[align=center] omar aslan tariq
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| [/table] Looking back on any memory before the war was like looking through a mirror slowly being consumed by the fog that filled the bathroom. Omar could make out what happened but even then, the memories were becoming hazier and hazier with each passing day. And try as he might to wipe away the fog surrounding his mind, desperately trying to hold on to any moment before this hell, it always seemed to fade away just as he began to see it clearly. There he was, right where he began. It was hard to tell what was crueler; having been thrown in such a cruel and unforgiving environment or having known life outside of it. He now knew the cruelty of taking candy from a baby. Of teasing it with the sweetest candy it could ever dream of. To let it have a taste of it before ripping it away from the child and laughing as it cried. He wondered how long it would take until it stopped hurting. Until the child inside him forgot what the sweet tasted like and stopped crying.
Life during the war seemed to pass so quickly, despite the war having taken place over the span of 3 years. It was like one second they were announcing new tensions with another country and the next... everything was destroyed. It's ironic really, how easily it had been laughed off at first. How no one could have imagined at the time that things would've escalated so quickly. No one thought anything would ever happen. Nothing ever has, not American soil. So it took the country by shock when the first strike happened. Thousands wiped out in seconds. So many lives take over what? Money? Power? Secrets? Did it even matter? The second, third, and fourth strikes came as no surprise. In fact, they had prepared the citizens by then.
Oh but the fifth one? No one was ready for the fifth one.
It wasn't as though biological warfare was some sort of science fiction that although all the conspiracy theorists loved, was completely out of the question. Anyone knew the threat was very real. That if some country decided to spread the small pox virus into the country, there was little that they could do. After all, there were only two places in the world that kept it, how could a country mass produce vaccinations? But what they sent wasn't small pox. Oh no, small pox would've almost been a blessing in comparison to what they sent. Of course the government couldn't let out what it was, they couldn't let the people know that they were all royally fucked. Naturally, they tried to contain it. The only problem was that no one knew what "it" was. That is until it had spread beyond anyone's beliefs.
Nothing really mattered after that.
The only thing that mattered after the war was survival. Not just survival from those creatures born in the depths of hell, but of the human race itself. It was like over 200,000 of evolution was completely wiped from the species as they began to turn on each other. It was a dog eats dog world and there was nothing anyone could do about it. At first, other countries tried to send in relief to the USA, but as the disease slowly began to spread to other countries, foreign nations around the world began shutting their doors to anyone seeking help or relief. They were all alone, dealing the mess that was made on their behalf.
--
Surviving wasn't nearly as easy as television had made it to be. All those shows about living in nature or surviving the apocalypse never seemed to fully capture the true effort and discipline required to continue living. Things weren't always going to be ok, in fact, things haven't been ok at all. It was a struggle to wake up in the morning, to keep going after the first mile, to hunt, to boil water all the time and pray that it was still safe to drink. It was a struggle to keep guard at all the time in fear of something being looked over by one of the two sets of eyes that they had. It was a struggle knowing that throughout all the difficulties and all the hardships that Omar and his husband went through on a day to day basis, his husband was still dying.
The news wasn't anything new, in fact they had been very aware of his husband's condition even before the war. But now more than ever, Omar needed his husband by his side. The thought of going through this alone scared him more than anything. The man absolutely refused to let his husband die on him, however selfish it might have been. Most of their time and effort was spent travelling hospital to hospital, pharmacy to pharmacy in a desperate hope of finding the medication that his significant other needed.
Turning his head just a bit to the side, Omar looked at his husband and offered a smile. [b]"Do you wanna take a break?" he asked, fully aware of how easily the other got fatigued. They had been travelling since morning up, trying to reach a newer, much safer place to stay for awhile. The Turkish man knew that he had been pushing it trying to get his husband to travel such a distance in such a short amount of time but there really was no choice. They had to leave their old place; it simply wasn't safe anymore. There was absolutely no way he was putting that man in any more danger than he already was. "It's about time to take our medicine anyways, love"
//sorry it's trash bby ;u;
(okay [member=10016]lunafreya[/member] i am working on redoing these posts
i'm just using my own fancypost template for these posts, but you can change it/make your own once we're all caught up!))
[align=center] logan tariq
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logan's blue eyes wandered over towards the assortment of needles once they were displayed in front of him. "“we all knew this day would come. so, in preparation-" the doctor removed one of the needles from their case, gently tapping it. "we made your lifeline. this'll have the same effect as chemotherapy on your body, perhaps even less painful. it'll keep your cancer at bay. and, listen, you have to take these injections every day; if not, missing so much as one or two injections would be incredibly painful, possibly even fatal, for you." he continued to carry on about where to inject the medication, how to inject it, and things like side effects/symptoms. none of it was exactly the best, but with the storm that was coming, the brunette was determined to stay alive for as long as he possibly could. there was no way he would leave his husband in this world alone.
the soft whimpering in his arms were enough for him to smile the faintest bit. make that, there was no way he'd leave his husband and zoe in this world on their own. they'd had her for a little less than a year, yet she was already part of the family. hell, nowadays, the cancer-stricken man saw her as his own child. it was highly unlikely he'd ever want to raise a kid - especially with the limited amount of time he now had.[b] ”it's okay.. shh"he tried to console the small husky pup as best as he could as the doctor prepared for them to go. this had been a last moment appointment, after all; the apocalypse had been sudden, and omar and logan had already packed up to leave this place before things became too terrible. they had the hopes that they could find a ship, a plane, something to get them out of this hellhole.
a few hours later, and he'd realize that was a big mistake. all of america had been put in quarantine, to try and keep the contamination in (besides, cancer, a puppy, and an airplane flight didn't really mix well, anyway).
so, with that, they were up and moving. logan didn't know where their next destination would be, or what it entailed for them. all that he knew was that, god, he hoped they'd make it through this as a family.
-----------
it was hard to breathe. it was hard to move one foot in front of the other, his worn-out shoes basically dragging along the grass. he couldn't even pick out one thing that was more difficult than another; everything was hard for him. lung cancer could be an absolute pain without a post-war, zombie apocalypse happening during it all. his eyes stayed stuck on the ground, breathing hard as the pair continued to trudge along. they needed to get somewhere before nightfall. somewhere safe. at this point, logan wasn't even scared about meeting a zombie out here during the night. what he was terrified of happened to be the survivors; the ruthless, heartless people that stole from and killed others. and for what purpose? the reminder of these people made him try to pick up the pace a bit, so he wasn't straggling behind omar too much. his legs were screaming at him to stop.
however, he moved without complaint. hell, he barely even said a word about his misery during these walks. of course his husband knew how tiring and unforgiving this kind of travel was for loge. besides, over time, he'd learned that he'd always be hurting in some way; complaining would do nothing to help ease his pain. it wasn't like omar was perfectly fine, either. he had to carry all of their luggage, and took it upon himself to make sure logan didn't have any extra weight on him. omar was too good for him; he truly was.
"“yeah. i need a break, babe," logan breathed, slowing to a stop at the suggestion. he rested his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, he wasn't brought back into focus until the other brought up medication he took a deep sigh before nodding. at this point, he didn't know what made him fatigued; the cancer that was taking over his body, or the medicine he took every day to fight the said cancer. both of them definitely weren't a walk in the park, though. the needles were harsh on his fragile skin, leaving bruise marks wherever they were injected.
”do you need a break, zoe?" he cooed to the full-grown husky that had made her way closer to the two. the dog - such a smart dog - seemed to know what he was saying, laying down beside him with a small whine. he leaned down just enough to scratch her between the ears, the sign of affection obviously appreciated by the dog. this girl had saved him more than he'd like to admit, whether that be alerting the couple of unwelcome company, or merely sniffing out food. anyone would be lucky to have her during these times; he was glad that the lucky pair happened to be omar and him.
once he felt like his breath had slightly returned to normal, he moved ahead to wrap his arms around his husband, smiling softly. “we walked pretty far for the day." and that couldn't help but sound like a minor triumph to lo; although omar could've walked this easily in probably a couple hours by himself, logan had truly pushed himself to try and keep up with the pace that had been set.
the man leaned up and pressed a brief kiss to his husbands lips before helping take off the bags from his shoulders. when one, particularly heavy bag caught his attention, he opened it up to grab a needle. "could you help me today, please? my hands are shaky," he hummed, offering a small smile towards the other. it probably wasn't the best feeling in the world; to inject your dying husband with the only thing keeping him alive at this point in the game. yet, it was something the pair should be grateful for, he knew that much.
//this is the worst post of my life ;-;
[align=center] omar aslan tariq
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| [/table]
That was what that day had tasted like. It was like a pill sat on his tongue; that of which he refused to swallow. Yet, as each moment passed, the bitterness began to spread throughout his mouth. It was a taste he couldn't forget. It sat there the entire time while they were waiting for the doctor to come. It caused a small seed of confliction to grow inside his brain. Omar couldn't decide how he felt about the doctor's visit: happiness or resentment. Of course he was overwhelmingly happy that the doctor would be giving Logan the vital tools he needed to survive. There was absolutely no doubt about it. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he resented the doctor's visit. It would mean an end to the life they knew. It would mean that everything was real. That the war had really happened, that they were trying to flee the country, that- God.... that Logan truly was dying.
In the end, the pill on his tongue could sit no longer. The sound of the doorbell had forced it down his throat.
It all seemed like a blur honestly. He could remember bits and pieces of what the doctor had told him and his husband. It was those baby blue eyes of Logan's that stood out the most during those times. Not the shiny contains the medication was placed in or the sharp needles. It was the absolute fire that seemed to burn in those skies. The determination to survive. It burned so brightly that Omar had to look away. It was all too much. Watching his husband get used to injecting needles into his own delicate flesh was not something that Omar had ever thought he would do. He wished he hadn't. He wished that time could rewind itself and go back to before the war. Before Logan was diagnosed with cancer. To a time where he could wake up feeling nothing but peace as he waited for baby blue to peek itself out from behind a heavy set of eyelids. Back to a time where they were simply... happy.
Just as the bitterness seemed to disappear from the Turkish man's mouth, it came back roaring. After having travelled hundreds of miles to get to the airport, the gates had closed. "Just this morning," they had said. The flight that could've granted them a life so much better than the one that was promised to the couple if they had stayed disappeared before their very eyes. No, it didn't disappear. It was so clearly there that they could just reach it.[b] "Please ma'am we need to leave. W-We can't stay here... my husband can't stay here," the desperation so clearly laced in Omar's voice. "At the very least please let him go! H-He's sick, at least give him a chance to survive somewhere else!" Omar hadn't noticed that his voice had been steadily raising with every syllable that left his lips. He only noticed the whimper that left their husky's lips.
Was he making a scene? Absolutely. There was every reason as to why they wouldn't let them leave the country but that didn't mean he couldn't be angry about it. He was just trying to save his husband at the very least. At least in another country, he could ensure Logan's survival. But here... it seemed impossible. He doubted that his husband would last very long in this new America with or without the new medication that had just been given to him. He knew how harsh the cancer had effected his man's body. After quite some time of arguing with the desk lady, it finally clicked with Omar that there was no way to convince these ladies to let Logan on the plane. It was at that moment that Omar felt absolutely helpless.
It was at that moment that he promised himself that no matter what, he would do absolutely everything to make sure that Logan would survive this.
---
It was hard to tell what Omar noticed first: his husband straggling behind him or the soft pants that only grew steadily louder as time moved on. The weight on his own chest seemed to grow as Logan's apparent effort became more and more of a struggle. Omar knew very well how hard this was on Logan. He knew that the initial pace he set was asking for too much of the other. But, as much as he hated to say it, this was the only way. They absolutely had to get to somewhere safe before nightfall. They needed a place that they could secure themselves in without the fear of the undead. But more importantly they needed a place where they could be secured from other survivors such as themselves.
Despite the worry and fear Omar couldn't help but feel for his husband watching him struggle with every step, a sense of pride grew in his chest. He never would've dreamed of his husband doing the first hour of their journey, much three whole days. Logan had been holding up so well in the past few days. Things had been rough in the beginning. Adjusting had been quite the challenge for both of them. Omar had to get used to being constantly alert and get used to the new weight that he would almost permanently be carrying. It wasn't as though he minded too terribly much. Was it a bit of a struggle? Yes, but he knew that his husband was suffering a lot more than he was. That Logan always would be struggling more than he was. He knew how hard it would for the man to move even a step, much less a whole mile with a ton of weight on his back. So whatever it took to ease his husband's suffering, whether that be carrying a bag or six, Omar was willing to do it.
Hearing a set of footsteps disappear from his ears, the Turkish man looked back at the hunched over figure gasping for air. A cold hand grasped his heart and gave it a tight squeeze as he watched the man struggle to pass air through his lungs. He couldn't help but feel guilty for causing his husband to be in such a state. Perhaps their pace had been too quick. Perhaps he had been pushing his husband too hard. He couldn't help but think of what could've happened had he not have stopped them. In a mild attempt at comforting his husband, Omar removed the small bag containing Zoe's treats from his husband's back, replacing the bag with his own hand. He rubbed small circles in Logan's back as he struggled to control his breathing. Only when he was satisfied with the steadiness of his breath did Omar break away from his husband.
A smile couldn't help put pull at the corner of Omar's lips when he saw their husky trotting up to them. She had probably been adventuring or scouting ahead of them, only to return at the prospect of a break. A tiny chuckle escaped him when he saw their dog practically throw herself at the floor with a large huff. God was she a drama queen. At least she was cute. And incredibly smart. As much as he loved to tease their dog with smart remarks, he truly owed his life to the animal. Both of them did. There was a clear layer of respect that both of them had for the pup, and lord did she know it. Never in his life had Omar had a pet with as much of a personality as Zoe. It was like she was her own person. Rolling his eyes playfully, he went in the bag and dug out a tiny treat for the girl. squatting down, he held it out to her and watched her gratefully take it from his hand and inhale the treat. He couldn't help but give the girl a pat before he stood back up.
Logan fully stole his attention the second he felt arms begin to wrap around him in a gentle embrace. Omar turned to look directly into those sweet baby blues that could only belong to the man before him. Pressing their foreheads together softly, he could feel the stress begin to leave his body as he stood there in his husband's arms. "We really did, I'm really proud of you dear," he practically whispered out the words. "You've been holding up really well these past few days, I'm really sorry for pushing you so hard," the mumble left his lips without a single thought. He was proud of how far his husband had come. Yet, he still felt like he was causing his husband more suffering than anything.
Everything felt brief nowadays. Omar could vividly remember the days where they used to lay in bed for hours just because they didn't want to part. Neither wanted to let go until their hunger became too strong. Now, things just weren't the same. They could never have that same peacefulness that came with any sort of affection. It had Omar longing for just a second more to be within his husbands arms or for just a second more of that kiss Logan had swiftly pressed to his lips. It had Omar snatch yet another one before letting his arms drop and let the other help him take off all the bags he had on his back.
Once the final bag had dropped to the ground, Omar rolled his shoulders, attempted to loosen the muscles that had held stiff in place during most of their journey. The man looked up at his husband's request, giving a gentle smile in return. "sure love, no problem." With that he motioned his husband to sit down while he fetched their supplies. He rummaged around the medical bag, pulling out a sterilizing wipe. Omar gently took his husband's arm and held it out, brushing his lips over the place where the medication was to be injected. There was something absolutely bone chilling about applying the medication to his own husband but at the same time, there seemed to be nothing better that he could do for him. "Sorry if it hurts" he said before administering the medication in such a professional manner. When it came to learning how to do things like this, he made sure to pay close attention. After all, this was his husband's life that he was basically giving to him.
"Alrighty... and we're... done!" he said, grinning up at Logan. After rummaging through their medical bag yet again he pulled out some bandages, laying them out before Logan. "Ok Loge, what kinda bandaid are you feeling today? Regular, Hello Kitty, some cute cartoon dogs??"
//trash pt. II
[align=center] logan tariq
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| [/table] he could remember what it had felt like to receive a call, asking him to come back to the hospital as soon as he could. logan could remember clear as day how devastating the news had been, that he had cancer- and that, apparently, they hadn't quite caught it in time. they insisted that that wasn't his fault; it was very rare that lung cancer was caught in the early stages, before it spread out from the lungs and towards lymph nodes in the body. they said he shouldn't blame himself for not coming earlier. but he did. especially when he went home that night, and had seen the survival rate of that stage- around 10 percent, perhaps even less. what does it feel like to be told that your body is dying, and there's nothing you can do about it? who is there to blame when that's the case?
the doctor had estimated that logan had one year left to live, tops. hearing that had been heartbreaking, but it had also been enough to make the stubborn man want to prove this cancer wrong. sure, there wasn't much that he could do about it, aside from toughing out so many radiation and chemotherapy treatments-- but that's exactly what he did. life had been fairly miserable during those times, but he could remember crawling out of bed and seeing a cake, a small celebration for hitting the one year mark post-diagnosis. and then another cake for the second year, and third, and.. it seemed like a tradition before the apocalypse, almost.
because, there he was, about six years later and still clinging on to life.
even while now he felt like his lungs were really failing him. it took him longer than most to catch his breath, which made all of the walking this last year or so (almost two?) incredibly hard on him. but still, he tried not to complain about the ache in his lungs, or the nausea, or the dizziness. perhaps that might be his downfall someday, but right now, he didn't want to bother omar with a problem they were both fairly aware of as is. he straightened, finally, to watch omar take out a treat for zoe. his eyes filled with a certain fondness as he watched the pair interact (more like, watching the other squat down so zoe could inhale the treat). zoe was a good girl, she really was. it wasn't often that you'd see any animal in the apocalypse, nonetheless a dog. they were too loud, too rambunctious. but zoe had been incredibly smart. she knew when to be quiet, when to alert them. she knew how to hunt. he didn't know where they'd be without her.
his eyes shined with so much life when he was near omar, especially in such a gentle embrace. it wasn't often that they got to have such intimate moments, let alone any true intimacy. logan missed it, so, so much.[b] "we have to keep going. you can't help that," he softly assured, moving one of his hands to rest on the side of omar's face, a gentle thumb brushing over the soft skin on his cheek. "we'll find a place to stay, soon. and maybe we could stay there for a while." that always seemed to be the cycle; find somewhere safe, and stay there until it wasn't so safe anymore. it was easy to find a place that was safe from zombies- but, honestly, zombies weren't even the main fear nowadays. humans were all turning against each other, and they were a bigger threat than any flesh-eating creature could be.
logan made sure to sit down beside zoe while the medication was administered. the little girl, knowing fully well what was about to happen, gave a small huff before putting her head in the man's lap. it was enough for him to smile softly, gently petting her with one hand while the other arm was taken for the injection. the medication sucked, but it sucked a lot less than chemotherapy. his hair wasn't constantly falling out - which, now his stubborn hair was finally starting to grow back - and there wasn't that wave of nausea and pain that would normally keep him bedridden. it hurt to have the cell-killing liquid in him, but at least it was for a purpose, and serving its purpose well.
when he'd first been administered the medication, he could remember crying and crying out of pain. now, though, he only somewhat flinched as the needle was inserted, and the medication was injected. he tried to focus more on zoe, petting her soft fur, and just like that, it was all done. he couldn't help but smile out of relief. "thank you, baby." pulling zoe's head up so he could press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "and thank you, baby girl." in return, zoe licked his face, earning a few short laughs from logan.
he turned his gaze away and towards the bandages, humming a bit in thought before taking one. "i think i've always rocked the hello kitty look. don't you think?" he decided, flashing a grin omar's way before putting the bandaid on. it didn't take long before he was sighing, and slowly getting back up. "hey, o?" he said, turning his gaze towards the sky, where the sun was slowly starting to set on the horizon. "we should keep moving. we've gotta find shelter, and soon." he took the brief moment to get closer to omar, and gently leaned against his side. "i'm good to go a bit further, really. don't worry about me." because, knowing his husband, that was probably the only thing he was worrying about-- not so much the people that might come for them at nightfall.
[align=center] omar aslan tariq
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| [/table] With every passing day, another stone seemed to place itself on top. The weight slowly grew until at some point, it became hard to breathe. And just when he began to pick the stones from off his chest, when he was able to finally take a deep breath again, he was plunged into the ocean. The stones of his past being the weight around his ankles. They never drug him under, they just made it harder to stay afloat. They made it so incredibly hard. Especially when the bright blue sky became dark with clouds; and the wind tossed the waves around, sending the once calm ocean into a heated rage. Then, those stones that hadn't seemed so hard to swim with became cinder blocks, dragging him under. Letting him struggle with all his might to return to the world he could once see so clearly until he had no more fight in him. Until there he sank, watching even the glimpse of a muddied vision ceased from his eyes as the world turned black.
The stones would always win.
It was simply amazing how much fear molded a person. It piled on layers upon layers upon layers until the person was barely recognizable to others. It convinced people that it was simply them, that nothing was wrong with them. That the slowly evolving person in the mirror had been them all along, that there was no difference. Until one day, you noticed. You noticed the person staring back at you in the mirror wasn't you, but some beast that looked eerily like you. But they acted different. They were too skittish, too jumpy, too ready to lash out or push people away.
It was amazing what Logan's simple touch could do to a man. The second his husband's arms where wrapped around him, Omar felt his entire being relax. He hadn't known how high strung and tense he had been until he simply let it go in that moment.
---
It started out gently, a small tear falling from the sky and landing on Omar's cheek as they traveled. The sky hicced softly, sending it's soft cries over the valley. A sign of what was to come. A sign of the inevitable breakdown. Before long, the clouds had spread their darkened reach all across the land, enveloping it in it's despair. It's sobs shook the ground, it's cries washing over the world. It cried for the land that tore itself apart trying to fix itself. For the souls that lost themselves. Whether that be the humans or the undead... it was hard to tell anymore.
The rain was always a blessing. Although it might be difficult once the once solid ground began to turn into mud, it was still better than a dry day. Rain covered up the sounds of travel. It meant that they didn't have to watch their every step in case they cracked a branch. No one would be able to hear them trudging through the woods. However, that also became a problem for them. If others couldn't hear them, it was likely they wouldn't be able to hear others. Of course it was much easier to hear the undead through their ghastly wheezes and heavy footsteps. Humans however, weren't so loud. Most had adapted to the type of environment that they all lived in now.
The rain was a blessing, yes. But it was also a curse.
Omar kept closer to Logan when it rained this hard. Not just to keep him close in case of any danger, but to help Logan if he were to stumble. It wasn't as though they were simply traveling on a flat road anymore. They were going through the woods which meant uneven ground, hidden branches, and climbing over whatever got in their way. It was beginning to take it's toll on Omar himself; he couldn't even begin to imagine how much of a toll it was taking on Logan. Even through all the rain, he could hear his husband's sharp and labored breaths. The weight of guilt had settled in awhile ago, no matter how hard Omar attempted to push it out of his mind. This was the fastest route possible to shelter. Right. This was the fastest route.
By the time they approached any signs of past civilization, the sun had already begun to dip below the horizon, the dark clouds blocking out any possible light. A house sat alone in the woods. It hadn't been the original destination but at this point anything would've done. This would have to do. It was getting too dark to continue on much longer. Omar glanced back at his husband and their dog. Even Zoe looked tired. This would have to be their new home for however long it could be.
[b]"We should stop here... I'll take the left side if you can take the right?" he suggested. Finding shelter wasn't too terribly difficult anymore. It was securing them that made acquiring shelter difficult. There were many risks that came with securing a shelter. The main one being that you never truly knew what was inside until you entered. You never knew if it was infested with the undead or if other humans had found the place first. The undead were predictable: they were always trying to kill you. Humans, not so much. Some of them were friendly. Some. Most nowadays had developed the mentality of them against the world. It wasn't bad. It was a safe mentality. But it quickly turned the world into a dog eats dog kinda world.
"Take Zoe, I'll take Roscoe."
[align=center] logan tariq
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| [/table] it felt like, over time, everything seemed to get a little harder. the medication was only slowing down the dying process; slowed down the sand that was in the hourglass. and it showed. he could remember at the beginning of this journey being so ready and determined. he'd felt healthy, or at least as healthy as god would permit. now, all he could focus on was how weak his body felt. how strong he tried to act, while all he could hear was the loud, sharp breaths spill from his mouth, and the ache in his lungs as he struggled for air. sometimes he'd have to stop, and wheeze, and cough-- though it was only for a few seconds before he was moving again, following alongside omar. because he couldn't slow them down. omar, zoe, roscoe- he couldn't let them down like that. it felt like they'd be so much better off without him; the only problem was that logan wouldn't be better off without them. his heart ached for omar, longed for his husband in ways that were indescribable.
he wasn't leaving any time soon. not when his soul was set on fire by this passion and love that he found with omar. although his body ached and longed for rest, it was nothing compared to the restlessness he felt without omar by his side. there wasn't anyone else that he loved so selflessly, so wholly, that it took over his whole being. there wasn't anyone else that he'd love without a second thought, that he'd start a family (of dogs) with. as the rain fell down, his blue eyes wandered towards his husband trudging forward through the mud.
love made you do crazy things, didn't it?
a house in the woods. this seemed slightly promising. it was the best that would do during darkfall, right? he nodded his head before going separate ways than omar. stepping to the right, he whistled for roscoe to follow, which he promptly did without any hesitance. good boy. it sucked having to check out the shelter before actually being able to use it, though it was the process. better to scope for trouble than to run right into it. of course, there were always those exceptions, where you couldn't avoid trouble no matter how hard you tried to scope the place out.
today proved to be one of those exceptions.
it was made obvious by the low growling that rumbled in roscoe's throat as they walked alongside the right side of the house-- and logan slowed to a stop, following roscoe's gaze. there was a door on this side, closer to the back side of the house, and the door knob turned- his heart instantly jumped into his throat at the sight of a few people stepping out. four, five people- "thinking you could stay here for the night, pretty boy?" the man's eyes wandered slowly over logan's figure, a low chuckle passing his lips. with each step he took forward, logan took two back. "what's in that bag of yours? come here, come closer. let me see." logan caught something from the corner of his eye; a move of the hand to brandish- a knife.
[b]"omar! we've gotta go!" he suddenly called as he turned and made a dash for the front of the house. the moment he saw his husband, he stared for a moment, eyes wide, before quickly saying, "we- have to go. this group isn't-"
"come on, what's the rush?" the gruff voice caused him to look at the incoming group, swallowing hard before dashing back to where they'd come from, watching as omar ran ahead of him. logan used to be so good at running.. now he could barely run away from this group- god, how he'd changed.
now, logan basically came to learn that his body was like fine china; one little slip-up, and he was in for a world of pain. falling was a great example of this. his body started to hurt again, he felt lightheaded and dizzy. before he knew it, he'd lost his footing in the muddy terrain and was sent tumbling to the ground. it felt like his body had shattered as he hit the ground. it hurt. it hurt so bad. the worst part was that he felt paralyzed, unable to get up as the group came closing in on him- "omar!" he glanced back at the oncoming group, trying to grasp at the wet grass as he tried to get up. "h-help!”
[align=center] [b]omar aslan tariq
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| [/table] Omar wasn't stupid.
As much as he pretended to be for Logan's sake, he truly wasn't. He noticed Logan's skin become paler than its already porcelain complexion. How it turned sickly colors, sometimes dashed in a green or flushed pink. He noticed when Logan's body was absent in the morning, his side of the bed still warm. The ever so present sound of retching through their closed bathroom doors. He heard the sound of their sink and Logan trying to clean up his own mess. Even when he stumbled back to their bed, Omar pretended to sleep. Logan's hands were always shaky when they tried to slink back around him. His breathing was always labored but it was evident that Omar's husband was trying to control it, so he wouldn't wake his sleeping husband. Logan was always thoughtful. Even though he was dying, he tried his hardest to put Omar's comfort above his own.
((okay i remember you accidentally deleted a majority of this post HA
but basically omar gets shot in the leg trying to help loge. yeah <3)
[align=center] logan tariq
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| [/table] unable to huff out any more words, the brunette slowed to a stop, placing his hands on his knees. it'd been about a month since chemo had started; a month of trying to act like his body wasn't dying. every day, it was getting a little bit harder to act like everything was okay. too many times had he been running to the bathroom to throw up, to cough up blood-- too many times did his body try and fight with all its might and then fail on him. his hair was falling out, to the point where he had omar just shave it all off. he knew he couldn't keep up the act any longer. but he was trying, damn he was trying to live in this happiness while he still could. his body was hurting, though-- and apparently he couldn't handle his usual daily runs, anymore.
his world was falling apart. this cancer was taking away everything that he loved; running, working in the er, getting to keep up with omar- his lip trembled at the thought, though he tried to quickly regain his composure. "i need to start running more, yeah?" he offered to his husband, trying to keep the complete and utter pain out of his voice. though he couldn't act like omar wasn't already starting to figure out that logan couldn't do what he used to do, anymore... logan was starting to look noticeably worse; he couldn't hide every moment he went rushing to the bathroom, or the days where he didn't have the strength in him to get up and face the day. he didn't want to lose omar, like how he'd lost everything else he'd loved to this terrible cancer. trembling slightly, he waved a hand omar's way, wheezing softly before uttering, "you can go on without me. i'll meet you back at the house." if it had been anyone else, they would've nodded and merely continued their daily routine.
omar had never been like that, though. he didn't go running away, further into the city. instead, he showed such a warm smile before putting his arm around logan. a soft "c'mon, let's get you home." an arm around his waist as they started their way back home. omar never could leave him behind on days like that; he'd call into work when logan was having his bad days. pick him up from the floor whenever logan didn't have the strength to do anything but crawl- omar was always there, he'd always be there. and, for that, logan was grateful.
sometimes, though, he wished omar would choose to only save himself. logan would always be omar's downfall in the end, and that rang true in this moment. logan was trying to get up, fighting the tears that came to his eyes as he tried to ground himself again. it felt like he was seeing stars, the pain just too much, not good, not the right time. even while he'd yelled for help from omar, part of him wished omar would've kept running.
but, of course, omar was always there, wanting to pick him back up.
"logan, baby come on you have to get up. you have to get up!"
"i'm- tr-trying--" though, of course, it was too late. logan had blown their chance of fleeing away from this terrible group. he wanted to cry, wanted to tell omar how sorry he was that it had to come to this. instead, he merely crumpled up on the ground, listening to the sounds of omar and the dogs fighting- fighting to defend someone that wasn't even worth saving, anymore. although he was in a great deal of pain, nothing hurt more than that. what was even the use of saving logan? why couldn't omar just leave him, feed him to the wolves? it would make omar's life so much easier.
by the time he'd finally recovered, it seemed like the war was already won. with teary eyes, he offered the faintest of smiles as omar helped him up. he didn't deserve the peppered kisses, soft and so full of love and care. he tried to cut omar off, to say, "yeah, i'm-"
bang.
he'd barely managed to get the two words out before the shot rang through his ears. for a moment, he stood in complete shock, eyes wide as his gaze slowly fell to the ground. the grass being painted red by" ¦ by omar's blood. "no-” he breathed out, trying to fight the panic that surged forward. his gaze lifted to find the perpetrator-- a man, grinning and brandishing his deadly weapon. he was taking aim again, and all logan could do was helplessly hold onto omar, and hold on so tight. zoe and roscoe came to their rescue, though, and started fighting the man. fought him until he went running off, gun left behind..
"omar.. omar! baby, i'm so sorry- it's all my--" he struggled to think of anything to say, anything that would possibly make the situation any better. "lay down. i'm going to fix this. i'm going to help you. i can- i can do this." he didn't know whether he was reassuring himself or reassuring omar. he knew that their medical supplies were extremely low, but logan knew that he had to act fast or else blood loss and pain was all that was going to be in omar's future. he grabbed one of their bags and started rummaging through it for their med kit. once he opened it, he realized how.. incredibly sad it was. but he'd have to manage, or else he was going to have a nervous breakdown.
"your leg- he murmured once he realized where the blood was coming from. this wasn't good. the more he looked, though, the more it seemed like the bullet had passed through-- a blessing, but also meaning there was more work to do to stop the blood flow. they didn't have any antibiotics.. nothing to clean the wound except for a water bottle and a slightly clean shirt. logan would have to make due. cleaning the wound as best as he could, he then swallowed hard before wrapping the shirt around the wound, making sure it was tight enough to apply pressure to the wound.
"that's the best i can do with what we have, i-- i'm so sorry." logan hadn't even realized that he'd been crying for minutes, now. they needed antibiotics.. there had to be some at a nearby pharmacy, right? something. anything to make his husband feel better again. his teary eyes lifted up towards the sky, watching as the sun began to set on the horizon, almost completely gone from view. "come on, let's get back to that house," he decided, trying to man the fuck up so they could get omar to safety. that had to have been all of the group.. zoe and roscoe would scope the place out when they got there again, he supposed. trying to help omar as best as he could - he was extremely weak - he then put o's arm around his shoulder, trying to help keep pressure off of the wound as they started their walk back to the house.
//this post was so shitty i'm so sorry
(okay looks like we're all caught up here <33)
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