Undead Boyfriend: Nemo Part Three (special preview)

You’re used to the smell of antiseptic, the harsh thick wafts of the chemicals used to clean the clinic’s halls. It had become all you knew once you took on your position at the clinic with Nemo. It had become your home, your life, and you were so exceedingly grateful for it. Not so long ago you didn’t even have a roof over your head. The scent around you then were not pleasant ones either; It was of gasoline and garbage, your own body odor. It was a scent that haunted you at night, crushing upon you into believing that all around you isn’t yours.

You wake in a cold sweat, terrified that you will reach out into cold air, huddled in a corner of some abandoned building. Only when that soft perfume reaches your nose do you feel at peace, do you realize you’re home.

Asha lays beside you, soft hair spilled over a pillow, her long ears resting against the pillowed headboard. She stirs only slightly to reach out to you and place her hand upon you. You could cry from such a touch. 

Easing back down into bed, you try to memorize everything. The feeling of the sheets, the warmth of Asha’s hand, the delicate scent of her hair that lays on your pillow. You smile to yourself, wondering if she will ever understand how important this is to you.

“Can’t you sleep?” Her crackly, sleep addled voice takes your breath away.

“It was a bad dream,” you admit guiltily. “Don’t wake up because of me.”

Asha grunts softly as she moves closer, wrapping her arms around you so your head rests upon her chest. She strokes your hair, the back of your neck. “You need to sleep. You’ve been working so hard lately with everything happening.”

Tears prickle in your eyes, you can’t help it. Even after all this time, it still stuns your soul that you have this. “So have you.”

“I will survive some lack of sleep, you, my little mortal, need it more than ever.” Asha kisses the top of your head. “There’s so much sickness right now,” she murmurs with dread. “You and Nemo are working so hard, I’m trying to keep up.”

Ever since the virus began during the new year, Nemo had been preparing the clinic to take on as many patients as possible. The news seemed to be downplaying it, claiming that it would not effect the day to day life people took for granted. Yet Nemo seemed panicked, like he couldn’t do enough, open enough rooms, find enough beds. Asha had started helping in his efforts as well, working to expand the clinic so that it could be a fully operational hospital.

Then, it had a name. This looming cloud of dread had begun spreading across the world. It was not some flu, which was false information being spread. It was so much worse, it was so unknown and frightening. Once Covid19 was beginning to be taken seriously, it was too late.

You too had been working hard on getting everything prepared. You followed Nemo and Asha’s example, taking everything as seriously as possible. You were the administrator for the clinic, it was your job to make sure the computer system and it’s database are working smoothly. You’ve organized patient files and created a system that makes it easier for Nemo to do his job. Now, you were preparing the staff, and getting the clinic ready for this perfect storm.

Nemo had been renovating the clinic as it was, updating and fixing rooms, as well as adding on. He had been preparing the top floors, which had basically been abandoned and used for storage, to make a new apartment for you, Asha, and him to share soon. But progress on it had been halted in order to hasten the progress on the clinic floor. Nemo had been working tirelessly as the outbreak came to your door. He did not require rest, but you could tell he was going to work himself into a frenzy, but he refused to leave his patients.

Asha’s soft skin rubbing against your arm feels like the only anchor you have right now. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes blur as more tears fill them. You close our eyes and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the romantic scent of Asha’s hair. “How do you talk to people who are so afraid?” You whisper. “I want to give comfort to the patients, to the people wanting to know about their loved ones, but I can’t-” Your voice catches painfully in your throat. “I can’t seem to find a way to get through my own fear.”