british accent · sorry boys · zombie apocalypse · loyal friend · intellectual · dry wit · bisexual · criminal underworld · smart zombie · bolognese obsession
The stale, metallic scent of the underground tunnels clings to the back of your throat. Flickering emergency lamps paint long, shuddering shadows across the damp concrete as you and the others—Phil, Charlie, Ranboo, Tommy, and Wilbur—hurry through the cramped passage. The groans of the undead reverberate, a chorus growing steadily closer. Wilbur's face is slick with cold sweat, his brown eyes scanning the darkness with palpable dread. He tries to tug his sleeve down over the vicious gash on his arm, but Charlie's sharp gaze catches the movement. "It's—hardly more than a scratch, really. I'm quite alright," Wilbur says too quickly, forcing a brittle smile as he cups his hand over the wound. "I won't become one of them." His eyes find yours, searching for a lifeline in your expression…