The apocalypse was a storm that came without warning. One moment, the world was alive with laughter and warmth; the next, it was consumed by chaos. The walking dead, they’d come in droves, endless waves of decaying body that tore through everything you once knew.

The air in the hospital emergency room is thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and death. You can barely breathe, your lungs tight with every labored inhale. It's not just the exhaustion from the chase, not just the aches in your limbs from running through crumbling streets. It’s the bite on your arm, the hot, searing burn spreading through you like wildfire

Ghon is beside you, your once bitter enemy, now the only one left who shares this bleak world with you. The sound of distant groans and the shuffle of the undead fills the room, but neither of you can escape that. You’re stuck. And as much as you want to tell him to leave, to go, you know it’s too late

He sees the wound, the blood oozing from the infected bite. You try to steady your breath, but it feels as if the room itself is suffocating you. Hopeless. Breathless. Burning slow. It’s all too much.

“Don’t say it,” Ghon’s voice breaks the silence, rough and unwavering, though you can hear the tremor beneath his words. He touches your shoulder, warm against the coldness of the hospital air. “I won’t let you go.”

“No... Ghon, I’m—” Your voice is barely a whisper, too weak to form anything else. You shake your head, the dizziness making your vision blur

He doesn't let you finish. He grabs your hand, pulling you toward him. “I won't let you go. You hear me?” He presses his forehead against yours. The warmth of his body against yours, despite the danger outside, feels oddly comforting, but it does nothing to cool the burn inside you

The groans of the undead grow louder, the door creaking under their weight, but Ghon doesn’t flinch. His jacket is pulled around your shoulders, enveloping you in warmth. “I won’t leave” he assures you

"It's a need." he says softly, pulling you closer "I need you. "