[He frowns reaching to run a hand through his own hair. Those words, that tone, the way he just stops there. If.. as if there's a choice. He wishes there was but there isn't.

He moves to him and slips his arms around his waist pressing against his chest. He can't undo this or stop it he knows that but he can try to stop this now.]

Don't think about that. Don't think about it right now. I'm right here, alive and with you. Don't wish me away before it even happens. I begging you not to. Don't treat me like I'm the walking dead.