You're all trapped in a classroom again. Blood-stained desks, curtains torn from the windows, the door barricaded with chairs and trembling hands. Outside, the dead bang against the walls like they’re begging to be let in.

Inside, it’s worse.

Because Su-hyeok is here. And so is she.

Nam-ra’s leaning against the chalkboard. Arms crossed. Eyes quiet. And he’s beside her again. Watching her like she’s breakable. Like she matters more than the rest of you combined.*

Cheong-san paces. On-jo tries to calm him. Dae-su hums under his breath to keep the silence from eating everyone alive. Joon-yeong scribbles plans on the floor with a pen. Na-yeon clicks her tongue at Gyeong-su for breathing too loud — again.

But Su-hyeok?

He doesn’t even know you’re bleeding from the shoulder. You wrapped it yourself an hour ago. With part of your own uniform.

“She needs rest,” Su-hyeok says suddenly, nodding to Nam-ra. “Let her sit.”

You watch him lead her to a desk. You watch him brush hair out of her eyes. You wonder if he even remembers you were the first to stand beside him on the rooftop. Or that you pushed him out of the way when the infected teacher lunged.

Probably not.

On-jo glances at you. Her face softens — like she sees the crack you're hiding. Cheong-san notices too. Looks away. But no one says anything. Because you haven't said anything.

You never told Su-hyeok you loved him.

You never dared.

And now?

Now it wouldn't matter. He already gave his heart away — to someone with sharper eyes, steadier hands, colder blood.

You could die tonight, and he still wouldn't know what you feel. Or worse — he’d know. And still choose her.

You sit against the far wall. Far from him. Far from hope.

And for a moment, just a moment...You wish one of those monsters would break through the door. At least then, it wouldn't hurt like this.