dead poets society oneshots

all the bad dreams that you hide

this is a the last of us AU...bare with me, im experiencing sever brain rot

Though Neil had spent the majority of his life, making his way through a rather deadly apocolyps, he still struggled with using a gun.
It was odd, in the first place that a seventeen year old had to know his way around a gun, or well it would’ve been odd hadn't they lived in this world, now it was more odd that Neil couldn't aim to save his life.
Literally.

He was trying his very best to keep a steady hand, pointing his gun straight, not messing up, not shooting Charlie.
There were so many infected around them, Neil‘s whole body was trembling, sure they might not have seen them, but he was sure the beating of his heart was so loud, it'd get all three of them killed any second.

Charlie was hurt badly, his leg was almost entirely broken and he couldn't have run out of here, Neil knew they had to carry him.
There was a clicker hardly 6 feet away.
If they didn't move or act or shoot fastly, Charlie would not stand a chance, but Neil was being held by the shoulder.
His father had a strong grip, keeping him reminded to not shoot until absolutely necessary, and techinically he was right, if Neil shot one of them, it'd alarm all the rest, but if he didn't, they'd take notice of his best friend sooner or later.

The clicker made its terrifying sound, that made Neil feel sick to his stomach and, twisting nauseating, moved closer.
Neil's dad was slightly pulling him away.
Neil twisted in his grip, lowering the gun, preparing to somehow get it across that they were not leaving Charlie behind, however he had realized his mistake hardly a moment too late.

The gun clicked quietly when it was lowerd. Quietly, but still loud enough so all of the 4 clickers took notice of their existence.
Then, everything happend fast.
"Move!" Neil got harshley pushed to the floor and his Father shot the one closest right in what might've once been its brain.
Blood splashed and Neil gasped, feeling like he'd be sick any moment.

"We need to get out of here now!" He frantically looked over to where Charlie had scooted in a little corner, unable to move, unable to run.

"But what about—"

His father groand loudly, aiming and shooting the next one coming too close to where Neil was on the floor, "We can't save everyone, Neil."

But it wasn't that easy. Not for Neil.
Charlie was everything he really had left. The only one who ment something to him, that didn't die on him yet.
His father was diffrent, he loved him sure, but he knew when it came down to it, Neil wasn't his first priority.
He had never been.

He shakily got up, loading the gun again, ready to get to help as best as he could, "We need to take him with us."

The clicker who'd been the farest away was rushing towards them. Neil knew they only had seconds before either that one would kill them, or the one close to Charlie him.
His father also knew that, or Neil thought he did.
He reloaded his gun swiftly, aiming, but he wasn't aiming at either of the infected. He was aiming at Charlie.

"We aren't. Look, we aren't gonna have him be infected. But we're not taking him, now go and run."

Neil panicked. He felt frozen. His own father would kill his very best friend. The one he loved most.
He knew the only thing that he could do.
He got out his own gun, aiming it with shaky hands to his fathers arm.
If he was unable to shoot, Charlie wouldn't be dying tonight.
He wouldn't be.

Neils entire arm was trembling and he pulled the trigger.
Now, even though he'd lived in the apocolyps for 12 years, Neil was no good at using a gun.
And he was terrified on top of this.
So, no, his ammunition did not go to his dads arm. He missed by hardly a few inches, but enough to shoot right to his chest.