Part-time Writer, Full-time Daydreamer

If you had told yourself three months ago that you were being protected by a talking corpse in a small town infested with the infected, well... your past self probably would tell you that you had the survival instinct of a baby. You would have to agree. 

Zombies didn't talk. They didn't stare at you without eating you, they didn't do their best awkward attempt of a smile at you, they didn't bring you food when you asked, they didn't spare you while they ate every other human around, they didn't tend to and bandage your wounds, and they didn't look at you with a human-like concern whenever you showed a sign of pain.

Zombies were not your friends. They were your enemies, monsters you were supposed to kill for your own survival so that they wouldn't get to you first.

So then who the hell was this strange corpse that did all of these things when he wasn't supposed to? Why did he care for you instead of ripping your brains apart? Why was he making sure to do everything he could to keep you alive instead of doing everything to kill you?

For a moment, you considered he actually wasn't infected, but if he wasn't a zombie, what the fuck was he? Because he certainly wasn't human, that was clear enough.

You didn't talk much to him in the first three days of staying in the little town, remaining inside that same, large house. You had learned your lesson about not leaving, not until your leg was healed enough to get a move on. For the first three days, you avoided him as much as possible, too afraid his friendly act would disappear and he would try to eat you like a normal zombie would, and too confused by his strangely kind nature, not wanting to see him do anything else because you didn't want to confuse yourself even more.

He seemed to have noticed this, and didn't force himself into your space. He only came to you when necessary, to give you food and medication for your stab wound. You tended to the wound yourself now, not trusting his dead fingers to do so, even if he had bandaged the wound the first time round.

For a majority of the time, you stayed in the same bedroom you had first woken up in, wondering where the owner of the bedroom was now, and vaguely questioning if the corpse who looked after you had perhaps been the owner. You had rummaged the bedroom a little bit, having grabbed a pair of jeans from the abandoned closet to replace your ripped ones. They were too big on you, but you were able to manage.

But sometimes, when you were absolutely sure the corpse wasn't home, you would walk around the house, exploring the excessive amount of rooms it had. You even left the house to check out the backyard, going no further beyond the fence when you examined the murky pool and the untouched deck chairs. You had stared at the pool for a while, wondering how it had looked before the apocalypse, how many people how swam in it and whether they were still alive.

They probably weren't.

All in all, your time in the small town was... pleasant, as much as it could be. More pleasant than the world had ever been ever since it had ended. At times, it felt boring. You had become so accustomed to being on the run all of the time with adrenaline pumping through your body, that it felt strange to settle down and just... rest. It was weird to have a break from it all. It would've felt lonely if you weren't so used to being alone now.

You only felt your safety being threatened at night, but no one could ever feel truly safe at night anymore.

Nighttime had become the most dangerous time of day ever since the world ended, because nights weren't peaceful anymore. They were quiet unless you made a wrong move, unless you didn't hide yourself well enough.

You still didn't know the exact cause of the outbreak that had turned the world into this, and you weren't sure if anyone really did. All you knew was that it had to do with the creatures that roamed around at night, that searched for its prey only by listening for a heartbeat. Creatures that unlike corpses, truly had no humanity, because they were never human. They were something else entirely, something that looked like they belonged in a different world.

The first time you had seen one, you had almost immediately accepted your fate, that you were going to die. It had been early in the apocalypse, back when you knew next to nothing about what the world had turned into. You had escaped while bleeding out, but you had escaped nonetheless, and that had been the first time you realised that you actually had a chance of surviving this apocalypse.

The creatures had no faces, instead having a head that split open like the petals of a flower in the most terrifying way. Some of them had bodies like a human; those were the worst ones. There were smaller ones that ran on all fours like dogs, and while they were technically easier to deal with, they were still quick and sharp. They didn't always necessarily kill, some just liked to bite. Although being bitten by them was basically death, the other option was being ripped to shreds and feeling every part of it.

Neither of those were very good options.

These creatures had been the ones to instil the horrifying virus into the humans that turned them into corpses, that stopped their heartbeat yet kept them alive in a way that wasn't living. It had all started with one bite from the creatures that contained the virus, and that unfortunate human who had been bitten started to bite others, and it became hell from there.

You had heard rumours that the creatures had come from a lab, that it had been an experiment gone wrong, that they had escaped beyond the scientists’ control. And even though it probably wasn't true, it wouldn't surprise you if a crazy scientist had been the cause of a zombie virus.

You had learned quickly that these creatures only came out at night. No one had an explanation for why that was, but it was something to take advantage of. It meant humans knew when to be careful, that they could get everything done during the day with some sense of ease, knowing that a creature wouldn't sneak up on them with the sun out.

But even at night, it was still hard to hide from them. The creatures were able to detect heartbeats, and humans had no way of suppressing their heartbeats unless they died. So, the best bet was barricading windows and doors at night, hiding in one room and staying very still, trying to keep a steady heartbeat while the creatures would try to break through.

Some succeeded, a lot didn't.

The first night in the abandoned town, you had done a pathetic attempt at barricading the door and window when nighttime fell. Once you heard the first prowl of the creatures outside, you believed for sure that you were going to die.

But somehow, by some sort of miracle... they never came. They lingered, they got close, but they never penetrated the house that you resided in, and you were in complete disbelief of it. You possessed a heartbeat that had very much been hammering against your chest in the moment, so why hadn't they come?

Ever since you had arrived in the small town, so many things had happened that contradicted everything you thought you knew, and you couldn't wrap your head around it.

On the fourth day, things started to change with the talking corpse.

You were lying down on the king-sized bed, flipping through a magazine you had found under it, one of the many trinkets you had found that was collecting dust. You were grateful that the magazine wasn't sticky, something you would've expected from a teenage boy's bedroom.

All of your senses sharpened as soon as you heard the door creak open, and you sprung up in the bed, your hand flying to the knife laid beside you out of an instinct you had learned from the apocalypse.

But of course, it was him, carrying in a can of food again, and you only slightly relaxed.

He looked at you blankly before crossing the room slowly in a wonky step to place the can on the bedside table, laying down a spoon beside it.

"Thank you," you said. Sure, he was dead, but that wasn't going to erase your manners.

He looked at you, and his lips quirked up in that awkward, weak smile that he was clearly using all of his might to pull. You held in your laugh, and opted to smile back instead, hoping the amusement wasn't too obvious in your eyes.

"How... leg?" He asked quietly, looking at your covered thigh.

"Getting better," you answered.

He grunted with a small nod of his head, and you assumed that was his zombie way of saying that's good. Your eyes flicked down to something you had noticed in the past few days; the patch of dried blood on his hip, the fabric torn aggressively in that particular spot. You hadn’t asked, and you didn’t think you ever would, but you were still curious. You had a strong suspicion that that spot was the place he had gotten bitten, and it was hard to tell whether it had been by a corpse or a creature.

It seemed as though it would’ve hurt a lot, and you couldn’t suppress the pang of sympathy inside you at the thought of it.

In return for your curious gaze, he stared at you flatly for a full minute before turning away, making his way out of the room.

You stared after him, questions warring in your mind as you considered the abnormality of his behaviour. Why was he like this? Why was he not like his fellow zombies outside, roaming the streets brainlessly with nothing but a need for human brains?

You blurted out a question before you could stop it from spilling, but it wasn't the one you expected yourself to ask.

"Where do you go all the time?"

He halted in his tracks, and turned to you as quickly as he could, which wasn't with a lot of speed, but you were willing to give him some credit considering he was dead. His eyebrows furrowed at you in question.

"You don't stay at this house all day. You're always going out, and I'm just curious on where you go," you said, your voice lowering with each word as embarrassment suddenly washed over you, realising how stupid your question sounded.

His eyebrows relaxed, understanding spreading across his pale face. He took a moment to answer, and you waited patiently before he got out, "mall."

You blinked. "Mall? As in a shopping mall?" When he nodded, you raised your eyebrows. "There's a mall here?"

"Yes. Go there... a lot," he told you slowly, and you nodded as you listened. "Friend."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Friend?"

"My f-friend. There," he clarified.

You perked up, your eyes widening. "You have a friend? What kind of friend?"

He seemed to realise the underlying hope you felt, and cancelled it out as he said, "l-like me."

You deflated, feeling a little disappointed. It would've been nice if the corpse had just so happened to know another human.

"So you go to the mall where your friend is?" You asked, and he nodded. "What do you guys do?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shut it, face scrunching up as if he was trying to find the words. He struggled, opening his mouth again with no sound coming out, and he grunted a little more aggressively, frustration showing.

Your chest twisted slightly with guilt, so you said, "hey, forget I asked. I was just curious, I don't need to know."

He frowned. "S-sorry. Can't... explain."

"Don't worry, I understand," you said with a reassuring smile. "Well, I can't understand, but I get why it's hard for you. It's impressive that you even talk this much anyway."

He seemed pleased at that, his smile slightly less awkward this time. He then said, "eat."

"Ah, good point," you said, clicking your tongue as you shifted on the bed, moving to the side of the bed so that you could grab the canned food from the bedside table.

You examined the can, seeing that salmon was your meal of the day. You hummed in approval, popping the lid open. You were about to dig in before you paused, slowly looking up to see the corpse staring unblinkingly at you.

You couldn't say that you didn't feel a little uncomfortable, but it wasn't like you weren't used to him staring at you. He liked to do it a lot, and it didn't take you by surprise anymore.

Instead of telling him to go away or giving him a dirty look like usual, you instead asked another question. "Whose house is this anyway? Clearly, the person was rich."

Something strange flickered in his expression, and he looked around the bedroom, his jaw tightening.

"D-don't know," he said, shoulders slumping.

"Oh, so did you just pick a random house?" You inquired, taking a bite of your salmon.

He shrugged weakly. "Don't know. C-can't... remember."

You paused, those words catching your attention. "Is there... anything you can remember?"

He looked at you, and shook his head.

"Really? Nothing at all?" You asked in surprise, and he shook his head again. "What about yourself?”

He shook his head once more, and you halted your eating, highly intrigued as you gazed at him.

"But you're still conscious?" You questioned.

He tried and failed to make a gesture with his hand you couldn't understand, so he struggled to say, "s-sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Hard to... control m-myself."

"I see," you said thoughtfully. You didn't think he would walk that slow on purpose.

"Name," he said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You, name? You ask... I ask t-too," he said.

You squinted at him, slowly deciphering his words in your mind.

"You want my name, and you're saying... I've asked questions, so you want to ask me questions too?" You guessed.

He nodded eagerly. God, you were already getting way too good at zombie talk.

"Oh, right. Well," you told him your name.

He repeated it, the letters forming slowly on his deteriorating tongue. He said it again in a whisper, testing the name, and your stomach did a little weird thing.

"You had a name, didn't you?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"I know you said you don't remember anything, but surely you'd remember that?" You tried.

He blinked slowly, starting and never quite finishing, "S..."

You looked at him with confusion. "S?"

"S... s..." he said, face scrunching up in the way he did when he was trying really hard, struggling to say something, but he just couldn't. Except, it seemed that the reason behind it this time was that he couldn't remember.

And then you felt the small sink of your heart, pity blooming shyly.

Because he had a name, and he couldn't remember it. He was a human once too, just like you. He had a life, probably had friends and family, and he had had a name.

And now he couldn't tell you anything about the most crucial part of his identity, because he had forgotten it. It had all been taken from him.

God, it would've sucked to be conscious as a corpse.

"It starts with an S?" You asked softly, and he nodded. "Was it... Sam?"

He shook his head.

"Simon? Seth? Spencer?"

He shook his head for each one, and you pressed your lips together. He ducked his head, seeming a little embarrassed, and you felt even worse for him.

"At least you know it starts with an S. You can hold onto that," you tried to say hopefully. "But then, what do I call you?"

He only shrugged, still looking at the ground, and it was so strange how... innocent he looked, when he should've been anything but. He had literally eaten brains before, and yet, as you looked at him, it didn't feel like he would ever do such a thing.

"How about Zombie Boy?" You suggested, and he looked up at you. "I know it's nothing endearing, but well, when I look at you, I guess I just think... Zombie Boy. You're a zombie, but you act like a boy, like you're human, just a little slower. I think it fits you."

He straightened up a little, showing his approval as he smiled as widely as he could at you, his eyes subtly yet noticeably brighter.

"Eat," he said again, reminding you of the food you were holding.

"Only if you sit with me and survive through more of my interrogation, Zombie Boy," you shot back.

He seemed to be slightly taken aback, but he staggered over to the bed in his slow haste, sitting on the edge a reasonable distance from you, but still beside you, still close as he looked at you eagerly.

You took another bite of your salmon to satisfy him, and when you returned his smile this time, it was not forced in a way that you only did it because you felt obliged to. It was genuine, real, there because you really wanted him to see it.

And the fact that you did this with no trace of the fear that had been lingering inside you for the past few days terrified you.

***

Spending time with you was strange in the best way.

He couldn't remember the last time he had looked at a human without having the urge to eat them. Nor could he even remember the last time he had held a conversation with one, which was obviously back when he had been a human himself.

So hanging out with you while you were a human and he was like this was certainly weird.

Really, the whole situation was bizarre, he agreed with you on that. He wished he could tell you why he was protecting you instead of trying to eat you, why he had saved you in the basement instead of just killing you like he had done to the others.

He tried to figure out what was so different about you that made him want to keep you safe, but of course, he wasn't very smart with his slow and rotting brain, so he couldn't come up with anything. What he did know, however, was that he was glad he had saved you, because being with you easily became his favourite time of day.

He didn't want to shun his best friend in the mall whose name started with an R, she would always be his friend, and would always be the one who had kept him company for however long he had been a corpse for. But being around you was different than being around her, because you talked, and you expressed your feelings, which meant that he could actually know what you were thinking about and what kind of opinions you had. With you, he was able to forget what he was, and for a few seconds at a time, he could pretend he was a human just like you.

Then you would call him Zombie Boy, and he'd be reminded of it all over again. Though, he couldn't say he hated the nickname, not when it came from you. Not when he finally had a name.

It was almost dangerous how you made him feel, which was a whole thing in itself. He wasn't supposed to feel, and his stomach wasn't supposed to stir in the way that it did whenever you smiled or laughed, making him feel almost warm inside. He couldn't decipher the meaning of the sensations inside of him, and he was slightly scared to.

He stuck around the house a lot more now. You finally came out of the bedroom when he was present, going out of your way to meet him in the kitchen. You said that you were just hungry, eager for the food he had brought you, but you always ended up staying, talking to him while he listened, waiting patiently when he would struggle to get words out.

You didn't look at him like he was something to be afraid of anymore, and he didn't realise how important that would feel to him.

You stopped looking at him like that even when he had to wipe his own blood on you, something he had to do in order to keep you safe, hidden from the other corpses. Sometimes, he would notice, or you would point out the other corpses starting to gravitate towards the house you were in, clearly sensing you.

So he would have to do that every time to make them go away, to protect you. He hated doing it, hated the visible discomfort on your face while he did it, hated that you had to be covered in your blood just to stay safe. But you understood now, why he had to do it, why it was important for your survival, so you let him do it every time. It was unconventional, but unconventional had become the new normal ever since the world had ended.

He feared the most for your life at night, when the creatures came crawling out of the woods. Now that you two had formed some kind of… alliance, he helped you to barricade the house by leading you to the things you could use, acting as a lookout while you built the makeshift barricades. And whenever nighttime fell, you would hide in the bedroom while he would linger outside the house, making sure that no creatures would come by.

You had expressed your confusion to him about how the creatures somehow didn’t detect your heartbeat, how they didn’t come to the house to hunt you down. He couldn’t answer your questions, because he was just as confused as you. He wondered if it had to do with the blood he wiped on you, but it didn’t add up with the fact that the creatures searched solely for heartbeats.

However, it gave him nothing to complain about. He didn’t know what he would do if your life was put at risk like that.

You liked to ask questions, he had noticed, which was a shame, because he was never able to give you very good answers. He could answer your simple inquiries, like telling you that he got your human food from abandoned grocery stores, and that the town's name was Hawkins, and that corpses didn't feel physical pain or sweat or shiver, even though they did run cold-blooded. He liked it when he was finally able to give a proper reply to your questions, it was embarrassing to not be able to remember anything.

Especially when you asked about the house you were hiding in. You thought that he had just chosen a random house to put you in, but that wasn't true. This house wasn't random, he had always gravitated towards it, but he didn't know why. There was a good chance that it was his, that the bedroom you slept in used to be his, but he couldn't know. If it was his old house, why didn't he feel that distant warmth in his chest that he felt whenever he walked through the mall? If it had been a home, then why did nothing tug at him inside when he looked around the vaguely familiar walls? And if it wasn't his old house, then why did he still feel drawn to it?

He liked to ask himself questions too, he could see where you came from.

It was a late night when he was the one to ask you a question, two days after you started hanging around each other.

You had both been on the couch downstairs, him sitting stiffly on one end while you sat comfortably on the other, facing him with your back pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs spread out with your knees still bent. You were eating out of a can once again, having dinner while he stared shamelessly, wondering what it was like to have something other than human brains fill his appetite.

Then another thought resurfaced, something else he had been wondering from the very moment he saw you.

"Why..." he began, and your eyes snapped to him, your full attention focusing on him as you waited calmly for him to finish his thought. "Those m-men... you were with... w-why?”

You blinked. "What men?"

"W-when... we met," he said sheepishly.

You blinked again, something darker flickering in your eyes as you shifted slightly in your spot. "Oh. Why was I with them?"

He nodded weakly, and your jaw tightened, your expression becoming unreadable, and he regretted asking.

"S-sorry. No need… to answer," he said apologetically.

"No, it's okay, I'll answer," you assured, and his eyes widened slightly, eager to hear the reason. You sighed. "First of all, they were not my friends."

"Could tell."

You smiled a little, and he felt proud of himself. "Settle down, Zombie Boy. Want me to tell you or not?"

"S-sorry," he said as quickly as he could, and you chuckled.

"I was alone," you started, and he sobered, listening intently. "I've pretty much been alone since the apocalypse started, and I've travelled a long way alone, and the last group of people I'd seen before this had been months ago, so I felt a bit detached from civilisation — not that there's much left of it. Anyway, that's why when I saw these three men, I got a bit excited. It was my first time seeing people for ages, but well, it was easy to realise that they were the type of people I would've been better off without seeing."

You told him the story while avoiding eye-contact, your food becoming untouched. You had run into the men when you had walked into an abandoned convenience store, planning to rummage through it for any possible useful supplies that could've been left around. They had already been there, and it had only taken you a few minutes of speaking with them to realise that you didn't want their company. You had tried to make a sly escape, had tried to be nice to their faces about it, but they hadn't let it happen. You had been forcefully grabbed by them, handled by two of them as they had shoved you into the trunk of their shitty car, locking you in there.

You had remained in there until the next day when the men arrived at Hawkins.

They had dragged you along with them then, willing to use you as a sacrifice if they came across any corpses. Clearly, that had backfired on them completely, as you were now the only one alive, being looked after by the same corpse who had taken their lives.

He felt that same hot feeling simmering in him once you finished telling your story, the same thing he had felt when he had seen in person how careless one of the men had been about giving you up. He wished he had given those men a more painful death, he wished he had prolonged their suffering for a little longer before taking the light away from their lives.

He would've done that for you, and that was a little scary.

"Assholes..." he grunted.

"Yeah, that sure is a suitable adjective," you scoffed bitterly. There was a pause in which you finally looked at him, something strange in your expression. "Zombie Boy, I never thanked you properly."

He tilted his head slightly to indicate his confusion. You were a fast learner at deciphering his slow ways of communication.

"For saving me," you clarified. "I was too scared at first that you were just going to eat me eventually, but I can see now that you're... different. You saved my life when you could have done the opposite, when you were supposed to do the opposite. Without you, I would either be dead or heavily traumatised right now. I don't know what those guys would've done to me if you didn't kill them."

His stomach plummeted at that. He didn't want to know what would have been done to you, it was a horrifying thought.

"So thank you," you said earnestly. "I haven't shown my appreciation well, so I'll show it now."

He didn't know what to say, because he hadn't thought of it as a grand gesture. He just did it simply because he wanted to, and because you didn't deserve to be a sacrifice. That was all there was to it.

"W-would do it... again," he said quietly.

You smiled softly, and his chest fluttered strangely at the sight. "You're nicer than some humans in this fucked up world, you know that?"

"Not... you."

You huffed out a laugh. "Using flattery to get on my good side?"

He smiled crookedly. "Not a-already?"

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "Yeah, sure Zombie Boy."

He felt considerably lighter after that.

A week and a half into your stay since you had arrived at Hawkins, he brought you something else other than food.

He was prompted by you beforehand, when you had been sprawled on the same couch while he sat on the floor, sunlight spilling through the windows this time.

"Getting stabbed was very inconvenient," you said flatly, staring at the ceiling. "I can't do shit, and I'm stuck here with corpses swarming outside. No offence, Zombie Boy."

"S'okay... get it," he said.

"I just... I'm so bored. I can't leave the house, and I can't leave this town while my leg is still healing. You're not here at all hours of the day, y'know, so there's that too," you said.

"C-can be, if you... want," he offered softly.

"No, your friend will get suspicious if you stay here all the time. You told me that, remember?" You reminded him.

He let out the closest thing to a sigh. "Yeah."

"You sure she wouldn't like me?" You asked, this not being the first time you had said it. "She could be like you."

He shook his head. "Too r-risky."

"I guess," you said, blowing a little raspberry. "I just have nothing to do. It's not like the TV works. I miss TV. Do you remember what TV was?"

He screwed his face up in deep thought, desperate to be able to say yes to you so that you could talk about it. TV... it was familiar, but then everything was, he just didn't know it.

"Watch," he said. TV was something that would be watched, he thought he remembered.

"Yeah, everyone watched TV," you said wistfully. "New episodes of shows would release weekly, and we'd all scramble to watch them. You could buy tapes from the video store, or rent whatever movie you wanted. Now... there will never be a new movie again."

He gazed at you, noticing how the tears welled up in your ears. He frowned. He didn't like seeing you upset, he actually hated it. He was never able to do anything about it, and he hated that just as much.

"Oh my god... I'll never listen to music again either. I'll never get to go into another record store and buy a new album... god, now I'm just upsetting myself," you said miserably, burying your face into your hands. "I miss Madonna."

That was when it occurred to him that he could make you feel better.

He abruptly got to his feet, and you looked at him quizzically.

"Going to... g-get something," he told you.

"Food?"

"No, d-different. Trust me," he said, and you raised your eyebrows at him before he left the house.

When he came back, his hands were full.

He struggled to get through the front door, and you had had to come running through the house to assist him. But when you saw what he was holding, your body had frozen with shock, and he had hastily closed the door before you freaked out.

And you freaked out alright.

"No fucking way! A radio? A boombox at that? You're kidding," you exclaimed, snatching the boombox from his hand and rushing over to place it on the counter, examining it closely like it was an ancient artefact. You ran your fingers along it, your eyes wide like you were a kid again, discovering a radio for the first time again.

And without even realising it, he watched you the whole time with a large smile, one that came along easier than it ever had before.

It wasn't the same boombox that belonged to him and his friend in Scoops Ahoy, but he had grabbed a handful of cassette tapes from their collection. The boombox had come from one of the department stores in the mall, technically brand new as it hadn't been bought, collecting dust on the shelves while waiting for a customer that would never come.

"Zombie Boy, I think I love you," you declared, still staring at the boombox, and his insides did something entirely complicated at the words.

I love you.

You looked over your shoulder at him while he was still processing it, his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

"Are those cassette tapes? Wow, that's a fair few!" You said, spotting the cassette tapes he held in his hand. "Come on then, let me see what tunes you have."

He obliged immediately, dragging his feet over to where you stood by the counter. He dropped the cassette tapes onto the counter, and you immediately went to grab them, reading the labels on them.

You gasped at one. "You got Madonna! Oh my god, you're the best."

He ducked his head down as you put the cassette tape into the boombox, his stomach doing backflips. This feeling was so odd, yet so good in a way he couldn't describe, because he was horrible at describing things with his sluggish mind.

"Not..." he started when you reached to adjust the volume, and you looked at him curiously, "... t-too loud. Others... hear it. Bad."

You nodded in understanding, and turned the volume to a sound not loud enough to attract the others outside of the house, but loud enough so that you could feel the music in your bones all the same. A delighted gasp escaped you when the intro of Like A Virgin started to play. Your hands came to hold your heart, your eyes closing as you said dramatically, "it's like seeing the sun for the first time in ten years..."

He smiled, and a strange sound huffed out of him, startling himself. You opened your eyes, looking at him before a grin slowly spread on your face. "Was that a laugh?"

His smile faltered, and embarrassment washed over his features.

"No, no, it's okay! It's just... when was the last time you laughed, Zombie Boy?" You asked.

He only shrugged, because he couldn't even remember how to laugh.

That same sympathy filled your eyes, and you stared at him for a moment before grabbing both of his arms, pulling him to you. His eyes widened, a confused grunt leaving him as you didn't let go of him, looking into his eyes.

"When was the last time you danced?" You asked, wiggling your eyebrows teasingly.

It took him a moment to realise what you were implying.

Oh no.

He shook his head as frantically as he could, but it was too late by then, your mind already made up as you starting to sing along to the lyrics, "yeah you made me feel shiny and new! Come on Zombie Boy, you don't have to sing, but at least dance with me!"

He grunted in objection, but then you started to move your head side-to-side, hair whipping around your face while your body swayed along as you sang loudly, "Like a virgin! Touched for the very first time!"

All resistance left his body, letting you swing his stiff arms around as you continued to dance enthusiastically but carefully, mindful of your recovering wound. How could he stop you when you looked happier than he had ever seen you before? How could he fight against it when you looked so beautiful like this, freely dancing and enjoying the music that no one had time to appreciate anymore? How could he resist when you were willingly pulling him into your space, your fingers on his arms shooting sparks through his arms, a shocking sensation in his decomposing body.

Then when your hands slid down to hold his, it was something else entirely, his knees weakening just by the touch. The contrast was striking, your warm fingers pressing against his piercingly cold ones, and the feeling made his eyes widen.

"Spin me around, Zombie Boy!" You told him, and he looked at you, incredulity written all over his face. You laughed, "I'll help you out."

You lifted his arm in the air with yours, grinning cheekily at him as you twirled around under his arm, your hair majestically fanning around your head as it moved in sync with your body. If he still had a beating heart, it would've stopped in that moment, captivated by you as the sunlight hit you in all the right ways, framing you as some sort of angel. He would've easily believed you were an angel.

He smiled without meaning to, coming again without the usual difficulty as he admired you. He wished his body would allow him to dance with you in the way you deserved to be danced with. He wished you didn't have to be the one to put in the effort to be spun around, and he wished he could sing along loudly with you, with the same enthusiastic energy you were radiating. He imagined he would also wildly nod his head to the music, and perhaps he would also grab a fake microphone that you would both sing into, laughing at each other while doing it.

But instead, he was stuck like this; a dead, stiff person who didn't even know the lyrics to the song because he either didn't remember or ever know them; not that he would have even been able to sing if he did know them.

He couldn't be the dance partner you deserved, and he never would be.

His smile faded by the time the song finished, but you hadn't noticed as you let go of him, breathing heavily as you caught your breath.

"What other songs did you bring?" You wondered aloud breathlessly, walking over to the counter to check out the other tapes as Material Girl started playing on the boombox.

He watched you wistfully, longing to pull you into another dance to this song he was sure he had heard before.

"Oh, Stranger In Town by Bob Seger? Doesn't that album have that one song that was in that one movie?" You asked, and your face scrunched up in concentration as you tried to remember the name, snapping your fingers as you did so. He smiled softly at your antics, which widened as you spoke excitedly when you finally remembered. "Risky Business! Yeah, Tom Cruise danced to it. Wow, I had a massive crush on that guy."

When he processed the words, his gut stirred funnily in a way that made his hollow chest burn with a feeling he was incapable of naming. Tom Cruise... the name was faintly familiar, but whoever it was seemed to be your type. He wondered what the person looked like.

You turned to him with a hand of your hip, your eyes shamelessly looking him up and down, and he was hit by a wave of bashfulness under your sudden examination, averting his eyes from your gaze timidly.

"Y'know, I bet you would look a bit like him if you were human. You probably did," you said offhandedly.

He did a double take at your words, his eyes widening slightly. You thought he looked like the guy you used to have a crush on? A guy you surely must have thought was attractive, so did that mean-

No, now he was just being delusional.

you skipped over to him with a grin, clearly oblivious to the spiral you had caused inside his mind. "Care for another dance, Zombie Boy? This song was really popular, you probably knew it as well. I mean, who doesn't know Madonna?"

And then you launched into the lyrics again as the chorus played, your body language and voice passionate as you belted the words, and the complicated thoughts in his head faded to back of his mind, completely distracted once again by you. Especially so when you pulled him in to join once more.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive like he had in that moment.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

Divider by @/strangergraphics

You placed your bag in your lap, and rummaged through it to pull out your Omnioculars. You peered through him, inspecting the field that was currently empty as the game hadn't begun yet. You set them down, and waited in anticipation for the game to start.

You watched as people around you navigated the crowds to get to their seats. You were staring at a couple bickering in front of you when you heard a loud, "coming through!" From above you, and you lifted your gaze to see two men squeezing past the seats, coming your way.

You shuffled back into your seat as much as possible to give them, and they didn't go further as they took the seats next to you, the man with the glasses filling the one beside you.

You glanced at him once, and then twice, quietly taking notice of his good looks. He had dark, messy hair that fell over his eyes charmingly, and round glasses perched on his nose that suited him so well it should've been a crime.

He caught your gaze briefly, and you exchanged a polite smile with him, the kind only directed towards strangers, and looked away. He turned back to talk animatedly with his friend next to him, who had wavy black hair that fell to his shoulders.

You had seen plenty of handsome men in your lifetime, so you paid no more particular attention to the man beside you, and focused on the game instead. Your knee bounced with excitement as the commentator's voice started to boom from all corners of the stadium, the crowd finally somewhat settled as it increased in volume.

You cheered loudly with excitement as the players from each team came out, especially when you spotted your favourites. It was a game of Scotland versus Luxembourg, and while you had nothing against Scotland, you were rooting heavily for Luxembourg.

The game kicked off to a thrilling start, and you quickly discovered what team the man beside you barracked for by the way he he cheered especially whenever Scotland had the Quaffle, him and his friend sometimes shaking each other aggressively and shouting obnoxiously loud in your ear. You made your support for Luxembourg no less obvious, and felt smug whenever they took the Quaffle off Scotland's hands.

The game had been going on for hours, afternoon stretching into night when the Scotland team captain called for a timeout. It was basically a break for the players, and a break for your throat that had screamed itself hoarse. You felt no regret for it since Luxembourg was in front by sixty points.

After fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of the game starting up again anytime soon, a romantic melody started to blast in the stadium with a large projection of big letters appearing in the middle of the stadium.

A simultaneous series of groans and cheers erupted from the crowd.

It was the kiss cam.

The kiss cam only ever showed up when a timeout in a Quidditch match took a while, so it served as a source of entertainment while the viewers waited for the main event to start again. You had encountered a kiss cam before, but it had never once landed on you. It had gotten close, but you had never been put in a situation where you were pressured to kiss a stranger in front of thousands of people, so you were quite grateful.

You stared up at it in amusement. While you were happy to have never been a victim of it, it didn’t mean you didn’t find it entertaining.

A minute passed before the magical projection showed anything else, letting the crowd process what was happening. Then, the letters dissolved, and a large projection of a man and a woman appeared.

The stadium cheered loudly, encouraging them to kiss, and it seemed that the man and woman were already a couple by the way they laughed, leaning in for a sweet kiss with practiced ease.

Next was another man who sat with a younger girl, and it was clear as day that the girl was his daughter as he laughed at the girl’s obvious embarrassment, pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead.

You waited eagerly to see the next faces on the projection when suddenly, you were looking at your own.

You blinked, eyebrows furrowing as your face showed on the large projection. You looked around you, eyes slowly widening as you realised you were on the kiss cam, where the whole stadium could see you.

And in the projection with you, was the handsome man with the glasses.

You both looked at each other in bewilderment while the stadium roared around you, loud voices telling you to snog.

“Uh- we don’t have to,” the man said, seeming just as unsure as you about what to do.

“Oh come on, just kiss her!” His friend encouraged, patting his back.

“I don’t know, are you…” he trailed off as you stared at him wordlessly, becoming speechless as you continued to gape at him. “We don’t have to, it’s okay.”

Before you could object, he looked to the projection of you two, and shook his head to the crowd, waving his arm to tell the people controlling the projection to turn it to someone else. The projection of you two eventually disappeared, replaced with someone else while the crowd booed.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and he gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you quietly said, even though it was impossible for him to hear you over the booming stadium.

You looked at your lap as a strange disappointment settled in your chest. You had no right to be disappointed, it had been your fault you hadn’t kissed, you hadn’t gathered the words to tell him it was okay. You had just frozen up like an idiot, and now your chance was gone.

It was only two kisses later when your face and his appeared on the projection again, another attempt at getting you to kiss.

Everyone around you screamed at the both of you to just lean in, and you let out a surprised laugh as the man’s friend slapped him over the head.

“Just snog her, Prongs! That’s the whole point of it!” His friend shouted.

The man looked at you cautiously. “Listen, if you’re not comfortable-”

“I don’t mind,” you said quickly, not wanting to miss your chance again. “Unless you do.”

He blinked in surprise, and then smiled. “No, I don’t.”

You mirrored his smile. “Okay, good. Then I guess I’ll just, um…”

“Yeah…”

You turned your body to him as you both started to lean in, and you were taken aback as his hand came to cup your cheek. You stared into his blazing eyes for a moment before you closed yours, and felt him close the distance between your lips.

You melted into it immediately, humming against his soft lips as his hand dropped from your cheek to your waist, while one of your hands went to his neck. You deepened the kiss, and felt him groan as he tilted his head, squeezing your waist.

The cheers around you were deafening, reverberating off the seats beneath you as you continued to kiss him reverently.

“The kiss cam isn’t on you anymore!” The man’s friend called to you, yet neither of you pulled away, too lost in each other’s lips.

You felt his tongue run along your bottom lip before it gently probed into your mouth, and your other hand flew to his neck, while both of his hands were suddenly squeezing your hips.

You only pulled away when you were out of breath, one of your hands sliding from his neck to his chest as you panted. You felt his chest move up and down as he caught his breath, his hands still on your hips.

Your eyes met his, and you both burst into laughter.

“I’m James,” he said breathlessly.

You grinned, telling him your own name.

“Nice to meet you,” said James, his warm breath still fanning on your face.

“Can’t believe you just snogged a Luxembourg fan,” said his friend from beside, and James lifted one hand off your hip to reach back and slap his friend on the back of his head, making you giggle.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

Because he didn't really know anything anymore, but he knew that once, he had been alive. He had been an ordinary human with a name, with a family, with a job.

Had he even been employed? He had no idea.

Because he couldn't remember anything about his old life. He didn't know what his name was; although, he was pretty sure it started with an S, but he couldn't be completely sure. He didn't remember who his parents were if he had even had those, he didn't remember what his childhood was like, he didn't even know how old he was, but he knew he wasn't a child.

Because he was dead. He was just a walking corpse with no heartbeat, no feelings, and no backstory.

His movements through the mall were slow, his steps ragged as he stared blankly ahead of him, his face devoid of emotion. Everyone else around him was the same, a harmony of grunts and groans echoing throughout the mall, all coming from the corpses that walked within.

Everyone in the mall was dead like him, along with the remaining population in Hawkins. That was one little thing he remembered, that the name of town he resided in was Hawkins. He still wasn't sure how he had gotten here. Had he grown up in this place? Had he recently moved here? Had he come from a whole different place and somehow end up here?

He supposed he would never know.

No matter how bright and clear the sky was outside, the mall was always a dark place. It had become abandoned as soon as the apocalypse had started, which he also didn't remember how it had started. That was quite ironic, considering whatever it was had stolen his life from him.

He passed a window display of one of the many stores in the mall. The clothes the mannequins wore inside were worn out, the colours dull under the dim lighting of the mall. He stared at his reflection.

Brown hair, dark eyes with blown pupils, ghostly pale skin, blue and purple prominent veins creeping up his neck, a white undershirt, a creased navy and white polo top, and a light blue jacket with a dark patch of dry blood on his hip, the fabric there torn aggressively. His eyes carried a haunted look now, and he wondered if they had been full of life before.

He tore his gaze off his reflection, and continued his walk.

He staggered over to his designated place in the mall, a store with a big sign at the top that read SCOOPS AHOY, smaller letters underneath saying, ICE CREAM PARLOR.

He didn't know why this spot had become his. Perhaps he had come here a lot back when he was a human, he must've been a big fan of ice cream. He had forgotten what it tasted like.

He entered the store, walking past the abandoned tables and chairs. He caught a particular whiff of something rancid as he passed the display case of ice cream, though it couldn't be called that anymore. Inside, the ice cream had melted into a gooey substance that was like water in a much worse way.

He went through the back door, which hit his side as it swung back and forth on its hinges.

Ironically enough, the backroom of Scoops Ahoy held more life than it had before the apocalypse began, despite its inhabitants being walking corpses. It hadn't been difficult to make that transition since it had only been a storage space intended for work purposes beforehand.

The fridge was filled with unopened drinks, the counter in front of the closed service window littered with a random assortment of trinkets. A boombox sat on the table in the centre of the room, being the reason for the piles of cassette tapes surrounding it. There were so many tapes that some had fallen to the floor, left there stranded without a chance of being picked up.

And on one of the four red chairs surrounding the table, his best friend sat there.

She was his best friend because she was his only friend, but he liked to think they would've gotten along even if they were human. Although, he did have a feeling that they had been acquainted before all of this. There was a possibility she had been there when he had gotten bitten, because as far back as his slow and sluggish mind could go, she had always been there.

She had short, light brown hair with blue eyes that came in different shades due to the scar running through her right eye, making the blue colour icy. Because she was dead like him, her skin was also deathly pale, the same prominent veins creeping up into her neck with that haunted look.

He didn't know anything about her either, though he wasn't sure if he ever knew in the first place. But in the same way he was pretty sure his name started with an S, he thought hers started with an R.

Her gaze was fixated on the wall in front of her, showing no sign of acknowledgment at his entrance. He simply wandered over to the table, mustering up all of his efforts to pull out a chair, and lowered himself into it.

She finally looked at him with a slow turn of her head, and he stared back. After a minute of awkwardly looking at each other, she grunted at him, and he waited a moment before grunting back.

This was the way he talked to his best friend. Whatever virus that had taken over their bodies slowed down their abilities to do a lot of things, and that included speaking. They couldn't have a full conversation in words, nor even do anything with their facial expression, so all they could do was grunt in turns and stare blankly at each other.

He was actually grateful he even had someone to grunt and groan at. He would've hated to be a lonely corpse.

They grunted at each other a few times before he turned his head to the mess of cassette tapes on the table. His eyes darted around, deciding which one to play before his hand slowly reached one out, picking one up.

He reached for the boombox with his other hand, flicking open the cassette lid. He slid in the cassette tape, and closed the lid before pressing play.

The silence of the room filled with the upbeat sound of the music, and a faint smile quirked at his lips. Even though he was dead, he still had immaculate music taste. He believed this even more profoundly as his best friend gave a nod of her head, showing her approval.

Despite the state of the world, despite the state of themselves, they sat in peace as they let the whole cassette tape play, occasionally nodding at each other to say that they particularly liked whatever song was playing.

That was one of the perks of being a walking corpse inside an abandoned mall; music was free, and they could take however many cassette tapes they wanted, stealing to their hearts desire. Well, that was actually a cruel play on words, since their hearts had stopped beating a while ago.

So that was what he did with his days. Walk aimlessly through the mall, communicate with his friend through grunts and stares, and listen to music with the only way of discussing it being through nods and shaking of heads.

Oh, and there was one more thing.

He ate human brains, of course.

He couldn't say a whole lot to his friend, but there were some words he managed to get out from time to time. He had a personal favourite he said at least once a day.

"H... Hungry," he murmured once the cassette tape had finished, silence falling over them again.

She looked at him, a sudden gleam in her dead eyes. "Same. Go."

And so they did go. They walked out of the mall together, albeit slowly, and travelled further into Hawkins.

The small town was deserted, crawling with walking corpses. It didn't take a genius of a human to know not to enter, it was far too dangerous.

But the thing about Hawkins was that it had been abandoned almost as soon as the world had ended, which meant there were still a lot of resources left in the town. Resources humans needed, such as food, medicine, clothes, maybe a hot shower, and although a weapon was unlikely, it was still possible to find one.

So humans still came into Hawkins, because necessities like these were running out in the apocalypse, and they needed to stock up as much of it as they could. It wasn't like they ever came unprepared, they were usually in groups with heavily loaded guns. But groups were better than individuals, it meant the corpses wouldn't have to fight over pieces of a brain.

For the record, he didn't like eating people's brains. He hated it, and despite the virus in his body having had chipped away at his emotions and range of feelings, he still managed to feel the self-loathing and disgust that would settle in after he finished eating a person's brain. He wished he was able to throw it up afterwards, but his immune system didn't work like that anymore.

Unfortunately, no matter how much he loathed doing it, he had to. He was still able to eat normal food, but it was only brains that could give him the corpse version of nutrition. Human brains were the only food source that gave him energy, that quenched the churning hunger inside of him, and he was ashamed to admit it, but it was really the only thing he had an appetite for.

It was nothing he was proud of, but if he deprived himself of it, he would be gone for good, so he had no other choice.

Him and his friend walked together around town before splitting up to search in different places, sniffing for a whiff of a human scent, or any movement that would be caused by them.

There were a lot of days where he couldn't find anything in Hawkins, sometimes he would need to actually leave the town and search in the woods for any sign of life he could devour. Even if he found a dead body, it still worked for him.

He was alone when he halted in his tracks, sensing movement. He looked around until his gaze fell on a little house with a porch that had broken windows, paint peeling off the rotten walls, plants either dead or overgrown.

It was silent for a moment, and he nearly turned away before he heard the sound of shattering glass, and his senses skyrocketed, his stomach suddenly grumbling.

It was a lucky day. There were humans in Hawkins, and he just so happened to be very hungry.

His footsteps were much quicker than before as he made his way to the front door of the house, eager to satisfy his hunger. He suddenly felt more conscious than ever as he stepped lightly into the threshold of the abandoned building, keeping his movements now purposely slow and steady as to not make any noise so that he wouldn't alert the humans.

He searched the place, their scent lingering in the air. However, every corner of the house was still empty by the time he had finished looking around, and he grumbled under his breath until he came across a door he hadn't opened yet.

He pressed his ear to the door, nostrils flaring when he heard the voices clearer than ever. His target had been acquired, and they were in the basement.

The voices were deep, clearly belonging to men as they spoke lowly. He heard the shift of something metallic, and assumed it was a gun. Humans always carried guns with them, and they were always aimed at his head whenever he got a clear sight of them. It was quite annoying, really.

He contemplated his strategy for luring them in before walking over to a vase sitting on a shelf, pushing it over the edge and letting it shatter on the floor loudly.

He retreated to the corner as he heard one of the men yell, "the fuck was that?"

"Keep your voice down!" Another said.

"I thought you two said the place was clear?"

"It was."

"Then check again asshole."

He heard a scoff, and he licked his lips hungrily as he heard heavy footsteps ascending what seemed to be stairs. He didn't know what the basement looked like, but it clearly sounded to be on lower ground than the house. He wasn't a fan of stairs, but he could make it work.

The door of the basement burst open, a tall man stepping through as he held a large gun in his hand, aiming it wherever his gaze went.

He waited a moment before lunging forward at the man, seizing him and knocking him to the ground. Gunshots went off into the air, but none of them hit him, his pupils fully covering the brown of his eyes, veins protruding out of his neck as he sank his teeth into the man's shoulder, tearing off a piece of flesh.

The man screamed, thrashing under him as he watched a piece of his flesh be thrown onto the ground beside him. His eyes slowly started to close, the light leaving his eyes before he slumped, suddenly motionless.

He jumped off the man, licking at the blood around his mouth as he got to his feet, considering what to do with the man beneath him. Whatever venom the virus infected people with, it settled in quickly, knocking out their consciousness almost immediately.

He decided he wouldn't eat the man's brains, feeling generous by leaving him for his best friend instead. He doubted she was having any luck out there, and he knew she was just as hungry as he was.

Another gunshot echoed suddenly, the bullet hitting his shoulder this time. He blinked, unfazed as he slowly turned his head to his next target. Another man, except his eyes were clouded with fear, hands trembling as he aimed the gun.

For a moment, something flickered in him, tugging at his dead heart. His mind started to scream, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to-

His mind couldn't overpower his body and his bloodthirsty needs, so he charged forward again, doing the same to him what he had done to the other man.

When he wandered through Hawkins aimlessly, or hung out in Scoops Ahoy with his friend casually while listening to music, all of his abilities were laboured. He had a hazy memory, his movements were sluggish, his feet painfully slow, his posture poor and his voice barely able to string together a few words. He didn't know how long he had been like this for, but he was gradually getting worse everyday.

However, when his hunger reached its climax, when he found an opportunity to fulfil his appetite, he almost felt alive again. All of his senses would heighten at once, mind becoming alert and aware, and a rare energy he usually struggled to find would course through his bones, enabling the activeness in his body that he once possessed as a human.

Finding a source of nutrition triggered something in him, and as much as he hated the agony it caused his victims, the disgust he would feel for himself, the action of satisfying his cravings was liberating. There was an aspect in doing it that he liked, because when that adrenaline in him became activated? He was able to forget what he was despite what was he doing, and for a moment, he felt like he was human again, and he wanted to chase that feeling for the rest of his life.

The pleasure he found in eating people only worsened the guilt.

He rose to his full height once his second target had finally stilled. The flicker of something close to remorse in him had disappeared swiftly without a trace. He stepped over the body of the man he had just mauled, and started to descend down the stairs leading to the basement.

He sniffed the air, and tilted his head as he realised the human scent he was smelling was too strong to belong to just one person, so there must have been at least another. But he swore he had only heard three guys and had just killed two of them, so who else was there?

His question was answered as soon as it echoed in his mind when he almost reached the bottom of the stairs, and nearly directly collided with the rushed movements of the person in front of him.

He stared, and blinked.

He was not looking at a man, but a girl. A girl who stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. A girl who pointed a gun at him, and shot him straight into the chest with no hesitation.

He stumbled from the impact, but felt no pain. He looked down at the hole in his shirt shaped by the bullet, a minimal amount of dark, thick blood circling where the bullet had shot through, looking more like goo than blood.

You tried to shoot the gun again, and looked at it in horror when it didn't do anything. You attempted to pull it again, muttering, "shit," when you realised you had run out of bullets.

You glanced at him before whirling around, breaking off into a run.

However, you barely ran for a second before two big arms wrapped around you, forcefully pulling you back and holding you to the same spot.

"Where did you think you were going, eh?" The bulky man asked, tightening his grip on you.

"Let me go, you asshole!" You shouted, struggling against him, hitting his arms to no avail. "Look, there's a fucking corpse right there, you idiot!"

The bulky man turned to the said corpse, who still stood in the same spot as he watched the strange scene in front of him with a blank expression, although his mind was racing. What exactly was the situation here? Why had you been with the three men when you clearly didn't get along with them, proven by the violent nature between you and the man that he could see so clearly. It was too aggressive, too brutal, so much so that something twisted inside him, enough to keep him rooted to his spot.

The bulky man swore under his breath, and pulled his gun from his belt, pointing it at him. He aimed it at his head from across the room, a second away from pulling the trigger until you threw your hand back, using the gun in it to hit it directly into his nose, a sickening crunch filling the air.

You leapt away from him as the bulky man yelled, his hand flying to his nose that now leaked with blood. You breathed heavily, your body evidently shaking as your eyes scanned the place, looking for a way out.

"You bitch! I'll teach you a damn lesson," the bulky man snarled, and he lunged forward at you. You ducked out of his way before throwing a punch at his head, only for him to catch your fist, squeezing it hard enough for you to let out a pained yell.

He found his eyes widening as the man pulled a knife from his belt, and stabbed it into your thigh.

An agonising scream ripped from your throat, and you fell to the floor when the man let you go. Your hands trembled around the knife stuck into your thigh as a choked sound escaped you.

The man kept his gun pointed at him as he kicked you to lay on your side, and he started to back away, leaving you with the corpse.

"Go on, eat her. She's your next meal," the bulky man encouraged, and the corpse stared at you first, reading the terror in your bloodless face as you wheezed, defeat seeping into your features as you started to drift away, your eyes drooping.

When you finally slumped against the floor, falling unconscious, he tore his eyes off your body, his gaze landing on the man who hastily searched the basement for an exit.

Suddenly, something flared inside him. Something that was more than just hunger, something fiery that coursed through his veins where his blood was supposed to.

He didn't need to kill this guy. He already had gotten a brain each for him and his friend upstairs, so it wasn't completely necessary. But it wasn't a need anymore, it was a want, and when he glanced at your helpless body, it intensified.

He stormed across the room with a grunt, walking around your body and making a beeline for the man who whipped around once he heard the footsteps, eyes widening with fury.

"Oh hell no, you piece of shit!" The man yelled, raising his gun and shooting multiple bullets at him. With the renewed energy in his body, he was able to dodge each one, only one bullet painlessly hitting his shoulder.

He grabbed the gun once he was close enough, and the man elbowed him in the face, driving his gun into his gut. He swung back at the bulky man with tenfold force, roughly tackling him to the floor.

The man writhed, and he had to admit he was strong, so instead of wasting time, he dove into the man's neck and bit him.

He thought of the aggressive way the man had grabbed you, and dug his teeth into his skin deeper. He thought about the terror and panic that had washed over your features, and tore the flesh off. He recalled the merciless way in which the man had drove his knife into your thigh, and the agony that it must have caused you. He recalled the man leaving you for dead, selfishly sacrificing you so that he would live.

So even when the man was clearly dead, his body limp, he ripped apart his head, and went for his brains.

He liked to zone out at this part. Yes, his stomach loved when he was able to eat human brains to finally cure his anger, but what was left of his mind and will? He despised it, and all he could do while he did it was try not to be fully present in the moment. It wasn't hard to do that as a dead person anyway.

The hunger that had been rumbling inside him was finally gone as he pulled away from the man's body once he was done. He stood up, staring down at the morbid sight of his dead body with satisfaction, wiping his bloody mouth with the back of his hand and licking the residue.

He directed his gaze back to you, and stumbled back over to your body, his sluggishness slowly creeping back in now that he had had his cravings.

If he didn't know better, he would have thought you were dead. You certainly looked so, and he worried for a second that you actually were until he looked closer, and found that your chest was still moving slowly with your shallow breaths.

You were human, that was obvious, so why did he feel no urge to eat you? Why did he find the idea of your brain unappetising? He continued to gaze at you, and couldn't prevent the thought from coming to his head.

You were pretty.

Despite your messy hair, despite the grime on your bloodless face, you were really pretty. In a natural way that was captivating enough for him to struggle to look away.

His gaze flitted to the knife handle still poking out of your leg, the sharp end of it stuck into your thigh. You were wearing blue jeans, and he could see the crimson blood that had stained them on your wound. It would have hurt for you since you were human.

Something stirred in his stomach, and for once, it had nothing to do with hunger. It was something he didn't feel coherent enough to name, but the feeling was vaguely familiar, like something he used to not know how to be without.

When he sank to kneel on the ground in front of you, he did something he never thought he would be capable of doing. He did something corpses like him shouldn't have been able to do.

He reached for the hole in his chest where you had shot him, gathering his unnatural blood and smearing it over his fingers before he wiped it over both of your cheeks and on your neck. He leaned down to smell you, pleased by the absence of your human scent now that he had disguised it. He then gently rolled you onto your back, his hands shaky but careful, and scooped you up into his arms. He slid one arm under the back of your knees, and slid the other on your back.

He stumbled a little at the weight of you, and mustered up all of the remaining strength he had left from his adrenaline to turn and carry you up the stairs. He kept his gaze ahead as he stepped over the other dead bodies, and he finally looked down at you when he stood on the porch, your mouth slightly agape as your head rested against his chest.

A flicker of warmth in his chest left as quickly as it came, and he tightened his hold on you, carrying you to safety.

***

The first thing your mind could make sense of as you slowly woke up was the soft surface you laid on. Warmth was draped over you, and you subconsciously snuggled into it, wanting the comfortable feeling to swallow you whole.

Your eyes fluttered open, your vision blurry at first. You blinked rapidly, and then winced when a sharp sting shot up your leg. Your face scrunched up, noticing the dull ache in your thigh.

You looked around, gathering your surroundings. You were tucked into a king-sized bed, the space clearly a bedroom as posters of various musicians and bands hung up on the walls, a shelf of trophies next to the door. There was an open wardrobe on the right side of the room, clothes strewn on the floor with some in a laundry basket.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Where the hell were you? Well, clearly a bedroom that must have belonged to some teenager, but why were you here?

The memories of where you had last been flooded your mind, and your heart dropped, fear surging through you. You ripped the covers off you, and attempted to rush out of the bed.

Attempted, because you had barely moved before a cry of pain escaped you, the ache in your leg intensifying into that sharp pain you had just felt beforehand. You gritted your teeth, your hands scrunching up the sheets in your grip.

You looked down at your thigh that had been stabbed, and stared at it with confusion. There was a hole in your jeans that hadn't been there before, but it was only gaping in the area where your wound was, ripped a little wider than the knife had been. You had fallen unconscious with the knife still inside your thigh, and now a white bandage replaced it. It was already stained with red, but the blood seemed to be dry as you examined it, meaning that it had stopped bleeding. You could tell the bandage had been wrapped around your thigh clumsily, looser than it should've been, and as you felt around the work with your fingers, you could see that it hadn't been tied very well either. Whoever had done it clearly wasn't an expert.

The thought unsettled you, because then who did it? From what you could recall, the only people that had been left in that basement was the dickhead of a man who had tried sacrificing you to the corpse, which had been the only other person present (well, not exactly a person you supposed). Had someone showed up when you were unconscious? How were you even alive? You had been certain that your life was about to end, that was why you had let yourself pass out with no fight. You had accepted that your fight with the cruel world was done, and that corpse was going to make sure of it.

But instead, you had woken up in a warm bed with your wound bandaged, even if done not so securely. So who had saved you?

You jumped violently when you heard footsteps outside of the room you were in, and your head whipped towards the door. Your survival instinct kicked in, and your hands flew to your belt for your weapons, only to find it empty. You searched for your thigh holster on the one that hadn't been stabbed, finding that that wasn't even there either.

You swallowed harshly as you felt panic rise within you, and your eyes darted around the room, searching for something that could work as a weapon. The trophies were an option, but they were too close to the door, you wouldn't make it in time.

Your heart sunk even further when the footsteps approached close enough to be in the same hallway as your room, so you reached for the lamp on the bedside table, and yanked the plug apart from it.

You held in your groan as you rose to your feet, raising the lamp defensively as the door slowly opened.

Your eyes widened when a boy — no, man — hell, he wasn't either. He was a fucking corpse, and you could see it all too well with the dead look in his eyes, the prominent blue and purple veins in his neck, and the paleness of his skin.

Not only that, but it was the same corpse from before, the one that had been in the basement with you.

Your fight kicked in before you could think about how strange the situation was, and you threw the lamp straight at his face.

The corpse dodged just in the time, the lamp a hair away from his head as it whizzed past, shattering on the door frame. He didn't make a noise or flinch, but he did frown, and it was so human-like that it scared the shit out of you.

Your breathing quickened as you hastily searched the room for any other weapon, and you felt a small burst of relief as you spotted your thigh holster sprawled on the ground by the window. You moved as quickly as you could, bearing the pain in your thigh as you limped over to it and picked it up.

The corpse was holding a hand out by the time you pulled a knife from your holster, pointing it at him. He did it almost as if he was asking for peace, but you knew better. You knew how vicious these creatures were, how human they could seem sometimes.

"Don't even think about it," you hissed, aiming the knife at his head. You hadn't been thinking rationally when you had shot at his chest before. The bullets were supposed to go into the head.

"S... s-stop," the corpse muttered, taking a step forward.

You blinked. "What?"

The corpse huffed, and said again, "s-stop."

"Holy shit," you whispered, before you raised your voice, "did you just talk?"

The corpse tried taking another step forward, but you yelled at him, inching the knife closer. He seemed to take the hint, and took a step backward, raising both of his arms in surrender.

You stared at him with bewilderment, not understanding the sight in front of you. You tried to remind yourself firmly that this wasn't real, they could do human-like things sometimes, you knew this...

But you had never heard a corpse talk before, and you had never seen such... something so close to emotion in the brown eyes of this one as he kept his hands up. He seemed to be pleading with you.

What the hell.

"S-safe," he uttered, seemingly having to put in effort to speak regardless. "You... safe."

Your mouth actually dropped, your eyes wide.

"No, no. Bullshit, I am not safe around you! You're fucking dead, you just want to eat me!" You shouted.

He shook his head, and you couldn't believe how coherently he did it. "Swear. Safe."

"Oh yeah, you swear? Then step out of my way, and let me leave if you want to act like my friend," you snapped.

He clenched his jaw. "C-can't."

"See? You just want to keep me here to eat me!"

"No, n-not safe. You go, then n-not safe," he explained, dead eyes looking solemnly into your own as he said it, and it deeply unsettled you. He noticed your unconvinced expression, and turned his gaze to the window, awkwardly nodding his head in that direction. "L-look."

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him, and despite the absurdity and wrongness of the situation, you listened. However, you didn't take your eyes off him as you limped towards the window, keeping the knife pointed. When you stood right by the window, you then looked, and immediately saw what he meant.

It seemed you were still in the same town the men had brought you to. The streets were crawling with the infected, a symphony of dead groans and grunts able to be heard as they all walked slowly, their faces devoid of emotions, their clothes ragged.

"G-get it?" The corpse questioned, and you looked back to him. "Not s-safe. Here, safe."

"Here, with you?" You asked.

He nodded, and you stared incredulously, your mind racing as your heart hammered against your chest. You thought you had become desensitised to everything possible ever since the world had ended, but this was by far the weirdest thing that had happened to you so far; a corpse telling you that you, a human, were safe with him, a whole oxymoron in itself.

There was no way you could stay here. You had to get out.

"Sit," he told you, lazily gesturing towards the bed. "Y-you're hurt."

You glanced down at your wound, and then back at him, your expression skeptical. You quickly formulated an idea in your mind, and you dropped your arm, still holding your knife as you did what he said, limping back over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it, your gaze remaining on him.

"So you're saying I'm safe with you," you said.

He nodded frantically. "Yes."

"Alright, then get me food."

He stared blankly at you, blinking, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm hungry. I need food so I can survive, and obviously if I can't survive, then I'm not safe, am I?" You told him slowly to make sure he understood the words. He frowned at your tone. "So can you please get me food? If there is any food around... and I mean human food, by the way, not brains."

The corpse was now unblinking as he stared at you, and you were about to snap at him until he said quietly, "okay. Be back... soon. Stay."

You leaned back on the palm of your hands, keeping your expression neutral as you said, "thanks."

You blinked in surprise as the corners of his lips quirked upwards, sending you a small smile, seemingly the best one he could muster. His movements were slowly as he turned to the door, walking sluggishly out of the rooms.

You stood still in your spot, waiting as he slowly moved through the house (you had gathered you were on the second floor), and when you heard the door open and close, you got out of your spot as quickly as you could with your injury, limping over to the window to watch him leave.

You grabbed your holster again, securing it around your good thigh. You looked around the room to see if any of your other weapons were there, but even if you found your gun from before, it had run out of bullets anyway. You were still mad that it had decided to betray you at the worst moment.

You hissed in pain with every step, multiple sharp pangs shooting up your leg. It was going to be hard to get around with it, but anywhere was better than here. You navigated your way through the untouched house that you found to be quite large, descending to the first floor. Whoever had lived here must have been rich, although their taste had been bland.

You were relieved when you spotted a back door, which was much more ideal than leaving through the front. You passed your reflection in a glass cabinet on your way, and stopped to look at yourself, taken aback from the... substance on your face. Was it dry blood?

You rushed into the nearest bathroom to check, discovering that it couldn't have been blood with the brown, murky colour of it. You were surprised to find the tap working, wiping the strange substance off your face, and you gagged at the possibilities of what it could have been.

You left the house after that, heart skipping at the sound of the corpses' groans resounding through the town you were in. You kept your knife in your hand as you walked around the big house through the driveway, and you raised your eyebrows as you spotted the untouched Beamer sitting there. God, whoever lived here before really had been rich.

You bit your lip as you surveyed the streets that swarmed with the infected. Maybe you weren't going to make it out of this alive, but you also wouldn't make it out alive if you stayed with that weird corpse who could talk. You had no other choice.

You hesitated before kneeling down, hissing through gritted teeth as you strained your wound. You still had lots of questions about how you had ended up in that house, or who fixed you up, or why that corpse had acted like he was your friend, why he hadn't killed you when he had the chance.

But you sure as hell weren't going to ask him.

You took a risk, your heart leaping as you snuck towards an abandoned car parked on the street, hiding behind it. Your hands were clammy as you gripped your knife, your breathing heavy as the noises of the infected grew closer. You poked your head out of the car, almost swearing at how many there were. You didn't even know how long these streets went for before you could leave this town.

After checking that none of the corpses were looking your way, you ran as fast as you could to the next car parked on the street, sitting behind it. You wheezed a little, already out of breath from the strength it took to move your leg.

The harmony of groans grew noticeably louder, and your eyebrows drew together. You slowly poked your head out to observe the scene again, and a pit formed in your stomach.

The corpses seemed to have sensed you somehow, their faces pointed curiously to the air as if they were trying to figure out the disturbance, the disturbance being you. What was even worse, was that they were all starting to gather, heading into your direction.

Your breathing came in short, shaky breaths as you realised the gravity of your situation. You were fucked.

You climbed back to your spot behind the car, and your soul jumped out of your body when you turned around.

The talking corpse was back, kneeling right beside you with his whole body turned towards you. There were only a few inches between your faces, and with the close proximity, you could see the details of his features more accurately up close. Like the softness of his brown eyes despite the haunted look in them, the slope of his nose, and the moles on his face. You wondered what he had looked like as a human, and offhandedly thought he must have been even more handsome.

You blinked at yourself. There was no way that thought had just come to your mind.

You hastily scrambled away to widen your distance, and let out a sharp gasp at the rippling pain through your leg.

He pressed his finger to his lips, signalling you to be quiet, and then looked at your wound with something that seemed to be... concern.

But that was impossible. The infected couldn't feel emotions.

You looked at him in fear, holding up your knife again.

"Not... hurt you," he murmured, so quiet you almost didn't hear it. "P-please. Trust."

He then reached for his chest, where there was a hole — a hole you had inflicted, you realised with wide eyes. You grimaced at the thick substance he spread on his fingers that you assumed was meant to be his version of blood. You flinched when his hand reached out for you, and his eyes softened.

"H-help you," he whispered. He waved his bloody fingers around, "this, hide you."

You realised with a start that the substance on his fingers matched the one that had been smeared on your cheeks before you had left the house, and you looked at him in shock. This wasn't the first time he had done this? To hide you?

You reluctantly dropped your knife, and felt the strong urge to gag as he wiped his blood on your cheeks, his cold fingers gliding along your skin. It tickled as he wiped it onto your neck next, nearly involuntarily laughing at the feeling. Once he seemed to be satisfied, he pulled his hand back and rose to his full height. He held a hand out for you to take, and you gave him a look that said are you insane?

"K-keep you... safe," he said firmly.

His gaze surprisingly assured you, and you found yourself believing him. You hesitated before taking his hand, letting him help you to your feet. You quickly let go of him, looking around warily.

The corpses were no longer looking in your direction. The curious looks on their faces had disappeared, and relief flooded you as they slowly started to walk away.

"Look… down. Stay... with me," he murmured to you, and you nodded as he started to walk along the path. You kept yourself glued to his side, keeping your head down as you passed the other infected, your heart racing. He was a painfully slow walker, but you supposed you could give him a pass since he was dead.

You only looked up when he turned to the right, and contrary to what you had been thinking moments before, you were relieved to see the house again.

He let you slip through the front door first, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in as he closed it.

You spun around to face him, your mind reeling. He had just saved your life... a corpse had just saved your life.

"What are you?" You asked breathlessly.

He only gazed at you blankly in silence, and you huffed, your leg aching and your whole body trembling.

"I don't understand this. you're a corpse, and I'm a human. Don't you want to eat me?" you asked.

"No eat," he answered. "Don't w-want to."

"You don't want to? Do you even understand what you're saying? No, you shouldn't understand because you're fucking dead and you shouldn't even be speaking. God, I can't-"

"Please," the corpse said, and you were taken back from how sincere the word sounded. "U-understand your worry, b-but swear, no harm. Sit."

You frowned at him, and looked around, seeing the couch a small distance away from you. You  weren't keen to do as the weird zombie boy told you, but your leg really was begging you to stop using it, so you begrudgingly limped over to the couch and sank into it.

The couch faced away from where he was standing, and there was a moment of silence before you heard the floorboards creak with his movement. You couldn't help your curiosity as you looked over your shoulder, and only then did you you notice the food on the table behind the couch. You watched in fascination as he picked up a can of food along with a spoon, and turned in your direction to stagger over to you.

You tensed as he approached, and you whirled around to look ahead, hoping he didn't need you staring. Once he stood in front of you, he held out the can and the spoon, and you could see up close that it was a can of peach slices.

You slowly dropped your knife on the couch beside you, and tentatively reached out to take the items from his hands, your fingers brushing his.

"Thanks," you said quietly, avoiding his gaze as you focused on opening the can. You hadn't been lying about your hunger. "I didn't think you'd actually get food for me."

"You... a-asked," he said, and his voice quietened as he said, "but... you left."

You were startled by the stab of guilt you felt as you successfully opened the can, peeling the lid off. You licked your lips as you looked inside, and you didn't hesitate to dig in.

After you finished chewing your first bite, you looked up at him and said, "listen, you shouldn't be surprised. With all due respect, you're a corpse and therefore, I can't fully trust you. I mean, surely you know how it's supposed to go; I try to kill you while you try to eat me. You shouldn't even be helping me."

He looked down at his feet. "Yes, weird, but... want to h-help."

"But why? I appreciate it, but how are you even like this? Why are you trying not to eat me right now? I'm a human, you guys usually like to get us as soon as you see us. So what's different this time?" You explained.

"W-want me to eat?" 

"What? Of course not!" You exclaimed incredulously. You were even more taken aback as his lips curled into the closest thing he could get to an amused smile.

Did a corpse just joke with you?

Then he shrugged. "F-feel no need to."

"And what if you do feel the need to in the future?"

"Then you go."

"Oh, I'll go alright," you scoffed. You hesitated for a moment before asking softly, "what about those other guys? Remember them? What did you do to them?"

Now he was truly avoiding your gaze, an unreadable expression on his pale face. "Killed them."

At least he was honest, you supposed, but the fact that he had killed those other guys in your vicinity made you shiver.

"Then why not me? Why did you spare me? Why did you just save my life?" You pressed. "I just don't understand."

He met your gaze then, his eyes still unreadable. "I... don't know."

"You don't know?"

"J-just want... keep you safe," he admitted.

You were about to ask why again, but it seemed as though even he didn't know the answer to that. Your stomach flipped at the thought of this corpse wanting to keep you safe, to protect you. It didn't make sense.

"Sorry I left. I just wasn't sure if you'd kill me or not. You can't blame me for that," you said, trying not to dwell on the fact that you were apologising to a fucking zombie.

He shrugged. "U-understand, but for you, danger. Rest. H-heal," he said, nodding towards your wound. "Bad to l-leave like that.

You hated to admit that he had a point. You weren't going to get very far with your injury. It had already felt horrible even when you had only been running around a little, but when you wouldn't have a weird corpse to save you? You would be done for.

"You've got a point," you sighed. "So you won't eat me?"

"No. C-could have eaten you," he told you, and you tilted your head curiously. "But d-didn't. Get it? N-not then, not now."

You did get it. If he wanted to eat you, he would've done it already, was what he was saying.

Oh god, now you were deciphering zombie talk.

"Okay... Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm striking a deal up with a corpse right now... but clearly, I don't have any other choice, so what the hell," you muttered more to yourself than him, looking him up and down with skepticism. "But I keep my weapons, you keep a good distance away from me, and any funny business, I won't hesitate to kill you."

"G-got it," he nodded.

"Okay," you nodded back, and as you glanced at your bandaged wound, a question you had wanted to know from the start resurfaced. "Hey, who fixed me up?"

There was a pause in which you looked at you, before he said, "me."

Your eyes widened, and your gaze dropped to your wound again, before it flitted back to him.

"Eat," he said simply, poorly gesturing at the food before he turned away from you, and walked away, leaving you alone to process what he had just told you.

You were certainly going to have an interesting time in this town, and this was probably about to be the worst decision of your life.

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Divider by @/strangergraphics