CHAPTER 46: MORNING

It was four o’clock in the morning, and how the heck did it get to this?

Riku found himself pinned in place, barely able to move. Miko had somehow turned into an octopus in her sleep. One of her arms was draped across his chest, the other curled tight around his side. Her leg was hooked over his, locking him down, and the worst part—her chest was pressed firmly against his shoulder.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the ceiling. This... this is impossible.

Every time he tried shifting her off, even carefully prying at her arm, she’d murmur softly, frown, and then just slip right back into the same position—like she was magnetized to that spot. Eventually, he gave up, his body stiff as a board while hers molded naturally against him.

But when he glanced down, his frustration faltered. Her face was turned slightly toward him, strands of pink hair falling across her cheek. The bandage he’d wrapped around her head was still secure. Her lips parted faintly with each quiet breath, and there was a calm, peaceful expression there—like the chaos outside didn’t exist.

For a moment, Riku just... looked.

His gaze lingered on her lips longer than he intended. A strange pull tightened in his chest, a thought he hadn’t allowed himself before whispering through his head. What would it feel like... if I kissed her?

He dragged in a sharp breath and forced his eyes away. Dangerous thought. Wrong time.

But still, curiosity betrayed him. His gaze trailed lower—her neck, her collarbone, alabaster skin that caught what little light seeped through the window. He swallowed hard, feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck.

"Nope," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Not doing this. Not the time. Not ever."

He closed his eyes, steadying himself, burying the temptation deep where it couldn’t surface again. Survival came first. Always. And if he were to attempt such things, their relationship would be ruined and awkward.

Shifting slightly, he thought he’d managed to loosen her grip—but then her fingers tightened again, her body curling even closer into him. Riku froze, then sighed in defeat. "You win."

Minutes bled into an hour, until Miko finally stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and she blinked up at him, her voice husky with sleep. "...Good morning, Riku-san."

He glanced at the clock. "Four a.m. Too early for this. You can still sleep since I plan on leaving later at six when it’s bright."

Miko’s eyes closed again, her breathing steadying as she shifted back into sleep. Riku stayed still for a while, listening to the faint creaks of the bookstore and the distant groans of the undead outside.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in. His body ached from the battles of the day, from carrying her, from the constant tension of survival. Against his better judgment, he let his own eyes slip shut. Just an hour, he thought. Just enough to recharge.

When he stirred again, the room was dimmer. The clock hands pointed to five. Riku blinked groggily, but the first thing he noticed wasn’t the time.

It was Miko.

She was clinging tighter than before, her arms wound around his torso as if she were drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat. One of her legs was hooked firmly over his, and her face pressed into his chest, her breath hitching against him.

At first he thought she was just restless in her sleep—but then he heard it.

"...Mother... Father..." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. Her brows furrowed, tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. "...Sister... don’t... no..."

Riku’s chest tightened. He didn’t need to guess what she was seeing. The apocalypse had a way of making nightmares bleed with reality.

She clutched him harder, her fingers twisting his shirt as if holding on for dear life.

"Dammit," Riku muttered softly. He brought a hand up and rested it against the back of her head, careful of the bandage. "It’s just a dream, Miko. You’re safe here. I’ve got you."

She whimpered once more, the sound breaking something inside him, but slowly her breathing evened out again. The grip around him eased, though she didn’t let go completely.

Riku stared at the ceiling, jaw set. Losing family like that... having to see it in your dreams too... He knew he couldn’t take that pain away. But if holding her like this gave her some anchor, then so be it.

He closed his eyes again, muttering under his breath. "I’ll make sure you never end up like them. That’s a promise."

By the time the clock hands crept toward five-thirty, Riku decided it was enough. He shifted slowly, prying Miko’s arm off his chest and easing her upright. She stirred but didn’t resist, blinking groggily as the first faint traces of dawn began leaking through the cracked windows.

"Morning already?" she asked, her voice hushed, still laced with sleep.

"Yeah," Riku muttered. He stood and slung his M4 Carbine across his shoulder, adjusting the strap until it rested snugly against his back. He checked his Glock 17, sliding it into the holster at his hip with a reassuring click. "Time to move."

Miko straightened against the wall, rubbing her eyes. Her head bandage was still firm, but she didn’t look as pale as yesterday. She reached down to her side and pulled free her own Glock 17.

She racked the slide, chambering a round, then held it up with both hands.

"I’m ready," she said firmly.

Riku glanced at her, nodding once. "Good. Stay close to me."

They left the bookstore. Outside, the streets were quiet. A handful of zombies wandered aimlessly in the distance, but nothing clustered near their position.

he air was cool, a faint morning breeze pushing through the empty city. It would have been almost peaceful, if not for the blood stains across pavement, abandoned cars, and broken window displays.

Miko stepped beside him, her pistol low but ready. "Where are we going?"

Riku kept his eyes sweeping the street ahead. "Since the SUV’s wrecked, we lost most of our supplies." He motioned down the block with a tilt of his head. "Nearest supermarket’s five blocks from here. We’ll head there."