CW: from baekhyun's POV, lots and lots of mature themes, mlm, wlw, lgbtq, zombies, different fandoms included, violence, gore, Dom Chanyeol, angst, light hearted jokes, swearing, chanyeol falls first, just assume the worst
The empty stadium was huge enough to swallow our voices, and still Sehun managed to miss his cue.
"You saving your energy for a zombie dance challenge?" I called across the stage, adjusting my mic. Sehun flipped me off without looking up from his phone. Classic.
Chanyeol's laugh came low and quick from somewhere near the amps. I didn't even have to look up to know that he was grinning, it was the kind of grin you can hear. The kind that made you want to grin too.
I busied myself with the mic cable, pretending I hadn't noticed.
We'd been running through the same chorus for the last twenty minutes. The air inside the stadium was warm with dust from the lights, our sneakers squeaking against the stage floor. It was a normal, summer day, just louder.
Then, Chanyeol's guitar string snapped mid-note. The twang cracked through the room, sharp enough to make Kyungsoo wince. Chanyeol cursed in frustration.
"Acting like its the end of the world." I muttered under my breath.
"Don't jinx it." Chanyeol said, hearing what I said and already crouching to fix it when Suho's phone rang. He stepped aside to answer, pacing towards the edge of the stage. His voice started calm and formal, then... it wasn't.
I caught fragments of his conversation, "Yes, I understand," and "How close?"
He walked back toward us, his face tight. "We're leaving. Now."
"What about the setlist?" Sehun asked, already half-joking, because of course he was.
"No setlist," Suho snapped, growing impatient. "It's not safe here."
We looked around at each other, eyebrows raising and a concerned silence spreading around us. Suho and a couple staff quickly ushered us backstage, with Chanyeol grabbing his guitar as we rushed away from the stage.
Backstage, the anchorโs voice on the TV cracked through the static, higher-pitched than usual, straining to keep steady.
โThis isโฆ this is not a scheduled programming.โ Papers rustled off-camera, the shuffle of panic barely hidden. โThis is not a drill. We are under an active state of emergency.โ She repeated herself, voice breaking.
The words froze me. Not a drill. Not a drill.
The footage on the screen behind her rolled on to streets packed with people shoving and screaming or people collapsing in the streets only to rise again minutes later, faces pale and wrong.
But then the camera angle shifted. The feed zoomed in on the chaos evolving in the streets. A man staggered through the crowd and into the frame, half his head missing and whatever was left jerking unnaturally with each step. People tried to push him away, but he didn't stumble back. He lunged forward, teeth sinking into the shoulder of the person nearest him.
The reporters' voiced started to overlap with one another, panic seeping through both of them as they watched what unfolded. Another figure appeared in frame, mouth slick with blood, clawing at anyone who got close enough. The camera jolted wildly as if the person filming had started to run.
Across the monitors, a red banner flashed in bold letters:
๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฌ ๐๐ก๐ก๐ข๐จ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐ก๐ง ๐ฆ๐๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐๐ง๐๐ฅ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ฌ
A chill ran down my spine. The familiar hum of the stadium lights suddenly felt oppressive. Chanyeol dropped his guitar, standing frozen mid-step as his guitar clanked on the floor. His grin was gone, replaced by a sharp edge of worry. Even Sehun, the eternal smartass, was quiet, eyes darting to every shadow in the cavernous space.
"What the hell...?" Kyungsoo muttered, voice low. He looked around, as if expecting someone to jump out from behind the curtains. I swallowed.
The smell of dust and sweat suddenly seemed too heavy, the echo of our laughter from a moment ago distant and unreal.
Then a sudden thud from the stage entrance made all of us snap our heads toward it. A scream followed, muffled but unmistakeable. Chanyeol moved closer to me instinctively, his hand brushing mine. I quickly glanced at him as his attention focused in the direction of the noise.
"Stay calm." Suho ordered, his voice tight as he ushered everyone toward the exits, his eyes flicking towards the TV screens consistently.
Sehun muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, but the humour was gone from it. The usual teasing edge in his voice had vanished, replaced by something tight and wary. He glanced toward the monitors again, his brow furrowed, then ran a hand through his hair like he was trying to make sense of a nightmare.
Kyungsoo moved quietly, scanning the room with the precision of someone mapping out an escape route in his head. He counted the exits, the windows, even the flimsy curtain, as if each one might be the difference between getting out alive or getting trapped. His eyes flicked back to us, and I could see the tension coiled in his shoulders. He wasn't just worried, but calculating and preparing for the worst-case scenario.
I glanced at Chanyeol. His usual confident grin was gone, replaced by the same tense, alert expression I was trying to hold myself. His eyes flicked to every corner of the room, and his hand hovered near his guitar, as if the instrument brought him comfort. Somehow, knowing they were all here made the dread a little more bearable, a little less suffocating.
Then the glass doors at the far end of the stage rattled violently. A low, insistent pounding followed, each thud sending tremors through the floor beneath our feet. My stomach clenched. The sound was too deliberate, too forceful to be anything normal.
Something was trying to get in.
We all froze. For a heartbeat, no one moved. I could hear my own breathing, sharp and uneven, echoing against the walls. The smell of dust and sweat mingled with something sharper, metallic, like the scent of fear itself.
"Run!" Suho shouted, breaking the suspended silence. His voice cracked just slightly, betraying the panic he was trying to mask.
Sneakers squeaked, hands fumbled for equipment, and the distant roar of chaos outside the stadium seeped in through the walls.
Chanyeol grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the backstage exit. The pounding at the doors intensified, metal frames shaking with every hit.
We bolted through the side door. The evening air hit us like a shock. The parking lot was beyond chaos with people running, shouting, stumbling over each other, a few back with wide, terrified eyes. The van was already idling, engine rumbling, ready to peel out of the parking lot. We quickly jumped in, buckling ourselves in.
The van smelled like leather seats and too many bodies. The driver gunned it out of the parking lot, tires squealing. I was wedged between Chanyeol and Kai, my elbow digging into Kai's side. Chanyeol's eyes were glued to the streets outside, scanning every alley we passed. I tapped his arm.
"You're not auditioning for a cop drama, you know." He didn't smile, just reached into his bag, pulled out a water bottle, and handed it to me.
"Drink." I made a face, but took it anyway.
Sehun slumped against the opposite side, muttering, "This is insane. I knew skipping breakfast would be the least of our problems today."
Kyungsoo stared out the window like he was counting every alley.
"Don't joke," he said. "None of us know what's coming."
Xiumin, wedged between Kyungsoo and Sehun, let out a low sigh.
"We should've stayed backstage. At least then we knew the exits."
Chen, sitting at near the front, muttered under his breath, "I didn't sign up for this. Not today, not ever."
Lay, on the far side of the van, was unusually still, fingers tapping nervously against his knees. "Panic won't help." He said quietly. But his voice didn't carry any confidence, only attempt.
Chanyeol leaned back, his eyes still darting. "You think this... all of it, is real?"
I shrugged. "Does it matter? We still have to get out of here."
He nodded, his eyes locked on the streets. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."
Sehun scoffed. "Easy for you to say, you've got your guitar. You're basically armed."
I rolled my eyes. "A guitar is not much use if something's trying to bite your head off."
Chanyeol snorted, and even Kyungsoo let a tiny smirk slip. For a moment, the tension eased just enough to breathe.
I nudged Chanyeol lightly. "You okay?" He gave a small, tight-lipped smile, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks... for sticking close."
He swallowed. "Well, someone had to make sure you didn't run straight into those things."
I snorted softly. "Yeah. Good call. Smart of you."
Sehun, always looking for a jab, chimed in, "You two already conspiring to keep each other alive, or saving that for later?"
"Not conspiring." I said, rolling my eyes. "Just surviving."
"Sure," Sehun said, grinning. "Surviving. That's one way to put it."
Chen groaned. "Can we survive without someone's elbow poking me?"
Kai leaned over and muttered, "We should've taken a bigger van."
Just then, the van swerved around a corner, narrowly missing a car abandoned in the middle of the street. I gripped the edge of my seat, heart thudding, and my hand brushed Chanyeol's. He didn't pull away.
Suho cleared his throat from the passenger's seat. "Focus, everyone. Keep alert. Don't get distracted."
"Yeah, yeah, safety first." Kyungsoo muttered.
I glanced at Chanyeol. His eyes flicked to mine, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself relax just a fraction. If we could laugh, then maybe we weren't completely screwed. But still, in the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about how it all started.
They said it was a virus, some medical experiment gone wrong, a patient in quarantine biting staff in a hospital. Rumours flew faster than the news, that the infection spread faster than they expected. By the time we heard the warnings it was already too late.
Sehun groaned. "Great. So basically the end of the world is just a Thursday now. Got it."
Kyungsoo's hands tightened on his knees. "Not the time for jokes, Sehun.
Chen leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I can't believe it spread that fast. Hospitals, streets... everyone just turning on each other."
Xiumin, always practical, muttered, "If we move quickly, carefully, and stick together we should be fine."
Lay's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried across the cramped van. "People are scared. People do crazy things."
It happened faster than I could think.
A man stumbled into the road ahead, one arm flailing like he was asking for help. The driver slowed, rolling the window down just a crack. "Sir, are you hurt-" The man lifted his head. That's when I saw it. His eyes were wrong, glassy and empty, and his mouth hung open, teeth stained dark. Blood slicked his chin, dripping down onto his shirt.
Then he lunged.
The impact hit the windshield with a sickening crunch, enough to spiderweb the glass. The van swerved violently, metal screeching against concrete as we clipped a lamppost, shuddering to a stop.
I barely registered the screaming before the man was halfway through the broken glass, teeth sinking into the driver's neck.
"Out! Get out!" Suho's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and panicked. Hands grabbed my jacket and yanked me toward the side door.
Chanyeol's voice was low in my ear, urgent. "Move!" I hit the pavement, knees stinging, dust and glass scratching my palms. Everything was chaos.
Kai was pulling Sehun out of the backseat, his movements sharp and precise. Kyungsoo held the broken door open, eyes scanning the street for threats. Inside the van, the driver's breaths became shallow and fast. His eyes unfocused, staring past everything like he already knew he was gone.
Nobody moved. Not at first.
Then, Chanyeol stepped forward, his guitar still strapped across his back, clenching a tire iron in his hand so hard that his knuckles turned white. For a second, his face looked almost... sorry. Regret flickered in his eyes, like he didn't want to do what he had done.
The iron came down.
The crack of skull splitting filled the air, sharp and wet, followed by a nauseating crunch as bone gave way. Blood sprayed across the ground, hot and metallic, spattering Chanyeolโs clothes and even his face. He flinched with every strike, jaw tight, his eyes glistening as though each blow cost him something. The undead's shriek turned my stomach into ice. I gagged, stumbling back, turning my face away as the smell of copper and rot hit me. My ears still ringing with the awful, squelching rhythm of iron hitting bone.
More of them were coming, drawn by the noise.
Chanyeol grabbed my arm again, helping me up. "Come on. We move, now." He said and I nodded, heart hammering.
Behind us, the members were scattered, grabbing whatever they could use as makeshift weapons. Sehun had a metal rod. Kai had a crowbar he pulled from the trunk. Kyungsoo's fists were tight, controlled. Xiumin and Lay were giving directions, trying to get everyone coordinated.
I glanced at Chanyeol as everyone scrambled around us. His usual black hoodie and ripped jeans were smeared in dark, sticky blood. It clung to the fabric in jagged streaks, soaking through the cotton at his sleeves and chest, some even dripping from his cheeks. He didn't even notice it.
His hands were clenched around the iron, knuckles white, eyes locked on the chaos ahead. Every step he took left a smear on the dusty asphalt, a trail of what had just happened. Flames from the van lit the street in a harsh orange and red, smoke curling into the sky. Shadows stretched long and jagged, flickering across overturned cars and shattered windows.
"Chanyeol..." I started, voice tight, but he just shook his head, dragging me forward.
"We don't have time." He muttered, his breath ragged. "Keep moving."
I wanted to tell him he should've cleaned it off, that he shouldn't be touching anyone with that, but there was no time for that. Not when the screams behind us were already multiplying.
I nodded, trying not to think about what that blood meant. But before I could catch my breath, a guttural moan split the evening air. I froze, stomach twisting.
"They know." Kyungsoo muttered, voice tight, scanning behind us.
From the shadows, shapes began to emerge. Staggering, swaying figures with glassy eyes turned toward the red trail... toward Chanyeol.
"Run!" Suho barked.
Sehun stumbled over a cracked curb, Kai yanking him back upright just in time. Xiumin and Lay shouted directions, guiding us through a maze of alleys, weaving around abandoned cars and debris. Behind us, the moans grew louder, the shuffle of feet on asphalt punctuating the night. The undead were faster than I expected, unnervingly precise in their approach. Chanyeol swung his tire iron at the neareast one, connecting with a sickening crack, but more kept coming.
Each step we took was tracked, the scent of blood making them relentless, drawn to him like moths to a flame.
I felt panic claw at me, but Chanyeol's presence anchored me. Even bloodied, even exhausted, he moved with a purpose I couldn't afford to question.
"Stay close!" Chen shouted from the rear, shoving one undead back with his crowbar.
Xiumin and Lay were at his side, protecting the group from being flanked.
We darted down another street, dodging broken streetlights and trash bins, hearts hammering. My lungs burned and my legs ached. Every moan behind us was a reminder that if we faltered, even for a second, we'd be dead.
An undead lunged from a side alley, teeth snapping at Sehun. Kai slammed into it, sending it sprawling, but another emerged, drawn by the noise.
Chanyeol swung again, blood from his clothes and the undead dripping onto the asphalt, marking a trail we couldn't hide. "Keep them off me!" he yelled, voice low and fierce.
We turned another corner, and the narrow street funneled us toward a small park. Shadows of swings and slides were distorted in the firelight, giving the world an unreal, nightmarish look. Kyungsoo stayed close, keeping the rear clear, while Xiumin and Lay flanked the sides, herding the undead away from us just enough to keep moving.
Somewhere ahead, I could see a faint glowโ maybe a streetlight, maybe another building still intact. It became a magnet for our exhausted, terrified bodies.
We pushed harder, sprinting over broken glass, around overturned dumpsters. My shoes slipped on wet asphalt, and I fell, scraping my palms. Chanyeol grabbed my wrist instantly, yanking me up without breaking his stride.
"Come on." He said, voice steady. "We're almost there."
The moans grew louder around us, a chorus of hunger and death. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst. We barrelled down the street, the acrid smoke from the van fire stinging our lungs. Chanyeol's hands gripped the tire iron like it was an extension of his own body, dragging me forward without hesitation. Suho directed us towards the flicker of light ahead, changing our direction with a sharp gesture. The street narrowed even further, forcing us into a single line as we sprinted.
"In!" Suho yelled, shoving past me toward the entrance.
Chanyeol shoved me forward, his bloodied hands slipping slightly against my jacket. His hoodie and jeans were still smeared in dark, sticky streaks from the undead, the edges drying stiff and coarse. Every step left faint marks on the cracked asphalt, a trail I didn't even want to think about.
We reached the side door. Suho slammed his shoulder against it, testing the lock. It groaned, stubborn and heavy, but finally yielded with a metallic screech. Kai darted inside first, pulling sehun behind him. Kyungsoo followd, keeping his eyes on the street, making sure none of the figures were close enough to notice. Chen and Xiumin shoved anything they could find against the door, just in case. Lay crouched near the entrance, hands pressed against his knees, trying to catch his breath.
The moment the door swung fully open, a blast of stale, warm air hit us. The store smelled faintly of dust and old coffee, the kind of smell that made you forget for a second that the world outside had gone completely insane. The lights were off, but emergency strips along the ceiling bathed the aisles in a soft amber glow. The store wasn't empty, but it wasn't open either. It was like someone just walked out without closing and just left everything as it was.
Half-filled shelves ran in uneven rows, some stocked with cereal, others holding stacks of bottled water or jars of peanut butter. A display of snack cakes had the top layer missing, the rest still neatly lined. A shopping cart sat abandoned in the middle of an aisle, its front wheel crooked. Even the cash registers seemed frozen in time, a pile of receipts curling in the drawer.
Chanyeol dropped the tire iron with a clatter and leaned against the nearest counter, chest heaving. His hoodie was still caked with blood, dried in jagged streaks along the sleeves and chest. Even when he peeled it over his head, dark patches remained in the fabric weave. His jeans were streaked as well, some drying stiff, some still damp. I edged closer, voice low.
"You should clean that off."
He shook his head without looking. "It's fine."
"It's not fine." I said, frowning. "You're-"
"Not mine," he cut in, voice flat, knuckles still white from gripping the tire iron. "So it doesn't matter."
Suho exhaled sharply, tension threading his shoulders. "We stay here until morning. Then we move. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere safe."
Sehun flopped onto an empty checkout lane, eyes wide. "How do we know anywhere is safe?"
No one answered immediately. The only sounds were our ragged breaths, the distant echo of the city burning, and the low hum of the emergency lights. Kai wandered toward the bottled water aisle and handed one to Sehun, who accepted it wordlessly. Kyungsoo lingered by the windows, scanning the street outside. Chen and Xiumin went to the back door, double-checking that it was locked.
Lay stood in the middle of the store, fingers pressed to his lips, trying to keep himself calm. I walked down one of the aisles, brushing my fingers over boxes of cereal and canned goods. Everything was frozen in a moment that had been paused, where the world outside had moved on, but this place had stayed.
Chanyeol finally slumped into a plastic chair near the hot water machine, still breathing hard. I sat across from him, watching the tension in his shoulders. He peeled the hoodie over his head, grimacing as the dried blood tugged at his skin.
"Think they'll find us?" Sehun asked, his voice soft, vulnerable.
Suho didn't answer, but Kyungsoo finally spoke.
"Not tonight. We just need to rest."
The group settled into a strange rhythm of quiet motion. Chen opened a box of protein bars, distributing them silently. Kai tore his open immediately, eating without thinking. Xiumin and Lay unwrapped theirs slowly, carefully, like the motion itself grounded them. I sank back, glancing at Chanyeol. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, blood still streaked across his arms and jeans. Even like this, he looked anchored, like he's got his shit together.
The first few minutes of stillness were almost unbearable. Every creak of the ceiling, every distant crash from the streets outside made us flinch. Even though the undead weren't tracking us here, the knowlegde of what was out there pressed in on all sides, a constant, invisible weight.
Chanyeol leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, still smeared with blood. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands twitched as if ready to swing the tire iron again at any moment. I didn't say anything as there was nothing I could do but sit close enough to keep an eye on him, and hope he didn't collapse from adrenaline or exhaustion.
Kai crouched near a shelf, checking the cans and bottles, tossing them into a pile. "We can make this last a while." He muttered, not looking up. "Water, food... maybe blankets if we find any. Better than nothing."
Sehun grabbed a chair, spinning it around idly as he stared at the dark windows. "We need to take turns keeping watch." he said quietly, voice tighter than usual.
"Agreed," Xiumin said. "We can do it in shifts."
Chen unwrapped another protein bar, tossing it to me. I took it mechanically, chewing without tasting much. My thoughts were spinning, the van, the blood, Chanyeol dragging me out the wreck, so much going on at once.
Kyungsoo paced near the back, glancing out the emergency exit door. "We need to barricade this better," he said. "Just in case someone else shows up. Could be worse than the dead."
Suho nodded, moving towards the shelves. He grabbed some long pieces of wood from a storage section and began jamming them across the door frames.
I moved down one aisle, brushing my fingers over the dust-covered boxes. Some snacks were half-empty, as if the store had been abandoned in a hurry. I paused at a small display of bottled drinks, taking one and handing them out to everyone. I gave one to Chanyeol, his eyes catching mine. A fleeting flicker of gratitude passed over his bloodied face. He didn't say anything, but his lips pressed into a tight line, and I knew he appreciated the gesture.
Time dragged. Every little noise outside made us jump whether it was a trash can tipped by the wind or a car horn in the distance. We tried to eat, to settle into some semblance of normalcy, but the tension was a living thing, crawling along our skin and coiling in our stomachs.
After a while, Suho suggested we split into pairs for watch shifts. Kai and Lay volunteered first, taking the front windows. Xiumin stayed near the back with Chen, checking barricades and supplies. Chanyeol and I ended up together, crouched near the aisle in front of the beverage shelves, listening to the quiet hum of the emergency lights. Minutes passed, then an hour. We took turns checking doors, peering outside without stepping out. Sehun dozed lightly against a stack of boxes, finally letting himself rest, while Suho remained standing, surveying the store like a commander on a battlefield.
We stayed crouched near the aisle, keeping an eye on both ends of the store. The low hum of the emergency lights and the occasional scrape of a crate made every small sound feel amplified.
"You think anyone'll actually come through the front?" I whispered, trying to make light conversation.
Chanyeols eyes flicked towards me, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "If they do, I hope they brought snacks." He muttered under his breath.
The small joke made me chuckle, and even in the dark I could see his shoulders relax slightly. "Snacks, huh? Bold strategy," I whispered back. "I'm more worried about someone with a crowbar."
He nudged my knee gently with his. "Then we'll give them a beating." He said, voice low but amused. The tension inside the store seemed to ease, just enough that I could forget, briefly, about the moans that lingered beyond the windows.
After a while, the conversation drifted. "I hate how quiet it gets at night," I admitted softly. "It's worse than the noise sometimes."
Chanyeol tilted his head towards me. "It's easier to hear what you're scared of," he said quietly "But, I'd rather hear it with you than alone."
Something tightened in my chest. His words weren't dramatic, weren't declarations, but they carried weight, like he was trying to tell me something without saying it outright.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. The aisle felt smaller somehow as the night stretched on, the hum of the lights above filling the spaces between whispered confessions and half-forgotten fears. Somewhere in that quiet, Chanyeol's gaze flicked to my face a little too often.
When he thought I wasn't looking, his eyes softened, lingering on the curve of my cheek, the way my lashes rested against my skin when I closed my eyes for a second. Every glance was careful, quiet, as if he was memorising me in the dim glow of the store lights, committing me to memory in a way that made my chest ache without me knowing why.
He reached for a can of soda, then paused, glancing at me. "You ever think... what if we didn't make it out of that van?" His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I've been thinking about it a bit too much."
"I thought about it too." I admitted, voice barely audible. I could hear my heart thumping, loud enough that I worried he might hear it over the silence.
After a couple hours, our shift ended, and we huddled in a corner, wrapping a blanket around each other and huddling closer for warmth. Eventually, the exhaustion we had been ignoring all night took hold. We leaned back against the shelves, shoulders brushing lightly. His fingers found mine, gently brushing against them as if asking for permission. I squeezed back, and the warmth between us was more than physical. It was like a safety net, a quiet tether against the uncertainty outside, which I needed after the events that unfolded.
Minutes blurred.
I felt the tension drain from my shoulders as his breathing evened, slow and steady. Even in his sleep, his hand remained intertwined with mine, small subtle movements betraying the thoughtfulness behind them.
Then, almost imperceptibly, Chanyeol murmured my name in his sleep, the word sounding soft and tentative, "Baekhyun..."
My chest tightened. I wanted, so briefly, so dangerously, to respond.
To press my forehead against his shoulder and let him know he wasn't alone, that I might feel the same. But I didn't. I froze instead, letting the warmth of his hand and the sound of his quiet voice hang in the air, unacknowledged. My uncertainty and fear of what it could mean, held me back. I caught him once, eyes half-closed, as if he were still guarding me even while dreaming.
Finally, the two of us drifted fully into sleep, bodies still close, hands intertwined, the weight of the night finally lifting just enough to let rest claim us. Outside, the store remained still, silent except for the occasional creak or whisper of the wind.
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