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Nine weeks.
It had been nine weeks since the world had failed to hold itself up any longer.
Hell had risen, the undead walked the surface, and the air tasted of death and rot. (not that anyone noticed anymore. those who made themselves known were either turned, silenced, or left behind to their own devices.)
Most of Dan Heng's friends were either turned or missing by now.
All except one.
Caelus.
But he wasn't himself anymore. Around the first or second week, there was a fight (safety is an illusion in the apocalypse). His neck was barely grazed by the teeth of the monsters surrounding them, but, these days?
Every piece of contact is a countdown.
By the eighth week, the monsters weren't even the worst part anymore. The worst of it came when Dan Heng had to watch his partner writhe under the pain of corruption, holding on by a thread just for him.
Silence stretched taut between the two of them - thick and suffocating, like a second skin they couldn't shed. They wouldn't speak unless they had to (don't make yourself known). Dan Heng didn't even know if Caelus *could* speak anymore. Had his vocal cords rotted away? (had his heart?) Words were too loud now, too human (the monsters knew how to listen). For Dan Heng, sleep came in flashes, trust even less. He didn't know if the sick beast that had tainted his partner's mind was just toying with him now, or if Caelus was still in there, somewhere.
Caelus sat against the wall, unblinking as he stared at the door (he hadn't blinked in hours [he's no longer there.]). Dan Heng had blood caked under his nails (don't remember whose).
Whatever was left of the world didn't want them anymore (something in both of them was telling them to let go).
---
Caelus hadn't attacked him. Even when Dan Heng had sat in front of him, vulnerable and practically waiting for it to happen, Caelus stayed.
He was no longer human, that much was obvious. But there was a flicker in his (dull, lifeless) eyes whenever Dan Heng would come into view.
That flicker is what had stopped him from pulling the trigger.
The first time he had tried, about nine days after he was turned, Caelus had tilted his head and swayed in the wind like some sort of life-mimicking machine.
His hand shook.
He dropped his gun.
And now they travelled "together". It was more like Dan Heng adventured while Caelus shadowed behind him, his bones rattling through his thinned skin as he staggered behind his partner.
Even now, as Dan Heng dangled his legs off of a nearby dumpster, Caelus stood a few feet away, head tilted as if waiting for a cue to move. He kept his gun slung across his back and let the husk of his partner skulk behind him.
Neither of them ever strayed far. When Dan Heng would attempt to rest, Caelus would stand near the entrance to their hideout, eyes "focused" on the outside. When Dan Heng walked, Caelus shifted a few steps behind him - never ahead or beside.
When a stray zombie had lurked into their camp, Caelus lunged at it with a speed no longer human, feasting on its heart on all fours.
Protective. Loyal (he's a monster). Like before (he's not coming back).
It was worse that way. Some days, Dan Heng couldn't handle the way that Caelus was always there, just out of reach. He would hold the gun to his head, stare into the hollowed-out eyes of his partner, and lower his hand.
Dan Heng kicked his feet silently, staring into the open world. It was decaying.
He heard Caelus's familiar (inhuman, grotesque) gait approach, and he turned his head.
Caelus stood there, something crushed and wilting in his hand.
He clumsily brought it forward, unceremoniously dropping the item onto Dan Heng's hand.
It was a dandelion. The stubborn buggers were one of the only flowers left, and even still they were hard to find.
Dan Heng didn't move at first. Just stared into his palm at the withering petals.
When he looked up, Caelus was gone.
---
It was a few days before Caelus had shown up again. Dan Heng was always waiting for the slow, deliberate (staggering, weakening) gait of his partner. Eventually, he heard it.
The clattering of bones and the smell of death approaching from beyond the door.
There was no banging, no attempt at intrusion - that's how he knew (you would've welcomed Lady Death with open arms).
He opened the door, staring at his partner.
Caelus seemed weaker than before, his skin a little greyer, his eyes dimmer. But he still looked at Dan Heng.
Deep down, he knew his partner wouldn't last.
He'd either wait until Dan Heng killed him or be so disgusted with himself that he took the gun in his own rotting hands.
---
It was nine hours after Caelus's return that Dan Heng noticed.
He noticed the way his eyes would fully cloud over before he would blink it back. He noticed the way his muscles would tense when Dan Heng came near. He noticed the way his fingers flexed when they would pass a group of survivors.
He was losing himself (you lost him the moment he was bitten; you're lying to yourself).
Once they got back to their makeshift hideout, Dan Heng sighed and spoke.
"I know you're losing it, Caelus," his voice was rough from disuse and his words cracked with emotion.
Caelus let out a quiet groan, his head tilting as he looked over at Dan Heng (he can't understand you. you're insane).
---
He picked up the gun.
He had two bullets.
He waited until nightfall.
---
"I'll.. give you the count to three," Dan Heng said, turning to face his partner.
Caelus stared at him, a strangled snarl escaping his throat as he staggered to a sitting position.
"Don't.. don't face me, please.."
Caelus didn't move.
Dan Heng sighed and forced his trembling hands to move (this was overdue).
The shot fired.
He vaguely felt his partner's body slumped forward onto his feet, blood soaking the wall behind him and the floor beneath.
He loaded the second bullet without a thought.