Blaine was bored. Pretty much all the time. Also hungry.

No one could blame him, exactly. That is apparently one of those things that comes along with being a zombie, he has been told, but the constant discomfort was not exactly enjoyable. Of course, one could argue that no part of this life was enjoyable. He spent his days and nights wandering around a school. He couldn't speak. He could barely communicate with the other zombies. At best, he would see someone else and they would both grunt. That only ever really happened with one person. He was now Blaine's best friend.

Blaine slumped his ways through the halls and didn't run into the wall when he passed through a doorway. Little victories.

He took in the room. It was probably his favorite room in the whole school. There were big windows that let light stream in, making the room seem much happier than anywhere else here. He trudged over to the piano bench on the far end of the room. He sat. He never did more than sit at the bench, of course, but sitting there made him happier than sitting anywhere else. Maybe he had played piano when he was alive. He couldn't remember.

He sat there. And he sat there. It was probably hours, but time didn't really seem to exist anymore, especially when nobody slept. Occasionally he would let his fingers brush the keys, and once he even put down some pressure, making a note. He jumped.

The next time Blaine noticed time passing was when the light had gone very orange. It was about to get dark. Sometimes Blaine stayed in here all night. Sometimes he would stay in here for several nights. After all, it was boring everywhere, he might as well be bored in his favorite place.

Blaine stood up and slowly made his way over to the bookshelf. He didn't exactly read. He would just stand there and look at the books, sometimes running his fingers across them. He picked one up and opened it. Normally he would just put it back, but this had a picture in it. He kept it in his hands.

He trudged over to one of the couches and sat. Blaine knew that he was sitting with very bad posture, but he had given up on trying to correct it long ago. It was too hard. Instead, he flipped through his book. It was mostly words, but every few pages or so there were pictures. Blaine liked looking at the pictures. There were pictures on the wall in this room. Maybe that was another reason he liked it so much.

He sat there until it got dark and stayed until it got light. Nighttime was especially boring. He couldn't see much.

Blaine stood up and made his way back through the hallway. Maybe he would see his friend. Maybe a person would come to the school and he wouldn't have to be so hungry. It was unlikely. Blaine tried to sigh, but it sort of just came out as a grunt.

For the next couple hours, Blaine stumbled around the halls, occasionally going up or down the stairs, sometimes going in or out of a room. There were several other zombies milling about, all wearing blazers just like his. He ran into one of them, and they sort of bounced off of each other and tried to get past, taking a bit of time to get going straight again. Blaine vaguely remembered the feeling of frustration, but more than anything, he was still just bored.

The sky was just starting to get orange again when Blaine heard something. He looked across the hall and saw zombies rushing off through a corridor, or as close as they could come to rushing, anyhow, so he followed them. Not too far down the school, he heard a girl scream.

Food.

Blaine tried to keep up with everyone, but the crowd was so big and he couldn't actually see the people. He didn't know if it was just the girl or a whole pack of people. All he knew was he was hungry.

He was almost to the door when a man ran out very fast, and Blaine tried his best to turn and watch him. Most of the other zombies went after him and Blaine figured it was a lost cause. There was no way he was going to catch up with that guy quick enough to eat him.

Blaine went into the room he heard the scream from. Everyone was already gone, except for one zombie leaving after eating a girl on the ground. There wasn't much of her left. Blaine wanted to sigh.

He went further into the room. This was one of his favorite rooms too, even if it didn't have big windows and a piano. It had cabinets all around, filled with all sorts of boxes and little orange bottles. Sometimes Blaine would come in here just to look at all the pretty bottles. He opened one of the cabinets and heard a scuffle on the ground. He turned to look.

There on the ground was the most perfect person Blaine had ever seen. He didn't have very many memories from when he was alive, but he was sure that he had never known anyone as beautiful as this person. He was crouched on the ground, eyes locked with Blaine, absolute terror in his eyes.

Blaine felt his eyes grow wide. He wanted to reach out and touch this man. His skin was even paler than Blaine's, and absolutely perfect. When Blaine took a tiny step forward, the man scuttled back, hitting the cabinet. Blaine could hear him breathing shakily. His eyes left Blaine's for a fraction of a second to dart around the room. There was no way to get past Blaine.

But Blaine wasn't moving forward. As hungry as he was, he just wanted to look at this beautiful person. He wanted to touch him, too, but that hadn't worked out so well the first time he tried.

The man stayed where he was. Blaine noticed the bottle he was clutching. It was one of those pretty orange ones. He wanted to touch that, too. But he knew that the man would probably start screaming, and then everyone else would come back in here and eat him.

Oh no. Everyone was going to try to eat this person. Blaine really didn't want them to. He did the only thing he could think of. He took another step in, even slower this time. The man was trembling and his breath was shallow and uneven. Blaine crouched down, just inches away from his face. He tried not to breathe too hard because he hadn't brushed his teeth since before he died.

Blaine reached for his left arm, where he had been bitten. He rubbed his fingers along the blood there. Then, slowly, he lifted his fingers to the stranger's face, still trembling, eyes now closed. Blaine stroked his fingers along the man's cheek, smearing the blood. Was skin supposed to be that soft? Blaine didn't know. He did want to touch it more. But he didn't let himself. Instead, he looked right at the man, whose eyes were slowly opening. Blaine lifted a crooked finger to his mouth, hoping that the man would know to be quiet. Almost imperceptibly, the man nodded, terror still fresh in his eyes. Blaine stood up, which was rather difficult and took a bit of time. When he was up, though, he looked at the man and gestured with his head for him to do the same. The man sat there frozen for a moment, eyes still locked with Blaine's. Then, slowly, as if he didn't quite trust his own body, the man stood up.

He was kind of tall, Blaine noticed. He was also skinny, but so was everyone now. But it was his skin that really mattered. His skin was so pale. It was even paler than Blaine's, and Blaine didn't have blood coursing through his veins.

Blaine grunted at the man, hoping to convey what he was trying to say. The man took an unsteady step back. Blaine just shook his head once and lifted his arms in front of him slightly. He began groaning quietly and took two shaky steps forward, trying to look like how zombies were supposed to look. He stopped to see if the stranger was getting it. He was still staring wide-eyed at Blaine, unmoving. Blaine's head dropped a bit. He gestured towards the man with a grunt before doing his best zombie impression again.

"Oh, you want me to act like a zombie?" the man whispered, and Blaine grunted in what he hoped sounded like approval.

The man's eyes shifted to the door. A blazer-clad zombie stumbled past, thankfully not noticing the very much living person a few feet away. Blaine was still looking at the stranger, who seemed to be very tense and scared. He took a small breath. "Okay." Blaine wondered if people's voices usually sounded so shaky.

Blaine took a few steps forward before realizing that the man wasn't following him. He turned back to look at him and grunted, doing a small zombie impression again. The man's jaw was very tense, but after taking a big, shaky breath, he stepped forward. He lifted his arms a bit, uneasily, and let out a weird, "Uggnnnhhh." Blaine turned back to look at him. The man stopped making that noise. They took a few more slow steps towards the door, Blaine glancing back at the man as casually as he could. It was not casual at all.

Blaine stepped into the hallway, the man just behind him. He looked at all the other zombies to see if they noticed the man, but no one seemed to. Blaine realized one thing, though. They were all in matching blazers. He looked back at the man again, knowing that whatever he was wearing would make him stick out.

Huh. He actually had on a dark blue jacket. It looked kind of similar to the blazers. Maybe the zombies would just think he had been a new kid or something.

Had the hallways always been this long? It felt like years before they were turning the corridor. Blaine wondered if the stranger was breathing. They kept passing by zombies, some getting dangerously close, but none of them seemed to notice. Maybe it was the pale skin. Maybe this man was just very good at pretending to be a zombie.

One of the zombies brushed the man, who twitched away. The zombie cocked its head before leaning in closer, seeming to take a deep breath through its nose. The man stiffened up, but continued trudging his way through the hallway behind Blaine, this time a little faster. Thankfully, the other zombie didn't follow them, and soon he kept walking the other direction.

A few minutes later, Blaine could see the piano room. The light was trickling through onto the ground, making everything glow. He stepped inside. He turned around to see the man hesitating at the threshold. Blaine opened up his hands down where they were hanging. He hoped it seemed like an inviting gesture.

The man stayed at the door for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. Two zombies walked by then, one of them sniffing the air. The man went into the room with Blaine immediately.

Blaine crossed past him to shut the door. He hadn't shut the door here in a long time. There hadn't been a need. But he didn't think anyone would notice.

He turned back to look at the man, who was facing away from Blaine. His shoulders were down and his head was bent. Blaine noticed his shoulders moving slightly.

Blaine walked around to the front of the man to get a good look at him. He was holding his forearms and seemed to be looking at the ground. Blaine was right; his shoulders had been shaking. And his eyes were wet. Blaine watched a drop of water slide down the man's cheek and slip onto the ground. He wanted to dry it off.

He didn't dry it off. He stood there staring at the man. Eventually, the man seemed to come to his senses and his head snapped up. He wiped at his face and eyes and let out a huge breath. He looked at Blaine. "Well what are you staring at?" The man crossed over to one of the couches and sat down. He seemed very upset. Blaine didn't know what to do. Before he knew what was happening, his feet were moving towards the man. He sat down across from him. The couch didn't feel cushy like usual. He stood up. Oh. He had sat on his book. Blaine picked up his book and looked at it for a long time. Then, slowly, he made his way to the man, whose beautiful face was now buried in his hands. Blaine reached under the man's arms, placed the book on the man's lap, and scooted it closer to him once.

Then man raised his head very slowly. He looked at the book and then at Blaine. He picked up the book. "What's this?"

Blaine took a step in and touched the book gently. When the man realized what he was asking, he handed the book over. Blaine opened the book and flipped through. Soon he found what he was looking for. He handed the book back to the stranger, open this time.

"Oh," the man said, eyes searching the page. "George Washington."

Blaine pointed at the picture on the page.

"Yes, that's George Washington," the man confirmed. "Do you... um... like history?"

Blaine took a step back. He looked up at the walls and pointed at one of the paintings. "I'm afraid I don't know who that is." So Blaine pointed at a different painting. "I don't know who that is eith—oh! You like pictures." Blaine looked back at the man and felt his mouth move slightly. He didn't mean for it to, but it felt nice. "Okay, you... like pictures. Um. Cool."

Blaine didn't know what else to do. He looked around the room several times before going back to the couch and sitting across from the man. They sat there staring at each other for quite some time. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna go to sleep," the man decided, voice sounding very unsure. "Don't kill me."

Blaine blinked. He didn't want to kill this person. Surely, if he did he would have been dead by now. The man must have known that. Why else would he have followed Blaine?

"When I wake up... I don't know." The man shook his head. "I'll figure out some way to get out. But for right now, I should sleep. So. Um. Goodnight." His eyes darted around one last time before he laid down on his side.

Blaine watched him. He was certain that he had never seen a more beautiful person, living or otherwise. He studied the man's face and his breathing, the way his chest would rise and fall in a perfect rhythm. He looked at his dark eyelashes, looking so prominent against his white skin. His lips weren't white, though. They were flushed pink.

Blaine had never really felt the desire to be living again. Not until now.