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Soft. Gentle. Tender.
These were all words that Wolf was not familiar with. It was for pussies who cried for people like him not to hurt them. It was for people who were not like him and maybe did not beat people just because.
When the world turned to shit, he still was not familiar with these words. Waking up one day and suddenly there was flesh eating monsters running around did nothing but make him shift into a higher gear. More closed off and made him think a bit more.
This certainly was not on his bucket list.
(But to be honest all that was on his bucket list was to do whatever he wanted til he died.)
He just needed to survive.
Keep fighting.
He’s done it for most of his life, he can take a little more.
It’s a bit different now though.
Too bad he couldn’t afford to get hit anymore because that meant he’d be at risk of getting infected. Dodging between blows from rotten fists and chomping teeth. It felt unnatural but honestly he’d rather be alive and breathing than risk some rotten bastard biting his hand.
It doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the familiar tightness in his veins of needing a fix. An adrenaline rush to keep him going and cigarettes alone were not gonna cut it. Not when his supply was running low and you can’t find cigarettes easily because all the other greedy bastards like him already snagged them.
On a day where he was tired as shit, he got careless. He should not have slammed three other survivors into the ground right when they looked at him. Admitting it was a bad idea was hard though since it felt so good to not have to fucking dodge or think about exhausting shit like that.
He shouldn’t really be surprised when he’s caught in the middle of the street by a horde. He doesn’t really think ahead for things like that; so when he heard the rumbling of footsteps, he ducked into the nearest store. Wrenching it closed with a nearby wooden plank, he sighed and backed away. Before he heard a familiar sound of croaking and groaning from an inhumane source.
Slamming his fist behind him without looking where it was going, it landed right into some decaying flesh. Then without a second for him to process, teeth bit down harshly on his hand. The teeth gnashing onto his skin in the moment it was there, making a mess of his palm.
He quickly twisted himself to be able to land his other fist on the zombie’s face. Half of its face ripping apart and falling on the ground. His chest rising and falling with, now, infected lungs; he held up his hand to his eyes. His hand dripped red and bloody onto the tiles in the store. Expression hidden behind his glasses that have somehow not broken in yet.
Then he sighs and just walks back until he slides down the wall in exhaustion.
He hopes those bitches he beat up got stomped on and eaten.
After a while of just sitting there, he groans and gets up. Cursing under his breath as he quite literally could not be bothered to give a shit anymore.
Well, he’s gonna die.
Whatever, might as well just be a goddamn zombie.
He’d been a dog before, not like that’s any better than this. Even if he was getting paid while being one.
Maybe he can take out Donald Na as a zombie. Would feel pretty good if that fucker was even still alive.
So when the crowd passes, he wraps his hand and keeps moving. Slinging his bag full of his shit over his shoulder, he walks on with his head up. Not one to give into giving up so easily or losing his will to move.
He’s Wolf Keum and fuck no, he’s not gonna peel over and die immediately.
So he makes it back to the apartment he’s taken refuge in. Dumping his things on the table and pulling a bottled water from under the cabinet and downing it. He’ll wait it out and just do whatever he wants until he does.
Sure, It’s humiliating and a little embarrassing to die this way so easily. After a few months into the apocalypse, he was hoping he’d hold out a little farther than this. But none of this changes the fact he’s gonna die.
But it happened and there’s no one to blame except for himself. There’s no one to hit to make himself feel better either.
So no, he doesn’t turn soft or tender in the face of death.
A day passes.
…
Then three days do.
He’s sitting around in the apartment he’s taken to call his, just lying in the weirdly nice bed. It’s then he realizes that he’s not even remotely turning. He doesn’t have any of the normal symptoms and he doesn’t feel decay set in from the infection.
Well.
Apparently, Wolf Keum is given immunity to the virus in this weird turn of fate.
He’s stubborn and he barks out laughs when he realizes it. Cackling as he wraps his hand again because he can still die from infection and that’ll be annoying as shit. His fists clench as he tests the gauze wrapped around his hand.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
Zombies can’t knock and if someone wanted him dead, they’d just shoot the fucking lock off. So he grins and swings open the door, quickly pulling in the wrist of the person who knocked. His bigger hand wrapping around her wrist tugging her into the inside of his apartment.
“Hey hey-! Don’t tug me so hard!” A voice scolds him as she’s shoved into the boy’s chest. She can smell a distinct scent that was so painfully obvious to him and cigarettes. There’s also blood and the general scent of decay that lingered on anyone but it’s easy to look past.
“Shut the fuck up for a sec.” His arms are wrapped around her tight and his fingers dig into her jacket. His face buried in her hair as she huffs and lets him. It’s odd for him to be so clingy when she checks up on him.
They had met when she heard the door next to her stolen apartment rattle and shake. Someone obviously breaking into it but it was a zombie apocalypse so who really cares. She certainly didn’t. Just as long as this person doesn’t bother her then everything will be fine.
Well shitty first meetings and a knife pressed to her neck seemed to indicate that everything will not in fact be fine with this person. He had greasy purple hair that looked a little matted down, his face and clothes smeared with substances that made her gag. Glasses that somehow looked unscathed in the face of an apocalypse.
His face itself… looked attractive if she put away everything else awful about him. Prideful eyes and dried lips on his face as he stared down at her.
Though, she wasn’t one to care.
“Fuck-” She muttered before she brought her knee hard on his crotch. It seems even this intimidating boy above her had feelings too as well as his family jewels.
“-Off, man! You smell like shit!” Her voice says as she’s on the floor of the apartment next to her own. From where he was on top of her, he mutters swears as he collapses to the side. Before the girl stands up, muttering curses under her own breath. Goddamn, when did he get so fucking sensitive?
What a fucking pain.
Her hands roam over his things laid haphazardly on the table, while he gets over his own seething pain to shoot her a glare. His body leaning against the kitchen counter as he breathes heavily.
“Don’t steal my shit, you fucking bitch.” His voice raspy and hoarse because shit, knee to the balls does NOT feel good. He doesn’t even feel the will to throw a punch in her direction.
“Don’t have ta, my shit’s better.” Her tongue sticks out at him as she drops the stuff she was holding back on the table.
At her uncaring response, he feels his lips pull into a sneer. Guts for a girl. First one he’s met in this hellhole with this personality. Usually he shook down chicks to make them give him their supplies before promptly leaving them alone and stranded. Or with their boyfriends that he beat up to feel something other than survival.
But she was different. A little more interesting.
His first impression of her only grew stronger when she left his apartment and came back with her own backpack. Plopping on the couch as she beckoned to come closer, telling him that they can barter like old people used to do. He mutters for her not to order him around but brings his stuff to her side as well.
Only complying wholeheartedly when he saw that she had two packs of smokes, waving to his things and telling her to get whatever the hell she wanted. As long as he could get those. She settled on a pocket knife that cut her finger when she remotely grazed it. Smiling at him with a slight smirk, thanking him.
Everyday was a snore in his opinion, scared people and rotting bodies were the norm. The high of an apocalypse wore off quickly.
But her….
She shook things up.
With having the revelation that he was immune, he tugged her close. The only person he had close to an equal. They usually went on supply runs on different days, not seeing each other for weeks. He wondered vaguely if this was the last time he’d see her everytime they parted ways but it’d just be a loss for his nicotine addiction.
(He ignored the shake in his fists whenever she’d leave for too long. Sometimes he wanted to force her to come with him instead but he begrudgingly respected her independence.)
Fingers danced over the bandage on his hand, grazing him softly as he hides his face in her hair. It smells of grime and sweat but it’s definitely her. A semblance of normalcy in this fucked up world.
“I bet you cut your hand, idiot. I told you to stop punching zombies. It’s fucking stupid.”
“Tryna change my style?”
“Trying to stop you from getting fucking bit.”
…
Well, he certainly doesn’t tell her what happened. So after a run in with death, he forces her next to him. He didn’t mind being alone, preferring it in the normal world when he was surrounded by annoying people and fucking idiots. But he knew she could survive, knew she wasn’t a complete burden. Or else she wouldn’t have gotten this far.
She doesn’t mind all that much, days were dreary and all she did was work out to make sure her body didn’t peel over and die. So she spends more time in his apartment. When there wasn’t anyone else around, people talked a lot. She rambled and he’d succumb himself to it while closing his eyes. Snide comments leave his lips in the form of responses.
Most of the time, they’d lie together on the leather couch. It’s ripped and worn from use from the previously dead owner. He didn’t realize how nice it was to feel warmth when you slept. How much he craved human contact and she was the only one he could stand giving it to him.
When she slept, she seemed less on edge. Vulnerable. In his arms, she slept peacefully and his scarred fingers traced her resting face. Their dirty and stained clothes rubbed one another’s as they curled up on the couch.
Grimey in this world, but at least he was alive. Nothing mattered other than surviving but his own personal slice of heaven came in the form of a rough girl. She came from towns over, not from his area. He would’ve never met her otherwise. At least he was breathing and at least he had her.
Then, he had successfully dragged her on a supply run. It was farther out and he wanted to see if they could get anything they haven’t before. So they packed their bags and set off. Travelling with her was easy, she liked her quiet and he liked his. Not one of those annoying fucks he saw sometimes who talked even though they were literally in an apocalypse.
They walked and walked and walked under the blistering sun, good thing she didn’t whine or complain or he might’ve started whaling on her. When there didn’t seem to be anyone in the area is when they took to exchanging conversation.
“Y’know, I was a top dog in my school ‘fore the world turned to shit.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Whaddya think? I beat people up and got dirty money for it.”
She snorts as she wipes her brow from sweat. Stray hairs sticking to her face before she takes a swig from her water bottle.
“Guess it doesn’t mean shit now.”
“Guess so. I fucking hated it after a while anyway.”
She hums and as they turn a corner in the path they’re on, her face lights up. It’s a river with rushing water. Wolf swears he has to put a hand up to shield his eyes when she turns to him. Pulling a hand that has a leather fingerless glove on it, she drags him. To where he used to be a bit stronger to people’s will, he’s grown skinnier and was pulled along easily at her weaker grip.
She’s rambling and so excited that they found running clear water. Before he can tell her to shut the hell up in case there were zombies around, she’s already taking off her shirt. His eyes almost bulge out behind his glasses at her body being so carelessly revealed to him. Within a minute, she’d already shed her jacket, shirt, and pants. Stripping her shoes and socks off as well, filled to the brim with excitement.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” She asks incredulously as she holds her clothes. Her form only covered by her bra and underwear. His eye twitches as he greedily drinks in her almost naked body before he silently strips himself of his own clothes. Only keeping his boxers and a lone glove on, she carelessly grabs his scarred hand.
Hers is as rough as his, scarred too as they both are used to carrying guns and knives. But none of it seems to matter when they’re in freezingly cold water running to their thighs. She’s laughing under the sound of running water as she goes to sit down in it. Wiping her face from sweat and dirt, the dried black blood on her hands wash away as well.
In the water, he sees her free from the weight of their world. Careless as she washes and wrings out her dirty clothes in the water. He’s fucking freezing in the water as he mirrors her, silent as he just listens to her humming and rambles. Washing himself and his clothes as he can see her eyes stare at the many scars he has.
When their clothes lay to dry, she turns to him and laughs. He’s stone cold as she plucks the glasses off his face that he forgot to remove. Without droplets covering his vision, he can see her clearly. He keeps a carefully indifferent gaze as he examines her.
She’s smiling so much and he thinks this must be what she looked like and acted like before everything went to shit.
Placing the glasses next to their drying clothes on the tree stump, she comes back close to him. Placing her arms on his shoulders as she looks up at him. The water loud in his ear and the sun beating down on them.
“You didn’t even try to wash your hair!” She mutters as she runs her fingers through the purple locks. His roots have grown in a fair bit but he doesn’t really care. It’s then he leans in and buries his face in her neck. Looking up at her from there before placing a kiss there.
She’s smiling a bit too smug for his liking so he wipes it away by placing his lips on hers. The water helping with the dry of their lips as they kiss. Pent up feelings for each other and the pain of not having anyone else in this fucked up place are released. He’s breathing heavily as he lies her down on the grass and touches her everywhere he can.
Sinking into her with a feeling of something filling his veins. A straight shot of drugs right into his system. His fingers tangle with hers as he hears her breathy moans. Soft in his ear along with the whisper of his name. It makes him want to chase for the rest of his life.
Fuck cigarettes, he could get used to his name tumbling off her lips everyday.
When they’re done, their clothes are dry but they go back in the river for another wash of their bodies. Her fingers in his hair and his in hers. It’s soft, something he’s not used to. Tender in ways he’s not familiar with.
Her eyes are gentle in a way he can’t even imagine being.
So, when they’re dry from the sun, they set off again. It’s a little different now, a little closer. Their silence is comforting as their steps fill it. Fingers graze his as they walk and when something happens, his arm goes in front of her.
They find a building, it seems like a warehouse. Splitting up to cover ground as they both started unpacking boxes and picking up discarded items. When it reaches around 10 minutes of scavenging, his fingers graze a box of fabrics. When he digs so maybe he can get some shirts that don’t have rips in them, he finds something different.
He holds up a dress under the flashlight he carried along. It’s a dark purple dress that should rest somewhere on her thighs if it fits her right. Wolf should be allowed to indulge a little, it’s an apocalypse; not a penitentiary. So he licks his teeth as he shoves it in his bag, a stupidly big smirk on his face.
Perfect.
“Opinions on dresses?”
“Impractical.” Her voice calls back from the other side of the warehouse, sounding annoyed at the very sound of the word. He barks out a laugh at her response.
“Well, I’m the only one who’s gonna see it.” He hears a snort at his response and a “better not be ugly then” before it’s quiet again. Only the sound of their footsteps and rustling of things in the darkness. The sound of the door creaked but he chalked it up to the sounds of an old building.
He could account for most things, even if he didn’t usually. He was impulsive and instinctive, doing things that felt right in the moment no matter what. Even if something didn’t go his way, he beat people until it did. No matter what.
Too bad he couldn’t account for muffled screaming from the girl he lived next to. His head snapping to the noise before his legs caught up to his brain. Rushing over with his flashlight as he could see her get dragged back out the door to the warehouse.
He felt fury run through him as he grit his teeth. Running up quickly to them as he swears he felt smoke leave his lips as his eyes settled on her. A knife pressed to her neck and the other hand covering her mouth. He sees some little asshole he had beat before to let off some steam, one of the three before he had gotten bit.
The boy is laughing as Wolf looks enraged. Unable to hide the shake in his fists as a wicked sneer is pulled to his lips. Her eyes are pleading as she stares at him, something hidden in her eyes. The sun is shining on them still, out of the dark of the warehouse.
“Did I not beat you good enough before?” His voice carries malice and venom as he spits to the boy in front of him. This boy opens his mouth and it’s all worthless. All he’s spewing is something about revenge and something about a one on one fight. It’s childish and rash.
But that’s fine.
He’s used to immaturity and childish fights.
Familiarity is settled in his bones as he drops his bag on the ground. Right when he does, she’s let go. But not before she can land her elbow behind herself, getting the guy in the gut. The guy sputters as his knife is kicked to the side. She’s coughing and murmuring curses as she steps back into Wolf’s radius.
His hands reach and tuck her into his side, roughly pointing her chin up to see if the piece of shit tried to do something. Said piece of shit is still grumbling and holding his stomach, glaring daggers in his direction.
“Control your bitch.”
Oh?
Oh.
Now that sets him off.
When he’s sure this piece of shit has nothing hidden, he lunges forward. Fists ablaze as he can feel the crunch of the guy’s jaw under his knuckles. He hasn’t let himself go in a while. Now seems like just the perfect time to let loose.
“Let’s start from the top, okay?” He coos down to the boy wedged under him. The piece of shit looks pissed as he recoils to punch Wolf. And Wolf takes it. Smiling with a gleam in his eye as his head snaps back to the boy.
It feels like an itch is being scratched that’s been ignored for a while.
“It’s not your fucking turn.” Is all he says before he starts repeating one word. The bitch obviously doesn’t know how to fight, he doesn’t know why the little shit bothered but it doesn’t matter now. All he can think about is hitting face, face, face, face, before the guy passes out.
But before he can, the boy heaves a long breath as he’s being pummeled. Before screaming with everything the little shit has in him.
Wolf immediately covers his mouth but the damage is done and the three hear the sounds of branches crunching and faster and faster footsteps from all directions. Deciding for Wolf, the girl runs next to the guy biting down on his hand. Driving the pocket knife she got from Wolf in the dude’s throat and shutting him up forever.
Next, he’s tripping over himself to grasp his backpack. Then he grabs her and makes the dash for their lives. Because even though he's immune, she sure as hell isn’t. And losing the girl isn’t an option for Wolf. And fighting out of this mess is the only answer he gives himself.
Running into the direction they came across, the sun doesn’t seem to matter anymore. The hoard of zombies sounded like they got attracted to the area where the kid screamed. But she grabs his arm and they keep running for their lives.
After what feels like forever, the two of them duck into a random house. Sliding down the wall as they catch their breaths. She starts smiling and laughing out of breath though. He signs himself away to the sound as he heaves his down breaths.
“The fuck… is so… funny…?”
Laughing some more as she rubs her palm against her forehead. Knees pulled to her chest, grinning as she looks back at him.
“Why the… fuck did you keep saying face..? Oh god.. It was so funny…”
He’s glad that got her smiling. He grabs her shoulder and pulls her to him, kissing in her hair before he sighs. Closing his eyes as he feels like he’s on top of the goddamn world. Sweaty, exhausted, and his knuckles are bleeding and bruised.
She laughs as they sit there for a while longer before pulling herself to her feet. He follows suit and stands with her as they look at the empty house. Seems like it’s already been scavenged dry from. That’s alright, they made good on their run.
Before he can think, there’s a fast one running up to him. One that’s been stuck in the house, transformed into something worse. Faster and more built than any of the normal zombies he’s come across. It rushes him and he shoves her out of the fucking way. Barking at her to shoot it but then more are attracted to the noise.
Suddenly, it’s gone to shit and she fights off the other mutated ones in the house. His hands go up as he tries to reach for the machete on his back. She’s gasping his name in a way he doesn’t like. That she isn’t supposed to sound like.
He feels teeth chomp down on his arm and he curses under his breath. It’s teeth gnawing at him like a piece of fried fucking chicken. It doesn’t bother him much until a scream, shrill and loud, rings out in the air. The mutated monster is stronger than normal but somehow falls at only a few punches from his free hand.
But when it falls, he can see it now. Wedged in its head is a pocket knife and his eyes are drawn up to her. Tears down her face as she’s holding her shoulder. The shirt she’s wearing oozes with her blood and she seems to have forgotten about the zombies that were surrounding her. She looks despondent that he’s bit and he doesn’t know why he didn’t just fucking tell her he was immune.
Why didn’t he?
But he doesn’t have time to comfort her. A zombie has its eyes honed on her and Wolf watches as its teeth dig into her neck. She falls to her knees and lets herself get bit by this monster. His gray eyes stare for a millisecond before he jumps to his feet, kicking the one she killed to the side. Dashing to her, he pulled his gun from its holster. He usually liked taking his time knowing he was immune but that doesn’t matter-
None of it matters anymore.
Why did she let herself get bit?
Why would she do that?
He shoots all of them more than necessary and empties his magazine as he heaves in heavy breaths. Heavier than when they were walking in the sun. Heavier than when they were running. She’s sobbing her heart out as she sits there on her knees, uselessly crying his name. Peeling over and whining for him because he got bit and he’s gonna fucking die and he’s stupid-
Something in him snaps.
Bloody hands grip her face, squishing her cheeks together. Kneeled in front of her, pressing his forehead to hers. Forcing her to look at him. Panicked and furious eyes twitching as they meet her sorrowful ones.
Furious she’d give herself up so easily.
Angry that she even thought of doing that.
(Livid that he didn’t prevent it.)
“I’m fucking immune, you idiot!”
He rips off the glove on his hand to reveal the bite mark that’s months old. Burned into his skin like a reminder. Her eyes rave over the bite, not processing anything before she laughs. It’s nails of a chalkboard for the first time he’s known her. Watery eyes turn back to him and it takes everything in him to not kill her out of frustration and grief.
“So, you’re okay?”
She sobs out while laughing as her own bloody hands wipe on his face. Relief fills her body but a fierce feeling fills his. She’s thanking god that he’s okay but he’s about to fucking fight the goddamn guy. Shoving her up, he drags her through the streets with his hands squeezing her wrist. It becomes nighttime in a blink of an eye and she’s just a sniveling mess behind him.
Now, he’s here.
She’s curled up on his bed. It hasn’t even been a day and her skin is turning a sickly pale color that he’s not used to. Used to vibrant skin that brushed against his hand and flushed on her cheekbones.
Her breath is short as she sweats profusely, grasping at his sleeve whenever he gets up. Staring at her with dead eyes before he lies back down with her. His fingers brushed her cheek as she coughed, curling in on herself.
He was mad at her. He was mad at the world.
He was mad at himself.
“Why the hell would you let yourself get bit?” Whispered roughly the night she got that stupid bite mark, curled under his blankets together. When there’s no reply, he turns his back to her. But then arms wrap around him from behind. Her soft voice in his ear as her arms snake around him. Less warm than usual.
“Why would I want to keep going without you?”
It makes him bite the inside of his cheek. He knows he could keep going without her, he wasn’t the type to kill himself. He was too stubborn. Too full of spite to die.
But she didn’t see a future without him.
It made him feel like shit.
Most people turned within 2-3 days. Most people felt the worst on the second day. Most people freaked out and killed themselves before they turned. Most people… but apparently not her.
Her death seemed to be coming sooner than he could accept. He was still too angry and needed to kill someone. So he kicked open a door to a random unit in the apartment and seeing it was bare, absolutely trashed it. When he felt like the sting from his knuckles covered for his heartache, he went back to his apartment.
(Not sparing a glance to hers.)
Turning the doorknob to his, he’s greeted with her standing figure. Smiling at him and if he blinked, he could see the color return to her face. But faded color is what he settles for as he stares in her eyes that haven’t lost their spark at least.
“Hello, dear husband! Welcome home!”
Out of her lips come across words he never thought he’d hear in his lifetime, even before rotten bodies roamed the streets. They’re barely adults, not even anything remotely resembling so. She must’ve gone through his bag he threw to the ground in anguish because she’s wearing that silly dress.
It hugs her body tight and fits her perfectly. Resting nicely on her thighs and he remembers how much he wanted to see her in it. His enjoyment is tainted by the strain on her face as she pulls him into his own apartment like she owns it.
Hands wrap close around her waist, holding her up as she laughs. Her hair tangled and messy from being curled in his bed for the past two days. She’s trying to continue her stupid roleplay as she kisses his neck. Unzipping his jacket and murmuring something about how glad she is that he’s back.
He can’t even focus on it, too busy thinking about her impending doom. That she’s doing this because she won’t be alive to do it tomorrow. That her fingernails are turning black and he can see the shake in her legs as she struggles to even stand.
Slowly, Wolf dips his head down and bites the inside of his cheek. He feels the blood fill his mouth but it’s not enough. Trashing that stupid apartment wasn’t enough and he doesn’t think smoking the rest of his stash will be enough. Her voice is sweet as honey and cooing up at him, beckoning him to look at her.
Fingers remove his glasses and he feels the frames fall away from his face. Running fingers through his hair as she whispers sweet nothings to him, soft in his apartment. And in the privacy between her and him and the setting sun in his window, his hands shake as he holds her.
A soft gasp resounds through the air as her knuckles touch his face. Wiping his cheeks clean of something that he refuses to acknowledge. Choosing to just stare at her shocked and concerned face. It almost makes him laugh that she looks like that. Looking so frightened for him.
When she’s the one who’s done for.
“Stop looking so fucking happy.”
Her hands cup his cheeks as he clings tight to his piece of heaven. A heaven that’s corrupting before his eyes. Falling from the sky.
“Stop smiling like that.”
Her nose brushes his jawline like a dog trying to comfort its owner. Thumbs uselessly wiping at his face, trying to comfort him in this moment of vulnerability.
“Who said you could smile like that?”
It’s not fair that she gets to smile and be carefree. Not when she’s doing this to him. Not when she’s shoving her demise down his throat like too hard liquor. Burning straight down his throat and bringing tears to his-
Ah.
Yeah.
He’s crying.
He kneels on the ground and he wants so badly to shove her away from him. To tell her to get the fuck away from him. That she should just fuck off and turn into a zombie by herself and not make him drown with her.
But he’s gladly doing so anyway because she can’t stand by herself. She’s in between his thighs, hugging him tight. Removing the rest of his clothes forgotten as she sits in between his legs, her dress bending with her legs. Arms wrapped around his waist as he finally lets out a shuddering breath.
Burying his face in her hair, he’s greedy for anything he can salvage from heaven. He feels like a maniacal God needing to burn everything in his wake for a mortal girl. His fingers dig into the fabric of her dress and the skin of her thigh. Squeezing his eyes shut as he muffles any sign of his emotions.
And she takes all of him with open arms. No snark to her now. Only soft for the rough boy, handling him like fine china. Fingers run through his overgrown hair and she tries to pry his face away from her hair. Tries kissing tears away that don’t seem to lessen.
“Don’t fucking stare at me like that.”
He chokes out with a low rasp, his hand reaching to cup her face. His thumb on the bottom of her lip that started to turn a sickly blue color. A spew of curses leave his lips at her, angry and stuck in denial. Unable to accept any of this.
When Wolf Keum wanted something, he made a way for him to get it. No matter how long it took or how impossible it seemed. He fought his way out every single time.
But she willingly went against it. Put herself on the line because for her, she did not have that fight in her if he wasn’t there.
It makes him bitter.
Angry.
And…
Soft.
Unbelievably soft for her as she starts telling him her entire life story. Explaining every nook and cranny of her entire being to him. Naked to his eyes and vulnerable to his tender heart.
His touch turns impossibly gentle as he cups her cheek. She’s started crying too, fucking hypocrite. She smiles in that stupidly kind way that makes him want to strangle her. Closing her eyes and kissing him softly.
She tastes like fucking death.
It’s disgusting and should make anyone else recoil at the taste of it on her tongue and lips.
And he can’t get enough.
She oozes acceptance of her death and he tries to drink every single last drop of it. It poisons him though, venom on his tongue as he can’t do the same. Tilting her head back as he tries to understand every part of her he doesn’t now. Every part of her he’s never seen because they’ve only known each other for about a year.
I’m sorry.
Everything will be fine.
Her lips seem to say as they kiss. But everything being fine isn’t his fucking problem, it’s the fact she won’t be there to see that everything’s fucking fine. But she has no more family, no more friends, she lost them all when she skipped town. So she doesn’t care about anyone but him.
What a shitty life.
Crying over a girl is humiliating, never being brought to tears like this before. But in the face of death in a world where he had no one else and no way to get his emotions out, it’s all he could do. Because she held no fight for her own survival and he carried all of it.
A day later, she was bed bound and lied there as she gripped his hand. He knew everything about her at that point. From her favorite color to how her last friend was slaughtered in front of her. He tried to tell bits and pieces of himself but he was not used to such things.
She just smiled and nodded at what he did decide to reveal. One of them being his real name and he lets her roll it off her tongue before something black crawls up her throat and she coughs it up onto his blankets. He does not flinch, he simply sits there and wipes her chin with his thumb.
It’s not acceptance, not really.
It’s carefully hidden grief that’s behind a persona of indifference.
It’s still not acceptance when he slits her throat and stares down at her greyed skin. It’s not acceptance when he packs up his shit and leaves.
It’s grief when he grabs the necklace she wore everyday and it’s grief when he covers her dead body with a blanket.
Wolf Keum is not soft, tender, or gentle.
Not at all.
But maybe, during one year of his life, he might’ve gotten close to that.