Richard’s hand shook around the hilt of his blade, the dull metal slick with rain and the blood of things he’d already cut down today. His breath ghosted in the dark, ragged, uneven. He couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away.

Them.

They stood across the ruined aisle of the half-collapsed pharmacy. Shadows bent around them like they had no right to. Their movements were all wrong—jerky, slowed, dragged as though each step weighed tons. Their face—God, that face. Grey, sunken, smeared with dried blood. Their eyes glassy, empty. But it was them.

The memory hit him with the same ferocity as the night it happened: the stench of dust and decay, glass crunching under their boots, the sharp sting in his palms as he clawed for their hand. The way their fingers had slipped through his. How their weight had fallen away from him, down into the dark. And the sound—those screams that had ripped through the building, through him.

He’d run. He’d left them.

Now here they were. Breathing, not breathing. Moving, not alive.

Richard’s lips parted. His voice scraped out, raw and unsteady.

“...No. No, no, no, no—” His head shook violently. “You’re not—you’re not here. You can’t be.”

His blade trembled higher, but his arm refused the order.

“I should’ve saved you. I should’ve. I—” He choked, chest tight, heart pounding. “God, I froze. I froze like a coward. And you—” His voice cracked. “You paid for it. You always pay for it.”

The thing that had once been them staggered closer, the shuffle of their ruined shoes dragging through glass shards. The same sound as that night. Richard’s knees weakened.

“I can’t—” His whisper bled into the air, harsh and desperate. “I can’t do it. Don’t you see? I’ve lost everyone, but not you. I can’t put a blade through you. Even like this.” His eyes burned. He wanted to step forward, wanted to wrap his arms around their broken body and never let go. He wanted to believe that somewhere, beneath rotted skin and ruined breath, they were still there.

His laugh came out twisted, strangled. “We were supposed to make it. Together. Remember? Always together. That’s what I said. That’s what I promised.” His hand lifted toward them, trembling like a leaf in a storm. “And now—look at us.”

They moved closer still, close enough that he could see the crack in their lip, the dried trail of blood down their neck, the torn fabric of the shirt he’d once seen them sleep in. Every detail carved into his chest like a knife.

He dropped the blade. It clattered across the pharmacy tiles, louder than the world itself.

“Fine,” Richard whispered. “If this is what’s left… then take me. Tear me apart. It’s more than I deserve.”

His shoulders sagged, eyes closing as he leaned forward, meeting them halfway. “I left you to die. I don’t get to live without you.”

When their hands brushed against his shirt, cold, filthy, stiff with rot, Richard didn’t move. Didn’t fight. Didn’t scream. His tears spilled freely now, his voice little more than a shiver.

“I’m so sorry.”

He meant it for then. For now. For everything.

And he let them hold him.