The cycle continued over the next few weeks, Tubbo constantly brought Tommy new bandages at night, and he managed to convince the others that they should stay. He remembered every time anyone brought up something related to relocating, and how he would argue.

"I think it's about time we move. It wont be long until we can find a town that has a store." Wilbur had said, looking over the group. Tubbo remembered how his gut had twisted, and how dread laid its claws on his shoulders while everyone agreed.

"B-But arent we safe enough here?" Tubbo had asked, and he had shrunk a bit when everyone turned their gazes to him. "I-I mean, we might not find a house as well... um, as well protected and uh, and big and, and... Stuff." Tubbo looked at his feet, not liking how everyone was staring at him.

"He's right," Phil cut in. "If we leave now, theres a very likely chance that we wont find a store. And even if we do, things will already be expired, and we wont be able to make use of anything."

Everyone hummed in agreement, even Wilbur's gaze had softened a bit.

"Hmm. You're probably right." Wilbur had said, but even his tone betrayed a bit of disappointment. Tubbo remembered how relieved he was.

The next few weeks turned into a few months, and over that time they had each taken turns to go hunt for some fresh food, usually gathering enough for them to last a few days.

Tubbo was sure at least someone would be getting suspicious of him, yet he continued to make up excuses to stay. Anything to stay within reach of Tommy, right?

---

Tubbo waited until everyone was asleep, listening as their breath became shallow and calm. He slipped out of his bed silently, his socks hitting the floor with a soft thud. He stood up, surveying the room one last time, before exiting and practically sliding down the stairs of the basement.

As he entered the room, he noticed a bandana on the ground. It was gray and silvery-white, but matted with dust and blood.

Ignoring it, Tubbo walked further into the darkness, blinking until his eyes adjusted. He bit on his tongue hard, but that didnt stop the muffled shout he let out.

"TOMMY!"

A zombie had Tommy pinned, and blood was pooling from multiple bites and scratches. Tommy was doing his best to stay quiet, as Tubbo had always taught him, but his eyes held all of the anger and fear in the world.

"Get the fuck off of him!" Tubbo whisper-shouted, charging at the zombie and barreling into it, knocking it off of Tommy. It crashed into the wall, knocking a bunch of things around with far more noise than Tubbo wouldve preferred.

But now he couldnt care less about noise, and neither could Tommy.

Tommy snarled, darting around the other zombie, locking his leg with one of the other zombie's legs. He gave a sharp pull, jumping away from the other zombie as he brought its feet out from under it.

The zombie was standing back up in an instant, raking its claws across Tommy's chest. Tommy was startled by the sudden new pain, allowing the other zombie to pin him to the floor yet again.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HIM!" Tubbo shouted, entirely forgetting he had to stay quiet, and ran towards the zombie again. He sank his hands into its shoulders (it was alot easier than he had expected, he was almost sure he touched a bone) and pulled the zombie off of Tommy forcefully. Once he tore it off of Tommy, he threw it onto its back, and stomped its face in until it stopped moving.

Tommy gave a cry of pain, holding his new, deeper wound, and to Tubbo's dismay, the multiple new bite marks.

"No- Tommy! It's okay, you're okay, it's just a small scrape! C'mon, man, you're... I need to.. I'll go get the medi-," Tubbo turned, running frantically towards the stairs, but instead hitting something face-first and jumping back. A jolt of fear crept up his spine as he looked up into those brownish-amber eyes.

Uh oh.

"Go away!" Tubbo shouted, trying to shove past Wilbur with no success. Fear was pounding in his heart, and his eyes were wet with tears.

"HURRY! HE'S GOING TO BLEED OUT IF I DONT-," Tubbo screamed, pointing at Tommy wildly, who had backed up into corner opposite of the zombie.

"Tubbo-," Wilbur inhaled sharply, his eyes trailing over Tommy. "Why is there a fucking zombie in the basement, and how long have you known, and why havent you killed it, and why havent you told us, and WHY DID YOU JUST DEFEND IT!?"

"BECAUSE IT'S TOMMY, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Tubbo shot back this time managing to shove Wilbur out of the way a bit. He raced up the stairs, and practically flew into his room and withdrew the First Aid Kit from under his bed, ignoring the eyes burning their stares into his back as he raced back down.

Wilbur was stood there, frozen, staring at Tommy. His emotions were unreadable. Was he happy? Sad? Angry? On the verge of killing him? Disappointed?

"If you're going to just stand there you might as well help." Tubbo kneeled beside Tommy, setting the First Aid Kit onto the ground and opening it.

He grabbed one of the long bandages again, lifting Tommy's shirt over his head and taking it off completely. Tubbo could almost feel Tommy's pain, just looking at the gash. That zombie mightve been very easy to squash, but it sure had sharp nails. (claws?)

Tubbo propped Tommy up against the wall, and started to ever so gently apply medicine to the wounds.

"It's going to help faster, shh. I know it hurts, just be strong, shh." Tubbo cooed, gingerly pressing cotton to the main wound. He began to wrap Tommy's chest, before a question popped into his mind.

"Howd that zombie get in here, anyway?" Tubbo asked Tommy, and then turned to Wilbur, and dismay filled his heart when Wilbur seemed clueless, too.

And then, they heard it.

Snarls and shrieks.

Getting closer, and closer, with each passing second.