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The End

Lowkey sad ! Multiple deaths ! Apocalypse au ! I'm sorry I guess !

"Eddie, you have to," Stan whispered, looking at the cuts on his arm, tears in his eyes. "Please, I don't want to be one of them."

Eddie choked on his sobs, holding the gun and pointing it at Stan. "I can't, please don't ask me to," he cried, his own tears falling down his cheeks.

"Eddie, if you don't, I'll be one of the Diseased. I'd rather die. Please, do it," he said, closing his eyes. "Do it for me."

Stan and Eddie were two among five best friends that stuck together when the world ended. A deadly plague circled the globe, and the first who got it became man eating monsters who's only goal was to infect as many as possible.

As time passed, the disease became non contagious, but it didn't stop the group of man eaters, known formally as the Diseased, and informally as zombies. All of Eddie's friends had been attacked except for himself and Stan.

He stood and watched as Stan killed them before they could change, in order to protect the only two still left alive.

It was a simple task the pair had been completing; raiding an empty shopping mall in search of food. Then, they accidentally knocked down a display, alerting a pair of Diseased and making them chase Stan and Eddie.

They thought they got away, hiding in a locked break room, until Stan gasped and realized he'd been scratched, the skin already fading from pink to a dark grey.

"Eddie. Do it, or give me the gun and I will. Please. I'm going to shift soon, and I don't want to hurt you," Stan pleaded, snapping Eddie from his thoughts.

Eddie hadn't killed anyone or anything yet. He was a track star and could run, and that had been his advantage. Now, he had to murder a friend for his protection.

"Stan..." Eddie trailed off, raising the gun. "You're my best friend."

Stan smiled weakly, his eyes fading from their golden honey color to a blackened color. "Eddie, there's more people out there. You'll find new friends. You have to promise you'll stay alive and do whatever it takes to protect yourself," Stan said, his breathing picking up as his shift drew closer.

"I promise," Eddie whispered.

He closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger, the banging echoing through the room. When he opened his eyes, Stan's body was on the ground, the bullet having gone right through is head.

Eddie hated himself for it, but he shot two more bullets into Stan, ensuring he was dead. Once it was done, he left the break room in search of more weapons and a safer place.

He had started his journey through the apocalypse with four friends.

Now, he was the only one.

•••

Eddie hated the apocalypse. He wasn't one of those survivors who saw it as a game, like in Zombieland or World War Z. He was one of the ones who wished he'd died long before it ever happened, so he didn't have to deal with the every day bullshit that went with it.

He had a list of rules (that he totally did not copy from Zombieland, which Stan had ironically made him watch five days before the original outbreak of the disease) that had kept him alive.

Among those rules were the ones that stated:

1) don't trust anyone but your friends
2) always carry extra ammo
3) in case of emergency, shove your fingers down your throat to make yourself vomit, and the Diseased with think you're one of them for a few minutes so you can run
4) if a hot guy says he wants to have sex with you, he's probably trying to use you as Diseased bait so he can up his kill count