Close To You :Synacky:

It'd been a while since we'd seen shelter.

We'd left whatever the fuck ghost town we were at when it got raided. We assumed they were running from something, and didn't want to find out what. Whether it be other survivors or those who were tainted, they were always a danger. Being on our own was the way forward.

When we started out, there were five of us. The number slowly whittled down, either by people going insane or becoming one of them. Nobody really started to lose their cool until Jimmy drank unfiltered water and began changing over the next few days. From then on, it went downhill. He's still out there, somewhere, no doubt feeding on some poor souls fresh carcass.

There's a flurry from a nearby bush and Brian is quick to draw his gun, whilst I hold my pocket knife outstretched in front of me. We both sigh softly and replace our weapons as we watch the ravens shoot out of the bush, heading to the skies and away from us.

"Unkindness," I say. Brian takes my hand and squeezes, before looking at me, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "A flock of ravens. An unkindness."

He licks his chapped lips and averts his eyes. He's scared. I squeeze his hand back and he squeezes again, harder, before continuing walking.

The sun is starting to set when Brian stops dead in his tracks, causing me to donk! straight into his back. He's breathing heavily and his fists are balled, muscles taught. I whisper his name softly and he squeals, suddenly sprinting off, faster than I've seen him run without ever a need to. He's yelling at me to follow him, waving erratically and excitedly whilst I stumble after him, struggling somewhat to keep up.

He presses his hand to the worn brickwork and draws his gun, hushing me and urging to do the same as I slam myself against it. I pant and draw it shakily, following him around the side of the building, as he checks all the doors and windows. They're all locked, to the point where Brian has to whisper a breathy "cover me" as he shoots the latch and kicks the door in, moving as though part of a SWAT team as he infiltrates the building. There's a shout of "Clear!", and I close the door, barricading it with bar stools.

Wait. What?

Brian tries the light and they flicker on, the old tavern-esque bar lighting up and coming to dim life. The windows are still all covered, and the neon signs don't seem to be working, but it's still nice. It's still shelter.

He drags a mattress out of seemingly nowhere and places it in the corner, putting his hands on his hips and looking around proudly, "Understand why I was excited?"

I nod enthusiastically, "I do. S'wonderful, Bri."

He pulls me into his arms and presses a kiss to my forehead. I wrap my own around his waist tightly and rest my head on his shoulder, slipping my eyes shut and sighing softly. I murmur something about loving him, which he returns, and I place a light kiss on his neck. He kisses just before my cheek bone and whispers about their being a bottle of wine in the back. My eyes shoot open and my mouth suddenly becomes dry and my senses aching for the taste of something that isn't filtered water.

Of course, Brian still has to run it through the filter, but it doesn't stop the fruity taste from over taking my senses. I take a moment to just hold it in my mouth, eyes closed, swishing it around, doing that stupid wine taster thing before swallowing it. When I open them, Brian is smiling up at me softly, his eyes glimmering with the old him.

"You look like you enjoyed that," he says, softly, a familiar rasp to his voice, as if he's only just woken up. I blush heavily and take another sip as he speaks, "is it nice?"

I nod, "Try it."

He does as I tell him, tilting his glass before taking the first sip. He groans when it first hits his tongue, his eyes rolling back and he starts doing the same stupid wine taster thing as I did, making me smile as I nibble at a bread roll. His eyes open again and he smiles slowly.

"Y'know, Zack, I one hundred percent understand your response."

I grin and laugh, leaning forward and stealing a kiss. He chases after another, but I lean back further than he can reach, raising an eyebrow at him. He pouts and looks up at me with wide chocolate orbs, so I grant his kiss and we continue to feast.

We finish after three glasses of wine each and replace the cork. He stands and takes off his holster, finally, and places it on top of a jukebox. He pauses and stares at it, before gasping and looking around. He finds the switch for it and it suddenly lights up. He's searching it to lower the volume. I hand him a few quarters from over the counter, after busting into the till and looting the dollars cash.

He's flicking through the songs and he gasps again suddenly, urgently throwing a quarter in, placing the rest on the top of it, and punching in a number.

He turns around and grins at me, waiting for the music to start. All of a sudden, Robert Palmer's Addicted To Love erupts from the machine, slightly fuzzy at first but soon settling. Brian's already wormed his arms around me, kissing my neck softly and slipping his hands up my shirt.

I sigh softly and relax into him, going with his flow, and before the second verse has kicked in he's already got me down to my briefs on the mattress. We made love for the first time in months, littering kisses wherever we can reach, clinging on for dear life and scraping blunt nails across each others skin. My legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, fingernails digging into his shoulders. His nose brushes against mine occasionally, his eyes lidded and mouth hanging slightly open, strands of hair tickling my forehead. His left hand is gripping the edge of the mattress behind me, the right wandering wherever it pleases. He's constantly whispering sweet nothings, and all I can do is arch my back and hitch my breath, choking something of the like.

Brian was always a talker during sex.

It takes me by surprise (as he often does), considering he tends to be quiet everywhere else. He's quiet an observant until spoken to, in which case his personality dazzles through, his sense of humour hitting like an offensive train, but in the kindest way possible. Brian is simultaneously the nicest, yet meanest person I have met to date, and I love him for it.

What I don't love is that once we're finished and I'm finally able to whisper the words back to him, he's quiet. Unable to do anything but curl up into me and sleep, leaving me to run my hands through his hair and do my best to sleep myself. Tonight, however, I'm finding it particularly difficult, as I continue to stare at the jukebox.

My primary concern is that Brian's gun is on top of it, way out of reach and not at all practical should a hoard come and raid the place. My secondary concern is the noise it makes. Brian wasn't able to find a volume control, and I'm still not sure if the open space swallows up or intensifies sound. I don't know what the tainted's hearing is like.

We spend a few weeks under the shelter of the tavern, every so often risking a few songs on the old jukebox and having a dance and a sing-a-long. It's nice to forget about the entire situation for approximately four minutes. We are, however, paranoid for about a half hour afterwards. We jump and draw our weapons at slight noises, such as the pitter-patter of birds on the roof, before relaxing and laughing at how paranoid we're both being.

The one night that we're completely relaxed, however, is when we should be paranoid. We feel comfortable and safe here, even with the music on, and that's when you know you have a problem. We don't even care for the pitter-patter of the birds anymore, never mind there squawking. An unkindness has come to feel quite at home with us in this tavern.

Brian's been rather romantic for the past few days. He's started cooking somewhat decent food again, calling me over for cuddles on the booth in the back of the tavern, having heart to hearts, calling me pet names, singing to me, stealing kisses and attempting to seduce me more often. His attempts have been rather successful, I might add, only turning him down once, and that's only because I thought I heard something.

Tonight, he wants to dance. He's queued up songs on the jukebox and only put the light on in the centre of the tavern. I'm sat in the booth when he slinks over, holding his hand out and politely asking for a dance. I look up and bite my lip before placing my hand delicately in his, letting him whisk me away into the middle of the floor.

He holds my left hand in his right and slips his left into my hip, softly singing along to Aerosmith's Don't Wanna Miss A Thing. I sing it back to him, eyes locked on his as we slowly rock in a rough circle. He pulls me closer towards the end, hand moving to the small of my back as the machine whirs and the opening riff of Sweet Child O' Mine blares. I smile softly and murmur that it's a good choice, even if its not quite a love song. He kisses me gently, mumbling against my lips that he doesn't care. I roll my eyes before slipping them shut and kissing back. His hand has let go of mine to cup the back of my head as he deepens the kiss.

There's a pitter-patter from above and a loud squawk, followed by a chorus of others. I try to pull away by Brian pulls me closer, so a wrap my arms around his neck and run my hands through his hair. He lets me part when the squawks get more urgent. I look up at the ceiling, frowning, before nuzzling into his shoulder and breathing him in.

There's a thud on the roof, before a scrambling and a more panicked squawk. He squeezes me as the song changes to The Carpenters' Close To You. I smile softly, thinking of the amount of birds we've seen on our travels.

There's another thud, the scrambling of the birds and collective shrieks from the unkindness on the roof. We freeze. They groan. I whimper Brian's name, and he looks around the room urgently.

No weapons.

"Brian where are they?" I whisper urgently. He shakes his head quickly and clings to me.

"I don't know..."

"Brian-"

"Zack I don't-... I'm sorry I-" he hiccups and I squeeze him tight.

There's thudding from around the sides of the building as well as the roof. They've found the door, slamming themselves against it. They're shaking the handle on the door that still has a lock.  They're groaning about something, there are words being formed but they're too slurred for me to understand. I bury my face further into Brian's shoulder and his face nuzzles into my neck. His tears are hot against my skin. Close To You is still playing in the background.

There's a yell and the smashing of glass. We both jump violently and hold each other tighter, fear really kicking in. I realise that we have no weapons, we're surrounded, they can smell us, hear us and they're finding their way in. There's a yell from one of them. I start to cry.

The bar stools fall. More glass breaks. A door is beaten down. Brian sobs and so do I. I can feel them getting closer, but refuse to look. It smells like death. I pull Brian closer and whimper softly. He kisses my shoulder, hardly moving his head. I assume he's too scared to look. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.

"Brian Haner, I fucking love you," I say, hiccuping in the middle of words.

"I knew this would happen," he says through gritted teeth.

"Bri.."

"Why do you think I've been like I have? I fucking knew it was too good!" his voice cracks.

I shake my head and sob into his shoulder, and squeezes me tight. He apologises softly, and I shake my head again.

"I still love you..."

"I love you, Zacky," he sounds weak this time. The Carpenters are still playing.

"I wish I could've married you," I whimper. It's Brian's turn to sob, and suddenly I can feel their finger tips on my back, just scraping the fabric of my shirt.

I scream and we crush ourselves into each other, eyes tight shut as they grab us from all directions. I can make out their words now. They're chanting 'Food'.

Brian gets bitten first. He gasps and his grip tightens even more on my shirt. He whines softly. All of this happened in a millisecond, as I return all of his actions, teeth sinking into my hand. They tear, claw and bite all over, before we both go weak and collapse. Brian's crying hysterically and I'm starting to go dizzy. The only thing I can think of is the final thing I said, or at least, that is, until Brian goes limp in my arms.

I black out.