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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 490px; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 12px; color: black; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black; letter-spacing: 5px;]HONEST TO GOD I WILL BREAK YOUR HEART[/fancypost]
[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 490px; text-align: justify; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 11px; margin-top: -13px;][hr]thin fingers brushed over a sweaty forehead, the fever taking over the other young man's body. tears stung the boy's cheeks as he watched his brother's eyes slowly flutter closed, with a mutter of "i love you, baby brother," passing the dying male's lips. jared sniffled silently, shaking his head slightly. "you can't... you can't leave me. i'll die without you. th-the walkers, they'll-" "jay..." the other's shiny, honey-brown eyes slowly opened again, though still half-closed. jared's lower lip quivered, his puppy blue eyes seemingly bigger than they usually were. "you'll... be okay. you're not helpless; you can take care of yourself." his brother was lying. jared couldn't take care of himself, and both of them knew that. ever since he was born, jared needed someone to watch after him. as he got older, the dependency got worse. of course, he always told everyone he was fine; he could take care of himself. but he was self-destructive, sometimes without even realizing it, and shannon of all people should know that. he did, yet he still told jared something that they both knew was completely untrue.
shannon, who was naturally lightly tanned, was almost as white as a ghost. sweat soaked his clothes and dripped from his forehead, and the bite on his side hurt like hell. his baby brother, whose complexion was usually creamy, was almost as white as snow. tears stung his cold cheeks, and the way his ribs rubbed against his stomach kinda hurt, too. his hands were shaking, bloody from trying to stop the blood from flowing, even though it'd do nothing but maybe get shannon a few more moments of life. "you know you gotta... you have'ta..." he took a deep, shaky breath, tears mixing in with the sweat on his face. "i know," the younger of the two whispered, and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. "love you, baby jay." "love you, shan." after that, they stayed silent, just waiting, their foreheads pressed together, crying silently with each other. jared put his bloodied hands on his brother's cheeks, gently rubbing the stubbly skin with his thumbs. one of his brother's hands slowly moved to one of his own soft cheeks, gently rubbing away tears that fell. jared took that hand in his own, intertwining their fingers; strong calloused one with a soft thin one.
when the hand in his own felt limp, jared's half-lidded eyes became wide, and he lifted his forehead from his brother's. the older male's eyes were closed, and his chest wasn't moving. he whimpered, lip quivering. he tried hard not to let the sobs out, even though they were in a boarded up house that was, surprisingly, clear of any walkers. he couldn't contain them, and let it all out, sobbing into his brother's chest. his eyes shut tightly, squeezing the limp hand in his own. his cries were strained and small, quiet enough that no one could hear outside; or, nothing. "you promised you'd never leave me! you fvcking bastard!" he didn't mean it; he didn't mean it when he called shannon a bastard. the elder did promise he'd never leave jared alone, especially not with how the world was now—but he broke that promise, even if it wasn't entirely his fault, and jared wanted to just scream.
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before the world went to shit - it was already shit, but you get what i mean - jared and shannon had been living quite the good life. they shared a decent apartment, big enough for the both of them plus a good friend of theirs, and they all shared many laughs and good times. of course, they had bad times—jared was prone to panic attacks/nightly terrors, shannon was so overprotective that he hardly got any sleep (less than jared, which's saying something), and tomo, their friend, was homesick a lot of the time, even though he could call his family and skype them; all that stuff. they were there for each other, though, which made it easier for them. if they'd all have been living on their own, it'd surely be worse than hell.
living together wasn't as hard as most people think it'd be. they were like brothers, all three of them, and even though it could get frustrating, being so close all the time, it was also calming and soothing. they had each other to talk to, when they needed it, or to just cry on their shoulder. after a rough day at work, they could come home and go get a drink together, or something, or all watch a movie (which was always jared's idea). tomo worked at a guitar center not too far from their apartment, and shannon worked as a mechanic at a car place about thirty minutes away. jared worked at a cute little diner as a waiter, and had become good friends with the other employees and the regulars. it was nice, and if the world hadn't suddenly gotten this virus, or whatever it was, they could've lived to be over one hundred, their lives were so wonderful.
of course, though, this virus thing had to just appear and make people turn into mindless zombies after they died. tomo had got struck with a fever after only the first few months, and there was no stopping it. no matter how many antibiotics he took (which wasn't many considering the closest pharmacy was almost a mile away), it didn't work, and he ended up cold and lifeless on the couch in their living area. jared had the worst panic attack he'd ever had since his and shannon's biological father, which is a whole different story. shannon, of course, was the one who offed their friend, while jared threw up in their bathroom until all that came out was spit and bile, then his vomiting turned into dry-heaving.
two years into this mess, and now jared's all alone.
[hr]
the knife split the rotting flesh, piercing the thing's skull and driving into its brain. blood spurted out, speckles flying onto his face. it wasn't a lot, but it was noticeable, and he didn't even care anymore. his hands were already stained with dry blood from killing so many walkers, and even a few people who'd tried to steal his backpack full of water bottles, bullets, and even some food. they would've surely killed him first—they had their guns and knives out, some pointed out at him as he pretended to sleep, until he found his chance to slit their throats then drive his knife into their skull. his passiveness was growing; he just didn't care anymore. he'd kill anyone - or anything - he needed to without thinking twice about it. he wouldn't feel guilt, remorse, or pity. nothing. he was numb.
the twenty-three year-old frowned - which was seemingly permanent on his baby-face, now - and kept at his angry pace, walking down the deserted road. trees from forest surrounded either side of the road, the sun slowly starting to set. he needed to get somewhere safer than an open road, and quickly, if he wanted to live. sometimes he wanted to just die, leave this hell-on-earth, but he knew it's not what his brother would've wanted. his brother would've wanted him to keep going, to try his hardest until he literally couldn't try any more; till he was too weak, physically and mentally, to do anything about dying. jared didn't want to die by getting bit or scratched, or eaten alive, of course; if he got too physically weak, and he wasn't somewhere as safe as safe can be in this world, now, he'd just off himself. he found himself with his gun pointed to his head sometimes, but he always ended up not pulling the trigger--obviously, seeing as he's still breathing, and not one of those things.
jared panted as he started jogging, his complexion as pale as it was when his brother had died, though thinner and weaker. his only defense was his knife and his gun, against other people who were, well, still people. he'd gotten much more physically weak during the three months his brother's been gone, sometimes being drained of almost all energy after sleeping for a couple hours, three at the most. he didn't know how long it'd been since he'd last actually eaten something; four or five days, maybe a week. he wasn't counting, anyway. he rarely came across food, being a vegetarian not very helpful these days. he refused to eat anything that even contained the littlest bit of something meat-ish in it, even if it meant keeping from getting too weak. he just couldn't; it'd all end up back out of his stomach, anyway.
it was two hours before he came across a small neighborhood that seemed fairly empty. it was dark out, now, and he'd come across too many walkers to count. ten, fifteen, maybe twenty? he never counted how many; he didn't care. he'd jogged halfway to the small neighborhood, and would've jogged the whole way if he hadn't tripped while trying to get away from a few walkers. he ended up having to use his gun, which he was really hoping he wouldn't have to use. he grunted silently, angrily, and stealthily made his way into one of the houses without any of the walkers - the things - noticing him. well, a few had noticed him, of course, but they were too slow to catch up to him.
once he stepped inside the house, he knew something was off. he frowned as deeply as he could, shutting and locking the door behind him. for a second, he thought maybe he'd find someone else here, but the thought was quickly replaced with how stupid it was. wouldn't the house be boarded up? he shook his head at his own foolishness, and silently made his way to the kitchen, and started rummaging around for food, hoping that there weren't any walkers in the house.
[hr]
[ ooc. ] ehmg i'm dying what have i done
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 465px; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 12px; color: black; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px black; letter-spacing: 5px; margin-top: -13px;]TEAR YOU TO PIECES AND RIP YOU APART[/fancypost]