safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ kim taerae
kim taerae x reader, slight sung hanbin x reader
you can only hope for more tomorrows with taerae.
genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hanbin is your ex, zhanghao and matthew appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)
word count ➵ 6.2k words
inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop
a/n ➵ thought i'd make my official debut to zeroseblr with this lil piece that i absolutely love!! i hope you guys look forward to more zb1 fics from me :DD here's the original one if you're interested! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!
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time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.
questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?
as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.
but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?
now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?
yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.
the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hanbin’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.
you remember hanbin’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.
and while it was a rush of tragedies, hanbin was the only hope you had.
“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”
it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.
by nightfall, you and hanbin found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hanbin was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.
he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.
and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hanbin. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.
yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hanbin would be with you.
still, time continues to move. hanbin knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.
after a month passed, you and hanbin met zhanghao, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hanbin was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.
what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to zhanghao, you and hanbin got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.
but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hanbin decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.
“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”
six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. zhanghao became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.
until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.
time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and zhanghao reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hanbin fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.
yet, hanbin glanced at zhanghao, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but zhanghao kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting hanbin come back to you.
the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hanbin, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, zhanghao dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.
a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.
the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.
until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hanbin, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, zhanghao saved you from meeting your fate.
somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to zhanghao, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named taerae.
but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hanbin left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hanbin’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.
maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.
the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.
“hao, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hanbin’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “taerae! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.
still, zhanghao caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”
but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hanbin did.
but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of taerae’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.
now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.
taerae still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.
two weeks have passed. you and taerae got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night came, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.
until that one evening.
you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to taerae who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.
“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—zhanghao, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”
you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met zhanghao a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, taerae never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.
“i resented zhanghao after what happened.” you moved your gaze to taerae whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”
nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hanbin’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.
and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.
“but i think about the last time we saw zhanghao,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”
but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?
and still, you did.
you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told taerae that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.
and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of zhanghao; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.
the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hanbin you have left.
the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.
that night, taerae listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.
another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and taerae found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than hanbin, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.
“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.
still, taerae promised you that.
that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and taerae who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.
“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”
he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew the people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”
and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hanbin.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of taerae’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.
“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”
your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hanbin and zhanghao now stay. your mouth turned dry as taerae’s voice morphed into radio silence.
before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.
yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hanbin’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.
in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hanbin being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.
before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hanbin that day.
all it takes is one step, and—
“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.
the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?
how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?
your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.
in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of zhanghao that once caressed your face. the lips of hanbin that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.
all it took were taerae’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.
taerae took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.
half a year went by. taerae still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.
it should’ve been the same routine; taerae goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.
two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and taerae decided to stay in for that night.
it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.
a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the taerae’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.
“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.
taerae’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”
a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”
he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.
“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”
“i don’t know.”
there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.
so…
“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”
his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.
the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hanbin’s death, you considered it.
“with someone.”
before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.
then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.
his lips met yours.
the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.
it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.
a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named matthew, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and taerae grew up in.
for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hanbin still lives?
but one glance at taerae was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.
you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.
“are you two together?” matthew asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met taerae’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.
“no, we aren’t.”
for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.
sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. taerae was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and matthew to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with taerae.
you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how taerae shines.
you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.
“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”
not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.
the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.
and when a scornful chuckle left taerae, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.
two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. matthew stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.
“go out.” those were taerae’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.
you remember the last thing you told matthew before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.
the weight got heavier once more.
another two weeks went by, and you and taerae found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.
still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached taerae’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how taerae’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his sister, and his parents.
you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.
but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a strawberry and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of red and orange stained the two.
he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.
you then stood in front of your old house with taerae by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.
to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.
and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.
when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hanbin. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.
as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw taerae crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hanbin with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.
“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside taerae. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.
“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”
for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at taerae and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.
and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hanbin, and 11 months since zhanghao told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with taerae, choosing to survive with him.
“yeah.”
you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hanbin; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.
you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—
“but nothing to hold on to.”
they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.
“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”
and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”
it was a whirlwind of emotions in taerae’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—
“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.
when you and taerae stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.
a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.
but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”
“what happened?” you remember how taerae came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.
before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “taerae, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”
“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”
you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.
once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.
his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.
another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.
when you exited the house, you saw taerae holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “taerae!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.
another gunshot was fired, grazing taerae’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.
you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.
you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up. making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how taerae’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.
“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”
“no, you’ll be okay.”
still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”
“taerae!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”
because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as taerae was with you.
and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”
all it took were three words from you. “okay.”
it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and taerae fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.
now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.
you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but taerae came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”
you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.
he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.
it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.
“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.
a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”
it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.
time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.
it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.
when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how taerae holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.
“i love you.”
all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.
the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.
now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?
an eternity is what you hope.
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