My Stars Say Your Name | WOOSAN

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The world outside had become a desolate, haunting void. The once lively streets, filled with the sounds of life and the bustle of daily activity, were now eerily silent. It was a silence so profound, so absolute, that it felt as though the very air had been sucked out of the atmosphere, leaving behind a heavy, oppressive weight.

San stood by the window, staring out at the landscape that had once been familiar but now felt alien and terrifying. The sky, usually a vast expanse of blue, was now cloaked in a thick, ominous layer of dark clouds, as if the heavens themselves were mourning the loss of the world below. The sun, hidden behind the oppressive shroud, cast a dull, lifeless light over the empty streets, making everything look washed out and grey, devoid of any warmth or color.

The buildings, once bustling with life, now stood like empty tombs, their windows dark and lifeless, their doors sealed shut as if to keep the death that roamed the streets from entering. The trees, once vibrant and green, had withered, their leaves brown and brittle, rustling faintly in the cold, uncaring wind. It was as if nature itself had succumbed to the virus, retreating into a deep, unyielding slumber, leaving the world in a state of frozen decay.

San could feel the silence pressing down on him, a deafening, suffocating force that seemed to drown out even the sound of his own breathing. It was the kind of silence that made your ears ring, the kind that filled your mind with thoughts you’d rather not entertain. And beneath that silence, lurking just out of sight, was the constant, ever-present specter of death, moving silently, invisibly, from house to house, from street to street, claiming its victims without mercy or pause.

The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of decay, of rot, of life extinguished. It was a smell that clung to everything, that seeped into your skin, your clothes, your very soul, reminding you with every breath of the reality you couldn’t escape. There were no birds singing, no children laughing, no cars driving by. Just an endless, suffocating stillness that seemed to stretch on forever, broken only by the occasional distant wail of a siren or the low, mournful howl of the wind as it swept through the empty streets.

The lands, once fertile and full of life, were now barren and empty, devoid of any movement, any sign of life. It was as if the world itself had been drained of its essence, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell, a ghostly reminder of what once was. The silence was so thick, so palpable, that it felt as though it was swallowing everything, erasing all trace of the world that had existed before.

San’s heart ached as he took it all in, the overwhelming sense of loss, of finality, sinking deep into his bones. This was it, the world as it now stood—a world of darkness, of emptiness, of endless silence. A world where death roamed freely, its presence felt in every corner, in every shadow, waiting, watching, relentless in its pursuit.

As San turned away from the window, the weight of it all pressing heavily on his chest, he couldn’t help but feel the cold grip of fear tighten around his heart. The world was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

San’s hands trembled as he reached for the remote, his heart pounding in his chest. The TV flickered to life, the screen immediately flooded with breaking news. Images of desolate cities, hospitals overwhelmed with the dead and dying, and desperate cries for help filled the room. The virus had spread far beyond their borders, reaching other countries, killing faster than anyone could have imagined. The once vibrant world was collapsing, its pulse fading as the pandemic spread like wildfire.

As San absorbed the horrific scenes on the screen, a soft voice pulled him back to reality.

“San?” Wooyoung’s voice was laced with sleep, innocent and unaware, like a child waking from a dream. He blinked, his eyes still heavy with sleep, as he looked up at San with a trusting gaze. “What’s going on?”