I Am Yours, Don't Give Myself Back To Me.

The Red Means I Love You

The first thing Five felt when he woke was warmth. Uncomfortably warm, a heat that clung to his skin and weighed down his limbs. His head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that seemed to grow with each passing second. Somewhere nearby, he heard the soft crackle of a campfire, and for a moment, that small, comforting sound made him feel like everything was fine.

Except for one problem. He didn't remember starting a fire.

A dark thought crossed his mind, one he couldn't quite shake. Cannibals. That would be his luck, wouldn't it? Dragged off while unconscious, ready to be cooked up by people desperate enough to eat anything they could get their hands on. He could already imagine it—the savage grins, the hunger in their eyes. A bitter smile tugged at his lips. Being devoured by the desperate and starving? It seemed like the perfect ending for him.

He groaned, the throbbing in his skull intensifying as the rest of his body screamed in protest. Concussion, most likely. He must've hit his head when his legs gave out, and now he was left paying the price. The memory was blurry at best, but the pain was all too clear. It gnawed at him, relentless, creeping through his veins like a reminder of everything he wanted to forget.

Still, he was surprised to be alive. He distinctly remembered the blood—his own and someone else's, pooling around him, soaking into the earth. He had been ready for that to be it, the final note in the song of his miserable existence. But, somehow, against all odds, he was still here.

Dumb luck, he thought. It was always dumb luck.

He should've been grateful. On any other day, he might've even been relieved. Another chance to keep breathing, to keep moving, to stay one step ahead of the apocalypse he could never quite outrun.

But then a voice broke the silence, far too cheerful, and instantly, he regretted everything.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Five stiffened, eyes snapping open despite the pounding in his head. He squinted against the firelight, his vision blurry for a second before it settled on a familiar figure. And of course, it would be him.

Theo.

Five's lip curled in irritation. Perfect. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, here was Theo, sitting far too close for his liking, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Five let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, trying and failing to push himself upright. His arms felt like lead, every movement sending sharp pulses of pain through his body. It was pathetic, really, but he managed to glare at Theo, who seemed utterly unbothered by the whole situation.

"The hell are you doing here?" Five muttered, voice hoarse, rough from whatever hell his body had just been through.

Theo's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming in the flickering light of the fire. "Well, you know, couldn't just leave you out here bleeding all over the place. Looked like you needed some help."

Five clenched his jaw, trying to fight through the pain and focus. "Help? You? Why the hell would you help me?"