Josie was hugging Alex as tight as their tired, worn-out body would allow them. Both of them were crying, now, and Alex buried his face in their neck and started to whisper “Josie, Josie,” as if saying their name enough would make up for all the times he hadn’t said it.

“It’s so hard,” they sobbed. “Everything is so fucking hard.”

“It’s okay,” he said, pulling them closer. “Shh…”

Alex wished he could help more, but he was very, very tired. In the past hour, he had experienced a zombie movie. He had fought off hordes of the undead with nothing but a stapler, suffered severe injuries, and personally incapacitated Dr. Divey after a heated fight over their callous and negligent manslaughter of Josie. Then he got into a shouting match with Marigold, who left in a crying fit, leaving him to quite literally bandage his own wounds. And then, after all of that, the shock had finally started to set in, and then he found out that Josie wasn’t even dead.

But he wasn’t going to tell them about any of that just yet. That wasn’t their problem.