#(realizing all this time she never got to grieve properly.. he tells her to move on. go find goro and all that WHYY) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scorched-sunrise · 11 months ago

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TIMING: Last week LOCATION: Emilio’s apartment, Worm Row PARTIES: Ophelia (@scorched-sunrise) & Emilio (@mortemoppetere) SUMMARY: Ophelia has some bad news and asks Emilio to meet her and talk. It goes about as well as you’d expect. CONTENT WARNINGS: Child death (mentions), parental death (mentions)

—

This wasn't really something that should have been explained over text, and so instead of using her phone to tell her uncle that something bad had happened to his brother, she instead only said that she needed to see him, needed to talk to him. He told her to meet him at the apartment in Worm Row, which is where she stood now, her hood pulled up and hands stuffed in her pockets.

She felt sick to her stomach, anxious of what his response might be. Would he care? She wanted him to fucking care. She wanted someone, anyone to care as much as she did that the warden had gone missing, and the thought that she might be the only one left well and truly broke her heart. He wasn't a good person, she knew that, but surely he'd made some kind of positive impact on someone in this damn town, right? His own brother should have been an easy answer, but even that was fraught with contention.

Heaving a sigh, Ophelia trudged up the front steps and into the unlocked building (how secure!), taking the stairs over that creepy, busted-ass elevator that would probably strand her, knowing her luck. She moved down the familiar hallway to the familiar door that was similarly never locked, giving a quick rap of her knuckles before pushing it open.

“Tío?” she called into the apartment, stepping inside and closing the door with her foot. “You here already?”

—

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and there was so much dread pooled in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t breathe around it. He should have seen it coming, really; he’d been starting to feel okay again with Lucio gone, starting to feel less like a monument of grief and more like something resembling himself, and how long could a thing like that last? How long could he expect to feel decent when he knew he didn’t deserve it?

Ophelia asked him to meet her, and she wouldn’t have done that if there wasn’t something wrong. She’d told him where Rhett was in a text, was probably happy to have that be the last communication that existed between them given Emilio’s inability to react the way she needed him to react. She’d been frustrated with him, with hunters in general, and he understood that. So she wouldn’t have asked to meet him if there weren’t something wrong.

He got to the apartment early. That old paranoia that lived and breathed in his chest wouldn’t allow anything less. He scoped it out four times, as if he didn’t know it like the back of his hands. He circled the building twice on his motorcycle, walked the entire hall upon his arrival, looked in every room of the empty apartment. Something was wrong. He was just waiting to figure out what.

Her voice called out through the open door, and Emilio pulled himself from the bare, dirty mattress in the bedroom to trudge out into the living area. “Here,” he confirmed, eyes darting over her carefully. No obvious signs of injury, and that was good. But she seemed… different. Anxious. He didn’t know if he was imagining it. “You okay?”

—

For some reason, she'd expected this conversation to be easy to start. He's gone, she'd say, and then explain what happened. What did happen? Her mother—sun above, her mother. Ophelia’s dark eyes met Emilio's and she felt her throat constrict.

No. Don't.

He asked if she was okay and her lower lip trembled. She'd been holding it in all this time, since that morning… she hadn't allowed herself to properly grieve the parent that was actually dead, desperate as she was to cling to her hope that the other was still alive somewhere. She wasn't okay. She was so fucking far from okay and she hadn't even realized it.

Don't break down. Don't do it. She scolded herself into controlling the quiver in her voice and the way her hands shook despite being clenched into fists, staring at Emilio as a suspicious silence stretched out between them.

“I��” Speaking without bursting into tears felt like an insurmountable summit, forcing her to stop and take a sharp breath. “... I moved… into town.” What the fuck? What the fuck am I saying? That's not what I came here for. She breathed out, hating the way the sigh stuttered without her consent. “My… um. My m-mom, she's… She, um…” Her voice pitched higher as she lost the battle, and her hands unclenched and flew to her face, splaying over her cheeks and eyes. The first sob was silent, wracking her tall frame as her shoulders hunched and she tucked her head down, trying to hide from Emilio. “She's dead?” It sounded like a question more than a statement, like she still couldn't believe it herself.

—

The look on her face was a haunted thing. Her lip trembled, her eyes were big, and Emilio suddenly felt so far out of his depth that even the thought of attempting to tread water was exhausting. Fathers and uncles grew into things with the kids in their lives. He’d gone from understanding babies to understanding toddlers as Flora and Jaime aged, was starting to understand young children before the massacre took him from being a father and an uncle to nothing at all instead. He knew how to soothe meltdowns spun over problems that seemed small to adults and monumental to six-year-olds, knew how to be a passable uncle to a boy who hadn’t yet learned how to tie his shoes. But…

Whatever had Ophelia’s face twisted into this expression of uncertain grief was doubtlessly bigger than the things he’d helped Jaime overcome. He knew how to be the uncle to a six year old; he hadn’t yet figured out how to do the same for a kid in her twenties. He wasn’t particularly good at comforting Nora or Wynne, either. Still, he tried. He approached Ophelia carefully, cautious as one might approach a coiled snake.

She spoke, claiming she’d moved into town, and that pool of dread grew deeper. She’d seemed happy, when she’d talked about Rhett up on the mountain. Nervous, but happy. She’d had her family in one spot and, for her, it had been good. For her to be here now…

Emilio’s mouth felt dry. His heart was pounding, and he thought back to that factory, to the moment he’d walked in and been so sure that his brother was dead. The water was rising, filling his lungs, his nose, his ears. Ophelia spoke, and it was muffled. Her mother was dead, and wouldn’t it have been Rhett who’d killed her? Hadn’t that been what he’d always wanted? Ophelia spoke of a promise the first time Emilio went with her to meet her father, and Emilio was no warden, but he knew what that must have meant. Ophelia’s mother was dead, and Rhett had wanted it that way for as long as Emilio had known him. And he’d made a promise, and —

And Ophelia was standing in front of him looking broken, and he couldn’t ask. He couldn’t demand answers from a kid who’d clearly had her fucking world torn apart. Her mother was dead, and maybe his brother was, too. The thought made him nauseous, made him want to pull his hair out and kick at the ground until his bad knee gave out and slam his fist through the fucking wall, but there was a kid in his living room looking shattered and it wasn’t his place to fall apart now just like it hadn’t been his place to fall apart in the car driving Rhett home from the hospital. Emilio could break in private, the way he always had. For now, he needed to be the uncle he should have been for Jaime.

“Come here,” he said, taking her arm and gently guiding her over to the sofa. He sat her on the cushion before trailing into the kitchen, pulling one of the two glasses he owned down from the cabinet and filling it with water from the sink. He brought it over, pressing it carefully into her hands. “Do you… want to tell me what happened? It’s okay if you don’t. It’s okay. But I—” I need to know about Rhett. I need to know what happened to my brother. I need to know if I should go up and try to find his body. He buried my daughter, my wife. I need to know if I have to bury him. His eyes stung, and he looked away, silently berating himself. He had to keep it together here. No outbursts, no getting lost in the depths of his broken mind. He needed to be present, needed to be functional for once in his sorry fucking life.

—

Ophelia was so much like her father in that moment, even if she didn’t know it. Fighting with everything she had to keep the door barred shut, to not let the tidal wave overcome her. She would surely drown if she did. The look on her face was one of miserable fury, as stiff as an iron mask, plastered there with the hope that it would keep everything else from crumbling to pieces. She let herself be led to the couch, let herself be sat down and stared blankly ahead as she heard her uncle rummaging around in the kitchen with glassware and the faucet. Her gaze didn’t leave the floor when he pressed the water into her hands, her brows pinched in the center as she scowled so deeply that it made her face ache.

Emilio asked if she wanted to talk about it. She knew why, really. If he was anything like Rhett, it wasn't because he thought he could make her feel better—who could, anyway? But he wanted to know about his brother. He wanted to know if Ophelia had found him dead beside her mother. If he'd killed her mother. Seeing the way they'd been the night before, it felt impossible. She couldn't believe it, she wouldn't. And besides, he hadn't been there. And the note… and the missing fae… no. Her parents were both the victims in this scenario. Ruminating on it made her start to run hot, her hands gripping the glass of water tightly as her anger rose.

The water was lightly steaming before she answered, speaking through her teeth, her jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “He's gone. They took him.” She was shaking, letting the news settle over the room for a few seconds before abruptly standing up from the sofa and hurling the glass of water across the room. It shattered loudly against the wall, but the sound was nothing compared to the scream the girl let loose—it was equal parts devastated and incensed, shorter than the wail she'd released at her mother's side but just as jarring. “They took him, tío!” She whipped around to face Emilio, tears streaking her face. “They killed my mother and took my father away and—and left a fucking note! I'd burn that whole place to the ground if I could,” she snarled, rabid in her righteous hatred, not caring if there were fae there that had treated her like family—any who still remained after what had been done deserved death, that much she knew.

Her gaze snapped down from where it had been fixed on the wall, picturing bodies on fire. It fell upon Emilio, who until this point hadn't been given much of a chance to speak. “I'm still looking for him. I'll find him. I'll save him. And those motherfuckers are going to pay.”

—

There were things that got easier with practice. When he was a kid, his mother had him throw knives until his fingers bled, until blisters formed on his hands and his palms cracked open. He repeated the process every day until calluses grew, until those same fingers were reshaped through repetition of the same actions over and over and over again. The same thing had happened to his feet when she made him stand still for hours at a time, starting the clock over with each fidget. The first time she’d tossed him in the lake, he’d nearly drowned. The second time, he’d been able to swim to shore with less struggling. Life was hard, she told him. Everything in the goddamn world wanted to kill you. But there were things that got easier with practice.

And there were things that didn’t.

He didn’t even remember the first loss he’d suffered. His father was dead before Emilio was old enough to memorize the lines of his face, a ghost haunting the beginning of his story who’d be irrelevant by the end of it. Then he was twelve, and his uncle went into the woods with his brother and came back alone. Then at thirty-two, he had more tombstones in his heart than he did names of living people. But no calluses grew. No blisters burst and hardened with the repetition. He practiced and he practiced and he practiced, and it still felt just as raw. He was still floundering and fighting and gasping for breath like it was the first time he’d ever been tossed in the lake.

It didn’t feel fair. Hadn’t he just done this? Hadn’t he just found Rhett’s cane on the sidewalk and come to terms with the fact that he’d been taken by people who wanted him dead? Hadn’t he just tracked him down and pulled him out with one less limb to speak of, hadn’t he just gone from accepting that his brother was dead to finding him alive and angry? Was this supposed to give him more practice? Was this supposed to make him feel better? If this was the real thing, then what had that factory been? A trial run, a rehearsal dinner? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

But it was less fair to Ophelia.

There was steam coming from the glass, and then the glass was shattering against the wall, and Emilio was too numb to make a joke about how he only had two glasses. He stared at the broken glass gleaming on the dirty carpet with an expression of dull interest, as if the world wasn’t ending all over again. As if it had ever stopped.

He knew the odds here. Rhett had barely survived being taken by two people, and he was so much weaker now. Had he even had any weapons on him? Emilio doubted the fae in Ophelia’s community had been keen to allow a warden to keep his blades even if he had been allowed to remain temporarily among them. And he’d been out of it, Ophelia had said, slept for days after his trek up the mountain. What chance did he have against a whole group of fae, if they wanted him dead? What was he hoping for here? Was the best case scenario that his brother had been given a quick death, or that he was still alive and suffering torture? He knew which option Rhett would have preferred. Did it make him a terrible person that he thought he’d be happier with the alternative? At least that would give him something to save.

(Ophelia seemed certain that he was still alive. He could see it in her determined scowl, hear it in the tone of her voice. But Ophelia had less practice than him. When it came to this kind of thing, Emilio thought he might be the closest thing there was to a pro.)

“You shouldn’t do it alone.” His voice sounded hoarse, sounded uncertain, sounded like it was coming from someone else. “He was — He’s my brother. I want to help. Whatever there is to do, I want to help.” If Rhett was alive, wasn’t it Emilio’s job to bring him home? And if he wasn’t… Didn’t Emilio owe it to him to repay the favor he’d given him years ago, when he’d dug two graves in the aftermath of a massacre? “You want to make them pay, I can help with that. I’m good at that. You shouldn’t do it alone.”

—

There was no doubt in Ophelia’s mind that Emilio would be well equipped to deal with the fae once they were found—he was a hunter, after all. Dealing with supernatural threats was his bread and fucking butter, even if fae were more outside his wheelhouse. He’d grown up with Rhett, sure he’d learned a thing or two. Yes, he’d be a useful ally in taking them down, but it was the finding them part that concerned her…

“Home was in the mountains, Emilio. You can’t…” She glanced down at his knee, the one always giving him trouble. “... it won’t be easy to find them. The warm weather is erasing their tracks. I can fly, I can see more, look faster, but…” But I probably can't kill them all on my own. She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself and trying to talk herself down from this elevated emotional state. She was running hot, too hot, and she didn’t want to suddenly become a danger to the one person she had left. “When I figure out where they are, or get any solid leads, I’ll tell you. I know you can… help take care of them.” She wasn’t a stranger to fighting—her mother had taught her how to defend herself, and her mother had learned from Rhett. But that didn’t mean she could handle seven or eight or however many it was all at once, especially when they would be expecting this from her. They’d killed her mother, after all, how could they not expect an attempt at revenge?

Knowing that she had support did something to quell her fire, though, and she brought a hand to her face as that grief came rushing back, mixing with the anger and diluting it down into something less explosive. Her core temperature was dropping as she moved back to the couch, sitting beside Emilio again and wringing her hands in her lap. “Sorry about the glass,” she offered, leaning against his shoulder. “Sorry… for—” Her voice caught in her throat and she clamped her mouth shut, hating the way the tears said more than she ever could.

—

It was like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, the way she looked down at his bad leg. Emilio liked to pretend the limb was better off than it was, liked to act as though it didn’t bother him nearly as much as it did. He was still plenty capable, wasn’t he? He could still fight with the best of them, still hold his own against undead monsters and assholes in bar fights even if he couldn’t manage a flight of stairs. But there were things he couldn’t do. A trek in the mountains would be difficult. But it wasn’t impossible, was it?

“Rhett managed it,” he ground out, and he wasn’t sure if it was his brother’s name or the reminder of his own inadequacy that left that ache in his chest. Rhett had managed a mountain trek with one leg missing, and Emilio was uncertain if he could do it with both still attached. (Maybe it was because Rhett had had damn good motivation. Climbing a mountain in the interest of getting far away from Emilio was probably far easier than sticking around.) “I’m a detective, mija. I know you can find them on your own, but I can help. I can make it quicker.” Because it would need to be, wouldn’t it? If there was any chance at all that Rhett was still alive (and Emilio found himself believing it less and less the more he thought about it, though he wouldn’t say as much to Ophelia), they’d need to uncover his location quickly.

That ache in his chest only grew as her weight leaned against him. He thought of Rhett, the way he’d found him in the woods after that massacre, the way he’d vowed to help Emilio find his vengeance only for Emilio to abandon him the moment he realized Rhett was one more person he could lose. That was what they’d done, wasn’t it? Emilio and Rhett had abandoned one another over and over again, finding some new excuse to walk away after each disagreement. Sometimes, it was as simple as not wanting to see one another kill themselves for bodies long buried. Other times, it went deeper. Their ideologies shifted over the years, Rhett’s in one direction and Emilio’s in the other. If Rhett had stayed, how long would it have been before they were at each other’s throats again? Before there was another kid locked in Rhett’s van, before Emilio befriended someone Rhett thought he shouldn’t?

He wondered, absently, if it would be the same with Ophelia. After all, he was still a hunter, wasn’t he? Ophelia was angry, wanted the people who’d killed her mother dead, and Emilio could give her that. But what happened after? She’d expressed distaste for how he referred to himself in the past, for how hunters spoke and acted, and Emilio couldn’t change that. So how long would it be before Ophelia, like her father, took issue with some part of who Emilio was? He shook the thought away. It was better, he figured, to focus on the present issue. They would avenge his niece’s mother. They would avenge his brother, her father. And then, they’d worry about whatever came after.

“You don’t have to apologize, kid,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around her. He wasn’t very good at offering comfort, but he liked to think he was learning. This was the kind of thing that was supposed to make people feel better, wasn’t it? “You don’t have to apologize to me. It was an ugly glass, anyway.”

—

“Yeah, well Rhett is an idiot,” she countered, evening her gaze with his, silently calling him an idiot, too, if he decided it was time to start hiking through the Peaks like his brother had. The repeated offer was met with silence this time, Ophelia just sighing and shaking her head, mulling it over as she sat down beside him.

She laughed in spite of herself, bringing a hand to her face. It was a strained, miserable thing, but it was still a laugh. “Yeah… it was,” she agreed. “I’ll get you another. Maybe even more than one, if I’m feeling generous.” The arm around her felt good—god, she hadn’t been hugged in weeks, not since before all of this happened, that night that… I shouldn’t have left.

“I wish… you could have seen them,” she muttered, pressing a thumbnail hard into her palm. “He seemed happier that day. Not like when I texted you, not… lost somewhere else. He was there, with mom and I, and he was… smiling. Laughing. So was she.” She gave up the painful dig of her fingernail to wipe the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, drawing a long, shaky breath. “I wish you could have seen him like that again.” It sounded like she was speaking as if he was dead, which she still didn’t believe (or wouldn’t let herself), but she knew that when they did find him… if he’d been that bad after the last time, how would he be pulled back from the edge after this one? She wasn’t sure she had the ability to do that for him, not like her mother had.

—

It was hard to argue with her on that, though it was hard to do much of anything when every inch of him ached this way. She met his gaze with a look Rhett had given him a thousand times over, and that hurt, too. Emilio remembered, without meaning to, the first time he met the warden. He remembered being fourteen and pissed at the world, remembered the way Victor’s death still felt fresh even when everyone told him it shouldn’t, remembered feeling as though he was the only one mourning while everyone else moved on as if his brother’s life ending at eighteen was something they’d all seen coming. It was Victor’s death that had made him latch on to Rhett so tightly, Victor’s death that made Rhett slot so easily into the then-vacant position of brother. Rosa and Edgar had loved Rhett, too, but not like Emilio had.

So what, then, would Rhett’s death do to him? He wasn’t a kid anymore, though he was still just as angry. He couldn’t imagine shoving someone else into the box Rhett had made a home of after Victor had left it empty, but the idea of leaving it bare ached, too. For years now, Emilio had lived a slippery slope of dealing with loss by replacing it. Victor died, and there was Rhett. Juliana died, and he found someone different to fill his bed night after night after night until Teddy came and offered up something real. Flora died, and he saw her reflected in every kid he came across, tried with everything he had to protect Nora and Wynne and strangers with wide eyes and young features as if it would make up for not protecting his daughter, his fucking kid. But what could he do with this? Nothing else could fit in this empty slot the way Rhett had. To try felt like a betrayal, and hadn’t he betrayed Rhett enough already? Hadn’t that been all he’d ever fucking done?

Ophelia was talking about the glass, and Emilio was at the bottom of a goddamn lake trying to make sense of distorted language that was only just barely reaching him. She didn’t think Rhett was dead. Emilio couldn’t let himself think anything else. Should he warn her, he wondered? Should he tell her that hope, in this family, was little more than a prelude to endless grief?

He was stiff, trying to imagine Rhett the way she described him. “I don’t think I ever saw him happy,” he admitted quietly, throat tight. The closest he’d seen to Rhett as Ophelia described him was in Mexico, with Flora on his shoulders and Emilio giving him shit and Juliana chastising them both. Maybe, if Rhett was dead, it wasn’t all bad. Maybe it was better that he’d ended on a high note, at least. Maybe that was all people like them could ever really hope for.

—

It made her sad to think that. Sad to think that Emilio never had… and it wasn’t fair, really, given how much longer he’d known the man. Had he really been that miserable for that long? She couldn’t help but wonder how their lives might’ve been if she and her mother hadn’t run. If they’d faced him, made him see how wrong he was, just like he had in Hemlock Ridge. That wasn’t just because of the handicap, was it?

No, it couldn’t be. He was changed. She knew it. Just like she knew that he was still alive somewhere.

“Then we’ll just have to work extra hard to pick him back up off the ground, won’t we? Then you can see him happy.” It was a stretch by anyone’s measure, but she was nothing if not stubborn and determined. Her resolve was strong, and she wasn’t going to let the matter lie until she found her father, or a corpse. “I’ll tell you what, tío Emilio… you can start asking around town, and I’ll keep looking in the mountains. Fair?”

Getting to her feet again, Ophelia glanced around the place as she went to pick up the shards of glass on the floor piece by piece. She remembered the afternoons she’d spent here, helping her father sew up the leg on his pants, making him presentable for the few outings he went on alone, and generally just spending time with him and her uncle, getting to know them both better.

“Are you… still staying here?” It didn’t look lived in—not that it really had before, either, but there was a light coating of dust on all the surfaces that seemed relatively undisturbed. She bent down, holding out a palm and setting each piece of glass gingerly into it. She hoped he wasn’t staying here. It was depressing here. He deserved better than that.

—

She was hopeful, and he ached with it. The way she seemed so sure that there would be something left to pick up off the ground in spite of all evidence pointing to the contrary, the way she held onto this impossible idea that the world would offer them some kind of kindness. It occurred to Emilio, with an nauseating twist in his stomach, that she wouldn’t have that kind of optimism had she been raised by her father. In some alternative version of events where Rhett had known her since she was a child, where he’d been a father instead of a monster under her bed for the first two decades of her life, she likely would have felt the way Emilio felt now — hopeless and desolate.

(His stomach twisted a little more at the realization that Flora, had she survived, would have been just as much a pessimist as he was. Hunters didn’t tend to find it particularly easy to look on the bright side, after all. His daughter had only been happy because she was young. The world would have taken that from her sooner rather than later.)

“Sure,” he agreed with a nod, trying not to let his voice betray the fact that he thought looking would be a hopeless task. What could he hope to gain by asking people around town if they’d seen a man he knew had left weeks ago with no intention of returning? Even if he’d had any hope that Rhett was alive, Emilio would have found the job Ophelia handed him to be a pointless one. He wondered idly if it was meant to placate him, to keep him docile while she did the real work that she figured his bad leg made him incapable of accomplishing.

He watched her rise, fiddling with the ring on his finger as she began picking up the glass. “Broom in the closet,” he said, nodding towards it. Like most things in the dusty apartment, it wasn’t something he’d bought for himself. The broom, like the bare mattress in the bedroom and the shelf in the bathroom, had been in the apartment when Emilio moved in a year ago. It was the kind of thing that might make someone question the fate of the apartment’s previous occupant… but only if they cared enough to do so.

Still twisting his ring absently, he shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted. “Started staying with someone when the place got covered with goo a few months back. Then the goo was gone, but… they wanted me to stay, so I stayed. Figure I’ll come back here when they don’t want me to stay anymore.” It was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn’t it? Even Rhett had figured trekking through the mountains on one leg was a better idea than hanging around Emilio long term, and he’d known him twenty years.

Getting to his feet, Emilio limped into the kitchen to retrieve a garbage can, bringing it over to Ophelia. He set it down at her feet so she could toss the glass in, then hesitated momentarily. “We’re, uh… Together. Me and the person I’m staying with. We weren’t when I moved in, but… Happened a couple months back. Their name’s Teddy.” He paused a moment, uncertainty sitting on his shoulders like a tangible thing. “You could meet them, if you wanted.”

—

Fetching the broom, Ophelia used it to better collect the rest of the pieces of glass, listening as he told her about the place he was staying now. Good. It was good that he wasn't living here, and not just because it was a shitty apartment… It held a lot of memories, ones she figured might be painful for him to recall. She'd only spent a few months coming and going from the apartment and she had memories she didn't really want to visit, at least not until she found her father.

“Come on, tío… as much as you don't want to admit it, you're actually very likable. I'm sure whoever it is is happy to have you around, and I don't think that's gonna change unless you actively try to sabotage it. So don't fuckin’ do that, all right?” She gave him a nod of thanks as he approached with the trash can, her brows raising when he went on to elaborate on the situation without any kind of prompting from her. “Yeah?” Her face genuinely brightened and she dumped the glass into the container, setting the broom down against the wall and putting her hands on her hips. “Teddy… yeah, I'd like to meet Teddy.” She pushed the bin aside with her foot so she could close the space between them, wrapping her arms easily over his shoulders and pulling him into a soft hug. “That's great to hear. Seriously. You… you deserve to be happy. You deserve to have someone love you like that.” She tightened her grip, burying her face against his shoulder and letting out a ragged sigh.

She'd thought the same of Rhett. She'd desperately hoped that, even if it wasn't her mother, that someone would love the old thing. It was what he'd needed, she thought. In the end, though, all that love had gotten him was kidnapped. Again. Because of people like her. She'd never really hated hunters, she'd just been afraid. Wished they'd been raised to think for themselves rather than brainwashed to believe whatever they were told. But… there was truth there. And Emilio wasn't cruel like her father. He was lovable. He was redeemable. And Ophelia, she… she didn't know what her own future held. When she found those fae, when she killed them, she didn't know what that would make her. But she couldn't worry about that now. Now she just wanted to be with her uncle, to find comfort in his presence. “... can I show you where I'm living, now?” she asked, pulling away again. In case I ever need you to come help me with something quickly, she thought to herself. “Then maybe we can grab some food? All this crying has made me peckish.”

—

After the way the conversation had started, the sweeping and cleaning up of the glass felt so painfully mundane. It was domestic, in a way; the kind of thing that, if he were someone else, Emilio could pretend was normal. If his head weren’t what it was, all broken and mixed up, he could tell himself that this was how things were supposed to be, that sweeping glass off the floor of his shitty apartment with his niece and making conversation about his relationship were expected things. But because he was who he was, because he was him, he couldn’t help but feel like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He loved Ophelia, just as he’d loved Rhett. Just as he’d loved Flora and Jaime and Edgar and Rosa, just as he’d loved people who existed only as ghostly memories now. How long would it be, then, before Ophelia was gone, too? Emilio had a bad habit of outliving the people he loved. He wasn’t sure he’d ever learn how to break it.

“Ah, tell that to all the guys who want to kill me,” he joked, though he didn’t think it untrue. He had a lot more people who hated him than he had people who liked him and, if he was being honest, there was something intentional about it. It was easier, he thought, to be hated. Hate was a straightforward thing, something he knew what to do with. He understood how to react when someone wanted him dead. He was less certain when someone wanted to save him. He thought of Lucio, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. He’d rather be hated than saved. It was better for everyone that way.

But you couldn’t control what other people felt. Teddy loved him, despite his best efforts. He thought Ophelia might, too. And Xóchitl, and Wynne, and Nora, and Jade. It was a dangerous thing, having people to lose again. It wasn’t something he ever would have done intentionally. “Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod, glancing back to Ophelia. He huffed a fond half-laugh as Ophelia wrapped her arms around him.

(In another world, he thought, Rhett would be here making a joke about how Ophelia was as tall as he was. He’d call Emilio short, and Emilio would toss something at his head, and they’d laugh. In this world, there was little more than an empty crevice in his chest and an ache in this throat. These things got easier with time, he’d been told. He was still trying to get there. And, despite Ophelia’s hope that they’d find her father alive, he felt like he was back at the start line again, back at ground zero. How could he hope for time to heal when the world kept pushing him to start over, to take it from the top? The grief would never leave him if more kept being added to the pile.)

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Ophelia. He still wasn’t entirely practiced in soft touches, but he was learning. The pat he delivered to her back was a little awkward, but better than the first time he’d attempted to return Nora’s hug or the first time he’d tried to comfort Wynne. Maybe he was learning something. “You’ll like them,” he said, and he was sure of that. Teddy was hard not to get along with, and Ophelia came with less… baggage than Rhett had. A less complicated history between them, less old wounds constantly being reopened.

Offering her his best attempt at a smile, Emilio nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He needed it, really, though he knew better than to admit to that. His head — the paranoia, the unease that never left him, the thing that he didn’t have a name for — tended to demand that he knew where the people he cared about were at all times. “Show me your place, and I’ll buy you lunch after. Sound good?”

#. thread ;#. with ; emilio cortez #parental death tw #child death tw #. won't anyone see ;

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thoughtsfromlove · 11 months ago

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These beautiful words aren't mine.

Perhaps I've never disclosed the truth to anyone, opting for silence out of fear that discussing it might do more harm than healing. I've spent my entire life shutting the door, and keeping it in. I've lost track of how many times I've heard the doorbell ring and the faint muffled sounds beyond. I never budged, not an inch, nor did I ever dared to peek through the peephole. What if all along it’s been her, struggling in her confinement, unable to move or escape the cocoon of guilt, for a temporary forever she was trapped. It's a vision akin to a fish caught in a spinner, to no end going in circles. What if she's been standing on the other side of the door all this time, frightened and scared, patiently waiting for someone; perhaps even me, to welcome her in or set her free? Welcome her in, prepare a steaming cup of hot chocolate, ask if she is okay, offer a comforting embrace, and assure her that it's okay to fall apart.

Perhaps, in that moment, it could have been the perfect chance for her to break down, tear down her walls, and cry for a childhood lost, for what might have been, and for the unbearable pain she endured and inflicted, while convinced she deserved to be punished. Regrettably, no one came to the door, no one took notice. They were all likely absorbed in their own sorrow, entangled in their personal pain, no one to spare her a second glance or detect the tear-streaked cheeks. Maybe they did notice but assumed she was grappling with the same anguish everyone else felt, the loss of a loved one. Internally, she was screaming and thrashing. When the agony became overwhelming, she made the decision to endure the pain and bury the guilt. Her tears, like rain, unintentionally nurtured a seed she planted, instead of laying to rest. With each passing year, it grew, bloomed, and flourished into a colossal flower of self-destruction that some labeled a beautiful mess.

One fateful evening, I baked cookies, prepared two mugs of hot chocolate, and made the choice to welcome her in. As I settled her down, I inquired, "What happened to you?" hesitant, she countered with a "When?" I could sense her mind racing, as a multitude of events had unfolded, and everything that could have gone awry indeed did. Despite it all, she managed to muster the broadest smile possible and replied, "Not much. You see, I'm still here, still standing, so I'm okay." Yet, behind that smile, all she truly wished to express was, "Come, take a seat, and let me share with you." How at 10 the so-called relatives stopped coming to visit, after my dad was poisoned and died. Or how, at the age of 14, I started the fire that killed my grandfather and was so overcome with guilt that I was unable to grieve properly. How it slowly consumed me without anyone taking notice. No, don't worry, I'm not an arsonist; it was an accident. I simply forgot to tend to the pots in time.

Or perhaps the prayer that Thursday afternoon took longer than I had anticipated, so I suppose God was too preoccupied with our pleas and praise that he forgot to remember to save the elderly man who was unable to escape a burning house. In the haze of trying to survive, to live and forget I fell pregnant at 16. In my first year of varsity got sexually assaulted by a familiar stranger. Or should I tell you about how I wanted to die at 23 and jumped out of a moving car to save the very life I thought I was tired of, only to realize how bad I wanted to live. However, expressing any of that is beyond me, who am I to lament my pain and sorrow when there are others facing more challenging situations? So, she wears a smile and remains silent. While holding a cup of hot chocolate that's still emitting steam, a realization dawns on her, although It took a moment. It turns out, the cocoon, isn’t as inescapable as it appears.

It provides the perfect setting for her to sit with herself, engage in a heart to heart, and release her pent-up emotions. The fear of being trapped propels her beyond her limitations, and from within, strength emerges. Surprisingly, the once tiny and frightened caterpillar sprouts wings. Like a seed breaking free from its shell. With my newly found wings look at me flying. I am taking it in, I can finally breathe.

-written by a childhood friend.

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althaiareads · 2 years ago

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YAY NEW CHAPTER!! I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW IT!!

Let's get to it, I'm ready for my heart to be broken.

Extremely sorry because this might be just images and not ONE coherent thought.

You smile up at her with your mouth full of food and nod in agreement. Your uncle Tommy notices and shakes his head in disapproval, but he can’t help but smile faintly.

He snickers and you glance away, catching your dads gaze and slowly frowning as you catch that same hurt look you caught earlier. Your uncle Tommy notices a glimpse of your tension and sighs before breaking it. “How ‘bout a tour?”

Manners, my love. What is it about Joel Miller's daughters and bad table manners?

Edit: I Just realized this is the same thing Sarah does?!?!?

Man, that's gotta hurt. I know it's not like that, but I feel Joel feels replaced by Tommy. He kind of has the life that Joel once had for himself. It breaks my heart.

You meet his gaze with a smirk. “You were thinkin’ of me?” You tease.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He quips lightheartedly.

Oh?

Real nice, real smooth, loving the playful flirting.

the first thing you notice that wasn’t on it last time is a bouquet of fresh flowers with a small note.

‘Welcome home - Atlas & Apollo’

They got her flowers?!?!?? My heart. They're so cute.

What would be of your lives now if she had lived? What would she say about your estrangement with your dad?

“I don’t want to see you tormenting yourself any longer because of that man Y/N—”

I am living for Maria being the mother Sunny never had. She's so worried and protective of her, and I love it.

Maria raises her chin and doesn’t retreat. “He left you, his own daughter, tell me if that makes him good?”

OUT OF POCKET! But I get where she's coming from, after all she picked up the pieces Joel broke.

“Apollo built this for you, did you know?”

Did he, now?

“My dad left rather than staying with me….and,” you continue through tears. “…the guy that I…loved killed himself rather than wanting to be with me. And I know it sounds selfish, h-he was just grief stricken, his little brother died….but we were partners…and,” you sniffle. “And he left me. So please be honest with me, tell me that I’m no good, that I’m a failure because that’s what I feel.”

Oh my God, baby, no. Nothing is wrong with you, shit.

“You cry as much as you want, grieve as long as you need to, but you move on, you keep living for them. You understand? Don’t lose yourself, that’s the worst thing we can do. You understand me?”

You know this hurts even more because he knows what it's like to lose someone to grief, so his fears are even more palpable.

You giggle and sit back down next to him. “You have nothing to be nervous about, you’re gonna be a good father,” you assure him. “You might not be mine, but you were—are like one, and you did good.”

Oh man, those daddy issues are really kicking in right now. They have the most beautiful relationship.

“Hi,” Apollo greets more properly, but stays sitting down. “It’s very nice meeting you Mr. Miller.”

Así es que me gusta papito, de una vez dando una buena impresión con el (futuro) suegro. Muy bien.

“I’m sorry,” he says again in a tearful voice. “I am. There will never not be a day where I don’t regret how I hurt you.” He shakes his head and steps towards you. “And you have every right to keep on hatin’ me, to move on and not deal with me. I don’t blame you, I wouldn't. I just needed you to hear what I owe you.”

Your dad lets out a shaky breath and nods as more tears escape past his eyes. “It’s true,” he admits. “You might be a bit boastful, you might see the beauty of the world and hold onto too much hope, your dreams might be too big, but,” he quivers and takes a step towards you. “That is why I love you. I love every bit of it. I have loved it since the moment I held you in my arms for the first time. You…you are everything to me, baby, you are the reason I keep livin’, you are my entire world, and the beauty that this world lost. You are what makes all this worth it, you are everything to me.”

This feels like a warm hug. Still sobbing violently, though.

“I’m not asking you to be my first love, nor do I want to be yours….we can be each other's last, whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait.”

EACH OTHER'S LAST LOVE?!!?!??! I-

Dude, I was already crying. This is beautiful.

“No way!” She exclaims and stands up to hook it around her hip. “A thigh holster!”

That's the best gift ever? She knows her so well. My heart.

However she then finds the tip hits against something inside so she pulls out the gun and digs her fingers inside, and pulls out a leather necklace with a small piece of wood carved into a neat circle with a butterfly burned onto it.

The butterfly. Oh my gosh. She got her a butterfly necklace. Idc they're officially sisters now.

Sarah would've been so happy, holy shit.

“She dressed up as me that day; she wore one of my shirts, put on this fake mustache, and sang this rap song as one of my birthday gifts. It was great, one of my favorite gifts by far.”

He still remembers 🥺🥺🥺. That was one of my favourite scenes. Happy it made a call-back.

Anyway don’t forget that gesture of reader laying her head on Joel’s chest, it’s gonna come back and bite everyone in the ass iykyk

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT AUTHOR NOTE, GIRL?!?!? WHAT IS THAT, LOVE?!?!??!

I am so scared. This was absolutely incredible. The scenes with Tommy warmed my heart, Maria is an absolute icon, I love her even when she says judgy stuff. Also, Ellie and her relationship with Sunny??!?!? God, I love them. REMEMBERING HENRY, SAM AND SARAH, TOO??? That hurt a lot. And then, that conversation with Joel, I have no words that don't involve me ranting about Daddy Issues, so I'll skip it, but know that it was so fucking beautiful.

Anyway, I'm scared and I love this and you.

Chapter 4 This charming man

Tragedy at the Miller’s Chapter 4

A/N- Not ready for what’s coming

Warning- ANGST, talks of death, swearing, long chapter, fluff :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Henry x Fem!reader

Episode- 1x06 (not all of it)

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

Family reunions are supposed to be heartwarming, joyful!

Maybe it was for the first 10 minutes, but now it’s awkward, there’s tension, there’d be deafening silence but the area you’re at is filled with the sound of obnoxious chewing. It’s an annoying sound, a usual pet peeve of yours, but right now, fuck it, it’s the first real meal you’ve had in two years.

“There’s more if you need it,” Maria interjects through the urgency of all the chewing.

“Thank you, ma’am,” your dad says when he finishes chewing. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

You smile up at her with your mouth full of food and nod in agreement. Your uncle Tommy notices and shakes his head in disapproval, but he can’t help but smile faintly.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie cuts in, causing you to slowly swallow your food and look at her with a bit of pity—“this is fuckin’ amazing.”

Your dad shoots her a pointed glare before looking up at the couple in front of him. “Sorry,” he apologizes for her, while you stifle your laugh with the food you shove in your mouth. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

You smirk down at your food, but feel your uncle pat your back. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “Someone tends to have a way with words too.”

You look over at him and respond back with your mouth full of food. “I’m just expressin’ my freedom of speech.” You shoot him a smile and then return to eating, bringing back a bit of silence.

Albeit seconds later the peace is broken by Ellie snapping at someone behind you. “What?!”

You slowly peek behind you and see a girl storming off; you actually recognize her, albeit she was younger then. She liked to help with your sets when you did plays, she’s cool. But yes you understand Ellie’s…caution towards her just staring, but! you don’t get the snappy attitude.

“What’s wrong with you?” You remark Ellie with a pointed look.

“What about her manners?” She counters.

You roll your eyes and catch your uncle's curious gaze at that moment, so you can’t help but smirk faintly now in response—he’ll get hell of a kick out of her, he just needs to get to know her.

“She was just curious,” Maria tries to explain. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right.” Ellie nods. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them. And I want my gun back.”

Yeah that’s not happening.

“They also aren’t armed,” Maria says.

You set your silverware down and grab your cup of water, whilst your uncle interjects. “You know what? Uh, I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie snaps right away.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place,” your uncle explains. “But it’s all bark. We’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”

You sit back and sip your water, only choosing to hear the argument being had.

You wouldn't be as…uhm…bold as Ellie, but you also understand her uneasiness of this place and all those people. You were new once too; afraid of everyone and cautious of everything.

“Well, you got a couple of 90-year-olds shitting themselves out there. Not much of a superstition, is it y/n?” She argues with a pointed glare aimed at you.

What? What the hell did you do?

“Ellie,” your dad warns her.

“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” Ellie remarks to your uncle and Maria again.

Now your uncle glances at you and passes an amused look at you right as Maria answers Ellie just as quickly. “Those are the people that tried us.”

“A bad reputation doesn't mean you’re bad,” your uncle adds.

“Not always, at least,” Maria adds in, and you catch her pointed look aimed at your father; which only makes you begin to frown as things get awkward. At least for you since you know the context behind her judgment.

“Ma’am,” your dad cuts in thereafter. “We’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he pauses and looks between you, your uncle and Ellie. “But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”

Oh right, given your silent treatment, you never actually talked much about this place or about your life here to him—that makes things uncomfortable. So you slouch and put your cup down to stare at the water.

“Well, uh,” your uncle interjects as he straightens up on his chair. “Maria is family, actually.”

You glance over at them and offer them a soft smile, but when you glance over at your father and see his face of slight disbelief your smile falters.

Why does he look so shocked? It was going to happen.

“Oh, shit! Congrats.” Ellie adds, but you can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or genuine—probably sarcastic giving she’s not really liking Maria.

“Joel, say congrats,” Ellie whispers to your dad like if he’s some kid that needs a reminder.

A moment of awkward silence passes before your dad says it back a bit dryly. “Congrats.”

Can’t say you’re surprised, he didn’t like Henry at first either.

“She’s the one that helped me get this one through her teenage phase,” your uncle says and pats your shoulder to give it a small squeeze.

You look up at the both of them and smirk before glancing at your dad.

“I can’t say she made it hard,” Maria adds. “She was good…up until she left.”

You scoff and look over at her with a smirk. “Mama,” you whisper. “Besides, I wasn't a teenager then, I was 22.”

“You acted like one,” she rebuttals.

You roll your eyes in a lighthearted manner and shake your head, while your uncle grabs your shoulder and interjects with a lighthearted tone. “How old are you now, Sunny? Old?”

You snap your eyes to him and get ready to spat back, but he continues. “You even have gray hair there.” He points to the side of your head.

Your eyes go wide and you pick up your spoon to see your reflection through it, but he begins to snicker.

“Oh wait, it's just dirt.” He laughs.

You scoff and push his arm off you. “At least I can wash mine off, unlike you,” you counter and use your eyes to point to the white hairs on his side.

Maria nods. “Yeah.”

Once you’re all completely done with your food you step out again. And you're not obligated to tag along, you knew this place already, it was home, but you want to accompany Ellie until she and your dad get some place to go for however long they’re staying—or correction for however long she’s staying, who knows if your dad has changed his mind about letting your uncle take her.

If he doesn’t then….you’ll go with her and your uncle. Even if being surrounded by the tall walls of Jackson made you finally feel completely safe, and let you drop the habit of needing to look over your shoulder every few seconds. Here you also didn’t have to live on the edge hoping that some infected wouldn’t creep up on you, or some fucker wouldn’t jump you out of nowhere. But if it meant being her one piece of support after your fathers abandonment, then it would be worth it being gone for one more month. Just for her, not for your dad.

“We settled here about seven years ago, just a handful of us then,” Maria tells Ellie and your dad. “That section…”

Her words trail off as suddenly you’re startled by an arm thrown around you. And when you snap your head over to your side, Apollo is next to you with a smile on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” You quip as you fall behind the others doing the tour.

Apollo snickers. “Just checking you’re not some sort of hallucination.”

You roll your eyes and look ahead again. “I’d be a pretty cool hallucination,” you mumble and catch Ellie glancing at you over her shoulder when she doesn’t see you near her.

“Yeah,” Apollo agrees. “Good thing you aren't though.” He moves his other hand toward you to offer you a piece of dry meat. “Jerky?”

“Please,” you scoff and meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes. “I’ve had enough of jerky for now.” You then begin to smirk and hold his gaze as you throw him a reminder. “Aren't you supposed to be working bum?”

Apollo shrugs. “I was, but again, just checking on you, and…” he trails off and holds the piece of jerky in his mouth to reach into his back pocket and pull something out. “…give this to you.”

He pushes his hand towards you to show the Mariah Carey Daydream casette in his hand. “For you,” he says as he pulls out the piece of jerky from his mouth.

Your grin immediately widens and your eyes twinkle as you stop to take it from him. “Oh my god,” you squeal. “Where did you find this?!”

Apollo steps back and folds his arms over his chest to shrug smugly. “I have my ways. But I thought of giving it to you for Christmas when I saw you, but then I thought, why not give it to her now as a welcome home present.”

You meet his gaze with a smirk. “You were thinkin’ of me?” You tease.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He quips lightheartedly.

You shoot him a smirk, and he holds your gaze to mirror the gesture for a lingering moment before you look down at your gift and smile softly. Albeit, you then can’t help but step forward to throw your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whisper and hold onto him tighter, feeling your heart flutter, and a warmth that wants to mend the bleeding gap that was on it.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back and rubs your back softly. “I missed you, you know.”

You smile sweetly and try to fight the tears that threaten to rush out at the simple feeling of this embrace. “I missed you too,” you redirect softly, but suddenly begin to feel a twinge of guilt now stab at you as you feel comfort and yearning for him in his embrace.

“Mia is at home,” Apollo says and pulls back to face you. “I haven’t told her yet so it can be a surprise.”

You smirk. “I’ll make her shit her pants.” You snicker.

“I’ll see you at home later, yeah?” He queries in a way that makes it seem like he’s almost afraid you would leave again. “I have a bottle of tequila and a movie of your choice ready for you for later.”

“Can’t wait,” you assure him with a sweet smile playing on your lips.

Apollo begins to walk back and nods as he holds your gaze for a lingering moment before he turns and walks off to go back to work. You now put your gift away and catch back up with your group heading to the barn.

“Who’s that?” Ellie immediately asks once you’re by her side again.

You glance at her and scoff softly before you answer. “My…best friend, Apollo.”

Ellie scoffs and begins to smirk as she turns her head away. “Okay,” she mutters.

You squint your eyes in confusion and immediately press her hint of smugness. “What?” You giggle nervously.

Ellie shrugs before she glances at you and bats her eyelashes as she just simply repeats herself. “Okay.”

Before you can further question her she runs ahead of the group as they’re entering the sheep pen.

“Hey, Joel, check it,” Ellie now directs to your dad, and proceeds to mimic the sheep to tease him. You would’ve laughed but she was just teasing you so you keep quiet and follow them.

“So are you, like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria says. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving 300 people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting.”

“Everything you see in our town,” your uncle adds. “Greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, uh,” your dad interjects, making you glance at him. “Communism.”

Your uncle sniffles. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”

No it is that. Exactly that.

“It is that,” Maria corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

You smirk, and end up sharing an amused look with your dad before you both glance back at your uncle stopped behind you looking a bit baffled.

“No way!” Ellie exclaims, making you drift your attention back to her and noticing her rushing toward a cute brown foal.

“That’s our newest one,” Maria shares. “Couple months old. You wanna pet her?”

You smile and rush towards the foal too.

“Yeah, what’s her name?” Ellie asks.

“Shimmer.”

“Shimmer,” Ellie repeats as she begins to caress the little baby horse. “You’re so beautiful.”

You lean against the gate and scratch the side of her jaw.

“Well, I’m sure they’d like a shower,” Maria adds on, correctly of course. “Some new clothes. We can put Joel and Ellie in the empty house across the street from us.”

You pull your hand away from the horse and peer over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” your uncle agrees. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it.” He nods. “Could do worse.”

“Oh,” you add. “We have been.”

Ellie nods in agreement, but your dad quickly rebuttals you. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”

Yeah cause sleeping in caves and taking watches to make sure you won’t get killed is fine. Whatever man.

“Well,” Maria adds a bit awkwardly. “I’ll take Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She suggests as she looks between your dad and uncle, making you look between both men with curiosity.

Only if you could go too just to snoop and know if your dad would go through with it. And to know how it’d actually go between them.

“Yeah,” your dad agrees and passes a look with your uncle. “Okay.”

“Joel,” Ellie whispers with concern.

“You’ll be fine,” he assures her and walks off with your uncle without another word, making her watch him as he did so.

“Come on,” you encourage her and grab her shoulder to gently nudge her ahead towards Maria

Ellie begins to follow, but spares one more glance at your dads retreating figure. Once he’s no longer in view she immediately questions you. “Where are you going?”

“Not far from where you’ll be,” you assure her. “Just down 2 streets, and then a right. I live in a yellow house with a white fence around it. I’ll be there.”

Ellie glances at the ground and frowns deeper, so you nudge her gently and continue to assure her. “You can come over after you’re done showering, if you want. If I don’t answer the door my friend Mia will, just tell her you came to visit me and she’ll show you to my room, yeah?”

Ellie lifts her gaze with unsureness but nods regardless to assure you she comprehends. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Okay.”

Once you see Ellie off you walk to your own house. A place you always hoped you’d return to, a place you longed for on cruel days. Yet when you’re there, past the white fences gate, at the doorstep of your house, it feels…fucking weird. Like some dream. A good dream you were scared to wake up from.

What if opening the front meant waking up? That’d be terrible.

But you can’t know if you stand there, so you let out a deep breath and slowly wrap your hand around the knob. You hesitate for a second and close your eyes to hope it isn’t some dream—fuck. You open your eyes as you turn the knob and slowly push the green creaking door open. And luckily nothing vanishes, nothing comes at you. You walk in and you don’t fall into some dark abyss; it’s warm, it smells like cinnamon and a Christmas morning. All the furniture you can see is the same, Christmas decorations greet you at the entrance bringing the holiday cheer to the house.

When you close the front door behind you and you take your shoes off at the entrance, happy tears fill your eyes, and a wobbly smile spreads on your lips. You’re home! Home!

You laugh softly with relief and feel tears actually rush out of your eyes.

“Who’s home?” You hear a familiar voice ask from the hall.

You wipe the tears off your cheeks and walk towards the hall in a giddy silence as you also hear footsteps approach. Once you make it under the hall's archway you stop at the same time your friend does only mere inches away from her.

You begin to grin brightly, while she stands there with her eyes widened with disbelief.

“Hi, Mia,” you greet her.

Said girl studies you, the dirty outfit you’ve worn for months, she studies your face and looks into your eyes in that stunned silence that paralyzes her. Meanwhile you give her time to grasp your presence and study her too; her hair is still short due to her fear of having it pulled by infected like when she was young, it’s still dyed like last time, and she’s remained ageless.

“Wh-how?” She stammers before she closes the gap left between you with an embrace that almost knocks you back.

“Hey,” you murmur happily.

“Apollo was just here,” she says by your ear. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, he wanted me to surprise you.” You pull back and grab her shoulders. “I've missed you.”

Tears roll down her cheeks, and her smile wobbles. “I missed you too,” she redirects. “So much. I was so worried.” She hugs you again and lets out a relieved sigh as she holds you in her arms.

Along with Apollo and Atlas, Mia was one of your oldest friends too. She was a firefly like them and you, she was also your best friend. You all basically grew up together when you were with the firefly’s, you were all unbreakable.

“Did you just get here?” Mia asks and pulls back to turn you around and lead you away from the hall. “Have you eaten already?”

You nod. “Yes, I ate just a few minutes ago, and yes I just got here….with my dad actually.”

Mia stops, making you stop along with her. “What?” She queries and turns to face you. She looks into your eyes to try and read your emotions, but she instead questions you more. “How are you feeling about that?”

You let out a deep sigh that makes your smile falter, and simply shrug. “I don’t know…besides angry, I don’t know where I’m at, but I guess we’ll see won’t we?”

Mia hums and caresses your shoulder, and smiles a lot softer. “I’m so happy you’re back home. You must want to take a shower, and sleep, so I’ll leave you be.”

Yeah until maybe an hour later where she’ll be checking on you.

“Your room has been untouched so everything is in its place,” she adds, and now walks you around the kitchen to walk you to your room like if you’re new and need a tour. “You’ll just need a towel which are out in the closet, you’ll need blankets, I can get those for you, uh, a razor, new sanitary stuff, I can go…” she continues on but you tune her out as you open the door to your room. And as she walks forward you stop just in front of the doorway.

“….We can bake something later,” you tune Mia back in. “We can make your favorite for dinner, Apollo and Atlas should be home then”

She was right, your room was untouched, every piece of furniture was in its place, every decoration and accessory was left the same way you left it. There wasn’t even dust, and didn’t smell odd, which is probably thanks to Mia; your room actually smells like flowers, oddly enough.

“Yeah,” you agree mindlessly with a nod. “Sounds good.”

Your picture wall was still up and well kept, your posters aren’t ripped, it’s all clean.

“Okay,” Mia says as she turns to walk out of the room. “I’ll leave you now and go get that stuff. Need anything else?”

You follow her leaving figure with your eyes and shake your head. “Nah, but if you are leaving mind leaving the front door unlocked, a girl named Ellie might come over so if you aren’t here and I’m in the shower she can just walk in.”

Mia looks immediately curious over who you mention but she doesn’t probe now, she’ll do it later, you’re sure of it. “Okay, I’ll leave a note then.” She lets you know and grabs your door handle to begin closing it as she walks out. “I missed you.”

You shoot her a sweet smile and quickly counter. “I missed you too.”

She offers you one last smile before she closes the door behind her, letting you turn back to fully take in the fact that you’re now standing back in your room—it’s fucking unbelievble, it fills you with happiness and comfort. And as if it’s your first time you walk to your closet first and pull it open, you run your fingers along all the clothes that are hung up and smile.

If you could describe your room to someone, let’s say Ellie, in a few words it would be Old Hollywood meets vintage old money aesthetic—albeit a post apocalyptic version considering you can’t fully fill your room with all the things you want and need….

Sucks…

Anyhow, you then skip on forward to your brown and gold vintage round vanity mirror, and the first thing you notice that wasn’t on it last time is a bouquet of fresh flowers with a small note.

‘Welcome home - Atlas & Apollo’

You smile and tuck the note back to its place to then swipe your fingers across the counter, making sure not to touch the few perfumes and fragile trinkets you had collected. You then proceed to walk to the corner of the room to brush your fingers along the strings of your guitar as you walk to your shelf with music records, cassettes and movies; it’s all still there and now you can add another to your collection, thanks to Apollo.

After that you then walk to your picture wall to study every single picture with a faint smile. The one that makes you the happiest though is the picture strip of Sarah and you; it’s one you had taken in one of those photobooths. Alas it’s when you see the family picture of Sarah, you, and your dad that the happiness turns to sadness, and that smile falls to a wobbly frown.

What would be of your lives now if she had lived? What would she say about your estrangement with your dad?

Would she be mad at the both of you?

Probably.

You were a little family, you were too young to know if it was anything other than perfect, but it worked…you were happy then….

God you miss her….him too. He’s close, here now in Jackson, but it feels like you're strangers. Strangers forced to be together, forced to travel together. You miss him and your relationship. The man he was wouldn't return, but you’re okay with the man he is now, as flawed as he is you’re okay with him, as tainted as his past is you’re okay with him. But, what you are…are strangers.

——

A deep relaxed exhale leaves your lips as you find comfort on your mattress, in your clean clothes, and refreshed body after a long and deep shower.

Fuck that felt good, it’s like you took decades of dirt off you. It’s like you feel fucking lighter because of it now too. Maybe a week-long sleep would suit you well, maybe you can even hibernate like a bear, that’d be nice.

You smile to yourself and only sit up to put on your headphones, and turn your music on blast now that you don’t have to worry about what’s around you—You’ll go deaf your uncle Tommy and Mia would say, but who cares, it’s fun getting lost in the music.

That’s what you do listening to the cassette Apollo gave you. However, not for long because you then feel a nudge on your leg, and when you sit up there Maria is with a very deep purple jacket in hand.

“Hey,” you greet her as you pull your headphones down to your neck. You then look around for Ellie, but she’s not here. “Where’s Ellie?”

“I left her at the house,” Maria says. “I went to grab her this.” She lifts the jacket in her hand, and you scoff in amusement.

“It’s very purple,” you point out.

“Plum,” she corrects you and sits by you on your bed. “I just came to check on you, make sure you were settling in well.”

You sigh with relief and nod. “Yeah, it feels good being back home and showering, and changing clothes.” You let out a deep exhale and fall back on your bed. “I missed it, never let me leave for that long ever again.”

“I tried that the first time, you fought against logic,” she argues.

You shrug to brush her off. “Let’s call it an existential crisis, yeah?” You snicker.

Maria lets out a long sigh that means nothing good, so you sit up and narrow your gaze on her.

“What?” You immediately question.

Maria glances down and doesn’t hold back. She never did. “How did you end up with the cause of that existential crisis?”

Oh yes, you should've known she wasn’t going to leave it alone.

You blow out air and begin to fiddle with the string of your headphones. “We ran into each other at…KC. We were coming to the same place so we decided to travel together.”

Maria scoffs. “Months on the road and nothing seems mended,” she says. “Did he even try?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head softly. “No, but,” you add and pick at the fluff on your sheets. “It’s not like I tried either…if it wasn’t for that girl I don’t think I would’ve stayed with him.”

There’s a moment of silence before she picks on that. “Who is she?”

No one can know Ellie’s immune, as much as you trust Maria, it’s now up to your dad and Ellie to tell who they want, not you.

“A girl, some important firefly’s daughter he was ordered to deliver,” you lie and look up at her so she wouldn’t find you suspicious. “That’s all I know. He isn’t much for sharin’.”

Maria hums and doesn’t seem to find you suspicious so she moves on. Thankfully.

“Look, you’re an adult, you know what’s right from wrong, but you have too much of a good heart….”

You blink and avert your gaze to sigh.

“I don’t want to see you tormenting yourself any longer because of that man y/n—”

“He’s my dad, mama,” you cut her off with no anger or judgment, you cut her off quietly, sadly. “I can’t….” You pause and draw in a deep breath as you feel the need to cry slowly building up. “I can’t just,” you sigh, “forget him. No matter how much he’s hurt me. I can’t do that to him…or her…she’d be devastated.”

Maria carefully grabs ahold of your hand, making you lift your eyes to meet her soft yet hard gaze.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” Maria adds softly.

You offer her a comprehensive nod.

“Your uncle Tommy and I are always here, we’re here for you no matter what,” she continues and this time begins to caress your cheek. “You don’t need him. If those plants are dead there’s no need to waste water.”

You stiffen and draw in another shaky breath. You don’t add anything in his defense, you can’t come up with anything else to say but what you already put out.

“Whatever happens to that girl,” she adds on in your silence. “You protect her from him—”

Now you have something to say. “He’s not a bad guy,” you cut her off and meet her gaze with a pointed glare. “He’s just…tough because of what he’s lived through. But he’s not a bad guy.” You understand that now.

Maria raises her chin and doesn’t retreat. “He left you, his own daughter, tell me if that makes him good?”

You blink rapidly as you’re cut off guard by her comment.

“I’m just looking out for you,” she further explains herself. “You’re my family, I love you as if you were my own daughter which is why I just want to protect you.” She pulls her hand away and stands up. “And that girl doesn’t deserve to have her heartbroken by him.”

Maria then waits if you’d say something, but there was nothing you could add anymore, so you let her leave.

“I’m taking Ellie to the movies, enjoy the night with your friends, okay? And at night if it’s hard to sleep, the door will be open, you can sleep in your old room.” She offers.

You break your eyes from the bed to look at her in front of you and nod slowly. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“If you don’t come tonight then come over for breakfast tomorrow, I can make pancakes.”

“Okay sounds good I’ll be there.” You assure her and offer her a very faint smile.

Maria walks to the door and lingers there for a moment before she walks out and closes the door behind you, letting you then throw yourself back to contemplate what was just discussed. She’s right about Ellie, but maybe he deserves time to explain himself to you, even after you said you’d be done with him. He deserves one more chance, if he doesn’t want to try and heal what’s broken then…you’ll stay true to your word and be done with him, for good…

You sigh and slide your headphones back on before flipping around on the bed to attempt and get lost in the music again.

However, now! Now…agony and grief slams back into you just as you were doing good today not thinking about Henry and Sam. All because of the stuffed giraffe on your bed that reminds you of them.

It happens all the time, one minute you think that you’ll get over it, that you’ll heal past that grief and let them be beautiful memories, but it hits you like a ferocious wave. And it’s hard to swim up when it does, you’re slowly drowning each time, sinking deeper and deeper. Not only that but looking at your dad everyday doesn’t make it any easier, there’s just more force that pushes you further down.

Funny and unexpected enough though, it’s been Ellie who has been such a….relief, a breath of fresh air, that ounce of hope that helps you get over the surface. Without her honestly it would’ve been hard getting back home.

Still…as of now it’s taking you again, that damned wave, so you take your headphones off and leave your music on the bed to instead grab the stuffed giraffe and walk outside to your backyard.

The precious meadow that you had grown is under a blanket of snow, much like everything else outside, so you can’t find a bit of bliss there. However, there is something new outside connected to the small white fence that surrounds the cement patio, a wooden bench swing with a canopy and all, hm.

It’s smooth, sturdy, and nice. Now you don’t have to get your ass wet on the snow. Maybe your uncle Tommy built it? Or maybe Mia’s boyfriend built it for her, he thinks himself a carpenter.

Whatever the case, you sit down and just ponder in the silence, watching the stuffed giraffe in your hands and thinking about them; about Henry most of all. You let time pass even as you begin to get cold, and don’t really come back to reality until you hear the backdoor close behind you.

When you sit up and look back you see your uncle Tommy walking to you.

You put the stuffed giraffe down and then beam at him. “Hey!” You greet him.

He offers you a sweet smile and pushes the gate open to walk over to you. “Hey, Sunny,” he greets back. “I’m sorry I let myself in, there was a note on the door.”

You shake your head and pat the open space by you. “Don’t worry about it,” you assure him and watch him study the bench with a smirk.

“Apollo built this for you, did you know?”

You blink in surprise and shake your head as your heart begins to flutter. “No, I didn’t.”

He hums and takes his seat, but rubs the armrests. “Yeah, he said that it’d be a good touch so you wouldn’t have to lay on the grass all the time. Or if you didn’t make it back home then it’d be hell of a memorial...it wasn’t really funny then,” he laughs softly. “But it is now.” He clasps his hands on his lap and glances at the stuffed giraffe before meeting your gaze. “He’s always had a sweet spot for you. He’s a good guy.”

You slowly grin and drop your head to nod. “I know.”

Is he implying something?

“Did you talk to my dad?” You probe and glance up at him. “You guys catch up?”

Your uncle lets out a deep sigh and nods stiffly. “Something like that. We…sorta got into an argument.”

You click your tongue and nod slowly in comprehension. “Sorta?” You probe.

“It wasn’t big but you know how he is.”

You nod. “Yeah,” you sigh.

Your uncle notices the frown and the sadness return in your eyes, so he presses you. “You, have you talked to him?”

You look on ahead at the snow covered meadow and shrug. “Sorta. We talked when we first reunited in KC, but after….after I just got mad at him all over again. I haven’t talked to him since.”

“Is that what has you all down?” He asks and hits you right where it hurts. He knows you too well.

Your eyes sting and your throat begins to feel all clumped up with all the emotions that rapidly build up, but you hold it back as best as you can and try to assure him. And yourself. “I..I don’t want to ruin today.” You offer him a strained smile. “We can talk about it some other day.”

Your uncle shifts in his seat to face you better and doesn’t brush it off. “I cleared up my whole day today for your dad, and for you. I have time to talk. Talk to me.”

He was never one to shy away from an emotional conversation, not with you anyway. Not like your dad. Your uncle Tommy was good that way, open and understanding. Not closed off and dismissive. You owe who you became through all the tragedy to him. It’s sad to admit but if you had been completely raised by your father you would have turned out like him perhaps.

Yet it’s quite hard saying what comes to mind. You part your lips to try and speak, but all you can muster is a shaky breath as you clutch onto the stuffed giraffe.

Your uncle doesn’t press you, he waits until you can finally mutter out.

“Can you tell me…” you pause briefly and glance down at your hands. “If somethings wrong….with me?” You ask in a quivering voice and slowly look up at him, catching his confusion and disbelief.

Your uncle Tommy lets out a shaky sigh and immediately grabs your face to wipe away your tears and comfort you. “There is nothing wrong with you, baby, nothing. That guy…seems like he couldn’t handle what he felt, it happens, but you had nothing to do with it. And your dad,” he exhales and caresses your cheek. “Your dad did what he thought was best because he loves you. Losing your sister took a lot from him, but that doesn’t mean that somethings wrong with you, he loves you, and leaving was his way of showing it.” He says try and comfort you, and then pulls you in for an embrace, but you only sob more in the comfort of his arms.

You can hardly breathe, your chest feels heavy, your mind is racing, and your heart feels like it was going to jump out of you. Now you couldn’t hold anything back.

“I couldn't help him, he got bit and I couldn’t help. I couldn’t save Henry either, I should’ve just snatched the gun from him but I froze, and I couldn’t help him…just like I couldn’t help Sarah…” you spill out now through sobs.

Your uncle pulls back and grabs your shoulders to keep you close so you’d listen to what he had to redirect. “Sarah was not your fault, you understand that? There was nothing none of us could have done, especially not you, you were only 4. You understand?”

You keep your eyes averted and nod. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Look at me y/n,” he orders, causing you to slowly raise your eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. And I know I don’t know those people you knew, but one thing I am sure about is that it isn’t your fault what happened to them.” He wipes more tears off your cheeks and leans in closer so you’d listen intently. “You cry as much as you want, grieve as long as you need to, but you move on, you keep living for them. You understand? Don’t lose yourself, that’s the worst thing we can do. You understand me?”

You nod through heavy tears and get pulled into a tighter embrace that you sink into, that you bask in for a moment without saying anything. All until your heart slows down, and your head isn't filled with so much noise.

“Thank you uncle Tommy, thank you for listening,” you whisper and pull back to face him with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

He offers you a sweet smile and wipes away more stray tears. “I missed you too, Sunny.”

You sit back and watch the delicate snowflakes begin to fall from the sky. You sit in silence next to your uncle with a much lighter feeling on your chest.

“I have to tell you something,” your uncle breaks the silence with an obvious nervous voice.

You blink and look at him with a teasing smile and a curious gaze. “What? Oh my, don't tell me…are you pregnant?”

Your uncle meets your gaze and doesn’t laugh even if you said it as a joke, he instead lets out a deep breath and just holds your gaze with the same nervous look that clues you in that you might have guessed right.

“Are you?” You ask seriously now and lean in.

He averts his gaze and nods, making you slowly begin to grin with utter fucking joy. “That’s amazing news, uncle Tommy!” You exclaim and jump off your seat out of excitement. “That’s like, the best news ever.”

Yet you couldn’t help but begin to feel just a bit envious. You were happy, excited, of course you were, but you couldn’t help but feel a smidge of envy. You never thought of that before, you never yearned for that, a family of your own; you were younger, hurt by your own issues with your dad, there was too much going on in your head to even think about that, you wouldn’t have made a good wife nor a good mother. But now after returning from your country wide trip, now after hearing that your uncle's family is growing, there’s this want growing in your own heart. There doesn’t even need to be a baby, but a partner would be nice.

“Why the long face?” You press as he doesn’t seem to match your excitement.

Your uncle sighs. “I'm just nervous, that's all. I’m very fuckin’ nervous, you know it’s going to be a whole human being. I just don’t know…” he trails off.

Your uncle meets your gaze with a soft look and a soft smile. “Thank you, Sunny,” he says.

You grin brighter at him and can’t help but get even more excited. “I’m finally gonna have a cousin, man. I mean I would have appreciated one like 20 years ago, 22 years ago, but I can teach them things now. I’m wiser now.”

He chuckles and then corrects you. “Sister,”

You snap your eyes to him and stiffen.

“You might not be mine, but you are like my daughter.” He says with a smile. “Mine and Maria’s.”

Your eyes water again, but you hold back your tears now and just laugh softly. “Can I hug you now, or do you want to celebrate with a shot?” You add.

“One wouldn’t hurt, but I’ll take that hug too,” he says and lets you throw your arms around him for a tight embrace.

“Thank you for telling me, I needed to hear some good news.”

He smiles and caresses your back. “I’m glad. I’m happy it made you smile.”

You giggle and pull back to shoot him another beaming smile.

He smiles now too and interjects. “Thank you, I needed that too. Made me feel better.”

You lay down on his lap and can’t stop smiling over the news. He sits back and lets his arm rest on you to enjoy each others presence and relish in the joy he brought.

“Don’t push me in the snow,” you warn him as he begins to make the swing sway back and forth. “I just took a shower.”

He scoffs. “Don’t give me ideas, ‘cause I’ll do it. Unless you’re gonna go snitch to your daddy now that he’s here.”

You giggle. “Don’t give me ideas.”

He slowly slides his hand to your back and applies a small amount of pressure, making you stiffen and hang onto the bottom of the seat. “Don’t,” you warn him.

“I ain’t doing nothin’.” He chuckles.

You turn and look at him with a pointed glare, but all he does is smirk mischievously. He then moves his arm back where it was so you turn back to face ahead.

Yet that’s when he gets you and pushes you off the seat, making you fall in the snow.

“Oops,” you hear him say.

You slap your hands on the cold ground, and slowly sit up on your knees to wipe the snow off your face roughly as you turn your head to glare at him.

“Go on,” he says with a stifled laugh. “Bring out your guitar so we can tune it up. Let’s make sure you haven’t forgotten that talent of yours.”

“Fine,” you grumble and stand up to brush the snow off your body. “I’ll get the bottle too.”

You’re only not getting him back because you just got back and because he shared that news with you. You’ll get him back though. Old fucker.

——

*LATER*

The tv played one of your favorite movies, but it played for no one since you and your friends gathered around the living room and got lost gossiping, drinking and playing some card game Atlas insisted on playing to make drinking “more fun”. That cinnamon scent that basked the room was pushed away by the smell of food Mia had made and the alcohol in your cups.

“That’s total bull,” you complain to Atlas about the number of infected he’s killed.

He scoffs. “You can’t say that, you weren’t here.”

You pull away from Mia’s arms wrapped around your neck to lean closer to Atlas. “That number is too high. I don’t believe you.”

Atlas shrugs. “Don’t believe me then, but I did kill that many.”

You roll your eyes and meet Apollo’s gaze to press him for the truth. He however shrugs and just shares a small smirk with you.

“I’ll let you off the hook and tell you how many I killed if you say the truth,” you suggest.

“No,” Atlas blurts and pushes you back to Mia with his foot, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. “You were out in the world, your number doesn’t count.”

“Sure,” you snicker. “You old vanity. You just don’t want me to beat you. You can’t take it. You’re too fragile.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Can we just continue with the damn game before someone here talks about herself.”

You smirk. “I am a very interesting person. Just ask your dad.”

Atlas narrows his gaze and scoffs, whilst you and Mia high five.

“Okay, really did any of us get the number right?” Mia’s boyfriend asks to keep the game going.

You look between them all and shake your head. “Nope, you all drink.”

They all groan and Atlas is the one that mumbles of course. “That’s impossible.”

You watch them all take their shots with a playful smirk, but once you land on Apollo, your eyes linger and your smile softens. However, you then catch him shifting his gaze your way so you quickly look away and just feel his stare.

There’s something different about him now compared to before, the look in his eyes, his face maybe. He was never immature as his little brother is still til this day, but Apollo is far more mature than before. More handsome maybe—well he always was you just never gave it too much thought, you were far too troubled for that. And he was—is your best friend….

Damn….there’s that guilt stabbing at you again.

“Okay!” Atlas exclaims and sits up. “My turn, let’s change this game to the Apollo game.”

Mia groans. “Atlas that game is stupid. We know everything about each other—”

“Y/N’s been gone,” Atlas cuts her off. “So, let’s go on. Remember we make a statement about her and if it’s true she drinks, and you are then you drink, okay? Okay! Come on now SunnyD get up.”

You roll your eyes and sit up to drag yourself between Apollo and Mia.

“Okay,” he keeps yelling and does a drum roll on the ground. “You’ve been in love.”

Fuck.

You swallow thickly and get ready to answer, but a knock then raps on the door at that precise moment. Much to your excitement actually.

“Oh!” You jump up. “I’ll get it, you know how much I’ve missed actually answering a door without fearing for my life.” You run over to answer the door, and Achilles gets out of the couch to follow you to the door.

And much to your surprise once you open it you see your dad outside.

“Daddy,” you mutter in disbelief. “Hey.” You sligtly furrow your brows in confusion due to his very much vivid presence.

Your dad averts his gaze to stare at the ground and swallows thickly before stating his reason for this late visit. “Can we talk?” He asks.

Your heart skips a beat, and you grow speechless for a second. “Uh….sure, come in.”

He looks up at you and shakes his head. “No,” he says and glances past your shoulder to steal a glance at all your friends sitting in the living room listening in. “Can we take a walk?”

Must be important if he bothered to come all this way. “Okay,” you whisper and open the door wider. “Come in, I need to grab my jacket and my shoes.” You step aside and he shuffles inside awkwardly, causing the curious dog to sniff him before he runs back to Apollo.

“Uh,” you interject and walk to the end of the hall. “Now that you’re here, meet my friends from when my uncle Tommy and I were fireflies.” You point to Mia first. “That’s my friend Mia. And that next to her is Arthur, her boyfriend. Over there,” you point to the dark haired boy. “Is Atlas, and,” you shift your eyes to Apollo and smile softly. “That’s Apollo. Guys,” you breathe out. “This is my dad, Joel.”

Mia offers him a very faint half smile and simply waves, and her boyfriend does the same, whilst Atlas smirks and throws up a peace sign and a very quick greeting. “‘Sup.”

Gosh.

“Hi,” Apollo greets more properly, but stays sitting down. “It’s very nice meeting you Mr. Miller.”

You glance at your dad and see him just offer them a stiff wave and a dry greeting. “Hello there.”

Better nothing, and better than a gun to their heads.

“Okay,” you breathe out awkwardly. “I’m going to get my stuff.” You offer your friends a quick smile before you run off to your room to get what you need, whilst your mind races and spins with all the different outcomes to what could be said.

He doesn’t seem mad. Maybe it’s about his heart.

Or about choosing…no, it can’t be that. Positive thoughts only.

You let out a deep exhale before leaving your room to join your dad back at the entrance. “Okay,” you encourage him and throw a quick wave at your friends. “I’ll see you guys.” You open the door and walk out to the snowy night with your dad at your heels.

You expect to see Ellie waiting outside, but she’s not here, it’s only him.

“Where’s Ellie?” You ask as he now walks by your side when you exit your yard and now get on the street.

“Uh, she’s at the house,” he answers. “I just…wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

You shoot him a nervous glance and let out a small exhale. “Okay,” you whisper and grow even more nervous. “What’s wrong?”

You catch your dad scratching the back of his head and averting your gaze at all costs. “Just…just give me some time…I’m not that good at this.”

This doesn’t help whatsoever.

“Alright,” you whisper and glance at the falling snow as you take a turn to exit the street you lived on.

“I just,” he interjects and fists his hands. “I just need you to hear me, that's all I want, you don’t need to say anything, you don’t owe me nothin’. I just need you to hear what I have to tell you. Okay?”

You blink rapidly and nod. “Okay,” you whisper.

But he ends up taking another long moment to himself to think of the reason why he brought you out in the cold so late at night. You even pass your uncle's house, his own house that he was given to stay at. You pass lit streets, and only fill the silence with the crunches of your feet against the snow. You make it to the center of town where the large glowing Christmas tree brings cheer to the town.

“I,” he breaks his silence. “I’m sorry.”

You gasp softly and stop in your tracks as his words…words you never thought you’d hear, words he hasn’t spoken in a long time register in your mind.

“I’m supposed to be the one protecting you,” he continues and stops to turn around to face you. “I was the one who was supposed to teach you how to be the person you are now, I was the one who…needed to watch you grow up, but I…I let you down. I left,” his voice breaks. “I left you even if I knew your mother, even if I knew….Sarah would be mad. I left you, I hurt you…” his breath shudders and you can’t hold back your own tears now, no matter how much you wanted to fight them away.

“And I’m so ashamed of it,” he adds as…tears roll down his cheeks. “I am. But I don’t regret it,” he reveals and meets your watery gaze. “Because if I didn’t leave, you wouldn’t be who you are now, a strong, independent woman. You would only be angry like me, you’d be vain, and a monster.”

You shake your head against his words, but don’t say anything, you keep listening to him.

“I just wish I would have done things differently,” he mutters with more tears steaming down his face, tears that shock you to your core, leave you speechless and heartbroken.

You let out a shaky breath and look up to watch the snowflakes dance down from the sky, littering the ground with their white icy texture, and making the ground twinkle against the street lights yellow hue, against the beautiful colors that wrap the grand green tree a few feet away from you. You watch the sky to take in all his words, to gather your own thoughts.

“I…” you murmur against the winter wind that blows past you. “I don’t understand,” you cry and look down at him, but his face blurs because of your tears, and the twinkling lights cloud him and your vision. “Why….why me? I….” you shake your head. “I love too easily…I don’t like to see the reality of things because it makes me sad, I dream too big and too much, I…I’m too boastful,” you sob.

“I’m not strong, I’ve never been. I’ve tried to change for you, I’ve tried to be a better daughter, one—one who you’d be proud of, but I can't, and you can’t ignore it…you can’t,” you shake your head with your quivering lip and step back away from him. “I’m not enough. I'm not perfect like Sarah was, I’m not…important like Ellie, I’m nothing,” you whisper. “You deserve better. You do.”

You scoff softly at his words and let out a shaky sob as you find them beautiful yet unbelievable.

“I’m sorry,” he says again and gets close enough so he can cup your cheeks. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t lose you too.”

You grab his hands, you hold onto them as you hold his teary gaze for a moment, before you throw your arms around him.

He’s caught off guard for a few seconds, but he then hugs you back and presses you against his chest and rests his head on yours.

You don’t have the luxury of time, neither of you, and you know you’d only hate yourself if something happened to him and you couldn’t say what you feel.

“I forgive you,” you assure him and hold onto him tighter. “I do. I forgive you.”

He lets out a relieved sigh and clutches onto you as his tears soak your head.

“Will you forgive me?” You ask, and he quickly pulls back to hold your face in his hands and look at you with confusion. “For not trying either. I should’ve tried too. And for that I’m sorry.”

Your dad quickly shakes his head and wipes away your tears. “You have nothin’ to apologize for, okay? Nothing.”

You sniffle and smile softly. “Still, I'm sorry, just take it, okay?”

He scoffs in protest, but nods regardless before he pulls you in for another tight and loving embrace, letting you find comfort in his warmth that wraps around you, and by the sound of his beating heart that eases as you hold him close to you.

“I love you,” he says by your ear. “So so much.”

You laugh softly and nod. “I love you too. I do.”

He gives you one last squeeze before you both pull away from each other and face the Christmas tree in a peaceful silence, hand in hand. You linger there until you remember what you have for him.

“Can I give you an early Christmas present?” You ask rhetorically.

But he still answers. “I don’t have anything for you, and well you shouldn’t.”

You scoff and turn to pull him back to your house.

“Look,” he interjects. “One more thing, about Henry….”

You blink and feel your smile falter.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

You swallow thickly and shake your head. “There was nothing you could do. Nothing any of us could do…” it’s sad to admit now, it tears your heart apart, but it’s true.

“But,” your dad continues. “You’ll be okay?”

You glance over at him and hesitate a moment before you nod softly. “I will. With time. The best thing we can do…is move on.” You know that now after the talk with him, he lifted that weight off you, and helped you from drowning under the depths of the suffocating waters. “As hard as it is, as impossible as it may seem now, we have to live for them, because we don't have the luxury of time….so that’s the best thing we can do, right?”

Your dad lets his eyes linger on you for a moment before he smiles softly. “I would’ve never thought of that…it’s sweet.”

You smile softly and hum, leaving the rest of your walk to your house silent. Once you do reach your house, your friends are still out, but calmer. “Excuse me,” your dad directs at them as you make him follow you to your room.

“Now I didn’t have time to wrap it, but it’s the thought that counts,” you tell him and turn the light on in your room. And luckily the gift is easy to find on your vanity.

“This room is…very you,” your dad comments as you hear him walk over to the corner of your room where your guitar is. “You play better now?”

You scoff and snatch the disc from your vanity to turn and face him. “Yes,” you admit. “I mean I'm not as good as you, but I’m better than I was before.” You grin and then close the gap between each other to hand him his favorite movie, Curtis and Viper 2.

“I never payed much mind to it before, but I watched it for the first time a couple years back, and it’s not bad,” you share. “That is the movie though, right? All I could remember were the funny men from the cover.”

Your dad looks down at the disc in his hands and immediately smiles. “You’re right,” he assures you, letting you let out a relieved sigh. All this time you thought you’ve been wrong—“It’s a great movie,” he adds. “Where you find it?”

You smirk. “I found it in the tunnels at KC. I just never got the chance to give it to you. You like it?”

He meets your gaze and nods. “I love it, baby. Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and clap softly out of joy. He notices your smile and his smile softens.

“It’s not that late yet,” you add, “even if it looks so. My tv works….I can pop it in. If you want.” You suggest.

Your dad doesn’t hesitate—he can’t turn you down, so he nods. “Go on, pop it in.”

You squeal softly and take the movie from him to now head to your small tv. “You can lay on the bed, just take your shoes off.”

He hums, and as you’re putting on the movie you hear your bed sink and shoes thump on the ground. And as overjoyed as you are, someone comes to mind and brings your mood down slightly. Yet you don’t bring her up until you’re laying down next to him watching the previews play with your head on his chest, finding comfort by the sound of his heartbeat and his arm around you.

“About Ellie,” you bring up without shame, hoping he’d be honest. “What are you goin’ to do?”

Your dad lets out a deep sigh and you feel him swallow thickly. “I’m not the man I used to be,” he admits quietly as he caresses the side of your head. “I’m old now. You know that, I’m…not strong enough no more, but…trust me when I say I'm going to do my best by her.”

He’s right about being old, but is he right about letting her leave?

You can’t let her leave with just your uncle Tommy. You know that heartbreak too well, and you know your dad has the best intentions, you wouldn't have seen that yourself before, but hopefully she’ll see it with time. If that’s what he wants. You can’t force him to do anything.

“Alright,” you trust him. “But whatever happens, I’m going with her, I’m seeing her off. For her and for what she can mean to the firefly’s and humanity,” you say softly. “I owe it to Sam, to everyone else that I’ve lost to that infection.”

Your dad lets out a deep breath. “That’s fine,” he says. “That’s good. Your Uncle Tommy plans to take her tomorrow morning. It’s a week's ride.”

You just got home, but fuck it. One more trip and that’s it.

“What about you?” You probe. “What will you do?”

He stays quiet for a moment and watches the movie finally start. “I don’t know.” He breaks his silence.

You sigh softly. “That’s fine,” you assure him. “Just…do what’s best by her, and you. Okay? Promise?”

“I do,” he whispers. “I promise.”

You smile softly. “Good,” you whisper.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

Flashlight?

Check.

Extra clothes?

Check.

Books to read?

Check.

Multiple pairs of fingerless gloves that keeps your hands warm but helps with other purposes?

Check.

New cassettes to listen to?

Check.

Every other little thing that goes in the backpack?

Uh….check!

Weapons?

Need to check those out, but it’s all here. Good. You get off the edge of your bed and once you’re at the door you make sure to be quiet since it’s still pretty early and neither person living here gets up just yet.

However, as you quietly step out of your room you almost run into Mia waiting outside of your door with her arms over her chest, and her dark eyes piercing your very soul—she’s pissed. She knows.

“Mornin’,” you greet her with a small smile.

Mia doesn't return it, or return that same energy. She remains pissed.

“Don’t,” she cuts you off. “Don’t smile at me like everything’s okay.”

She might be shy and gentle, but she’s no one to mess with when she’s upset. Like now.

“You’re leaving again.” She knows. How?

You lose your smile and let out a deep sigh. “Yes,” you admit. “I am but not for long. Maybe just a month this time, or even less. I just need to see someone off.”

Mia shakes her head and her brows furrow deeper. “Can’t someone else do that? You just got home from a 2 year trip. A trip you probably barely survived…”

“Mia,” you interject to try and comfort her concern, but she continues and drops her arms to her sides to take an angry step towards you.

“No. No! We waited, I waited for you for 2 years, everyday I prayed that you wouldn’t meet the same fate everyone else did; my mom, my brother. I waited and now you’re leaving again.”

You swallow thickly and quietly mention who you’re going with this time in hopes that would help. “I’m going with my uncle Tommy. I’ll be back, I came back this time. I promise.”

“No, that’s no excuse—”

“And you can’t make me stay,” you cut her off this time. “I appreciate your concern, I do, but I have to see this girl off, I have to make this worth something…I lost people Mia, a guy I loved, and his brother who I adored…he got bit….” You pause and swallow back thickly. “If taking her might be worth something I have to do it for them.”

Mia seems puzzled by what you said since she doesn’t see the bigger picture, but she doesn’t argue now.

“I’ll come back,” you assure and take another step toward her to take her hands in yours. “I promise. I won’t leave after that. I’ll stay home. Just one more trip.”

Mia drops her gaze and hesitates before she nods softly and whispers, “okay. One more.” She then pulls her hands away to wrap you in an embrace. “Come back, okay?”

You return her embrace and nod. “I will,” you assure her. “I swear.” You give her one gentle squeeze before you pull away to offer her one last smile before you continue your way outside.

Yet, of course, as you walk past your yard, there, against the fence is Apollo with a backpack, and Achilles waiting next to him. How the hell did they know you’re leaving?

Did they overhear?

“Apollo?” You question and come to another stop.

Achilles runs to you and rubs his body against you before sitting by your side now, while Apollo turns to face you as he drops his folded arms down to his sides.

“I can get the horses, you check out the weapons.” He peels away from his spot and steps off the sidewalk, whilst you just look at him in disbelief.

“Hold up, where are you going?” You interrupt him.

Apollo stops in his tracks and just peers back. “I’m going with you and Tommy.” He mentions it casually.

You blink in disbelief and let out a breathless laugh. “What?” You shake your head. “Why?”

Apollo turns around completely and looks almost surprised you’d ask such a question. “I accidentally overheard you and your dad talking on my way to bed last night—”

Sure. Accidental.

“I'm not sitting on my ass here while you’re off risking your life and having all the fun—“

You scoff softly.

“Besides,” he adds in a softer voice. “I don’t want to wait for you to come back home again. I’ll go with you this time.”

You breath traps in your throat out of disbelief over his words, and a soft smile begins to appear on your features. “That’s nice,” you tell him. “Very…but…I can’t be who you want…not yet at least. I lost someone, someone I loved, someone I fell in love with. It’s still a fresh wound, ” you scoff as your eyes begin to sting. “I can’t be who you want, or what you want.”

Rather than being hurt, or upset by your words Apollo smiles. “I loved someone too. I was in love with her too. It hurts too. But,” he adds in a soft voice as he takes a step towards you. “I’m not asking you to be my first love, nor do I want to be yours….we can be each other's last, whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait.”

Tears fall past your eyes and you can only whisper. “Okay.”

He grins, but you step back again. “But I can’t make you come with us. I don’t want you to. Your brother is here, your dad,” you insist. “They need you alive.”

“I can die here too,” he interjects. “It doesn’t matter, y/n, I would go to the edge of earth with you. I would’ve had you asked me before.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help your smile. But as nice as his words are to hear, the answer remains the same. “What if I want you to wait for me here?” You say and now get closer to him. “So you can greet me when I get home. So I can have something to look forward to. A light in the dark.”

“That,” he chuckles softly. “Is the cheesiest thing ever.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, stopping now as you’re only inches away. “Yeah, but will you?” You querie.

He holds your gaze and offers you a soft assuring smile. “I already did, what’s another month or so?”

Your grin widens and you immediately throws your arms around him. He immediately returns the embrace and nuzzles his head on your shoulder.

“Be careful, okay?” He adds.

“I will,” you assure him and linger in his embrace for a moment longer. “You take care too, promise?”

“I promise.”

You smile and pull away to cup his cheek, he offers you a soft smile before he raises his hands to unwrap his scarf around his neck to instead carefully wrap it around yours.

“There, nice and toasty.” He murmurs.

You giggle and hold his gaze for another moment before you pull away before you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, and turn to walk to your uncle Tommy’s house now. You want to look back, but you don’t, you can’t, it’d only make you feel bad for leaving, so you just feel his stare and walk away. You can’t even give it too much or else you’ll feel bad too, you just clear your mind and walk.

Once you make it to the street where your uncle lives you catch him walking out of his own house. He spots you right away, and is rightfully surprised by your presence.

“What are ya doin’?” He asks once you meet halfway in the middle of the street.

You shrug. “Makin’ Maria even more mad.” You glance at his house and nod slowly. “Goin’ with Ellie, and you. Leaving, one more time. And don’t you dare fight me, I’ll fight back.”

Your uncles lips pull into a soft smile and he scoffs as he nods. “Okay then,” he doesn’t question you further, he respects your choice without a fight.

You glance at his house again and sigh. “No pancakes in there, is there?” You ask with a bit of hope.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Well It’s a good thing I ate beforehand then.” You turn and begin to walk to the house Ellie and your dad were staying at. “Wanna go fetch her?”

He nods. “Yep.”

As he goes inside you wait outside and think about your dad now. He said he was going to do right by her, you trust him, but is he really not going to see her off at the gate or even just outside the house? You said your goodbyes last night just in case, but what about her?

“Y/N?” You hear Ellie’s voice as the front door closes behind her.

You lift your head, and offer her a sweet smile and a small wave. “Hey.”

She stops by you and studies you for a moment in this soft shocked reaction before she probes. “Are you coming?”

You nod and begin to follow after your uncle as he leads the way. “Yep. I’ve been gone from home for two years, what’s another month or so?” You tell her. “Besides, I don’t want to miss another hell of an adventure.” You smirk at her, and she offers you a soft smile. “Is that okay?” You make sure regardless of the relief you read on her face.

“Yeah,” Ellie says without hesitation. “Yeah.”

You offer one more smile before you skip ahead to walk at your uncles side. “Stables and then can we get my rifle and pistol? I’ve felt like I’ve been missin’ something all day. It’s weird.”

He peers back and then glances at you to nod. “Of course. How did it go with your friends? Have fun?”

You nod and begin to get ahead a bit. “Yeah. We had fun, we ate some food, we drank, watched Pulp Fiction—which,” you say and look back at Ellie, “we need to watch by the way, when we get back. Sorry, have you watched it?”

Ellie shakes her head. “I never have, no.”

You smirk. “Great movie. You’ll like it, I’m sure of it.”

“Is it romantic? I prefer more action and scary movies.” She says.

You scoff and shake your head. “Nah, it’s not romantic. You’ll like it, trust me.”

“You make a play based off that too?” Ellie comments, making your uncle chuckle.

You shoot her smirking face a narrowed glare. “No,” you deadpan. “I didn't. I couldn’t bring myself to do that to that movie.”

“No but seriously,” your uncle interjects. “Once we come back you need to tell her to make a play, they’re all surprisingly good.”

“Of course they are,” you quip. “And! What is that supposed to mean?”

He smirks. “Just surprisin’ that’s all. Don’t know where you get that talent from.”

You hum and shoot him a pointed glare, and leave at that as you see the stables coming up ahead.

“I get my own horse right?” You ask and run up ahead.

“You’re sharin!” Your uncle exclaims.

“Beats walkin’!” You comment and slow down as you enter the pen. And rather than waiting for them to catch up you walk in the stables to start getting the horse ready.

Albeit, just as you walk in you stop right away as you catch your dad saddling a horse. You know what it means; he changed his mind about staying. So instead of diving into questions you just smile at him as you meet his gaze, and look back as your uncle and Ellie walk in.

“You come here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asks in an upset tone.

“No,” your dad says. “I came here to steal one of these horses and go.”

He could’ve just asked.

“Well,” your uncle interjects. “I woulda gave you one.”

Your dad pats the horse's neck and looks at his brother. “I know,” he says. “Anyway.” He glances at Ellie. “That was 30 minutes ago, and I guess…” he pauses and walks to Ellie to continue. “You deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy—”

He gets cut off suddenly as Ellie shoves a blue bag of supplies so he can hold, and retorts. “Let’s go.”

Your dad glances at you before looking back at Ellie and adding, “okay.”

Silence follows so you move past them to saddle your own horse since three don’t fit on one. Your uncle helps so the progress moves on faster, but as he does you come to the realization that now he won’t be coming. The only reason he was going was because your dad wasn’t, but now that he changed his mind your uncle stays.

“I’ll make it back before the baby is born,” you break your silence.

Your uncle looks over at you and shoots you a smile. “You better.”

“I’ll make it back before my birthday too,” you add with a playful smirk. “So you better start plannin’, you’ve been let off the hook for 2 years now.”

“You come back and I’ll throw you the biggest party you’ve had,” he feeds to your demand.

You smile softly as you feel sadness in your heart knowing you have to leave him again. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Wouldn’t expect it any other way.”

You giggle and finish up saddling up your horse to then meet up with Ellie and your dad outside the stable.

“General direction?” Your dad asks your uncle, but he looks to you instead.

“She knows it, she can lead the way.” Your uncle points out. “You remember the school, right Sunny?”

You nod as you caress your black horse's neck. “Yeah. I remember.”

Your dad nods in comprehension, and once he looks back at his brother in front of him they quickly move in and embrace each other. It’s short but sweet, and makes you smile with joy to see that they’re doing okay.

It’s not like it was before, but the love is there.

“There’s a place for you here,” your uncle tells your dad once they’re apart. “For Ellie and you.”

“Countin’ on it,” your dad says, letting your uncle now look at you again.

“You come back now, understand?”

You shoot him a smirk. “Have to. Can’t miss my own party.”

He smiles and lets his eyes linger on you to take in the sight of you one more time.

“Can I borrow that?” Your dad interjects.

Your uncle breaks his gaze away from you to glance at his rifle before meeting your dads gaze. “Yeah.” He accepts and then slides the gun off his shoulder.

“‘Cause Maria took mine, you know?” Your dad says.

“I already said yes, Joel,” he retorts as he hands your dad the gun. “Adios, big brother.”

Your dad offers him a nod before finally moving out. And once you collect your own rifle, pistol, and other supplies you may need, you climb on your horse and head on out. One more time.

But, this time with not such a heavy heart, or a tormented mind.

——

*LATER*

The sound of the gunshot rang against the secluded grass field, and the sound of the bullet breaking a tree trunk echoes out, making you snicker at Ellie’s failure to shoot the close target.

She chooses to ignore you though and shoots again, but once again misses and hits a small pile of snow near the target. And this time you smile at the ground as you shift your position.

She does it a third time, but no luck, so she lets out an annoyed sigh that lets your dad comment. “Wide right.”

Ellie shakes her head in denial.

“You’re flinchin’,” you comment, and unfold your arms off your chest.

“The targets too small,” she rebuttals you and your dad.

“I made it bigger than I should’ve,” your dad mentions and points to the gun. “Eject the cartridge.”

Ellie does so and the bullet falls to the ground first before she argues back. “And I’m not flinching.”

You and your dad share a teasing look before you hum. “Mm-hmm.”

“The rifle just sucks,” Ellie keeps mumbling.

You roll your eyes, and your dad steps forward. “Okay, give It.”

Ellie hands the rifle to your dad with a sigh and another comment. “It doesn’t aim right.”

You crouch down beside your dad as he switches spots with Ellie, and hum again with a little playful smirk on your lips. “Mm-hmm.”

“You’ll see.”

“A deep breath in,” your dad says as he gets the gun ready. “Slow breath out. Squeeze the trigger like you love it.”

“Mm,” Ellie hums as she looks through the binoculars.

“Gentle,” he continues and lowers his head, and closes one eye to look better through the scope. “Steady…nice and slow.”

“You’re gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?” Ellie retorts, making you snicker as your dad looks up at her with a disapproving look.

“It isn’t gonna work. It doesn’t aim right,” Ellie continues, so your dad then hits the trigger gently and the bullet hits the target straight on, causing him to lower the gun and look up at her all cocky.

“You dick,” Ellie quips with a grin.

Your dad shrugs smugly, causing you to snicker at Ellie.

“2 out 2?” You suggest smugly.

Your dad smirks and happily hands you the rifle, making Ellie shake her head in disapproval.

“Watch carefully, kid,” you comment as you scoot further in the middle.

“Don’t get the gun pregnant,” she quips.

“Haha, funny,” you mumble and eject the cartridge as you close one eye and aim at the target. “Now…” you trail as you hit the trigger, and the bullet whizzes out and hits the target inches away from where your dad hit it.

“See,” you taunt Ellie and lift your head. “Can I get a bump?” You offer her your fist.

Ellie scoffs lightheartedly and pushes your fist away. “No,” she grumbles, so your dad gently taps your fist with his.

“You guys suck,” Ellie scoffs and turns around to head back to the horses.

You snicker and push yourself to your given height, and hand the rifle back to your dad to quickly catch up to Ellie. “You just need patience,” you assure her and look around the fields. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Ellie glances at you and then looks back at your dad following at your tail. “Did it take you time?”

You sigh deeply. “Not much, but it’s not because I had much of a choice, I was forced to adapt, forced to learn everything quickly to survive. It’s not super easy for you, but you have it easier, you’re used to all this shit since you were born in it, I wasn’t.”

“So you’re saying I can be better,” Ellie comments.

You glance at her and scoff as you nudge her to the side. “Sure, practice and then we’ll see.”

Ellie smirks and nods in comprehension. Once you reach your horses you continue on ahead down your path, filling the day with silence at times and conversations that come up at other times. Due to the horses it was faster to get around the land, it was also less stressful since they can pick up sounds neither you might hear.

Luckily though they didn’t catch anything bad, no infected or people, the path was clear and the day was easy, making for a calm night in the spot you settled down at.

“Now that we have time,” you interject and grab your backpack from behind you to plop it down in front of you. “I have a Christmas gift for you Ellie.”

“What? Really?” Ellie queries curiously.

You hum and open your backpack. Since what you have for her is placed on top you look over at her sitting to the side of the campfire and add on. “I gave my dad his Christmas gift early, so might as well give yours early too.” You shoot her a smile, and she glances at your dad with slight shock before getting up from her seat to sit next to you.

“Now keep in mind,” you continue and now begin to pull out her gift. “I didn’t have time to go into town to actually shop well, but I do hope you like it.” You fully pull out her gift and hand it to her. “And it’s not wrapped either so sorry.”

Ellie’s smile turns timid as she takes the brown leather holster from you, but she soon grins once she figures out what it is exactly. “No way!” She exclaims and stands up to hook it around her hip. “A thigh holster!”

“Now you don’t have to be scared about shooting off your ass,” your dad comments.

You giggle and nod in agreement as you watch Ellie now tie the last strap above her knee. “Cool,” she mumbles and tucks her pistol in the holster before quickly sliding it out and pointing at the empty space between your dad and you—“Fast move,” she mutters to herself, and then spins the gun around her finger to try and insert it back in the holster all swiftly, but the gun hits the ground instead.

“Jesus, Ellie,” your dad snaps.

Ellie stifles her laugh so as to not piss your dad off and picks up her gun to put it back. However she then finds the tip hits against something inside so she pulls out the gun and digs her fingers inside, and pulls out a leather necklace with a small piece of wood carved into a neat circle with a butterfly burned onto it. On each side of the necklace, over the wood are small wooden beads.

“Is this…” she pauses and her smile softens as well as her eyes. “Is it for me too?”

You nod. “Yeah. The necklace is adjustable so you can have it where it feels comfortable.”

Ellie grins softly and turns the small wooden pendant and smiles wider.

“It has my name on it—did you do this?” She asks.

You scoff and shake your head. “Nah, my friend did. I can’t do that.”

Ellie looks back at the necklace and shifts her eyes to the other thing around it, something small, thin, plastic and shaped like a dull triangle. “What is this?”

You glance over at your dad and let him answer. “A…guitar pick. Uh…I figure that once we go back to Jackson you’ll need a hobby so you won’t get bored, so I thought maybe you’d like to learn how to play a guitar.”

You smile wider and look back to Ellie, seeing her eyes only twinkle brighter. “You play?” She probes.

He nods. “Haven’t played in some time, but yeah, I do. I taught y/n a bit. I can teach you if you’d like.”

Ellie nods quickly. “Yeah, that’d be cool. I’d like that. Thank you, the both of you. I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you, y/n.”

You shake your head and assure her. “Don’t worry about it. You can make it up for my birthday. My uncle Tommy is throwing me a party.” You share with a sweet smile.

“Oh is he now?” Your dad probes.

You glance at him and nod. “Yep. You guys are invited by the way.”

“I’ll think about it,” your dad teases you, making you scoff and roll your eyes.

“By the way,” Ellie interjects as she ties the necklace around her neck. “Why does Tommy call you Sunny? Is it like a middle name or something?”

“A nickname,” you tell her. “But I don’t know why exactly he does, he just does. I’ve never asked.” You shrug.

“He says it because,” your dad cuts in, causing Ellie and you to look over at him. “Back when y/n was a little girl she always had a Sunny disposition, she was always smilin’. As a little baby she was easy to make laugh too, so one time this song by some 70s band with the same name began to play, and he got it from there.”

Ellie smiles. “Sweet,” she comments, whilst you grin and miss your uncle all over again.

At least this time it’s not as bad as before though, because at least now you do have your father, and are closer to Ellie, so they make it all easier now. They make the long days of riding that follow a lot easier, and even make those days seem quicker. Especially because Ellie has a lot of questions regarding the time before.

Like now for example, as you’re riding on horseback through the woods she breaks the peaceful silence with a question. “So the way they ran stuff in Jackson, was how things used to be?”

“No,” your dad answers this question. “The country was too big for that. Back then there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things. Some people wanted to own everything.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie hums in comprehension, and your dad continues.

“And some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.”

“Which one were you?” Ellie asks.

“Neither,” he says. “I just did my job.”

“Which was…” Ellie trails off as she thinks, and glances at you since you had told her once before. “Building?” She asks.

“That’s right,” he answers. “Houses, stores, that kinda thing. We were called “contractors”.”

“The contractor,” Ellie says in a deep voice, making you grin down at your handle—“that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” your dad adds on. “We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.”

Really? Hm.

“Nice,” Ellie says and proceeds to rest her head on his back.

You try to think if he’s right, but you were too young before to know otherwise, and your uncle Tommy never said anything against it so your dad must be right.

“This has been ‘Construction corner with Joel Miller’,” you quote in a deep voice.

Ellie and your dad look over at you, and you laugh.

“It’s what Tess used to say.” You let Ellie know, and remind your dad.

Ellie smiles and then adds her own bit. “The Contractor!” She mocks in a deep voice.

You smirk. “The Contractor!” You mock as well. “Joel the Contractor.”

Ellie laughs and repeats what you said. “Joel the Contractor.”

Where is Tess? You may have not known her long, she might’ve scared you a bit before, but she was nice and cool. You’d ask, but you didn’t want to sour the mood, so you went on going without knowing.

Eventually the day turns to night and so as to not exhaust yourselves you camp for the night; this time in a place deeper in the woods.

“Okay,” you add as you stare up at the starry sky. “So if you could name 3 songs to describe yourself, what would it be?”

Ellie hums, and you glance over at your dad that has his back turned to Ellie and you.

“I wouldn’t know,” she mutters.

“Okay,” you nod. “Then to describe each other.”

You have three perfect songs for Ellie.

Ellie goes silent for a second before interjecting loudly in defeat. “Fuck, I don’t know!”

You giggle, and unexpectedly your dad interjects when he’s supposed to be sleeping.

“Three? For you, y/n, Uptown Girl by Billy Joel, Sunny, and,” he pauses and begins to laugh.

“What?” You probe and flip around to face his back. “What other song?”

“That song you sang for my birthday 20 years ago, by that one rapper named after two quarters.”

“Oh god,” you grumble and flip back around to face the sky. “I thought you forgot that! That’s so embarrassing!”

“Wait?! What?!” Ellie exclaims and flips around to face you and your dad. “What song is it?”

“I don’t know,” your dad says. “Tell y/n to sing it for you.”

“Daddy,” you warn. “Don’t.”

“What?” He chuckles. “It was cute, I told ya it was. She,” he continues and looks over his shoulder. “She dressed up as me that day; she wore one of my shirts, put on this fake mustache, and sang this rap song as one of my birthday gifts. It was great, one of my favorite gifts by far.”

You slap your hands on your face to hide your embarrassment.

“Really?” Ellie probes with a snicker. “That’s nice. Do you remember the words, y/n? I’d love to hear them since you know, I’m not that well up to date about the world before.”

Guilt tripping you? Not nice.

You don’t fall for it, you shake your head. “No!” You deny her, and pull your hands off your face to pull your sheet over your face as you drag yourself further in your sleeping bag. “This is over goodnight!”

“Come on!” Ellie presses you, and you can practically feel her grin. “Just one verse!”

You ignore them and pretend to be asleep. They both then try to press you, but you stay defiant and don’t give in. They eventually drop it after relentless teasing, so the night passes, a day does too and so on until finally that day comes when you’re finally close to your destination.

“Here we were,” you say as you bring your horse, and the other two to a stop in front of the intersection. “We’re here.”

“Well,” your dad interjects. “How ‘bout that? Made it in five days.”

“Easy days,” Ellie says, and you keep on moving now towards the city. “I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.”

“Still time to find out.”

“Still time to find out,” Ellie mocks your dad using a deep voice.

You glance over at her and scoff in amusement, while your dad shoots her a hard pointed stare.

“The contractorrrr,” Ellie whispers creepily.

You laugh and play along too. “Joel the Contractor.”

Ellie lets out a chuckle and repeats what you said. “Joel the contractorrr.”

You both share a laugh that’s quickly cut off by your dad.

“Quiet, the both of you, we’re going to enter the city now we don't know what lies ahead.”

You stifle your teasing smile and assure them. “Nothin’, the city isn’t wiped out from infected, but it’s not bad considering it’s where the firefly’s come to. Same goes for stragglers and groups. We’ll be on the clear if we head directly to campus.”

“And that’s where they’ll be?” Ellie asks with no laugh or smile now.

When you steal her a glance you see slight fear and worry, so you do your best to come off confident. “It's where they stay,” you assure her. “They’ll be there.”

Hopefully….

A/N- Why can’t the Miller’s just eat pancakes and be happy? Anyway don’t forget that gesture of reader laying her head on Joel’s chest, it’s gonna come back and bite everyone in the ass iykyk

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @traceylader @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @dgraysonss @rana030 @punisherinthealps @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @ririvilliams @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl

#Tragedy at the Miller’s #series #damn stark

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thedeadthree · 2 years ago

Text

OC LANGUAGE SURVEY

tagged by my dearies @marivenah, @florbelles and @dihardys to take this cutest survey for my darlings! ty so much beloveds! here is part one as well!

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman, @aartyom, @swordcoasts, @jackiesarch, @blackreaches, @noonfaerie, @arklay, @yennas, @confidentandgood, @celticwoman, @shellibisshe, @aceghosts, @multiverse-of-themind, @jacobseed, @saintsilver, @roofgeese, @pheedraws @rosebarsoap and you!

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+

TONE OF VOICE: high(-ish) / average / deep

ACCENT: yes (a little faint but its there) / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (INTIMIDATING and often seemingly unapproachable but not necessarily hostile?)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS - head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY -arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

THIS OR THAT -straightforward or cryptic (corpo things babes!) / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity neutrality or femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling or magnanimity? (neither they’re not worth her time for that jdjajk) / friendly or blunt?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently (accent/language barrier, very rarely meaning) / rarely / never.

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? yes / no / only AND ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+

TONE OF VOICE: high(-ish) / average / deep

ACCENT: yes (a little faint but its there) / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (INTIMIDATING and often seemingly unapproachable but not necessarily hostile?)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️

THIS OR THAT -straightforward or cryptic? (shes both! <3) / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity neutrality or femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling or magnanimity? / friendly or blunt?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently (accent/language barrier, very rarely meaning) / rarely / never.

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+

TONE OF VOICE: high(-ish) / average / deep

ACCENT: yes (a little faint but its there) / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (INTIMIDATING and often seemingly unapproachable but not necessarily hostile?)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

THIS OR THAT -straightforward or cryptic (both!) / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity neutrality or (AND) femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling or magnanimity? / friendly or blunt?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS:

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently (accent/language barrier, very rarely meaning) / rarely / never.

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely (if she feels like messing with u ajnsjkn) / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+

TONE OF VOICE: high(-raspy) / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

THIS OR THAT -straightforward or cryptic / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity neutrality or (AND) femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling or magnanimity? / friendly (with people she likes) or blunt?