Home; I Found With You // Ryeji FF

enough has been broken.

It was never the same.

When the person who kept their world steady, their constant, their gravity, suddenly wasn't there anymore, nothing fit right again. As the time passed, her absence became a reminder of what once was... and what could never be again.

They knew they had to let her go.

But that didn't make it any easier.

So they searched for distractions— something to stop their minds from collapsing into the widening void inside them, a void that felt less like grief and more like a forming black hole.

Yuna and Chaeryeong borrowed the Evo to return to the ruins of their old home, hoping to retrieve the Camaro from the wreckage. Two cars were better than one, especially with their condition. They wished the Humvee had survived the fire— anything to keep a piece of their Lieutenant with them a little longer.

Seulgi still rested in the back of the gas station, wrapped carefully in the plastic tarp. Her final shelter. They all knew that they couldn't delay the inevitable much longer. They owed her peace.

Today would be the day.

Ryujin knelt beside the backpack she had taken from the Evo after watching the soldier and her girlfriend drive off. She began to empty it, piece by piece. Crumpled granola bars that were mushed. Spare batteries. Her old iPod— screen scratched, battery icon clinging to life with a single red sliver. She stared at it, baffled at how it still had any charge at all. At that point, she was convinced that it would outlive her.

Everything she pulled out was a ghost of who she used to be. A breadcrumb trail back to a version of herself she thought she'd finally left behind.

Then her fingers brushed something familiar.

A battered cigarette pack, edges soft from being carried too long. The one she used to share with Yeji. They never smoked casually nor regularly (after they got caught by Lia, they never heard the end of the health risks that were involved and betted that they would die from lung cancer before they die from zombies). They only smoked when something was worth remembering, or worth forgetting. They hadn't touched a cigarette in a little more than a year. Peace had given them no reason to.

She stared at it for a moment, then slipped it back into her pocket.

Her hand moved to the shelf above, stopping at her old axe resting against the wall. The handle was worn smooth now, the blade dulled but dependable. She hadn't held it in what felt like a lifetime.

They'd been safe for so long— long enough for the weight of danger to fade into a ghost she could barely recognise. She lifted it slowly, feeling the old familiar heft settle into her palm like a memory returning.

Her gaze softened at the sight after turning to look up at her surroundings.

Yeji stood a few feet away, head bowed, staring at her machete as if it were an artifact from another world. Fingers hovered over the grip but didn't quite close around it. It had been ages since she'd required it. Ages since she'd been forced to be the version of herself that the weapon belonged to.

Ryujin approached.

She slid her arms around Yeji's waist from behind, pulling her close, timidly— like she was afraid Yeji might disappear if she used too much strength. She rested her chin on Yeji's shoulder, breathing her in, grounding herself in the warmth she found there.

"We need to do this for her," Ryujin whispered, her arms tightening around the other's waist. "Let's do this for Seulgi."

Yeji let out a slow, weary sigh, then nodded. She secured the machete against her thigh, clipped it to her belt with a motion she hadn't practised in months. Her gaze drifted towards the curb outside.