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Aug 16, 2025

i have no self control so im publishing more original fiction here right now.

this one is titled 'Real Monsters'

also psst ignore how inaccurate the driving is i didnt want to edit it after i learned how to drive.

also also warning: this one is Very Long. like 5.5 thousand words long... i made my english teacher read this whole thing last year T-T

Quinn’s knuckles are turning white with his grip on the steering wheel. He’s pissed, for lack of a better word. None of them are supposed to head to the city alone, and it’s for a reason.

There was enough food in the house to wait at least a few days. He would know; it’s been a few days. He would probably be concerned for Mio, if his vision wasn’t turning red. No one is supposed to go alone.

Quinn had always been predisposed to anger. He’d gotten into fights since he was in elementary school, defending Mio and Evan from bullies. He lost his first tooth that way. Moving away from the city and into the middle of nowhere hadn’t done anything about it, apart from the fact that he can’t relieve stress through violence anymore.

He wouldn’t be surprised if he got arrested doing this. Again. Mio took the car when they left, and Quinn didn’t have another one. He took a random one from the nearest town; a black Ford F-150. Mio would say it was in-character for him if they were here.

He parks the car and turns the key in the ignition. If Mio’s sticking around, it’s probably to do… other business. And the best place for that is where there’s people.

There’s plenty of people at a mall.

Quinn balls his hands and shoves them in the pockets of his jean jacket, shouldering the glass doors open. He probably looks a sight; furious expression, wearing all black, tattoos. He probably looks more like a fictional character than a real person.

His predictions were right. They always are. Mio’s in the mall, front and center; leaning slightly over the balcony stretching between the second floor. They’re easy to spot. Wearing an outfit that’s way too fancy for a run-of-the-mill mall, the red eyes, it’s all a dead giveaway.

Quinn snorts at his internal joke. Dead giveaway. He’s hilarious, he knows.

He can pinpoint the exact moment Mio sees him walking into the mall. They pale even more than they already are, which seems almost impossible. He makes a ‘come hither’ gesture towards them, and he can see them wipe their hands of nervous sweat.

Quinn looks at the shops around the mall, and he can see why Mio chose this one. There’s a Hot Topic and a Claire’s right next to each other. God, they really act like a rebellious teenager, don’t they? Running away from home, their favorite store is Hot Topic, they’ve dyed their hair entirely on a whim before.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by Mio's voice next to him. “Heeey, Quinny. How are you doing…?”

Quinn grits his teeth in an approximation of a smile, all malice and anger. “Hi, Mio. Want to tell me why you ran off?”

They look at each other, Mio not looking away from Quinn’s eyes. “I was hungry. And we were running out of food.”

He itches for a cigarette. “You aren’t supposed to head to the city alone.”

Mio shrugs almost flippantly, smiling nervously. “You and Evan were sick. Couldn’t rightly ask you guys.”

Quinn takes a deep breath in a futile attempt to get control of his temper. “Then you wait.”

Mio gives him a pleading look, pulling out those puppy dog eyes that shouldn’t be nearly that effective on an adult. “I couldn’t wait, I was hungry.”

Quinn looks away first. He knows Mio is right, they couldn’t let themselves risk their friends like that. He’s still angry. His hand darts out to grab Mio’s wrist and he starts to pull them out of the mall. They aren’t that far from the doors, and Mio doesn’t protest. “We’re going home before you get the cops called on us. We don’t go alone for a reason.”

Mio tries to tug their hand out of the grip. “I wouldn’t get the cops called on me! I’m better than that, you know it. I was just fine for years.”

And then Quinn’s already short temper snaps. He shoves Mio away, leaving them stumbling. “How did I meet you then? If you never got caught, I guess it couldn’t have been in a holding cell! Where was it then?”

Mio takes a step back, cradling their wrist. “No, no, it- it was a holding cell.”

Quinn gasps in fake shock. “Oh! I guess that means you got caught then!” His words aren’t anything but mean. “Too bad for your perfect track record.”

“Shut up! Just- shut up, Quinn, shut up!” Mio cries out.

Quinn is still so angry. He just wants to hurt them, find the words that’ll cut deep so they feel as betrayed and angry as he does. “God, you’re just kinda useless, aren’t you? Always need me to save you, jeez.”

Mio freezes and Quinn realises just how many lines he crossed. He takes one slow step back. Then another, and another, until he turns around and runs away from everything. Like a coward who can’t deal with consequences. From the quick glance he takes back, he can see tears streaming down Mio’s face and their hands clenched into fists.

He hates this. Hates himself right now, honestly. It’s kind of terrifying, too. He doesn’t want to hurt Mio. Didn’t want to hurt them. He was angry, he didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Quinn knows that doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t fix the fact that he hurt Mio.

He gets a block away before his phone goes off, that unsettling beeping of an emergency alert. Quinn can hear other people’s phones beeping too; people across the street and in buildings nearby. It shocks him out of the spiral of self-deprecation and loathing at least.

Emergency Alert: Extreme

(CDC) Center for Disease Control: IMMINENT THREAT in this area. Take shelter on the ground floor of a secured building immediately. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, find the closest secured building. Lock the doors. Do not leave.

It freaks Quinn out. Plain and simple. There’s no reason specified in the alert, and the CDC doesn’t usually send them either. It feels like something out of one of his horror movies, honestly. The beginning of some B-list zombie movie from the 90s he only has on VHS.

He can tell the people around him are confused, too. Staring at their phones, glancing around at the others nearby to see if they got it. Making eye contact with strangers for once and not mindlessly doomscrolling.

Then the screaming starts. And Quinn thinks he might understand a bit better. It’s loud, and hurts. He never quite realised how loud a person could be before that.

It comes from down the street he’s standing on. Which really isn’t that big of a revelation, seeing as it’s a fairly busy road,. One of the main ones in the city.

It gets closer.

Someone sprints past him, a teenager with some strange mix of glee and terror in their eyes that he barely sees. He’s almost knocked over by how fast they’re running.

Then it’s a business man in a suit. A mother pushing a stroller. A kid in overalls. All running from something Quinn still can’t see, all screaming.

He doesn’t really want to run back. Mio could still be there. He doesn’t trust himself not to yell again, or fight, or do something unforgivable. Not that he hadn’t already done that but- y’know, not anything else. He doesn’t want to hurt them more.

Quinn just- freezes. He hates it. Hates that he can’t move, do anything. Even running away again would be better than this. So cowardly he can’t pick an option. Fight or flight. It’s not that hard, but he can’t even do that much.

It comes into view as he’s standing there, fingernails digging red half-moons into the palms of his hands. It’s disgusting, worse than anything Quinn’s seen before. One of its arms is bent the wrong way, jagged bone sticking out of its skin. Red-brown fabric clings to it. Its nose is crooked like it’d been punched, and the blood dripping down stained its teeth vibrant pink.

It doesn’t move like a human. Not in the way Mio was silent deadly grace; more like it doesn’t know how to walk properly. Like a toddler figuring out how to move its limbs, though that seems too… innocent of a description for it.

Of course, because he’s a coward, he runs. Away from the monster, towards the mall he ran away from. The anger replaced by terror. Both had one thing in common, though: they both pumped Quinn full of adrenaline, the only thing keeping him running as his lungs burn and his knees shake.

The distant wail of a siren starts somewhere behind him. He makes it to the mall, and it’s a flurry of running and screaming. People trying to find their loved ones, frantic calls filled with sobs.

He can’t see Mio. He doesn’t know if he wants to, but- now, Quinn just wants to make sure Mio’s safe. After that they can kick him out, leave him to the monster. Hell, he’d deserve it all. He’d deserve it.

And- and Quinn might be panicking too, now. The sirens are getting louder which means they’re getting closer, which probably means that the monsters or zombies or whatever they are are getting closer too. He hopes that he’ll never have to see another one again. He knows it won’t happen.

He’s daydreamed being in an apocalypse before. He’d be cool, and know how to fight, and take out a bunch of zombies. He’d go out in a blaze of glory protecting a child. It might happen now. That’s what’s terrifying about the hell happening now.

He can see the car he… acquired to get to the city. The keys are still in his pocket. It’s a better bet than standing around, staying in the city. He’s less likely to die or get injured in a car, at least. As he thinks that, he can see thick black smoke start to come from the buildings on the south side.

Someone runs into Quinn at full speed as he pushes his way to the truck. He stumbles back, turning towards them with a sneer on his face. “Watch where you’re going, asshole.”

They squint their eyes, before their mouth pops open in surprise. “Oh! It’s you, I didn’t think I would see you yet. You’re not supposed to for… another two years, I believe?”

Quinn freezes in confusion for a moment, before shaking his head. “You don’t know me.”

They laugh, eyes twinkling with mirth. “No, I do! Just not yet, you know how… unstable, we’ll say, the timeline is. Well. Here’s some advice I suppose: you should be careful.”

Quinn narrows his eyes, opens his mouth to speak, blinks, and the person is gone. Scattered in the wind. “That’s not even helpful advice,” he yells anyway. “It’s just common sense!”

A fresh wave of screaming starts up again as he reaches the car. One of the things got into the crowd, somehow. He can see somebody shoot it as he gets into the car, boosting himself up as the bang reaches his ears. He doesn’t flinch.

The key turns in the ignition and the engine rumbles to life. Quinn drags the stick-shift out of park and into drive, and sets off. He doesn’t particularly care if anyone gets in his way; they’ll die to the monsters anyway, so is there really a point in avoiding them? At least this way they aren’t resurrected, or infected, or whatever stupid name people end up calling them.

It’s not a movie or a book or a tv show. Calling them zombies sounds stupid, unreal. Calling them something like shamblers sounds equally dumb. They’ll just stay monsters to him. It’s what they are, after all.

There’s a blood spatter on the window as he drives out of town. He doesn’t bother to wipe it off. He doesn’t know if it’s from one of the dead, or one of the living.

The tank runs out of gas when Quinn is halfway home. There’s nothing but cornfields in sight when the engine sputters to a stop. He checks the fuel gauge that he hadn’t bothered to look at before, thinking the tank was full. That might have been a stupid decision, seeing as the arrow sits firmly at the bright red E.

Quinn curses his luck, the universe, whatever higher power that might be watching. It’s unfair. He was gonna make it home, get the chance to apologize to Mio before he inevitably dies and leaves them behind. Not much a mere mortal can do in an apocalypse.

Maybe it’s his fault. Maybe this hell is his punishment for hurting Mio. A god took offense that he hurt their favorite one. Or it’s just dumb coincidence that drives the knife further into his heart.

He lands with a thud on the gravel road once he gets out of the truck. He slams the door shut behind him with a satisfying thud; he won’t be needing it anymore. He makes sure to rifle through the trunk before he leaves it behind.

There could be a flashlight, or something like a shock blanket. People carry those in cars, right? Maybe something he could use as a makeshift weapon.

Quinn does find a flashlight in the trunk. It becomes an almost comforting weight in the pocket of his jacket. There’s also a tire iron shoved underneath one of the backseats, heavy. He tosses it up and catches it again.

It’ll work.

The sun is setting over empty cornfields. Quinn can hear shuffling between the dry stalks, and he wonders if it’s deer or monsters. It becomes almost a game, something to keep him from going completely crazy. There’s nothing else. No one to talk to. No other games to play.

Deer or monster, deer or monster. Deer or monster. He never says it aloud. It was never clear if the monsters were sensitive to sound or not, and he’s not exactly keen to find out now. Maybe if someone else were here, he would risk it.

If he tries hard enough, he can almost picture Mio pointing in the distance, yelling over their shoulder what they think. Laughing, because they don’t have a reason to be afraid. The monsters can’t hurt them, after all.

Quinn wouldn’t be such a coward if they were here. Still, they aren’t. So he runs instead of fighting. He lets the terror get the best of him and hides in the maze of dry leaves and old corn.

The field next to him rustles. In his head, Mio whispers deer in his ear. The sun paints the horizon line in strokes bleeding into the sky like blood. He marches on.

The only warning before Quinn is attacked is the faint sheen of the flashlight in its eyes. It jumps at him with bared teeth, fingers extended like claws reaching towards him. It leaves raised red lines down his arms, blood beading in some places.

He slams the tire iron into its side, pulling forward until he can feel it tear. At the same time, he kicks at its knees, trying to knock it down.

It doesn’t stop. Its jagged fingernails carve holes in his flesh as he finally raises his weapon. He smacks it in the head, again and again and again until he can feel it stop moving. Its skull caved in, fingers still embedded in his arms.

He shoves it off himself, only making the injury worse as its claws tear out of him. Everything smells like blood.

The cuts burn. He’s breathing heavy, and he feels shaky all of a sudden. He remembers something Mio had said to him before. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. He can almost picture them beside him, unnaturally still. Their breath should ghost behind his ear but it doesn’t, because they aren’t there and they don’t breathe in the first place.

Blood still drips from Quinn’s tire iron. He realises that the thing hadn’t made a sound, during the entire… scuffle. He was the one to yell, to scream, to cry. He wonders if they don’t make noise on purpose, or if it doesn’t know how to use its vocal cords.

His hands are shaking. He can really only tell by the light bouncing ever so slightly. The tire iron slips from his hand and bounces on the gravel. It makes a clattering noise Quinn can only vaguely hear.

He feels strange. Floaty. Like he’s not in his body, but a silent observer on the outside. He still wants to cry out. Yell for Mio. Scream for somebody, anybody at all to help him. The words won’t force themselves out of his throat.

He needs to do something. Anything other than stand there uselessly, waiting like a coward for another monster to come out and attack him. He needs to keep moving.

“One step at a time,” Quinn whispers. His lips are dry and cracked, and his voice breaks with just that small noise. He bends down to pick up the tire iron, and at least his knees don’t shake anymore.

He licks his lips, and it tastes like iron on his tongue. He didn’t realise his lip had split. He’s glad that it’s nighttime. He’s not sure he’d be able to keep anything in his stomach if he had to see the gore.

Quinn’s boots crunch against the road. He can’t keep the same pace as before, too distracted. The new scabs on his arms itch and burn, and his legs ache from the kicks. He keeps moving. There’s only so much time.

The sun starts to rise. It’s—technically, at least—the second day of the apocalypse. Hell. Whatever you want to call it.

Quinn never would have described himself as quiet, before this. He was loud. Brash, a little mean sometimes, but never quiet. He can count the words he’s said since leaving the city on one hand.

He’s sleep deprived and dehydrated, and as soon as he gets to the creek he knows is coming soon, he’s drinking as much as he needs and passing out. He just needs to hope and pray that there’s no bacteria in the water.

It comes into sight as Quinn thinks this. Maybe fate is real, and maybe it doesn’t hate him.

The stream is cold near the rocks, where tiny rivulets of water flow out. He remembers Evan saying something about drinking water from a stream; something like the water closest to the spring is the safest. He cups it in his hands and raises it to his mouth, drinking something for the first time in nearly 24 hours.

His throat isn’t dry anymore as he gulps down as many mouthfuls as he can stand. It drips down his chin and his hands are numb by the time he drinks his fill. If Mio were here, they’d crack some dumb joke about being messy, and Evan would laugh and point out the innuendo Quinn didn’t get the first time.

They aren’t here, though. So Quinn gathers and drinks a few more mouthfuls, then curls up with his back against a tree. Sleeping during the day isn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had; the night is certainly more dangerous, but he thinks walking around sleep deprived would be worse.

He closes his eyes and breathes in. Breathes out and then in again, and opens his eyes. Blinks at the sun, and then stands up again. He can’t sleep like this.

The long walk continues on.

Quinn’s legs ache with exhaustion. His lungs burn going up the hill, and the pain in his side makes him want to double over. He’s glad, at least, that it’s not summer. Not the middle of winter. There’s no extreme temperatures to make him regret the fact that that first monster didn’t kill him.

He supposes he’s lucky he hasn’t come across one in the daylight yet. The patches on his jacket are irreparably stained rusty red-brown, old blood flaking off his tire iron. He’s sure it coats his face and hands and clothes anew every time he’s attacked.

The smell doesn’t leave. It’s just more iron, thick and pooling on Quinn’s tongue as he bites it to keep from screaming. Another one of those monsters comes across his vision. It doesn’t get better with every new one; the terror really only seems to get worse.

This one, at least, isn’t broken. No bones jut out of its arms or legs, its nose isn’t crooked and its skull is still intact. It’s worse in some ways though. This one was clearly dead, first. Its eyes are glassy and clouded. Its heart doesn’t beat.

Quinn lets the flashlight drop gently to the road. It clatters and he holds the tire iron with both hands in a white-knuckled grip. The heavy metal slams into the monster’s head before it has the chance to attack.

The skull makes a cracking noise. The blood doesn’t start to drip out until the body hits the floor, when Quinn brings it down like a baseball bat and makes the fracturing worse.

The blood is dark. Deep red, and he can see why. The sunlight bounces off of it and makes highlights. It could be called beautiful, in a painting. In its own decidedly morbid way.

Quinn drops the tire iron next to the flashlight and turns, speeding to the side of the road and vomiting in the culvert. The bile stings against the back of his throat but at least his mouth doesn’t taste like iron anymore. He dry-heaves again after everything leaves his stomach.

He doesn’t know why he ran to the side of the road to vomit. There’s already blood and a dead body in the middle of the road. A little bit of vomit isn’t going to change anything.

The wildflowers growing there aren’t so pretty anymore. At least they aren’t stained with red, like every other thing in this hell on Earth he’s stuck in.

Quinn pushes himself back to his feet after a few more minutes. He heads back to the middle of the road, picking up his flashlight and weapon. Carefully making sure he doesn’t look at the dead body, stepping over it.

He just needs to make it to the house. He needs to make it there, and Evan and Mio will be waiting. He’ll apologize. They’ll be okay after that.

They can plant the garden and hunt for deer, and Mio will find a way to get fed. They’ll be safe and hidden away. He just needs to make it there.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road stretching into the horizon. “One step at a time,” he says. His voice cracks and his throat itches.

Quinn screams when he wakes up. He doesn’t remember the nightmare he was having. Probably something about a monster. That’s what everything is about.

It’s the sixth day. He thinks, at least. He hasn’t exactly been keeping track of the days, or going to sleep regularly, or sleeping at all. It could be day ten, for all he knows.

What Quinn does know is that this is the road he’s looking for. There’s no more cornfields, here. Just an empty plain, a road stretching out into infinity in front of him, and the forest on the other side.

He’s afraid of what he’ll find on the other side. He doesn’t know if Mio made it back, if Evan is still alive. He feels like a fucking coward, still. Freezing when he should just- be brave and walk into the treeline.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. It has to be an hour. Or two. The sun was high in the sky when he got there and now it’s dying.

Not dying. Fading into the mountain range behind him. It could be pretty, in another life. One where Mio is standing next to him and there’s a cigarette in his hand and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. There are no monsters and if he closes his eyes he can picture them, standing there.

He grabs their hand and the two are smiling and Mio’s voice is warm when he finally speaks. “I love you, Quinny. But you need to wake up now.”

And then, maybe they aren’t standing on a road. Instead they’re on the mountains and Mio lets go of Quinn’s hand.

They grab his face and pull him in close, kissing him gently. Then they shove him off the cliff with a smile on their lips and laugh.

Quinn falls through the clouds, stained dark red in a way that makes him taste iron when he breathes. He hits the ground and jagged bone juts out of his left arm that bends in all the wrong ways. Blood leaks from the cracks in his skull and washes over his vision.

Something else that isn’t him makes him stand up, and he can see his faint reflection in the pool of blood he left behind. His eyes are cloudy.

He can feel his limbs move the same way the monsters do. The thing puppeteering his body arching his fingers into claws and his legs dragging against the ground.

Mio walks out of the fog before him. “Are you going to apologize?” They ask. “Do you feel sorry for hurting me?” They look calm.

Quinn tries to open his mouth, to say anything. But his jaw is clamped shut and he feels frozen in place like a coward again, and he can’t force the words out of his throat. His body brings itself closer as everything in him is telling it to stop.

“I bet you liked saying that,” Mio remarks, that easy-going smile still on their face. “Hurting me. I bet you wanted to punch me, choke me. Just like your parents.” They laugh, and it sounds beautiful and terrible.

Quinn’s fingers dig between Mio’s ribs and pull them apart. They crack and all Mio does is smile. “It’s okay,” they say. “I love you.”

And then the tire iron is in Quinn’s hands. He brings it down onto Quinn’s chest until the rising breaths stop. It feels gratifying and horrifying, both heavenly and an abomination. He drops down next to the body and pulls them to his chest. Mio’s closed eyes open and they are glassy and clouded.

They smile up at him with bloody lips that press against his in the next second. They taste like iron. Mio kisses Quinn until he can’t breathe and his face turns blue, and Quinn wakes up.

His lungs hurt and he heaves into the bushes next to him. The only thing that comes up is stomach acid, and it burns his throat.

Quinn wants to go home.

And to do that, he has to get there first. He stands up and picks up his tire iron and flashlight. They make him sick to look at but he needs a weapon. “One step at a time,” he says, and keeps moving.

The woods are empty. There are no birds chirping, or squirrels scrambling to get away from Quinn as he messes up the leaves carpeting the ground. Something is wrong here.

Knowing his luck, he’ll find it sooner rather than later. He’s fate’s personal chew toy, or something like that. He’s interesting.

Leftover leaves from last autumn crunch beneath his feet. He tries not to think. His mouth is dry, and his throat still faintly stings from vomiting.

The flashlight ran out of batteries last night, so he left it by the side of the road. He knows he can make it to their house before sunset.

The wind blows through the trees, and the leaves make faint rustling noises. There’s no reason for it to be either a deer or a monster. He knows it’s the wind.

As Quinn gets closer to where he knows the house is, a set of footsteps start to mirror his. It’s not a person’s footsteps. They take too long between, and the leaves drag behind them. It’s not a person because it’s a monster, and no one else would be in the woods.

This is Quinn’s territory for once, not the monster’s. He scrambles up one of the nearest trees and waits for it to catch up.

He feels strong. He is doing something, for once, and he isn’t frozen. He isn’t a coward. He is doing something.

Quinn drops down on the monster as it walks by. His tire iron digs into its skull head. The blood sprays across him and he doesn’t feel sick, for once. The iron is familiar.

He presses his boot against its back as he pulls the weapon out of its skull. And- he recognizes the shirt. It’s one of Evan’s; it has the outline of wings on the back that he was so excited about when he first got it.

The pit in his stomach grows.

He needs to know. Quinn feels sick again. He kneels down and gently flips the body over.

It’s Evan.

It’s Evan, and he can’t quite believe it because Evan should be alive. Evan should be waiting for him at home, with the last hot cocoa in his hand. He should laugh at Quinn for being upset that he used it.

He shouldn’t be lying on the ground of the forest. It hits Quinn, then, that he’ll never hear Evan nerd out over airplanes again. He’ll never get to show Evan a horror movie and laugh at his screams, and the three of them will never do stupid stuff while cleaning the house. Because Evan is dead.

Evan is dead and Quinn killed him, and for the second time that day, he vomits up the little bit left in his stomach. It’s tinged pink.

He just needs to find the house. Find the house and find Mio and everything will be okay. Everything will be okay. He stumbles away from the body, in the direction of the house. He leaves the tire iron behind.

He coughs. “One step at a time.” The words tear apart his throat.

The house looks normal. And that feels wrong because it should look wrong, when the world is hell and Evan is dead and Quinn hurt Mio.

Instead, it’s exactly as he left it. The Christmas lights none of them bothered to take down are still up. The plants are watered. Why are the plants watered? He didn’t water the plants before he left.

The steps up the porch creak. Like always. It’s a weird mix of trepidation and nostalgia as Quinn walks up them. They make noise and noise brings monsters, but he can’t feel anything but happy that he gets to hear it again.

It means he made it home. He’ll see Mio and everything will be fine. He’ll apologize and they’ll make do with what they have and everything will be fine. He’ll be out of this hell.

The door is unlocked and he leaves it open as he steps inside. There’s no dust. Mio made it back, then. Evan must have stayed before- before. He must have stayed before.

The door to Quinn’s room is open and he can hear one of his CDs playing. A rock song he doesn’t recognize immediately.

His heart is going too fast. His lips are cracked and dry and he bites the edge of one. His fingers are digging into the half-moon scabs on his palms again.

Mio’s eyes widen when he sees Quinn. Quinn freezes. He’s not ready, he didn’t prepare. He isn’t ready to apologize. He didn’t practice. He isn’t ready, so he freezes like he always does. He’s always a coward.

The music is loud and aggressive, and Mio is sitting on Quinn’s bed with a stuffed animal in their hands. There’s a ring of purple bruises around their wrist. Quinn is frozen in the doorway and doesn’t know what to do or say.

He starts talking. “I- Mio, I’m so, so, sorry-” He gets cut off before he can finish the sentence.

There’s a sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs. He looks down. The fingers, claws, of a monster are curled around his ribcage. They pull.

It hurts. It hurts more than anything else, more than the scabs down his arms he keeps peeling off and the ankle he thought he sprained. Blood is filling his lungs and he could feel when his ribs cracked under the force.

Mio runs towards him before he can collapse to the floor. Quinn smiles at him. “I love you, Mio.”

Mio screams. They pull him close, cradling him to their chest. “No! No, no, you can’t die.”

Quinn laughs, then coughs out a bit of blood.

Mio is crying now. It’s weird. They never seem anything but happy. Their tears taste salty. “I love you, I love you, I love you, you bastard. I’m so sorry, why do you have to go and die? Always so dramatic, I’m sorry, I love you.” They’re nearly as incoherent as Quinn feels.

Quinn’s eyes are staying closed for longer and longer as he blinks. “I love you,” he repeats.

Mio kisses Quinn as he closes his eyes for the last time. Their voice is the final thing he hears before he loses consciousness. “I love you,” They say.

#t0mmmy posting #writing #ITS THE GUYS #pointing at them #i havent yapped about them yet but i will...#i will.....#mio especially. hes a vampire btw #this is never said only implied

t0mmmy