❝You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you'll all be doing that.❞
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The End started, walkers overran the world, and you stumbled upon the scourge of the new society; an alpha, a leader, and a monster.
In that single momen...
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"I condemn you. Yet my heart yearns towards you."
You saw Kid, just beyond the gateway, one hand on the motorcycle, gloved and spiked, while the other rested on his bat, Mayhem. You swallowed heavily, looking away, and avoided him for the next couple of days. It was partially out of fear, that you knew, but also out of an avoidance of the craving you felt. Call it delusional or plain insane, but that flash of fear you saw in his eyes outweighed the sins of his actions, and it was probably the Stockholm veering its ugly head, but there was more to the man than the beast that had strangled you. In the duration of the time he'd attacked you, it was almost like he wasn't aware of your presence, or at the very least, aware of what he was strangling, be that human or walker.
Sure, the alpha had attempted to hunt you down while you were in hiding, but he gave up when you turned out to be too much of a hassle. Of course, you knew that if he truly wanted to find you, he would have, but in his own way, he was giving you the space you needed, while simultaneously giving himself the time he required to think things through, and you let him. You were nothing if not tenaciously avoidant of the topics you didn't want to confront. But even then, there must be a time where you should own up to your fear of the alpha. If he was to be your mate, your companion in life, unwilling as you may be, he needed to start trusting you.
So there you were, kneeling by the open window of the train, quietly fiddling with the ends of the comic book Heat had given you, while pressing your ear in on the wooden paneling, listening in. Kid was at the far end of his workshop, and rather than toiling away on some new invention of his, this time, he was quietly strumming on his broken guitar, but by the looks of it, he seemed to be venting his anger out on it instead of actually playing it. Which was odd, considering he was the type to bash someone's head in if he really needed an outlet.
Bizarre as it was, it wasn't all that terrible to look at.
Kid's fingers were tense on the chords, and the music produced sounded rather unnatural, almost strained, but the manner in which he composed it was a testament to his former skills as a band member. Had the world not ended, you would have liked to have gone to one of his concerts, but alas, things were often unfair in a society like this.
In your dormant position against the paneling, you failed to notice the golden eyes sliding your way, scrutinizing, before rebounding to the guitar in the male's hands. In a gruff, almost guttural growl, he placed the instrument down and faced you.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Your eyes went to his, then. A little taken aback, but still silent.
Kid rose up from his pelt of feathers, his scarred torso rippling and shining under the glossy light of the flickering candles, and you felt yourself visibly swallow at the sight before you pushed it aside. Now was not the time to be thinking about things like it, especially not after what he'd done to you.
