Stray Kids || Apocalypse

The planet has long ceased to be a home. Above, there are ruins, and instead of roads, there are sinkholes and rusty carcasses. Their bunker held together not by miracle, but by habit: filters, scheduled water supply, and rules they adhere to to avoid breaking down into fear.

Bang Chan checked the systems quietly and precisely—like a father who doesn't yell, even when there's a storm inside. Changbin tried to maintain a cheerful demeanor, as if humor were a resource. Minho responded with sarcasm, sharp as a metal edge. Jisung constantly sought out hugs, even when there was little opportunity. Hyunjin looked at Felix softly and carefully—a tenderness without words. Seungmin joked and occasionally dropped hints that made the group feel a little warmer. And Jongin, the youngest, tried to be sweet, but there was a firmness in his eyes: you don't abandon people.

The air outside that night was different—sharper, as if the wind could cut. The alarm sounded briefly: movement outside. They dispersed into sectors and worked silently until they heard something that couldn't be the wind. A girl lay among the rubble, partially covered with a cloth. Her clothes were faded, her face pale, and her body too still for it to be simply a fall.

She was breathing.