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The world didn’t end in a bang, nor a whisper.
It ended in static.
The first flare shattered satellites. The second fried every circuit in orbit. By the third, entire continents were blind—no signals, no broadcasts, no GPS. Panic followed, like a long-overdue tide. Cities plunged into darkness. Governments fell in days. What the sun didn’t burn, humanity destroyed with its own desperation.
They called it the Burnout.
A decade later, the sky was still scorched amber. Nights glowed sickly from residual radiation. The air carried ash like snow. Entire biomes twisted into unfamiliar forms. Machines that once defined modern life lay silent, rusted, devoured by moss and time. Power was a memory. Order, a rumor.
And yet, people survived. Scattered, feral, or clinging to old-world scraps like myths.
Some formed roving enclaves—militant, ruthless, built on scavenged tech and blood. Others fled into isolation, fearing mutation, contamination, or worse: human contact. Still others adapted, their bodies changing in response to the solar rot. Unnatural. Unrecognizable.
But in the husk of a forgotten city once called Avalon Heights, something else took root.
At the edge of a collapsed skyline, half-buried beneath sand and broken neon, stood By The Beat—a former underground nightclub turned fortress. The power flickered there, impossibly. Speakers still thrummed with heartbeat bass. The building breathed like something alive, fed by salvaged solar panels, jury-rigged generators, and one stubborn belief: that rhythm could still hold the world together, even in its ruins.
No one outside knew exactly how By The Beat worked. Some said its inhabitants made a deal with gods. Others claimed its lights were bait for luring wanderers into traps. But the truth was quieter—and far more human.
Four survivors lived within its walls.
And they were in love.
Not the kind sung about in pre-Burnout pop ballads. This was love forged through ash, tested by hunger, kept alive with shared warmth and sweat and promise. Their love held as firm as the concrete beneath them—and as fragile as the last working fuse in the generator.
But the world outside didn’t care for love. It cared only for survival.
And By The Beat? It was beginning to draw attention.
---
The broken door groaned as it swung inward.
“Let’s make it quick,” Zeal murmured, eyes narrowing. “In and out. We can’t afford another delay.”
“You got it, Gin-chan.” Seible gave a wink and nudged him with his elbow, already sliding past the threshold with barely a sound. His fingers drummed absently against his thigh, a nervous tic masked as rhythm.
Kaelix followed behind him, cheerful as ever, but his eyes were sharp. The baseball bat slung across his back—modified with nails and metal studs—rested lightly in his grip now. “If there’s anything inside, I call dibs on bashing it.”
Freodore didn’t laugh. He almost never did these days.
“I’ll hang back,” he said, voice low as he checked the street behind them. No movement. Yet. “Covering.”
Zeal gave him a look—half questioning, half understanding—but didn’t argue. He never tried to wrest leadership from anyone. He simply filled silence with direction. And Freodore? Freodore filled silence with protection.
As the others slipped into the next building—a pharmacy barely intact, its sign dangling by a bolt—Freodore crouched behind a splintered post. His rifle rested on one knee, eyes locked on the street. Every corner of the city felt like it watched them back.
He wasn’t the tallest—actually, he was shorter than all three of them, something Seible often teased him about—but he never let that slow him down. If anything, it made him harder to spot, easier to slip between shadows. They joked that he was the ghost of their group. He never corrected them.
Minutes passed.
A bottle shattered inside the pharmacy.
Freodore tensed, finger hovering near the trigger.
Then came Kaelix’s voice, calm and bemused. “Seible, you’re gonna break every bottle in the place at this rate.”
“Blame the shelf! It broke before I even touched it,” Seible hissed back, obviously lying. “Also, I found expired cough drops. Score?”
Zeal sighed. “If you find something real, yell. Otherwise—keep it down.”
Freodore relaxed only slightly. He stayed low, moving once—twice—to check the alley beside the store. Nothing.
A stray memory crept in: Zeal’s voice, whispering late at night that they’d keep going until the world gave them peace. Seible’s laughter even when their rations were dry. Kaelix’s quiet hand on Freodore’s back after a nightmare, never asking, never pushing.
Let them be loud, Freodore thought. Let them feel normal.
He’d stay quiet for all of them.
Another groan echoed. Closer this time.
Freodore stiffened, eyes locking onto a shadow staggering from the mouth of an alley two blocks away. Another behind it. Three. No—five. Too far for the others to hear. Too close for comfort.
He didn’t call out. Not yet. Didn’t want to spook them. Instead, he moved to the side door, tapped the rusted metal twice—signal code: Eyes up. Trouble coming.
Inside, Zeal appeared in a heartbeat, lips pressed in a line. “How many?”
“Six,” Freodore murmured. “Maybe more behind. Fast ones.”
Zeal cursed under his breath. “We’ll wrap up.”
Seible poked his head out, holding up a cracked bottle of water and two energy bars like trophies. “Not a total bust!”
“Move now. Back route,” Freodore ordered. Not asking. Just doing.
Kaelix passed last, brushing a hand over Freodore’s shoulder briefly. “Thanks, little ghost.”
Freodore didn’t respond, already scanning the rooftops.
They moved like a current, sweeping through the alley behind the pharmacy and into the tangled mess of Avalon’s skeletal remains. The threat passed unseen. Unfought. And that was exactly how Freodore liked it.
Let them be the ones to hope.
Let them be the ones to dream.
He would watch the dark.
They heard the screech first.
Not the groan of a slow-turning husk. This was different—higher, sharper. The kind of sound that sliced clean through air and made instinct kick in before reason.
“Run!” Freodore’s voice cracked out before any of them could ask what it was. He didn’t wait. Didn’t explain. He just pivoted and fired two shots behind them, the sound exploding in the alley’s narrow walls.
The first shrieker hit the pavement, its limbs jerking erratically. The others followed—four, maybe five—eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Mutated runners. Starved but fast. Too fast.
“Shit!” Kaelix was already hauling Seible forward by the wrist, dropping from laid-back to deadly serious in an instant.
Zeal didn’t hesitate. “Follow the path. West—two blocks, then cut left. Find a spot to lose them.”
“Furi—!” Seible turned, panic clear in his voice.
“I’m right behind you!” he lied.
They took off.
Freodore spun, breathing shallow. One of the shriekers hurled itself toward him, limbs spidered wide. He caught it mid-air with a bullet to the skull. The thing landed in a twitching heap at his feet.
Too close. Way too close.
He moved backward, step by step, firing in short bursts. Every round counted. The weight of his pack shifted uncomfortably. His fingers were cramping.
He caught a glimpse of Seible looking back once before Kaelix physically turned him around. Good. That was good. They were listening.
They had to keep listening.
A hiss sounded to his right.
He ducked instinctively—and the swipe missed him by inches.
Too close.
He fired again—point-blank. It dropped, but more were coming. The shriekers weren’t just fast. They were hunting now, tracking sound, movement, fear.
He reached a rusted metal gate, turned the corner, and saw a broken stairwell leading up to an old tenement. High ground.
He climbed two steps—then stopped.
Below him, the horde turned the alley. They hadn’t gone after the others.
They’d picked up his trail.
“Good,” he muttered, backing up the steps. “Come after me.”
He reached the second floor landing, ducked into the skeletal remains of a hallway, and pressed his back against the wall. Steadying his breath, he reloaded with shaking hands.
The rifle clicked home. Four shots left. Then the pistol. Then the knife.
He didn’t feel scared. Not exactly. He felt focused. He’d lived in this space before—where everything narrowed to instinct and movement and protection. This was where he worked best.
But when he closed his eyes—just for a second—he saw Seible’s grin. Zeal’s steady hand. Kaelix’s lazy, cocky drawl.
He could keep going. Just a few minutes more.
A shrieker rounded the stairwell. Freodore shot it between the eyes.
Few more minutes.
---
The city swallowed sound like a sponge.
They ran. Boots slammed against pavement. Broken signs whipped past. Their breath came ragged, sharp in the back of their throats.
Two blocks. Turn left. That was the plan.
Zeal led them around the corner of a collapsed storefront, scanning every path, every shadow. Kaelix slammed a dumpster aside, clearing a narrow gap between buildings, and shoved Seible through it first.
They burst into an overgrown courtyard and finally stopped, half-crouched behind a moss-covered fountain.
Zeal counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
His face twisted.
“Freodore,” he said.
Kaelix’s head snapped around. “Where is he?”
“I thought he was behind you!” Seible gasped, panting hard. “He said—he said he was coming!”
“He lied,” Zeal muttered bitterly, pulling out the scope from his side pouch and swinging it up. He scanned the rooftops. Nothing. Just smog, and sunset burning amber over rusted towers.
Kaelix cursed under his breath. “We should go back.”
“Into that?” Zeal snapped, motioning toward the direction they’d come. The distant echoes of screeches still rang in the alleys. “That was a hunting pack. Fast. Smart. You saw them. If we go back now, we’re no good to him.”
“We don’t go back?!” Seible’s voice cracked. “He—he stayed behind for us! He always does this!”
“I know,” Zeal said. Too fast. Too sharp. Regret immediate in his eyes. “I know. But—he wanted us safe. He planned for this. We keep moving. We find shelter. Then we find him.”
Kaelix growled something under his breath—too low to catch—then slung his bat across his shoulder and turned toward the nearest overpass. His shoulders were stiff. Angry.
Seible lagged behind, eyes darting wildly to every rooftop. “He’s smart. He’s so smart, he’ll be okay, right?”
Zeal didn’t answer.
He couldn’t lie like Freodore could.
---
Freodore ran on instinct now. His breath ripped through him in ragged gasps as he tore through the building, boots thudding against warped wood and broken tile. The shriekers were still behind him—less now, maybe three. Maybe two. One was limping. One he’d dropped with a shot to the chest.
His legs burned. He didn’t care.
He reached a blown-out window and didn’t hesitate. He leapt.
Glass tore his sleeve as he landed hard on the next rooftop. Rolled. Came up dizzy. Keep going. His ankle screamed. His shoulder throbbed. But he was moving.
He ducked into a stairwell, slammed a door behind him, and wedged a metal rod through the handle.
Silence. Brief. Precious.
He collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. Blood trickled down from a cut on his forehead. His hands shook.
His mind didn’t.
He’d led the horde away. That was what mattered.
But as his adrenaline ebbed, something ugly and deep began to twist in his gut.
He shouldn’t have stayed behind. Or he should’ve told them. Anything.
He thought of Seible’s eyes when he called back.
He thought of Zeal’s jaw tightening when he vanished too long.
He thought of Kaelix’s voice, quiet and dry, saying, “Thanks, little ghost.”
They would come looking for him. And that terrified him more than the creatures ever could.
He dug into his coat and pulled out the worn receiver—the short-range comm they barely got working a month ago. He clicked it twice, the signal they’d agreed on.
Alive.
Nothing came back. Not yet.
But they knew him. They’d wait for the tap. They always waited for the tap.
Freodore closed his eyes. Just for a second.
Then he pushed himself upright and limped toward the stairwell’s upper floor. He had to get higher. Signal stronger. Safer view.
His ribs ached.
Just hold on, he thought.
I’ll find you.
And from a crumbling rooftop, in the last burnt rays of sun, Freodore raised his receiver again—one tiny heartbeat, pulsing across the dark.
---
“Again,” Seible said, breathless, perched atop a crumbling truck cab.
Zeal twisted the receiver’s knob gently, careful not to snap the fragile wire. “Still nothing. Last ping was an hour ago.”
“Then we’re going back,” Seible growled. His cheer had frayed. It wasn’t gone—just stretched thin, ragged around the edges. “He’s out there. Hurt. Alone. And he—he lied to us again.”
Kaelix watched the horizon, arms crossed. His bat was slung across his shoulder, bloodstained and dry. “I don’t care how smart he is. Freo doesn’t get to vanish on us.”
“Two blocks south, he’d head for elevation,” Zeal muttered. “Old government district. Rooftops. He’d want signal. Visibility.”
“And cover,” Kaelix added.
Seible was already jumping down, eyes set hard. “Then that’s where we go.”
---
Freodore was losing light.
The sky had slipped into bruised violet, clouds glowing faint with sunset’s last breath. From the rooftop, he watched the city twitch below—occasional screeches, the click of scavengers moving rubble, distant echoes of movement not meant to be heard.
He clicked the receiver again.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
He set it down beside him and leaned back against the rusted AC unit, bandaging the slice on his thigh with trembling fingers. He hated this part. Waiting. Wondering. The idea of them walking back into danger to look for him—it made his stomach churn more than blood loss.
He pressed his forehead to his knee, inhaling deeply.
“I’m fine,” he whispered to the wind. “Just give me a second.”
Behind him, a loose bit of gravel shifted.
His head snapped up. Rifle raised.
“Freo?!”
His heart nearly stopped.
That voice—too bright for a world this dead.
“Seible—?”
Another shift. This time, followed by running footsteps. “Furi-chan!”
Then Seible burst onto the roof, practically tripping over an old vent as he lunged across the space and threw his arms around Freodore without hesitation.
Freodore didn’t even think. The rifle clattered to the ground as he caught him.
“Ow—Sei, easy—my ribs—” he grunted, but he didn’t push him off.
“Shut up, you idiot!” Seible’s voice cracked. “You don’t get to nearly die again! What the hell were you thinking?! You said you’d be right behind us! You promised!”
“I was behind you,” Freodore muttered weakly. “Just… farther.”
Kaelix climbed up next, his expression unreadable until he crossed the roof in three long strides and dropped to one knee beside them. “God, you look like shit.”
Freodore blinked. “Thanks.”
Kaelix’s fist connected—gently—with his shoulder. “Don’t ever pull that lone-wolf crap again. Next time, I drag you, got it?”
Zeal was the last to crest the stairs, panting harder than he’d like to admit. “Jesus, Freo…”
“I’m okay,” Freodore said. “Mostly.”
Zeal didn’t say anything. He just knelt down beside him, took the receiver from where it had fallen, and gently placed it in Freodore’s lap.
Then, softer: “You didn’t have to protect us alone.”
Freodore’s throat tightened. “I know. I just… didn’t know what else to do.”
“We’re in this with you,” Zeal said. “Not behind you. Beside you.”
They all sat there for a moment, huddled together on a rooftop under the burnt sky, the four of them clinging to the warmth of each other as the wind kicked up dust and dusk.
For a minute, the world didn’t win.
And in the center of it, Freodore leaned into them—smaller, bruised, quiet—but never alone.
---
The walls of the abandoned office building felt like the last bastion of safety. The overhead lights, cracked and flickering, only added to the dim, ghostly atmosphere that surrounded them. In the quiet after the chaos, it was easy to pretend, just for a moment, that the world hadn’t ended—that they weren’t on the edge of survival. But reality was never far behind, lurking just outside the fragile walls they had built.
Freo sat back against the cracked concrete wall, his body weary from both the battle and the constant strain of keeping everyone safe. His shirt was discarded on the floor, and his ribs were carefully wrapped, but the tension in his shoulders still showed. He was fine—at least, he would say he was—but they could all tell he was running on fumes.
Seible moved first, a quiet sigh escaping him as he crawled over to Freo. Without a word, he tucked himself beside him, his head resting gently on Freo’s shoulder.
“Freo,” Seible said softly, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “You always do this, don’t you? You always put everyone else first. You make sure we’re all okay. But who looks after you?”
Freo’s lips twisted into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Seible murmured, his hand gently brushing against Freo’s chest, where the heartbeat was still unsteady. “We’re supposed to take care of you, too.”
Freo’s breath caught in his throat, but before he could say anything else, Zeal knelt down in front of him, his eyes softening with an intensity that Freo couldn’t ignore.
“You don’t have to do this alone, Freo,” Zeal said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand reached up, cupping Freo’s cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the harsh world outside. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time. We’re here.”
Freo closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of their presence. He opened them again and found Kaelix leaning against the doorway, arms crossed but with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes. His voice was steady, but there was something else there—a flicker of something that Freo couldn’t quite place.
“I’m not letting you run off and get yourself killed, Freo,” Kaelix said, his usual sarcasm replaced with something closer to sincerity. “You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”
Freo’s chest tightened, and he found himself leaning into Seible, the weight of the last few days finally catching up with him. “You guys... you really don’t mind?”
Kaelix snorted but softened as he approached. “Mind? Hell, I’ve been trying to get you to stay with us for how long now?”
Zeal chuckled softly, his fingers trailing along Freo’s jawline as he moved in closer. “It’s not about what we mind, Freo. It’s about us being together. No matter what happens. We don’t leave anyone behind.”
Seible squeezed Freo’s hand, his eyes earnest. “We love you, Freo. Don’t you get it? We’re not just a team... we’re yours.”
Freo froze. His heart skipped a beat as the weight of their words hit him all at once. He’d always felt it—always known there was something more than just survival between them. But hearing them say it so plainly, so honestly... it shook him.
“I—I didn’t know if you guys felt that way,” Freo whispered, his voice barely audible as he met their gazes, one by one. “I never wanted to drag you into this... never wanted to make things harder.”
“Freo,” Zeal said, his voice low but firm, “this is never a burden. You’re never a burden to us. We’re in this together. Always.”
Kaelix stepped forward, kneeling beside him and reaching out to rest a hand on his knee. “You’ve been carrying us all this time. Let us help you carry it now.”
Freo looked down at their hands, the warmth of their touch spreading through his chest. The weight of it all—the fear, the pain, the constant running—felt a little lighter in that moment.
He finally let himself lean into them fully, his head resting on Seible’s as he closed his eyes. “I’m so tired,” he whispered, the vulnerability finally breaking through.
“We’ll take care of you,” Seible promised, brushing his hand through Freo’s hair in a soothing rhythm. “Rest, Freo. Let us.”
Zeal’s lips pressed to the top of Freo’s head, his hand wrapping around his back protectively. “We’ll fight for you. Always.”
And Kaelix, ever the clingy golden retriever, placed a kiss to his cheek, soft but lingering. “We’re yours. Now and always.”
Freo let out a shaky breath, the pressure in his chest easing. He finally let himself close his eyes, surrendering to the comfort of their love and the safety of their arms. It didn’t matter what tomorrow brought. For tonight, they had each other.
And that was enough.
- - - { EXTRA } - - -
The light of dawn crept through the cracks in the old building, casting long shadows across the floor. The air was cooler now, the remnants of the night’s warmth slowly dissipating with the first rays of sunlight. In the quiet of the room, the world seemed a little more bearable.
Seible was the first to stir, stretching lazily, his arms reaching out as he let out a soft yawn. His head rested on Freo’s chest, and for a moment, he just listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath him. It was a familiar comfort, one that had grown deeper over the past few days. He smiled softly to himself before carefully lifting his head, reluctant to break the moment.
Beside them, Zeal had managed to drift off during the night too, his arm draped across Freo’s waist, holding him close. Kaelix, as usual, had claimed the spot on Freo’s other side, his large frame sprawled across the blankets in a way that left little space between them. But despite his usual clingyness, there was something tender about the way he had curled around Freo—protective, almost possessive.
Freo, as always, didn’t mind.
He blinked awake slowly, his eyes finding Seible’s face first. There was a softness in his eyes, a quiet affection that Freo hadn’t seen before—though it had always been there, hovering just beneath the surface. Seible grinned, a sleepy, crooked smile that made Freo’s heart flutter a little.
“Morning, Freo,” Seible whispered, nuzzling into the side of his neck, his breath warm against his skin.
Freo smiled, his fingers gently running through Seible’s hair. “Morning.”
The others began to stir too, Kaelix letting out a low groan as he pushed himself up to sit, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is why I hate sleeping on the floor. My back’s gonna be ruined.”
Zeal only chuckled, still half-dazed. He reached over, brushing a strand of hair away from Freo’s face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. “You complain too much. You could have been next to me,” he teased, though there was a soft affection in his voice.
“Yeah, well, this was cozier,” Kaelix grumbled, but he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he leaned back down, pulling Freo close again. “You’re just jealous.”
Freo let out a small laugh, his heart full of warmth as he found himself surrounded by the people he loved. The chaos of the world outside felt so far away in this moment. Here, with them, there was no fight. No fear. Just the simple, tender comfort of being together.
Seible lifted his head, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I think we should stay like this a little longer, don’t you?”
Freo nodded, a quiet agreement passing between them. He could feel Zeal’s breath against his neck, Kaelix’s arm around him, and Seible’s warmth close by. For the first time in a while, Freo felt at peace.
“I don’t want to move,” Freo confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You don’t have to,” Seible murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Freo’s temple. “We’ve got time.”
Kaelix, ever the cuddler when it suited him, grunted in agreement. “We’re not going anywhere for a while. It’s dangerous out there. Let’s just… stay like this.”
Zeal adjusted, rolling onto his side to face Freo, his hand tracing gentle circles on Freo’s chest. “We’ve earned this,” he said softly. “One morning without the world trying to kill us. Just us.”
Freo couldn’t help but smile at the tender way Zeal’s words wrapped around him. It wasn’t something he’d dared to dream about often—this kind of peace. But with them, it felt like something real, something that could last.
“Yeah,” Freo whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against Seible’s soft hair. “Yeah, we have.”
The morning haze of quiet comfort lingered into the afternoon, and even the looming threat of the world outside felt distant. The four of them had settled into their makeshift haven in the abandoned building, and the rest of the day unfolded in an unexpected lull of tenderness.
Freo found himself the center of attention—not that he minded. Not today.
Seible was the first to claim him. With an easy grin, he pulled Freo onto his lap, draping Freo’s legs over his own as if they had all the time in the world. He buried his face in Freo’s hair, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head.
“You’re not going anywhere today,” Seible murmured, his arms pulling Freo in close, holding him like he might disappear if he let go. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Freo snorted, leaning back into the warmth of Seible’s chest. “I think you’ve been keeping me too close already,” he teased, but his voice was soft, unguarded.
Zeal, ever the caretaker, leaned over, his fingers brushing Freo’s cheek with a tenderness that made Freo’s heart flutter. “He’s right, you know. You’re staying with us all day. No more sneaking off to scout alone.”
Freo opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Kaelix scooped him up from Seible’s lap and pulled him onto his own. “I’ll take care of him for a while,” Kaelix said, settling Freo between his legs and letting Freo’s head rest on his chest.
Zeal followed them both, sitting at Freo’s side, his hand resting on Freo’s arm with an almost possessive softness. “You’ve been working too hard to take care of us,” Zeal said quietly. “Let us do something for you for once.”
Freo smiled, a little shy and a little unsure, but warm nonetheless. “You’re already doing enough, just being here.”
They all shared a soft laugh, and for the next few hours, the world outside felt like it no longer existed.
They’d scavenged food the day before—little packets of dried fruit, jerky, cans of soup—and now, it was all being brought out for their impromptu feast. Seible pulled out a small tin of peaches and handed it to Freo with a wink. “I thought you might like something sweet.”
Freo raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to share? I remember you eyeing that earlier.”
Seible laughed and kissed the top of his head. “You’re the one who needs to eat first.”
Kaelix, sitting behind him, pressed a kiss to Freo’s neck as he fed him a small piece of dried fruit. “You’re too easy to spoil.”
Zeal leaned over and offered Freo a sip from a half-filled water bottle, his thumb brushing against Freo’s lip as their eyes met. “Let me take care of you,” he said softly, his voice low but warm.
Freo’s heart beat faster, the affection of the moment sinking in deeper than he wanted to admit. It felt so right—being cared for like this, being cherished in the way he had always feared would never happen again.
Seible slid closer, wrapping one arm around Freo’s waist while his free hand gently massaged the back of Freo’s neck. “Just relax, Freo. We’ve got you.”
As the day drifted on, the small moments of intimacy became more frequent. They all fought to stay as close as possible. Kaelix’s hands were ever on Freo’s shoulders or legs, pulling him closer with quiet insistence. Zeal’s kisses were soft, lingering against Freo’s cheek or forehead whenever he could steal a moment. And Seible made sure to stay close enough that Freo could rest his head on his shoulder, even as they all shared stories of their life before everything changed.
Freo never expected to feel this safe, this loved, in a world that was so fractured. But here, with them, he could forget about the chaos outside. He could forget the fear of tomorrow. They were his now, and he was theirs, and it was enough.
Eventually, they all fell into a relaxed, comfortable silence, Freo nestled in the warmth of his boyfriends, their arms draped across him like shields. It was a softness they hadn’t felt in a long time, and they each clung to it, cherishing every second they had to love Freo in their own way.
“You know…” Kaelix murmured, his fingers tracing circles on Freo’s back, “this isn’t so bad. Maybe we should make this a habit—getting to spoil you.”
Freo grinned, his head tilted back against Kaelix’s chest. “I think I could get used to it.”
“Good,” Zeal said, his fingers threading through Freo’s hair, “because we’re not letting go of you. Not now. Not ever.”
And for the rest of the day, they didn’t. They pampered him with soft kisses, gentle touches, and a warmth that didn’t seem to fade. No fighting. No bloodshed. Just them, wrapped up in each other, showing Freo the love he’d always deserved but never had the chance to fully believe in.
And so, for a while, they stayed like that—silent, content, wrapped up in each other, sharing warmth and affection in the midst of a broken world. The hours slipped by unnoticed as the sun climbed higher, and in that stolen moment of peace, they allowed themselves to forget everything else.
The apocalypse could wait.
For now, they had each other.
- - - { END } - - -