Chapter Text

THE FIGHT

The lights flickering isn't something new.

However — and yes, of course there's a 'however' — it's definitely far more unsettling when the sky outside is darkening and blurred by fog. There's an unusual chill burning through the building too, raising goosebumps and half-asleep heads from their comatose resting positions on their tables. Coats are pulled on from their placements, whether layed on or under legs; or on top of tables, despite the warnings to have all items other than books and pens on the floor.

The students usually would've been told to take off their coats. It is a 'formal' setting after all. But today, with the sharp air creeping into the room and pricking all of its inhabitants, even the supervisor is casting wary glances at the radiator behind her desk as she wraps her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

For Yunho, sitting at the back of the classroom out of the direct line of sight of the supervisor, this is an ample opportunity for mischief. He pops a freshly-opened lollipop into his mouth, swishing it around with his tongue while he shoves the obnoxiously loud plastic wrapper into the outside pocket of his blazer. His other arm rests on the mounted table that runs across the wall to his right and the one parallel, its surface about an inch lower than that of his desk's. In this classroom, nothing is even, especially since the layout is so unorthodox with its weirdly tall tables and chairs.

Beside him, a boy with long hair pulled back in a pink hairclip gives him a sidelong glance before going back to the paper he's working on. It's Kang Yeosang, of course — one of two people here that are still actually working. Everyone else (including him, obviously) gave up long ago. Sure, it's a detention and they won't be let out without an extra hour to serve tomorrow if they don't get their respective essays done, but Yunho trusts his gaslighting skills enough to pull him through.

Or he'll just serve another detention tomorrow. He doesn't really care.

He twists the lollipop, sending another burst of artificial lemon across his tongue. At the front of the classroom, today's main character — Jung Wooyoung, troublemaker extraordinaire — is talking. Free entertainment, ho.

"Why can't you turn the heaters on? If we're paying your bills you might as well use them to keep us alive instead of to light up the school sign." Wooyoung chirps.

"Keep your tone respectful and get back to your work, mister," the supervisor says tiredly. She frees one arm in order to draw a cream-filled cookie from its bright wrapper, popping the entire thing in her mouth and washing it down with a mug of (probably) tea that the office had brought her.

"You're cold too," Wooyoung points out. On his right, Park Seonghwa puts his head in his hands, clearly regretting every decision in his life that led to him being seated next to Mr. Loudmouth. Whatever those decisions were. Yunho finds it hard to believe that not one, but two year elevens landed themselves here today.

The lady raises an eyebrow, letting go of her cardigan in order to cross her arms. She would look scary if she wasn't shorter than resident minion Kim Hongjoong — the second of two actually diligent students and the other year eleven — sitting on the side across from Wooyoung and Seonghwa.

"I can't do anything about the heat, Wooyoung," she finally sighs. "There's rules." No one, including both staff and pupils, seems to be capable of staying mad at Wooyoung for long despite how utterly irritating he can be. Yunho would know. He's constantly torn between wanting to pull the boy's bleached hair out, and wanting to join him in his shenanigans.

Yunho usually goes for option b. Wooyoung is fun to bunk classes with in the bathrooms, given that he's good company and even better at weaving elaborate tales to get himself — and, more importantly, his accomplices — out of trouble. (Clearly he did something wrong earlier today, since he's sitting in detention with the rest of them peasants).

The one time Yunho had lashed out at Wooyoung landed him with a bruised jaw from his friend Jongho and a hand-written 'Treaty of Peace' that he'd been forced to sign. Thankfully, since he'd followed along, they're now on good terms. A successful alliance.

All of this happened just three months ago.

"Rules against heating? In december?" Wooyoung says skeptically. Here it comes. "I'm sure Sir wouldn't allow this… oh, wait."

Ah, sweet, unfiltered Wooyoung. "Wooyoung," the supervisor warns, "Careful."

Yunho leans forwards, setting his chin on one hand and twisting his lollipop again with the other. This is getting interesting. Though if he were the one arguing, Yunho would bring up the school council meeting going on upstairs — appeal on behalf of the actually liked kids in the school instead of the ones being punished.

"Careful of what? What's he gonna do?" Wooyoung shoots back, though there's a hint of genuine confusion there. "Suspend me? For what?"

Two rows in front of Yunho, sprawled beside Hongjoong, a voice pipes up. "Maybe for your ass attendance."

Someone snorts. The supervisor glares. "Language, Choi San."

Choi San, half of the second most dangerous duo in the school (aside from Wooyoung, of course, but he usually works solo). Yunho would bet that he's in here for punching someone — again.

"Yeah, San, wouldn't want lil bro picking up words like that," Mingi teases, sat alone across from Yunho and Yeosang's table.

Song Mingi, the other half of the most dangerous duo in school. Famous for his height as the only kid who can rival Yunho's own, despite being in the year below him. Thankfully, he still has a bit to go, and Yunho's not capped off just yet — and anyways, he wouldn't mind being topped by Mingi.

That came out very wrong.

What he means is that Mingi is chill. Like Wooyoung, he gets incredibly foolish (especially when working with San), but he's charming nonetheless. Cringey, funny, occasionally loud — very much how Yunho rolls in his own classes. Mingi is another person Yunho enjoys bunking classes with, though he's not as proficient as Wooyoung is at getting out alive.

"Jongho knows more than me," San grumbles. Jongho is San's younger brother; an adorable, round-cheeked menace of a year seven. They're not the most similiar of siblings, but when it comes to invoking chaos, their relation is unmistakable.

"Everyone knows more than you, cutie." Wooyoung quips. He's mastered the art of making belittlements sound like compliments, and his skill strikes well as San is left frozen in his seat, trying to decipher what the boy had said.

"All of you, quiet!" Ms Supervisor (Yunho really cannot remember her name. In his defence, she's new) snaps, rapping her hand on the whiteboard. "Or I will have to add fifteen minutes to all of your detentions. I don't mind staying longer."

"Sadistic much," Yeosang mutters, pen digging slightly too deep into his paper. Barely enough for Yunho to notice, but he does.

Yunho quirks an eyebrow, leaning back slightly so that Ms Supervisor is completely blocked from his view by Hongjoong's hunched body at the front. "So we're talking again?" he whispers jokingly. Half jokingly.

Yeosang doesn't miss a beat. "Who said I was talking to you?"

"C'mon, Sangie,"

"It's Yeosang."

"Kang."

"I will rat you out," Yeosang warns, though there's no real bite to it.

That's how their banter usually goes. While Yeosang is incredibly quiet and reserved — Yunho only began talking to him since they'd been unwillingly partnered by their seating plans in literally half their classes — once he opens up, his quickfire comebacks and deadpan humour is put on full display. He's surprisingly good company.

Yunho might have taken the teasing a tad too far earlier today though. "Sorry about french," he whispers sheepishly.

Yeosang hums, still working. "It's chill."

Yeosang is lucky. He's unable to hold grudges (if the year nines spoke to Yunho the way they do to Yeosang, Yunho's not sure he'd be able to keep his fists from flying), and he's got a super quiet voice; enough so that even now, he doesn't have to try mask his volume. This is just how Yeosang talks, and the supervisor can't hear a thing. Probably. She's not telling them off, at least.

"Half way through," she calls. Half an hour to go.

They lapse into silence like the rest of the detention class, the only sounds being the scratching of two pens and the humming of electricity overhead. The lights flicker every so often. Yunho tries biting his lollipop — it's still too big. He pushes it to the side of his mouth, letting it slowly dissolve onto his tongue. Definitely too sweet, and too artificial, but it's grounding in a familiar sort of way with how many of these exact ones he's had in the past. There's an occasional, routine beep from some fire alarm near the school's entrance, and the clacking of the supervisor's heels on the ground as she paces at the front of the classroom.

And then it all stops.

The buzz of electricity, the clicking of shoes, the small beeps.

The lights.

Complete silence. The room is plunged into a dusky darkness, faint blue light from the frosted windows only revealing the silhouettes of the tables, the whiteboard, the seven boys and the supervisor.

Yunho doesn't believe in the supernatural. Hell, he laughs at the absurdity of horror movies that leave people like his cousin and probably Song Mingi trembling. But when Yeosang puts down his pen and frowns upwards, Yunho knows this isn't any normal power cut. Something is off. Very off, and something in his gut tells him to move.

So he does. Yunho's jaw tightens, the lollipop not leaving his mouth as he picks up his bag and zips it closed. The usually small noise is like a blaring siren in the middle of a dark night — everyone jumps, turning to him. He ignores them, slinging one of the straps over his shoulder and shifting his position on his seat so that one of his feet is on the ground, ready. No one says anything, but a few people start to pack too, one of them being Yeosang.

Wooyoung's voice breaks through the tense silence. "What's going on?"

Something at the front falls, crashing onto the ground. It must've been glass — maybe a beaker, knocked over by the supervisor.

"Ms June, are you oka—" Wooyoung starts, then—

Screams.

Guttural, grating; like nails dragging across a chalkboard, deep and horrible. Yunho fights not to clap his hands over his ears, instead letting instinct push him from his table, stumbling towards the doorway. His stomach twists into knots, real fear making his head light and heart rate jump.

It won't stop. Constant, tear-jerking screams, coming from the front of the classroom — is it Wooyoung's idea of a prank? Seonghwa having enough of him? Maybe it's San, causing himself an injury to skip the rest of the detention—

No. It's her — the supervisor — Ms June. Her silhouette is barely visible in the darkness, just a faint blue highlighting the outline of her body, but Yunho sees the unnatural arch of her back, her hands pressed into the ground, just screaming. Constantly. Non-stop.

Someone screeches. Hongjoong yells, "Does anyone have a phone? Call someone!"

A flash. Someone's turned on their phone light, and Yunho's never been gladder that barely anyone obeys the rules of handing them in.

But now he can see the shards of glass on the ground, scattered around the supervisor, digging into her palms. He can see the blood, slowly spreading across her hands, dripping from her face — no, her mouth. She's bleeding from her mouth, her wide-open, screaming mouth, and it's dripping onto the floor around her and sliding down chunks of jagged glass.

"It's not ringing! Why isn't it — I-I usually have data!"

Yunho's seen films before. He's seen characters torn to shreds, actors with severed limbs, but none of that is real — that's what makes it easier to watch. That's what lets him enjoy the actual story behind the films.

Never has he seen so much blood, not real blood.

Someone might be gagging, but he can't hear anything over those echoing screams, rebounding from the brick walls, never-ending, not stopping—

Until they do. Abruptly. And the sudden silence chills him to the bone, far, far more than the noise did — because this isn't right. This isn't right.

Whoever is holding up their flashlight is shaking. Yunho can tell, because the light keeps shifting the shadows on different parts of Seonghwa's face, even though he's stationary — crouched just outside the perimeter of broken glass, looking intently at the supervisor.

It's quiet, incredibly quiet. Not even Wooyoung dares break it — it's like the silence is their only tether to sanity, to containing the hysterics that Yunho knows aren't just building up inside him alone. Because none of what's happening is normal — it shouldn't be real. This shouldn't be happening.

Then, there's a scuffle to his left. Yunho's head whips towards the doorway just as someone yelps, and from the front, San calls out, "Jongho? Is that y—"

And their tentative peace crumbles like sand as Seonghwa lets out a shout that pierces far, far deeper than any of the screams did before.

"RUN!"

Immediately, the quiet uncertainty hanging in the air morphs into thick tension, fear sparking through the air like the room's been struck with lightning. Lightning but worse, because if it was a real bolt, Yunho wouldn't have to see the aftermath.

But he's here, and people are running past him, and there's another echoing crash and ear-piercing scream. Yunho snaps into action, gripping his backpack strap with one hand and tightening his lips around the stick of his lollipop.

It tastes sour.

He's about to bolt through the doorway when a pink hair clip catches his eye. It's Yeosang, standing still, knuckles white as he holds a phone with its flashlight on and facing the front of the room as he stares with a gaping mouth.

Yunho doesn't look to see what's happening. There's adrenaline pumping through his veins, urging him forwards, out, away; every man for himself, right?

But he can't leave Yeosang behind.

Yunho shoves his shoulder with a bit too much force, pulling his eyes away from the front of the classroom. "Move," he urges, grabbing Yeosang's wrist and pulling him along.

Without answering, Yeosang follows.

They run through the doorway, past the entrance to the computer room and into the corridor. Yunho's school isn't big — there's six classrooms in total, barely large enough for the roughly twenty-five pupils in each class, plus this corridor with its impressive line of four half-working computers and a printer, then the office, staff room and bathrooms. That's it. This corridor is called R4 — Room 4. Simple, concise.

With Yeosang's light, Yunho sees a bag in front of one of the computers. It's probably Jongho's, but has he gone? Where to?

He takes the bag, then leads Yeosang into the foyer.

It's small. Barely sizable enough to fit a full class standing, and cluttered with the school's house point boxes and falsely cheery decorum. Beside the door sits a fake tree, its leaves somehow seeming decayed despite holding no life in the first place. The doors leading to the teacher's bathroom, student's bathrooms and office are shut, most of which isn't strange, but the office doesn't close unless there's no one there. But where are they? Did they not hear the screaming from afar, wherever they are? Where are the staff when they need them?

Gathered by the staircase are San, Mingi and Jongho, the youngest perched on the edge of the second step. Uncertainty is etched into their faces like identical face paint. Yunho raises his eyebrows.

"C'mon, let's go," he says, stepping towards the door. "We can try getting signal outside."

Mingi huffs. "Go on, try it." His voice is strained, like he's trying to tease but something is hanging over him that's tainting his words.

With a frown, Yunho presses the button to unlock the door, grabs the handle, yanks down and pulls. It doesn't budge.

He tries again. Nothing.

"Well, shit," he says.

"Yeah," San says breathily. "Shit."

"We could try the window in R1," Mingi suggests. "It's not hard to get out of."

"You would know," Jongho mutters.

They move back into R4. Yunho glances at the door leading to the detention room — R3, usually the 'science lab' — and his stomach twists.

Why did Seonghwa tell them to run? Why hasn't he come out, along with Wooyoung and Hongjoong?

What happened to Ms June?

He stands in the middle of the corridor, torn between going with San, Mingi and Jongho to try the windows, or peeking around the door to check for the others. Nearby, Yeosang leans against a shelf, characteristically quiet yet unsettlingly so despite the familiarity of the silence. Yunho is about to ask how he's feeling — probably a shade of fear, but hey, asking shows that Yunho's here for him — when two things happen:

San lets out a frustrated grunt, and seems to kick the wall;

And another, resounding crash comes from R3.

Yunho ignores San, ignores the instincts screaming at him to run, and looks through the doorway.

Yelling. Another clang. A high-pitched scream, throaty and painful, yet different from the ones before — then Seonghwa bursts through the corridor, a hand clamped around his left arm, blue light highlighting his mussed hair, and coat missing. His face is a blur in the shadow, but Seonghwa must see him, because he croaks, "Why aren't you gone?"

His voice is hoarse, tired, pained. It holds so much that Yunho can't even hope to unveil. It speaks volumes as to what happened, yet Yunho still has no idea what could have happened in the room in the short minutes since he'd followed Seonghwa's command to run.

"Everything's locked," Yunho says softly. Then, unable to contain his concern, he asks, "What happened to you?"

Footsteps sound behind him, and Seonghwa crosses the doorway, Yeosang's light falling onto him. Yunho almost drops the bag in his hand. Yeosang gasps.

Seonghwa is covered in blood. The knees of his trousers, the front of his white button-up shirt, the side of his neck — and his arm. Blood drips between his fingers, thick droplets that aren't slowing down at all, the source of which is covered by his palm.

"We need to go." Seonghwa says, voice already so much steadier than before, as if the urgency to leave is stronger than whatever pain he's in.

The others must've seen him, because someone gags and Jongho moves Yunho aside to pull Seonghwa by his good shoulder towards a chair. San follows them, eyes wide and worried. "We've tried all the windows but they're jammed or locked or something."

Seonghwa frowns, opening his mouth, his words are cut short by another yell followed by a boom. Everyone freezes — Except Yeosang, who dashes towards the sound, peering down the hallway again, tilting his phone to shine into the corridor.

Hongjoong's voice reaches them, panicked yet stern. "Yeosang, help out, quick!" And Yeosang vanishes, phone falling to the floor and footsteps echoing in the freshly reinstated, tense silence. There's a grunt, a gasp, then two pairs of footsteps near… and they finally enter.

Yunho swallows thickly.

Hongjoong looks unscathed, but his hands are dyed red with congealing blood and his eyes are wide and wild. Beside him, Yeosang's eyes are glossy and his lips are pressed into a thin line, like he's physically holding back his feelings.

And in their arms, is Wooyoung.

He's completely limp. One arm is dangling down where Hongjoong and Yeosang's hands aren't supporting him, and his eyes flutter occasionally, though he doesn't look to be awake. His chest rises and falls with shallow, erratic breaths. Blood pools on the floor beneath him, dripping steadily and seeping into the cracks between the wooden tiles — it's far, far more than Seonghwa's.

And his leg — oh god. Yunho isn't usually squeamish, but bile rises and burns the back of his tongue, and yet… he can't look away.

Wooyoung's trouser leg, from the waist down, is gone; so is every inch of what should be skin. It's all coated in a thick layer of dark blood, seeping into Hongjoong's shirt and sleeves. Across the side of his thigh from just above his knee, there's a deep, wide gash — Yunho tenses seeing the deep-cut flesh, only visible because none of the flowing blood is staying inside the wound. It's so much that it's spilling.

Hongjoong hurriedly sets him down on a table in R1. Jongho shuts the door leading down to R3 with a pale, emotionless face, like he's fighting not to process what he's seen. San is frozen beside Mingi, whose cries are muffled by the hand clamped over his mouth, and Seonghwa stares at the ground before moving into the foyer. Yunho lets the door drift closed behind him, lacking the heart to remind him that there's no one to help them there.

The strained atmosphere feels slightly less dangerous now that both entrances are closed off.

Yunho steps carefully behind Yeosang into R4, picking up his phone as he goes and shining it where Wooyoung is laying, still and bleeding, on the table. Hongjoong taps Wooyoung's face, then shakes him a little. "Wooyoung, you have to stay awake," he murmurs.

Wooyoung shifts, then groans. It's deep and painful, like he's ran out of the will to even listen, but at least he's conscious.

"H-hurts," he chokes, voice barely audible despite the pin-drop quiet.

"I know, I know," Hongjoong says gently. "We're gonna try help you."

"How?" Yeosang says, glancing up. He's finally speaking, which is either a good thing or a sign of how grave the situation is. "How can we do anything?"

"We'll get out and get help," Hongjoong says confidently. "But right now, do you happen to have any medical knowledge?"

Yunho, for one, does not. Yeosang though raises an eyebrow, then points at Wooyoung's wound without touching it. "He's bleeding from a vein. Maybe two, I don't know," he says. "Luckily it's not arterial, so he won't die as fast."

"As fast?" Yunho repeats sceptically.

Yeosang shrugs.

Wooyoung's harsh breaths stutter. "L-Lucky me," he slurs.

At least he's aware enough for sarcasm.

"We need to stop the bleeding though, or he's really cooked," Yeosang says.

"For sure," Hongjoong nods, already shrugging off his blazer. The cold hasn't let down — in fact, it's only gotten worse — but he doesn't even hesitate.

Yunho moves away from the makeshift doctors, taking Hongjoong's place beside Wooyoung's head instead. The boy blinks slowly up at him.

There's something so unsettling, so wrong about it being Wooyoung of all people in this place. Wooyoung is like a star — always burning bright, full of endless energy, witty and quick with his words. But now, he's been rendered immobile, barely holding onto consciousness and wracked with pain from a wound Yunho can't even imagine the cause of, let alone the extent of the pain it's causing him. He's positively shocked that Wooyoung is still awake. He's stronger than he lets on.

An idea forms. Yunho pulls the half-dissolved lollipop from his mouth, and forms a slight teasing lilt to his tentative smile. "You want some?"

It's unsanitary, maybe a little gross, especially since they're not close like that, but Wooyoung cracks a very, very small, lopsided grin. "'S… flirting?"

"Yep," Yunho chirps. It's really not. He hopes the sugar will help Wooyoung stay awake, or at least make him a bit more present until they can get out and get help.

"Gimme," Wooyoung says, fingers twitching, but his body doesn't move. He doesn't know for sure, but he can imagine Wooyoung is trying to reach out, and it hurts to think that he really is but just… can't. How miserable, how debilitating that must be, especially for someone like Wooyoung who relies on his sharp words and movements so much.

Yunho pops the lollipop into Wooyoung's mouth just as Yeosang begins wrapping his leg with Hongjoong's torn shirt. The elder is pulling his blazer back over his thinly vested chest — he's got to be cold, but he doesn't flinch, and there's not an ounce of regret in his eyes. Wooyoung's jaw tightens when the fabric touches his wound, but he doesn't scream. His eyes flutter like he's fighting to keep them open, and his legs shift as if he's trying to move from the pain but can't.

Sympathy burns through Yunho, settling in his chest. He can't begin to imagine the pain Wooyoung must be in right now, yet he's still awake and fighting.

An instant after Yeosang sets his leg back down, the slight semblance of safety that had settled onto him falls away when a panicked shout from the foyer reaches him. After a quick glance at Wooyoung, he hurries back out of the room, and against good reason follows San into the foyer.

Yunho's body tenses, fear churning in his gut when the light fixes on Seonghwa, who's got both hands wrapped around the handle of the office door. Someone is trying to open it from the inside, violently yanking over and over, but Seonghwa keeps it from opening more than an inch at a time with his body weight thrown backwards with the effort.

Are the office staff in there? Why is Seonghwa holding them in? "What the hell are you doing? Let them out, we need help—!" Yunho all but shouts, moving to pull Seonghwa away. The jerking immediately becomes more frenzied when he speaks, and he can't help imagining one of the office ladies standing there, hearing his voice and trying desperately to come out and help Wooyoung and the supervisor… and Seonghwa, who has blood dripping freely from his arm, more than before.

"Stay back, Yunho! I swear to god, stay back!" Seonghwa yells, so panicked that Yunho freezes against his own will. "San, help me hold this — Yunho, get everyone upstairs, now!"

Against better reason and his own conscience, Yunho's body moves. Mingi and Jongho dash past him to the stairs, clearly having heard already, but Yunho is pulled to R1.

Yeosang stares at him with wide eyes as he shoves the phone into his hand and shoulders past, sliding his arms under Wooyoung's shoulders and gesturing for Hongjoong to help. He does so, gently lifting Wooyoung's legs without question, but Yeosang frowns. "What's happening? Why—"

"Move," Yunho instructs harshly. Seonghwa's urgency has leeched into him despite his deep disagreement, his body tugging him towards safety. Or at least, alleged safety.

Yeosang doesn't argue further like Yunho had. He just taps Wooyoung's uninjured thigh like a gentle goodbye, then takes Yunho and Jongho's bags from the ground and slips away.

The banging from the office is getting louder, more frantic. Yunho and Hongjoong hoist Wooyoung up, forcing themselves to ignore his groans of pain as they carry him to the staircase.

Yunho doesn't look towards the office. He doesn't look at anything except the next stair, blocking out the banging and the shouts and the groans of pain — just move one foot then the next, shift whatever's in his hands to make the load more bearable, take the next step. Nine steps, stop. Six, stop. Four, stop.

He keeps moving. Maybe they're at the top, maybe there are more stairs to go. Yunho isn't sure — he's not sure of anything, of what he's doing, of where he is.

Then a hand settles on his shoulder, warm and grounding, and Yunho snaps back to reality. He's standing on the upstairs landing, Wooyoung's head and shoulders are in his arms and Mingi is standing beside him with a soft frown.

"You good?" he asks, an uncertain lilt to his voice.

Of course he's not good. There's blood on his shoes and smeared on his hands, there's a boy bleeding to death in his arms, a supervisor is missing and whatever is going on downstairs could make a horror movie that Yunho wouldn't usually be scared of — but right now, he's scared. It's in the trembling of his hands, the impatient shifting of his shoes, the sharpness of his ears and the buzzing in his head.

Yunho nods. Then, voices reach them from downstairs:

"Okay!" Seonghwa's voice comes, loud and assertive. Yunho feels his body straighten unbidden, already accustomed to following the elders' orders. "Three. Two. One. KICK!"

And there's an audible thud, like fists thrown at a wall, and then there's pounding on the stairs. Hongjoong shifts Wooyoung's legs, then orders, "Move aside!"

They quickly shuffle further into the narrow corridor, nearing the doors leading to R7 just as San shoots up the final stair, followed swiftly by Seonghwa. Their faces are red and streaked with sweat, and their hands look almost… raw. Despite being in a war for breath, Seonghwa shoves his way to Hongjoong and points at the doors. Hongjoong nods, their silent exchange completed easily.

"We're going to the emergency exit in R5," he says, voice soft yet booming in the still air devoid of anything but breaths. He shares a loaded glance with Seonghwa. "Yunho, swap with Mingi. We need to go."

San casts a wary glance down the stairs, then pales. "Quiet down!" he hisses. Yunho hands Wooyoung over to Mingi, alleviating a sharp pain in his shoulders he hadn't been aware of until now. "They haven't come up yet, but they're close."

"Who?" Jongho asks. Yunho wants to ask the same thing — he's so close to stopping everyone just to quench his curiosity.

But he doesn't, and Jongho's question goes unanswered as they move into R7. It's the largest classroom in school, used for art and textiles classes, the walls plastered with creative pieces from various years and smears of paint permanently staining the tables and some of the floorboards. Now, blood joins the splatters.

There are two sinks on the nearby left hand side, and at the wall opposite the entrance, there are two equally spaced out doors. The left one leads to R5, and the other to R6. Yunho and Yeosang hold the double entrance doors open so the others can bring Wooyoung through, then they softly shut them.

Hongjoong stops. "You two, stay here and keep watch," he says. "Jong—"

"Who made you leader?" San cuts in. Everyone stares at him. "What? Genuine question. Isn't Seonghwa older?"

Seonghwa isn't the oldest student in school, but he's close. He's the third oldest year eleven after two girls in his class, making him the oldest boy. Yunho isn't sure what place Hongjoong takes, but it's definitely not very close.

He does know that Hongjoong ran for head boy, and Seonghwa was his biggest hype man. Even though he didn't win, there was a massive amount of support for him from every class — actually, it's pretty strange that Hongjoong didn't win, but in the announcement assembly, the Headteacher said that the votes were incredibly close. In any case, the whole debacle showcased the pair's closeness, which Yunho had heard muttered about for weeks afterwards but ignored the rumours of. Now, seeing them side by side and constantly exchanging looks and one-word messages, Yunho can't help but wish he'd listened closer.

"I'm older," Seonghwa says, standing up straight with a hand covering his arm once more. "And I'm telling you to listen to Hongjoong. We can't be arguing, not here, not now."

San swallows, then hangs his head slightly with a defeated nod. Jongho frowns at him, tapping his back and murmuring something in his ear. San nods again, but his eyes don't lift from their downcast glare. Yunho doesn't expect Hongjoong to comment, but he tilts his head to be level with San's eyes (It's not hard. Hongjoong is the shortest one here.) and raises his eyebrows.

"I get it, this isn't ideal," Hongjoong says gently. "But we need coordination. It's too risky right now to democratically choose a leader."

San inhales sharply. "I know. Just…" he shakes his head. "Let's get out of here."

Hongjoong nods, satisfied, then continues. "Yunho, Yeosang, stay by this door and keep the light facing down, but not so much that you can't see. Don't open the doors, just watch through the glass and point the light up at R5 if you see anyone coming," he instructs. They nod obediently, and he turns to Jongho. "Mingi and I need to keep a hold of Wooyoung, so you and Seonghwa need to go in first. Anyone else got a phone?" he asks, glancing around.

San immediately pulls his bag from Yeosang and begins rummaging through it. Mingi jerks his head backwards, indicating towards the bag strapped tightly to his back. "Mine's in there, but I can't get it right now," he says. "Clearly."

"That's okay, one will do," Hongjoong says.

As Yunho casts a glance at the door to R5, a thought pops into his head. "There's a school council meeting right now," he blurts.

Everyone turns to him. Seonghwa's eyebrows shoot up. "You're right. That's…" he blinks. "In R5."

There's silence for a moment, then Hongjoong says, "Best case scenario, they're already gone and we can get out ASAP too."

"Wouldn't it be better if they're here to help us? Maybe one of them has data," Jongho asks reasonably, switching on San's flashlight.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share another indecipherable glance. It's almost annoying, how they're having silent conversations and not letting anyone into their thought processes. How rude.

"… I doubt it," Seonghwa says finally. There's a heaviness in his words that hints at a lot hidden behind them, for whatever reason. Yeosang, though, questions it.

"Can you just tell us why the hell you're keeping us from everyone?" Yeosang pipes in. Yunho glances at him, concerned by his bitter tone — Yeosang barely ever gets annoyed, let alone angry. His brows are furrowed and although his flashlight is still faithfully pointed at the floor, his free hand is balled in a tight fist. "Ms June, the office, now the council? There have gotta be staff with the council too. Why don't you want them to help us? I hope you're not so caught up in hero complexes that you want to try save Wooyoung yourselves, because you won't. He's dying." He finishes, gesturing wildly at the bleeding boy.

"I—What?" Hongjoong snaps. "I haven't got a… a fucking hero complex." He sucks in a sharp breath, and Yunho can imagine he'd be rubbing his face too if his hands weren't holding Wooyoung and covered in blood. "Look, Yeosang. Anyone else in this building right now will not be in a place to help us, I can guarantee that. I don't…" he sighs. "I don't know how we're… fine… but right now we need to get out and get away, as far as possible. I'll explain what I know when we're safe. Got it?" Without waiting for assent, he turns back to Seonghwa. "Lead."

Seonghwa moves without question, waving Jongho over. The youngest casts a wary glance back at the rest of them, eyes halting on San, before he turns around and follows. He shines the light at the thin window pane embedded in the door, then grunts. "It's covered up."

"That's not a great sign," Hongjoong mumbles. "Maybe—"

Seonghwa pushes open the door. The light of Jongho's phone illuminates the room for a split second before he hurriedly points it at the floor.

Yunho's stomach turns.

The school council hasn't left — oh, they're still in school, alright. Standing stock-still, staring expressionlessly at them. Yunho wasn't able to count them in the brief moment of clarity, but he can guess that all twelve members, half boys and half girls, are still in there. There are two taller figures barely outlined by the fading light, likely teachers, but none of them are moving.

Seonghwa grabs Jongho's arm, pulling him backwards with him as he takes slow, even steps. Hongjoong does the same with Mingi following, softly carrying Wooyoung, and he casts a wide-eyed look at Yunho. Yunho guesses he's being signalled to open the door. Slowly, carefully, he does so, and Yeosang copies.

The door creaks. Everyone freezes.

And the group in R5 start to move.

"RUN!" Seonghwa yells for the second time. So they do.

But so do the council; with the crashing of chairs hitting the ground and thuds of bumping into tables and walls, they flood into R7 just as everyone else gets out. Yeosang and Yunho finally duck through and slam the doors shut, and Yunho's eyes widen as a beam of light catches one of the faces.

It's a girl, a year nine Yunho doesn't know the name of. But… there's something unsettlingly off. Maybe it's her pale skin, so unnaturally pale, like the blood has drained from her body; maybe it's the stillness of her eyes, frozen in a dead stare straight ahead; maybe it’s her unnervingly blue lips, the edges crusted with something akin to dried mustard.

Then her head turns to face Yunho, a slow, deliberate movement, and she begins to run.

"Yunho, get in!" someone shouts, grabbing his arm and yanking him backwards. He stumbles — the double doors fly open once more with a bang, and the girl nears with two others on her heels.

Then a door swings shut in front of him, and they're blocked from his sight. Mingi — oh, it was Mingi who grabbed him — lets go of his arm, panting.

Yunho sucks in a breath. "Holy — What the —"

Mingi's hand slaps over his mouth, then there's a hard thud against the door.

"Lean against it," Hongjoong hisses. They immediately obey, pressing their backs into the solid wood, sealing it shut. Yunho blinks rapidly, eyes adjusting to the brightness of two flashlights in the small room they're closeted in.

Yunho's never been inside the staff room before, but this is definitely it; yet it isn't what he'd expected. It's incredibly cramped, an L-shaped room — the entrance where he's stood is walled in by crowded cupboards before it opens into the main leg of the room; a small table with two chairs and a singular computer; a sink lined with mismatched mugs and short metal spoons set in the dipped-in right side of the room; and a couple more chairs lining the long wall opposite him, the expanse itself covered with a large blue paper poster obscured by sticky notes and scrawled, bold letters.

Laid out across the floor, leg out of view behind the right hand wall, is Wooyoung. Seonghwa is half covered too, presumably looking at the wound. San, Jongho and Yeosang have taken three of four of the seats, setting their bags beneath the chairs, and Hongjoong stands on his tiptoes on the table, peeking out of a small window set high up on the wall. What's he doing?

If only Mingi would take his grimy (probably clean enough) hands off Yunho's mouth so he can ask. Yunho raises an eyebrow at him — can you get off already? — and Mingi lifts both of his in response. That probably means something like you gonna carry on talking? And — obviously — Yunho will, so he crosses his arms like a petulant child, pouting into Mingi's palm, and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

It's the longest they've all gone without speaking so far. Hongjoong is switching between staring out the window and exchanging signals with Yeosang — a tap on the wrist, Yeosang checks his phone, holds out a few fingers, and Hongjoong turns away again. Seonghwa looks under Wooyoung's makeshift bandage, stands, paces a bit, gets glared at by Mingi and then checks Wooyoung's bandage again. San and Jongho pass San's phone back and forth, probably exchanging messages that they can't say aloud, and Yeosang does nothing, staring upwards with his legs gently kicking back and forth, just shy of the ground, until Hongjoong pulls his attention and taps his wrist again. At some point, he hands the phone over to Hongjoong, and the elder spends some time waving the light outwards. Maybe it's some kind of signal, who knows; what's obvious is that it doesn't work, as Hongjoong hands the phone back with slumped shoulders and a deep frown.

Yunho and Mingi keep themselves pressed against the door and each other, slightly cramped but not horribly so. Now that the adrenaline is wearing down, Yunho feels the chill in his bones once more, goosebumps raising on his covered arms, but having Mingi beside him helps. The boy is like a living heater, radiating heat that Yunho can't help lean slightly into, and Mingi doesn't stop him. He doesn't move his hand either, even though his arm must be tiring, and Yunho doesn't mind so much anymore, since his face is probably warmer than anyone else's right now. Take that, Hongjoong.

At first, the attempts to get in were frequent and forceful, almost like full bodies pushing themselves to get in. Yunho and Mingi dug their feet into the ground, and with their combined strength, the door barely nudged open an inch. As the minutes passed, the number of attempts dwindled, and now it's been several minutes since anyone's tried pushing in.

What unsettles Yunho the most isn't the frenzied attempts to get in and the others' insistence on keeping the council out. It's the look that was on that girl's face, the deadness of her eyes, and the silence. Not of movement but of speech. Shouldn't they be shouting? Surely the council students would at least admit to something being very, gravely wrong. A 'let us in!' or 'what's going on?' or 'what's wrong?', but instead, there's been nothing. Radio silence. And surely those outside the door know at least some of today's detention clubs' names — why aren't they speaking?

Speaking of speaking, Hongjoong is speaking and the sound, while soft, is so jolting that Yunho jumps. Everyone's heads whip to face Hongjoong.

"I think… it's safe to speak now," Hongjoong says, staring intently at the door. "Have you two heard anything in the last few minutes? Anything at all?"

Mingi finally takes his hand off Yunho's face, but he still doesn't open his mouth. They shake their heads in unison. Hongjoong pauses anyways, and Yunho strains his ears for any movement outside the door. Nothing.

"I… I think it's fine," Yunho says. How long has it been? His voice is already slightly scratchy, his throat dry.

Hongjoong takes a deep breath, eyes flicking to Wooyoung before he sits down on the table, feet still inches from the ground. "Sit down, Yunho, Mingi. Just stay against the door." He instructs. They follow quickly, fully stretching out their long legs, knees, shoulders and hips pressed together enough to bruise, but they don't complain.

"I think there's a lot to explain," Hongjoong says.

"No shit," Yeosang mutters.

Eyebrows raise. "You swear?" San asks, genuinely bewildered.

"It's justified, is it not?" Yeosang challenges, gesturing wildly. "Look at what's going on! Look at Wooyoung!"

"Is he even alive?" Jongho whispers.

"Yes," Seonghwa says instantly, moving from his spot next to the sink to sit beside Wooyoung's head and Hongjoong's dangling feet. "He's just exhausted." He gently lifts Wooyoung's head, setting it in his lap and brushing his fingers through his hair. Wooyoung's breaths stutter, and Yunho is suddenly too aware of how shallow and uneven they are. It's… scary, to say the least.

Jongho's question isn't fantastical or far-fetched. It's completely reasonable, with Wooyoung's state — for all they know, he could die from the pain alone. It's plausible. It's horribly, disgustingly possible. And they can't do anything about it; the pain, the blood, the wound.

"From what?" Mingi asks. Bad question. Seonghwa frowns at him.

"From keeping himself alive," he says. "If you were in his position, you'd know."

Mingi shuts up. Hongjoong raps the table lightly, regaining everyone's attention except Seonghwa's, who stays focused on wiping the sweat from Wooyoung's forehead and softly carding his hair. Yunho would've thought the boy was unconscious if he couldn't see how tightly Wooyoung's mouth is clamped around the lollipop stick.

Yunho is glad he gave it to him.

"I guessed something was up when Miss June knocked over the beaker," Hongjoong starts. "But not because of the beaker.

"I was right at the front, so even though the lights went out, I was able to see her well enough before she fell," he says grimly. "I don't know exactly what's caused all of this, but I know there’s something up. Her mouth was foaming, and the colour was… weird, but I didn’t see well." He shivers imperceptibly, and Yunho almost does the same — thankfully, he's never been very squeamish, but imagining a real person foaming at the mouth… it's unsettling, to say the least. He feels Mingi tense beside him, and glances over momentarily to see his jaw tight and eyes on the ground.

"Seonghwa told you to run because Ms June got violent. She didn't respond to us at all and then threw glass at Seonghwa with her bare hands," he glances momentarily down at Seonghwa, at the blazer he'd pulled off his shoulders to wrap around his arm. Yunho wonders how bad the cut is — there'd been so much blood earlier and yet he hasn't made a single noise that suggests that he's in pain. "I told him and Wooyoung to leave, but Wooyoung didn't, and…" he shakes his head.

Yunho can see it in his mind: the darkness, trying to help Ms June, her attacking them. The fear, the descent into chaos, the pain. But —

"What happened to her then?" Yunho asks. "Why didn't she follow you out?"

The quiet that follows is charged, tense. Seonghwa finally looks up at Hongjoong, but this time, his gaze is questioning too; he doesn't know. But a moment later, his eyes widen. "You—"

"She was going to grab me," Hongjoong whispers. "She was going to grab me and hurt Wooyoung even more a-and I panicked. I—" his words are spilling over each other, hurried and nervous, but above all… guilty. Yunho's never heard him stutter, let alone speak like this, before. "I pulled the glass in Wooyoung's leg and threw it. It hit her throat."

Silence.

Hongjoong killed her.

Then:

"You could've at least used something else, stupid," Yeosang quips lightly. "Don't you know not to remove things from a wound?"

Someone snorts. Hongjoong lets out a deep sigh, the corners of his downturned mouth quirking up just slightly, hands loosening in his lap. Yunho admires Yeosang's ability to lighten the atmosphere despite not being usually talkative himself — sure, the humour is dark, but it's diffused the tension at least a bit and visibly lessened Hongjoong's guilt.

Because, really, he did what he had to — to survive, to protect Wooyoung. And everyone in the room understands that; well, probably. San's brows are slightly furrowed, however his eyes are still soft. Sympathetic. Maybe he doesn't agree with what Hongjoong did (which, honestly, Yunho can't say for sure that he approves), but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand.

On the ground, Wooyoung's chest shifts, his head tipping back slightly and eyelids fluttering open. Seonghwa strokes his temple with a thumb, murmuring soft assurances, but Wooyoung doesn't close his eyes again.

"Zombies," he says with a throaty cough, voice weak. "Th're zombies."

Zombies. Surely, surely not. Zombies aren't real; they can't be. They defy all of the laws of nature. They're… fiction.

And yet, the year nine girl's face comes unbidden to the front of his mind, her pale skin and her dead-eyed stare.

"We don't know that," Hongjoong counters tiredly.

"Why'd you… stop 'er touch me?" the lollipop stick shifts as he talks, and it's probably a health hazard since he's not sitting upright, but Seonghwa doesn't take it from him.

Seonghwa answers this time. "We don't know what's happening, but we're better safe than sorry," he says, looking up and fixing his gaze on Yunho. "I got you away from the office because they've gone crazy in there too. They're no help to us."

"So… they're infected," Yeosang says slowly.

"You could say that."

Hongjoong gently claps his hands. "Theories after I finish, please. There's something else." He pauses, looking at Yeosang. "Time?"

"Four-oh-five," Yeosang says after a glance at his screen. He twists a yellow yarn bracelet around his wrist, one Yunho notices now for the first time. A small sunflower charm dangles downwards, swaying gently. "Twenty-one minutes since we got in here."

Mingi perks up, elbow pressing into Yunho's side. He doesn't mind it. "Our parents! They should be here!"

Hongjoong rubs a hand over his face. "See, that's the problem… their cars came and left."

There's a moment where everyone processes his words, then:

"What the hell?"

"Oh, we're so cooked,"

"Why'd they leave, what the fuck?"

"This is the weirdest shit like, ever."

Seonghwa shushes everyone. Hongjoong sighs. "More like suspicious. Messed up."

"Why?" Jongho asks, voice cracking. "Why us? Why now?"

"How's he supposed to know?" San snaps. Then he blinks, face dropping, and pulls his younger brother into a tight hug. "Sorry."

"'S okay," Jongho mumbles into his shoulder, hugging him back and pressing his face into his clothes for a moment. Yunho doesn't know for sure, but it looks like the pair are shaking — maybe it's fear, maybe it's the cold. Yunho knows he's cold, for one. And scared.

Very scared.

"Of anything," Hongjoong says, "We can not afford to fight. We need to work together, make a plan, and help each other." His eyes dart momentarily to Wooyoung.

"Sorry," San says again. Hongjoong nods at him.

Yunho frowns, though. "Wasn't it your whole unspoken plan to wait for the parents?"

Mingi snorts. It's a loud sound, sitting just beside him, but it's refreshing to hear something loud after so much careful quiet.

"Well, yes, but… they're not coming, I guess. They left. We're going to have to wait 'till morning unless we think of something else… Something must've happened to turn them away…" Hongjoong's nose scrunches in thought. "This is definitely bigger than some accident."

"Did someone get them to leave? How?" Jongho bursts out, frustrated.

How, indeed?

***