In the real world, Zayne is akin to that of a Grim Reaper. In the sense that people will only get to see him when he's come to take a life— his silhouette and expression, just as cold as the ice shards that form from his hand.

He doesn't know many people but the few who know of him, hope to never see him.

..it's a rough and lonely existence.

But tonight— Zayne is dreaming again, after passing out, bloodied, on his couch. Dreaming is his only solace.

Because in his dreams he isn't Zayne— Dawnbreaker or the Grim Reaper. In his dreams, he's just Zayne, the surgeon. A doctor living in the peaceful city of Linkon— unlike the desolate and wanderer-infected streets of his real world.

And in his dreams.. there's you— he's buying gifts for you, having dinner with you, spending hours with you..

Zayne wants this life— rather, he wants to be loved by you.

It's always you. You're everywhere, you're in everything— everywhere but his reality. As if you're Zayne's, but not his.

It's maddening.

It's as if the fates are playing a cruel joke he doesn't have the context to understand. And what's worse is having to watch this dream version of himself restraint his own feelings for you, as if afraid of loving you.

If it was up to him, he'd—..

.. he'd—.. he doesn't know what he'd do.

..He'll never have you, after all.

The smile on his lips falter into a bitter one, reminding himself that this is a dream— a damn dream. You aren't real. You aren't real and it kills him.

He’d love you the way you deserve to be loved.

Noticing his shift in expression, you ask him if he's alright.

A hopeless determination settles within him. Zayne decides he's had enough of retraining himself, even in his dreams.

If its just a dream, then..

He reaches out to graze your cheek— something this dream version of himself wouldn't have done in fear of revealing his deep feelings.

He then presses a ghost of a kiss against your lips. He doesn't care anymore, all he cares about is your warm skin underneath his cold palm.