†slay queen† @stargainer11 - Tumblr Blog

☄DAWNS ARE QUIET☄

pairing: John Murphy x reader

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries.

tags: hurt comfort, little canon divergence, a little suggestive crying, cuddles.

summary: You landed on the ground later than the first hundred, and went to explore in the forest, where you found Murphy who just escaped grounders so you decided to stick together. (God I suck in summaries)

Wc: 8.6k

forest - not a grounder - cave - river and blood - train - campfire - sex - stars - sunrise.

The sound of your measured steps echoed off the moss-covered trees. Your steps. The forest road stretched out beneath you, covered in a thick layer of leaves and obstructed by the gnarled trunks of trees that had been uprooted by numerous storms. Some of the trees bore markings left by grounders, at a height that a human could only reach if they were riding a horse. You looked around carefully, monitoring your every step, checking for rusty traps hidden in the rotten leaves. You listened, but there was no sound. If the Earthlings had arrived, you would have heard the sound of hooves and the clanging of metal, so you could relax. These forests were surprisingly difficult to get lost in. They grew into intricate labyrinths with many forks and well-trodden paths, and they were inhabited and explored many times, so even inexperienced travelers could easily find their way back to the camp. The sun had already passed its zenith, so it was no longer possible to venture too far. Walking in daylight and at night was two very different experiences. For some time now, you've been making your way up a hill that's overgrown with trees, making it look like a regular path, but as you climb higher, it becomes increasingly difficult to walk. You're constantly grabbing onto the protruding roots as you make your way up, like a soldier crawling up a trench. Once you reach the top, you take in the endless green landscape below, untouched by humans for decades. You didn't have to be afraid of the animals, few of them had survived, and those that were there didn't pose a threat as long as you had a fully loaded gun. Although they hadn't seen a human in a long time, they probably wouldn't attack. You stood still for a long time, peering through the gaps in the leaves like a sniper tracking a target, and sometimes you thought you saw movement, but no, it was completely still, with no movement at all. There was no wind, and the clouds were motionless. There was nothing to catch the eye, not even a trace of smoke. Even breathing seemed to disrupt the silent tranquility of nature, although the area had seen so much blood that harmony was a distant memory. The sun was setting in the west, and the sky was turning yellow on the horizon. You took a closer look, and at the base of the hill, the road made a loop. The trees parted, creating a clearing. It was an old forest path. That's where you decided to head. The road down the hill was much easier, and the forest was less inhabited. Although there was a distinct sense of impending danger in the air, the landscape appeared peaceful. There were no ritualistic bonfires on the distant peaks, suggesting that the grounders who practiced sacrifice in this region had already killed each other. The character of the forest changed: evergreen oaks began to appear more and more often among the pines. Magnolias. For a long time now, you had been wandering tirelessly along the winding paths overgrown with green soft grass, the leaves on the road were soft and wet, not rustling, you tore off a dry leaf from a branch and crumbled it in your fingers. The machine gun had almost grown into your shoulders, on which it hung and no longer felt like a weight. The first time in the forests was truly an opening for you. Like the founding fathers, you were scanning the area for signs of civilization. Having only recently arrived on Earth, some time after the first hundred people, you had heard about the savagery that had taken place. It hadn't been long, but the space civilization had fallen, and those who had come to Earth had become savages. This was your fate now.

However, as a trusted representative, you were sent to the earth to report to the chancellor about the actual situation on the ground, in order to inform the leadership about the next steps to be taken. The ark was doomed to extinction, and all its inhabitants had to do was descend to the earth and take their first step, just as humans once set foot on the moon. The drop ship that brought the first hundred people to the earth could be seen from afar. Once there, you were surprised by their ability to create a hierarchy of chaos in just 10 days. It was as if the human race had this ability at a genetic level, allowing them to build structures that have been used by humans to this day, or at least echoes of these wonders. Leaders emerged, but they were not as effective as the warriors or hunters. Surprisingly, almost everyone survived. Some died and there was even someone who was exiled. You informed them of what was to come and looked around at the crowd. Empty, angry faces. Nothing that was before, no foundations anymore makes sense to the younger generation. They were all silent when you spoke, staring at you with with uncomprehending eyes, as if they didn't want people from space to come here. Unfortunately, nothing can be changed.

"No one here or up there has a choice. We need to show that the laws that have been followed for decades haven't stopped working in just 10 days." You were clearly a stranger, too clean, and you said something about living by rules they had long forgotten. In any case, you were just a little bit ahead of the others.

Before you went out to scout the situation with the locals, you were warned about the grounders living in these parts, but at the time, you thought that meeting them would be like meeting the native Americans with the Conctisadors or soldiers of the English Crown hundreds of years ago. No one knew then that no one would win this war.

And now you were walking in the red haze of sunset, heading east along a path that ended in a sharp dip, where you could hear the sound of a dirty, shallow river. It's a dangerous place - the roar of the stream drowns out other sounds, although not too much, but you still need to be careful. Sometimes you'll see small piles of stones on the road. These are symbols in the local language. Perhaps they're messages from loved ones. Or from those who have gone missing or perished.

The sky in the west was beginning to darken, and as you looked at the rocky shore and the water glistening in the orange light of the setting sun, you heard a noise in the bushes. Raising your gun and taking aim, you saw a figure who, upon seeing your gun, ran down the bank at full speed, and then, perhaps thinking that crossing the river would be the same as escaping a bullet, he jumped into the water. You followed him across the river, until you reached a point where the rocks were high enough to cross.

"Is it grounder or what?" you thought. You moved slowly, as there was no point in running, as he wouldn't be able to escape. Like a predatory animal that has already wounded an antelope and is calmly pursuing it until it is so exhausted that it simply collapses, waiting for death, you walked without losing sight of the figure. If you had called out to him, it would have created a noise, so the strange resemblance of a chase took place in silence, adding a certain theatricality to the situation. You quickly caught up with the boy. He fell heavily onto the pebbly shore and groaned, then rolled into the rough grass and lay on his stomach, gasping for air. You cocked the gun with your finger on the trigger.

–Wait...wait. – Said the boy. You couldn't see his face. But even if he was looking at you, you still wouldn't be able to make out all the subtle details of his human features, so disfigured was this guy.

– Are you really a grounder? – You ask smiling as if you've seen something rare.

– No, no, I'm not grounder, don't shoot.

– Then who are you?

At that moment, the characteristic sound of hooves hitting rocks and horse snorting was heard on the other side of the shore.

– These are the grounders. – He said in a whisper, emphasizing the word "these", then quickly stood up and ran towards the forest, stumbling and falling, making more noise than he had planned. His left leg began to buckle and it became difficult to breathe.

– If you wanted to remain unnoticed, you clearly need to change tactics, young man. – Over there. – you said, trotting down behind him. – You see that crack in the rock? – In the growing twilight, a few feet away, you could barely make out a crack in the rock through the foliage. You realized that you were in a mountainous area with trees rather than a dense forest. Well, that was a good thing.

The entrance was blocked by dry trees, so you had to climb on top of one of them and slip through the crack between them. The boy repeated after you, but with difficulty, and then lay on the cold ground for a long time, breathing heavily and shivering from the cold. You took off your backpack and jacket, and threw them in the direction where he was lying.

– Who are you?

– You have to answer me first. – You said and he groaned in response, so you could tell that it was difficult for him to speak. You couldn't see him in the dark, but you could hear that he was completely exhausted.

– I'm from the Ark. – You lifted finger up, even though no one saw it. – I'm checking on you guys, because the bracelets of yours, as I understand it – you grabbed his wrist, which made him twitch. – You took it off. Well, well done, it's a good idea, but there's no sence of it anymore.

– How did you know that I was also from ark?

– You're not grounder. Because if you were, the course of events might have been completely different.

– Would you kill me? – He chuckled.

– It is quite possible. It's them, isn't it? I don't want to repeat your fate, because you'll probably die from infection or something like that.

– Well, then I feel sorry for you, because being locked in here with my corpse for the night isn't a good fate. Although, while I was swimming in the water, maybe all the infection was washed away.

– Why did you run away?

– What else should I do when some bitch – He put his hand on his chest, as people usually do when they apologize. – I'm sorry, lady, pointing a gun right at my face, huh?

– I'd fight back.

He casually raised his hand to the stream of light that, showing it to you.

– Would you like to fight with this? – The nails that hadn't been pulled out were sticking out of his fingers. He brought his finger to his mouth and, based on the sounds, pulled off a loose nail with his teeth and spat it out.

You heard shouts and the sound of hooves outside, and you counted two horses that ran past you quickly. Since you didn't see any light from a torch, you assumed they weren't there for reconnaissance. It was only then that you realized you hadn't been breathing for a long time. Neither of you had.

– I'm going to keep moving closer to dawn. I suggest you take another dip in the radioactive water, just in case it helps.

– Where are you going?

– I'm checking on the locals.

– You can look at me and see how things are with them.

– Soon more people from the Ark will arrive here.

– What? Why? Shouldn’t we go back? – You laughed.

– There's no food, no fuel, and no oxygen. And getting rid of you all only gave us a reprieve. The human race probably consumes too much to survive another generation. Someone would have had to come back anyway. Not us, then our children.

– Fine. I would have been floated anyway.

– You're not welcome here either.

– So you already know?

– Know what?

– That I've been banished.

– I know that someone was exiled, but this is the first time I've seen you. I can't remember everyone. This is weird, sharing a spaceship with someone and then meeting them in a dense forest. The world is small. – You said the last sentence with a chuckle.

– You should talk less, my head is spinning. And I'm forced to lie in this stupid cave.

– I think it's a nice place.

– Oh don't be modest, it's perfect.

– It’s better to lie on the ground than under it, isn’t it?

– What do you mean?

– The bodies of the dead are buried under the ground here, did you know that?

– I did.

– Then why did you ask?

– I don’t know. Fuck off.

You sat there for a minute, staring at the tiny piece of sky hidden behind the branches. It was night outside, and the stars shone brightly in the darkness, but they looked different from the ground.

Then you decided to talk some more.

– The Canceller's son is dead.

– I know.

– Did you kill him?

– No.

– Who did?

– A girl. But she's already dead.

– So you killed her?

– Yes.

– How?

– I threw her off a cliff.

– Are you sure?

– No.

– Then how?

– She jumped.

– Because of you?

– Yes.

– So that's why they kicked you out?

– Yes.

– But will you come back?

– I don't know.

Judging by his monotonous voice, you were sure that he was falling asleep or losing consciousness. You were amazed by how he was holding on. There are still people whose spirit has control over their bodies.

– What's your name.

– Murphy.

– First name?

– John.

– You gave me your last name first, so what should I call you?

– I don't care.

– Then it's John.

– Okay.

He was lying on the ground with his arm under his head, but for some reason, he couldn't stay in that position for long, so he reverted to his previous strange posture. He didn't move once during your conversation. The stone cut into your spine uncomfortably, but the pain didn't bother you. His breath echoed off the cold walls of the crevice that stretched above, but inside it was pitch black. It was getting dark here faster than you expected.

– Do you have any water? – He asked, and you silently handed him the flask. He took it and drank half of it, then caught his breath a little and drank more. He lay back down in a ridiculous position.

– We'll be out closer to dawn.

– We?

– You can stay here.

– I don’t know how to get back. – He admitted quietly.

– Then you’ll follow me. But we need to get to the river first.

– Why the fuck do we need the river?

– Not we, you need. – He understood you, washing the blood off would be a blessing.

– If I pass out, try not to stab me in my sleep.

– Why would I do that? – You laugh.

– Fuck knows.

– I'll even help you. Lie on me. – You said, confident that you'd find a stiff corpse in the morning. He chuckled in disbelief, perhaps also confident in this outcome.

– Why not, it's the only joy in my life. – He said, raising his hand above his position and reaching into the rocky crevice, trying to find where you were sitting. Then, with a grunt, he pulled himself up and rested his head on your lap. Even this simple action was difficult for him.

– Don’t expect gratitude. – You didn’t answer anything, but he seemed to notice your smile.

– We’ll take turns sleeping. – He said.

– I don’t want to sleep.

– Mhm interesting. – He said in the same disbelief.

You could tell he was asleep by the sound of his breathing. Every now and then you leaned closer to check if he was still breathing. You lost track of time, sitting in your thoughts, staring into the pitch black, just like in space, you imagined that this was what you would have seen in the last moment of your life if you had been sent to fly, and that was nothing. From the safety of the spaceship, all the stars were visible, but if you went out there without a spacesuit, you wouldn't see them. And what difference would it make?

Later, Murphy woke up in the dark, and it seemed as if he could hear a drumbeat somewhere outside, among the dark hills. Then the wind changed direction and the sounds were swallowed up by silence, and he closed his eyes again. It must have been a long time since then, because you felt a movement in your lap. Murphy woke up from a coughing fit, he sat up abruptly, crawling away from you. He kept coughing and falling to his knees, like a penitent sinner. He coughed until he tasted blood in his mouth. Then he raised his head and turned to look at you.

– I'm fine. – He said.

– I believe you. – You didn't move.

He crawled to the mouth of the crevice and peered into the darkness.

– Let's get out of here.

By the time you reached the riverbed, the sky in the east was beginning to lighten, and it wouldn't get any darker today. You stood up one last time, listened, and then made your way down to the river. You passed through a thicket of dry, black ivy.

Murphy, although he could barely move his legs, never complained, walking, occasionally kicking stones. You went a little further in the direction of a narrow iron bridge where the river made a sharp dip that a person could get into up to his neck. You put your bag on the sand and small pebbles, washed by the stream. The gun still hung on your shoulder, but you no longer clutched it in your hands, there was no point.

You sat down on a stone that was wet from the spray of the river and looked at the slow-moving river that widened and narrowed as it reached the horizon.

He stood right behind you, breathing heavily as if you were running instead of walking at a leisurely pace. A few feet away from you was an iron bridge that led to a clearing, and from there, after a few turns, you could reach a part of the forest where you could climb a hill and see a drop ship bustling with life.

– Come on. – You say, pointing to the water.

– What's the rush?

– Stay in the water for a while, it seems clean.

You looked to the east, where the sky was beginning to turn a light pink color behind the black silhouettes of the trees. It was a symbol of the purity of the air. The birds in these forests didn't sing as loudly as they were described in the books, they didn't sing at all, and the dawns were quiet.

Shivering from the cold, he quickly pulled off his shoes, then his pants, exposing the knife wounds on his thighs.

Then he tried to take off his shirt, but winced either from the cold or from the fact that the damaged areas of the skin were touched.

– Raise your hands. – You said, getting up. He picked it up. You pulled off his torn sweatshirt, which was still wet, and threw it on the ground, pushing it away from you with your shoe. You ran your fingertips around the edge of one of the deepest cuts, looking for pus or maggots.

– Alright, get in the water.

He walked in the river slowly. God, it's cold. He scooped up handfuls of water, splashed himself, and then walked forward, spraying water in all directions. He swam a little further, turned around, cutting through it, gasping for breath from the cold, and stood where his feet touched the bottom, walking a little further towards the shore until he was waist-deep in it instead of neck-deep. He quickly washed the cuts, and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw you taking off your clothes as well. He turned away as you slowly entered the stream, smiling at the unfamiliar sensation.

– What the hell are you doing here?

– I've never swum in a river before.

– Can you do it?

– In theory, yes. – You say and move a little in the water.

– I'm sorry to finish your swimming session but I’m already coming out. I’m done.

– Your back is still dirty.

– I can live with that.

– Turn around. – You told him, approaching with difficulty on the muddy, slippery and rocky riverbed, which sprung under your feet as you walked. He turned around. You scooped water into your palm and rubbed it over his back, which was blue and covered in hematomas, and his spine was sticking out. He held his breath, ready to bolt from you at any moment. But you were quick, using your hands to scrub away the dried dirt and blood.

– Now, take a full dip and get out.

– Why are you giving me orders?

– I'm not giving you orders, I'm giving you advice. Go on. – You took his shoulder and pushed him down slightly. Without moving in this river, it quickly became cold, and when his figure disappeared under the water, you turned around and went ashore, sitting on the wet sand and allowing the breeze to dry your body.

He also came out, picked up your jacket that was lying on the floor, and drenched his torso as much as possible to alleviate the cold. Then he sat down next to you.

– What are you looking at?

– The water.

– Okay, go ahead and keep staring, I'm sure we have plenty of time. – You didn't say anything.

– Are you mad at them?

– Who?

– All of them.

– No, I'm not mad.

– You look like you're mad. You're not even offended?

– Oh, for God's sake, leave me alone. I'm just trying to survive here, that's all. I don't have time or desire to get into a disputes.

– They're all having disputes over there.

– They're stupid.

– They're human.

– Am I not a human?

– You look the least like one right now.

– And what am I, then?

– An animal. Just a wounded animal.

– And you’re a bitch. – He smiled for some reason as he said it. So did you. – But at least you’re not as boring as being alone.

He turned to you, one eye swollen shut, the other looking in a teasing way, as if he were making jokes at his mate. You reflexively wiped the dripping blood from his right cheek. On his left cheek, there were three stripes, as if he had been attacked by a tiger. He pulled away, but then pretended nothing had happened.

– Thanks for the jacket, by the way. – He said, standing up and putting his clothes back on. You stood up too, put on your sweater and pants, and put your backpack and gun back on, the process reminding you of putting on a spacesuit. You opened your backpack and filled your flask with running water.

– Is it safe to drink? – He asked.

– We don’t have a choice.

– Of course not.

You headed east, following the river. Your goal was to bypass a particularly dangerous area, teeming with a forest tribe.

– It’s so amazing, there are people left here.

– Yeah, it’s not people.

– You said you’re not angry with anyone.

– I’m not. It’s called dry facts.

Murphy was walking a little more cheerfully than before, but still you planned several breaks, because he won’t be able to cover long distances without it.

– Tell me about their culture, you were the only one who saw everything.

– Oh, sorry, I think I lost my notebook with my observations. It must have been fate. – You giggled.

– Hey, why are you so active?

– What should I be like? – He didn't respond.

– Are you from Alpha Station?

– Yes.

– I get it, the golden youth.

– It doesn't matter here. Everyone is equal.

– Oh, how wrong you are. – He said this and was interrupted by a coughing fit that caused his already aching stomach muscles to strain. He crouched down, then fell to his knees, doubling over in pain. Then he raised his head, sighed hoarsely, and looked up at the sky, as if he were repenting for something. You approached him and took him by the elbow when the coughing fit subsided, lifting him up like a child who had fallen into a puddle.

– I'm fine. – He said, holding out his hand in a "stop" gesture, but he didn't pull away.

– Then let's go.

You made your way through the almost identical, yet mesmerizing, forest landscape. Everywhere you looked, there were gullies, landslides, and signs of erosion. Animal bones were scattered here and there. Piles of unknown debris were scattered here and there. The road descended and cut through the dead pueraria bushes. In the swamp, dry reeds leaned over the water. In the distance, where the fields met the horizon, the sun hung framed by the pink veil of dawn. After many hours of walking, when Murphy was so exhausted that he couldn't even speak, you saw a rusty train covered in moss and dry ivy, standing amidst the trees on tracks hidden in the tall grass, still damp from the morning dew.

– Look over there. – He said, pointing. Despite his exhaustion, he limped over to the train. I looked for the entrance and went through one of the doors, stepping over the grass.

Everything was covered with a green layer of moss. There was garbage in the aisles. The suitcases that had been removed from the top shelves were lying on the seats, empty, since God knows when.

There was nothing inside. Just junk. You finished inspecting the last car and walked along the embankment to the locomotive, climbing onto a narrow bridge. The locomotive was rusty and the paint was peeling. Murphy sat down in one of the passenger seats, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

– Let's make a stop. – You say and get off the train.

– That wouldn't hurt.

The trees that had been felled on the train formed a kind of hedge in the shade of which one could hide for a while. You could have stayed here. It was dangerous to stay inside, because you couldn't see any additional escape exits-it was a closed room from which you couldn't escape. An iron trap. You dropped your backpack on the ground and went inside the train, stretching your back as you went.

The boy had already fallen asleep by then. Or passed out.You touched his pulse, which was steady. You lifted him by the arm, but he didn't wake up; instead, he leaned on you with all his weight, and you had to carry him as if he were a sack of rubbish. You placed him on the ground next to your backpack and went off to gather firewood. It had recently rained, making it difficult to find dry branches. As you walked back, you heard a "hey" that was quieter than a shout due to his hoarse voice.

–There you are. – He said. – I even passed out, I thought the grounders dragged you away.

– Put it in a pile. – You said, throwing the branches. – I'll get some more before it gets dark.

—Wait. – He said. – Leave me your gun, in case someone shows up.

– You opened your backpack and threw him a revolver.

– Holy shit.

– There are two bullets. Don't waste them. You said, and disappeared into the shade of the trees, breaking off branches.

When you returned, you saw that he had brought some stones to place around the pile of branches.

– That's how it's done. – He said, pointing to it. – You can't do it without stones.

– Good job, John. – He smiled, lowered his head slightly, and shook it.

You sat down, resting your back against the iron surface of the train.

– Do you have any food? – You looked up at him. All this time, you'd thought his days were numbered, but now you felt a pleasant surprise. Hunger is a sign of health. It's a symbol of life triumphing over death. You took out a ration pack and handed it to him. He opened the package and carefully bit into one of the biscuits, as if afraid it might be poisoned.

– Do you have any more? – You handed him another biscuit.

– Don't ask for any more.

– Thank you. – He said quietly.

Only now did you notice that everything had turned orange. The black tops of the trees were drowned in a blurry sunset haze.

– How quickly the days pass here.

On the ark, the days dragged on endlessly, and the only source of light was the rattling lamps.

Later, they lit a fire, although it was probably a bad idea, as it might attract attention. Red sparks flared up and then faded under the black dome of the sky. You looked at Murphy. He was sitting like a haggard, ragged Buddha under a tree, staring at the embers with one seeing eye.

– I like you, John, I really do.

– You're the only one on this planet who says that.

– You know, you've got a few cracked bones, and you've been walking all day. People whose spirits have power over their bodies always survive. You'll make it.

– I know.

– A lot of people will die here.

– I know that too.

– Will you miss anyone?

– I don’t want to miss anyone in advance, let them die first.

– Do you want them to die?

– I wanted one person to die.

– And what happened?

– She died.

– Do you blame yourself? – He looked at you, not understanding why you were asking all these questions, and his look was sad, as if he didn’t want to answer, but he had to.

– I don't know. Everyone blames me.

– I don't blame you.

– You weren't there. Maybe I lied to you and they kicked me out because I was doing worse things.

– It doesn't matter anymore. – You said, feeling a deep sense of peace. You looked up at the myriad stars shining in the darkening sky, lost in your own thoughts. Your hand squeezed his in a comforting gesture, and he returned the gesture.

– You would have had a great future on the ark. – He said contemptuously.

– A future? People always prepare for the future. I’ve never cared about it. The future doesn’t wait for them; it doesn’t even know they exist.

–I like the way you think. – He said, then fell silent. His skin was pale and almost waxy.

After about half an hour, he suddenly sat up and quickly crawled away from you on all fours. He vomited. You saw blood. It flowed from his eyes, staining his face even more. Was it the end? You approached him and crouched down next to his shaking figure.

– What’s the matter with you?

– I don’t know, maybe you poisoned me?

– Why would I carry poisoned biscuits with me? – You smiled, placing your hand on his back, rubbing in a soothing manner. When he bent over again to vomit, you stood up and took a flask of water. You gave it to him to drink.

– Water from the river? I thought it couldn’t get any better today.

– Drink it. – You say and bring the flask to his lips, it clinks against his teeth, but he opens his mouth anyway, allowing you to pour some in there.

– You need to drink.

He wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

– Apparently, the grounders infected me with something. I've been coughing all day.

– And they let you go so that you could infect others?

– Then I can infect you, too. Aren't you afraid?

— No.

You shuffled back to the campfire. There Murphy stopped, took another sip of water and gave the flask to you. You put it next to you, you yourself sat in the previous position, bending your legs at the knees. Then you gestured to invite him to lie down so that you could hold him while he sleeps, "like a mourner holding a dying man in his arms." You thought. He hesitated, but still lay down.

– It's dangerous to sleep like this.

– I won't sleep yet.

– Do you hope that tonight will pass without any adventures? I get it. His head rolled to the side, his forehead resting against your solar plexus, and his trembling gradually subsided. You casually brushed the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead, then gently touched his forehead with the back of your hand to check his temperature.

He slept like the dead that night, passing out and not waking up again, except for a slight sweat on his forehead at dawn, which soon subsided. You held him until morning, and your limbs were almost frozen in place. As the sun rose, he awoke a few times from feverish dreams, got up and drank water, feeling worse than ever, as if his entire body was in one continuous spasm, and like a dying man, he gazed up at the clouds hidden by the trees, with a sense of resignation and indifference, as if he were looking at the last landscape of his life. However, there was still some fight left in him, and it wouldn't go to waste. He slept through the next day. You regularly woke him up and forced him to drink water. It was evident how difficult it was for him. His throat was dry, and he was wheezing and twitching convulsively with each sip.

When he opened his eyes the next time, it was sunset on the following day, and he was lying on the bare ground without you by his side. He found himself feeling angry. Yes, he was angry. He called out to you. Then again. He shouted aggressively for a long time, like a murderer calling out to a fleeing victim in a last-ditch effort to catch them.

– If you keep shouting like that, someone will hear us. – You said as you approached him from the bushes. – I went to get water, and I should have listened to the sound of the stream. But if you're feeling better and can shout, I suggest we move on.

He pushed you, but almost fell himself.

– Fine, go away. Do you want to go back? After what I've been telling you? – He threw his hands in the air. – Great, you can leave.

– If you're upset by my hasty decision to remove my feet from a potentially dangerous participant, then I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. I need to find a place that's a little safer. Like a camp, right?

– I said you can leave, and I'll stay here for now. I'm sure the forest creatures will be happy to have your body. – He threw the revolvrr on the ground. – And take this.

You stood and watched as invisible shadows from the past surrounded him.

– Are you afraid I'm leaving you?

– Oh, for God's sake! Just stop, you helped me yesterday, thank you, you don't have to try anymore. – You smiled.

– That's good. – You said.

– What's good? – He asked, but before he could finish, he coughed, then bent over and vomited again. He got on all fours, but quickly wiped his mouth with his sleeve and sat down cross-legged. You silently handed him some water, and he took a sip.

– There's another thing you don't know. The camp may have been attacked. I told them everything. Everything. So you can leave, but I'm staying.

– Well, it's not just your blood on your hands now, John. – He looked at you as if he was going to kill you, glaring at you from under his brow.

– What else was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do when they were hanging me from a tree for something I didn't do? – He jumped to his feet and paced around you like a hungry hyena. Then he pushed you against the iron wall of the train and grabbed you by the collar. – Tell me, what should I have done when I was left for dead in the woods and then tortured for days without food or water? What should I have done, huh? You're all so smart, but you'd be lying dead somewhere. What should I have done, bitch?

– What were you supposed to do, you say? Probably... You took his hand. – Probably act like a weakling. Or the villain who specifically told about the location of the rager. Isn't that what you wanted?

– I didn't mean to, damn it. I really didn't want to. – You smiled at him and lightly stroked his cheek. Then you did something unexpected. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled him into a hug.

– Then just accept that even strong people make weak decisions, John. And you are strong on your own, I’m not trying to flatter you, I’m just stating the dry facts as you said earlier. And I have no right to judge what I haven’t seen. – He looked at you with a mixture of bitterness and confusion.

– I’m not blaming you. – You concluded. He lowered his hands and slowly sat down on his knees, feeling breathless and dizzy from his sudden exertion. You stroked his hair and sat down next to him.

– It's a good thing that you're crying.

– I'm not crying.

– That's good. Not crying is also good. – You said, smiling at him again. He sniffled and leaned into you, burying his nose in your shoulder. His sobs grew louder and then quieter. You rocked him back and forth in a soothing motion. The image of you sitting there, with him crying and clinging to you, your cheek resting against his hair, was so dramatic that you felt sorry for him. Something in your chest ached. It ached again when his shirt was pulled up and you saw the blood on his side.

– Wait. Wait. – You said, pushing him away and lifting the edge of his dirty shirt. You made him lie down on the ground, took off your own shirt, and wet the edge of your sleeve with water. Then you lifted his shirt even higher, revealing all of his injuries, which had already been washed, but some of them were bleeding because he had moved too quickly. You wiped the blood from one wound and poured water over a few more. He writhed and hissed like a snake. You didn't have anything with you except a few vague aid kit-like items like a gauze cloth and a seventy percent used roll of bandages, as well as antibiotics. Nothing seemed necessary at the moment. That's what you thought until you noticed a spreading blood stain on his thigh.

– Can I take a look? – You said, unbuttoning the button on his pants. His body was pliable and soft like cotton, which didn't fit with the image of an always-tense guy whose muscles never relaxed. Now he was looking at you with red eyes, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion as you undressed him completely. When you pulled his pants down to his ankles and gently ran your soft hand along his thigh, just inches away from the swollen wound, he held his breath. Then he cried out when you pressed down, squeezing out the pus and pouring more water on the wound on your thigh. You pressed your fingers into the edges of the wound and washed away the blood. Disinfected it. You tore open a plastic package with your teeth and pulled out a small needle with a hook at the end and a piece of silk thread. You leaned closer to the fire and began to thread the needle through the eye.

– Don't look, it's more unpleasant.

– It's okay, I can handle it.

You tied a knot and tightened it.

– It's better than nothing. – You tightened the knot again, until it became uncomfortable.

– How quickly we went from you pointing a gun at me to you groping me.

– For your information, it's customary to say, "Maybe you could get me a drink first."

– Who says that?

– I don't know, I've heard it somewhere. –He smiled.

Now he lies like this, flat on the ground, looking up at you. And you see him by the light of the fire, so you can see him better. You couldn't even see his face before, but now the swelling has gone down, partly because of hunger, and you can see him clearly, with his still-scratched face.

You get on your knees. You lean down and kiss his forehead, ruffling his hair a little, then you kiss his cheek, the one with the three scratches, very lightly.

– Forget about it, just kiss my lips. – He said, and you leaned down to kiss his bruised lip gently. Then you moved lower, leaving kisses on his chin, and then on his neck. His breath caught, and he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. When you reach the red swollen band on his neck, he twitches and puts his hands on your shoulders.

– What?

– Nothing, I just...

– Unwanted memories? – You say, and he could swear he's never heard the phrase "Unwanted memories" before, but it fits perfectly to describe what's going on in his head.

– Just let me. – You say, running your fingers over the thin rope wound on his neck. Your movements are light as a feather, and very gentle. He’s not used to this. He inhales sharply, once, then again. You don’t back down. It’s a strange feeling, one that knots his stomach and makes his chest ache. It’s not uncomfortable, no, but rather too overwhelming for him to handle.

– You see? It's all right. Let me. – You say. And you continue to kiss, moving lower, touching your lips to all the sore parts of his body, stroking his ribs, his stomach, and everything you could reach. You stroked him, not with a full palm, but with just your fingers. He was trembling, lying naked on the cool ground, feeling a gentle breeze that was barely noticeable even during normal times. A few tears fell down his temples.

However, then the shiver turned into a heat and when you were about to pull away, he rose up on his elbows, reached out to you and placed his hand on the back of your head.

– Don’t stop.

You went down with a trail of kisses to his stomach right below the navel when he sucked in a sharp breath through his mouth, making a sound of “Ah”. His sighs took on a color when you went down to the inside of his thigh and kissed and then lightly bit the untouched delicate skin there.

– Come on, please. – He said very quietly.

– Later.

– I want it now.

And you continued. You removed his underwear, pulling it down to his knees as he lifted his hips to help you. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it slowly.

– Do you really want this? Do you know how many wounds you have? – You said, realizing that it was too late. It was too late because he was already jerking his hips, pushing into your slowing hand. You leaned down and took his cock into your mouth, quickly sucking on it for comfort. After your final hand gesture, you knew it couldn't last much longer. He was gasping, moaning, and even whimpering a bit. It was impossible to tell what he was feeling from his face, which was still indistinguishable due to all the wounds.

– Talk to me. Is everything okay?

– Yes, yes, just please, move.

You quickly removed your pants, taking them off at once along with your underwear and without preparation or slow warm-up, you lowered yourself on him, not sitting down all the way, but resting your hands on the ground where small pebbles scratched your skin. He groaned.

– Breathe. – You say, setting the pace. You sway your hips, going down and up. He helps you with thrusts and seems to be bouncing on the ground. He didn't last long, he gasped, his whole body convulsed, and you quickly got off him. John let out a muffled, disappointed moan.

– Hey? –He called out, propping himself up on his elbows and not understanding what was happening.

– Take care of me, please. – You said, lying back and spreading your legs. He hovered over you and looked at you hesitantly.

– I don’t know how.

– Just use your tongue, come on. – You said, and he leaned over your folds, running his tongue up and down your slit, sucking on your clit lightly, following your instructions. His movements were awkward and uncertain. You kept telling him what to do, and he listened. Your voices were barely above a whisper, but you could still hear each other perfectly.

– Good boy. – You said, burying your hand in his hair when you were done. His eyes were wild as he looked at you. His eyes were glassy.

– Hey, you're doing great. Lie down. – He did. You gently wrapped your hand around his penis, stroking it with your palm. He thrust his hips a couple of times and came with a moan, spilling his cum onto your hand and his stomach.

You didn't hesitate, poured some water onto a cloth, and wiped your thighs and hand. Then you wiped his.

– That was crazy. – He said.

– How was it for you?

– I'd give you a definitive answer if the situation were different, you know. – You chuckled. Then you looked at the dying fire and stood up, pulling your pants back on.

– I'll get some more wood.Take the revolver in your hand.

When you returned, he was already asleep, hugging himself to keep warm. The revolver was lying nearby. The heat from his body had subsided, and it was getting cold, so you decided to throw a whole log at fire, causing a shower of sparks to fly into the air.

Murphy slept restlessly next to you, his forehead covered in sweat and his head moving from side to side. As the darkest hour of the night approached, a faint moan was heard next to you. He awoke from his dreams and sat up abruptly, not knowing where he was. He then coughed and bent over.

– How are you? – You asked putting your hand on his back. In his look that he gave you when he turned you could read that he was really happy to see you. Apparently he had a bad dream.

– I’m fine. – He said and looked towards the fire as if hypnotized. The wood was burning with a bright orange-blue flame. He sat and looked at it for a long time. A little later, he stood up and walked along the train, stretching his back and legs. His own shadow loomed ahead, as if playing games with fire and wind. Coughing. Coughing wouldn't stop, and he leaned forward, clutching his knees. There was a taste of blood, but no vomiting. It was better than a day ago. He looked up at the black canopy of trees and thought about his life. Was it worth thinking about something that didn't exist? No, he wasn't that kind of person. The wind rustled in the trees. He walked a little more, arching his back and massaging his shoulders, but carefully so as not to hurt the sore areas. You were looking ahead, half-asleep. He returned to your side and sat down. He was silent for a while, looking in the same direction as you, but there was nothing interesting to see.

– What were you dreaming about?

– It doesn’t matter.

– A nightmare?

– I’ve been wondering about something. Why are you taking care of me? You’ve been stuck here for two days, even though you wanted to leave.

– Are you really interested?

– Well, yes.

– I thought you were going to die. So I decided to keep you company for the last time.

– That’s very kind of you.

– But you turned out to be resilient. I'm loving it. That even after all this, you didn't give up.

– They won't get to see. – He grinned self–confidently.

– I wish I'd known you before.

– No, you wouldn't want to. – You looked at him and took his hand. You brought his bloody wrist to your lips and kissed it as if he were a princess.

– I'm sure I would – You opened your arms for a hug and he slowly clung to you, lowering his head to your chest. – And besides, I've gotten used to you, and I haven't interacted with anyone else like this. So you're the first person I've spoken to on this earth. – He smiled and let out a small sob, wrapping his arms around you. You stroked his hair as he cried softly, the shadows from the fire dancing across his face. You held him close, trying to provide some warmth. Not a murderer but just a boy who wanted to be held and heard. So you offering as much comfort as you can right now, unable to say out loud that you trully feel sorry for him. So you both sit in silence, interrupted only by the sound of sniffing, while you caressing his hair, not bloody anymore.

– We should be back tomorrow. – he croaked.

– Yes it is necessary.– You looked up at the stars that made their way through the branches of the trees that fell on the train, under which you were sitting. They flickered indifferently with a cold light somewhere in the distance. You're wondering if there's a god out there somewhere. But then that thought quickly flew away, you dropped those illusions a long time ago. Where people can't survive, the gods have nothing to do.

It is probably now, when the world has been destroyed, that we can understand how it was created. Oceans, mountains. It is a awe-inspiring sight to see the world disappear as if I were rewinding a tape. It is a vast emptiness, like a sponge that absorbs everything, ruthlessly and coldly. There is silence. At dawn, you will walk back, and you will walk all day, and then you will have to deal with the horror of a world destroyed by humans. But now you're holding him while he sleeps, and his breathing is calming, like an ocean after a storm, leaving all the debris on the shore, letting him sleep until dawn. And the dawns here are very quiet.

______________________________________

wow that was cray. Fic slightly inspired by "The road 2009" movie cause you know post nuclear and all of it. But only a little bit. Cause movie is like...

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