Chapter Text
Snow used to be quiet. Delicate in its whispers as it swept over the city, it touched the earth with promises of new beginnings and spring — a time where baby bunnies would crawl out of their burrows, their twitching noses leading them to the nearest flowers. It used to promise warm rain and new life. It used to.
It used to fall softly, slowly, over Seoul’s rooftops, gathering on windowsills that were closed tightly to keep the warmth in, on bus stops, and settling on Christmas lights twisted around apartment balconies. It would come with the sound of children singing carols on their doorstep and precisely made snowmen. It used to lie on the ground, snow angels and pairs of shoes imprinted into the thin layers of white.
And just like the past three winters that weighed on the city, tonight it fell onto empty roads, bullet shells, and bodies that didn’t stay still for long. It no longer held the promise of the following spring; all it held now was the undeniable truth of the cold it brought and what walked around as a reminder of it: death.
Zhang Hao tightened the grip he had on the metal pipe (which had a large kitchen knife duct-taped to the end of it) in his hand, knuckles turning white from the force, and pushed open the convenience store door with his shoulder. The bells tied to the handle clinked together — cheerful in a way that made Hanbin grimace — loud.
“I swear,” Hanbin muttered, checking over his shoulder, his own weapon — a katana they found in an antique shop almost a year ago — tucked in a way that he would be able to use it without sticking his partner on accident as they walked. “If a Biter pops out and those bells are the reason we die, when I come back, I'm aiming for your throat.”
Hao rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh at the boy behind him. “Kinky even as a Biter?” Hanbin laughed for a moment, his eyes turning up into crescent moons, but then his face fell a little. Hao’s voice softened, “Just stay close, Bin-ah.”
He didn’t need to tell him twice — Hanbin stuck to Hao’s side like a shadow, shivering as the early morning wind cut through his slightly too thin of a coat. Hanbin naturally ran warm, so when it came to distributing winter clothing, he was adamant that he got the thinnest one they had managed to find. His hair was matted with melted snow and soot, curling at the ends. There was a smear of dirt and blood across his cheek that he hadn’t noticed yet. It had moved around a bit as Hanbin had a habit of touching his face, so now a small dot of it sat on his nose.
Hao noticed it, though. And with much endearment, it made its place in his chest. Hao thought he could let the dirt linger a little longer; it somehow brought back a youth — that Hanbin had lost a while ago — to his face.
The convenience store was dim, backup generators long dead, only the faint glow of the sun barely peaking over the horizon, reflecting off the snow outside. Shelves were overturned, pulled apart by both the living and the dead. They entered together cautiously, the younger of the two feeling slightly off by how quiet it was and pulling Hao so that he was standing behind him as Hanbin led them forward. Hanbin used his foot to nudge at a fallen row of instant ramen cups.
“Good news,” he whispered, bending over to pick up the ones that hadn't been taken by the fall and shoving them into his backpack, “the Biters didn’t bother eating the ramen.”
Hao gave him a look — the how did I end up loving this weirdo? look — but he couldn’t help the flicker of a smile and a small shake of his head.
They walked aisle by aisle, movements slow, listening. Listening mattered more than seeing these days. It was the difference between life and death, that’s why it was only the two of them foraging this morning — they were quick on their feet and trusted each other. Also, because they planned on finding an unoccupied house with a comfortable and clean enough bed to—
A thump sounded somewhere in the back, then the crunch of a wrapper under a shoe.
Hanbin inhaled sharply, his fist reaching back and clinging to the older boy's coat. “Hao—”
“I hear it.” Hao lifted the pipe, expression cooling into that unshakeable calm that always made Hanbin feel safer than he wanted to admit. One of Hao’s hands came up to rest on the exposed skin of Hanbin's arm, where his sleeve had bunched up. Hanbin noticed the other wasn’t wearing clothes and retracted his own hands to quickly remove the ones he was wearing, turning around and forcing them into his lover's hand. Hao took them appreciatively, pecking him on the lips while pulling the glove over his fingers.
And then their attention was back on the original problem.
A moment of silence.
Then another thump, heavier this time. Something in the sound is nearing a drag.
Hanbin looked over his shoulder, eyes wide and chest rising slightly faster than a second before, he whispered, “Do we run?”
“No. We check.”
Hanbin frowned, his eyes trained forward again as he took another step, obeying quicker than he could properly process. “Why is that always the answer with you?”
“Because,” Hao said simply, “we survive better when we face things. Together.”
He stated it as a matter of fact and not like a theory, but Hanbin didn’t have time to blush — because the storage room door cracked open.
A shadow lurched out, staggering in its steps with decay.
Hanbin made a strangled noise and swung his flashlight wildly, smacking Hao in the shoulder instead of the Biter.
“Ow—Hanbin!”
“Sorry—!”
But Hao didn’t need his help, didn’t want his help. Not because he didn’t have Hanbin's help, but when they did runs like this, just the two of them, he felt the overwhelming need to protect. Hanbin was far more squeamish when it came to these things anyway; he didn’t like the concept of “killing” the Biters because they were once people, so they called it “easing” them.
In one smooth, ruthless motion, Hao brought the knife-bared end of the pipe down on the infected’s skull. There was a gross crunch that came with it, and Hao watched as Hanbin visibly winced, looking away and behind Hao. It collapsed into a shelf, knocking down a shelf of baby bottles and formula.
The store went quiet again except for Hanbin’s rapid breathing. He was shifting back and forth on his heels.
Hao bent slightly, the strike he just landed taking more energy than usual, his eyes scanning his lover. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Hanbin tires, though his voice came out weak and shallow, “I don’t think I'll ever get used to it.”
Hao reached out and gently brushed the blood and dirt-smeared cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to because I have. Let me do the dirty work. you? I just need you to take care of me.” He smiled and lightly shoved at Hanbin’s good shoulder. “And stop running into things. How do you get blood and dirt on your face?”
“That Biter ran into me, actually—”
“If I recall correctly, because I am always correct, you walked backwards into it.” Hao reaches for a packet of batteries while throwing a glance at his partner, “Or are you remembering it differently?”
“…details.”
Hao snorted softly, pulling Hanbin in by his coat and placing a kiss on his lips.
They gathered whatever supplies they could — water bottles, canned peaches, a half-smashed fruitcake Hanbin insisted was edible (“It’s apocalypse-proof!”), and a crushed box of hot cocoa packets.
Outside, the snow had picked up again. The streets were silent, but the sky glowed, the sun rising higher under the clouds.
“Hao,” Hanbin said suddenly, halting him. He shifted, facing Hao and away from the sun, “It’s Christmas.”
Hao blinked, tilting his head to the side. They hadn’t celebrated Christmas since everything went down, so he was a little confused as to why the other was bringing it up. “Technically. Why?”
Hanbin pulled something from his pocket — a set of necklaces, the shape of a heart split in half, one pink and the other blue. BFF in tacky black font sat on them. Hanbin's hand shook, probably from the cold.
“I found it back there.” He stepped closer. “So I’m giving the other half to you.”
Hao stared at him, amused but touched. “BFF?”
“Don’t judge. It’s a gift. And… everything is ugly now. I want something small and good.”
“So I’ve been demoted from fiancée to BFF?”
“You were my best friend before you were my fiancée, anyway, this just further proves that you're my number one. Always.”
“Why are you being Santa Claus all of a sudden, Bin-ah?”
Hanbin ignored the remarks, swatting at his lover's arm. And, without waiting for permission, Hanbin stepped behind Hao and clasped the pink one around his neck, fingers trembling slightly from cold and nerves.
When he finished, Hao angled his head to the side so he could watch as Hanbin put the blue one on.
“That’s cute,” Hao said quietly, now closing the space between them.
Hanbin smiled shyly. “Merry Christmas.”
Hao didn’t hesitate; he leaned in and pressed his forehead against Hanbin’s.
The snow around them fell in soft spirals, like it were falling for them. Through everything — the fear, the ruins, the death — they stood together in the middle of an empty street like the world hadn’t ended. Because with each other, it was easy to feel the earth spinning.
“Merry Christmas, Hanbin.”
A growl echoed from a distant alley.
Hao pulled back, eyes sharp again. “Time to go.”
Hanbin groaned dramatically but grabbed Hao’s hand. “Do you think Santa survived all this?”
“Hanbin.”
“What? If anyone could outrun Biters, it’s Santa—”
“Seriosly!”
They weren't really in a rush, and they wouldn't be unless necessary. So they walked, and rather slowly.
“Do you think that Yujin still believes in Santa?”
“I don’t think so, hey—” Hao stopped, pulling Hanbin to a halt with him. He peered up towards the rooftop of an apartment complex. “Do you think we could get a bed to that roof?”
Hanbin took his time to think, surveying their surroundings and the building itself. “Depends on where we get the bed from, maybe if we get it from the top floor. Why? You wanna star gaze?” He poked Hao in the side, teasing him.
“Not—ah! Hanbin! Stop!”
“Sorry, sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that— you know, since there’s no one around to hear or see.” Hao stopped talking and looked Hanbin in the eyes. “I don’t know, it could be fun, something different.” He shrugged, his hair sticking to his forehead and nose running from the cold.
“Hao, you want to have sex on the roof?”
“I mean, why not?”
“Now?”
“What? No! Hanbin, it’s the middle of winter!”
Hanbin laughed, nodding in agreement. He pushed the hair out of Hao’s face, his hands cupping the older boy’s cheeks.
Hao went perfectly still the second Hanbin touched him — not in fear, but in that stunned, soft way he always did when Hanbin got gentle without warning. His cheeks were cold from the outside air, but they warmed under Hanbin’s palms almost instantly, a slow flush crawling up from under his scarf.
“You have terrible ideas,” Hanbin murmured, thumbs brushing under Hao’s eyes, wiping away a tiny frozen snowflake stuck to his lashes.
“And you always follow them,” Hao shot back, but his voice had softened into something embarrassingly fond. He leaned into Hanbin’s hands like he was starved for warmth, like the apocalypse had shortened every distance except the ones between their bodies.
Hanbin snorted. “Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta keep you from freezing to death.”
He meant it as a joke, but then he leaned forward without thinking — the way he always did, closing space before he even realized he wanted to. Their noses brushed, cold against cold, and Hao let out the tiniest breath, clouding in the air between them.
The kiss wasn’t dramatic, or heated, or desperate. It was clumsy and oh so very them— Hanbin bumped their foreheads together, muttered “shit, sorry,” and Hao laughed into his mouth, which made their teeth tap lightly. Very romantic. Very smooth. Perfectly them.
But then Hao steadied him by the collar of his coat, tugging him back in, and everything settled—soft, warm, familiar. Hanbin kissed him again, slower this time, thumbs still stroking his cheeks like he needed to memorize him all over again. Like it was the first kiss they ever shared.
Hao blinked at the sudden warmth puddling in his stomach — it made him feel like he was on a boat — eyelashes sticking together from melted snow. “What?” he asked, nose scrunching in that way it always did when he was caught off guard.
“Nothing,” Hanbin wasn’t convincing, though. Hao could read him like he was a neon sign in the pitch back. This “nothing” for Hanbin was the kind of “nothing” that meant everything. The kind that meant you’re cute, and I’m tired, and don’t leave me, all at once.
For a moment, the air around them didn’t smell like dust, rot, and cold metal. It smelled like them — sweat, snow, and cheap cherry lip balm Hanbin swore he didn’t use but absolutely did.
Hao sniffled again, wiping his nose on his sleeve like a little kid, and Hanbin groaned dramatically.
“Hyung, that’s disgusting.”
“Oh, shut up,” Hao muttered, shoving Hanbin’s chest lightly. Not enough to move him. Just enough to tease. Hanbin began to shift, and Hao thought he was about to move away.
But Hanbin didn’t.
Instead, he leaned forward, their foreheads knocking together a little too hard because Hanbin always misjudged distance. “Ow—! You have such a sharp face, why are you built like this?”
“Maybe you’re the problem,” Hao whisper-laughed, breath clouding between them again. Their breaths mixed.
Even that part of me wants to be with him. Hao thought, his head spinning and heart aching, full of love.
And then, without ceremony, without even giving Hanbin a warning, Hao pressed a small, chapped kiss to the corner of Hanbin’s mouth — the kind you give someone when you’re cold and tired and trying to remember what softness feels like.
Hanbin’s eyes went round.
“That wasn’t even the right spot,” he complained, tugging at Hao’s sleeves.
“I wasn’t aiming,” Hao shot back, cheeks flushed red from cold and something else.
Hao tried again, leaning forward — bumped Hanbin’s nose — apologized — tried again — missed — apologized again — and
“You’re doing that on purpose!”
“Maybe.” Hao shrugged.
On the fourth attempt, Hao finally gave in to his lover's whining, kissing him properly.
It was messy and warm and home in the middle of an apocalypse that felt like it was trying to take everything away from them. It couldn't take this.
Something settled in them that day — a peace that they hadn’t felt since, well, ever. Maybe the snow did still bring new life, new beginnings. Just in very…mundane ways. Neither of them could ask for more, though; they were content. And they continued their way back to their base.
Together — fingers intertwined, hair fluttering — they walked through the falling snow, laughing breathlessly as the dead wandered them through a Christmas that refused to be peaceful.
“We should get Yujin a Christmas present.”
“And the dog, he’d be more offended if we didn't get Paco a present than if we didn’t get him one.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I always am, Hanbin-ah. I always am.”