starter for @notporcelain !
footsteps quicken as dusk approaches, the lone figure stumbling through empty streets, racing against the shadows creeping up on him as another day bleeds to an end. the boy, too, is bleeding. if mateo closes his eyes, he can ignore the chill in the air and pretend that it's a hot summer day, the fabric of his shirt sticking to skin because of sweat and not blood. but he's always been too much of a realist for that; he's survived hell once before, and he'll do it again.
nausea makes the world spin, and he’s forced to stop, leaning against a lamp post that no longer serves its purpose. fingers find the gash at his side, vision momentarily blanking at the white-hot flash of pain–– it almost feels like he’s just been stabbed again. it’s through sheer force of will that he manages to breathe through the pain, forcing his feet to move once more as he tries his best to ignore how slick his hand has managed to become in mere seconds.
he doesn’t believe in miracles anymore, but if he did then surely this counts as one. the huge glass building comes into view and he’s yet to run into a member of the undead, but instead of letting the relief wash over him, he only moves faster, convinced that his luck is due to run out anytime soon. so mateo's not really surprised when he suddenly finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun, although there’s something akin to concern colouring the guard’s expression despite the hostile welcome. good enough, he thinks.
‘ easy, tough guy, ’ he slurs, trying for a grin and hoping it doesn’t look as pained as he feels, ‘ i’m not looking for trouble... just wondering if someone could stitch me up–– ’
the adrenaline has run its course, and suddenly he finds the ground coming up to meet him. there’s an eruption of yells, and he thinks he hears the guard calling for the medic. he can make out the sound of rushing feet before someone drops to their knees beside him, and something about the woman seems familiar, except his eyes can’t seem to focus and most of his vision has gone black anyway. she’s the last thing he sees before the darkness pulls him under, and somehow, he gets the feeling that he’s in good hands.
