Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]-Chapter 180 - Friends?

"That warehouse you can see from here," Jian Hao panted, pointing toward the distant silhouette behind the crumbling buildings, "that’s where I’m from. You can get guns there... and food... even... even women!"

He threw the last part in desperately, his voice trembling, as if each added detail would make this strange, powerful man stay.

The handsome man raised an eyebrow, amused, his expression unreadable. The afternoon sun caught the side of his pale face, casting a sharp shadow over his cheekbones. "That sounds appealing," he murmured, slow and deliberate, "but why are you telling me this?"

He started to walk back toward him.

This time, Jian Hao didn’t make the same mistake. The moment the man’s boots crunched against the gravel, Jian Hao instinctively stepped backward. Every step forward the man took, he took one back. Fast. His legs quivered.

"Because they all betrayed me!" Jian Hao cried out, the pain catching in his voice now. "I let them push me around, I obeyed them, I followed every damn rule they made, and still—still they threw me out like trash. I want payback!"

The man chuckled, a soft, breathy sound with a razor’s edge.

"So you expect me to go kill them all..." his voice held laughter, but his eyes were sharp, almost glinting with danger. "Do your dirty deeds? Wipe away your failures?"

"Y-Yes..." Jian Hao whispered, head bowed but eyes desperate. "Please... just do it..."

The man’s smile melted away.

Gone was the playful air, the lazy sunbather from the truck. His posture shifted slightly, no longer relaxed, but tense—like a predator who’d finally stopped playing with its prey.

"What have I told you about karma?" the man said, voice low and deadly calm.

Jian Hao’s blood froze.

The world suddenly felt too still, too quiet. No wind, no footsteps, not even the distant moans of zombies. Just that man... and those eyes.

Jian Hao’s instincts screamed at him.

Run.

He didn’t wait.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and bolted, dashing into the city ruins as fast as his trembling legs could carry him. His breath burned his throat, his heart thundered in his ears. He leapt over broken fences, ducked under rusted signs, stumbled across cracked pavement—but he didn’t stop.

He didn’t dare look back.

Not until he couldn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him.

Only then, hidden in the narrow alley between two collapsed buildings, did he slump against the cold wall, gasping for breath. His throat felt like sandpaper, and his shirt stuck to his back with sweat.

His hands trembled violently.

What the hell was that man?!

’fuck the world has become a dangerous place.. even humans are scary...’

*******

A soft, amused laugh slipped past the man’s lips as he watched the schoolboy’s frantic silhouette disappear, weaving between wrecked buildings and rusted cars like a terrified mouse.

"I’m not that scary, am I?" he muttered, half to himself.

Turning slightly, he caught his reflection on a cracked car window nearby. The glass was fogged and dirty, but even with the warped surface, his features were still striking—sharp cheekbones, a pale complexion with just the right amount of color, tousled brown curls falling over his brow, and deep, unreadable eyes.

"Hm..." he tilted his head, lips curving up in mock thought. "I guess he doesn’t like handsome faces..."

He gave a playful wink to his reflection before letting out a breath and gazing toward the distant warehouse—the one the trembling boy had pointed to in desperation, betrayal, and fear.

The curiosity that had first sparked in his chest now smoldered into something stronger. So there really were other survivors.

It had been... what, three? Four days? Since he had last seen another living person? In truth, he had stopped keeping track. The silence of the city was so loud now that even the softest gust of wind felt like a scream.

It was as if humanity had vanished overnight.

The dead were everywhere. Piled in cars, slumped against buildings, clawing at fences—those who hadn’t risen as zombies had been torn apart by them. The air still smelled of smoke and iron, and sometimes, if the wind shifted just right, it carried the scent of something sweet and rotten.

The man’s smile faded slightly as he gazed upward.

A dull sun hung behind thick clouds, casting a silver glow over the city ruins. His jaw clenched briefly. He hadn’t meant to get stuck in this hellhole. He came to the city chasing one thing—a final conversation, a last attempt at closure with the man who gave him life but never gave him anything else.

His father.

Ungrateful bastard. He was probably already dead.

"Figures," he muttered, letting his hands slide into his coat pockets. The wind teased the edges of his scarf.

A zombie that walked out of the building suddenly notoiced him and dasehed his way.

Ari simply waved his hand and the thing froze up like a statue, only its open mouth letting out grunts.

he walked up to it and patted its mouth shut. "you’re not cute at all..."

a few more zombies joined in but as they stepped close all of them froze up with their hands outstretched.

Ari simply dodged past their outstretched hands. "excuse me... oh sir please wear a deodorant. Why do you stink so much.." he mumbled gazing at the male zombie. "its offensive.."

His eyes once again fell on the distant warehouse with interest.

He licked his lips slowly, his tongue flicking over the chapped skin. "Survivors, huh..."

’I wonder what they would be like...’

Would they be cruel? Like the boy claimed? Would they be scared, hoarding supplies, clinging to scraps of humanity in a sea of despair? Or maybe they were strong... dangerous even.

Either way, he was interested.

And maybe—just maybe—he could make a few new friends.

His smile returned, curling slow and wicked at the edges.

After all, he didn’t want to spend the end of the world alone.