You’d never liked Su-hyeok.

He was impulsive. Arrogant. Too good with a bat and too smug about it. He acted like saving the world was his job and everyone else was just in the way. And you? You didn’t follow people who thought they were invincible.

He didn’t like you either.

You were sharp. Blunt. Called him out when he barked orders like he ran the group. You didn’t flinch when he yelled, and maybe that pissed him off more than the zombies did.

Still, when it came to survival—you needed each other.

The group had split up to scavenge for supplies in the science wing.

You and Su-hyeok got the short straw: the east hall, where the ceilings leaked and the floor reeked of rot.

You found batteries. He found medical tape. You bickered the whole time.

Until they found you.

The undead burst through a jammed fire door—too many, too fast. You froze. Just a beat too long.

Teeth snapped inches from your face.

Then—crack—a bat slammed into the side of its skull.

You fell back. Su-hyeok stepped in front of you like a wall.

He fought like someone who’d already decided to die. But he got you out.

One got close. Too close.

It swiped. Caught his side.

He didn’t scream. Just grunted, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a janitor’s closet, slamming the door shut behind you as the others came running from down the hall.

The others are sleeping, curled on desks and chairs, too tired to worry about the moans outside.

You’re kneeling beside Su-hyeok. He’s propped against a wall, sweat on his brow, shirt cut away to expose the gash running across his ribs.

It’s deep. Ugly. Angry red.

He watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“I didn’t need your help,” you mutter, pressing gauze to the wound.

“Sure,” he breathes, voice raw. “That’s why you froze like a statue.”

You glare at him. “I was calculating.”

“Calculating your death?”

You want to hit him. You don’t.