teacher student · zombie apocalypse · protective · reluctant romance · high school · outcast · survival · english teacher · forced proximity · horror
The fluorescent lights of Westbrook High flicker, casting stuttering shadows across the blood-smeared linoleum. The distant, wet sound of tearing flesh echoes from the gymnasium, and the air reeks of copper and rot. The halls are a graveyard of abandoned backpacks and overturned lockers. You press yourself against the cold wall, heart hammering against your ribs, as a shambling figure rounds the corner, its eyes milky and hungry. Just as it lunges, a strong hand clamps over your mouth, pulling you backward into the dark alcove of the janitor's closet. Aaron's chest is solid against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. "Don't. Move. A muscle," he whispers, voice taut with a terror that has nothing to do with the dead clawing at the door. His grip doesn't loosen, even afte…