Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Langa!” Reki calls out, rushing back into the center of the police station. Langa could hear the muffled groans and snarling of the undead creatures following after him, and he grabbed his pistol, eyes flickering to Reki’s panicked face. “We've got a hoard incoming! You find more bullets?” 

Langa adjusts his grip on his weapon, light with only a few bullets. 

“Not many,” he replied. They've gone to nearly every police station in Tokyo in search of bullets and other ammunition, only to find one pistol, fifty bullets, and a large hunting knife. They'd decided on Langa handling the gun, since his dad had given him a few lessons back in Canada. Reki had never seen a gun before the one they'd found a few days ago, his eyes blowing out huge at the sight of it. Reki has the hunting knife, and only uses it if any of the zombies get too close. 

“They'll have to do,” Reki says, sliding to stand behind Langa. The taller boy squares his shoulders, glancing at the redhead through the corner of his eye. “There's a ton coming in through the front, but I didn't see any in the back.” 

“We've got this,” Langa says, with all the confidence he could muster. He checks the ammunition, and pops in a few more bullets he could spare, before locking and loading it. “Just stay close to me.” 

“Always,” Reki replies, and despite the situation, Langa’s stomach flutters with warmth. Reki trusts him so much, and the trust they have with each other has only grown since the outbreak had started weeks ago.

The zombies burst through the front doors, hissing and gurgling and gnashing their teeth. Many of them have holes in their bodies, where their skin and flesh had melted away. Some are missing their eyes and teeth, others have broken jaws and various other snapped bones. Their eyes are glazed over with a thin sheen of white, making them blind. Not that it mattered. All they hungered for is flesh. 

Langa cocks his gun, and takes the first few shots. He and Reki begin to slowly back up in step with each other, towards the back exit. They probably wouldn't reach it before the zombies catch up with them, but they could give it a try, anyways. 

The zombies begin to fall as Langa shoots their faces and chests. He's able to keep his arms so steady because of years of balance on both snow and skateboarding. The first time he had shot again, he'd nearly hit himself from the recoil. His dad had tried to warn him about it when he was younger, but it had all escaped his mind when he first held one again. 

Now, he is prepared for the recoil, and has pretty good aim. Not perfect, but he hits half of his targets. More and more zombies fall, but more and more swarm in, too. It almost seems to be never ending. 

Reki grunts behind him, and he glances over his shoulder to see the redhead grappling with one of the zombies that had managed to get further back. It's not too tall, and Reki does seem to have the situation under control as he knocks it onto its back and plunges his knife into its chest. He's quickly covered in the black blood that zombies are left with, but he gets back up quickly, slashing at another zombie that gets too close to Langa. 

They keep their backs touching at all times, unless Reki has to tackle and pin another opponent to the ground. When he does, Langa looks back at him as frequently as possible, to make sure he's alright, before returning his gaze to the wall of zombies slowly approaching them. 

He's running low on bullets when the wave of zombies finally crashes down on them, effectively separating them. Langa grunts, and grasps at the sleeve of Reki’s sweatshirt, only for it to be ripped away as the redhead uses that arm to block a zombie’s attack. Langa grinds his teeth together, shooting and blocking and pushing his way back towards Reki. His heart is in his throat; they're hardly ever separated from each other. They had only  been in this building so that while he searched for ammo, Reki could keep a lookout. But they always stick to each other's side during fights like this, because then they could keep an eye on each other's six. 

There's a shout that wrenches at his gut; Reki is crying out in pain. Langa’s world turns to a corkscrew, and he zeros in on the direction Reki’s voice had risen from. Reki doesn't have the best defense without Langa at his side with the pistol, so he could be swarmed far easier than Langa could be. 

He continues shooting, finding it easier with them being point blank. He slams the butt of his pistol into one zombie’s jaw at some point, before blasting what remained of its sludge brain. Finally, the swarm thins, and he finds Reki nearby, another zombie pinned beneath himself, repeatedly stabbing the blade into the creature's chest. His eyes are blown wide open, lips pulled back in a snarl, tears gushing down his cheeks like fat waterfalls. He's pale, the sleeve of his sweatshirt ripped on one side. 

Langa’s stomach flips at the sight, and he quickly makes it to Reki’s side. He catches the hand that was stabbing repeatedly, and gently pries the knife from the redhead’s death grip. “Reki- Reki! You got him!” he exclaims, and gasps when Reki turns his amber gaze on his face, nearly no recognition present. 

A snarl rips its way from Reki’s throat, almost like one of the things they've slaughtered, and Langa’s stomach drops. But then he's shaking his head, red curls bouncing around his head, and he tightly grasps Langa’s wrists, hands trembling. 

“Langa…” he says, his voice barely above a strained whisper. He's crying, his face a paler shade than its usual tan. He's terrified, and Langa catches onto his terror, not liking how this was looking. He breathes sharply, lips shaking. “I-” his voice cuts off in a pained whine, and his gaze darts down to his wrist. Langa follows his line of sight, and his whole world comes screeching to a halt at what he sees. 

Where the sleeve had been ripped open is a large, bitten out hole in Reki’s flesh. The skin around is a mixture of red and a sickly green, the veins filled with black, almost looking like miniature lightning bolts. There is blood and puss filling the hole, making a stomach-turning,  yellow-red liquid in the center and sides as it pours free like streams of water. 

Langa’s heart rises into his throat, hammering so painfully he almost can't breathe. With one of his hands- now trembling as bad as Reki's- he slowly and carefully grabs the edge of the sleeve, and peels it back to get a better look at it. Bile gathers in his gut when he sees that same sickly green nearly staining Reki’s entire forearm from beneath his skin, slowly spreading to his elbow and hand. The black lines that are his veins continue to fill and spread with black, and he chokes on a sob. 

“Reki-” Langa cuts himself off, his chest beginning to heave for air. He must be going into hysterics. “Were you- did one-” his voice cracks, and his grip on Reki’s wrist tightens, as the redhead’s eyes fill with more tears. 

“I'm- I'm sorry,” Reki wheezed, his nails digging into Langa’s skin. But Langa doesn't care- he must be in unimaginable pain right now. Then, he's smiling, the expression forced and filled with agony. “I was bit.” 

~~~

Reki’s arm is throbbing, aching, burning, smarting- basically, any word that can describe pain, that's how it feels on his wrist. Any pain imaginable or otherwise is shooting up his arm, through his nervous system, and making his skin boil and his body tremble. He feels like he's on fire , like he's melting into a puddle of flesh and skin soup. 

The world around him has faded, to the point he can only feel the pure agony rushing through his veins. His teeth are starting to ache from how hard he's grinding them together, and rivulets of blood are sliding from beneath the areas his nails are digging into the areas free of his wound. He's trying to alleviate the pain with more pain- but he doesn't even feel the areas his nails are tearing into his skin. All he can feel is the throbbing agony starting in and spreading from his wrist. 

He thinks he curled up at some point, into the fetal position. Langa’s cool and calming hands had disappeared an eternity ago, and now he's left alone sobbing and screaming and in a dark world of pain. He thinks Langa had tried saying something to him before he'd left, but he's not entirely sure. He's not entirely sure of anything, even as his stomach heaves and he nearly vomits. He may have earlier- he can still taste bile on the tip of his tongue and in the back of his throat. Maybe throwing up again would help with the pain. 

Suddenly, Langa’s cool hands are back, resting on his shoulders and prying him from his curled up position. A pained whine rips from his aching throat, and he forces his eyes open- when had he shut them- to find that he's somewhere else completely than where he remembered only a few seconds ago. Had it been only a few seconds to pass? 

Langa’s face hovers  in front of his, brows furrowed with concern, lips turned into a tight frown. One of his hands gently grabs his injured arm, and pulls it from the place he'd pressed it against his chest. He pulls Reki’s fingers from his bicep, forcing his nails to release their grip on his skin. 

Then something washes  over his bite- something blessedly cool and wet and soothing- and his shoulders relax, his eyelids drooping. Some of the pain ebbs away as more and more of the stuff is poured onto his forearm, and when he looks down tiredly, he finds it to be water. 

Water from one of the water bottles they’d struggled to find. They need that water to drink. Not to waste on Reki’s death sentence. 

He smacks the water bottle from Langa’s hand, and when the Canadian looks at him in confusion, he forces himself to speak, “D- don’t was- waste it.” His words are grinded out through the cracks in his clenched teeth. “Y- you need to- drink it.” 

“But you're hurting,” Langa protests. He finds the water bottle and grabs it again, frowning at how much water drained from it being knocked over. He returns to Reki’s side, and catches his wrist again, pulling it back out. “We need to clean it.”

“Clean it?” Reki repeated, staring at Langa with disbelief. Langa doesn't look back at him, gaze locked on his sickly green arm. Reki stares harder at the side of Langa’s face, and the Canadian’s grip on his wrist tightens, his pupils small and shaking as he pours more water onto his wound. 

“Yes, Reki, of course we have to clean it,” Langa snaps, still not meeting his gaze. Tears gather in his eyes. 

Reki’s heart aches at the sight, and he swallows heavily. He then gently drapes his hand over the back of Langa’s. It's tight around the water bottle, the plastic bending beneath his fingers. He slowly guides Langa’s hand away, stopping the flow of water into his wound, and lays his other hand on his cheek, angling his blue eyes to meet his. 

“Langa,” Reki whispers. He brushes a stray tear from Langa’s cheek with his thumb, and brings their foreheads together lightly. Their breaths mingle between their faces, hot and humid. Reki’s breathing heavier than Langa, his lungs and chest burning. But Langa’s breathing is short and stuttering as he attempts to hold his tears in. “You know that won't work.” Langa chokes on a sob. “And you know-” his voice catches here, as he even thinks of telling Langa to do what he needs to do. But he needs to. Because now Reki is just a danger, a hindrance. He forces himself to continue, since otherwise he wouldn't do anything, “You know you need to kill-”

“SHUT UP!” Langa bursts out. Reki’s jaws snap shut and his eyes widen in shock. He’s never heard Langa use this volume before, and it was horrible. It tears out of his throat painfully, almost unnaturally due to his usual soft tones. He turns his gaze back to Reki’s face, his lips pulling back in a snarl, his eyes sharp with anger. Suddenly, Reki can’t find his voice. “Do not say that Reki. Don't you dare.” He's all but growling at this point, tightly holding onto Reki’s hand, fingertips pressing into his palm. 

Reki is unable to speak again for a few minutes, and in that time, Langa shakily grins at him. He pulls Reki’s hand from his face, and rubs soothing circles into the skin of his palm, entire body trembling. “You're just overreacting, that's all,” Langa says, and he carefully massages the skin above and below Reki’s wound. Reki hisses with pain; the action was doing nothing to alleviate his stress or the throbbing, instead making it worse and somehow even more unbearable. Langa doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to convince himself that this was no big deal. “You just cut yourself real badly- all we have to do is keep it clean and let it heal.” 

“L… Langa,” Reki says between pants. Fuck, he's starting to panic. The worsening pain in his limb coupled with Langa’s reaction to the situation is causing his anxiety to spike. 

“You'll be fine in a few days, a week at most!” Langa continues cheerfully, and presses harder into his skin. Reki flinches, and instinctively slaps his hand away. Langa looks after it, both of his hands hovering in the air, empty of their quarry. 

“Langa!” Reki is shouting now, desperate for Langa to hear him. To do what needs to be done. He sobs sharply, fear pooling in his gut, because he doesn't want to die. But he also doesn't want to change, to become one of those things and end up hurting his… he doesn't even know what Langa is to him anymore! But he's important, and beyond special to Reki. And he never wants to see him hurt. 

“Please stop! You know that's not what this is! You know what this means!” He cries uncontrollably now, clawing at his own face. “ Please Langa! I don't want to turn into one of those monsters!”  

With a trembling hand, he reaches to the place he knows Langa keeps the pistol, his fingers brushing against the handle. 

“L- look. Give it to me! I- I'll do it-”

Langa catches his wrist and squeezes it painfully tight, yanking his hand from the gun and pinning it to his side. Reki cries in protest, and reaches his injured arm out, only for Langa to clamp his fingers just as tightly around his bicep, ending up with both on the floor, Langa on top of Reki, both boys panting heavily. Langa shakes his head rapidly, keeping Reki still even as the redhead writhes in his grasp. 

“No! No Reki!” Langa yells, desperate. His eyes are wild, his breathing erratic. “Not you too- no! We can figure this out, okay?” He tightens his grip further, cutting Reki’s blood flow off. His fat tears hit Reki in the face, hot and wet. 

“You don't… you can't die. I’ll figure this out, okay?” He sits back, and gathers Reki into an embrace, holding him close, and Reki breaks, terrified and exhausted and in pain. He collapses into Langa’s arms, sides heaving. Langa gently rocks him, pressing his face into his chest. 

“That's right… I'll take care of it. I'll take care of you… I won't let you die… sh…” One of Langa’s hands cards through his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. He shushes him gently, rocking them back and forth, and for a good moment, Reki actually believes him. 

If only the throbbing in his arm hadn't reminded him of how truly hopeless this situation is. 

~~

Langa gathers all of their things into one bag and slings it over his shoulder, glancing towards Reki with concern. The redhead had gone quiet a while after his outburst, and he's currently sitting on the ground, lightly picking at the red stained bandage wrapped around his forearm. His eyes- usually so bright and beautiful- are dark and dull as they stare at the ground, tracing cracks and bumps in the tiled floor. He'd offered to carry the bag at one point, but Langa had outright refused, not wanting the redhead to strain himself. 

Neither knows how long Reki has until… until his time is up. But Langa doesn't care. He's going to find the cure, and he's going to save Reki. 

No matter the cost. 

He steps into Reki’s field of view, and holds a hand out between them. When Reki slowly looks up, exhausted and despondent, he offers him the best smile he could currently muster. There are heavy bags under his eyes, and he's still incredibly pale. Is this the first effect this horrible infection has on people? It must be, because already, it looks as though most of Reki’s energy and life has been drained from his body. That's not a good sign, especially since it's only been a few hours since he'd been bitten. 

“Come on, Reki,” he says softly. He's unable to keep the fondness out of his voice, like usual, because even now he's so incredibly in love with Reki. Which is why it tears his heart open every time he sees the blood soaked bandage on his arm, and why he wants to cry every time he remembers Reki is now infected. Which is why he will find the cure. Because he loves Reki so, so much. 

“We should get moving. Can you stand?” 

Reki swallows heavily, and looks back at the ground again. He stares at his legs and feet, as if asking them the same question. Then, he draws in a deep breath, and nods jerkily.

“I- I think so,” he replies quietly. He takes Langa’s offered hand, and the two work together to get him back to his feet. Reki hisses with pain as he's pulled back to his feet, and he wobbles as though he may fall over again, but he stays standing, eyes flickering back to Langa’s face. “Where are we gonna go, Langa? What are we gonna do?” 

“I already told you what we’re doing, Reki,” Langa says just as fondly. He can't stop himself from reaching out and brushing his fingertips along Reki’s forehead lightly. The redhead hums at the touch, eyes going half lidded. “I'm going to find a way to cure you…” he trails off as he clicks his tongue in thought. “I mean, remember that radio transmission we heard a few days ago? That doctor saying he's on the way to finding the cure.” 

“Oh… yeah…” Reki mumbles, and when Langa draws his hand away it is replaced with one of his. He digs the heel of his hand into the center of his forehead, rubbing at it aggressively. “I'd forgotten about that…” 

“That's okay,” Langa tells him, and gestures in the direction they'd be walking. He'd taken them into one of the station’s supply closets while he'd gone in search of bandages, leaving Reki curling in on himself no matter how much it had hurt. He'd needed to find medicine and bandages, and had gotten lucky to find a whole medkit in one of the back rooms. “He's in Yokohama- not too far from here, so we should be able to get there pretty quickly if we can hijack a car.” 

“Right,” Reki says, and follows after Langa as they exit the building. Surprisingly, the street outside is vacant of any living or undead thing. Of course, the piles of zombie corpses they’d shot a few hours ago are still sprawled out, but none of them move, so they don't worry about those. 

Langa looks at each car they come across. Most either have broken windows, with the shattered glass in the seats, or are crashed in some manner of object. The car in the best condition he finds is missing both doors, and when he tries to start its engine, it sputters out and dies again. 

He frowns deeply, and scratches the side of his head as looks down one end of the street and then the other. Reki is directly behind him, his head lowered, and one of his hands gripping a handful of Langa’s shirt. Langa doesn't comment on this, since he doesn't want to upset his friend by mentioning it. He may not even be aware he's doing it. 

“There aren't any here,” Langa informs Reki, glancing over his shoulder to look at his face. Reki makes a small noise of affirmation, not looking up from the ground. His heart twists- he must be in so much pain, and must be exhausted right now. He needs to hurry up and find a car or some kind of vehicle to use so Reki could sit down and rest. He probably shouldn't be up and moving again so soon after being infected, but Langa doesn't want to waste any of their precious time in finding a cure. There's no telling how quickly the poison would spread. “Come on, let's keep looking.” 

He slips a hand behind himself, gently prying Reki’s hand from his shirt, so they could hold hands instead. Just before he looks ahead again, he catches the way Reki’s face flushes. That's a good sign, if he's still able to get flustered. He smiles fondly at his favorite person, and continues to lead the way through the once crowded streets of Tokyo. 

~~

They finally find a working car two blocks over, one with the keys in the ignition and everything. Langa praises whatever gods are watching over them, and helps Reki sit down and get comfortable in the passenger's seat. He crouches down and gently pulls Reki’s injured arm out again, apologizing when the redhead hisses with pain. It's horrible that Reki has to deal with this horrible pain- he shouldn't be the one infected. If either of them should have been infected, then it should have been Langa. Because then, Langa could end himself so that Reki wouldn't have to worry about any of it. 

The bandage is dark with a deep red. He frowns when he sees that they're heavily soaked with the thick liquid, and knows that he needs to change it. It's only been an hour or so since he'd put it on, but it was as if it's been on for days. 

“I'm going to change the bandaging,” he tells Reki. 

Reki looks at him through the corner of his eyes, a few drops of sweat dripping down the sides of his temples and cheeks. Does he have a fever? He probably does, due to the infection he has, but it still concerns him to no end. Maybe he could use one of their water bottles like an ice packet, since they have nothing better? 

“O- okay,” Reki stutters, his voice sounding dry. He's probably dehydrated. Langa will have to make him drink some water before he drives. 

Langa slowly peels the old bandaging from Reki’s arm, wincing when the redhead cries softly. He grimaces as he tugs the bandaging from the wounded area, watching puss and a black liquid stick to it. He tosses the old wrappings aside and carefully rewraps his arm, making sure to not make it too tight. Then, he stands up and opens one of their water bottles, holding it out towards his favorite person. 

Reki stares at it as if he's never seen a water bottle before. Langa can literally see the confusion glazing over his tired eyes, and his heart twists. “You need to drink, Reki,” he tells him, and moves so that their sides are pressed together. He brings the tip of the bottle to Reki’s lips, and the redhead sputters in confusion. But, Langa tilts the bottle upwards a little, and when water hits his mouth, Reki’s eyes widen and he desperately chugs the water down. Water dribbles down his cheeks and chin, hitting Langa’s pants and the seat of the car. 

He keeps the water angled so that not too much could flood into Reki’s mouth and possibly choke him, using his free hand to wrap it around the redhead’s shoulders. He massages it gently, careful of his injury. 

When the water is half emptied, Langa pulls the bottle away, despite Reki whining. “I don't want you to get any more sick,” Langa tells him gently. He gives Reki’s shoulder another light rub, and then forces himself from his side. 

He takes a seat on the driver's side and turns the engine on, going in the direction of Yokohama. 

~~

Reki doesn't last long in the car. He falls asleep almost instantly once the car has actually started driving, lulled to unconsciousness from the sluggish movements. 

His world is only blissfully numb for what feels to be a few seconds. Because he wakes up again screaming, pain erupting through every single nerve in his body. He writhes in place, his head snapping back, his fingernails digging into the fabric of his seat. He's no longer in the passenger's seat, but the back seat of the car, he thinks, since he's sprawled out flat. 

“Reki?” Langa’s concerned voice breaks through his agony, but it's not enough to ease any of the pain. The pain has centered itself in both of his eyes, burning and stinging as though multiple, tiny needles had been forced into his eyeballs. He reaches up with his hands to instinctively claw at the skin around his eyes, choking on screams and sobs. “Reki!” 

A pair of cool hands grab at his hands a few seconds later, pulling his ripping nails from his eyes and face gently but firmly. He cries and cries, eyeballs and retinas and the skull behind his eyes all burning with agony. 

He can't even see anything. Why can't he see anything? 

Not that that matters- his eyes are in the worst pain he's ever felt. 

Langa pushes him up and he's being moved, but he can't make his legs work so he stumbles forward. Langa loses his grip on him, and he ends up hitting the ground in a heap. He hardly even notices, since it feels as if his eyeballs are about to explode out of his skull. 

He writhes, clawing at the dirt, some of it getting trapped beneath his nails. 

Langa grabs his shoulders gently, lifting him back upwards. Reki grapples at the air, until he ends up grabbing fistfuls of Langa’s shirt, breathing rapidly to try and ease the pain blooming in his skull. 

“Reki? Reki, can you hear me? What’s wrong?” Langa asks, fear in his voice. Reki gasps for air, shaking his head against Langa’s shoulder. 

And then, just like that, the pain is gone. 

Well, the pain in his eyes. The constant throbbing he's starting to get used to in his arm is still present, but at least now, it doesn't feel like his eyes are going to burst. 

He opens them. 

And sees nothing. 

He blinks. Nothing. Blinks again. Still. Nothing. 

He pushes away from Langa, and claws at his eyes with confusion, trying to see anything. He squints and narrows them, widens them as far as they'll go. Oh- there. There's a faint outline of Langa’s silhouette, but nothing else. His vision is almost like how things appear at night, when there's hardly any light and the eyes are struggling to adjust. 

All he sees are mixtures of blacks and whites and greys. No color. Nothing solid. Just blurred shapes. 

“Reki?” Langa says again, questioningly. Reki can't even see his face anymore. “What's wrong? You've been asleep for nearly two days now, I was starting to get worried.” 

Two days? And now he's woken up to this new hell? He pulls at his eyelids, trying to get his damn eyes to work again. 

“Hey, hey,” Langa says, and grabs both of his hands. He frowns, lips trembling, because he can't see. Langa’s hands hold his gently, his thumbs soothing the skin around his knuckles. “Talk to me, Reki.” 

Reki opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tries to find Langa’s face. But all he can see is the faint outline of his head and hair, and nothing else. Not even when he narrows and squints his eyes to try and focus his vision. 

“I- I-” he finally finds it in himself to speak, his voice straining in his throat. “I can't- I can't see.” He's beginning to panic, heart racing and arm thumping with pain. “Langa- I can't see!” 

Langa’s hands grab his shoulders, steadying him gently. “Hey, calm down, okay?” he says, his voice soothing and soft. Reki can feel his muscles beginning to relax due to Langa’s voice, even though he wants to freak out and break down. “It's only temporary. It'll be fixed soon.”

Right. Because Langa is going to cure him, somehow. 

Reki brushes his fingers through the grass they're sitting in, and realizes Langa had dragged him out of the car. Fresh, cool air hits his face and bare skin, and his eyelids droop over his useless eyes. 

He wets his lips and nods, biting down on his lip to keep himself from crying. He lets Langa help him back into the car. 

~~

Langa can't look away from Reki’s eyes. 

And not for the usual reason, either. Not because they're bright and beautiful golden amber, or because they're glowing with Reki’s happiness. But because… they have no color, at all. 

There is a fine sheen of milky white covering the entirety of his eyes, replacing the honey amber with that sickly white all zombies seem to have. Langa could tell Reki had probably gone blind to some extent the moment he'd opened them earlier, during his panic attack. 

It twists Langa’s heart for him to know that Reki’s lost his eye sight, and that his eyes are no longer that warm color he so loves. They're so despondent, too, as Reki stares forward at nothing. 

He swallows heavily, tightening the grip he has on the steering wheel with one hand. With the other, he's gently holding Reki’s hand. Or, well, Reki is holding his hand. Reki refuses to release his hand, or wants to be able to touch Langa at all times if possible. Langa doesn't question it or deny this need, because he's sure Reki is terrified and lost in a world of pitch black. 

Reki is mindlessly playing with Langa’s fingers, bending and unbending each one before picking at the fingernails. He presses his thumb into the center of the other boy’s palm, feeling the deep heartlines. He smooths his fingertips along the top of Langa’s nails, digs his nails into his cuticles. 

Langa doesn't say anything about it, but he does make sure to continue speaking about anything else. Reki seems to stay calmer while he talks, so he does it, even though he's never been much of a talker. 

He glances at Reki’s wrist. The bandaging is stained a dark crimson, heavy with pus and blood and infection. He bites down on his tongue, but doesn't remark on this, yet. Reki is already beyond stressed; from both the pain in his wrist and the loss of his vision. He doesn't want to add to that stress, for now. He’ll wait until later, once Reki has had more time to calm down. 

His thoughts are interrupted when a large truck rams into the side of their car, knocking them over in circles. Langa lets out a yelp of surprise, and instantly grabs onto Reki’s hand as the redhead screams in confusion and terror. He hisses in pain when a few shards of glass slices across the skin of his thighs and legs, and when Reki is suddenly knocked from his seat, he catches him and holds him close. 

The airbags are already deployed, and Langa’s chest aches from the thing hitting him square in the center. When he catches Reki, the movement only worsens the pain in his ribs, but he ignores it in favor of clutching onto Reki to keep him still. The redhead is whimpering in pain and fear. 

When the car finally gets on top of the wheels again, Langa assesses the situation. Every single window is shattered, the airbags blown out, and he can see dents in the doors on both sides. There doesn't seem to be any flames, though. So they should be fine, for now. Reki is panting heavily in his arms, clutching onto him for dear life. Langa looks him over next, wincing when he finds a large chunk of glass stuck into his hip, blood mixed with the black infection pouring out. 

Oh. All of his blood must have that same black infection, as well as the disgusting yellow pus mixed in. That's not a good sign. 

“Okay, I'm going to get us out,” Langa tells Reki, before he starts to move. The redhead whimpers with confusion, clinging onto Langa in his dark world. Langa doesn't mind, and so he carefully opens the door and steps out, helping Reki out afterwards. The redhead stumbles on the seat and door, but Langa catches him, making sure to avoid the large glass piece stuck in his side. He’ll need to tend to that asap. He guides Reki’s hand to the hood of the car, “Wait right here. I need to grab our bag.” 

Reki says nothing, instead whining in quiet protest. It hurts Langa to ignore his obvious plea, but they need that food, water and medicinal supplies. He peels away from Reki, and reaches into the back. When he returns back to the redhead’s side, the truck that had hit them is approaching them. Langa’s eyes narrow at the sight, and he pulls out his pistol, grabbing Reki’s hand at the same time. 

The truck stops nearby, and both doors open, a person stepping out on either side. One is a man, the other a woman. The man looks to be forgein, while the woman appears to be Japanese. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” the man say in English, scratching the back of his head. The front of the truck is dented and the headlights are broken, but other than that, it hardly has a scratch. Unlike their car, which probably won't be able to run again. “We haven't seen another running car in so long, I didn't even see you.”

The woman begins to translate to Japanese, but Langa quickly cuts her off to respond to him, “You destroyed our car. We have to get somewhere, and that was our only means of transportation.”

The man raises his eyebrows in surprise at another English speaker. 

“We apologize again,” the woman adds on, her dark eyes sharp and cool. He doesn't like the way she's leering at Reki, who has taken to leaning heavily against his side. She narrows her eyes, “What’s wrong with him?” 

“He’s… he’s sick, and hurt now, too,” Langa replies. It's not a complete lie. He's just not specifying the sickness to them. He gestures to the glass shard in Reki’s side, and the man hisses in sympathy. 

“But what is he sick with?” the woman demands. She gripps a large machete, and Langa tenses, his fingers brushing along the gun’s handle. He hasn't killed actual people before, and he'd rather not, but if they try and hurt Reki… he'd have no choice. 

“Calm down Tamaka!” the man exclaims, holding his hands up in front of himself placatingly. Her eyes stay narrowed, however, and she doesn't let go of the machete. “We hit them with our truck. We should help them. It's the least we can do!”

“Not if the red one is infected!” she growls, and the man winces. 

“What's… happening?” Reki asks, his words nearly slurring together. His forehead is pressed flush against the back of Langa’s shoulder, his breath stuttering. Langa tightens his hold on Reki’s hand minisculely, his heart aching. He's so confused and in pain- he needs to be sitting and resting. Not standing and straining himself. And Langa still needs to tend to his new wound. 

“He’s fine,” Langa grinds out, guiding Reki a step back when the lady- Tamaka- tries to get a closer look at him. He glances over his shoulder to get a look at his clammy face. He switches back to Japanese, “Don't worry about it. I'm taking care of it.” He keeps his voice calm and soothing when speaking to Reki, since he doesn't want his favorite person to freak out unnecessarily. He can take care of everything. Reki just needs to focus on staying okay. 

“He was bit, wasn't he?” Tamaka snaps, holding  her machete out. The man’s eyes widen, and he grabs at her wrists, but she knocks him back, eyes locked on Reki’s face. “Let me see his face!” 

Langa grits his teeth together, and pulls his pistol free. “Back off,” he hisses, letting them see his weapon. Both of their eyes widen, and Tamaka lowers her machete. The man raises his hands in surrender. 

Tamaka’s face curls in disgust. “He's already gone. Just look at him!” she exclaimed, throwing a hand in Reki’s direction. “He's more dead than alive now-” she cuts herself off when Langa cocks the gun in warning, his eyes sharp and narrow. She tries again, “Look, I get it. He's important to you. Let me take care of him for you-” 

Langa fires a warning shot into the air, making both Tamaka and the man jump. The man shouts English curse words, and begs Tamaka to stop saying whatever it is she's saying in Japanese. But she tightens her jaws. 

“He's obviously suffering,” she continues, even as Langa cocks the gun once more. “Let me put him out of his misery-”

“Shut the FUCK up!” Langa screams, and shoots the ground, just in front of her feet. She jumps back, dark eyes filling with fear. Reki groans against his shoulder, brushing his forehead back and forth into his shirt. He feels guilty- he may be giving Reki a migraine from shouting so loudly. But he also has to make sure this woman doesn't try anything against him. “He’s still human, and I'm going to keep him that way. If you try to hurt him in any way-” he narrows his eyes, cocking the gun once more for emphasis- “I will kill you.” 

Tamaka glares at him, and the man looks between them in confusion. He must only speak English, so he has zero clue what is being declared. He just have an idea of it, however, because he quickly says, “We won’t bother you! You can even take our truck, since we ruined your car!”

“Michael-!” the woman snaps in disbelief, turning wide eyes on his face. He looks back with just as much disbelief. 

“He has a gun Tamaka,” he points out, not seeming to care that Langa could still hear him. “And he's clearly ready to use it. Let's just- leave, okay?” 

Tamaka stutters, but Michael is already moving. He grabs one of her hands, deeply bows, and then drags her after him as he scurries off. Langa watches them until they've disappeared, finally getting a better look at their surroundings. They're in the countryside, with plains of grass and trees lining both sides of the small street. Further back, where they'd been hit is an intersection, and a few abandoned cars dot the road. The car Langa had been driving looked sad and pathetic, the windows shattered. 

The truck is still running, and Langa curses lightly. Way to waste the gas. He guides Reki's hand back to the hood of the car and rushes to the truck, quickly pulling the keys out of the ignition. 

He steps back out, ready to help Reki with his wound, but stops in his tracks when he finds Tamaka holding him flush to her chest, machete pressing into his neck. Reki’s gasping for air with how tight her arm is wrapped around his throat, and his hands are weakly clawing at her arm. 

“See, I knew he's infected!” she spats, pressing the machete harder into his skin. Reki yelps in pain, and Langa is already bringing the gun up, finger pressed against the trigger. She roughly grabs Reki’s face with her free hand, yanking his eyes open to reveal the milky white and dazed eyeballs. “Just look at his eyes! And his wrist!” She digs her nails into his wrist next, and Reki cries out, the sound horrible and ragged. “I'm going to kill him before he can fully change!” 

“You do that and I'll shoot your brains out,” Langa hisses, taking a step closer. She stumbles back, the machete cutting a slim red line into Reki’s neck. “Let go of him, NOW!” 

“L- Langa?” Reki wheezes, clearly confused and in pain and Langa is going to kill her. He's never wanted to actually kill anyone before, but with her threatening his life so easily, and hurting him, he's about ready to shoot through her skull. 

“Then I'll slice his neck open,” she growls, dragging the machete along the front of his neck. Reki’s eyes widen, his breaths becoming ragged as he processes the danger he’s in. 

“You're going to either way,” Langa says with realization, his heart dropping into his gut like a weighted stone. He wants to vomit. 

“Yes! I'll be keeping us both safe, you just don't realize it yet!” she says desperately. 

“I trust Reki with my life!” Langa shouts back, and Reki yelps once more when Tamaka knocks into the glass piece, digging it deeper into his hip. He's crying, tears flowing from his milky eyes. Langa’s eye twitches at the sight, blood pounding in his ears. “And he’s hurt- and you're making it worse. You’re the threat, not him.” 

Tamaka scoffs. “I have to do this. You'll realize that in a moment,” she says. Her arm tenses, and Langa’s finger slowly applies pressure to the gun, when Reki’s body spasms. 

Reki’s jaws snap wide open, and he slams his mouth around Tamaka’s wrist with an animalistic snarl. Tamaka screams in pain, her blood exploding around Reki’s face as he blindly scratches and tears at her skin, anywhere he can reach it. She screams even louder as Reki rips a large chunk of her flesh from the rest of her arm, making her blood spray as if from a hose. 

She drops Reki, who hits the ground snarling, his milky eyes wide and her flesh still between his teeth. Blood covers the outer areas of his mouth, dripping from his chin. He's snarling, low and guttural, almost like one of those creatures that have been chasing them down. 

She grits her teeth, eyes flashing, and she raises the machete over her head, like she's about to bring it down on Reki’s skull-

The loud bang of a gun firing echoes around them, and Tamaka chokes on the blood suddenly exploding from her lips. She falls forward with a loud thud, directly beside Reki. 

Reki is writhing on the ground in a mix of Tamaka’s blood and his. He rips at the piece of Tamaka’s arm still in his mouth, milky pupils shaking wildly. 

Langa’s arms tremble, and all he can do for a minute or so is stare at Tamaka’s still body. Then, the gun slips from his hand, and he brings both to his face, clawing at his cheeks because fuck he just shot someone. He falls to his knees with a sob, tears gathering in his eyes. 

Why is it such a big deal? He's shot tons of zombies in the head and chest. She should be no different… except, she was. She'd still been alive. She'd still had the light in her eyes. Now, that light is gone, and shes left staring at nothing. 

“Lan… ga?” Reki rasps, and he’s jared from his dark thoughts. None of this could matter right now. Not with Reki so weak and dependent on him. Not with Reki toeing the line between life and death. 

He looks up just as someone gasps, and he meets the shocked eyes of Michael. He looks from Tamaka’s corpse, to Reki writhing on the ground, all the way to Langa, who’s already steeling himself to shoot a second person if he tries anything. 

Michael throws his hands up once more, and looks green in the face as he stares at Tamaka. “D- Don’t shoot!” he says quickly. Langa slowly inches towards Reki, who is in the middle of the distance between them. He places a hand on Reki’s shoulder, and gently urges him back to his feet. He catches most of the redhead’s weight, with Reki leaning heavily against his side. “I just- I couldn't find Tamaka. I uh… see why now. I won't… I won't cause you trouble. Good luck.”

With that, Michael scurries away once more, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Langa watches him go, and then slumps to his knees, helping Reki go down slowly. He lets out a heavy breath, hugging Reki around his shoulders tightly. His friend messily returns the hug, burying his blood soaked face into the side of Langa’s neck. Not that Langa cares. He’d nearly lost Reki just now, and the thought makes him want to break down. 

He cards a hand through the back of Reki’s hair, breathing trembling, tears glazing over his eyes. Reki shakes in his grasp like a newborn kitten, crying softly. 

“Langa- I- I-” Reki gasps, dragging his nails down the side of Langa’s arm. The Canadian bears it, and starts to rock him once more. “I didn’t- when I bit her- I was… I was gone. I wasn’t me and I'm so fucking scared.” He sobs, the sound making Langa’s heart shatter. “I don't- I don't want to do that to you, too! Maybe she was right.” 

“Don't say that,” Langa hissed softly into the shell of Reki’s ear. He presses light kisses along the side of Reki’s head, tasting his salty sweat on his lips. “You won't hurt me. I'll cure you, remember?” 

Reki doesn't respond. 

Langa checks on his wounds. 

~~

Reki stares at nothing. Nothing that he can make out. They're in the truck that had supposedly hit them, but he can't tell the difference. The only thing different from the car is the fact that the truck was harder to step into. Otherwise, it's basically the same. 

His side hurts, where apparently a large piece of glass had pierced his flesh. His wrist throbs,. His entire body aches. He's in constant pain, and can hardly even tell what's happening around him. 

When the whole fiasco with the two other people went down, he almost couldn't tell the difference between Langa and the woman who had been trying to kill him. The thought still makes him uncomfortable, and he presses the heel of his hand into one of his eyes. He'd been so useless, too. Unable to figure out what was going on, and unable to help Langa. 

Langa had told him he'd taken care of the woman. But he didn't specify how. Reki doesn't push the matter, but he has a sneaking suspicion of what had happened. 

He doesn't blame Langa for that. Of course he doesn't. Especially not when he'd gone into a blind rage and bit at the lady like he was one of those fucking monsters, proving her point. 

Langa should have just let her kill him. Then he wouldn't have to deal with Reki’s pathetic ass anymore. 

Maybe… maybe Reki could do it himself. Later, when Langa has the truck parked and his defenses lowered. He probably keeps the gun in the same place. 

Reki wants to do this. To take his own life. Or, what remains of it, anyways. He can feel himself slowly slipping more and more every second. His teeth ache for him to bite into Langa’s neck and to taste his blood. His throat burns for the taste of that same blood to come rushing into his stomach. 

What he'd done to the woman... he's afraid it will happen again. And not to a stranger. 

He doesn't want to do that to Langa. 

He's just a shell of the person he used to be, anyways. His head is filled with cotton, making most thoughts difficult to have. His vision is all but gone. He's weak and pathetic, and a useless hindrance on Langa. Langa is just on a wild goose chase, prolonging the inevitable of Reki’s death and transformation. 

He’ll just have to do what Langa can’t. 

He’ll just have to take his own life. 

He can do that. For Langa. 

He lets himself drift between unconsciousness and wakefulness. Langa doesn't speak while he thinks he's sleeping, but he also doesn't take his hand from Reki’s. Reki doesn't want to feel alone. Langa’s hand is large and warm and soft against his fingertips and palm, and if he weren't feigning sleep, he'd be feeling the edges of his hand. 

Langa drives them for some time, the sky darkening as it changes from day to night. This marks the end of Reki’s third day infected. They have no idea how many days Reki has left. 

Reki doesn't want to find that out. He’ll stop them from coming soon, so that he doesn't change and hurt Langa. Or kill him. Since he knows Langa would still refuse to shoot his reanimated corpse, even if Reki’s consciousness wasn't moving it, but the always hungry infection replacing the blood in his veins with black. 

In fact, he can feel the infection in his veins. It's heavy and thick and mixes with his blood uncomfortably. 

His ears pop, and then, he can't hear anything. 

He chokes on a sob, peeling his eyes open even though he knows it won't change anything. The loss of his hearing- or, most of it; he can still hear faint murmurings of the truck’s wheels on pavement- is much less painful than the loss of his sight. It's hardly noticeable, too. One moment, he can hear everything perfectly and clearly. The next, he can hardly hear even Langa’s breathing directly beside him. 

He squeezes Langa’s hand tightly, and he feels Langa’s eyes on his face. He can almost see the concern wrinkling his forehead and lighting his eyes, the way his lips would be twisted downwards in a cute frown. 

Langa squeezes his hand back gently, questioningly. There's a muffled noise, and Reki recognizes it as Langa’s voice, even if he can't understand it fully. He thinks he hears his name… yeah, definitely his name. He'd recognize Langa saying his name anywhere. 

He says more, but Reki can't make it out. “I can’t understand you, Langa,” he tells him in a small voice, the words trembling with his shaky breaths. The hand around his tightens, and he sobs once more, but he can't even hear that. “I can't see… I can't hear… I-” He stops himself. He doesn't want Langa to worry over him anymore by telling him about his suicidal ideations. He’d keep those to himself, so Langa wouldn't be on guard in hiding the gun. 

The truck has stopped moving, and suddenly, Langa’s hand is slipping from his. He widens his useless eyes and grapples at the air, desperately trying to find Langa again. Where did he go? Where is he? Did he leave him alone? Did he finally abandon him? The thought both relieves and terrifies Reki at once. Because, it's for the best if Langa leaves him behind. But he also doesn't want to be left to suffer blindly in this dark, shapeless world. 

His panic is doubled when a pair of hands suddenly wraps around his arms. He jumps out of his skin with a yelp he can't hear, terrified of who or what it could be. How long has even passed since Langa left? It could have been days and Reki wouldn't have even realized it. 

But then a familiar, large hand is cupping his cheek, a thumb rubbing circles beneath his eye. He relaxes- it's Langa. 

“ ‘s ‘kay, Reki.” the words are far away, and sound almost like they're coming from a glass of water. But it's Langa’s voice, and he recognizes Langa’s voice, and so he allows himself to be guided out of the truck. One of Langa’s hands guides Reki’s first foot to the ground, and then both keep him steady as he gets the rest of the way out. He fumbles once he's steady, and catches the sleeve of Langa’s shirt. Or, at least, he thinks it's the sleeve. It could be the bottom of his shirt for all he knows. But Langa replaces the fabric with his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “‘is ‘a.” He can hardly hear, much less understand Langa, but he follows when his hand is tugged in the direction his friend wants him to go in. 

He stumbles on rocks and cracks, and Langa continuously stops to help him back up again. Finally, he sits on something soft with hard ridges under it. He uses his free hand to feel the ground beneath him. He feels Langa sit down beside him, and he helps Reki get a better feeling of where they are. Oh- there's grass. They're outside, on a- blanket? Now that he thinks about it, the air is fresh and smells of earth, a comforting scent. His shoulders droop, eyes going half lidded. 

A hand suddenly brushes along his forehead, and he winces, drawing away instinctively. Langa’s hand squeezes his again, and he realizes it must have bebe Langa’s other hand. His face heats up in embarrassment from his reaction, and he leans into the hand when it returns to his forehead, brushing back the hair sticking to the damp skin there. 

“‘ere. ‘ll ‘ap you twice, so you ‘ow it’ ‘e,” Langa suggested, and lightly taps Reki’s shoulder two times. The taps are not hard, or intrusive, and Reki thinks if Langa did it out of the blue at any point, it wouldn't scare him as badly. And it would let him know it is. He nods in response, and leans heavily into Langa’s side. Langa wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him close. 

Langa is solid and warm and comforting. He could almost fall asleep… but, no! Not yet! He has to get Langa’s gun…

He's consumed by the darkness of sleep, instead of the darkness of his new world, lulled to sleep by the watery sounds and soft vibrations of Langa humming deeply. 

~~

Langa sighs heavily with relief when Reki finally slips into a full, deep sleep. He'd been restless the entire car ride, twisting and turning while huffing and groaning with pain. He's hot to the touch, with thick amounts of sweat clinging to the sides of his face and shoulders. 

Nearly every vein in his skin has turned from the blue of a living human’s, to the black, infected blood of a zombie’s. The green staining his arm has spread to the side of his stomach and chest, as well as his entire neck. It was the telltale sign of death and decay, and the infection that the zombies carried. 

Green is not Reki’s color, Langa decides then and there. And neither is that sickly white that covers his amber eyes. 

But he's still human. He's still feeling human emotions: fear, pain, sadness. Langa doesn't like that those are the only emotions he could feel right now, but he’ll take what he can get. 

All over again, Langa wishes that they had never gone to Tokyo together. 

It was just supposed to be a quick, one week trip there. Reki was going to show Langa to his favorite tourist attractions and restaurants, and they'd stay in a hotel, and then return to Okinawa together. 

Then the world ended. 

People left and right had keeled over and died, changing in an instant into those flesh hungering monsters. Luckily, he and Reki had been in their hotel room when it happened. They'd heard the terrified screams of their fellow hotel guests, and worked together to stay alive in their hotel room until the first wave had passed. 

They'd only dared to step out of their hotel room when they started running low on food. They stuck close to each other, and had to run from the building when a few zombies still loitered inside. 

Reki had been the first to kill one of the undead creatures. He’d grabbed one of the forks that had been abandoned in the kitchen- the knife had been too far, he’d said- and gouged the thing’s chest open. 

He'd started to vomit after that, and Langa had to drag him out and to safety after that. 

They’d found the gun on a dead police officer, with only ten bullets. They had then made it their mission to find more ammunition, and then find a way back to Okinawa. Because with any hope, their tiny home island would be unaffected. 

And then Reki was bit. 

Langa pulls Reki closer to his side, pressing the redhead’s face to his chest as he curls around his smaller body. He's sure to avoid touching either of his wounds, and buries his face in red curls, the hair somehow still soft. 

He's not going to fall asleep out here. Not when they're in the middle of a field. But he'd wanted to bring Reki outside for fresh air, so he could relax and fall asleep. 

He’ll go back into the truck and lay Reki carefully in the back seats, soon. 

But for now, he keeps Reki close, breathing in his blood and sweat soaked scent, listening to his shaky breaths. 

He’s still alive. 

~~

Reki doesn't wake until later into the next day, and when he does, he informs Langa with a shaky voice that he can only smell blood. 

Langa’s heart clenched painfully at how distressed Reki spoke, tears gushing from his milky eyes. 

He hopes Reki doesn't feel less human than Langa, now. Because he's still just as human as Langa is. 

Even if his skin is a light green, his black veins sticking out from the color contrastingly. 

He makes the truck go as fast as it can towards Yokohama. 

~~

It's on the fifth day that Reki starts to feel less. 

He can't feel the seats beneath him, and he can't feel textures any longer, either. When Langa tells him he's brushing his fingers across and through grass, he can't feel anything at all. 

It terrifies him. He can't see, he can hardly hear, can only smell blood, and now, he can hardly feel anything at all. And when Langa makes him eat or drink anything, it tastes like nothing but dry ash. Even the water is ashen lava, making his mouth dry as opposed to refreshed. 

He can still feel when pressure is applied to his skin. So he can feel Langa’s tapping, and the way he squeezes his hands. He can also feel pain, especially when it has anything to do with his bite. 

He's sleeping now, the only time he's freed from his own personal hell. When he's awake, he can feel himself slipping further and further into nothingness, his brain numb with exhaustion. 

He's so tempted to just give in, and let himself be completely changed. 

But he can't. Not with Langa around him. 

Something touches his shoulder, and he can smell blood, can hear the low murmur of what he believes to be a heartbeat, and can see the outline of a human hand. He launches out at the hand, grabbing onto its wrist and arm and moving to snap his teeth into flesh and get flooded with that sweet smell.

Another hand grabs him by the neck, and pushes him back, forcing him onto the ground. He gasps and writhes, snarling, his mouth hot and wet and his teeth needing him to sink them into flesh and blood. 

Something stabs into his side, and that sharp pain brings him back to himself. He chokes on his infected blood, head flying back, scream tearing out of his throat. 

That same something cuts through his flesh again, into the muscle of his waist and stomach. He gurgles, unable to see his attacker aside from the outline of their silhouette. 

Then, that person is knocked from on top of him, another, larger silhouette of a person flying across his vision. He turns onto his side, coughing and wheezing, wrist and side throbbing. And did that person really have to stab the side that had already been injured? 

Another hand he doesn't know grabs a fistful of his hair and slams him face first into the ground. His mouth is filled with dirt and grass. Wait- when had he gotten out of the truck? Weren't they in the truck? 

That hand drags his head back up, and he spits out the dirt that had flooded onto his tongue. Oh. This is the largest silhouette yet. Has to be two times his size. 

There's a loud bang! that he knows has to be a gun, and the giant is dropping him. He hits the ground again just as another bang! makes the air around him vibrate. There are a couple more gunshots, and then silence. 

He whimpers, fingers curling into the ground he can't feel. 

There's a double tap on the back of his shoulder, and he instantly relaxes. He turns to where he thinks Langa is, and lets himself get pulled into a warm chest. Langa hugs him tightly, and brushes his hand across Reki’s head with enough pressure for him to feel both actions. He melts into Langa’s presence, drinking it in. 

~~

Langa breathes heavily, watching the corpses he'd just shot closely. 

Why did some random assholes think they had the right to stop them from driving and then threaten Reki? Langa had wanted to keep driving, but they had a working car and kept getting in his way. And he'd been too nervous about wrecking their main transportation- which is now low on gas. The gas light had turned on a few hours ago- so he’d pulled over. 

They demanded he and Reki get out of the car, and to hand over their valuables and supplies. “He’s sick. He can't walk on his own,” Langa had explained, and their eyes had narrowed suspiciously, just like Tamaka’s had. 

“Get the other one out. You two, hold him, in case he tries to do anything stupid,” the largest man ordered. Instantly, two of them had grabbed Langa, despite his protests, and the fourth had gone to the truck and yanked Reki out. 

Reki hadn't even responded at first, eyes still shut, but the pallor of his skin and the color of his veins was enough to let the men know what he was sick with. 

“Kill it!” the largest man shouted, just as Reki woke up and started snapping at the man who had grabbed him. And even if it had looked a lot like a zombie, Langa still felt it was a justified reaction. These men had dragged him out of their truck. 

But when they started mishandling Reki, Langa had lost it, and fought his way from the other men’s hold to tackle the fourth guy from Reki. The tussle afterwards didn't last long, especially after Langa shot the leader in the back of the head for even touching Reki. None of them had been expecting him to have a gun. 

He's running low on bullets. 

He checks Reki’s wounds once his favorite person has calmed down, breathing as easily as he could in his current condition. He glared at the corpses of the men who had thought they'd had the right to kill Reki. They'd further aggravated the wound in Reki’s side, making it an angry, dark red. He cleans it out best he could and wraps it up, ignoring the smell of infection and death coming from Reki. 

He's been smelling worse and worse like that as the days have passed, stinking up the truck to points Langa could hardly breathe. He smells almost of rotting flesh, which isn't true, since he's not dead and isn't rotting. 

Reki is like putty in his hands as he helps him back into the truck, and they continue their journey. 

~~

The truck runs out of gas the next day. 

Langa regretfully wakes Reki from his deep sleep, wincing when the redhead snaps at his hand with a guttural snarl. But, that was his fault, he hadn't tapped him twice like they'd agreed. 

“The truck is dead,” he tells Reki, even though he isn't even sure how much he's able to understand anymore. Reki seems to catch most of what he says, so he decides to continue speaking. “We have to walk- but we're only a few mile- kilometers out, now. Won't be long. I promise.” He pauses as Reki blinks sluggishly at nothing, his lips hung open, his skin pale and green and rubbed raw in some places. Since he can't feel as well anymore, he doesn't notice when he's rubbing on something too much. He has multiple, small open wounds due to this. Langa patches them best he can, but tries not to waste bandages on them, since his side and wrist injuries need those the most. 

“Here, I'll carry you,” Langa says, deciding that Reki should walk as little as possible. He double taps Reki’s arm, and then grabs his wrists, guiding them to wrap around his neck. Reki’s hands grasp weakly at the front of his shirt, and he groans with pain and confusion. He hasn't been talking recently, after they'd been attacked. He only makes small noises, but never words. Langa wonders if he's lost the ability to speak, too. 

Once he had Reki secure on his back, Langa starts the trek in the same direction. 

~~

“Hello! Hello there!” 

Langa stops in his tracks, sweat pouring down the sides of his face and back, Reki’s weight growing heavier and heavier by the second. He was just thinking about taking a break, but now, a man is approaching them, waving a hand in the air as he approaches. 

Langa lets Reki slide from his back, doing his best to ignore Reki’s pained yelp when he hits the ground, grabbing his gun and aiming it directly at the man. The man stops in his tracks, and holds both hands up quickly. 

“Hey, hey!” he says. He sounds friendly, but Langa hasn't been trusting people, due to Reki’s condition. They always treat him like a monster, like he's already a zombie, even though he is still a human. “I am friendly, I promise! My name is Doctor Yagami- I have a cabin nearby.” 

Doctor Yagami. 

The name from the radio broadcast he'd heard back in Tokyo. The whole reason they made the trek here. Thank god he's still alive. 

He lowers the gun, hand falling to his side heavily. He lets out a breath of relief. “You the doctor with the cure?” he calls out, and the man grins brightly. 

“Oh! Someone did hear my broadcast! Excellent!” he exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly. His eyes dart to Reki, who's struggling to stand up behind Langa, and they light up with further excitement. He points at the redhead, and Langa instinctively takes a step to further block him from view. “Is your friend there infected?”

“Yes, but he's still human,” Langa snaps, ready to kill once more if the doctor turns out to be a foe. But the doctor’s grin merely doubles in size, and he rushes to stand directly in front of them, crouching to get a better look at Reki’s face. He reaches a hand out towards his face, like he's about to touch him, and Langa slaps it midway. “Don’t touch him.” 

“Ah, right, sorry,” Doctor Yagami says quickly, standing back up straight. “It's just, I've never seen someone this early into the transformation! It's exciting, really.” 

Langa’s nose curls in disgust. “Exciting?” he echoes with disbelief. He doesn't know whether he prefers people trying to kill Reki on sight because of his condition, or this man acting as if this was a fucking field day. 

“Well, yes!” the doctor says, clapping his hands together. Reki flinches, hissing lightly, and Langa reaches backwards, tapping him twice on the hand before grabbing it to reassure him. Yagami’s eyes follow the movements. “He will be a great help in my research for a cure- to catch the infection so early in development will further my research for a cure by tenfold.” 

“He's not a fucking science experiment,” Langa growls, tightening his grip on Reki’s hand. He would not have this man treat Reki less than a person. “He's a patient, sick and in need of your help.” 

The doctor’s smile falters at Langa’s words, and his arm tenses, preparing to raise his gun again and leave. But then, Yagami nods in affirmation. “Yes, you are absolutely correct!” he says, and smacks himself in the face. “I let my excitement get the better of me. Won't happen again! Come, come. You and your friend can stay in my cabin until I have perfected the cure.” 

Langa narrows his eyes at Yagami’s face for a moment, before letting out a defeated sigh. He has to trust this man, no matter how odd and shady he is. He has no other leads for a cure, and Reki’s time seems to be getting shorter and shorter. He probably doesn't have much time left. 

So, he nods, and allows the doctor to lead them into the tree line. 

~~

When they reach the cabin the doctor had mentioned, Langa pauses outside. “We’ll be in in a moment,” he tells Yagami, when he stops to look back at them. The doctor shrugs before heading in, his eyes lingering on Reki’s face a second too long for Langa’s comfort. 

Langa turns to Reki, tapping him twice on his shoulder to let him know it's him before he cups both of the redhead’s cheeks, squishing them a little. Reki leans into his touch, eyes half lidded, blankly staring forward. Langa smooths the skin of his cheeks with his thumbs. 

“We made it, Reki,” he says, louder than he typically would. Reki doesn't have the best hearing right now, so he uses a louder tone to make sure he can be heard. “We found the doctor- you're going to be cured soon!” 

Reki groans in response, as if he couldn't understand a word Langa was saying, before his lips twitch, and they curl into a tight and shaking smile. Langa smiles back wetly, even though his friend couldn't see it, and he lightly presses their foreheads together, ignoring the smell of decay wafting from Reki’s skin. 

“You've done so good, Reki,” Langa tells him, pride in his voice. Reki moans, his eyes closing fully. Langa can't stop himself from pressing a light kiss to one of his cheeks. He probably doesn't even feel it, but that doesn't matter too much. He’ll make up for it once Reki is healed and can feel everything again. “Just a little bit longer.” 

He guides Reki into Yagami’s cabin, finding rows of medical equipment and large machines lining the walls. Yagami is looking into a microscope as they enter, and Langa tenses at the sound of zombies snarling nearby. 

“Don't mind them,” the doctor tells them flippantly. He gestures towards a door on the other side of the room, chained multiple times over. The door is shaking with hits from the other side. “Those are just my lab rats, as you could call them.” He looks up from the microscope with a grin. “They won't be bothering us.” 

Langa grimaces in response, and glances around the cabin. It's small, without furniture. There is the chained door, and then the kitchen beside it. The kitchen is covered in more scientific equipment, and the only other door is the exit to the backyard. 

“Is there anywhere he can rest? He needs to lay down,” Langa says pointedly, once more grabbing Doctor Yagami’s attention. 

“Hm? Oh, yes yes,” Yagami says, and pulled himself from the microscope altogether. He walks to the edge of the main room, reaches up, grabs a string hanging from the wall, and tugs down a ladder leading into the ceiling. “I've been sleeping in the attic. Safest area, in my opinion. They can't climb, after all.” He pauses, and gives Reki a dubious look. “Do you think your friend will be able to?” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Langa snaps, the doctor starting to get on his nerves. Then, he looks at the ladder with a frown. It is going to be a trip getting Reki up there. But if that's where a bed or mattress is, then that's where he needs to go, to be able to rest. “Come on, Reki.” 

He starts by guiding Reki’s hands to the fifth bar, letting his friend feel it out best he can. When Reki doesn't show any recognition, Langa bends over, tapping his ankle before moving it up to the first step. Reki’s eyes widen in surprise, but he seems to understand what it is he's on, because the next moment, he's messily bringing his second foot onto the first rung. 

Langa ignores the way the doctor follows their every movement, and chooses to instead focus on getting Reki to the top of the ladder. He stays a step beneath him, to keep him from falling, though they have a few close calls. 

Once they've reached the top, Reki falls to his side, panting from the exertion. Langa smiles fondly down at him, before pulling himself up beside the redhead. He spots a mattress stuffed in a corner, and even though it may belong to the doctor, he helps Reki lay down across it. Reki lets out a sigh of relief, hazy eyes half lidded. It's the most relaxed he's looked the past week. 

Langa covers him with a blanket he finds on the floor once he's dusted it, and double taps Reki’s shoulder to let him know it's him. He brushes a cupped hand down Reki’s cheek, and the redhead leans into the touch hungrily. 

It hurts for him to leave Reki, but he heads down to see if there's any way he could help the doctor find the cure any faster. 

Reki doesn't move. 

~~

His sleep was blissful, and over all too soon. 

There's a double tapping on his shoulder, informing him that Langa is about to touch him. He peels open his useless eyes, and sits up when Langa helps him. He makes his confusion of what is happening prevalent by groaning, but he doesn't hear Langa respond. His brows furrowed in confusion- Langa always speaks with him and keeps him informed of whatever they were doing, even if he can't always fully understand what he's saying. 

But, Reki follows Langa, anyways, even as his confusion grows at being led back down the ladder. 

His body aches from moving again, so he tries to lean into Langa’s side. Langa is always ready to take his weight and help him, but he doesn't seem to want to right now as he avoids Reki’s weight and pushes him back. 

That hurts Reki. Has Langa finally realized how much of a burden he is? 

He's led outside- he can tell because he can feel the pressure of a blast of air hit his side. He stumbles, and Langa yanks him back steady, grabbing his injured wrist to do so. It sends a flair of pain throughout his entire body, and he hisses with agony, only for Langa to hit him upside the head after he lets loose the sound. He stumbles, and then swallows heavily. Langa has never been this rough with him before. 

He's forced to his knees a few minutes later, and he thinks they're back inside, because there isn't anymore wind. He stays still when Langa grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head to the side, but whines with confusion. A moment later, and something is being shoved into the side of his neck. 

He lets out a guttural scream at the pain of it. He thinks it’s maybe a needle, but he isn't sure. 

Whatever it is, it's stinging and burning and why is Langa doing this to him? 

A moment later, his injured arm is yanked out, and the bandages are shredded from his skin painfully. He screeches with pain, his head dropping forward, his lungs burning as he heaves for air. 

What is Langa doing to him? Reki can't understand. 

But… it's Langa, isn't it? If it's Langa, then it must be for a reason. He bites back another scream when something sharp jabs at the wound in his wrist. He can feel his mouth foaming, and he wheezes as his head is thrown back once more unceremoniously. 

Langa still hasn't said anything. Why isn't he? Langa always explains what's happening to Reki. Especially if it was going to cause pain. 

Maybe… Reki deserved it? Because he'd been bit, and he's so useless? 

The sharp pain from before jams into the side of his neck, and he chokes on a shriek. His veins are filled with fire, the flames licking at the underside of his skin and making his entire body burn. 

Something cuts into his side, lifting the skin as though searching for something. Reki’s head falls to the side, his breathing heavy rasps. 

A hand slaps his face, and he throws his head back, bulging his eyes open even though it does nothing to keep him aware. Another hand catches his jaws and forces them to open, and a slim piece of something cool and metallic is jammed into his mouth. 

He tries to spit it out instinctively, but the hand from before slaps him even harder. He gasps, cheek stinging from the repeated abuse, tears falling messily from his eyes. The foam turns to saliva and drips down his cheeks and chin, and he's sure he looks fully like the monster he's becoming. 

More and more is jammed into the sides of his neck until he can't keep count anymore, and he loses grasp on consciousness. 

~~

Langa wakes slowly at first, until he looks at the mattress Reki was supposed to be in and finds it empty of the redhead. His heart skips a beat and he shoots up to his feet, sliding down the ladder. “Reki?” he calls, not finding him or the doctor in the main room. He bursts out the front door, panic clogging his throat. “Reki!” 

“Right here!”

It's the doctor. Langa turns quickly, finding Yagami with Reki’s arm across his shoulders. Reki’s feet are dragging, his head lowered so far his chin repeatedly hits his chest. There are angry, red welts growing on the sides of his neck, and the bandaging for his wrist has disappeared. 

Without thought, Langa rushes over. He quickly takes Reki into his arms when he reaches his side, holding him close, their chests flush against each other's. Reki is breathing heavily, sides heaving, trails of blood marking both corners of his mouth. 

He holds Reki tight, his hammering heart finally starting to calm. He holds Reki out at arms length to get a better look at him, and Reki’s head lolls, eyes rolling beneath his heavy eyelids. He cups Reki’s cheek, tears hazing his vision at how weak Reki is. 

Reki was already in so much pain, and now this? Whatever this is? 

There are dried tear stains on Reki’s cheeks, the rims puffy from crying. Langa swallows heavily, and shakily presses a kiss to his forehead. Then, he turns a glare at Yagami, who is wringing his hands together. 

“What the hell happened?” he demands, his voice sharp. 

“I found him wandering out here alone,” Yagami replies, opening his hands as he speaks. “I was confused when you were nowhere to be seen, so I figured he wasn't supposed to be out here. And it seems I was right.” 

Langa’s eyes narrow. “Reki doesn't just… ‘wander around’,” he hisses. Reki groans, and suddenly Langa is holding all of his weight. His eyes sting, and he lifts Reki into his arms, so that he doesn't have to worry about standing anymore. Reki is light in his arms, all skin and bone from the infection and worsening appetite. 

Once he has Reki situated, he returns a glare in Yagami’s direction. “So I'll ask again, and try not to lie this time: what the hell happened.” His voice is a low growl, threatening and terrifying. 

The doctor’s eyes widen, and Langa wants to scoff at him. Did this man really think him so stupid that he wouldn't know his favorite person, even in this state? No one and nothing matters as much to Langa as Reki does in this world. He knows Reki wouldn’t have “wandered off”. Since being infected, without prompting, Reki never moved. Once Langa laid him down, he would stay in the exact same spot, in the exact same position until Langa got him moving again. 

Then, the doctor sighs heavily, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Fine,” he says, and Langa’s eyes narrow further. “I was trying out the cures I've made already on him.” 

“Why so secretive then?” Langa demands. He lightly runs a hand down one side of Reki's neck, the skin sticking up and hot where he assumes needles were stuck. Reki’s eyelids flutter, and he shakes his head, a grimace on his face. He then grabs Reki’s injured wrist to examine it. “And what happened to this?” The bandages are gone, and the wound is bigger than it usually was, blsck leaking out with the red and yellow. 

“Side effects of the test cures,” Yagami replies. He smiles a moment later. “Though, that may be a good sign, that the black is draining from his blood. That blood is the infection.” He pauses to tap his chin. “Tell me, was he leaking that black infection before, too?” 

Langa doesn't answer. But he does know the doctor had a point. Before, only puss and blood would drain from Reki’s wrist. Never the black infection. Maybe this is good…? But he can't shake off the feeling that something about this is wrong. 

“Don't do anything with him again unless I'm with you,” Langa snaps. “Got it?” 

Doctor Yagami is silent for a moment. His nose scrunches, brows furrowing. “Or what?” he asks, his voice low. Langa’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth to respond, but the doctor beats him to it, “I'm your friend’s only hope for a cure… you can't kill me even if you want to.” He grins maliciously, dark gaze on the side of Reki’s face. “I can do as I please to either of you because I'm your only hope.” 

“Do you really think I'll just sit by and let you hurt Reki?” Langa says, even though he knows Yagami has the upper hand in the matter. He grinds his teeth together, and the doctor’s grin widens. He holds Reki closer, heart hammering in his chest. With trembling lips and hands, Langa whispers, “Please, don't hurt him. He's already suffering.” 

The doctor hums. “He probably can't even feel anything at this point, so don't worry about any injuries,” Yagami tells him, and begins to walk back to the cabin. “No zombie can actually feel pain, and your friend is closer to being a zombie than a human.” 

“He can still feel it,” Langa protests, reluctantly following behind Doctor Yagami. He doesn't want to. He wants to pull his gun out and shoot him through the heart for hurting Reki. But he knows he can't do that. Yagami knows that, too. He hates this. “He still cries. He still flinches when he gets hurt!” 

“Instinctual responses, I'm sure,” Yagami says, stepping into the cabin. The wood floor creaks under his weight. Langa bites his bottom lip at the doctor’s response. He doesn't think this man will listen to reason. He's waved off dismissively. “Now run along. Lay him down. I will continue working on the cure for him.” 

Langa vows to kill that man as soon as Reki is cured. 

~~

Another day passes, and Reki can't even get up from the mattress anymore. Langa doesn't make him. He also doesn't leave the redhead’s side again, not trusting the doctor. 

At midnight Doctor Yagami climbs up, a grin on his face, and a syringe in his hand. He looks from Langa to Reki, and nods ecstatically. 

Langa sits up, eyeing the syringe suspiciously. 

“I believe I've got it!” the doctor exclaims. Langa’s eyes widen, and he meets Yagami halfway between the attic entrance and Reki. The doctor holds the syringe out for him to see, but looks like any other shot. He pauses. “May I try it on your friend? I don't know how else to tell for sure.” 

Langa bites down on his lower lip, looking at Reki anxiously. His breathing are sharp rasps that cut at his throat, sides heaving. He has hardly moved that day, appearing more dead than alive. 

Finally, Langa relents with a nod. “Will it hurt him?” 

“Most likely, yes,” Yagami replies. Langa draws a sharp breath through his nose, but allows the doctor to slip past him. He grabs Reki’s injured arm, and when the Canadian makes a noise of protest, he holds a hand up. “I think it would be best to inject it into the area first infected. It'll spread from there like the infection did… hopefully.” 

Langa says nothing more, but watches with sharp eyes as Doctor Yagami slides the needle into the bite wound. Reki gasps with slight pain, and Langa tenses at the sound, but sits still as he pushes the medicine into Reki’s flesh. 

There's a moment of silence, and then Reki is screaming, writhing on the mattress. The black liquid pours out of his wound, out of his mouth and eyes and ears and any other hole in his skin. Langa’s heart skips a beat and he pushes past Yagami to help Reki sit up. The redhead hunches over instantly, hacking up more and more of the black stuff infecting his blood. 

He vomits and exudes the stuff for at least two hours, in which Langa stays by his side the entire time. He runs soothing hands through his hair and down his back, offering support even though Reki probably can't feel it. 

Finally, finally, he empties of the infection. He falls forward, and Langa quickly catches him to stop him from hitting the floor face first. The doctor rests a hand on his forehead to check for his temperature, and then slides down the ladder. 

Langa doesn't call after him. Instead, he cradles Reki close, heart aching for the horrible pain his friend has been through. It's just pain after pain, and Langa wants to take all of that pain from him. To experience it himself, since it should be him in pain and not the other way around. 

Yagami returns with a cup. Langa inspects it, nose scrunching at the strange liquid in it. “It's to cleanse any remaining infection,” the doctor explains. “Just to be sure. It should also help relieve some of his pain.” 

Hesitantly, Langa leans Reki back enough to expose his lips. His eyes are still that same milky white, but his veins are free of that blackness, purified to their old light blue. His skin isn't the best pallor still, either, but it's not as green anymore. 

He places the rim of the cup against Reki’s lips, gently guiding his jaws open. Reki breathes heavily, but is otherwise silent, obediently gulping down the drink Langa offered. His body relaxes once the cup is empty, slumping against Langa’s chest heavily. 

Langa looks at Doctor Yagami expectantly, and the man hums deeply. “That… should have worked,” he says. “I tested it on the cells of fully transformed zombies, and it changed them back to regular human particles. And since he isn't fully transformed, it should have a full effect. But we’ll have to wait to know for sure.” 

Langa hates to wait. But he looks down at Reki’s slumbering face, and resigns himself to his fate. He doesn't even care if the black liquid is staining the mattress, blanket, and his outfit. It's out of Reki, so that's all that matters. 

He just hopes it will be enough. 

~~

Reki sleeps for three days straight. 

Langa stays by his side the entire time, but is starting to go stir crazy by the third day. Throughout the three days Reki was sleeping, the pallor of skin became healthier and healthier, tanning back out from the sickly green to the shade Langa was used to. It's at the end of the third day that Reki’s eyes finally peel open, and he gasps at what he sees. 

The honey amber has returned. His eyes aren't completely milky white, anymore. The color is still dull and pale compared to what it had been before he'd been bitten, but it's enough. 

And when Reki looks at Langa- eyes squinting against the light-, and actually sees him again, he can't stop himself from bursting into tears. 

He can't stop himself from grabbing Reki’s face and slamming their lips together in a desperate kiss. Reki’s once again colored eyes widen with surprise- he can feel again!- before he kisses Langa back.

Neither can stop crying. 

Reki was saved. 

Perhaps the doctor doesn't have to die, yet, after all. 

For now, Langa hugs Reki close, and Reki hugs him right back. “I love you,” Langa whispers into his ear, because it should go without saying, but he wants to say it anyway. 

Reki’s breath hitches with a sob. He buries his face into Langa’s neck, breathing his scent again because he can smell again! “I love you too,” Reki whispers right back. 

They don't let each other go. And Langa doesn't think he ever wants to let Reki go again.