Since it was a touchy topic, Wooyoung didn't drill to find out about San's infection and how he survived it. The image he painted was terrifying enough. Getting infected in the first place and then suffering as his body rotted until the mysterious antidote became available. Wooyoung never heard of one. Those infected were lost, always, but San's people saved him in time.

Either way, San had been incredibly lucky to make it through with a rash. The memory was painful, as was losing his humanity. Yet, he lived, and he didn't intend to stop. From everything Wooyoung saw, he had a passion for life.

Now that he knew about the secret, Wooyoung wanted to hear more about San. Where was he from? What were his people like who helped him so loyally? And what was he doing out here instead of with them?

He shouldn't care. All they teamed up for was to make up for a favor. Yet, Wooyoung slinked with San through the sand the day after the revelation and his thoughts spun around the mysterious stranger. Nothing in San's body language changed, and he chuckled when he caught Wooyoung staring at his hand in the morning. When Wooyoung whipped his indignant head away, he was oddly giddy at San's deep snicker.

It was a dangerous game, but Wooyoung told himself it was only because he needed to divert his paranoia that Yunho was gone. San was an easy distraction, but he would disappear with the desert wind soon. Once Yunho was back by Wooyoung's side, they could concentrate on recovering and finding shelter at the cliffs.

Though preoccupied with his spinning thoughts and needless curiosities about San, Wooyoung's step was steady and eager to reach their destination. Soon, the landscape looked familiar and other buildings they visited came into view. Miraculously, those hadn't crumbled. The stroke of misfortune struck them specifically in that place that night.

San observed his surroundings with vigilant eyes. He was no less adept than Wooyoung in detecting the dangerous crannies in which fouls could gather. Although, now that Wooyoung knew about his peculiar secret, perhaps San didn't care? Survival was a challenge, but the fouls were easy to avoid if one was prudent. Or did San's run-in with the fungus grant him a privilege of kinship that would have saved many other pitiful souls?

The thought that San had almost become a drooling, mindless hunter himself...

Wooyoung's fingers tingled, and he snapped his gaze from the man's bandages.

"We're here," he announced loudly when no life dared show itself around them. The long shadow of the nearby water orb chased them across the sand. Avoiding its loom, Wooyoung pointed at the ruins of the building. They hadn't shifted anymore after the initial collapse. The same edges peeked from the lifeless sand, suffocated by its masses.

Wooyoung's heart jumped into his throat. Looking at it now, it seemed like a death trap. Nothing escaped from those masses. Entire cities sunk to ruin to the hunger of the desert.

Stubbornly, he tugged his scarf over his mouth to protect himself from the whirling sand. It crunched between his teeth anyway as he caught San's eyes. The other raider had followed Wooyoung's beckon and his step slowed.

"There?"

Wooyoung didn't like the pause in his voice. As if he misheard. As if it was impossible. It clutched Wooyoung's guts in a vice and crushed at them, agreeing with what he stubbornly refused to consider.

He drew his brows together.

"Yes. It was a tall building, so it goes deep. Maybe it was for the best to take you along. We need to cover lots of ground."

San stared at him silently, but he didn't halt. They neared the sinkhole, blending with the rest of the desert if not for the crooked ruins. Wooyoung lowered his bundle and shoved the shovel into the ground so it stood by his side. He allowed himself the tiniest sip of water against the scratch in his throat. The rest was for Yunho.

"Check the nearby houses for leftover metal. We can take turns with the shovel," Wooyoung suggested. Without a word, San complied. He dropped his bundle next to Wooyoung's, and they got to work. Dark hair hung into Wooyoung's eyes as he shoveled the sand away, where he remembered Yunho to have hung last.

It was a tedious task. Since the ground had little traction, he kept sliding into the hole he dug and more sand ran down at him, slowing his progress. San dug nearby with a large metal sheet he found. He didn't complain once, so Wooyoung didn't, either.

The air was stifling and Wooyoung soon rid himself of his undershirt, working only in the tattered black vest. Sweat made his neck clammy, but he refused a break. San wore his bandages with stubborn persistence and the rust had discolored the ones on his hands when they switched items. Wooyoung hoped no open wounds hid on his skin.

His head was blissfully empty as he worked. Driven by determination, he soon met solid rock and dug himself along its crooked line.

No Yunho.

San didn't take a break either, straining against the physical limitations of his body to burrow deep. They searched and dug, but there was no trace. Not of a limb sticking from the sand and no speck of blood to send them the right way.

After a couple of hours, Wooyoung didn't even know what he was searching for anymore. Was it a trace of survival or proof of his death? He wanted Yunho back by his side, skipping around with that infectious smile and drawing silly messages into the sand as if there were anyone to see them.

They admitted their need for a breather when their strength waned from the lack of food. Wooyoung climbed along the concrete ridge to get back out, not risking knocking all the sand back inside the hole.

San slumped into the sand by his side. He had a water bottle as well and took a small sip before he crunched down on a cracker. When he offered one to Wooyoung, the mutter of thanks from his parched throat died on cracked lips.

They ate in silence. Wooyoung felt what San wanted to say, knew the words lingered on his lips as he tied his boots anew. With every fiber of his being, Wooyoung blocked them off. His stubbornness kept him going, it always had. He was alive thanks to it.

And Yunho would also be alive thanks to it.

When Wooyoung got to his feet, San followed suit. They rolled their shoulders and jumped back into their respective holes. Their grunts of exertion filled the remaining hours of the day.

More concrete, sand, and more sand. Not a trace of Yunho in sight. Wooyoung drilled deeper and deeper until he feared the sand might come down on him to bury him in its golden grave. Had Yunho been flung off? Where could he have landed? Or had he managed to dip through a window and found a corner where the sand evaded him?

How many days would it take to unearth the entire thing?

Something mean in Wooyoung whispered he couldn't do it. Not in the limitations of his body, or those of Yunho. If he found him, in the most unlikely case, he would be dead. Suffocated by the sand crushing his ribcage.

But Wooyoung didn't want to think about that possibility. He gritted his jaw until it hurt and scoured without abandon. He continued late into the night and long after San already gave it up.

He dug until he couldn't make it out of his hole himself anymore.

Only then, he collapsed. In the darkness of the sandy grave, he sunk to his knees and buried his face in his arms.

The skies above were bleak. There was no way out from this far down, no digging his way up, since the sand would glide him back down.

It was hopeless.

Had Yunho stared at an unreachable sky for a while? Or had he seen only the wall of gold and knew it was his end? Was he still here, starving, or had it ended quickly?

Wooyoung stifled a sob in his gritty clothes. He had no energy to cry, but he didn't know what else to do.

Yunho was gone. No matter how Wooyoung tried, he would only bury himself.

Perhaps it was worth it. Who said he deserved to live and Yunho didn't? Yunho should be the one out there. The one to survive and find happiness. What even was the point for Wooyoung if Yunho wasn't there with him? Where would he go? What would he do?

Drool and snot got wiped on his vest carelessly. Wooyoung's eyes were exhausted after his long day and he hated how his instincts kept him going; asked him to drink the precious water and rest up for another long day of chasing life.

He hated it. Hated how he couldn't just curl up here to follow Yunho anywhere, as they promised. Hated how up there was just more injustice and cruelty waiting for him in the future. More running from the inevitable.

"Fuck!" Wooyoung yelled into the night. He wished the sky punished him too, buried him deep where he belonged.

But nothing happened.

He was alone.

Quivering fingers raked through his dirty hair. He clutched to the unkempt strands, yanked until he felt something else than the pain in his heart. It threatened to consume him, warped until all reason was gone and only hatred had him kick at the shovel.

All for nothing.

Yunho was gone. And now that Wooyoung knew there was no foolish lie that might ensure his survival, he didn't know how to go on.

For a while longer, he sat in his hole. Misery shrouded him as he clutched his arms around himself. He mimicked the hug Yunho would give him when he crumbled, but it wasn't the same. It would never be the same.

His tears dried out, and only exhaustion remained. He direly needed to sleep and eat something.

Hopeless, he lifted his eyes to the cloudy sky. To the oppressive cloak shrouding everyone in misery. As if they didn't even get to look up and hope for more. All they had was their run against time and death in their confinements.

Sometimes Wooyoung wondered if he would have been happier to be born before the holocaust. Could he have lived with Yunho under the blue sky? Lived and worked in one of these buildings and kissed on water breaks?

Could they have been more?

"San?" Wooyoung croaked before everything would overwhelm him. He doubted the man was still there. Not after Wooyoung's unreasonable requests without ever thanking him. Not for his stupidity when they knew how fleeting life was.

Depressed, Wooyoung hung his head.

How he wished he would have been different.

Sand trickled down to his side when something shuffled above. Wooyoung blinked into the darkness and the next moment, a rope hit him in the leg. San stood at the rim of the burrow, wringing it around his fists.

Though stifled by his grief, a burden lifted from Wooyoung's chest.

He might be alone tomorrow, but he wouldn't be today. As unlikely as it was, he found someone who understood in the middle of this godforsaken place.

Wooyoung grabbed the shovel and the rope. With some effort, they got wrung him out from the depths.

He didn't care how the sand he stomped loose trailed down the hole to fill it back up. The desert would do it soon, anyway.

He wouldn't return there.

San had made a fire and prepared their leftover meat. It was juicy, making Wooyoung's stomach rumble when he came to sit in the sand. Though he wanted to duck his head and hide away from San's eyes, he accepted that he owed an answer. With a deep breath, he met the raider's gaze.

San didn't comment on the redness of Wooyoung's eyes or his lips that were bitten raw. They were in similar worn states, yet Wooyoung looked infinitely more worn.

He cleared his throat.

"Thank... thank you for helping me. For indulging my hope."

San nodded and beckoned at the meat, divided into two equal amounts even when he had been the one to find the coyote and skin it.

A beat of silence passed as they dug in. Wooyoung was sunken into himself.

"I'm sure he made it, somehow," he whispered. "We never found a body, so he might have crawled out. I'm sure he is out there."

San said nothing, but he didn't have to. The pain resonating in Wooyoung's heart was torturously rational.

*******

This book has 24 chapters btw!