Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  The world has become a desolate wasteland. Where towering pristine skyscrapers once stood, only piles of debris remained. The air tasted dry, ground cracking with layers of dust. The sky has long since lost it's marvelous blue luster, replaced with dull gray and thick haze.

  Nobody knew how it first started. All they knew was that everything began to spiral from the appearance of them. Dragging bodies with exposed bones, missing flesh, missing limbs, with maggots burying into parts of them as the strong scent of rot hangs heavy. From their bodies, jet black branches and roots burst forth gaping wounds.

  The infected. Corpses that never quite rotted, brought to life once again. They don't see, don't hear, don't feel, being completely piloted by an organism that takes root in every inch of their bodies. To spread, they bite, claw and tear into flesh like beasts. They never truly drop dead, roots and branches of the organism dragging their husks along, controlling them like marionettes on strings.

  At the beginning of everything, people paid no mind to them, trusting that they would be handled swiftly. Then it happened. When everybody's guard was down, the growth of the organisms latching upon humans exploded. Cities were destroyed in an attempt to end them with no regards for any survivors remaining in there. People with differing views turned on each other, adding to the chaos. In the time when the world was about to witness the end, humanity divided amongst themselves as the number of survivors waned. Distrust festered between them, tensions raging high. Soon there were no more than a few left scattered in all corners of the world.

  In a planet where homo sapiens were a dying species, Damian and Nate had somehow found a way to brave through it all as they were wrenched out from normalcy. Hiding, attacking, defending. For long days and long nights they braved together, clinging onto each other in a world of uncertainty. They knew that it was a miracle for them to even be alive at that point. Eventually, their luck had to run out.

  How Nate found out was when Damian suddenly dropped to his knees. They had been on a simple trip to go out and scout for necessities in an abandoned supermarket since they were beginning to run low. What he had missed along the way was the slight limp in Damian’s walk, how he dragged his legs just slightly more than usual. He knew something was amiss when he darted to Damian’s side to assist him, only for Damian to turn the other way, facing his back towards him. Heart pounding louder than ever in his ears, panic filling him.

  “Damian.”

  Damian keeps his head turned.

  “Damian, face me.”

  He does not respond.

  “You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

  A slight shift.

  He nudges Damian back to face him and Damian turns without putting up a fight. Nate's eyes shifted to Damian's arm, onto which one of his hands clutched onto until his knuckles turned white. Gingerly, he peels each finger away, to reveal the severity of a wound beneath. Nate held his breath. The area around it was turning dark, black liquid oozing out where the wound was. It had already spread. Hand reaching out, without thinking he touches the tender raw skin, earning a hiss from Damian as he pulls back, shrinking into a corner.

  “Don't touch me.”

  Nate trembles a little, shaking as reality dawns on him. The bite. Damian. His breaths turn uneven. In a devastated world where his home, his life, his hopes and dreams were completely stripped from him, was Damian going to be next? Was he too much of a fool for leaning so much onto Damian, to the point where his only reason for taking another step in this damned world became him? He bit his lip.

  “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

  “Nate, please,”

  “Why?”

  “You know there's nothing we can do about this. There's no miracle antidote like in movies. There's no great hero. There's no happy ending. The least I could do was just hide this issue the longest I can so I don't need to see that sad expression of yours.”

  “What sad expression?”

  “That,” Damian extends a hand, pointing to him.

  Suddenly he's aware of the salty tears streaking down his face so he swipes them away with his hands. Still, his vision remained blurry with tears. So vulnerable and exposed, this side of him that only Damian could bring out.

  A cough from Damian sounds, sending shivers through his body, like the last shuddering breath of a dying animal. In his hand that he coughed into, Nate spotted a dark sludge. It dribbled down, slow, looming, impending. He knew what was coming. Damian knew it too but still a smile tugs at the edge of his mouth. Behind his lighthearted smile lay someone that has only seen defeat after defeat and has given up on everything, drained of all will–broken by the world.

  “Go on, you know what you have to do.”

  Nate shakes his head, taking a step back, going weak in his legs. He had seen it happen a thousand times over and he knew one day it would have to happen–either to him or Damian. When one was infected, there was only one way to settle it. Now he feels the comfort of Damian's hands calmly guiding his to the dagger he always had sheathed at his waist.

  “It's simple, Nate.”

  Damian clasps his hands, maneuvering them to pull his dagger out of its sheath. In his hands, the tremble in Nate's fingers stilled, a breath held as he fell silent, watching–his hand laid upon Damian's chest, dagger still clutched in it. He tries to feel for any tremors in Damian’s hand atop his, a trace of hesitation or fear in him, but he holds strong.

  “Drive it in. Twist it if you have to.”

  His words were presented like facts read off a script. Not even a shiver as he spoke of a pain to be inflicted onto him. A pain that will last and end with his disappearance. He spoke of it too easily. Eyes lifting to meet Nate's, they softened,

  “Just make it as quick as possible.”

  A shiver passed through Nate's body. He stood rooted to the ground, unmoving. Through his partially parted mouth, his thoughts nearly spoken,

  I don't want to.

  Still, Damian heard them anyway. Warm, so warm, his hands were as they tightly clasped around his. Yet behind his eyes held harsh, cold and dark feelings. A pain that ate at him day by day, swallowing the embers of determination he used to have. Now all that remained were ashes and dust, begging,

  Please set me free.

  Nate tightens his grip around his dagger, tears stinging the edges of his eyes. He closes his eyes and lowers his head.

  “Drive it in.”

  In a breath, he plunges it through Damian's chest. Its handle jutted out as crimson red bloomed around it. The stench of iron filled the air, warmth flowing down the handle, pooling on the floor.

  “Twist it if you have to.”

  His hand goes numb, unable to move. Nate could not bring himself to. Not to Damian. Letting go, his arms fall limp to his sides. Before Damian’s body slumped to the ground, Nate catches him, cradling him in his bloody arms. Sorrow was a noose upon his neck, slowly tightening and choking him till his tears spilled.

  “Just make it as quick as possible.”

  Dull eyes of a faded red gazed back at him, a hand resting on Nate's cheek. He leans into it, pulling Damian a little closer to him. Damian’s hand moves to Nate’s head, patting him soothingly as if it would provide him any semblance of comfort. Curling inwards, Nate nuzzles into Damian's neck, hearing the steady beats of his heart. Shutting his eyes, he listens–Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

  For the longest time they remained in silence, until the light in Damian's eyes faded, until the beats of his heart turned weak and vanished, until the heat in his body was no more.

  It was over. Damian was gone. He would never come back. Nate's sole reason to push forward was no longer there.

  What's the point of living in this bleak reality now that he's gone?

  It was just there. His dagger. Still lodged in Damian's heart.

  “It's simple, Nate. Drive it in. Twist it if you have to. Just make it as quick as possible.”

  The dagger beckons out to him and Nate finds himself pulling it out, streaks of blood still dripping down its blade. He holds it with both his hands, except this time the blade is aimed at himself. Looking up, he glimpses at the sky one last time. It was bleak and gray, as it always has been since the very beginning. The last time he saw stars scattered throughout it felt like ages ago, back when a glimmer of hope could still be seen.

  He had been laying down on an expanse of grass with Damian by his side. Wind rustled through the tall blades of grass and crickets chirped around them. After a tiring day of running away from walking corpses and picking up supplies, they often spent their nights like that–lying on the ground and staring at the stars. Nate had raised a hand up to the sky, idly watching the way the sky outlined the silhouette of his hand. Another hand joined his as Damian shifted a little closer, their arms bumping.

  “Hey, Nate?”

  “Hm?”

  “What would happen if I died one day?”

  Nate whips his head over to face Damian. His voice drops,

  “Where's this coming from?”

  A bubbly laughter comes from Damian as he gently shook his head,

  “It's nothing, just a passing thought. But seriously, what would you do if I died one day?”

  A long silence stretched over them as Nate fell silent in thought. Then, in a small voice,

  “...I'd cry.”

  “You wouldn't try to join me or anything, would you?”

  “...no.”

  Damian's hand reaches over to his, extending his pinkie to hold onto Nate's.

  “It's a promise, then. You'd better keep to it!”

  “Hey, hey, you'd better not be dying. Don't go dying on me now, alright?”

  “Don't worry, I'm not leaving anytime soon!”

  “Don't worry, I'm not leaving anytime soon!”

  A hollow echo lingered in his mind as Nate knelt before the very man who said those words. His dagger slipped through his fingers, original intentions dissipating with the resurgence of a dusty memory. And then, he began to cry.

Chapter Text

  The first beams of sunlight scattered through the broken roof of a dusty supermarket, hitting two figures huddled together on the floor.

  Nate groggily came to, clinging onto a body that held a faint warmth to it. He closes his eyes, pushing himself closer to it. Not yet. He was not ready to wake up yet. He wanted so badly to disappear with him into a world where he need not be burdened by everything.

  If only he were here.

  His eyes glanced over at him–lying down with his eyes closed, lips slightly parted–it was almost like he was sleeping. Except, the gaping wound in his chest told otherwise. Reluctantly, Nate gets up, pulling out a box of medical supplies from his backpack. With the skill of having done it many times before, he wraps the wound in bandages, wiping away all traces of blood on him, making him a little easier to look at. Gently, he brushes away the hair that fell over Damian's face, gazing at him, focusing on how his long eyelashes were of a feathery snow white.

  It had been a day, but his body had yet to rot. Something about the organism and his death slowed down the process. There was no acrid smell coming from him and no semblance to the corpses that roamed outside showing. He would simply be, and remain being, a Damian in a sleep that lasted for eternity.

  It was almost like he was still here. Tenderly, Nate leans into him and kisses him on his forehead, but not a frown nor crease in his face appears on Damian. A soft sigh escapes from Nate.

  Almost.

  He wraps his arms around Damian, holding him closely like he would break at any moment. In his ear he whispers a promise to never leave his side. Pulling back, he takes Damian's hand in his, entwining their pinkies just the way Damian had done to his under that starry sky.

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  Nate held onto him, lovingly, gently, tenderly, bringing him wherever he went. Carefully, he would bring him from place to place, whether it was on his back or in a wheelchair he found. They would traverse roads, beaten off paths and trails in the woods, exploring a world that has fallen silent.

  In pretend sunsets that illuminated shells of concrete buildings overtaken by moss and ivy, he would take Damian's hand and gently sway with him to an imaginary tune. In between the beats of their footsteps, he would take a bashful peek at Damian’s face–expressionless as always. But should he look closely enough, he would see the hints of a warm smile upon his face.

  Under the dark sky, they would lay down together side by side, gazing at the sky above just as they used to before the stars disappeared. In the peace and quiet around them, Nate would whisper sweet nothings into Damian’s ears. When he had nothing left to say, they would simply lay in silence, with Nate cherishing the presence of Damian beside him, just as Damian would his.

  No longer could Nate tell himself that it was just a corpse, for all he saw was what he desired to see most. The one he brought around him no longer appeared as a shell of Damian, having become Damian himself. The lines separating Damian from his corpse had blurred. And Nate, too lost in the moments of longing and nostalgia, refused to pull away. After all, the lies were sweet pills to his bitter reality.

  When the gnarly branches of the organism began to grow, extending out from the wound that ended Damian to grasp at the skies above, he had snapped it off and wrapped layers of bandages in its place. Each time he saw a sign of the horrid organism blemishing Damian’s body, he had chopped it off and covered the dark roots of it up. He could keep the rough branches and roots from fully claiming the body, but could do nothing in the face of decay.

  Everything came from nothing. Eventually, all would naturally decay to being nothing once more. It was only a matter of time.

  So Damian's body began to rot, his appearance growing akin to the common sight of corpses that dragged their bones across the street. The putrid smell of bodily fluids grew stronger in the air, as liquids started escaping from his nose and mouth. Still, Nate paid it no mind, instead finding some tissues to gently dab away the fluids with an endearing smile upon his face.

  Carefully, he cups Damian's delicate face in his hands, studying his expression. Looking past the discoloured and loose skin, he could see the way Damian would smile back at him, laughing at how ticklish it felt when the tissues brushed his face. Giggling a little, Nate playfully pecks at the other's lips, ignoring the acrid taste it left. He swallows it down, licking his lips, tasting the sweetness of a rotting corpse his love.

  Even as more flies started appearing, laying down eggs that hatched into hundreds of white writhing worms that consumed Damian from inside out, Nate never once thought of how unsightly he looked. Upon his body, flies were swatted away. The many maggots were picked and brushed away one by one. When the number of insects crawling all over Damian grew to be too much to rid of, Nate only embraced him further. His hands would lovingly caress Damian's face, trace the lines along his palms and run through his silky long hair. He was neither afraid nor disturbed, for beyond the current state of Damian’s rotting body, he saw a beauty beyond what words could express and found solace in it.

  And he would always remain like that-no more than a man grasping desperately onto remnants of a ghost for he had none more left to hold onto. Loving him so much that even in death, he looked just as beautiful as when they first met.