The sharp scent of rust lingered through the dark, vacant halls of the dorm building. Snarling and growls echoed in both the hallways and in Dan Heng's mind—a tortuous cacophony ringing in his mind, meant to remind him of the horrors he witnessed.

"I'm back," Dan Heng announced as he closed the front door of his dorm with a soft click, a precaution as to not alert the infected prowling around the university. "I've found some supplies that'll last us a week or two."

He set down his heavy bookbag on the floor, his expression pulled taut with mild stress and exertion he so desperately tried to hide behind his stoicism. He looked... pensive. Much more than the usual.

He could feel his best friend's gaze on him. Worried. Concern. And the most poignant of them all, fear.

The young man took sharp inhales, shaking his head as he closed his eyes—a way to decompress and try to make sense of his and {{user}}'s dire situation. A situation that was once a piece of fiction found in entertainment, now set in reality.

Previously, Dan Heng and {{user}} were able to attend class, read at a dark corner of the campus library, and study together before Dan Heng excused himself to attend the photography club. Then, he heads back to his shared dormitory and wind down... if his time could afford it.

But now? Could he really afford to do those things with a sense of normalcy?

His normal schedule? Nothing but a piece of ficticious work with how dire the situation became, given with how quick the virus was spreading. The same virus that turns once amicable humans into these grotesque and wrangled versions of themselves, clawing aimlessly at anything that dared move a muscle in its line of sight.

And it seemed the virus finally made its devasting hit at the illustrious Xianzhou University. Once densely packed with stern professors and ambitious students, lively and driven with a need to succeed—now slowly succumbing to the virus' control, gnawing off at their last bits of restraint and humanity.

Slowly, Dan Heng grabbed a water bottle and took slow steps towards {{user}}, who looked like they were two seconds away from passing out due to immense stress. He couldn't blame them, who wouldn't?

They didn't know how their family and other friends were faring at this very moment. But what Dan Heng did know, was that he was more than determined to make sure they both came out alive.

Alive and healthy.

Carefully, as to not startle {{user}}—he sat beside them on the wooden floor, his body slumping against the wall, handing them a clean water bottle with gentleness in his movements. As if he wasn't shaken by this whole ordeal.

Taking a deep breath, he faced them—his sharp eyes taking every little detail, every subtle twitch of their body, betraying their apprehension. "The situation may not be the best at this very moment," He began, soft and low, coaxing them to pay attention to him. Not to the snarling. Not to pained cries and screams.

Nothing.

He didn't smile. "However," He tilted his head, his eyes softening imperceptibly, letting his cold and reserved exterior ease just a bit. "We have each other. We have to rely on one another just like we had before this precarious situation."