𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 ˢᵏᶻ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ stars and raindrops

dear seungmin,

currently, i'm writing this letter by the candle light in a shattered greenhouse in the backyard of some deserted family home. there is no weather tonight, just the incessant howling of the wind.

and by the gods am i starving. i haven't scavenged in a while and my food supply will probably only last me until tomorrow.

they say that you won't understand true hunger until the world ends. they were right.

today marks the one year anniversary of this shitty apocalypse. back at the camp, the people used to ask me : why do you bother keeping count? why would you want to remember the day when people started eating other people?

i never really knew the answer to those questions. maybe it was because you used to mark off the days on our calendar before you left for work in the mornings, so in a way it was reminding me of you. i don't know, it's just a thought.

did you know that i called you? right as shit hit the fan and everything changed? i was cleaning coffee filters at the cafe when the breaking news came on. it was chaos. people were getting ripped to shreds on screen. i even saw a woman's arm get torn off of her body.

you didn't answer - you always turned your phone off during working hours - so it went straight to voicemail. i tried explaining what was happening and told you to meet me by our cabin that we bought last spring in the outskirts of the woods.

after that, i went home to pack enough supplies to sustain us and headed there.

but you never showed up.

i waited there for three and a half months, practically a bag of bones by the end of it. turns out i have no idea what rationing is, and ended up consuming all the food within the first 6 weeks. i tried catching stuff in the nearby lake, but we both know that you were far better at fishing than i ever was. regardless, one of the zombie things heard me splashing about and fell inside which contaminated everything anyways.

at night, i used to lay down looking up at the stars and trace their shapes with my fingers. then, i'd close my eyes and wish over and over again that when i opened them, you'd be there. it never came true.

a teenage girl and her dad found me curled up in a ball on the cabin's floor. they gave a drink and spoke about a camp they were part of, not far from here. the two of them carried me there because i was too exhausted but when i saw it - oh was it was a heaven in this hell scape.

i made a lot of great memories with even greater people. it made me wonder if you would ever find this place. and if you did, we could finally pick up from where we left; do the things we never got to do like get married, have kids, grow old together.

but i've learned that good things never last.

the place got overrun by a massive herd of those dead things. the others fought with all they had, but you can't win. not against them. i ran away like the coward i am, separating myself from the group so that i could stay alive. been running from town to town ever since.

and now here i am, rotting away in a broken greenhouse, alone with a single can of beans asking myself : what am i doing this for? you won't see this letter. nobody's going to see this letter.

but if by chance,

i want to know - did you ever look for me? if you did, why did you stop?

i hope it rains tomorrow. i could really do with some water. i hope you're still alive, too.

with love,

✰