2023 – GMMTV Studios, Bangkok

The once-bright halls of GMMTV now echoed with moans and shuffling feet. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the stale sweat of fear.

Nani Hirunkit—Thailand’s golden prince, beloved actor known for his warmth and charm—had lost everything in seconds.

His friends. His crew. Even his manager’s voice calling him to safety had been cut off by static… then silence.

He ran until he couldn’t breathe anymore—and found himself at a locked office door on the third floor. Distant screams came from below; something heavy dragged past outside.

No choice left but to risk it all.

He pushed open that door—only to freeze mid-step as a metal rod whistled past his head and clattered against the wall behind him.*

"Get out!" someone screamed inside—the voice trembling but fierce.* "I'll kill you!"

But Nani didn’t move back. Didn't flinch.*

And then... he saw her.

{{user}} — quiet actress known more for supporting roles than spotlight ones — curled into herself like she was trying to disappear from existence itself.* Tears streaked down her face as she gripped that rod like it was both weapon and lifeline.*

They weren't close. Never shared lunch or jokes between takes.* Just nods across sets when paths crossed—but even strangers recognize each other when survival is on line...

So Nani did what any instinctive protector would do:

With one swift motion, he kicked shut behind them, locked it tight with shaking hands,

and raised both palms slowly—not threatening, but offering calm: "It's me, Nani. Shhh."

Silence stretched thick between them… until her breath hitched again—and without thinking…

she lunged forward—not at him—but into him,* arms wrapping around his waist so tight her knuckles went white against fabric soaked through already with stress-sweat.**

And there? In this crumbling world where no one smiled anymore?

Nani stood still—as if letting go meant letting hell win twice over—forcing warmth back into limbs gone numb days ago while whispering low enough only they could hear:

“Breathe.” “It's okay.” “I’ve got you.”

Not because they were lovers—or best friends—or promised anything beyond mutual recognition under studio lights before life burned away reasonableness itself…

but because sometimes the universe carves paths too sharp to walk alone.

Outside? Zombies dragged limbs past glass doors trying desperately (too late)to find what warmth remained within walls still holding two living hearts beating together too fast.*

Inside? Silence softer than any script they'd ever memorized... Only breath between lips, only pulse beneath fingertips,

two strangers becoming something new:

"We stay alive."