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Rubble dusted the streets, cars left abandoned on the sides of roads and pathways. Smoke rose to the sky from a few buildings, trailing up in thick plumes; a cry for help that would never be answered.
The sky was grey from the smoke, adding to the depressing atmosphere. The silence was thick and heavy, like the world was waiting for something to happen at any given moment.
A few groans echoed through the streets, shuffles of the undead roaming around the city filling the almost silence.
Sitting in the shadows of a dingy alleyway, Björn sat with his back against the wall and head leaned back. His hair was a mess; it was dirty, and falling over his face. His blue eyes had lost their subtle shine, now dim, old tear tracks etched paths down from his eyes to his chin through the dirt and grime he had collected.
Björn's breathing was controlled, slow, like he was somehow calm in the situation he and his family had been forced into. A situation that the whole world had been forced into. He never thought his life would change just like that in such a short time.
Only a few months ago, Björn was coming home to his family each evening. Giving his children Peter and Arvid a big hug when he came in through the door, finding his husband Timo in the kitchen and hugging him from behind. Then they would all sit down together and have a warm, hearty meal together.
…he misses that.
He missed the feeling of safety and closeness, missed the feeling of telling his children that it would be okay and he could mean it.
Now? Now that was all gone.
No more house, no more safety, no more stability.
No more family.
Björn had sent them away about an hour ago, telling them to go and find somewhere safe; maybe find a group of survivors to live with. Somewhere much better than the outside, which was now dangerous and cruel.
He didn't want to be their downfall, not when Timo, Peter and Arvid still had hope for themselves - especially Peter and Arvid.
Björn didn't want to be the one to bite them, or worse, maul them on sight.
The Swede hissed when he pulled back his long sleeve gingerly, checking the infection point, even if it was unnecessary - he knew it would only be a matter of time until he became one of those monsters. He could already feel his body giving up the fight, despite trying to stave it off as long as possible. The bite on his wrist stung to high heaven, and he doesn't think he's ever felt anything like it before.
Slow, soft footsteps bounced off the brick walls, but Björn knew it wasn't an undead; they sounded too controlled, too human. Maybe it was a survivor, or a scavenger, and they'd put Björn out of his misery; shoot him before he would turn.
That would be nice.
Instead, Björn heard a voice that he didn't expect to hear. A voice that he both wanted to hear and not hear at the same time.
“Björn?”
The blonde turned his head weakly to the side, still leaning on the wall, and his heart stopped for a second.
Timo was there, a small smile on his face and tears at the corners of his eyes.
“Hey, there you are. I wondered where you ran off to…”
Björn tried to move, tried to scoot away from his husband, who was in the same state he was in; dirty and exhausted.
“W…What're you doin’ here?”
Timo ignored the obvious attempted escape, and came to sit right next to Björn. Leaning his head on the broad shoulder of his husband, Timo sighed and shut his eyes. When Björn tried to move away again, Timo grabbed his wrist - the non bitten one - and trailed his fingers to slide down until they reached Björn's big, sturdy hand, and held it.
The hand where Björn's wedding ring sat.
“The kids are safe,” Timo seemed to be ignoring Björn's question, “I found a nice group of people for them to go with. Said they were heading to a safe haven of some sort.” A small smile ghosted the Finns face, and he finally opened his eyes to look at Björn, glassy from tears that were threatening to spill over. “Peter asked where I was going, and Arvid didn't want to go with the people at first…but I said I would catch up.” A small breath of air left his pale lips, almost in a laugh, even though nothing about any of this was funny.
“...they're safe now, Björn.”
Björn shook his head as much as his body would allow, eyeing at Timo with that intense stare that he's always seemed to have. “Why didn’t you go? You should've gone with ‘em, they need you.”
Timo's smile seemed to sadden more, if that was even possible, and shook his head gently. “Ei, they wouldn't be safe with me around…not anymore.”
The light blonde tugged up the sleeve of his own shirt, and Björn's eyes widened behind his cracked glasses, more tears forming despite his dehydration. A strained sound escaped the Swede, a noise he has never made before.
“Nej…nej, nej, nej!”
A sob broke free from the depths of Björn, and with all his strength he pulled Timo into a hug, one had behind his head to keep him to his chest, as if it would reverse everything and keep him safe.
But the damage has been done.
A bite that mirrored Björn's, down to the arm and placement, decorated Timo's wrist. It was ugly, and it was fresher than Björn's own; more bloody, too, with deeper incisions.
Timo hugged back harder, as he still had the strength to do so. “I'm sorry, Björn, I'm so, so sorry…” His tears soaked the front of his husband's shirt, but neither of them cared. Why care about something so insignificant at this point? They would be dead soon, and nothing - nothing - could change that.
Björn's body started leaning heavier against Timo's own, so the Finn gently guided him back against the wall, but his soft hand left Björn's rough one. He gave Björn's cheek a soft kiss, feeling the sweat starting to trickle down.
It was only a matter of time.
Sitting against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Björn, Timo leaned his cheek against the Swede's shoulder once more. He wanted to talk about the memories they shared together; when they first met, their wedding, adopting their children…but he couldn't. His mouth was starting to dry up, and he could hear Björn's breathing growing heavier by the second.
Timo squeezed Björn's now clammy hand, and nuzzled into his broad shoulder, muttering, “Rakastan sua niin paljon, rakas.” Berwald weakly squeezed back, his strength fading faster, almost gone, and rasped out a low “Jag älskar dig också.”
Timo had no idea how much time had passed before a tiny, short wet laugh escaped his lips before whispering, “Hey, till death do us part, right?”
His husband didn't answer him, and Björn's eyes were now a pale grey. But Timo didn't need to open his eyes to know; he had felt Björn's pulse stop a few minutes ago.
One last tear slipped down Timo's cheek as he turned his face into Björn's now cold neck, placing a delicate kiss there.
“Yeah…till death do us part."