Olivarry Week - Day 6: Hurt/Comfort.
Warnings: Rated M. M/M, Violence, Major Character Death.
Don’t Let The Dead Bite - [Suggested Music]
Oliver curses himself for not acting sooner, for not noticing the Walker approaching them before it was too late. If he had just paid more attention they wouldn’t be like this; With Barry laying dying in his arms, smiling despite the pain in his bitten and torn neck, blooding staining his pale skin and the collar of his jacket.
Oliver doesn’t realise he’s crying until Barry is weakly lifting a hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing away a tear and smudging blood across the older man’s cheek, before the limb drops to the ground. Barry lets out a shuddering breath as he sinks further into his boyfriend’s hold, no longer bothering to try and stop the bleeding from the deep wound.
After a slow blink, glazed green eyes meet Oliver’s own, reflecting acceptance and trust and it makes Oliver’s stomach churn, makes him want to throw up everything in his guts with the thought of what he has to do next.
Barry is going to die. And Oliver has to kill him before he does.
They both know it, painfully aware of how damning a bite from a Walker is. Even if the blood loss and infection didn’t kill the younger man, the virus certainly would, and the older man knows Barry would never want to live like that; if you could even call it living.
Hell, Oliver himself would rather die before he let his boyfriend join the masses of the horde, only to be picked off later on.
“You can’t put this off much longer, Oll.” Barry slurs through the blood coating his teeth, resting a hand on Oliver’s forearm. Oliver grits his teeth, cursing under his breath. Fuck.
“Barry, babe, please. I can’t,” He chokes on the word, his usual stoic façade crumbling to pieces around them. Barry only sighs, turning his head to press a kiss to Oliver’s clothed shoulder.
“Please. It has to be you.” The younger man can already feel himself fading, struggling to keep his eyes opened and focused on the blond that’s holding him. “I want it to be you.” I want you to be the last person I see.
Oliver feels a sob building in his chest, tugging the knife at his hip out its sheathe. Barry’s eyes soften, dropping his head to the other man’s shoulder as if nothing is wrong, as if the love of his life isn’t about to put an end to him.
Even now, he’s still being Oliver’s emotional anchor.
“Look after Bas for me, and look after yourself.” Suddenly, Barry feels like his chest is being crushed painfully, and he sobs through his smile. “You’re going to get through all of this.” Oliver shakes his head, pressing his nose into the other’s hair, knuckles white with their grip around the knife handle. Just the mention of his boyfriend’s twin is enough to shake his resolve, but he hasn’t got a choice. This is the last thing Barry is asking of him.
“I believe in you, Oliver.”