Cold fingertips attached to an equally cold hand slid across his torso, alerting him to another’s presence and affectively waking him up from his light slumber. He didn't particularly like to sleep, and he most certainly didn't do it often, but when he did finally manage to will himself to lie down and rest his mind for a few hours he did not like to be disturbed.
And so, turning around abruptly to see exactly who had woken him up, B came face to face with your scrunched up, sad face.
"What is it?" he asked, to which you only managed to cling onto him more. You pulled at his white shirt and wrapped your legs firmly around his waist as best you could with the both of you lying on your side in bed. B stretched his head back a bit, trying to ascertain what possibly could have you so upset. Nothing was wrong with you physically, so it must be something else.
"Did you have a nightmare?" he questioned.
You only whimpered lightly and replied, "No."
"Then what is wrong?"
"I-it's..." you said quietly, looking up at him to make sure he took you seriously. “There's something tapping at our door."
That was it? The dark haired man felt slightly miffed, but decided to humor your fear for now. "I'll go check on it, then," he said and gently pried your hands away from his chest and scooted towards the end of the bed.
"No!" you shouted at him, the shrill tone of your voice surprising him and he turned his head slowly towards you.
Once again, he found himself reiterating the same question he'd been saying for the last five minutes. "What is wrong?"
With your eyes wide, B's pillow in your arms, you told him exactly what worried you in a whisper.
"I think it's the zombies."