☣︎ - Is Your Boyfriend a ZOMBIE?! - ☣︎ - mark lee
꩜ what happens when a zombie falls in love with a human girl and his heart starts beating again? ꩜
exidol!zombie! mark x human! reader ꩜ wc: 6.5k
genre + cw: zombie apocalypse, light angst, some fluff, minor character death (sorry jaehyun)
a/n- if you can’t tell, this is loosely based off the movie Warm Bodies. It’s one of my comfort movies heheh >-< i HAD to write this with mark like he’s so zombie bf. i love him :P i thought it would be silly to write abt idol!mark becoming zombie !! idk if i did it justice tbh :( i think the last time i watched this movie was a year ago so…hopefully the plot and pacing is right! anyway happy birthday to my goat mark lee and i hope u guys enjoy reading cuz i had so much fun writing hehe
♫⋆♪ ₊˚♬ he could never love you but baby i, baby i can…would you let me hold you with blood on my, blood on my hands? ♫⋆♪ ₊˚♬ - he could never love you, henry morris
He couldn’t recall a time when he had felt as lonely as this. This raw, furious need to be near somebody, like a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach that can’t be satiated.
He couldn’t remember anything really, not after being turned into a zombie. His name, his home, even his family — all lost to the parasitic virus coursing through his undead veins.
The only thing that gave him an inkling to his past life was the thin silver chain around his neck with a single initial hanging from it: M. Some days, he spent hours wandering around and wondering to himself what the letter could mean. His rotted brain couldn’t connect it to anything, of course, so he decided to use the initial as his name for the time being.
Instead of spending his days as a normal teenager would, M enjoyed tripping over his own two feet around the abandoned building he calls home. The place itself felt as though it would collapse if he breathed too harshly or the floorboards would fall through if he stepped in the wrong spot. He didn’t want to go anywhere else though; it's the place where he first woke up and saw the infected bite on his arm.
Dwelling on his loneliness only served to make his undead heart ache, so M ventured outside to do what zombies do best: eat humans.
It wasn’t like M wanted to eat people, he was a human once too, you know? It still felt like cannibalism to him…
The flesh wasn’t what attracted him, it was the brains. He craved the short, intoxicating rush of memories he got when he ate them. Collecting these memories kept M going, kept him feeling like he was still a person and not a monster crafted out of a child’s worst nightmares. Eating brains made him feel alive.
The abandoned building he resided in had long since been free of humans, all either eaten or turned. M’s feet dragged along the dingy, dirt covered floor, limp arms pushing open the doors barely hanging off their hinges. The lights over his head flickered like they were on their last breath.
M didn’t enjoy hunting on his own. Hunting. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth, overpowering even the flavour of his own rotting teeth on his tongue. He was disgusted by himself, repulsed with what he was forced to become.
Swinging his arm in what was meant to be a wave, M groaned out in greeting to H, his one and only friend. H grunted back, half-lidded eyes barely pausing over M before he limped out of the worn building.
M didn’t know his true relation to H. All he knew was that he woke up a zombie, covered in blood, infected bite marks and tattered clothes, beside an H who looked no better. They had no one else to rely on, and they had even shared their first human together. How sweet..?
M and H joined a group of other hunters, all with matching looks of slack-jawed disinterest. The whole area around their building had been deserted, but there was no choice for the group to retrace their steps, hoping to find something with a pumping heart. Humans were preferred, obviously, but desperation called for the zombies to resort to animals. If they were lucky, they could even find a dumb human venturing out on their own.
You didn’t like being outside of the base, away from the tall, safe walls of the encampment. It wasn’t like you weren’t brave, you had to be if you wanted to survive this hell. No, you just didn’t particularly like guns. The feeling of the cool, deadly metal weight in your arms, shooting monsters that had once been people.
Your head ached from the too tight ponytail, the kind of hair style that screamed control issues and urgency. You were stressed to the bone, your mind fraying with every second outside. Scavenges were your least favourite chore. As the daughter of your camp’s leader, you were made the leader of these searches against your will, in charge of the easily-distracted, inexperienced younger members who craved to be outside the walls.
Fortunately, your dad allowed you to bring Jaehyun to wrangle the unruly kids and handle the shooting for you. Jaehyun was your boyfriend for lack of a better word. Growing up in the apocalypse didn’t really allow you to get out and meet boys your age, boys who would sneak out to see you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You didn’t get a prom, didn’t get to go on silly double dates, never got to celebrate Valentine’s. Your chances of teenage love were ripped out of your hands the second the first virus warning flashed on your television screen all those years ago.
It didn’t have to be said that you and Jaehyun were a pair. You’d grown up together behind the walls, attached at the hip. People even called you siblings until Jaehyun started holding your hand at every opportunity and kissing you behind the weapons storage shed.
Your hand tightened around the hilt of your dagger as you peeked around the corner at the entrance of a pharmacy, searching for threats before motioning for everyone to enter. Food wasn’t much of a problem this far into the apocalypse, but medical supplies were rare and crucial to survival.
Half the small group of six stayed near the entrance, digging through drawers while you, Jaehyun, and a boy named Sakuya moved farther in.
You ignored the drawers filled with translucent orange bottles, the pills most likely expired. You were focused on the first aid, the bandages, ointments, and alcohol pads that would come in handy. Sakuya and Jaehyun trailed behind you, opening cabinets and rummaging in the contents.
You were busy tucking rolls of gauze into your backpack when a piercing scream tore through the air. Jaehyun met your eyes for a quick second before he lunged across the room, dashing down the hall towards the noise. Cursing under your breath, you raced after him, hauling a wide eyed, trembling Sakuya behind you.
The scene before you was nothing you had ever witnessed before. Sure, you were the group leader, but that didn’t mean you weren’t also young and inexperienced.
Two of the three girls were on the floor, zombies hunched over them and blocking their grotesque forms from your view. The doors to the pharmacy hung off their hinges, the weight of the zombies pressing in from the outside straining the already cracked glass. Fumes of fresh blood soured the air, but the smell of rot dominated your senses. You choked on your own bile, chest heaving and vision swimming until your eyes zeroed in on Jaehyun.
He stood over the last girl, shooting at the horde of at least 8 zombies pushing into the pharmacy. Jaehyun felt your stare, his focus shifting from the threats in front of him to you, frozen as a statue with Sakuya hidden behind. He opened his mouth to say something, to tell you to do something, but you cut him off, pointing to the stumbling undead coming towards him.
The moment of hesitation cost him, the nearest zombie’s flailing arms knocking the gun out of his hands, the weapon landing near your feet.
M lurched to a stop in the center of the wrecked room, the bodies of both humans and his fellow zombies surrounding him. The scent of fresh meat not enticing him as usual.
Your gaze connected with his, pupils dilated in fear, but neither of you could look away. It was as if you were looking through him, seeing the teenage boy beneath the monstrous exterior. You were wearing grimy clothes, much like everyone else, a stained tank top and scuffed cargo pants. A rusted dagger was clutched in your clammy palm, your other hand gripping the sleeve of the small boy behind you.
M felt like he was in a trance. He had never seen someone so beautiful, so undeniably human. A foreign feeling thumped in M’s chest, warmth spreading from the center. His heart had just beat.
Still reeling from the impossible, he hardly noticed the boy squirming out of your grasp and crouching to the floor, calloused hands expertly picking up the fallen gun. The gunshot was quiet, but the pain was loud enough to drag M’s eyes away from staring at you.
The younger boy grabbed your arm while M was distracted, pulling you behind the counter and into the employee only offices you had been in before. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. It was your job to watch over the others in the group, your job to make sure the mission went smoothly, your job to take out zombies who got in the way. You were usually on top of things, returning to the base with every member and more supplies than your father had sent you out to get.
You could only let Sakuya tug you along and push you into a closet before he left to help Jaehyun — that is, if Jaehyun was still alive. You didn’t let yourself think as you hugged your knees close to your chest, forcing thoughts of that zombie’s piercing grey irises out of your mind.
“Eat,” H grunted, nudging into M’s arm, urging him towards an untouched body in the corner. M couldn’t fight it any longer, falling to knees beside the freshly killed man, rough hands tearing apart his skull. He was glad that the man was already dead, there were few things he hated more than the sounds of a person screaming out and pleading for their life.
All of his repulsion fell away while he chewed on the slimy brain tissue, his mind overtaken by the man’s— Jaehyun’s— cherished thoughts, flashes of his childhood, his family, and…you.
You, younger with wild eyes, hand held out and introducing yourself. “I’m y/n.”
You, sitting on the porch in front of a house, popsicle juice dripping down your wrist and a gummy smile stretching across your face.
You, kiss swollen lips and soft whines, gripping at M’s— Jaehyun’s— shirt, pulling him closer.
M groaned as the memories dissolved from his mind, a dull ache forming in his chest where he had felt a soft heartbeat only moments before. He stumbled to his feet, the sounds of gunshots ringing through the room and pulling him further out of his reverie.
You were here. M could sense your presence. He heard a scream coming from behind the counter and he staggered towards the noise, ignoring the pain of the wound on his leg. It wouldn’t kill him, he was already dead after all.
M watched as H creeped closer to you, pressed into the corner of the closet, weaponless and scared out of your mind. He was always good at sniffing out the hiders. M shoved him aside with a snarl.
H snapped his jaw in frustration as though he wanted to sink his teeth into M instead before he lugged away towards the others at the front of the building, deciding that the fight wasn’t worth it.
M turned to you with a grimace on his rotting lips in what was supposed to be a gentle smile, but with the way you cowered and more tears cracked down your cheeks, he was sure he hadn’t gotten the expression right. With an outstretched hand, M approached you, intent on helping you up. Instead, your knife found home in his shoulder, easily tearing through the decayed flesh.
“Y…n” He groaned out your name, the syllables slurring on his undead tongue. Your hand paused in its path to retrieve your dagger, surprise rooting you in place. Did he really just say your name? You didn’t think zombies even knew how to think, let alone speak. Wait- how did he even know your name in the first place?
M hesitated for a moment, eyes roaming over your frame. He wanted so badly to eat you, to feel your warm flesh melt in his mouth. His jaw ached with the urge to tear into you, but the sound of your frightened scream when he moved closer made something in him shift. Maybe it was the fact that he still felt drunk off of Jaehyun’s memories, but it was then that M made a decision that would change everything.
The zombie in front of you, who you thought was going to kill you before he uttered your name, grunted, holding his hand up. “Wait.”
There wasn’t anything you could do in the enclosed space with him blocking the door. You couldn’t even attack him, your dagger was still in his shoulder. Without much of a choice, you stayed in place, crossing your arms across your chest.
M ambled down the hall, stopping beside a dead zombie, one he didn’t recognize, with the top half of his head completely shot off. He dipped his hands into the mess of black blood around the wound, collecting the ichor before going back to the closet.
M stopped a few feet in front of you, showing you the black liquid on his hands before pointing down the hall to the group of zombies still lingering in the main room.
“This…keep safe. Hide…you,” M stammered, unsure of whether or not you could understand him. When you didn’t make to attack him again, he lifted his hand, smearing the blood over your face, down your neck, and over your clothes.
You let him grab your hand and tug you down the hall, your eyes focusing on his gray fingers around yours. You didn’t want to see the carnage around you, the bodies of the people you were supposed to protect.
The zombies in the room didn’t seem to notice you, the sickening stench of undead blood masking your very alive human scent.
M gently pulled your limp form along, taking you back home with the others.
The curious stares of the zombies in the building didn’t go unnoticed by M, but he chose to ignore them for your sake. He knew why they were watching, knew why your existence piqued their interest.
A zombie turning someone else intentionally was practically unheard of. The only times it really happened was when a zombie was interrupted in the process of eating. It wasn’t usual that a zombie had enough self-control to not devour the brain.
H and the other stumbled off as soon as we came inside to do who knows what. They surely didn’t have anything on their undead agendas as important as what M had to do.
M continued to tug you behind him, leading you up many staircases before pausing in front of the room he had claimed as his own. The space was clearly not meant for living, but M didn’t have the human needs of a kitchen or a bathroom. A stained rug covered the majority of the floor and shelves lined all of the walls except one that was covered in mirrors. The shelves were filled with random items M had found over the years, ranging from vinyls and a record player, to dirty cheetah plushies.
He gestured to the brown armchair in the corner and you sat carefully on the edge, ready to bolt out if you had to. It was a stupid idea, since the whole building was filled with zombies, but it could work as you were still covered in the black blood.
You watched as the zombie boy fumbled with the record player, setting the needle down on a vinyl warped with age. It played a song you didn’t recognize, the soft whispers of a violin filling the otherwise silent room.
M turned to you, though still keeping his distance. He recognized the trepidation on your face. “Won’t…eat you. Safe in…here.” He pointed at the floor, telling you that nothing could hurt you in this room, not even him apparently.
You finally found your voice, words quieter than the music. “You… what are you?”
M only shrugged, leaving you in the room by yourself to sit with your puzzled thoughts.
He came back a few hours later, finding you nose-deep in one of his books. A small flame of jealousy flickered to life within him, a yearning to be human. One of the many curses of being the living dead was that he couldn’t read. God, he tried. On days when he felt the most alone, he had stared at the pages of his books for hours, trying to force his rotted brain to piece together the jumbled letters into words, but it was never possible.
You startled when he dropped something on the floor: the backpack you had left at the pharmacy.
He knelt down beside it before he rummaged through the bag, pulling out your wallet and holding up the picture inside. It was a candid polaroid of you and Jaehyun from a year ago, your arms looped around his neck as he gave you a piggy back ride after you had injured your ankle.
You take the wallet from the zombie’s hands, careful not to brush against his cold fingers.
“I’m sorry… y/n” he hung his head, ashamed.
Your eyes burned with fresh tears, the loss only hitting you just then. You knew he hadn’t survived, knew he had been eaten like he was nothing more than a piece of meat, but you didn’t want to admit it to yourself.
“Was it you? Did you…eat him?” The words filled your mouth with bile and you had to take several deep breaths to not throw up the contents of your stomach right then and there.
M nodded his head, fists clenching and unclenching in his lap. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He had never had to face the guilt of eating a human in front of someone who knew the person.
You didn’t blame the zombie, you couldn’t. He didn’t know you, he didn’t owe you anything to not eat your boyfriend. But still, it was hard to look at Jaehyun’s murderer and be reminded of the gruesome way he had died.
“Didn’t kill…Only ate.” M picked up the backpack and deposited it in your lap, not knowing what else to do. You hugged the backpack to yourself, rocking back and forth slightly in the chair.
“Why me?” you whispered, voice muffled in the fabric of the bag. “Why did you save me and not one of the younger kids? Why spare me when you monsters ate everyone else?” Your shoulders shook as you sobbed. Your soul felt as though it were crumbling in on itself, guilt and grief crashing together to form a tangled ball of pain in your chest.
M stood in the center of the room, anchored in place by your heart clenching cries. You didn’t care for why he knew your name or why he had brought you here. No, you only questioned why it was you that survived the nightmare.
“I’m…sorry,” M mumbled once more, never having comforted someone before either, especially not someone grieving over deaths he had participated in. He chose to leave the room again, giving you space to accept a reality where Jaehyun and the others didn’t exist.
When M returned this time, you were still curled up on the chair, now beneath a patchwork quilt he had found a few years ago. You looked peaceful in your sleep, the furrow between your brows smoothed and the tightness in your jaw released. M only watched you for a few minutes before poking you in the shoulder. You jolted up immediately, hand reaching for the dagger on your belt, but coming back empty.
You relaxed once taking in your surroundings, arms stretching up over your head and quilt falling off your body. The quiet rumble of your stomach reached M’s enhanced ears and he tilted his head before questioning, “You…hungry?”
You nodded sheepishly, arms crossing over your midsection.
M looked at you with a blank expression, seemingly no thoughts behind his eyes. What did humans eat? Did you crave meat and blood? It took him a second to remember that you needed real food.
“You do know what people eat right? I don’t eat other humans if you need to be reminded.” You cracked a small smile and the sight left M staring at you with slack-jawed mesmerisation.
You stood from the chair, waving your hand in front of his face. “Hellooo? Earth to- wait. You never told me your name…or how you know mine.” That crease in your brows came back then, and it was M’s turn to give you a grimace-like smile.
“Name is…M. Don’t remember…full…name.” His eyes darted from yours before he continued. “Jaehyun brain…tell M…y/n.”
Your heart splintered, but you did your best to not let it show. You knew M felt guilty, could feel the shame wrapped around him like a straight jacket. It wasn’t fair of you to take your anger out on him when it was only his instincts that led to Jaehyun’s death.
“Well M, unless you can bring me something safe to eat, you need to let me out of this room.” The books and the music were good company, but you were losing your mind in there.
He lifted his hand then and you froze, watching as he ripped out your dagger that was still in his shoulder. After dropping the knife to the floor, he dug his fingers into the wound, covering you in his blood. The scent of the black slime he had rubbed on you earlier had faded and he thought it would be a good idea to cover you up again before leaving the safety of his room.
“You must…speak like zombie.” M mumbled, collecting more blood and massaging it into the collar of your shirt, right by your beating heart. “Act like…dead.”
“Like…this?” You forced your voice to be low and raspy as you stretched your arms out in front of you, lolling your head to the side in an exaggerated interpretation of a zombie.
M’s shoulders shook in laughter, croaking sounds coming from his torn vocal cords.
You blinked at him, arms dropping to your sides. His laugh was gritty, like nails on a chalkboard, but it made you pause and stare. In the low lights coming from the boarded up window, he almost looked like a boy, a normal human boy. One you weren’t innately afraid of.
The cafe in the lobby of the building was deserted. It was the kind of place that made fresh pastries every day, there was obviously nothing there for you to eat. Still, you and M searched through the pantries and fridges in the back, hoping to at least find a weirdly preserved snack that was probably made up of more additives than actual calories.
M watched you slice open boxes using your bloodied dagger, pupils dilating the longer he stared. His hand rested over his chest, feeling the feeble beating of his undead heart. The feeling could no longer be ignored. That wasn’t supposed to happen. His heart was supposed to be long gone, a lifeless organ that no longer served a purpose. But no, he wasn’t crazy, he was sure he could feel it pulse beneath his greying fingertips, so soft that it could be mistaken as the rustling of his tattered shirt.
“There’s nothing here, M,” you sighed, shoving your dagger into your belt with a little more force than was necessary. You were one of those people who got hangry easily and your annoyance was clearly pushing through.
M nodded apologetically, still focused on his heartbeat, stumbling out from behind the counter with you in tow. You were scared of the other zombies in the lobby at first, cowering behind M until you had realized they didn’t spare you more than an uninterested glance. He found your reaction funny, but he didn’t forget to nudge you with his elbow, reminding you to act like a zombie.
“Go…back?” M was already limping towards the stairs, his feet catching on each other but somehow never making him trip. You followed after him, forcing yourself to copy his jerking motions and not race up the stairs like you were used to doing.
You were used to rushing everywhere, running from threats or completing urgent tasks. Taking your time ambling down the winding hallways gave you the chance to breathe and take in your surroundings for once.
The whole building was definitely dirty— it’d been years since a janitor had been in there— but the higher you went, the more preserved the interior was. The walls were crumbled on the main floor, but a few decorations still lingered up on the eighth where M boarded.
You paused beside a row of posters, running your fingers over the yellowing paper. The picture showed seven boys with once colourful clothing. The label in the corner of the image told you it was a boy band, NCT Dream.
You glanced down the hall to where M was already entering his room and you made the quick decision to unpin the poster from the wall, folding it into your jacket before following after him.
You sighed as you slumped onto the floor with your back against the worn armchair, your stomach empty and grumbling. M settled on the floor beside his record player, shuffling through the collection of vinyls he had. You weren’t paying much attention until the cover of one of the vinyls caught your eye.
“Wait.” M looked up at you just when he was pulling the vinyl out of the sleeve. You took it out of his hands, shaking your head in disbelief. M watched silently as you pulled out the folded poster from your jacket, smoothing it out against the floor.
“Look, they match!” You were right, the cover of the vinyl was the same as the poster you had found in the hallway. M leaned over your shoulder and you hardly noticed how close he was as he let out another one of those choked laughs, stealing the breath from your lungs.
“What does…it say?” He pointed to the poster, tracing the letters that spelled out the band’s name. The normally fuzzy letters were fading in and out of his vision, teasing him, not letting him form the words he knew he shouldn’t even be able to read.
“NCT Dream. Sounds pretty sick, doesn’t it?” You held the poster up, examining the faces of each member. It was lucky the poster wasn’t too damaged, the features on every face were still clear.
M sat there expressionless as you paused and turned towards him, your eyes flicking between him and the poster. Your eyes widened, jaw falling open, and your eyebrows lifted into your hairline.
“You look exactly like this guy on the poster if he was like- grey and droopy.” You sounded so sure of yourself that M had to snatch the paper from you, scrutinizing it under his own eyes.
M didn’t really know what he looked like. There was little point for him to look at mirrors and it wasn’t like there were any unbroken ones laying around anyway.
But your words made sense. It made sense that he had awoken as a zombie in a place that had his face on the walls.
You took the poster out of his crushing grip, scowling when the edge of the paper ripped. Along the bottom of the picture was a list of names. You assumed they were the names of the boys in order from left to right. Only one name stood out to you, only one name started with M.
“Mark. Your name is Mark.”
M— Mark— lurched forward, one hand finding home on his chest again. His name was Mark. At the sound of his true name on your lips, his heart did a flip in his chest, beating wildly. You yelped into action beside him, unsure hands hovering over his back.
“Shit- was I not supposed to tell you that?” Your voice rose with each word, genuine alarm seeping through. Mark held up his hand to quiet you, gasping quickly to supply oxygen to his heart that now needed it.
You kneeled beside him, holding his hand in your lap, squeezing tight enough for it to sting your own palms. You didn’t know how much time had passed, how long you had sat there with him until his breathing evened.
“I’m…sorry,” Mark panted, pain radiating from all over his body and his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You shush him, reaching for your backpack with your free hand and dragging it towards you. The knife puncture in his shoulder and the bullet still lodged in his leg called to your attention when the blood around the wounds started flowing red instead of black.
In his dazed state, Mark faintly noticed you peeling off his shirt, lifting his arms to help you get it off completely. You hissed at the sight of the deep cut, blood flowing dangerously close to his heart. Pressing his shirt into the wound to staunch the blood, you flip open a first aid kit you had scavenged from the pharmacy, finding a needle and a thread.
There was nothing that could be done to numb the area, but you hoped he couldn’t feel it when you pierced his skin with a threaded needle.
Your hopes were pointless. His head immediately tipped back against the armchair, eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit in pain.
“Keep still, it hurts more when you move.” Your free hand grasped his, thumb rubbing soothing circles. Luckily, it was mandatory in your camp to learn how to treat injuries, although you’d never dealt with something as severe as a bullet wound.
You finished stitching his shoulder, wrapping it in gauze to protect it while Mark laid his head back completely. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in even breaths. He wasn’t asleep, you knew that, but he was willingly letting you tend to his wounds anyway.
It was only after you wrapped his leg with gauze that you noticed the grey pallor of his skin giving way to pinky hues. This shouldn’t be possible. Did telling him his name really trigger such a reaction?
You poked at his cheek to wake him up since he had actually fallen asleep and he blinked up at you blearily.
“Mark…is your heart beating?” You cut straight to the chase, fear for not only your survival, but now his as well. If he was really turning human, you both had to get out of here, soon.
He nodded slowly, as though he couldn’t believe it himself. Now wasn’t the time to marvel over supernatural miracles. You got to your feet, pulling him to his as well.
“Then we need to go. This building is filled with zombies and you’re becoming what they eat for dinner.” Your voice was filled with all the bossiness only the daughter of a camp leader could have. You attempted to get Mark to the door, but he dug his heels into the ground, his strength easily subduing yours. “Mark, please. I can’t lose you too.” Not after he had saved you, not after he played you his music and sat with you while you put him back together.
He only shook his head, prying his fingers out of your grip. “Can’t leave…H…here alone.” H was his only family, the only person who interacted with him before you. You sighed impatiently, making decisions that would get you and Mark out of there faster.
“Then we can bring him with us, problem solved.”
No, problem not solved. You dragged Mark down the hallway, dagger held out in front of you. H could very well still be a zombie. Who knows if it was only Mark who had this weird change?
You and Mark made it to the lobby without interruption, his blood still all over your clothing and now masking both your and now Mark’s slightly human scent. He glanced around the mostly empty space, finally finding his friend sitting alone in the corner, hands over his chest.
You gasped when you reached the man, hands flying to the paper you still had within your jacket pocket. Mark helped his friend off the floor, grunting to him in a way you couldn’t understand. Now wasn’t really the time to check, but you just had to sate your curiosity.
“Mark! H is on the poster too!” You passed him the poster, looking at it upside as he held it and pointing to the man standing beside him in the picture. “His name is Haechan.”
Just like Mark, Haechan doubled over upon hearing his name, holding on to Mark’s shoulder for dear life as he struggled to stay upright. You cursed under your breath, wanting to be out of the vicinity before the zombies realized there were humans present.
You didn’t know how to drive. Neither did Mark, and Haechan was in no condition to be operating a vehicle. So there you were, sat behind the wheel of a car you found that had the keys still in the ignition and an almost full tank of gas. Mark and Haechan sat in the backseat, both still reeling from their slow transition into becoming human again.
There were obviously no cars on the road and no officers to pull you over for running over the speed limit. All you had to worry about was not crashing. Easy enough.
Mark could sense your inexperience and he made sure to buckle his and Haechan’s seatbelts before holding on to the headrest in front of him. “Dude…be careful.”
The GPS in the car had stopped working, but you didn’t need it. The camp was only a few miles from the city, far enough to keep zombies away and close enough for easy supply runs. Once the car started circling forward, it was easy enough to cruise down the streets. You rolled down the windows, letting the smoke-soured air blow through your hair.
You could feel Mark’s eyes burning into the side of your head and you let a soft smile play on your face, an expression that you knew would have his freshly revived heart beating up a frenzy.
Mark could hardly breathe as you pulled up to the towering walls of your camp. You stepped out of the car, leaving him and Haechan inside as you waved up at the guard in charge of the gate. Mark watched the interaction from the window, saw how the guard stared down suspiciously before recognition swept over his expression. You got back in the car just as the gates began to open.
There weren’t really any words Mark had to describe his thoughts of the camp, only that there were a lot of people staring at him as soon as he left the car and tugged Haechan out behind him. He didn’t pay them any mind, though Haechan was already winking at a wide eyed girl.
You wrung your hands in front of you as your dad walked through the crowd to you, all calm and controlled despite the fact that you could have been dead this whole time and he wouldn’t have known. He cupped your jaw in his hands once he got to you, turning your head to the side to check for injuries.
“Where’s the rest of your group?” You were sure he already knew the answer and was just asking to soften the blow to the families listening around. He knew you wouldn’t have abandoned them.
“They’re- We were attacked, sir.” You choked on the words, forcing your tears to the back of your eyes. It was never a good idea to show weakness in front of the camp leader.
He nodded like he already accepted the information, immediately turning towards where Mark and Haechan were awkwardly standing by the car.
You stepped between him and the boys, unsure of what his reaction will be once you drop the bomb.
“This is uhm…Mark and Haechan. Mark helped me after we were attacked and Haechan is his friend.” Your father didn’t even look at you before pushing you aside, glaring at them with distrust.
He rounded up on Mark, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Where are you from? How did you find my daughter? It isn’t possible to survive in the city alone.”
Mark didn’t have an answer, didn’t know if he was allowed to tell the man that he was a zombie before you turned him back to a human. You shook your head at him from over your dad’s shoulder, keeping him quiet.
“Dad…Maybe we should talk somewhere more private?” you whispered, tugging on his sleeve. The citizens around you averted their eyes, pretending like they haven’t been eavesdropping the whole time.
Your dad’s office was as cold and empty as himself, no decorations or furniture apart from the folded-table desk and the four chairs around it, one on one side, three on the other.
You sit between Haechan and Mark on the side with three chairs, face to face with your dad. He had his head in his hands, processing the information you had just dumped on him.
“You’re telling me, all we have to do to revert the zombies is…tell them who they are?”
You only nod your head, unable to provide him with solid proof. Mark’s wounds didn’t prove anything and both his and Haechan’s zombie-like dispositions had cleared up by the time you had gotten to the camp.
Your father dismissed you three from his office, grumbling about how he would deal with it himself, and to get Mark and Haechan settled into the camp.
It only took a few days for the civilians to get used to Mark and Haechan’s presence, though Haechan’s extroverted, loud personality definitely helped. He was often found helping out with heavy lifting, making use of his reverted zombie strength.
More and more reverted zombies were brought to the camp each day. It was hard to find the histories of zombies, especially when most of them were rotted off their bones and couldn’t speak, but your dad had set up a team to make the operation as efficient as possible.
Away from the noise, you and Mark sat beneath an oak tree at the edge of the camp, your head on his chest listening to his strong heartbeat, and his hand clasped in yours on your lap. He was getting better at speaking each day, telling you about the short flashes of memories he got of his past life with his bandmates. He couldn’t remember it all, but the small details were enough to fulfill his soul.
You chuckled quietly to yourself as you thought back on the past few weeks. Falling in love with a zombie was definitely not on your list when you went out for a supply run, but you would say he was more than worth it. Mark wanted so badly to love that he defied the incurable virus, he had learned to be the cure.
p.s - sorry if the ending feels rushed, i just genuinely had no brain power to finish it lol also sorry no kissing i literally just can't write it (ᵕ—ᴗ—) and as always, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos. no beta read we die like men ! remember to smash that like button and subscribe (follow) for more works like this ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ send asks if you have any requests for me to write !! with love, nana
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