Fall asleep and lay with me, we'll search the night for shooting stars. If they can't take away your pain, I'll take your hand, walk through the dark.
-Hilltop Hoods, Through the Dark

Dan

It doesn't finish with a single word or meeting of the eyes. It happens in a breath.

He crumples against my chest and a choked sound leaves me as I fall to the ground, feeling him pressed against me heavily. His chest rises and falls once, and then he's not moving at all.

My heart drops. He falls impossibly still.

"PHIL!" I scream.

This can't be happening.

Behind me I hear the wet thunk of the last of the mutant horde losing its head, courtesy of Mark or Felix. The whole area goes completely silent, my entire world crashing down as my hands go to Phil's face, failing to get him to respond to my words and losing my mind.

No.

I fall to my knees, cupping his face in my hands. The skin of his cheeks is cold to the touch, his head hanging heavy as I pull him close to me.

No. No, no, no, no.

"Phil." I choke, eyes already beginning to burn. He's not even moving. I'm begging, pleading for something to happen. The longer the seconds drag out the more pain is building in my chest, tears burning in my eyes. I lift him by his shoulder but he just falls forward, gravity making his body heavy in my arms.

"Wake up." I gasp. "No. No. Wake up."

He's been bitten before. He lived that time. He'll wake up any second. He has to.

He lies there limply and I panic, drawing back my hand and slapping his face so hard a red mark appears there, tears running down my face in a rush.

"Open your goddamn eyes!" I scream, my throat going tight, his shirt gripped in both my fists as I shake him, desperately trying to make him stir, his skin cooling and lifeless.

It takes an oddly long time for the reality to sink in. There's a small bruise on his cheekbone, a trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. For a moment I feel nothing but horrible surreality.

And then it hits me, a knife blade in my heart in an instant. He's gone.

An inhuman sound escapes me. I scream, clutching him to my chest, my face pressed into his cold shoulder. I'm hyperventilating but I can barely feel it, all I can focus on is the blood, the feeling of his skin only growing colder. The way he's gone motionless, subject to gravity because he's not in control.

"Dan!" I hear Felix shout, followed by several sets of footsteps as the group makes their way over. They haven't realized yet. I'm more than completely oblivious to them anyway and I'm not about to help them. All I can think about is Phil. Phil, who's dead. Wirrow said these zombies' bites kill you immediately. He's gone, but it doesn't feel real, it can't be real.

"Dan, what's-"

"Someone! Please! Someone help him!" I don't know who I'm yelling to. Someone has to help him, there has to be a way. To save him. This can't just happen, he can't just die. It happened so fucking fast.

The footsteps behind me halt in a second.

"No-" Felix gasps. The sound is sharp and it pierces my chest, cracks spreading outward with the force of the hit. "Oh no. Oh fuck, no."

And that's all it takes to break me.

"Phil-" I gasp, hand pressing to my mouth.

I'm crying now, sobs ripping out of me as I cling to him so tightly that his limp body is shaking too. I feel pain, a physical agony in my heart and in my chest, so unlike the euphoric drop I felt on the day we first met. The train station feels so far away now. That boy is dead, and I couldn't save him. My vision goes hazy, I can't bring air in and it hurts my chest to breathe.

Phil.

He feels so small, thin from the months of hard life and so limp, the bite mark in his wrist shining with blood. It runs warm and steady over his skin, making little droplets in the dirt and staining my clothes, staining my hands, staining my heart. He's pressed against my chest but he's not moving, and with each realization that this is happening, I feel the breath knocked from my body again.

For a few moments there is nothing but a horrible, thrumming silence.

"Please." I croak without really knowing what I'm saying.

Mark places his hand on my shoulder, for once lost for words. I hate that he's trying to be reassuring. His movement is dismissive, like we need to move on. My chest heaves and my legs go numb beneath me. His touch on my shoulder burns.

"Phil." I whisper, tears soaking into his shoulder. "Phil. Phil." I'm a broken record, desperate to see him stir at his name. To open his eyes. To do anything.

This silence is deadly. It's cold and unyielding and offers nothing but wordless whispers, promises of the permanence of the end.

Mark's fingers tighten and I screw my eyes shut, vision going hazy.

"We-" Mark says shakily, his voice heavy with emotion but firm, "we can't stay with him. He's going to turn and there's nothing we can do, Dan. You have to put him down. It's not safe." His eyes are soft and worried as he looks at me, grief cutting knife blades through my heart.

I yank my shoulders from beneath his grasp, stung by such an inconsiderate bit of advice. As if it's his place to suddenly shift to this default, the one we've gone through with other people who I didn't know nearly as well. As if he could get me to just leave him, when Phil is all I've ever had in my life.

"Phil." I think I'm half delirious. "Please, Phil."

I loved him. I loved him so much. I cant even comprehend the fact that he's dead. Another gasp leaves at the realization that my mind has shifted to past tense, the corpse of the monster that killed him only a feet away, destroyed by not nearly ruined enough for what is irreversible. He's fucking gone.

If he would just look at me I wouldn't think twice about it now- I'd tell him, I'd fucking marry him and I'd take care of him and never, ever again would I put him in harm's way. I never told him. and I should have because now- now I can't. I'll never be able to. He won't hear me. Again my chest is assaulted with pure agony.

I can't move.

"We have to leave, Dan-"

"I'm not going anywhere." I hiss, pressing Phil closer to me and wrapping my arms around him, refusing to believe what is so blatantly obvious even as he hangs limply in my grasp. I laugh suddenly, the sound not completely sane and slicing the air darkly. "If anything, I want them to kill me too. Fuck this life and fuck this world. I'm ready to die."

Mark gasps at this. Felix looks horrified but I don't care. I mean it with every bit of being in me. In this moment with nothing left to live for, I completely and utterly want to die. I squeeze my eyes shut as Phil's head weighs down on my chest, remembering nights where his breaths would ghost over the very same place.

"Might as well kill us both!" I scream, rage burning in my heart as I tip my head back and begin to shake even more violently. The sun has set and the stars have come out, brilliant and shining above all of our heads, taunting me with something so incredibly beautiful.

Up until now it could have been considered a joke, that Phil and I were so close that we could never be separated. We laughed about it then but it's taking on a whole new meaning now. Never in my darkest imagination would we have believed this would happen. Never did I imagine that the world would take only one of us.

The world should be grey and dead right now, it's taken from me the best person to ever come into my life, it doesn't deserve to look this way. I think about his lips pressing gently against my skin last night, the gentle reassurance that he'd been there and I loved him. It seemed like such an uncertainty then, but it means everything now.

I think of him telling me loved me. Once. Twice. Then today, he made sure I knew exactly what that meant. So fucking obvious. How does it only make sense now?

"Dan, please," Mark pleads, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Don't say that. We have to get out of here, you heard what the man said. More zombies will come if we stay too long. We can't help Phil, but you can fight to make his death worth something. Think about Felix and me and the kids. They need you."

I imagine returning to James and Michael without Phil. I turn to face him, face flat with eyes shining, my glare defiant.

"You don't need me. Don't you understand? I want you to kill me!" I scream. I hate them. I hate all of them. They don't understand that this is what I want. They don't have control over my life.

"No, Dan! Stand up. Dan, please stand up." Chris urges in barely a whisper, his inexpressibly sad face making my heart shatter all over. But I still don't move.

I lower my head, breaking eye contact.

"I'm not leaving without him." I spit. "Leave me here if you have to. Let the monsters come."

Mark huffs irritably, exhausted. Felix takes a tentative step towards me, not that I really care. Even though it hurts, I look down into Phil's face, my tears dropping onto his skin as I see how breathtakingly beautiful he looks.

He appears completely content, the creases smoothed out and his features relaxed in the moonlight at last. I brush my hand against his cheek gently, not sure of what to feel or how to handle it.

It's what we both wanted, for him to be okay. And while he isn't necessarily, he'll never be hurt by another person, be it me or anyone else- ever again. He'll finally be all right. So why do I feel like I'm burning alive?

This just isn't how it was supposed to be.

"Give Dan a moment, for god's sake." Felix snaps, more steadily than I'd expected. "Who cares what happens or doesn't, Phil deserves that much. We can move him if we have to." He moves over to help me, pulling me up with one hand and supporting Phil with the other. It's overwhelming, the considerate gesture, and I stand up determinedly, bearing most of the weight as Felix slowly leads the way. Chris moves over to carry him too and I want to throw up, sick at the notion of this having to happen.

I see Mark whisper to Chris, both of them avoiding my gaze. I take a deep breath, wishing I could just fall asleep here and never wake up. 

I hold tight to Phil, refusing to falter in carrying him even though my limbs are sore and burning with exhaustion already. No matter where I'm led, I don't care where we're going. I don't plan to stay at this destination. I'm going to run away, far away, I'm going to run until I die or go insane and forget who I am. I hope I go mad. I hope I turn into a raging, insanity-driven half life. Because I can't live in a world where Phil is gone.

We leave the junkyard and nobody- monsters or Confederation alike- intercepts us. It feels like a smack in the face. They're just taunting us with how susceptible we are to their will, how untouchable they are in comparison. They're choosing to withhold anything, letting us leave though moments before Wirrow had assured us we'd die. He wants to see this happen.

Wirrow could send more monsters in at any point. Mark reasons at some point. We have no idea what he... what he's thinking.

Wirrow hasn't said anything. I wonder if he's watching now. All eyes are on me especially. Because even without me ever saying it, I think everybody knows. How I feel, how long I've felt it. Why did it ever seem so important? Surely it couldn't have been that difficult to just tell him? Hiding was the cowardly thing to do, and now that's all I've ever done.

We don't go back to the camp or the old house. My hands are shaking so badly that after only a few minutes Chris leads us into a clump of trees off the highway, hiding us from view with tall trunks and brush on all sides.

The others will understand. In fact, they're probably all thinking along the same lines as I am. Mark, at least, seems to know what's going on, because the look he gives me as I stop suddenly at the mouth of the woods is far too knowing and.. a touch uncomfortable? Am I making him nervous with my expression? He shakes his head wearily as we lock eyes, trying to think of another way. But there isn't one, and he knows it.

The moment we're out of view I sink to the ground and hug my knees to my chest, staring at a fixed point on the ground without a single thought making it through. It's just an ache, a dissociation from reality.

I remember when we lost Marzia. The severity of Felix's reaction suddenly making so much more sense. He latched onto someone to blame. To justify and explain why someone so undeserving had to be the one to be lost. He probably wished it was him. Right now in this moment, I wish it was me. Nobody speaks to or touches me. I don't want them too.

My throat is aching and with each blink I'm crying, my chest is so constricted I can barely breathe. I feel like I'm collapsing in on myself, like I'm wilting away like a neglected flower. Or perhaps a piece of flimsy paper in the fire. I'm burning, burning away. This is not a mere emptiness that fills me like a void. It's an all-encompassing raw tearing. I was never exactly together but now I'm falling apart. Because god, he was everything wasn't he? It's almost ironic that I'm confirming that now.

Everything- all of it- feels surreal. I feel like I'm caught in a windstorm, I can't hear anything and I'm shivering, devoid of air to breathe I'm gasping.

I just feel numb.

I realize with a dull finality that Phil could probably turn at any given moment, the bite infecting his mind and body. Maybe it would just be kinder to end it all for him now, as much as it would be agonizing, he would never have wanted it to be this way.

If I really, truly loved him, then there's one thing I can do for him, to make sure he never turns, never becomes the monster he's doomed to be. It's bizarre, how it took me so long to reach this conclusion, and as we walk along, I think about how I'm going to do it, and how hard this is going to be.

I take a deep breath as we set him down, gently laying him against my chest, brushing my hand through his hair to make one last stupid quiff. It hits me painfully, the idea of what could be the last thing I ever do for him.

He looks so relaxed, so beyond fear and pain, it's heartbreaking. I lean down and press my lips to his forehead, letting my tears flow free as I lift my head, turning to Mark, who's waiting silently behind me, and I don't even think to notice that he's seen. Briefly, uselessly, I imagine I'm in one of those happy ending movies. Maybe if I kissed him it's be the magic touch that brought him back to life when nothing else did. Because I love to torture myself.

And nothing happens. Of course nothing happens.

I delay it for a while, I really do, sitting dully on the hard ground as I hold onto Phil's cold hand, rubbing it absently with my shaking thumb. I gaze blankly at an uncertain Mark, debating how to say what I want, straightforward and simple. All three of them are keeping their distance, looking over at me for instruction on what to do. They don't know what to do, the decisions are being left to me.

"Mark." I begin hoarsely and my mind immediately fights me, trying to keep the words in but that's not what I want so I plow forward, spitting out my words with determined ferocity. "I-I need your gun. We have to kill him now so that he doesn't... he wouldn't want... I mean- "

It's heartbreaking how much comprehension dawns on his face as he glances around at Chris and Felix, who look shattered but also understanding.

Somehow he gleaned understanding from that incoherent mess. It's not what any of us wanted, but it has to happen, for Phil's sake.

I have to shoot him before his body turns, his death a finality rather than a second, horrible not-life. It's what we did for Marzia, it's what has to be done.

Mark slowly slides his hand over to his side, drawing out the small handgun and passing it over to me, pressing it into my shaking palm with a devastating finality.

Felix looks like he's aged a thousand years. He's staring straight at me without really seeing, and I know all he can think of is Marzia. Of course he is. This is Marzia all over again, but this time, it's someone else's person that's gone forever.

It's mine.

You know what happens if we make this pact you know. I hear Phil saying in my mind, a drunken promise we'd made half-gone in the city. If I get bitten by a monster, you shoot me.

I feel sick thinking about how easily we'd said it to each other, so sure that was just a nightmare that would never come true.

I can't believe what I'm about to do, and I don't blame the others for looking away. Hell, I want to look away right now. I slowly situate the gun in my hand, pointing it directly at Phil's head.

How can I do this? How will I ever be able to pull that trigger, killing the only person I know for certain I loved? My eyes trace the smooth skin of his forehead, the very thing I'm meant to ruin.

"You can't do this." Felix gasps. "Dan, stop. You can't kill Phil."

It's a dull stab in the heart, but after all, I did promise.

I turn the weapon over and glare at him darkly, knowing there's no need for me to survive.

"Are you sure you want to be the one who...?" Mark asks. "I'll do it if you want me to. You don't have to put yourself through that."

I shake my head, gripping the gun more tightly. If I don't do it, I'll never have closure, never be able to let him go. It has to be me, or I'll never forgive myself.

When we lost Marzia, I'd thought Mark was crazy for volunteering to kill his friend. I wondered how anyone could ever bring themselves to do it.

Now I get it. It's the only way possible, I'm positive he would have done it for me. Because no matter what you say or how it hurts you, you have to. That's how it works when you love somebody.

I feel an immense amount of power, holding the lethal weapon in my hand, knowing that what I'm about to do is irreversible. Thinking that maybe I might just do the same to myself right after because it's all too much and I'm tired of living anyway.

Phil shudders, and this is when I know that he's about to turn, that the time is coming.

I need to act soon. If he's waking up, it means the infection has hit his brain. It's only a matter of time before the flesh begins to decay and he'll start looking the part too. I wish I had a chance to talk to him before it ended like this. At least with Marzia she had the time to tell us all that she wanted to say. Why couldn't Phil get that? The sheer pain I'm feeling at seeing him moving again for all the wrong reasons is overwhelming me, knowing deep down that the reality is that he's dead. He's gone, and I'm the one who's about to stop him from moving.

It's now or never, and I've never felt more heavy hearted in my life. I'm going to shoot him while I'm holding him. I'm going to take his life away.

"This isn't happening." I spit, glaring at the motionless body. "You can't be dead, Phil. How can you be dead? I can't live without you. What a-am I gonna do without you?"

And I know there's no answer, but am I so pathetic as to wish for a response?

"I... I love..."

My voice chokes out before I can say it , breathing rapidly and feeling my breath achingly in my throat, knowing that I can't bear to say it. The gun is so unsteady in my hands, I don't think I'll be able to land a hit yet anyway.

Not that I'd ever wanted to.

I'm in complete denial. I rake my eyes over his frame willing him to move, to breathe, to stand up or do anything.

"Wake up!" I scream, my heart pounding.

My voice catches in my throat and my hands drop limply as I begin to shake, my body racked over in sobs and the gun held loosely in my hand. He lies still and doesn't answer, and my head thumps pathetically onto his chest as I continue to tremble with one hand pressed to my face, the other clutching his, unable to force myself to do what needs to be done. I know he's about to turn, I know what it entails and what it means, but I just can't do it. To do so would mean confirming he's gone. Forever.

I smack away a consoling hand, not even sure which friend it belongs to. Whoever they are, they very quickly back up.

A thousand memories are rushing through my head right now, happy ones and sad ones, memories like that morning when I'd woken up drunk in the confederation bunker, only to find his arms wrapped tightly around me. When I kissed his cheek the first time. When I'd yelled at him to leave me. Each memory is vivid and clear, appearing explosively in my mind, giving me pause as I wish for one last one, anything, just a hug or a laugh or even a meeting of the eyes. A chance to say goodbye. I'm not expecting it though, he's never going to do anything of that sort ever again.

I look back at all the missed opportunities to tell him everything, so angrily that I vaguely wonder if such feelings should be impossible. It's so easy to feel the way I felt, surely it couldn't have been so hard to just come out and say it.
It seems easy, so ridiculously easy now.

I want to tell him that he was everything.

It frustrates me, how still he is. I want to hit him, if only to see him react. That's all it really is. I need to see him move, because he can't be dead. We've lived far too long, been through far too much, Marzia even gave her life for us, which I realize with a jolt, Felix still doesn't know. Does this even out that odd? Does Phil's death mean Marzia's is now valid?

I shake my head, cursing myself for even dwelling on such things. It should have been me the confederation took. I'm the one who's caused all the trouble. It doesn't make a difference, not for me. He was all I had, and without him, what am I, really? We fell in love, I know it now.

I rest my head where it fell on his chest, breathing slow and deep, trying not to go mad.

Dan, stop. You can't kill Phil.

He's right. I can't.

I sit up slowly, searching around on the concrete for my second final solution. My eyes fall upon my target instantly and I stretch my hand out for the gun, thinking maybe I'll just let death come my way instead.