Chapter Text
Hyun-su awoke to the feeling of forgetting something important.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. He just lay there and stared up at the stained ceiling of the infirmary, loss weighing heavy in his chest. Du-sik’s absence hurt like a hole in the heart; it hurt to even think about, and yet Hyun-su couldn’t stop his thoughts from drawing to it, prodding at the empty space like a missing tooth. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Should he scream? Cry? Break something? He’d lost people before, he knew how it felt, but this was… different, somehow. Losing Du-sik wasn’t like losing his parents or his sister. Losing someone never felt right, it never felt justified, but with Du-sik, something was wrong. Something was missing.
Hyun-su sat up.
Eun-yu’s arm slid off his side. He glanced down to find her curled up on the cot next to him, still asleep. She looked almost as bad as he felt, faintly pale with dark circles carved under her eyes, brow furrowed like she could sense his malaise. There was a spot of dried blood on her knuckle.
Hyun-su had the sudden, horrifying impression that his hands were dripping in red. He looked down in a panic, but there was nothing there. He shivered and tried to expel the residual fear buzzing under his skin.
It’s okay, Hyun-su.
The flicker of words at the back of his mind made him flinch. He had to stop himself from glancing around the room, some frantic little part of him itching to search for the source. His eyes landed on Eun-yu instead. He hesitated, then quietly stood and padded out into the hall. No use waking her up with… whatever was going on in his head.
It's okay. It’s not your fault.
Hyun-su twitched. God, what was that? It didn’t sound like someone speaking, not really; there was no true voice to go with the words, just the impression of them being spoken aloud. He wracked his brain, reaching fruitlessly for a memory just beyond his grasp. When had someone said those words to him? What wasn’t his fault?
He stopped and blinked, realizing with a jolt of dread where his feet had taken him. Ash and rubble lay strewn across the lobby, cold air sweeping in through the half-crumbled walls. The sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays stretching across the room to fall upon the bloodstained concrete. Only the faint whisper of wind and the distant rustle of fallen leaves broke through the silence.
“Are you here?” Hyun-su whispered to the empty air.
For the first time since he’d woken, the monster stirred, uncurling in his chest like a cat waking from a long nap. Always.
“Something’s missing,” Hyun-su said.
They moved the bodies, said the monster, its voice oddly subdued. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was in mourning.
“It’s not that. Don’t you feel it?” Hyun-su stepped further into the room. Part of him welcomed the bitter chill of the winter air, how it drove all the errant thoughts from his mind. “Something happened here. I know it did. But I can’t remember what.”
Neither can I, said the monster. All I know is that it ended with three people dead.
“Three?” Hyun-su asked.
If he could see the monster, he was sure it would’ve nodded. Three. Count the bloodstains.
There were three. One in the very center of the room, a dried pool with a smear pointing towards the mouth of the hall. Another, a messy trail of droplets culminating in a smudge against the far wall, just around a corner that would have sheltered the body from the open room. A final stain on the wall beside Hyun-su, deep gouges carved into the wall like puncture wounds, a long smear of blood stretching down to the floor.
Half-remembered things flickered through his brain like ghosts. Ui-myeoung with his gun raised, shooting into the crowd. Eun-yu’s scream. Mr. An’s voice, soft and wavering, interwoven with Yu-ri’s, sharp and frightened. Flames circling the edges of the room, crackling and spitting and burning burning burning.
Focus, snapped the monster. Hyun-su twitched and shook the memory of flames from his head. Ui-myeoung fired into the crowd twice: once while we were in the room and once after our fight. How many people did he hit?
“Two,” Hyun-su said, not really knowing where the answer came from. “Or, only two that died. Du-sik wasn’t shot.”
The image wouldn’t leave his mind. Du-sik slumped against the wall, a trail of blood running down his chin, the front of his jacket a torn and bloody mess. The exit wounds Hyun-su had seen on his back as his body was dragged away. Even the memory of it made him shiver.
So, what? He shot the other two, stabbed Du-sik like he did to us?
“It doesn’t make sense,” Hyun-su murmured. His fingers brushed his sternum. “Why would he stab him so many times? Once would have been more than enough to kill a human. Besides, the timeline doesn’t add up. Ui-myeoung was already—”
Hyun-su’s blood went cold.
His voice caught in his throat, but it was too late. He knew what he was going to say, the word already half-formed on his tongue.
How did he know? How could he know? The whole thing was a blank space in his memory, a missing piece he kept tracing around the edges of. Ui-myeoung had to be dead, or they wouldn’t all still be alive, but how had he—
Hyun-su’s eyes landed on the fourth stain.
It wasn’t hidden, not really. The scorch marks on the walls and floor helped camouflage it, but it still stood out, a startlingly dark patch among the chaos. Hyun-su couldn’t even really identify it past a scorched and melted mess of something, hardened into a pile of charcoal on the floor.
Piercing flesh. Sizzling blood. Chitinous feathers rattling like blades. Ui-myeoung’s smile as his flesh blackened around the feather impaling his hand to his eye.
Welcome to godhood, Hyun-su.
Hyun-su was hurled back to the present with the force of a freight train. He stumbled, scrabbling blindly for a handhold on the wall.
Fuck, the monster said. Its voice shook. What was that?
“We killed him,” Hyun-su breathed. Horror rose up in his throat like bile. “We turned.”
No, the monster insisted. No, we couldn’t have. We’re still here.
“What else would you call it?” Hyun-su demanded shrilly. His scar itched like those horrible feathers still lingered under his skin; he clamped a hand over his arm, as if that would do anything to hold them back. The thought made him want to vomit. “We killed someone!”
It was Ui-myeoung, the monster snapped. We had to kill him, or he would have killed everyone. Quit losing your shit, it’s not like we killed—
Sangwook, his shoulders squared and jaw clenched, a barely-there spark of fear in his eyes. Eun-yu, her knuckles white around Ji-su’s wrist, terror and hope clashing on her face. Du-sik’s arms drawn tight around his shoulders.
Come on, kid. Prove me right.
It’s still Hyun-su!
It’s okay. It’s not your fault.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Hyun-su hardly had time for the horror to set in before the monster seized control and slammed his fist through the drywall.
“FUCK!” it roared.
No, Hyun-su said weakly. No, no, no. Oh, god, what did we do?
“SHIT!” The monster grabbed the nearest crate and hurled it across the room with a resounding crash. “We fucking killed him! We killed Du-sik! After everything he did for us, we—” it snarled something deep and guttural, clawing its fingers into the hole in the wall and ripping out a huge chunk of plaster. “FUCK!”
We have to be missing something, Hyun-su tried. I—you—we would never hurt him. We can’t have—
“WE DID!” the monster howled. “We—” It trailed off, crumpling to the floor and burying its hands in its hair. “Fuck.”
As much as Hyun-su wanted to fight it, as much as every bone in his body screamed that this couldn’t be right, he knew it was true. He remembered being that soulless, animalistic thing, unconcerned with human trivialities like love or hate, caring only for the thrill of the hunt. That thing that had killed Ui-myeoung with the same sick satisfaction as a child ripping the legs off a spider, impaling him on its feathers and watching as he burned. That thing that had looked at his friends, his family, and seen not the people he loved, but prey. Something to hunt, to kill. Worst of all, he remembered how invigorating it had been to take a life. If it had only been Ui-myeoung, the memory would be disturbing, but with Du-sik, it was agonizing. It made him want to scream and throw up and tear off his skin all at once, remembering the smell of burning flesh, the feeling of Du-sik’s blood on his feathers, the throb of his heart pulsing slower and slower—
Hyun-su’s eyes caught on a broken metal pipe, the sharp edges glinting in the reddish glow of the setting sun. In a split second, he had it in his hand, the jagged edge poised over the scar on his arm. His muscles locked up a heartbeat before he could plunge it down.
What the fuck do you think you’re doing!? The monster demanded.
“I deserve it,” Hyun-su sobbed. The pipe in his hand trembled. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring it any closer, the end hanging infuriatingly an inch above his skin. His throat felt so tight it was hard to speak. “I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to protect all of them, and instead I—I—”
You what? the monster snapped. You killed him, so now you’re gonna kill yourself? You’re gonna drag me down with you?
“You’re me,” Hyun-su said. He didn’t believe it for a second.
How sure are you about that? Sure enough to risk killing another person? Was Du-sik not enough?
Hyun-su’s jaw dropped; the betrayal hurt, the wound still far too fresh. The monster seized the opportunity to fling the pipe out of his hand. Hyun-su cried out, lurching after it, but the monster yanked him back.
You don’t get to kill yourself! it snarled. You don’t get to give up that easily! Don’t you fucking dare try that shit again!
“You think anything about this is easy?!” Hyun-su cried. “Look at what we did! We’re too dangerous! If it wasn’t for me, Du-sik would still be—”
Don’t start that shit, the monster snapped. Without you, Du-sik wouldn’t have even made it past the 14th floor. He never would have made it down here with the other survivors, and he never would have lived as long as he did. So don’t you dare disrespect his memory by killing yourself. That’s not what he would want, and you fucking know it.
Hyun-su collapsed to the floor, curling up on his side, defeated tears streaming down his face.
“I hate you,” he sobbed. “I hate you.”
I know, the monster said. Something in its voice held a sadness deeper than he could imagine.
.
.
.
He didn’t know how long he spent laying there, tears trailing over the bridge of his nose, shivering in the winter air. When he finally dragged himself into a sitting position, only a sliver of sun still peeked over the horizon, casting the room in dim light.
He had to leave; that much he was certain of. What other options were there? What if next time it was Sangwook, or Eun-yu, or one of the kids that stumbled into his warpath? He could hardly bear the weight of Du-sik’s death; if one of them died because of him, he really would kill himself, monster be damned. He had to leave; the only question was how.
Should he say goodbye? Would it hurt too much if he did? Would he be able to live with himself if he didn’t? He couldn’t stand the thought of Eun-yu’s face if he told her, pain and grief slipping out from behind the thin veil of rage. She’d curse him with tears in her eyes, call him selfish, do anything except beg him to stay; she was too proud for that. And Sangwook, if he found out, would drag him inside by the scruff of his neck and never let him out of his sight again. Sure, Hyun-su could overpower him, but it would be all too easy to slip up, to let out a little too much of that unnatural strength and hurt him by mistake.
And what was worse, he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to venture off into the cold and dark, away from Eun-yu’s playful jabs and Sangwook’s tough love, Jaehyun’s subtle sarcasm and Ji-su’s unspoken understanding, Yu-ri’s exasperated fondness and the kids’ innocent joy. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life running from monsters and fighting for scraps. He definitely didn’t want to spend however many days he had left as a lab rat, hoping against all hope that they could extract a cure from him. But whether he turned himself in or didn’t, whether he wanted to or not, he had to leave. Like so many other things in his life, he had no choice. The world kept turning, time rolled on, fate took its toll and dragged him along with it.
He should just go, he decided, standing. It would hurt less for everyone involved if he just slipped out quietly, never to be seen again. His friends would be sad, they’d wonder why he didn’t say goodbye, but they’d move on. They wouldn’t be haunted by the memory of his face as he left, and he wouldn’t be haunted by theirs. It was better that way. But he had to do it now, before he lost the nerve. He lifted one foot over the threshold—
“You’re not seriously thinking about leaving, are you?” Eun-yu asked.
Hyun-su froze in his tracks. He let out the quietest sigh.
Shit.
“I have to,” he said, his voice carefully blank. “I’m dangerous.” Against his better judgement, he glanced back. Eun-yu stood at the mouth of the hall, jacket zipped all the way up, hands tucked under her arms to fend off the cold. A frown creased her face, half anger and half confusion, but Hyun-su didn’t miss the faint line in her brow that spelled anxiety in big, glaring letters.
“That’s always been true,” she said.
Hyun-su shook his head. “Not like this.”
“You’re being an idiot,” Eun-yu snapped. Her voice wobbled. “We’re not leaving you behind. Du-sik’s death wasn’t your fault.”
“Whose was it, then?” Hyun-su asked.
Eun-yu looked away to swipe the tears from her eyes. “Ui-myeoung’s, obviously.”
“He was already dead.”
“He was the reason you turned,” Eun-yu said. “He put you in that position. We’re not going to burn you at the stake for something he did.”
“What does it matter how it happened?” Hyun-su asked bitterly. “I killed Du-sik. I could’ve killed all of you. You should be terrified of me.”
“Don’t fucking tell me how I should feel,” Eun-yu snapped. “You want to know how I feel? I’m sad about Du-sik, I’m worried about the future, and I’m pissed that you’re using this as an excuse to give up on yourself!” She threw up her hands. “And you know what? I am scared! Seeing you turn into that thing, it scared the piss out of me. But what scares me more is that your guilt is going to eat you alive, and I won’t be able to stop it. So the last thing I’m going to do is let you run off into the middle of fucking nowhere and get yourself fucking killed!”
Hyun-su’s eyes flickered black. “You can’t stop me.”
“Oh, you think so?” Eun-yu scoffed, crossing her arms. “Then how about this? If you leave, so do I. Good luck trying to stop me while you’re still terrified you’ll snap me in half if you so much as touch me.”
Hyun-su winced. God, was it that obvious?
“I could outpace you,” the monster said.
Eun-yu smirked. “But then you’d be leaving me alone out in the open, with monsters everywhere. And I know you like me too much to let that happen.”
“I’ll get someone else to stop you from leaving. Sangwook, maybe.”
Eun-yu barked a harsh laugh. “You think Sangwook’s gonna let you leave? The only reason he’s not here is ‘cause he’s busy chewing out anyone who even looks like they want to leave you behind. Face it, you aren’t going anywhere without us.”
The monster grumbled under its breath and looked away, avoiding her gaze. She didn’t let it, moving to remain in his line of sight, sharp eyes piercing straight through the black into Hyun-su’s soul.
“Don’t hide behind him, Hyun-su,” she said. “If you’re going to leave me behind, at least have the balls to look me in the eyes while you do it.”
The black in Hyun-su’s eyes faded. Despite the frisson of anxiety it sent crackling through his veins, he couldn’t bring himself to look away, all his shields crumbling under her gaze.
“We can’t just go back to the way things were,” he said, the words hardly more than a whisper.
“We don’t have to,” Eun-yu replied. She took a step forward; he took a step back.
“You should stay away from me,” he said. “I’m dangerous.”
A trace of a smile quirked her lips. “Since when have I ever done what I should?” She took another step; he stepped back again. Her expression sobered. “Don’t run from me, Hyun-su.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
“You won’t.”
“I will. Look what I did to Du-sik.”
“You won’t,” Eun-yu repeated. “Trust me, Hyun-su. I’m not afraid of you.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Hyun-su said. Du-sik’s face flashed through his mind, blood running down his chin; he winced.
“It was an accident. A terrible, awful accident. But it doesn’t have to define you.” Eun-yu took another slow, careful step. “I know it wasn’t what you wanted, but Du-sik gave his life to bring you back. That’s how much he cared about you, how important you were to him. You’re important to me too, Hyun-su.”
His feet were frozen to the ground. He fought back every instinct telling him to flee as she slowly approached, keeping her hands open and visible like he was a stray dog she didn’t want to scare off.
“If his death has to have a meaning,” she said, “let it be that. That you’re important to someone. That we care about you, and we want you here with us.” She reached out, her palm upturned, waiting for him to close the gap. “Don’t throw that away.”
The silence seemed to stretch on forever, the two locked in a stalemate, air fraught with anticipation. Hyun-su, his shoulders hunched, staring at her outstretched hand like it would either doom him or save him, a maelstrom of unnamed emotions clashing in his chest. Eun-yu, her stance open, hand offered, hope a fragile tower wavering behind her eyes. Behind them, the sun sank below the horizon, leaving nothing but the chill of winter and the cold light of the moon.
And shrouded in the soft half-light, the shadows rendering his features too blurry and faded to read, Hyun-su reached out and took her hand.