Chapter 31: Fractures Beneath The Apocalypse
The world outside the apartment was unnervingly quiet. No shrieking alarms, no crumbling glass under desperate feet. Just the eerie stillness of a city that had given up on making noise. Buildings stood like grave markers, their hollow windows staring blankly down at the desolate streets. The silence wasn't peaceful — it was the kind that screamed inside your head.
Aria stood by the window, arms crossed tight against her chest. She watched the empty skyline for signs of movement that never came. Not a bird, not a breeze. Nothing. But the stillness behind her was louder than anything outside. The silence between her and Selene felt like a fault line, trembling just beneath the surface.
Selene moved methodically through the apartment, the quiet thuds of gear and cloth the only sounds in the room. She packed like it was a ritual, every motion deliberate, stripped of emotion. There was something different in the way she moved today, like she was armoring herself — not for a fight, but against Aria.
Aria tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack. The weight of it grounded her, but it didn't help the pressure building in her chest. She watched Selene's hands as they adjusted the strap on her blade, smoothed out the map, zipped the duffel. No glance. No words. No echo of the night before when Selene's lips had pressed against hers with a desperation that had tasted like need and sorrow.
The kiss hadn't been a mistake. Aria knew that. It had meant something, to both of them.
But now Selene was acting like it hadn't happened at all.
"Selene," Aria said, her voice softer than she meant, but sharp with urgency. She needed to cut through the silence before it hardened into something unbreakable. "Can we talk?"
Selene didn't answer right away. Her hand paused on the hilt of her blade, knuckles white, but she didn't look up.
"We're alive," she said after a moment. Cold. Final.
Aria's breath caught. "That's not what I asked."
Selene's jaw clenched.
"I asked if we're okay," Aria said, her voice steadier now. She stepped forward, crossing the brittle space between them. "You won't even look at me."
Selene didn't turn. "We don't have time for this."
Aria reached out, fingers brushing Selene's sleeve. "We always have time to stop pretending."
Selene stiffened beneath the touch. For a breath, it seemed like she might turn, might say something, but she only stepped away, moving toward the far wall where her rifle rested.
Aria's heart clenched. "You kissed me last night," she whispered. "Don't pretend that didn't happen."
Selene's shoulders tensed. Her hand hovered over the rifle, but didn't grasp it. She didn't speak.
"Don't shut down on me now," Aria said. Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated it — hated how much she needed Selene to hear her. "I felt something. You did too. So why are you acting like it didn't matter?"
Selene finally turned, and her eyes were like frozen steel. "Because it can't matter."
The words hit like a slap. Aria's breath left her lungs in a rush. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means we don't get the luxury of… feelings." Selene's tone was clipped, but her hands were trembling now. "You think this world gives a damn who we kiss? Who we care about? Caring gets you killed."
Aria stared at her, stunned. "You think I don't know that?"
Selene's voice rose, bitter. "Then stop acting like this is some fantasy where we get to fall in love and everything works out. This isn't a story, Aria. This is survival."
"I'm not asking for a fairytale," Aria shot back, stepping closer. "I'm asking for honesty. For you to stop pushing me away because you're scared."
Selene flinched — just slightly, but enough.
"I'm not scared," she said. But her voice had lost its edge.
Aria looked at her, really looked at her — the hard lines of her face, the cracks beneath her armor. "Yes, you are. And so am I. But I'm not running from it."
Selene looked away, her eyes glassy now. "You should," she murmured. "You'd live longer."
Aria's throat tightened. She stepped close enough that their forearms brushed. "I don't care about longer," she said. "I care about now. About you. About whatever this is between us."
Selene didn't respond. Her breath caught, shallow and uneven. Aria watched her jaw flex, the pulse flicker in her neck. Slowly, Selene lifted her gaze. For a moment, something raw and vulnerable flickered in her eyes — an ache too deep to name.
"You make me forget how broken the world is," Selene whispered. "That's dangerous."
Aria reached up and cupped Selene's cheek, her palm warm against cold skin. "Then let it be dangerous."
For a heartbeat, Selene didn't move. Then she leaned in — slowly, cautiously, like the air between them might shatter — and kissed her.
It wasn't desperate like the night before. It was slow, searching, heavy with everything they hadn't said. Selene's lips trembled against hers, and Aria matched her rhythm, deepening the kiss until Selene exhaled a shaky breath against her mouth.
When they finally pulled apart, Selene's forehead rested against Aria's. Their breaths mingled.
"I don't know how to do this," Selene murmured.
"Neither do I," Aria whispered back. "But we don't have to figure it out all at once."
They stood there for a while, just breathing together, clinging to the small shelter they had built in each other.
Eventually, Selene stepped back, eyes clearer, posture steadier. "We should move."
Aria nodded, wiping at the corner of her eye. "Yeah. Let's go."
They moved through the city side by side, weaving through collapsed buildings and blood - smeared alleys. The air was thick with decay and silence, broken only by the distant moan of the infected and the occasional gust of wind that rattled loose shingles from broken rooftops.
Selene stayed alert, her fingers never far from her blade, but she didn't drift as far ahead as usual. Aria caught her watching her more than once, eyes flickering with something unspoken.
In the alleyway behind a half - demolished drugstore, Aria finally broke the silence.
"You don't have to keep pretending you don't care."
Selene didn't turn around. "I'm not pretending. I'm surviving."
"There's a difference," Aria said gently. "You care. You're just afraid of what that means."
Selene glanced back, her lips parting like she might deny it, but then she sighed. "Of course I care. That's the problem."
"No," Aria said, stepping closer, their shadows tangling on the cracked pavement. "That's the solution."
Selene stared at her like she was looking at something she'd never allowed herself to want. "You think love can survive this world?"
"I think it's the only thing that can."
They didn't speak after that. They didn't need to.
By the time they reached the safe house — an old brownstone reinforced with metal sheets and scavenged locks — the sun had dipped behind the buildings. They moved through the entryway in practiced silence, closing the reinforced door behind them.
Aria slumped into a chair by the window, fatigue dragging at her limbs. Selene dropped her bag by the door, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed.
The quiet was still there, but it felt different now — less like a wall, more like a pause.
"I keep thinking it'll get easier," Aria said, her voice hushed. "Losing people. Watching everything fall apart."
"It doesn't," Selene said softly.
Aria looked at her. "But maybe it doesn't have to break us completely."
Selene's eyes met hers, and this time, they didn't look away.
"Not if we don't let it," Selene said. She crossed the room and knelt beside her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Aria's ear. "You keep pulling me back from the edge."
Aria smiled, eyes damp. "That's what love does."
Selene leaned in and kissed her again, slow and quiet and full of everything they didn't know how to say.
And for the first time in days, Aria felt like they might just survive — not because the world was getting better, but because they had each other.
Even if everything else crumbled, that would be enough.