Lost Boys {Book Two}

Life's Not Out to Get You (Right?)

The ringing is new.

It started when he woke up on the cold, cement floor of the bank, and hasn't gone away. For once he wished Yukhei would talk louder and drown it out, but as they made their way through the streets, Yuta trudged further and further behind.

The three of them stayed in the alleyways, where there was the least destruction, at least in most areas. They still had to duck behind dumpsters, or run to find cover whenever they heard voices, but so far, everyone they'd passed seemed to be doing the same as they were; scavenging, trying to survive. 

"Dude," Yukhei called about twenty minutes into their trip. He'd just noticed that Yuta was no longer right behind them when he glanced over his shoulder. Yuta looked up to find that he and Yangyang had both stopped, and were staring back at him. "You good?"

Yuta shook his head, almost hoping to shoo the sound away. "You guys hear that? It's not just me, right?"

"Hear what?"

"The ringing! It's driving me crazy," his hands moved to tug at his hair, but his fingertips were met with the bandage wrapped around his head. The blood had leaked through, and was starting to dry, but still coated his hands in a gross, clotted mess. He figured if the blood was starting to dry, he probably wasn't bleeding so much anymore, so he pulled the bandage off. He hissed at where the dried blood had glued the bandage to the wound (and his hair), but it wasn't painful enough to stop him from pulling it the rest of the way off.  He wiped his hands on his pants and rushed forward to catch up with the other two. "I forgot about that."

"That's probably why you're hearing ringing," Yangyang said, addressing Yuta directly for the first time, probably ever. Aside from the few days he spent speaking only in Chinese (thanks to Chenle) but Yuta didn't count that. "You hit your head pretty hard, we heard it from across the street."

"I thought that was Sicheng's face hitting the pavement?" Yukhei wondered aloud, and Yuta pursed his lips. He'd been too out of it to notice anything that had happened to his boyfriend, despite him being literally on top of him. Yuta had just laid there, dazed and completely useless while Sicheng had broken his cheekbone — they had no way of knowing for sure but Yuta was willing to bet anything — gotten shot, and still somehow managed to drag Yuta's mostly unconscious body around to the side of the building. Even without the injuries, Yuta couldn't imagine him being able to do that without collapsing. Just earlier that night, he'd had to help Sicheng out of his chair.

Adrenaline was powerful stuff.

"Well, either way," Yangyang said with a shrug. "It might go away. Might not. Hope for the best, I guess. Is it loud?"

Yuta hummed. "Just annoying."

They fell silent for a while. Yukhei and Yangyang took turns kicking a chunk of cement up the street, narrowly avoiding people who were wandering around aimlessly (they decided they'd save time if they stopped hiding from everyone unless they were sure they were dangerous). People looked up at the sky, at the destruction of the city around them in disbelief. Yuta would've felt the same, months ago maybe. But he couldn't find it in himself to be shocked or upset about the storm. Why wouldn't there be a storm like that? After everything else that had happened, what made that so incredible?

Part of him wished the storm had been worse, that it had killed them all. They wouldn't have to worry about food or water, each other's health, keeping each other safe, he wouldn't have to worry about Sicheng anymore. They wouldn't be suffering.

He could barely bring himself to even glance in Donghyuck's direction. He'd only looked a few times, and each time he'd felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Now, all he felt was guilt for leaving Jeno alone to take care of him. Sicheng wasn't able to help him very much, especially now.