(A/N:) Well well well

Would ya l👀k at that

________________________
3rd POV

Evan slowly unsheathed his knife and Jon raised his bat over his shoulder, both preparing themselves for what felt like imminent death. Behind them, Tyler began to fire off some shots, taking a few steps back as the swarm only drew in closer. Craig was fighting right by his side when he  let out a yelp of horror, “fuck-!”

Even sent a hesitant glance over his shoulder to see Craig and Tyler now back to back, both completely surrounded on all sides, doing their best to keep the ring of the undead from getting a hold of them. Jon noticed to.

“Craig!” he exclaimed and turned away from Even, going to the aid of his best friend, violently bashing in the rotting skulls of the roamers with ominous squelching sounds and the crack of bone as their heads exploded in a splash of darkened crimson.

Evan, as much as he wanted to have Jon's back, couldn't help but to hold his own ground, keeping back the surging line, which only seemed to push him further. Claustrophobia and increasing thoughts of death kicked in and he began to hyperventilate, mind rushing and body tense.

He needed out.

Thinking quickly, despite his muddled conscious, Even whipped around and practically tackled Jon as he pulled him back-to-back just in time as well. A hand, rotted and decaying, reached its gangly pale fingers out at Jon, nearly hooking onto the collar of his shirt. Jon fought even as they skidding into a doorway that he originally thought to be locked- which it was not.

He pushed Jon in and slammed the door shut behind them, pressing his back flush against the cold, hard metal slab. Jon looked up from he had had practically been tossed to the ground, eyes landing on the panicked Asian man. His chest was heaving and he looked like he had just sprinted a mile a minute.

“What the hell Evan!” he exclaimed, letting his anger overtake his confusion. Getting to his feet, he took two big strides right up to the other male, practically getting in his face, “move!”

Evan gave his head a small shake of denial, “no-"

“Move goddamnit!” Jon yelled, his face growing redder as he slammed his palms flat against Evan’s broad chest, the door rattling with the force of the push, “we can still save them!” he took a sharp inhale, “they need us, we can't just let them die…” Jon seemed to be in the throes of surfacing emotions, which had been repressed into the far reaches of his psyche. Evan said nothing.

Jon scoffed at Evan’s silence and began to scour the room for another door, or window, or anywhere he could slip out. His thick brows were furrowed with determination and he seemed dead set on getting to Craig. Evan took a deep breath in through his nose before finally opening his mouth, which felt cottony and dry, “Tyler and Craig are smart… and crafty… they’ll make it out alright…” the entire time he spoke, he couldn't bring himself to look at Jon, feeling unsure of his own feeble optimism.

Jon stopped his awful scrounging and flashed his sharp gaze to Evan. It was deep- sad and filled with a bit of malice. The look was one he hadn't seen from Jon, nor ever expected to see from him. It made him tightly purse his lips into a thin line. “that's what I said about Luke…” suddenly, Evan realized why Jon was so frantic about this whole situation. He was reliving a traumatic moment.

“What…” Evan paused, unsure if he should continue, but did so anyways, “what exactly happened?”

His gentle question seemed to bring Jon back to some sort of hazy reality. “I-I,” he stammered for a second before correcting himself, “Luke and I- we were leaders… of a group… and I made some stupid choices, which ended up…” a heavy silence fell over them as Jon trailed off and looked at the polished cement floor. “I got them all killed…”

Even felt his face contort into a look of sympathy, but immediately corrected himself before Jon could see the expression tugging downward at the corners of his lips. He didn't seem to be one who accepted or appreciated pity, and he almost certainly would have taken it the wrong way. He also had the strong instinct to comfort Jon, but every word that came to mind didn't feel right. Despite this, he spoke anyways, “Do you… want to talk about it?” He asked, a bit too quiet.

Jon gave him a questioning look, as if to ask why now? Why does it matter? Do you actually want to know?

An obnoxious banging erupted on the other side of the door once more, surprising Evan for just a moment, before he set his deep brown gaze back on Jon, his look a bit morose and serious. “you may not get another chance to tell anyone…”

Jon’s eye contact faltered slightly as he moved slowly to stand with his back against the wall beside Evan. “It happened pretty much like this- I basically lead everyone into the heart of a horde.” Jon uttered, his eyes staring across the room as if he was watching the scene play out right in front of him. “Craig and I got separated from Luke, Marcel and Scotty and…” he paused to swallow an obstruction in his throat, “they didn't run. They fought to get to Craig and I, clearly, they didn't make it…”

That didn't necessarily sound like Jon’s fault to Evan, although he couldn't be sure since the story was rather vague and Jon wasn't being specific as to how they got into that situation in the first place. Despite his pressing curiosity, he didn't go on, instead doing something to comfort the sullen man.

“They will be okay.” He stated more firmly than before.

Just then, the banging on the door picked up more rhythmically, echoing throughout the small enclosed room, both of them springing backward and facing the door, now on high alert. Another big bang…

And then an earth shattering sound.

A small bolt in the doors hinge clattered to the floor with a hollow metallic ring and both Jon and Evan exchanged a knowing glance before looking back to the door. Chances were, it wouldn't hold. “Despite what I feel… or say... I'm not ready to die.” Jon said, voice rather calm as another thud sounded at the door, this time knocking an entire hinge to the ground.

“Me neither.” Evan simply stated as the pair drew their weapons, getting ready to fight until their last breath.

Right as the door was about to completely give way, Evan felt a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long while. Fingers locked and palms held tightly together.

It was relaxing, but also not, as if the gentle pressure of Jon's hand in his was a way of solidifying the inevitable.

The door burst open.