Chapter Text
The past days have been nothing but a series of failures for Saps.
He was too late, too slow, so fucking incompetent every single time it mattered. He failed at making the cure, he couldn't save Grey, couldn't even save Magic. It didn't work out, nothing worked out, every single attempt failed, and now he wanders the streets alone, steering clear of people and zombies all the same.
He only has a day and a half, maybe less before he turns too. The symptoms are worsening. The coughs are relentless, he has already had too many coughing fits, to the point he would’ve passed out from the lack of oxygen. Every minute that passes, he is walking closer to his death.
This is it, he will die alone and miserable, unable to save the people he tried to save, unable to do anything, not even leaving behind a cure for the world, a light of hope for a better future.
All that will be left of him will be his failures, the lives he couldn't save, all the blood on his hands. Not even death would cleanse him from it.
Right now he is just trying to find a place to hide for the night, as the dark falls around him, the danger of lurking zombies looming over him.
As he is stumbling down the road, he nears the church, still standing tall against the pitch black night and the full moon hanging high in the sky, shining misty silver light on everything on land.
The church still feels like a relatively safe space to hide, safe from the zombies. No one else seems to be inside. Perhaps he should settle here for the night.
The door of the church creaks loudly in the large empty space as Saps pushes it open. Everything is quiet, but not quite settled down. The shadows whisper and shift, every corner holds secrets they failed to bury with the dead. Moonlight shines down from the colored glass, a single candle is lit at the front of the church and a single person sits at the front pew, their face barely visible from the dim light.
Fluixon.
Hate would be a laughable word to use for the vast amount of contempt and vile, vicious anger that both Saps and Flux hold for each other. They’ve exchanged more threats than pleasantries, pointed more guns and weapons than they have shaken hands. All because they wanted to do what was best for the person they were trying to save, both wanted to do what they believed was right and neither was willing to back down.
The night sure has a way of bringing out newfound feelings.
Looking at Flux illuminated by the candle and the moon, it is difficult to believe this same man had pointed a gun at him on multiple occasions. Saps can’t bring himself to feel all that anger and hate towards him anymore. The weariness has settled too deep into his bones. Being this close to death, you start seeing things from a new perspective.
And right now it is weird seeing Flux like this. Sitting all alone in the dark, quiet and looking far off into the distance, like he is mentally somewhere else, detached from the world. Not flanked by Thomas talking endlessly about classes or presentations or Mr. Flux.
Saps approaches with caution. Seems neither the opening of the door nor the creaking of his steps has snapped him out of his daze.
It will be surprisingly easy to kill him right now. He doesn't hold any weapons, not in any position to defend himself quickly enough if Saps sneaks up to him, gut him right through, a clean strike at his neck.
But Saps doesn't feel like doing that, not anymore.
He walks up to the front row and sits on the pew right across Flux’s.
“Not hanging out with your buddy Thomas tonight?” Sap's voice comes out rough and hoarse, hours of coughing and hacking leaving his throat sore.
Apparently Saps’ presence did not surprise him. So he did hear him come in, but showed no reaction. Huh.
A dry homourless chuckle tears out of Flux. It sounds forced, and the undercurrent of pain and sadness do not go unnoticed.
“Don’t think I want to, anytime soon,” Flux replies, voice devoid of emotions.
“Aw why is that, he’d be devastated to lose his Mr. Flux. Boy follows you around like a little chick.”
“But when that little chick turns out to be the predator in disguise this whole time, you gotta book it out of there as soon as possible, before its teeth can bite down on your neck.”
….
What now?
Flux tilts down his head, now staring intently into the flame, his face betraying his feelings. He looks angry, but most of all hurt and distraught.
“That little… bastard, what the hell was he thinking? Did he have no idea what could happen, getting stuck in a place like this. People died, so many people lost their lives, all for what? So he could live out his fucked up fantasy.” Flux’s voice gets progressively louder.
“He put everyone on that bus in danger, without any regards for what could happen to us here. Magic could’ve been alive right now if it wasn’t for his fucking need to play hero. Just what on earth did he think he could do, huh? That he could save everyone, could protect everyone from those fucking zombies. He put everyone in danger, so he could satisfy his fucking saviour complex?!”
Flux burst up from his seat, kicking the ground in frustration, pulling on his hair and pacing insistently.
Saps would worry about the sudden outburst attracting unwanted company, but right now he could only listen and watch Flux and the emotions crashing out of him violently, the most animated he has seen him, ever. The too guarded, silent persona was long gone, and for the first time he could see an emotion that was not distrust or pure anger directed at him.
It was devastation.
Losing the person he had come to trust, the only friend he thought he had made in this hellish place, someone who would have his back. Who knew the wounds from his weapon had already been etched into his skin?
The information hit Saps like a truck, but he didn't have it in himself to get worked up about it now, no anger or hurt feelings in his heart. He was going to die in a day, he couldn't bring himself to care about the past mistakes of someone else, even though that might be the reason he is in this situation to begin with.
Saps looks at Flux, breathing heavily, chest rising fast and little chokes and hitches sounding every now and then.
“That sounds rough buddy,” Saps says, not really trying to comfort him.
“Not funny,” Flux responds, even when he lets out a short exhale that sounds an awful lot like a laugh.
The quiet falls down upon them like a blanket, softening the edges of the world, dulling the ache in the void where their hearts would be.
The momentary peace paints a picture too beautiful to exist in their reality. Them breathing quietly, sitting at the moonlit altar, the candle’s flame shedding warm light on their faces. It clashes too hard with the truth. The cozy silence feels like it’s mocking them.
Saps doesn’t know what he wants to do now, but he surely doesn’t want to sit around in the dark any longer.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Flux looks at him with that same distrusting look he has become familiar with, at the receiving end of it too many times to count.
“And go where,” Flux asks with skepticism.
“Anywhere.”
It will be dangerous, to roam around in the dead of night, in a city full of zombies.
“And if we get attacked?”
“Between you and me, I think we can handle a zombie or two.”
Saps only has a day to live, and he wants to enjoy his time as much as possible in the meantime.
“Why do you even want to go out at this time?” Flux barely whispers.
His voice doesn’t hold any conviction, it won’t be difficult to convince him.
What reason does he have to fear death anymore, him, a man who has lost everything?
“Have some fun.”
What does a person do in their last moments, if not live to the fullest?
Flux stares at him intently, trying to parse any emotion on his face, anything to betray his intentions.
But Saps doesn’t have any ulterior motives, only the urge to get out here and move, walk around the city, poke around just for the sake of it, letting curiosity and impulse lead the way. Not looking for shelter, or any resources, trying desperately to survive.
He wants to feel alive.