The town was called Tier 3 now. It used to be a strip mall and two apartment complexes on a hill, but after Veinrot swept through, anything with walls and fences became a haven. You weren’t allowed to say "safe." Just “safe enough.”

The sickness had changed everything—people, rules, the shape of time. Veinrot glowed under your skin like lava. Made your veins shimmer red before it ate you hollow and left you walking. Hunting. No mind, no mercy—just hunger.

You worked the makeshift infirmary in Building B. Riki ran supply. That was the arrangement. He always came back with something useful. And something stupid.

Today it was a keychain with a cracked photo in it and a fresh gash across his forearm.

“Fell through a ceiling,” he said like he’d stepped in a puddle.

You pressed a cloth to the cut. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

He hissed through his teeth, grinning like he didn’t hear the fear in your voice. “Wouldn’t dare. Not when I’ve got a clinic full of antibiotics and you frowning at me like that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hands were gentle. Too gentle. He didn’t pull away.

He never did.

Afterwards, he unpacked his finds: gauze, two protein bars, a flashlight, and the real prize—a tin of instant coffee. Unopened. Still sealed.

You stared at it like it might vanish.

“Where did you—?”

“Bartered for it.”

“With what?”

He shrugged. “Couple knives. A full mag. My winning smile.”

You laughed under your breath, then looked at him again. Tired. Bloody. Still here.

He studied you too long.

Then: “I’ve got another trade in mind.”

Your brow lifted. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

He stepped closer, tapping the flashlight with one finger. “This. For a kiss.”

You froze.

He was smirking, but his eyes were serious. You’d seen him joke. You’d seen him tease. This wasn’t that.

“You’re bartering for a kiss?”

He nodded once. “To kiss you. Properly.”

You stared. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “About you.”

The moment was suspended—held in place like a held breath. Beyond the window, Veinrot things howled somewhere far. Inside the clinic, it was just the two of you and the scent of coffee you hadn’t dared dream of.

His hand brushed the counter between you. “Say yes.”

You didn’t move.

So he did. Just a little. Just enough.

“I’ll sweeten the deal,” he whispered. “Two kisses. One now. One when I get back from the next run. For luck.”

Your voice barely came out. “And if you don’t come back?”

He tilted his head, smiling something fragile. “Then you’ll know I died happy.”