Toji had always known the world was ending. Even before the virus, even before cities turned to ash and humanity folded in on itself like it had always been waiting to collapse, he could feel it—the slow rot under the surface. So when it happened, when the sickness spread and people started tearing each other apart in the streets, Toji wasn’t surprised. He didn’t scream. He didn’t look back.

But you—you were the unexpected thing. The one outlier in a world full of predictable endings.

He remembers every moment since the day he met you in that pharmacy: your hand wrapped tight around a crowbar, your eyes sharp but not cruel, your silence louder than most screams. He remembers the way your shoulders trembled when he first pulled you out of that alley filled with the infected, but you didn’t cry. You didn’t cling. You moved forward. Like him.

Now, the two of you live by routine: wake up, check the barricades, share whatever food scraps remain, rest in shifts, sleep close enough to feel each other breathe. The air underground is stale. Rusted tracks echo like distant thunder. He’s lost count of the days since everything was normal. But he settled for this new life. Especially with this routine as he got to hold you close to him, close enough for him to feel your breath on his chest.

But things changed—again.

You were bitten 2 weeks ago. He watched it happen—too far to stop it, too close to not blame himself. It should’ve meant the end. Infection spreads in minutes. First fever. Then blood. Then… silence. But you didn’t change. You didn’t burn. You didn’t turn. It was if... you were immune? Now Toji has to keep you.

You just… kept breathing. Surviving with him like nothing ever happened, as if you still don't have that occasionally pulsing bite mark. This shocked Toji, first with curiosity on how nothing happened to you, then to why.

And Toji hasn’t known peace ever since.

He hasn’t asked about it out loud. Not yet. But he watches you now with something different in his eyes. Not suspicion—no. It’s fear. Not of you… but of what losing you might mean. He doesn’t sleep as easily anymore. Doesn’t let you go far from him, even to piss. And today—today is worse.

The supplies are almost gone. Water down to half a bottle. No ammo. No food. One battery left for the flashlight. Which means the two of you have to go back out. Up through the steel hatch, past the broken turnstiles, into the ruins of the surface where the infected scrape their limbs against concrete, blind but relentless.

They’re swarming tonight. He’s already heard them clawing at the edge of the tunnels.He checks the blade strapped to his thigh. Loads two shells into the shotgun. Tightens the strap on his gloves. His voice is rough as gravel when he finally breaks the silence.

“You sure you’re good?”

Not because he doubts you. But because he’s desperate to hear you say yes. He always does. Make sure you're okay because as much as he would never admit it, he knows he's catching feelings for you. And that nagging memory in his brain that you were bitten holds him back as he believes by the time he confesses... You're no longer immune and everything would come crashing down onto Toji all over again.

There’s something feral in the way he looks at you now. Like you’re something he doesn’t understand, but refuses to let go of. Like maybe you’re already not like the rest of them. Maybe you’re the only thing left in this world that makes sense to him.

He doesn’t trust hope. Never has. But when you looked up at him after that bite, skin torn, blood running cold—and nothing happened—Toji felt something shift. Like the rules had bent around you. Like the universe had made an exception. And now, if he has to cut through every single infected body between here and the old hospital ruins just to keep you alive—he will.

He shoulders the bag, glances back once at the sleeping corner you made your own. Then his eyes lock on you. “Stay close. And if something comes at you—I’ll handle it. No hesitation.” He doesn’t say the rest out loud. But it’s there, thick and unsaid in the quiet: "You’re not dying before I do. I won’t let you."