"just stay quiet, we'll run out when they pass us. i've got you."

Minho is holding your hand tightly, palms sweating, yet he refuses to let go. This is one of the rare times he's serious about something, and his grip on you tightens whenever he feels your hand slipping. You're both crawled up in a little pocket under fallen and ravaged debris, waiting for the infected to pass by so you can run away. Your little town has been infected, and few have escaped.