Don’t you all love romantic relationships. The sweet kisses. Hugs! Colt loves his Mek. Their relationships is so healthy and happy! 😊
Don’t Look Away, Mí Amór
A Bastard vs Zombie fanfic – Colt & Meksha (Flashback)
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Colt had never been a soft sleeper, but with Meksha? He slept like breathing came easy.
They were all sharp edges—Meksha “Blackwire” Tonn, with fingers like knives and a temper that made starships tremble. But when the world shut up, when it was just them in the dark, Meksha let the walls crack just enough to let Colt in.
Colt curled around them like instinct, mechanical tail wrapped loose at the end of the mattress, arms draped over Meksha’s middle. He smiled into their shoulder, one hand brushing their hair back from where it curled like static and trouble.
“You’re warm tonight,” he murmured.
“I’m always warm, dumbass,” Meksha grumbled, shifting slightly but not pushing him away. Never pushing away.
“You love it.”
“Shut up.”
Colt chuckled. “One year, huh?”
“Don’t make it sentimental.”
“Too late.”
Meksha turned just enough for Colt to kiss their jaw—slow, reverent, like worship without a name. Meksha rolled their eyes but let him do it again.
That was the night before.
The night before everything went wrong.
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The job was supposed to be simple.
A low-tier bounty—suspected arsonist, arms trafficker. A known coward, but high-profile enough that it’d get eyes off Meksha’s back for a while. So they took it. Together.
Colt never realized he was looking at their last smile.
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The explosion wasn’t loud. It was sharp.
One second, Meksha was laughing at Colt for tripping over his own tail. The next, their back lit up with wires, lights, and a blinking countdown.
Self-bomber. Suicide switch.
Colt ran.
Everything after was ash and chaos.
He remembered dragging them from the wreckage, pieces of a life torn open on burning concrete. Sparks fizzled from Meksha’s back. Blood poured from their side. Their eyes blinked slowly, as if they could still reboot.
Colt screamed their name so loud it tore his throat raw.
“Meksha—no, no—stay with me—fuck, please!”
They coughed, blood catching on their lips. “Told you… job was too clean,” they rasped, a ghost of that smirk on their face.
Colt tried to plug the wound with his hands, his shirt, anything.
“Don’t talk—save your strength—please, Mek, I can fix this, I always fix this—”
Their blood-slick hand reached up. Wiped the tears leaking down his cheeks with shaking fingers.
“Still a dumbass,” they whispered.
Then their hand dropped.
And so did everything else.
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Colt didn’t scream again.
He just sat there, holding them, shaking.
And when the med-bots arrived too late, he didn’t move.
⸻
He never went back to that city.
Never talked about it.
But sometimes, when the gang is laughing and Albus is making some dumb sex joke, or when Kerano falls asleep against his side, drawing bunnies on his tail—
He reaches out in his sleep.
Still expecting Meksha to be there.
And when he wakes up to cold sheets and silence, he stares at the ceiling until his throat aches.
Not crying.
Not really.
Just remembering what it was like to breathe.
