She was the first to die, a last of us fanfic

"Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die."

"We fight for every moment we get to spend together. Whether its two minutes, or two days, we don't give that up." Riley says, her breath catching in her throat as the painful words come out like shards of glass in her throat. "Now come on." She adds, that same old look of stubbornness plastered on her face, the one that never neglects to make an appearance whenever she kills an infected, the same one that stared me down meager inches from my face when I accused her of stealing my Walkman; Riley was ready for a fight. And by god, I wasn't. The same lips I felt against mine would be tearing into some poor idiot's flesh in a few short hours. I was tired, and I was done fighting. But I owed it to Riley, so I took her hand and we were gone like a passing gust of wind with nothing to trace us back to the fateful spot where we had received our messy death sentences but the blood we spilt. I don't think I'll ever know for certain if anyone cares about me in this world besides Riley, but I hope to god that if anyone does, this memory will die with me. We'll be missing persons. I always thought I might be lucky enough to go missing with Riley. But never like this. I'd pictured us in some beat up old pick-up truck with my feet on the dash while we blasted the Beatles and pretended we were in some cliché love story every second from here to the fireflies. But that didn't happen, and now it never would, and I've never felt so hollow. I had been handling this sort of shit my whole life, but this was just the last nail in the coffin. The climax of my meager and thoroughly unpleasant existence, and I wasn't even going out with a bang like I always sort of pictured, some sort of quick, gory and heroic end. That'd be too easy. This was a slow dull, bitter ache, and it was eating me away inside. Marlene weaves her way into the inter loom of my mind and demands my focus. I can't help but wonder; did I fail her, or did she fail me? Regardless she'd be completely fucking pissed. And I for one thing am glad I won't be around when she hears. If I could, I would write her a letter and explain everything that went down, and thank her for everything she's done for me. It would be all be futile, of course, but Id pay my dues if I could, she gave me an okay life. The best she could've given me. The bite was just the death sentence that arises no matter what you do, I just so happened to receive mine at the ripe old age of 13. This was the one truth that I couldn't accept; the one thing I couldn't adapt to, and I felt it plunge into my stomach like lengthy dagger and for once in my god damn life, I wanted nothing more but to lie down and die, but Riley's hand persisted in yanking me forward like a vice. I didn't let go, no matter how hazardous the task grew. I had no reason left to be careful, and I was a ticking time bomb either way. I had absolutely nothing left to do besides to be close to her and feel her warmth. I wasn't used to feeling like this, and the burning tingling she made me feel in the pit of my chest was the only thing I was able to feel at this point. She made me feel weak and vulnerable and dumb in the most beautiful way. It scared the shit out of me, but yet somehow simultaneously I dreaded just how much of that I would be missing. It wasn't too unreasonable a dying wish, I supposed. At the south side of the shopping mall, opposite the side we'd entered on, there was a huge broken neon sign with a rickety algae-stricken awning just in front of it. I let go to inch across the ledge to the awning, and we sat on the ridged fiber-glass. This is it. This is where we go to die.

Riley sprawled out on her back with her hand rested on her ribs while I tucked my knees into my chest and stared out at the barren, cracked and sun-bleached parking lot, completely devoid of any life not undead. My eyes fell on one that shambled in a peculiar way, it's slight and narrow humming bird-like frame lending itself to ambling footfalls that possessed an unusual element of grace that sent the hairs on the back of my neck straight up, and I counted its steps. Sooner rather than later, that'd be me and Riley. I made the rookie mistake of pondering which one of us might turn first. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. And it was all bullshit. It was a picturesque painting of the very essence of the sheer bleakness of the world we lived in, and me and Riley were just unlucky enough to be its honored poster child. I never really thought a whole lot about death up to this point. I mean, I was definitely very up close and personal with it on a regular basis simply because of the way things are. You wouldn't know it from the stupid shit Riley and I got into on a regular basis, but I definitely had a healthy fear of death to say the least. I was terrified of it. So terrified that I didn't ever really think about it. I only thought of the prospect of it. My eyes lazily drawled to my bite wound that gushed bright crimson blood with a heaving finality. Riley broke the silence as she cleared her throat that'd become raspy and hoarse from the tears she'd withheld. "Ellie," She muttered. "Mhmm?" I responded numbly. "Do you remember that song?" She asked as she pushed a few stray hairs out of her face. "That one, I think it was called The way I feel inside or somethin', I don't know." She shrugged. I remembered every word of it, every note, every blip in the recording was etched in my mind. But I still just shrugged back at her and I didn't know why. "I know why you listened to it now. I get that we're d-dying, and I get that it probably doesn't mean much anymore. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never told you how I felt, and I'm sorry for all of this." She choked out, and the words and the notes were already ringing in my head.

Should I try to hide?

"Don't be." I say as I extend my hand and lay it on top of hers and slip my fingers in between hers and squeeze.

The way I feel inside,

"You know, for what it's worth, I could've looked past the fact that you don't have tits." Riley grinned, tears still in her eyes, and I laughed. It was exasperated and weary, but I laughed.

My heart, for you?

"You're not so bad yourself, firefly girl." I quipped back aimlessly, a slight smile tugging at my lips.

Would you say that you, would try to love me too?

In your mind, could you ever be, really close to me?

I'd say the things I want to say, tonight.

I inch closer to her as the brittle roofing squeals and creaks in screaming protest of my weight, and in a brief moment while I'm still staring out at the infected I'd watched earlier shambling away, my head is on her shoulder and our arms are wrapped tightly around each other, and it feels good. We'll be dead soon enough, but this very moment, while we stare into the gaunting face of death, is better than most.

But til I can see that you'd really care for me,

I'll keep trying to hide the way I feel inside.

Maybe it's poetic justice for the terrible things we've both done. I don't have to hide anymore. We die together the way we should have and would have lived. The dying part is a bit less than favorable. To put it ever so elegantly, fuck this. Fuck all of this. I just want this moment with her. Whether we were best friends or something more, I cared about her. I cared about her so damn much. Is it selfish to hope I shove off first so I don't have to see her go? Of course it is. But damn it, it doesn't stop me from thinking it. Tears are streaming down both of our faces and I can feel her breathing growing increasingly labored and I know that she's nearing the end of her rope. Everything is just so fucked. I guess it'd be an understandable thing to thing that this would be a perfect moment for some dramatic confession of my undying love or something like that. It would be, sure, but romance tends to take a back seat when you're, I don't know, dying? The honest predicament was that I think she already knew. But it was too late, and I didn't get the fucking chance to love her. I stared into the sky ruefully, the bright beam of sunshine on an uncharacteristically sunny day blinding me mildly, when I heard an exhale possessing entirely inhuman qualities and I know it's done. "Riley, are you...?" My breath catches in my throat as Riley's eyes, once wide, brown and full of life, are entirely glazed over, and a low erratic moan passes through her lips as her hands claw towards me in an unsettlingly animalistic way. I frantically fumble to crawl away, but I can't quite reach my feet, and my fingers clasp the switch blade. I don't want to do it. I really don't want to fucking do it. I don't quite understand how I ever manage to muster up enough courage to do what would arguably be one of the hardest things I'd do, but I can't stop myself from sobbing hysterically as I plunge my switch blade blindly into Riley's infected form, and I don't look, but the sunlight blends into the blurry landscape of smears of color due to the tears obscuring my vision until it's over.

I'm tired. I'm still waiting for my turn.

But we were good, Riley, we were better than good. And I'm sorry that I didn't save you.