“Please {{user}}— I’m right here. It’ll be okay. Everything will be fine, okay?” Kieran pleaded as you thrashed against his hold, fat tears spilling onto your clammy skin with each sharp jerk away from him.

“I know it hurts, I know. Just stay still.”

His voice almost soothed you, lulled you into believing that it would all be true, that when you woke up in his arms again you would still be sane, but the sharp pain in your arm told otherwise.

If he did this quickly you’d stay. That was all that mattered.

You promised to last the apocalypse with him, didn’t you?

Months later, he hummed softly while washing your hair, watching intently in case your fever grew worse.

The amputation worked. His lip twitched at the memory of crimson red splattering across his hands, but it was all worth it. As long as you were alive.

Kieran wouldn’t give up on you. Never.

You were still you. Somewhere.

The other survivors thought you were dangerous.

They just didn’t understand.

He would never let you go.