Hello everyone! I'd like to tell everyone that I have a merome story that I am working on. It's called Prince's Pet, so if you'd like to, check it out! Not sure when the next chapter will be coming out because I am having a bit trouble writing. Just can't get in the mood to write it, ya feel me? Anyway, while procrastinating, I wrote this short little thing. Kinda have zombie Apocalypse AU on the mind. It's it a wonderful thing?

I should stop wasting your time. Hope ya enjoy this oneshot!

"Shit, shit, shit." Jerome kept running, even though he could feel the blood soaking up his shirt. In his arms, Mitch laid almost perfectly still. His eyes were clenched closed in pain. Each step got him closed to the small camp they had set up. Once their camp was in sight, Jerome began full out sprinting. He gently set Mitch on the cloth they were using as a make-shift bed.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine, ok?" Jerome's voice shook with nervousness as he spoke. He gathered what little supplies they had: bandages, pain pills, water, etc.. Carefully, he propped Mitch up. His sleeve was drenched in blood. Jerome rolled it up, revealing the bite. He cursed and blamed himself for this. If he was paying more attention, the zombie wouldn't have grabbed Mitch. He wouldn't have been bitten.

"What out, there's a lot of 'em." Jerome warned, killed a zombie with an axe. A few feet behind him, Mitch stood. He swung the bloodied, metal baseball bat at the undead shuffling toward him. It took awhile, but they were all , re-dead.

"I'm going to check over here," Jerome said, pointing off into the distance. Mitch nodded and Jerome walked off. In minutes, Mitch could be heard screaming. Jerome ran over to the brunet male, who held his arm tightly.

Jerome's eyes widened as he feared the worst. Mitch crashed to the ground, his sleeve soaking up the zombies began walking toward the two.

"No," Jerome whispered. He scooped up Mitch bridal-style. Of course, a zombie was just in range. It grabbed Jerome and dug it's fingers into his back. Jerome winced in pain, but was able to push the zombie away. He ran back to their camp with Mitch still in his arms.

Slowly, Mitch opened his eyes, and he stared into Jerome's.

"Jerome, stop." Mitch spoke weakly. With his non-bitten hand, he pushed Jerome away.

"I can save you! You'll live, and we can survive. We'll find somewhere saver!" Jerome said, tears stinging his eyes. Deep inside, he knew Mitch couldn't be saved. It was too late for the Canadian.

"No, Jerome. You can't save me. I'm a lost cause." Mitch's breath became heavy as the infection quickly spread throughout his body. They both knew he didn't have much longer. In less than ten minutes, at the most, Mitch would be gone. He'd be one of the walking corpses that they've been killing for the past nine months.

Carefully, Jerome draped himself on top of Mitch. He openly sobbed into the smaller male. Mitch wiped away Jerome's tears.

"This isn't your fault," Mitch mumbled into Jerome's ear. "Please don't let yourself think that. Without you, I wouldn't have made it as far as I did. I would've died when the infection first started. But, you helped me survive." He was interrupted by violent coughs. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin. "You cared for me, and you loved me. You risked your life for me. I can't thank you enough."

"Now isn't the time for talking," Jerome whispered. He was trying to hold back his tears. He was trying to be strong for Mitch. He lightly placed kisses all over Mitch. His face, neck, chest, hair were covered in delicate kisses.

Mitch groaned in agony. His time was ticking down. More violent coughs racked his body as blood spewed from his mouth. Jerome wiped away the blood and kissed him on the lips. It was a short kiss, but full of love and passion.

"You can't let me turn, Jerome." Mitch choked. Jerome froze. That would mean he'd have to kill Mitch while he was still alive.

"No, Mitch. I can't." Jerome shook his head.

"Please, this is my last wish." Mitch begged. He coughed and more blood came out; even more than the other times. His skin was extremely pale. His time had come, and they both knew it.

"I love you. I love you so much."

Jerome pulled out the pistol he kept in his back pocket. His hands were shaky as he aimed the gun.

There was no more words. The only sound was that of the gun firing. Slowly, Jerome put the gun back and gathered any supplies he could carry. He left the small camp. For Mitch, he would continue surviving in this very, very messed up world.