Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

The Hayloft - Josh

The hayloft roof spun slightly above me as I lay there, my mind racing with thoughts that refused to settle. I swore he was going to kiss me.

I wanted him to kiss me.

But I had told him we were just friends, hadn't I? Why was I sending such mixed signals? And what did he mean by "that's not fair"? Did he like me? Could he even feel that way about me, or was I just reading into everything too much?

It couldn't have been the whiskey talking—not this time. He'd had more tonight than the other night, and yet, he hadn't done anything. He didn't kiss me; he didn't try to start anything. It was me who crossed a line, and he stopped it.

He was so different from anyone I'd ever been interested in before. Guys I wanted to be with had always been... well, predictable. Casual. Easy to figure out. Sam wasn't like that. Maybe when he kissed me before, it had been real. Maybe it wasn't just about sex for him. Maybe he wanted something more, something I wasn't used to. And now here I was, poking at the fragile boundary we'd set, testing it, and probably screwing it up.

I was being like Mike—the guy I swore I'd never become. But Sam was strong enough to say no.

How had I misread everything so badly? And had I pissed him off?

I turned my head to glance at him. Sam had rolled onto his back, one arm sprawled out, his chest rising and falling steadily. He mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep, his lips twitching into a faint smile. God, he looked adorable when he slept, so peaceful and unguarded.

I wished I could hold him.

The groans of the zombies below were a harsh reminder of reality, their guttural growls echoing through the night. I knew they couldn't climb up here, but that didn't stop the sound from burrowing into my nerves. I tried to focus on something else, anything else. Off in the distance, near the sanctuary, I spotted a faint glow of light. We'd been so close...

I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, though my thoughts kept pulling me back to Sam.

I woke to the faint creak of the wooden floorboards. Sam was sitting cross-legged near me, his crossbow resting across his lap as he gazed out over the fields.

"Morning," he said, flashing that infectious grin of his. His tail gave a small wag, just enough to stir the hay behind him.

"Morning," I mumbled, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

Sam held up a can of beans, his paw covering the label. "Don't get too excited," he teased, his voice light. "It's all I've got left, and I know how you love them cold." He dramatically revealed the label, smirking. "Ta-da! Your favourite."

I chuckled despite myself. "Thanks," I said, taking the can.

He handed me a fork that was sticking out of the top. I took a bite, the beans cold but oddly comforting. As I ate, I watched Sam out of the corner of my eye. He seemed relaxed, back to his usual playful self. Maybe I hadn't ruined things after all.

I worked up the courage to say something, to explain last night, to tell him what I really felt, to tell him that yes I liked him, But before I could get the words out, Sam's ears perked up, swivelling toward the edge of the loft.

"Shhh," he said, holding up a paw. He peered over the side, his tail stiff. "Just three left," he whispered, nodding toward the remaining zombies.

He grabbed the empty can from me, folded the fork in half, and slid it inside before sealing the lid. Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed it across the field. The clang of metal on hard soil echoed, drawing the zombies' attention.