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All you do, chapter two..

Chapter one is at the bottom of my page!

Warnings~swearing, light gore, mentions of alcoholism and cigarettes.

The hallway smelled wrong.

Not just the sharp sting of disinfectant—but something thicker. Rotting. Wet. Park Hye-jin walked a step behind Ha-ri and Min-jae, her fingers curled loosely around the grip of her bow. The string brushed lightly against her wrist with every step.

No one spoke. Somewhere in the distance, something slammed. Then—

A shout.

They turned the corner fast. Inside one of the bathrooms, chaos. A body thrashed against the floor, jaw snapping, fingers clawing at nothing. Mijin stood over it, both hands gripping a broken mop stick she’d driven straight through its head. Her arms shook with the effort. “Hold it—hold it—!” Jun-seong was pressed into the corner, knees pulled in, eyes wide—useless. The corpse jerked again. The mop slipped. Its mouth opened—

Ha-ri didn’t hesitate. The bowstring snapped tight. An arrow cut clean through the air and lodged into the thing’s neck. It shrieked—A high, broken sound—Then collapsed.

Still.

Silence rushed in. “What…?” Mijin muttered, breath catching as she stumbled back. She turned. Saw them. Ha-ri already had another arrow drawn. “Stop— not us. We’re fine—” Mijin raised her hands quickly, Jun-seong scrambling to do the same. “Not us, jackass!” The string pulled tighter. Min-jae stepped forward, hands half-raised. “Hey— I think they’re okay. Zombies don’t curse…” Hye-jin reached out, placing a hand lightly on Ha-ri’s arm. “They’re okay,” she said, voice low. Ha-ri didn’t lower the bow. “Shoot if they turn.” Hye-jin lifted her own bow beside her—Just in case. “You crazy bitch, we’re fine—” A sharp screech cut through the room. The speakers. All five of them flinched. “Students and teachers of Hyosan High School.” The voice trembled through the static. “I’m Park Sun-hwa, the English teacher.” No one moved. “Something strange is happening throughout the school. Some students are attacking others indiscriminately—so please flee and find a safe place.” Hye-jin’s grip tightened. “And if any student or faculty hears this and is able to, please call the police and the fire department.” A pause—Soft breathing. “Students… hide somewhere safe until help arrives. If you can get out of the school, please get out.” Her voice wavered. “I’ll say it again—some students are…” A sniffle broke through. “Hey… everyone, you’re okay, right?” The five of them stood frozen, eyes drawn instinctively to the ceiling. “You’re not hurt?” “I don’t know what’s going on in here… or how this whole thing happened, but… still, find a safe place and hide.” Her voice cracked. “I… I’m sorry… I can’t help… don’t get hurt, okay? Please… let’s stay alive and meet again. Okay?” The line dissolved into quiet sobbing. Then static. Then nothing.

The bathroom was colder. Quieter.

Too small for five people and everything pressing in on them. “Hey— lift me higher…” Mijin balanced awkwardly on Jun-seong’s shoulders, hands pressed against the window frame.

“I-I can’t go any higher—”

“Stand on your toes!”

“I am—”

“Do you see anything?” Min-jae called, shifting slightly as Ha-ri steadied herself on his shoulders beside them. A pause. Then—

“Oh shit…” Mijin’s voice dropped. “There’s a lot of zombies out there…” Ha-ri tapped Min-jae’s shoulder. “Put me down.” “Okay— careful—” They climbed down slowly, shoes squeaking faintly against the tile. Silence settled again, weighing on them all. “What do we do?” Jun-seong asked. No one answered right away.

“Well,” Mijin said finally, brushing damp hair out of her face, “first… you got a cigarette?” Her eyes flicked to Ha-ri—Then to Hye-jin. “And you? You look like a smoker.” “I am,” Hye-jin muttered, sliding down the wall until she hit the cold floor. “Don’t have any, though.” Mijin clicked her tongue. “Damn.” She turned. “Hey, what about you?” “I don’t smoke,” Min-jae said. “Don’t mess with me.” “I don’t.” “Why are you being rude to an upperclassman?” Mijin shot back, folding her arms. “Wanna die?” Min-jae pushed himself upright. “What the hell do you want?” “Hey— who said you can talk like that to an upperclassman?” Ha-ri cut in. “Watch yourself,” Mijin snapped.

Their voices blurred. Sharp. Pointless. Hye-jin barely heard any of it. Her head rested back against the tile, eyes half-lidded as she stared at nothing. Everything pressed in at once.

The smell.

The noise.

The blood.

Her life, before this, didn’t feel that different. Grades she couldn’t keep up with. Expectations she couldn’t meet. Archery had been the only thing that made sense—clean, precise, controlled. A straight path forward. Not enough. It was never enough. A cigarette a day turned into ten. Drinking came easier after that. If she was going to end up like her father anyway—what was the point in pretending otherwise? Her fingers twitched slightly. She could almost feel the weight of the necklace at her throat. Her mother’s. The only thing she left behind.

Hye-jin swallowed. Her thoughts shifted. Uninvited. Yoon Gwi-nam. Her grip tightened. Was he alive? Was he hiding somewhere like this? Or—

She shut the thought down. Hard.

“—sorry.” Min-jae’s voice cut back in. “No,” Mijin said immediately. “To me, not to her. God, why are athletes always such douchebags?” “Watch your mouth,” Ha-ri snapped.

“You’re really going to fight over this?” Hye-jin’s voice came out flat as she lifted her gaze from the floor. Unbothered. Tired. Mijin exhaled and Ha-ri looked away. The tension dropped—For now.

“We gotta go,” Mijin spoke. “How can we leave?” Jun-seong’s voice wavered. “If they see us, they’re gonna attack us all.” He shook his head quickly. “If you wanna leave, go ahead. I’m not going.” Hye-jin let out a quiet breath, then pushed herself up. “Fine,” she said, her eyes locked onto his. Steady. “But don’t think we won’t actually leave you here.”

Jun-seong froze.

She lifted her bow, letting it hang loose at her side as she stepped past him. Toward the corner—Toward the cleaning supplies scattered across the floor. Mops, Broken handles, Splintered wood. “Make some weapons,” she breathed.

To be continued…

im baek-jeong head-canons..(relationship AU).

Naturally, he’s not expressive; so affection shows up in actions more than words. If he cares about you, he’ll quietly make sure you’re safe, fed and out of trouble.

He’s very protective, sometimes to a fault. He might step in even when it’s not necessary, especially if he senses danger.

Could come off as controlling at times, but it’s rooted in fear of losing people rather than ego.

He’s not big on long talks or emotionally discussions—more likely to say something simple like “did you eat?” Instead of “I care about you”.

Physical affection with him would be subtle—small gestures like standing close, guiding someone through a crowd, or checking in silently.

He experiences difficulty balancing his dangerous life style with a relationship; he might try to keep distance to protect you.

With the right person, he’d slowly learn that relying on someone isn’t weakness—overtime, he’d become more open, not dramatically but in quiet, meaningful ways.

Allen head-canons..(relationship AU).

Remembers random details about you—unnoticed by anyone else. He doesn’t do it on purpose, it’s just something he picked up over the years consuming so much information about tech.

However, he does use it in his favour, often surprising you with things you only mentioned once, or sending you memes related to something you brought up before.

He is 100% a meme warrior..

Relationships feel intimidating and unpredictable to him—unlike code, you can’t debug people. That frustrates him.

He shows he cares through helping you solve your every day problems—as if they are just another code.

He’ll also secretly keep tabs on you, hacking into security cameras when you tell him where you’re going—just in case..

His love language is quality time—he’s completely content with sitting next to you for hours doing his own thing, counting it as “spending time together”. While he’s not big on physical touch, he won’t pull away if you initiate.

He might approach arguments like they’re just another problem to solve. He’ll say things like; “what exactly is the issue?” Or “what outcome do you want?”—which can come off as cold when you just want emotional validation.

When he really cares, he’ll start letting you see what he’s working on—which is actually a big deal. Trusts you with IKFC information he normally keeps locked down.

Not possessive but, he’ll notice patterns: who you talk to, how often you talk to them, etc..he might get quieter or slightly sharper in tone rather than openly jealous. Instead of confronting it emotionally, he’ll try to analyse it.

All You Do, chapter one..

Warnings~nothing too serious, a few mentions of blood, fighting, use of alcohol, and cigarettes.

—flashback—

The wind scraped across the rooftop, carrying the sound of shoes against concrete. She didn’t turn at first. A dull thud followed—then another. Someone groaned. “Please—just stop—” She closed her eyes. If she stayed still, if she didn’t look, it wasn’t her problem. Another kick. Sharper this time. A body hitting the ground. She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes anyway. Three boys circled him. One laughed. Another adjusted his sleeve like this was nothing—like it happened every day. On the ground, Lee Jin-su curled in on himself, arms raised too late, too weak. Their eyes met for a second. That was the mistake. His gaze didn’t accuse her. It didn’t beg. It just… noticed her. She looked away first. Park Hye-jin was not the kind of person who dated. And definitely not someone like Yoon Gwi-nam. The rain came down harder, soaking through her uniform, clinging to her skin. It carried that earthy smell she hated—thick, suffocating—like the ground itself was rotting beneath them. She inhaled anyway. Sharp. Unsteady. Metal filled her mouth. She pressed her tongue to her teeth and tasted it—blood. She must’ve bitten her lip without noticing. Hye-jin lifted the cigarette to her lips, the tip glowing faintly against the grey sky, and took a slow drag. The smoke burned on the way down. Good. It gave her something else to focus on. Another shout cut through the rain. This time, she looked. Lee Jin-su wasn’t on the ground anymore. He moved. Not like before—not like the quiet, pathetic way he usually took it. There was something wrong with the way he lunged forward, something unsteady, almost animal. His arm jerked, grabbing, missing, grabbing again. One of the boys stumbled back. “What the hell—” Jin-su didn’t stop. For a second—just a second—it looked like he might actually win. The rooftop shifted. The balance broke. Voices rose all at once. And then—A hand shoved hard against Jin-su’s chest. Too hard. Hye-jin saw it clearly.

Yoon Gwi-nam.

Jin-su staggered. There was no scream when he went over. Just the sudden absence of him. Everything stilled. Even the rain felt quieter. No one moved. No one spoke. “What—you scared?” Myeong-hwan’s voice cut through, sharp with something almost like laughter. Gwi-nam didn’t answer right away. Hye-jin watched his shoulders rise. Fall. “Not at all,” he said. But his voice caught—just slightly. “I’m not scared.”

—present day—

Park Hye-Jin snaps out of her thoughts at the bus’ screeching tires. Her hand shoots out to steady herself as the vehicle swerves, almost hitting a school girl—she looks familiar—hye-Jin thought. “God, I almost ran her over..” the driver spits, followed by a mumbled question of the girl’s problem. Her gaze snaps to the coach, “people, do you know what happens when you perform like that?” He scans over each of them. “Jang ha-ri, get up” the girl beside hye-Jin stands hesitantly. “Take a good look, she’s your future..” he speaks in a condescending tone. Coach goes onto reprimand her for being a senior without a single gold medal, “forget the nationals if she can’t even make the reserves..” he fixates on her with a question in his gaze, “what will you do, hm?”. He looks over the bus full of students, as if contemplating each of their futures. “Do you know how cruel this field is? The CSAT top one-hundred kids get into Seoul, but you’re top one-hundred in archery; you can’t get anywhere near the olympics…” Hye-Jin looks at her hands in her lap, one half tucked into her sleeve. She’s aware of her circumstances—only nine-teen and questioning what the point of anything is anymore. The thing is, she’s too numb to care—too numb to worry about her studies, too numb to pay attention in class, too numb to care that archery, her only hope, wasn’t her forte anymore. She was good, she knew that—everyone knew that—but it wasn’t enough for a college to want her. The bus tires groan, pulling into Hyosan High; the resonance of glass cracking makes Hye-Jin look up—tilting her head and staring at the cracked windshield as blood coats the centre. The driver curses, “shit. fucking nut…”. Distant snarls are heard when the coach steps out with caution. Each archer scurries to the front of the bus, peering out at the schools courtyard. Park Hye-Jin groans, pushing her way to the front. She gawks at the scene before her when she spots an untamed herd of students attacking each other.

To be continued…