“I was just wondering, if there was anything I could do to help. That’s all.” Seungkwan stated, now in a more hushed tone. Seungkwan was always eager to lend a helping hand (even more so, Jihoon had decided, when it was clear that a helping hand was unwanted and unnecessary) and make up for the mistake that was still ever-present in his mind.

“No, you’re good. Go check on Seungcheol and Hansol, see if they need anything.”

Despite Jihoon’s cold exterior that was so often found on early mornings, and most times really, Seungkwan and a couple of the others knew that there was something underneath that. Something he was keeping hidden for whatever reason. Not in a ‘he’s going to smother us all as we sleep’ sort of way, just something that Jihoon didn’t want to discuss. Seungkwan desperately wanted to find out what it was – partly out of sheer curiosity, but also because he knew that Jihoon could do with a reason to stop looking at him like he was a stranger.

So Seungkwan went, quietly, out of the doors he’d come in through, and back into the courtyard. Seungcheol and Hansol were on guard duty that morning, so he knew he could find them just inside their block. Seungkwan was set on finding out what he could do to help Jihoon, and so he went with the goal of getting Seungcheol to offer him some guidance. The fact that his best friend Hansol was there was just an added bonus. 

Jihoon sat in what was the reception building for a long time that morning. Unable to find it in himself to get up and join his friends. He often wondered if they were even friends, or rather, if they would have been friends if the circumstances were different. It goes without saying that they would want to be friends with the only person that has more than one braincell, Jihoon supposes. He had practically kept them alive singlehandedly for the last four months. It amazed him that out of the twelve of them – now eleven – that he had been the only one to have a half decent strategy pre-planned in the event of an apocalypse.

But, his strategies hadn’t been perfect.

And that’s why Jihoon found himself making sure there was a reasonable distance between him and the rest of the boys most of the time. He knew it could end in disaster, being so separated from the group, but he’d rather be the budgie than one of the miners.

It was around midday when Jihoon finally got to his feet, and he did another quick check of the glass panels of the doorway and the front of the building (modern architecture isn’t the most ideal for keeping out unwanted guests at this point, but they make do with what they have), making sure that the sheets of newspapers that they had spread across the panes were securely blocking out any direct line of sight. Jihoon was just about to close the rear door of the reception behind him when he heard a faint noise, getting louder. It at first sounded like water rolling down the road that went past the main doors, moving heavy and sluggish as it congealed with the layer of mud and ichor on the concrete. Maybe a pipe burst somewhere? It definitely hadn’t rained anywhere nearby in the last two weeks, so it couldn’t be a flash flood. Jihoon stopped, holding the door to the courtyard open, watching with unseeing eyes as Seungcheol and Seungkwan walked out of their block, deep in conversation, and Chan was sat atop the laundry room roof, eyes closed and head back as he enjoyed the unseasonal April sun.

Jihoon listened. He could hear it draw nearer, and nearer. It was coming down the road, that was undeniable, churning against the concrete, maybe fifty feet away. And then he heard it, the faint echo of dozens of jaws snapping open and closed, teeth chattering together as their mindless owners stumbled and lurched ever forward.

Several things then happened at once:

Chan, momentarily breaking from his reverie, noticed the sound and snapped his head in its direction. From his vantage point he could see at least twenty biters, some fresh and some not so much, shambling in their direction. He glanced down as he saw Jihoon tense and panic spread across his face before it was replaced with his characteristic calm determination. Chan got low on the roof and pressed his body as far as he could into it, aiming to avoid detection.

Jihoon let the door he was holding swing shut, ever grateful for the soft-close mechanism it had and stepped behind the wall to his right. He was hidden from view. He closed his eyes and listened.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan were sat at the far side of the courtyard, and hadn’t heard the approaching threat as they had been deep in conversation. Seungcheol said something that Seungkwan unfortunately considered funny, as he barked out a loud ringing laugh. The chattering of teeth from the herd erupted into a cacophony of moans and damp snarls. The pair of them froze for what felt like too long to be considered appropriate, before they flew from their seats and began running to the tall building on their left.