The Monster Dentist of Apocalypse

The world ended not with a bang, but with a slow, suffocating decay. And in the middle of it, I was kneeling on the bed, my hands buried in the thick, coarse fur of my boyfriends neck, trying to soothe him. My fingers glowed with a faint, pulsing bluemy gift, if you could call it that. I was a sponge for pain, a sensory empath who could pull the agony out of someone else and tuck it into my own marrow.

Suddenly, my mind wasn't my own.

A jagged stream of text, like a hijacked social media feed, flickered across my consciousness. It was a "Stream" of comments from an audience I couldn't see, and they were vicious.

[God, shes such a blind waste of space. How can she not tell its the wrong man?]

[Look at her, using her "healing" as an excuse to feel him up. Shes pathetic.]

[She thinks hes a Golden Retriever shifter, but hes a Wolf. Hes playing her for a fool.]

My heart hammered against my ribs. The Stream grew louder, more frantic.

[Just wait until the Real Heroine shows up. Maeves little pain-transfer trick is a joke. Shes just a placeholder until Raina arrives.]

[Shes going to die in the Verdant Tide. Eaten by a man-eater plant. Thats what she gets for trying to steal the Main Lead.]

The words hit me like a physical blow. Every strange, nagging feeling Id suppressed over the last week suddenly crystallized. The way his scent had changed from cedar to something sharper, like ozone and rain. The way his skin feltharder, leaner.

I let go of the soft, pointed ears I had been stroking. My hands shook as I scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed.

"Put your clothes on," I whispered, my voice cracking. I faked a cough, trying to hide the tremor. "I... I think I can do this from a distance now. I don't need to touch you. Youre going to catch a chill."

The man shifted. I could hear the rustle of the sheets, the heavy, deliberate thud of his feet hitting the floor. The air in the room grew cold, thick with a sudden, sharp tension.

"Maeve, what kind of nonsense are you talking now?"

The sound of metal rattledthe light iron shackles Id insisted he wear "for his own safety" while I treated his supposed internal injuries. His voice was tight, vibrating with an impatience that made my skin crawl.

"Youve been 'checking' me for five days," he growled. "Five days of you crawling all over me, claiming you can't find the source of the pain. And now you can do it from across the room? Dammit, are you playing games with me?"

My breath hitched. He knew.

The truth was, Id been lying. Becket wasn't actually hurt. But I knew Becket didn't love menot the way I loved him. For him, I was a responsibility, a burden he took on because of a promise. Id faked the diagnosis just to have a reason to touch him, to feel close to someone before he inevitably realized I was a dead weight and left me behind.

But the Stream... the Stream said this wasn't Becket.

It said I was being hunted by a "Main Lead" and that my obsession would be my death.

In this post-apocalyptic hellscape, a blind girl with a non-combat gift is a liability. When the Shift happened, Becket had changed into a canine-shifterstrong, fast, and fiercely protective. But ten days ago, hed become agitated, insisting on scouting for other survivors.

When "he" came back that night, he was crankier, sure, but he let me touch him. He let me hold him. I thought Id finally broken through his icy exterior.

But if this wasn't Becket... then who had I been sleeping next to for a week?

"Becket?" I started, choosing my words like I was walking through a minefield. "I was just thinking... do you remember our first date? Im having a bit of a brain fog. My memory is slipping."

The man went still. I could feel his gaze, sharp as a scalpel, tracing the line of my throat.

A long silence followed. Then, a low, dark chuckle.

"First your eyes go, now your brain? Youre a mess, Maeve." He sighed, the sound heavy with something I couldn't identify. "It was the Freshman Gala. My brother was giving the keynote speech. You were so mesmerized you almost tripped over a folding chair. I caught your hand before you hit the floor."

He paused. "That was the first time I held you."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It was him. The memory was perfect.

Relief washed over me, warm and dizzying. I lunged forward, throwing my arms around him. My God, he must have been training in secret. His chest felt like a marble wall, and the heat radiating from his skin was intense.

The little devil on my shoulder whispered that now was the time.

"Becket," I whispered, blushing. "Remember that outfit I bought? The one you said was too... much? Would you wear it for me? Just once?"

His body turned to stone beneath my touch. The hand on my waist tightened, his fingers digging into my skin.

I waited, my heart singing.

Then, the chains rattled violently. He stood up abruptly, shoving me away. His voice was muffled, thick with suppressed emotion.

"Enough, Maeve. Don't push your luck just because you know I care about you. Do you even realize... forget it. Button your shirt. Come here and unlock these damn chains."

I blinked, the rejection stinging like a slap. "Oh. Okay."

I crawled toward him, my fingers fumbling with the locks. His breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

"I heard a noise in the bathroom," he said, his voice rasping. "I need to check it out. Stay here. No matter what you hear, do not come in."

The moment the shackles fell away, he was gone.

The Stream exploded with mockery:

[Hahaha, honestly, being blind is a blessing for her. She doesn't have to see how much he hates her touch.]

[Look at him! His hands were literally shaking from the effort of not punching her. Hes suffering through this for the sake of his brother.]

[If he weren't doing this as a favor to keep her safe while the brother is away, hed have tossed her to the zombies days ago.]

[Wait... why didn't he just tell her hes the wrong brother?]

[Please, shes a clingy idiot. If she knew the truth, shed freak out and wouldn't let him in. Its the apocalypsehe needs a place to stay too.]

I sat frozen on the bed.

The realization hit me like ice water. This wasn't Becket. It couldn't be. Because the real Becket would never admit he "cared" about me.

Everything felt different now. The Becket I knew complained about my cooking, calling it "slop" and eating canned rations instead. This man complained, but he finished every bowl of noodles I made and then washed the dishes. The real Becket jumped if I so much as grazed his arm. This man... he lingered.

Who was he? And how did he know about the Gala?

The water in the bathroom stopped running. Before I could process it, a pair of cold, powerful hands grabbed my ankles.

"Stop daydreaming," he said. "It's time to wash your feet."

The real Becket would never wash my feet. Hed told me a thousand times he wasn't my servant. But this man had given in after Id asked just once.

Panic, cold and sharp, flared in my chest. If he was only doing this to keep a roof over his head, then I was a hostage to his "kindness."

"No!" I shrieked, kicking out. I knocked the basin over, water splashing everywhere. I tried to bolt, but I didn't get two steps before a thick, powerful tailstronger than any dog'swrapped around my waist. He hoisted me into the air effortlessly.

I dangled there, trembling.

Cold water dripped from his hair onto my neck. His voice was a low vibration against my spine.

"Where are you running, Maeve? Youre the one who begged me to do this."

"Come back here. Don't make me say it twice."

The Stream flickered:

[God, shes so dramatic. Hes literally doing her a favor and she spills the water? Water is a luxury now!]

[Shes a brat. She forced the younger brother into a relationship using a 'life-saving debt,' and now shes bothering the older one? Low class.]

I realized then that if I kept acting out, Id force him to drop the mask. And whatever was under that mask was terrifying.

I forced myself to go limp. I lowered my head, projecting an image of submissive guilt.

"Im sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. "I just... I realized you were right. You aren't my servant. I should do it myself. Ill be better, I promise."

The air went dead silent. Even without sight, I felt his eyes boring into me, a predator watching its prey.

"Im not washing them!" I blurted out, backing away until I hit the headboard. "Water is precious. I won't waste it. Ill never ask again!"

He watched me for a long time. Finally, without a word, he cleaned up the mess and walked out.

I curled into a ball, shaking. I thought Id escaped. But five minutes later, the door creaked open again.

"Stop being difficult, Maeve."

"I put rose petals in the water this time. Its warm. And stop with the 'precious water' excuse. As long as Im here, youll have what you need. If you don't soak your feet, theyll stay cold all night, and youll just end up freezing me out of the bed."

Every argument died in my throat.

His fingers, long and calloused, wrapped around my ankle. The temperature was perfect. The scent of roses filled the room. I forgot to fight. I let him dry my skin with a soft towel, my heart hammering a confused rhythm against my ribs.

The moment he let go, I dove under the covers.

I heard a faint, ghost of a chuckle before the door closed.

The Stream scrolled by:

[I can't believe he actually went out and found roses. In this world? Those aren't normal flowerstheyre all mutated predators.]

[He literally got stabbed by thorns to get those for her. His arms are covered in scratches, but shes too busy acting like a princess to notice.]

[Oh no... hes been marked by a SSS-rank Man-Eater. It tracked him back from the rose bush. Hes a dead man walking.]

[Ugh, when is this girl going to die? Shes literally a death sentence for everyone around her.]

The scent of roses felt like a floral shroud. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles white. He had risked his life for a flower?

I had been the one to ask Becket out. I was the one who bought him gifts, who asked for a single rose as a symbol of something real. Becket always told me it was pointless. You can't even see it, Maeve. Youll just prick your finger. Its a waste of credits.

And now, a man wearing Beckets face had bled for them.

The door opened again. A soft, warm glow permeated the room.

[Wait, is that a nightlight?]

[Its a little wolf! Thats so cute, I want one.]

[I was wondering why he stopped at that raided pharmacy. He stole a battery-operated nightlight?]

Electricity was a memory. We lived by candlelight and scavenged batteries. But I had always been terrified of the dark.

The scent of fresh blood hit my nosethe scratches the Stream mentioned. My heart softened, despite my terror. I reached out, my fingers searching for him.

He flinched back instantly, as if my touch was fire.

[LMAO, she thinks he wants to hold her hand. Hes disgusted.]

[The nightlight isn't for her, idiots. Its for Raina. The Heroine is arriving tomorrow, and shes the one whos actually afraid of the dark. Hes just testing it out on the 'spare' tonight.]

I pulled my hand back, my face burning. "I... I just wanted to help. I can take the pain of your scratches. I can transfer it..."

"No." His voice was like a sheet of ice. "Listen to me, Maeve. Whether I am hurt or not, you are never to use your gift on me. Do you understand? Never."

[Look at him protecting himself. He won't even let her touch his pain. Thats a real mansaving himself for the one he actually loves.]

A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I nodded silently.

He set the nightlight on the bedside table and lay down beside me.

"Fine," he sighed. "Come here."

I froze. "What?"

"Don't play coy," he said, unbuttoning his shirt with a weary sigh. "You won't sleep until you get your 'goodnight kiss.' Lets just get it over with. Im exhausted."

My stomach did a somersault. I used to force Becket to hold me, to kiss me, because I was so desperate for a sign that I wasn't alone in the world. But I didn't know then that this wasn't Becket.

I scrambled backward, clutching my collar. "No! I... Ive been thinking. I was wrong. We should have boundaries. Youre right. I shouldn't force you."

The silence was deafening.

"Boundaries?" he repeated. His voice was dangerously low.