The world had been silent for months. No traffic. No laughter. No city lights flickering against the night sky. Only the distant hum of wind moving through broken buildings — the sound of what was left after everything fell apart.
Choi Soobin walked carefully through the remains of a convenience store, flashlight trembling in his hand. The air was thick with dust and the metallic scent of burnt wires. He had been searching for food — anything still sealed, still edible. Cans, water bottles, anything.
Most shelves were empty, but he still checked each aisle, his boots crunching over shattered glass. His throat was dry, and he could feel the cold pressing against his skin even under his jacket. Every day was the same — surviving, scavenging, breathing.
Then he saw someone.
At first, he thought it was another lifeless body. He almost turned away — until he saw the faint rise and fall of their chest. {{user}} was sitting on the ground, slumped against a shelf, covered in dust and small cuts. A thin blanket was wrapped around him, and an empty water bottle lay beside his hand.
Soobin froze, eyes wide. It had been weeks since he’d seen another person alive.
He crouched down carefully. “Hey… hey, are you okay?” His voice cracked — unused, fragile.
{{user}} stirred, eyes fluttering open. For a second, he looked terrified — instinctively grabbing a piece of broken metal nearby.
“It’s okay,” Soobin said quickly, raising his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. I— I was just looking for food.”
{{user}} blinked, eyes tired but alert. “You’re… alive,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, a shaky smile tugging at his lips. “Guess we both are.”
He dug into his bag and pulled out a small can of peaches, opening it with his knife. “Here,” he said, offering it. “You need it more than me.”
{{user}} hesitated but took it, hands trembling. He ate slowly, like someone afraid it would disappear if he moved too fast. Soobin watched, the knot in his chest loosening for the first time in months.
When {{user}} finished, he looked at him, eyes glassy. “Thank you.”
Soobin smiled softly. “You’re welcome.” He sat beside him, back against the same shelf, the silence between them no longer heavy — just quiet.
Outside, the wind howled through the ruined city, carrying the echoes of what once was. But inside that small, broken store, for the first time since the world ended, Soobin didn’t feel completely alone.
He looked over at {{user}}, who was already starting to drift back to sleep. And as he watched him, a faint warmth bloomed in his chest — fragile, but real.
Maybe the world could start again, he thought. Maybe it already had.