“Please! Please, you’ve got to listen to me!”

Tristian was in the middle of the camp area he’d set up for defense practices, sitting on a creaky metal chair that looked about to collapse from rust overtaking it. In his coarse hands were some equipment he was strengthening: a rusted steel switchblade that Tristian was wrapping paracord tightly around the grip. Not only would that protect his hands from tearing under the bare metal, but the paracord could be undone and used for multiple purposes. He was lucky enough to find it under some rotten corpses after he’d regained control of this territory.

While he tightened and tied the cord he heard the screams for help again, and could tell it was a woman pleading, scrabbling in the dirt against the wall of tribesmen and allies he’d amassed while scouring the demolished world that was theirs now. She sounded like she was half-crazed, but not a zombie at least, or someone who seemed intent on destroying their tribe.

“I need to speak to the leader!” she cried again, voice growing hoarse with despair. She tried to weakly push against the tribesman in front of her but he wasn’t moving a bit. Her knees weakened in a bout of coughing fits and she fell down. Her companion dropped down beside her and held her close while she shook with coughs. “I have a deal to make,” the woman croaked out, reaching up to the guard.

Tristian had heard enough. With an irritated grunt he stood up and sheathed the knife into his side pack and adjusted his jeans. As he headed towards the woman, his eyes watching her carefully. The tribe filtered calmly out of his way lest they earn a punch in the face, and soon he was standing before the pair of lost souls. His dark eyes scoured their bodies for any sign of weapons, his muscles tense and ready to respond. But he found nothing, only two people who looked worse for wear. “Who the fuck are you? Why are you here, at my tribe?” he demanded.

The woman raised her head, and Tristian got a full view of her. Her auburn hair looked sunbleached and graying; it was long but mostly tied back with a strip of cloth. Strands fell across her face, and he could see her cheekbones starting to protrude her skin. She’d once had a beautiful and well-cared-for face but now she looked weathered and disheveled. Her stark blue eyes still shown with life, and Tristian looked coldly into them. He watched her stand up, and try to brush off her mangled and torn jeans. Her lumberjack top looked too big on her; he assumed she’d probably taken it off a corpse. Her thin figure was none the bit threatening; shit, he knew he could snap her wrist with the flick of his hand. The companion with her didn’t look threatening either; Tristian’s eyes washed over the figure, taking every detail in.

He was a bit shorter than Tristian, and certainly less bulky. His cobalt eyes watched Tristian right back, wary and unwavering. His mop of messy chocolate hair fell over his face and across his neck; streaks of red and copper shone almost like highlights within the strands. His face was young and unscarred; he looked less unfed than the woman, and Tristian had a brief image of rubbing his palm across the boy’s smooth cheek. He shook his head.

“M-my son, I need to make a deal,” the woman finally spoke, clearing her throat. Tristian’s gaze drifted back to her and she continued. “My son will be of good assistance to you.”

Tristian waved his hand dismissively. “He looks like he can’t fight worth a shit; what do I want from him?”

The young man scowled. “I can fight-“

“Let’s speak somewhere more privately, please?” the woman asked, eyes flickering around to the group of people around them. Tristian knew she had more she wanted to say, a better deal than what she wanted his people to hear. She was afraid that someone would either recognize her from what she wanted to say, or abuse the deal somehow without his knowledge. So with a smirk, he nodded his head and turned on his heels, making her and the boy follow his steps.

Once they’d found a quiet and unoccupied place within the camp, sitting on piles of cement blocks besides some slowly dying weeping willow trees, Tristian rubbed at his forehead in thought. He hoped she wasn’t going to just offer some dumb shit, or else he’d have a couple of bodies to dispose of.

“My name is Elise,” she said quietly. “This is my son, Erick. I’m offering him to you as my offering for help and protection; I want him to be your husband”

Tristian’s head shot up quickly, and he glared at the woman. “Husband? The fuck do you mean?” He felt his face twist into a cruel snarl, but inside he was feeling a bit excited. Erick wasn’t too bad looking admittedly, however they didn’t know each other. “What does he offer me?” he asked cautiously.

Elise looked over at her son lovingly, eyes watering. “I can feel something inside me, growing stronger each moment, and I know I won’t have forever to try and protect him.” Tristan watched her hand caress Erick’s cheek. “His father istanbul travesti was a very intelligent man, and Erick learned so much from him to follow in his shoes before he disappeared. I want someone to protect him and keep him hidden from the bigger people out there, and in return he’ll take a husband title, and do research to help save those who are sick.”

Erick bit his lip as his mother sighed, and Tristian could see tears in their eyes. He mulled over the deal. It didn’t seem too bad, but it would be annoying having to care for two extra mouths. He was lucky to have captured the area they camped in currently, since they’d found a large building with loads of canned foods still edible inside. He’d be good for a while longer taking care of his tribe as a whole. Fuck it, what could hurt?

“Alright,” Tristian sighed. “I’m not sure how this will actually work out for researching, but I’ll take you both in. But if you fuck up, you’re done.” he threatened, eyeing them carefully. Elise wiped her gaunt face and smiled, standing up.

“Thank you, sir,” she breathed. Erick nodded, not saying much more than a ‘thanks’ under his breath. And so that was that.

The days went by, Tristian trying to teach Erick some basic fighting moves, then the two making ventures into the nearby woodlands for hunting practices. While hunting Erick would often find himself collecting grasses and fungi, taking them back and melting different mixtures in pots over the campfire, trying to make new concoctions to have his mother drink. Tristian would often curse at Erick for not helping collect ‘real food’, and in turn Elise would chide him for his colorful use of words. Oftentimes Tristian found himself listening to her the best he could, but it was hard to keep the habits down.

As the days passed he watched Elise talk with his tribe, which all of them were men he’d either encountered and fought after the world went ablaze, or they were men he’d fought beside long ago before the world went to shit. She would help cook meals, and wash clothing, and nowadays she would rest a lot more, her face looking more ghostly than before. Tristian could see she was struggling to look full of life for her son, but knew time was growing short. He in turn tried his best to work with Erick, both teaching him and learning from him. He could now recognize a few plants and moss types that were used in medicinal attempts, but he didn’t care to focus too much on that shit since it was Erick’s job.

And Erick worked away, daily, often way into the night, writing with coal and found pencils on old books and papers and building walls. Tristian was sort of amazed at how much the kid knew and studied. He was sure Elise was proud.

“Why?”

Tristian felt his chest tighten at the sound of raw emotion. He was standing beside Erick’s collapsed figure, as he bent over a cold and soulless body. It was early morning, light from the sun hadn’t reached the encampment yet, so it was all mellow blue shadows and murky darkness. Tristian knew her time was closing in, but Erick had been in denial the past few days as he watched his mother wither and shrivel into the lifeless husk before them now. One week ago, she’d stopped helping around the tribe camp and layed in her makeshift bed of blankets and sleeping bags. Five days ago, her bright blue eyes started fading. Three days ago and she’d stopped eating; two days ago she’d denied drinking water. Her skin had turned a leathery texture, the plague she had inside festering.

“Kid, we need to bury her before we find she’s something else-“

“I’m not doing shit!” Erick snapped. His voice was torn. “I can’t… I just can’t do it to her,” he said quietly, tears streaming down his pale cheeks as he finally met Tristian’s eyes. Tristian gulped, hard, knowing all too well the feeling of loss. The ache was so familiar it almost took his breath away.

“Say your last goodbye, Erick.” he said sternly. He didn’t want to be rough but he knew Elise needed to be buried soon.

Erick whispered a few soft words into his mother’s cold chest, and scrabbled back on the ground out of the way. Tristian gently lifted her up into his arms, cringing inside at how light she now felt, and carried her out of the camp, doing his duty as tribe leader to carefully and properly dispose of the body.

“She didn’t deserve it,” Erick said later that afternoon, sitting inside one of the abandoned building’s rooms, in a corner. This room was his work room; papers and piles of used books filled the opposite corners, and coal scratches marked the walls. There was an old, musty desk, and that had his collections of flora in glass jars thriving.

Tristian stepped in, his combat boots crunching broken glass and gravel bits. He knew Erick would be here, trying to find the cure that would no longer help his mother. His brows furrowed, and he crouched down in front of Erick. Erick didn’t look up, his blue eyes downcast, lips in a frown.

“Look kid,” he said gruffly, istanbul travestileri “I know it’s rough, but you’ve got to keep going.”

“It was my mom!” Erick snarled, standing up and hovering over Tristian. “I’m trying to keep going! I just… I,” he panted, eyes shining with pain, “I don’t want to stay here, I need to try and find the cure.”

“And where are we going to find that, huh?” Tristian snapped, standing up and towering over Erick. His face scrunched in mockery. “Tell me where, genius.” But he was surprised as Erick whirled towards the pile of books in one corner and began flipping through one. He turned back to Tristian and opened a page, pointing to a small scribble of maplike drawings on it.

“There,” he breathed. “I think my father knew that a possible cure was around here. It’s in an old town area a handful of kilometres away.” Erick’s cheeks flushed with determination, and he poked Tristian’s chest with the book. “I’m going there. We are.”

Within a couple of weeks, Tristian had made his tribe pack and gather everything valuable and necessary for traveling, and with men-driven carts, they began the journey to Erick’s intended location. Were they sure it held anything useful? No, but Tristian was intrigued to see Erick so sure of something, and he wanted to help the kid ease his mind about finding the cure.

The trip would have been nothing in vehicles, but since the destruction of the world, every vehicle had been put out of commission and rusted beyond belief. There was no way to get gas either. So on foot was the only option, and therefore it was a long and arduous challenge.

As time passed and the tribe gained ground, Tristian found himself liking Erick’s company more than he expected. He liked how headstrong the guy could be at times; other times pissed him off more than he wanted. Erick was feeling the same way; he secretly enjoyed Tristian’s cold attitude when watching him speak with his men, and would find himself wondering how long they’d end up teamed together in this desolate world.

Within the next few days, they’d found the decrepit town, abandoned of course. Some plagued zombies had camped out here as well, and Tristian sent his men in for a quick and harmless battle. The town was quickly cleared out and settled in by its new residents.

“Erick!” called Tristian. “Come see this!”

As Erick rounded the corner of an old building, he saw Tristian, standing at the foot of a grand temple. It was casting shadow across the whole town, looking like a demonic tower. Or godly, depending on beliefs. Erick’s eyes widened, and he trotted up to Tristian, head falling back as he looked all the way up the face of the temple.

“Fucking cool, right?” Tristian said, a small smile on his lips. He crossed his tanned arms and nodded to the entrance that was somewhat crumbling open. “Let’s go.”

“This temple is written to be one of the last to fall before the end,” Erick said as they walked up the steps. “This temple might hold something!”

But before they could walk inside, Tristian was stopped by one of his men. They needed help clearing some debris from the entrance of another building. It was possibly holding canned food or other goods inside, and they needed Tristian to help order them to unblock the entry.

Tristian waved the tribesman off with an annoyed sigh and turned to Erick. His eyes gleamed with frustration. “Go ahead if you want; I’m going to guide these idiots I guess.” And with that he hurried down the crumbly stone steps and back into the main area of the empty town.

Erick turned back to the temple entrance and gazed back upwards in awe. The stone building looked almost older than time itself; what was once strong and smooth marbling had worn and splintered, with ivy vines twining their way around the rock and covering the face in an almost protective design of netting. Erick stopped gaping and walked past the broken stone columns.

Nothing but empty, rotting wooden pews cast about along the sides of the main room, and there were holes in the high ceiling that casted beams of sunlight down into the cathedral. Dust motes swirled through the beams, and Erick blinked his eyes clear, smelling nothing but musty and wet tiles and stone. He walked through the lengthy space towards the back, and sat at the edge of marbled stairs that formed a sort of stage. It looked very holy, churchly, but also… Not. Erick could see that the floor tiles used to have some dark sigils and markings upon them, stark contrast to the white tile base. He didn’t know if it was just aging that made them so devilish in appearance. But he enjoyed the peace and serenity.

“Erick?!” came a cry from the entrance, startling Erick out of his daze. “Erick, are you okay?” Tristian called, stepping inside and looking around worriedly. He caught sight of Erick the next instant and his features hardened again. “There you are.”

“I’m alright, I just was enjoying the temple peace.” Erick said, watching Tristian travesti istanbul walk up to him. As he sat down on the steps beside him, Erick sighed. “I don’t know if we’ll find anything here,” he admitted after a moment of long silence, finally voicing his fears.

“Even so, we’re here. What’s it matter?” Tristian said casually, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked up at the beams of sunlight. “You’re making something of yourself,” he said thoughtfully. Erick looked over at him, brows raised. He hadn’t heard much praise from the cold soldier in a while.

Tristian knew Erick had been feeling unsure more and more as the days passed of traveling to this empty town. He’d caught him staring longingly into the distance some nights as they all grouped around the fire; he’d seen Erick scribble away into his books as they walked during the day. How he’d studied every plant and stem and flower and even bug that they passed each day. He knew Erick was determined to find a cure; he just wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to find it. Despite how annoying the kid was at times, he was proud to see his strength. He was finding himself attracted to it.

“I don’t know,” Erick sighed after a long breath of silence. “I just… I feel like there’s nothing else I can do.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m trying to keep going, keep fighting, if not for myself then for Mom and you-” Erick didn’t expect himself to voice the last word, but he’d said it, and his face bloomed red. He couldn’t look Tristian in the eyes as the stern man turned his head in surprise. But he continued boldly. “I mean, well… Mom helped keep me protected for a while, but now you’ve taken on the role, too, so I just… I don’t want it to be wasted.”

Tristian watched Erick’s blushed, embarrassed face. He tried to keep his own features neutral, but bit his bottom lip. As he looked away, he scrubbed his hand across his face roughly. “Yknow, Erick, you’re doing everything you damn sure can. And I respect it.” Erick looked over but Tristian was staring holes into the floor at his boots. “You’ve made yourself into a decent man. I’ve seen a lot of my comrades and men and brothers fall in all my years of living. It’s been rough as fuck. I’ve had days where I wasn’t sure who I was anymore, why I was living. But I fought through that. I fought myself. And even after the world’s end, here I am still. And here you are. So you’re a brave kid. I like that.”

“Tristian…” Erick whispered, eyes widening with tears. As the man looked over to him, he reached up and placed his soft fingertips against Tristian’s scruffy jawline, rubbing his thumb against it tenderly. It was the boldest thing he’d ever done, and would ever do. But Tristian didn’t fight it. He leaned into the loving action slowly, starved for affection. “Tristian,” Erick whispered again, more gently.

As a tear marked its way down Erick’s cheek, Tristian leaned closer, until they were breathing in each other, and cautiously placed his calloused and scarred hand against the smooth porcelain cheek he’d longed to touch for so many days and nights. Secretly dreamed about caressing. He wiped away the tear trail, then pressed his lips to Erick’s, testing what boundaries they both had. Erick didn’t even know how he felt right at this moment, besides hungry, hungry for more of Tristian’s touch. Was this even allowed? Was it right? Neither of them were sure, but they both wanted to express how much they cared for one another, and that was all right.

“Erick,” Tristian said as they broke the kiss, “are you okay?”

“I’m better with you,” Erick replied softly, gazing into Tristian’s dark and deep eyes, watching the flames of longing desire growing and flickering within. He felt his stomach twist with emotions; subconsciously his hands trailed down Tristian’s semi-covered chest, having forced open his torn-sleeved button shirt. Erick bit his lip nervously as his fingertips grazed the top of Tristian’s jeans, awaiting admonishment… But getting nothing.

Instead Tristian let out a low groan, clasping his hands on Erick’s face and pulling him closer for a longer kiss. He could feel himself growing tighter in his pants; Erick’s hands were tugging the clasp. Tongues clashed together and swirled around each other passionately, and Tristian moved his hands down Erick’s body, feeling his property.

With quick speed he had Erick’s thin sweater off and was kissing and nibbling bare neck, Erick’s heavy breathing in his ear. Fingers ran through his short hair and he bit the soft spot of Erick’s nape, marking his territory. Then he stood up and unzipped his jeans, kicking off his combat boots into the pews, and suddenly before Erick was his first view of another bare man, before him.

Tristian was the embodiment of fitness: corded muscles in his arms and thighs; strong, lean torso with detailed abs and a delicious sloping V-line; glistening sweat on a nicely tanned body. Erick was stunned at how different Tristian looked to him now. He traveled his eyes downwards, engraving each carved out line of his body in his memory, until he reached the twitching bulge hiding not-so-calmly inside his grey boxers. Tristian stepped back up above Erick and without a word gestured to his boxers, inviting him in.