Work Text:
This is it, Jisung thinks. This is how he"s going to die.
A lonely virgin, surrounded not by loved ones, but joined by the one person whose betrayal haunts him to this day.
“Shut up,” Minho interrupts, because oops, Jisung"s thoughts are not just in his head. He"s seated on the floor of the tiny staff room at God"s Menu next to Jisung, legs curled against his chest, forehead resting on his knees. “Stop narrating your thoughts like you"re in a fucking movie.”
“Might as well be,” Jisung mutters. “Before today zombies were only a thing in the movies.”
Before today he and Minho had also been successfully ignoring each other for the last 573 days—not that he has been counting. Really.
But then Jisung had gotten a job bussing at God"s Menu for the summer; he knew Minho had been working as a part-time waiter at the restaurant for a while, even before their friendship had silently imploded, but he figured they could probably just ignore each other. Or be professional. (Or maybe rekindle their friendship after almost two years of estrangement, but he was not banking on that. At all. Absolutely not.)
And then the apocalypse struck. Or something like it—Jisung is pretty sure that people turning into feral flesh and brain eating creatures before pre-dinner prep had even started counts as an apocalypse.
Minho groans; lifts his head and blankly stares in front of him. He leans back, his head landing with a soft thud on the locked metal door that they"re leaning against.
“Look, it"s not like I want to die with you either,” Minho snaps at him. “And when the fuck did I betray you?”
“When I was six and you didn"t choose me to be on your team for kickball in the playground.”
“You couldn"t kick a ball to save your life!”
“You weren"t much better!”
“And yet I was voted captain of one team!”
Jisung huffs and dramatically sticks his nose in the air.
Minho sighs. “Why are you even still holding on to that?”
There"s a pause; silence between them that only amplifies the faint grunting and scratching—zombie noises—coming from outside.
“I"m not,” Jisung eventually exhales.
“Well, why are you bringing it up then?”
“The monologue sounded good in my head,” Jisung admits
Minho snorts. “You"re fucking weird.”
“You"re one to talk.”
Jisung huffs and their eyes meet albeit very briefly. Another stretch of silence passes.
“Fuck,” Jisung hisses. “Is this really how we"re gonna die though?”
“Speak for yourself,” Minho retorts.
“Oh? So you just happen to have a foolproof plan for making it through this ordeal then?” Jisung asks sarcastically.
“I plan on surviving,” Minho spits out.
“Tell me more, pray tell!”
“I"m gonna feed you to the zombies and escape while they"re distracted,” Minho mutters.
“Brilliant.” Jisung rolls his eyes
Minho makes frustrated noises. “I"m this close to really doing exactly that if you dont stop being such a fucking downer.”
Jisung sighs— as if one has any reason to be anything but fucking down considering the circumstances, he thinks — but he does bite his tongue.
“The noises have gotten fainter and fainter by the hour, though, don"t you think?” Minho murmurs. “What do you think that means?
“They"ve all eaten each other,” Jisung snarks unhelpfully.
Minho snorts. “You jest but I think there just might be truth to that.” He pauses; casts a sideways glance at Jisung. “Either way, it doesn"t sound as noisy and busy as it did earlier.”
At the start of the evening, just as he had come in for his shift, the first thing Jisung had seen was their boss, red in his eyes, as he knelt over one of their coworkers, his mouth messy with blood and guts, clearly having just— geez, he"s gonna have to cut off his memory there because honestly Jisung doesn"t even want to look back and recall the image. He"ll probably have trauma from tonight; presumably seeing gory cannibalism occuring in front of his eyes would do that, but he"ll deal with that later when he has time and energy for it.
Either way that scene (which, unfortunately, despite all his attempts to not think about, is now perpetually seared into his retinas) had clued him in that some kind of zombie outbreak was happening.
Three things had happened at once after that moment, 1) Minho had arrived, door chimes ringing as he entered merely a minute after Jisung, 2) their boss had looked up; had seen them; had his blood red eyes grow wide as saucers, and finally, 3) their coworker who their boss had been feasting on just several seconds earlier had started convulsing, joints cracking loudly as he started to sit up, cracked skull open and all.
Jisung had gone on autopilot. He had grabbed Minho and he had escaped to the staff room with the latter, quick as he locked the door behind them.
Jisung swears it was adrenaline and panic. It wasn"t his intention to save his once best friend, but here they are now. It seems that the zombies at least don"t know how to twist door knobs and-slash-or break down doors; that much they learned in the last several hours they had spent stuck in the room.
It was loud at first, outside. There was thumping and thudding against the door as if the zombies were trying to breach their safe haven. And then the noises had escalated for a while as if the rioting undead were growing in number; their disgusting sounds of grunting and snarling had become so loud and panic-inducing at one point that Jisung had needed to physically cover his ears with both hands so he didn"t completely break down from imagining the worst of the melee outside.
There were also faint cries for help and a small part of him had wondered if maybe they should have taken a peek; what if they could save a few more people from turning into zombies? But he couldn"t bring himself to suggest it out loud. Minho didn"t say anything either; just stayed quiet as a mouse, a hardened stare focused on the opposite wall, his side warmly pressing against Jisung"s. He surmises that could mean they"re both cowards; but he also knows Minho would argue. Minho would say they both believe in self preservation, is all.
He"s not sure how much of the night has passed exactly, but Minho is right and the noises have definitely decreased.
“Do you wanna check if it"s good to go out?” Minho asks casually.
Jisung snorts. “Sure. After you.”
Minho chuckles softly, and despite himself Jisung smiles. It"s been a while since he"s really heard Minho laugh. He misses it.
“Seungmin keeps a baseball bat in his locker,” Minho suddenly shares, gesturing at the metal shelves lining one wall of the staff room.
“Huh?”
“Seungmin,” Minho repeats.
“Right.” Jisung nods but he"s still confused. Seungmin is one of the other waiters, but Jisung has only worked maybe two shifts with him.
“He"s a baseball player, remember?”
Jisung shrugs. “How should I know that? It"s my first week.”
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, he has an extra bat that he keeps here. Over there in his locker,” Minho explains. “Also—JYP,” that"s their boss, “he has some guns in his safe.”
“How the fuck do you even know that?”
“I"ve worked here for three years, Jisung. That"s long enough to be trusted with the money a few times. I"ve put away cash after closing so I know the safe combination,” Minho explains. “So yeah, he has guns there.”
“What even does he have guns for?”
Minho shrugs. “For times like this?”
Jisung snorts; shudders as he hugs himself. “I fucking saw him eating Chan, Minho,” he mutters shakily, trying his best to once again chase away the image.
Minho frowns. “That was Chan? I couldn"t even recognize him. Everything happened so fast.”
Jisung shrugs mutely.
Minho lets out a prolonged exhale. “You got a way better look than I did. Do you think those things out there are more Train To Busan or The Walking Dead? Because we"d probably be lucky if it"s the latter rather than the former, don"t you think?”
Jisung closes his eyes tightly and huffs. He doesn"t think there"s anything lucky about being in the middle of a zombie outbreak, but he supposes it would be a tad easier dealing with undead who move slowly and clumsily, than zombies who run fast and have pinpoint precision when attacking.
Fuck, he thinks. Because Korean zombies always fall under the latter category in the movies.
“Why do you think it happened?” Minho asks.
“How would I know?”
Minho shrugs. “I assume you"ve watched a few conspiracy theory videos on possible zombie outbreaks.”
Jisung laughs. “Does that corner of YouTube even exist?”
Minho huffs. “I thought everything was on YouTube? You"re the one who taught me that.”
“Okat, true.” Jisung snorts.
They look at each other and exchange small smiles. It"s a reminder that they were best friends, once, at times not even needing words to communicate. And then they weren"t.
Now they aren"t.
“I missed you,” Jisung finds himself admitting quietly.
Minho looks taken aback at the impromptu confession. “Are we doing this here, right now?” He frowns.
Jisung chuckles. “What better time, right?”
Minho groans. “You really think you"re in a fucking movie. Only idiots would try and sort personal shit out while in the middle of an apocalypse.” His words are harsh but his tone isn"t; he sounds tired, if anything. Maybe even a little fond? Or—that could just be Jisung, stressed and angling to hear things that aren"t there.
“Well our options are limited between sorting out our personal shit and venturing into zombieland.” Jisung huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. “Not particularly eager to choose the latter.”
Minho rollshis eyes. “Fine, I"ll hear your piece.”
“My—?! You first.”
Minho opens his mouth, looking like he"s about to clap back with some snark; but he closes it again at the last second and exhales with palpable frustration.
“You"re the one who stopped being friends with me Jisung,” he points out tiredly.
“I did not,” Jisung tries to argue.
Minho gives him a pointed look.
“Okay.” Jisung sighs in admittance. “It was just hard to be around you after you and Minju broke up.” He pauses; twiddles with his fingers. “Felt like I had to back Minju up, being that she"s my cousin and all.” He"s staring down as he lies blatantly. He had other reasons for avoiding Minho after his break-up with his cousin, but Jisung isn"t sure he wants to cop to them even at a time like this. “I"m sorry,” he adds, whispering.
Minho gawks at him. “We were best friends before Minju and I ever—” he groans and shakes his head. “You"re a fucking idiot.”
Jisung sniffs. “Hey, I just saved your life. Can"t we move past that for now?”
Minho looks at him; Jisung meets his gaze expecting disdain, but there"s nothing of the sort in Minho"s eyes. Just sadness and frustration. And maybe also a sort of clarity that seems to see right through Jisung.
It makes him uncomfortable even though he"s the one who suggested they air their issues out.
“Anyway, what were you saying about the bat and the guns?” Jisung mumbles.
“Right.” Minho takes a deep breath. “If we can break into Seungmin"s locker, we"ll at least have a weapon. Then we can try to make our way to JYP"s office and get the guns for more.”
“And then what?”
Minho shrugs. “And then we"ll be better equipped to venture into the outside world, I guess? Check on what the fuck is going on.”
Jisung looks at Minho. It"s not a horrible plan. He has watched survivalist videos on YouTube, even ones that are specifically centered around hypothetical zombie outbreaks, and they all say it"s pertinent to arm yourself in the event of one. That, and to make sure to have a food source.
“I think it"ll be good to secure the area,” he suggests. “Make sure we have access to the pantry.”
Minho nods; he turns his body and faces Jisung whose heart traitorously skips a beat because of their proximity.
“Wha—” he starts to ask before he realizes that Minho is just pressing his ear against the door; probably trying to hear through it to get a better gauge on what is going on outside.
Jisung is distracted because he"s so close and he can trace his facial features; the slope of his elegant nose, the flutter of his thick eyelashes.
“Minho,” Jisung whispers his name before he can stop himself.
Maybe he really thinks he"s in a fucking movie, because the raging in his chest so inopportune at a time like this.
“What?”
“After your breakup with Minju…”
“What about it?”
“I couldn"t stand being around you because my feelings started to feel too real.”
Minho stares at him; Jisung expects surprise on his part. An admonition of some sort. Disgust, maybe.
Instead Minho just exhales and turns away, slinking back against the door.
“I know,” he says softly.
“What.” Just like that, Jisung is the one who is surprised.
Minho shrugs. “I mean. I figured it was something like that.”
“You what? Why didn"t you say anything then?” Jisung frowns, unsure how to feel.
“Why didn"t you?” Minho harks back. “I was waiting for you to say something.”
“You figured I was in love with you and you didn"t say anything?”
“What? No—what? In love?!”
Jisung blinks, confused at Minho"s confusion. “What did you think I meant?”
“I—I don"t know. I thought you—you said your feelings became real and I… I thought that meant you didn"t know how to ignore your disgust—err, apprehension over my feelings anymore—um. Why else would you just start ignoring me? What?”
“What?” Jisung parrots.
This is stupid, Jisung thinks. Faced with a zombie apocalypse and they"re throwing useless what"s at each other.
“I was angry at you. That"s why I didn"t say anything,” Minho clarifies. “Why I didn"t confront you when you started avoiding me. I thought my feelings finally became too obvious to you. They became too real and you couldn"t handle them. Minju broke up with me because I preferred biking at Han river with you over going to see a movie with her. Because I would rather help you with your stupid math homework than check out some newly opened café with her. I could go on and on—there were a lot of instances like that and she called me out on them and I… I assumed she told you, too.”
“She never—” Jisung huffs. “We were best friends! Who have known each other since we were toddlers. Of course we did a lot of things together!”
Minho hums. “Yeah and then you dropped me entirely.”
“Because I thought—!” Jisung groans. Just his fucking luck; now of all times, he finds out his unrequited feelings have ben requited all along. Two years wasted and now they"re about to die—or become disgusting brain eating creatures. Either way he wishes they could have talked this out like adults before the apocalypse dawned on them. In their defense, 17 and 15 aren"t exactly adults, and that"s how old they were when they stopped being friends. At least at 19 and 17 they"re both older and wiser, if not prime zombie chum.
“Wait—” Minho looks at him, eyes bright, wide, hopeful. “You were really in love with me?”
“Keep up, Minoring!” Jisung snaps, an old nickname sliding off his tongue naturally and without thought.
They stare at each other.
“We need to fucking survive the fucking zombies,” Minho mutters. “Otherwise I"m going to feel so fucking stupid wasting all that time.”
“I already do,” Jisung admits. “Feel stupid, I mean.”
“I"m sure that"s not new for you.”
Jisung actually laughs. His sense of humor is back, along with renewed determination. He hits Minho"s arm.
“So what"s the plan?” he asks. “We open the door and we rush to JYP"s office?”
Minho nods. “But only after we get Seungmin"s bat. And also we need to figure out if they"re right outside the door first.”
Jisung nods back. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Jisung pauses. “Erm.” He looks down at his hands, before lifting his chin and meeting Minho"s gaze. “Can we kiss before we possibly surrender ourselves to zombies?”
Minho blinks adorably. It"s funny how easy their confessions have been given and accepted. Almost two years of estrangement, fixed in a span of five minutes. Jisung supposes being faced with the inevitability of death helped.
“I"m a never before kissed virgin,” Jisung continues to ramble nervously. “I would like for that not to be the case when— if, ” he corrects himself and crosses his fingers, “I die tonight.”
“I don"t think we have time to fix that entirely.”Minho laughs.
“I"m only asking for a kiss!”
This time, Minho doesn"t answer verbally; just huffs petulantly, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips before he finally reaches for Jisung.
Minho"s hand lands on the curve of Jisung"s neck, and the latter"s breath hitches, eyes fluttering close as Minho pulls him towards himself. Their mouths meet; the kiss is a little dry and chapped, but it feels sweet nevertheless.
It doesn"t last long; it remains chaste, lasting only a few seconds before they both pull away.
“There"s more where that came from if we can survive this,” Minho murmurs. “Maybe you don"t even have to die a virgin,” he jests, trying to do away with the sudden tension in the air.
It succeeds and Jisung giggles, hitting Minho"s knee as the older boy laughs.
And with that, he narrates in his movie narrator voice, as Minho gets up and trudges over to Seungmin"s locker; Jisung crosses his fingers that the lock code isn"t too complicated. Our two heroes find brand new determination.
He pauses, and Minho looks at him over his shoulder. He pulls on the lock of Seungmin"s locker and they both laugh as it instantly comes off—apparently it wasn"t even locked.
Maybe their luck is turning around for the day.
🧟♂️