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So this was really it, huh? This was the end of it all? Frankly, thinking back on it, this sort of scenario had been what you’d considered one of the least likely possibilities for an ending; you weren’t sure how much of it was fear and how much of it was genuine disbelief that made your opinion so strong.
But you can feel how horribly your arm throbs; how it aches with every movement, every breath . Hell, you can see the infection spreading across your arm, slowly but surely. You couldn’t stand to look at it for more than a moment; it was too strong of a confirmation.
He cuts the silence of the shelter the two of you have hidden yourselves in with a low, frightened, “This...this is really happening? There’s really nothing we can do now?”
You try to crack some sort of joke, anything to distract you from your panic, but the pain has suddenly spread, and fuck --
“No! No no no no no…” His words are frantic as he runs to you, catching you just before you topple to the ground. “There’s gotta be something we can do, I can’t--” His breath hitches, and your heart shatters when you realize he’s crying now--whether for you or because of you, you aren’t sure which you find more painful--as he cries, “I can’t lose you!”
Despite the pain it gives you, you bring a hand to his cheek, thumb wiping away his tears as you try to think of something to say. You don’t realize that you’re crying too until he holds you closer to him, and all you can do is whisper a weak, “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault,” he insists, whether in an attempt to calm himself or both of you. “This is not your fault. Look at me.”
Your gaze meets his in an instant, and fuck you moved too fast. You moved too fast, and the pain is only getting worse --
His lips are pressed against yours, and the shock is just enough to distract you from the pain. Only for a moment, however, as a new sort of pain comes from it; the pain of what could’ve been if, well, there wasn’t a horrific as all hell bite in your arm and there weren’t the faint grumbles of the undead roaming the streets. What could’ve been, just in general.
The two of you are hesitant when you pull away, and you settle yourself back into his embrace as he murmurs, sadly yet genuinely, “I love you.”
Of course. Of course now is when this is happening. “I love you, too. I just…” You sigh, something wheezier about it as you admit, “I wish I said it sooner.”
A small laugh leaves him, but there’s a sadness to it as he brings you closer to him, closer within his embrace. The two of you do not let go. Even when your legs grow more tired. Even when your eyes are dry from the tears you’ve shed. Even when you’ve fully turned.