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The world is ending, and all Jeonghan can think of is Jisoo.
Once, what feels like too many years ago now, Jeonghan used to wish the world would end. Gigantic earthquake that could swallow Seoul whole. Tsunami that could wash away entire towns. Mysterious alien invasion. Terrifying zombie outbreak. Cannibalism. Anything.
Anything that could crush him to bits because, once upon a time, he believed it was all he deserved to be. One day, the earth would crumble, and he would be nothing. He would leave behind nothing to remember him by because his too-big dreams of leaving behind any form of legacy had shattered earlier in the year through the weight of crippling capitalism on his shoulders. His bones would disintegrate in a nondescript coffin somewhere in their local cemetery—his name lost in the sea of thousands and tens of thousands of people that rested there.
And once, what feels like millennia ago now, he was okay with that. With being forgotten.
But when the real apocalypse came, beginning too quietly with the sinking of a small but heavily populated island on the other side of the country, Jeonghan wasn't ready for it.
There were warnings, of course, far too many of them, but Jeonghan hadn’t taken any of them seriously because he didn’t care. He didn’t care about dying, about the earth crumbling, about losing everything.
He ignored the violent vibrations coming from his pocket, rare sounds of their usually too-incompetent government being competent for once. Jeonghan would only hear about the prologue of the end of the world later that night when he would walk into his and Seungkwan’s apartment and Seungkwan would run up to him, eyes wide in worry as Seungkwan shoved his phone in Jeonghan’s face, showing him news clips about the sunken island.
Not a single trace left behind, the news reporter had said. No rubble, no bodies, no nothing. Maybe it had just been sinking all this time, like Venice, and nobody noticed , a comment read. It was chilling, and Seungkwan cried over it.
At the time, Jeonghan had blankly stared at the news, at the words floating as the headline but not quite registering, while Seungkwan called everyone they knew, just in case they or somebody they knew happened to live on the island. Seungkwan had always been better connected, the better person of them both. He had so much life in him, a beauty Jeonghan never held, and everyone loved Seungkwan. As for Jeonghan—he isn’t sure if anyone loved him like they loved Seungkwan, outside of the unconditional love that family had to have.
But then the second disaster came. Then, the third.
A fourth.
Months after the beginning of the end, when the fourth disaster hit the mountains, slowly approaching the mainland from the seas, Jeonghan had thought that it was a little fascinating to think about, how easily things could just disappear like they were never there. The same is probably going to happen to him. The dust that his body would eventually, inevitably turn into would seep into the earth and stay there forever.
Sometimes, there were moments when he’d try and think of it logically. A little moment of denial here and there. Maybe a volcano exploded somewhere, leading to earthquakes, leading to landslides, leading to little towns in the rural areas and valleys being crushed to dust. Maybe some tectonic plates were just moving, crashing continents into each other and wishing for Pangaea, a natural phenomenon, instead of something out of an apocalyptic movie. Surely, the world couldn’t be ending just yet, when Jeonghan was only twenty-seven.
Seungkwan was in denial more often, though, more prone to falling into the silence of the night, staring into space and trying to make sense of everything and failing. Where had humanity gone wrong , he would sometimes say mournfully over a bottle of fruit beer before he’d burst into tears, only a little drunk. Jeonghan never blamed him. Seungkwan was just twenty-four. Jeonghan patted his back and hugged him through it all.
Then the fifth disaster came, the worst of them so far. It’s a little over a year after the first one, but Jeonghan can’t be sure. He didn’t keep count of the months anymore; he found that he didn’t really care enough.
Jeonghan felt a wave of terror run through him for a second there—the first time he’d ever felt genuine fear in a long time—until the worst of the earthquake passed. He was right outside their apartment building. He saw the street in front of him crack into two, watched cars fall right into the gap and burst into flame before he had the thought to go back up to his and Seungkwan’s apartment, holding onto the walls of the emergency stairwell because he felt like he’d roll backwards down the three flights he just climbed if he didn’t. Just so he could check if Seungkwan was okay.
And Seungkwan was okay, thanks to any god out there who still had a milligram of sympathy for the world.
Seungkwan had forced Jeonghan to evacuate when he saw that the high-rise buildings were falling, dragging him by the arm out onto the rooftop and waiting, trembling, for the helicopter that would bring them to the evacuation center somewhere on the city outskirts to arrive. The advisory for evacuation around their neighborhood had apparently come while Jeonghan was walking back up.
Seungkwan packed their emergency bags for them a few months ago under a city advisory after the third disaster, stuffing them with clothes and emergency rations. Seungkwan also put little trinkets and gifts from his loved ones in his bag: a small photo album, a stuffed orange keychain his boyfriend bought him on their second date. Jeonghan doesn’t have many of those, doesn’t have a lot of memorabilia from his life that he particularly wants to bring with him, so his bag is much lighter than Seungkwan’s. Although he does, after a brief moment of thought, slip a few beaded bracelets onto his wrist and tuck a small box of old handwritten letters into his backpack before they leave their apartment for good. He doesn’t look back at the room before they lock the door, though.
Jeonghan offers to carry both their bags while they wait, just so he can be of some use to make up for his uselessness throughout his entire life. Seungkwan only laughs at him and tells him gently that he’s not useless. He refuses to let Jeonghan bring his stuff, even if Jeonghan can see that Seungkwan’s backpack is weighing him down heavily. Jeonghan doesn’t argue. It isn't worth it to fight with Seungkwan over something so small when the world is already ending.
Jeonghan stares out at the remains of his city as the helicopter flies over it. Watches buildings slowly crumble to dust. Stares at the pavement cracked down in the middle, a longer, more giant chasm having opened a few streets down that sucked in cars and people and streetlights and everything . Tries and fails to count the bodies of the unlucky—or lucky, Jeonghan supposes—scattered all around.
He answers his phone when it rings. Calls from his parents. Frantic texts from his sister, who lives halfway across the world in a country with a name that Jeonghan can never pronounce perfectly. They’re still alive and safe in their own local evacuation centers. Jeonghan was beginning to wonder where they were. He’s grateful they called, especially with Seungkwan beside him, practically crying into his phone while talking with his sisters, who seem to have made their way to an evacuation center at a coastal city near their hometown.
He stares down a little more out of the helicopter window, feeling nothing in particular, but he does reach out to hold Seungkwan’s hand while he sobs real tears into his phone. He’s talking to his boyfriend, Hansol, now, and Jeonghan thinks he’s glad that at least Seungkwan has managed to contact his lover, when Jeonghan doesn’t have the courage to dial his not-just-friend, not-exactly-lover, Jisoo.
The last time Jeonghan and Jisoo exchanged texts was a few hours ago, right when Jeonghan texted Jisoo that Seungkwan was pulling his arm to evacuate. Jisoo hadn't replied yet; Jeonghan isn't expecting one anymore, when everything has already descended into chaos.
The last time Jeonghan heard Jisoo’s voice was last night on the phone, before Jeonghan went to bed and Jisoo was telling him all about his day because Jeonghan always liked hearing the soft lilt of Jisoo’s voice. Worked better than a lullaby, even if he never fell asleep while they were talking, because every word that came out of Jisoo’s mouth was interesting to him.
The last time Jeonghan saw Jisoo’s face, whether through a video call or a photo or anything, though, was already almost a week ago. Jisoo had called him out for looking ‘just about ready to go to sleep ’ while they were talking, and Jeonghan laughed because how could he ever fall asleep while talking to Jisoo, when Jisoo’s eyes twinkle even through the low quality of a phone screen and his smile is devastatingly pretty. If they were in ancient times, Jeonghan is sure he would fight wars for him.
But they’re not in the middle of a war in ancient times, so that’s that.
The world is ending, and Jeonghan suddenly can’t stop thinking about Jisoo. From the first time they met on that dating app on a night Jeonghan felt worse than usual, sometime in between the first and second disasters, Jeonghan had never been able to stop thinking about Jisoo. He was always just there, somewhere in the back of his head, really.
But it’s complicated. Of course it is. Nothing in Jeonghan's life ever came easy.
Jisoo is busy. He’s always on the move, as a part of his job that Jeonghan doesn't quite understand no matter how many times Jisoo attempts to explain what he does. The last place he mentioned he was in is a few hours away by high-speed train, a city on the edge of the country that Jeonghan vaguely remembers had been crushed under the earth somewhere around the time of the fourth disaster, alongside the deaths of a few other countries in a farther region.
Jeonghan doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Jisoo in person before he dies, and he’s not even sure if Jisoo is still alive, anyway. He supposes that’s what makes it worse—what makes hearing Seungkwan talk to his boyfriend sting a little—no, a lot.
When was the last time Jeonghan felt so much, when he’s felt little to nothing long before the end of the world even started?
His fingers itch to dial Jisoo’s number, but he closes his hand. Digs his nails into his palms until it hurts but doesn’t bleed. Tightens his hold on Seungkwan’s hand, who briefly glances over at him in curiosity through his tear-streaked face before he’s back to choking out I love you s into the phone. Ignores the way the same words are suddenly on the tip of his tongue when he’s thinking about—
Whatever. Feelings don’t matter anymore when Jeonghan will likely be dying soon enough, and Jisoo might just be dead already, for all Jeonghan knows.
He bites his tongue and waits in silence. In as much silence as he can be, anyway, with Seungkwan crying and the helicopter blades whirring.
The evacuation center is a one-floor town center with a giant empty space out back. Flowers and greens likely bloomed there once upon a time, but now it’s barren land. They’re made to get off in the middle of a dead flower patch, and leaves crunch under Jeonghan’s feet when they get off the helicopter. Seungkwan staggers and it’s Jeonghan’s turn to hold him up and drag him in, following the person who marches them into the building. It feels like she's around the same age as Jeonghan, but there’s a grimness to the set of her mouth that makes her look much older.
The strong smell of gas hits Jeonghan’s nose when they enter, and he can’t help but cough. Seungkwan’s grip tightens on his arm as they’re led to a corner and told where their spaces will be. They can sit there, if they like. Lie down. Stand. Whatever you want, honestly . Apparently, when you’re all at the brink of death, what you do doesn’t matter anymore, as long as you don’t put anyone else in danger. Every man for themself, Jeonghan supposes.
The center is packed. While there are a lot of injured, there are also a lot of medics and volunteers, from how many people are going around, crouching over the injured, running around carrying supplies while others lead more people into the building. It’s a whole flurry of activity, and Jeonghan’s head is beginning to spin. He chooses to sit down in his designated space, clutching the straps of his emergency bag for any sense of grounding.
Jeonghan had always imagined that, when the apocalypse came, he would be one of the first to die, less due to a lack of natural self-preservation skills but more of the fact that his will to live is less than the regular person’s. He had never imagined that he’d be sitting in an evacuation center with a fully packed and stocked emergency bag, regardless of whether it was because of someone else that he’s there and has one.
Seungkwan sits beside him, their thighs pressed together as Seungkwan leans against him. If Jeonghan closes his eyes and ears and imagines hard enough, he can imagine that they’re just sitting at their little table in their apartment, talking quietly over drinks because the walls are too thin, and someone will knock on their door if they laugh too loud. It feels like memories from a past life. A sick sense of déjà vu.
Later, what feels like hours later, Jeonghan jumps up to offer someone else his spot when he notices that there are suddenly too many people coming in and seemingly too little space for them all. He gets turned down. Called a good man, but the offer isn’t necessary as much as it’s appreciated because there’s still plenty of space, even when they all know there isn’t , because this place will soon enough reach its maximum capacity.
Seungkwan tugs him to sit back down and wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders. He’s a warm weight against Jeonghan’s side, always is, and he laughs right into Jeonghan’s ear. A rare sound of something akin to happiness in this place, even when his laugh sounds a little judgmental and he tsk s.
“You have no sense of self-preservation, Jeonghan. Don’t just offer yourself up like that. Where are you going to stay, then? Outside? Where your skull can get bashed in if asteroids suddenly decide to come falling?”
Jeonghan is inclined to agree because, yes , he will sleep outside if he has to. If it means that someone more worthy of a slightly longer life, someone who loves their life more, will have this little cozy spot of floor beside a very lovely Seungkwan in the middle of this overcrowded evacuation center when the earth decides to cave into itself. He can stand outside; he thinks he’d prefer to die alone if he can, thank you very much.
When he says just as much out loud, Seungkwan laughs at him. He’s not taking Jeonghan seriously. He thinks he’s joking, probably. “Don’t be silly. You deserve this tiny spot of floor, Jeonghan. And dying alone would be lonely, wouldn’t it? I don’t want that for you.”
Something hot rises in Jeonghan's throat. He quickly swallows it down and changes the subject. “How’s your family?”
“They’re already in a center. They told me not to worry about them.”
“And Hansol?”
“Hansol is…” Seungkwan suddenly looks guarded. Color seems to seep out of his face. He chews at his lip for a moment. “Well, he’ll be fine.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, he’s just,” Seungkwan sighs, “He went to go check up on some of his friends since me and his family are already safe.”
That intrigues Jeonghan. Then he’s suddenly thinking about Jisoo again, the image of his smile floating to the front of Jeonghan’s brain. He wills it away as much as he can, and continues, “Will he be okay?”
“He better be.”
Jeonghan briefly wishes the same for Jisoo. But he quickly pushes it away because he doesn’t even know where Jisoo is in the world right now, and Jisoo isn’t calling him to check up, either.
Signal is weak inside the center where they sit, so Seungkwan gets up and paces around the room until he finds a spot where the signal works. Even now, he’s still contacting people to check up on them, and Jeonghan trails after him like a lost dog because he doesn’t want to be left alone in his seat. Who knows what he might do then? Call Jisoo?
Jeonghan doesn’t want his singular phone call to cost Jisoo his life in the case that Jisoo's actually too busy running around trying to protect it. From what information Jeonghan knows about Jisoo’s thoughts on the apocalypse, it’s that Jisoo wants to live his life to the fullest before he dies. It’s why he took up that nomadic job, anyway. He’s not just sitting around and waiting for the end like Jeonghan is. It adds to how beautiful Jeonghan thinks Jisoo is. Admirable, really, how much of a fighter he is.
So Jeonghan stands beside Seungkwan like a guard dog and stares down everyone who does a double take at them, while Seungkwan is tapping away on his phone. There’s not a lot of them, though, when the people coming in either look scared for their life, shocked, or are injured. Jeonghan knows him being there won't even make a difference, because he has always been far from being the scariest person in the room, no matter what room he's in. It's more of Jeonghan's hopes and small efforts that Seungkwan will always be left alone to be happy and do whatever he wants, really, than anything else.
At some point, when the sky outside turns a deep blood red, the ground shakes with an aftershock of the earthquake. Everyone drops to their knees, hands over their heads; Jeonghan’s hands move to cover Seungkwan’s head first. He knows this will only be the first aftershock of many. When this one ends and they’re crawling back to their designated spaces, Seungkwan slows down to stay close to Jeonghan.
An announcement booms through the speakers Jeonghan previously hadn’t noticed were there, telling everyone to not panic and stay calm while they check in with the authorities and rest of the world for news about how long they likely have left. Extra emphasis on stay calm . That must mean they really don’t have much time left. How much time do they have? How much time does Jisoo have?
When they’re seated again, far from the signal, Seungkwan turns to him and asks, “Have you heard from your guy?”
Jeonghan tilts his head and asks what guy?, even though he already knows who Seungkwan is referring to. Seungkwan makes an indignant little noise, and Jeonghan can’t help the laugh that escapes him, even if his heart hurts with something other than the desire to die because he’s already— no, he’s still thinking about Jisoo, no matter how hard he tries not to.
Not that he’s even trying very hard.
“I don’t want to call,” Jeonghan chooses to say, “You know how important time is right now. He could be running to somewhere safe.”
Seungkwan looks unimpressed. Tells him, “Just go and fucking contact him. Who knows how long we have left until we’re all dead?”
“What if he’s already—” Jeonghan’s voice cracks in a rare moment of public vulnerability. He swallows, but his throat tastes like dry dust. He coughs instead.
“But what if he’s still alive?” Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. He knows he has a point. He reaches for Jeonghan’s phone from where it was on his lap and shoves it at him. “I haven’t seen you so happy until you started talking to him. Please, call him.”
Jeonghan stares at him, but he eventually opens up Jisoo’s contact, even if he doesn’t press the call button yet. Their last texts stare back at him, this exchange of good night s and sleep well s that shouldn’t have been as long and as fond as they were. Shouldn’t have had so many hearts and shouldn’t have made Jeonghan feel as light as he did when he put away his phone to charge for the night. Jeonghan and Jisoo weren’t exactly anything, anyway, even if it felt like they were already more.
He stares too long at the last sparkly pink heart emoji Jisoo sent him before their conversation ended for the night. It was the only color heart emoji that Jisoo ever used, and Jeonghan found it so endearing. Found that it slightly reminded him of the twinkle in Jisoo’s pretty eyes.
When Jeonghan glances up, Seungkwan is watching him carefully. Expectantly. He wants to shrink back against his seat because the weight of Seungkwan’s gaze is almost as heavy as how Jeonghan’s heart is feeling right now. Jeonghan doesn’t think he deserves this at the end of the world.
But he does deserve a little peace, doesn’t he?
Shouldn’t he?
Jeonghan taps the call button, presses his phone against his ear, and waits. Bated breath. Dry throat. Heart pounding.
The call goes straight to voicemail, and Jeonghan closes his eyes when he hears it. The phone didn’t even ring.
This is Hong Jisoo’s phone. Hi, sorry I can't pick up at the moment, but don’t worry! If you leave a message, then I'll call you back as soon as I can. Stay safe from the apocalypse out there!
Jeonghan quickly ends the call. When he opens his eyes, Seungkwan is still watching him, but his expression has shifted into one of worry. Jeonghan throws his phone against his bag, watches it slide down and onto the floor.
“Voicemail.”
“Oh,” Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and he starts waving his hands around, a little frantic. It’s obvious how he’s grasping for words. “That’s great! You said he’s always on the go, right? That means he’s just not on his phone right now. Or his phone’s battery is just dead.”
“Or he’s already dead.”
Seungkwan doesn’t say anything else, mouth immediately pressing into a thin line. Jeonghan turns away. He doesn’t want to see Seungkwan’s trembling lip, or his eyes tearing up again. Seungkwan always cared too much about people, even the ones he never met before. Of course. He’s a good person. One of the biggest hearts Jeonghan has ever known.
Jeonghan takes a deep breath and looks around at the evacuation center. There are too many people now, compared to when they first arrived. The helicopters must be going around nonstop, trying to save whoever’s left. Jeonghan briefly wonders what will happen to them all now that they’re here. He doesn’t exactly want to live here forever, if he has to live at all.
He spots a large empty spot on the floor a few meters away that Jeonghan is sure was taken earlier, and on some impulse, he moves to get up.
Seungkwan immediately grabs him, “Wait, where are you going?”
“Air,” Jeonghan only says, as calmly as he can, even though his mind is already running again, wondering what he can say to the volunteers he’ll unavoidably have to pass to leave the premises before he runs off to disappear. His heartbeat is suddenly far too loud in his ears, and he has to keep taking deep breaths to steady his breathing.
He doesn’t want to be here, in this evacuation center, just waiting. He wants to be out there in the midst of the world ending.
If he’s waited for this, he wants to watch it happen. Wants to see the earth crack underneath his feet, the walls of the chasm he will fall into. Wants to see the asteroids shoot from the blood sky and hit the ground and explode, and he will explode with it. There are no tsunamis here, when there’s no body of water in sight, but there’s mountains off in the distance. He can see them through the windows. Maybe they’ll fall, and Jeonghan will be crushed under their weight.
Or he could be out there looking for Jisoo. One out of many crazy, crazy things to be doing when the world is ending.
Seungkwan’s grip doesn’t loosen on his sleeve. Maybe he knows this is what Jeonghan has been waiting for, and that’s why he packed Jeonghan’s bags for him, too, when the advisory came. He likely knows full well that Jeonghan truly has no sense of self-preservation, deep down—that Jeonghan would jump into a deep pit if he could, run straight into oncoming traffic, slip himself underneath a giant rock on the verge of falling—no matter how lightly he seems to take Jeonghan sometimes.
Jeonghan turns to meet Seungkwan’s eyes. There’s a mix of concern and sadness and regret in them. Jeonghan isn’t surprised to see it, but it still has his stomach twisting itself into knots. Seungkwan gives a tiny shake of his head; Jeonghan shakes his arm to loosen his hold—
“Hi, sorry, is there space here?”
—and Jeonghan freezes.
And he turns.
There’s no volunteer now standing by them to escort the newcomer, a single man. His jacket is tattered, his hair is standing in a thousand directions, and he’s practically covered in blood, still scarlet and fresh. His breathing is heavy, and he looks like he’s been to hell and back. No sparkle in his eyes, no hint of a smile, but the sound of his voice alone sends shivers up Jeonghan’s spine.
The man doesn’t have anything with him, like how Seungkwan and Jeonghan have emergency bags with them. He’s holding nothing in his hands except for Jeonghan’s heart. He might as well have ripped it out of his chest just like he did with the air in Jeonghan’s lungs, and really, when Jeonghan said air to Seungkwan, he wasn’t asking for it to be just stolen from him—
And yet, that doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters.
“Fuck,” Jeonghan manages to breathe out. His voice doesn't sound like it's his. He feels Seungkwan’s grip loosen on his sleeve, and Jeonghan finds himself scrambling to his feet. “Hi.”
Blood is trickling down from the cut on the man’s forehead again, but he doesn’t seem to care, when he’s only looking at Jeonghan, too. Pushes his hair out of his face. Rubs at his eyes. Like he can’t believe Jeonghan’s here, too, at this tiny evacuation center on the outskirts of a city at the end of the world.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeonghan notices that the man has a bunch of wildflowers shoved in his pants pocket, wilting and sad and missing half their petals but still a little pop of color in this otherwise bleak place that they stand in. The petals that are still hanging from the flowers' centers are yellow. Jeonghan's favorite color is yellow. His chest tightens.
A giant asteroid could come and wipe them all out like it did the dinosaurs, or an earthquake could swallow them all up whole, or the world could spontaneously combust and burn them all to ashes, but Jeonghan doesn’t think he’d care enough to look around to watch the world fall anymore because—
Jisoo smiles, this soft little thing that looks painful for him—it must be painful, from how he winces right after; Jeonghan can’t help but wonder what he’s been through, where he’s been, what he’s seen since they last talked. Even so, Jeonghan still finds Jisoo beautiful even when he looks like death.
“Hi, Jeonghan. It’s nice to finally meet you.”