Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
.・゜-: ✧☾ ☽✧ :-゜・.
Levi never left his seat in the unsettlingly clean room, counting every second between Stella's breaths. She was hooked up to an IV that was injecting nutrients directly into her bloodstream.
Pete was cleaning the many small cuts and injuries that painted pain on Stella's fragile skin.
The door opened behind him and for a moment, Levi didn't care. His eyes didn't waver from the girl in front of him. It wasn't until he heard the voice behind him that his focus left the girl, even though his eyes never did.
"Lev," Rick spoke behind him. "Deanna wants to talk to you,"
"I'm not leaving her," he muttered, voice raw. "She needs me here."
"I'll stay with her," Rick said gently. "You've been glued to that chair. Go catch your breath."
"I can't leave her, Rick," Levi said, and there was something boyish in the way he said it. Something lost.
He heard Rick take a step closer behind him, the floor creaking under him. "Levi, you're exhausting yourself."
Levi's hand curled tighter into a fist on the bedsheet. "She's all I've got."
"No," Rick said quietly. "She's not. You've got us now, too. Like it or not."
That pulled something loose in Levi. He finally looked over his shoulder—just briefly. Rick stood there in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes kind but firm.
"I'll go," Levi said hoarsely, rising from the chair like he was peeling himself away from gravity. "But only if you stay."
"I'm not going anywhere," Rick promised.
Levi stepped toward the door, but not before Rick added, quietly, "She's lucky to have you." He smiled softly. "We all are."
Levi didn't answer. He just nodded again and stepped out
__________
He inhaled cool air that carried the scent of wood and a faint mix of vanilla and coffee. His face twitched at the scent, a harsh reminder of the old world. He had gotten so used to the rotting and stomach-twisting odor outside that the delicate scent bordered on repulsive as they filled his senses.
He didn't take in the room—not at first. Instinct came first now. He scanned for exits like second nature. The windows were tall, too narrow to crawl through without shattering them. With enough force, maybe. There was the door in the hall outside where he had just come from and across the room, there was a door leading into the backyard.
He decided that the back door was the best escape route before he started taking in his surroundings. He hovered behind a cushioned armchair, still as a shadow. The living room stretched before him—coffee table, overstuffed couch, and beyond that, a pristine kitchen. Everything was so spotless it felt unreal, like a museum exhibit of a life that no longer existed.
