The hospital wing was silent except for the faint hum of wind slipping through broken glass. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting fractured shadows across the cracked linoleum floor. The air smelled of rust, antiseptic, and something darker—something that clung to the walls like memory.
You sat against the wall, knees drawn to your chest, exhaustion pressing down on your bones. The world outside had collapsed into chaos, but here, for a fleeting moment, there was stillness. Jungkook sat beside you, his bow resting across his lap, his eyes fixed on the window as though he could will the night into submission.
He didn't speak at first. He rarely did. But his presence was steady, grounding. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, a reminder that you weren't alone, even when everything else screamed otherwise.
"Do you ever think about before?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Jungkook's jaw tightened. He didn't look at you, but his fingers flexed against the bowstring. "Every night," he admitted. "I dream about it. About the stage lights, the music, the fans. And then I wake up, and it's gone. Just… gone."
You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest deepening. "I dream about my family. About my brother laughing. About mornings that didn't feel like survival."
Finally, Jungkook turned to you. His eyes were tired, rimmed with shadows, but there was something in them—something raw, unguarded. "You're the only thing that feels real now," he said quietly. "Everything else is fading. But you… you keep me here."
The words hit you like a wave. You wanted to respond, to tell him that he was your anchor too, but your throat closed. Instead, you reached out, brushing dirt from his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, the silence between you was charged, heavy with everything unsaid.
Jungkook's hand lifted, hesitated, then settled over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. "We'll get through this," he whispered. "Together."
Across the room, Jin was crouched beside your little brother, his voice low and soothing. The boy clung to him, wide-eyed and trembling, but Jin's calm presence seemed to ease the fear.
"Hold the knife like this," Jin instructed gently, guiding your brother's small hands. "Not too tight. You don't want your muscles to cramp. Just firm enough to keep control."
Your brother nodded, his lips pressed together in concentration. Jin smiled faintly, ruffling his hair. "Good. You're stronger than you think. And you're braver than most adults I know."
Later, when your brother's eyelids drooped with exhaustion, Jin hummed softly—a melody that carried echoes of a world long gone. It was tender, fragile, a lullaby against the backdrop of decay. You watched from across the room, your heart twisting. Jin shouldn't have to carry this burden. None of them should. But he did, without complaint, because he knew what it meant to protect.
Your brother curled against Jin's side, finally drifting into sleep. Jin glanced at you, his eyes meeting yours. There was no need for words. Gratitude, sorrow, and unspoken promises passed between you in that single look.
The quiet didn't last.
Jungkook shifted beside you, his body tense. He had been holding something back, you realized. His silence wasn't just exhaustion—it was fear.
"Y/N," he began, his voice low, hesitant. "There's something I need to tell you."
Your stomach dropped. "What is it?"
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the floor. His fingers tightened around the bow, knuckles white. "It's Taehyung," he said finally. "He… he's been bitten."
The words shattered you.
Your breath caught, your chest constricting as though the air had been ripped away. "you told me," you whispered, shaking your head. "but, that's not—he can't—"
Jungkook's eyes glistened, his voice breaking. "I didn't want to tell you. I wanted to protect you from it. But you deserve the truth."
Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless. You collapsed forward, your body trembling, the weight of grief crushing you. Jungkook caught you, his arms wrapping around you, holding you as though he could keep you from falling apart.
You screamed into the silence, the sound raw, jagged. The hospital walls swallowed your grief, but it wasn't enough. Nothing could contain the devastation.
Jin shielded your brother from the sight, whispering reassurances even as his own eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He held the boy close, murmuring promises he wasn't sure he could keep.
Jungkook's voice cracked against your ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
You clung to him, your sobs shaking both of you. The world had already taken so much, and now it was taking Taehyung.
The absence of the others pressed in like a suffocating weight.
Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi, Jimin—gone. No footsteps, no voices, no laughter. TXT too, missing without a trace. The silence was unbearable, hollow. The group felt fractured, broken, as though the apocalypse had stolen not just safety but family.
You searched the shadows, desperate for any sign of them, but there was nothing. Just the distant growl of the infected, echoing through the empty halls.
Jungkook held you tighter, his own tears slipping silently down his cheeks. "We'll find them," he whispered, though his voice trembled with doubt. "We have to."
But the silence answered back, heavy and unyielding.
Hours passed, though time felt meaningless. You sat curled against Jungkook, your body drained, your mind spiraling. Jin remained with your brother, his protective presence unwavering. The hospital wing felt like a tomb, filled with ghosts of what had been and shadows of what was to come.
Every sound made you flinch. Every creak of the building felt like a threat. But the greatest threat was the truth—the knowledge that Taehyung's time was running out, and the others were missing.
You closed your eyes, but the darkness offered no escape. Images flashed behind your eyelids: Taehyung's smile, his laughter, the way he had always been a source of light. And now, that light was fading.
Your sobs quieted into broken whispers. "Why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be anyone?"
Jungkook's hand brushed through your hair, his voice hoarse. "Because the world doesn't care who it takes. But we care. And that's what makes us different. That's what makes us human."
You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to that fragile thread of hope. But the weight of loss was crushing, relentless.
The night stretched on, heavy and unending.
Jin finally coaxed your brother into deeper sleep, his own body sagging with exhaustion. He glanced at you and Jungkook, his expression weary but resolute. "We'll keep moving tomorrow," he said softly. "We can't stay here. Not with the infected so close."
You nodded, though your body felt numb. Jungkook's arm remained around you, his grip firm, as though he feared you might disappear if he let go.
The silence pressed in, broken only by the distant growl of the infected.
And then, as the moon dipped lower, the realization dawned: you might be the last ones left.
The hospital wing had fallen into a heavy silence after your breakdown. Jin had finally coaxed your little brother into sleep, his protective presence a fragile shield against the chaos outside. Jungkook hadn't moved from your side, his arm still wrapped around you, his warmth anchoring you in the storm.
You lifted your head slowly, your eyes swollen from crying. Jungkook's gaze met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His face was close—too close—and you could see the faint tremor in his jaw, the way his breath caught as though he was holding back words.
"I shouldn't have told you like that," he murmured, guilt heavy in his voice. "But I couldn't keep it from you."
You shook your head, your voice hoarse. "No… you did the right thing. I just… I don't know how to breathe without him."
Jungkook's hand brushed against yours, tentative, almost accidental. But he didn't pull away. His fingers lingered, curling slightly, as though testing the weight of the contact.
"You're stronger than you think," he whispered. "Even when you feel like you're breaking."
The words sank into you, fragile but steady. You looked at him—really looked—and saw the cracks in his armor. The exhaustion, the fear, the loneliness. He wasn't just the fighter, the protector. He was human, just like you, clinging to scraps of hope.
Your breath hitched. "And you? Who keeps you strong?"
For the first time, Jungkook faltered. His eyes softened, his lips parting as though the truth had been waiting to escape. "You," he said simply. "It's you."
The silence stretched, charged and delicate. You felt the heat rise in your chest, not from fear but from something else—something dangerous in its own way. Attraction.
You leaned closer, not enough to cross the line, but enough to feel the brush of his breath against your skin. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
But he didn't move further. Neither did you. The apocalypse had stolen too much already, and rushing this fragile spark felt like tempting fate.
Instead, Jungkook squeezed your hand, grounding you. "We'll get through this," he said again, softer this time, almost like a promise meant only for you.
And in that moment, amidst grief and shadows, a flicker of something new ignited—small, fragile, but undeniable.