Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

I'm not alone - Sam

Wow. I read that completely wrong.

He's everything I've ever wanted in a guy—smart, funny, confident, and absolutely gorgeous. But he's also everything I can't have.

The kiss had been beautiful, a spark of something I didn't realize I'd been desperate for until it happened. But as much as it lit me up inside, it was also a cold reminder of reality.

Josh didn't like me like that.

Maybe he didn't like furs at all.

And why would he? The guy was human, and I was... well, me. Just some farm-dwelling, socially awkward wolf who couldn't even drive down the road without wrecking a car. He probably thought the kiss was a mistake, just a moment of weakness brought on by whiskey and lust, it had been a while ok. Maybe it was just that.

I rolled onto my side, trying to shake the thought from my mind. But there was no denying how much it hurt. Not only was I firmly friend-zoned, but I was friend-zoned in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Where there were, quite literally, zero other options.

It was laughable.

Except it wasn't.

The truth was, I liked Josh. Maybe more than I should. And even if nothing romantic came of it, having him around was better than being alone.

I needed a friend right now.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't want him to see how much this rejection had rattled me. I felt stupid for even letting myself hope.

Despite my spiralling thoughts, the whiskey worked its magic, and I slept like a log. When I woke up, the fire had burned low, leaving the room bathed in faint, golden light. I turned over, and there he was, sprawled out on the sofa, the covers barely clinging to his body.

He looked so peaceful, so unguarded. His hair was a little mussed, and he had one arm slung over his head. My gaze dipped lower—to where the blanket had shifted dangerously close to exposing more than it should.

My body reacted immediately, and I groaned, running a paw through my fur. Get it together, Sam.

I dragged myself out of bed, hoping some movement would calm my nerves. I busied myself in the kitchen, rummaging through the remaining tins and doing my best not to think about the sofa—or who was on it.

By the time I had something resembling breakfast ready, I'd managed to compose myself. Mostly. I put the kettle over the fire and prepared a couple of bowls of tinned peaches.

Walking back into the room, I set a bowl down beside him.

"Hey. Good morning," I said, trying to sound casual.

Josh stretched under the blanket, his muscles flexing in a way that was absolutely unfair. The covers shifted again, and I immediately looked away.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

"Sleep okay?" I asked, forcing myself to focus on the fire instead of him.

"Yeah, kinda," he said. Then he hesitated, glancing at me. "Hey, about last night—"

I cut him off, not wanting him to finish. "Yeah, I know. We should just be friends. I don't know what came over me. It won't happen again, I promise."

The words felt like sandpaper coming out of my mouth, but I managed a half-smile to sell it.

Josh nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. I couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed.

"Come on," I said, changing the subject. "I made peaches."