ecstasy | corpse husband

chapter 28.

downtown seattle
day eleven

"we're right in the thick of it now," flare states the obvious, not helping ease the nerves of the rest of the group as they peer past a metro bus at the situation in front of them.

dawn is creeping up in the distance, faintly illuminating between the buildings and with it, the army tank patrolling the streets a few blocks down. at first, it seemed like it wasn't operational, but that was before they heard the whir of it as it drove into the intersection. It makes them paranoid that they've already been caught, but it's remained motionless for a couple of minutes now, just as they have.

they have to be careful.

elowen presses her back to the side of the bus, kicking aside a plastic cup with her shoe, sighing soundlessly. the reality of how horribly the outbreak impacted the country didn't sink in until they made it downtown, the center of the bloodbath. now, with severed bodies and destruction littered everywhere, it couldn't be more obvious how devastating the virus has been, like nothing anyone has ever experienced before. she hadn't even gotten a taste of it.

maybe corpse was right in saying she was so reckless. in her defense, she'd barely had a grasp of how gruesome the virus is and how expansive. all she can think now is, there's so many dead people—most of them hard to look at, torn apart like meat. yesterday, hearing those pales eating the soldiers outside the storage room was a crude wake up call for her. seeing seattle in ruins pushes her over the edge.

her and corpse's argument echoes in her head, specifically how angry he was at her almost getting herself killed. If she's being honest, she can't fully remember what was going through her head when she did that. It feels entirely stupid to her how careless and unafraid she was in that moment, knowing now how brutally she would've died, and she understands his frustration but would never admit out loud that she'd do it again.

If that makes her reckless, then she fully accepts that.

It isn't that she doesn't value her own life; she isn't on a suicide mission. In her mind, she just did what had to be done and wasn't thinking logically in the first place. some decisions can't be made with solely logic. It would've ended in a very different outcome if she had, one she couldn't live with. corpse can be angry at her all he wants as long as he's still alive and beside her, even brooding.

last night, after he'd kissed her and she kissed him back multiple times, it had taken a lot of effort for her to convince corpse to stay. he was still intent on leaving, maybe even more so. she'd had to guilt trip him, telling him he'd be being a horrible friend to abandon her with strangers and after they had been through so much together. If he cared even an ounce for her, for her safety, then he would walk her back to the store.

they're friends, aren't they?

perhaps what they are is far too complicated to put such a restrictive label on. friends seems too... insignificant. It also does a poor job encompassing what she feels towards him, which ignited after their kiss.

In the end, she insisted he stay at least one more day, so they could talk properly and not so emotionally—to work things out. she'd held his hand and everything, but it was her pout that made him give in. he finds it impossible to reject her with her doe eyes and sulky lip, which he had just tasted on top of that. hardly his fault, he thinks.

that doesn't mean he was going to be happy with her about it. all day, she's received the cold shoulder, and it's shocking to her how easily he can flip the switch on her. less than twenty four hours ago he'd put his mouth on hers, kissed her like that, gotten her flustered in places she hasn't felt alight for a long time all at his own doing. she had let him have his way with her, but with the way things are going, you'd think it was the other way around.