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The attic they’ve found themselves in is damp and cold. The ceiling is low, with the wooden beams exposed, and, if Edwin squints, he can see the stars through the cracks, but it’s certainly better than being outside. Being outside means being exposed. Being exposed means they risk being discovered. Though, that hardly seems to matter now. Something has already found them, leaving its hideous mark on his skin.
There is little point in hiding behind walls when you bring the monster in with you.
“Charles, please,” Edwin says, panting through the pain in his shoulder and the hard floor digging into his back. “You need to leave.”
Ever since dragging Edwin into the attic, Charles has been incredibly agitated. He cannot seem to stay still and has pointedly not looked at Edwin nor at the prominent bite decorating his shoulder. Instead, he has been digging through his backpack with a look of frustration. But at Edwin’s words, his grip on the backpack tightens. Edwin can see anger and pain brewing behind his eyes, even as a smile appears on Charles’ lips.
“That’s not gonna happen, mate.” He pulls out their very limited supply of bandages from his bag, as well as their water bottle and a rag. “You’ll be just fine after I patch you up.”
Edwin knows it will not be of any help. Something foreign is flowing inside his veins. His blood runs hot with fever, and it’s getting harder to focus.
There is not much time left.
“Please, Charles. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Placing the rag on top of their precious water bottle, Charles flips it over and waits a second while the rag absorbs the liquid. The moment he touches the rag to the wound, Edwin is unable to stop the hiss of pain that crosses his lips. It burns, but not like the burn he gave himself as a child by touching the stove. No, this burns on the inside, and it is excruciating.
“You won’t hurt me, yeah? You know why? Cause you’re not turning.” Charles says while moving the rag around delicately, taking extreme care with every swipe. It is such a contrast to his usual cavalier demeanor. He looks drained and defeated, like his body has figured out this is the end even if his brain has not. And, if Edwin was not already crying from the pain, seeing his friend in such a state would bring him to tears.
Though his arm feels impossibly heavy, Edwin forces himself to move his hand on his uninjured side and places it on top of Charles’, stilling it instantly. Shifting their conjoined hands, Edwin forces Charles’ to move away from the wound, exposing the full extent of the bite. It is still bleeding sluggishly, but the teeth marks are undeniable.
“Charles, I know you see the bite on my arm. It is clear as day. You are fully aware of what that means.”
Charles shakes his head, defiant. “I don’t care. You aren’t turning. You can’t. Understand?”
Sighing, Edwin closes his fingers tighter around Charles’. In the back of his mind, he knows Charles’ hand should be warm, but instead it feels like ice on his burning skin. But he cannot let go. Not now.
“Denying it is pointless. We—” His voice chokes a bit as he cuts himself off. There is no ‘we’ anymore. That time is over. “You need to make a plan. If you leave now, you can put sufficient distance between yourself and me—”
“I’m not leaving you here alone, end of.” Charles’ eyes are hard and unrelenting.
A wave of pain washes over Edwin, and he shivers. The heat from the bite is immense and continues to spread throughout his body. He may not know exactly how much time he has left before he turns into a monster, but he cannot have much longer.
Edwin lifts Charles’ hand and puts it over his own heart. For a moment, they both sit in silence: Charles feeling some of Edwin’s final heartbeats while Edwin tries to memorize every last feature on Charles’ face.
Rubbing the back of Charles’ hand with his thumb, Edwin feels the familiar, rough skin that he would recognize anywhere. Many dark nights have been spent memorizing each bump and crevice while defying a world that tries to separate them at every turn. Though the memories are cloudy and faded, Edwin knows Charles’ hands did not used to be this texture, back before the world was this cacophony of undead.
Is it even possible to have smooth hands anymore? Or is it just another thing to mourn about this broken world?
If only Charles could have had a life where he had smooth hands.
Edwin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. These are such silly thoughts to have. The days of baby-soft skin are dead, and there is no use making mindless wishes for something so insignificant. Charles may never have smooth, soft skin again, but he can still avoid a future of rotten flesh on his bones if he acts quickly.
“I will turn soon.” Edwin says slowly and directly. He needs Charles to understand. He needs Charles to go. He needs Charles to live. “You know it to be true.”
Shaking his head, Charles brings Edwin’s hand up to his lips. In contrast to the skin on his hands, his lips are soft, like the flower petals in spring.
It isn’t long before tears are running down Charles’ cheeks as he begins to sob uncontrollably. “It’s just not fair! This damn world can take anything else from me, I don’t care, but it can’t have you!”
Edwin brings his hand to Charles’ cheek, wiping away the tears. “The world does not bend to the will of a single soul. No matter how determined.”
Charles turns his head, allowing his lips to brush over Edwin’s palm, before his eyes harden. The shaking of his body now due to anger rather than grief.
“The world is stupid.” Charles spits.
Despite the pain, Edwin cannot help but laugh. That is his Charles: defiant until the end.
“While that may be, it is the world we live in.”
Charles leans back on his knees, shoulders slumping as the weight of the situation settles on them.
“Charles, please. There is not much time left. Take the backpack and go.”
Charles’ glassy eyes meet Edwin’s once more as his hands tighten into fists. Charles looks at the bite again, then at the backpack, then back at Edwin before his eyes harden, his signature determination gracing his face.
Edwin’s heart swells. If that is the last expression Edwin gets to see on Charles’ face as he leaves him behind, Edwin can die happy.
But then, instead of getting up and walking towards the door, Charles moves next to Edwin, lying down next to him and throwing his arm around Edwin.
“Charles, what are you doing?”
“I said I wasn’t leaving you, and I’m not.”
“But you can’t!” Edwin yells as much as he is able. “I will turn and bite you! That is a certainty!”
“I know.” Charles whispers. “But I’d rather be one of those walkers with you than keep being a human without you.”
“Please.” Edwin begs. “It is not too late for you!”
“But it is for you, yeah? So it’s too late for me too. We’re a package deal, you and me.” Charles snuggles into Edwin’s side. “It just wouldn’t be right, walking out of here without you. So, we’ll leave this room together, just as… something else.”
“Charles,” Edwin tries to push himself up but instantly falls back down. “I cannot allow you to throw your life away like this!”
“It’s my life. I can do what I want with it. And this is what I want. An eternity with you, no matter what that looks like.”
Tears fall faster down Edwin’s face, and these are not because of the pain.
“Charles—”
“Don’t ask me to leave again, Edwin.” Charles interrupts, tilting his head into the crux of Edwin’s neck. “I can’t do it. I’d rather die than walk out that door. So that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Edwin somehow sinks further into the floor. “I cannot convince you otherwise, can I?”
Edwin feels Charles shake his head, his fluffy hair tickling Edwin’s skin.
Edwin sniffles. “I am so sorry, Charles.”
Charles presses a kiss underneath Edwin’s chin. “Don’t apologize. We had a good run, didn’t we? And who knows? Maybe this’ll be the start of a new adventure!”
Turning his body over, Edwin touches his forehead to Charles’, relishing these last few moments of closeness as blackness dances on the edge of his vision.
“Any adventure with you is where I am meant to be.”