Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sure, Jun-ho was a coward, he was also a loser, a wimp, a chicken— he was a lot of things, none of them positive. Yeah, he ran away the second the first drop of blood was spilled, honestly, it was impressive how much he could run away. Gosh, if he got bit it wouldn't have been a surprise if he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, even as a mindless zombie.

Of course, he was like any other bullied kid up until now, so let me recap you.

“Come on, Jun-ho! Don't tell me you're gonna chicken out again? You just gotta get some pictures, easy and simple.”

The bully shouted, his lackey to his left, repeating his sentence over to Jun-ho, as if he hadn't heard it already. Jun-ho’s head hung low, glasses blurred with the heat from his salty tears and dirtied with the dirt he previously face- planted in. “Y-yeah..” he sputtered out, his skinny arms reaching up to wipe his glasses with his uniform sleeves.

“This time, I think we should get some blackmail, make sure ya’ do it. Since last time you chickened out, Jun-ho.” they sneered, the main bully, which he knew as Seo-wan, pulled out his phone, transferring to the photo app. “Ey, Jun-ho, take that shirt of yours off.” He said, in which Jun-ho’s blood went cold, breathing heavier. He looked up shakily, shaking his head.
“What do you mean ‘no’? Jun-ho-a..” Seo-wan held the O in his name a tad longer than usual, an annoyed look on his face and an irritated tone in his cooing voice. His lackey threw one of his hands up irritably, “this is why I said we should've just done it before asking, now he's gonna fight more, we should've just bullied Eun-ji today, Seo-wan..” the lackey was interrupted by a short punch to his shoulder, hard, but not painful enough to start a fight. “Who asked for your opinion? Just hold him down.”

Jun-ho shuttered, uselessly trying to crawl back into a brick wall. His cracked glasses sat dangerously close to the edge of his nose as he shuffled about, trying to escape the boys. “Ehh, gopher*, hurry it up and grab him..- I don't want another tattler, dipshit.” Seo-wan motioned with his hands at his lackey to hurry up, in which he whined and tried to get a grip on the scrambling Jun-ho, who had managed to maneuver around the wall to the backways behind the cafeteria. He stepped closely to the back-entrance of the cafeteria, in which Seo-wan's lackey groaned.
“Ey, Jun-ho-a, want to get both our asses beat? It's just a picture, and with the picture it saves us both some pain, eh? So just come quietly. Don't go running to your old woman again, Jun-ho!”

“No-no.. I- I- Ah, N-no..” Jun-ho managed to sputter out, denial being the only words he could make in his scrambled mind. Hell, he wanted to save himself from another beating, the purple bruises on his pale ribcage still hadn't healed. He quickly opened the door to the cafeteria kitchen and ran in closing it and locking it behind him.

“Jun-ho, son! Again? Gosh, stop running to me at every click and sound.” A woman, who was identified as his mother, groaned. She walked to the back of the kitchen, donned in lunch-lady attire, a white hairnet paired with a white outfit. “Were you getting bullied? Again?” She sighed heavily, smacking herself with the back of her hand to prevent contamination in the food. “You almost missed your lunch, lucky I had it prepacked instead of on a plate, this happens almost any day now.— Are you sure you don't want me talking to the administration? You can't keep saying it's an internal matter and you'll fix it, of course you can't! Not with those scrawny arms of yours, now eat!”

She pinched his arm, which was thin and devoid of much extra skin, wrinkling the dirty white fabric. “Ah child, go eat now. Just eat back here, it's sad watching you eat alone when there's tons of kids just right of you.” She spouted, waving her arms at him and pointing to a chair beside the exit door. Awkwardly, he walked over and sat down, food in his lap as he slowly started eating. His eyes drifted up to watch his mom go back to serving food to the other students, sadness in his eyes. ‘...not even my mother believes in me anymore..’ he thought somberly, head hung low to stare at his bland food.

He listened to the sounds of the kitchen as he ate, his sight hindered due to the cracked glasses, which he was surprised his mother hadn't noticed yet. He poked at the horrid tasting soup in the bento box he was given, biting his lip. Then, he heard a commotion as people started running to the windows of the front of the cafeteria. His breath hitched, watching as people flooded in and the windows of the cafeteria started to shatter as people banged on them, begging to be let in. Jun-ho couldn't be bothered to wait around and find out— he was already out. He panted as he ran, the bento now closed and in his hand.

He took one glance around to realize what was happening, the sight of a girl a year above him biting the cheek of a guy from his year greeted him, the blood splattering so far it almost reached him. He shivered, the familiar sight of blood made his muscles ache, his fight or flight response reacting at such a little thing. He gripped the bento box and raised his hand, about to hurl it at the girl to free the boy, but he definitely did not have the balls for that and continued running before he was next.

Where would he go? What would he do? He decided to just hide in a classroom, any classroom that would have any kind of weapons—

So how the fuck did he decide on the music room?

He sat on the definitely dirty floors of the music room, clutching his head as he hid between the instrument cases, the bento box atop of one of the cases to his left. He decided it was a good spot since it had many cases of water just out in the open, and, hurling a euphonium at a zombie would definitely get them off his back- if his scrawny arms could throw that thing without breaking..

Yeah, you're caught up now. So, let me tell you a bit more.

The sounds of screams and hurried steps never died down, hell, he should've been armoring up, or hell, maybe even making an actual weapon. But like he was gonna take a step out there anyway? He would genuinely rather get eaten than try to outrun them or something. He leaned farther into the wall, remembering his mother, who he had left in the kitchen to die without a single thought. His breath hitched, realizing his mother is definitely turned by now- wait, what if this was just a big prank? They wouldn't actually -

He remembered the boy genuinely being mauled to death and halted his thoughts, tears brimming in his eyes as he cursed. He clutched his head, despair finally overtaking his mind whole. He looked around the familiar music room, at least being a band geek and knowing the password to the lock paid off.. he huffed, looking around momentarily.

Was he gonna make a weapon to make it out, grow some balls? Hell no, definitely not. He just wanted to find something to block the doors— an actual smart move, Jun-ho.

He grabbed a sousaphone and dragged it over to the door, even if it was already locked, better safe than sorry. He then grabbed another sousaphone and put it in front of the door, careful not to break them as he did not want to have debt before even entering college.

“Phew..” he muttered, falling to the floor before remembering just how dirty it was. He sat there for a bit, the sound of endless screams and cries bringing him back to reality. He clutched his ears shut, shoulders trembling as he fought back tears. Why did he have to be such a chicken? Why wasn't he strong and tall.. smart, extroverted, a leader? Instead, he was short and scrawny, average, introverted, and a follower. Why couldn't he just have what he wanted?
He started to sob violently, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to stop. He tried to stop as he noticed zombies pooling outside. That quickly..? They were all turned that quickly? What if he- what if he was the only one left?
His body shook, fear evident in his body language. He fiddled with the hem of his green vest, an ugly crying expression on his face.

Why didn't he just stay with his mom? Then, he would've been sure if there was anyone else— fuck, like hell he would've had the courage! He wasn't the main character, not even a side character, he was nothing, he could be nothing! 0 plus 0 is still fucking 0! He could amount to nothing. He knew he had no special traits, even if he was with a group there was no point in keeping him.

His lower lip trembled, wet with tears and snot. “Ugh..” he whined, trying in futile attempts to wipe his tears and snot. The zombies outside were fighting hard to get in, the thick glass used to block out noise from inside and out saving Jun-ho from any more emotional trauma. He sobbed, leaning against the shelf to his right used for storing smaller instruments. He continued to cry until he couldn't, when his eyes were down puffy and tired, he finally dozed off.

Waking up, the zombies that had fought at the door were gone due to the lack of sound inside the music room. It was almost light out, had he slept for that long? He slowly got up, moving to peek out the door, seeing zombies far in the distance and nowhere near, he let out a sigh. “Maybe this is all a dream..” he told himself, turning to the music room once more. He walked over and sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs, huffing. He glanced down at his somewhat clean uniform, almost happy that there wasn't any blood on it. Then, he went back into despair at realizing he was happy over the basic things.
Should I leave?
He knew it'd help him find survivors to team up, there was an advantage in numbers, right? What if he got bit? Hell, he wouldn't die, he'd just.. be a bit out of it, right..? He thought, moving to be able to glance out the window. The blood scattered across the field made him inch back into himself.
If he wanted to be better, make some friends, survive, he should just head out, it was the easiest option. Well, staying here-
Jun-ho slapped himself, he immediately regretted it once the stinging pain hit. He whined, clutching his cheek. “But I have to,” he told himself, eyes glancing at the door. Of course, there still weren't any zombies so he did have a free path. He gulped, staring at his shaky hands. “I gotta go get my mom.. or- any survivors..” he muttered weakly, hands dropping to tremble at his sides.

He huffed, he could go to the archery room- they definitely had some weapons there.. no, it had a lock, didn't it? He got up and started to pace around, maybe the cafeteria for his mom? No, it had to be infested with zombies. Maybe, maybe the principal's office? It had to have some of the confiscated items, right? No, too far.
He singled out every single place, making up dumb excuses to not go to each one. He let out a groan, walking over and opening an instrument case, searching for one of a trumpet, which he found easily. He glanced at the mouth piece before sticking it into the instrument, turning it.
Maybe he could use the trumpet as a weapon, maybe play it to announce to other survivors that there were others?—

But, he was a damn chicken. He was too scared to even flick the brass, scared it'd be too loud and attract zombies. Of course, he was afraid the zombies would attack him the second they heard the sound, so he quickly put the trumpet down. Again, he looked around, finally remembering there was a way to the roof of the building, which fortunately, was not a part of the main buildings. Well, also unfortunately, there wasn't a way to the top of the building without going outside. The ladder up was on the outside wall.

What was he to do? Go outside? He was starting to piss himself at the thought. He gulped loudly, inching towards the door to look around. He also could use the bathroom.. slowly and quite awkwardly, he approached the door, peeking around comically, he was so scared even when there was nothing even there.

“Maybe it was a dream..”

Chapter Text

“Maybe it was a dream..”

He muttered. At the other door from the whole other side of the music room came a zombie, banging and growling at the door. The earlier sousaphones placed in front of the door rattled at the tremors.
He realized he had to move, and fast. Without thinking, he grabbed a random instrument and ran outside, running around the building searching for the ladder like some headless chicken, but eventually, he did find it.

He quickly scaled the latter up to the roof, disconnecting it and dragging it up with him shortly after: he wasn't taking any chances, even if the zombies definitely couldn't climb. He put the ladder flat beside him, the edge hanging off of the roof, it was too long. He let out a shaky sigh, fear still coursing through him despite being safe at the current moment. He glanced at the instrument case, deciding he'd throw it just in case a zombie tried to get him.

It wasn't long until he regretted it. The music room door was locked anyway, why had he feared a zombie would've come in?— stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sitting in the cold, copper-tinted air, he finally took the time to get a hold of himself and look around. Oh, it was beautiful.

The sun was finally setting on the horizon, however, the air was cool and scented with copper and blood. Under the sunset was the school grounds and view of the city, stained with blood and roaming zombified students and civilians, stumbling around endlessly.
He sucked in a cold breath, cold air freezing his lungs, reminding him he only wore a thin school uniform, a chill going through his body. His eyes fell down to the music room roof below him, the ground dirtied. He quickly took a step back from the railing, falling to his knees and turning around, back leaned against the tiled railings. His legs and hands were shaking, he noticed. He rested his head back, legs pulled closer to preserve some heat, with that, he fell asleep.

When he awoke, it was just about later than mid-day, the sun barely setting, he'd slept around a full 24 hours it seemed. When he awoke, he was a bit out of it, wondering why he didn't awake in his warm bed to his mother trying to wake him, why he wasn't greeted with the nerdy posters of his room. He remembered he wasn't home, home was gone.

He was afraid: he wanted to go home, get berated by his mother for something she said he didn’t do but definitely did (the dishes), get woken up mid-night at his father's return, his groans over his job loud, to eat his mother's horrendous cooking, to go stare at math problems on the board, every other student complaining even when he enjoyed it, he wanted to go talk to somebody, even if they bullied him— hell, even talking to Seo-wan sounded better than this, even if he was getting kicked around like a toy. He just wanted to be happy, talk to somebody.
As tears started to well in his eyes he heard a loud clang, shaking him to his core. He immediately moved away from the direction he heard it from, the sound getting louder: something was climbing up. He paused, zombies couldn't climb. A smile flashed his features, and there was no ladder, nothing of no intelligence could even think about climbing up. He stood up, about to speak.
“Cheong-san..”
A deep voice cooed, voice gruff and mocking. Eventually, a teenager from the grade below him appeared. His hair a black mullet, his eyes dark— or eye, his left eye injured horribly, not even visible under the muck of blood. The boy frowned, staring at Jun-ho.
“You, you're not Cheong-san.”
He said irritably, head leaning to the side a bit, eyes roaming around the roof.
“Say, are you hungry?”
He asked, smiling slightly. Jun-ho paused, wondering at the question. He hummed, feeling the feeling of hunger in his gut, nodding slightly. The boy started to approach him, smiling during.
“You are?”
He asked again, Jun-ho looked at him once more.
“Do you have food?”
He asked.
“Well, I'm hungry too.”
He felt a searing pain from his neck, the shorter male biting his neck. Blood spilled across the grey roof, Jun-ho fighting back a scream, letting out a small sputter, spitting out blood onto Gwi-nam’s white, bloodied jacket. Despite the pain being overwhelming, Jun-ho couldn't help but enjoy the questionable touch, any ‘human’ around him felt nice now, even if they were currently biting his flesh. He struggled to raise his arms, Gwi-nam still taking his time to eat, tearing at his skin. He raised his arms around Gwi-nam, his glasses falling to the edge of his nose, falling off and falling on the ground. He coughed some more blood, letting out a low groan of pain. Gwi-nam released him, taking a step back and prying himself out of Jun-ho 's tight grasp, Jun-ho falling to the ground. Blood pooled out from under him, Gwi-nam watching him as he wiped his mouth.
“Fuckin’ weirdo..”
He huffed,
“I should've asked if you knew where Cheong-san was before eating, but it's a bit too late now.”
He said to himself, walking away. Jun-ho couldn't help but be slightly relieved, were there other students alive? So he wasn't alone, great. But now, what about him? Nobody to hug him as he falls into his eternal sleep, no tears, just silence, low growls from a distance, the sound of the other boy leaving. He was so tired, blood pooling out from his neck making his whole body feel numb.
He closed his eyes tiredly.

His eyes blinked open groggily, his body slightly numb still. He didn't process much for a bit, just having enough thought to stand up, his body felt like a dead weight: heavy. He looked around only to remember: he was bitten by the other boy, dead on the neck, so why was he-
He reached for his neck, feeling the hot, sticky sensation. He immediately retracted the hand, staring at the dried blood flakes, along with the half-dry blood clots. Again, he remembered something. The boy, nothing more. There were other people, along with this Cheong-san he mentioned— he wasn't alone! Though, the real problem stemmed from the fact that there were still zombies. But, the earlier boy, he got up here just fine, even when there were zombies.
Though, he wasn’t taking any chances. Cautiously, he grabbed the ladder from earlier. This time it felt much lighter, he couldn’t place the reason.
Was he a zombie?
No, he literally still had his thoughts and body intact, he wasn’t a zombie. He shook his head rather aggressively, hooking the ladder onto the side of the wall before climbing over, doing everything to not make a sound. As he was halfway down he remembered: His motherfucking glasses. But he could see just fine, so he really didn’t need them.. Wait, why could he see just fine? You know what, he was too out of it to care. He also left the instrument he had prepared to hit zombies with on the roof.
Carefully, he lowered himself onto the ground, everything he had left he was too crazed to care about. As he lowered himself down and turned around, he stepped on something, sending a loud snapping sound to echo out around the outside, zombies flying out from areas he didn’t know were even there. He held his breath as they hopped out, running to his feet where the sound came from, sniffing around– most importantly, completely ignoring him. They didn’t even notice him. He let out his breath, startling the zombies again, who sniffed closer, but eventually left. He just stood, shocked. He wanted to say something, but what if that made them finally try to kill him? He shut his mouth tightly.
Firstly, he had to find his mom, the black-haired boy second. The music building wasn’t far from the cafeteria, but it had been about three days.. Or two, he’d forgotten. He quietly made his way around the building, eyes awkwardly passing the zombies who stumbled around him, sniffing and sticking out their ears like it’d help, there was no living in a good radius: did that count his mother? He hurried his steps, anticipation welling up in him, awaiting his mother’s embrace.
He let his hand run against the walls of the buildings he passed, the rough bricks coated in crimson making him look away. He walked through the backways of the school, stepping on the carved out paths, paths devoid of grass but not concrete. He even passed by the parking lot of some of the teachers, which he, despite needing needing to escape, walked past them.
The walk to the cafeteria was long, fear and anticipation coursing through his veins. His mother could be a lifeless zombie, or an afraid human hiding out behind the kitchen. He was hoping for the latter. Though, when he entered the cafeteria from the back he was met with very few zombies, the rest in the main cafeteria. Though the few zombies in the back were lunch ladies, he hurriedly searched for his mother among them.
His eyes landed on a short, stubby, grey haired lady, figure akin to his mother’s, her back turned to him. He held his breath, his whole body felt cold, maybe it was the open wound he had, he surely lost a lot of blood. It didn’t matter, the figure slowly turned.
Oh.
It was his mother.
Her face was disfigured, the glasses that once sat on her face with a band so she wouldn’t have to adjust them while cooking now hanging on by a hair. Her whole lower jaw was torn, hanging on by a few tendons and a mess of blood and bone. He held his scream, he didn’t want to alert the zombies, despite knowing they probably wouldn’t eat him, find his location. He shoved his hands over his mouth, despair felt so strongly: He felt like throwing up, and he did. His hands retreated to holding back his already short hair as he vomited all over the floor, the sounds of his retching loud. The zombie husk of his mother just stared at him, trying to listen to find whatever victim it could find. His vomit was blood red. He could barely see in the dim light. The other zombies ran over, trying to find the source of the sound, trying to find a meal. He continued to vomit his actual stomach, pure blood flowing out of his mouth, the realization that his dear mother was no more was a hard meal to swallow. He didn’t want to believe it, he wanted to believe his mother was alive, that this was all a lie. He opened his eyes, watching the vomit fall to the floor, the earlier zombies basically laying in it, swarming around as they felt the warm vomit, believing it to be a meal. He just threw up more. He took four shaky steps backward before falling on his bottom, hot tears filling his eyes. He wiped his mouth of vomit, the parts he missed mixing with his incessantly flowing tears.