#theres another near the center of town i want to try sometime next week too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaeminlore · 6 years ago

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Worlds Apart | Ten

summary: we don't have a choice, the curtains have closed. i’m making a point, but you'll never know.

words: 7.8k+

category: fluff, angst, twd au

warnings: death, guns, knives, blood, violence?, the works, not that detailed so it’s p chill

a/n: i am, and i cannot stress this enough, so sorry

The barn is nearly empty. It used to be full of cows. Same with the chicken coop out front. Ten can see the farmhouse through his binoculars — knows that people live there. Humans too, not whatever undead creatures have been popping up everywhere. He wonders briefly if the farmers are even trying to ration their food. After all, their chickens are disappearing at an alarming rate. And, really, he can't see how two old people can eat so much. Sometimes he thinks of sneaking over to the house while the old farmers are on one of their weekly runs. But then again, he steals a lot of apples from their orchard already, and he's pretty sure they know. And he wouldn't even know how to prepare a chicken, so there.

He really hates the taste of apples.

There's an entire basket of the fruit hiding under his bed. He would almost rather starve then force himself to eat another apple. He glances out the window of his R.V. and sighs again. Where are those old farmers anyway? By this time, they're usually home, patching up that chain link fence they installed behind their already-sturdy picket fence. Ten knows its good to be prepared but sheesh, he's been hunkered down in this R.V. for months and he hasn't had a problem.

Seriously though, the convenience store is only three miles away. They almost always leave at dawn. Ten knows their pattern like the back of his hand. They are always home before sundown. That's when it's safest. There has to be a reason they aren't back yet. Something happened. Something bad.

Ten groans and sets his binoculars down. The old red cap that hangs above his sink is snatched up and set over his already-matted hair. He slips on a coat and grabs the only weapon he has: a pocket knife.

He sets for the farmhouse, just as the sun begins to go down.

"Hello?" He knocks three times on the screen door. Cupping his hand around his eyes he peers in, trying to figure out why they kept the front door open and the screen door locked. Not the best call, in his opinion. "My name is Ten! I live in the woods, just outside of your back paddock! I wanted to make sure you guys are safe! Hello!"

He knocks again. Nothing.

There's no activity inside. It's a big house, he knows, but it's also old, and any movement from inside would certainly let off a string of creaks and groans from the old foundation. Plus, these people aren't afraid of anything. He knows that. They're careful sure, but they aren't stupid. They know who Ten is, and they wouldn't leave him out here like this.

Ten makes a split decision and breaks the lock.

"Hello?" He calls again. Sweat forms at the back of his neck as he begins to look through all the rooms. The house is eerily normal. Every bedroom is clean, every bed is made. He reaches the kitchen and finds it strange that the table is set. His eyes drift over to the open dishwasher. The dishes inside are clean, which can only mean one thing.

Ten grabs the faucet handle and turns. When water pours out, he finds himself cheering aloud. This house must have a private well or something, if the farmers are still using a dishwasher.

"Hello?" He calls upstairs. They creak as he climbs up, and paranoia fills his chest as he realizes that no one is home.

No one is coming home.

"Welp, the gas station was completely empty." You drop the empty gasoline can at Taeyong's feet. "This is the third one this week."

Taeyong ignores your whining, but you can't help but let your frustrations out. The three of you — Mark is out — have been traveling for days, hoping to make it to the shore, and yet you keep running out of gas. And yeah, you're thankful that you guys broke down near a baseball field, so you aren't completely vulnerable, but you feel so trapped.

This entire situation is just one big disaster after the next. You need a break. Taeyong needs a break. The poor boy has been trying to start a fire all day. You sit beside him and sigh. "Where's Mark?"

"Scavenging," Taeyong grunts, angrily lighting another match. "There's s rec center near here. There's no way it didn't turn into a safe place. There should be blankets, food—"

"—Walkers," you finish. "There's a higher risk at places like that."

"I know, but he insisted. ' Feels like he isn't doing enough or whatever."

"He's doing plenty," you say. You scratch the dried clay off of your boot and try to blink away the tears. "What if he doesn't come back? What if he's like Yu—"

"Don't," Taeyong whispers. "It's just us now. The others are gone. We can't dwell on the past."

There's a long silence for a moment until... "Guys! You'll never guess what I found!"

"Was it a way to call every walker within the mile to our hideout?" You quip, quickly unlatching the gate to let a flustered Mark in.

He has a duffle bag on his back, and it's filled with stuff, so you let him talk. "Theres a farmhouse, a few miles away. There was a whole list of historical landmarks at the rec center. Apparently, the farmhouse was the first house built in this town. Maybe the people who own it will let us stay."

"Or maybe they'll be gone and we won't have to ask," you mutter, unzipping his bag and extracting a stained blanket. "We should go. First thing in the morning. You remember the directions?"

"Yeah." Mark begins to help Taeyong with the fire, a small expression of pride on his face.

You hope the farmhouse isn't a dead end. For Mark's sake.

Ten doesn't get any sleep. He stays up all night, waiting for the couple to return. Hoping, more like. Once dawn hits the farm, he begins to move his stuff from the R.V. to the house.

Now it's nearly nighttime again, and while he wants to sleep, he can't help but feel unnerved at the thought of being alone in such a big house. He's barricaded all of his things into one room on the second floor. He bides his time by checking the pantry's inventory. There's tons of food here: fruit preserves and frozen meat that Ten realizes the farmer's had prepared early, just in case.

He's hungry, but he can't bear to eat any of their food, so he grabs an apple and sits in the living room, waiting for a couple who won't return.

Except they do. And it's not a couple, it's three people he's never seen before. He notices them when the reach the chain link fence and begin to climb, so he knows they aren't undead. Sometimes that can be worse, though.

He scrambles to his feet and makes way for the front parlor, where he saw a gun cabinet coming in. He grabs the first one he sees — a pistol — and heads outside, a shaky bravado in his voice. "State your names and your business!"

There are three of them. The tallest one raises both his arms, and the others follow in suit. "I'm Taeyong. This is Y/n and Mark. We're looking for solace."

"Obviously," Ten mutters under his breath. Then he raises his voice. "How can I trust any of you?"

"We don't have guns," Y/n speaks up. She passes Ten a wary glance. "Just blankets and food. We were on our way to the shore when our vehicle broke down. The gas stations are empty and we have nowhere to go."

Ten eyes the three of them and notices that they all look a little malnourished. Dark circles are noticeable under their eyes and someone's stomach is definitely

growling. "The couple who live here haven't returned. I'm waiting it out. You're welcome to wait it out with me. But—" he eyes the bag, "—you have to give me some food. All I have — that's mine — are apples."

"I've got strawberry wafers from the convenience store we looted on our way here. Two old walkers were guarding a whole stash of snacks," Taeyong says, hands still in the air.

Ten lowers his gun, gaze softening under the brim of his hat. He recalls seeing a lot of wafers in the pantry. Maybe that snack was a favorite. "I think you met the owners,"he says. He turns his back on them and makes his way up the steps. "Come inside. We can all wash up and eat something."

Mark is the first to follow him in, and Ten figures he must be the youngest, all eager and lively. Taeyong is next, and Y/n stays in the front yard, surveying the ground.

"What is she doing?" Ten questions, setting the gun back in the cabinet. "The entire yard is fenced in. And there are paddocks surrounding it. We're safe, really."

"Y/n is just making sure," Taeyong says. "Last time we didn't secure the borders, we lost people. I think it's compulsory now."

Ten feels a pang in his chest. He's been on his own for so long that he can't remember the last time he lost someone who actually meant something to him. "How long ago?"

"A month." Taeyong whispers as he eyes the front room. "It's only been a month."

The four grab whatever food they think will comfort them the most and eat in the room Ten filled with his stuff. It's obvious that no one really wants to be out of each other's sight. Ten is blatantly outnumbered, but he doesn't feel threatened. Not when Mark begins telling him a funny story, as if they're old friends.

You wake up feeling grosser than you did when you fell asleep. You're not tired anymore, so that's good, but your clothes are caked in a layer of sweat and dirt. You make for the bathroom and locks yourself in, hoping to get at least one shower out of this experience before disaster strikes.

Somehow you fell asleep around the stranger. Your only assurance was that he left the gun in the cabinet and didn't make any threatening moves at all. And Mark seems to trust him. Mark has the seventh sense of a dog, and can always tell when someone is untrustworthy, so you find no real fault in becoming vulnerable for an hour or so.

You find all kinds of hygiene products and refresh yourself liberally. You wash, rinse, and repeat enough times to make conservationists mad, but Ten mentioned a well system, so the water isn't going to run out any time soon. Besides, you don't plan on taking a shower every day, so this is a luxury you think you deserve.

Once every nook and cranny is free of blood, dirt, and sweat, and replaced with the warm scent of vanilla body wash and dandruff-free shampoo, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a cotton robe hanging on the back of the door.

You wrap it around yourself and tie two knots before you feel secure enough to approach the small, yet rambunctious group in the kitchen.

Taeyong has found eggs and a pan, and that's obviously enough for him to revive his love for cooking. Three omelets are already stacked onto Mark's plate, while Ten in tucking into what looks like his last one. "Have you eaten yet, Taeyong?"

"No," he answers. There's a warm grin on his face like he couldn't be more content if he tried. "There were like, two dozen eggs in the fridge, and Ten collected a dozen more from the coop."

"That's wonderful." You ruffle Mark's hair and laugh as he shoves your hand away, whining about being treated like a baby.

Ten looks up from his food and chuckles. "There are clean clothes upstairs if you, uh, don't want to walk around in a robe all day."

You stick your tongue out at him, finding it easier to banter now that you don't feel so gross. "If you want a turn with the robe, just ask."

Ten rolls his eyes and returns to his omelet. "Smart-ass."

"That's me!" You holler, already halfway up the stairs. The farmhouse is huge, so there are certainly enough rooms for each of you. You find the one with the least amount of windows and decide to claim it as your own. After a small search, you find underwear, shorts, and a t-shirt to cover you.

You bound downstairs to see that Taeyong is now sitting at the table, a couple of omelets ready for the both of you. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

Ten leans chin on his palm. "Everyone takes a shower, I guess. To be honest, we can fill the upstairs bathtub with water and use it to wash clothes. We can use it a few times before the water gets too dirty, and it'll save more water than the washing machine."

"And no more using the dishwasher," Taeyong notes. "We can wash them by hand, too."

"I can take inventory," Mark says, swallowing a mouthful of eggs. "See what we need to go on runs for."

"I'll help," you take a sip of your water. "We could go out before sunset and load up."

"I know the land," Ten says. "I should go, too."

Taeyong purses his lips. "So Ten and Y/n go on a run. Mark and I will wash clothes and make sure the animals are fed."

You clean the dishes while Mark makes a list of supplies. Most of it is paper products: toilet paper, paper towels, and pads. A few things are added on, like socks, soap, and sponges. Chicken feed if you can find it.

With the list tucked into your back pocket and a machete clipped to your belt, you follow Ten's lead into town. Ten has a gun holster in his belt, but you're pretty sure he has no idea how to use it. His posture is nervous: shoulders tense and steps quick. "So... come here often?"

Ten snorts. "Not really. I used to steal food from the orchard — we should go picking soon, by the way, before the fruit gets rotten — and I'd go a few miles north for paper products."

You pause. "So, why aren't we going north?"

"I cleaned that place out. There's a general store just a mile up that I want to try. No one ever really went there, so it's possible not many people thought about it during all the panicking."

"Alright," you try to match his steps. "But what if there isn't any there?"

Ten shrugs. "There are a few burger joints around. Supply closets have to have something."

You're about to reply when a growl cuts you off. Ten spreads out his arms and pushes you back. "It's coming from the woods."

"And I have the melee weapon," you say, grabbing his forearm and moving it out of your way. "Watch my back."

The walker joins you both on the road, and you grimace at the way its jaw seems unhinged from its skull. "Disgusting," you mutter, bounding forward and stabbing its head in one quick sweep. "I hate doing that."

Ten holds his hand out and eyes the machete. "I can do it, if you don't want to."

You glare at Ten. "I don't need you to do things for me."

Your outburst quiets Ten. The entire trip to the general store is spent in silence, save for when you kill two more walkers, and Ten kills three with his pocket knife. There's now blood on your crisp white t-shirt. Ten has a few splatters on his jacket, but he wipes his knife on his clothed thigh and keeps walking.

The road is quiet and long. It's so poorly paved that you can't help but wonder just how small this town actually used to be. Without actual people around, it's hard to tell where the town starts and ends. The other fact is that the place seems to be free of walkers. Or at least herds. The random straggler is welcomed, compared to how many herds you've had to fight to get here.

You wonder if it'll last.

"We're here," Ten stops in his tracks and points to an old wooden cabin hidden by the overgrown branches of the roadside forest.

You follow him in. It's more of a gift shop than anything. Maybe a welcome center — the type of place people stop in to pick up a map and nothing else. It's filled with little knickknacks and frivolous clothing items like thin fashion scarves and gloves. The entire place seems heavy with the farm theme, and there are a lot of souvenirs that suggest a historical museum somewhere near here. "I wonder why people didn't come back here," you say.

Ten grabs a hanging keychain with Mark's name on it and pockets it. "No one liked this town before. It's the kind of place everyone dreams of leaving. Lots of old people retire here, but obviously they didn't make it that long."

The two of you pocket whatever seems useful. Luckily, the place has a lot of locally curated goat soap and other hygiene products of that nature. This is a farming town, you think as you find a spare jar of harvested honey.

There are paper products in the supply closet, so the two of you load up as much as you can. "We should check the bathroom, too," you say. "Sometimes they have cabinets of stuff."

Ten finishes filling his bag while you head to the bathroom. It's a one-person bathroom with the door closed, and you aren't stupid, so you grab your machete. You wiggle the knob. Locked. Someone is — or was — in there. You bang your machete hilt against the door and hastily press your ear to the splintered wood, hoping to hear some kind of growling. Something that'll tell you what you're up against.

Instead, you hear what sounds like a whimper.

"Ten," you hiss. "Ten, c'mere."

He hurries over, leaving his bag on the ground and extracting his knife. "What's wrong? What's in there?"

"Ten, I think it's a kid," you hiss. "Like, a human kid."

Ten purses his lips and raps his knuckles against the door. "Is anyone in there? We can help. You have to open the door."

They start crying. It's definitely a child.

You glare at Ten. "You scared them!" You turn to the door and press your palm flat against it. "We aren't here to hurt you. There are two of us. My name is Y/n. My friend's name is Ten. We came to find some supplies and return to our house. We have a house, if you'd like to come..." You trail off as the crying continues. There's really no way to go about this situation. You'd like to open the door and talk to them face to face, but you can't. And breaking down the door doesn't sound like a good way to gain a child's trust. You look to Ten for help.

Ten sits down and leans his head back against the door. "My name is Ten," he starts. "I have a farmhouse down the road a bit. It has cows and chickens, and I think there's a cat that hangs around in the barn sometimes. Do you like cats?"

Silence hangs in the air. Then: "... I like orange ones."

Ten grins at you, a break of relief on his face at the sound of a little girl's voice. "Me too! They're my favorites. What's your name?"

"...Scarlett."

"That's a pretty name," Ten compliments. He eyes a walker as it strides past the windows, and you think about getting back before dark. "Scarlett, would you like to visit the farmhouse? We can find the cat, and my friend Taeyong makes the best omelettes ever."

Scarlett's voice suddenly appears closer to the door, as if she's trying to look through the keyhole. "Does he make cakes?"

"I bet if you come with us, the two of you can bake a cake together!"

The lock clicks. You and Ten scramble away from the door just in time for a little girl to step out.

It's clear that she's been trapped in there for awhile. The bathroom smells like waste, and it's littered with empty cans and wrappers. Scarlett herself is severely malnourished. Her purple overalls hang off of her body. Her short brown hair is matted, and there's dirt and grime on the lens of her turtle shell glasses. She can't be older than seven years old, and her state makes her seem even younger.

Ten is on his knees in an instant, eye-level to the child in an effort to seem comforting. "Are you alright, Scarlett?"

She nods, blinking at the two of you. "I'm hungry."

"Right," Ten grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder before offering his hand to Scarlett. "Then let's hurry. I bet you and Taeyong can bake that cake tonight."

The entire house smells like vanilla. The generator-operated oven was put into overdrive as soon as Taeyong met Scarlett. Together they baked a cake, and while it cooked, Scarlett took a bath and was given clean clothes. You had to hem a pair of underwear to get it to fit, but you found that a grown man's t-shirt worked just fine for a nightgown.

Taeyong found an old copy of The Princess Bride to read to her, and you can still hear Scarlett and Mark's laughter as they listen to Taeyong's exaggerated princess voice.

You sit at the kitchen table, alone with a slice of cake and a mug of lukewarm water. The cake tastes like too much vanilla and even more love. You wonder where Scarlett's parents are, and if they would ever return to that bathroom for their daughter. You wonder if they were the ones who told her to hide in the first place. The day flashes through your mind and you feel regret pool in your stomach. It's uncomfortable as it settles, and you're unsure how to process everything.

Footsteps sound from upstairs, and Ten comes down. He sits across from you and steals your plate.

You let him.

He takes a bite of the treat and stares at you for a moment, perhaps studying your expression and the way you won't look up from your water. "What's wrong."

You shrug, but it's unconvincing even to you. "I just... Why didn't Scarlett answer me? I didn't sound scary, did I?"

Ten cards his fingers through his dark hair and gives you a smile. It looks full of pity. "I don't think it was personal. I think she just liked talking about the cat."

"How do you think she got in there?"

"Could be anything. If I had a guess, I'd say her parents told her to stay there until they came back. And then they didn't."

You frown. "How are we gonna raise a kid?"

"I dunno," Ten shrugs. "Two days ago, I was living alone in an R.V. Anything can happen."

"I guess that's true. And I think Taeyong is happy," you mutter. "Maybe Scarlett can be happy here, too."

As if on cue, a happy giggle is heard from the living room, followed by Taeyong's loud laugh.

Ten grins at you, and his eyes seem to sparkle in the candlelight. "I think she will be."

As it turns out, you and Ten make a really great team when it comes to scavenging. Ten is quick and good at sneaking around, and you have a knack for finding uselful things that seem to hide it plain sight. There are no problems with the two of you, other than the occasional argument.

You load a pistol and stick it in your belt. "Okay, so medicine."

Scarlett comes down with a fever, and Taeyong is nervous about letting it run through without any medication. Ten mentions a pharmacy a short drive away, and the two of you head out.

Ten's hair has grown out in the past weeks. You've reminded him that the farmhouse has clippers, but he seems to like the way his hair curls under his ears.

Secretly, you like it to. You study him as he focuses on driving. He's wearing his usual red cap, letting it come down over his eyes so that it looks almost as if he can't see. Lately, he's taken to tucking his t-shirts into his jeans, and you aren't sure why he does it, but it looks nice on him. It makes him look even more handsome.

As winter is approaching, you've taken to wearing whatever coats and sweaters you could find. Right now you're wearing an old university sweatshirt you found a few scavenging trips back. It's loose on you, but it's warm, and you feel somehow safer with your arms covered.

The pharmacy — with it's clear doors and windows — seems fairly empty, save for a stray or two. The streets: empty as well. It feels wrong, like there's some looming threat around that neither you nor Ten can see.

He parks on the curb, and, list in hand, the two of you climb out of the car.

You glance around and notice a large white church just across the street. "That's weird. Why is it in the middle of town?"

Ten looks up at the steeple. He shrugs. "It's a small town."

You check the release of your pistol for what feels like the hundredth time since you've been given the damn thing. You hate guns. You hate what they do to people, and you hate that you need one to survive. It doesn't help that you barely know how to use the thing. You're clumsy at best, and that's not good enough here. The amount of times Ten has covered your ass because you're not good with firearms is too many to count.

You holster it and grab your machete instead, more comfortable with hand-to-hand combat.

Ten follows your lead and takes out his knife. "Okay. Ready? Stay close to me."

It's something he says before every raid, and you find it more reassuring than anything. "Got it."

The two of you open the pharmacy door together and begin your walk, back to back through the store. Your first concern is clearing it, so when the first walker comes at you, growling and snapping it's jaw menacingly, you nail him between the eyes. Ten gets the only other one you can see, and then it's a dive through the empty aisles for some medication.

"This whole place looks empty," you mutter under your breath. Indeed, white metal shelves are bare, save for a few random items here and there. You watch Ten inspect a few and tuck them away, into his bag.

He picks up a bag of cough drops. "I mean, some of it is useful. Not against a fever, though."

You sigh and make your way towards the back of the store. "Shouldn't there be a place where all the storage is? Like shipment boxes and stuff?"

Ten follows your lead towards the door with an "employees only" sign.

"It's our best shot."

It's the same ritual: Ten covers your back and you cover his. The two of you luckily don't find any walkers, but it's not exactly a room of shipping containments. It's a storage closet, it seems. It's equipped with cleaning supplies, but nothing extraordinary.

"Wait," you say, reaching for a white tin box that hangs just above the light switch. "It's a first aid kit. Look! Aspirin — that's something, right?"

Ten yanks the entire kit off of the wall and shoves it into his back. "Better than nothing," he grunts.

"Let's take this back. We'll try somewhere else tomorrow."

He swings the storage room door open, only to yelp in surprise at the sight of walkers, all crowding the store. They catch sight of him and turn, all headed for the two of you.

Ten pulls the door closed and locks it just in time to hear the banging and growling of walkers. He curses. "We're trapped. What do we do, we're trapped..."

"Ten," you sputter, fear creeping into your chest. "Ten."

He looks at you, eyes wide, mirroring your own fear. He lunges forward suddenly and wraps his arms around you. "It's okay. It's okay. The longest we'll be trapped is a day, right? Taeyong and Mark will notice. They'll drive out."

"They don't have a car," you cry. Your arms circle his waist and you hide your face in his chest. Your body is shaking from fear, fully aware of how loud it it outside of the door. "Where did they come from? How did they sneak up on us?" Panic sneaks up your throat like pile and you squeeze Ten even tighter. "What if they bust the door down?"

Ten lets out a shaky breath. "They won't. They won't. It'll be okay, we just have to think." He lets go of you and paces around the small space.

You reach out for him and his eyes focus on your wrist.

He grabs your wrist. "Your watch. Does it work?"

"It does," you say, hesitantly. "I don't think it matters what time it is, Ten."

"We left the house at nine." He says. "That means it should be noon soon, right?"

"I guess? Ten, what are you saying?"

"The church," he says, "I completely forgot until I saw your watch, but it has a timer that rings out at noon. If we wait, we can make a brake for it."

"How long?" you ask. You whimper at a particularly scary bang heard outside.

Ten glances at your watch. "Any minute now..."

As if on cue, church bells begin to ring from far away. The growls begin to grow quieter, more distant. "Okay, on my cue we go. Stay close to me, and we'll make a break for the car."

"Got it," you whisper, holding your machete in front of your chest. "On your cue."

"Okay, three, two, one..."

The aspirin helps take the fever down, and Scarlett falls asleep in Taeyong's arms that night.

You have a bit more trouble falling asleep. You don't want to feel weak, but it's hard to forget how close you were to death just hours ago. You feel embarrassed at how frightened you got, and wonder if Ten thinks of you as a weak link.

It bothers you so much that you find yourself at the entry to his bedroom. "Hey, Ten?"

He's sitting at the foot of his bed in only pajama bottoms, reading some book he found. But at your voice, he dog-ears the page he's on and sets it aside before looking at you with a gentle smile. "What's up?"

"What happened earlier... At the pharmacy... You don't— You don't think I'm weak, do you?"

Ten furrows his brows before standing up. He shakes his head in disbelief as he walks over to you. "Y/n, I was terrified. You were terrified. That doesn't make us weak, okay? It makes us human, and since that's the only think separating us from the walkers, I think it's a pretty good trait, alright?" He brushes your hair back from your face in a brief moment of reassurance.

You lean into his touch. "Yeah. Alright."

Mark finds a board game in the attic, and he spends the entire afternoon trying to teach it to the rest of you. Scarlett is invested, ignorant to the present events. Taeyong is playing half-heartedly in an effort to keep Scarlett invested.

You're too busy staring out of the window to care about the game. "He's not back yet. He said he's be back." You couch into your hand and groan. Your head is pounding and your throat burns with every cough, but you're too worried about Ten to care. "Mark should've gone with him."

"He wanted to go alone," Mark says.

"He shouldn't get the choice," you snap. You cough into your elbow again and grimace. "We're a team. We can't be separated like this. He has no one to cover him."

Taeyong helps Scarlett move her game piece. While she's distracted, he stands up and makes his way to your perch on the window seat. "You know Ten's fine, right? He worked alone for a long time before we met him."

"I know," you say, "which is why he shouldn't ever have to do it again. Last time we went on a medicine run, we got trapped. It was a stroke of luck that alarm still worked. What if he's trapped now and he needs our help?"

"He's quick. Smart. He'll make it back. Now please go and rest. Your fever isn't going to reduce if you're on your feet, worrying yourself to death." Taeyong doesn't give you a choice, though, as he wraps his arms around you and helps you towards your bedroom. "You'll want to be awake when Ten comes back, right?"

"Right..." You climb into your bed and allow Taeyong to tuck you in (not that you would've had the strength to fight him, anyway.)

"I'll keep a look out," Taeyong reassures you. "If he isn't back in two hours, Mark and I will head out."

"Thank you," you mumble sleepily, already falling into a deep slumber.

When you awake, it's nighttime, and Ten is looking over you with an amused grin. "Miss me?"

"Never," you answer with a cough.

Ten hands you your medicine and you take it, watching the way he worries over your figure. "I'm sorry I left alone. I didn't mean to worry you."

You close your eyes when he rest his cool hand against your forehead. "Just don't leave again, M'kay? Not without me."

Ten smiles softly, and when he speaks, it's a gentle and sincere promise. "I won't."

Winter comes, and you find yourself wishing you were up north, where the walkers would be slowed down by the snow. In the south, winter is chilly at most, and it's nothing a coat can't fix. Walkers keep their same pace.

You, Ten, and Mark find any blind spots in the fences and patch them up. Luckily, the farmers who owned the house beforehand were prepared for this sort of issue, and stored a lot of supplies in the barn.

The barn is now empty. None of you knew how to prepare a cow for eating, you used it as bait to draw a particularly troublesome herd of walkers away from the farm. That wasn't easy either, but at least it was in your range of skill.

The chickens are still lively, and Scarlett does a good job of collecting eggs every morning for Taeyong to cook up. Ten and Mark secured a coop closer to the house, though. Just in case.

You and Ten keep up with your frequent runs, especially now for blankets and other supplies to keep warm in a house without heat. The wells are checked every day by Mark, while Taeyong takes care of the animals and Scarlett.

Any shops near the farmhouse have been cleaned out by the two of you well before winter, so you both decided to go a few towns over and check there. It's a small town with barely any stores, but it has a few rich neighborhoods that Ten wants to loot.

He parks on the curb of the cul-de-sac and laughs at your awed expression. "They're nice, right?"

"Who lived here? Millionaires?"

"Yeah, actually," Ten giggles. "Each of these houses are three stories high. We'll spend the day looting each one, and then we can spend the night in our favorite before heading back."

"Let's hit the one with the in-ground pool first." You push the door open and give Ten an over-the-shoulder smirk. "First one to the door wins."

Ten grabs his knife and bag and follows you across the street, struggling to keep his laughter quiet, lest the two of you draw any walkers in.

When night falls, the trunk of the car is filled with enough supplies to last the farmhouse for a long time. Neither you nor Ten can contain your excitement over the find, so Ten sneaks some wine and glasses into one of the master bedrooms.

You jump on the unscathed bed while Ten locks the door and pushes an armoire in front of it. "Can you believe we found a handheld console? Do you think Taeyong will let us keep it?"

Ten laughs and grabs your hands, pulling you into a sitting position. "Calm down, dummy. And yeah, I'm sure Taeyong will let us take some batteries. Although he might make us give it to Scarlett."

You pull a face. "Why should she have all the fun?"

"We could hide it," Ten whispers, leaning closer to you with a wicked smile painted on his face. "No one has to know."

Tens face is too close to yours. He does this all the time, mostly when he's excited about something. His natural response is to lean into you while he speaks, but right now it's too much.

You're both high off of adrenaline, his nose is brushing against yours, and if you lean in just an inch or two you could kiss his lips. Just one kiss would hurt, right? At least, that's all that can run through your mind at times like these. Then again, it's sort of the end of the world, and maybe you're just lonely.

Or maybe you like Ten a lot, and this is the time to let him know.

You press your lips against his for a split second and move away, afraid of his rejection. Afraid he'll think you're weird.

"Y/n," Ten whispers. His lips are close to yours, and his eyelashes are fluttering against his cheekbones as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "Please don't stop."

He holds your chin between his thumb and pointer, and lifts your face. His lips meet yours once again and they're soft, softer than you think they should be.

You think he shouldn't be this skilled at kissing. Not when the two of you aren't even drunk yet. He nips at your bottom lip; you sigh and grab onto his hair, twirling the ends with your fingers.

Ten gently pushes you until you're on your back, and the plush mattress welcomes your weight. You tug at his hair, eliciting a soft moan from the back of his throat. He grabs at your hips and lifts your shirt, circling the skin with his thumbs.

You sigh against his mouth, and soon he's moving his lips; pressing kisses against your jaw and neck and collarbones. "T-Ten..."

"Yeah?" He whispers, lips still against your neck as he does.

You shiver at the feeling, but try to calm yourself down anyway. "We should... I mean, not that I don't want to, but we should wait."

Ten laughs against your skin and turns his face away, clearing his throat. When he looks at you, there's a smile on his face, now accompanied by a soft blush creeping up his neck. "Want some wine before we tuck in?"

So the moment is forgotten — put on hold — and the two of you let yourselves get drunk off of expensive wine, if just for one night.

And you fall asleep, side by side, content.

You're jerked awake to the sound of someone busting down the front door. You ignore the pounding in your head and sit up, slapping a hand over Ten's mouth. "Ten, someone's in the house."

He sits up; grabs his knife off of the nightstand. "Walkers?"

"Humans," you hiss. You slip out of bed and peak through the blinds of the window. "There's one guy outside — looking through our car, the bastard. I heard at least one in the house."

Ten stands up and winces. He probably has a hangover too, but neither of you can afford the luxury of resting right now. This has to be dealt with. "Do we kill them?"

You look at the man outside. "I don't know. This one seems malnourished. They're probably on their own. No one would come looking for revenge. But also, I don't want to kill a human. Not if I don't have to."

"They make one wrong move," Ten says, gesturing to his weapon, "They're out. No info about where we live or who we're with, either. We tell them that's our car, we take it and leave."

"What if they put up a fight?"

Ten pulls the armoire away from the door. "We fight back."

"We're almost home," you say, trying to hide the shake in your voice. "Stay awake for me, Ten. Please stay awake."

Ten rests his bloodied hand atop yours. There's a stab wound in his side, and you're reaching over to try and apply pressure to the wound as you drive back.

You have no belt for a tourniquet, no bandages in your car. Of all the things the two of you found, you couldn't find any damn bandages. You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears trail down your cheeks. You didn't know the stranger had a knife. He pulled it out of nowhere.

"We're almost there, Ten. We're almost there."

He pats your hand and lets out a strangled giggle. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine..."

You pull into the yard, outside the secure gate and shout for help. Taeyong and Mark run out, and you notice Scarlett peaking through the window. "Please, I don't know what to do!"

Taeyong opens the gate. "Drive up to the porch. Mark, set up the couch and bring me bandages and antiseptic. Bring me a needle and thread, too."

"Stitches?" you whisper, pained.

"Just drive him up!"

As Ten is placed on the couch, he passes out. From shock, Taeyong says, although you really don't care about the reason. You brush Ten's bangs up, away from his eyes as Taeyong applies the medicine and tries to stitch up the wound as best as he can.

"What if he doesn't make it, Taeyong?" You lean in to press your forehead against Ten's. "What do I do without him?"

Taeyong winces as he pierces through Ten's skin. "He lost a lot of blood, and I don't know how to do a transfusion. Hopefully he didn't lose enough to kill him. But that's all we have right now, okay? Hope."

You grab Ten's hand and press your lips to his palm. "I'm not leaving him."

Taeyong presses his lips together. "I'll get a rope, then."

"What?"

"Y/n... If he... If Ten doesn't make it, and he turns, it'll put us all in danger, okay?"

You can feel the tears again. Just the thought of Ten dying makes you want to burst into tears. Still, you nod. "Okay." You kiss Ten's forehead. "Okay."

Ten wakes up feeling like he just bathed in a bucket of sweat. And his side is burning. And his nose itches.

He reaches down to scratch it, but his hands are tied up behind his head. He grunts and tugs on the restraints. His eyelids are heavy, and he doesn't want to open them for lack of strength, but at the same time he really wishes someone would release him from whatever is holding him.

"...Ten?"

He hums at the sound of a new voice. It sounds like you, and it makes him want to open his eyes. Makes him want to reach out and touch you, assure you that he's okay, but he just doesn't have the strength. So he hums again.

"Ten... Ten, please tell me you're alive."

Ten groans again. Tugs at his restraints. He yanks hard, and hisses at the pain in his wrists.

"Ten, please..." you begin sobbing. It hurts Ten's chest. It hurts him so badly because all he wants to do is reach out and touch you; hold you, but he can't. He can't reach out with these stupid restraints on.

He tries to call out your name, but it comes out as a strangled moan. He can't manage anything other than meaningless noise, but he's trying. He's trying to tell you that he's alive, he's just struggling to wake up fully. That's all, that's all, that's all.

He yanks on the restraints again. His wrists ache. His side aches. His heart aches as your crying grows louder and he wishes he had more strength than he does.

He hears a gun safety click. Wait...

No, no, no, he's not dead. He's not dead and he hasn't turned, he's just weak, for goodness sake.

He yanks on his restraints. He tries to open his eyes. He's not dead. He isn't. He isn't. He isn't.

"Ten, I'm sorry..." you sob. He feels your fingers brush through his hair and then there's a cold barrel placed against his temple.

He struggles and tries to scream, but it comes out as a frustrated growl which only scares you more. He can't comfort you. He can't even comfort himself because he's comprehending that this is the end. This is the end of his life if he can't wake up, and you're going to be his murderer. You're going to put a bullet through the future you two could have together and there's nothing he can do.

"Ten, I love you," you whisper, hand splayed over his chest. "I love you so much."

He groans again. It's all he can do. He feels weak... so weak and he's starting to think that maybe you're doing him a favor. Maybe he's already dead. Maybe he actually is a walker, and this is just his subconscious, still living on.

Maybe he's just trying to justify his death.

Your crying gets louder, and Ten can hear other voices around you. They don't matter as much as you, though. He needs you to know that you're the only one he cares about. Before he goes, he needs you to know that.

He wants to say it back. He never said it out loud and now he's gonna die without you having ever heard him. You're never going to know how much he loves you and there's nothing he can do about it.

He thinks of your lips on his, and the way wine tastes on your tongue. He thinks of the warmth of your embrace and the bravery in your actions. He thinks about the softness of your hands and how cute you look with your hair up. He thinks of your heart in his hands and nothing else.

I love — he thinks to you, and then his mind is blank.

And he is gone.

#twd!nct #ten scenario #ten fluff #ten angst #ten au #nct au #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct angst #destwrites

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