⋆˚࿔ LAST OF US: CHAPTER ONE
— pairing: apocalypse!rafe x apocalypse!reader
— warnings: explicit language, slight mention of drugs, past relationship (rafe and reader used to date), slight graphic imagery
— A/N: inspired by @prettydaisygirl and their zombie au! if you're reading this, i fricking love your writing. feel free to send requests for this au or literally anything else. but anyways, enjoy!
it had been six months since the world ended.
six months since the normal disappeared without warning.
six months since rafe cameron realized he was no one’s favorite anymore—not even god’s.
it started with the news. then the sirens. then the screams. but it wasn’t real until he saw the blood, smelled the rot, and felt the way his chest stopped moving when ward didn’t get up. rafe had been in the middle of a fight with his dad—about something stupid, probably—and then suddenly ward wasn’t yelling anymore. his mouth was open, but no words. just blood. just silence.
and that’s what the apocalypse felt like. silence. but the wrong kind.
it was easier, at first. tannyhill had enough food, a generator, walls. he stayed there alone for a while, even after everything outside had already gone to hell. but supplies didn’t last, and being alone made him… worse.
worse than he already was.
he told himself that the decision to find sarah wasn’t about family, it was about survival. he knew where she'd be, more specifically who. rafe hated the pogues. every single one of them. but being surrounded by people, even people he couldn’t stand, was safer than starving to death in an empty mansion.
so he found her. his sister who was thankfully still alive. still with that same soft, naive hope that made him feel sick. she’d gotten lucky—john b, jj, kiara, pope, and cleo had taken her in without question. and when rafe showed up, dragging a broken-down motorcycle and smelling like smoke and dirt, they didn’t shoot him.
but he sure as hell thought they should’ve.
rafe didn’t talk unless he had to. he barely even looked at them. every time they set up camp and circled around the fire to laugh, cry, tell dumb stories or just reminiscing about the normal, rafe disappeared. always on the outskirts. always leaning against a tree or sitting on a rock like he’d rather die than join them.
because he would. he’d rather die than pretend they were a family.
because they weren’t. not to him.
he couldn’t stand how jj made jokes like the world hadn’t ended. he couldn’t stand how pope still thought everything had to have a plan. he couldn’t stand how john b and sarah acted like they were the last love story left on earth. he couldn’t stand how kiara had hope and he really couldn’t stand how cleo looked him in the eye like she knew exactly what kind of monster he was.
they tolerated him because of sarah—but barely.
he did his part, though. went on supply runs, killed when he had to, helped fortify whatever hideout they were calling home for the week. but even then, it was clear—he wasn’t one of them. he wasn’t with them. he was just…there.
and the worst part? he deserved it.
rafe had been a nightmare in the normal. cocky, spoiled, high out of his mind more often than not. and the worst part? he’d still had her.
they’d dated, really dated. not just flirting at parties or late-night hookups—real. for a while, she’d been the only thing grounding him. the only person who could get through all the noise in his head.
but he’d ruined it. pushed her away with the drugs, the mood swings, the sharp edge he couldn’t seem to turn off. he’d lie. disappear for days. come back with glassy eyes and a fake smile like nothing happened.
she broke up with him after one of his worst spirals. after all the yelling and crying she just looked at him like he wasn’t the boy she fell for anymore. like he was already gone.
he never forgot that look.
and even now, after the world had ended, after everything they’d lost… it still haunted him. because out of all the things the apocalypse took, she was the one he’d lost before it even started.
he hadn’t seen her since the outbreak. didn’t know if she was alive or dead. didn’t know if he even had the right to wonder.
but he did. every single day.
because the world ending didn’t make him a better person. it just made him lonelier. and now, stuck in a group full of people who hated him, who had every right to hate him, rafe did what he always did—pulled away. and kept pretending he didn’t care.
it was supposed to be a normal run. or atleast as normal as things got now. rafe and sarah had drawn the short straws that morning, which meant supply duty. he already hated the idea—trudging through mud, dodging half-dead freaks, and babysitting his little sister? yeah. sounded like a blast.
john b and pope had supposedly stumbled past an old supermarket on their run a couple days ago. said they didn't explore because they didn't need to. but now that supplies were running low and that was the only known site, so they went.
they walked in silence for most of the morning. sarah kept trying to make small talk. he didn’t answer.
“you know, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little less miserable,” she said at one point, breath puffing out into the cool air.
rafe didn’t even look at her. “it might,” he muttered.
they found the supermarket around noon. from the outside, it looked like hell. windows smashed in. vines crawling up the bricks like they were trying to choke the place out. a door swinging on its hinges, creaking with every gust of wind.
sarah stared at it, squinting toward the inside. “it doesn’t look that bad.”
rafe scoffed. “you’re kidding, right?”
"you got a better idea?"
"yeah, turning the fuck around." rafe spat. but before he could stop her, she was already heading inside. no zombie apocalypse could change sarah cameron and her need to do the exact opposite of what her brother said. reluctantly, rafe followed behind, muttering complaints under his breath, thinking sarah couldn't hear them. the inside was even worse. supplies were scattered across the floor. the faint smell of blood and rot lingered in the air around them. the dim lights flickered, hanging from the sockets they used to be fixed in. the unbearable silence made his ears ring. rafe hated places like this. anything too quiet meant something was hiding.
not paying attention to the ground or where he was going, rafe stumbled, almost tripping over something. when he looked down, his heart skipped—there was a torn limb lying there. he froze, fear creeping up his spine, the sudden reminder of how close death really was.
she spun around, her flashlight beam cutting through the dark, landing on rafe and the torn limb at his feet. her breath hitched—she couldn’t hide how scared it made her.
“we need the supplies. we can’t just walk away.” she said quietly, voice trembling,
“not today,” he said, shaking his head. “this place is fucked. something is seriously wrong here.”
she hesitated, biting her lip. “so we get out of here as quickly as possible. we should split up. you check the backrooms, i'll scan the floor.”
rafe swallowed hard, eyes scanning the shadows around them. “fine. but you yell the second you see something suspicious.”
rafe pushed open the heavy door to the backrooms, the hinges groaning like they were about to give out. the smell hit him immediately—damp, moldy, rotting. like something had been left here too long.
his flashlight cut a shaky line through the darkness, barely enough to see more than a few feet ahead. the beam danced over collapsed shelves, shredded bags of supplies, and walls smeared with god knows what.
his boots crunched over broken glass and loose papers, every step sounding way too loud in the suffocating silence.
gun raised, he moved slow, careful.
his breath came quicker now. something didn’t feel right. he could hear the soft drip of water somewhere deep in the building, the skittering of rats nearby—normal sounds, sure, but it all felt too still.
a noise. not an animal. not the building shifting.
he spun around—and suddenly, a hand latched around his neck.
his back slammed into the wall, shoulder hitting concrete hard. the grip wasn’t tight enough to choke him, but it was enough to throw him off. instinct kicked in.
he grabbed the attacker’s arm and twisted, using his weight to throw them off balance. they hit the floor with a grunt.
his flashlight clattered beside him, spinning wildly across the room. he raised his gun—then froze.
“what the fuck—” he muttered.
it was a girl. dusty, wild-eyed, breathing heavy.
before he could say a word, she snatched a shard of metal from the floor and swung it at his head.
rafe ducked, the piece slicing the air right above him.
she scrambled backwards on the floor, one hand steadying herself, the other gripping the makeshift weapon like it was life or death.
“stay back!” she warned, her voice rough and shaking.
rafe held up his hands. his gun dangled loose in one, finger off the trigger.
“it’s me,” he said, slow, voice calm but serious. “y/n. it’s rafe.”
her eyes flickered. a pause. something almost like recognition. then her jaw clenched. her whole body tensed. he took a slow step back, then turned his head, calling out—
“sarah!” his voice echoed through the backrooms, sharp and urgent. “get in here! now!”
he didn’t take his eyes off y/n, didn’t lower his hands. "what the hell are you doing here?"
"protecting myself."
“from me?” he snapped. “you literally just tried to kill me.”
“didn’t know it was you.”
her jaw clenched. she didn’t lower the metal.
“and it still doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “you’re the last person i want to see.”
rafe’s head jerked back slightly like she’d slapped him.
“god, y/n,” he muttered, voice breaking into something between pissed and breathless, “you’re really gonna act like i’m the problem when you left—”
a flashlight beam cut through the dark.
sarah’s voice rang out sharp and confused as her footsteps pounded closer.
“back here!” he snapped, eyes still locked on y/n.
sarah turned the corner and skidded to a stop. her jaw dropped. “holy shit.”
y/n didn’t look away. didn’t flinch.
rafe dragged a hand through his hair, heart still racing from the whole damn ambush. “she just jumped me,” he said to sarah, pointing at y/n like she wasn’t right there.
“you scared the hell out of me,” y/n shot back. “you’re lucky i didn’t stab you in the neck.”
“lucky? you almost split my head open with a rusty pipe—”
“okay, okay,” sarah said quickly, holding her hands up. “can someone tell me what the hell is happening?”
rafe glanced away, jaw tight.
y/n finally dropped the piece of metal with a loud clatter. her hands were still curled into fists.
“nothing,” she muttered, dusting herself off. “nothing that matters now.”
sarah raised a brow. “could’ve fooled me.”
rafe exhaled, trying to calm the storm still buzzing under his skin.
the piece of metal hit the floor with a sharp clang, but y/n didn’t move at first. her breathing was still uneven, her jaw tight like she was holding something back. eventually, she pushed herself off the ground with a wince, brushing dirt off her jeans even though it barely made a difference.
she stood stiffly, not looking at either of them.
“you in here alone?” sarah asked carefully, shining her flashlight down the hallway, as if expecting someone else to jump out next.
y/n’s eyes flicked up for just a second before she shrugged. “my group left me.”
her voice was flat, too flat. like she wanted it to sound casual. like it didn’t hurt. but rafe noticed the way her mouth twitched right after. the way she blinked too fast, like she was trying not to react to her own words.
“what?” sarah said, brow furrowed. “they just… what? left you here?”
y/n didn’t answer right away. she swallowed hard, eyes darting toward the broken window at the far end of the corridor.
“they thought i slowed them down,” she finally said, her voice quieter now. “we got surrounded a few days ago. i twisted my ankle, and… i guess survival’s more important than loyalty.”
the second the words left her mouth, she wished she hadn’t said that much. she hated how small it made her feel.
sarah’s face softened. “jesus, y/n…”
“it’s fine,” y/n said quickly, sharper now, like she was trying to shove the softness away before it cracked her. “i’m fine.”
but she wasn’t. not really. she was dirty and tired and alone and it showed, even in the way she stood—like she didn’t want to lean too far in any direction because she might fall apart.
rafe hadn’t said a word. he was still staring at her, frozen in place. his chest rose and fell a little too fast. he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say.
how do you comfort someone who looks like they’d punch you if you even tried?
“how long have you been on your own?” sarah asked gently.
“three days,” y/n muttered. “i’ve been walking and hiding ever since.”
sarah cursed under her breath, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a water bottle. she handed it over without a word.
y/n hesitated before taking it. rafe watched her the whole time. his throat felt tight.
he remembered her crying in his passenger seat once, after a fight with her mom. remembered how she hated asking for help, even then. and now she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, like she’d been swallowing down panic for hours on end just to make it to the next hiding spot. and he hadn’t seen her in months.
not since she walked out of his house with tears in her eyes and said, “i can’t do this anymore, rafe. i’m tired of watching you destroy yourself”.
with that same look in her eyes, but harder now.
“i didn’t think i’d see anyone again,” y/n said suddenly, like she was saying it just to say something. her voice cracked slightly toward the end. “definitely didn’t think it’d be you two.”
sarah gave her a soft smile. “we’ve been sticking with a group. john b, jj, pope, cleo… even kiara. we’ve got a base set up a few miles from here.”
y/n looked at her, then at rafe. her expression shifted, unreadable.
“he with them too?” she asked.
“unfortunately,” rafe muttered before sarah could answer, dragging a hand through his hair and finally looking away.
y/n almost smiled. not quite. but something softened in her face, just a little.
it hurt rafe more than he expected. the way she looked at him now—like he was a bad memory that still lingered.
“look,” sarah said, voice suddenly lighter but a little cautious, “we should get out of here.”
y/n hesitated. “are you sure it’s okay?”
“you’re coming with us,” sarah said firmly. “no question.”
y/n looked down. nodded once.
rafe still didn’t move. he was staring at the flashlight glow on the floor.
because everything in him wanted to say i’m sorry, but it wasn’t that simple.
not after what he put her through. not after the nights she stayed up begging him to stop using. not after the day she said she loved him, and he answered by disappearing for two days with a bottle and a needle.
so instead he just cleared his throat, adjusted his grip on his gun, and followed behind them.
but watching her the whole time.
©DREWSSGIRL 𖦹 est. 2025 — please do not copy, translate or repost my work as your own, thank you!
