AN: I promised I wouldn't, but here I go again with the fandom I'm not officially in.
Jean and Marco were determined to survive the new world order together. They planned everything so carefully, but their plans were ruined when they stopped to help a woman they didn't know was infected. She grabbed Jean and Marco fired, but not before it was too late.
It was a small scratch and Marco thought Jean would be fine. They just had to keep moving north, avoid the infected, and they would be fine. Everything was supposed to be alright.
Instead, Jean coughed the first day. The coughing evolved and Jean began t have a constant black stain around his mouth from the blood he coughed up. The third day, Marco knew what had to happen.
Marco found an empty liquor store and barricaded them into it. Behind him, Jean wheezed and Marco knew exactly what was happening and why. He turned away from the door and knelt beside his friend, stroking his hair to comfort him.
"Marco . . . have to," Jean wheezed, looking up at his friend. His nose gushed a stream on infected blood and mucus, but Marco did not cringe in the slightest.
"I know, Jean," Marco told him. "I know. Rest, okay? I don't want to hurt you . . ."
"Do it," Jean insisted, his breath hitching. "No time left . . ."
Marco lowered his head and a few tears fell over his friend's body. He murmured, "Just go to sleep. I don't want you to hurt."
"I won't," Jean promised. The infected male lifted a hand and cupped Marco's cheek. "Love you."
"I love you to," Marco replied, still crying. Why did things have tp be so hard? Slowly, Marco reached for the pistol Jean insisted he keep.
"Sing," Jean begged him.
Marco looked down at him and nodded. He began humming, then singing the words to "You Are my Sunshine." Jean looked peaceful and smiled up at him, listening intently. Slowly, Jean's eyes closed and he seemed asleep. Marco fired the pistol and sniffled.
"Please don't take my sunshine away," he begged the empty room.