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“Phone,” Sunoo repeats for the nth time. They’ve been going through the random things lined up on the dining table, identifying which is which, until Jongseong memorizes or at least familiarizes himself with them all.
“P..p-ponn…” Jongseong copies him, and Sunoo can’t help but sigh in frustration.
They still have a long way to go.
He drops the phone back on the table a little too louder that Jongseong gets startled, eyes wide and round, fixed on the object. His eyes slowly turn glassy. Is he crying? Sunoo panics.
“Shit, I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” he comforts Jongseong by rubbing on both of the zombie’s arms, watching as his face turn from almost crying to almost... blushing?
“M-me. S-sorry,” Jongseong mutters, unsure of his words. He seems to express more signs of emotions as the days go by, and Sunoo just wants to coo every time. But of course he doesn’t. All he can do is give a reassuring smile.
“It’s okay, Jongseong,” He pets his hair softly, and Sunoo swears he can actually see a faint blush on the other’s cheeks, which in return makes him giddy for some reason he's not ready to know.
These weird feelings can be dealt with later, he figures. They have a lot of words to work on.
Jongseong is still new to human behavior and lifestyle—well, Sunoo IS the first human the creature has ever interacted with. Most humans Jongseong have met were all regarded as a meal.
You see, Jongseong is a zombie.
For how long? Sunoo would probably answer with “Beats me.” All he knows is that, after years of being alone in an abandoned library, his safe place was invaded by a lone zombie who made its way inside through the door which Sunoo accidentally left open after a drunken night, having discovered a generous stash of beer at a convenience store that has been blocked by several fire trucks.
When Sunoo woke up that morning (it was actually noon), the zombie’s face was right in front of his, which made him scream and jump and run and stumble on books and chairs, almost wetting himself in fear. But after a while, there were no signs that the zombie was running after him. So he crept back, and that's when he saw the it looking around the spacious library, round eyes filled with something akin to wonder, mouth ajar.
That’s when Sunoo realized that the zombie is harmless.
He figured it was one of the few new generation of zombies that carry a weaker mutation and therefore has a high recovery rate. Sunoo heard all about it from random frequencies he has come across on his phone radio, and although it was good news, Sunoo still wishd he wouldn’t encounter any zombies AT ALL.
Who would have thought that today he would end up with a zombie in tow? Well, at least this one can recover.
So he named it Jongseong, which means "collecting stars," because as soon as it made itself at home, it also started picking up every book and every painting that had stars on it.
Right then, Sunoo began treating him like a person, too.
Hence, the human lessons. He’s been teaching Jongseong the names of various stuff like books, pen, food, pillow, shoes—everything he can find inside the library. So far, Jongseong can remember and identify most of them.
“Okay, that’s enough for today, let’s get some rest,” Sunoo ends the lesson with another huff. He’s been spending most of his time teaching Jongseong and less time scavenging for food and other essentials, which was his top priority pre-Jongseong era.
“Rest.” Jongseong repeats after him, thinking hard as if he’s recalling the meaning of the word, until his lips form a small “o.”
“Rest.” He says it again, voice now filled with more confidence.
Sunoo turns his back and smiles.
“Good job, Jongseongie.”
He hums while walking across the main hall of the library, towards the room where he keeps all his food locked, and picks a few canned goods and bottles of water. If there’s something that Jongseong does that’s similar to a human’s behavior, that would be eating. Like, eating a lot.
The first time Sunoo offered him some canned meatloaf, Jongseong ate it like he hasn’t eaten anything for years. Well, if brains of humans don’t count, then that would be most probably true. When Sunoo introduced him to Coke, Jongseong became insatiable.
And hyperactive.
As soon as the sugar hits his system, Jongseong turns into a happy puppy, playing around in the library, exploring rooms and flipping through books and ooh-ing and aah-ing over pictures and paintings on the wall. It shouldn't be a problem, but it would be once other not-so-friendly zombies discover the noise and find out there's a human inside the building. Right then and there, Sunoo promises to help the zombie turn into human again.
Sunoo smiles at the thought, and despite the risk, he always makes sure to bring Jongseong some Coke.
Except this time, Jongseong fetches them himself.
When Sunoo turns around, he is met with Jongseong’s bigger frame, eyes as shocked as his.Sunoo loses balance, but Jongseong holds him steady by the crook of his arms. It’s Sunoo’s turn to blush.
Jongseong notices it, eyes locked on his cheeks.
“What,” He whispers, his forefinger gently poking directly at Sunoo’s blush.
“What?” Sunoo whispers, too. He doesn’t know why they’re whispering. It’s not like anyone can hear them.
“There.” Jongseong points again. “Cute,” The zombie giggles.
“W-what?” Sunoo asks again. He definitely did not teach him that word. Where did he learn it?
“Cute. You,” Jongseong smiles shyly.
“Me,” Sunoo tries to absorb those two simple words. It’s like he’s the zombie learning, and not the other way around.
“Sunoo. Cute,” Jongseong says it again, as if really teaching him. “Okay?”
Sunoo blinks once, twice, before finally nodding.
“Okay.”
Jongseong keeps on following him around for the next days. He never keeps a considerably fair distance, often times his chest bumping against Sunoo’s back, which makes the latter jump away no matter how many times it happens in a day. He can never get used to the zombie following him around.
And when he tries to walk faster, Jongseong simply holds on to the hem of his shirt to keep up.
It doesn’t help that he begins to see the small changes the zombie is going through—from the way he walks to the way he eats, even with the way he looks at him. Jongseong even sleeps for a couple of hours nowadays. During his first nights in the library, Sunoo would lock him up in one of the rooms at the farther hall just to make sure he won’t get attacked while he’s asleep. He would unlock the door the next morning only to find him standing exactly where he left him the night prior.
Now, he just lets him roam around the hall while Sunoo dozes off for as long as he likes. He would wake up to Jongseong bringing him books with interesting pictures, brown eyes glistening in amusement and wonder, along with that growly smile that seem to tug at Sunoo's chest more than scare him.
A few weeks more and Jongseong started taking naps.
Another significant change is how Jongseong smells. The first time he stood close to the zombie, Sunoo almost threw up from the mix of blood and rotten flesh exuding from the creature, not to mention the pale face and greasy hair and blood and dirt-stained clothes. As soon as Jongseong was able to understand basic words and gestures, Sunoo encouraged him to change his clothes, handing him a set of clothing he got from an abandoned shopping mall.
From there he also taught him how to brush his teeth, and after several days, how to take a bath.
Which was a total disaster, Sunoo recalls, the memory of the zombie wailing in fear of the cold water, until Sunoo couldn’t hold in anymore, falling forward while he laughs to his heart’s content.
When his laughter subsided, Jongseong was staring at him, lips in a pout.
But lately, Jongseong has been bathing more frequently, his smell turning into a clean, cottony scent which Sunoo now enjoys. Even the assortment of cuts and wounds start healing by itself.
As to how the zombie started to express emotions, he still has no idea. Nevertheless, it makes him warm inside, a tingle in his chest where his heart is located.
Today they’re studying adjectives.
Sunoo lines up several items on the table as usual—photos of men and women, a flower he plucked out when he went outside earlier, a dusty copy of a Van Gogh painting, a small carving of a bird, and a woman’s dress.
“Okay,” Sunoo starts. “Let’s learn the word, ‘pretty.’”
Jongseong looks at him without blinking.
“Pretty,” Sunoo repeats, “means something looks good.”
“Good,” Jongseong processes the word for a moment, and like a bulb switching on, his eyes glow in realization.
“GOOD,” He now says it with conviction.
“Yes!” Sunoo smiles in triumph. “Pretty means good! Now all these things,” Sunoo draws his hand to present the objects on the table, “are pretty.”
“Pretty.”
Sunoo knows Jongseong needs time to store all those new words he’s taught him, so he waits until the zombie stops murmuring the new word, head tilted upwards, eyes looking up but not really looking at anything—just like how humans memorize. Sunoo beams with pride.
Jongseong looks back at him.
“Okay.”
Sunoo proceeds with the lesson.
After a solid half an hour, Jongseong almost gets it.
“Let’s continue tomorrow, I need to go back to the convenience store. We’re running out of Coke ‘cos you can’t stop drinking them,” Sunoo announces, collecting the random objects with a smile on his face.
“Coke. Me. Go,” Jongseong bolts up, feet itching to go outside, gulping loudly that Sunoo can hear it from where he’s packing his things.
“No, no, no—just stay here, Jongseong. I’ll go alone so I can walk faster. We won’t make it before sunset if you come with me,” Sunoo reasons out. It’s half past three, and as soon as the sun sets, the streets will be filled with different mutations of zombies—walkers, runners, idle ones. The idle ones die (for the second time) easily because they take a few steps and then stops for as long as an hour, and when the sun rises on them, their bodies dry up and they finally expire.
Fortunately, Jongseong can both go outside during the day and at night. Unfortunately, if Sunoo goes out at night, he’ll become dinner.
So he promises Jongseong he’ll be back soon, making him sit on his favorite chair by the furnace, a few cans of Coke by his side, the Van Gogh painting in his hands, and the promise that Sunoo will get him another pretty thing when he gets back.
Sunoo glances back at him before he closes the door, and he’s still there on his chair, knees jerking, eyes fixed on him.
He’s almost human, he realizes, before leaving.
When he gets back, the sun is almost gone, and the door creaks because he needs to open it wider than usual. He brought almost everything from the convenience store in two shopping carts he found a few blocks from the library.
Jongseong jolts from the chair, hair (now a little shinier, thanks to Sunoo’s shampoos) messy and drool dried up on the side of his mouth. The zombie was napping, and Sunoo is glad he didn’t stay up while waiting for him.
“Jongseongie, I got you something,” he singsongs.
As soon as he locks the door, Jongseong rushes to him, ignoring the carts overflowing with food, locking him in a tight embrace.
“Sunoo,” Jongseong’s voice shakes, and Sunoo worries. “Sunoo. Sunoo. Sunoo.”
“Jongseong, what happened?” he asks, arms holding the zombie closer. The smell doesn’t bother him anymore. The trace of blood and human flesh is almost indistinct, replaced by the scent of fresh skin and a little sweat, to which Sunoo weirdly finds comfort. Maybe, Jongseong is the closest thing he ever has to a family. To home, that's why he's feeling his fear even without knowing what happened yet.
“Sunoo,” Jongseong repeats, breath hitching. Is he crying?
"I'm here," he rubs his back, tiptoeing a little to whisper to Jongseong's ear. "What is it, Jongseongie?"
“Dream.”
Dream. Sunoo didn’t teach him that word yet.
“You had a dream?” he asks.
“You. Dream,” Jongseong tries to explain between sobs. Sunoo’s heart breaks. “You... Sunoo. Sunoo.”
“You dreamt of me? What happened to me in your dream?”
“You. Go. Me… m-me, alone.”
Alone. Another new word.
“I left you alone? That’s your dream?” Sunoo pulls back to look at the other’s face, and he confirms that the zombie is indeed crying.
Despite the lonely dream, Sunoo can’t help but wonder why his tears aren’t made of Coke. After all, that’s all the zombie has been drinking for the past days, ignoring his reminders to drink more water. The zombie is clueless and naïve, but he also sure is stubborn and a brat.
“Alone. Me,” Jongseong continues to sob, pulling Sunoo's arms towards him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.
"Oh... Jongseongie," Sunoo starts to tear up, too.
Sunoo’s chin quivers, remembering how he used to be alone, cold and hungry, how he managed to fend for himself, how he got used to solitude. It's been years since he lost his parents in a zombie attack in their town. He can't remember how it feels to have another person beside him anymore. To have someone to talk to, to rely to and lean into when nights get lonelier and the rabid screams of monsters fill the night.
Not until he found Jongseong. Or was it Jongseong who found him?
“Don’t go.” Jongseong mumbles. Sunoo wants to cheer for him for making a complete sentence, but all he can do is to hug him back, feel his warmth, hoping that it will make them feel less scared and homesick.
“I won’t go. I won’t leave you, I promise.”
“Promise,” Jongseong echoes the new word without difficulty.
“I promise.”
They eat together, sharing a spam and some honey butter chips, with Coke of course. Sunoo teaches him a few more words, and sleepily, Jongseong learns the names of the parts of the face.
“Noooose,” Sunoo pronounces slowly, emphasizing the “o” sound, pointing to that part of his face.
“Noooooooooosssseee,” Jongseong makes a longer “o” sound, which makes Sunoo giggle in adoration and fall on Jongseong's side. He can’t see much when he’s smiling that hard, but he can hear Jongseong making deep grunts almost similar to a laugh.
He keeps on laughing, arms holding his tummy, and then silence. He stops with a hiccup and opens his eyes.
Jongseong is staring at him with a content smile, eyes twinkling, reflecting the pale light from the table lamp beside them.
“Pretty,” Jongseong breathlessly whispers. “Sunoo. Pretty.”
They fall asleep side by side. Well, Sunoo is spooning Jongseong at the latter’s request, a promise that Sunoo won’t ever leave him in the night.
Days go by and Jongseong is learning quicker than ever. He now easily picks up words, and able to form more sentences. He can now follow simple instructions, except when Sunoo tells him to stop following him around.
“No,” the zombie coldly answers him.
The once clueless zombie has now become determined and insistent with what he wants.
Today, they’re learning how to say “Please.”
“Your turn,” Sunoo orders him.
“Uhm,” Jongseong clears his throat after taking a few gulps of Coke. “Give me. Coke. Please.”
“Now say that again without too much pausing.”
Jongseong takes a deep breath.
“Give me Coke, please.”
“You got it!” Sunoo shrieks and Jongseong startles when Sunoo grabs him in a tight hug, pulling him to his height. Sunoo can feel Jongseong cheering happily, his chest shaking with laughter.
“GIVE ME COKE PLEASE!!!” Jongseong screams echoes in the whole library, and Sunoo falls on the floor, laughing hard.
The next day, Sunoo almost loses his sanity because Jongseong keeps on shouting he wants Coke all day, right behind his back, the back of his shirt being aggressively pulled in excitement.
“Now make a sentence using ‘I want,’” Sunoo tells him, and Jongseong tilts his head funnily, earning a giggle from Sunoo.
“I waaaannnnttt… Coke!” Jongseong squeaks.
“Noooo make another one, you keep on saying Coke!”
“I waaaaaant pretty Coke!”
Laughing is easier for Sunoo now; he hasn’t laughed so much in all the years he lived alone after the zombie invasion. He was so young when the pandemic happened, and mutations upon mutations of the virus caused infected people to become zombies. Several years later, most zombies are either killed, apprehended, or self-expired. The remaining ones are either too few, too weak, or just like Jongseong, almost human.
With Jongseong by his side, he finally gives himself the freedom to hope that everything will get better, and from now on, he won’t be alone anymore.
“C’mon, stop playing… give me a proper sentence.” He whines, and yet he can’t stop smiling.
“I want… Sunoo. Smile.”
They look at each other, Sunoo’s eyes shiny with tears.
He tosses himself on Jongseong for a hug.
For the next week, Jongseong talks more, shares more of his simple thoughts, and Sunoo shares his, and everything is almost perfect. The zombie is a lot more like a human now. They finish chores together, because even when Jongseong can basically do anything by himself now, he still sticks with Sunoo all the time, never keeping him out of sight, not even for a second.
“Jongseong, just sit there and wait for me,” Sunoo gets a little more irritated sometimes. “It’s almost done, just take a seat over there and then we’ll eat, okay?” He instructs him, voice firmer when Jongseong gets a little stubborn as well. At first, it was amusing that Jongseong couldn’t stay away from him, always seeks his warmth, but after weeks of the same routine, Jongseong doesn’t seem to stop.
“No. Together,” Jongseong deadpan answers.
“No. Sometimes we have to do things on our own. Go there and sit down.”
“No. Together.”
“Jongseong.”
“Together.”
“Jong—“
“NO. SUNOO. JONGSEONG. ATTACK!” Jongseong shrieks, lifting Sunoo by the waist, smile blinding. Sunoo forgets what he is angry about, and just looks at Jongseong in a new light. He isn’t the zombie he saw months ago—this is a whole new person right in front of him.
His Jongseong.
Jongseong may not find the right words yet, but Sunoo can understand his heart. He can feel it beat against his ears when they cuddle at night. He feels it when he does the bare minimum, and that makes Sunoo’s own chest flutter.
They stop spinning, but they don’t stop looking at each other. There's a new world out there, the cure to the virus finally emerging, and they can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. There's so much that needs to be said.
But at this point, they don’t really need words. They just feel. They just know.
No words, head empty. Just two hearts beating.