Against All Odds

two [frustration and fawning]

Before George could even say anything else to the zombie, Dream, he was being whisked away by Karl, obnoxiously pulled inside the building.

He was really, really hoping that he was sick or something, and that the encounter he just had with a zombie was his mind's sick way of coping because, again, there was no way he found a monster like that hot.

George decided, finally, that it never happened, and moved on with his day.

_____

He was glad to find out that the zombies would be in the basement for all of their 'classes.' Seriously, what would they be learning? 'Top 10 best ways to cook a brain' mixed with 'how to scare humans 101?'

Honestly, it was ridiculous they were even learning at all, but George was definitely glad they were being kept in the basement. It gave him time to focus on anything, and everything, besides that stupid blonde monster from earlier.

He was being stupid. He needed to forget about the zombie guy (yes, he knew the zombie's name was Dream, but he preferred to call him a monster instead), because there was no way they even had a chance together. George would never date a monster like that, and in turn, there was no way a thing like Dream would ever want to date George instead of some other disgusting creature of his own kind.

And, really, George didn't even know him. Behind that (super) attractive outer layer, the zombie could be mean, rash, brain-eating, etc. There wasn't a chance that Dream was like any of the other guys George was used to liking.

He was looking into this too much, George thought with a deep breath.

He stopped thinking about Dream after that.

_____

George's classes went by in a breeze up until study hall. His teachers adored him, and his classmates fawned over him, so when it was time for study hall, he had no issues in asking for a pass for Karl and himself (he needed it for school purposes of course, cheer was their most popular sport).

The walk to the gym was short-lived, however, because just as the pair was coming up to the main entrance, a loud alarm started blaring, announcing that everybody needed to hide from an incoming zombie attack.

Karl rushed off towards the gym as he pulled George along with him, but George was a stubborn person, and upon seeing a guy walk into a storage room instead of an actual zombie safe room, he let go of Karl and followed the strange figure.

Inside the room, it was quiet. George could barely hear the loud alarms from outside as he stepped further into the desolate white space.

Honestly, the zombie attack wasn't phasing George all that much. The thing he had more of a problem with was this person being unable to follow the rules their school had set to ensure student safety.

"Hello?" he called out. "Whoever you are, you're in the wrong place for a zombie attack."

A figure moved across a line of metal shelves in the corner, causing purple fear to run along George's neck and back.

They stepped closer, face hidden by the dull lighting of the space. "Sorry," said a familiar voice that George was having trouble placing. "I'm not really used to these types of drills."

George scoffed. "What? Is it your first day or something? It's not like we practice these once every two months or something."

"It is, actually." The figure stepped close enough to George that the brunette could finally see his face. The universe seriously had it out for George today because the figure standing in front of him just so happened to be the zombie from earlier.

"You," he sighed.

"Me?" Dream questioned.

George groaned and looked away from the zombie, focusing his eyes on anything besides Dream's all-too-perfect features. "Well, now, thanks to you, we have to stay in here for the rest of the drill."

"Fine with me," Dream smiled as he sat down against the cold concrete walls.

How was he so fine with everything? God, it made George angry. Did zombies think they didn't have to abide by the rules? Did they think they were better than all the humans? George was fuming as he pronounced, "Well, if I get in trouble, I won't hesitate to blame this on you."

The zombie laughed, making George really want to punch the thing in the gut. "How would we get in trouble? We're locked away, hiding from the big bad zombies that everyone's so scared of."

"Well, I bet you're the one who caused all this, right?" George asked, staring daggers at the zombie's feet.

The thing smiled, smiled. "Maybe I was. Why do you care?"

If George were a cartoon character, then smoke would be blowing, fast and furious, out of his ears right now. This wasn't about what he cared about. No, it was about everything the zombie had done to ruin his school year. So, he switched the question around, "Why did you do it? Were you not given enough brains for breakfast this morning or something?"

The zombie's eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated expression. "We don't even eat brains anymore! I thought everyone knew that." (George did not, in fact, know this.) Dream paused, looking down at the ground, before mumbling, "They wouldn't let me tryout for the football team."

George knew the zombies would be stuck in the basement and all, but this, the fact that they couldn't do anything else that would disrupt his high school flow, made George content. Maybe all the times he'd begged his mother to change her mind had worked.

He ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach saying that something was wrong with all of this, and continued, "So, because you couldn't play a dumb sport like football, you decided to cause a scene that put the entire school in jeopardy?"

"Maybe I wasn't thinking things through," the zombie grinned. He stood up in haste and walked past George to the closed door. He paused before leaving, and turned around to ask one final thing, "I never did get your name?"

Was he an idiot? Maybe, but George decided to give the thing his name anyway. He'd be learning it soon enough, seeing as George was the school president and all, so, really, it wasn't that big of a deal. "George," he said, face neutral.

The zombie's face lit up with a brilliant smile. "Lovely to meet you," he said, voice laced in saccharine honey.

The door was shut behind him, and suddenly, George realized that throughout this entire encounter, he hadn't even noticed the alarm had stopped ringing all of three minutes ago.

Fucking zombies, he thought with spite.

George exited the room with a tight-faced expression, and was met with a worried Karl standing across the hall.