SEOUL INT. HOSPITAL,
SEOUL, S. KOREA
12:12 PM, 31st October

Underneath the soft blanket of the warm sun shining over them in a tranquil usher, Jeongguk and Taehyung veer Ara into the crumbling walls of the once prestigious building now greying with the deceased littered within the boundaries that encompass the withering structure.

What made their eyes lit up were grasslands, overgrown fields of ongoing lush green pastures where the hospital grounds supposedly were. In the midst of the thousands of acres of land devoted to mother nature, were serene, magnificent giraffes grazing peacefully, their tall necks aiding them to poke their heads into wildly nurturing oak and exquisite cherry blossom trees.

They have not seen something so bewitching in a long, long while.

“God,” Jeongguk breathed out, completely awestruck, eyes upon a single female calve lazily strolling about not fifty meters away. He conjoins, professing, “I wish I could pet one of them.” 

Taehyung smiles goofily at his partner. “A’right, then.” With his better arm, he clutches the harness and coaxed Ara to halt near a three-story flat with its top one abolished, so the interior was visible quite clearly if you look in with the correct angle. 

Tied securely to the low bough of the beautiful cherry blossom tree, Ara doesn’t complain when they leave her behind as she nibbles unto the lavish greenery surrounding her.

The flight up the rugged staircase to the windows thrown open was for the golden sunlight flooding in, lightening up the hallways, illuminating the unkempt confines they ascended.

Open to the blue heavens and tufts of cloud overhead, the top landing had a sky for a ceiling. The vintage wallpaper was mostly peeled off, showing the skeleton of the wooden walls, of what remained.

To the left corner, a wise old tree with its branches sticking into the room and its leaves crowding into the grubby carpet provided food for a giraffe that munched peacefully onto the sustainance it lived on.

Jeongguk's breath is held in. He steps closer, as noiselessly as he could manage with his heavy backpack. The giraffe's innocent, big brown eyes, and curled lashes grace the leaves of the branch it was nibbling on. It doesn't notice Jeongguk and Taehyung until they are at arm's lenght, perhaps nearer.

Jeongguk stretches a steady hand forward, and the giraffe lets him put it on one of its bumpy ossicones on the head. The admirer exhales, now caressing openly, the beautiful animal's breath hitting him on the side of his body.

"You know," Jeongguk utters softly, craning his neck to look at Taehyung without too much movement, "After fighting something that's too large to be stuck on the sole of your boots, this feels like a dream."

"Right?" Whispered Taehyung, few inches away, all smiling and twinkly eyes.

Kissing the magnificent creature between its eyes, Jeongguk drew away from it, solemn once more. "We need to find the Fireflies, there'd be around somewhere here."

Nodding, the pair scale the building in hushed undertones, hoping not for their journey to end, but some journey to end, nevertheless.

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They amble into a large sitting area of the fifth floor of the main building, oddly not obliterated and turnt upside-down.

Taehyung frowned, "It's definitely in use." He scowled much deeper, "Why aren't they here, then?"

"We're here," boomed a voice from the far entrance of the gigantic room. A man emerged with grime-covered attire, dark hair and high cheekbones, long brows arched over clever eyes that relished the couple with the gaze of a tiger cornering its prey for a satisfying meal.

Six meters of distance, he halts, a rifle hung by his side. Nothing of his gave an impression belonging to the Fireflies. Even those bastards exhanged a few threats before shooting your head off.

He gave a sharp whistle, and several other hunters both male and female began to shuffle in, surrounding Taehyung and Jeongguk, their features set in a composed mien.

"So, fellas," The man addresses, smirking like he has done this a million times, spreading his arms in query, "Do you want to surrender, be looted then killed off or you want to be killed off first if you try retaliating, and we'll take your stuff anyway?"

During this, Jeongguk hisses to Taehyung, who almost missed what he said, "Close your eyes, steel your nerves; I'm gonna flash them." If it wasn't for the situation, Taehyung would have chided how that actually sounds.

Jeongguk pounces like a whirlwind, pulling the ring of the flashbang and smacking it on the floor near their feet, eyes averted. The lound bang goes off along with the smoke now engulfing Taehyung and Jeongguk, hand clamped over their mouths.

A clamour erupted within their adversaries, who are yowling and flailing their limbs, crippling with panic that comes with the misfortune of lack of sight.

Equipped with their weapons, the duo try to take down as many as they could before the effect of the flash grenade could wear off, putting down hunter after hunter.

They were only outnumbered one to twelve, but the oppressors were recouping their senses.

"Get behind the bar," Taehyung suggested quietly, clutching his pistol tautly that his fingers appeared faintly blue, lunging over the sleek countertop, crouching, laboured breaths. "We need a diversion, there might be more coming."

"Hoseok hyung packed me more of these," Jeongguk conversed lowly by his shoulder, popping out his magazine with disdain for the few number of bullets it had, "but I think they'll be prepared for it this time."

A woman snarled, couple of inches proximate to the high stools, "Did anyone of you hear them leave?" When no one replies, she seeths, "They can't have gone far. Spread out, no delays in killing!" The shuffle of feet was muted by the pounding of their heartbeats in the couple's ears.

The woman stays back, kneeling next to the man with the high cheekbones, blood oozing out of multiple bullet wounds, he is spluttering and gasping.

"It's okay," she mutters benignantly, "It's okay, little brother. We'll be okay. It's going to be okay." She ends his misery by blowing his brains out.

"Fuck's sake," Jeongguk groaned, "Suddenly my hyung is an angel carved out of sunshine and unicorns."

Taehyung snorts shortly, "Oh, but he is."

Weeping in the background, the woman brings them back to the present, their actions stealthier, orbs bright and huge with the rush pumping their nerves.

Jeongguk bobs his head, "You take the back exit, I'll take the front," He sucked his lower lip, "We'll rendezvous where Ara's tied." Scratching the back of his head, he rejoins, "Don't get yourself killed. Use your bullets wisely and check for them once you take the man down and —"

"And?"

Jeongguk grabs Taehyung by his neck and kisses him, for far too long, far too much, reddening the younger's lips a hue of scarlet.

Taehyung, rendered speechless, says in his heavily serenaded voice, "Okay."

"You go first," Jeongguk implored, "I have to have a little questionnaire with the sad lady here." He was peering at her, his round nose pressed against the oak island.

Taehyung grants himself one last whiff of Jeongguk's thick cologne mingled with his sweat, the sturdy arms in that wicked leather jacket. "Catch you later," he mumbles blandly, slipping out without a second glance.

He assumed he would last a couple of minutes before being ambushed.

The young man mulled over how he has never fought without Jeongguk by his side — except the one showdown in the forest in Incheon when he tried to run off. However, those were only beasts yapping at him, not adequately armed humans capable of their psychotic murdering streak to continue.

First of his attackers were strolling the marble hallway, Ak-47s bumping on their tighs as they spot Taehyung meters apart, who has his gun raised, reluctant even so.

One slight manoeuvre by the guy on the left, and Taehyung puts the enemy down in two silenced fires, dashing to them and overturning their red-stained pockets with no luck.

He gazed longingly at the Ak-47 for a mere beat, then hopped back on his feet, deciding it was too bulky to carry. Several marching footsteps closed onto him. With no other choice, he heaves the rifle, swooping some extra magazines from the dead fellow with a pool of blood around him.

He didn't have any idea how to fit it, but he trusted the spur of the moment miracle that will aid him reload the new weapon.

Six of these bastards materialized, shouting and throwing crude insults at Taehyung, who tugged at the trigger, guns ablaze, aiming his best with the vigour his rifle reverberated.

Reassuring no more oncoming aggressors startle him, he wades his way through the crumpled bodies. One of them moaned, "Fucking faggot." He was bleeding to death.

Taehyung's morale worked against his intention to jibe back a remark for the dead man, so he proceeds downstairs.

There was no one to combat, the remaining way. There were certainly ample of men and women who encompassed them; where were the rest?

With a sinking feeling, Taehyung realized it was Jeongguk who was jinxed to face the surplus of hunters thriving to slaughter them both. A whimper threatened to erupt out of him, but he witheld, jogging back to the sitting room so he could retrace Jeongguk's steps.

The woman and man that lingered were stiff dead, empty irises staring into the nothingness of the void.

Bodies littered on the fourth, third, and second floor peculiarly calmed down Taehyung. The real dilemma was on the first.

On a one-to-one battle, a very large, tall and burly man was wrestling Jeongguk at the edge of the banister, a wide area overlooking the ground floor, the reception.

Jeongguk was shorter, out-muscled, and by the tucked elbow by his side, he must have broken his collorbone somehow.

Taehyung took out his favourite knife, sprinting at Jeongguk's assailant, prancing and lodging himself on the man's back, jabbing his shiv on his trunk-like biceps with damning ferocity.

He is thrown off doggedly, vision slipping but he persevered. He does not see Jeongguk anymore. The brute now traisped toward Taehyung with no Ak-47, growling.

Taehyung extracts his pistol, shooting the fucker between his eyebrows. He rose, concrete dust stuck on his now white-blue jeans. "Jeongguk?" He called out decrepitily.

There was only silence.

"Jeongguk?" He cries out once more, an octave higher. Standing by the banister, he leaned against it, a bit woozy from the previous encounter.

He stares down directly, and terror washes unto him. There is Jeongguk on the floor not sixteen feet below, spread-eagled and unconscious.

And a metal rod protruding from his stomach which he must have fallen on.

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hi sorry