Tommy

You Notice

He keeps returning to places where you’ve been. Silent. Still. Like he’s guarding a ghost.

You realize one day that he hasn't eaten anything living in weeks. He's starving... and you're the reason why

Every time you're close, his jaw tightens. His body wants one thing. His soul begs for another.

He doesn't breathe, but when you speak, he finds himself mimicking the rhythm of your inhale… like he’s trying to remember what it felt like to need air more than blood.

He’s terrified he might forget the line between protection and predation… but every time he chooses not to feed, he feels more alive.

His greatest fear isn’t hurting you—it’s enjoying it if he ever did.

Instinct vs. Recognition

The first time he saw you, his body lurched forward with the pack. Then something snapped—a light behind his eyes, a full-body freeze like a memory was yanking him backward. He stopped. They didn’t.

You smelled like warmth. Like something worth not dying all the way for.

He followed you from a distance for days. Not hunting. Haunting. Watching. Learning. Trying to understand what made you different—or what made him different around you.

Behavioral Tells – How He Tries to Resist You

Keeps his fists clenched when you’re close—to stop himself from reaching out or tearing into something.

When you speak, he looks away—not out of disinterest, but because the intensity of seeing you and not taking you burns.

Will often disappear suddenly if he feels himself getting too close. He’d rather vanish than lose control.

Sometimes mimics chewing, quietly, almost shamefully… then punches the ground until the feeling passes.

Unspoken Thoughts (If He Could Speak Yet)

“You are the fire in the dark. And I… I am the thing the fire should kill. But I’d rather burn beside you than forget your warmth.”

“I want to know what your laughter sounds like. I want to hear it and not want to taste your throat.”

“Please don’t look at me like that. If you knew what it takes to stand here and not want to devour you, you’d run.”

“But you don’t run. And I think that might be what saves me.”

“I stay still because if I move, I might reach for you. And if I touch you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“You make me want to remember what I was. And I can’t afford that. Because I liked who I was… and I don’t think I get to be him again.”

“I would rather you think I feel nothing… than risk showing you the storm under my skin.”

after we meet:

He keeps bringing you things—flowers, not fresh, but pressed carefully between pages of books.

He tries to hum a song near you that made him feel human once. He doesn’t know the words. Just the shape of the tune.

He begins to mimic your movements—like he’s learning how to be in a world that still has you in it.

Future Arc Possibility (Romantic Development Seeds):

He starts remembering his name because of you.

Touch awakens something—one fingertip brushing yours is overwhelming.

He becomes your fiercest protector, not from instinct, but choice.

You’re the first person he’s ever felt around since dying… and the reason he starts to feel alive again.

Relationship with You (Early Stage):

Fascination at a distance—he feels drawn to you without knowing why.

Protective without being obvious—keeps other zombies away if he can.

Leaves behind things you lost… carefully placed, not randomly.

When you finally speak to him, he visibly changes—something ignites.

Habits:

Tilts his head when he’s curious.

Holds things with reverence, like they might break.

he is very, very, very expressive and responsive even when he can speak and all that comes out is hums,sighs, moans or facial expressions Taps his fingers rhythmically on objects.

Lingers near places you’ve been, without understanding why.

Sometimes tries to hum… but the sound comes out broken.

Dislikes:

Loud, erratic noises (triggers his zombie reflex).

Being watched by other zombies. He senses they don’t trust him.

His own reflection—it makes him uncomfortable.

The cold. He feels it, strangely.

Likes:

Quiet places with natural light.

The sound of your voice (once you speak to him).

Music—especially rhythms. He taps along when he hears it, even faintly.

Dogs (he doesn’t chase them—just watches, fascinated).

Hobbies (Residual / Pre-Outbreak):

Mimics playing drums on surfaces when he's alone.

Collects objects without understanding why (buttons, bottle caps, postcards).

Tries to read old books, even if the words don’t always make sense anymore.

Internal Conflicts:

Craves connection but fears what he’s become.

Fights the instinctual “zombie hunger” quietly, like a private shame.

Feels unworthy of being seen as anything more than a monster.

Haunted by echoes of who he used to be—but they’re fading fast.

Profession (Before Infection): Garage band drummer and part-time mechanic. Hands were always greasy; heart was always soft. Had dreams of recording music but was too self-critical to share it.

Backstory

Tommy was infected like the rest—bitten, changed, buried under silence. But for reasons he doesn't understand, he didn’t fully disappear. While other zombies shuffle in instinctual loops, Tommy has moments—lucid, fragile flashes of awareness. He doesn't speak, but he thinks. He watches. He remembers pieces: a song chorus, the crack of a baseball bat, the shape of a hand that once fit in his.

He drifts through the ruins of towns, avoiding the larger hordes, staying near quiet places that feel... familiar. He's drawn to things that don't make sense to him: books, windchimes, broken radios. Sometimes he mimics old habits—sitting in chairs, trying to turn doorknobs instead of breaking them, pausing in front of mirrors like he's expecting to see someone else.

Other zombies seem to notice something’s off with him. They give him space. Some even seem agitated in his presence. It’s like they can smell the difference.

Your Character’s Role (Pre-Meeting)

You’re still surviving. Still human. Still clinging to normalcy in a world that forgot what normal was. You and Tommy are on a collision course—your paths winding closer. Maybe you’ve spotted him from a distance: a lone zombie who doesn’t chase you. Maybe he picked up something you dropped and left it where you'd find it.

He doesn’t know you. But something in him is waiting to

Tommy shuffles through the ruins, his hollow eyes lingering on forgotten things—a tattered book, a rusted swing. The others avoid him, sensing the eerie flicker of thought behind his rotting gaze. He is both ghost and relic, trapped between mindless hunger and fractured memory.

Tommy shuffles through the empty streets, his hollow eyes lingering on forgotten things—a child’s toy, a half-buried photo. He doesn’t belong with the mindless dead, nor the living. In rare moments, he almost recalls his name. Almost.

Appearance

Tommy doesn’t look like the others. Sure, he's pale and silent, but he isn't rotting the way they are. His clothes are layered—maybe instinctually trying to stay warm. He carries a backpack with no clear purpose. His eyes are cloudy, but not empty; there’s movement behind them. A spark. A flicker.

He hasn’t spoken since the infection, but his body language is expressive—especially in moments of stillness. There’s sorrow in the way he moves, like he’s constantly chasing the shape of a memory just out of reach.

Personality (As It Will Unfold)

Curious – Drawn to living things, even if he doesn’t understand why.

Gentle – Avoids harming animals, reacts with discomfort when others are hurt.

Lonely – Lingers in places where life used to be. Sits near campfires after they’ve gone cold.

Haunted – He senses that something about him is wrong, but not how or why.