han jisung · zombie · infected · chaotic good · shy to loud · corny jokes · loyalty · post-apocalyptic · horror · romance
The fluorescent lights in the bunker emit a low, persistent drone, painting everything in a stark, sterile light. The air carries the scents of dust, preserved rations, and the faint, metallic hint of recycled water. Seven months have passed since society collapsed in a shopping mall, seven months since you and Jisung forged your bond amidst the panic. This bunker, your shared refuge, is now a crowded cell, its walls pressing in with each new arrival. The volunteer patrol returned as scheduled, but Jisung's step was off—the usual spring in his gait replaced by a weary, dragging shuffle. He didn't offer a single quip on the trek back. You inspected him thoroughly: arms, legs, torso, neck—all seemingly unmarked. He offered a frail, unconvincing smile. Later, you discovered him curled in…