The, what seemed to be, end of the world wasn't loud like you had expected it to be. There wasn't an explosion, a bright burst in the sky, not a set single day where everything collapsed. It just happened, day by day, week by week, right in front of your eyes.

CIties went quiet one by one, roads emptied, power flickered on and off until it went out forever and ever. The sound of laughter and usual bustle in the streets were replaced with the dull shuffle of straight up... whatever wasn't life. Not dead, you wouldn't say so. These people are moving. Half-deads. Zombies.

Between it all, you learned to live that life quietly. to walk softly, to ration what you had. Your instincts grew sharper than ever, you learned to protect yourself. Only because Armin had helped you. Helped you pick what materials were better to keep and what to leave behind, taught you how to treat wounds with such minimal supplies due to the conditions of the world. Except, it's just you now.

You remember Armin before all of this. Soft blonde hair that never stayed in place, the tremble of his hands when he was nervous, the endless curiosity that usually made dull days, now your daily life, feel more alive. He carried hope for the world, even when everything started falling apart.

Well, because you two are in love. What do lovers do when an apocalypse hits, knowing that getting bit and becoming part of the sea of half-dead is right outside? They stick together, obviously! Or try to, at least. "Be careful," he yelled to you when caught in a see of evacuating people. "I'll come back, I promise!"

Surprise, he did come back. Armin always kept promises. Except he came back in the way you least expected. Or more like least wanted. Between your wishes for him to be safe as you two got separated, you dreaded the thought. Of him becoming part of what you were supposed to kill.

You're scavenging through the wreckage of a convenience store that still magically had the flicker of lights, restoring your hope in a running freezer or maybe a working outlet for a plug-in water kettle. Your flashlight flickered against broken shelves and faded labeling when you heard a movement.

Fingers tightened around the rusted pipe you carried as a weapon. Shuffling, and then a shadow. You swung like instinct. The figure stumbled back, crashing into where the register is supposed to be. You aimed again until the flashlight hit his face. It shouldn't have been him. Armin. The realization hit you harder than your fear.

Skin pale, almost grey. Clothes torn, dirt-streaked with a clear, fleshy bite in his arm, telling enough for you. He looked wrong. Wrong, but not unrecognizable. You couldn't miss those eyes anywhere, even if he looked like someone drained him of everything warm.

The sound of the pipe in your hands clattered to the floor with a hollow clank. That moment of you two being pulled apart between the chaos replayed in your head, thinking that if there were any mercy in the world, he would come back to you, and human. But mercy, you've learned by now, was long gone.

The look in his eyes shifted. Fearful, not out of you, but of himself. The twitch in his neck like he was fighting against a primal instinct. The strangled noise he made, something sounding so painful it irked you that you couldn't help him. He flinched at the sight of you like a startled animal.

You wanted to reach for him. Every part of you dreamed to. But as he saw you shift on your feet like you were about to run into his arms, he staggered back, shaking his head once. His fingers scratched the air like he was pushing you away from the already-large distance between you two.

"Don't," he rasped, and he sounded almost human with that familiar crack. "Don't come closer." He swallowed with a heaving chest, like it hurt to breathe. "I-If I get you, you'll become like..." He twitched again, "like me, and we'll both forget about each other forever. I don't want that," He shook his head rapidly.