~Author's Note~

After about a day of consideration, I've decided to create a one-shot series for Zombies. You guys seemed to really enjoy my first one-shot and everyone was super sweet, so I figured why not make more? As it says in the summary: prompts, ideas and requests are fully welcome! I've got a few of my own but the more the merrier.

Special thanks to reviewer Guest over on my first story for this prompt idea!

If you enjoy the story or want to see more, please leave a review with your thoughts down below! :)

Prompt:
This was awesome! I'd love to see more. Did they manage to fix Zed's Z-Band? Or has he just figured out how to maintain control without it working? I'd love to see more of Zed's thoughts on gaining and maintaining control of himself not only around those he loves, but also others!
Notes:
Semi-sequel to a girl and a zombie

Genre: Romance and small doses of Hurt/Comfort
Rating: K

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Controlling himself is not the hardest thing Zed's ever had to do in his life. No, that title goes to trying to play it cool around the girl of his dreams during his first week of high school. Controlling himself is the second hardest thing he's ever had to do in his life though and even after Addison and him tell her father about it malfunctioning, his Z-Band still acts up after the scientists mess with it.

The electric pulses that emitted from it before were no longer soothing, and his wrist was swelling up like a balloon. Zed can feel the zombie side of him gnawing at his insides, clawing and seething and begging to be let free. It's not a pleasant feeling and it affects his mood a lot more than it should.

It's only a little pain. He should be able to handle it.

How could he be a member of Seabrook's society if he couldn't control himself?

"Does it still hurt?"

Zed sighs as he grabs his math book from his locker and slams it shut, turning towards his girlfriend with a look that could kill. "Are you sure your dad had the scientists fix it? Because if anything, it feels worse than it was." His Z-Band is covered by his jacket sleeve and Zed sees her eyes flicker down to where it's hidden before they find his face again.

"I don't think my dad would stoop that low, Zed."

Zed exhales, pushing a hand violently through his mussed hair. "I know he still doesn't like me, Addy. This is just what he would need to get rid of me. If I slip up and go zombie in public, he'd be able to lock me up and throw away the key."

Addison reaches over and slips her hand into his empty one, intertwining their fingers. "First off, you aren't going to go zombie in public. You're stronger than that. And second, I'll talk to him after school today and let him know you're still having issues." She squeezes his hand, "We'll figure this out, okay? Just hang in there."

She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach his lips and kiss him and he leans down to make it easier for her after their lips are locked. He smiles after she pulls away, her hand slowly falling from his. "I'll see you after class?" She asks, a smile that lights up the hall like nothing else present on her face.

"Of course," Zed confirms, "oh and don't fail your Spanish test!"

Addison rolls her eyes, throwing a smart remark over her shoulder as she rounds the corner. "Thanks for the encouragement, Zed."

"Always dear!" He calls back, and he hears her laughter echo down the hall. He leans back against the row of lockers, math book clutched in one hand, Z-Band resting uncomfortably on the wrist of the other.

"Just hang in there, Zed," he whispers to himself, closing his eyes, "hang in there."

Addison's dad swears up one way and down the other that Zed's Z-Band is completely, one hundred percent fixed. He promises that he didn't pull any funny business or strike a deal with the scientist that had worked on it and says that maybe it's the Z-Bands' new design that has caused the constant glitches.

He offers to investigate it more and Zed leaves it hanging, preferring not to turn into the town's personal zombie lab rat. He gets used to the constant feeling of his zombie side always being there, always being a part of him, from tasteless meals to casual classes, and of course it's a hassle. But he fights it.

He fights it because he's not a monster.

He refuses to be seen as a monster any longer.

Stupid things set him off.

He blames the band because the band is changing his moods and any other time the stupidly small things wouldn't bother him at all. It starts with Zoey's new puppy chewing half the things in his room and it takes everything inside of him to not scream.

It escalates after Eliza slaps his hand away before he can press a random key on her computer to mess with her. It makes him angry, so angry that his vision flashes red and the zombie inside of him roars, but it shouldn't. It shouldn't. He was trying to mess with her and he had it coming. When Eliza asks if he's okay—"You're looking a little green there Z," he lies and says yes.

His veins turn thick and black after Bonzo accidentally knocks into the wrist that holds his Z-Band and Zed nearly snarls at him from instinct. Instead he shakes it off and plasters a fake smile on his face, pretending not to notice how easy it is to reply back in zombie that it's no big deal.

A random sophomore runs into him in the hallway at school and he nearly bites their face off, fully ready to make dessert of their arm and second-dessert from their fingers. The boy throws a hurried sorry over his shoulder as he rushes off to class, and Zed finds himself struggling to stop himself from chasing after him, instead letting his five-course meal get away.

He's never gotten mad at Addison before.

He didn't think it was possible to ever be mad at her. But it's very possible.

Something inside of him snaps when she tells him she can't hang out with him after school because she has too much homework. He hangs up the home phone with a shaky hand and screams loud enough that it booms through the empty house. There's not even anything to be mad about, Zed tries to tell himself, but his mind is just chanting brains, brains, brains like a mantra.

His tongue tastes sour all of a sudden, saliva pooling as he longs to devour somebody, anybody, everybody. He grabs at his head, tugging so hard that he nearly pulls the green strands from their roots, and he yells again, loud enough that the birds perched on the rotted fence posts outside scatter in a flurry of feathers and wings.

Sometimes the screen on his Z-Band changes.

Most of the time, even if he's almost going full zombie, it stays on a calm, green ONLINE. Sometimes however, it will change randomly, going from green to orange, from orange to red. From a firm ONLINE to an intimidating UNSTABLE and then to a final OFFLINE.

It takes a while but eventually Zed learns that no matter what color his band is on, it doesn't affect him. His band is just broke, he decides, so it's all on him to prevent himself from eating somebody's brains. The band administers the shocks and rubs his wrist raw but doesn't actually do its job. The band is nothing more than another chain shackling him to the brick wall labeling him as a flesh-eating zombie.

He's more than a flesh-eating zombie.

He fights the anger.

He rebels against the monster raging inside him.

He stops the thought process.

Addison's proud of him. She is so, so proud of him that it makes his heart swell and his head spin. They opt for a night-in instead of a night-out one weekend. Zed's dad is okay with them coming over as long as they don't share a bed, which is understandable. Addison and Zed follow the rules and share the couch, Addison nestled into Zed's side, one of his arms slung around her. Zoey joins them on the couch until it's time for her to go to bed, and she gives them both a hug around the neck before running upstairs, Puppy following behind her, ever the loyal pet.

The swelling on Zed's wrist had gone down but the skin around the band was still a dark shade of red. Addison finds herself staring at his arm as a commercial plays on the television and Zed flinches back when her petite fingers brush over the damaged skin unexpectedly.

"Addy—"

He starts, directing his attention away from the TV so he can look down at her. Addison's already pulling his hand towards her stomach, holding it there gently as her thumb strokes his aching skin. "Why can't we just take the band off?" The question catches Zed off-guard.

"Take it . . . off?" He repeats, checking to make sure he heard her right.

Addison's thumb moves in a comforting motion across his skin. It's careful too; not too much pressure nor too little. Right, left. Up, down. Right, left. "Yeah. Can you get in trouble for it?" Zed ponders the idea for a moment, the television crackling as the signal fades out for a few seconds.

"I don't know."

Addison lifts her head to meet Zed's gaze, and then they jump up from the couch in a tangle of limbs. They browse every zombie handbook Zed's father owns. None of the rules specifically say that a zombie has to have a Z-Band. At the most, they just say that a zombie isn't allowed to run rouge and eat brains.

Bending the rules isn't breaking them.

Eliza is able to get Zed's Z-Band off.

It's an amazing feeling, not having something clamped down on your wrist, holding you back, holding you down. When air, fresh outside air, hits his sore skin he can't help but cheer, whooping loud and jumping around. Addison's watching from next to Eliza. She can't help but let out a laugh at her boyfriend's childish behavior. Then Zed runs over to Addison and dips her, bringing her up and into a deep kiss.

"Seriously?" Eliza demands, and when she doesn't get an answer she rolls her eyes and allows a long-suffering sigh to escape her. "You two are sickening."

"Sickening sweet," Zed chimes as he pulls back from his girlfriend and wiggles his eyebrows at his best friend, "I think you're just jealous."

Eliza doesn't look amused. "Hey Zed. Come here, I think your Z-Band misses you."

Zed takes off in the opposite direction.

Addison and Eliza share a knowing look and then crack small smiles.

At least—at last—their boy is free.

It's not easy controlling his zombie side.

It's not hard remembering why he does.