Title: Cold and Damp II [Dead Seoul]
Pairings: Hanchul, Kyumin, Kangteuk (minor eunhae)
Warnings: Gore, sexual references
Summary: After Seoul becomes infested with the living dead and the government abandons them; it's only natural that they realise hidden feelings in the midst of disaster - but where are Heechul and Sungmin? What happened to Hankyung? Did Youngwoon and Jungsu escape? And is Kyuhyun really dead?prequel 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
No matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, Jungsu couldn’t find sleep. He tossed and turned while Youngwoon snored away noisily beside him. It was the first time he’d slept on a real bed in nearly a month yet it could have been a pallet of straw for all the comfort he was feeling. He sighed into his pillow, rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He’d been so terrified just thinking of what he’d do if Youngwoon tried to make a move on him, but now here he was just longing for a kiss, a touch – anything to show he was still interested. How easily he became insecure, how fast the dark cloud of doubt could gather and thunder away inside his head.
He gasped, shuddered, shocked out of his negative thoughts by a cold hand on his hip, thick fingers dipping beneath his shirt. He felt the bed dip, Youngwoon’s body coming closer, and his hot breath whispering against his neck as he pressed wet kisses to his skin. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Jungsu’s boxers, smoothing over the soft skin of his thigh before cupping a buttock, Jungsu’s back arching at the contact.
The hand left his skin, pushing him onto his side before dragging his body close to the bulkier chest of Youngwoon, his manhood hard against his backside. He turned his face toward the bigger man, their lips locking in a deep, messy kiss. He rolled over, slung a leg over Youngwoon’s hip and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him deeper as Youngwoon’s hands roamed roughly over Jungsu’s buttocks, slowly pulling his boxers down, Jungsu kicking them off.
He pushed Youngwoon onto his back, straddled him, pulling off his shirt before his own. He leaned down for a kiss as he fondled Youngwoon’s boxer-clad stiffness, teasing yet impatient, before freeing it and pressing it to his own. Youngwoon groaned, teeth clenched, eyes feral with desire as the moonlight hit his face and Jungsu felt his heart race, pounding in his ears. In seconds he was on his back, Youngwoon’s lips hard against his neck and chest, leaving bruising kisses in his wake, breaths heavy and fast.
But then came a pause, a silence save for their lungs breathing hard breaths into the darkness, and when Jungsu opened his eyes he saw Youngwoon towering over him, a silhouette in the darkness, two fingers in his mouth slick with saliva, and panic raced through him. ‘No,’ he breathed, fidgeting uselessly beneath Youngwoon’s weight, ‘that won’t be enough-‘
‘It’ll have to do.’ Youngwoon growled, and before Jungsu could complain further his eyes were brimming with tears, his teeth clenched and his muscles tight. A wet finger twisted inside him, a sensation completely alien to him, and he hissed when another was added roughly and without warning. The sensation was disgusting, a world of pain he’d never experienced, and as he looked through squinting eyes he saw the look on Youngwoon’s face, a mask of feral lust. His stomach started to turn.
A sharp whine escaped his lips without his consent when the fingers left him, a sudden gaping emptiness between his thighs from Youngwoon’s hasty preparation, but nothing prepared him for what came next. A blunt hotness prodded against his entrance and his eyes opened wide, his mouth going dry. ‘I’m not ready-‘ he pleaded, but Youngwoon was deaf to his words, in a world of his own. It was all he could do not to scream as Youngwoon thrust inside him in one hard stroke, his entire body tensing as tight as a bow. Youngwoon made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, gasped.
‘Relax’ he choked. How did he expect him to relax? He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, every slight twitch of Youngwoon’s body sending sharp volts of electricity through his nerves. He turned his face away, pressing hard into his pillow and biting it with all his might, his eyes squeezed shut as tears tumbled down his cheeks. As he loosened around Youngwoon he started to thrust, and Jungsu wondered why he'd wanted this so much. This wasn’t what he’d imagined, what he’d fantasised about in the depths of the night, sweaty and tangled in his bedsheets and praying that Jongwoon didn’t wake up. This was hell. What started as a mutual want, a need, suddenly felt like rape. Youngwoon was too lost in pleasure and lust to see Jungsu’s pain, and he could only watch with teary eyes as he groaned on top of him, his fingers digging hard into the flesh of his hips and thighs.
When Youngwoon finished it seemed like he’d been waiting an eternity for it to end. It felt disgusting, his semen sliding down his thighs. He stared into the darkness as Youngwoon rolled off him, and soon he heard him snoring beside him, peaceful, content. He lay stiff as a statue, his insides raw and abused. He didn’t move until the sun came up, pale dawn burning his sleep deprived eyes. Just when he’d thought he’d cried away all his tears, more came, scalding against his sore, tear-soaked skin. He felt cheap, used. He rolled onto his side, away from Youngwoon, staring out of the window at the pale grey sky and he wondered whether staying with him was the right thing to do after all.
The van screeched as they pulled away with haste, leaving the street of mangled corpses behind as fresh zombies started to stumble into view. He stared at Hankyung, saw the tension in his shoulders, and watched his Adams apple bob up and down as he swallowed thickly and nervously. He watched him and started to speak, a quiet voice breaking the silence, in a tone that gave way to no emotion.
‘Every time I touch you I end up tearing you to pieces.’ He saw his jaw clench tighter, his teeth grinding behind his lips. ‘And then I taste your blood and I go crazy. I lose control. More and more… I lose control.’ He didn’t look at Heechul. He continued to stare at the road ahead doggedly, and Heechul felt his blood pressure rising, his hands balling into fists. He flew at him; face inches away with rage ready to roar from his lungs. He wanted to choke him, punch him until he answered him, but before his words could pour from his snarling lips, Kyuhyun came rushing up to them, shouting at Hankyung to stop the van. The Chinese man looked back at him with irritation before returning his attention to the road. ‘Why should I stop? We’re not stopping again until the gas runs out-‘
Kyuhyun pushed past Hankyung, grabbing the wheel. The van swerved violently as Hankyung slammed his foot down on the brakes, making Heechul’s head slam against his window. They screeched to a halt, and Heechul could feel blood on his forehead. When the mist cleared from his eyes he saw Hankyung and Kyuhyun standing inches away from each other, a shared look of fury in their eyes. A vein in Hankyung’s neck stood out taught from his leathery skin. Kyuhyun looked like he had a fever, his jaw quivering as if it was an effort just to stand. Hankyung reached out, grabbing Kyuhyun by the shoulders and roughly shaking him, shouting in his face. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he yelled, ‘Are you trying to get us killed?’
It was odd. Hankyung had always been so calm through everything, his rage made Heechul’s heart race. Kyuhyun swatted the taller man’s hands away as if they burned, gave him a look that could curdle milk. ‘We have to go back.’
The sudden announcement made Heechul stir. ‘Why?’
It was as if Kyuhyun only just noticed Heechul was there at all, and his harsh eyes softened only slightly when he turned to him. ‘There’s two people waiting for me out there – we need to help them.’
Hankyung scoffed. ‘So you’re willing to risk Sungmin’s life to save two strangers? We’re barely a block away from that horde, you’re insane.’ Kyuhyun’s lower lip jutted out like a child throwing a tantrum and he turned his back on them, stalking over to Sungmin with heavy steps. ‘I’ll go without you then.’ He stated stubbornly. ‘We’ll be fine on our own.’ He grabbed Sungmin’s hand roughly and pulled him to his feet. The boy seemed bewildered by the events taking place, his eyes darting from person to person before landing on Heechul, and he could only shake his head in response. He didn’t understand what was happening either. There was tension between these two men he just couldn’t fathom. It was rare that Kim Heechul was lost for words.
Kyuhyun’s hand touched the door, and Hankyung’s eyes bulged. ‘Don’t even think about it.’ Each word was said without emotion, a cold, hard warning. Heechul swallowed thickly.
Kyuhyun ignored his words, twisting the handle. A thin shaft of light spilled onto Kyuhyun’s figure. A click echoed in the small space, mechanical and terrifying. Kyuhyun’s face tightened as he turned to look at Hankyung. A double barrel shotgun looked back at him, trembling in Hankyung’s hands. ‘You do what you want,’ he growled, a spray of spit following his words, ‘but you leave Sungmin behind.’
‘Why do you want Sungmin?’ Kyuhyun asked, ‘What’s so special about him? How does he relate to your plans?’
Hankyung’s finger ghosted over the trigger, tension fell upon them. His lips quivered, desperate to respond, grasping the words he was having such trouble speaking. And then he said it, and Heechul felt dizzy and sick and terrified.
‘He’s the cure.’
When he awoke it was to an empty bed, a cold room and an ache in his lower back. His flesh was covered with goose bumps and he rushed to dress. He stood before the wardrobe mirror, regarding his dishevelled reflection, his fingers ghosting gently over the sensitive, sore bruises on his hips and forearms, the love bites bitten too hard into his neck and his swollen lips. He pulled his shirt over his head and left the room with a hollowness in his belly, a dread at the forefront of his mind.
He walked downstairs, but Youngwoon wasn’t around. He nervously padded further into the living room, the cold laminate floor freezing against his bare feet. He jumped at the sound of something falling, an exclamation of pain following a moment later, and when he turned to the noise he saw the door beneath the stairs propped open. Youngwoon emerged, rubbing his head and cursing under his breath. When he saw Jungsu, his face reddened. He avoided his eyes, stuttered. ‘There’s a cellar,’ he mumbled, ‘if we’re quiet we could hole up here for a while.’
Jungsu nodded, folding his arms and shifting from foot to foot. They stood there in silence for a moment, neither of them making eye contact, before Youngwoon cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry… about what I did. I was nervous.’
He nodded again. He didn’t forgive him. He smiled. ‘It’s fine.’ He lied. He passed him by, dipping his head as he entered the small room. ‘Is there a light switch?’ He asked, peering into the darkness of the cellar, his foot on the first step.
‘There’s no electricity.’
‘Oh, I forgot. Candles?’
They descended in an orange glow, barely seeing two steps ahead of them. He held the candle before him, his other hand grasping at the damp wall for balance. The narrow steps ended abruptly, a foul stench of damp and rot assaulting their nostrils. As he walked further into the darkness he heard Youngwoon’s footsteps close behind, lighting up more of the space. Soon his eyes adjusted, a wide space appearing before him, blackened crevices in the walls from damp, towering shelves of wine lining the walls. A single wrought iron bedframe sat sullenly in the corner of the room, a thin mattress sagging on top of it, a dark stain covering the material. He heard the sound of dripping water, a puddle beneath the mattress. Blood. His eyes followed the dark drops as they lead away across the floor toward a door he hadn’t noticed. He felt dread rise within him, the candle flickering slightly as his hands started to tremble, hot wax dripping onto his skin. A plank of wood was propped against the door handle, bloody prints smeared across the walls to either side. He heard Youngwoon take a breath, and he gave him a hard look, his finger pressed stiffly to his lips.
He saw confusion pass over the bigger man’s face before he came closer, eyes widening as he came to grips with the situation. Jungsu pointed to the door, whispering. ‘There’s someone in there - or at least, something.’
The taller man nodded, mouth open. ‘What should we do?’
Youngwoon looked at him as if he was insane. A second passed, another, before he spoke. ‘What if they’re alive?’ He asked, exasperated. Hearing something so harsh coming from Jungsu’s lips must’ve shook him up. If he was smarter, easier to grasp a situation, maybe he would’ve understood right at that moment that something was horribly wrong. Something about Jungsu had changed.
‘Look at the blood – the mattress. It’s almost fresh. If they’re still alive they’re most likely infected. And if not, then I doubt they’ll be happy to see us barging into their safe house.’ He paused. ‘It’s a matter of kill or be killed.’
Youngwoon swallowed thickly, a feeling of horror resting in his gut. ‘How will we do it?’
‘Take the wood. When I open the door, you bring it down on anything the tries to escape.’
Youngwoon licked his lips. He looked at the door. His mouth ran dry. Click, click, it rattled all of a sudden, the handle twitching faster and faster. The plank of wood shook as the door trembled, and he wondered if this was some terrible nightmare. Suddenly everything seemed surreal; a cold sweat broke out over his body. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
While Youngwoon felt the beginnings of a panic attack, Jungsu felt serenity. He walked to the door, stood beside it. Youngwoon hesitated for a moment before standing on the other side, reluctantly reaching for the wood as Jungsu pushed his weight against the door. He looked at Youngwoon and Youngwoon looked back, the plank of wood raised above and behind his head like a baseball bat in mid-swing. He stepped away from the door, felt the breath leave him as it slammed into him with a force that sent him crashing painfully into the wall. He hit his head, blinked back stars.
When he opened his eyes he was on the floor, wetness against his face and the smell of copper in his nose. He breathed in and choked as liquid shot up his nose. He sat up, coughing. His vision cleared, and he saw a red pool around him, blood on his hands. Youngwoon stood above him, the wood in his hands snapped and dripping. For a moment he thought Youngwoon had attacked him, but then he saw her. A frail, sickening thing. At Youngwoon’s feet she lay, a young girl, eyes rolled back to reveal the whites, veins thick and blue across her forehead and neck. Her fingers were gone, just bloody stumps from where she’d scratched and scraped at the door in her hunger, her terror. He heard a thud, the wood falling from Youngwoon’s hands. His chest rose and fell, shuddering with every harsh breath.
‘She was dead from the start.’ He reassured him, but Youngwoon couldn’t pull his eyes away from the mess of a child that lay at his feet. He stood there, mute, eyes wide with horror. His sweatshirt was bloody, and Jungsu opened the girl’s mouth instinctively, checking for skin or blood. ‘Were you bitten?’ Youngwoon’s eyes had glazed over. He stood, slapped him. ‘Were you bitten?’ He shook his head, his face frozen from shock. ‘Good.’ He turned away from him.
As Jungsu entered the room the girl had rushed forth from, Youngwoon pulled his sleeve down, covering the tiny mark on his forearm where a tooth had scratched the skin. It stung.
He heard his heart thrumming in his ears as loud as a drum as silence resonated between the four of them. He watched Kyuhyun’s face warp from anger to confusion, saw his rage crumble to despair. He could see that Kyuhyun wanted to leave – that he was going to leave no matter what – but there was reluctance in his eyes now, a look on his face of a man with the fate of the world on his shoulders. If he took Sungmin and ran right now, he’d be taking humanities last hope. He frowned, his eyes downcast. ‘Why should that make us stay?’
‘Sungmin could restore humanity-‘
His eyes met Hankyung’s with harsh intensity, his mouth twisting with his words, each syllable uttered with venom. ‘I don’t care about humanity. Neither do you.’ Heechul looked at Hankyung, watched him blink rapidly, his eyes darting between him and Kyuhyun nervously. ‘You want Sungmin for your own reasons.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Hankyung asked numbly. Heechul could tell he knew exactly what Kyuhyun meant.
‘Heechul doesn’t have long left, right?’ He saw Heechul’s eyes widen, Hankyung’s hands balling into tight fists. He laughed without humour, shook his head in disbelief. ‘You haven’t even told him that yet?’
In truth, he’d known it all along. He just didn’t want to believe it. How could he not have known? It was obvious. It was just too terrifying to accept. He felt his stomach twist as a weight settled in his chest. He bit his lip. They were silent, and he could feel anxious eyes on him, eyes of pity and eyes of guilt. Tension passed between the four of them like electricity, and Sungmin’s voice broke the spell with soft, quiet words. ‘Shouldn’t I have a say in this?’
Kyuhyun frowned at him, an almost wounded expression on his face. ‘You’ll die if you stay here.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘As soon as he’s done with you he’ll take Heechul and run. He doesn’t care what happens to you,’ He looked at Hankyung with palpable hatred, ‘you’re just a tool to him.’
Sungmin was still reluctant. Heechul supposed he felt a great weight on his shoulders now, being as Heechul’s own life was depending on whether he stayed or not. ‘You’re assuming things – we should all just calm do-‘
‘We have to go!’ Kyuhyun barked, his hand pushing the handle down. The door clicked, and Hankyung cocked the shotgun, eyes wide and jaw clenched. His hands trembled, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. ‘Get away from the door Kyuhyun.’
‘You won’t shoot.’ Light flooded the van, and Hankyung’s index finger twitched at the trigger. An ear-shattering bang made Heechul gasp, a bullet ripping through his throat as he shoved Hankyung away. He felt blood fill his mouth, hot and metallic, and as his vision blurred he saw Kyuhyun and Sungmin flee. Was he on the floor? He felt heavy. Hankyung knelt beside him, the gun out of sight. He was crying. Heechul felt his lips twitch, a soft, small smile before Hankyung disappeared into a thick treacle-like darkness.
They buried the girl in the back garden. The room she’d been trapped in was a bathroom, every inch covered in blood from where she’d tried to scratch her way out. Jungsu stood with the shower head, watching the redness swirl as it drained away down the plug hole. Youngwoon brought the necessities down, spare clothes, the double mattress, some snacks from the truck, candles and anything else he could find. The food in the house wouldn’t last long, near everything had perished when the electricity had cut out. Only the tinned foods and nuts and ramyun had survived - it would last them a month at most. Jungsu wasn’t planning on staying that long anyway. He could hear Youngwoon making a ruccus upstairs as he moved all the furniture to barricade the front and back doors. They’d have to keep going up and down stairs to cook food, but it was still a good, safe place to be. He washed the blood from his hair, his face. The water was icy but it woke him up a bit. His head thrummed from where he’d banged it on the wall, and when he left the shower he sank down on the mattress with his head in his hands. He heard Youngwoon approach him, but he didn’t look up.
The mattress dipped as he sat beside him. The candles made the room glow yellow, dim and eerie like the set of a low-budget horror flick. He could feel Youngwoon’s eyes on his face, hear him taking short breaths as if he wanted to speak, but the words never left his mouth. A warm hand swept his fringe back, and he lifted his head to look at Youngwoon’s face, suddenly close. He moved to touch his face, and he jolted away from his touch, looked away. ‘I’m sorry for what happened – how many times do I have to say it?’ He asked, frustrated. Jungsu didn’t speak. ‘Are you going to talk to me or not? We’ll be down here for a while.’
Jungsu only turned his head away more, and Youngwoon huffed with impatience, moved to touch him again. As Jungsu flinched away, his patience wore out and he grabbed him bodily, caught Jungsu’s face in his hand and tugged it, forced him to face him. There was terror gleaming in his eyes as he cringed in Youngwoon’s grip, and it angered the bigger man that he, a man, could act so pathetic, so frightened when he’d only gotten a little carried away with him the night before. It irritated him that he was acting like some fragile beaten woman, and he felt his frustrations hit their boiling point as he struck him hard across the cheek. He leaned closer, the spit flying as he shouted into Jungsu’s face. ‘You’re a man aren’t you?’ He shook him roughly. ‘Aren’t you?’ He shoved his face away and grabbed his arms, pushing him down onto the mattress aggressively, and he breathed against his neck words that made Jungsu want to cry. ‘If you’re going to act like a woman, then I might as well use you like one.’
He struggled as Youngwoon started to tug at his shirt, pushing him away fruitlessly before Youngwoon grabbed his hands, pinned them above his head, and he planted a hard, angry kiss on his bruised lips. Something he’d once craved so much now revolted him, he wanted to be sick. He twisted his face an inch and bit down on hard on Youngwoon’s bottom lip, eliciting a cry from the bigger man, and as his grip loosened, he twisted a hand free and swung at him, his knuckles cracking as they collided with Youngwoon’s jaw.
In the blink of an eye he was flipped over, his face pushed into the mattress, Youngwoon pinning his arms behind his back as he pulled his jeans down roughly, impatiently. He hardly took a breath before he felt cold fingers prodding at his backside, excruciating pain filling his entirety as Youngwoon stretched him furiously, without care or consideration.
He could hear himself screaming, Youngwoon grunting, panting, but it was muffled, far away. He knew he was in agony, but he felt numb. Thoughts filled his head as if in a daydream, and he remembered that this was Youngwoon – the Youngwoon that would use him as a punching bag when he was blind drunk and then deny the whole thing once he was sober. The Youngwoon that beat his best friend half to death for being gay. But something kept nagging at him, a voice he wanted to listen to. It told him that this was the Youngwoon that had told him he loved him, that kissed him under the stars as the lights of Seoul dimmed to black. The Youngwoon that grabbed his hand when the helicopter came for them. As tears stung his eyes in what seemed like some far away nightmare, he wondered if that Youngwoon was still in there somewhere – inside this monster he loathed.