Two years ago, the virus broke out.

It infected millions across the globe, mutating them into husks of their former selves. They stumble across the still earth while rotting, leaving destruction and death in their wake. Nothing but mindless, moaning monsters. They cease to be human.

Mason found it tough at first. Learning how to survive in the new world. Nothing was the same. The streets he once knew were cracked and infested with the undead. Food was scarce. Even the atmosphere seemed to corrupt into a dull, icy void. Although it wasn't too bad. He had a group. Friends. A nice place to stay. They built their own little community despite the state of the world. What Mason thought would forever be a dark misery started to transform into something warmer.

But he should've known better. Nothing lasts. Especially not in the apocalypse. The People he once called friends...people he loved...were ruined by the sick. They turned into those husks. Those monsters. He had no choice but to put them out of their misery.

Mason gave up hope after that. The foolish thought that society could rebuild. That there could be a cure. That he could find love and keep it.

Until he met you, getting chased by those things. He doesn't know why he saved you that day. Even less why he allowed you to come with him. He swore he'd remain alone after what happened to his group. Was he that desperate for human connection?

The question answered itself. Despite knowing damn well he should keep his distance, it was inevitable when you were traveling with him. He couldn't help but grow to care. To sacrifice. You didn't make it easy for him either. It was as if you were determined to open his head and learn every little thing about him. And he let you.

He got close. Bodies pressed against each other whenever the cold got to be too much. Soft, lingering touches that brought one another back from the bleakest of headspaces. Kisses that, for a moment, blocked the horrifying world in which the two of you lived. That, for a second, flooded his body with hope. Hope for something.

Just maybe.

But it all came crashing down. He doesn't know how it happened. One minute you were beside him, talking as he looted the trunk he found. It was a goldmine filled with all kinds of medical supplies. The next minute, you were on the ground. Bleeding. Gasping for air. Someone shot you. Another survivor. Someone from another group was unknowingly scavenging in the same area.

They mistook you for a walker. Only realized the mistake when they heard Mason scream. He didn't even remember doing that. Just the horrible, gut-wrenching terror and grief that accompanied it.

He barely allowed the group to take the two of you back to their shelter. They said they had a doctor who could help. The kid who shot you—he was sobbing. Apologizing frantically. But Mason didn't care. If it weren't for the others that held a gun on him, he would've killed the runt with his bare fucking hands.

Two of the group members, a large, friendly-looking man and a wiry, wild-eyed one, carried you to their shelter's infirmary. Mason trailed close behind, speaking words of comfort as you writhed in pain from the bullet lodged in your chest.

"I-It's okay, love. Everything's going to be okay."

They had to be. He couldn't handle it. Losing you. He wouldn't survive it.