galaxy eyes

you shoot up too fast, and your head spins at the feeling, nausea making you groan. your hands shake as you blink away sleep and sun. you're hungry and dehydrated and exhausted and alive.

someone clears their throat.

you whip your head in the direction of the sound, scrambling away immediately, only to -

"mrs. kim?" you croak out, coughing to clear your throat as you stiffen at the sight of her. a blackened bandage is wrapped around her head, her cheek bruised and her lip cut.

your eyes dart around you, but you're not back at the sanctuary. you're on a bed of grass in front of a small cabin. mrs. kim sits in front of an unlit firepit. her rifle sits at her feet. you stare at it. she places her foot on top of it, and when your gaze flickers back to her face, she is staring at you with an unreadable expression.

she fiddles with her hands, an awkward gesture you've never seen from her before. she chews on her bottom lip as she quietly observes you.

you're too tired to continue sitting up, so you let yourself flop back down on the grass. it's soft enough, and the gentle earthy smell of morning dew is kind on your senses. it's a comfort you hadn't felt in so, so long, and the way your body melts is almost disconcerting. you stare at the green foliage above you, the clear blue sky, the fluffy, picturesque clouds floating on. birds sing to each other. it reminds you of Before. maybe you are dead. your voice is hoarse as you speak without looking at mrs. kim, "where are we?"

"five kilometers south of the sanctuary," mrs. kim responds, her voice as soft as the breeze curling around your cheek. she speaks to you as if you are a small rabbit who will run at the first sign of loudness. it's funny, almost. she's always been loud in the sanctuary, as the sanctuary's resident nosy gossip. she'd never been considerate of such things. her voice always echoed through the halls. when you worked quietly with san or jongho folding laundry, you could hear her laugh from the guard towers or her scolding from the sleeping quarters. oh.

you blink at those thoughts. the sanctuary.

you've destroyed it, you remember. you've destroyed everyone in it - aliens and humans alike. you can hear the bomb blasts in ringing in your ears. you can feel the heat of the flames against your skin. you can see yeosang pulling san away. oh.

you think of all the people who weren't guards, the children. that's when your hands start trembling. their deaths are on your shoulders, whether you want to admit aloud or not. maybe that's why mrs. kim is here. like the grim reaper, she's waited for you to wake up so you could watch as she killed you for destroying her home and killing her friends, aliens and humans alike. you want to hate the idea, but you think maybe...you deserve it. mrs. kim's voice rings in your ears, "i stayed here on one of my solo runs once."

you crane your neck to look her straight on. as you observe the lines along her eyes, the wrinkles around her mouth, the gray strands of hair peppered along deep black, you are reminded of the woman you'd imagined was talking over the radio airwaves you'd clung to after you'd escaped seoul. mrs. kim looks about your mom's age, and the thought subdues the irritation clawing at the underside of your skin.

you don't comment on any of it, or what she said, though. you only ask, "is it gone?"

she frowns at you, "is what gone?"

"the sanctuary."

mrs. kim closes her eyes, and the pain there is something you think will remain etched into your brain for eternity. the only other time you've seen such utter grief was when you'd told him to get into the car. when it clicked for him. it is the same kind of loss you saw on -

mrs. kim nods, "it was still burning when i dragged you out of there. it's probably a pile of ashes by now. everyone was...the sleep quarters was the first to go."

you bite your tongue so hard, you taste blood.

"why would you..." you clear your throat, eyes fixed on mrs. kim, "why would you save me, then?"

her eyes flicker over your face for a long, long time, "i wanted to get at least one person out."

you blink. a guilty conscience, you know, can make people do the strangest things. it has you sitting here entertaining mrs. kim.

mrs. kim sighs, "i'm sorry."

it has mrs. kim apologizing.

her brows are furrowed with sincerity. her eyes hold yours for just a moment before she lowers her gaze. is she apologizing for how you were treated in the sanctuary? or is she apologizing for not letting you die?

mrs. kim nudges the rifle with her toe, a small tap at first before she kicks it towards your outstretched form. she pulls out a small flask from the inside of her jacket. you watch her warily as she takes a large gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before she leans across the space between you both and places the old silver flask next to the rifle. next to your hand.

she cranes her neck, admiring the clouds and foliage above you both. the sun illuminates more gray strands, a cloud-like halo over her that gives the impression of someone angelic. it's funny, you think, because neither of you are anything of the sort. the proof is in her black-blood stained bandages. the proof is in the blood you have on your hands.

she clears her throat, "my world ended long before the world actually ended. it was the first time my husband hit me..."

maybe it's the pain, maybe it's the disappointment of finding yourself alive still, maybe it's hongjoong and yeosang and everyone else speaking into existence that you are just like them, horrible and mean and self serving, maybe it's the near death experience, maybe you're just super fucking tired. maybe it's something else. but you let out a small groan, cutting off mrs. kim mid-sentence. she trails off, her lips pursed as she frowns down at you. the halo of sunlight is gone, and she is just the nosy, old woman you've known all this time.

you match her frown, rolling your eyes, "how is this relevant? so you were abused, and then you finally gave him the death he deserved? why does that matter to me?"

mrs. kim lets out the smallest of laughs. "san told you."

you barely hide the flinch at his name, choosing instead to close your eyes and let the sun's warmth on your face comfort you once more. "he mentioned it."

"he helped me with this."

you turn your head and peer up at her. she's pointing at the bandage wrapped around her head. you stare at her until she squirms in her seat and fiddles with the bandage around her head. your mother would have berated you for your rudeness towards someone so much older than you, but you can't help it. everything about mrs. kim is irritating. her ignorance. her saving you. her mentioned him. her looking at you as if she understands you.

"so what if he did? why should i care?" you finally break the silence.

"i joined seonghwa's guard because i didn't believe people could be good. the alien gave me...power. at least that is how seonghwa put it. that's how it felt. i lost everything when i finally dragged that pig to seonghwa, and seonghwa gave me something to live for."

your heart curls at her tone, but you mumble, "you still haven't answered my question. why the hell should i care? what is your point?"

mrs. kim lets out a dry chuckle, dragging her hand over her wrinkled face, "i used to have children. i had no idea what happened to them long before the apocalypse ever happened - another thing my husband took from me. but... i look at san. at seonghwa and hongjoong. at you. and all i can think of is how sorry i am."

"you feel sorry?" you let out a small laugh, "finally."

"huh," mrs. kim snorts, "maybe i should have left you back there."

"why didn't you?" this time your voice is not soft. it's loud. it's angry. it's a tightness in your breath and your chest heaving and this visceral, bone deep anger that makes your thoughts disappear. it suffocating in ways you've never let yourself feel before. as you lay in the dirt and crane your neck to glare at mrs. kim, it is not just anger. it is fury. it's the sharp pain at the back of your head. it's the way your chest feels hollow. it's everything and nothing all at once. it's everything you've felt during all this time. it's nothing because mrs. kim is a fucking stranger, and you're disappointed she isn't someone else.

mrs. kim doesn't answer. she just opens her mouth and closes it, once, twice, before she clamps her mouth shut and remains still as stone.

you laugh, and it sounds maniacal even to your ears. your chest rises and falls too fast, your breath growing more ragged. too fast. you sit up once more, ignoring the way your head spins and your vision blurs. your fingers curl around the cool metal of the rifle, and you lift it. you point it to her, and the barrel sits inches from her chest. she is so close.

she merely stares at you.

"is this what you want?" your fingers shake, and breathing hurts, and you are so so angry, "for me to make you stop feeling sorry? to shoot the fucking guilt - because that's what it is - out of you?"

mrs. kim's eyes fill with tears, and you would know wouldn't you? guilt recognizes guilt, and the guilt in you rises like bile. mrs. kim nods, and nods, and nods, and she says, "my home is gone, y/n. i've lived too long, while - " she closes her eyes, and her breath comes out in a small shudder, one that has you clutching the gun tighter, gritting your teeth. mrs. kim shakes her head, her eyes hard, "i have nothing left to my name but this guilt. what else am i supposed to do?"

for a moment, her words hit the deepest parts of your chest. for a moment, you resonate with mrs. kim. you never thought you would. you've never wanted to. what else are either of you supposed to do?

you have nothing left either. for a moment, the bunker settles in your mind. the living room, with its books and raggedy couches and warmth. but that is no place for you. that was never a home for you, and it never will be.

now here you are. you've taken mrs. kim's home from her, however horrid of a home it was, however horrid she had been to you, but she saved your life. now, as you look at her, with the gun in your hand and the determination in her eyes, you realize that even that act of hers was transactional, as all things are in this new world. you destroyed her world, she saved you, and now you owe her a favor. now she wants you to put her out of her misery. the thought has you shaking your head vehemently.

you're sick of the transactions and the calculations. you're sick of it all. you bite out, "you're supposed to live with it."

and you don't know if you're talking to mrs. kim, for all the times she turned her cheek on you and let people die for seonghwa and now is practically begging for an easy way out, or if you're talking to yourself, for killing innocent people in order to save someone who you're unsure would even be happy to see you if you showed up at his doorstep. maybe he would be happy to know you aren't dead, but you don't even know if you'd be safe with him and his friends knowing you still lived. even if san somehow convinced his friends to let you stay in the bunker, to no longer be on your own, you wouldn't be able to spend a single minute in that bunker without looking over your shoulder for a scheme against you. you could lie here, in the grass, and wither away. but you're supposed to live with it.

"i'm not going to do the dirty work for you. if you want to die, then do it yourself. i don't fucking care how." you say, dropping the rifle into the grass between you both. your tone is harsh, even to your own years, but you do not care. you will not be made to follow other's whims any longer. you look mrs. kim in the eye as you say, "just leave me the fuck alone."

you snatch the flask and take a drink, your throat dry.

the sting of the alcohol is sharp, burning as it curls down your throat. you cough at the burn, the sound of your cough echoing throughout the clearing.

mrs. kim speaks, her tone bland, a small, wispy thing, "that's vodka."

you glare at her late warning, slamming the flask on the ground as you flop back in the grass and close your eyes.

you lay there under the warmth of the sun and try not to listen to mrs. kim's soft, retreating footsteps, or the sounds of the porch wood creaking under her weight as she trudges up to the cabin, or the way her soft sobs harmonize with the sounds of the chirping birds.

~.~.~.~.~

mrs. kim does not leave you alone. the rifle remains propped beside the cabin door. it's a glaring, tempting thing, but it sits untouched for days upon days. when the morning sun rose to its highest point, the heat became too unbearable to lay in the grass, so you'd made your way into the cabin. the wood groaned under your footsteps and you winced at the sound of the front door swinging open as you stepped into the cabin. even then, mrs. kim did not look up at you. she just continued beating at the dust-covered blankets she'd pulled from the broken closets.

it becomes a morning routine of yours after that, to lay in the grass every morning for hours before heading back into the cabin, all while mrs. kim busies herself with some kind of task she'd silently deemed helpful and you silently thought was pointless.

the cabin is dusty and rundown and smells of rotting wood, but there are two beds and a torn, surprisingly comfortable sofa, and dusty moth-eaten linens, and wood to cover up the windows, barricade the doors at night, and light the fire pit outside. neither of you speak to each other, aside from asking about food or to pass a candle, and maybe you've been alone for too long, even in the sanctuary, because you find solace in her quiet company even if you mentally prepared yourself not to.

a week passes. and then another. and then another and another and another.

time runs together, until months pass. at least you think it's been months. the two of you spent a long, long time gathering berries and living off the food mrs. kim swiped from the sanctuary as she ran. the rifle left its designated, mocking spot next to the door only when either of you attempted to hunt for squirrels and rabbits and failed miserably. neither of you discussed the possibility of going into town. or even going five kilometers back to the burnt down sanctuary and swiping food from there. you'd thought about it, but it felt too much like robbing a grave. you hadn't been above it before, but you think mrs. kim is, unexpectedly enough.

you spent too long lying in the grass every morning and enjoying the warmth of the sun, until the leaves started to change and the weather got cooler. for the first time in a long time, you'd started getting a full night's sleep. without hongjoong banging on your doors, and with the doors and windows barricades so securely, with the way you two were in a cabin alone in the woods, you could sleep.

mrs. kim took swigs from her flask of vodka too often. you slept on your side the nights you couldn't sleep, facing the door, listening to the clicking sounds filling the forest, while the rifle remained propped in its spot beside the door. you'd suggested once that mrs. kim hold onto it, but she'd refused. if either of you noticed that neither of you took weapons to bed, that neither of you stayed very alert despite the clicking beyond the door, that both of you knew damn well that neither of you would care if something burst through that door, despite the fact that every night you both barricaded the doors and windows like clockwork, you didn't talk about it.

sometime between the grass and foliage in the clearing no longer being green and the need to find sweaters, you start going into town for food and supply runs. the towns are as empty as they used to be, when you used to be alone, but you have someone to help you carry things back. you have footsteps joining yours.

you're not the same as you used to be, and sometimes you wonder if that's a good thing. it hit you, you think, the day mrs. kim pocketed a pack of cigarettes as you both passed by an otherwise ransacked convenience store. mrs. kim grinned as she waved the only pack left in triumph. you'd opened your mouth to tell her off for falling into the habit of smoking in the first place - so many things here could kill you both, and to die from something as small as a cigarette would be a waste - when a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the otherwise empty town. it sounded desperate, the scream curling into a sob. it was a distant thing. but not distant enough. both of you started moving then, remaining near the walls of the convenience store, covered from view, as you both made your way to the exit.

"what -"

the cry of help stopped mrs. kim dead in her tracks. it was a wail, really, one that reminded you so very distinctly of your time at the sanctuary. maybe that's why you kept walking, even when mrs. kim hesitated. maybe that's why you grabbed her arm, tugging her along behind you.

"we need to keep moving," you said.

mrs. kim's disapproving frown was an annoying thing. and when you'd both made it back into the forest, leaving the cries for help far behind you, when you both made it back to the little cabin and you sat on your bed while mrs. kim cleaned the rifle on her bed, it'd hit you how much you'd changed. if this was you from months upon months ago, you'd have stopped to at least see what had happened. you'd done as much for yeosang and mingi.

you'd changed so much, but maybe that was for the better.

at the very least, it's not so lonely anymore. besides, helping people only brought trouble in this world.

~.~.~.~.~

"why did you help me?"

you probably should have asked mrs. kim this a long time ago. rain trickles over the cabin porch's overhang, and the world is a dreary, tired place, more so than it ever has been before.

mrs. kim hums. you watch her take a drag of her cigarette. the end glows a bright red-orange. it reminds you of the setting sun - a signal of impending doom, of aliens lurking the thick fog at night. the white smoke trickles from her mouth. you'd never admit that the smell is comforting. it reminds you of clubs and bars and walking the streets full of people, of honking cars. it reminds you of Before.

she says, "i owed san."

you'd grimaced at his name. you can't ever really hide your reaction to his name. mrs. kim never brings it up anyway. "he said you owed him before too. what the hell could he have possibly done for you?" you glare when mrs. kim blows more smoke into the air, "and when are you going to stop smoking?"

"do you care about my health that much?" mrs. kim lets out a small, tinkling laugh.

"no," you gag, "never."

"right." she smiles, but she puts out the cigarette anyway. she clears her throat, though the sound is more of a hacking cough, and she stares out into the gloomy forest, the pitter-patter of rain filling the silence for a moment before she says, "san knew my granddaughter. they were in a group together a few years back. i wasn't able to see her very much before all this."

you frown, "how do you know he wasn't lying?"

you want to sound vindictive, skeptical. but you just sound tired.

"he told me stories about her. the night shifts got long, and the chore shifts got boring. i don't think he was lying. the details were -"

mrs. kim drags a hand through her hair. thunder resounds overhead, the sound making you jump.

mrs. kim says, "he told me he wasn't able to save her, and he regretted it. i could see on his face just how much he regretted it, so i couldn't get angry with him."

you want to ask questions, you want to know details, but you also don't think you can handle listening to the horrors of mrs. kim's granddaughter's death. not with the way her eyes look so far away, so glassy, and the way her fingers twist in her lap.

so you keep quiet, watching as mrs. kim sighs, and says, "i got to know her through san's stories, and i'll always owe him for that."

there's a long drawn out silent. he'd mentioned that he let people die before. is this what he - no you don't care. you don't care about him or his motives or his past. you frown at mrs. kim, "what do owing him have to do with helping me?"

mrs. kim just laughs.

you glare, "i'm being serious."

mrs. kim just cackles as she gets up and strides into the cabin. you glare after her.

~.~.~.~.~

you are seated on your bed with a tattered book you found in one of the drawers open in your lap when mrs. kim hands you a flickering candle and says, "i want to go to the sea, i think. i've never been."

"really? never?"

mrs. kim places a hand at her waist, and waves her other hand, "a poor old woman like me was never rich enough to travel."

you laugh. mrs. kim smiles, but it does not quite reach her eyes, and your stomach churns at the way silence falls between you both.

the sun has set long ago, and you can almost pretend the clicking outside is merely the sounds of the crickets chirping. in the many months that you'd lived in quiet peace with mrs. kim, you didn't think you'd grow this attached. the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach is something you didn't think you'd feel in a long long time, especially not for someone like mrs. kim.

you should have known she'd find a way to make you care about her. she was nosy, and annoying, and had a tendency to make morbid jokes while cleaning that damned rifle, and liked to rub the fact that she saved your life in your face when she was annoyed with you, and the night after you woke up and told her to leave you alone, she tossed a blanket at your face without a word. two days later, you watched her massage her feet, wincing as she did so, and you'd tossed the very same blanket she threw at you at her face. mrs. kim only snorted in response, and you'd smiled. you should have fucking known.

"would you like to join me?" mrs. kim's eyes are hopeful. her wrinkled expression softens as she looks at you.

a part of you wants to go. this cabin is no real home, and it does not feel like a home, because you're an idiot who makes homes of people not places. people are not built to be homes. they are unstable and flighty and they do not stay, and you've made your home, your bed, with someone else a long time ago and it's not mrs. kim and you hate yourself for it. for the first time since the world went to shit, you think you've felt truly content here. happy, even, you could say.

"the sea sounds nice," you said, but you didn't move.

sure, this place was not your home, but it's a home, and you are so, so tired of wandering. you're tired of the uncertainty. you're tired.

"but you don't want to go." mrs. kim states, rather than questions. she knows you too well. that is most annoying of all.

you say, "i'm tired of traveling all the time."

mrs. kim sighs, "you're going to be alone again. are you sure you want that?"

you'd also told her too much about yourself, those days you spent lying in the grass or when neither of you could sleep so you lay awake and told each other stories about yourselves.

"do you?"

mrs. kim coughs, and the sound is too full, to rough. she says, "i want to see the sea."

"then i can stay," you tell her, with a roll of your eyes.

"alright." mrs. kim smiles at you, and it's the kindest smile you've seen in a long, long time. "this is a nice place. make it pretty then."

it's strange, you think, that of all the people who you've encountered since you're returned to the world from your wanderings, mrs. kim is the one who seems to understand you best. not past you, or a version of you they're so hellbent on perceiving. mrs. kim just sees you for who you are here and now. despite hearing your stories from the past. despite the way you've spoken to her. it's strange to think you'll miss her.

"you can visit whenever you'd like," you say, knowing damn well she's never going to come back. not with that cough. not with the way her eyes grow far away at your words.

she raises a brow, "i thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

you roll your eyes, "or you can do that, too."

mrs. kim laughs, and you help her pack her things.

the next morning she pats your head so gently, tears spring to your eyes. at least until she tells you you need to brush your hair.

you lean against the cabin door, watching as she shoulders her backpack and hobbles out of the cabin. the keys to the vehicle she hid a kilometer out - the same one she used to get both of you out of the sanctuary when it burned - jingles in her fingers.

she sighs one last time as she looks at you, and she asks, "you'll be fine?"

"of course i will."

she nods as she turns away, and you stay at the door until you can't hear her footsteps or see her any longer, until she disappears into the foliage of the trees, and you can pretend that she wasn't even there to begin with. the sun is unusually warm on your skin, but the breeze makes goosebumps run down your spine, so you shut the door behind you and sit on your bed.

despite your insistence, mrs. kim left the rifle behind, lying precariously beside the cabin door.

i don't have much of a need for it, she'd said with a shrug.

of course you'd be fine, you knew. you'd done this before. but you sat in the empty cabin for far too long, staring at the rifle all the while.

~.~.~.~.~

it takes a week for you to go into town on your own for supplies. usually, you and mrs. kim head east, far, far away from the sanctuary. this time, you head west, a knife tucked in your boot and rifle strapped to your back. the walk is a bit longer, but you quickly come upon a small gas station and a few dilapidated stone homes that look promising.

the first house's floor is covered in glass from the windows. each step is accompanied with the crunching of glass under your foot. the family pictures are all on the floor, shattered or torn or both. you take great care not to look at the pictures too closely.

you find the kitchen quickly, shuffling through the pantry and cabinets. you don't find much, aside from a few cans of food that you pocket. you move quick, and you find you miss the small conversations you and mrs. kim would have during these runs.

the second house has a purple piece of cloth tied around the doorknob. you'd never seen it before. it reminds you of the orange sanctuary flags from long ago. something about that makes alarms go off in your head, but the sanctuary is gone. it's burnt. these aren't orange.

still, your skin crawls too much, and your heart rate is too high, so you skip that house, heading to one other tiny house with withering flowers surrounding the entrance. you go through the pantry quickly, grabbing anything that looks relatively edible. it's not a bad haul, but you've had better.

the hairs at the back of your neck still stand on end, so you decide that's enough for the day.

as you're headed back towards the winding path that leads up into the forest trail you'd taken here, you note another purple flag hanging from one of the broken windows of the abandoned gas station.

as you're staring at it, you hear a snap. a footstep. you spin, ducking under an abandoned car.

you hear voices. you crouch behind an abandoned car, and spot two small figures speaking in hushed tones. they're words you can't make out, but you notice the bulging backpack on one of their backs. the other one is limping. the one with the bulging backpack is using most of their strength to hold the other up.

a part of you says to run. another part thinks, easy targets.

you don't think about it. you don't think about what that says about you, either. you only staying crouched and hopping from abandoned car to abandoned car as you quietly sneak up on them.

you don't think about it when you yank the one with the bulging backpack back so hard, they topple over, and the limping one cries out in pain as they collapse, and you immediately draw the knife from your boot, pressing it to the backpack person's throat, putting all your weight on their back so they're pinned to the ground.

you say, "move and i slice your friend's throat."

the injured one's head snaps up, a quick movement that startles you, and - and -

"y/n."

you nearly drop the knife at the familiar voice. nearly. your fingers tighten around the knife in your hand, digging a bit further, and the person in your grip gasps in pain.

you glance down at him, and you groan, "fuck."

your gaze flickers from the person in your grip to the injured person staring at you as if you've risen from the dead. you couldn't blame him. you pretty much have.

still, your gaze continues flickering back and forth from yunho to wooyoung.

wooyoung snorts when your grip on him tightens, a trickle of blood running down his chin where you hold the knife, amusement coloring his voice, "we really can't keep meeting like this, y/n."

"what have you done?" the voice is familiar. when you look down, jihyo is kneeling beside what's left of johnny's head, her fingers curled over her face, black blood covering her hands. the other guard with the slit throat lays unseeing beside her, as if she dragged him over. jihyo isn't look at any of you. she stares up at hongjoong too, her big brown eyes filled with a terror that looks out of place on her. your heart twists a bit at the sight. she laments, "what have you done?"

she's talking to hongjoong. or maybe seonghwa. maybe even to the the things in the sky. wooyoung meets your gaze, his brows furrowing.

that other-worldly voice, the one that encompasses a million voices, answers, "whatever i want."

jihyo seems to just give up at that statement, dropping her chin to her chest, kneeling quietly beside johnny and the other guard, her fists balled in her lap. for once, you feel pity for them, for the guards who chose this, who have always turned their cheeks. they're humans who chose this to survive, but now jihyo is seeing firsthand that survival isn't guaranteed, not even for them. she doesn't move.

you turn to san, and he's staring at jihyo, at johnny, the guard. you reach out and press a hand to his. he tears his eyes off them, to you. he squeezes your hand back, but he does not smile.

seonghwa is still begging, and his voice is hoarse, quiet, while hongjoong continues laughing. seonghwa dangles from hongjoong's tentacle-like limb. it's like a cat playing with it's food. if you look closely, some of seonghwa's limbs are curved at strange angles. it takes too long for you to process that his limbs are angled that way because they're broken. bile rises at the back of your throat. you turn away. san squeezes your hand tighter, yet not even his warm touch gives you comfort in that moment. you never, in a million years, thought you'd pity seonghwa, yet here you are.

"fucking move." wooyoung shouts this time, and you finally tear your eyes from the sight. finally take in the fact that a chorus of clicks is filling your ears. you cannot pinpoint where the sounds are coming from, only that it's coming from the fog that's surrounded all of you in a circle. it's coming from every single direction, as if the night is filled with the noises, as if you are in a glass case on display for these creatures. when you look up, past hongjoong, past everything, the moon seems to be bigger, clouded by a darkness that reminds you of smoke. you can't see the flying things that have always been there, and that finally pulls you from your thoughts and your frozen shock. wooyoung is tugging at mingi, grabbing yeosang's hand, and the desperation on his face is something you've never thought him capable of.

you shout, your mouth running on autopilot as you tug at jongho's elbow, shaking him to pull him out of his shock as well. you frown at wooyoung, "where the hell are we supposed to go? do you hear that? we're surrounded. actually, why are you guys even here? what kind of stupid plan is this?"

hongjoong's voice drowns out the end of your sentence, reverberating all around you, so loud you feel the tenor of it shaking your bones, rattling your teeth, like your standing right next to a loudspeaker with the deep bass cranked all the way up. he intones, "you don't deserve the mercy of death, hwa. not yet."

the tentacle starts to tighten around seonghwa, and the choked sobbing that leaves seonghwa makes you want to throw up. seonghwa convulses. san's fingernails dig into the skin of your hand, and you try to steady your breath, despite the panic settling in your chest.

wooyoung swivels to face you, his fingers still curled around the back of mingi's shirt, even as he lets go of yeosang's hand. he is inches from you, his blood-splattered face and sweaty brow glistening under the bright, bright moonlight. his jaw ticks as he looks at you, but his grin is almost...welcoming, with everything else going on. it calms the tightness in your chest and the feeling that you are trapped, surrounded, and awaiting your death like lobsters in a seafood's restaurant's fish tank. wooyoung's breath comes quick, the only proof really that he freaking out just as much as you are, his chest rising and falling quickly, as he says, "as fun as it is to argue with you, do you really think now is the time to start an argument?"

you open your mouth to tell him to eat shit, but then the ground starts to shake, and you swallow your retort, grabbing wooyoung's forearm to steady yourself. san does the same, holding both your hand and wooyoung's shoulder. wooyoung closes his eyes, swallowing slowly. you look between him and san, "so what the hell is the exit plan? how the fuck do we get out of this?"

your voice is unsteady, even to your own ears.

"we run," a deep, unfamiliar voice curls over everything. you blink, your heart sinking when you watch the way wooyoung's head swivels to mingi. the way yeosang's eyes drop from seonghwa to look at mingi, too. the way san's head whips to mingi's direction too. it's mingi. his voice isn't what you expected. it's deep, yes, but there is a sadness there, in his hoarse, unused voice, that makes the world still. wooyoung lets go of mingi's shirt, pulling away from san and your grip. he rubs soothing circles along mingi's back like he is a small child.

mingi continues looking up at hongjoong, clearing his throat before he says, "he isn't attacking us yet because he's...he's..."

mingi trails off and yeosang finishes, "he's playing with his food. then we're next."

you figured as much, but the confirmation of your thoughts makes you want to curl into the fetal position right then and there.

mingi rubs at his wet cheeks, nodding as he claps a hand around wooyoung's waist a taps him gently before stepping away. you watch him square his shoulders, even as the cracking of bones and squelching of blood and flesh emphasizes yeosang's words.

seonghwa is a spectacle none of you can avert your eyes from. one of the tentacles have wrapped so tightly around seonghwa's arm that it's broken it further, blood trickling down his limp limb. dripping. seonghwa lets out a small, pathetic cry. another tentacle emerges from the dark shadows, lapping at the blood, and you really can't contain the gag at the sounds and smell this time.

san murmurs into the impending silence that falls over you all, "there are four gates in the sanctuary. the closest one is the one you guys crashed through, but there's three more directly north, west, and south from here. if you run, it'll take six minutes, eight minutes, and eleven minutes respectively. the shipment gate is that way."

he lets go of your hand to point towards where the shipments usually happen. it's not nearly as far as the other gates. your heart pounds at the thought of san spending time during his day calculating such accurate numbers without asking for help. you wonder, briefly, which one of his plans with his friends this was a part of. clearly, it was one you were excluded from.

you stare past your little circle, into the dark fog. you can barely see the warehouse door you'd walked out of. you're not sure if you could run through this for six minutes, let alone eleven minutes. especially when you don't know what's in there. especially when rule number two of this world was that whatever is in the black fog will kill you.

"we have more of a chance if we separate. half of us to the shipment gate and the other half to the north gate. seonghwa always keeps trucks ready at every gate but i don't...i don't think any of us will make an eleven minute run," san finishes. his gaze flickers around the circle. yeosang's expression twists. wooyoung takes a deep breath. mingi merely nods. jongho continues staring at the spectacle that is seonghwa and hongjoong.

"no," you shake your head, frowning, "all of us to the closest gate. separating in the fog is fucking stupid."

"and get us all killed at once?" yeosang snaps.

you watch him wince when the sound of seonghwa's femur snapping fills the air. seonghwa barely has the strength to scream in pain. hongjoong's joyful childish giggle follows quickly after.

"it's fair, don't you think?" your tone is dripping with sarcasm, and perhaps it's because your nerves are frazzled, or perhaps it's because you've wanted to punch yeosang since the moment you've seen him again, creatures and hongjoong be damned. either way, you continue, "instead of throwing just one unsuspecting person under the bus so you can save everyone else?"

"oh, come on." yeosang spits, spinning on you. he looks as frazzled, as terrified and annoyed and exhausted as you do.

you step up to him, "it's either all of us or none of us. no splitting up."

yeosang grits his teeth, stepping toe-to-toe with you only to shove you back, "if any of us die, it's on you."

"no," you shove him back, "this is all fucking on you."

yeosang looks like he wants to punch you. before he can, san steps between you, grabbing yeosang's shoulders as he says something so quiet, you can't hear it. it makes yeosang roll his eyes.

wooyoung scowls, "now is really not the fucking time. both of you stand the fuck down."

wooyoung is right, unfortunately. you glare at yeosang, even as you step back, shaking your head. san reaches for you, holding out a hand, but you don't take it. you're fuming and tired and so fucking scared, and maybe you're taking it out on the wrong things and people, but if you're really going to die now, you might as well get that punch in that you'd been wanting.

before anyone can say anything, however, you hear a click of the safety of a gun. you swivel in the direction of the sound, only to be met with the sight of jongho with a rifle in his hand, still fixated on seonghwa and hongjoong.

yeosang pushes past san, past you, quick to react as he says, "jongho, put it down."

jongho merely shakes his head, aiming the gun up. he doesn't have to say a word for you to understand the look he gives all of you.

run, it says.

jongho's hands are strangely steady, even as he aims the rifle, even as yeosang reaches for jongho, only to be a moment too late. even as jongho shoots. the rifle blast is defeaning, and your ears ring from blast. jongho falls backward at the recoil.

but, you notice the difference immediately.

all is quiet. too quiet.

seonghwa's begging is gone.

you look up. seonghwa lay limp in hongjoong's tentacle limbs. blood drips from his head to the dirt. jihyo sobs loudly from her spot next to johnny and the guard's dead bodies.

hongjoong's bloodcurdling scream fills you with dread. it is earth shattering. it makes the ground tremble.

run, run, run, every cell in your body screams.

so you run. you grab san's hand this time. yeosang drags jongho back, wrapping his arms around him as they tumble into the fog. you both follow after, and the last thing you see under the bright moonlight is hongjoong tilted upper half and his furious expression as he surges forward. towards you. towards all of you.

the moment you step into the fog, however, every noise is muffled and you can barely see your feet in front of you. your head feels like it's underwater, and san's hand is the only thing keeping you anchored. you focus entirely on putting one foot in front of the other as you run in the direction you think the shipment gate is.

the clicking noises is expected. what makes your heart race and your palms sweat, what makes you stumble over your feet as you run, are the footsteps and the very human, very chilling laughter inches behind you.

something wraps around your ankle. the fog is dissipating just a bit, enough for you to see shadows. the shadow of san. shadows of people behind you. holy shit. your ankle is yanked out from under you. pain shoots up and down your body as you fall flat on your face. you're already dizzy from blood loss, but the impact makes you see stars. san's hand slips from yours. for a moment, he disappears.

but then you're dragged down, grass and dirt scratching at your back as your shirt rides up. you blink rapidly, as the fog dissipates more, only to reveal -

you scream at the sight of jihyo staring down at you with eyes so black, there's no white left. she curls her hands around your neck. she doesn't say anything, but her eyes are blank with intent, and she reminds you distinctly of the way your mother looked at you as she tried to strangle you in your kitchen that first night. possessed. murderous. whatever it was, you try to kick her off. you fumble, but you manage to jam the flat of your palm to the underside of her chin, and she rolls off you. you scramble to your feet, shouting san's name. you only shadows of things, and you hear shouting. you hear yeosang screaming mingi's name. you hear wooyoung shouting for someone to run. you hear everything but san.

then you see shadows struggling in front of you. it's hard to make out who, but you find yourself running to tackle the one on top.

you don't know who this is, and maybe that's a good thing. you only felt sick when you had to hurt jihyo, despite everything. you punch the man in the face, and he keels over. you spin, and san is gasping for air on the floor. he blinks up at you. he merely takes your hand and pulls himself up as he says, "let's go."

you thought this was too easy. as you approach the gate, the fog is lighter. easier to see through, the bright moonlight above illuminating the truck beyond the date. it's running, the engine rumbling softly. you can make out yeosang and jongho holding up a limping wooyoung. mingi is holding the door open, though blood is pouring down his forehead, over his eye.

escaping can't be this easy, you thought, as you look at them. as san runs ahead of you, his hand still in yours.

but then the ground shakes once more. you turn. a tentacle shoots out from the light fog, and it's so fast, so rigidly sharp, it slices at skin as it wraps around your leg.

you yelp as you're slammed into the ground.

san pulls a knife from his boot, slicing at the tentacle. the impending scream that fills the air is so shrill, it hurts your ears.

you scramble back, getting to your feet, practically running backwards, and you see as many many figures emerge from the dissipating fog. human-like figures, as well as those spider-like creatures. like an army. there's so many.

you realize, then, that even if you get into this truck, even if you drive and drive and drive, they will follow. the creature that is hongjoong and chaeyoung clambers forward, and you wonder briefly what's happened to the other people of the sanctuary. the ones that are in the sleeping quarters, without aliens in their head. what has become of them? what will become of them?

"jongho," you call, though you know he can't respond verbally. you're still staring at the creatures, and all the guards that have aliens in their heads. they all seem to be watching, as if they're waiting for the signal to attack. chills run down your spine at the thought. "how many bombs did you plant?"

you look over your shoulder, and jongho waves his hand in a giant circle. around and around. he points at the sanctuary. you're almost glad you can't see his expression.

your fingers clamp around the detonator you'd taken from jongho and stuffed in your pockets. he'd said he spent years setting this up. if anything, this means he's put bombs everywhere. perhaps all along the perimeter of the sanctuary. maybe just the main buildings. maybe everywhere like landmines.

you turn your gaze on yeosang. he seems to understand the expression on your face, strangely enough. maybe it's because, despite everything, he understands you. he and you are alike. san had said as much. jongho, too. maybe it's because he loves san as much as you do. maybe it's something else. you glance at wooyoung, who is gripping the passenger door as he leans out the window. he shakes his head once, but you don't listen.

you finally look at san. you can see san processing your words. you say, "get in the car please."

you can see when it clicks.

san shakes his head. the devastation there comes like a wave crashing onto the shore, slowly and then all at once. anger and devastation is not a combination you'd wish on even your mortal enemy. not when you have to watch san crumble like this. "no," he says, "no, y/n. i promised - i'm not - fuck, y/n, please, no -"

he barely makes a step towards you before yeosang wraps his arms around san's waist and drags him back towards the car. san thrashes in yeosang's arms, screaming obscenities at him, and he elbows yeosang in the face so hard, yeosang drops him. that brings you a moment of satisfaction at least. but then mingi takes yeosang's position. he's taller, stronger, and it's too easy for mingi to drag san back to the car. yeosang cups san's cheeks as mingi scoots into the backseat, murmuring to him. san just shakes his head over and over and over. he cries your name, and his broken voice burrows itself in your heart. you hesitate when you pull the detonator from your pocket.

but only for a moment.

it isn't fair.

you click the button, and the engine of the truck roars to life, and it is truly the quiet before a storm right then.

it isn't fair.

you'd wanted to get at least one punch on yeosang. you hadn't wanted anymore blood on your hands. not after your mother. you think of the sleeping quarters. of all those people who didn't have aliens in their heads and still turned their cheeks to seonghwa and hongjoong. they looked away while you suffered under hongjoong's wrath. sure, they were complacent, but did they deserve to die? a part of you wants to say yes, but there are children here. survivors. you hear the first boom. another. more. screaming. screeching. hongjoong shouting. you back up, even as a tentacle shoots in your direction, smacks you across the face. you see stars then, and your vision goes black, and your head spins, and you crumble where you stand. the world spins. you didn't choose to be here, and you didn't want any of this, yet, in the end, you've chosen to click the detonator on jongho's behalf.

in the end, you chose to save other people over yourself.

a small part of you is convinced this is a terrible fever dream, but his hand is warm on against your palm, and you do not have any other option aside from taking his help.

you sidestep seonghwa's unconscious form. you scurry past the railings, pointedly keeping your gaze on san's back. you cannot look over the railing. you don't want to have the carnage engrained into your brain, and you certainly do not want to see chaeyoung or your mother's beady eyes staring back up at you, even if they are nearly unrecognizable remnants of who they once were.

here's the thing about disasters. there is always a quiet before the storm. a sort of peace and serenity that settles over everything. the tunnel back to the guard tower is eerie in its silence, both your footsteps echoing loudly throughout. san shoulders the blood bat, heaving open the heavy metal door you'd been pushed through. you look up, and moonlight streams through spiral staircase leading to the tower hatch. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as you pass. when the aliens appeared hovering through the sky, you've always felt as if there were eyes on the moon, watching your every move. now the feeling has grown tenfold.

as you both emerge from the guard tower, the night is so serene, so quiet. not even the bugs are out.

san breaks the silence first, his back still to you, your hand still in his. you stare at the bandage around his head, pitch black blood staining the white. visible even under the moonlight.

"a car is ready at the gates, y/n. the radio is there. yunho is waiting on the other end and he'll give you directions back to the bunker so -"

the peace and serenity comes crashing down.

"you really think i'm going to trust any of them?" you pull your hand from his. "after everything?"

he turns to look at you, and the moonlight casts shadows over his face. his eyes are hardened, resigned. the terror you felt in your chest starts to gather around your heart as you look at san. his eyes are still brown, you remind yourself. he is still san.

an alarm starts blaring somewhere below, near the dining hall. it's a sharp, keening noise that makes your stomach flip and every cell in your body scream at you to run.

you hear shouting, and you spot guards emerging from the guard towers down the wall. flashlights swing. people are shouting. you recognize jihyo coming out of the medical building. johnny from down the hill. mrs. kim isn't there. the walls themselves start to rattle, and the shouts from the sleeping quarters turn into sharp, startled screams. you look over, and johnny is closer. under the bright, bright moonlight, you can tell his eyes are a pitch black, even from this distance. it's as if there are two pitch black holes in his face where his eyes once were, and your stomach flips at the thought. the screaming rises from below the hill as johnny cocks his rifle over his shoulder, slowly making his way up the hill, as he shouts, "choi, what are you doing up here? now's not the time for a date!"

san pushes you the other way, towards the gate out back near the chicken coop. his tone is urgent, desperate even, "i need to find jongho. i promised i'd get him out, too."

you frown. you know he could have only promised such a thing to two people, and either option makes your frown deepen. still, you clutch his sleeve, "but jongho has one of those -"

san shakes his head, "he doesn't."

"what?"

"jongho doesn't have anything in his head. hongjoong refused to let seonghwa anywhere near him with one of those things. hongjoong... rumor has it he convinced seonghwa that living with the guilt of what jongho had done would be an added punishment. besides, after seonghwa took jongho's tongue, no alien would want his body."

the vanity of these creatures, and the realization that hongjoong kept jongho from being taken over by aliens hits you all at once. it's a vanity that feels so...familiar. so human. and it scares you more than you'd like to admit. and, to think hongjoong convincing seonghwa not to put an alien in jongho's head could have been his own convoluted way of protecting jongho. to think jongho betrayed you of his own volition. you want to be angry, but you don't think you can truly be angry at him when he lived under such circumstances. he knew about the aliens, and he was probably living in terror all these years. you think you'd have done the same thing just to ensure your survival.

you're so lost in thought, san is able to start pushing you down the hill as you walk in a daze, away from the side of the hill johnny was trudging up. johnny's attention, however, is diverted very quickly. you and san watch as he whips his head over his shoulder, before calling up, "hurry up and meet me at the sleeping quarters, san."

then he swivels and walks away. the way he walks, with a glide in his step and a rigid, halted gait makes you want to run far, far away. you consider right then taking the car san mentioned and just leaving. you can throw the radio out the window. you can drive to the other side of the country and run away from all of this. from the sanctuary and jongho and the bunker and san. you can leave.

but you're an idiot, too curious and involved for your own good. you always have been, even Before. it's why you chose to work as a paramedic back Before.

"i'm going with you."

san frowns, "you can barely walk."

"neither can you."

"y/n."

"san."

"i'm trying to save you here." san drags a hand through his blood-matted hair.

you look him in the eye and you say, "i am not leaving you. you came back for me, so i am staying with you."

san pauses, his mouth parting slightly, his brown eyes widening. his gaze flickers rapidly between yours, and you watch as his chest rises and falls with staggered breaths. then he blinks, breaking eye contact first, and the tips of his ears are red.

he fails to suppress a dimpled smile, even as he attempts for a serious expression, nodding briskly. he clears his throat, says, "i can't argue with that logic."

you're glad, because you certainly don't have the time for an argument.

there's a loud crash, the kind that sounds bone shattering. the sound of engine sputtering. glass shattering. metal crunching against metal. you'd worked car accidents Before, but nothing ever prepared you for the sound of the impact of a crash. it sounds like glass shattering and the bass of speaker crumbling all at once, but it has the ability to shake you to your very core. you and san both turn towards the impact, and it's coming from the other side of the compound, where the shipments take place. after a split second of deep silence, an explosion shakes the ground and you watch, horrified, as flames spring at the other end of the compound. from this angle, atop the hill, you can make out that a small truck crashed through the shipment gates and is now on fire. you can make out small figures running. you can hear screaming. shouting. but you can't figure out what the hell is going on.

not until the intercom to the sanctuary crackles to life, and seonghwa's uncannily polite voice echoes throughout the compound. chills run down your spine at the sound of his voice. you look at san in horror

san mutters, "fuck."

"everyone remain in your quarters. this is a code yellow." seonghwa's voice rings in your ears, "guards. you have my permission to open fire on anyone who is out past curfew. i want the traitors and intruders returned to the library. dead or alive."

traitors you understand, but intruders.

"intruders?" san voices your thoughts, spinning on his heels to squint across the compound, to the burning car and broken gate.

your heart races in your chest as you tug at san. "we don't have time to investigate that."

"what if it's...?" san trails off, his brows furrowing.

"did they tell you they'd come?"

san shakes his head.

"then we can't risk it," you say.

it takes a long, long moment for san to tear his gaze from the burning car and fighting breaking out below. the gunshots echo throughout the quiet night. san's nod is brisk, his jaw clenching.

without another word, the two of you make a beeline for the only place you think you can find jongho: the warehouse you'd met him in.

~.~.~.~.~

the warehouse is dark, cold, and eerily silent. usually those awaiting shipment or punishment would be shouting expletives, even begging for release. the metal walls were thick enough to suppress most of the sounds, but some wails still came through. it always sounded far away, like ghosts from the past crying, and the shouts would bounce through the metal ceilings and walls, making the sounds even more distant.

now, it's so, so quiet.

slowly, you and san step into the main room, where the front desk sits, and jongho kneels in front of it, hunched over. he works quietly, but you can tell his hands are moving. that he's working on something.

"jongho?" your voice echoes over and over and over until it melts into the void.

jongho looks up, his hands coming to a still. his eyes are red, and he looks so tired, but there's a volatility there you cannot ignore.

you step closer. jongho scoots back. he tries to speak, but a choke sound leaves his mouth, and you stop approaching him, your chest feeling heavy.

slowly, you kneel, until you're sitting across from him.

you look at the thing in his hand, a metal contraption that looks incredibly dangerous. you say, "i'm not going to hurt you. i'm here to help you."

he blinks, incredulously.

then he pats down his pockets until he finds his notebook and pen. his hands are trembling so hard, he drops his pen a few times, even as he scribbles quickly across a new page.

you look over your shoulder at san. san is staring at jongho, gaze wary, brows furrowed, fingers curled into tight fists at his side.

he slides the notebook across the floor, and the sound echoes all around. it's so loud. you have to squint to read the words in the dim lighting.

i betrayed you, y/n. you're not angry?

you slide it back. you can hear gunshots and shouting echoing beyond the warehouse. you speak quickly, "i'm angry, but i understand why you did it. i want to help you get out of here, still, if you're open to it."

i'm not going. i spent years setting this up. i need to fix things, y/n.

you stare at the thing in his hands as he holds it up.

"what is it?" you ask.

"a detonator. for explosives," san answers for jongho, his voice soft, breathless. sad, almost.

you look at san over his shoulder. he drags a hand through his hair, readjusting the bandages.

you look at jongho. his nod is firm.

"why?" your voice is shrill.

jongho writes, they all deserve to die. for everything they've turned their cheeks to. for everything they let happen to me and you. to all those people we sent into the fog every night. i want this place to fucking burn.

you blink, watching as jongho blinks back tears, his jaw clenched tight and fists shaking in his lap.

you scoot towards him, slowly, inch by inch, and he does not back away. as you reach out, and pluck the device from his lap, jongho does not even stop you. instead, tears escape from his stony expression. he crumbles into a million pieces before you. he doesn't put up a single fight. he never did, did he? with hongjoong and seonghwa, when they got him to betray you? he always succumbed to the whims of others.

jongho drops his head against the desk and he cries. a twisted sound of anguish leaves his mouth as he sobs and sobs. still he continues writing.

he writes, onto tear-stained pages, i need to kill them, y/n.

you wonder if that meant he needed to die with them as well. he was still in the compound. he'd made no indication that he'd escape before he detonated the explosives.

"no, you don't," you say, as gently as you can.

jongho gives in so easily, his resolve crumbling, a part of you - the angry, spiteful part of you - wonders if he's ever had an actual resolve to begin with. jongho just nods, and nods, and nods.

there are footsteps, and san crouches next to both of you, a hand settling on your back to support himself as he holds out his other hand and he says, "let's go home, jongho. yeosang and mingi are waiting for you."

jongho's eyes widen in surprise, as if to say really?

your heart softens as san nods and smiles, as jongho takes his hand and wipes the tears from his face.

you lead the way out. as you step out of the dark, quiet warehouse, the fighting outside becomes so, so loud.

you hear screaming, and you come upon the disaster the quiet before the storm had alluded before.

there's seonghwa, with yeosang in a chokehold. he stands where he does every night before a shipment, as if he will be giving another heartfelt sermon to his devoted followers. except this time, the pews are filled with five black-eyed guards with guns scattered throughout. one has wooyoung on his knees and a rifle pointed to the back of his head. he's the one shouting, the one reaching for yeosang despite the gun to the back of his head. three other guards have mingi surrounded, guns pointed at him, as he holds a rifle against the back of a guard's - it's johnny - head.

seonghwa grins when his eyes land on you, san, and jongho. he says, "did you think a little tap to the head would kill me?"

"of course not," you step forward in front of san and jongho. san grips your sleeve anyway. "i heard roaches can even survive nuclear explosions."

seonghwa's grip around yeosang's throat tightens. yeosang scowls at you in return. "i've had enough of you. of all of you. jongho -"

you step in front of jongho, blocking him completely from seonghwa's view, "leave him alone."

seonghwa rolls his eyes, "you sound like fucking hongjoong."

the safety of a rifle clicks off, echoing all around you. mingi has the rifle situated at the back of johnny's neck, digging so hard into the skin that johnny's face is smushed against the dirt. mingi is staring at seonghwa with so much hatred, it has you looking away.

yeosang, however, isn't looking at mingi. he's looking at you, and his eyes are blank, his scowl gone. you wonder briefly, if he's upset that you're the one protecting jongho even now. that you've taken his place in that aspect as well, even briefly.

seonghwa just laughs. his laugh is loud, boisterous, and fills the quiet of the sanctuary. he says, "pathetic."

the world is quiet, so so quiet. for only a moment.

before all hell breaks loose.

bang.

you yelp at the jolting sound of the rifle going off. the bullet lodges into johnny's skull, and blood and brain matter and black liquid splatters everywhere. you can tell none of the guards expected mingi to actually shoot johnny. the impact of the bullet causes mingi to spring back, the end of the rifle smoking. he's splattered in blood and gore, from head to toe. one of the other guards - jihyo, you realize - blinks rapidly, and the darkness in her eyes disappears, returning to that welcoming brown, the kind eyes that would give you extra food during breakfast, and she gags. it hits you then, that these guards are the same as san had been. they have aliens controlling them. they're humans underneath. and if johnny getting his brains blown out before them can make the aliens lose control, then that means they care about each other. that means they're capable of caring.

that's something that sticks with you, even as your ears continue to ring at the blast of the rifle, and you stare and stare at the blood that had found it's way to your shoes.

seonghwa shrieks, so so human-like, "what the fuck have you done?"

yeosang twists seonghwa's arm then, back back back, and tosses him on the ground. mingi points the gun at seonghwa.

yeosang's eyes remain on mingi only. even as he nods.

mingi cocks the gun.

but then he tosses it to the side and lunges at seonghwa, punching him hard. wooyoung grabs the tossed rifle and turns on the guard behind him, smacking him across the face with a sickening crunch. then he pulls a knife from his boot and slices his throat like he's slicing fruit. yeosang rolls away, heaving as he watches mingi punch seonghwa. as seonghwa punches back.

another guard points his rifle at yeosang. you're not sure why you do it. yeosang hurt you, and you have no business watching out for him. but you pull yourself from san's grip and tackle the guard to the ground, just as he shoots, and the bullet misses. san and jongho disarm the other two shortly. you don't know this guard, but his eyes are no longer black, and his eyes are distraught, tearful even. they care so much for their own, you realize, and it fuels the anger that's lived on for months deep inside of you.

yeosang blinks at you when he realizes what you've done. you put the guard in a chokehold, targeting pressure points you learned from Before that puts people to sleep. yeosang calls, over the shouting and yelling, "thanks."

you scowl, "don't thank me yet. i still have time to make sure you get your shit rocked."

yeosang snorts, but he nods.

and then, a low keening screech fills the silence. you look over, and seonghwa has mingi on his back, fingers curled around his throat. mingi tries to pull seonghwa's fingers from his throat, but he can't. he's spluttering for air, choking. but the sound isn't coming from him.

it's not coming from the prison speakers.

it's coming from above. from all around them.

the clicking comes next, mixing with keening. it sounds like a heavy metal door opening and closing mixed with the clicking pincers of those creatures from the pit. every hair at the back of your neck stands on end. every single cell in your body screams for you to run. instinct tells you you are merely prey for whatever the hell is making that noise.

the ground shakes under your feet. slowly, you get up off the unconscious guard beneath you.

the voice sounds just like the one you heard in your head, when that creature tried to take you over. like a million voices mixed into one, echoing all around you, ringing and bouncing off every surface, encompassing you. the voice rang under your skin, in your bones. the voice sounds like a million voices, like god himself, but there's a single voice that lives above all that. that sounds vindictive and angry and so full of hate it makes you scramble away. san and jongho step back. wooyoung yanks yeosang back, away from mingi and seonghwa.

it's hongjoong's voice.

he says, "get off him."

before anyone can react, a dark rigid tentacle-like limb shoots out from the darkness and yanks seonghwa up by the head, wrapping around his neck and jaw. for a moment seonghwa hovers in the air, arms and legs flailing, before he's lobbed into the ground. then the rest of the creature saunters into the moonlight, out of the dark fog around you. beady, familiar eyes meet yours as slithering limbs crawl from the darkness, surrounding all of you. situated above the beady, familiar eyes, is hongjoong. you can't see his legs, and your stomach churns at the possibility that maybe he doesn't have legs anymore. because his torso melts into the black limbs of the creature, and his head sits at a strange, almost broken angle, and his hands wrap around the creature, a caricature of a hug, and you realize oh this is chaeyoung, and for a moment you can't tell if hongjoong is alive or dead, a remnant of who he once was or alive and clinging to chaeyoung, or even just a dead trophy, like a taxidermy deer.

but then he smiles, and he looks so, so alive.

you think you're going to throw up as you watch the black tentacle-like limb lift seonghwa from the ground once more, still wrapped around his head.

as seonghwa says, in a voice you've come to learn is the real seonghwa, without the polite alien, and his voice is choked, losing volume the longer he speaks. his words slur, and they're drawn out, mixing with clicks and screeches of the creature, "please kill me. joong, chae, please. someone - sang? jongho? mingi?"

you grab the scalpel, turning it on the back of your head, where the pressures lives at its fullest. the one thing about some strange alien parasite crawling into your head and stealing your consciousness was that you knew exactly where it stood. and maybe this is stupid as hell - and you know it because Before you used to study medicine, you'd taken paramedics classes right up until the world ended - but you find the back of your hairline, fingers pressing to the pressurized spot. it's squishy, like a pocket full of liquid has formed there, and you resist the urge to gag before you hold your breath and stab at it blindly with the scalpel. seonghwa eyes are wide, full of surprise.

the scream in your head is painful in its intensity, but nothing compared to the feeling of the scalpel piercing skin, or the way warm liquid drips down your neck, down your back. nothing is worse than the blinding pain that shoots through your body, the tears springing to your eyes as your head spins. you stumble off the metal table, grasping blindly at air to catch yourself.

you instead find purchase on san's arm. you look up at him through wet lashes for a split moment, just long enough to take in his face. the bruising on his skin, and the sharp angles to his features. there is darkness in his eyes. he stares at you in shock.

that is your only chance really.

you take the scalpel, and you grab san's hair, you search frantically, and it's in the same spot. maybe it's a coincidence. maybe it's a pattern.

but it's in the same spot and your Before brain shouts that this is unsanitary and if you get out of this alive, you both will be left with an infection that'll kill you instead, but you flip it in your fingers and you jam it into the bulbous bump at the back of his head. san scream. san screams, and you catch a glimpse of the san you knew. the san you've known. your fingers curl around the sides of his head, as gently as you can so you don't hurt him more than you have.

san chokes out, gasps really, "jesus fucking christ, y/n. a warning would be nice."

before you can do anything, san crumbles to his knees, and someone grabs you by the hair, dragging you back once more. the pain has you crying out, but you keep your eyes on san, on his warm brown eyes.

you croak out, "get out."

san blinks. you look away.

the wound at the back of your neck is searing, but that doesn't prepare you for the pain of being tossed into the food boxes, your vision spotting as you try to stay on your feet and fail. you groan, blinking up at seonghwa, vision blurry. you feel so delirious, possibly from blood loss but mostly from the fact that when you look past seonghwa you see san actually leaving.

you see him duck behind the table, clutching his head, watch as he crouches and sprints to the boxes, all behind seonghwa's back, undetected.

and maybe, even in this delirious, painful state, despite telling him to leave, despite the fact that you thought about saving him after everything, you thought he'd stay to help you. you thought san wouldn't take the first opportunity to run. but every time you tell him to leave, to get out, to let go, he does. he fucking does. maybe you shouldn't expect him to read your mind.

but, he's left you alone.

alone with seonghwa's wrath, alone in your last moments with no one by your side. alone.

and you think maybe you deserve this for putting other people first in a world where no one else has done the same.

you're going to die, and you're going to die alone.

it's fitting, you think, when you've spent so long in this new world living as a ghost. now you will die a lonely ghost.

seonghwa looms over you, shadowed like the grim reaper, gritting his teeth, his hands covered in a darkness that reminds you of ink-stains. you look down at your hands, and you have the same thing. blood, you figure. the blood of whatever the hell was in your head and in san's. in seonghwa's too.

"jongho! joong!" seonghwa is calling, glaring down at you before he crouches and his fingers wrap around your throat. he says, "i have to do everything around here, don't i?"

a giggle escapes your mouth, choked and gasping, but a giggle nonetheless.

seonghwa's grip around your neck loosens, tilting his head as he peers at you. he asks, "do you think this is funny?"

you mumble, "a little bit. i didn't think it would be so easy. i was expecting something a bit more like the alien movies, honestly. something creepier. in hindsight, your aliens are pretty lame."

you're surprised you can string together full sentences, let alone words that make sense. your words strike a nerve in seonghwa, despite his silence, because he grabs your elbow and yanks you to your feet. you stumble, but he drags you along anyway, kicking away food and boxes to clear his path. he's headed to the other room. to the pit, you realize, your heart racing against your ribs.

you gasp, "is this how you killed chaeyoung?"

you're slammed hard against the wall next to the doors. so hard you see stars from the impact against your wound, and you're glad seonghwa is holding up because you're sure you would have collapsed. his fingers grip your shoulders so tight, you wonder if he could tear through skin.

his face is inches from yours, and his eyes are not so black, nor so dilated. the polite tone disappears once more, as he spits, "i did not kill chaeyoung."

seonghwa has one inside him too, you realize. oh.

oh.

"maybe you didn't," you mumble, unsure what's possessed you to provoke seonghwa when you're barely able to fight back, "but the alien inside you must have. i don't see the difference, though, between the alien and yourself. do you?" you raise a brow at him, "did chaeyoung?"

the sound of his teeth grinding together echoes throughout the warehouse. the lavender lighting makes him look gaunt, like a ghost himself, and there is a sort of beauty to it, you think even in your dazed state.

however, in that moment, you swear seonghwa will strangle you with his bare hands. the murderous expression in his eyes surprises you. he's always looked at you with such little emotion, aside from pure curiosity or amusement, even as he hurt you. the emotion in his eyes is so raw and so startlingly human.

then he slams the doors open and pull you into the room with the railings. with the pit.

as he drags you into the room, you try to struggle, but it's pointless when you're weak from blood loss and injury. seonghwa holds your hands behind your back and walks you into the railing. he's too close, and the hairs at the back of your neck stands on end at the proximity.

he slams you against the railing, so your upper half dangles over the edge and only his grip on you keeps you from toppling over. the blood rushes to your ears, sweat dripping from your chin, your nose, hair tickling your ear, as you stare at the pit of dark creatures, of spider-like monsters with jagged teeth and long, rigid, shards for legs, as you meet the dark, bottomless eyes of one of them, and they do not look away. you wonder, briefly, if it's the same one from before. the familiar one. the stench of burnt hair and rotting flesh is overwhelming, stinging your nose and eyes.

seonghwa leans in until he is flush against you, and you hate the clear show of power, of how powerless you are dangling here at his whim. he speaking over you the way a priest would bless the living and pray for the dead.

"you asked me who i was in the tragedy of antigone, didn't you?"

his voice is no longer polite. it is charged. emotional. it is seonghwa, you think. not the polite, curious creature pretending to be seonghwa. it is seonghwa, one of the four founders of the sanctuary. the person who allowed the sanctuary to escalate into a place like this, with pits of monsters and guards with aliens in their heads. the person who is sacrificing people to keep these creatures satiated so that his sanctuary can remain a utopia kept tight under lock and key and guns. your eyes flicker over the pit, watching as the creatures start to gather beneath you. their beady, dark eyes settle on you in a way that has shivers running down your spine. the clicking sounds nearly drown out the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. one set of eyes in particular maintains contact, and it is the same eyes that felt so...familiar earlier. the same eyes that fixated on you. that jongho pulled you away from.

"you were right and wrong. i am polynices, and i am creon," seonghwa murmurs. he is the brother and the king who ordered he not be buried properly? how is that possible?

you frown, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"chaeyoung was against all this." he shakes you and you swallow down the panic. seonghwa continues, "i tried to get her to see my way, but she wouldn't, so put one of the kinder ones in her when she was asleep. she needed to experience it herself. then she'd change her mind. but she...she was an idiot. i'm surprised she had the will to do what you did. most people don't." seonghwa murmurs, and his voice is right in your ear as he leans heavily against you, his grip tight. one little push and you'll tumble into the pit. you still beneath his touch, your breathing ragged. "but she failed. she missed."

everything is too quiet. and clicking gets louder in the silence.

"she wasn't supposed to die that way," seonghwa murmurs, his voice breathy, quiet, right next to your ear. "so i made sure she didn't die. i did not kill her. i saved her." he shouts that, and you flinch, even as he continues, "i am creon, too, but unlike him i wasn't too late. in my story, antigone was spared."

seonghwa lets out a small choked sob, that morphs quickly into a laugh, into an inhumanly polite tone. into the other seonghwa, you realize with horror. the grip on your head tightens, "now look closely, y/n. no one ever really dies here. this is the sanctuary, after all."

you look down, and a small creature crawls into the cool light. it's smaller than the other one staring at you, and it's eyes are just as dark. but there is an awareness to them you find curling around your heart. if you look closely, the rough skin of the creatures aren't actually all black. lavender glints off the black, and there's a hint of brown to this one. the color is similar to hongjoong's hair.

you don't know what to say. you can't speak.

your fingers curl into fists as you stare at the creature, with beady lopsided eyes and jagged teeth and a curious look in its eyes, no, her eyes. chaeyoung's eyes.

"look," seonghwa shoves you forward, until you're hanging off the edge of the railing by just his grip and you're flailing, "closer."

you tear your eyes from her, and your gaze returns to the familiar eyes, the one with the slithering limbs inching towards you as you look, up the wall and towards the railing, a streak of reddish-brown left in its wake. the familiarity itches at your brain, but you're still reeling from the thought of chaeyoung.

seonghwa sighs, "honestly, i'm not sure what happens to us when we take over you pathetic humans. it's interesting, i think, what humans will do for love and how it affects everything. i promised her i wouldn't toss you in here, though her brain must have rotted down here for even asking of such a thing. but it's too bad you've ruined it, huh, y/n? at least you'll die in mommy's arms. maybe she'll be the one to feed off you. that would be quite poetic. i'll enjoy the sounds of your scream -"

you scream when seonghwa's grip around you loosens, when you start to tumble forward, air rushing through your ears. you're going to die. you're going to die and you can't even comprehend the words seonghwa's just told you and the mention of your mother or even the fact that the tentacle crawling up the wall wraps around torso, and then you're tossed backwards. back over the rail. wait?

you blink, meeting familiar eyes, and you think of seonghwa's words, but you're dizzy and you're confused and everything is spinning, but at the same time the familiarity - there has to be a reason for it, the same as chaeyoung still being here, the same as... no. you think you're going to puke. you roll onto your side, meeting those beady eyes once more. it stares at you for a long moment before it dips below the railings. before it disappears.

there is no way in hell the creature is your mother. but seonghwa said no one dies here. and the creature just fucking saved you. maybe, when these things possess people they keep remnants of them. even though you killed her, she stayed with that thing. she still lives on. maybe that's what seonghwa was talking about. you don't know if you find the thought worse than death.

you hear screaming. you look over, and seonghwa has hongjoong by the throat, slammed up against the wall. hongjoong is crying, you realize, the lavender lighting giving him a ghostly sheen, and you've never seen him look so broken. you did not think him capable of it.

his voice echoes through the chamber, a broken, desperate thing, "she was my sister."

seonghwa says, "she still is."

you manage to crawl to your feet. you're not sure why you're doing this. you should run. you should escape. hongjoong terrorized you every single chance he had. you can barely walk straight. yet, you grab the nearest object, a rifle, and heave it up, placing the barrel to seonghwa's head. you click off the safety. hongjoong's eyes slide to meet yours.

you don't look at hongjoong for long, eyes lingering on seonghwa, "let go of him."

"oh," seonghwa starts to truly laugh, "so you're going to help him?"

"i'm going to blow your fucking brains out. would rather it just be you then both of you, really," you prod at the back of his head, "so let him go."

seonghwa releases hongjoong, turning slowly, hands in the air, until his forehead is pressed to the barrel of the gun. then seonghwa steps forward. you stand your ground, but he presses further into the barrel. his grin is maniacal.

"go on, then," he says, "blow my brains out."

you hesitate.

he cackles, before he grabs the barrel of the rifle. you yank it out of his hands and smack him across the forehead with it. that sends seonghwa sprawling.

your chest is heaving as you look at hongjoong. he stares back, his eyes wide. his eyes aren't black like seonghwa's and it's terrifying you think, to realize right then that all this time, he never had something controlling him, that everything he did was of his own volition. however, for once, he looks as small as his actual height. he looks as vulnerable as he had in that library. this may be the only time you've felt an inkling of sympathy for him.

but then hongjoong does not say a word to you. no thanks. no apologies. nothing. he pushes past you and lunges for seonghwa, bloodlust in his eyes, and seonghwa moves so fluidly, so easily, and it terrifies you when he smacks hongjoong aside so easily. when hongjoong tips over the side of the railing. hongjoong's plan was always vengeance. you almost pity him for this, as you watch him trip over seonghwa's foot and topple over the side of the railing. as he screams on the way down, the sound grating on your ears. you wonder, briefly, if the remnants of his sister will save him or kill him.

seonghwa turns on you, and he easily knocks the rifle from your trembling hands. this time, his fingers curl around your throat with intent to kill.

he says, "you're fucking annoying. i'm done here."

he squeezes, and you cannot breathe, your vision spotting. you can't see or breathe or think, and the sounds of you choking on air is so incredibly loud, even over the clicking below, the crunching of bones, and the squelching of flesh. of hongjoong's useless, vengeance-less death.

you just spit in his face, because that's all you can really do.

he slams you against the wall, and your vision blacks out. seonghwa's face is all you see, and it swims until there's three of him, so you close your eyes to block him out.

"i'll kill you," he says, "and then i'll keep you alive, just to make you die again. over and over and over. then i'll -"

he cuts off.

his grip loosens significantly.

you open your eyes, gulping for air.

standing there, heaving with a bloody metal bat over his head, and his head bandaged, is choi fucking san.

you blink at him. this isn't real. you have to be dead. he'd left. he'd left, and san never comes back.

but then he reaches for you, his fingers curling around your waist as he lets you lean all your weight on him.

you stare at san in disbelief. slowly, you reach up, and press your fingertips to his cheek, if only to check that he's really there, your vision still so blurred. you're so tired.

"you came back for me?"

you glance at jongho, and he's staring at his shoes. you want to be angry, and a part of you is because all these betrayals are wearing you down, but, at the same time, you're fresh off one series of betrayals, what's adding another one to the ever-growing list? even then, jongho's circumstances feel different. you can see the way his fingers tremble at his sides, and the way he tries to make himself smaller, like he thinks he can melt into the shadows with the snap of fingers. as you look at him, you pity him. you want to forgive him. you want to. but, at the same time, you're not sure if you can.

hongjoong lets out a small sigh, stepping even closer, and your gaze immediately flits to meet his. you back up, up, up, until your back hits the rail of the spiral staircase. when you look up, you can see a sliver of the moonlit sky through the open hatch above, a tiny escape route you will not reach no matter how much you try. not with the way hongjoong crowds closer, not with the way he reaches up and takes hold of your chin.

his grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt the way it had in the library.

he says, "and then i just so happened to stroll by san's room, and what do i find?"

you press away from him. hongjoong digs his blunt, painted nails into your skin and you gasp.

he says, "your boy toy standing at the door with an unauthorized radio, and kang goddamned yeosang's voice coming out of the thing."

you blink at that. you want to ask what the hell happened to san. a part of you - the part of you that dreaded seeing san here - is relieved by the fact that san wasn't the one to give hongjoong the radio. still, what the hell happened to him? did hongjoong speak to yeosang? what the hell is going on?

"the punishment for crimes like this are severe, y/n," hongjoong murmurs, his grip loosening slightly so he can brush a thumb along your jaw, where the sting is particularly painful. he presses his thumb harder there, making you hiss. "maybe i'll ask seonghwa for some leniency. you were so willing to rat mingi and yeosang out...though i'll say," hongjoong looks at jongho, smiling, "poor jongho. it took quite some, well, convincing for him to rat you out, while you did it so easily. i wonder how he feels, knowing you're not as loyal as him. i've always told him he trusted too easily. maybe he'll believe me this time."

hongjoong raises a brow at jongho, grinning. jongho looks away.

your breath hitches as your gaze slides to jongho. when he meets your gaze, he frowns. you shake your head, quickly, frantically, "jongho -"

but hongjoong clamps his hand over your mouth, and says, "shut up, and start walking."

you bite the palm of his hand, ignoring the taste of sweat and dirt and gunpowder, relishing in the way he yelps in pain, shoving you hard into the railing with his other hand. you ignore the shooting pain up your back, and the forearm pressing into your windpipe in favor of bringing your knee up to his stomach. hongjoong keels over in pain, clutching himself as he lets out an angry, almost-guttural scream. you immediately move to the door. until a hand wraps around your ankle. you try to kick hongjoong's hand off, relishing in stomping the back of your heels into his fingers. the sickening crunch that follows after is ignored by hongjoong, and that makes you attempt to drag yourself away. hongjoong, however, uses his other hand to grab your calf more securely. before you can change your tactic to curbstomping his face rather than his hands, your arms are pulled back so tightly you cry out in real pain this time.

the grip anchors you in place, and all you can do is thrash your legs, attempting and failing to kick jongho off you. but you can't. he's stronger than he looks, perhaps because of all the labor he's done at the sanctuary. you can't kick him off, and jongho doesn't say anything because he can't, and you wonder how the one person you'd trusted wholeheartedly in this place could do this to you too. he could have just let you go. he could have just -

hongjoong grabs your chin once more, and this time you can feel blood on your skin, from your bite. he smears it on your face, digging his nails into your skin as he leans close and he says, "i'm taking the leniency back, y/n."

"fuck you," you bite out each word with as much venom as you can.

hongjoong just pulls away and turns on his heels, heading towards the dark tunnel. jongho half-drags, half-carries like a ragdoll after hongjoong. your heart slams against your ribs, because with each step into the dark tunnel, fear begins to encapsulate your entire being. they're taking you somewhere else, and you're terrified. still even then, you continue screaming every obscenity you know at both hongjoong and jongho as you're pulled away.

~.~.~.~.~

in all your time since the world went to shit, in all the time you've had to sit by yourself and think, you never thought this would be a possibility. you held onto hope, as minuscule as it was, that salvation was possible. didn't everyone? even Before, you'd walk to class and be bombarded by people with megaphones and signs screaming of salvation. it was never a new concept, and when you'd sit with your knees pressed to your chest in a stranger's bathtub, listening to cackling outside the barricaded door, you used to pray to someone to keep you safe. who? you don't know. perhaps it was in human nature to call for help. to pray. to think that someone or something would save you eventually. a person or a god or even an authoritative entity like the fucking government.

when hongjoong and jongho dragged you threw the tunnel, you thought your heart would burst from your chest. it only got worse from there.

the air was tinged with the scent of burnt hair, and it made you gag as you were dragged closer to wherever they were taking you.

you'd squinted when you saw a light, but it was not bright or fluorescent like the lights hanging in the other warehouses. it wasn't warm or flickering like the candles in your room or in the lanterns.

it was a cool, white light that burned your eyes despite being so dim. it was almost lavender in its coolness.

every nerve in your body screamed for you to run, and you even dug your heels into the stone floors in an attempt to stop.

but jongho all but lifted you from the ground, fully dragging you along.

hongjoong opened a swinging door that creaked on rusty hinges. you recoiled at the onslaught of lavender-white light.

you looked up. around.

it was a building, one that looked very similar to the warehouse jongho worked in, the one san stayed in, with metal walls and industrial metal rods lining the ceiling. even the floors were metal, you noticed, and as you were pushed to your knees, the clanging was desperately loud. your fingers curled into tight fists as your eyes adjusted to the lighting and you focused on the sight before you.

straight ahead was a set of railings that seemed to curve in a giant circle. you could not see what was below, just that seonghwa stood leaning back on those railings in front of you, peering down at you over his nose, hands crossed over his chest. his eyes were dark as ever, and somehow you could tell, even in this lighting. somehow is dark eyes stood out to you.

seonghwa tilted his head, smiling, and a chill ran right up your spine as he said, "what are they doing on the floor? get up, y/n. come see."

you can't do anything but listen.

you pull yourself to your feet. you join seonghwa at his side.

you look down.

you hadn't prayed for someone to save you in a long, long time. perhaps you've lost touch with that human side of you after you washed your mother's blood from your hands.

down in the floor below, in what seems to be a pit only a few feet deep really, you see something that is beyond anything you could have ever fathomed. with coiled limbs and that same screeching and clicking you heard when you'd nearly gotten caught at night while carrying mingi. it's a creature, or maybe many many creatures, with dark spider-like limbs. there's blood down there. you can see it in the red pools that seem to glint so brightly against the cool lighting. too warm for such an eerie place. too bright.

seonghwa gestures for you to follow him. you cannot tear your eyes from the sight, especially when a single black eye, hollow and watchful and too fucking knowing seems to meet your gaze, and it remains on you. the blackness of that eye is like staring down a well or a sinkhole, as if it keeps going and going and you are seconds from tipping into over and disappearing in its depths. the eye lands on you, and does not waver. a familiarity curls down your spine, though you have now idea how, and its black limb slithers up the side of the metal wall, curling around the railing a few feet from you, leaving a trail of scarlet red in its wake, and you wonder -

you're dragged back from the rails by the elbow.

jongho shakes his head as you glare at him, pushing you forward to follow after seonghwa. hongjoong smiles pleasantly at you.

seonghwa's footsteps clang loudly as he pushes open the next set of doors. this room is bigger, filled with stacked wooden boxes. one of the boxes are open, and inside there are wrapped loafs of bread. the food, you realize. this is the warehouse san talked about. so - so did he know about that pit of aliens? is that why he was so adamant in your suggestion that you steal food from here? where the fuck is he?

past the boxes sits tanks and metal tables. a laboratory of sorts, you figure, what with the computers and vials scattered across the table.

seonghwa moves in that direction.

dread curls in your stomach as you move closer. every single instinct in your body tells you to fucking run, that this is dangerous and wrong and that something so terribly wrong has happened here.

as you turn the corner fully into the laboratory space, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

strapped to the metal table lies san, with a bruise on his head and his eyes wide open, glassy, as he stares up at the ceiling, clearly unseeing.

"you wanted to know where we get our food from, didn't you, y/n?"

you shake your head, stopping in your tracks as you stare at san's lifeless body. he looks dead. oh god, is he dead?

"no." your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, "i don't."

"really? what else were you and jongho going to run off together with?" seonghwa asks, his voice too kind, too pointed, "and you were both going to leave poor san behind. after everything he's done for you."

your notice the way his chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm, but that does not ease anything. in fact, it only makes you want to cry. you're not sure what happened, but the last fucking thing you said to him was that you wanted him to let go. you fought. like Before. and now you're standing here staring at his body, with terrifying creatures in the next room, with an even more terrifying person smiling lightly at you, and you don't know if you can move on from this. you can fight, but you don't think you'll survive for long. as you look at san, you wonder if survival is even worth it anymore.

still you say, "let him go."

seonghwa hums, stepping closer to san. he brushes the overgrown hair from san's unseeing eyes, and he says, with a tinge of polite curiosity, "why?"

"'why'? you want to know why?" you repeat his question, and suddenly that rage you felt from yeosang's words hits tenfold. maybe you won't survive, and maybe it isn't worth it, but you refuse to go down here without a fight. if anything, you want to punch the smug look off seonghwa's face. you start to laugh.

seonghwa merely smiles.

that is the last straw.

you lunge at seonghwa. that catches him by surprise, his eyes widening, but you manage to tackle him into the table, the two of you toppling to the floor. you straddle him, landing a single punch on his nose. the result crunch is satisfying, despite the absolute searing pain that follows. despite the fact that seonghwa laughs. his eyes are dark, dark black, the same kind of black you'd seen in that pit. he laughs and laughs and you grab him by the collar, only for him to snap his fingers.

you're pulled off him, and you get a kick in just as you're tossed off seonghwa. you stumble to your feet, preparing to throw a punch at hongjoong and jongho if you have to, but you freeze in place at the sight of san looking at you - really looking - and his eyes are darker than usual as he advances on you.

you look between san, hongjoong, seonghwa, and jongho. jongho is the only one looking away, his gaze focused on his shoes.

you say, "what's going on?"

your voice is too fragile, too frail, to sound angry, and you hate it.

you take a step back when san steps forward. even his gait is different than usual.

seonghwa spits blood from his mouth, wincing as he rubs his nose, and he says, "let's ask san that."

then suddenly, san's eyes are back to that warm, warm brown, and his face softens significantly. however, he keeps moving with that strange gait, the kind that makes you feel like prey. san blinks in confusion, before he says your name. it's so very much him.

"y/n," he says, tone growing urgent, worried, "y/n, i need you to run."

"how are they supposed to run when you're the one who's going to chase them down and strap them to this table, san?"

he starts to move, stalking towards you, even as he says, "i can't control it. i'm sorry, y/n."

this time, you believe him, but it doesn't make this moment any worse. you do try to run. you do. but you're yanked back by the back of your shirt and pulled to the ground. you hit the ground hard, gasping in pain. san looks down at you, his face contorted with the most heartbreaking horror you've ever seen. he's essentially being forced to watch as he hurts you.

san drags your wrists behind your back, pulling tight, and he starts to quite literally drag you across the floor. all the while, san is apologizing, over and over, cursing as he does so.

you look at seonghwa from the floor, grabbing his ankle for good measure, "are you enjoying this?"

seonghwa kicks your hand. you yelp. seonghwa says, "immensely."

you don't give up though, grabbing seonghwa's ankle from the floor once more and pulling. san shouts your name, even as seonghwa comes toppling down once more, knocking into san in the process. you scramble away, saying, "so you control people with those aliens and made some kind of deal with them to get food? why are you doing this?"

"you're so fucking annoying," seonghwa sighs, "do you want me to put hongjoong on you?"

your gaze immediately flits to hongjoong. he's grinning all teeth, on his toes as if he's excited to join.

"well," you say, grasping for straws honestly at this point, "have you told him about chaeyoung?"

hongjoong blinks, eyes narrowing. seonghwa lets out a small laugh, "are you so scared you're willing to make things up, love?"

you backup as he's talking, towards the boxes of food, eyes flickering from hongjoong to seonghwa to san.

"maybe you got too caught up in your game of dangling information in front of me and let things slip, hwa?" you match his condescending tone as you say his nickname. you'd heard hongjoong use it once. you look at hongjoong. "he told me the tragedy of antigone. of a sister who loved her brother so much, she went beyond human laws to make sure he rested w-"

san lunges at you. and this time you can't outrun him. it's as if he's faster and stronger, thanks to whatever the hell seonghwa's done to him, and even as you try to put the boxes between you, he seems to glide through the shadows, appearing on your right, startling you. he secures your hands behind your back, and he wraps his arms around you, easily plucking you from the ground and walking you towards that metal table.

meanwhile, san says, whispers really, "y/n, i can't - i don't want to be doing this. i -"

"then fight it," you interrupt.

he drops you on the metal table. the pain shoots right through you, but it hurts worse looking san in the eyes and repeating, "fucking fight it, san. please."

seonghwa grabs your ankles, dragging you flat on the table. his hand is cold, and his nails dig into your skin as he straps you onto the table, the sound of the metal buckle clanging on the metal table ringing in your ears. san does the same with your hands. for a moment, san falters, his hand remaining on yours. for just a moment. his touch lingers, and your chest heaves with the ragged breaths bursting from you, and when you meet san's gaze, you want to toss seonghwa off the highest cliff you can find you want to scream and tear your limbs from these straps and you want to cry. the sheer horror mixed with helplessness in san's eyes is something you've never seen. not Before, and certainly not After. it sears into the back of your eyelids, and when you close your eyes to steady your breath, you still see it.

you crane your neck, to turn your glare on seonghwa, to tear your eyes away from the train wreck that is choi san and your curling, breaking heart. jongho hovers close by - you can see his ducked head. you don't know where hongjoong is. you can't see him from this angle, but you hope he is there to hear you speak, to allow you to at least plant a seed of doubt into something. it's all you have.

you glance at san.

it's all you have.

you bite out, with all the venom you can muster as you say, "i don't know what you did to chaeyoung. but you did something. if i - a total stranger - can tell that you did something, then everyone here has to know it. deep down. hongjoong has to know it."

for a moment, all is silent. then seonghwa's face contorts over you, and the dim lighting behind him casts sharp shadows over his face, distorting him.

"why would i do something to her?" seonghwa screeches, his voice echoing throughout the room, over and over and over.

you flinch at the volume of his tone. the desperation, the offense. it sounds different from his usual voice. shakier, less used. it makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, because for once he does not sound smooth and unbreakable. he sounds human. so, so human.

seonghwa leans close, and his voice returns to normal, low and careful and condescending, his wide eyes narrowing. his fingers curl around the nape of your neck, some of the blood from his nose dripping onto your chin. "that book, y/n, was a warning. nothing more, nothing less. chaeyoung has nothing to do with this."

you take a shuddering breath, your heart slamming against your ribs. you don't believe him.

his nails dig into your skin a bit, as if he knows.

you can't help it. maybe it's the circumstances, or the full realization of the predicament you're in, but you find yourself asking, "what are you going to do to me then?"

you think of san, for a moment, but that isn't the time or place. you should worry for yourself. for once.

seonghwa drags a hand from the nape of your neck to your sweaty hair, brushing it back. your heart pounds against your ribs. you stiffen at the mocking gentleness of his touch.

seonghwa's dark, dark eyes - they're so dark, you can't see where his iris ends and his pupils begin - roam over your face for a long moment.

he speaks with a kind of amused pity in his tone that makes your stomach churn, "when someone joins the guard ranks, i need to guarantee their loyalty. the aliens and i - we've established an agreement of sorts, y/n, i'm sure you've guessed by now. i like to call it a mutually beneficial relationship, really." seonghwa strokes your cheek, sighing, "your little games with san have been causing problems in the sanctuary, so i'm going to give you two options tonight, y/n. one, become a guard and ensure your loyalty," he taps your forehead with his forefinger, a light touch that makes you recoil, "or two, i have san toss you into the pit in the other room. i'll let him stay with you, of course. i'm not a complete monster. he'll get to watch until the very, very end."

your breath catches in your throat, "that's not a choice."

"there's two options. and you get to choose," seonghwa says, "sounds like a choice to me."

you close your eyes, gritting your teeth, "then i'm not picking."

"letting you choose is only a courtesy, sweetheart. i can always have someone else choose. jongho maybe? or better yet," you can hear seonghwa's grin, "san?"

"fuck you," you spit in his face, "fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."

seonghwa hums, wiping the spit from his cheek to give you a level stare, his other thumb grazing your jaw, making goosebumps crawl up your skin.

"it'll be interesting, i think, watching you struggle against every single cell in your body as you obey my every command. knowing damn well you can't do a thing but watch yourself listen to me. as tempting as hearing your screams in the pit is," seonghwa says in amusement, still rubbing your cheek, "i think i'll choose for you this time. you should be honored to know that i usually don't choose such things."

he turns, lifting metal prongs as he unscrews a dark jaw. your craned neck hurts, but you can't take your eyes off him or the...the thing he places on the palm of his hand. it looks like a tarantula, but with so many more legs, and so white, it's almost blinding. it skitters around seonghwa's palm, leaving a trail of greenish liquid that makes your stomach turn. seonghwa is gentle as he scratches what you believe might be its head, a bulbous thing that sticks out above all the long, rigid legs. when it looks at you, it's eyes are beady and dark, and full of too much depth. like it knows things. you shake your head, pulling at the straps. oh hell fucking no.

you yank and pull and your wrists and ankles hurt like hell, but hell no, hell no.

yet it doesn't work. you thought maybe it would.

maybe san would be able to fight whatever the hell has happened to him, whatever the hell is about to happen to you.

seonghwa leans over you, and holds your head in place with one hand, the skittering white spider-like creature, with beady eyes and jagged teeth that seem to spill from it's little mouth, with legs that look like shards of glass made of marble, greenish liquid dripping onto your stomach and neck as seonghwa holds it inches from your face.

seonghwa's voice swims in your head, above the panic and disgust and instinctual need to fucking run, "san, hold them down."

san does.

you look up at him, and even though his grip on each side of your face is rough and full of a power that does not remind you of any version of san, not the san from Before, or the san from the bunker, or the san who sat in your room before he went through with his decision to become a guard, or the san who you'd left behind in his room, or the san who lied to you. he is neither of them, and in this moment you would do anything to catch a glimpse of just that. all you have is his dark eyes that do not leave your face.

"please san," you say, "let me go."

san closes his eyes, jaw clenching. it's a glimpse of him. one moment. it does not bring you peace.

you can't help but watch as seonghwa places the creature on your face. it tickles, like a real spider is skittering across your skin. you can't move or shake it off, not with the grip on your face, your skin crawling as you feel it take it's time exploring your face, slime tickling your skin. it slowly treks along your cheek, long past your mouth. it comes near your eyes, and you squeeze your eyes shut. then it crawls to the back of your head. to your ear, you realize too late, when it tickles along your hairline and then keeps going up, it legs brushing your earlobe. it feels the same as when someone lightly dusts your skin with a feather, but it's a bit damp. more spider-like even. it crawls over your earlobe, along the curve. inside. then it keeps going. you think you're going to throw up, gagging even at the feeling of this thing crawling into your ear and not stopping.

seonghwa says, "shhh."

only then do you realize you're gasping for air that's not quite there. only then do you notice the searing pain starting at your left ear, and spreading like wildfire.

~.~.~.~.~

"love," the voice is quiet, and muffled. far away. it says, "love, you have to stay awake."

you open your eyes, and you're met with your old college apartment. the one you and san shared while you dated. there's the posters plastered to the wall, the concert tickets taped haphazardly above your desk, san's anime memorabilia, his framed pictures of his family, even the smell of the barbecue restaurant at its peak hours just a floor below you wafts up from the open window. it's dark out. the sounds of traffic and drunken laughter joins the scent of searing meat. it's too many sounds and smells you haven't experienced in a long, long time. it's overwhelming. even in the sanctuary, surrounded by more people than you've experienced while alone, the world was quieter than this. you can't believe this used to be the norm.

you missed it.

"you're awake."

the voice comes from behind you.

you turn to your other side. nothing hurts, like you expected. the bed creaks under your turning weight. the breeze from the window is chilly. you tuck your feet under the blanket strewn at your feet.

lying there, staring at the ceiling, is choi san. he's younger, and his hair is red, like Before. it's what you remember him as, though it's clearer than ever. you'd done a wonderful job at forgetting him you think, over the years. you study the sharp planes of his face, the curve of his strong jaw, the high cheekbones, the faint dimple, and you whisper, "was that all a dream?"

it was a long dream, and a horrible one, but you truly hope it was just that.

san shakes his head. he turns his head, so his cheek presses against the pillow, and he appraises you slowly. he says, "no it wasn't. it isn't."

you're not even disappointed.

"and i'm here because...?"

"it's a safe place, i guess," san looks around, from your posters to your chair piled up with clothes, to san's gaming set up on the desk, screen still open though the laptop is asleep. when you follow his gaze, you remember how thoroughly entangled he was in your life Before. he says, "though how our shitty apartment is a safe place is beyond me. you were never one to think big, huh?"

"huh," you let out a small laugh, "even in my head, you're kind of a dick."

san laughs. you join him, when you suddenly feel a sharp pain at the back of your head. you groan, clutching your head.

san sighs, presses a hand to your head, over your hand, and he murmurs, "hey, it's okay. stay with me."

then the pain starts to grow, and it's like there's a fire spreading through each one of your nerves. it surges in your head first, before it fires through the rest of your body. san gathers you into his arms, and shushes you, and it's the first time anyone's really held you in a long, long time despite this not even being real. you melt there, and you cling to him as the fire grows in your limbs, in your blood.

he says, "talking helps. to ease the pain."

you don't want to talk, you don't want this pain, but you find yourself saying, "if this isn't real, can i admit that i've never let you go? because - ow, fuck - because it feels like i'm dying right now, and maybe i can admit this to someone at least."

san strokes your hair. he speaks against the top of your head, his voice low, quiet, gentle, "this isn't real though. you're not admitting this to anyone but yourself."

the next surge of pain has you drawing your knees up and curling up. you gasp, "maybe that's the point, that - fuck - that i'm going to die trapped in my head while whatever-the-hell crawled - shit - into my head takes the wheel."

you think maybe admitting it to yourself, at least, will let you die in peace. no one else needs an admission from you. no one else deserves it.

san leans back and presses his hands to either side of your face. he holds you steady as he looks you in the eyes, and he says, "fight it. please."

it's ironic almost, that he is telling you exactly what you told him. your breathing comes out ragged, broken. you shake your heads, unable to even gasp out the i can't. you feel like that thing is crawling all over you as you look at him.

his face morphs into your mother's, and at any other time you would have found it hilarious, but here and now, it has you stuttering. the pain seems to subside with the kindness in her eyes that you've long forgotten. how could time be so cruel to make you forget that too? this was your mother before the crazed dark eyes, before watching the light leave her eyes because of you. she murmurs so gentle, so full of a warmth you'd been craving for so, so long, "you can."

you're nodding, and the tears won't spill but they're there, welling and stinging and making your vision blurry. you missed her. despite the pain, despite everything, you are home again. even for a moment.

she brushes the tears from your face, nodding, "you will."

the room turns dark, as if a storm cloud has fell over everything. you look up, and through the open window, darkness skitters in. at first it's one, then its five, then it's more and more, until dark spider-like things are crawling through the window in droves. they creep across the floor, up your bed, your blanket, and your feet burn at the touch.

beady eyes meet yours, but you don't know where it's from. you don't know anything.

you want to scream at him, and you wish this wasn't happening over the fucking radios, that you could look yeosang in the eye before you punched him. necessary?

but he still has his finger on the button, so you can't interrupt, no matter how much you want to.

yeosang murmurs, "i did hate you a little bit, but i'm not a monster. the stuff about avoiding the orange flags was true. i hoped you'd get out of town by some stroke of luck. but you didn't. the plan was to have you taken by the sanctuary, and when hongjoong recognized the knife, he'd target you so you wouldn't want to stay. you...you would do whatever we wanted to get out of there. i wasn't sure if you'd keep the radio, or even put the batteries in, so i know a lot of the plan was based on pure chance, but somehow it worked. some-fucking-how, everything fell into place perfectly and it worked. when i heard your voice, i felt...sorry, y/n. you have to believe me. but, for the first time in years, i finally had an opportunity to find my friend and get him the fuck out of there."

every word that comes out of his mouth adds fuel to the fire growing at the pit of your stomach. the ache in your chest is an added pain, just more tinder to the fire, because you thought the two of you were allies, at the very least, and here he was, telling you that he was willing to sacrifice you for his goals. here he was, telling you all this as if you'd somehow agree with his stance just because he wanted to save a fucking friend of his.

standing here, with the chair you'd always sat on acting a barrier between yourself and san, with the radio clutched in your trembling hands - trembling not because of fear, but because of anger and disappointment, so much fucking disappointment - and the urge to scream, the anger inside only grows and grows, until you're afraid it will consume you whole and you will become a raging, unrecognizable beast because of it.

"let me get this straight." you bite out, "you set me up to get kidnapped and you made sure i'd be targeted by giving me that knife, just so you could jump in and pretend to be my fucking saviors. all because of what? because you found someone to unknowingly do the dirty work in saving a friend who you abandoned in this fucking shithole?"

this time you laugh, cackle really, and you have to press your fingers to your mouth to keep it from turning truly crazed.

you say, "what if i died in the process? would you really have felt sorry, yeosang, if the person that has been haunting your stupid fucking relationship for years just so happened to drop dead while doing all your dirty work?"

san visibly winces at your words, but he doesn't say a thing. he doesn't say anything and that pisses you off more.

yeosang says, "yes, i would have been sorry. i'm not a monster."

"as i listen to this fucking plan of yours, i'm finding it really, really hard to believe that."

yeosang groans, "it's fucked up. i know. and this isn't an excuse. i'm genuinely sorry you had to get caught in the middle of it."

he's making it sound like you chose to get caught in the middle. your palms hurt with the pressure of your nails digging into the soft flesh there.

"i saved your lives," you say, "i kept your bunker location from hongjoong because wooyoung told me he hurt you, to the point where you came out of there a different fucking person. i kept your fucking secrets because i didn't want that to happen again. i bet," your voice falters, your throat closing in realization and horror and frustration. you clear your throat, say, "i suppose you knew i'd cover for you, huh?"

"i figured you were that kind of person when you didn't drop mingi and run."

the resignation in his tone makes you wince. you look at san, and watch as he closes his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped forward.

"i should have left you both to die that night." you say, and san's eyes snap open. you continue, tone vindictive and mean and only a quarter of the fury inside of you, "i guess the only good thing about all this is that i still have the chance to make sure you do die, right? though hongjoong's going to make it a lot worse than those aliens ever could have."

yeosang's voice still echoes as he speaks, but his tone is a hint more desperate. that feeds the fire, strokes it in a way that would have horrified you before you'd entered the sanctuary. now you're so tired and angry, you find the desperation satisfying. deserving. you want him to grovel. yeosang and wooyoung and mingi. yunho, too. and as you look at san, the way he stares at you with wide, surprised eyes, you want san to grovel too.

"y/n, please." yeosang pleads, "i know i fucked up, but san caught onto the plan a few days later. he knocked some sense into me, and i realized that what i was doing wasn't fair. especially when you were - you were apologizing to me, when you shouldn't have been sorry at all. san was so fucking pissed when he found out that he immediately decided he'd go in after you. he wouldn't listen to any of us. he's in there to get you out, and knowing he's out there... i just - i know i was an idiot for ever throwing you under the bus. it's just - if you tell hongjoong and seonghwa, they're going to kill him, y/n. they're going to kill san."

a part of your heart still twists at the thought, but the angrier more vindictive side of you shuts that down quickly. yeosang only cares about san's wellbeing. not yours. he only realized the danger he put you in, because san is in the same environment and he's realizing the consequences of actions entails san possibly getting hurt. yeosang does not care about you, or your wellbeing.

"oh," you laugh, regarding with contempt. you sound like you're ten seconds away from a breakdown, your cackle too loud, too hollow, "well, that's too fucking bad. should have thought about that a long time ago. what did yunho call it? a contingency plan? should have worked that out first huh?"

you step around the chair, and san steps in front of you. you ignore yeosang, wooyoung, and yunho's voices drifting through the radio, similarly desperate, worried, for san. not you, just san.

as you stare at san, everything else seems to fall away. for a moment, everything is choi san, wholly and fully, and you vision flickers between a young san, with betrayal in his eyes as you'd told him to get out, as you rounded on him, smacking his chest, and you'd bit out, get the fuck out. everything is that night, and your breathing comes out jagged, your chest tight. the present san exhales softly, but the sound is just as jagged as the feeling in your chest, in your heart.

you snap, "move."

"y/n, please." san's voice is calmer than yours, quieter. it makes you want to scream.

"get the fuck out of my way."

san closes his eyes, briefly, before opens them, determination brightening his eyes. he says, "the friend yeosang and mingi wanted to save is jongho, y/n."

that makes you falter, your fingers loosening slightly around the radio. so jongho's friend, the one he mentioned you reminded him of. it's yeosang. it has to be yeosang. your heart pounds, and you're still so fucking angry, but you get it, the desperation to save someone like jongho from the likes of this place, from the wrath of seonghwa and hongjoong. would you have thrown a stranger, an ex of your significant other who only ever created problems in your relationship despite never meeting them, into harm as a way to save your friend? you want to say no, but you don't know what you'd do if you were truly in such a situation. besides, you'd spent more time in the sanctuary worrying over jongho then you should have. the two of you are going to escape to the other side of the country, for fuck's sake. in that moment you find yourself in yeosang's shoes, and you despise that you get it. you understand him.

a wave of deep, deep sadness washes over you, your fist shaking at your side. you'd heard once that anger is a secondary emotion, one that had sadness or fear lurking beneath its depths. you never really understood that, until now. what the hell has this world come to?

still, despite understanding his motives, none of this okay. this is not okay.

"so what?" you stare at san, "you think that's a good enough reason for this?"

san shakes his head, his jaw ticking, "look, y/n. i didn't know - i never thought yeosang would do something like this, if i'm being honest. i caught him talking on the radio with you one night, and i lost it. i just...i know i've been an ass to you before in the bunker, but this was a level of low i couldn't get behind. i got myself captured, so i could make sure we got both you and jongho out in one piece."

"why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"i don't - i didn't think it mattered as long as i got you out. i thought i could keep the peace somehow, and protect - "

"oh fuck off with that," you roll your eyes, trying to sidestep him. he only blocks your path. you look up at him, "lying to someone isn't protecting them."

"i never lied. i just -""

"all you've ever done is lie to me!" you interrupt, voice raising, "even Before. you spent years telling me you loved me, only for you to admit you never fucking meant it. you didn't even like me. you," your voice cracks, but you power through, "you barely even tolerated me, san. you said it yourself. you were my first love, and i was nothing to you, and now this? all you ever fucking did was lie and break my heart. i can't believe you think you've changed. you're the same as you've always been."

"your -" san blinks in surprise, "your first love?"

rage bubbles at the pit of your stomach as you blink back tears born of both frustration and disbelief. your stomach curls into knots, and you feel nauseous at the feeling as you ask, "how is that a fucking surprise to you? how?"

"i never meant any of what i said that night!" san drags his hands through his hair, tugging at it, his eyes alight with a million emotions you do not care to decipher. "for months and months you refused to show me any affection. you never even said that you loved me. for years, i got nothing from you! and i get it now, that the two of us had a lot of shit to work through, but you couldn't even say it, y/n? not even once?"

his voice cracks on the last sentence, lilting up and trailing off, and the tears in your eyes well at the reminder coupled with the glassy shine in his eyes.

you'd spent so long trying to forget your relationship with him, and with the end of the world and wandering as a ghost, you'd succeeded. you were bad at expressing your affection, always avoidant, unable to really voice much, always forgetful of anniversaries, and san was too much to you. too attached. you loved him so much, but the attention was overwhelming and stressful, and you often worried you were not enough, so you tried to step away first, so he could turn around and tell you he was sick of you first. he never did that, though. instead, he started trying to make you jealous. at first it was meant to be a one-off thing. that was the only time either of you talked about it, because san's tactic worked a little too well and, out of jealousy, you'd reacted and finally showed san the attention he wanted. afterwards, you'd laid with your heads close, your fingers threaded through each others, and your legs tangled, a heavy silence between you, and you said, can we talk about it next time? instead of doing all this? and san had agreed.

but that agreement fell through very quickly. why wouldn't it when san's tactics elicited immediate responses? it was easier than talking. it was a quick solution.

but you both fell into a cycle of anger and jealousy and the type of relationship that was far from healthy. the worst part was, neither of you ever talked about it after that first time. you fought and made up and pretended like the two of you were perfectly fine. you truly believed your actions were enough. that san would understand that your cutting fruits for him, and folding his laundry when he had a long day of work and classes, and making his favorite dinners every once in a while, and leaving him handwritten post-it notes wherever you could just to see him smile softly at them, was the embodiment of actions speak louder than words. you always thought he just knew you'd loved him. you never truly realized that you never told him you loved him back.

"i thought," your fists loosen and your heart is a heavy thing in your chest, weighing you down until you have to dig your heels to keep from sinking, "i thought you knew."

san shakes his head, rubbing at his unshed tears as he looks away. the silence stretches on much too long.

then san says, "it doesn't matter anymore. back then i was stupid and young and i wanted to hurt you as bad as you were hurting me. i know, god, i fucking know i fucked up that night, y/n, and i regretted what i said."

"then why didn't you say anything?"

"you told me not to come back," san blinks at you.

you stare right back. you did tell him that. you'd hoped he wouldn't listen, but he did. for once, he did.

san continues, speaking slowly, "but please believe me when i say that the minute i found out what yeosang planned for you, i only wanted to get you out of here. i promised you i'd get you out, and i'm sticking to that promise."

"why?"

"what do you mean?"

"you had no problem leaving me tied up before sunset when you and your friends robbed me," you frown, "but you came in after me this time. is this because of guilt?"

"i thought if i left you there, i'd never have to see you again. seeing you again...it scared me."

"why the hell would it scare you?" your fingers clench around air, "i was the one who was robbed."

"i'm sorry, y/n." san frowns, "it's just...it's because" - he clears his throat - "because i care about you. i still care about you. i thought i stopped, but i saw you again and it just. it set me back to the very beginning so easily. i thought you'd get that by now."

your heart races in your chest, and this time out of a completely different emotion. he'd said he didn't care about you so often, you truly believed it. you want to be unsure if he means it, but the way he's looking at you, with sincerity flooding his dark eyes, and his gaze heavy on yours, your gut tells you that for once he is not lying.

but you are not in the right space to dissect how that makes you feel. all you can think about is the fact that he lied in the past, that all that is in the past, and in the here and now, his actions have hurt you. him telling you this, after he spent so long shooting you down, brings an ache to your chest you can't quite name. all you can wonder at is how difficult it is for the two of you to just be fucking honest with each other. it's like you're both incapable of it.

"no," you shake your head over and over, stepping back from him, not realizing that he's drawn closer until you pull yourself out of the bubble that is choi san, "no, san, no. you don't get to do this."

your voice crumbles with each word, and you hate it. you hate the way he looks at you, with the softest of eyes, with a visceral sadness that settles under your skin and makes a home there.

he lifts a hand, as if he wants to touch you, but then he drops his hand. he murmurs, "do what?"

"make me feel bad for being angry. pull me back in when you spent so long being so...so mean," your voice cracks on the word, because he's been worse than mean, but somehow you can't get yourself to say anything but that. you say, "you can't act like you haven't been withholding information from me all this time."

"i told you before, y/n," san drags his hand over his face, "i can't choose between any of you. i can't choose sides."

"if you think being honest with me is choosing sides," you exhale, "then i'm fucking done here."

you try to shove past him. he grips your elbow, dips his head, says your name in a way that makes a small part of you want to stay, while the angrier part of you wants to scream and scream and scream. he says, "y/n, please."

san's touch is light, one you can easily shake out of.

you look down at his hand, and you think shake your head, over and over and over. you say, "no."

san sighs, "whatever you do next, it's going to end badly. please just consider that at least."

you find you don't care.

you keep your eyes locked on him as you bring the radio to your lips, and you say, "yeosang, i'm telling jongho everything you've done, and he can decide if he wants to see you again. i like to think he won't. either way, fuck every single one of you."

it feels a bit like a goodbye, and you really hope it is.

you push the radio into san's other hand, before looking down at the the hand still holding your elbow. you look back up at him, and say, "let me go."

slowly, he retracts his hand. it reminds you of when you told him not to come back and he listened. you're not sure how you feel about it, but your stomach still curls with a mixture of rage, disappointment, and resignation. san's dark eyes flicker over your face, and his lips press into a thin, determined line.

if he was going to listen to you, if he didn't come back back then, then you figure he'll do the same now. and, maybe, he doesn't deserve this. he doesn't deserve any type of closure on your part, but you can't help it when you look him in the eyes and you say, "you need to let me go this time."

you say it like he's the only one who couldn't let go. like you hadn't kept his radio in your room for years and years. like you didn't feel something right now, despite every thing that's happened. he's your first love, though, and those never truly leave you. it's easier, now, you think, with the fire inside you fueling your every decision.

you study his expression, repeat, "let me go."

san's eyes are glassy, his mouth set in stone, his fingers curling into fists at his side. but he nods. he nods.

most importantly, he does not try to stop you when you turn and leave.

~.~.~.~.~

you make a beeline for the warehouse where jongho is working his nightshift. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as they always do when you're walking the grounds under moonlight, but this time you can't focus on anything but talking to jongho and getting the hell out of this place once and for all.

as you walk away from san's room, from the radio, and yeosang, as you process the gravity of the betrayal you've faced, you know you were better off wandering alone. at least this time, you'll have jongho as a companion, though you're unsure if he'll stay with you. he may go back. to yeosang and mingi. that thought makes your heart clench. monsters aren't born, they are made, hongjoong said. you're starting to understand what he meant.

you slip into the warehouse, but when you get to the desk jongho usually occupies, no one is there.

the warehouse is quiet, eerily so. no screams, no metal banging, no crickets chirping, nothing.

"looking for someone?"

hongjoong's voice sends shivers down your back. you spin on your heels, backing up immediately until your the back of your knees hit the desk.

hongjoong leans against the hall, blocking the way you came in, his arms crossed over his chest, his grin all teeth.

hongjoong lifts a hand, and wiggles an object in the air, dangling it in front of his face. for a moment, you can't tell what it is.

then you realize it's the radio. your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. did san...?

"i don't know what -"

"cut the bullshit," hongjoong says, smile dropping from his face, "i know you've been talking to mingi since you've gotten here. i wouldn't have expected any less from you, really. so we're going to either do this the hard way or the easy way. your pick."

monsters are made, you know. and maybe you left your last bit of empathy behind when you told san to let you go. you say, "if you want information on mingi and yeosang, i can give you that. you were right. they're liars."

hongjoong raises a brow, but the grin comes back brighter than ever. he says, "ah, i wasn't expecting this so soon. i thought i'd have to pull out at least a few fingernails before you started talking."

hongjoong raises an arm, waving you forward. you follow him. he drops his arm over your shoulders as you two walk out of the warehouse and back under the moonlight. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, from both hongjoong's heavy arm and the things in the sky above.

he leads you across the courtyard, through the laundry field, and towards one of the guard towers. hongjoong doesn't say a word all the while.

you try to duck out from under his arm, but he is heavy.

you say, "where are we going?"

hongjoong grins, and under the moonlight, the planes of his face is longer, shadows drawing exaggerated, jagged lines that bring chills down your spine. hongjoong leans close, mouth inches from your ear, and he sing-songs, "to see seonghwa."

just as you're coming up on the entrance to the guard tower connected to the wall, the metal door closed tight ahead of you, you ask, "where's...where's jongho?"

hongjoong chuckles, and it echoes around you, "he picked the hard way."

then hongjoong shoves you forward so hard you stumble onto your knees. you look up when you hear the clang of metal. the door swings open with a resounding thud.

it isn't seonghwa who opened the door, or even san, as a part of you dreaded.

with his head tucked and his eyes averted, jongho holds open the metal door. hongjoong crouches next to you, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulls your head back, back, back, until you're looking past jongho, looking up, at the stars and the moon and white things floating in the sky, just hovering in one place. not quite moving.

and as you walk out of the library, juggling a sloshing bucket in one hand, and a spray bottle and dirty rags in the other, you freeze in place at the sight of san leaning next to the door to the library. the library used to be some sort of shed, separate from the main compound where the closet of cleaning supplies sat, and the protruding roof keeps you both covered from the rain as you blink at him. it must have started raining while you were immersed in scouring the pages of the book. you want to ask why san is waiting for you, but an old umbrella with one side bent and lopsided is at his side. you can hear the shouts of the other sanctuary members as they take cover from the rain. there's laughter. giggles.

san pushes himself off the wall, uncrossing his arms, his hair tickling his eyes. it's much too long now.

"it started raining, and mrs. kim told me bring this for you," san says, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds out the umbrella. it's always mrs. kim.

you blink at the umbrella in question. you look up at him and say, "it's broken."

san scoffs, rolling his eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. he steps closer, still holding the umbrella handle out for you, "just take it. she let me out early specifically for this."

"what does she think this is? a drama?" you mutter.

this time san laughs, and it's not soft or controlled. it's the kind you remember from long ago. you'd forgotten how contagious it can be. and how loud. it echoes over the sound of steady rain.

"she misses her shows," he says with a snort.

"they all do," you say, pointing with your chin across the field, under the dining hall overhang where a lot of the sanctuary members are taking refuge from the rain. some of them are blatant in their staring.

san waves at them, and everyone seems to immediately turn away or even walk off. you can't help but laugh, and san glances over at you, the small smile still there.

then he cranes his neck, peering up at the sky - something you have yet to feel comfortable doing due to those things hanging around in the sky, though when it's raining it's harder to see them and easier to pretend they were never there in the first place. he says, "let's head in before the rain gets worse. here" - he plucks the bucket and rags from you, fingers brushing yours, and his gaze flickers to the book in your hands before he pushes the umbrella into your hands. he leaves the book - "let's put these away first."

your heart jumps a bit at the way he so casually helps you - when he used to work laundry duty , he'd just laugh at you as you stumbled under the weight of all the laundry and breeze right past you - but you ignore it, instead opening the umbrella and focusing on keeping you both covered from the rain. for a moment, the steady pit-pat of the rain and your squelching footsteps in the mud is all you hear.

the tall grass tickles your ankles, and no doubt you'll have mosquito bites all over any exposed skin by the end of this, but the smell of earth and rain is comforting despite all that.

you come to a halt, and san stops after a moment, shuffling back under the umbrella so he doesn't get rained on.

he tilts his head at you, questioning, curious.

you say, "did mingi ever tell you anything about chaeyoung, uh, hongjoong's sister?"

you don't know why you're asking him. he's made it clear he won't divulge any of his friend's secrets.

you expect san to go steely, to close off or shut you down immediately, but he just purses his lips, readjusting his grip on the cleaning supplies, before he says, "mingi never said much about her. he...he doesn't like talking about it."

"what if i asked him?"

the rain starts to really pour now, your shoulder getting wet. san's is too. this umbrella is terrible.

san sighs, says, "he doesn't talk, y/n. he only really talks to a few people, and even then it's not much."

you just nod, making a move to walk.

after a moment, san tugs on your elbow. you let him pull you to a stop. he asks, "why are you asking?"

"this is hers," you say, waving the book.

san stares down the title of the book for a long moment. the rain drones on and on, before he says, "did seonghwa say something to you?"

that makes you pause, "do you...know something?"

"it's complicated."

"everything is fucking complicated with you," you snap.

san sighs. you start walking faster, yanking open the doors to the hall that holds the cleaning supply closet. the hallway is empty, no doubt because everyone's already at dinner. you shove the soaked umbrella into san's hands as you take the cleaning supplies, ignoring his small whine of protest at getting wet. you put away the cleaning supplies without looking at him. your hands, though, are shaking.

"why are you asking about chaeyoung?" san's voice is low, concerned, behind you.

you shrug, gripping the door so tight, your palms hurt a bit. "i worry sometimes that i'll end up like her."

there's a small pause, before san says, "that's not going to happen."

his voice is still low, but it's adamant. firm. stubborn, even, you'd say. he speaks like it's fact, and with the way things are going nothing regarding your lives is fact anymore. it's unrealistic for him to think otherwise. it's making a promise he can't keep, and god have you had too many of those with him.

you sigh, turning to finally face him as you shut the door. you say, "there's something off about seonghwa, san. i don't know what it is."

"maybe it's the power trip," san mutters, rubbing his wrist.

"maybe," you say, but you don't think it's just that.

before san can respond, the doors to the indoor dining hall open up and people start spilling out, chatting and laughing as they do. johnny spots san, grinning between you both.

"we missed dinner," you frown.

san says, "i can get us something for tonight. if you're still hungry."

"they only ever have desserts and alcohol at the shipments, so yeah," then you pause, and ask, "but if you steal food and get caught, you're definitely going to lose a hand."

"i'm not stealing anything," san rolls his eyes, "guards can get food whenever since so many of us have weird hours."

"i forgot you were doing that," you say, "you get access to the kitchen?"

"no," san shakes his head, heading towards the doors, and you match his stride. the rain stopped, but the air is heavy, humid, and hot, and you grimace at the deep footsteps in the muddied path leading towards the shipment. "there's a warehouse separated from the compound out past the towers behind the laundry field. i think it used to be the officer's quarters back Before so that's why it's separated from the rest of the jail."

that's where the food comes from. that's where they go when they drive their trucks out. it has to be. though you can't help but wonder where the hell they find the food to fill the warehouse.

san pauses, frowning down at you. he searches your face, and he must be able to see something because he narrows his eyes and asks, "why are you asking?"

you don't tell him that how if you find a way in there, you and jongho can get food, a car, and get out. a part of you feels bad about that, because despite everything you shouldn't leave san behind here. it's not right. but a more spiteful part of you reminds you that san has been lying to you nonstop. that he's withholding information from you, to the point where it's become blatant and normal between you two.

you say, "we can escape that way, can't we? i doubt they have too many guards in the inside. they'd want to keep people out, not keep people in, like they do here in the main compound. we could use it as a way to sneak out."

san shakes his head, and the movement is quick, sharp, "no."

you frown at his quick retort, "what? why not?"

"that's not -" san bites the inside of his cheek, "like you said, they want to keep people out over there. getting in is going to be a shitshow."

"that's where you come in."

"let's just stick to the original plan."

"you mean the one you didn't even tell me much about?"

san huffs, but he doesn't respond, looking away instead. you avoid puddles as you walk, and the two of you stew in silence the rest of the way.

~.~.~.~.~

hongjoong takes a seat straight across from you in the little viewing half-circle. every time you look away from seonghwa and his nightly speech, you catch hongjoong's gaze. his lips are pressed into a thin line, and his eyes are narrowed, and your heart does not stop slamming against your ribs at his presence.

san is elsewhere - likely building rapport with the other guards somewhere - and you're not sure why you look for him first, when hongjoong's presence brings you such anxiety. you're lying to him, and planning an escape without him. you shouldn't be looking for him anymore.

but hongjoong doesn't make a move to approach you, so you keep your eyes locked on seonghwa, and later the shipment. you ignore hongjoong as best as you can.

tonight's shipment is just one man. the man who haunts you sometimes, the one who's friend punched him, who hongjoong looked onto the two men fighting with absolute glee as he explained the consequences of a physical fight, who lost his hand too for fighting back. funny, you think, how everything comes full circle eventually.

you leave the shipment early that night, the moment you see people start to head back up the path. you glance back over your shoulder, and san is chatting with seonghwa, seonghwa placing a hand on san's shoulder as he laughs. san smiles, dimples and all. the sight steels you in your resolve then. he has plans, and they are separate from you. he won't tell you what he's doing.

so you'll do the same. you'll act separate from him. you can't believe you spent this long not doing so.

you slip into san's room easily, tucking that extra key away. you shouldn't do this. you have probably half an hour before san comes back. but you're digging under his mattress and pulling out the radio before you can rethink the situation.

you click the button, and call out a greeting.

it takes only a moment for a response. you wonder, sometimes, if they keep the radio on them all the time. you wonder how often san talks to his friends throughout the day. those thoughts run rampant in your head most when you have time to yourself, when you're not doing menial labor and actually have time to sit with yourself and your thoughts. during your errand breaks. when you're alone in your room.

"y/n, please don't tell me he did something stupid again," surprisingly, it's not yeosang or wooyoung who answers you. it's yunho.

"not this time," you say. "san's fine."

there's a long pause. yunho says, "you're calling on your own, and you're early. it must be important."

"are you the only one there?"

"yeah," yunho hums, "yeosang and wooyoung are sorting through their supply run downstairs. mingi's taking a nap upstairs. i was reading. it's just me."

you frown. the amount information he gives you feels...strange, and it's ridiculous because he's telling you very basic details. you drag a hand through your hair at the thought.

yunho's crackly voice cuts through the silence, "disappointed?"

"no, of course not."

"alright," yunho sounds amused, "then i'm all ears. what's so important that you can't say it in front of san?"

that makes you grimace. you take a breath, before you say, "i know the knife isn't wooyoung's."

you'd originally wanted to see their faces as you told them you knew. you wanted to be able to see their reactions in plain view, but with each passing day, you're starting to worry you never will be able to. the image of a slit throat and blood everywhere flickers in your mind, but you shake it away.

you continue, clicking the radio button once more, "i know it's mingi's - which by the way i'm super fucking pissed that none of you told me - so i'm here because i want to know what happened to chaeyoung. i want to know the truth. you said i shouldn't be in the dark anymore, didn't you, yunho? here's your chance."

the silence is a lot shorter than you thought it would be. maybe that's because yunho doesn't have anyone else there to consult, like usual.

"chaeyoung was murdered, but mingi didn't kill her, if that's what you're asking," yunho sighs, "and, for the record, i never agreed to it."

you frown, "agreed to what?"

"having you sent to the sanctuary, of course. i mean san wasn't in on it either, and i doubt he would have agreed if he was, but when yeosang brought up the plan that night, i didn't think it was fair. not to mention, it was rough as hell with too many holes. no contingency plan whatsoever. but i was outnumbered three to one, so i couldn't do much."

you freeze, your heart crawling into your throat. what the hell.

your voice is shrill, even to your own ears as you shakily press the talk button. "what?"

"wait, shit," yunho's voice grows panicked. "you didn't know?"

you press the button quickly, "yunho, don't you fucking dare hang up. explain to me what the hell you mean by sent here."

the silence afterwards is so, so long. he left. he left, and you're sitting there with jumbled thoughts and horror washing over you. your fingers tremble around the radio. you can't even begin to fathom what the hell that meant. how could any of them have sent you here? yeosang made the plan? what fucking plan? what fucking plan could they have possibly made that sent you to the sanctuary? all they did was give you a pack and batteries for the radio and a warning to avoid the orange flags indicating the sanctuary. but what if that was on purpose?

that last thought is a vice-like grip over your heart.

yunho's voice is low, apologetic, filled with static and almost hard to hear. he says, "i thought when san told you about mingi's knife he told you about everything else. but clearly he didn't - i really didn't - y/n, you shouldn't be finding out like this..."

his voice trails off, just as the door opens, just as san slides into the room.

his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, clutching the radio, hunched on his bed.

then yeosang's voice fills the room, "y/n."

his tone is sharp and tired and not at all apologetic enough for you, and it draws an anger out of you you haven't felt in years. you're shaking now, and it's no longer out of fear or terror or what ifs. it's pure fucking rage.

"if you don't explain what yunho meant by a plan to send me here in the next minute, i'm going to hongjoong and seonghwa and i'm telling them exactly where your fucking bunker is. i'm telling them everything," you say as you hold san's gaze, "i swear i will."

as san stands at the door, as you both hold each other's gazes, you know that you mean every single word of your threat.