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Red sat on the wooden chair, his hands resting on his knees. The faint glow of the flickering lantern cast uneven shadows across the room, making the space feel smaller than it was. Yellow sat across from him, elbows on the table, his fingers clasped tightly together. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable, punctuated only by the distant groan of wind against the house.

It had been hours since Yellow had finished cleaning and bandaging Red’s hand, yet the weight of their earlier exchange lingered like a shadow in the room. Yellow’s gaze was fixed on the floor, his jaw tight as if caught in some internal debate. Red broke the silence first, his voice cutting through the oppressive quiet.

"You've been quiet for a while". He kept his tone light, casual, but his chest tightened as he awaited Yellow's response before he added,

"What's going on? Is it... is it something about me?".

Yellow's head snapped up, his sharp brown eyes locking onto Red's icy blue ones but then quickly looked away. He didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Red, then down at his hands, tapping an uneven rhythm on the table. Then he exhaled, leaning back in the chair.

"Yeah, it is". He admitted, his voice low and flat. Red frowned.

"So… earlier, when I got here. Why did you ask if I'd been bitten? Why does it even matter?". He asked, taking a bite of the cookie and savoring the sweet taste melting on his tongue. He didn't know why, but he felt that there was something more to that question.

Yellow's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered how much to share. After all, Red probably has no idea what a bite from those things meant. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. And although the redhead was a complete stranger to him, his oblivious look—not to mention his uncomfortable eyes—made him unable to leave him clueless.

"Because it matters". He said, meeting Red's gaze. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. His brown eyes, usually guarded, softened slightly. "A lot more than you realize".

"Matters how? What happens if someone gets bitten?". He asked, his voice filled with confusion, curiosity and a little fear.

"Well, a bite is… the beginning of the end. The infection spreads through the blood. Once it's in your system, you start… changing".

"So when you asked me if I was bitten, you were just being cautious?".

"I wasn't just being cautious. I asked because there's something about you that doesn't add up". He said, crossing his arms. Red frowned, his eyebrows rising. Doesn't add up? What dose that suppose to mean?

"I already told you, I wasn't bitten. I wasn't scratched, either. So why does it feel like you still don't believe me?".

"It's not just about bites or scratches". Yellow said, his tone tinged with frustration. He looked like he's having a bad headache. Correction: Red was that headache.

"Look, there are certain things we've all learned to watch out for in this world. Certain signs. And when you showed up, I thought you might be showing some of them".

"Signs of what?".

"Signs of the infection".

He felt the blood drain from his face. Infection? So those things were Zombies, after all. This world has been infected with some kind of virus. And he's the only one who has no idea about it.

Lovely.

"Wait, are you saying you think I'm–".

"I don't know". Yellow interrupted, his voice clipped. He looked at Red one more time before taking a deep breath,

"And that's the problem. The symptoms vary, and I've seen enough to know better than to jump to conclusions. But I can't ignore what I've seen either".

"What… What happens if someone is infected? What does it look like?".

He couldn't help but ask. If Yellow thought he was infected, then it must be for a reason, something Yellow could see that he couldn't. Yellow hesitated, his expression hardening as his hands played with his blue scarf. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his brown eyes locking onto Red, but never his eyes.

"There are stages". Yellow began, his voice low, and Red listened carefully.

"It starts small—confusion, forgetfulness, trouble focusing. Most people don't even realize what's happening at first. But it gets worse. Fever sets in, and with it, paranoia. You start imagining things, hearing whispers that aren't there. Hallucinations".

"A–And then?". Red's mouth felt dry, his pulse quickening. He didn't have any of these symptoms– at least, none of them except for the forgetfulness...that one he did have.

"Then you lose control. Your body changes, your mind's gone. That's when the eyes change completely—either milky white or icy blue. And once that happens, you're not human anymore. You're one of them".

"What's the difference between the white eyes and the blue ones?".

"The ones with white milky eyes are… simpler. Slower, dumber. They don't think, they just react. They'll chase after anything that moves, but they're predictable. Easy to outsmart if you know what you're doing".

"And the ones with blue eyes?". Red asked, though part of him didn’t want to know. But how bad can they be? Right? Yellow's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a near whisper as his face darkened.

"They're the real nightmare. Faster, stronger, smarter. Their bodies change more—sometimes they're bigger, other times their muscles get denser. And their senses? Off the charts. They hear everything, even the smallest noise. If you run into one of them, you don't fight. You run".

Pretty bad. Noted.

A chill ran down his spine. The thought of creatures like that roaming the world made his skin crawl. And the thought that he might had encounter one of those two, especially the ones with icy blue eyes, made his blood run cold.

"So the eye color is… what? A way to tell them apart?".

"Pretty much. The eyes are the first physical change you'll notice. If someone's been bitten, their eyes will start to shift. By the time the color fully changes, it's too late".

Red swallowed hard, his fingers brushing against the bandage on his palm. The memory of Yellow's earlier hostility resurfaced, and he forced himself to ask,

"So… that's why you were so intense when I showed up. You thought I might be…". He couldn't finish it. Yes, there might– definitely– be something wrong with him, but he couldn't possibly be infected.

"Infected". Yellow finished for him, his gaze steady. "Yeah. I wasn't sure at first. You were disoriented, scared… and then there was the wound on your hand. I had to be cautious".

"Yeah, but I'm not bitten. You saw me. You checked!". His words came out more defensive than he intended, but the lingering memory of Yellow pointing a gun at him still burned.

Yellow said nothing and just looked down, his face serious but still held something – something Red couldn't point at. Yellow didn't respond immediately. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on Red, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them. And that's when it hit him. That's when he looked at Yellow dead in the eyes, just for him to look away. The thought made Red's skin prickle with unease.

"You… you still think I'm infected". He said, his voice cracking, a bitter smile on his face. "Don't you?".

Yellow froze in place, guilt filling his pale face and eating him up from the inside. Red knew it, he couldn't even—didn't want to—look him in the eye. He was afraid, maybe even disgusted.

"I… That's the problem. When you showed up, I thought for sure you were infected. But now…". He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor again.

"Now what? What's stopping you from deciding?". Red pressed, his voice tinged with frustration. Yellow rubbed the back of his neck, his expression conflicted.

"It's just… you don't fit the pattern. People who are infected don't lose all their memories at once. And they don't go three days without showing other symptoms. If you were really infected, you'd be worse by now—fever, paranoia, hallucinations. Something! But you're not. And that doesn't make sense".

Red's mind raced, trying to make sense of Yellow's words. If he wasn't showing any other symptoms, that means he should be fine, right? That's a good thing, so why does Yellow look brothered by it?

"So what are you saying? That I might not be infected after all?".

"I'm saying I don't know what you are. Your eyes are wrong, but everything else is… normal. It doesn't add up, and that makes you dangerous".

"Dangerous? How could you say that? I haven't done anything to hurt you! I don't even remember who I am, let alone what's going on in the world!".

"That's exactly why you're dangerous. You don't remember anything. You don't know where you've been, who you've been around, what might have happened to you. For all we know, you're some new kind of infected".

Red stared at him dumbfounded, his chest tightening with fear. Was this true, or was it just a stupid theory made up by Yellow to satisfy his curiosity? Either way, he didn't like it. Just because the world was contaminated with something that didn't make sense didn't mean he had to look for illogical answers to what was happening to Red. Just because he showed two of the signs—which were in the wrong order, even—didn't mean he was a new kind of infection!

"I'm not infected. I don't feel anything like that. I feel… normal". Red protested firmly. Yellow's gaze softened slightly, but the tension in his posture remained.

"Maybe you are normal. But until I know for sure, I can't trust you. Not completely".

The words stung more than Red wanted to admit. Yellow didn't trust him, he said it himself, and if any other sign appeared, would he really…
He looked down at his hands, his fingers curling into fists. No, he wouldn't.

"What do you want me to do?". He asked quietly. Yellow hesitated, his expression shifting as if he were weighing his options.

"For now, nothing. We keep things as they are. I'll keep an eye on you, and if you start showing any signs of the infection, I'll… deal with it". He said finally, making Red's heart sank at the implication. He really was going to do it. Kill him, if he felt like Red was a threat. But not a word he said, just nodded.

"And if I don't?".

"Then you're good to stay".

The room fell into a heavy silence once more, the weight of Yellow's words hanging in the air. Red leaned back against his seat, his mind spinning. He couldn't shake the feeling that his icy blue eyes were a constant reminder of the uncertainty surrounding him, no wonder he felt unease just by looking at them. Heck, it was his own freaking eyes!

The tension in the air was thick, suffocating. Red felt the anger building inside him, like a storm cloud ready to burst. His chest was tight, his fists clenched at his sides. Every word from Yellow's mouth felt like a slap across his face, each one cutting deeper than the last. He's not a monster, he wasn't going to hurt anyone, to hurt Yellow. He had been trying, trying to make Yellow understand, but the damn blond was relentless.

"I've already told you, Yellow. I'm not infected. I haven't been bitten. Why do you keep acting like I'm already gone?". Red's voice cracked through the air, sharp and frustrated.

Yellow didn't flinch, didn't even blink. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his expression unreadable, but the faint twitch in his jaw betrayed his irritation. He stared at Red, his eyes cold and calculating. Then, without warning, he snapped.

"You're a stranger to me". He said, his voice low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that made Red's breath hitch.

"For all I know, you're lying. Or worse, you've got some other reason to play this game. I can't trust you. Not yet".

The words hit Red like a punch to the gut. A part of him wanted to lash out, to scream at Yellow for being so stubborn, so cold. But another part of him—the part that was still clinging to some shred of dignity—told him to stay calm, to not let Yellow get under his skin.

"What the hell is it with you? Why do you keep saying that? I'm not a threat! I'm just trying to survive, same as you!". His voice cracked slightly, the raw emotion spilling out.

"Why can't you just trust me?". Red's words came like a whisper. He really wants to stay with Yellow, he didn't want to be alone again, but what's the point of staying with someone who's going to kill him if anything went wrong. Yellow's face was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched so tightly, Red thought it might snap.

"Trust is something you earn, not something you just get handed. And you haven't earned shit. So don't expect me to just take your word for it".

"Okay, I'm not gonna ask for your trust! But I'm asking for a little bit of understanding! I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't ask to be dragged into this fucking mess!".

"You're right. You didn't ask for it. But you're here now, and I'm not risking my life because some stranger says he's not infected".

"So what, you're just gonna treat me like I'm some kind of fucking bomb ready to go off?". His voice shook with barely-contained rage. Yellow's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Maybe I am. What the hell else am I supposed to do, Red? You've given me no reason to trust you". Red's hands balled into fists, his nails biting into his palms as he tried to control the fire burning inside him.

"You think you can just treat me like I'm a threat and ignore me because I haven't earned your trust? Just because you don't know me doesn't mean I'm some kind of monster!".

That was it. Yellow stood up quickly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, making Red gasp softly. He took a step forward, his face twisted with frustration, his voice low and dangerous.

"You're lucky I haven't shot you already, Red. You don't know how many times I've wanted to pull the trigger, just to be sure. But I never did. Do you think I want to do it? Do you think we're in a game here?".

Red took another step back, his breath coming in sharp gasps as the frustration boiled over. He flinched at the words, anger flooding his veins, but there was something deeper, something raw and aching at the pit of his stomach. The words stung, but the truth was what hurt the most.

He was a potential threat. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"I-I never said that. I'm just asking–".

"You think I want to trust you? You think I want to lower my guard and hope you're not gonna rip my throat out when I'm not looking?".

"Oh. So I'm just some threat to you, huh? You can't even see me as a person anymore. Just something that might turn on you when you least expect it".

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. The only sound was the distant hum of the world outside, the faint creak of the floor beneath their feet. Yellow's gaze never wavered, but Red could see the tension in his posture, the clenching of his fists.

"I don't care about you, Red". Yellow answered, his voice quieter now, but the words hit harder than anything before.

"What if I believed you, trusted you, only for it to turn out that you were infected? Do you want to be the thing that makes me regret even letting you stay here?!".

He was panting now, the anger consuming him, his chest heaving. He watched Red closely, desperate to make him understand the weight of his frustration, the reality of what Yellow had been forced to live with.

Red felt something twist inside him, a mix of hurt and disbelief. His lips parted, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say. His chest tightened, his throat dry, but he swallowed the lump that had formed there. He sat there, frozen for a moment, feeling the sting of those words settle deep in his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but Yellow was right.

He was a stranger. To Yellow. To himself. And maybe that was the real problem.

"You can't even look at me in the eye". Red said suddenly, his voice low and bitter. He looked up, his eyes narrowed.

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?". The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Red saw something flicker in Yellow's eyes—a flicker of doubt, maybe of guilt. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same hard expression.

"You don't belong here. You're a fucking ticking bomb, and I can't afford to pretend you're not".

Red's breath hitched, his face contorted in disbelief, his anger rising in tandem with his confusion. He stood up, fists clenched.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, Yellow. I've done nothing to deserve this".

He could see Red's expression shifting, hurt flashing across his face. The redhead's lips trembled, and then his body stiffened as though something inside him broke. He glared at Yellow for a long, silent moment, the words hitting him like a punch in the gut. His chest tightened, his breathing shallow. For a second, everything was still, the air thick with the weight of Yellow's anger.

Red didn't even say a word.

Then, without another word, he turned sharply and headed for the stairs. He stormed off, every step heavy with tension.

Yellow opened his mouth to say something—anything— but no words came out. He watched Red retreat, his own breath catching in his throat. A cold dread filled him as he saw Red head for the bathroom.

He stood there, motionless, as Red slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, locking it from the inside. The sound of the lock clicking echoed through the house, and Yellow felt his heart drop into his stomach.

For a moment, he just stared at the door, frozen in place.

Then, a groan escaped from his lips, his hand slapping against his face. He sank down onto the seat Red was on earlier, his head spinning, a mix of regret and anger swirling inside him. He had let his anger out, let his words go too far. And now, Red was locked in the bathroom, retreating from everything. Probably crying.

"Fuck". Yellow muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

He sat there, shoulders slumped, a twinge of guilt gnawing at him. The words he had said—what did they even mean? He wanted to take them back, but Red was already gone. The lock on the bathroom door was a sharp reminder that the distance between them had just grown.

"Way to go, Yellow. You fucking idiot". He cursed under his breath. "Such a fucking idiot".

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, feeling the weight of everything crash down on him. He had pushed Red too far. And now he was alone again.

~~°•••ミ⁠●⁠﹏⁠☉⁠ミ•••°~~