Chapter Text
Blood, sinew, and brain splattered everywhere, coating Joonghyuk’s arms and face. He was already covered in it head to toe, so more didn’t matter—all that mattered was finding Kim Dokja. He kicked the zombie’s head for good measure, letting out some of his frustration on the now dead corpse.
He had thought that this was just a normal world. Just a week ago, he and Dokja were ordinary high-school students living a nice quiet life as best friends and most recently: boyfriends.
But then the world went to shit and Joonghyuk regained his memories the moment his baseball bat collided with his recently turned mother’s head.
Now a week had passed and he constantly lamented and berated himself for not going to the library with Dokja the day the outbreak started. Dokja had insisted that Joonghyuk head to his house first while he went the library since he knew how eager Joonghyuk was to play the new video game series that came out. Joonghyuk had kissed him goodbye and was given an adorable blushing smile before he left.
Everything went to shit so fast; He had just been in his room smashing the buttons of his controller in rapid purposeful succession when the screams started.
It had been a week.
A week had passed already.
A week since he had laid eyes on Dokja’s sweet face.
A week since Joonghyuk had begun looking for him.
Dokja was just as intelligent as he was in past lives, surely he had found a way to survive like the clever rat bastard he is.
Joonghyuk turned a corner, and then his breath was stolen from his lungs. “Kim Dokja.” He managed to croak out, before he started running.
His feet swiftly pounded across the pavement until he finally reached his beloved star and was able to pull him into his arms.
Then teeth were sinking into the flesh of his neck.
“It’s going to be okay, Dokja—I promise.” Joonghyuk whispered soothingly.
Dokja had been looking for him as well, his phone held tightly in his bloodied hand, Joonghyuk’s photo and phone number still prominently displayed on the screen.
He pulled out the gun he had picked up from a mutilated policeman and placed it against the side of his head, lining it up with Dokja’s head which was buried in his neck.
“We’ll go together.”
A gun shot resounded through the street.