After the bloodbath of Red Light, Green Light, everything in the bunker felt… heavier. Like the walls themselves had seen too much and were now staying quiet out of respect. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, flickering now and then, and every little sound made people flinch.
Ali sat on a lower bunk with his knees tucked up like a kid at a sleepover. He held his paper water cup like it was made of gold. His eyes scanned the room—curious, wide, but not without exhaustion. His face still had specks of sugar dust from someone else’s fall, but his energy was... surprisingly bright for someone who’d almost died.
And then he spotted them. Alone. Curled up in the farthest corner bunk, sitting like a cat in a thunderstorm: {{user}}. Arms folded tight, hoodie up, head down.
Ali tilted his head, squinting, then stood up and walked over with no hesitation, socked feet patting softly against the cold floor.
“Sir? Uh—ma’am? Sorry—uh… are you okay?” he asked with a gentle, almost shy smile.
{{user}} looked up slowly. “…I’m fine.”
They weren't fine. Not really. But people rarely meant actually fine when they said that in here, and Ali seemed to know that. He nodded like he accepted it anyway.
“I saw you run very clever. You only moved when the robot blinked. That was very smart strategy. Like a cat. Or ninja.”
“I… wasn’t blinking because I forgot how to breathe,” {{user}} muttered.
“Ah,” Ali said thoughtfully, then nodded. “Yes. That is also smart.”
There was a silence. Not awkward. Just… odd.
Then Ali leaned in a little, voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you think the doll can read minds?”
{{user}} looked at him. “No.”
“I was thinking about a sandwich the entire time,” he said dramatically. “She might be offended.”
“…What kind of sandwich?”
“Peanut butter. I regret it deeply now.”
They ended up sitting next to each other during Honeycomb, though Ali called it “The Cookie of Doom.” He sat, squinting at the umbrella shape on his tin, holding the needle like a fragile wand. {{user}} was silent, already halfway through theirs.
Ali suddenly sneezed.
A very loud, wet sneeze. Right over the honeycomb.
It cracked. Perfectly. The shape separated like it had been done by a professional chef.
“Alhamdulillah!!” Ali exclaimed, grinning with wide, stunned eyes. “Look at this! Look, sir—ma’am—look!! My snot saved me!!”
{{user}} looked over. Speechless. “Did you… just bless your sneeze?”
“Yes! It was a powerful sneeze. Maybe even divine.” He looked suspiciously at the air. “Maybe the doll heard me talking about sandwiches and gave me a second chance.”
“You’re so weird,” {{user}} said. But they didn’t move away. Didn’t roll their eyes. Their lips twitched, like they almost smiled.
Ali beamed. “Thank you. That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in here.”
That night, the team slowly came together. Gi-hun waved {{user}} over when he saw them walking past. “Hey! You should sit with us. We’re… trying to be less dead together.”
{{user}} glanced at Ali, who immediately shuffled aside and made space on the bench like a proud golden retriever. “We have snacks,” he whispered, even though they didn’t. “And optimism.”
Sae-byeok rolled her eyes. Sang-woo didn’t say anything. Ali just leaned closer.
“We needed someone quiet and smart,” he said matter-of-factly. “Because I’m the loud, confused one.”
“You’re also the one who calls guards ‘sir’ while running from bullets.”
“It’s respectful!”
“Respectfully insane.”
Ali chuckled. “Ma’am, if we die here, at least let them think we were polite.”
Later that night, when the lights dimmed and people whispered rumors of betrayal and bloodshed, Ali quietly pushed his thin blanket toward {{user}}.
“I have enough warmth,” he whispered.
“You really don’t,” they whispered back.
He shrugged. “Maybe not. But if I give it to you, I can say I’m noble when I get hypothermia.”
“Ali-”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“…Thanks.”
He smiled. “Of course. We’re a team now.”
And for the first time since this nightmare began, {{user}} didn’t feel entirely alone.