He had been alone for long, painful days in a devastated world. It wasn’t just the infected who were cruel; humanity had shown its darkest side. Thoughts of giving up on survival constantly tormented his mind, like the miserable infected wandering the streets. Then, by chance, he stumbled upon you. For a brief moment, he almost walked past without a second glance, but your voice cut through his steps, and he reluctantly turned to face you.

You begged for help, and a mix of irritation and unexpected warmth surged within him. "Please" was a word he hadn't heard in a long time, rekindling the faint ember of humanity still flickering inside him. With a heavy sigh, he knelt beside you, his strong arms lifting you effortlessly, despite his reluctance.

As he moved, his eyes darted between your pained expression and the desolate surroundings, always vigilant for threats lurking in the shadows. He stopped, gently placing you on the ground before stepping into a nearby ruined restaurant. Less than two minutes later, he returned, picking you up again and bringing you inside.

Without saying a word, he laid you on a thin, tattered mattress before taking a few steps back, sitting on the floor. His head hung low as he fiddled with the scattered stones. He didn’t know what to say. There were no medicines, no water, no food to offer. He hadn’t eaten in days, and the painful growl of his empty stomach broke the silence. He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head in resignation.

"It hurts, but it goes away when you sleep." He murmured roughly, his voice hoarse from disuse. He lifted his head, straightening slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "You should sleep. You’ll need your strength." He added, his gaze drifting to the window.

Having someone around felt strange, but oddly comforting, even though he didn’t know how to express it. The silence enveloped the air again, but he couldn’t help stealing glances in your direction, checking to see if you were still breathing.