Chapter Text
Suhyeok sat in the improvised tent which now they called home, scrolling on his phone. Everyone else was sleeping, but he couldn’t. Not when Cheongsan and Namra were nowhere to be found. He scrolled through cat videos, trends that weren’t fun anymore, and the news. One of the videos had been repeated every week. A solemn news presenter confirming that the bodies of every Hyosan student had been identified, excepting three, that were missing. The kids, he said, were Choi Namra, Lee Cheongsan, and Yoon Gwinam. If someone had any information, please notify it to your closest police station.
Suhyeok knew that Namra was alive. Was she alright? He didn’t know about that. And Cheongsan had apparently survived the explosion, so Gwinam would have, too.
He also knew that the police would search their homes. When a teen, scared and possibly infected, goes missing, they’d look for comfort, for home. Who would look for a fugitive at their home? But the police were one step ahead from those teens who couldn’t think straight.
He could totally see Gwinam running home, but the other two, not really. Cheongsan wouldn’t want to be reminded that his parents were dead, and Namra lived too far to go unnoticed.
So, when everyone else was sleeping on the camp, Suhyeok decided to go to Gwinam’s house. Talk to him. He had been there before, he knew all too well how to go there. They were practically neighbours.
The walk there was silent, and dark. He would’ve been scared if the zombies were still around the city, but the explosion had destroyed all of them.
Even in the dark, he knew all the turns and all the streets. He had come back from school with Gwinam almost every day a couple years ago.
If Gwinam found him, he’d kill him, for sure. And he understood. But it was surprising he hadn’t killed him yet, during all the fights the day of the breakout, there had been multiple chances of killing him. Yet, Gwinam hadn’t.
Did he still think they were some kind of allies?
Did he want to, but couldn’t?
He had saved his life, actually. Gwinam was a confusing guy.
He finally got to his home. The door was destroyed and bloody, the zombies hadn’t gone easy on anyone and anything. Gwinam’s father must have been infected, too. Anyway, Suhyeok entered; Mr Yoon had been already a monster. Him gurgling and babbling like a zombie wouldn’t have made much of a difference.
Carefully, he climbed the stairs, like those other times, when they said they’d study together. He made some noise on purpose, waiting for Gwinam to come out, ready to attack. Probably hungry of human flesh. It would save him the jumpscare.
Gwinam’s door was closed. Suhyeok smiled to himself. He was there for sure. Maybe he even knew where Cheongsan had gone.
That’s why you’re here. He reminded himself. You’re here because he has to know where Cheongsan is.
He pushed the door open, but there was nobody. Maybe he was hiding, but the room was bare. Gwinam didn’t really have much. His bed was tidy, but dusty. No one had slept there for a while. Over his bed, he had a stuffed animal, a bear.
“I didn’t know you had a teddy bear, Gwinam”, Suhyeok teased, just in case he was there, hiding, listening.
No answer.
Swiftly, Suhyeok opened his closet, maybe he was there, curled inside. Nothing. His few clothes and some mismatched socks were the only contents of the closet.
There wasn’t another place to hide in his room, he probably was hiding somewhere else in the house.
His mirror had been shattered, too. On the night stand, there were some razors (he knew what they were for), and a box of cigarettes. The wood of the stand was burned, probably Gwinam used it as an ashtray.
Suhyeok was about to turn and leave, when he noticed something on the desk.
A thick notebook, and a pen, uncapped. It was open on the last page, one sentence written in a hurry.
You will never find me.
There was blood smeared on the paper, and dirt, and what seemed like tears. Still wet, recent.
Suhyeok knew he should’ve gotten up and found him, and interrogate him before the police could, but instead, he sat down on the floor, his back against the leg of the desk, and opened the notebook on the first page.
The entry was from two years ago. August 4th, 2020.
I will be forgotten.