His promise to return kept Wooyoung going. He stubbornly fought against the dread constricting his chest as he dragged his feet through the spills of time. The air was stifling and his skin clammy, but he wandered on. Yunho would need bandages. Until he wasn't taken care of, Wooyoung couldn't rest.

He escaped the fouls when dawn birthed another day. As the fungus-infested trailed back into their hideouts based on their instinct rather than a scheme of mind, Wooyoung could take a breather. His thoughts spun at a nauseating pace, tickling anxiety and fear in his stomach. He wanted to curl up into a ball and press his hands to his ears to shut them out. Yunho would come then. He would come to assure Wooyoung nothing had happened and they would be fine.

In all those years Wooyoung had known Yunho, he had never been alone. Splitting was risky and together, they were strong. Now that he trailed the familiar desert by himself, Wooyoung felt foreign to them. Where should he search for bandages? When should he eat? How far should he round the floating orbs of water that attracted the water gatherers? Suddenly, all experience was wiped from Wooyoung's brain. He was alone, and he felt colder than ever.

A lot of convincing himself was needed to keep him moving. He didn't do this for himself, but for Yunho, so they could return to normal. That was his purpose.

By some miracle, Wooyoung didn't break down in fear for his boyfriend. He trudged forward stubbornly and though he couldn't stomach any sustenance; he took a little sip of the precious water he found.

The ducked hut that appeared in the distance pulled him from his spinning madness. In a flash, his instincts returned to him and he crouched, approaching it subtly.

It was a ramshackle house constructed with anything the desert offered. Corrugated iron sheets, rotting wooden posts that had nails sticking from them like crooked teeth and a tarp for a roof. This was somebody's hideout, created by a survivor's hands. Though it was likely empty, Wooyoung wouldn't risk stumbling into a fungus infestation.

Knife in hand, Wooyoung made his way past the windowless walls. No sound came from inside, so he made it quick. Positioned behind the door, he tugged it open. The little resistance of a rotting bolt broke under his strength. Wooyoung let a beat pass, then he peered around the door, ready to flee if a gun pointed at him.

But few had the luxury of one.

The house wasn't empty after all, but no bunch of fouls stared at him with big, soulless eyes.

A family of three was huddled on the ground, two women and a child. They clutched to each other with pale faces, expecting death to dawn upon them. Though they eased when they spotted the young man instead of a foul, they didn't dare move from the wall they pressed into. A fellow survivor didn't mean safety. It was a world of taking what one could get, be it provisions or lives.

Wooyoung's heart sank as he took in their bleak surroundings. It smelled of unwashed bodies and their cheeks were gaunt, clothes slipping from bony shoulders.

"W-what do you want?" The woman to the left asked him, bravest through her voice trembled.

Wooyoung glanced around the area, made sure no one trailed after his unprotected back. Barren, the wasteland stared back at him. He lowered his voice to offer his peace.

"I need bandages. My friend got hurt."

"We don't have anything," she hissed, tugging the child closer to her chest. The sickly green hue of his skin might be the fungus festering already.

Other raiders might have slaughtered them, could have eaten their flesh, or crafted bandages from their clothes. Or even claim the shack. But Wooyoung couldn't strip them of the little they had. He was too painfully reminded of his parents, who clung to his survival with everything they had.

Not one to kill those in the same boat as him when he didn't have to, Wooyoung nodded.

"I won't take anything from you. Let's forget we met." He pushed off the door to close it but contemplated the sickly darkness once more. "Get some light in here. The fungus loves it warm and dark." He didn't comment on the first symptoms on the child, that it would spread much faster if they hid in there. Instead, he closed the door to the confused, though relieved, family.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. His eyes scanned the horizon for any other landmark, any place that could provide him with what he needed. Should he spend time searching? Or should he dig for Yunho first and go together? Being alone made Wooyoung paranoid.

He was only a few feet away from the shack and deliberated whether someone might have hidden at the nearby rocks when a scrape across rocks behind him had him peer over his shoulder.

A group of late fouls, driven by hunger over their misery in the daylight, surrounded the shack. Either they followed Wooyoung or the scent of humans drew them in.

Wooyoung whirled around, hand flying to his gun. He shot the one dragging clumsy hands over the door, trying to pull it open. A scream echoed from the inside. The rotting body of the infected person crumbled to the ground. The fungus had spread all over their jaw and neck.

"Stay inside!" Wooyoung bellowed before they could come and check what was going on. He backed up to get an overview of the enemies. Another one went down without a hitch, but by then, they figured out his hindrance from getting their meal.

Which meant they needed to get rid of him first.

Skidding through the sand covering the rocky ground, Wooyoung rounded the shack. It wasn't stable enough to climb on top, and it was no use to duck since the fouls smelled his sweat. As a barrier, however, it slowed down the agitated horde.

More and more kept crawling closer, as if spawning from the earth. Wooyoung shot at them until he could barely feel his arm from the recoil.

Not enough bullets.

Sweat trailed down his cheek as he reloaded. He jammed the gun into its holster and drew his knife instead. The foul closest to him staggered when Wooyoung shot at him from the shadow. For a moment, Wooyoung's face was full of their sweet, rotting stench. He saw fouling teeth, bloodshot eyes wide with craze. Their limbs moved jerkily like those of a doll, controlled by the fungus taking over their nerve system. They bled a sickly orange when Wooyoung jabbed his knife into its neck. He whirled around, coughing at the explosion of the rancid stench. The foul crumbled behind him while Wooyoung attacked the next.

A thin voice called at him from the door.

"There are too many! You can't defeat them!"

Flicking sweaty hair from his eyes, Wooyoung fixated on the next one with a murderous stare.

"I can try," he gritted, kicking its legs from its body to stomp on its head on the way down. He huffed, getting dizzy from the spores of the fungus permeating his airways.

"Get in here!"

"They will just run down the building," he called back, stumbling over a fallen corpse. He narrowly dodged the hands grabbing for his windpipe and socked the drooling mouth of the hungry foul. His strength depleted quickly and he couldn't keep his blurring eyes on the swarm. A shriek came from the shack and he whirled around, scampering to fend off the infected trying to squeeze its way inside.

Wooyoung almost ran into a foul dashing from the left, too used to Yunho having his back. He narrowly avoided death's blade when another force sent the creature sprawling. A powerful boot had kicked the thing into the chest, carving in its ribcage.

Though Wooyoung's heart jumped in hope, the man appearing by his side wasn't Yunho. His hair was black as the night, covering his right eye. Bandaged fists clutched an army knife, and he wore the durable clothes of a raider.

With gritted teeth, Wooyoung nodded his gratitude at him. He went back to fighting, dimly aware of how the stranger joined his side. Together, they warded off the remainders of the horde. The stranger fought like a beast, hiding steely strength under loose clothing. He stomped on heads until they burst like rotten fruit.

Without the time to be impressed with him, Wooyoung stumbled to the shack as soon as the last enemy fell. He had some minor scratches, but they would heal. Depleted, he caught his breath as he leaned in their entrance.

"Everyone alright?" He heaved, scanning their group with flickering eyes.

The woman who spoke to him earlier nodded. Her terror was etched into her face, but her lips muttered words of gratitude.

"Thank you for saving us," she whispered. Her eyes fell onto the stranger by Wooyoung's side, who stepped up into the entrance with him to check out its innards. He was a tad taller than Wooyoung, though he didn't tower over him like Yunho. From up close, his shoulders were even broader.

"You, too. Thank you for helping him."

"Don't mention it," the man said, voice younger than Wooyoung initially assumed, looking at him. Perhaps it was the hair and the bandages. They crossed over his chin and nose, shrouding his features in mysteries.

"You're hurt," Wooyoung said as he turned his way. They closed the door to the shack, so the family had some privacy to shake off the shock. While they recovered, Wooyoung studied the meddler.

Raiders usually came alone since it was unsafe to join groups, and their explorations brought them to every nook and cranny. Since Wooyoung was new to this area, he wouldn't know the few shadows meandering the distance. Only the water gatherers in their long coats were easily identified. They pursued a dangerous career, climbing into the sky on precarious ladders to scoop from the orbs, but they rarely bothered the other folks.

The stranger glanced at his arms.

"Old injuries, they aren't a bother anymore. Do you have disinfectant?" He peeked at the bodies, wary one might get back up. When Wooyoung retrieved one of the many bottles in his bag, he expected the man to borrow it for himself.

Instead, however, he rolled up Wooyoung's sleeve to expose the nasty scratch of a foul's fingernail on his skin. He cleaned the wound with the disinfectant while Wooyoung stood stunned into silence.

"Make sure no fungus gets into your bloodstream," the stranger shared. Wooyoung chuckled, unexpectedly since he was gloomy ever since he lost Yunho.

"I know. This isn't my first day on this earth."

His one exposed eye was dark and sharp, gritty with the trials of life. A faint humor carried in its twinkle, confessing to Wooyoung that he was well aware of their similarities. Wooyoung quite liked its liveliness.

"What's your name?"

Wooyoung hesitated to give it to him. Names were private. That was what his parents taught him. Of course, Yunho knew his name, but that was because Wooyoung trusted him. He would stay wary around the stranger he would never see again, even if they saved each other's skins just now.

"They call me Death," Wooyoung replied. It was an old nickname from the raiders in his village. No one shot better with a long-range rifle than him, dawning a sudden end from ridiculous distances.

The stranger's lips shifted under his bandages when he grinned.

"A fitting name. I'm San."

Something told Wooyoung that was his real name.

San let go of his arm, and Wooyoung rolled his sleeve back down.

"Thanks for jumping in there. I wouldn't have made it alone."

"It's what anyone with an ounce of sense should do out here. Humans gotta stick together."

Though Wooyoung was elated to meet someone with such knightly morals, he didn't let his guard down. At the end of the day, it was them against survival. Tricking your way into someone's bag was one way to do it.

He nodded.

"I'll be on my way, then. Take care out there." Those were the kindest words he could offer. San had done something selfless in a world where survival needed them to be selfish. Though Wooyoung knew few people with such tenacity, he needed to get back to Yunho. The night would fall soon and he had nowhere to hide.

Before he could turn, San also glanced toward the horizon.

"Perhaps we can find shelter together for a night? I'm northbound, but this held me up."

Wooyoung contemplated him. San stood lax, exuding no threat. Of course, Wooyoung couldn't relax near anyone but Yunho, and San fought like a devil, but if he was as upright as he claimed to be, it meant a safe evening.

Or help for Yunho.

After another beat of reluctance, Wooyoung conceded. He would find out tonight whether San was trustworthy. If so, he might be of use. If not, his bag was loaded with goods.