rips his hand away from his cock. He stares at the dark wall before him with wide eyes.

There’s even a beat before he takes a breath. Was he just imagining that? Or did he actually hear Jisung speak? Fuck, fuck! Did he wake Jisung up?

His panicked questions are answered when he feels Jisung shift, and the blanket around his hips tightens as the other places his weight onto it with a knee. Jeongin’s body goes stiff as Jisung lays behind him, and his touch burns through the thin sheet as it rests on his hip.

What the fuck is going on? Shit, he’s still so fucking hard.

“Don’t stop, Jeongin.” Jisung finally murmurs, almost a bit hesitant. Blood rushes so quickly into Jeongin’s ears that it sounds like he’s speaking underwater. “You sound—You sound really fucking good. I want…”

That’s when he feels it. The hard line of Jisung’s cock pressed right up against his ass. Jeongin’s cheeks flush at the pathetic whine he lets out, but Jisung seems to relax at the sound as he rests his head between Jeongin’s shoulder blades.

“Can I…?” The question trails off in favor of Jisung rolling his hips against him instead, and Jeongin’s body shivers at the slow, hard grind. He’s quick to nod even before he realizes he’s doing it.

“Yeah. Yeah, hyung. Fuck .” 

It’s all Jisung needs, and he’s shameless in the way he ruts against Jeongin. It’s so fucking hot it makes his head spin, and he arches his back against him to accommodate.

“Keep touching yourself, Innie.” Jisung breathes again, voice deep and sultry and unlike anything Jeongin has ever heard from him. “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

Jeongin absolutely does not need to be told twice, and his hand finds his cock once more. This time his pace is slower so he can match each slow grind that his hyung gives against him. Jisung’s fingers find the meatiest part of his thigh to give it a harsh squeeze. 

It’s almost too much again, but Jeongin wants to last as long as he can now. There’s no more panic in his brain. No more worry of what this is going to mean once the post nut clarity hits. All there is is Jisung. Jisung Jisung Jisung . Jisung grinding against him with breathy moans. Hot and hard between the cleft of his ass. He’s so close Jeongin can feel him twitching.

“Should have woken me up, Inyah~” Jisung murmurs, chin hooking over his shoulder to watch as Jeongin touches himself. The action causes his ears to flare red, and his hips jerk with a soft moan. “I would have helped you. Fuck, been thinking about this since you confessed the other day. You’re so cute.”

“Y-Yeah?” Jeongin can’t help the way his pace quickens at the confession. Jisung has been thinking about him. Thinking about him like this . He shivers when the other hums low in his ear.

“Mmm, yeah. I’ve been thinking about what you would sound like. How red you would get. Thinking about if you’d let me—Fuck, Innie. Can I fuck your thighs?”

The dynamic shift is almost so absurd that Jeongin can’t help his soft, breathless laugh. It’s surprising, and yet not at all, that Jisung would be so shameless. It makes Jeongin’s cock jerk pathetically in his hand.

“Are you laughing at me right now?”

And only now does Jeongin have the courage to face him. The light in the room is almost nonexistent, but even so Jeongin can map out the moles on Jisung’s face like constellations. He can see the way his hyung’s lips are bitten soft and raw. He can see how beautiful Jisung is like this. Holy shit. It’s all he’s going to be thinking about for weeks . 

“Seriously? My thighs, of all things?”

Jisung just clicks his tongue as he works the sheet down Jeongin’s hip and legs. “I’m a purveyor of fine art, Innie. And your thighs? A masterpiece .”

Jeongin’s eyebrows raise in the darkness. “Don’t you ever get embarrassed when you say shit like tha— Fuck , hyung.” The groan is startled out of him when Jisung spits in his own palm, free hand hooking under Jeongin’s thigh to hoist it up. The burn of the stretch adds to the fire that’s been eating at him since he started. “You are unreal.”

“But that’s what you like about me, right?” Jisung breathes once more, and Jeongin would be a little disgusted that he’s smearing spit all over the inside of his thighs if it didn’t just immediately go straight to his cock. He finds himself groaning once more as he watches Jisung try his best to work his pants down just enough to free his own.

Jeongin wishes he could see it better. Honestly, he wishes he could just see Jisung better. Fuck it being the middle of the night. Jeongin wants to see Jisung in all his naked glory during the golden hour.

But still. “Whoever said I liked you in the first place?”

“Please, Innie. You’re still running with that?” Jisung laughs, but it’s quick to taper off into a groan as he rolls his hips against the crease of Jeongin’s thighs. Jeongin melts into the pile of blankets on the floor. “Who else is going to give you witty sex banter?”

“ That’s what you’re calling this? Witty sex banter?”

“Is it not? I think we’re doing a pretty good job.”

Jeongin’s neglected cock jerks in his hand at the first press of Jisung’s head between his thighs. It’s teasing, testing, and he tilts his head back against Jisung’s shoulder with a groan at the fleeting touch. “Fuck, hyung. Just do it.”

“Yeah, Innie?” Even when he’s teasing, Jeongin is sure Jisung has never sounded so sexy. He’s starting to question his own sanity right now. “Want me to fuck your thighs?”

“You are—” His laugh is breathless, fingers curling into the sheets as Jisung slides home. The groan he hears when their hips fall flush is euphoric.

“Amazing?” Jisung’s voice stutters as Jeongin squeezes his thighs around him. “Breathtaking? The best person you’ve ever met?”

“Annoying.” Is what Jeongin supplies instead, moaning soft as his hand begins to work his cock once more. “Fuck. Move , hyung. Please. Do something .”

It’s all the other needs, and Jeongin’s head spins at how perfect Jisung feels between his thighs. Hot. Hard. Big. He’s already wishing that cock could be inside him, but beggars can’t be choosers and Jeongin wants to come .

Jisung is almost sloppy with it, and his hips shake and stutter with each snap he fucks into him. It feels good to know the other is just as desperate as he is, but Jeongin almost wishes this moment would never end. His head is deliciously empty as he follows Jisung’s rhythm, whines falling freely from his lips now that he knows it’s safe.

“You make so much noise, Innie.” It’s almost said in awe , and Jisung’s voice wobbles with a particularly slow grind into him. “You’re so—You’re so hot. Your voice. Your body. Fuck, Innie. Your pretty thighs.”

Jeongin’s cheeks burn at the worship, but the garden in his stomach blooms . Butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies.

“Again with the thighs.” Jeongin attempts to jab, but his voice shakes as his toes begin to curl into the sheets. “Shit you’re gonna make me come, hyung. M’gonna come .” 

Instead of slowing down like Jeongin hoped, Jisung’s hips kick up in speed instead. There’s no rhythm now, the semblance of the one before long gone, and a surprised moan is ripped out of Jeongin’s throat as Jisung brings a hand up to harshly pinch a nipple.

“Come, Innie.” It’s a plea, one that has Jeongin desperately stripping his cock. “I wanna see you come. Wanna see how pretty you’ll be. Wanna see you make a mess of yourself for me.”

Jisung is warm, and his breath is gentle against the shell of his ear. Jeongin wishes they could relive this moment over and over again. Maybe, he realizes now, they can . 

He tilts his head without thought and seeks whatever Jisung will give him. It’s exactly what Jeongin needs when their lips finally brush together. Jisung wastes no time bringing his tongue into Jeongin’s mouth, and the messy wetness of it is what finally brings him over the edge.

“Ah ah ah– Shit , hyung. I’m coming. I’m coming I’m coming—”

Jeongin is sure he’s never come this hard in his life. He could almost cry . It feels never ending, one wave of intense pleasure after the next as he does exactly what Jisung has asked of him. He does make an absolute mess of himself. Come sticky and warm as it pools over his fingers and down onto the blankets underneath them.

This time it’s Jisung whining in his ear, hips lost without rhythm, and Jeongin finds it in his orgasmic haze to bring his come covered hand down. He presses his palm against the head of Jisung’s cock each time it slips through his thighs, and he’s rewarded with the most delicious, broken whine because of it.

Honestly, it’s Jisung who looks the prettiest like this. With his furrowed brows and parted, bitten lips. Jeongin likes the way his eyes close tightly, as though the pleasure is just too much to handle. His noises are even better. Jeongin is fucked. He’s going to be dreaming about this.

“C’mon, hyung.” He murmurs syrupy sweet against Jisung’s lips. “Come on my thighs.”

The sight of Jisung coming all over him is almost enough to get Jeongin hard again. Now he’s starting to understand the fixation. You could frame a photo of the pearly white of Jisung’s come staining his thighs and hang it right there in the fucking Louvre.

Jeongin makes sure to keep his thighs pressed tight together, and it’s only when Jisung has thrown himself into overstimulation does the elder slow his jerky hips to a stop.

A few moments of catching their breath, and Jisung finally says, “Holy shit.”

Jeongin leans up on an elbow, already mourning as Jisung pulls his soft cock out from between his thighs. “Good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

Jisung gives him that look again. The one that calls Jeongin stupid in every language under the sun. “Seriously?”

Jeongin pouts. “Well I’d hope it was a good one.”

Jisung falls onto his back with a laugh and drags Jeongin down with him. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

Jeongin’s chest puffs proudly. “It’s the thighs.”

“Definitely the thighs, Innie.” There’s a pause before Jisung gives a soft, vulnerable, “And you, I guess.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jeongin leans down to kiss him because now he can . Now he can do it whenever he wants, and it tastes just as sweet and addicting as it was moments before. The way Jisung laughs against his lips has Jeongin falling harder than ever.

# ?. DON’T GET ATTACHED

Hey, give yourself a break. Maybe some rules are meant to be broken.

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“ Sooo I was thinking...” 

Jeongin hums idly. “That’s never a good sign—Ouch, hyung!”

Jisung smoothes his thumb over the forming welt on the inside of his thigh where he just pinched him. Jeongin pouts and smacks at his hand, but it only makes Jisung catch it in order to thread their fingers together, too.

“You didn’t even let me finish, asshole!”

“Of course not. The last time you thought about something we ended up running from Zed in an abandoned theme park!” 

He shivers at the memory, and not even the warmth of Jisung throwing a leg over his hips and pressing close can save Jeongin from the terrors of that rotting clown and his squeaky shoes. Jeongin swears he can still hear the insistent sound of them during the scariest chase of his life just before he sleeps.

“How was I supposed to know you had a fear of clowns?” Jisung pouts, and Jeongin’s eyebrows raise to his hairline incredulously. 

“Who doesn’t have a fear of clowns, hyung? Seriously. Name one person.”

It’s only a little distracting when Jisung runs his soft hands up Jeongin’s bare sides. At this point he’s not sure if the elder will ever let him back into clothes. Jisung hasn’t been able to keep his hands off Jeongin since the night they realized they could make each other come. 

Not that Jeongin is complaining. There are worse things to wake up to other than a pretty heart-shaped mouth wrapped around his cock and Jisung’s even prettier moans to accompany it. The fact that Jisung wants to touch him at all still makes Jeongin’s head spin. 

“You know we’re starting to run low on supplies.” Jisung is quick to change the subject, and Jeongin’s expression turns into one that’s a bit more weary. “We’re going to have to go on a supply run soon, right?”

“...Yes? In a few days, maybe.” 

Jisung wiggles in his lap, and it takes a moment for Jeongin to realize the elder is avoiding his gaze. His eyebrows furrow, and he clasps his hands down onto Jisung’s hips to keep him still. “Hyung, just say it.”

“Well it’s just—My crew.”

Two simple words, but Jeongin feels as though he’s just been splashed with cold water. He knows it wasn’t realistic for Jisung to go so long without talking about them. They are his crew, after all. They’re people who love him, and take care of him, and probably miss him. But Jeongin was going to ignore it for as long as he could. Though it seems like that time is now up.

“What uh–” He hates that he stutters over his words. Jeongin hates that he feels negatively about the thought of them at all. It’s not very fair, all things considering, but he’s always been a selfish person. Even more so now that his object of affection is Jisung . “What about them?”

Jisung spares him a glance, if only for a moment, before it drops down to Jeongin’s bare chest. There he idly traces patterns with the soft tips of his fingers. Jeongin shivers. “We’ve got a base, you know. I know the general idea of where it is, but I’m not very good with directions. It’s why I got lost when we got separated. But we cleared out a small shopping mall. There’s lots of supplies there, and it’s always good to have more than one person to watch your back. You know, buddy—”

“Buddy system. Yeah, Sung. I know.”

Jeongin watches as Jisung deflates. It remains unspoken, but. “You don’t want to.”

Of course Jeongin doesn't want to. Why would he? They’ve got a good thing going on, and who knows what will happen once they reunite. Will Jeongin even be let into their crew once they get there? He is an extra mouth to feed. People have become stingy at the end of the world. Jeongin himself is a perfect example of someone who doesn’t like to share.

But it’s not…It’s not about him, right? These were the people Jisung was with before he found Jeongin. God, just the thought makes his skin crawl, but who is Jeongin to deny his hyung of being possibly reunited with the people he cares about? It would be so shitty. Jisung is nice enough to forgive him for it, but Jeongin would never forgive himself .

“No, hyung.” Jisung’s shoulders droop more, and Jeongin scoops both of his hands up with one. He gives them a soft squeeze. “No I mean—Yes. If you want to look for them we can.”

Jeongin’s stomach turns at the way Jisung’s eyes brighten. It’s just there . Hard as a rock and taking up too much space. Jisung buries his face into Jeongin’s neck, and he’s sure his hyung is saying something , but Jeongin is too distracted by the unpleasant constricting of his chest. He lays there as Jisung’s words warble in and out, kisses against his jaw are soft, and dreads.

What if they don’t find them? What if something goes wrong? What if he gets hurt or Jisung gets hurt? What if they run out of supplies? What if, and it’s the worst of all, they do find them? What happens then?

Soon it won’t just be him and Jisung against the world, and Jeongin has never hated an idea more.

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

The rusted, chain link fence clanks as Jisung curls his fingers around it. Inside the closed off area of the maintenance courtyard is where Ahjussi resides. He sits limp against an old, broken down conditioning unit, and Jisung pouts at him. 

“He’s not even getting up to say goodbye. Do you think he’s mad at us? Do you think he knows we’re leaving?”

Jeongin grunts softly as he places a small basket of their belongings onto the back of his scooter. He hasn’t even been able to look at Ahjussi. It might sound stupid, but if Jeongin does, he might not be able to bring himself to leave. 

Even now Jeongin is contemplating whether or not they’re bringing enough, but he’s made a stupid, damn rule about this already. 

#2. TRAVEL LIGHT

The last thing you want is to be weighed down when running from Zed. Or even worse! Other people. Leave the plushie behind, dude.

Brenda Lee’s voice warbles through static, and at this point Jeongin might just turn around and stomp the radio into the ground. What kind of fuck-ass song is Emotions , anyway? Why did this damn radio have a song for everything? He snatches the radio up to turn it off, but the silence is almost just as worse. 

“He’s rotting , hyung. He probably can’t stand up anymore.” 

“Are you sure we can’t just bring him with us?”

Jeongin snorts. “And what, stick him on your lap during the scooter ride? I’m sure your crew would love you showing up hand in hand with a Zed.” 

A beat of silence and Jeongin can’t help his wince. Too mean. He’s letting his emotions get the better of him. He keeps his back towards Jisung when he hears the other approach, and his hand curls around the tips of Jeongin’s fingers.

“You’re angry. I can tell. Your shoulders always go up to your ears.” 

“I’m not angry.” Maybe a bit of a white lie, but Jeongin more than anything hates the hurt tone of Jisung’s voice. “I’m just…nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve traveled longer than just a supply trip. A lot could go wrong, you know?” 

Jisung hums softly, and all of a sudden the only thing in Jeongin’s field of vision is his hyung. He watches as Jisung smiles soft and warm and so full of love for him, and Jeongin feels nothing but guilt over it. He’s being a dick for sure. “You’ve got a whole list, remember? Jeongin’s Zombieland Survival Rules For Dummies ™ . I’m pretty sure you’ve prepared for this exact moment.”

Jeongin’s lips lift at the corners, and it only makes Jisung smile more. “It’s actually just JZSRFD ™ now, hyung. Get with the times.”

“Ahh, Inyah~” His hyung presses close with a giggle, and the warmth of Jisung’s body against his own helps Jeongin relax. Just like it always does. “I did tell you it would be easier to say if you shortened it.”

“Mmm, I guess so. Doesn’t sound as good, though.” 

A small fist digs into the underside of Jeongin’s ribs, and he grabs at it with a small huff. Jisung leans forward to kiss him softly, and for a moment Jeongin forgets he was ever worried in the first place. “We’ll be okay. We’ve got each other's backs, right? I’ll even swear it.”

“Oh yeah? On a Twinkie, hyung?”

“On a million Twinkies!”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

The motel in front of them is, for the lack of better words, a piece of shit. Jeongin grimaces deep as he crosses his arms over his chest. They’ve landed in a ghost town, one that’s even void of most vehicles, and the sun is setting a little too quickly for Jeongin’s liking. There’s nobody here but them, and well, the Zed trapped in the room next to the one Jisung is trying to unlock. She doesn’t seem dangerous, only stupid , as she taps her head against the sturdy window that’s keeping her locked inside.

“She seems nice, doesn't she?”

Jeongin snaps his gaze onto Jisung just in time to catch the cheeky smile he throws over his shoulder. It makes Jeongin frown even more. “We are not staying here, hyung.”

With a pleased noise Jisung bounces on his toes as the lock clicks and the door swings open. He opens it wider with a flourish, though still careful in case there’s another inhabitant inside. They wait in pause before the elder deems it to be empty. “You’re seriously going to complain about sleeping on a bed? No offense, Innie. I love sleeping with you, but not when you steal most of the sleeping bag.”

Jisung holds out an expectant hand and wiggles his fingers. Jeongin stays rooted in his spot. Jisung sighs. “We’ll lock the door. It’s not like the Zed will get mad at us for not having a room key.” 

“Hyung, seriously? This is the place you want to stay?”

He watches as Jisung tilts his head. Still standing in the doorway to the room. Jeongin doesn’t think he’s going to win this one. “We stay here tonight and I’ll suck you off.”

Nope! Definitely not. Jeongin bends down to grab his backpack and throws it over his shoulder. Jisung tilts his head back with a laugh once his feet start moving. 

“Seriously? That’s all it took?”

“What? I’d be stupid to not take such a good deal. I know a good one when I see it.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Jeongin’s learned that it doesn't really take a lot of convincing from Jisung to give the other what he wants. It’s why they’re, very stupidly , getting sidetracked with a quest of scoping out a large celebrity home. Okay, sure, Jeongin was a little curious about it too, but that doesn’t mean they needed to go inside of it.

One glee filled look from Jisung was all it took. And well—Here they are. Surprise surprise.

“ Holy shit, Jeongin!” Jisung’s hand swings out fast to smack his chest and throw Jeongin’s heart into overdrive. He stumbles over a deflating, helium filled balloon that has sunk to the floor. “It’s a party!”

Jeongin leans over to catch his breath on his knees before giving a light, annoyed kick to the back of Jisung’s leg. “Holy shit yourself , dude! Don’t do that to me! Are you crazy?”

Jisung does nothing but drag Jeongin further into the room. He squints against the sudden sun that beams in from one of the many broken windows. Where there was one singular balloon on the floor now there's a dozen. He’s a little surprised that they’ve stayed inflated for so long, honestly. Jeongin’s curious gaze sweeps the room. 

Streamers. Balloons. There’s even the kind on the wall his mom bought for him when he turned eighteen. Except these ones are deflated, sagging, and barely sticking to the wall at all. Jeongin can almost catch what he thinks is a name: WANG

The elder is all but bouncing as he makes his way to the middle of the room. Jeongin can’t help his smile as he watches Jisung kick another balloon out of the way. Then another. And another.

He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “What, never been to a party before?”

Jisung shakes his head as he bends down to pick up a pile of streamers. “No. I never really got invited to things like this.” 

Oh . Jeongin is unprepared for the way that revelation makes his heart feel. He rubs at his chest with a frown. Fuck every person ever who never invited Jisung to their party. Jeongin wishes them a very terrible day if they’re not Zed already. 

Jeongin clears his throat and pushes away from the frame to enter the room fully. “Yeah well…They sucked most of the time anyway.”

He barely ducks out of the way when Jisung throws the streamers at him, and with a click of his tongue Jeongin sets his backpack down onto a rusty, broken bar cart. “Do you want me to get the radio out or not?”

“What do you need the radio for?” Jisung’s voice sounds farther away than before, and Jeongin looks over his shoulder to see him picking up more streamers. 

Jeongin’s ears burn red as he looks back down at the radio now in his hand and turns it on. Static, but with a few well-trained turns of the knobs, a blare of a saxophone pushes through. “You dance at parties, don’t you?”

The other snickers softly. “Really? To Careless Whisper ? ” 

“Shut up! It’s better than nothing, right?”

When Jeongin turns around Jisung is already standing behind him. He feels the blush in his cheeks now, and Jisung reaches up with a smile to poke a finger into Jeongin’s deepened dimple. “You’re totally blushing.”

“Sung, seriously. Shut up .” 

Jeongin reaches out to gather his hyung’s hands, and Jisung leans into him easily. He can’t remember the last time he actually danced. A church party, maybe? Definitely in his early teens. He knows it’s awkward the way they start to sway to George Michael of all people, but even so Jisung still wraps his arms around Jeongin’s neck. He rests his hands on Jisung’s hips as the other rests his head on Jeongin’s shoulder.

It’s…nice. Really fucking nice, actually. It feels like things are normal . Like this Jeongin can pretend that they are at a party. In another time it would have taken Jeongin ages to work up the courage to even talk to Jisung, but a few beers deep would definitely have had him asking for his number. Would Jisung have even let Jeongin dance with him like this? Would he have let Jeongin kiss him? Take him home and touch him? Fuck, he sure hopes so. Jeongin keeps swaying with him even as the music trails to an end. He’s not ready for it to end, yet.

Jisung doesn’t say anything when Jeongin finally pulls away. Instead he just reaches up and cups his cheeks to pull him down. Jeongin thinks he’ll never get tired of kissing Jisung. Not when it’s so wet, and warm, and the elder is mewling so sweetly against his lips when Jeongin parts them with his tongue.

They kiss, and kiss, and kiss. Jeongin lets Jisung stumble them back into the old, stiff couch of the main room. He lets his hands slide up under the elder’s shirt just to feel him shiver. Jisung sighs against Jeongin’s lips while he brings his hands down to start unbuttoning his pants, and Jeongin once again catches them in favor of unbuttoning Jisung’s first.

It’s only when he’s about to curl his hand around Jisung does the other pull away. Their lips smack wetly at the disconnect, and Jeongin blinks his eyes open in a daze to watch as Jisung looks over his shoulder. “Hyung, what—?”

“ Oh my god .” Jisung hisses out in a whisper. His fingers suddenly curl into Jeongin’s ribs hard and tight. He jumps at the feeling, and it’s then he hears the fumble of something bumping into old furniture. He goes still, as though the Zed won’t see them if they don’t move.

“ Jeongin!” Jisung still presses, and Jeongin squeezes his hips in return.

“Hyung, shut up . If you’re too loud it’ll hear us.”

“No, Jeongin. Seriously . I need you to look . Oh my god. I was totally obsessed with him when I was in high school. Is it weird he’s hot even as a zombie?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck are you talking about, hyung?”

Jisung shifts in Jeongin’s lap to finally give him a clear view. His eyes squint one moment and then widen the next. “Holy shit…is that?”

Jisung gasps loudly next to him. “Innie, that's fucking Jackson Wang!”

Well, it was Jackson Wang. Swaying in all his golden glory in the doorway of what Jeongin can only assume is the kitchen. His eyes are milky, and his head is tilted towards the noise they’re making on the couch. Jeongin’s never seen a celebrity up close, and he’s sure the star would have looked much better if he was alive and wearing more than just his birthday suit and a party hat on his head.

He can’t really say he’s a fan of Jackson Wang now that the zed is blue-balling him.

Jeongin blinks, and after a moment he looks towards Jisung's star-struck expression. “...You know we’re going to have to kill him, right?”

Jisung’s eyes widen as he looks back at Jeongin. “Awh, man…”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Jisung I am going to throttle you when we get out of here!” 

“No you’re not!” Jisung grunts, and Jeongin watches as he kicks his foot hard into the zed’s chest to send them flailing to the floor. They’re still wearing their work uniform, but now it’s covered in blood. Imagine dying at work. Now that’s fucking depressing. “You like me too much!”

Jeongin’s Heelys slide across the floor as he rounds the corner to cover Jisung’s front, and with a grunt, he brings his nail-ridden baseball bat down hard across their head. Blood splatters in an arch so wide Quentin Tarantino would be jealous. Jisung flinches as it hits his face and brings a hand up to wipe it away.

The two bags of Sour Cream and Onion chips are still held protectively against his chest. 

“Listen, you’re angry at me now but it’s totally going to be worth it when—Fuck, Innie! Behind you!”   

Jeongin ducks out of instinct even before he realizes the Zed that had snuck up behind him is swiping out. Luckily they’re slow. More rotted than some they’ve come across recently. He brings his bat up to fill the jaws of the Zed as it leans down to bite. Jeongin’s foot kicks out across the blood stained floor in a slip, but once he gains his footing he’s able to knock the Zed down onto the floor easily. The bat lifts again before descending down once more. Judge. Jury. Executioner. It’s poor jaw cracks and it gives one last haggard exhale before stilling all together. 

Even so, he still raises the bat one last time, and this time it’s Jeongin closing his eyes against the onslaught of blood. It feels a little unnecessary, but it’s become a rule for a reason, okay?

#4. DOUBLE TAP!

When in doubt, hit, hit, and hit again. You’ll thank me later.

Jeongin stumbles, tips his head back with a sigh, and the bat clatters to the floor as he releases it. His hand is cramping. His leg is cramping. He’s covered in blood and his heart is racing. It’ll be a few minutes before the adrenaline pumping through his system wears off. He should probably sit down.

“...Is now a bad time to say I really want to make you come?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow as he brings the back of his hand up to smear the blood on his cheek away. Jisung is staring at him with large eyes when he turns around. It takes a moment for Jeongin to understand his words. 

“ What?”

So very carefully Jisung puts the two bags of chips down onto the empty shelf beside him. Jeongin watches as the elder steps over the zed on the floor like it’s not even there. He barely has any time to process before Jisung’s pressing against him and trailing a hand down to grind his palm against Jeongin’s cock. A surprised groan tumbles past Jeongin’s lips. Shit, is he actually getting hard right now? 

“I’m still— Fuck, hyung. That feels good.” It’s the only go-ahead that Jisung needs. He works Jeongin’s button and zipper with speed, and it should be fucking gross that the elder is wrapping a dry, dirty hand around him but instead it makes Jeongin’s head spin. Jisung could do the most heinous shit at this point and still make Jeongin come from it. “I’m still mad at you!” 

Jisung drops to his knees. The resounding thunk of them hitting the floor is so loud Jeongin knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow. The thought only makes his cock twitch in Jisung’s hand. His pants can’t be lowered fast enough. 

“Be mad later.” Jisung breathes as he strokes his hand up. Jeongin is already filled out and hard in his hand, and he’d be embarrassed about how quickly it took him to get there, if Jisung wasn’t pressing his thumb down over his weeping head. His hips kick with a moan. “And come now, okay?”

It’s the only warning Jeongin gets before Jisung leans forward to get his mouth onto him. His hands come up to curl into Jisung’s hair with a tug, and it makes Jisung whine around him and take him deeper into his throat.

What a shithead , Jeongin can’t help but think as he tips his head back towards the ceiling with a moan. 

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Jeongin’s eyes squint as he looks up into the sky to assess the weather, and his dimples deepen. The air feels humid and sticky, and it’s only a matter of time before it starts raining. He just hopes the potential downpour happens after they get back to their safe spot. Though he should probably take the rolling sound of thunder as a warning that it’s not going to be the case. 

It’s Jisung’s turn to wear the backpack, and with a grunt he hoists it onto his shoulders. He fought Jeongin about wearing it. It’s heavier than usual, stocked with supplies they can’t take out yet, but Jisung wanted to wear it anyway. It was a fight Jeongin knew he wasn’t going to win. 

The elder is buzzing with more nerves than usual. When Jeongin asked him about it he said it was because he recognized the location. It was far too early in the morning for Jeongin to swallow the bitter pill of information that Jisung’s crew might be around, but he let his hyung drag him out of bed anyway. 

Jeongin knows it’s fucked up to wish that they don’t come across a single clue of their wearabouts. It’s fucked up, but he’s going to secretly wish it anyway. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry the bag?” 

Jisung waves him off with a hand. “I’m fine , Innie. Just like I was when you asked me five minutes ago.”

It seems Jeongin isn’t the only one on edge. He wishes he could smooth away the worry lines from around Jisung’s lips, but a kiss probably isn’t what he needs at the moment. With a sigh Jeongin takes his place beside him, and they both look up at the looming department store before them. 

“ This is the place that’s familiar to you?”

“Yeah. I’ve been here before with Hyunjin. I noticed the sign when I was taking a walk. It’s usually lit up at night. The letters are pink.”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow. “You went on a walk by yourself?”

Jisung’s elbow shoots out into his side. “ That’s what you’re focused on?” 

Jeongin grumbles as he steps forward to press his face against the glass. The inside is dark and relatively cleared out. From here he can’t see any movement, at least. The door rattles with a squeak when Jisung opens it. They pause with bated breath for any sign of Zed. It’s quiet, and while that should be relieving, all it does is make Jeongin nervous . 

Jisung is, too. Jeongin can read it all over his face, but he still turns to him with a large, heart-shaped smile anyway. “Ready, Innie?”

Jeongin looks at him before peering back into the inky darkness of the store. His lips are dry when he licks them. “Sure, hyung.” 

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Broken glass crunches under Jeongin’s feet as he scouts the store. His heart is still pounding from the earlier scare Jisung gave him when he turned the power on. The electrical shudder of the building was way too loud to not alert any Zed nearby, but for now they seem to be in the clear. The industrial lights above them buzz, and Kate Bush’s voice ringing out from the speakers only makes Jeongin nervous. Who would have thought Running Up That Hill could sound even more ominous?

“Loved this song on Stranger Things .” Jisung commented idly once it started, and Jeongin had to stop himself from reminding Jisung that the scene it played on was of a girl running away from a monster . “Never finished the series, though.” 

Now he’s across the department store a little bit farther than Jeongin’s liking, holding up an old flannel against his chest into a broken mirror. Jisung knows they don’t have the room for more clothes, but Jeongin lets him shop anyway. 

There really isn’t much left to scour. Jeongin places his hands against the cracking display case and peers in. It’s mostly debris and dust, but when a flash of silver catches his eye, Jeongin realizes that a pocket knife resides there as well. He contemplates a moment before hoisting himself over the case with a grunt. More glass cracks loudly under his feet at his descent. 

“You okay over there, Innie?” Jisung’s head peeks over a series of racks. Idiot. Jeongin thinks he’s cute. 

“Yeah, hyung. I’m fine. Just found something.”

It’s enough to send Jisung back shopping. Jeongin watches him for a few moments before returning his gaze to the case. It’s already broken, and the last thing he wants is to cut his hand on dirty glass. He’s careful sliding the door over to the side, and the case shudders at the stuttered movement.

“And you were telling me not to make so much noise!” He can hear Jisung teasing. It makes Jeongin roll his eyes fondly, and he doesn’t bother with a response as he reaches in to collect his prize.

The weight of it is heavy in his hands. All cold silver metal. Jeongin tosses it up before catching it with ease. It takes more finesse than he would have liked to get it open, but the sharp blade glints underneath the bright lights once extended. It will be nice to keep something close to his chest for emergencies. Especially if his trusty bat isn’t nearby. 

Another crash rings out across the department store, and Jeongin’s about to make a joke about Jisung being the one to make so much noise now before he hears that tell-tale hiss of Zed. He pops up over the display case, and urgent eyes seek out Jisung’s location. 

The tightness of his chest only dissipates slightly once Jeongin finds him unharmed. It would feel even less so if Jisung wasn’t standing so close to the zed wandering it’s way into the store from the back. The sound of music must have drawn one near, afterall. 

“Jisung, what the hell are you doing?” Jeongin hisses. The elder has yet to move as Jeongin jumps back over the case. The sound of glass breaking seems to draw the zed’s attention, if only a moment, before it’s nose is back into the air to catch Jisung’s close scent. It’s a new Zed, Jeongin realizes with fear. New Zed’s are faster. Stronger. Dangerous . “ Jisung!”

Jisung, who has yet to move. Who has yet to do anything . Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow with worry, and it’s only when he follows the other’s gaze does he realize what’s got his rapt attention. Outside thunder cracks in a loud, rumbled warning.

A pink sticky note. A pink sticky note in the shape of a bunny . 

Panic clogs Jeongin’s throat as he watches Jisung take a tentative step towards the post-it note hanging on the wall. It’s only a quick dash and a Zed filled corridor away. It’s like Jeongin knows exactly what Jisung is thinking. The press of the pocket knife in his knuckle white grip is harsh against his palm. “Don’t you fucking dare, hyung.” 

Jisung does nothing but spare Jeongin a quick glance before he moves again. They both kick off at the same time, but Jisung has a straight shot, and Jeongin is slamming into a lone rack on its side in his attempt to get closer. He cries out in pain and stumbles and watches Jisung’s feet dart past him. Broken glass bites into Jeongin’s palms as he pushes himself back up onto his feet. “Hyung!”

It’s kind of fucked up how everything seems to move in slow motion. Like time knows Jeongin needs to be faster. Like it knows he needs to get to Jisung quicker. Jeongin can only call out to him as he watches the zed’s head whip towards the sound of where he’s running. Shaking legs cause him to stumble again, but at least Jeongin is finally upright. The pocket knife in his hand burns hot. 

Jisung is fast but he’s not fast enough to dodge the swipe of the newly turned Zed. He trips when the bloody hand drops down onto the top of the bookbag and tugs . Bile fills Jeongin’s mouth as he watches the struggle, and it feels like eternity to get over to him, but it can’t be more than a few seconds.

The elder can’t drop the bag easily like he’s attempting because it’s too heavy, and his arms are yanked back into a weird angle now that he’s getting tugged around by the zed behind him. And god, Jeongin fucking hates that even now Jisung is swiping out at the sticky note on the wall before him. Jisung barely has time to grab it before he’s tripping fully, and the attempt to catch himself on the empty clothing rack brings it and the zed crashing down with him. 

Now it’s like everything is happening too fast . It takes Jeongin a moment to realize the screaming he’s hearing is coming from his own throat. Too loud, and cracked, and panicked. He can hear the zed hissing louder than he can hear Jisung’s resounding cries of his own. But Jisung is calling out for him. Jisung is calling out Jeongin’s name.

He cuts himself in panic to get the blade out of the handle again, and the angle is all wrong as he drops down next to the both of them, but Jeongin slams the blade down into the back of the zed’s skull anyway. The noise it makes is sickening, cracking and wet when Jeongin pulls it out only to drive it back in again. He doesn’t know how many times he has to do it before the zed finally stills with a weak hiss. All Jeongin knows is that he has to force himself to let go of the handle. 

Jeongin stumbles back on his feet just enough to reach down and tug the dead weight of the zed away. He thinks he might be crying, but he’s not sure if the wetness on his face is from his own tears or the blood splatter. He’s almost scared to look down as he pushes the empty clothing rack away as well, but the confirmation of Jisung staring back at him with wide eyes is just what Jeongin’s adrenaline filled body needs. He drops into a heap on the floor next to him again, but only to bury his face into Jisung’s equally heaving chest. 

“You’re so fucking stupid , hyung. God you’re such an idiot . Why would you do that? Why the hell would you do that?”

There’s a moment before Jisung is lifting his arms to wrap around Jeongin. His grip is shaky, before it firms, and Jeongin is pressed against his chest. Jisung’s heartbeat sounds just like his own, but the breathless, relieved laugh he’s releasing from his lungs feels like a smack to the face. 

“Holy Shit! I got it, Jeongin. I got it!”   

The elder pulls away just enough to bring a hand between them. Jeongin’s jaw clenches as he looks down at the prize in Jisung’s hand. There it is. That stupid fucking sticky note staring him right back in the face. Jeongin wants to reach out and snatch it out of Jisung’s hand. He wants to tear it up into a million tiny pieces.

In big bold letters the note reads: ON THE CORNER OF 5TH AND JONGNO-GU DUMBASS.

Jeongin can hear his pulse in his ears. He feels Jisung shift under him, but he doesn’t dare look at his face just yet. The tug the other gives on his earlobe is almost hesitant.

“...Jeongin?”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Jeongin, please .” Jisung’s voice almost gets drowned out by the thunder. Jeongin knew there was no way the weather was going to wait for them, but the rain drops falling against his cheeks are still a bitter sting. Fuck today. Fuck the apocalypse. And most of all fuck—“I know you can hear me, Innie. Please .” 

A wet squelch rings out when Jeongin steps down, and his sock is quick to soak in his shoe. He tries to lift it, but the sneaker is weighed down in the mud. The sight of it infuriates him. Jeongin knows he’s starting to spiral. 

“I know you’re mad, okay?” Jisung’s voice is a warble, and Jeongin has to close his eyes tightly in defense against the way it makes his heart sink. He tries to pull his shoe free, but it’s futile. Jeongin hears his heartbeat in his ears again. “Look, I didn’t think—”

“That’s the thing, Jisung!” Fingers curl into his own hair exasperated. He’s speaking out of anger now. Out of fear . God Jeongin thought Jisung was going to…he can’t even fucking say it. “You don’t think! You’re so fucking rash and bullheaded. Jesus, you couldn’t even wait —”

“What was I supposed to do?” Jisung is quick to counter back, own anger in his brows now. In the way he looks at Jeongin. It stings more than he thought it would, but it’s not exactly unwarranted. Jisung holds up that stupid pink bunny sticky note with a wave, and Jeongin groans loudly into the palm of his hands. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. “Do you know what this is?”

Jeongin’s laugh is bitter. “Don’t wave that shit around at me, Jisung.”

The rain falls harder now, and Jisung’s next words are almost drowned out by the noise.

“Jeongin, this is them . This is my crew. This is Seungmin’s handwriting!”

The rush of anger that swallows him whole is one that takes Jeongin by surprise. It burns quickly through his chest. Up his throat. Makes him choke. 

But Jisung presses on like Jisung always does. “This means they’re out there! That they’re looking for me. Why aren’t you happy for me? Why are you so fucking mad?”

And then it just…snaps. The collected control Jeongin works so hard to maintain. He’s at the start of the apocalypse again. Alone. Angry. Anxious. God, he feels so small.

“You could have fucking died, Jisung!” Jeongin hates the way his voice cracks. Hates the way his nose immediately gets snotty with so much of a whisper of tears. His hands shake as he brings them up to press the heel of his palms against his temples.

And still it rains. 

“I thought—I thought you fucking died! I thought that stupid Zed got to you before I could. Jesus, I thought—” A sob barks its way out of his chest, and what Jeongin hates the most out of anything tonight, is how Jisung’s face falls because of it. “I thought that was it! I thought you were gone , Jisung. I thought I fucking lost you. So excuse me if I don’t fucking care about some stupid sticky note .” 

“...Jeongin.” Jisung’s voice is soft. Understanding. Far too calm against the raging fire in Jeongin’s chest. Fuck, he can’t breathe . 

Jisung steps forward, and no matter how much the caged animal that is Jeongin’s mind wants to snap at him, he just…he just can’t. So he lets Jisung come to him. He lets Jisung cup his cheeks. He lets Jisung comfort him in a way Jeongin doesn’t exactly feel like he deserves.

His hyung’s palms are warm against the pouring cold, and another sob breaks free at how gentle he is. How gentle Jisung always is with him. “I’m sorry, okay? I know what I did was rash and fucking stupid. But I just—Jeongin, those are my people.”

And God, it’s so dumb and pathetic when Jeongin finally chokes out what’s been eating at him since Jisung asked if they could start looking. “But what about me?”

Jeongin’s not sure he can bear the thought of losing Jisung a second time.

There’s a flash of recognition in Jisung’s gaze, and it’s one that eats Jeongin right up. It feels as though Jisung is truly looking at him now, and he doesn’t know whether to hide from it or find comfort in it. The hold on his cheeks becomes firm, and even though Jeongin is sniffing up snot, Jisung puts their foreheads together. 

Jeongin is the strong one. He’s the one that’s supposed to take care of Jisung. He’s the one with the rules and the knowledge. He’s the one that’s supposed to be comforting. And yet, once again, here is his hiccupy crying like a child while Jisung soothes him. Jeongin continues. Words are rushing out of him as though they know he’ll never say what he needs unless he says it now . 

“What happens to me if you find them? What happens to us? You’re—fuck, hyung, you’ve been the only consistent thing in my life since all of this shit started. And I know it’s selfish, okay? I know it’s selfish to want to keep you all to myself but I just can’t—”

“ Jeongin ,” Jisung presses, and Jeongin has to close his eyes at the way he’s still fucking looking . “ You are not going anywhere, and neither am I. We’ll find them together. It’s why I dragged you along. You’ll stay with me. You’ll stay with us . Don’t even think for a second I’d let those jerks kick you out.”

The words make Jeongin pause. Jisung’s always been more about showing than saying, and it’s the first time he thinks he’s ever heard his hyung say anything close to how he feels about him. About them . 

It’s almost childish when Jeongin wipes his snot away to grumble, “What if they don’t like me?”

He knows Jisung wants to laugh at him, but Jeongin’s glad he’s repressing those giggles at least for now. “Then I’ll make them like you. Don’t look at me like that, dummy. They’ll like you, okay? Because I like you.”

“...You like me?”

Jisung finally breathes a laugh, and he squishes Jeongin’s cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure I love you. You know that, right? Like a dumb stupid amount, Jeongin. I lose brain cells thinking about you. Like, really.”

Jeongin snorts before he can stop it, blinking puffy eyes open just in time to catch Jisung’s everlasting, breathtaking heart-shaped smile.

Leave it to his hyung to be braver than him. Jisung’s always been good at saying or doing things that Jeongin wished so desperately he could do but never had the courage for. He loves him . 

(The contents of the box are on the floor. Tipped right over in a mess, but Jisung doesn’t seem to mind. With gentle hands he starts helping Jeongin pick everything up.)

“I really am sorry, Jeongin. You’re right, you know. What I did was dangerous. I scared you. Honestly…I scared myself, too. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

Jeongin sniffs, and his voice is only a little petulant when he says, “Swear it, dickhead. On a Twinkie.”

Jisung lets out a low whistle, and Jeongin knows it’s teasing as he tilts his head to the side like he’s really thinking about it, but he gives Jisung a little punch to the side anyway.

Here is a new list of things that are true: 1. They’re sopping wet. 2. Jeongin’s sock is squishing inside of his shoe. 3. Jisung always looks funny when his hair covers his forehead. 4. Jeongin loves him so fucking much. God, he loves him.

Jisung squeezes his cheeks again, and Jeongin knows he means it. “I swear on a Twinkie, Innie.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

The walk back to the motel is a quiet, soaked experience. Jeongin doesn’t think either of them have the energy to hold a conversation, but Jisung’s hand still holds his own tightly in reassurance that he’s still there. Jisung is giving him a night before they go to the destination said Seungmin person left on the post-it note, and it’s only when Jeongin feels how weary and achy his body actually is, that he’s thankful for it. 

Jisung let’s Jeongin into the room first, and when he closes the door behind them, he leans against it. Jeongin drops the backpack onto the floor and turns to look at him.

He watches as Jisung wears down the soft skin of his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“...Are you tired, Inyah?”

Jeongin is tired, but he shakes his head anyway. “No. Not for you, hyung.”

It seems to be the thing Jisung needs to hear, if the way he closes his eyes and sighs is anything to go by. They really should just be wiping themselves down and crawling into bed, but Jeongin knows that’s not what Jisung wants. He doesn’t think it’s what he wants, either. 

So Jeongin shucks off his wet shoes and kicks them aside. Jisung reopens his eyes just in time to watch him pull his shirt over his head. He pushes off the door then and into Jeongin’s waiting arms. 

“Tell me what you need, hyung.” 

Jisung’s fingertips trail up Jeongin’s bare chest, and for a moment he buries his head into his neck to breathe him in. Jeongin can’t imagine he smells very good at the moment, but Jisung’s always been a little weird like that. 

“...Will you fuck me?” Jisung finally murmurs, and Jeongin’s breath gets caught in his throat. “I think I just need you to touch me.” 

Jeongin can’t say he imagined their first time to be after a near-death experience, but for some reason he can’t quite explain why it does feel…right. It makes sense . It’s exactly something their dumbasses would do.

“You want me to fuck you?” It’s meant to be playful, but when Jisung looks up at him as though he’s said something wrong, Jeongin gathers his hands to press them against his chest. “I’m teasing, hyung. I’d love to fuck you.”

That seems to get Jisung to crack, if only a little bit. The corner of his lips tick up into a smile, and Jeongin feels his shoulders relaxing at the sight. “You should say that again.”

Jeongin scoffs softly as he waddles them towards the old motel bed, fingers dipping underneath the hem of Jisung’s shirt to guide it up. “You wish.”

Jisung has always been on the smaller side. Jeongin can see it more now once he gets the elder’s shirt up over his head so he can lay him out on the bed before him. His fingers trail down, down, down the notches of Jisung’s ribs, and Jeongin can’t help but wonder if there will ever be a future where they’re not scavenging for food. He wonders if there will be a time when he looks at Jisung and his cheeks are rounder. His stomach softer.

God, Jeongin hopes so. 

“Only you would think as hard as you are right before you’re about to fuck someone—Ouch, you jerk!” Jeongin releases the nipple he’s just pinched, and Jisung kicks out at him with a bare foot. He catches it with ease and brings it against his side. “You know my nipples are sensitive!” 

Jeongin does know that. He also knows Jisung’s thighs shake when he’s close to coming. He knows that he likes to bite down onto the meat of his shoulder in favor of being loud. Jeongin knows once he’s got him feeling so good none of it will matter anyway because Jisung is a babbler. 

Jisung kicks at his side again, and this time Jeongin brings his ankle up over his shoulder to give the side of it a soft kiss. The gasp his hyung gives at the stretch wasn’t intended, but still just as dizzying. “Now you just look like you’ve got horny brain.”

Jeongin breathes a laugh against Jisung’s calf before looking down at him. “I do have horny brain. You just asked me to fuck you.”

“So are you actually going to do it?”

Yeah. Jeongin is absolutely going to do it.

He leans down to answer Jisung’s question with a kiss. Soft and sweet just like it always starts, but Jisung only likes it like that for so long before he starts scratching at Jeongin’s shoulders. So he deepens it with a hum and presses a hand down against Jisung to give his hyung something to buck into. 

Jeongin wants to drag it out, wants to make Jisung squirm, but he doesn’t have enough control to do so when Jisung licks into his mouth and over his teeth with a wet, broad stroke. Fuck, Jeongin feels needy . Like one, two, however many kisses will never be enough. Right now they feel like they won’t be. Not with the way Jisung presses into his touch with a warbled keen against his lips. Not with the way his hips roll down so pretty and smooth against him.

Jisung breaks the kiss after a moment to pant wet and soft against Jeongin’s cheek. It sounds good, feels good, and Jeongin doesn’t even care when he brings those round teeth down to bite down against his cheekbone. He continues grinding lazily against Jeongin’s palm with a whine. 

“Please don’t make me come before you even get inside me.”

Jeongin has thought about it, but hearing the desperation in Jisung’s voice makes him realize just how desperate he is feeling. His cock presses against the uncomfortable metal of his zipper, and it spurs Jeongin into action to start working on Jisung’s own. They would have come off easier if Jeongin had actually moved away enough to pull them down, and Jisung rolls his eyes once his pants and boxers come off with a final tug of a fight. “Smooth, Inyah.”

This time it’s Jeongin’s turn to bite down as he brings Jisung’s ankle back up to his lips. It causes Jisung’s body to jump, but even still he tries to quell his moan with a bitten lip. Jeongin knows it’s only a matter of time before he’ll have Jisung panting and whining into his mouth, but there is a part of Jeongin that wishes he’d just do it now . 

A moan is bitten back again as he drags his fingertips down the soft skin of Jisung’s thigh. He shivers, and Jeongin wraps a hand around his cock just for a moment before they trail even lower. Jisung bucks against Jeongin’s hold as he presses his fingers against his hole.

“ Shit , Jeongin.” Jisung’s hips roll down against them, and Jeongin’s ears burn red. “ Yeah . Yeah, yeah.”

Jeongin can’t help his little smile. So cute. “I can’t just go for it, hyung. I’m sure you’ve picked something up, already. Lotion? Lube?”

Jisung peeks an eye open with flushed cheeks. “How are you so sure that I grabbed something?” 

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, and Jisung sighs. When he mumbles it’s hidden by the hand covering his face. “ Shut up . Bedside table.” 

It allows a moment for Jeongin to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. It’s not the first time he’s been naked in front of Jisung, but now it feels different. More charged. He knows his own cheeks are burning when he bends down to grab the small bottle of hand oil out of the drawer. Holy shit. He’s about to fuck Han Jisung.

Jisung is pushed up onto his hands when Jeongin turns back around to face him, and the hand he beckons out is a trap once he gets closer. Jisung wraps those soft fingers around Jeongin’s cock with a squeeze, and for a moment Jeongin tips his head back with a sigh to enjoy Jisung’s skilled touch. But then his hyung’s thumb presses right down into the slit, and Jeongin has to bring his head back forward to gather Jisung’s hand into his own. Jesus, it feels like he’s already seconds away from bursting.

“Easy, hyung. I’m the one you should be worried about coming before starting.”

It makes Jisung laugh softly, and he flops back onto the bed when Jeongin finally settles above him. Once again Jeongin finds himself wishing it wasn’t so dark already. If only to see Jisung for just a little bit longer.

Jeongin fumbles with the bottle of hand oil. The noise it makes when he squeezes it out makes Jisung snort with a giggle, and it drips down onto the bed between his fingers with the sheer amount that rushes over his fingers. He attempts to rub some warmth into it, and Jeongin’s head spins as Jisung parts his legs for him easily, eagerly , hips tilted up for easy access.

Jisung is already nodding before Jeongin can even say anything, own fingers curled into his hair. He keens as Jeongin’s slick fingers press against his hole once more. “You can. You can. I’ll be fine.”

It’s a slow slide in with his finger, but almost an easy one. Jeongin can’t help the way he groans softly at the realization, especially when Jisung rocks his hips down to get it deeper. “Hyung…have you touched yourself recently?”

Jisung whines and covers his face with a hand, but the question only makes his hips grind down against Jeongin’s finger again. He’s so warm . Wet and warm and all for Jeongin. He watches as his hyung gives a little nod. “Last night. I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you up— Fuck , innie. Please. Another. I can take it.”

“Shit, hyung.” Last night? Jeongin was sleeping peacefully, and Jisung was up making himself come? The image of Jisung’s head thrown back due to his own fingers inside of him is almost too much, and real life Jisung throws his head back with a groan when Jeongin presses the second finger in a little too quickly. “Sorry. Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Jisung is breathless when he laughs. Like Jeongin’s question was simply that absurd. He shakes his head and brings a hand down to wrap around Jeongin’s wrist. To move him. To guide him. To finger himself faster. Jeongin isn’t going to last at all . 

“No, Innie.” He hiccups with a jerk as Jeongin spreads his fingers into a V. “No, it feels good. It feels really good. Curl your fingers up, baby. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Oh fuck —”

Jeongin watches with reverence as Jisung’s back arches. His hand slackens around his wrist, but Jeongin knows better than to slow down. He presses the pads of his fingers against that sensitive spot again, and he’s rewarded with another cry of pleasure.  “ Shit —Jeongin, you have to add a third before you make me come.”

Even with the extra oil Jeongin drizzles over his fingers, there’s more resistance now as he guides a third finger into him. Jisung’s lips part in a silent moan at the stretch, and Jeongin would be worried that he was hurting him if it wasn’t for the way his cock was leaking against his stomach. Jeongin brings his free hand down from Jisung’s ankle to wrap his fingers around it instead, and Jisung finally shudders out a moan as he begins to stroke. The tight circle of his fingers focusing underneath the head just like Jeongin likes it himself. Jisung’s body shakes .

Jeongin is careful to work him open, to make sure he’s stretched, even as Jisung starts whining about getting inside him. He’s not as big as Jisung is, sure, but he still doesn’t want to hurt him, and it’s with a sudden, desperate realization that all Jeongin wants is for Jisung to feel good . All he wants is for Jisung to come with his name on his lips.

“You’re thinking again.” Jisung moans quietly at another press of Jeongin’s fingers against that bundle of nerves. “You feel good, Innie. Don’t worry. You’re making me feel so good.”

Fuck. Fuck, Jeongin loves him. It tumbles past his lips before he can stop it. Stupid and cliche and three fingers deep like some bad romcom. “I love you, hyung.” 

Jisung smiles large and pleased, anyway. Unknowing of Jeongin’s inner turmoil or just feeling too good to care. “I love you too, Inyah. So will you please fuck me now?”

“Are you sure? It’s enough?” 

He watches Jisung nod his head with a breathy exhale. His forearms are shaky when he pushes himself up onto them the best he can. “I’m sure. Wanna ride you.”

“Shit—” Jeongin removes his fingers a little too quickly, if Jisung’s soft keen is anything to go by. The other doesn't seem to care too much about it. Instead he reaches out with warm hands to help drag Jeongin into the bed. “Hyung you’re crazy. Seriously.” 

Breath is knocked out of him as Jisung shoves him onto his back, and the elder is quick to throw a leg over his hips. Jeongin is intimately familiar with this position, but it all of a sudden feels new with the knowledge that soon he’s going to be inside Jisung. His fingers are still oily where they dig into Jisung’s firm thighs, but his hyung only sighs at the touch. 

“Crazy for you .” Jisung’s head tips back as he drops his hips down into a grind. It causes Jeongin to slot perfectly between his cheeks, warm and wet from the oil, and his teeth bite down around a haggard groan. Jeongin reaches around to grab two handfuls of his ass before he even realizes it. If only to help guide Jisung down into another grind, spreading just enough to really feel him. “Shit, Innie. You’re going to feel so good.”

Jeongin’s head is spinning. He’s dizzy with the desire for Jisung. Jisung . Whatever he will give him as long as they both feel good with it. His hips kick with a whine at a particularly good grind, and his toes curl into the dingy sheets when his cock catches on Jisung’s rim. He’s really not going to last at all.

Jisung’s sudden laugh is airy. It takes Jeongin a moment to register, but he keeps the slow grind of their hips going as he looks back up to him. “What?”

“I can feel you twitching against me.”

Heat floods into Jeongin’s cheeks. By now he should be used to this, but Jisung’s blunt words still throw his heart into overdrive. Even worse, they still make Jeongin’s cock twitch against him more. He moans softly. “You’re a freak, hyung. Really.”

He’s teased a few more times before Jisung finally relents and lifts his hips, probably too pent up himself, and the cool hand oil makes Jeongin jump with a surprised moan when Jisung wraps his coated hand around him. He’s slicking him up. Making him wet. Making him wet so Jeongin can be inside of him. There’s honestly too much, and he can only imagine what it’s going to sound like, but for some reason that just makes the fire in his groin burn even brighter than before.

Jisung rolls his hips back down, head lolling off to the side as he teases and presses the head of Jeongin’s cock against his fluttering hole. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat with a broken groan as he barely slips past the rim.

“Remember when I said your thighs belonged in a museum? I think your cock should be in one too.” 

A laugh bubbles past Jeongin’s lips before he can stop it. One that tapers off into a choked little whine as Jisung sinks down more, more, more . Hand still holding Jeongin’s cock to help guide him in just right. Fuck it’s hot. Hot and soft and all for Jeongin. His voice cracks. “Pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks cocks can be a form of fine art, hyung.”

Jisung looks wild above him when Jeongin catches his gaze. Hair sticking out in all directions. Lips swollen red. Smile crooked and large. This is the best he’s ever looked. Jeongin is going to be dreaming of him for weeks. Months. Years . “Ready, baby?”

Jeongin is nodding before he even realizes it. His hands fall onto Jisung’s hips like a brand, and he can't stop the way his fingers dig into the soft flesh to squeeze. All it does is make Jisung moan soft and sweet towards the ceiling. “Yeah, hyung. Wanna make you come.”

It’s all Jisung needs, and it takes Jeongin a moment to realize he’s the one moaning as the elder drops his hips down once more. Fuck, it’s tight . Tight and warm and wet and Jeongin holds onto Jisung’s hips for dear life when Jisung finally bottoms out and their hips fall flush together. His cock is being hugged so perfectly, like Jeongin is carving out a space just for himself, like Jisung’s body was made just for him . Just the thought makes his cock jerk, and Jeongin’s hands slide up Jisung’s sides to hold on tight. 

“ Ah —Fuck, Jisung .” Jisung can only lift his hips a few inches before Jeongin is pulling his hyung back down against him. His head hits the pillows behind him, voice cracking on another whine. “Wait—Shit, hyung. Wait. Not yet. I’ll come.”

“Okay, Innie.” Jisung gives a breathy moan, and while he doesn’t lift his hips up, he instead rolls them down into a smooth grind. It causes Jeongin to slide in deeper, warm walls pressing against his already sensitive cockhead. His fingers tick against Jisung’s ribs as another moan is punched out his chest. “You feel so good, Inyah. Filling me up perfectly. Seriously, you might have to fuck me forever, now.” 

Stupid. Jeongin can’t stop the way his lips curl up into a wide smile, and his dimples deepen because of it. Jisung tips his head back forward to look down at him, and he brings a finger up to dig into the natural indent of Jeongin’s cheek. “What are you cheesing so big for?” 

Jeongin shakes his head and trails his hands back down to Jisung’s hips. He helps his hyung roll them in an experimental grind. Fuck, it still feels so good, but at least Jeongin doesn’t feel like he’s seconds from coming prematurely anymore. “Nothing, hyung.”

“Weirdo,” Jisung moans softly behind his teeth, and finally he brings his hands down to brace against Jeongin’s chest. The sight of Jisung above him makes Jeongin burn hotter than ever. He covers both of Jisung’s hands with one of his own and presses down to keep them there. “Can I fuck you now, Innie?”

It’s breathless when Jeongin gives a choked, almost pleading, “Yeah, hyung. Fuck . Yeah, you can move. Please .”

The first drop of Jisung’s hips makes Jeongin worry that maybe he wasn’t ready for this at all. He braces both feet on the bed in an attempt to make the grind down easier, but all it does instead is make Jeongin’s hips kick into the warm plush of Jisung’s body as he sinks down deeper than before. Jisung laughs breathlessly and leans down to kiss Jeongin soft, sweet, slow. 

“You’re thinking too much, again. I don’t care if you come first, okay? Just feel good.” Jisung pries his hands out from under Jeongin’s in favor of threading both their hands together. Jeongin’s arms strain as Jisung braces his weight against them, but his hyung has more leverage like this, and his thrust back down causes him to cry out against Jeongin’s lips. “Fuck me good.”

Who is Jeongin to deny?

Jeongin always thought he was greedy, but having Jisung rolling his hips desperately down into his lap makes him think he might not be as greedy as Jisung. It’s like once he starts he can’t stop, not that Jeongin would want him to stop, chasing the pleasure with his head tipped back towards the ceiling and a wet, slack mouth. Jisung is loud , especially when Jeongin thrusts into him just right and grazes his prostate. He tries his best to keep the angle, but Jisung is squirming too much in his lap, so Jeongin just lets his hyung take what he needs instead.

The tell-tale sign of Jeongin’s impending orgasm is burning up his guts, and he knows Jisung said he doesn’t care if he comes first, but Jeongin wants Jisung to come first. He wants him to crumble and shake and make a mess out of the both of them. 

“Hyung—” Jeongin’s voice stutters with a moan at a particularly good grind of Jisung’s hips. His biceps are burning as he holds Jisung’s weight, but Jeongin doesn’t dare move him. “Ah ah —Fuck, hyung you feel so good. You’re so tight . Shit .”

Jisung’s body shakes at the praise, and it does nothing but spur him on, even though Jeongin can tell he’s getting tired. He tries to match Jisung’s thrusts down with thrusts up of his own. It seems to be working in his favor when Jisung tips his head back towards the ceiling with a particularly loud, drawn out moan. 

He’s beautiful. Fuck, Jisung is so beautiful . Beautiful, and loud, and all of Jeongin’s own. He was sure at the start of the apocalypse he was going to do nothing but die alone, but now Jeongin’s got the most beautiful boy writhing in pleasure in his lap and a blooming warmth in his chest. 

Would Jeongin have ever come across him if it wasn’t for the apocalypse? 

“Touch me. Touch me— Ah! Touch me, Innie, please . I’m so close. Oh fuck, I’m so close. You’re going to make me come. You feel so good, Innie. Fuck , so good inside me!”

There it is, the blabbing. Usually it’s not so filthy, and Jeongin’s ears burn at the sound. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

Jisung’s body buckles when Jeongin lets go of his hand in favor of wrapping a hand around his wet, weeping cock instead. His hyung’s head knocks against his throat a little too hard as he shudders against his chest, but the burst of pain only suspiciously adds to the pleasure crawling up Jeongin’s groin and into his chest. Jisung bites into Jeongin’s shoulder as he wraps an arm around him to grab ahold of Jisung’s ass to spread him once more. Jeongin thinks he might be bleeding with how hard Jisung is biting, and all he can do about it is moan.

“I’m going to come—Ah, Jisung .” Jeongin buries his nose into Jisung’s hair, lips slack and wet against his temple. All Jeongin’s brain is a mantra of warm, warm, warm. Warmth and pleasure and a lap full of Jisung. He’s trying his very best to jerk Jisung off in time with their thrusts, but his wrist stutters just like his hips when the elder shudders in his arms. “ Hyung , please. I’m going to fucking come— Fuck . Come with me, hyung. Come on me. Wanna hear you.” 

Jisung’s moans are high and breathy the way they always go when he’s standing at the precipice. His teeth let go of Jeongin’s shoulder so he can tilt his head towards Jeongin’s lips. They don’t kiss. Too busy panting and keening and pleading into each other’s mouths. Jeongin watches as Jisung starts to drool. Fuck , he’s going to come.

“ Oh —Ah, ah! Right there, Innie. Oh fuck, yes , right there. Right there. Innie. Inyah. Jeongin!”  

Jisung’s cock jerks in his hand, and Jeongin squeezes his fingers tight around him at the first spurt of come. There’s so much . Splattering warm and sticky against Jeongin’s stomach. His chest. Even up to his chin. Jisung whines against his lips and writhes in his lap as Jeongin works him through his release, and his ass has become impossibly tight around him. It’s so good. Good good good . 

Jeongin presses their foreheads together with a broken moan, and Jisung’s body shudders and clenches around him with oversensitivity when he trails his hand down lower to press against his swollen rim. He can feel himself punching into the warmth of Jisung’s body like this, and Jeongin’s orgasm takes him by surprise.

“ Shit hyung I’m—I’m coming. Wait— I’m coming. I’m coming .”

Jisung is clenching so tight around him, milking him so perfectly, that Jeongin feels lightheaded. His cock jerks harshly as he empties into him. As Jeongin fills him up. Fuck, Jeongin is coming inside of him . The revelation has stars bursting behind his tightly closed eyelids. He’s not even sure if he’s saying words . All Jeongin knows is that sound is leaving his mouth, loud and desperate, only to be swallowed up by Jisung’s lips.

It feels neverending, but Jeongin isn’t sure if that’s because of the way Jisung keeps twitching in his lap, hips still rolling even through oversensitivity. Jeongin can only take so much with his own sensitive cock, and Jisung mewls against his lips when Jeongin’s hands clamp down around his hips to still him in his lap. 

They stay like this for a while. Jeongin still buried deep inside of Jisung. Breathing into each other's mouths. Taking each other in with tired, seeking hands. Jeongin wishes they could just stay like this forever.

No apocalypse. No running. No fear. Just them . Just the two of them together.

Jeongin blinks his eyes open when he feels Jisung’s fingers bury into his hair to give a little tug. His smile is just as wide and heart-shaped as ever before. Sated. Satisfied.

“Ah, Inyah~ There you are. I thought I lost you for a moment. Was worried I blew your brain too much.” 

Jeongin huffs a laugh across Jisung’s lips. His voice is croaky when he says, “You did. I can’t fucking think, hyung.”

Jisung gives a small giggle of his own, and he shifts in his lap just enough to be able to bring his lips down comfortably against Jeongin’s. He makes no move to get out of Jeongin’s lap just yet, but he’s okay with that, if Jeongin could he would stay inside of Jisung forever.

They kiss soft, and slow, and deep for a few moments before Jisung finally pulls away to say, “Thank you.”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow, and his fingertips idly trace down the notches of Jisung’s spine. “For what?” 

The other hums in thought, and for a few seconds all Jeongin gets is a silent shrug of his shoulders. “Just…for letting me stay with you. Picking me up and taking me home.” 

Jeongin’s lips curl up against Jisung’s mouth. “Almost didn’t. Considering the way you shot me—”

“ Ughhh! I just knew you were going to say something about that! When are you going to let that go?”

He can’t even kiss him probably because he’s laughing, but Jeongin tries anyway. “Never, dude. Not even when we die.” 

Jisung brings a curled fist into the underside of Jeongin’s ribs, and laughs at the way it makes Jeongin jump. “Well I’m never going to forgive you for eating my Twinkie.” 

Jeongin hums softly. “Guess we’ll just have to stay together and wait it out until one of us cracks first, huh?”

Jisung is nothing but warmth, warmth, warmth as he presses down against him, around him. Everywhere all at once. Jeongin loves it. He loves him . “Guess so."

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“I think we’re lost, Innie.”

Jeongin groans and skids to a stop. Jisung doesn’t notice and bumps his forehead right into Jeongin’s back. He pulls away with a frown to rub it. “Ouch, shithead! Warn a guy next time!” 

He ignores Jisung in favor of looking up at the sky in a silent prayer. This will be the third time they’ve turned around. The third block they’ve walked down. The third time in a single day that Jeongin is starting to question his sanity. 

You love him. Jeongin reminds himself. He does. He does love him. Even when Jisung’s sense of direction is absolute garbage.

Jeongin looks down at the post-it note in his hand one more time. 

ON THE CORNER OF 5TH AND JONGNO-GU DUMBASS. 

No, Seungmin, whoever you are, you’re the dumbass! Taking all the time to write a note, and not giving enough direction! Jeongin has an excuse, alright? He’s not familiar with this part of the city. Jisung has one too, albeit not a good one, but he’s still got one. Seungmin? You do not . 

“Is there a reason your friend didn’t give us more to go off of? I don’t know. He could have drawn a damn map.”

Jisung sighs and plucks the note right out of Jeongin’s hand. “How is he going to fit a map on a sticky note, Innie? Don’t be silly.”

You love him! Jeongin reminds himself. He does. He really, really does.

The sun is beginning to set on the horizon, and at this point they’re either going to have to turn around to go back to the motel or clear out a place to sleep for the night. Jeongin would prefer the former instead of the latter, but it would throw a kink into how far they’ve traveled already. With a sigh he takes a look around them. There seems to be a small neighborhood before the district of stores before them really opens up. He reaches down to grab Jisung’s hands, threads their fingers together, and gives him a tug.

Jisung looks up at him with wide eyes as he shifts the backpack on his shoulders. “We’re still going to look a little longer?”

Jeongin nods. “Just a little bit, and then we’ll find a house to squat in. Not much longer though, okay? We don’t need to be running around in the dark.”

Jisung’s smile is beaming. “Ay ay captain! Jeez . I kinda like it when you get all bossy. Tell me to do something else~” 

“Hyung you are—”

“The most insufferable person you’ve ever met. I know.” The elder gives a wave of his hand as they start walking again. “But you love me anyway.” 

He does. “Yeah, I do. Now shut up and come on.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

The small, one bedroom apartment they find is actually comfier on the inside than it looks. There’s nothing left in the cabinets, and the bed is bare, but they didn’t have to clear it out of Zed to rest their tired feet. Jeongin helps Jisung take the backpack off his shoulders before watching him face-plant right into the mattress. His nose crinkles.

“Who knows what’s on that thing, dude. Don’t put your face in it.”

Jisungs words are muffled, and Jeongin takes a step forward to try and hear them better.

“What did you say? I can’t hear you when your face is pressed into the bed.”

Jisung turns his face towards Jeongin with a cheeky smile. “I said you’re sexy when you boss—Ah!” He jumps when Jeongin brings his palm down flat against his ass. Jeongin barely has any time to dodge when the elder kicks out at him with a giggled whine. “You’re such a dick!”

Jeongin doesn’t reply in favor of flopping onto the bed right next to him. Jisung rolls onto his side to face him, and Jeongin closes his eyes as his hyung threads his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“We’re getting closer, Innie. I can feel it. Things are starting to feel more familiar.” 

Jeongin isn’t going to lie and say there isn’t that twang of hesitance and fear in his heart about the mention of Jisung’s crew, but more than anything, all he wants is for Jisung to be safe. To have a real, comfy bed under his head. Fed and full. So if that means Jeongin will now have to join a group of men he doesn’t know. Well? So be it. As long as Jisung stays by his side he’ll be okay.

Jisung reaches up to tug his earlobe gently. “We’ll find them tomorrow for sure.” 

Jeongin hums softly. “We will. I feel it too, hyung.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“I really thought it would be this time, you know?”

Jeongin looks down at the post-it note one last time. The ink is starting to smear, and it’s beginning to fray at the edges. There’s not much light left, and Jeongin knows it’s a risk being out later than he likes, but Jisung’s crestfallen face is starting to kill him. 

It’s chillier now when the sun goes down, and the fog that rolls in because of the sudden change of temperature is growing thick. Jeongin sighs and shoves the note back into the pocket of his jeans. 

“You said you remembered that donut place down the way, right? Maybe we should head back there.” 

Jisung blinks up at him with a heart-shaped pout as Jeongin helps guide the backpack off his shoulders to put it onto Jeongin’s own. “You sure?”

“Yeah, Sung. I’m sure.”

So they walk more . Retracing their steps right back in front of a shopping center Jisung said felt familiar but didn’t look familiar. Jeongin’s feet are aching, and he’s pretty sure there’s a blister on the back of his heel that’s opened up, but Jisung’s hand in his own keeps him going anyways. 

The fog is thick now, and it makes everything wet and cool. Jeongin shivers underneath his old hoodie, and Jisung brings a hand up to rub his arm. 

“Just a little bit longer.”

The street signs are too far for Jeongin to read. If he even could read them. If they’re not covered in graffiti then they’re starting to rust. Their feet shuffle disappointedly, and Jeongin squints off into the distance. Wait a second…

“Jisung, this might actually be—” 

Jeongin stumbles, over air, and right onto his ass. Except it’s not air that Jeongin has actually tripped on, and his eyebrows furrow deep once he gains his barings and pushes himself back up to sit. As he reaches out and hooks a finger around the taught fishing wire hovering inches off the ground. He plucks at it again, and in the distance it almost sounds like he hears the trill of a bell. 

“What the fuck?” 

And then he’s blinded. They both are. Jisung makes a noise of confusion as the bright spotlight on the roof of one of the stores bears down onto them. Jeongin stumbles onto his feet with a hand in front of his face, but all he can catch is a simple silhouette of whoever is shining that fucking thing right into their faces.

In the distance a door opens, and Jeongin’s shoulders shoot right up towards his ears at the sound of pounding feet on the pavement that’s not their own. 

“Jisung— Jisung , we gotta go. Like now! ” Jeongin’s hand snatches out to hold onto whatever body part of Jisung is closest. His forearm. The elder’s hand comes up to cover his own, but he doesn’t make a move. “Jisung, please do not do this again.”

Jeongin wouldn’t say it’s the most important rule, but it’s definitely one of the most important rules.

#8. KNOW WHEN TO RUN

You might think it’s a fight you can win, but it’s probably not. So you better put those shoes to good use.

Jeongin looks over towards Jisung, and the elder is leaned forward in an attempt to look off into the distance himself. Jeongin groans and tugs Jisung behind him.

“Hyung, seriously?” Jeongin takes another step back, and Jisung still doesn’t budge one bit. He’s not going to leave fucking leave without him, so Jeongin shoots out an arm to shield Jisung behind him as the approaching figure before them gets closer. 

Holy shit. They’re really running.

Jisung is still squinting into the haze, and he stands tall to rest a hand on Jeongin’s outstretched arm. He gives a hard, sudden squeeze. “Wait a second.”

Jeongin’s laugh is high pitched and nervous. “ Seriously? They’re dead sprinting at us and you want to wait? ” 

“Shhh, Innie! I’m trying to see something!”

“Oh my god , hyung. Did you just fucking shush me right now?”

“I think…I think I know him.” Jisung’s grip tightens to an alarming degree. “Wait, Jeongin! Jeongin, I know him!”

Jeongin’s eyes widen, surprise bleeding into his features as he whips his head to look at Jisung, before back at the person still headed their way. They’re closer now. He’s closer now. A man, around their age, still in a full sprint.

“Will you at least fucking tell him to stop running at us like he’s the fucking terminator?!”

Jisung tries to step out from behind him, but the nerves running through Jeongin’s body keep his stance steel solid. His hyung gives up quickly, and instead opts to hold out a hand over Jeongin’s shoulder instead. 

“Felix! It’s me!”

“Hanji!” He hears the stranger call out to them, voice deep and vowels rounded. “Hanji, I’m coming! Don’t worry!”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Hyung? Seriously—”

Jisung ignores him. “Felix!” 

“I’m right here, Hanji!” He’s so close now Jeongin can finally map out his features. They’re soft. High cheekbones. Freckles. A raised fist.

Wait a second. A raised fist?

“Lix! Lix, I missed you so much , holy shit! Felix—Wait! No! Lix, don’t!”

Jeongin, surprisingly, has never been punched before. Maybe if he had he would have seen the signs earlier rather than later.

It takes a moment to realize that the sickening sound of a fist hitting flesh is his own face . Pain blooms, and Jeongin can’t even catch himself as his body hurdles towards the ground. He’s seeing fucking Looney Toon stars. Tweety Bird is chirping mockingly around his head.

Holy shit. This guy just knocked him the fuck out. Black swarms Jeongin’s vision, Jisung is yelling, and the last thing he sees before it all goes dark is the surprised, wide-eyed gaze of the man who just punched him.

“Maybe I was a little too…” In comes his deep voice. Out. In. “...Sorry, Hanji.”

Jeongin is out like a light.

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

It feels like someone is fanning his face. It makes Jeongin’s hair tickle his forehead, and he tries to bat whatever it is away with an annoyed groan. Fuck , his head is pounding. Like the mornings after the nights he’d drink his sadness away alone at the start of the apocalypse. 

It stops, and Jeongin settles, just before it happens again. His hair keeps tickling his forehead, and Jeongin attempts another swipe as he finally opens his eyes.

A surprised gaze meets his own, but then it melts away into a large, warm dimpled smile.

Holy shit. Did he die and go to fucking heaven?

“Hey! Glad to see you’re finally awake, man. You took quite the tumble.” 

Tumble? Tumble?

Jeongin sits up, but the action makes his head spin, and he can’t help his groan as he cradles his temple. Tumble? He just got fucking clocked into next Tuesday. He wonders if he should ask the stranger what year it is. 

Dimples reaches out to help ease the movement, and a large firm hand keeps his lower back from giving out. Jeongin almost wishes he’d let him lay down again. Let him sink into the floor with his wounded pride and humiliating embarrassment. 

“Got you pretty good, huh?” Another voice speaks out, and just turning his gaze to look at the second body in the room makes Jeongin’s stomach lurch violently. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over a puffed and proud chest. His long hair is pulled back from his face and into a small sprout on the top of his head. It makes it easy to see the way he’s got bunny teeth when he smiles. “I taught him that.”

…Maybe Jeongin was dead. It only made sense. How else would he wake up in a room with two beautiful men?

“Minho…” Dimples sounds exasperated, “Seriously?”

“What?” Bunny Teeth— Minho —replies. He doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful. He reminds Jeongin a little bit of a taller Jisung. “Let me have my moment here.”

Dimples rolls his eyes and turns back to Jeongin. Jeongin blinks owlishly back at him, then down to the stranger’s offered hand.

“You can call me Chan, and that’s Minho.” Chan presses his hand into Jeongin’s space more, and with reluctance he finally takes it. Chan’s grip is warm, firm, eager. Jeongin still doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. The pounding in his head is making him come up short. “We’re friends of Jisung.”

“Jisung…” Jeongin breathes, and it’s a moment before his heart kickstarts and he’s pushing Chan away to stand. “Holy shit, Jisung . Where is he? Did that crazy fairy guy take him?”

“Woah! Woah.” Chan soothes, pressing Jeongin back down onto the floor. “It’s alright, man. Jisung is all safe and sound. We’re his crew. We wouldn’t hurt him.”

Crew. Right. Right . The reason why they were on this wild goose chase in the first place. The reason they’ve been searching on foot for days. A pink sticky note in the shape of a bunny and Jisung went feral. His crew. This is them.

He knows what Jisung said. He knows Jisung wouldn’t let them kick him right back out onto the streets, but Jeongin can’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach as he stares back at Chan’s honest and open expression. Chan tilts his head in confusion, and only then does Jeongin drop his gaze.

Talk about being dramatic. God, he could win a Daesang.

“Maybe Felix knocked all the brain cells out of him.”

Chan exhales deeply through his nose, “ Minho —” 

Minho, still, looks unapologetic. “Just saying.”

Brutal. Not only did Jeongin get his shit rocked, now he has to deal with teasing about it too. Talk about first meetings. Of course this would be his most pathetic, mortifying introduction to date. Nothing says hello like a bruised eye and an even more bruised ego.

Jeongin groans softly and rubs his hands down his face. His temple pulses once more. His fingers itch for Jisung’s warmth.

“While it’s definitely not the way I would have wanted us to meet—”

“Yeah, no shit, dude.” Jeongin snorts, but his expression turns sheepish at the sight of Chan’s raised brow. “...Sorry.”

“I am very grateful that you brought Jisung back to us in one piece,” Chan continues on. “We were really worried about him.”

“Should have shoved a no return policy into his jacket pocket before we lost him.” Minho quips with a snort. Chan looks at Jeongin unimpressed, before turning over his shoulder to send that look Minho’s way. The other juts out his bottom lip in a pout. “That was funny, Channie.” 

Jeongin’s voice only cracks a little bit when he asks, “Is…he here? Can I see him?”

Chan blinks, before he brings up a hand to his forehead with a laugh. “Oh, duh. You probably would like to see him, huh?”

Jeongin watches as he stands, and when Chan leans down slightly to extend his hand once again, he lets the other male pull him up off the floor. Chan doesn’t say anything when Jeongin braces himself against his side when the movement makes his world spin. He waits patiently, and then gives Jeongin a soft slap on the back once he gains his bearings. 

Minho pushes himself off the frame of the open door with a click of his tongue, and Jeongin watches curiously as Chan slips his hand into Minho’s own. “I guess we might as well show you where you’ll be staying.”

It takes a moment for Jeongin’s brain to process the words. “ Oh you’re—You’re gonna let me stay?”

Chan’s eyebrows draw down into a deep, confused furrow. “Sorry, were you not wanting to stay? I just assumed because Jisung has been talking about you nonstop—”

“No!” Jeongin cuts him off a little bit too quickly, and his ears burn red hot at Chan’s amused expression. “No. I mean— Yes . I want to stay with Jisung. I want to stay here.” 

When Minho leans down to bury his snicker into Chan’s shoulder, Jeongin’s cheeks flush just as hot. Chan says nothing about them though, and claps a hand down onto Jeongin’s shoulder. “Alrighty then! Let’s give you a tour.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Jeongin isn’t expecting so much life as Chan shows him around. It’s nothing like his old apartment or the motel he and Jisung stayed in for a few days. Sure it’s not a five-star hotel—they are in the middle of an apocalypse—but it’s… warm . Metaphorically but also literally. Jeongin can tell people live here. There’s not many who can say they live somewhere these days.

There’s random sets of shoes scattered across the floor. Someone’s jacket has been thrown haphazardly over the back of an old, broken recliner. Upon a shelf holding random, collected knick knacks throughout the months sits an old, hand-held radio. The same brand as the one sitting in Jeongin’s backpack. It’s on, and there’s barely any static to cover the old, croony voice of Billy Joel . No, Jeongin can hear Vienna loud and clear.

Like, shit . They’ve got plants . Potted plants and hanging plants and vegetables growing in deep troughs. Jeongin doesn’t even want to think about the last time he saw an actual, real life tomato. He can hear the low hum of a generator somewhere in the back, and it explains why the lights above him aren’t flickering at all. When Chan nudges his side softly with an elbow, it makes Jeongin jump.

“We’ve got running water, too. You’ll have to heat it up, though. Shouldn’t take too long if you want a bath.”

Jeongin’s feet trail to a stop before he even realizes it, and he has to curl his fingers tight into his own shirt just to take a breath. This is all he’s ever wanted, wasn’t it? Safety. A warm place to sleep. A real fucking tomato. And now he has it. He has this, and most importantly, he still has Jisung . They’re not kicking him out. They’re letting him stay . Jeongin thinks he feels his eyes burning. 

“And over here we’ve got—Oh.” Chan turns to look over his shoulder confused, and then his expression melts into one of concern at the silent tears staining Jeongin’s cheeks. Jeongin gives a shaky exhale, and quickly wipes them off his cheeks embarrassed. His ears are burning at the way Chan and Minho are looking at them, but they’re polite enough to not comment on them.

Instead Minho just raises a brow, lips curling up into a small smile. “Are you coming or what? We don’t have all day.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Jeongin! You’re up!” 

Jeongin barely has any time to brace himself before his arms are full of Jisung. He’s warm, smells clean, and Jeongin buries his nose into his hair to breathe him in. His tense shoulders finally relax at having his hyung in his presence again. Jeongin hooks an arm under Jisung’s butt to hoist him up, and his legs curl around Jeongin’s hips with ease. Jisung’s heart-shaped smile is blinding. 

He lets Jisung lean down to kiss him, but only because Jeongin needs it right now. The reminder that Jisung is here. That they’re here together . That Jisung wants to kiss him at all.

“ See? I told you they were a thing. Have fun doing my chores, Binnie.” 

“Hyunjin, you’re the fucking worst!”

Jeongin’s eyes widen as he pulls away, ears growing red, and Jisung laughs softly against the side of his cheek. He awkwardly makes eye contact with one of the two men standing there. One short. One Tall. Both beautiful. Did he just get indoctrinated into some cult only filled with pretty people or what? Jesus.

“Changbin and Hyunjin.” Jisung murmurs into his ear, and he spares Jeongin any more embarrassment and lets his feet drop to the floor. His hyung doesn’t stray too far, though, and stays pressed up close against Jeongin’s side. 

There’s shuffling down the hall, but whoever it is only makes their appearance by voice for now. 

“ Please don’t make me go in there, Seungmin. I’m not ready to face him yet.”

“You’re the one that punched the hell out of him, Felix. Not me .”

The second voice— Seungmin —snickers over that deep plea. Jeongin remembers that voice. Jeongin remembers Seungmin . One throws a mean punch, and the other gives shit directions. Jeongin’s shoulders curl right up to his ears, and Jisung elbows his side softly and snorts.

“Don’t be too mad at Seungmin, okay? He got us here eventually.” 

Jeongin looks down at Jisung with a raised brow. “And Felix?”

Jisung winces sheepishly. “He does feel really bad, you know. He’ll avoid you for a little bit until he works up the courage to say sorry in person.”

Jeongin isn’t very convinced, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Jisung places his palm into Jeongin’s own and gives it a soft squeeze. 

“You’ll have to like them eventually, you know. They are going to be your crew, too.”

It’s…an odd thought. For so long Jeongin was alone . Meeting Jisung helped him realize how much he hated it, and now he’s got—Well now he’s got a crew. It doesn’t feel quite real, yet. Jeongin isn’t sure if it ever will.

Jisung lifts his free hand to press a fingertip into his deepened dimple. “You’re thinking hard, again.”

Jeongin laughs softly. “Yeah, it’s just…a lot.”

“ Bad a lot, or Good a lot?”

He hums deeply at the question, and Jisung tilts his head more into Jeongin’s line of sight as he waits for an answer. “ Good a lot, I think.”

Jisung visibly relaxes, and this time it’s Jeongin giving his hand a squeeze.

“Good. Welcome home, Innie.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Jeongin’s hands are sweaty. His heart feels like it’s in his throat. Inside the makeshift kitchen the smell of dinner wafts through. There’s voices, too. A lot of voices. All the voices. He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous. Chan did tell Jeongin to make himself at home, afterall. 

And yet… Fuck . It’s been a long time since Jeongin felt like he wanted to impress someone. But now it’s not just one person, but six of them. All six of them and with varying personalities. He tries to will his body to take a step, but his feet are frozen to the ground. 

Jeongin could just turn back around and go back to his and Jisung’s room. The others would never even know. They would just assume Jeongin slept through another dinner. Hyunjin has been polite enough to leave his dinner outside the door when he does.

“...What are you doing out here, you big goof?”

Jeongin startles as Jisung reaches up to pinch his cheek. He gives a little annoyed whine and bats his hyung’s hand away after a moment. “You scared the shit out of me, asshole.”

“Sorry.” He says, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t answer my question, though.” 

With a pause Jeongin’s gaze trails back to the open doorway. A shadow moves across the floor. It’s one that looks suspiciously Minho shaped. 

It’s like Jisung can read his mind, because of course he can. Jeongin doesn’t even need to say anything, it must be the tension in his shoulders giving his feelings away, but Jisung slips his hand into Jeongin’s own to give it a big squeeze. “They like you.”

Jeongin scoffs softly. “You have to tell me that. You’re my boyfriend.”

When Jisung digs his fingers into Jeongin’s side, he can’t help but give a little yelp. “Hyung! You know I'm ticklish there!” 

Jisung’s smile is annoying. Pretty and annoying and all Jeongin’s. “You trust me, right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately— Ah! What did I just say?!”

His hyung threads their fingers together and gives him a tug into the kitchen. “Then come on . Changbin is cooking tonight. He’s been wanting to show you his cooking prowess . His words. Not mine.” 

Jeongin’s heart is still in his throat, and his hand is probably a little sweaty in Jisung’s, but he lets the other drag him in. If his shoulders go right up to his ears once all six gazes land onto him, Jisung is at least nice enough not to say anything about it.

“Hey! Jeongin!” Changbin’s voice rings out loud. “Finally someone with actual taste buds. Come try this. Minho says it’s too salty.” 

Jisung looks at Jeongin with a quiet I Told You So.

Jeongin’s ears burn red. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Hey, Jeongin? Do you have a moment— Fuck, dude!”

It’s not Jeongin’s fault, okay? He’s been on edge . Every corner he turns. Every door he walks into. They could all be a trap for Kim Seungmin to be hiding behind. Only to burst out with a scream to scare the ever loving shit out of him. 

Jisung says it’s just Seungmin’s version of light teasing. Jeongin thinks the older male might actually be trying to kill him. 

“ Oh . You got me really good. I think my nose is bleeding.”

He didn’t mean to hit Felix in the face. He’s just antsy, okay? Felix should have made more noise when he approached him from behind instead of just placing a hand onto his shoulder. Jeongin always thought his instinctual fear was Flight and not Fight , but here they are. 

“Shit, Felix.” Jeongin reaches out with hovering hands and winces when Felix removes his own from his face. Yeah. He definitely is bleeding. “I’m so sorry.”

He watches as Felix blinks the stars away from his eyes. Okay, Jeongin will admit it. A part of him feels satisfied for finally being able to get back at the other for the whole punching-in-the-face-fiasco. A little part. The rest of him does genuinely feel bad.

The tension in Jeongin’s shoulders releases some as Felix lets out a deep laugh, and he wipes the blood away on his pearly white teeth with his tongue. “Suppose we can just call it even, now?”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“You’re settling in well, hm?”

Chan’s presence has become one that Jeongin has started to enjoy. He knows what to expect with Chan. Chan is safe. Chan doesn’t intimidate the shit out of him all the time like Lee Minho does. He’s still not sure how he of all people bagged a total unit like Chan.

Jeongin looks up from where he’s tending to the tomatoes. Chan says nothing about the one already half-eaten and dripping in Jeongin’s hand. He’s quick to swallow the remnants in his mouth and nods. 

“Yeah, I think so. Didn’t even jump this time when Seungmin popped out to scare me this morning.” 

That makes Chan laugh. Jeongin can’t help but blush at the way it sounds. “See? Told you you’d become desensitized to it in no time.”

It only took a few weeks and multiple heart-attacks. Seriously. Seungmin is scarier than any Zed he’s come across, but Jeongin can now officially say he’s a Seungmin-Scare-Survivor. “I deserve an award, I think.”

Chan’s dimples deepen with a smile. “I’m sure Hyunjin can draw you something up.”

And that’s that. Chan brings a hand down to ruffle Jeongin’s hair, and then he’s on his way to do whatever Chan does. 

It’s only now that Jeongin has the courage to call out to him, but his ears still burn anyway when Chan turns back around to look at him with that open expression. 

Jeongin clears his throat. “Just uh—Thanks. For everything.” 

Chan’s eyes crinkle fondly. “ Ah , Innie. You don’t have to thank me.”

It’s warm inside. Jeongin’s hair is washed. The tomato in his hand is dripping juice down his wrist and making his hands sticky. Somewhere in the back of the building he can hear Jisung laughing. “...I know.”

“Well,” Chan hums softly and claps his hands together. “Then you’re welcome, Jeongin.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Rock. Paper. Scissors—

“InnieaaAH!” Hyunjin tips his head back towards the ceiling with a whine, and Jeongin snickers happily as he pops out of his chair. “I made dinner last night. This is so unfair!”

Seungmin snorts from his lounged out position in the old recliner, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from his book. “It’s because you always choose rock, Hyunjin. You chose rock three times in a row. Of course you lost.”

Seungmin’s not even phased when Hyunjin picks up a pillow and throws it at him. All he does is stick out a foot to stop it from hitting him in the face. 

Jeongin knows he looks smug. “You’re the one who was trying to get out of laundry duty. Now you’ve got to cook and wash the clothes.”

Hyunjin reaches out to snatch him, and Jeongin barely dodges it in time. He bounces over to Jisung as he enters the room and hides behind him. Jisung looks at him over his shoulder with a fond, confused smile. 

“You’re such a snake! You and Jisung need to stop being around each other so much. This is exactly what he would do!”

Jisung gasps loudly. “Hey! Why am I being dragged into this?”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“Jesus Christ! Jesus fucking Christ!” 

Jeongin wears down his bottom lip with his teeth to keep himself from laughing out of respect. He knows the feeling all too well after all, but he did warn Changbin before he went into the bathroom of the old pharmacy they were digging through. 

Changbin’s still crowded into the corner of the stall on the toilet. One hand is pressed against his forehead, and the other—thankfully—hiding all the soft bits between his legs. He really does look so silly with his pants around his ankles. Jeongin can’t help but wonder if that’s what he looked like when Jisung barged in on him. 

He looks down at the rag-dolled body of the zed at his feet. An old woman still wearing her church clothes. There’s a bloody, beaded rosary around her neck. 

Jeongin tries to swallow the quelling laughter in his chest, but he can’t stop a single snort from escaping. “…Not very holy of her to walk in on someone trying to use the bathroom, huh?” 

Changbin groans loudly. “Jeongin, shut up.”

He can’t help but snort again. “I did warn you, hyung.”

“I know , you little rager.” 

“It’s rule number three on the list—“

“ Jeongin . I know.”

Jeongin clears his throat in another attempt to stop himself from laughing. 

“…Minho is going to go crazy over this.”

Changbin stumbles to his feet so quickly he almost flashes him. “ Don’t you fucking dare.”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

“ Jeongin —“ Minho wheezes, and for a moment Jeongin is worried Minho’s losing his grip on his ankles. They both sway, but just as quickly they settle back with both of Minho’s feet on the floor. For now. “The back of your heel is digging into my fucking jugular. Can you please hurry up?”

It’s probably for the best that there isn’t a crowd to witness this. At first Jeongin wasn’t even sure Minho would allow the attempt. But it seems all it takes is a round of puppy eyes and a promise to do his side of the gardening to get the elder to do what you want.

Said request goes like this: They’re just about to finish their supply run. Minho is ushering Jeongin out the door because he wants to go home to Chan. Surprisingly, Jeongin is able to find a bag of sour cream and onion chips. Also, surprisingly! He catches a white and blue box out of the corner of his eye just as they’re leaving. 

Said issue? The box is tucked in the back on the highest shelf, like it was trying to be hidden, and Jeongin is simply far too short to grab them. 

But it is absolutely imperative that Jeongin gets that damn box of Twinkies. 

So that’s where Minho comes in. It took a lot of trial and error to get Jeongin standing on his hyung’s shoulders, but now he’s as high in the air as he can get, and those damn Hostess Treats are his!

“Hyung, Jisung is going to shit his pants.” He drags the box protectively against his chest. “Seriously. He’s gonna cry like a baby.”

“Jeongin. Jeongin you’re moving too fucking much—!” Minho sways just as Jeongin’s fingers indent the side of the box, and the only warning he gets is a loud curse before they both go crashing to the ground. 

But you know what? It’s fine! Jeongin’s potential concussion is A-Okay because why? Well you already know by now, don’t you? He’s got a Twinkie . A whole damn box of them, actually.

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

Jeongin watches with rapt attention as Jisung brings the Twinkie to his mouth, and he goes as far as to shift towards the end of the recliner to get an even closer look. This is going to be so good . 

He was right, by the way. Jisung did cry. For two whole hours with a snotty nose until he finally calmed down enough to open the box.

Jeongin bites his bottom lip as Jisung wraps his lips around the Hostess treat, but his chest quickly deflates with an exhale as his hyung pulls it away at the last minute to give Jeongin a look . “Okay, I love you, but do you really have to watch me eat this?”

“Yes.” Jeongin nods his head resolutely. “Yes. Absolutely I do.”

Jisung looks neither convinced or impressed. He goes as far as turning his body slightly away from Jeongin. Bringing a palm up to cover his mouth as he brings the Twinkie back up. 

Doesn’t matter. Jeongin knows exactly what his reaction is going to be. He crosses his arms over his chest and purses his lips when Jisung finally bites down. 

There’s not a single sound made from either as he chews. Jeongin can’t stop the snort of laughter that tumbles past his lips. Even from here he can see the way Jisung’s eye are watering. 

“You like it?”

Jisung is still for a moment before he shakes his head.

“It’s fucking disgusting, huh?”

The elder swallows thickly, nods, and gives a closed mouth whine.

Jeongin’s smile grows and he laughs around his words. “Spit it out, hyung.” 

“No way.” Jisung finally croaks out with a full mouth. It looks like he’s turning a little green. “I’m not a spitter.”

“Hyung!” Jeongin stands and holds his palms out. It looks like Jisung contemplates spitting the horrid treat into them for a moment, but he ends up shaking his head again. “It’s okay . Just spit it out.”

“Why did you let me eat this, Innie?” Jisung’s cheeks bulge with a gag, and Jeongin can’t help his loud cackle. He offers his palms out once more. “Why would you do this to me?”

. 　 ˚　.  ✦   ・

For the first time in months Jeongin thinks he hears the soft song of a bird outside. He closes his eyes and listens for a few moments as Jisung noses against his chest like a kitten. He’s still so soft and warm around him, and Jeongin has no plans of letting Jisung off his lap so he can pull out any time soon.

Jisung runs his nose up Jeongin’s sternum, over his collarbone, all the way to his lips to press a soft, fleeting kiss there. Jeongin can hear the smile in his words. 

“I thought of a new rule you can add to your list.” 

Jeongin hums tiredly against Jisung’s lips, and his hands reach down to fill themselves with the soft, plush skin of his thighs.

Outside their closed door, Jeongin’s ears pick up the sounds of the rest of them waking up for the morning. Minho is complaining about something again, but Felix’s deep laugh is quick to drown it out. Bustling. Clanking. The click of the radio, and a burst of static, before music starts to play. 

He hears Chan start singing along. Ricky Nelson’s I Will Follow You. A Classic.

“Oh yeah? And what rule would that be?”

“Hmm. How about…Enjoy the little things.”

“Enjoy the little things?”

“Yeah! You know, like… Pah! A confetti cannon! The title card swings in and boom—!”

#10. ENJOY THE LITTLE THINGS

The apocalypse might be a little crazy, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. Keep the things that make you happy close to your chest. Especially when they have a heart-shaped smile. They might just surprise you . 

Jisung’s nose scrunches with a smile as he presses closer, and fuck. Jeongin loves him. He loves him so fucking much. Jisung can add as many rules to the list as he wants.

“What do you think about that?”

Jeongin’s own smile grows. “It’s good. I like it.”

“Swear? You’re not just saying that because I got you off, are you? I really thought about it, you know.”

He laughs softly against Jisung’s lips, and the kiss Jisung steals from him because of it is sticky sweet. A loser Jeongin was for him before, and a loser he will stay. He’s accepted it, now.

“Mhm. I swear it on a Twinkie, hyung.”

“ Ugh! No way! Those are disgusting. Swear it on something else!”