Love in the Apocalypse

Chapter 2

The day arrived as the sun rose; Asher stirred awake, sitting up and stretching his arms overhead with a yawn. He remembered he was in the diner with the young stranger who had saved him the night before. He stood from the chair, stretching his whole body before glancing around the space—and noticed Blaise was nowhere to be seen. A wave of anxiety began to creep in.

“Blaise?… Blaise, where are you?” he called out, searching through the diner’s staff rooms, storage area, and kitchen. When he still found no sign of him, panic set in—terrified Blaise might have gone out alone, or worse, left him behind. He knew he was being dramatic, feeling so afraid of being abandoned by someone he’d just met, but he couldn’t help it.

Just as he turned to check the back door, the restroom door opened. He spun around—and there stood Blaise, wearing only his trousers, his torso bare, hair still damp from a shower, with a black shirt draped loosely over one shoulder. Asher froze on the spot, his gaze lingering far too long, taking in the sight with undeniable appreciation.

Blaise lifted his eyes, noticing the prolonged stare, and spoke in the same cool tone as before.

“What are you doing?” he asked shortly, walking over to where two bottles of water sat on the counter. He picked one, twisted off the cap, and drank without ever taking his eyes off Asher.

Heat rushed to Asher’s cheeks; he looked away immediately, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I… I was waiting for you… to come out… I mean, I need to use the restroom,” he stammered, the back of his neck flushing pink as he hurried toward it, forcing himself not to glance back, afraid he’d get caught staring again.

Blaise watched him step inside, then settled onto a bar stool, resting his arm on the counter while using the shirt to towel dry his hair.

“He’s interesting…” he murmured under his breath, a faint twitch tugging at the corner of his mouth—almost a smile.

Inside the restroom, Asher leaned over the sink, staring hard at his reflection. He looked worn, somehow older than his twenty-six years. He noticed his stubble was growing in, his eyes hollowed from exhaustion and lack of sleep—he really did look like a mess.

“Damn it… staring at him like that… I probably looked like a total creep,” he muttered to himself. Then he noticed a razor tucked behind the mirror. Using the last bit of soap he could find, he quickly shaved and washed his face, scrubbing away as much of the weariness as he could.

When he finally stepped out, the first thing he saw was Blaise—fully dressed now in black trousers, a plain black tee, leather jacket, and sturdy combat boots—seated on a stool, calmly sharpening his machete and several smaller knives Asher hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying all this time. Asher hesitated at first before approaching Blaise, clearing his throat and opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out so he closed it again and just watched him sharpen his weapons.

"Speak. What do you want to say or ask?" Blaise spoke directly and bluntly—he wasn't asking, he was stating—without looking up at Asher. Asher chuckled slightly in awkwardness and rubbed the back of his neck, still hesitating, so Blaise paused what he was doing and turned to look at Asher instead with an unreadable expression. Asher met his gaze before turning to walk around the bar counter; he leaned forward, resting both arms on the island, and finally spoke.

"So… well… I know we just met last night and we still really don’t know each other very much… but as you can see, I’ve been surviving alone for three days before you found me and… hehehe…" Asher trailed off, glancing at Blaise awkwardly again. Blaise just listened, watching him with that same unreadable look, so Asher continued anyway.

"So… do you have enough supplies?… I don’t have any left… and I’m—Growwlll~" Asher stopped mid-sentence when his stomach gave a loud, obvious rumble. Blaise kept staring, his face still calm, before his eyes dropped from Asher’s face down to his stomach.

"So, you are hungry," he stated plainly. Asher nodded, looking almost like an abandoned puppy, so Blaise sighed and stood up to walk over to the bag he’d brought with him. He rummaged inside and pulled out four cans of ready-to-eat food, plus an extra bottle of water. He walked back and set them down gently on the counter, still not saying a word, then returned to his stool and went back to sharpening his weapons.

Asher watched him for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. He took one can and opened it carefully with a small pocket knife.

"Thanks, man. Seems you’re really well prepared," he said as he started eating, taking a seat on the stool opposite Blaise.

While he ate, Asher kept watching Blaise work, and soon spoke up again.

"You know… I never asked before… but where did you come from? Honestly, I’ve never seen you around here before. And the way you move… it’s like you’ve had training. Real training." Blaise didn’t answer right away, only looked up from what he was cleaning, his expression still calm as ever, before turning back to his work.

"Just finish eating. We’re leaving soon. We can’t stay here for long," he said simply. Asher nodded in resignation—he knew he wouldn’t get an answer for now. He finished his meal, then took the water bottle and drank slowly, careful not to finish it all; supplies were scarce, and he had no idea when they’d find more.

They started gathering everything they needed before heading out. Asher collected as much as he could carry from the diner: extra bottles of water, more canned food, and a basic first aid kit just in case. He also grabbed a few sharp kitchen knives to use as backup weapons. Meanwhile, Blaise checked and restocked his own pack, then started helping Asher get ready properly.

"You need to be much more careful from here on. We might run into far more of them than we did last night in that alley—we have to be ready," Blaise reminded him as he wrapped duct tape firmly around Asher’s forearms for extra protection, doing the same for himself. Then he pulled something out of his bag and held it out to Asher.

"Here. Do you know how to use this?"

Asher looked down and saw a gun resting in Blaise’s hand. He looked back up, eyes wide in surprise. "You have a gun?… And um… no… I’ve never even held one before…" he admitted, equal parts shocked and nervous.

Blaise studied him calmly for a moment before sighing softly. He took Asher’s hand, placed the gun properly in his palm, and spoke in a steady, patient tone.

"Listen closely. One mistake and you’ll waste ammo, hurt yourself, or worse—hit something you don’t mean to. This isn’t a toy. Always treat every gun like it is loaded, even if you think it isn’t. Never point it at anything or anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Keep your finger off the trigger and rest it straight along the side of the frame until you are fully ready to fire."

He showed Asher how to press the magazine release to remove the empty one, then handed him loose bullets one by one.

"Push each round firmly into the magazine until it clicks. Slide it back up into the bottom of the grip until you hear another solid click. Then pull the slide back once and let it snap forward—this chambers the first bullet into place."

Next he guided Asher on the right way to hold it and stand. "Hold it like this. Wrap your dominant hand firmly around the grip, thumb resting flat against the side. Bring your other hand underneath it, fingers locking together tight—don’t hold it loose, or the recoil will kick it right back at your face." He adjusted Asher’s stance: feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, leaning just a little forward. "Plant your feet like roots so you don’t stumble when it kicks back."

"Raise it up to eye level—don’t hunch down to look at the gun. Line up the front sight post exactly in the center of the rear notch, keep them level and even. Breathe in slow, let half of it out, hold it steady… and squeeze the trigger gently—don’t jerk it. Jerking will make you miss every time."

Asher followed every step carefully, his hands still trembling a little. When he finally squeezed the trigger, there was a loud BANG and a sharp jolt against his hands; he flinched hard, but Blaise was quick to steady his arm.

"Good. That kick is recoil—expect it, don’t fight it. After firing, keep your aim up. If you miss, adjust, reset, and fire again. If it jams—stop immediately, keep the barrel pointed down at the ground safely, lock the slide back, clear the issue, then try again."

Blaise then walked him through how to unload and secure it properly when they were done.

"When you’re finished or back in a safe spot: remove the magazine first, pull the slide back fully to eject any remaining bullet, look clearly to confirm nothing is left inside, flip the safety catch on if it has one, and keep it secured at all times."

When the lesson was over, Asher looked up at him with a small, pleased smile. "Nice… I think I get it now… It’s not as complicated as I thought." Blaise nodded seriously. "Good. Just remember to switch the safety off only when you’re about to fire, and turn it right back on once you’re done. And only use it for emergencies—it draws way more attention than blades do." Asher nodded again, looking at the gun with quiet interest before tucking it safely into his waistband, then finished strapping up his gear.