𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄: 𝐒𝟏 - Chapter 8: We Don’t Kill Our Own

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Dhammawitaya School Rooftop – 3:12 p.m.

The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung low, as if the sky itself was holding its breath.

Tension ran electric across the rooftop like static before lightning. Everyone was gathered now. No more secrets. No more whispers.

Jet stood with his arms crossed, jaw tight. Tae stood beside him, visibly conflicted. Mew leaned against the stairwell door, chewing on her lip. Eli watched from the shadows, unreadable.

In the center—Rin, pale, feverish, but standing tall.

And Sol, right beside him. Hand on his arm. Face defiant.

“He’s infected,” Jet said again. “And we’re debating like we have time.”

Sol’s voice was sharp. “Because he’s not like them.”

“He will be,” Jet snapped.

“No,” Eli said suddenly, stepping forward. “He might be like me.”

“You keep saying that,” Tae said. “But what proof do we have? You could snap and tear us apart the second we close our eyes!”

“I haven’t,” Eli said coldly. “And neither has Rin.”

Jet shook his head. “This is insane. He’s bitten. Look at him!”

Rin’s eyes met his. “You think I don’t know what I am?”

He stepped forward.

Everyone tensed.

“I’m not asking for mercy. I’m asking for time. If I turn—Sol ends me. Not you. Not anyone else.”

Sol flinched at the words, but didn’t deny them.

“You expect us to trust you with that?” Jet said. “This isn’t some drama. This is survival!”

“And I’m still alive,” Rin snapped. “I didn’t hide it to hurt you. I hid it because I didn’t want to die while I could still feel.”

---

3:26 p.m.

The argument turned heated.

Jet grabbed a metal rod. “We don’t have the luxury to wait. One second too late and we all die.”

Sol stepped in front of Rin. “You’re not touching him.”

“Move,” Jet growled.

“No.”

Jet shoved him. Sol stumbled—but didn’t fall.

“Try it again,” Sol said, wiping blood from his lip. “I dare you.”

“Enough!” Mew shouted.

Everyone turned.

“I’m sick of this,” she said. “We all are. You want to exile Rin? Fine. But if he dies out there and he wasn’t turning—then we’re the monsters.”

Jet spat. “You’d risk it?”

“We already are,” she whispered.

Tae looked down. “There’s no right choice.”

“But there’s a wrong one,” Sol said. “And that’s killing someone who hasn’t done anything.”

Rin looked at the group. “Then give me until tomorrow. If I start to change—I’ll jump myself.”

Everyone was quiet.

Then Jet dropped the rod with a loud clang.

“One day,” he said. “That’s it.”

Sol helped Rin sit back down. He was burning up.

But still him.

Still Rin.

For now.

---

4:02 p.m. – School Hallways

Eli walked alone.

There was something pulling at him—something dark and familiar.

He paused at the stairwell.

Something was there.

A sound.

Soft.

Wet.

Breathing.

He stepped into the dark——and saw a body twitch.

Tinn.

Still alive.

Barely.

Half his face was missing. One arm was twisted. But he was crawling, inching forward, a snarl forming in his ruined throat.

Eli stepped closer.

The hunger inside him stirred.

But he wasn’t afraid.

He knelt.

Tinn looked up, one eye milky.

“Still trying?” Eli whispered.

Tinn hissed.

“I’m not like you,” Eli said. “But I understand you.”

He reached out—

—and pressed his hand to Tinn’s chest.

There was a beat. A connection.

A pulse of something dark.

Then Eli stood and turned away.

Tinn didn’t follow.

He couldn’t.

---

4:30 p.m. – Rooftop

They took shifts watching Rin.

Sol stayed the longest.

He barely blinked.

“You’re really not gonna sleep?” Rin asked, voice hoarse.

“Sleep’s not happening.”

“Sol…”

Sol looked at him. Eyes full of pain and love and fear.

“I’m not ready to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Rin said.

“You can’t promise that.”

“No. But I can promise this—if I change… I’ll fight it. Every second. For you.”

Sol’s hands trembled.

Rin reached out, brushing his cheek.

“Hey… if this is our last night…”

“Don’t,” Sol said.

But Rin smiled. “Let me say it anyway.”

He leaned close.

And whispered:

“You were the only reason I stayed human this long.”

Sol didn’t cry.

He kissed him instead.

Soft. Desperate. Rain-soaked lips meeting in silence.

And for a moment—there were no zombies. No bites. No war.

Just them.

Just love.

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Chapter 8: We Don’t Kill Our Own

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