#and he gotta be looking scary one second beforehand!!’n

[georgefuckinharrison]

Shout out to George Harrison nodding and smiling like an anime girl

Gotta be one of my favorite genders

[seostudios]

middle of the night: all about luv - p.js

ALL ABOUT LUV ‣ MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

you just needed to pass your classes and you'd be out of this hellhole but of course you couldn't do it alone! it was a two man job with your lifestyle so the school assigned you to the one and only park jisung, clumsy straight a student who you may or may not have now taken a liking to....

pairing: park jisung x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 4.5k

info: rebel!reader, nerd!jisung, strangers to lovers!au, non-idol!au, high school!au

warnings: explicit/vulgar language, mentions of drugs, alcohol, little bit alcohol consumption

a/n: hey omg i can’t believe i finally posted a part to this series, i hope u guys enjoy it and PLEASE tell me if you want a taglist okay? thanks! 

You were fierce, everyone knew. Even those who haven't even seen you and your tricks in-person feared when you attended school. Although you were known to play tricks,  rough-house, and start problems with the other kids who didn't even bother attending school or pursue their actual desires- you had one and was determined to make it come true one way or another. But unfortunately, you were pretty dim compared to the students who roamed the hallways, it never stopped you, Today you decided on approaching your math teacher since she was surprisingly the only one who cheered you on with your aspirations,

"So...I'm passing three of my four courses this semester!?" You eagerly questioned the woman in front of you, "Yes, you are" confirmed with the recent grade updates, you sigh in relief knowing you were passing most of your classes with satisfying marks, so you made your way to the exit. 

However, she pulled you back down to your seat. "You're failing Science Y/n," she added pointing at the 34, "Well I don't even know what's happening in there, how can I pass in such a short time?" 

He stared out the window of the Science lab. He had plans after school, "Jisung? Park Jisung?" an unfamiliar teacher called from the door frame; his attention was mainly towards the girl behind her which sent shivers down his spine.

"Can you meet me in Room 284 after school?" Of course not, he's finally scored a fucking date with Lee Jieun one of the prettiest and popular girls of the junior division, he looked over to Jieun in the back of the class who was listening in on your conversation along with everybody else in the classroom, she looked disappointed but nodded permitting him to ditch their date, he smiled apologetically at the girl before focusing his attention to the door, 

"Sure."

Knocks were heard from the door which made your busy teacher who was marking work signal you to go open the entrance to this quite cold classroom. Roughly around 5'11 probably 6'0 boy is wearing a worn-out white shirt, with a navy blue blazer, pants and a poorly tied tie. His attire was mandatory but his hair was unique, rocking pink-brown hair was not something you see every day unless they were idols. The sun shined passed the windows onto the boy making his rosewood hair turn into a more dark salmon colour. "Jisung!" Your Math teacher chirped to the boy pulling out a chair next to yours indicating you two to sit back down. She took a good two minutes out of your time to finish up on marking and organizing the sheets sprawled across the desk, you and Jisung just sat in silence. In all honestly, Jisung was shitting himself. You and the reputation you had here were most definitely the reason why. Shifting his position every ten seconds, the occasional glances to you, and bouncing his leg. Finally, she turned her attention to the pair in front of her, "So you two are probably really confused."she stated looking at Jisung, then you."Poor Y/n here, my favourite student-"She pauses looking at you with a smile and towards Jisung who looked confused on how,"which is surprising to the staff apparently which I have no idea how...she hasn't been...rebellious in a few weeks since she's trying to pass before the summer break."Clasping her hands together she looks up at you two, "Jisung I need you to tutor Y/n until she gets her final grade in." When I tell you his eyes widened enough for you to see the wrinkles on his forehead form, you did. You smiled accepting the help but it quickly seeing his distressed self, "Are you okay? Do you not want to tutor me?"You asked, and it was your first time ever speaking to the boy he never expected you to sound so soft and gentle; predicting beforehand that you had a rough deeper voice. His facial expression softens slightly at your hopeful gaze piercing through him- hoping he'd tutor you, cause frankly, you needed it more than anyone in your division at this point (Maybe you're being a little selfish but who cares.). Jisung was sitting in his seat, zoned out, probably processing all this. It took him a minute, but he finally looked up from fiddling with his fingers. "Oh Of course I will! I can do Wednesdays after school and Saturday around noon?"It was pretty shocking how confident he sounded ordering you around that second- which made the teacher grin at the shy boy's sudden dominance. Chuckling a little with a small smile plastered on your face you say "Works perfectly, I'll be leaving now. Bye Ms.," You said jolting up grabbing your backpack walking towards the door, but before you leave you gotta leave a nice impression on the boy plus its rude to not say goodbye isn't it. 

"Goodbye Jisung Park."

It was Tuesday and Jisung was sitting in the Music room during lunch eating and catching up on his Health papers when you walked in. This was your usual spot in the late spring when you needed AC and a place to lay down. On a regular day for Jisung, he'd be in the front of the school on the bench working however it was too hot for him today so he opted to break into the already unlocked classroom to eat and study in. Sitting on top of the sink counter you lean to open a window pulling out a cigarette, you came here to smoke and it was a great place since it was deserted. "W-What are you doing?" Jisung asked looking up from his notebook sitting on the carpet. "Do I look like I'm about to jump out the window? no. I'm gonna smoke."You informed sarcastically on the boy. He was slightly taken aback you were so sweet yesterday and today your back with your bad girl reputation still strong. He threw you a quick look before getting up, putting his things in his bag, and throwing out the rest of his lunch. Now, walking towards you he takes the cigarette out your hand before you could even light it and threw it out the open window. "Hey! I wasn't done with that, and I didn't even start with it!" You raised your voice at him which did make him flinch but provoked him to argue back, "Yah! Your smoking is unhealthy and against school rules." He paused but started again, "You want to pass, don't you? I'm helping you pass, aren't I? Get your things together if you want my help Y/n."He spat. Honestly, you didn't think his words would affect you so much but it fueled the fire you started a minute ago. "Shut up Park, stop acting all tough when you know nothing about me, I never needed your help I was just going along with Ms." you argued back before grabbing your backpack and the lighter on the counter before hopping off pushing the tallboy to the side rudely, muttering something about bullshit.

"I was helping her! And she says you know nothing about me Park! like of course I don't butt why does she need to be an asshole when I'm trying to help her out." Jisung complains to Chenle in front of him. "Maybe she's like addicted," Chenle says trying to make the best out of the situation "Look, she'll warm up to you eventually cause you two will be spending lots of time together now." Jisung huffs in disbelief that Chenle is basically on your side here, getting up from the grassy field to join the rest of his gym class in soccer.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees a figure under the bleachers; you. He knows you are upset with him as much as he is with you but he still wants to encourage you to pass Science with his help. "Park! Get your ass over here!" Yedam, his classmate calls him to grab his things on the field before heading into the change rooms.

The school bell rang, you watched students walk out of their classrooms to their lockers, friends, lovers. You were leaning against the wall beside the empty Music room contemplating if you should leave and hang out with some friends by Unjeong Lake Park or stay in with Park Jisung to study for Science. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a voice, "Hey." Jisung stood in front of you, backpack resting on one shoulder and a Science textbook in his hand. "Hi," It was awkward being around him after you little tilt.

"Let's go," You trailed behind Jisung watching him take you to an unfamiliar part of the school, the West End. "Why are we here?" You question the pink-haired boy, but all you get in return is silence. At last, he brought you two to the old gym, it hasn't been used in almost 6 years but somehow it looks squeaky clean. "This is my hangout spot after school, I kind of made my friends go down to Unjeong for the day so we could study here until I find a proper place." He explains to you placing his books and bag on the stacked mats, offering to take your bag too, you let him. "So what Unit is your class working on now?" He asked you once the two of you sat on one of the many beanbags in the gym (Probably brought in from his pals), "Well my mom made me take Biology I and I know you are in my class I just don't show up..." You lean back on the beanbag playing with the lighter in your hands "What are we learning Park?" He visibly gulps at you doesn't even know why he's nervous himself, maybe because your scary? Probably.

"Well we're on our last unit of the year and the Unit test and Final Exam are what can get you to pass the class with at least a 60," He said moving to grab his textbook flipping to a page with sticky notes plastered all over. "We are in Unit 5, Plants: Anatomy, Growth, and Function. It's an easy Unit so we could go through it in two months then spend the two weeks before the final exam prep." Jisung finished speaking and handed you the textbook that was on the Unit page, it didn't look hard but you knew better to judge a book by its cover. "Alright, where do we start." You smile at the grinning boy who's suddenly amused by your aspiration to pass the course.

It's 2:45 and you are in the middle of the last period, Science. It was your last day of the Science of the year, technically. You still had to prep for your final exam, but this was the final unit test which meant for the next month you'd be stuck in a silent classroom with your peers all silently studying over and writing recap notes for the final exam. You finish writing the date on your page and adding a little smiley face at the end of your name, flipping your paper over you take out your earbuds, and play music to pass time. 

Good, 15 minutes have passed, and you see students getting up to hand in their papers, this where you tag along and hand it in too. Patting the eraser ends on your skirt off you make it back to your desk sitting then turning to look behind you, a few desks down to a now chocolate haired boy. He was finishing up his test when he looked up to see you basically ogling at him. Throwing you an awkward half-assed smile he looks back to the girl behind him, Jieun. 

Jieun and Jisung took a very bad turn once Jisung agreed on tutoring you. She's ghosted the boy and took a liking to her lab partner, Taehyun. It was disappointing to see a girl get jealous over her date tutoring a very incompetent girl like you. If you were in her position, you might've gotten scared but wouldn't drop the kid; it was rude, and honestly, you were glad Jisung accepted that fate and moved on from her. He played with the end of his test sheet before sighing thumping his head against the desk, okay maybe he wasn't that over her yet but he's doing better than you ever would. Over these four months you and Jisung surprisingly got along well, you've opted to occupy a booth int he back of your town's ice cream parlor for studying instead of that abandoned gym in the West End. 

In all honesty, you felt bad about how you treated the tall boy in the first few weeks of tutoring. You showed up late which strung the classes longer making one hour, two. You complained, never listened, argued, actually punched him once. But after warming up to him you've started to take a liking, noticing his features a little more than you did last week, finding his beauty mark under his lip stunning. Nowadays he seems ten times more charming, appealing, engaging, and irresistible to you, memorizing his favourite things how he looks up to Kai, the teacher assistant for the seniors. And that he actually hates Science and prefers Gym and Sociology class. He likes all kinds of ice cream and tries new flavors every visit, he never writes with a red-inked pen since he prefers the black one and always lets you know that too ("Y/n did you know red ink stains are a nasty stain to get out, always use black ink."). You aren't the only one who's learned to love the newly blossomed friendship as he's learned as much as you about him, on how you've always wanted to become a Veterinarian, that your love for animals is just unexplainable and the only things holding you down is this horrible reputation you've built yourself over the two years of attending. But better late than ever to change your ways and Jisung was absolutely mesmerized by your determination to achieve the new milestones you've set for yourself.

"PARK JISUNG!" You shrieked barging into the empty ice cream parlor to see the boy sitting idling on his device, he looks up at you running towards your booth. "Hey, shhh", he quiets your overly excited self-telling you to sit."I got my Unit Test mark," you stop talking to take your backpack off and pull out your Unit Test which was graded and with a big fat A on it. "Holy shit! Y/n this is amazing!!"He exclaimed eyes going wide seeing the mark, his hard work really did pay off. 

"Now we can start prepping for Finals," Jisung told you after handing your papers back, your shoulders sagged and your smile disappeared, you were hoping to possibly celebrate with your tutor and newfound friend. Shaking your head, you look at him again, "No sorry, I wanna celebrate this tonight," you inform Jisung who looks at you with a somewhat annoyed expression. "Sorry Y/n but one A isn't going to help you get to a passing mark, you need more than that and the only thing that'll help you pass Biology is your Final Exam which is what we need to prep for." What the fuck? Jisung Park, the golden student, and who you thought was your friend basically telling you that your grade wasn't worth all that cheering two minutes ago. That was unbelievable what type of asshole does that, oh wait apparently Jisung Park. You knew you weren't gonna pass with one test, of course not. You might've been dumb but not to that extent, you clench your fists wondering how all that admiration you had for someone just got poured down a drain so quickly. You chuckle heartlessly ' that thought lingered before you look at him and speak.

"Yea of course I know that but do you not understand how big of a milestone this was for me? I am one step behind passing my hardest subject of the semester and you telling me that it's not enough and we need to prepare for a final at the end of a month that has just started is fucking rude Park."You hiss at him now baffled on how he couldn't comprehend after four- almost five months of knowing you. Getting up you grab your backpack and phone and turn to exit the ice-cream parlor. 

You were now outside of the small store, and Jisung didn't even come after you. Sighing knowing you should've known associating yourself with someone with a better reputation wouldn't have been smart. Pulling your phone out, you dial in a friend who you knew would be there for you and who had more free time than most students his age. "Jeno," You stammered through the phone "Y/n? Are you okay?" You smile weakly at his concern, not even a minute into a call."Can you pick me up?" you asked quietly to the older boy. Looking through the big glass window to the back of the shop, you see Jisung sitting there watching you intently, and he knows he hurt you. It wasn't his intent to; he just wanted you to reach your goals and he thought celebrating could've been done another time instead not today, I guess he hit a soft spot seeing your facial expression so fragile.

He saw a motorcycle pull up beside you and a muscular guy go and place a helmet on your head after holding you in his embrace for a moment before the two of you hopping back on the ride driving off to god knows where.

You kick around an empty pop can on the sidewalk waiting for your ride. Jeno knew something upsetting you over the phone so he decided not to question it and get you riled up but to drink a couple of beers and play darts at his crib. A Black 2018 Kawasaki Ninja pulls up in front of you, the driver removes his helmet revealed to be your dear friend, Jeno. He felt your gloomy aura already deciding to just embrace you tightly, "Whatever it is, you did amazing." He assured you before breaking the hug to plop the helmet on you and hopping back on with you behind him seated.

"Great job Y/n, I can see you making it through the year, I just finished putting in your final mark 89 is an amazing score and all on your own is shocking." Your Science teacher complimented you after holding you back to show your improvement to you, Jeno encouraged you to still study hard solo after acknowledging that you didn't want to work with Jisung anymore, hard work did pay off now your officially finished with your junior year and with flawless grades. "Have a great summer break," You tell her before walking out for lunch. Last day of school before the summer break, it's been a crazy weird year but you don't seem to be upset. Jisung seemed happy without you anyways, you've been skipping Music to sit out on the bleachers while he had gym class, and made sure to visit the West End more often. You didn't realize it yet but Jisung looking happy stung more than it should've.

Fuck that bullshit Y/n is on, Jisung is miserable without her. He didn't take note of it but he was more than happy to spend his Wednesdays and Saturdays with you. He liked the way your eyes widened or how your jaw almost touched the floor when he teaches you something new, or when your eyed shimmered when your grades went up every quiz. How your nose scrunched up at a difficult question, the way you organized his pencil case when he wasn't looking because 'it had to be cute like him'. He was too much of a coward to keep you by his side, it's safe to say Jisung Park likes you back. Head over heels in love with you probably, but we shouldn't stretch it that far knowing he's working his ass off to get over you, and of his mind but when does he even succeed. It's the last day of school and possibly the last time Jisung gets to see you roam the halls, watch him in Gym class fooling around with his friends, or just see you until the next school year. No, Jisung made it his goal to win you back. He's never seen you that way, never thought he'd need you, all he wants is to see you, hold you.

"No Park. She's not even here kid," Your friend, Yuna told Jisung who was at your doorstep asking for you. "Just, just tell her to text me." He said frustrated now leaving.

"I thought you said he didn't want anything to do with you?" Jeno asked sitting on the couch of Yuna's living room beside you. "He doesn't, I don't know why-" Yuna was quick to argue with you, "He likes you and you left." Jeno nods agreeing, "I see that happening..." He half-joked. "Listen I know he was a jerk in May, but it's June- July tomorrow! He's not being a jerk right now because what freaking jerk comes to your doorstep BEGGING to talk to you?" Yuna ranted. 

You know he's not a jerk and he meant no harm that day but it hurt. Everyone always sugarcoated things with you so when Jisung was pretty blunt with you, it stung. You whine at all this thinking about Jisung and feelings, plus even if he did like you, there was so much to unravel than just some lame highschooler who wanted to get her shit together. So so much more than just that. Drinking the rest of the alcohol in your plastic cup you sit up straight staring at the two in front of you who were dying to hear your say in this, "Okay so what if we have our happy ending, what'll happen then? He'll figure out how toxic I am and go running back to Jiwoo or whatever name is."Stopping and using a couch pillow to cover your face- did you seriously imagine yourself with a happy ending, you've fucked up so much that it seems impossible to turn back. Yuna notices your heartache and decided to tone down on his jokes and talk to you 'for realsies',"Sweetheart if he leaves you because your teeny issues were too overwhelming for him it's not worth it but from his recent actions it looks like he'd want to be there with you through those issues. Honestly, he could live a little too so dealing with you- and giving me and Jeno here a break should be thrilling."Adding a light-hearted joke was what you needed to place a soft smile on your lips.

“Now go get your man” Jeno says slapping your back playfully encouraging you to leave the house and venture off to him- wherever he is.

"Can I help you?" A boy wearing Yonsei University sweatshirt asked you. 'This must be Jisung's older brother he told me about' You thought to yourself, "Oh Yes, is Jisung home?" You ask him looking up trying to look as innocent as you can. "Oh you just missed him, he went to get ice cream with his friends," he said. Shouting a quick thanks you run down to the only ice cream parlor Jisung probably knows in town.

CLOSED is all you see in front of the ice cream parlor. Did Jisung's older brother lie to me? Now that you think of it, he and his brother aren't close enough to share those type of things from what you heard, and what type of boy would avoid the girl he supposedly likes. You sit down on the curb looking off into the little soccer field, watching kids play with their friends thinking, then it hit you. Did Jisung lie to his older brother? C'mon Y/n think of the one place Jisung and his friends could be...The park? Nah, too crowded. The mall? No, too far. Think Think Think, one place. Where in the world could Jisung- WEST END! God, why didn't you think of that in the beginning, of course, he's there. Getting up off the curb you make your way quickly to the back of the school, remembering Jisung telling you a back entrance to the West End.

Reaching the back entrance you see it open indicating someone (Jisung and friends) was inside. Maybe you shouldn't barge in and ruin their fun...opting to send Jisung a text you search your pockets to find, nothing. How could you leave your house without your phone? You're like addicted to it. "Excuse me?" A deep voice booms behind you, turning around you look up at the man. It's Jaehyun, the volleyball team captain. "Y/n." You know him, through Jisung, of course, why else would he be at the West End or know your name. "Hi," your breath rather softly which throws the older boy way off since he knows you for your snarky remarks or overly confident aura...Today you seem the opposite really. "Can you tell Jisung to come out for a second?" you ask avoiding eye contact and resorting to looking at the chalked up pavement. He gives you a thumbs up and heads in.

"Park Jisung-ah!" Jaehyun shouts for Jisung loud enough for it to echo in the empty gym. Looking up and seeing Jaehyun, Jisung excuses himself from his current conversation with Doyoung, Yuta, and Renjun to jog over to his Hyung. "Your chick is here," He says pointing out the door to you, Jisung's eyes lit up already knowing who Jaehyun was talking about peeking his head out the door to see you looking off into the parking lot, watching the sunset. He was pulled right back in by Jaehyun, "You better fix whatever's been going on between you, Y/n looks like an actual school girl being all shy and soft. I'm actually disgusted I need that spunky girl back before I force you two to kiss or some shit," Really Jaehyun? Some advice you got there.

"Alright kid go get your chick" Jaehyun cheered before pushing him and closing the door loud enough to alert and make you turn back.

It felt like a dream, none of this felt real. It hasn't even bee 24 hours since you last saw Jisung, but it's been a month of not interacting to get your heart racing this much. You looked unreal to Jisung, out of a fairytale actually and he looked amazing, like always. This is when he started to panic, you smiled weakly and started walking up to him. He looked down at his shoes not having the balls to look you in the eye, "Jisung look at me you pussy." You said so calmly but so rudely(?). It was funny and made Jisung giggle which made you short circuit.

Jisung looks up from his feet to see you staring into his brown eyes, taking in all his features again looking at him from head to toe; how fluffy his dark coffee bean hair was or his cheeks- god you always took the chance to pinch them when you could. His broad shoulders you always wondered how his hugs would be, probably so comfy and perfect. The beauty mark under his lip, fuck always wanted to kiss it. Your thoughts were disrupted when you felt two large hands enclose you in a tight hug; reacting almost immediately you wrap your small hands around his waist and rest your head on his chest while he brings his large hand to caress the back of your head. "I'm sorry, I know what I said was wrong and I shouldn't have made you seem so slow-witted when you totally aren't. I think over that conversation almost every night. I'm so so sorry Y/n," He finishes tightening the hug for a moment sympathetically.

You loosen the hug and tippy-toe up to the boy placing a small peck on his pink lips which caused his cheeks to go crimson. "You're forgiven, Park," you say giving him a tight smile. You see the tall boy pout a little and turn his reddened face to the side before mumbling "I was supposed to do that," which caused a fit of giggles from you. 

"You'll have plenty of opportunities in the future Jisung."

[eluminium]

Raid (hehe fanfic)

So i made a Masqueraiders (belongs to @reginaldcopperbottom) fanfic because i could. Yes it’s about 3k words. This one has been a long time in the making and I’m happy i finally got it done!

Please enjoy!

A groan escaped his throat as the car sent vibrations throughout his tired body. This was 100% not his day.

Scratch that, this was 100% not his week.

Although he knew that from the glorious hour he rose from his bed, with soreness traveling down his spine like a waterslide. These past days had been hell for the department, with criminal organizations raiding places left, right, and center. Good sleep was a rarity, and many fellow cops were falling asleep by their desks, only to be woken up by a call to action. And now it was his turn to deal with these crooks.

"The museum of Geology...A prime raiding target for any thief with common sense" mumbled his partner while taking a turn.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock..." was his grumpy response. 

"Who do you think it is this time?" his partner joked.

"I bet on the Crownminals, from what we got these thieves are well organized, and that's their brand"

"That makes sense, although could always be Toppats too. Y'know one time-"

As the words kept spilling out of his partner's mouth, his eyes wandered afield, out towards the rearview mirror. A fog gathered in his eyes as the blinking red and blue lights burrowed into him and the world around him faded a bit. Maybe he could get some quality sleep after this. Just gotta take out these criminals and then drop dead like a ragdoll. God, some good sleep was gonna be heavenly, he could almost feel the plushness of his bed calling out to him.

"We're..he...re! ...Hel..lo? yo..u the..re?"

So soft...He could almost pretend...

"Dude! You there?"

"Ugh, yeah yeah I'm here, stop snapping your fingers in my face" he murmured angrily as his feet touched the ground outside the car. 

The cold metal of his pistol dug into his hand. The museum and everything around it was engulfed in chaos. He picked up on various orders coming from colleagues, but it didn't seem to contain the animalistic anarchy around them.

A tired breath flowed out of his lips, this was not gonna be simple or coordinated, was it? Welp, better just get a good position and-

The ground rumbled angrily as an explosion tore through the museum. His body swayed violently as screams echoed in his ears.

"Shit! They need backup! C'mon, don't just stand there!"

Before he could even respond, a tight grip had grasped his shirt and his body was traveling faster than his mind. Dear lord, the guy was fast! In through the entrance, through the gunfire, people people people screaming loud loud-

SLAM!

The door's impact echoed in his ears as his mind tried to catch up with whatever the fuck just happened. The sleep deprivation wasn't helping at all.

"What...the HELL...did just happen?"

"Oh, sorry dude, went a bit too fast there!" his partner cheered.

"You could say that again..." he grumbled.

His disapproving stare tore through his partner, who could only respond by scratching the back of his neck with sweat dripping down his face. So awkward he was, with his apologetic smile and soft-looking face- Nope, that was NOT what he was gonna focus on. 

They stayed locked in that position, staring at each other stiffly until the sound of someone clearing their throat reached their ears. Both their gazes turned towards this new presence.

"Hello gentlemen, thank you for finally noticing us!" A masked fellow cheered.

His lips remained sealed as his gaze wandered over the man. The man's mask seemed to resemble two shining suns, and a well-kept sun hat covered up his head, even though it was mid-October. His arms, however, were tied up with a rope across his stomach. But even then, a bright and shrewish smile adorned his face.

"Alright, you can stop starring at me now pig, It was way more entertaining to watch you two play gay chicken."

What.

"Agh! N-No, we weren't! I-I'm not even gay!" his partner exclaimed with embarrassment.

Suddenly, a strange protectiveness surged through his veins. His feet moved before his mind did, and he unexpectedly found himself between his partner and these fowl mask people.

"Oh yeah, that kid is definitely gay. Maybe the grump is gay too. Mad respect." the masked man chuckled to someone behind him.

He felt his face morph into a sneer as flustered squeaks clawed their way out of his partner's throat. His eyes turned to the woman behind the masked man, and they narrowed as he noticed more masked people tied up behind them. 

This had to be a temporary cell, and these are its inmates. A bunch of weird...mask people.

Wait.

Mask people...Mask thieves? No that couldn't be right. Mask heisters? Maskings? Mask sneakers? Masquerade raiders? No that was stupid no-one in their right mind would choose that-

"Hey, big guy~"

He quickly snapped away from his thoughts with all his attention focused on the masked lady. Her hair was long and slightly curly, with the texture of the darkest night in December. Although, there were spots of color too. A purple crown with a white moon rested on her raven head. She was, factually, a beauty.

But something about that...seductive tone made his skin crawl, and not in a good way. More in an 'i'll pay you to never speak to me like that again' way.

"Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you got fine written all over you~"

Nope. Nope nope nope nope ew NO.

His mind was blank, and he looked like a fish out of water. It felt like disgusting bugs were crawling around inside his skin. Wait, was she wiggling her hips-?

"Dude? You online?"

He snapped back to reality and averted his stare. That was his partner. Right he still had a job to do. Criminals first, thinking about why he felt so uncomfortable with a woman flirting with him later. Luckily for him, a name got caught in his brainwaves.

He turned back towards the masked woman, his face stitched into a more serious expression.

"Masqueraiders correct?" he questioned with a head tilt.

The masked lass took a second to compose herself. Her purple gloved hand reached up and pushed her just as purple star marked mask back into place. It only took a single glance at the cop's "serious" face for her resolve to break, and the laughter burst out of her mouth like a botched dam. 

"PffFFFFF HAHAHAHA! Y-Yeah, we are the MasqurAIDHHERERESSS! OH MY GOD, AIEDEN! LOOK AT HIS FACE!"

The gaze of the sun mask fellow, which had settled on his slightly less flustered partner, turned to him. And the cackling flowed out of his mouth not long after.

"ASTRA HE LOOKS LIKE A BABY WITH A BEARD! HOLY FUCK I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS! I THOUGHT BEARDS WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU LOOK OLDER NOT YOUNGER! COPS TRY TO MARKET THEMSELVES AS SCARY BUT, I AM POSITIVELY DYING-"

Ouch, that was a hit to the ego. The expression of seriousness faltered a little bit as his gaze turned to the ground. Wow, was he letting these crooks get under his skin?

Yes, he was.

He was tired! What can he say?

The laughter kept echoing in his ears for a bit, really destroying any hubris he had beforehand. The feeling of his partner's worried stare really didn't help. It actually made it more embarrassing. If this was 100% not his day before, now it was 150% not his day. The flow in his brain had practically stopped as he tried to reboot his thinking process. Okay, okay, he's got this. Just gotta-

An abrupt and intense movement in front of his eyes caused the mental reboot to speedrun through the last stages. The click of a gun bounced between the walls of the room, and the mocking laughter ceased abruptly. He couldn't make out the faces of the tied up convicts who mocked him or see them at all, for that matter, because his partner's body was standing protectively between him and the Masqueraiders. Well wasn't this familiar? I guess bros gotta protect bros. He didn't have to see it with his bare eyes to know that there was a gun pointed at the crooks. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"Hey, dudes, ladies, and thudes. Didn't we all learn that you should treat the police with an ounce of respect when we were younger?"

His partner's voice was smooth as a bead, yet it still possessed that edge of "dudebro" that was so unique to him. It was such a lovely song to his ears. God, what he would do to hear it more...

His head quickly swung side to side as if he was trying to shake that thought out of his head. No homo, no homo. Right?

The still but tense air that settled after his partners' words broke with a snort and some giggles. 

"Oh? Mind filling me in on the joke dude?" his partner quipped while the gun clattered in his hands.

"Don't you hear it lad?" The sun-masked fellow whose name apparently was Aieden responded confidently. Well, confidently when you consider that there was a gun in his face.

"Hear what?"

Now that he mentioned it, there seemed to be footsteps approaching their little hideaway spot. Very quick yet...heavy steps. Oh fuck. Could it be-?!

"Get down-!"

He felt his hand instinctively clutch the sleeve of his partner before they made contact with the hard floor. The seconds ticked on, and on, and on.

CRASH!

"HOLY FUCK-"

The wall by their side crumbled into pieces as an unstoppable force smashed into it. He felt the fabric of his partner's sleeve crack as he dragged them both out of the way of this brute.

"Freeze! This is-"

The gun rattled in his hands, his eyes dilated with fear. Because now he saw this person, this giant, clearly. Holy mother of God.

The man in front of him bore clothes in brilliant green and black. On his face rested a mysterious black mask that only covered one half, and a white spot resembling an eye covered the spot on the mask where his actual eye would be. Emerald green boots, teeth sharp as stalactites... 

And this fowl criminal was enormous. He dwarfed everybody else in that little supply closet, probably standing at around 7 feet tall! Jesus Christ, was he dealing with crooks or actual mythical beings?!

Luckily for him though, this gigantic force of nature didn't seem to pay any attention to his intimidation attempt. He seemed more focused on freeing his fellow Masqueraiders from their imprisonment, the leaf color feathers on his hat bouncing side to side. 

"There ya' are Ricardo! I'm surprised it took this long!"

He knew he couldn't go up against a beast like that. He'd get pummeled into the ground and lose every tooth he had left. His gaze wandered back to his partner's still face as he tried to think up a plan. A slight panic flowed down his spine when he noticed that his partner wasn't moving, but a quick check revealed that his heartbeat was strong and his soft breathing still there. Must have been knocked out...

He felt his arm reach for a spare curtain that was discarded next to them, and soon his partner rested under it, hidden from view. It was best to keep him secured until he woke up again.

As he observed the big green man whose name was Ricardo do his big green man things, a sudden flash of vibrant red caught his gaze. Someone had rushed past the big hole in the wall, someone clad in crimson. There was no doubt about it. It had to be the Masqueraiders leader himself, Sylvester Wesley. He knew it had to be him. And if he could capture their leader, maybe he could gain an advantage over these masks who mocked him. Although maybe it wasn't Wesley, maybe there was another red-clad mask bastard. But even then, capturing any Masqueraider would be a victory at this point. His pride was on the line after all!

He glanced back at his partner, still unconscious. A seed of doubt grew in his chest, should he really leave his partner like this? After everything that had happened...

Once again, his head bounced side to side. No, he had to do this. He had to apprehend SOMEONE. His partner would be fine, he just had to be! He was hidden, they'd never find him, right? He made his decision. It was time to round up some criminals.

Yet, the feeling of doubt and worry only grew stronger as he sneaked out through the hole made by the giant. Was he doing the right thing? Is this justice? To leave an unconscious man vulnerable? He didn't know, but he pushed those thoughts to the side as he spotted the red-clad criminal again. He seemed to be rounding up the last of their loot, with a big potato sack slung over his shoulder. It was certain now, that was the Masqueraiders leader himself. The black mask and red hat gave it away.

He cleared his throat before once again pointing his weapon at the crook.

"Freeze! Police!"

He met the gaze of the black-masked man and expected to meet a pair of eyes drowned in confusion. Yet all he could spot was a slight hint of surprise and then a kind of...playful mockery. A very familiar sight by now. 

"Catch me if you can!" The Masqueraiders leader sang out as he bolted down the hallway with the goods.

He took off after him, uselessly chasing the nimble and quick Wesley. Gunshots echoed off the walls as he unleashed a salvo aimed at the leader, yet all the shots either missed or were reflected by the skilled swordsman's weapon. Every bullet, no matter where he aimed. Time after time after time again, nothing seemed to be hitting this disgustingly fast weasel. Frustration boiled in his guts, come on now! He was so tantalizingly close to regaining his dignity and getting revenge on the Masqueraiders. Yet still NOTHING!

A roar of anger escaped him, his feet moving even faster. All he got back from Wesley was a coy grin and just...the most punchable expression ever.

"Hah! You're way too slow, ever considered hitting the gym?!" 

"Shut up!"

"You're not my dad so you can't tell me what to doooo~"

He was gonna crack Wesleys skull open like a watermelon. He was gonna do it, nothing could stop him from squeezing that stupid overconfident head in like a pimple. And he actually seemed to be closing in on him! His gun had run out of ammo by now, but he was hot on his heels now!

Wait, was he deliberately slowing down? Was Wesley running slower to ridicule him even more? Oh, this motherfucker...

He was laser-focused now, not considering where his feet were taking him. So when he ran into an open exhibit, he didn't notice the danger lurking by the stage lights. He just wanted to commit some nice ol' murder on the man who kept taunting him.

"Veronica! Now!"

But that, that stopped him a bit. What? Was Wesley calling for backup? But, there's nobody here. Or is there? Wait who was Veronica? He followed Wesley's gaze and noticed a lady dressed in purple sitting by one of the stage lights. She had a very similar mask to the big green-

He couldn't see any more details of her, or see at all for that matter. A scream clawed its way out of his lungs, his eyes feeling like they were burning. His body swayed from side to side, and his sweaty hands were covering his eyes. The empty gun clattered to the floor. That bitch, she'd used the stage light like a flashbang! The force against his face provided by his hands harshened, trying to block out as much as he could.

"Oh, how the turntables turn!"

He felt Wesley's presence next to him, teasing him. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to beat his ass, but he couldn't get his hands off his face without causing worse pain. An angry gurgle was what he gave in response.

"Aw, how cute. Did you really think you could catch the great Sylvester Wesley? One of the sneakiest sneakers who have ever sneaked? With your rancid vibes? Don't make me laugh! Or well, I'm already laughing, so jokes on you!" Ugh, that dumb tone...

"I can't believe you managed- What Veronica? ...Aw come on can't I just mess with him a little more? Yeah yeah, I know there's probably- Veronica can you make a little exception- OKAY okay FINE I'll knock him out and we'll leave with the loot. You owe me a pop tart now."

"Toooo deee looo turtle, have fun in dreamland!"

Before he could even fight back, something hard impacted the side of his head. He was swallowed up by the sweet release of unconsciousness, something he'd been craving all day. The last thing he knew was the cold feel of the floor, and the faint sound of footsteps burrowing into his ear.

Darkness...A rumbling noise of somebody talking to him...He slowly felt himself returning to the land of the awake, a killer pain pounding in his head. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is his partner with a few bandages tied around his head. He talked, and talked, and talked. He looked kinda cute like this, hair all fluffed up and features so soft. But he's talking too fast for him to pick anything up.

Although all those thoughts disappear when he notices something on his stomach. His hand closes around the object, his partner's worried squawks becoming nothing but background noise. It was a black velvet mask.

He couldn't take his gaze off it, it was locked to this replica of Wesley's famous mask. As his partner finally got a grip on him and started carrying him out of the destroyed museum, there was only one thought on his mind.

"I'll get that bastard, I'll throw him behind bars myself."

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #343

“i slither like a viper and get you by the neck�� /  i know a thousand ways to help you forget about her”

What's your favorite kind of bear? I don't really know. I just like bears. Have you ever sent a FWD because you were afraid? Ha, yup, as a little kid. Would you ever date more than one person at a time? Nooooo sir. Have you ever rebounded... or been someone's rebound? No. What’s the biggest argument you’ve ever had with a family member? Did things ever go back to how they were beforehand? My grandmother cursed me the fuuuuck out one night as a kid because I was in a mood and didn't tell my mother goodnight. I still remember being called an ungrateful bitch with her like an inch from my face, and admittedly, I was being rude because I wanted to go home, but it kinda scarred me for life. For the remainder of her life, I was always sort of on edge around her and was convinced she didn't like me. Have you ever experienced some kind of natural disaster? I've been through lots of hurricanes. None that massively affected my life, though. If you have pets, do you feed them human food or do they just get regular pet food? If they do get human food, what’s their favorite thing to have? Venus is a snake, so she obviously doesn't get food meant for humans. Roman is very well-trained to not beg or make a move for people's food; he tried once as a kitten, and giving him a pop taught him right away. Have you ever been in a physical fight? Who won? No. What’s the mode of transport that you take or use the most? The car. Mom's, specifically. Have you ever had a zoo keeper experience or anything where you’ve been able to go behind the scenes and look after/feed the animals? No, but I wish. :( Would you ever want the responsibility of being a politician or a similar position of power? NOOOOOOO. What’s something your parents do that really annoys you? Mom is *always* right, pretty much indisputably. And she WILL have the last word. Dad, meanwhile, can be pretty rude to people. I don't think he realizes it half the time, but still. It's not an excuse. What is your main source of anxiety? Social interactions. What’s your favorite 90s cartoon? Pokemon. Describe the moment you realized you were falling in love with someone. I'd rather not. What’s your favorite sparkling water brand/flavor? I've never tried sparkling water. What’s your favorite makeup brand/brands? I don't have a favorite, considering I don't wear it nearly enough and have never even bought my own. I just use whatever Mom buys. What are some female names you would name a baby? Alessandra is my favorite for sure. I also love Anneliese, Justine, Evelyn, Chloe, Evangeline, Quinn... There's a lot. What about male? Severin is my favorite, and I also like Damien, Vincent, Victor, and Luther. Do you have any subscription boxes? No. What fictional creature would you like as a pet? I want a dragon, goddammit. Idc if it can breathe fire ok I want a dragon. Ewoks are also the one and only thing I enjoy from Star Wars. What kind of dwelling do you live in? Just a one-story house. Is there anyone you work with that you don't get along with? Why? N/A Do you have an opinion on adopting/purchasing a pet? PLEASE adopt, especially with cats and dogs, given the number of strays. Purebreds tend to have so many underlying issues, and besides, it's just a LOT of money for an animal that probably wouldn't outlive a mutt. Don't feed the machine if you can. What's your favorite chain restaurant? The Cheesecake Factory or Olive Garden. Why were you last pulled over? I’ve never been pulled over before. What was the last thing you've done on the water? Just kinda swam around a bit in the ocean. It was so warm, totally like a bath. I do NOT miss that sun poisoning, though. Are you cool with swimming in a lake? I think I'd do it if someone invited me to, and the lake didn't look filthy, of course. Do you have a drone? No. What's your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant? We have this tiny, local Mexican place that's really good. I don't know the name of it, and I wouldn't share it for obvious reasons. What do you order from there? Chips and salsa of course, along with a shrimp and cheese quesadilla, and finally their cheesy rice. What's your favorite ice-cream flavor? Depending on my mood, it bounces between vanilla with chocolate syrup or just plain chocolate. Do you have any t-shirts from any local businesses? No. Do you listen to any talk shows or podcasts? I used to listen to Mark, Bob, and Wade's podcast, but I'm like... ten months behind, haha. What's something someone calls you that you find endearing? I like "love" a lot. What's your favorite children's book? I loved books like The Rainbow Fish, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Stellaluna, 10 Minutes 'til Midnight, What Makes a Rainbow?, Chrysanthemum, etc. Is there a new season for a series you're excited to come out? Meerkat Manor comes back this summer, and I am fucking HYPED. How old are you? I'm 25. What is something unique you enjoy about the one you like/love? I tease her about it all the time, but it's really cute that she keeps all of her snakes' good sheds in her room. Proud reptile mom. Are you more liberal or conservative? I'm close to the middle, but I lean towards being more liberal, and I seem to go more that way with time. Do you watch American Horror Story? I used to. I saw the entire first season and really liked it, and then I almost finished the second, but I lost interest. The story got a bit stupid imo. I'd be willing to watch other seasons, though. Does your hometown have any urban legends/scary stories? None that I’m aware of. The people there are scary enough. What's the scariest nightmare you remember having? Let's not talk about it. Are you medicated? Uh very. Are there any apps you're addicted to? Nah. Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? It was initially a bunny holding a polka-dotted blanket, then it become a moose I got from Cabela's when in Ohio. Do you still collect stuffed animals? Only meerkat ones. Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex? Haha I've worn Jason's pj pants before and they just kinda... became mine, lol. What's the last movie you watched at home? The Shining, I believe. What's the last movie you watched in theaters? The CGI remake of The Lion King. I still don't get why it was received so badly. Have you ever had eggs cooked over a campfire? I don't think so, no. If you do drink, what's your favorite alcoholic beverage? Margaritas, generally. However, Sara's dad made me this absofuckinglutely incredible chocolate drink before that tasted like a milkshake. It had like, no alcohol flavor, which worked out well for me considering I very much dislike that taste. Are there any songs you've been listening to repetitively lately? There's a new one every day lately, haha. Today it's Halocene's cover of "Love Bites (So Do I)." Cereal, granola, or oatmeal? Cereal. What TV shows did you grow up watching? You gotta gimme an age group... but I'd say the typical stuff for kids of that time. What does your phone case look like? It's just a boring purple that came with it. What were your favorite toys to play with as a child? I looooved playing with my "family" of a father crocodile, a mother deer, their two "children" (a fawn and smaller croc), and "friends" that were little Pokemon figurines. Then there was an evil t-rex with two stupid sidekicks, haha. I can't remember what dinosaurs they were. What's the most embarrassing thing you can ever remember doing? Hold on, lemme find my book. Do you remember what you dreamt about last night? I only very faintly recall dreaming about my cat Roman. Have you ever done anything embarrassing in a dream? Thank FUCK they're just dreams. Do you vape? Nah. What was a song you loved as a child? So uh. Apparently. I loved "Dookie" by Green Day. It's an undying story from Mom about how it came on once at a putt-putt place and I apparently started yelling "dookie!" and dancing. Do you enjoy the Arctic Monkeys? Yeah, I love some of their songs. Are you going to see Finding Dory? You bet your sweet ass I saw it. I've cried everytime I've watched it. Have you ever been horseback-riding? I have not, but I would love to. When was your last piercing? Whenever I got my tragus done, which I can't remember. What did your first crush look like? I don't remember my puppydog love first crush, but I can talk about my first REAL crush, Sebastian. He's a skinny dude with short, brown hair and a lip piercing... I can't remember which kind. He dressed in an emo style, and Facebook pictures at least suggest he still kind of does, I think. Is your body more curvy or flat? Well, I'm not at all skinny, so... What's your least favorite holiday? Probably Christopher Colombus Day, honestly. You didn't discover shit. Don't pretend to me it's worth celebrating in a clean conscience. if you’re having a boring day what do you usually do? If I'm rock-bottom bored, quite honestly, I normally nap, even though I know I shouldn't. Do you turn to food when you're upset? Ugh, I'm admittedly an emotional eater. I got way better about it, and then I started up again. Is your bf/gf good with your parents? I don't have an s/o. Do you think soda should be served at school? Vending machines are fine I suppose, as I don't believe they should be free seeing as they're nothing but sugar content, and I feel schools shouldn't just hand that out to kids at lunch or something. Do dogs have feelings? They sure do. Are you afraid of snakes? Oh no! I adore them. I respect snakes and am going to give wild ones their space for sure considering I don't recognize every native venomous one, but nevertheless, I'm not afraid of them. They are so vital to the ecosystem and are incredibly fascinating animals that deserve our protection. On that note, PLEASE do not kill any snake you come across in your shed or whatever. Call someone to relocate the terrified thing. Favorite snack? It depends on what I'm in the mood for, really. Ever seen The Notebook? Read the book, seen the movie plenty of times. Do you think cussing is trashy? No. Who is the most famous person you’ve met, if any? Nobody. Do you own any animals that aren’t domestic? No. Have you ever feared that you would lose a body part? No. Do you like gore? Yeah, generally. Do you like to drink water? Ugh, I really don't. I wish I did. Have you ever had a wax? I used to get my eyebrows waxed. Do you have any sets of matching bras and underwear? No. Are you any good at improv? Not at ALL.

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the light switch

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 3696 + 358

warnings: mentions of suicide. this one is big and there’s a lot of chatting, sorry!

music: blink-182 - shut up

“Best songs about escaping the law. Go!”

Mal was a natural. Or seemed like one. He took up the maintenance guy, Flip, who volunteered to help them decorate the gathering hall for the party. It was almost the thirty-first, and, thanks to hard work and Mal’s disgust for sleep, they were done with the playlist. Not that it was very difficult. Caroline had said, nostalgia flick. Well, they knew exactly what people would feel nostalgic to. And even if they didn’t, who cares. They had the filthiest of Bloodhound Gang and a sick lamp that changed flickering from orange to blue.

Currently he was guiding Flip through Styx’s discography, explaining why it was literally the best rock band of the middle of seventies. Every little thing Mal enjoyed was literally the best for him. He had a mind of a twelve year old teenager, and a scary look of a snake. Ever since Y/N learned why he’s the way he was, she saw everything he did in a much more ominous way. Yet, he seemed friendly enough, turning his back to her, which meant he trusted her. Just in case she has to take him out. After the gaping hole grew in her over the winter and spring, she felt there wasn’t a single thing she wasn’t capable of.

Y/N was opening boxes with plastic cups and napkins, tons of waste five hours after the party. Caroline arrived exactly at noon, just like she’d promised, and started helping her.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly, eyeing Mal from the other side of the hall. Y/N stood up and nodded. The two girls were watching as he and Flip unfolded a big knot of wiring.

“He’s cute”.

“Uh-huh”.

“And you said he was… odd?”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m quite fine with that, though. I found the reason for it. I’m not sure he’s completely honest about everything, but earlier I thought he was like a demon, or a vampire undercover”.

Caroline looked at him closely, putting away her curly strands of hair to hear better.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Caroline, you’re lifting two boxed with the projectors. Put them down”, Y/N hissed, grabbing her by the hands. The blonde vampire formed an O with her mouth and grimaced awkwardly.

“Gee, I just wanna do it all as quick as possible. Sorry. You were saying?”

“Well, he has… some… he’s like…”

On the one hand, a bit of sociopathic energy won’t surprise anyone here. But then again, this stuff is personal.

She leaned to Caroline and whispered into her ear, really quietly.

“Oh! Has he killed anybody yet?”

“I thought the same!”

Her shriek made the boys turn their heads. Mal waved his hand at Forbes, and she nodded.

“About that, by the way…” Caroline followed him with her eyes, and then looked back at her friend.

“Those bodies at Stefan’s house”, Y/N always wondered at how all the people in the town are divided between the two Salvatore brothers. “Damon found their heads. You will not believe where they were”.

Y/N rubbed her palms. Please, don’t let it be too spooky.

“They were all packed under Damon’s bed. He couldn’t sniff them out right away because of all the smell on the lawn and inside... ”.

“What was it like, exactly?”

“They were just outside the house. Butchered”. Caroline shivered under her silk blouse.

“So, that was about Damon”.

“For sure”, Caroline shook her head lightly, letting her bangs swing. Y/N noticed a clear trace of indignation in her voice. “I wonder what he has done this time to piss Rebekah this time”.

“Rebekah? You already know she did it?”

The dead weight clutching her heart and lungs for three days let go. She thought it would be something way more evil, or threatening.

“I mean, who else has such a cracked up mind to do such a thing? And a grudge against Damon? She really outdid herself this time though”.

“Right, she’s bitchy, but not completely insane, for sure?”

Forbes just shrugged, her eyes big and blue.

“Don’t stop unpacking, Y/N. Yeah, and plus, that’s a lot of work”.

“This is atrocious. We gotta find out for sure”.

Y/N was unable to work, puzzled. A sudden burst of music, bashing with the sound of drums, exploded the silence in the hall, and she jumped, nearly screaming. Mal rushed to his laptop.

“My bad!” he waved his hand, smiling.

Caroline let out a tired sighed. So, Mal conquered her, too, without even talking to her.

“When did she do it? I can’t seem to make up the time line”.

“I’ve no idea. Maybe while Damon was napping”.

“Ridiculous”.

“Look, I don’t know. Klaus is talking to her, but she’s being all defensive… she denies everything”.

“Why are you so sure it was her though? I mean, they’ve slept a thousand years ago, and then I don’t remember them contacting afterwards”.

Caroline sat on the box and started to unpack the shuffling packs of packs of napkins. She lifted her sky-blue eyes to Y/N with the expression of sorrow.

“Y/N, honey… he… they’ve been in and out, for months. He just doesn’t tell you because he knows you’re still kind of into him”.

That made her wonder.

“Weird. I fell out of love with him years ago. You guys still think there’s something?”

Caroline shrugged impassively.

“I don’t know. It better be over. Damon is not the man of your dreams, I bet”.

“Well, he used to be”.

“Ladies”, Mal appeared out of thin air like a freaking ghost, startling her yet again. Even Caroline looked at him, surprised, her hands stopping for a second.

“We’re ready for the sound check. You wanna put in a song? Care, can I call you Care? Y/N’s been talking about you lots, I feel like I’ve known you for years”.

Caroline was dead silent, looking at him like she was about to hit him. Y/N felt an urge to put her arm on the guy’s shoulder and shield him from all the world and everything he didn’t get about it.

“You’re the boss here, right? Or is it Y/N? Um, anyway, she mentioned you wanted to see the transitions?”

Forbes stood up, still unimpressed, but put on a polite face.

“Oh. Sure. You’re Mal, right?”

She outstretched her hand in a challenging gesture. Mal shook it like it didn’t matter, and Caroline was seemingly left satisfied.

“Right. Mal Osbourne”.

“Mal’s short for…”

He tilted his head.

“Mal”.

“Oh. That’s the full name?”

“Yeah, it’s very short. Just like my patience”, he smiled widely, showing teeth. His eyes stayed the usual frozen navy color. “So, you wanna check it out? I’ll wrap the equipment until Friday and won’t get it out, so all the tech stuff should be checked beforehand. Y/N’s completely useless in it. The other day she failed to upgrade AdBlock, I was pissed”, he let out a laugh. Caroline gave Y/N a stunned look, not about her impotence in computers, which never surprised anyone who knew her. Y/N nodded, and the two of them walked to Mal’s laptop. He started explaining to Caroline the queue of songs and how they all formed patterns. This seemed to finally get to her, as she saw the organizational side to the whole mess that was happening. Y/N returned to her boxes.

When the lion share of preparations was done for the day, Mal suggested they grabbed a beer at the closest bar, to reward themselves.

“She’s a bit slow, eh, Caroline? I thought you said she was brilliant”.

“She is, and that’s mean. You just talk very much, and all my friends need to acclimatize to you at first”.

“Didn’t seem to have those problems with the others at Whitmore”, he thought out loud.

“Well, these ones are Mystic Falls people”, Y/N said. “Ric still avoids you, doesn’t he?”

“Big time”.

“They’re more cautious. You see the kind of shit happening with us”.

“Oh, right”.

They left the building, and headed for Y/N’s car. Mail never drove and usually walked from college to his place which was around ten minutes away. Sometimes Y/N gave him a lift on her way home as it was the same direction. The road from the campus to her house on the Oak street normally took not more than twenty minutes.

“Does that happen often? I read about all these ‘animal attacks’. What’s up with that? What kind of animal kills people and leaves them in the parking lot?”

“Wolves”.

“They’re that hungry?”

“In the cold season, yeah”, Y/N marveled at the amount of bullshit the normal folk had to consume here on a daily basis.

“And you’re all fine with that. And they’re gonna tell that pile of bodies was wolves as well? Is that true that they didn’t have heads?”

“How did you even know about it?”

“Twitter”.

Y/N shook her head. They got into the car, and she started the engine. Mal never put on seatbelt, no matter how many times she’s asked him to. The car itself seemed to have given up because now it didn’t beep when Mal was inside.

“I don’t know what kind of animal does that”, she confessed. She still wasn’t sure Rebekah was to blame for that. But she wished it was her, very much.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Let me tell you a story”.

“Oh, story”, Mal gasped excitedly, turning his whole body to her. He loved stories.

“One morning I wake up and the body of my dad lies there on my carpet. His upper half was in my room, and his legs were in the corridor. His throat was cut and there was a big, black pool of blood under him, soaking into the wood. Awful. I couldn’t move for about five minutes. I was afraid he would get up and attack me. And I was asking myself, who would’ve done it, why they never hurt me, how come I didn’t hear anything, and why they positioned him that way”.

Mal listened with his pretty mouth slightly agape, eyes flickering. To him, it was a retelling of a movie, a piece of fiction he loved so much.

“You think there was something special about the way they left him?”

“It looked like when a cat drags you a dead rat”.

He smirked.

“You don’t seem too upset the whole thing”.

“My father was an awful man”.

“What about the whole family talk you gave me the other day?”

“First, I don’t know Martha’s folks. I only heard your side of story. Second, we never found out who killed my father. So I can’t tell how I feel about that human”.

“Human?” Mal caught her off guards. “Why did you say ‘human’?”

She imagined banging her head on the steering wheel. Because someone got inside her house in the night without being invited, and never bit him, that’s why. It was important while they were trying to figure out the murderer, that he was human. It was a habit.

“I… don’t know”, she offered, without trying too much. “Anyway, I have little to no feelings about that. The picture of his body, though, lying there, waiting for me to wake up and discover him, still haunts me sometimes”.

“Okay, imagine you found who did this. Imagine you met that human”.

Y/N didn’t like the way Mal said that word.

“Imagine you knew the motive”.

“Which would be..?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say he was awful?”

“Ah, okay. You think they killed him to rid me of him”.

“Something like that, maybe. Imagine you met him. What would you say?”

“I wouldn’t like to meet him. He’s clearly crazy”.

Mal chewed on his lower lip. They drove up to The Craze and left the car.

“You’re driving me home in the evening”, she announced, throwing Mal the keys. He managed to catch them at the last moment. “I need to drink”.

_____________________________________________________________

“Tell me”, Mal frowned with a hidden smile, “why do we always have to make everybody listen to your millennial pop rock playlist?”

“You love it”.

“I do”, he confirmed and made himself comfortable in his chair. “But I just wonder about the reason you’re so hooked up on it”.

“I don’t think about it much”.

There was the song he put in to the DJ, who actually approved it, probably due to Mal’s natural charm. Being wrapped in the music she chose herself, and organized in a way she enjoyed, made her feel comfortable in the times of distress. Maybe now was the time like this, because she physically needed it.

Shut the fuck up, she said,

I’m going fucking deaf

“Let it be the snippet of the party then”, Mal agreed. People at the bar were swinging their heads, sniffing the familiar lyrics they probably last heard ten years ago, or even more.

They said cheers and started getting wasted.

“You remember you promised me something?” Mal cooed conspiratorially, pierced her with a look, and made her forget all about Martha for a second. She swallowed hard.

“What?”

“A sad story in exchange for mine. Or was it a trick to make me talk?”

Y/N went silent, amazed at the fact he remembered.

“You forgot, right? So typical of you. You’re ultra irresponsible. Sometimes I feel like you’re the one without any conscience”.

“Ugh”.

He drank his beer and licked his lips.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on the forearm?”

“It’s big, hard not to see. I reckoned, Alex is dead?”

She nodded. She looked at Mal’s forearms with the grey sleeves of his hoodie rolled up.

“It’s been five years now. He was my childhood friend. He taught me everything my bastard of the father was meant to teach me. Riding a bike, watching movies, making jokes, LEGO assembling, crashing my knees as we were rollerblading”.

“Did you have a crush on him?”

“At one point, when I was ten, maybe. It wasn’t serious. He was always like a big brother to me”.

“What happened?”

She tasted her bitten lip with the tip of her tongue. It was salty and rough.

“When we grew up, he lost interest in me. We went different ways, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since I was sixteen. I mean, sometimes I messaged him, I tried to see him, but he moved on far away, and he wasn’t really interested. Like none of what we did when we were children mattered. Made me feel it didn’t count. What am I supposed to do with all the memories now? He was the only friend I had growing up, and when a person feels insecure, they touch their past and it makes them feel good. But when I remember the happiest days, Alex is in all of them. And at the same time, there was another Alex, who just forgot about me, like, people just… I mean, Mal, everybody had a childhood, right? We are not born adults”.

“My childhood sucked”.

“Yeah, I know. But it still existed”.

“Unfortunately”.

“He pretended I meant nothing to him. He had a new life, moved away from Washington, and – the funniest part – nothing had actually happened, there wasn’t a clear reason. That’s just how it happens sometimes. But then, couple of years after, his fiancée called and said he had hanged himself”.

Mal was thinking, playing with the bottle cap.

“And you still got his name tattooed”.

“He still taught me how to ride a bike. No matter what else he’s done, you can’t take it away now. You can’t erase my memory”.

Mal’s face went hard. That was his judging look. He didn’t say anything, but only sipped on his beer. The waitress brought his cheese fingers, and he attacked them like a hungry bear. Y/N marveled yet again at his teen-like appetite for bad stuff. It’s amazing he was lean, and his skin was so clear, given every time she saw him eat, it was complete trash.

“Alright, but I think I win”, he said after a pause.

“You mean the saddest story?”

“Yeah. Martha’s still alive, which means I get to be rejected for the second time”.

“You think she’ll reject you? It’s kinda sweet you’re being such a creep about her”.

“You’re a specific type of chick, Y/N. She’s more normal than you. She’ll think I’m a horrible person”.

“Do you think you’re a horrible person?”

He grinned to himself.

“I used to, but not anymore. I’m on my own in this world, and the only person that ever cared about me for real doesn’t know I’m feet away from her. There’s no use beating yourself about your qualities when you’re my age”.

“You’re like, a year older than me”.

Mal smiled at her like at a child that’s talking nonsense, but you gotta be nice because one day they’ll figure it out.

“You want some?” he always shared his food with her.

“No, thanks”.

“Oh, you know what else was bugging me?”

Y/N raised her brows.

“Something bugs you, sweet boy?”

Mal giggled charismatically.

“What are the Salvatores like? I saw one of them the other day, Steven? With Prof Saltzman. They seem to be good buddies, but he looks strange”.

“Stefan. Yeah, well, we all went to the same school. Ric, too. He used to be our history teacher”.

“So, you know them well? You keep mentioning the second one”.

“Go on”.

Mal pursed his lips, concentrating really hard.

“Go on, remember”.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. I don’t remember names. Be thankful I call you right”.

“Go on”, she nudged him, entertained. It was a thing about him, Mal, not considering others important enough to remember people’s names.

“Da- Dan?”

“Nope”.

Mal crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes wondering all over Y/N’s face like the answer was there.

“Daniel. Dasher. Denmark. Dunder Mifflin”.

She laughed.

“Go on. Mars’ moons”.

“Deimos. Damon!”

Y/N felt amused when he was around. She felt entertained, light, he was taking away the weight from her. The tilt of his head, the stupid quote from Gordon Flash, and she felt like she was a different kind of person. A memory would come back to her, that she wasn’t born here. That she didn’t belong to Mystic Falls and could actually go if she decided, one day. That, in theory, she was free.

Mal watched her.

“You like him?”

“How come?”

“Your face does that thing when you talk about him”.

“What thing?”

“Like now. Like you’re missing something”.

“I don’t get why everybody thinks I still have a crush on him. I used to love him back when I was at school”.

“Whoa, love?”

“Yes. It’s that thing when you want to be with somebody, you know that”, she pressed. She still was looking for an opportunity to test just how much Mal actually felt about Martha. That he cared about her, was not a question – but how did it actually work, with his brain? Did he desire to possess her? Or felt incomplete without her? Did she make him better, more human?

“And what happened to that?”

“I grew up”.

“And?”

“You’re pushing me”.

“I’m being curious”, Mal was chewing again, “how does it die? You say you loved him. I only really loved one person in my life – and that’s rich for me to say that. Given, you know”, he motioned with his hand, “But I really think I love her. Like, when I look at her, my eyes melt. You ever get that? And my heart goes ba-dum, and sometimes I forget and think, oh no, I’m finally having a stroke”.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“And when I think about her, sometimes it feels like I’m dying”, Mal said, and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny anymore.

“Oh, my poor boy Mal”, Y/N held out her hand and touched his wrist in an instinctive gesture.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“I’m comforting you”.

“Ah. Thanks. And so, I used to wait for it to go away, but it didn’t, so I decided, if I can’t get over her, I’ll just get her back. You know?”

“That actually makes perfect logical sense”.

“So, how do you fall out of love? If it’s real?”

“Maybe with Damon, it wasn’t real. But it sure felt that at some point. Boy, the things we did together back then”, Y/N snickered, raising Mal’s eyebrows high.

“What?”

“We…”

She realized she couldn’t tell Mal about one of the coolest things that ever happened to her in her life. The one person she really wanted to share, because she knew exactly the kind of reaction she would get, and it would be perfect. And yet, to tell him how she, a sixteen year old, was a bait for a bunch of vampires and how Damon ripped a heart out one of them in front of her? How he was standing there, all soaked in rain, with his black hair and silver eyes, tall and strong, like a statue, holding a bleeding heart in his palm, like an epitome of safety.

“We had the maddest parties. I was big on vodka when I was a teenager”, she lied. “We would gather all school at their huge house and party all night. And get into all kinds of trouble”.

“How old is he, exactly?” Mal asked, suspicious.

“He’s seven years older than Stefan”.

“So, you partied with that man while being underage. And you let him get into your pants?”

A wave of frozen air hit her in the face. Y/N was taken aback, at the same time feeling blood flush to her eyes and cheeks. Mal’s severity sometimes blew her off.

“I- no. Not that it’s any of your business, man, Jesus. He never liked me back”.

“Damien sounds like trash”, Mal concluded gravely, looking away. “No wonder someone’s threatening him. Is he a criminal?”

“Not that I know of. Mal, stop it”.

“What?” he shook his shoulders, as if brushing off all the thoughts of Damon.

“You’re freaking me out a little”.

“You’ve had one bottle, weakling”, he smiled warmly. It didn’t work. His eyes were worse than weapons sometimes.

“Moorning!” Mal announced loudly as he stopped the car, with a swing, on her driveway. Y/N had almost fallen asleep while looking at the window. When he turned off the music, silence rang in the car for a moment.

“You still walking?”

“How are you not drunk?” she demanded slowly, getting out of her car and pushing the door a little bit too hard.

His hand found its way to her shoulder blade. Mal seemed to move like a cat, and her being completely wasted didn’t add to her circumspection.

“I have high tolerance”, he responded. “You need a tea or whatever? Are you gonna puke?”

Y/N stood up and looked at her house. It swayed just a little.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Together, they walked to the porch. Y/N decided to be double careful and thought of luring him inside for a minute without inviting him, just to be sure.

“Actually, would be cool if you helped me, uh, find the switch”.

Mal got slightly surprised but said nothing. Y/N opened the door, and he held it with his hand, as she stepped inside. She stood in the dark for a moment, looking at him, just outside the doorframe. The streetlights were out, again. The faint moonlight made his face look waxy. He studied her with curious look.

“You want me to come in?”

She wouldn’t budge.

Mal put his palm on the door jamb and took a step, letting himself in the house. Y/N exhaled, blood thumping inside her head, like an empty gunshot.

“There it is”, he outstretched his hand and flickered the lights, getting the switch unmistakably. How did he know? Y/N closed her eyes for two seconds and opened them again. Light was burning her eyeballs.

Mal stepped up to her, and took her head with his hands. He promptly kissed her on the forehead, his lips warm and quick.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll call a taxi”, he said nonchalantly, an amused smirk, like he was playing with her, stretched his mouth. He left the house without saying goodbye, and closed the door after himself.

How did he know where the switch was?

[peachymhaechan]

“That’s new.”

Genre: fluff, soulmate au

Warning: language is that of a sailor’s

A/N: this is the second in the lil soulmate au series i’m writing this summer!! ten is one of my main bias wreckers (let’s be real tho- i’m a damn thot and all of nct attacks me on the daily) and this kiLLED ME. hope you enjoy!!

everyone has different soulmate quirks

your best friend only saw black and white until she met her s/o, then she saw the world in color

your parents had what you called the High School Musical quirk, where when one got a song stuck in their head, the other got the same song stuck in their head

all of your friends had these really cool and cute quirks

meanwhile, yours was.... odd to say the least

your quirk happened to be piercings

you just,,, got a piercing out of the blue

whoever your soulmate was, he or she loved body modifications

whenever your s/o would get a piercing, you’d get the same piercing

weird, but that was your life, man

the first time it happened was An Experience

imagine: you chilling in class, listening to a boring ass lecture, 

when you feel a sting in your ear 

and you reach up to see what the dealio is

and ?? you feel an earring ?? and blood ?? uhhhhhhhhh

nobody is paying attention to you so you just,, sat in the back of the class in a mini panic like ?? ! what the fuck !! what the complete fuck just happened !! 

finally, a tiny bit of blood dripped onto your desk and you were like // gotta blast // and done straight up bolted

you ran to the bathroom and found that you did, indeed, have a random ass piercing in your cartilage

“cool but what in The Complete Fuck”

so you took a picture of it just to prove to your friends that you weren’t insane

and then took it out and that was the end of it, right?

wrong

this bitch wrong. yeet! 

three days later, after you had forgotten about the mystery that was your lil piercing, it came back

except that time, you were at family dinner

you were chowing down when you felt it again

“-and then I got stuck in traffic on the way to work, and.... is your ear bleeding?” 

you felt your ear and sure enough, there was an earring and your ear had that tingly numb feeling any time you get a piercing

“is there an earring there?” you asked, already knowing the answer

“Y/N what the hell?”

you didn't know any more than your parents did so you shrugged in a what-can-ya-do? way

“It happened a couple of days ago in class but I didn't think anything of it, so I took the earring out and, well.... it came back, I guess.” 

“Hon, I’d hate to break it to you, but I think that is your quirk,” your dad said, to which you thought ???

??

hol up, this don’t add up 

it really did tho and you were just being a dumb thot oof

don't worry, i’m a dumb thot, too

“I mean.... okay, I guess.... sounds fake, but..... whatever.....” 

and lo and behold, you kept getting piercings

it’d be at the most random (and inconvenient) times

taking a final? that sucks man, it’d be a shame if someone //got some body modifications done//

at a funeral? shit bitch, you ain’t special, get some work done on your lobe at the viewing

tryna take a phat nap? tough luck, you won’t be able to sleep on your side for another week bc your soulmate was a grade A asshat

you had no idea who your soulmate was, but you did know that they had good taste in piercings

little did you know, he thought the same thing

there were a few occasions where he would be in dance practice and would have to stop bc?? ow ?? new earring?? 

but also,,, you’d be a dick back to him and would get piercings at ungodly hours of the night

let’s just say... you quickly became an expert on how to safely and cleanly give piercings

you, at four in the damn morning: this is for getting one done when I was in the middle of a presentation worth 40% of my final grade, you nasty thot

SM started promotions for their new group called NCT U

all of your friends became obsessed with the group and you were strung along with them

when the music video for The Seventh Sense was released, you found yourself drawn to one member in particular

his name was Ten and holy shit

that boy could dance

you immediately chose him as your bias and you thought, “okay, this is nice, but also the end of it.” 

wrong again!!

your friends (who were amazing, btw) managed to score tickets to a meet and greet the boys were having

the couple of weeks beforehand, you were getting ready okay

mentally preparing, like //holy shit, dawg//

then the day came

you woke up and looked in the mirror and thought, “My ear is looking a little boring. I have some space right there, might as well fill it.” 

so, you being you, picked up your needle (DISINFECTED, OF COURSE!! In this house we SAFELY give ourselves body modifications!!) and went to town

ngl you were feeling yourself, lookin all cute or whateva with that new sassy piercing you had going on

it wasn’t too over the top but it was enough for you to feel like you were going to walk in the building, get swarmed by paparazzi, and shut the place down

you know the feeling^^

the time for the meet n greet rolls around

you were incredibly nervous

I mean, hello?? meeting ten?? scary shit, dude

you got in line and met all of the other members first

damn sm had to put him on the very end smh

but when you got there

oh man

you were suuuuuuper fuckin nervous dawg

full on shaking, blushing,,,, a whole ass mess

he grabbed your hand and gave you that reassuring smile of his (you know the one)��

“Are you nervous?” he asked, chuckling a little bit

Him on the outside: confident

Him on the inside: panicked, omg the person standing in front of me is so beautiful, they’re literally quaking omg how do I calm them down

“Just a little,” you sheepishly told him, not even trying to hide it

He took both of your hands and interlaced your fingers and

holy shit

your hands fit perfectly together?? 

uhhhhhhh did somebody say #meanttobe?? 

you guys talked for a bit 

it was mainly just you telling him like

hey i’m a big fan!! I really love you, very much!! your dancing is actually beautiful and it’s inspiring to see someone who is so passionate at what they love doing just that, doing what they love!! 

and the whole time he sat there and went full damn uwu

he thought, “I can sit here all day and listen to them talk.” 

but unfortunately the meet and greet couldn’t last forever :(

just as you were about to go, you noticed something, though

his piercings were

different??

you had seen pictures of the boy from the day before and something was,,,,, off

you finally realized what it was, tho

“That’s new,” you said, pointing to the earring that just,,, popped up overnight

the piercings you had were the exact same

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking.... when did you get that one done?” you asked, and you saw something in his eyes click

“It popped up this morning...… Why?” he answered, secretly hoping You Were The One

lucky for him :)

you touched your own ear 

“Because I gave myself this piercing this morning...”

something in his eyes told you that he knew

he knew that you were his soulmate

his heart was beating so fast

he dropped his fake flirting persona immediately bc ya know

why would he want to be like that with the person he’d spend the rest of his life with ??

ten leaned in close and whispered, “write your phone number down.” 

homeboy decided to shoot his shot!!

it worked, bc you quickly scribbled down your number on a piece of paper and handed it to him

the meet and greet couldn’t last forever tho and before you knew it, the staff were forcing you to leave

before you left, ten gave your hand one last squeeze and you were rushed away:(

you left feeling very ?.!

before you went to bed that night (not that you were going to bc hello?? that shit seriously happened today!!)

you got a text from an unknown number

“hey, this is ten! just wanted to say hi and that i’m glad I got to finally meet my soulmate!! also- sorry sm forces us both to get so many piercings all the time lol” 

your heart was beating out of your chest

full uwu bitch

bc yes !! 

you were ecstatic to finally meet your soulmate, the person you would spend the rest of your life with

and you were ecstatic to meet the boy with the beautiful piercings

[waveridden]

FIC: Crash Bang Boom

“I just realized there’s a zombie apocalypse going on,” Steve says, muffled by his hands. “Like, a zombie walked into Parker’s living room, the world’s falling apart, and now we’re in a kitchen supply store fighting about butter knives. Because that’s the best thing we could be doing with our time right now.”

A SP7 zombie AU. 26k. Cib/Parker, Autumn/Sami Jo. CW for death, guns, alcohol use, and one scene of graphic violence. You can find more detailed content warnings here.

Read on Ao3

#

“Dude,” James says, “we need to get butter knives. For melee combat.”

“Okay, for one-” Cib lifts a finger. “If you’re meleeing a zombie, it’s gonna eat your fucking face, game over. And for B-” a second finger- “if you’re gonna stab someone, why wouldn’t you want it to be a sharp knife? Really dig in there.”

“Sharp knives can carve their eyes out,” Steve says, so blandly that Parker can’t tell if he’s joking.

Cib snaps his fingers and points at Steven. “Carve their eyes out! They don’t need ‘em, you might as well take ‘em.”

Parker, against his better judgment, asks, “What do you need zombie eyes for?”

Cib snorts and shakes his head. “If I have to tell you, you already don’t know, dude.” Which isn’t helpful at all, but it’s technically right, so Parker doesn’t say anything.

“You can stab an eye with a butter knife,” James says insistently, drawing everyone’s attention back over to him. He’s holding a box of butter knives - or actually what looks like a box of normal dinner cutlery, which is maybe even less useful. “And it’ll hurt more.”

“Stabbing isn’t the same as carving out,” Cib argues.

James sighs in pure exasperation, shaking his cutlery box. “You can’t eat zombie eyes.”

“That’s not what I wanted them for!”

“You can’t fuck them either, Cib, they’re eyes. ”

“Well, clearly you’re not using your imagination!”

“I don’t wanna imagine that,” Steve mumbles.

“And I’m not gonna fuck them!” Cib crosses his arms. “You can plant them and use them to grow zombies!”

“Oh my god,” James says, horrified. “No, okay, listen, glisten, you can’t do that, because it doesn’t work with humans. And anyways, the stabbing will hurt more with the butter knife. Or a fork. We gotta get them.”

“Why does a butter knife hurt more?” Steve asks. He sounds very, very tired.

“So take a steak knife, right? Sharp knife.” James opens the cutlery box and rips out a knife. “Imagine this butter knife is sharp, right?”

“Sharp knife,” Cib repeats.

“You wanna cut someone open, no problem, you can just-” James mimes slashing with the knife. “It doesn’t take, like, effort. But if you wanna cut someone with a butter knife-” he mimes stabbing, so emphatically that Parker nearly takes a step away. “You gotta put some muscle into it.”

“I thought that was a sharp knife,” Cib says.

“Nope, it’s a butter knife now.”

“Well, you didn’t say you were changing the knife!”

“James, you have to say if you’re changing the knife,” Steven sighs. “You’re gonna confuse Cib.”

“Fine! I changed the fucking knife, Cib, it’s a butter knife again.”

Cib nods. Parker thinks, in passing, that they’re all going to die.

“So you have to stab someone with a butter knife-” James stabs at the air again. “If you wanna break skin, you gotta really go for it, right? Gotta have force behind it. So by the time you break the skin, you’ve got that follow-through going, and it’ll fuck someone up. And slashing - Cib, the knife’s sharp again - it’s all surface-level, it’s not the same.”

“Okay,” Cib says. “But I still want sharp knives. Real ones.”

“We can get sharp knives! We can have both, I’m just saying, we should get both.”

Steve groans loudly and puts his head into his hands. Cib glances over. “Steve, you decent?”

“I just realized there’s a zombie apocalypse going on,” Steve says, muffled by his hands. “Like, a zombie walked into Parker’s living room, the world’s falling apart, and now we’re in a kitchen supply store fighting about butter knives. Because that’s the best thing we could be doing with our time right now.”

“There’s not a gun store in the strip mall,” Parker points out. “And there’s food in here.”

Steve waves him off. “We get it, Parker, you had a good idea, but it’s still the end of the fucking world.”

“Gun stores are probably empty by now,” James adds. “It’s been, what, three days? I’m amazed there are still butter knives here.”

“I’m amazed there’s any food left in here.” Cib looks around, presumably at all the jars of salsa and other weird cooking shit. “We should finish looting this kitchen store and get home, right?”

“Uh,” Parker says.

So mostly, Parker’s down for whatever. This is just as true in the zombie apocalypse as it was beforehand. He doesn’t know a lot about zombies, scary movies have never been his thing, but he knows that his best shot is sticking with the group. Lone wolves don’t do well at the end of the world, and he likes the boys. Even if they give him shit, he’s pretty sure they actually have his back, and so he’s going to roll with what they think is a good idea. But also, their home base is his house, and there’s been a zombie rotting in it for the past three days. And he’s not interested in staying there if they don’t have to.

“No,” Steve says suddenly. “No, we should stay here.”

“We should absolutely not stay here,” James argues. “This is too public! Parker’s house is out of the way, nobody’s going to come busting through our front door there.”

“Except the first zombie,” Parker says.

James glares at him. “Outlier.”

“Pretty important outlier.”

“Parker’s right.” Steve grimaces, because of course he does, but he continues. “Listen, this place is easier to fortify, we have more weapons on hand, it’s a more central location for supplies, and we’re in a better place to barter with people.”

James frowns and folds his arms, butter knife dangling from his hand. “Are we already on a barter economy?”

“I think that the economic structure of the civilized world is the least of our problems, dude,” says Cib. “You know, if we’re arguing about whether or not you can fuck zombie eyes, is the economy really important anymore? Was it ever really important?”

“Fucking eyeballs is not an argument,” Steve says. “It’s really, really not an argument, and I will kill you myself if you keep trying to arguing it.”

Cib nods. “Point taken. No arguing, just doing.”

“No, no, n-” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god, just mercy kill me right now.”

“If I kill you, am I in charge?” James asks.

“No, nope.” Steven practically leaps backwards until he’s standing behind Parker. “No, you can be in charge if you kill Parker.”

“Done,” Cib says.

“Hey,” Parker says mildly, trying to hide the sudden, deep panic that bubbles up inside him. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t work, given that James and Cib exchange their patented “ugh, fucking Parker” look, but it’s the thought that counts. Maybe. “Enough people are trying to kill me, I don’t need my zombie apocalypse crew to do it too.”

“Who the fuck is trying to kill you?” Steve demands.

“Zombies. Lots of them.” He pauses, considering. “Maybe Jeremy? I haven’t seen him in a few days, but he talks about it sometimes.”

“Jeremy doesn’t get to kill you,” Cib says indignantly. “I called dibs.”

“You absolutely can not call murder dibs,” Steve sighs.

James lifts a hand. The hand with the knife. “Can I call murder dibs?”

“No! Parker, oh my god, make yourself useful, help stop this.”

“If we stay here, I’ll be in charge of our inventory,” Parker offers. “There’s probably a stockroom and stuff in the back, and I’m good at keeping track of things.”

James lowers the knife. “That’s actually a pretty good plan.”

“Fucking-” Steve throws his hands up in the air and steps out from behind Parker. “Why is it a good idea when he agrees? It was my idea!”

“But we were in my house,” Parker points out feebly. “So, you know, maybe it makes sense that I get a say in if we-”

“All in favor of Parker not getting a say in anything?” James says, and everyone’s hands go up. Parker sighs.

“All in favor of Parker never saying anything?” Cib continues. All three hands stay up.

“The kitchen store was my idea,” Parker mutters.

Cib claps a hand down on Parker’s shoulder, hard. “We would’ve had that idea without you.”

“We need to figure out if we can get sleeping bags in here,” Steve says musingly, and just like that, they live in an abandoned kitchen supply store.

  #

  It takes time to get settled in. They have to move all the shelves, and all the supplies, and they also sort all the supplies. And that really means Parker sorts the supplies, because that’s his job as keeper of the inventory.

Which, okay, side note: that could’ve been either the worst or best idea he’s ever had. He likes that he has something to do, especially when nobody else has consistent things to work on, but he also has most of a partially-looted kitchen store to keep track of. So they have a lot of blenders, but no reliable electricity, so really they have a lot of loose blades and breakable glass. And not just from the blenders.

In retrospect, given the way that they are, or mostly the way that Cib is, a kitchen store may have been the most dangerous possible home base.

But anyways, Parker keeps track the inventory. The rest of the boys try to help, out of what they say is boredom and not legitimate compassion, but he thinks they might feel bad for how much he has to sort through. He doesn’t mind, mostly. He can stay in the kitchen store, with a pistol that James will not explain where he got, and everyone else can go out looting for more supplies and make Parker’s job harder.

“I want to be in charge of ammo,” James says, on their fifth day in the kitchen store. “Like, just ammo.”

“Not guns?”

“Can you not keep track of the guns?”

“Yeah, and I can keep track of the ammo.”

“What if I want to?”

“Find your own job, James,” Parker says, because he’s an asshole and this is the only thing he has to himself in the end of the world.

“Damn,” James says. He sounds either impressed, constipated, or like he’s trying not to laugh. Parker’s just gonna… let that one remain a mystery. “What if I want yours?”

“Didn’t we agree that you’d have to kill me to take my job?”

“No, we were gonna kill Steve.”

“No,” Steven calls from the opposite corner of the store, where he and Cib are doing something complicated with barbed wire.

Parker frowns. “Do we have barbed wire now?”

James rolls his eyes. “Use your fucking eyes, Parker, we obviously have barbed wire.”

“When did we get that?”

“A couple days ago. Same time we picked up all the guns.”

“I would’ve thought guns are a hot commodity at the end of the world,” Parker muses. “Or that it would’ve taken some effort to get them.”

“Oh, it did.” James flashes him a grin, disconcertingly genuine. “I was right about the butter knives.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Parker says automatically. He would’ve noticed if James came back one day with bloody butter knives. At least, he thinks so. Inventory takes a lot of attention. It might’ve passed him by.

“That’s for me to know and you to think about till the zombies eat you.”

“Are you planning on letting them eat me?”

“It’s cute that you think we wouldn’t.”

“Good luck sorting all the shit I leave behind,” Parker says, and goes back to sorting kitchen towels.

James pauses. “Oh, you bitch, you actually made yourself useful, didn’t you?”

“I might’ve.”

“You’re a crafty one.”

“I’ve always been crafty.”

“Our favorite craft boy.” James reaches down and ruffles Parker’s hair. It’s uncomfortably aggressive. “You’re like an edgy knitter. Making us a safe home.”

“It’s- I’m not that kind of crafty-”

“Parker really is kind of crappy,” Cib yells, and lifts a hand. Steve, without looking, high-fives him.

“Ouch,” Parker says, more to be polite than because he actually cares.

“Hey!” James points at Cib. “No verbally wounding him before one of us knows how to do his job.”

“I’ll learn to do it!” Cib jumps to his feet. “Parker, teach me how to be you.”

“No,” Steve says immediately. “One Parker is enough.”

Cib nods sagely. “You’re right. I’ll teach him how to be me.”

“ No, ” Steve and James say together.

Cib makes eye contact with Parker and mouths something completely unreadable. If Parker had to guess, it’s probably crude and insulting.

“Besides,” Parker says, “you guys are busy getting more supplies. I can’t teach you how to do inventory when I haven’t even inventoried everything here yet.”

James crouches down next to him. “You’re not done?”

“I’m probably more than half done, but no, I’m not.”

“Have you done the ammo yet?”

Parker sighs. “Yes, I’ve done the ammo.”

“Fuck!”

“Get another job, James, quit trying to steal mine.”

“Jobs? In this economy?” Cib demands. “Zombie economy? Ezonomy? What do you guys think the job market like in the ezonomy? Is it gonna be really specialized, or-”

“Jesus Christ, stop talking about zombie economics,” Steve grumbles. “Why is this so interesting to you?”

“Marxism,” Cib says, which might be an answer, might just be the one word he knows related to economic theory. It’s a toss-up.

“Oooookay,” Steve says. “Get back down here, I don’t wanna cut my fucking hands on this wire myself.”

Cib obediently kneels back down. Parker looks at James. “Go help them.”

“You sure?” James says, and for a second, Parker feels bad. They’re all scared, they all need things to do, and maybe it’s selfish of him to keep such an essential job to himself. Maybe he should teach James his system, or at least outline it for him.

“Yeah,” Parker says, because he actually is sure. This is his, goddammit. It’s the end of the world, and he’s holding on to what he can.

  #

  The problem with being in charge of inventory is:

Jeremy shows up. Like, literally materializes out of thin air, as far as Parker can tell. Like, everything’s fine and then Steven yells “Jesus fucking Christ” and Jeremy is outside one of the kitchen store windows. Holding an axe.

Parker has definitely, definitely had nightmares about this before.

“You should really board up those windows,” Jeremy says as Steve opens the door. “Could be dangerous. Hey, Parker.”

“Hey, Jeremy,” Parker says, trying incredibly hard not to let his voice shake.

“How did you find us?” Steve demands. “Is this just a freaky coincidence?”

“Yeah, I came here to loot, and then I saw you in the window.” Jeremy shrugs, adjusting his grip on the axe. His very, very tight grip on the axe. “How long have you guys been here?”

“Three weeks?” Steve glances at Parker. “Three?”

“Too long,” Parker says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because there’s an appropriate length of time for the zombie apocalypse.”

Parker personally thinks that it got really old after the second week. Around the time Cib and James started teaching him and Steve tricks for shooting moving targets, the situation lost any of the weird Hollywood horror charm that it had left.

“Yeah, about three weeks,” Parker concedes, because he’s not going to tell fucking Jeremy about how scared he is about the end of the world. The guy is his friend, but he’s also kind of ruthless.

“Good call,” Jeremy says. Parker hates that he actually feels complimented by it.

“Anyways.” Steve folds his arms. “You just visiting, or are you here for a reason?”

Jeremy’s eyes flick around the room, from Parker to the makeshift sleeping corner set up for the four of them (shit) to the open stockroom door ( shit ) and landing back on Steven. “You interested in bartering, Steve?”

“Depends,” Steve says warily. “What are we bartering?”

“I’ll give you the axe if you give me Parker.”

Parker’s entire body flash-freezes. He knows that they all joke about how badly they want him gone, but he’s really not in the mood to find out if they mean it. “Steve-”

Steve rolls his eyes. “God, Parker, I’m not gonna sell you for an axe without talking to James and Cib first.”

“Am I really only worth an axe?”

“It’s a pretty good axe,” Jeremy says. “What else can you give me? Other than telling me that James and Cib are staying with you, of course.”

“Don’t be stupid, I know you already figured that out,” Steve says, blase enough that Parker is almost convinced. “What else do you want?”

“Food.”

“Parker, can we do that?”

“We can give you two cases of MREs,” Parker says. Cib had found a shitton of full cases in an apartment complex lobby a while ago. Said it looked like an abandoned camp. Parker doesn’t want to think about what went so bad that they abandoned all that food. “It’ll last you at least a week.”

“I need enough for two people,” Jeremy says.

“So that’d be you and Andrew,” Steve says neutrally.

Jeremy doesn’t even blink. “A week’s worth for two people. Four cases.”

“Not a chance. Two cases.”

“Three cases.”

“Two.”

“Two, and I come back if that doesn’t last the full week.”

Steve nods. “Fine. Parker.”

“Yeah,” Parker says, and it’s not until he’s in the stockroom and looking at the rations that he remembers the other, bigger problem with being in charge of inventory.

Look, it’s not like they’re going to run out of food anytime soon, if they keep going at the pace they’re going. All the boys go out most days for supplies, which range from food to weapons to clothes to batteries. And that means two things. First, it means they’re doing fine on supplies, so they can give Jeremy a couple dozen MREs, no problem. And second, it means Parker spends a lot of time alone. Just him keeping track of the things they collect.

Just him and, every now and again, famous actor James Allen McCune.

He just showed up a week or so ago outside the store and Parker felt bad, okay? The dude clearly didn’t have a zombie crew, or at least not a good one, so Parker gave him a butcher’s knife (not high-end, but sharp enough that he could defend himself) and a couple MREs and sent him on his way. And he didn’t tell the boys because it wasn’t like it was going to make a big deal. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d notice. Parker’s in charge of inventory.

And then James had shown up again, and Parker had given him a couple more MREs, and it’s really not like they’re running out. It’s just that giving Jeremy two cases feels like a lot.

Maybe it’s not a problem, he decides, as he picks up two cases of MREs. If it’s a problem then he’ll tell Steve they’re running low on food, and if it’s not then nobody will ever know. This doesn’t have to be a problem.

When he comes out with the cases in his arms, Steve is holding the axe. Jeremy is still hovering by the door. “That’s two full cases?”

“Two full cases.” Parker sets them on the floor in front of Jeremy’s feet. “They should last you the full week if you’re careful.”

Jeremy - well, he doesn’t quite smile as much as bare his teeth. “Yeah, because everyone’s careful at the end of the world.”

“Jeremy, come on,” Steve sighs. “Parker’s handling this as well as his child brain allows him to.”

“Hey,” Parker says without heat. “I’m in charge of inventory.”

“We know.” Steve pats Parker’s shoulder. “We’re all very proud of you. Now, let me ask you this: do you know how to sharpen an axe?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“A directly relevant one.”

“I know. And I can tell you.” Jeremy leans down and drums his fingers on the cases. “If you gimme another case.”

“Yeah,” Steve says flatly, “because we definitely can’t figure that one out on our own.”

“Google’s not working these days, Steve.”

“If you think Cib can’t figure out how to make something more dangerous, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Jeremy smiles, something reminiscent of an actual smile this time. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. I’ll be seeing you guys.”

“Where are you and Andrew staying?” Parker blurts out. Maybe Jeremy is trying to kill him, but he wants to know that his friends are okay.

Jeremy lifts the cases. “Be seeing you,” He repeats, and then he’s gone just about as fast as he showed up.

Steve glances down at the axe. “I don’t know why we need this.”

“Firewood?”

“Oh, fuck, are we going to need firewood in the winter?”

“I mean, probably.”

Steve makes a face. “Can we make a suicide pact? I’ll chop your head off if you stab me.”

“I don’t think that’s how suicide pacts work,” Parker points out.

“This apocalypse has ruined everything,” Steve says. “I’m gonna go practice axing things, you wanna come with?”

“Absolutely,” Parker says, and Steve’s eyes crinkle up at the corners, and for a second everything feels… normal.

  #

  “Steve almost sold me to Jeremy for our new axe, you know,” Parker says.

Cib, who thankfully found another full case of MREs on his supply run, laughs. “Did he really?”

“Mmhm.” Parker leans over Cib’s shoulder and lets Cib push him away, like he always does. “Said the only reason he didn’t is he hadn’t talked to you and James about it.”

“I don’t know why you’re so worried about us selling you to Jeremy.”

“He tried to kill me before the world was ending, what do you think he’s going to do now?”

“Eat you.” Cib glances at him, nose wrinkled. “Duh.”

“Ugh, Cib, fucking gross.”

“What? I’d eat you.”

“I’d eat you .”

Cib, for some godforsaken reason, turns and winks at Parker. There’s tongue-wagging involved.

“Cib,” Parker says, “I’m going to axe you just so I never have to see that again.”

“Yeah, but if you did that, you wouldn’t have this.” Cib raps his knuckles against the computer monitor. It used to be part of the register system for the kitchen store, but Cib has claimed it as his own project. He’s also not explaining what he’s doing with it, or why it involves so many damn batteries, but Steve said it’s best just to indulge him on this.

Parker shakes his head. “I think we’d be lost without you, Cib.”

“Oh, dude, I’m the finder, remember?” Cib grins, and something catches in Parker’s chest because it looks… real. “If you guys lost me, I’d find you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, bitch.” Cib goes back to the monitor. Parker leans in a little closer, and Cib barely nudges him back this time. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You’d need four shotguns.”

“We have those.”

“Aw, well, then I’m fucked sideways on a futon.”

Parker laughs under his breath and decides, for now, to keep his mouth shut and watch Cib work. Whatever the hell he’s doing, he makes it fun to watch.

  #

  The zombie apocalypse tends to change your concept of a few things. How long you should go without a shower, for instance. How much sleep you need. How much food is enough for a day. Things like that.

Parker is having a bad day. And considering the world is literally ending, that’s saying something.

He managed to accidentally drop half of his first daily MRE on the floor, and considering how dirty everything is, he decided against eating it. He found out that his count for razors was off by a couple, and Cib also looked suspiciously cleaner than normal, but that wasn’t enough to accuse him of stealing. And on top of that Steve decided that Parker should go out on supply runs every now and again, so he and James got to bicycle down to a gas station.

(Steve is a good de facto apocalypse leader. This isn’t something Parker expected to learn about him, or about anyone, but he is. He has all these great ideas, like using bikes for transit and rotating who goes out. Parker’s proud of him, in a weird end-of-the-world way. Even if he hates going on supply runs.)

So he’s already not in a great mood, and on top of that he’s anxious as hell about splitting up with James, so he has one hand on the handle of his pistol as he goes through the aisles of the gas station. Just about everything is picked clean, and what isn’t is rotten, but he grabs things anyways. Some bottles of painkillers, a mostly-crushed bag of chips. He throws them all into an old backpack, sitting on the ground. Maybe one day they can trade luxury items for useful items. He’s got kind of a collection going in the stockroom.

And, because this is just how today is going, Parker leans down to pick up a bottle of ibuprofen, and when he stands up there’s a shotgun against the back of his head.

“Don’t move,” a voice says behind him, through gritted teeth. “Drop it.”

Parker drops the bottle. “Listen, I don’t want any tr-”

“Sami Jo!” the voice yells, and then prods Parker a little harder. “Stand up.”

Parker stands, turning around and lifting his hands as he does. There’s a woman in front of him, glaring forcefully up, shotgun pointed directly at Parker’s heart. “I swear to god, I thought this place was abandoned.”

“Are you gonna give us our things back?”

“I didn’t take any of the things in here,” Parker tries. It sounds like a lie, even to him.

“Yeah, whatever,” the woman says. “Sami Jo! Come on!”

“I’m a little held up right now, babe,” someone else yells back.

The woman jabs her shotgun at Parker. “Is it just you here?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Parker says, trying to figure out what the odds are of James popping up out of nowhere. “Are you alone?”

Her eyes narrow. “You just heard me talking to someone else.”

“Was that you?” Parker forces himself to laugh. “Huh, here I thought I was going… zombie-crazy.”

“Zombie-crazy?” a new voice demands. When Parker turns, he almost sags in relief: there’s woman there, hands in the air, with James standing behind her, gun pointed at her head.

Parker’s shotgun girl narrows her eyes. “You could’ve just said you weren’t here alone.”

Parker laughs weakly. “Ha, well, you know.”

“Parker, you’re the only person I know who could get held at gunpoint in a gas station,” James complains. “This is ridiculous.”

The woman in front of James - Sami Jo, if Parker had to guess - clears her throat. “I’m also at gunpoint in a gas station.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know you.”

“Listen, I don’t know you either, but my girl has your boy-”

“Not mine,” James says. Parker glares at him. “I mean, sort of mine.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sami Jo says. “All I’m trying to say is we can put our guns down on the count of three. And everyone goes on their merry way.”

“And this one gives us back all our shit that he stole,” Parker’s shotgun girl adds, scowling at him.

“Aw, dude, you stole things?” James grins. “Nice. I changed my mind, I’m claiming you.”

“Guns down, then I empty my backpack,” Parker says.

Shotgun girl nods. “Count of three. One, two-” she lowers her gun, and James does the same. She points at Parker’s backpack, sitting abandoned on the ground. “Empty it.”

Parker bends down and upends the backpack. Ibuprofen might’ve been nice to have, but getting out of here alive is probably nicer.

“Dude, that’s a pretty sweet haul for being here all of five minutes,” James says, leaning over to look at it all. “Wait till we tell Cib, he’ll probably try and teach you about his Turkish method for picking pockets.”

“His Turkish what?”

“Cib?” one of the girls demands. When Parker looks over they’re standing together, arms tightly wound around each other’s waists. Sami Jo’s eyes are narrowed. “Did you say Cib? As in, Clayton James?”

Parker looks at James. James looks at Parker, and then back to Sami Jo. “Our answer to that is gonna depend on how you know this… Clayton fellow.”

“Like there’s gonna be more than one person we know named Cib?” Sami Jo snaps. “We were neighbors for a while, I fed his fish when he went on vacation to Florida. And got him a new one when I forgot to feed it and it died.”

“Cib did say that Turtle seemed different after Florida,” Parker murmurs.

James crosses his arms. “Okay. So you know Cib. What’s up?”

Sami Jo pauses. “Autumn and I need to talk for a minute. No looting while our backs are turned.”

“Sure thing,” James says. The minute they turn around, he reaches down and tucks a bottle of ibuprofen in the waistband of his pants.

“Dude,” Parker hisses.

James shrugs. “All’s fair in the end of days, baby. Tolstoy wrote that.”

“Who the fuck is Tolstoy?”

“I don’t know, but the man was a genius, haven’t you heard his operas?”

“James, I’m almost positive you’re making shit up.”

“Only almost?”

“Okay,” Sami Jo says loudly. When they look up, Sami Jo and Autumn look severely unimpressed. “First of all, I saw that, and you can keep your dick Advil to yourself.”

“Nice,” James whispers.

“And second, we want to cut a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“We want to join our crew with yours.”

Parker tries not to wince. The kitchen store isn’t small, but it’s also not a lot of space to share between the four of them, let alone six.

James must be thinking the same thing because he looks severely unimpressed. “And why should we say yes?”

“Because I’m a good shot,” Autumn says. “And because we have a lot of guns to share with you.”

James leans his head towards Parker and murmurs, out of the side of his mouth, “How’re we doing on guns?”

“Could always use more,” Parker admits. “And it wouldn’t be so bad to have more people as lookouts.”

“Neither of us are great lookouts,” Sami Jo says, surprisingly candid. Autumn frowns up at her, but she just shrugs. “Babe, you can barely hear.”

“I mean, no,” Autumn says. Parker blinks in surprise. Now that he looks a little closer, Autumn is definitely looking at Sami Jo’s lips as she speaks. He maybe would’ve written that off as a girlfriend thing, but it makes just as much sense for it to be lip-reading. “But I thought…” She jerks her head up at the ceiling significantly.

Sami Jo’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“He’s a good lookout!”

“He didn’t even notice these two clownfucks walking in!”

“Clownfuck,” James repeats under his breath. “Gonna use that one.”

Autumn crosses her arms. “We can’t just leave him.”

“We-” Sami Jo sighs. “Okay. Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” James demands.

“We have another guy as our lookout.” Sami Jo grimaces. “He’s a little weird. Got scratched by a zomb, but he seems fine.”

“And anything that doesn’t seem fine, he was like that beforehand,” Autumn adds. Sami Jo nods next to her. “But anyways. The three of us, and all the supplies we got, and we join up with you guys. Deal?”

“We’re not in charge,” James says. “We’d have to talk to Steve.” But from the way he glances at Parker, he knows as well as Parker does that Steve is going to say yes. Even if he complains about it.

Sami Jo nods. “I want to meet him.”

“That could work, actually.” James glances at Parker. “You take her to Steven and Cib, I’ll stay here and help Autumn get everything ready to leave.”

“And Alfredo,” Autumn insists.

“And Alfredo,” James agrees. “Wherever he is.”

“The roof, probably,” Sami Jo mutters. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and turns to face Autumn, stroking a hand down the back of her head.. “Be careful while I’m gone.”

“You too.” Autumn leans up on her tiptoes, and Sami Jo smiles as she leans down to kiss her.

James glances at Parker. “Don’t get lost.”

“I’m not going to get lost, James, why would you-”

“And don’t get eaten,” James adds. “Steve’ll be pissed if one of us has to figure out that weird sorting system you’ve got going on.”

Parker is pretty sure that Cib has it at least half figured out by now, because it’s actually not that complicated, but he nods anyways. “See you soon.”

“See you soon, man.”

Sami Jo looks at Parker. “How’re we getting there?”

“We have bicycles.”

“Then let’s ride.” And she grins at him, and Parker feels himself grin back.

  #

  There is a specific, special way to open the kitchen store door that doesn’t result in a barbed wire trap maiming you. The day that Steve set it up, he showed everyone how to do it, and how to be careful about it. Parker has practiced opening the barbed wire trap dozens of times in the past month and a half.

“You’re bad at that,” Sami Jo says, after Parker narrowly avoids getting caught in the trap.

“It’s set up poorly, not my fault,” he mutters, even though Steve and Cib can probably hear him. He steps into the store. “Steve! We have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Cib pops up from behind the counter with the computer monitor, and his jaw drops. “Aw, Sami Jo!”

“Cib!” She practically flies over to where he is, throwing her arms around his neck, and he manages to both catch her and pick her up. “Oh my god!”

“Did you trade James for her?” Steven asks, sliding over to Parker’s side. “I’m not judging if you did, because this could potentially be a step up, but we need to get walkie-talkies or something so we can discuss these things on the fly.”

“I didn’t trade James.”

“Yeah, James probably would’ve traded you first.”

Parker shakes his head. Steve looks at him sidelong. “No, I mean it, he would’ve.”

“I know you mean it,” Parker admits. “I just mean he didn’t. And we’re not trying to trade, they’re trying to join up.”

“Join up?” Cib repeats. He still has an arm around Sami Jo’s waist, but now she’s sitting on the counter next to him, one foot swinging against Cib’s thigh. “Donezo. Welcome aboard, you’re a real pirate now.”

“Hold on.” Steven looks at Sami Jo. “First of all, I’m Steven.”

She waves at him. “Sami Jo. Can my girlfriend and I move in?”

“Girlfriend? Aw!” Cib grins at her. “Steve, we gotta, she was my neighbor, we have a code of honor.”

“Cib, there’s not a neighborly code of honor.”

“You just don’t know about it because you weren’t inducted into the order.”

Steve frowns. “What order? Is there a secret neighbor order?”

Sami Jo nods. “Cib, remember that fourth rite of passage?”

Cib shakes his head. “It was brutal. My nutsack is still bruised, and it’s been years .”

“Okay,” Steve says loudly. “Putting aside the fact that my neighbors apparently hate me, why should we?”

“We’ve got a lot of guns.”

Steve glances at Parker. “Do we need more guns?”

“It’s never bad to have more guns,” Parker says.

“That’s a good point.” Steve looks back at Sami Jo. “You and your girlfriend?”

“She’s hard of hearing, but she’s a good shot.” She grimaces. “And I guess our lookout, but he would probably just nest on the roof.”

“Roof?” Steven repeats.

“ Nest? ” Parker repeats, because that part is new information.

“Steve,” Cib says. “Steve, Steve. We have to. We have to or I’ll leave. ”

“You’re not gonna leave.”

“I’d leave!” He tugs Sami Jo in closer towards him. “I know her!”

“You know us too!”

“What if I like her more?”

“What if you like her girlfriend less?”

“I already love her,” Cib says solemnly. “Also, they don’t have a Parker.”

“Okay, that’s a good reason,” Steve admits. Parker sighs. Sami Jo giggles, because apparently it’s easy to get on board with Parker being at the bottom of the totem pole. “Just you three?”

“Just us three. And Alfredo eats bugs and rotten food, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “And this is a human you’re inviting into our home?”

“We think so, yeah.”

“And you’d chip in, with supply runs and all that?”

“Of course, we’re not freeloaders.”

“Steve,” Cib says, eyes round. “Steve, say yes, please, please, I won’t ask you for anything ever again-”

“Don’t lie.”

“I won’t ask you for anything until tomorrow.”

“Cib.”

“I won’t ask you for anything for four hours.”

“That seems like a reasonable sacrifice,” Sami Jo says seriously. “I think you should give the man what he wants.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, fine, okay, let’s do it, why not?”

“Yes!” Cib holds up a hand, and Sami Jo high-fives him so hard that Parker winces. Cib doesn’t react. “I wanna meet your deaf girlfriend, I bet she’s great.”

“She’s the best!” Sami Jo beams and points at Parker. “She held up that one at gunpoint.”

“Parker!” Steve says, aghast. “You got held up? We’ve talked about this!”

Parker frowns. “No, we haven’t.”

“Well, we’re going to have to.”

“Well, James had Sami Jo at gunpoint!”

“ Dude ,” Cib says, and looks at Sami Jo. “I can fight him for your honor, if you want.”

“I can fight for my own honor, but thanks.” Sami Jo grins. “Can we go get my girlfriend now?”

“And James,” Parker mumbles.

“Girlfriend and James,” Steve repeats. “Alright, let’s shape up and ship out. And also find the weird lookout.”

  #

  Parker does not like Alfredo. The less said about that, the better.

  #

  “Hey.” Sami Jo pokes her head into the stockroom. “Is Cib in here?”

“I don’t think so.” Parker glances around and cups his hands around his mouth. “Cib, wake up!”

There’s no answer. Sami Jo frowns. “Nobody’s seen him in a few hours.”

“What? Why?”

“Dunno. That’s why I was hoping he was back here.”

“Well, he’s not.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Sami Jo shakes her head. “Just let one of us know if he turns up, okay?”

“I will,” Parker promises. As soon as she leaves, he grabs a flashlight and starts going through the aisles of shelves. There’s no telling with Cib, whether he could’ve left or fallen asleep under a shelf waiting to jump out and scare Parker, but it’s worth checking. And double-checking.

In fact, Parker is on his third pass scouring the shelves when he hears Steve demand, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Uh- I’m-” Parker swivels, flashlight in hand, and Steve shrinks back as the beam hits him in the face. Parker switches it off. “Sorry. Flashlight.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Steve shakes his head. “Have you seen Cib?”

“No,” Parker says, trying to ignore the sinking dread in his stomach. “Why, has he- isn’t he back?”

“No,” Steve says, clearly frustrated. “And nobody knows where he is.”

“Did he take one of the bikes?”

“James is in the toy store right now checking.”

Parker shudders involuntarily. “Why do we store our bikes in a toy store?”

“Because the zombies weren’t enough nightmare fuel, so we keep zombie bait in an abandoned toy store. And if you find Cib before we do, tell him to quit being such a cuck.”

“I- what?”

“And you can kick him. You have my permission.” He points at Parker. “One time only.”

“I’m not gonna cuck him- kick him, fuck- ”

“Whatever.” Steve turns and leaves, and Parker takes a deep, rattling breath.

Okay. They can’t find Cib. This is fine. These things happen all the time. They misplace members of their group regularly. Nothing is wrong.

“Nothing is wrong,” Parker says aloud. It’s a little shaky to his own ears, and he sways on the spot, but he says it again. “Nothing is wrong.”

Something bangs on the back door.

Parker, to what he thinks is his credit, doesn’t scream too loudly, or drop the flashlight. It’s really more of a yelp, and he manages to swing the flashlight to face the back door. It used to be an emergency exit, and he’s never opened it. It’s pretty firmly one-way, so he’s not worried about zombies.

Or, well. He wasn’t worried about zombies until right now.

Slowly, gripping the flashlight with both hands, he walks over to the back door. Something bangs on it again, and he flinches, but he reaches one hand out and pushes the door open.

“Dead!” someone shouts on the other side, and Parker jumps back, reflexively throwing an arm up in front of his face. “Don’t open that door!”

Parker lowers his arm. “Cib!”

“Uh, yeah!” Cib wrenches the door the rest of the way open. He has a case of plastic water bottles tucked under one arm and dried blood under one eye. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, but really, the plastic bottles aren’t bad for the environment, because recycling is a thing rich people do-”

“Dude!” Parker hisses. “Close the door!”

Cib steps inside and lets the door close. “You really shouldn’t open that, by the way, because if I were a zombie you’d be filet high noon right now.”

“Where were you?”

“Supply run!” He drops the water on the floor with a loud smack. “You’re welcome.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Well, where did you all think I was, fucking H&M?”

“Dead,” James snaps from the doorway. Parker turns to see him, arms tightly folded, with Steve hovering over one shoulder. “Dude, you can’t just fucking leave like that.”

“Whoa!” Cib frowns. “What’s the issue tissue?”

“No one knew where you were,” Steve says. “Haven’t you ever seen a zombie movie? When you do shit like that, normally it means you died horribly.”

“We were worried,” Parker mumbles. It feels a little lame, next to Steve and James’s real anger, but Cib looks at him in surprise. Parker looks away immediately and shrugs.

“Okay,” Cib says. “Okay. I won’t do it again.”

“New rule,” Steve says abruptly. “Nobody leaves without telling someone first, got it?”

Cib nods. “Nobody leaves without someone fisting them.”

“Jesus actual Christ,” Steve says. “Okay, I think that means you understand, and I don’t want to ask any more questions and find out. Everyone good with the rule?”

Parker nods. James turns and leans into the main room. “Hey! Nobody leaves without telling someone else first from now on, got it?”

“Got it,” Sami Jo yells back. “Now I just need to tell my deaf girlfriend.”

James grimaces. “It’s hard communicating these things,” he mutters.

Cib shrugs. “At least I’m gonna get fisted more now.”

“Not it,” Steve says immediately. “Not it, and I’m leaving.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted it to be you anyways,” Cib mutters as James and Steve both walk away.

Parker picks up the case of water bottles. “Hey, what… what happened to your face?”

Cib lifts a hand to rub at the dry blood. “Eh, missed where the corner of a building was. Bricks and I don’t get along anymore.”

“Not a zombie?”

“I wouldn’t come back if it were a zombie,” he scoffs. “Nah, I’d just leave you guys forever.”

Parker frowns. He knows it’s a joke, but… “Don’t do that.”

Cib grins. “Aw, what’s the matter, parking lot, you gonna miss me?”

“I’m gonna- gonna miss all the water you bring me.” Parker pivots on his heel, so hard that he almost stumbles, and he’s pretty sure Cib is laughing at him. But that doesn’t matter. Even the obvious lie doesn’t matter. He’s just glad that Cib is there, and that he probably understands what Parker didn’t say.

  #

  “Can’t sleep?”

Parker glances up as Steve slides down the wall to sit next to him. “Nah. You?”

Steve gives him a look. “Do I look like I’m asleep?”

Parker shrugs. “Sleepwalking is maybe the least weird thing that’s happening these days.”

“That’s true.” Steven tips his head back, to where it thuds against the wall. “Hey.”

“Hey?”

“What are we doing?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

Parker shrugs. “Do you?”

“Maybe.” Steve looks at Parker. “What do you think we’re doing?”

“Right now? Or in the world?”

“Whatever.”

Parker looks up at the ceiling, considering. “I think we’re faking our way through an apocalypse.”

“Still?”

“We’re only a couple months in, none of us are survivalists, we’re all learning to do things we don’t know how to do. I still suck at shooting.”

“We know,” Steve mutters. When Parker glances over, Steve is half smiling at him.

“And I’m still here!” Parker hesitantly bumps his shoulder against Steve’s, and Steve bumps him back. “I’m here and I don’t know what I’m doing, but you guys are keeping me around anyways. And you might not know what you’re doing either.”

“Watch yourself.”

“I said might!”

“We can throw you out in the street.”

“Then who will do your inventory?”

“All of us know how to count, god, Parker.”

Parker grins. He knows it’s ridiculous, this whole thing is ridiculous, but it’s the end of the world and Steve is sitting next to him, tired and alive. Just like always. “Listen, my point is that we don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re doing it anyways.”

“And you think that’s good enough?”

“Do you think we should stop?”

“I don’t think we can.”

Parker shrugs. “There we go.”

“I hate that you’re good at making things less scary,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. He’s falling asleep, Parker can feel it. “Shouldn’t be allowed.”

“One of us had to be.”

“Yeah, it was supposed to be me, you total dick.”

“You’re just gonna have to settle for being good at everything else.”

“Not good enough.”

“Get over it, you one percent bitch.”

Steven laughs aloud at that, and his head finally tips over onto Parker’s shoulder. “Ugh, your bones.”

“My bones?”

“Not comfy.”

“Then go lie down in bed.”

“Fuck off,” Steve mumbles. “Parker, let’s sleep together.”

“I’ve had dreams about this,” Parker answers in a monotone.

“Don’t make it weird.” Steve scoots closer to Parker, relaxing against his side. “Just sit.”

“Close your eyes and think of England, Steve.”

“Is- is that a sex joke? Are you sex joking me?”

“You said we should sleep together.”

“Ugh.” He’s almost asleep now, his weight pressing down on Parker’s shoulder. Like he can’t hold himself up anymore. “Gross.”

“Yeah,” Parker says. “Gross.”

It takes about ten minutes for Steve’s breathing to even out, and for Parker to realize that he’s not going to be able to move without waking him up. Which is fine. Steven sleeps when he can, not every night but most nights. Parker… can’t do that. He didn’t sleep last night either. Naps during the day, sometimes, but almost never at night. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyways.

Parker lets out a deep breath. Steven doesn’t move.

“Alright,” Parker mumbles, as quietly as he can. “Okay.”

By the time Steve rolls off him and sprawls out on the floor, Parker has run through his mental list of inventory four times. He gets to his feet, a little numb but still steady, and finds a blanket and a pillow for Steve. It takes him about ten minutes to make his way out into the main room.

James, sitting against the far wall, looks up as Parker walks in. “Hey,” he says softly. None of the sleeping figures stir. There are the pieces of a dismantled revolver in his lap, because that’s what James does when he’s nervous. He takes things apart.

Parker sits down next to him. “Can’t sleep?”

“Woke up early. You know where Steven is?”

“He fell asleep in the back room.”

“I thought you slept back there.”

“Sometimes,” Parker lies. “What’re you up to?”

James shakes his head. “Just trying to find something to do.”

“You wanna play I Spy?”

“You’re not serious.”

“What else are we gonna do?”

“Sit in absolute silence.”

Parker waits. Because he knows James, and because there’s nothing else to do.

James sighs. “I spy, with my little eye, a bitch.”

“There are no mirrors in here.”

“And that’s why you don’t see him.”

Parker laughs, even though it’s a stupid joke. “Alright, you wanna go again? For real this time.”

“Ugh, for real this time,” James mutters, but his shoulders are already less tense. Parker thinks he could stay up all night every night, if it means helping his friends look like people again.

  #

  The next time Jeremy visits, he knocks on the door, which is an improvement by virtue of not being completely terrifying. But he stands outside patiently, and waits for Parker to open the door for him. “Good to see you again.”

“What do you want?” Parker sighs.

“Good way to greet an old friend.” Jeremy leans in. “And it looks like you have some new friends too.”

“I can shoot him if you want,” Sami Jo says, from a few feet behind Parker. She probably already has her gun drawn.

“I wouldn’t,” Jeremy says.

Parker kind of wants to say something snarky, like I would, or like Jeremy made jokes about murdering me before the apocalypse even started, but he stops himself. If Jeremy is visiting, he probably needs something, but he probably also has something for them. The axe is good to have, so maybe this is good to have, too. “Steve’s not here right now,” he says as a warning.

“Then I’ll talk to you instead. Tell your friend to put her gun down.”

“Parker,” Sami Jo says, warningly.

Parker turns to her. “No shooting until we hear him out.”

She lowers her gun, looking reluctant. “Who is this guy?”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna save your lives,” Jeremy says, almost cheerfully.

“Yeah? And how’re you gonna do that?”

Jeremy takes a step back. There’s something behind him resting in a kid’s wagon, something that Parker can’t quite make sense of. It’s huge and metal and comes up to Jeremy’s knees, and it looks heavy-duty.

Sami Jo takes in a sharp breath. “That’s a power generator.”

“Gasoline-powered,” Jeremy says. “Not that there’s much gasoline at the end of the world, but I figure with that big ol’ inventory room you guys have, you must have some fuel.”

They do. Not that Parker’s going to tell Jeremy that.

“What do you want for it?” Sami Jo asks, almost warily.

“And Steve’s not here,” Parker says again.

Jeremy sighs. “That’s a shame. I’d ask him for you again.”

“Again?” Sami Jo repeats.

“Although actually-” Jeremy looks Parker up and down. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Wh- th- you-” Parker scoffs. “Sleeping? In this economy?”

“Ezonomy,” Sami Jo says, because apparently she’s been talking to Cib, but she frowns. “Did you just say you haven’t been sleeping?”

“Sleeping?” Parker repeats. His voice is getting steadily higher, and he can feel Jeremy and Sami Jo’s eyes on him like little pin-prick lasers, and oh god, he’s definitely digging himself deeper here. “No, I just meant- who has- you know, it takes - takes a lot of time-”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Jeremy!” Parker claps his hands together. “Generator! What- trading?”

“I want a month’s food,” Jeremy says. “For two people.”

“Fuck off,” Sami Jo says immediately.

Jeremy raises his eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

“Wait,” Parker says. “Wait, Steve should be back in an hour or two, can you wait to talk to him?”

“This is a one time only thing, Parker, and there are a lot of people who would give me a month’s food for this.”

“But we don’t-” Parker looks desperately at Sami Jo. “What would we use it for?”

She bites her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “Recharging batteries once we find walkie talkies? Computers? A stovetop?”

“All good ideas,” Jeremy says. “All this can be yours for the low cost of eight cases of MREs.”

“Four,” Sami Jo says immediately. Parker lets out a breath of relief. He’s never been good at bartering.

“Eight,” Jeremy says evenly.

“Five.”

“Seven.”

“ Five. ”

Jeremy’s eyes move over to Parker, too slowly to be anything but deliberate. “I’m not doing five unless you can throw something extra in for me.”

“Five cases, no extra,” Sami Jo says. “Take it or leave it.”

Jeremy is still looking at Parker.

Oh, Parker thinks, and looks at the generator. They could use it. It’d be nice to be able to charge electronics. It’d be good for Cib, to use that for his weird monitor project instead of that complicated-looking system he has involving D batteries and foil. And they can always find more food, right?

Slowly, as subtly as he can, Parker nods.

“Five cases it is,” Jeremy says agreeably. “Help me get the generator out of the wagon, and then Parker can load the cases in.”

“Good,” Sami Jo says, with a vindictive level of satisfaction. Parker is so, so glad that she’s on his side. And she helps him unload it, and Parker takes the wagon to the back.

“What’s going on?” Autumn asks.

Parker jumps, violently, but he turns to where she’s sitting against the wall so she can see his lips. “Autumn! Uh, I forgot you were-”

“Here?” She shrugs. She has a book in her lap, not one that Parker recognizes, but they’ve been building up a mini library for her lately. She inventories that herself, with a lot of care. “I’m quiet. What’s the wagon for?”

“A friend of ours is trading us a power generator for food.”

Autumn’s eyes bulge. “Like, a real generator?”

“He says it’s gasoline-powered. Sami Jo is setting it up in the main room right now.”

“Can I help?”

“If you know how, sure.”

Autumn jumps to her feet, book all but forgotten, and runs out into the main room, leaving Parker alone.

They can afford five cases of MREs, probably. It’s only a week’s worth of food for them, and it’ll last Jeremy and Andrew way longer than that. But he promised something extra, so Parker opens one of the cases of MREs and gets to work.

When he wheels the wagon back out, Sami Jo and Autumn are fiddling with the generator. Jeremy looks up at Parker and the towering stack of MRE cases. “That one looks like it’s been opened.”

“We, uh,” Parker says, trying frantically to think of a lie that fits. “I just, uh. I opened it to make sure it was full. Because that… happens wrong sometimes. You can, uh. Double check, if you want.”

Jeremy opens the case. He doesn’t react as he sees all the water bottles, the ammo, the batteries, and the matchboxes, but when he looks at Parker, his lips are halfway quirked up. Like he knows that this was more than Parker should be giving him. “Yep. All there.”

Parker lets out a deep breath. “Cool. Uh, can you… can you get out? So we can figure out how to tell everyone else what we just did?”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you around.” He turns to Sami Jo. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, thanks for the generator,” Sami Jo says without looking up.

Autumn turns to Jeremy and opens her mouth, but before she says anything, Jeremy lifts his hands and does… something that Parker has to assume is sign language. Autumn’s jaw drops, but she signs something back, less clumsy than him.

Jeremy smirks, in the most unsettling way that he possibly could, and then he wheels the wagon out, and he’s gone.

Parker looks at Autumn. “What did he say?”

“He said he’d keep an ear out for me,” Autumn says, dumbstruck. “What do you think that means?”

“I think it means we should be careful when we make deals with him,” Sami Jo mutters. “Are we good, Parker? Five cases is a lot of food.”

“We’re extra good,” Parker says, with all the confidence he can fake. “Didn’t even hardly dent a thing.”

Sami Jo makes a face. “Make sure you’re more convincing when you say that to Steve and the boys.”

Parker sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go practice.”

  #

  Parker’s working theory - and it’s not perfect - is that Cib is being nice to him because of the generator.

Cib had been ecstatic when he got back and saw the generator. Even Steve and James hadn’t been too mad about the food, because electricity is a hot commodity at the end of the world. They’ve been looking for gasoline for the past couple of weeks, alongside MREs and bullets, and they’ve been finding it. James showed everyone how to empty a car’s gas tank. And it’s been nice, having things like electric lights and Cib’s computer.

So Cib is being nice to Parker. And it’s probably because of the generator, which is fine, because that was a good trade on Parker’s part. Or mostly on Sami Jo’s part. Nobody knows about the extras that he gave Jeremy. Nobody double-checks the inventory. They just accept what Parker says.

Except:

“I thought we had more batteries than this,” Cib says.

Parker’s head jerks up. Cib is standing near one of the shelves, frowning down. “What?”

“I looked at this shelf a couple days ago, I swear-” Cib shakes his head. “Do you think being near zombies makes you stupider?”

Parker blinks a few times. It’s hard to follow Cib’s tangents when he’s well-rested and lucid, let alone when he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a couple weeks. “Zombies?”

“Yeah, like, they eat brains so your brains get smaller in self defense.”

“Can brains do that?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a nerdologist.”

“Neurologist, they’re called-” Parker yawns, abruptly. “Fuck.”

“You’re a fuck. Shouldn’t there be more batteries, though?”

“Maybe your brain is shrinking,” Parker says. It’s hard to think straight. He knows James Allen McCune had stopped by again a few days ago, but he can’t remember if he’d given him batteries. The days are blurring together, lately. “Getting smaller ‘cause you’re not using it.”

“Uh, I said my brain, not my dick.”

“Cib, don’t be gross.”

Cib turns and spreads his arms wide. “It’s the end of the world, baby, there’s nothing left that’s clean.”

“You’re a clean,” Parker mumbles.

“Yeah, that’s because I shaved.” Cib snatches a couple of batteries off the shelf. “Hey, carpark.”

“S’not my name.”

“Do you still nap when you’re alone?”

Parker frowns, trying to clear his mind. “What?”

“You don’t sleep during the night,” Cib says. He’s giving Parker an eerily even look. “I can tell. You snore.”

“I would never.”

“You would sometimes.”

“Do you listen for me snoring?”

Cib shrugs. “Maybe it’s nice hearing my friends breathing.”

“That’s creepy.”

“But you quit snoring. Or you just quit sleeping, right?”

“I nap,” Parker says, a little plaintively. He can barely keep his head upright. “Sometimes.”

“When was the last time?”

Parker takes a deep breath and preemptively winces. “What day is it again?”

Cib goes quiet for a few seconds. “Okay, number uno, nobody knows what day it is, calendars are not useful for fighting zombies.”

“You could throw a calendar at a zombie.”

“Papercuts do not stop the undead. Probably.”

Parker nods. “What’s numero dos?”

“Numero dos is, lie down.”

Parker doesn’t want to listen. He doesn’t mean to listen. But he blinks and suddenly he’s on the ground. “I don’t need a nap.”

“Did you sleep yesterday?” Cib asks. He sounds closer to Parker.

“No.”

“Day before?”

“For about an hour.”

“Parker, I can barely count things when I’m awake, how are you supposed to count them with one hour of sleep in the last forty-one?”

“It’s been more than forty-one hours.”

Cib sighs loudly. Very loudly. Parker opens his eyes (did he close them?) just in time to see Cib lower himself on top of him.

“Cib,” Parker says. “Get off.”

“Nope.” He pops the p. Parker can feel it against his cheek. “I’m your wanking blanket.”

“My what? ”

“Your weighted belater.”

“Cib, oh my god-”

“Your waiting baker.”

“Weighted blanket?”

“That’s what I said,” Cib lies, blatantly. “Go to sleep, dude, the world’s still gonna be shit when you wake up. You won’t miss anything.”

“M’s’posed to help Alfredo watch,” Parker says, but he can already feel himself falling asleep. “This is th’one day I need to stay up.”

“I’ll stay up for you,” Cib promises.

Parker wrinkles his nose. “Really?”

“None of you silly bitches are dying on my watch,” Cib says, with a stupid kind of confidence.

Parker wants to say… something. That they can’t guarantee that, or that he doesn’t trust Cib to keep himself safe, or something stupid like asking Cib to stay while he’s asleep. But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he lets his eyes slip closed again. “Okay.”

“Cool,” Cib says, and smacks a loud, wet kiss on Parker’s cheek.

Parker wrinkles his nose. “Get your… fucky fish lips away.”

Cib laughs, warm against Parker’s ear. It’s the last thing Parker hears for a long time.

  #

  “Twenty-six hours? ”

“None of us wanted to wake you up,” Autumn says, completely unapologetic.

“I didn’t need sleep that badly!”

“Well, clearly you did, or else you wouldn’t have slept.”

“I sleep!”

Autumn fixes him with a deadpan look. Parker sighs. “I nap.”

“When was the last time you got more than three hours of sleep at a time?”

Parker grimaces. It was probably before Autumn and Sami Jo joined up, and everyone probably knows it. “Where is everyone?”

“Steve and James are trying to figure out who’s still camping near us.”

“Cib and Sami Jo?”

“Supply run.”

“Oh,” Parker says. He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed. “So it’s just us?”

Autumn nods, looking a little too knowing. “Yeah, Sami Jo said she was getting weirded out by Cib watching you sleep, so he dragged him away.”

“So you’re watching me sleep instead?”

“Nope.” Autumn lifts up her book. “Reading.”

Parker blinks. “You’re reading World War Z? Was the end of the world not enough zombies for you?”

“They didn’t get very much right in the book,” she deadpans. “We don’t have anything to do, by the way. Cib said he took a few batteries, but that’s it, so there’s no point in recounting inventory.”

“Do you think we can come up with something to do?”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Parker glances around the inventory room. It’s all neatly ordered, but it also all looks… well, like it’s been in a zombie apocalypse for three months. “You wanna clean?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Autumn says, but she dog-ears her page and puts the book down. “Do we have cleaning supplies?”

“Some.”

“What kind of ‘some?’”

“Clorox wipes.” Parker pauses, thinking. “Paper towels.”

“Do paper towels count?”

“They do if you clean things with them.”

“We should just Clorox all the hard surfaces,” Autumn decides. “Give us a little bit of a shine. We could use some shine.”

“Something shiny at the end of the world,” Parker says, and Autumn grins at him. And he wishes he’d had the chance to know her in a world without zombies, he really does. Her and Sami Jo both. All of them together. They could’ve been something spectacular, he thinks, something spectacular with a goal bigger than just staying alive.

Autumn takes the lead on the cleaning. Parker thinks it’s partly because she was bored, partly because she wants to get done and finish her book, and partly because he’s still moving very, very slowly. He’s going to have to dig up some sleeping pills, because this sleep schedule is kind of untenable.

It takes Parker until they start wiping down the sleeping bags that he notices the humming. He stops and turns to Autumn without thinking. She doesn’t notice, just keeps humming something soft that Parker doesn’t quite recognize, until--

“Bon Jovi,” he blurts out.

Autumn blinks a couple times and swivels her head towards him. “Did you say something?”

“Are you humming Bon Jovi?”

“Yeah, it’s a good song.”

“Do you…” Parker stops. “Is it insensitive to ask if you listen to a lot of music?”

Autumn’s eyebrows slowly climb up her face. “Not really?”

“Then do you?”

“I don’t listen to much these days.”

“Did you?”

She nods. “I listened to a lot of classic rock when I was younger.”

“Bon Jovi, obviously.”

“Yeah, Bon Jovi. I liked The Eagles.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“I was in a really bad car wreck when I was twelve.” She shrugs. “Head injuries are weird. Lost most of my hearing from it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine with ASL and lip reading.” She smiles wanly at him, and Parker smiles back reflexively. “I miss my hearing aids, though.”

“You had hearing aids?”

“Yeah, but they quit working the day before the whole zombie thing.”

He winces. “Bad timing.”

“This whole thing is bad timing,” Autumn agrees. “But it could be worse.”

“I think you’re the only other person who says things like that.”

“James does sometimes.”

“Maybe James is just handling this whole thing well.”

Autumn snorts. “Are you implying you’re handling this well?”

“Are you implying I’m not?”

“You just slept for twenty-six hours.”

Parker sighs. “That’s going to be a trump card in conversations now, huh?”

Autumn pats his shoulder awkwardly. “You brought it on yourself.”

He knows she’s right, sort of. He would’ve slept if he could’ve, honestly, but it didn’t work out that way. It took Cib lying on top of him, and that was a level of weird that he’s not quite willing to dedicate himself to dealing with regularly yet.

“It’s not my fault that Cib physically held me down and made me sleep,” he says, and that same knowing look from earlier flicks across Autumn’s face. Parker frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” Autumn says, just a little shit-eating, and looks back down to where she’s Clorox-wiping a sleeping bag.

“Autumn-”

She starts humming Bon Jovi again, with a little more determination than before.

“Fine,” Parker mutters. But he starts cleaning again. And if he starts humming along, it’s not like Autumn will say anything about it.

  #

  Steve and James give them shit for cleaning at the end of the world, and they give Parker gasoline and sleeping pills. They also give Parker shit for not sleeping, which he knew they would. And it’s shaping up to be just another night at the end of the world, and then:

Cib kicks the door in, narrowly avoiding the barbed wire trap, and shouts, “Who’s ready to get fucking wasted? ”

“We found vodka,” Sami Jo says behind him. She has three or four bottles in her arms, and Cib is brandishing another one in the air. “Like, a lot of vodka.”

Steven turns to Parker. “What do we have in the way of glassware and mixers?”

“Glassware, yes. Mixers, probably not.”

“Steve,” Cib says, offended, “are you trying to pussy out of drinking straight vodka?”

“I’m not trying to pussy out, I just think it’s a bad idea-”

“Dude,” James says. “Let’s get drunk. ”

Autumn jumps to her feet. “I’ve been stashing something for this in the library, hold on!”

“Stashing-” Parker turns to look at her, but she’s already running off to inventory. He sighs. “Do you all have stashes?”

Everyone nods. Parker wonders what the hell the point of doing inventory is if everyone has secret stashes.

“Where’d you even find that?” James asks, peering at the bottles.

“Oh, there were a ton more where these came from,” Sami Jo says cheerfully. “We just grabbed what we could carry. No idea why someone was hoarding vodka.”

“Because it’s the end of the world,” Steve points out. “If I were in charge of inventory, we’d have a lot less food and a lot more vodka.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge,” Parker says. Everyone ignores him.

“Okay!” Autumn reappears, holding two massive bottles of Sprite. “We can mix it with this.”

James frowns. “Were you just hoarding Sprite?”

“Babe,” Sami Jo says, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I love you.”

Autumn smiles. “Love you too.”

“Enough fucking talking, ” Cib groans. “We do enough of that on normal days, why don’t we start drinking?”

“Cib has a point.” Steve shudders. “Ugh, it really is the end of the world.”

Cib points at him. “I’ve been right about things at least six and a quarter times.”

“And how many times have you been wrong?”

“Six and three quarters.” He shrugs. “At least.”

Parker snorts. Cib finally looks at him, and his eyes light up. “Oh, hey, parkade’s awake!”

“Took him twenty-six hours,” Autumn says as she sits next to Parker, cross-legged. Parker rolls his eyes, but she just grins at him, a little slyly, before turning back to Cib. “He didn’t wake up till you were gone. I think he missed you.”

“Or maybe he subconsciously knew it wasn’t safe till Cib was gone,” James deadpans.

Cib casts James a deeply offended look. “He was probably safer with me than Sprite stash.”

“Hey.” Sami Jo nudges him. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Hell yeah, she is.” Cib grins. “Someone go find glasses, I wanna get sloshier than a June fish.”

James frowns. “Hey, dude, a June fish ate my dad. Show some respect.”

Cib bows so deeply that his nose almost touches his knee. Parker grins as he gets to his feet. “I’ll get glasses.”

Autumn pats Parker’s leg as he passes her. “Don’t pass out.”

“I’m not gonna need sleep for a couple days, don’t worry.”

“That’s, like, the most worrying thing you could possibly say,” Steve says. “‘Oh, no big deal, I won’t sleep for two days,’ Parker, we got you sleeping pills for a reason.”

“Oh!” Cib reaches into his pocket and fishes out a prescription bottle. “Hey, catch!”

He lobs the bottle. Parker catches it and looks at the label. It’s more sleeping meds, because of course it is. “Guys, I don’t need-”

“Twenty-six hours,” say Autumn, James, and Sami Jo, all together.

“That’s half a week,” Cib says solemnly. “C’mon, take the pills.”

“But not tonight,” Steve says. “Because tonight if you pass out it will be because you’re drunk, or else we’ll use you as zombie bait.”

“I can run from zombies.”

“You’re gonna have to if you don’t find us vodka glasses.” Cib plops down. “C’mon, tall boy.”

Parker leaves to the sound of Steve yelling that there’s nothing wrong with being tall, god, Cib. When he comes back, glasses in hand, Steve is sitting on Cib. He doesn’t know why these things surprise him anymore.

“Ooh, I’m pouring!” Sami Jo, sitting next to Autumn, grabs one of the bottles. “Gimme the glasses.”

Parker sets all the glasses down in front of her and goes to Autumn’s other side. Cib smacks at Steve’s side until he gets up and then scoots over to where Parker’s sitting, pressing one of his knees against Parker’s. “Do we have a lot of glassware just back there?”

“We do, actually.”

“Well, no shit, this was a kitchen store,” James points out. “That’s why we have knives.”

“Do we have bowls?” Cib asks.

“We have bowls.”

“And spatulas?”

“Yeah, we have some of those.”

“What about immersion blenders?”

“Cib, you’re never going to use an immersion blender,” Steve snaps.

Cib shrugs, unbothered. “You could mix up a zombie’s brain real good with one of those lil bastards, is all I’m saying.”

Steve gags, and everyone else groans. “You just almost made me spill the vodka,” Sami Jo complains.

“I’m gonna make you guys brain soup,” Cib announces. “It’s gonna be delish.”

“Cib,” Steve says, strangled. “Cib, oh my god, stop-”

“Is this why you wanted the zombie eyeballs?” James demands. Steve goes even paler.

“Put your head between your knees,” Autumn advises. “It helps with nausea.”

Steve does, but he shakes his head. “I think it’s too late for that. Oh, god. Oh, shit .”

“You know what’ll settle your stomach?” Cib smacks Steve’s back, so hard that Parker winces in sympathy. “Vodka.”

“I’m never going to know peace again.” Steve huddles even further into himself. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m going to think about Cib cracking open a zombie head and pureeing it.”

“Like, slicing the top of the head off?” Parker asks without thinking.

James snorts. “Oh, yeah, let me just take my guillotine and chop off part of a zombie skull, that won’t get bone in my brain soup at all.”

“Well, but the skull can act like a soup bowl if you do that.”

“We need to stop,” Steve says. “Seriously, guys, this is-”

“Aw!” Cib shakes his head. “What’s the matter, Steve-o? Gettin’ a little queasy at the thought of brains over easy?”

“I hate you,” Steve says with feeling. “Cib, I hate you, and I hate Parker too.”

“Hey,” Parker says, more out of principle than because he believes it.

“You’re the one who brought up skull bowls, and I-” he shudders violently. “Oh, my god, it’s a zombie apocalypse.”

“Has been for about three months.” Sami Jo sets a glass of vodka and Sprite in front of Steve. “I think you need this.”

“I need a real shower and for zombies to go back to being fiction,” Steve says, but he sits up enough to take the glass anyways. “Thanks.”

Sami Jo hands two glasses to Parker, and he obediently passes one to Cib. “Boys, I’d like to propose a toast.”

James grabs his glass. “What’re we toasting?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I just wanted to bring it up.

“We’re not dead,” Autumn suggests. “That’s kinda cool.”

Sami Jo beams at her. “You’re kinda cool.”

“I’m getting nauseous again,” Steve announces.

“Okay, toast!” James lifts up his glass. “Everyone go around and say something.”

“You first,” Sami Jo says expectantly.

“Uhhh, shit, uh-” James wavers, but raises his glass higher. “So here’s to vodka, for existing even when society stopped.”

“Here’s to kitchen stores,” Steven adds. “For being the reason we made it this far.”

“And here’s to bitchin’ stories.” Cib puts his glass in the middle. “Because if we survive this, oh, man, I’m going to write a book. Parker, say a toast.”

Parker opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again - oh god, there are so many things and people he could thank-

“Parker!” James shouts.

“Okay, okay, here’s-” Parker searches frantically for something. “I don’t know, here’s to Cib for making me sleep for a day, and you guys for letting me.”

Autumn nods and lifts her glass. “Here’s to being okay even though I can’t hear shit.”

“And here’s to us.” Sami Jo raises her glass. “Because no fucking zombies could take us down.”

“Hear, hear,” shouts James, and all of them clink their glasses together. Parker only manages to clink a couple before everyone’s pulling theirs back, and so he does the same and drinks.

“Oh god,” Cib gasps after a few seconds. “Guys, I forgot how good booze is.”

“I’ll drink to that,” James says, and grabs another one of the bottles.

“No, you always pour drinks weird.” Steve reaches out. “Let me-”

“Dude, no, I’m going to-”

“James, I swear, if you ruin this for me-”

“Hey.” Cib bumps his knee against Parker’s. “You toasted me.”

“Uh,” Parker says. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Cool,” Cib says. “I like you better after you sleep. You’re toastier.”

Parker raises his eyebrows. “I… okay?”

Cib nods, like that’s the end of that, and holds out his glass. “James, gimme more vodka.”

“No!” Steve shouts. Autumn laughs, falling over on Sami Jo in the process, and Sami Jo snakes an arm around Autumn’s waist.

“Booze,” Cib is yelling, “I wanna drink, quit fucking jerking me off-” and his knee is still against Parker’s, pressing into him. It’s nice. Parker thinks he could get used to this.

  #

  The third time Jeremy shows up, they don’t have food to give him.

Which isn’t the same as not having food at all, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder to find food. They’ve been branching farther out in search of it, but it’s not helping. It doesn’t matter how many times Parker goes through their inventory, or when they agree to lighter rations. They’re just… running out.

So Jeremy shows up, and Parker’s ready to turn him away. He’s pretty sure James and Sami Jo are, too, which is even better, because it means Parker doesn’t have to actually talk to Jeremy.

Except as soon as he’s inside, Jeremy says, “I’m not here to trade.”

“We’re not giving you anything for free,” Sami Jo snaps.

Jeremy shakes his head. “You guys have done me a solid a couple times now.” He looks at Parker, eyes resting on him for a couple seconds, long enough that Parker knows he means the extra supplies. “So I wanted to pass on something that I heard that’d help you.”

James crosses his arms. “No strings attached?”

“Not a single thread.”

“Just out of the goodness of your heart?”

Jeremy cracks a smile at that, a little wry. “You might be getting all the goodness I have left.”

“Which is?”

“A rumor. Or call it a tip. Something I’ve heard.” Jeremy glances around. “Is it just you guys here?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” Sami Jo says sharply.

Jeremy shrugs. “It’s a simple question.”

“It’s just us,” Parker says. James and Sami Jo turn to glare at him in unison, and he hunches his shoulders defensively, but he doesn’t back down. “So whatever it is, you can tell us.”

“Okay,” Jeremy says. “I’ve heard a rumor that there’s an abandoned camp about five miles north of here.”

“There are lots of abandoned camps,” James points out. “There are zombies in the north, we’re not going up there.”

“Well, you might want to. There’s an abandoned encampment of tents in a Whole Foods parking lot. Huge one. They have a bit of food. Medical supplies.” Jeremy looks at Sami Jo. “Hearing aids.”

Sami Jo takes in a sharp breath. “You’re lying.”

“I’m repeating a rumor. Not a lot of people need hearing aids at the end of the world.”

Sami Jo swallows. Parker knows what she’s thinking. It’s probably a lot like what he’s thinking. It’d be a lot easier for Autumn if she had hearing aids right now.

“Say you’re telling the truth,” James says. “Why didn’t you bring them?”

Jeremy snorts. “My goodwill only goes so far. You’re lucky I came out here to tell you.”

“Thank you,” Parker blurts out. “Even if we don’t go and- you know-”

Sami Jo whirls on him. “What do you mean, if we don’t? We’re getting those.”

“Well, I mean, we should at least try, or consider it, but-”

“ Consider it?”

“Guys,” James says sharply. “Not now.”

“You’re welcome,” Jeremy says, amiable, a little cool. “We’re even now.”

“Is Andrew still okay?” Parker asks, a little desperate.

Jeremy nods, thankfully. “I’ll bring him over sometime to prove it.”

“Good,” James says, “because I thought you ate him.”

“No, not him.”

“Uh,” Sami Jo says.

Jeremy grins, or really sort of snarls. It’s threatening. Parker is threatened. “I’ll see you guys around.”

The minute Jeremy is gone, Sami Jo puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, if we leave now, we’d need to leave a note or something so that everyone knows where we went if they get back early, but we could make it five miles-”

“Whoa, wait, Sami Jo.” James holds up his hands. “We don’t know when they’re coming back.”

“That’s why we’d leave the note.”

“But we can’t just leave our home abandoned for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s not abandoned, Alfredo’s still here.”

“And it’s against the rules.”

“No, we just have to tell someone where we’re going, and that’s what the note would be for.”

“The-” James sighs. “It’s dangerous! Just leaving like that would be dangerous.”

“And it’s not dangerous what everyone else is doing? They’re out looking for food, it’s been two days, we don’t know what kind of settlements are out there, or zombies, or-”

“Which is why we need to stay here!”

“Staying here isn’t going to get us anything.” Sami Jo’s glare sharpens. “We need to get those hearing aids.”

“And I’m with you on that, one hundred percent.” James looks at Sami Jo earnestly. “I want those. Autumn needs those, I get that, I want those for her. But if we just leave now, it could screw the whole group over. And Jeremy was right, when he said that not a lot of people need hearing aids. We can probably wait a day or two.”

Sami Jo shakes her head. “I don’t want to wait.”

“Neither do I,” James says. Parker’s pretty sure he means it, too. “But it’s for the best.”

“Maybe it’s for our best. But I’m thinking about Autumn’s best.” She pivots on her heel and goes back to the inventory room, stomping the whole way.

James looks at Parker. “It’d be dangerous,” he says again.

“I know,” Parker says. “End of the world, everything’s dangerous now.”

“Got a lot of ways things could go wrong.”

“I don’t think we have to fight about-”

James groans. “God, that wasn’t a fight! Everything is completely normal, you-” he waves Parker off. “Never mind, you don’t know how to handle minor conflict. Get out of here.”

Parker’s pretty sure that deciding if they go on a dangerous expedition for hearing aids isn’t a minor conflict, but he’s not about to risk pissing James off even more. Instead, he goes to the inventory room, where Sami Jo is sitting against a wall. Right where Autumn normally sits. She looks up at him as he walks in, eyes bright. “We have to get them.”

“I know,” Parker says, and sinks down to sit next to her. “We will.”

“We have to,” Sami Jo repeats, voice lower this time. “This isn’t - I don’t mean hypothetically, I mean we need to go and get them. Leave tonight, if we can.”

Parker pauses and points at her, then at himself. “We?”

“I don’t want to go alone.”

“But James said-”

“I don’t care what James said!” She reaches out and clasps his hand in both of hers. “Come on, please, for Autumn? Or for me? Whichever one will get you to do it.”

It’s a bad idea. James is completely right that it’s dangerous. There are zombies, and five miles north is a dangerous bike ride, and an even more dangerous walk, and to go at night on top of that would be the worst choice of all.

But it’s Autumn. Autumn, who hums Bon Jovi when she wipes down sleeping bags, and who keeps bottles of Sprite hidden away from Parker. And it’s Sami Jo, squeezing his hand in hers, staring at him like he has the potential to save the world. They’re his friends. And it’s… kind of nice to feel important.

Slowly, slowly, Parker nods. And Sami Jo’s face splits into a breathtaking smile.

  #

  “Hey.” There’s a hand on Parker’s shoulder, jostling him. “Get up.”

Parker’s eyes fly open. Sami Jo is standing over him. He takes a second to shake off the last of his sleepiness and sits up. “Are we going?”

“We’re going. Everyone else got back, so we have the bikes.”

Parker clambers to his feet. “They’re okay?”

“Yeah, they’re all asleep right now. But we’d better get going.” She leaves the stockroom, and Parker follows her, only stopping when she bends down near where Autumn’s sleeping.

Parker takes stock of the situation, as quickly as he can. There are supplies laid out in the middle of the floor: a couple of cases of MREs, a backpack that looks like it’s full of something, and an empty backpack. It’s not a lot, he thinks ruefully, but it’s something. It’ll last them a little while longer.

Steve is asleep next to James, one of his noodle arms slung across James’s shoulders. Cib is next to them both, breathing steadily, slowly. Parker watches his chest rise and fall, probably longer than is normal, but he thinks he’s entitled. He’s about to make a bad choice, he can take comfort where he can get it.

Parker picks up the empty backpack. “You ready?”

Sami Jo smooths back Autumn’s hair and stands up again. “Yeah,” she whispers, voice a little thicker. “Let’s go.”

Neither of them say anything as they leave the kitchen store, or as they grab the bikes from the toy store. As soon as they’re back outside with the bikes, Sami Jo shivers. “S’cold out.”

“Take my jacket,” Parker offers instantly.

“No, you shouldn’t be cold. I can get a new one-”

“No, it’s okay,” Parker says. “I don’t get cold.”

Sami Jo stares at him. “You mean you don’t get cold easily, or-”

“At all.”

“Why not?”

Parker shrugs and unzips his jacket. “Come on, I don’t need it.”

“I’m afraid of you,” Sami Jo informs him, but she slips the jacket on anyways. “Come on, we’ve got five miles to go.”

They ride in silence. Parker still doesn’t go out much, partly because of personal preference, partly because James pointed out one time that Parker’s the only one of them who’s any good at rationing food and they’d probably be fucked if he died. He’d sounded really disappointed when he’d brought that up. Parker tries not to think about it.

The city, his city, is nothing like he remembers. He loves Los Angeles, or at least what it used to be. He loved it and its shitty traffic, and its shitty takeout restaurants, and its shitty people. He wonders if maybe, one day, he could learn to love what it became. Or maybe he doesn’t have the time to love a new city. Maybe he’d be better off saving that love for other things.

“I miss how things used to be,” he says, when they’re about halfway into the ride. He looks over just in time to see Sami Jo wiping at her eyes furiously. “Whoa, you okay?”

“The wind,” she says, a little desperately. “Drying my eyes out.”

“You sure?”

Sami Jo slows to a stop and shakes her head, wipes a little harder with the sleeve of Parker’s jacket, waits until Parker pulls up next to her. “I hate leaving her.”

“You’ll be coming back.”

“I don’t know that. I never know that.”

“But you have every time so far.”

“I don’t want this to be happening,” Sami Jo rasps. Before Parker can even begin unpacking that - and oh, boy, is there a lot to unpack - she hops off the bike and buries her face in his chest.

Parker automatically lifts his hands to pat her shoulders, trying to ignore the alarm bells going off in his brain warning him that he doesn’t know what to do. “It’s gonna be fine,” he says, not quite because he believes it or because it’s what she needs to hear. He just doesn’t know what else to do.

After a few seconds, Sami Jo nods against his chest and steps away. “Let’s go,” she says briskly. He can almost ignore the way her eyes are rimmed red.

Parker doesn’t say another word until they find the Whole Foods parking lot. And even then, all he says is “Holy shit.”

When Jeremy said an abandoned encampment of tents, Parker was thinking half a dozen, maybe a dozen, spread out through the parking lot. But it’s huge. It’s a sprawling mass of tents all zipped together, like a hub. And it’s completely silent.

Sami Jo climbs off her bike. “We’ll start at the one closest to us and make our way through.”

Parker nods, trying to swallow down his panic. This wasn’t just a few people, not the way that their group is a few people. This was a group. This was a miniature society, and they’re just… gone.

“Do we have a flashlight?” Sami Jo asks as they reach the first tent.

“Yeah.” Parker rummages around in his backpack until he finds it. “Are we bringing the bikes with us?”

“No, we’ll just leave them in this first tent.” She reaches out. “You ready?”

“I don’t think this is-”

Sami Jo unzips the tent. It doesn’t immediately smell like rotting flesh or anything gross like that, which a good first sign. “Let’s go.”

Parker follows Sami Jo. It’s easy, because she doesn’t flinch as she leads him through. She just points out things that are worth grabbing. Painkillers. Sleeves of crackers. Bandages. Her head is on a swivel the whole time, one hand worrying at the hem of her shirt.

“What do they look like?” Parker asks in the ninth tent.

“Sort of like a case for glasses.” Sami Jo lifts her hands. “This big.”

“But what if they’re not in the case?”

“I really need you not to say that.”

“No saying that,” he repeats obediently.

They find old clothes. They find soap, and hand sanitizer, and shampoo. They find bullets. They find an empty duffel bag in the fifteenth tent, and Parker grabs it and starts loading all the food that he can carry. They find eyeglasses case after eyeglasses case, and every time there are no hearing aids inside.

“James is gonna kill us if we come back without hearing aids,” Sami Jo says conversationally, after the sixth case that has prescription glasses. “After ditching in the middle of the night when he specifically told us not to.”

“He might… not,” Parker says.

Sami Jo gives him a look.

He sighs. “Yeah, he’s gonna be pissed.”

“At least we’re finding other things.” She nudges a pillow with her foot. “You think we could steal this?”

“What if we get lice?”

“Do we have lice shampoo?”

“Would you use lice shampoo?”

“I don’t use regular shampoo.”

“When was the last time you washed your hair?”

Sami Jo shrugs and wanders into the next tent, pushing another pillow back with her foot. “I probably already have lice.”

“We share pillows!”

“Wash your hair better.”

Parker shudders and tries to resist scratching at his scalp. “Ugh.”

“That’s why I wash Autumn’s hair sometimes,” Sami Jo says, moving tents again. Parker pauses long enough to grab a couple of water bottles before following her. “There’s not a lot we can do to take care of each other, outside of, you know, shooting people to keep each other safe. But I can do that for her.”

“How long were you dating?” Parker picks up a couple of granola bars, and she wordlessly hands him a bottle of Neosporin. “Before… you know.”

“Five or six months?” She makes a face. “We were in that getting-serious stage, and then a few zombies crashed our date night, so it was kind of a trial by fire.”

“But you stuck through it?”

Sami Jo nods, a little wistfully, and kicks the sleeping bag in the tent, ignoring the way the asphalt scuffs her shoes. “Yeah. We’re doing okay. You bozos are helping.”

Parker smiles automatically, and then looks down. “There’s something under the sleeping bag.”

“What?” Sami Jo squats down and moves the edge of the sleeping bag over. There’s something peeking out from just under where she kicked it. Something that looks like a glasses case.

Parker bends over. “Is that-”

She snatches it up and opens it. There are these two weird, flesh-colored, crescent-shaped things with wires coming out of them.

“Uh,” he says, “is that what they look like?”

“Yeah,” Sami Jo says. She laughs, once, and snaps the case shut. “We found them.”

“Do we need… a charger, or batteries, or-”

“There’s a charging cord in there.” She gets to her feet and smiles at Parker, bright and tremulous. Parker smiles back, because how could he not? It’s Sami Jo. “We can- do you want to keep looting?”

“What?”

“We’re only, like, a quarter of the way through this whole maze, and I didn’t see any signs of zombies nearby.” She shrugs. “We came all this way, we might as well make it worth it.”

Parker glances around. “I mean… it couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Maybe we’ll find more hearing aids,” she muses. “Or scissors, or something.”

“Do we need scissors?”

“You tell me, stock boy.”

“We could use more scissors.” He clicks the flashlight on and shines it down the end of the tent tunnel. “We should keep going.”

Sami Jo grins, bright and sharp. “Let’s do it. This is our turf now.”

  #

  They get back to the kitchen store before dark, but only barely. It’s not because of danger, thank god, it’s because they stole more things than they could carry. Sami Jo has two backpacks on and a duffel slung over the handlebars of her bike, and Parker has twice that. Sami Jo also has the hearing aids case in one hand. She didn’t even let go for the bike ride home. Parker is impressed, and more than a little intimidated.

As soon as the bikes are stashed in the toy store and they have all their bags unloaded onto the floor, Sami Jo looks at him. “I’m only gonna say this once.”

“Okay?”

“Thank you for coming with me.”

Parker blinks. “But you would’ve gone alone.”

“I would’ve.” She smiles, tersely, genuinely. “I’m glad I didn’t have to.”

Sami Jo’s smile does this weird… thing to Parker, where it makes him smile back. It’s not intentional or conscious or anything. She just has a nice smile. Maybe it’s because she’s the only person here who doesn’t make fun of him every day. Maybe it’s just the Sami Jo effect. Either way, he smiles back.

He’s still smiling at her as the door flies open. Sami Jo reacts first, whipping a pistol out of her belt. Parker’s still reaching for his when he realizes who it is. “James-”

“You fucker, ” James shouts, and punches Parker so hard that Parker loses his balance.

It takes a second for Parker’s brain to catch up with his body, and when he does, he’s sprawled out on the floor, and his cheek is throbbing. Sami Jo is yelling, and James isn’t yelling back, but he sounds pissed. Really pissed.

“Fuck,” Parker moans, and pushes himself back to his feet. “James, what the hell?”

“What the hell me ?” James takes a step towards him, and Parker flinches back instinctively. “What the hell were you two doing just leaving in the middle of the night?”

“We got supplies,” Sami Jo snaps. “Sue us.”

“We have rules! You can’t leave in the middle of the night like that, that’s how people die.”

“But we’re not dead!”

“Not this time.”

Parker lifts a hand to his cheek. “James, come on, let us explain. Just listen.”

“You guys could’ve waited,” Steve says. When Parker looks over, Steve doesn’t quite make eye contact, and neither does Cib, from where he’s standing in the doorway. Both of them look pretty goddamn angry. “We all got back before you left, you could’ve woken us up or waited till morning.”

“But look at all the shit we got!” Sami Jo gestures at the duffels and backpacks. “And we got the hearing aids, so you guys can kiss my ass, because there’s no way to guarantee those would’ve been there if we waited.”

“That was stupid,” Steve says. Parker’s stomach sinks. He sounds like he means it. “Guys, we have these rules for a reason.”

“And we broke them for a reason.”

James points at her. “You broke them for a reason.”

Parker frowns. “What?”

He swings his arm around to point at Parker. “You didn’t have a reason.”

“I couldn’t let Sami Jo go alone!”

“You could’ve asked me,” James says. “Or- shit, you guys left after everyone got back, you could’ve asked any one of us.”

Parker shakes his head. “Wait, why couldn’t I have gone?”

“Parker’s the one who found the aids,” Sami Jo adds.

“But he’s also the one who keeps track of all our shit!” James’s arms twitch, like he wants to reach out, or run his hands through his hair, or do… something. “God, you’re not getting it.”

“You need to think about our side here,” Steve says. “Imagine we all wake up and you’re both gone. We ask Alfredo if he saw anything, and he says he saw you guys take our bikes and a backpack in the middle of the night. And that’s all we know.”

“Alfredo thought you guys ran off in a romantic passion,” James adds. “Not that Autumn believed him.”

Sami Jo’s fingers tighten around the hearing aid case. “God, Autumn- listen, not that this isn’t important or whatever, but-”

“She’s waiting for you,” James says. Sami Jo practically sprints out towards her, darting between the boys like they’re not even there. And, okay, Parker can’t blame her, because of course she wants to leave. But he… can’t.

“Guys,” he says weakly. “It was fine, I just wanted-”

“Shut up,” Cib says, still without looking at Parker. And it’s not the words that make Parker listen. It’s how evenly he says them. Cib’s not a venomous person, not really, but he’s looking at Parker so coldly that Parker wants to run away.

Parker’s mouth snaps shut.

“Look,” Steven says, and he finally makes eye contact with Parker. “You were doing a good thing for your friend, whatever, that’s great for you. But the rest of us woke up, and the one person who knew off the top of his head how long we have left to live was gone.”

Parker’s heart stops, just for a second. “I didn’t think about it like that,” he says hoarsely. He’d always figured that between the stashes and the way everyone rolled their eyes when he said he was in charge of inventory, it was more of an honorary title than anything. It’s not like they couldn’t have picked up the pieces without him. He was never supposed to be that important.

“You didn’t-” James hands both fly up to his head, raking through his hair furiously. “You didn’t stop to think about the rest of us before you and Sami Jo ran off to play hero?”

Parker shakes his head. “No, that’s not- I figured you guys would be fine without us for a few hours, it was-”

“You didn’t ever stop to consider things going wrong? ”

“Of course we did, that was why i went instead of letting her go alone-”

“Parker,” Steven sighs, and now he doesn’t even look angry. Just disappointed. Just tired. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Parker says helplessly. “Guys, I’m- I didn’t think, I should’ve-”

“You were being selfish,” Cib says. Parker looks at him, searching his face desperately, but Cib is staring at him without warmth, or familiarity, or… anything. “That’s all it was.”

Parker swallows, tries to keep the tears from welling up. “Cib-”

Cib just shakes his head. “Selfish,” he repeats, like an indictment, and the bottom of Parker’s stomach drops out. He opens his mouth but Cib is already turning and leaving, and James and Steve are following after him, and Parker is alone, alone, alone.

Selfish.

He doesn’t remember falling but he’s on the ground, braced on his hands and knees, shoulders heaving around his ears. There’s something that feels like broken glass digging into his palms, but he can’t make himself move, he’s not sure he could stand up or even sit, he-

Selfish.

Cib’s knee, pressing against Parker’s thigh as he tried to get more vodka. Cib’s hand against Parker’s chest, trying to get Parker out of his space, but still so, so gentle. Cib, lying on top of Parker and trying to force him to sleep. Cib looking at Parker like they were strangers, like he cut ties in that instant, like Parker was nothing to him, like-

Selfish.

Steve’s there, standing in the doorway when Parker comes back to himself. He’s still shaking and his cheeks are wet, even though he doesn’t remember crying. But he finally sits up straight, rubs some of grit off his palms, wipes his cheeks clean, ignores the way it throbs where he got punched.

“I thought,” Steve starts, and then shakes his head. “They were a little harsh.”

It’s probably the closest to an apology Parker’s going to hear, so he takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to think what Steve would want to hear right now. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have left,” Steve says, “but I think they understand. James is mad, Cib was just scared.”

“I fucked up,” Parker croaks.

Steve shrugs. “We all will, at some point,” he says, and it’s not kind, and it’s not helpful, but it’s something. “Let’s just bring this shit inside and we can figure out what to do from there.”

“Okay,” Parker says. And it’s not okay, and it doesn’t feel okay, and he can’t stop thinking about Cib looking at him like he wasn’t there anymore. But he’s pretty sure it has to be okay.

  #

  The first thing Parker does is close the door to the stockroom.

Nobody says anything to him as he walks in, and Steve leaves him with the new supplies and the old supplies, and he looks at the door and thinks, I can’t do this. And he closes the door, and he gets to work.

Five hours later, the entire inventory system is different. Three hours after that it’s different again. He barely remembers to open the door and put out enough MREs for everyone for the night. He adds a few shitty pre-packaged desserts, too, ones that he was holding onto for a special occasion. This isn’t special, but he thinks he needs to do it anyways.

Parker restructures the inventory again, and again, and one more time. Parker gives everyone more than enough food, because they can afford it now, and because he’s not going to let his friends starve just because he doesn’t feel like talking to them. Or just because they hate him.

“You could say something,” says famous actor James Allen McCune, who comes in through the back door during the second day of Parker’s exile. “Say sorry.”

“I don’t think this is something you can fix by saying sorry,” Parker mutters, digging through one of the food boxes. “I got punched.”

“I got punched one time for trying to eat someone’s pet possum,” James says. “But I still said sorry.”

“Did you eat the possum?”

He scoffs. “Of course.”

“Awesome,” Parker says. The only person who’s still talking to him killed and ate someone’s pet. “I guess the end of the world makes us all do weird things.”

“What? No, this was two or three years ago.”

Parker closes his eyes. Maybe Cib was right. Maybe he should just leave. It has to be better than this.

“You guys have a lot of stuff in here,” James adds. “Do you think you have roaches? Or rats?”

“What would you do about them?”

James shrugs. “I’d eat the rats. Can’t eat roaches, they have diseases.”

“And the rats don’t?”

“Rats hold up better to being cooked.”

“What do you even do when you’re not harassing me for food?”

“Harass other people for food.” James thinks about it. “Get lost looking for other people to harass.”

Parker gives him a compass, partly as a joke and partly out of genuine concern. And he gives him more food than normal, partly out of pity and partly because James was the only person who’s made any attempt to talk to Parker. That’s worth something. It’s worth a couple of bags of chips, at least.

Before James Allen McCune leaves, he grabs Parker’s wrist and squeezes. “I’ll remember this,” he says, and by the time Parker is done blinking in surprise, he’s gone.

  #

  Nobody speaks to Parker for four more days. He overhauls inventory a couple dozen more times, sneaks out the back once or twice to practice knife-throwing in the streets. He doesn’t let it bother him that he’s alone, because he did what he thought was right. He can hold onto that little kernel of integrity, even if everyone else hates him for it.

He’s thinking about leaving - abstractly, not actually leaving everything, but more seriously than he’d ever admit -  when the stockroom door opens. He doesn’t even have time to try and hide before Autumn walks in and fixes her eyes on him. “Hey.”

Parker blinks a couple times, hard - maybe this is just happening because he stopped sleeping again? - but at last manages to say, “Hey.”

Autumn holds up her copy of World War Z. “Finally finished it.”

“Wow,” Parker says, and instantly hates himself for it.

“Yeah, it was okay.” She looks around. “You… moved the books.”

“The books are…” Parker tries to remember. Shit. Maybe this system isn’t as intuitive as he thought. “By the emergency exit?”

Autumn wanders over there, looking around as she goes. “You’ve been busy.”

“I haven’t had a lot to do.”

“You could’ve talked to us.”

Parker opens his mouth and realizes he doesn’t know what to say to that, so he changes subjects. “Hey, you can hear me.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah.” Autumn reappears with a couple of new books in hand. For a second Parker thinks she’s going to leave, but instead she leans against one of the shelves, looking down at him. “The hearing aids aren’t perfect, because they weren’t calibrated for me or anything, but Sami Jo and-- uh, Sami Jo was trying to figure out if we could do that.”

“That’s cool,” Parker says, and decides to act like he can’t guess that she was about to mention Cib, or that she decided to avoid mentioning Cib. “I’m glad they work.”

“Me too.” Autumn drums her fingers against the shelf. “Oh, and thanks.”

He blinks. “What?”

“For not letting Sami Jo go alone. I don’t care what anyone else says, it was stupid but it was right.” Autumn smiles. “I’m glad she had you with her.”

Parker looks at her. She seems to guess that he can’t figure out what to say, because she gets back to her feet. “I should go. Sami Jo wants to read to me now that I can hear her.”

“That’s… sickening.”

“Yeah,” Autumn says happily. “It’s pretty cool. And I’m gonna leave the door open.”

Parker looks at the stockroom door, which is already nerve-wrackingly wide open. “What if people don’t want to talk to me?”

“Then they won’t talk to you.”

“What if they never talk to me again?”

“Then you need better friends,” Autumn says with conviction. “Take a nap or something, Parker, you look like shit.”

That, Parker decides as she leaves, is probably a sign that she cares.

  #

  “Do you think I should leave?” Parker asks, despite all his better judgment.

Steve doesn’t even look at him. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not really.”

“Then don’t.”

“But what if-”

“Do you think we’ll be better off if you left us?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“Then sure, leave.”

Parker stares. “This isn’t helping.”

“I don’t know what you thought it was going to do.” Steve plucks a screwdriver off one of the shelves. “I like this new inventory system.”

“Thanks,” Parker says. “I was going to change it.”

“Of course you were.”

“No, not because of you, I’ve just been rotating the system a couple times every day.”

Steve turns and stares at him. “Jesus Christ, why? ”

Parker shrugs. It’s all he can think to do.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Every day, every single day I wonder why out of all of the people I could be stuck with at the end of the world, I had to end up stuck with you.”

It’s a joke. Parker knows it’s a joke. It’s one Steve’s made before. He flinches anyways, because there’s a chance it’s not a joke anymore.

“Oh my god,” Steve says. “Why haven’t you talked to Cib?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I can’t talk to him if he’s always working on that computer thing.”

“You’ve talked to James.”

Parker has had two conversations with James in the last week. Neither of them were longer than three sentences. “How are we defining talking?”

“What the fuck kind of a question is that?”

“It’s an important one!”

“Every single day,” Steve repeats. “Like, constantly, just constantly I wonder if there is a God, and if there is, I wanna know what’s up with the zombies, and why you and I are both here.” He raises his eyebrows at the end, significantly, like he’s trying to make sure Parker understands that he’s not being serious.

Parker ducks his head, half out of acknowledgment and half because he really needs this conversation to be over. He’s a little bit out of practice with talking to people. “I don’t know why, either.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Steve says, and that’s supposed to be the end of it, he should walk away, but he’s not doing that. Instead he’s looking at Parker. “Hey.”

Parker looks up. Steve is staring down, eerily… non-malevolent. “Hey?”

“I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Me too.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, that’s what I expected.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t die either, Steve,” Parker says. He tries to say it quietly so it doesn’t come out quite as earnest as he means it.

Steve gives him the smallest, most crooked smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Parker looks away, and this time, Steve does walk away. But Parker doesn’t mind.

  #

  There’s something going through the dumpster outside.

This is one of four thoughts that Parker is capable of having. The other three are I hope it doesn’t hurt to get turned into a zombie, and It’s three in the morning, and How bad would it really be if I just left? But no matter how far he gets down one of those trains of thought, every time there’s a shuffle and a bang outside, and he goes right back to that first one. There’s something going through the dumpster.

And, hell, it’s not like Parker can sleep anyways, so around the twenty-minute mark of dealing with either a wild animal or a zombie right outside the emergency exit, he grabs a pistol and gets to his feet. It’s probably not a good idea to open that door, in case it actually is a zombie and it gets inside, so he goes through the front door. Everyone’s asleep. Nobody stirs as Parker walks through, and opens the door, and steps into the chilly California air and-

“Fuckin’ seriously?”

Shit.

Parker turns around, trying to look as calm as he can. He’s pretty sure he fails. “Look, I swear-”

“Are you ditching us?” Cib demands, looking Parker up and down. Parker’s sure that he looks like shit. Cib kind of does too, but not any more than he normally does. Not like he’s been losing sleep over Parker or anything. “In the middle of the night?”

“I swear, I’m not, I’m just-”

“You didn’t even take supplies!”

“I’m not leaving!”

Cib’s eyes narrow. “So what do you call it when you open a door and walk out, bitch?”

“I call it trying to figure out what’s going through the dumpster behind the store.” Parker clutches his pistol tighter to his chest. “I can’t sleep with all the noise.”

Cib snorts. “Yeah, cause you’re a regular sleepy-time boy, aren’tcha?”

“Come on,” Parker pleads. “I swear, I’ll be back in five minutes, tops.”

“Uh, yeah, you will.” Cib pulls the door to the kitchen store shut and holds out a hand, wiggling his fingers. “Spork it over.”

“What?”

“The gun, dude, give me your gun.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” Cib says, and something about how plainly he says it makes Parker hold out the gun. Cib takes it and shoves it into the waistband of his pants. “You said it was around the back?”

Parker nods mutely, and Cib pushes past him. “Let’s make sure it’s not a dragon.”

“A- a what?”

“Someone who breathes fire and shits in the street.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone’s gotta deal with the world ending somehow.” Cib turns a corner, and Parker follows. “Some people smoke crack. Some people go on suicide missions and nearly kill their friends. Different strokes for different jokes, you know?”

He’s still mad. Parker doesn’t know why he’s so hurt by that. “Look, I-”

“Nah,” Cib says. “I don’t wanna look at you.”

“I don’t mean literally, just-”

“I’m not literate, and you don’t have to bring it up.”

“ Cib, ” Parker says, and Cib stops dead in front of him, thank god. “I swear, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about-”

“That’s my compass,” Cib says.

Parker stops. “What?”

“My compass.” Cib stoops down, picks something up, and turns to show Parker. “I found this bitch out a couple miles west. I gave it to you.”

“Oh,” Parker says. Shit, shit, shit. “Right.”

“How’s it out here, huh? Do you go on compass trips when the rest of us are sleeping?”

“I-”

“And don’t lie.”

Parker closes his eyes. “I gave it to famous actor James Allen McCune.”

Cib doesn’t say anything. Parker doesn’t open his eyes, because if he has to see Cib look at him like a failure one more time he’s going to leave, and he doesn’t think he wants to leave. “He stops by every now and again for supplies, and I knew him before everything went down, and he’s just… sad, okay? He’s a sad, lonely dude, and I couldn’t-”

Something slams into Parker’s shoulders. His eyes fly open as he stumbles back into the wall of the kitchen store. And it’s Cib, glaring at him, arms still out where he shoved Parker. He takes a step closer, still a few feet away, but it’s enough that Parker’s chest tightens. “You gave away our things.”

“Only things that we could afford to give up, I swear-”

“This isn’t a game, there’s nothing we can afford-”

“None of you even noticed!”

“Because we trusted you, ” Cib grits out, and Parker’s mouth snaps shut. “I thought you were good at this, you know that? It always seemed like you knew exactly how much of everything there was. But it was because you were lying, wasn’t it? You weren’t keeping track of supplies, you were trying to keep your lies straight.”

Behind Cib’s shoulder, towards the dumpster, something moves. Parker’s eyes follow it, almost subconsciously, and any excuse to look away from Cib is a good one.

“Hey!” Cib says sharply, and Parker’s eyes snap back to him. “Are you fucking listening to me?”

Parker swallows, trying to keep his throat from being so damn dry. “I th- I think James Allen McCune is back.”

Cib flicks his wrist and pitches the compass behind him. It looks like it hits James, and Parker winces in sympathy, but Cib doesn’t even turn around, just points at Parker. “Now, I’m glad as anyone Autumn can hear, because now she can hear herself well enough to watch her goddamn tone when she’s out on the streets, but you don’t get to put yourself in danger like that, do you understand? You wanna play hero, but there are no heroes in zombieland. There are people who live and people who die.”

Parker nods mutely. He wants to say something, anything, but he’s just stupidly glad that Cib is looking at him again.

Cib jabs his finger towards Parker’s chest. “And you don’t get to die on us,” he says with finality.

“Okay,” Parker whispers. It feels like his lungs are tying themselves in knots, and it’s hard to take a deep breath, but he tries anyways. He can still see James shambling towards them, out of the dark, keeping his head down. Maybe the compass hit him in the head. Parker feels a pang of sympathy, but he turns back to Cib, because Cib matters more in this moment. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll do better.”

“Good,” Cib says, and Parker can see some of the tension drain out of his shoulders as he lowers his hand. “Look, man, I don’t want you to-”

He’s still talking. Parker knows he is, except time has slowed down too much for him to understand a single word that Cib is saying. James is finally close enough to see clearly, only a couple feet from Cib. He’s moving silently, which is impressive, considering the glaze in his eyes and the blood dripping from his mouth. He doesn’t look like a person or a famous actor anymore. He looks like a zombie. Like a pissed off zombie, trying to bite whatever just threw something at him, and Parker barely has time to realize that before James lunges forward.

And Parker’s an idiot. He’s an idiot, and maybe he wants to be a hero in zombieland after all, so he does what any hero would do. He flings himself forward as hard as he can and bowls Cib to the ground. And it would be fine, just fine, except he throws an arm up as he does it. Cib’s falling prone on the ground and Parker shouts “ No, ” and James Allen McCune’s teeth-

(From somewhere, far away, he remembers James, in the kitchen store, back when it looked like a kitchen store and not a camp, holding a butter knife, saying something like it’ll fuck you up, miming stabbing, like the knife is going to sink into someone’s chest, or throat, or-)

-sink into Parker’s forearm.

Parker screams.

It hurts. Jesus, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t want to look at it, because it’ll hurt worse if he sees what’s wrong. He hears a gunshot, and Cib yelling something, and then Cib saying, over and over, “Parker. Parker. Parker. ”

Parker opens his eyes. Cib is leaning over him, hands hovering like he wants to touch Parker. Like he’s not sure he can. “C-Cib?”

“Hey,” Cib says, a little manic. “Hey, don’t you worry, little boy, we’re gonna get you all fixed up lickety-shit, alright?”

“Cib, that- that was a zombie-”

“You just hold on tight, okay?”

“What happened to-” Parker lifts his head and wishes he hadn’t. He’s soaked with blood pouring out of his right arm, or maybe out of the missing chunk of his right arm. James is lying on the ground a few feet away. He swallows, bile rising in his throat. “Oh, god-”

“Hey!” Cib snaps his fingers a couple times. “You just stay with me, alright? This is Los Angeles, you can’t get killed by a zombie actor, everyone’s done it already, and I’m not gonna be friends with you if you die like a fucking copycat, okay?”

Parker stares at Cib. Cib’s looking back at him, strange and steady. It’s reassuring. Helps Parker catch his breath. “Okay?”

“Okay!” Cib jumps to his feet. “Now, I don’t want to rustle your jimmies here, or your fucked-up arm, but desperate limes and all, so-”

“Can you not call my arm fucked up?”

“Nah, dude, it’s a little fucked.” Cib bends down and lifts Parker up, jostling his arm in the process. Parker chomps down on his lip, hard, but he still whimpers. Cib’s face twists a little. “It’s gonna be bumpy, I’ll try to keep from… from hurting you.”

“I don’t wanna die like this,” Parker says, even though he’s pretty sure he’s about to die like this.

Cib starts walking, clutching Parker carefully to his chest. “How’re you planning on dying, carpark?”

I want us to be on real speaking terms when I die, Parker nearly says, but instead he shakes his head and pulls his arm closer to his chest. “Old age, probably.”

“Aw, you’re plenty old, don’t worry about it.”

“About dying? ”

“Yeah.” Parker’s probably hearing things, with the blood loss and all, but he could’ve sworn Cib’s voice cracked, there. “Don’t worry about it.”

Parker swallows. Maybe there’s a chance to make everything okay, make this whole thing hurt a little less. “Cib-”

“Cib!” someone else shouts. Parker cranes his neck, but it’s so, so hard to pick his head up, and he lets it roll back against Cib’s chest. “Parker!”

“Steve!” Cib yells, rumbling through his chest and into Parker’s head. “Over here!”

There are footsteps pounding on the pavement. “Cib, what- oh, fuck. ”

“Steve,” Cib says, and his voice definitely cracks this time. He sounds scared. “What do we do?”

“Put him down,” James orders, sounding brittle. “Did he get bit?”

“M’arm,” Parker mumbles. “Ow- Cib, ow- ”

“I told you it’d be bumpy,” Cib says as he lowers Parker to the ground. “Careful, easy - can you stretch your arm out?”

Parker stretches his arm out.

“Your injured arm,” Steve says. It would probably be bitingly mock-patient, under other circumstances. It just sounds scared.

“I don’t wanna move it.” Parker blinks up at Steve until he can focus. “You’re not wearing glasses.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, I didn’t have time to grab them. I was kind of trying to figure out why people were screaming in the middle of the night.”

“He means you,” Cib whispers.

“Can you see?”

“I can see the blood,” Steve says, and then his face does this… wobbly, twisty thing, and Parker can’t look at it anymore, so he looks away. “Cib, what the fuck happened? ”

“There was a zombie in our dumpster. We, uh…” Cib clears his throat. “He pushed me out of the way.”

“He would’ve got your neck.” Parker tries to look over at Cib, but he can’t figure out which side Cib is on. “Cib, he would’ve-”

“I know,” Cib snaps. “I’m gonna move your arm, okay?”

“Okay.” Parker’s arm starts moving, and he gasps. “That hurts.”

“Dude, I don’t know what to tell you,” Steve says. “You got bit by a zombie, it’s gonna hurt.”

“Am I gonna be a zombie?”

Steven sighs. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know how zombies work.”

“James thinks that because it’s your arm, we might be able to…”

“To?”

“To save you,” Cib says quietly. Parker can tell where he is now: at Parker’s right side, leaning over him. “By cutting your arm off.”

Parker blinks until he can see clearly through all the dancing spots. Cib is staring down at him, eyes wide. Cib has nice eyes. “Do I need that?”

“Your arm?”

“Yeah, do I?”

“Depends. Do you jerk off right-handed?”

Parker wrinkles his nose. “That’s kind of an intimate question.”

“It’s only intimate if I’m hitting on you, otherwise it’s just bros being dudes, am I right?”

“Are you hitting on me?”

Cib goes still for a second before forcing the widest, fakest smile Parker has ever seen. “We can talk about that later, right?”

Later. Right. If Parker doesn’t die or turn into a zombie.

“Okay,” James says, and he’s back now. When Parker looks up, he’s clutching the axe with both hands. “Okay. Sami Jo and Autumn are getting the medical things ready, but we need a tourniquet or something.”

Cib immediately pulls his shirt off and starts messing with the hem. Parker forces himself to smile weakly. “You’re stripping? So you were hitting on me?”

“Aw, you know I have a thing for devastating injuries.” Cib rips part of the fabric. His hands are shaking, but his voice is steady. “I look down at those gaping wounds and I think, I’ve gotta put my dick in that.”

“Oh my god, this is my nightmare,” Steve says. “This is- you understand that this is everything I am afraid of happening, right?”

Cib flashes Steve a grin before leaning down to Parker’s injured arm. “This is gonna hurt, so get ready, carpark.”

“It’s not-” Parker immediately cuts off as Cib wraps the scrap fabric around his arm, tight. “Ah, Jesus, just kill me, it’d hurt less-”

“I got you this.” James holds out a wad of fabric. “To bite down on.”

Cib finishes tying off the tourniquet, takes the wad, and quirks an eyebrow at Parker. “Open wide.”

“Romantic,” Parker says, but opens his mouth obediently.

Cib leans over and carefully pushes the wad into his mouth. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says, almost conversationally.

Parker tries to answer, but Cib pushes the wad in further and smacks a loud, ostentatious kiss on Parker’s forehead. “Gonna be fine,” he whispers. Parker wishes he hadn’t. It’s less confident, the second time.

“Cib,” Steve says, and Cib gets to his feet, steps away. “James, are you doing it?”

Parker looks up at James. James swallows. “I mean, unless one of you guys want to-”

“Nope,” Steve says immediately. Cib doesn’t answer. He’s just staring at Parker. Parker tries to smile back, but between the blood loss and the earth-shaking fear, he’s not sure it’s encouraging.

“Okay,” James says. “Ready?”

Parker shakes his head. James lifts the axe and swings.

  #

  Having one arm is… different.

The first thing Parker does is teach himself to write left-handed and it’s excruciating. He can’t read what he writes half the time, but it’s the only thing he can do anymore. Autumn took over inventory while he was recovering, quietly and insistently and with Sami Jo standing next to her glaring daggers every time Parker so much as insinuated he wanted to help out. Everyone’s constantly out on supply runs. And Cib isn’t talking to him, again, but there’s no point in getting upset about that. Parker’s saving his energy for the things he can control. Like his handwriting.

His right arm ends above the elbow and it’s a shock every time he looks at it. He uses most of their painkillers and antibiotics in the first few days and he feels horribly, horribly guilty about it. They’re practically out of bandages by the time he’s lucid, three days later, and he tries apologizing. And none of them let him do it.

“Dude,” Autumn says, around the fourth time Parker starts babbling about supplies. “You know we’re all just… glad that it worked, right?”

Parker doesn’t think it worked. But then again, it’s been ten days, and he’s not going to look this gift horse in the mouth any sooner than he has to.

“I am too,” he says instead of any of that.

“I mean it, though.” Autumn sets down the gun that she’s cleaning. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Parker thinks she likes having something to do with her hands. “Like, we give you shit and whatever, but we’re actually happy you’re alive. Even if we only have eleven hands on deck instead of twelve.”

Parker swallows. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us.”

“But-”

“You’re our friend,” Autumn says patiently. “Our actual friend, okay? We want you to be in one piece-” she pauses and winces. “Sorry, dude, I’m not good at this. I wanted Sami Jo to do this talk.”

“What talk?”

“The one where we tell you to stop feeling guilty for not dying.”

“I don’t feel guilty for not dying,” Parker lies. “I just-”

“Feel guilty for taking up our supplies, which you wouldn’t have done if you died?”

Parker cringes. “Autumn-”

“No, you know what?” She picks up the gun. “You’re alive, and if that’s a problem, then tough luck. Because it’s not a problem for the rest of us, got it?”

“Got it,” Parker says, and fixes his eyes back on his notebook so Autumn can’t see the tears welling up.

Everyone seems to be handling the whole situation differently, which sucks for Parker, because it means he has to handle everyone differently. It also means that every time someone says a word like “handle” or “handy” they give Parker weird, guilty looks, which definitely makes the adjustment harder.

So instead of dealing with any of that, he writes. He keeps a shitty diary, full of boring stories. Sami Jo judges his progress every so often by snatching his notebook out of his hands and declaring his handwriting to be on par with “kindergarten” or “eighth grade” or “hobo.”

“Hobos can have good handwriting too,” Parker points out, about two weeks post-amputation. “That’s not necessarily a judgment on their handwriting.”

“No, I meant your writing style, bozo.” Sami Jo plops down next to him on the floor. “You write like a drunk hobo.”

“What drunk hobo writing have you been reading?”

She snorts. “They’re not even the bad ones, it’s the sober ones who are a problem.”

“I still-”

“You use too many nouns.”

Parker frowns. “What?”

“Nouns,” Sami Jo repeats patiently, and plucks the pencil out of his hand. “Look at all the nouns you use, it’s too many.” She taps the pencil on a series of words, too quickly for Parker to catch them all, but she definitely points at “jumps” and “big.”

“Sami Jo, do you know what a noun is?”

She looks at him blankly. “I just pointed at all your nouns.”

“Right,” Parker says. “Cool.”

“Don’t be such an adjective, Parker.”

“I’m not- can you be an adjective?”

“That question is a lot to unpack,” she says, and sniggers.

Parker thinks, absently, that it’s kind of ridiculous that Autumn thought Sami Jo would be good at this. Or that any of them would ever be good at this kind of conversation. They don’t do serious emotions, any of them. They just make fun of each other.

Parker actually kind of misses being made fun of. Maybe it really is the end of the world.

“Should I try and be… a noun?” he hazards, and Sami Jo’s resulting smile is way, way brighter than he expected.

“Yeah,” she says. “You don’t have to be anything other than a person.”

Parker nods. “I can do that.”

“You already do, silly.” She shakes her head and pulls Parker’s notebook closer to her face. “We gotta edit this, though.”

“Go for it,” Parker says, and he’s surprised to realize that he actually can’t wait for what she has to say.

  #

  “Dude,” Andrew says.

Parker looks at him expectantly, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’s just staring at Parker’s… stump.

“Told you the axe would come in hand,” Jeremy says. “What happened, anyways?”

“Uh,” Parker says, “it’s a long story.”

“We’re gonna be here for a while.” Andrew lowers himself to the ground and sits cross-legged. “Come on.”

The thing is - and this is so, so stupid, and Parker knows it, but he can’t stop it - that he still hasn’t talked to Cib about it yet. Or about anything. He’s not even a hundred percent sure that Cib is still there, most days. It’s been sixteen days, and they haven’t talked. And Parker doesn’t want to tell this story without Cib.

“I mean,” he says haltingly, “it- I can’t- I definitely got bit, I can tell you that.”

“What?”

Jeremy actually takes off his sunglasses. “In the arm?”

“Yeah.”

“And chopping it off actually saved your life?”

Parker shrugs. “I mean, it’s been a couple weeks and I don’t really want to eat any brains yet, so… maybe?”

“Oh my god,” Andrew says. Parker missed Andrew a lot, it turns out. “But you’re - I mean, you’re up and walking around, obviously it’s okay.”

“Well, it’s been a tricky past few weeks,” Parker admits. “You don’t think about how much stuff you use both hands for until suddenly you don’t have both hands.”

Andrew looks down at both of his hands consideringly. Jeremy shakes his head. “You guys know you could’ve found us and asked for supplies, right?”

“I don’t know where you live these days.”

“Couple miles west of here. Not far off. We have painkillers and things. Do you still need them?”

“Nah.” It doesn’t hurt most days, and the days it does hurt, it’s all phantom pains. Nothing that he can do about it.

“Still,” Andrew says. “You could’ve.”

Parker nods. “I mean, hopefully we never have to ask you again, but we’ll ask next time.”

Andrew and Jeremy exchange a look that Parker can’t parse. After a few seconds, Andrew sighs. “We might not be there.”

“What?”

“We’re thinking about leaving,” Jeremy says. “Heading out east. Lots of people are.”

Parker frowns. “Why east?”

“Because if we go west we’re in the ocean,” Andrew says.

“And because we don’t want a cold winter in the north, and we think the south will smell like garbage with all the bodies,” Jeremy adds.

Parker shakes his head. “How are you getting there?”

“Walking, mostly.” Jeremy tilts his head. “Unless you-”

“We’re not trading the bikes.”

“Trading the bikes?” Steve repeats, coming out of the back room with a couple of cases of MREs. Parker’s not sure how many cases they have anymore, but he’s pretty sure they shouldn’t be giving that much food away. He doesn’t say anything. “Uh, that’s going to be a hard pass.”

“We don’t need the bikes,” Andrew says as Steve sets the cases down next to him. “We were thinking about driving, but you know how the roads have been lately.”

Steve frowns and looks at Parker, then Jeremy. “Driving where?”

“We’re aiming for Utah, but anything goes at this point.” Jeremy shrugs. “There’s nothing left out here for us, Steven, and we all know it.”

“There’s nothing left anywhere these days.”

“We won’t know until we look.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“Probably,” Andrew says. “In a couple weeks.”

“You guys could come with,” Jeremy says. “If you wanted. We could make room for you.”

Parker raises his eyebrows at Steve. He doesn’t necessarily trust Jeremy as a person, but he trusts Andrew, and he trusts that Jeremy wouldn’t let his traveling companions die. It’s not a bad deal.

“Pass,” Steve says. “But thank you for the batteries. We were running low.”

Andrew frowns. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“We’ll let you know if that changes,” Steve says, in a tone that makes it clear that it’s not going to change. “Now get out of here, leave our hero alone.”

“Hero?” Jeremy repeats. “What’d Parker do?”

Steve frowns at Parker. “You didn’t tell them?”

“It wasn’t heroic-”

“You saved Cib’s life!”

“Yeah, but I-”

“Saved his life?” Andrew and Jeremy exchange another meaningful look. Jeremy looks back at Parker with an eyebrow quirked. “I bet Cib’s handling that great.”

Parker blinks. “What?”

“Hey,” Steve says warningly.

Andrew holds up his hands in surrender. Jeremy slides his sunglasses back on. Parker just looks at Steve.

“Get out,” Steve says.

Andrew obligingly gets to his feet, but not before reaching out to clap Parker on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, man.”

Parker smiles at him. “You too.”

“Andrew,” Jeremy says quietly. He looks at Parker as Andrew lifts the cases of MREs. “Congrats on surviving, hero.”

“I’m-” he grimaces. “Thanks.”

“We’ll try and come by one more time before we leave,” Andrew says.

Steve nods. “We’ll see you then. And if not, good luck out east.”

“Good luck out west,” Jeremy answers, and the two of them leave.

“Steve,” Parker says before he can stop himself. “I’m not a hero.”

Steve makes a face at him. “I’m not here to argue that with you.”

“No, but I’m not.”

“You saved Cib’s life.”

“But-”

“From the way he tells it, you guys were actually fighting, and you still saved his life.” Steven raises his eyebrows significantly. “You gonna try and tell me that’s not heroic?”

“No,” Parker says desperately. “That’s being a good person.”

Steven sighs. “I’m only gonna say this once, so listen up, okay?”

“...okay?”

“You’re the worst person to have during a zombie apocalypse.”

“Steve, you’ve said that before.”

He shakes his head. “Let me finish. You’re the worst person here because you’re always gonna do the right thing, even if it’s stupid. You’re the kind of person who throws yourself in front of a zombie and goes out on dangerous midnight supply runs and make sure we take care of ourselves. You’re not built for this kind of a world, Parker, you’re too… good for it.”

Parker opens his mouth and then closes it again. He doesn’t think there’s a good answer to that.

Steve, for his part, just nods. “When I say you’re a hero, I’m not saying it because you do dumb shit, I’m saying it because you do dumb shit for the right reason. And because it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It makes me really uncomfortable,” Parker mumbles.

“Win-win,” Steve says. “You’re gonna be a good person, this is the price you have to pay.”

“I think I liked you better when you guys were being dicks to me.”

“We’ll be back there soon,” Steve promises. “Just give us time.”

“I will,” Parker says. He’ll give them as much time as he has left.

  #

  “We should throw a party,” Autumn says.

James looks at her sidelong. “Now?”

“Why not?”

“Do we have things for a party?” Parker asks. It always feels strange, not knowing inventory anymore.

Autumn nods. “We have a ton of that vodka left, still. And juice boxes.”

Sami Jo snorts loudly. “If we’re mixing vodka with kids’ juice, it really is the end of the world.”

“I want vodka,” Parker says. He actually wants whiskey, but beggars can’t be choosers, or whatever.

“Cool,” James says. “We can get it set up while we wait for Steve and Cib?”

Sami Jo jumps to her feet. “I’ll get the glasses.”

“I’ll get the drinks,” Autumn adds. Sami Jo offers an arm, and Autumn uses it to pull herself to her feet. “You guys wait here.”

James waves them off as they go and looks at Parker. “What flavor juice box do you think best goes with vodka?”

“Mixed berry,” Parker answers immediately.

“You drink that shit?”

“You don’t?”

James makes a face. “You know you’re the worst kind of person, right?”

“More for me,” Parker says smugly as the door swings open.

“Steve,” James yells, “tell Parker he’s disgusting.”

“Parker, whatever you did, you’re disgusting,” Steve answers. “Also, check out what we got.”

Parker turns and sees Cib holding, over his head, a guitar. “Is that thing playable?”

“Sure is!” Cib grins at Parker, like it hasn’t been three weeks since he and Parker had a legitimate conversation. “Got it all tuned up like a sandwich and this little lady is ready to rock and rumble.”

“Whoa, dude, why’s your guitar a lady?” James points at Cib accusingly. “Objectification!”

“That’s not what objectifying is,” Steve says exasperatedly.

“Also, it’s because ladies are cooler,” Sami Jo says as she emerges from the stockroom. “Hey, are we doing music with our booze?”

“Uh, are we doing booze with the music?” Cib grins. “Because that’s the right way to do music.”

“With booze?”

“With other people.”

“Yeah, jackass, because we were all going to leave the room when you started playing guitar.” James gestures at Cib. “C’mon, serenade us.”

“Play Wonderwall,” Autumn says, appearing with a bottle of vodka in each hand and a case of juice boxes tucked under one arm.

Cib clears his throat and strums the guitar. “I will not be playing Wonderwall, because I am an artist, and a savant, and-”

“Cib doesn’t know what Wonderwall is,” Steve says. “How’re we doing drinks?”

“I was thinking we can pour vodka, then add a juice box,” Sami Jo offers. “Keep it classy.”

“Flavor the booze, don’t booze the flavor.” Cib points the guitar at her. “Respect.” And then he starts playing something atmospheric, a little clumsy. Parker’s sure that going five months without a guitar made him rusty. It’d make anyone rusty.

Autumn sets the juice boxes on the floor. “Everyone grab your own.”

“Parker likes mixed berry,” James says loudly. “Everyone shame him.”

Steve and Sami Jo boo obligingly. Parker ignores them and grabs two berry juice boxes, because no matter what the rest of them say, he’s going to drink the shit out of this juice. And the vodka mixed with it.

Two or three drinks later, Cib is still playing guitar softly, sitting next to Parker in their makeshift circle. Autumn is half asleep on James’s shoulder, and Sami Jo has both her arms around Autumn’s waist.

“I love you guys,” Steve says, and topples over onto James’s other shoulder. “Don’t tell Parker.”

“Yikes,” Parker says.

Sami Jo giggles. “I wish we could leave,” she says wistfully. “Go somewhere… bigger.”

“We could,” Cib points out. “We’re running outta stuff, right?”

“Mmmmhm.” Autumn blinks sleepily. “Where would we go?”

“Dunno,” Sami Jo says. “I always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, though.”

“Basic,” Cib whispers.

“Yeah,” Sami Jo agrees happily. “It always seemed so… big, y’know? I think I used to want to feel small in the world.”

“Grand Canyon’s pretty,” Parker says. He hasn’t been in years and years, but he still remembers being in awe in front of it.

James loops an arm around Steve’s waist. “Well… why can’t we go?”

Cib stops playing. “You serious?”

“Yeah, dude.” James shrugs slightly, ignoring the way both Steve and Autumn whine at him. “Like, what else is there to do? Let’s go on a road trip.”

“We probably could,” Autumn muses. “If we found a car.”

“There are cars that still work.” Steve frowns. “Somewhere.”

“We can make them work,” James says. “Hey, guys, do you wanna go to the Grand Canyon?”

Sami Jo beams. Autumn lifts her head just enough to kiss Sami Jo’s temple. “Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Sami Jo sighs. She tugs Autumn off of James’s shoulder until they’re both lying on the ground, her arms still around Autumn. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m so lonely,” Cib whispers, and goes back to strumming the guitar softly. There’s no real rhythm behind it, just chords. Something nice.

“Play us to sleep,” James commands, and Cib grins and keeps playing soft and steady.

It takes about fifteen minutes until everyone else is asleep. Parker blinks at Cib a couple times. Everything is still tinged and hazy with the vodka, but Cib is as clear as ever. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Cib stops playing abruptly. “I’m sorry.”

Parker sits up a little straighter, frowning. “Sorry?”

“About… your arm.” Cib grimaces and sets the guitar aside, doesn’t really look at Parker. “About trying to pick a fight.”

“You were mad.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make excuses for me.” One of Cib’s hands curls into a fist. “I get it, you wanna be chums in a bucket or whatever, but you almost died.”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve. And I had you cornered against a fucking wall, and you-” he looks away. “I can’t even fucking look at you.”

“That’s not fair,” Parker says. He doesn’t mean to sound so hurt, but maybe he is hurt. Maybe he’s tired of Cib hurting him. “I’m here. I’m dealing with it. Why aren’t you?”

Cibs hands curl into fists. “It would’ve been my fault.”

“No, it would’ve been the zombie’s fault.”

“No,” Cib says, sharply enough that Parker freezes. Cib notices immediately and drags a hand down his face, curling even further away. “Shit, I’m sorry, you don’t… do loud noises, I should’ve noticed.”

Parker takes a deep breath. “First of all, I forgive you.” Cib snorts, and Parker frowns. “I’m serious. I don’t blame you, I blame the zombie, but this is my permission to quit blaming yourself.”

“Okay,” Cib says, and tips his head towards Parker. He still doesn’t meet Parker’s eyes, but Parker can at least see his face now, the weird wry smile on it. “What else?”

“What else is that we can’t fix the arm thing now. And it’s not that I don’t miss having two hands, but that already happened.” Parker reaches his amputated arm out. “But I miss talking to you, and we can fix that.”

Cib shakes his head. Parker tries not to frown at him again. “Dude, come on.”

“Maybe I was flirting,” Cib says abruptly.

Parker blinks. “What?”

Cib looks up at him, a challenge clear in his eyes. “Y’know, maybe I was hitting on you because I thought you were dying and I didn’t know how to deal with it because I’m a little bit in love with you. And maybe I was so angry about everything because I was scared, huh? What do you think about that?”

Parker takes a deep breath. “I think that’s an unhealthy way to express your feelings.”

“Well, yeah.”

“And I think it’s shitty that you didn’t give me a choice.”

Cib frowns. “Uh, you don’t pick my feelings for me, dipshit. I pick ‘em, and I like you.”

“Not what I meant,” Parker says patiently. “I mean that I want to talk about your feelings with you.”

“You don’t talk about your feelings with me.”

“I’m willing to try if you are.”

Cib blinks a couple times. “Okay, you gotta jog that by me one more time.”

“Okay,” Parker says. “I’m drunk. But, like, just a little bit.”

“Same here.”

“There was a lot of juice in that vodka.”

“I like the berry too.”

“Good,” Parker says, and scoots over until he’s sitting in next to Cib. “This is gonna be weird.”

“It’s already weird,” Cib mutters, but Parker can see how unsure he is, underneath. “What is?”

“I dunno.” Parker leans his head onto Cib’s shoulder. Cib’s arm slips around Parker’s waist, squeezing him tight. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” Cib says. Parker puts his good arm around Cib’s shoulders, and Cib grabs his wrist with his free hand. “What’re we doing now, carpark?”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because you let me.”

Parker smiles. “I was thinking we could just… talk, or sleep, or something.”

“You probably need sleep.”

“I’ve been sleeping!”

“Mmmhm?” Parker can almost hear the raised eyebrow in Cib’s voice. “You gonna swear by that?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Cib laughs, low and rumbling through Parker’s chest, and smacks a kiss on Parker’s forehead. It’s not any different from any other time he’s done it, only-

Only this time, Parker looks up at him, and Cib is looking back, with something like wonder in his eyes. He doesn’t move when Parker leans in, or when Parker brushes his lips against Cib’s, barely, carefully.

“In the morning,” Cib says after a second, like it’s being wrenched out of him. “It’s- god, I can’t believe you’re real, Parker, in the morning-”

“I’m real,” Parker says, and squeezes Cib’s hand to prove it. Cib squeezes back. “I’m right here.”

“And you’re never going anywhere,” Cib says, desperate and resolute, and kisses Parker’s forehead one more time.

(Parker doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he remembers waking up with Cib next to him, strumming the guitar, one of his feet pressed up against Parker’s arm. Steve and Autumn are both grinning at them like they know something, and they might, but all Parker knows is that he smiles up at Cib, as happy as he’s ever been. And Cib, bright and relieved, smiles back.)

  #

  James claps his hands together. “The first thing I want you to know is that this was my idea, but it’s also Cib’s fault. Okay?”

“Cib’s fault?” Parker repeats. “Why did Cib want you to take me out to a parking lot?”

“This’ll all make sense as soon as you say you understand that it’s Cib’s fault.”

“Everything is Cib’s fault, isn’t it?”

“Good point.” James holds out a revolver. “This is yours. Welcome to target practice.”

Parker stares at him even as he takes it. “What?”

“See that car’s windshield?” He points across the parking lot. There’s a car at the other end, one that’s been rusting outside the kitchen store for the past five months. “You’re gonna shoot through it.”

“But-”

James moves so he’s standing behind Parker and guides his left arm up so he’s pointing his revolver at the windshield. “Hold it steady.”

“I could barely do this with two hands,” Parker says, bordering on desperate. “James, I don’t-”

“Just do it. I’m gonna hold it and help with the recoil, okay?”

Parker hates guns. He hated guns before he had to use them and he hates them more now that they’re a part of his daily life. James was best with them, always had been, but Parker’s not comfortable with them. He hopes he never is.

“Shoot,” James says, and Parker swallows and does. The shot goes wide, hitting a couple of yards to the left of the car. “Again.”

“James, this-”

“Parker!” he shouts. Parker flinches so violently that he almost falls over. James catches him with a hand on his shoulder, looking guilty. “Sorry, dude.”

“Why is this such a big deal?” Parker demands. His ears are ringing, and he thinks it’s from more than just the noise of the shot. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll explain once you hit the windshield three times.”

“Three times?”

“Hold the gun sideways.” James positions himself behind Parker again and rotates Parker’s wrist. “Try that.”

Parker takes a deep breath and aims at the windshield. James squeezes his wrist encouragingly. Parker closes his eyes, remembers he’s trying to shoot a gun, opens his eyes, and squeezes the trigger. The bullet cracks through the windshield.

“Good,” James says. He moves so he’s gripping Parker’s shoulders. “Go again.”

Parker sighs, but he takes aim and shoots again. And it hits again. The force of the gun nearly sends him stumbling back, but James keeps him upright. “Okay. One more?”

“One more.” James lifts his hands, but Parker can still feel him there, hovering. “Go.”

“James-”

“Swear, dude.” James pokes him in the back, which might be his way of expressing solidarity. He also might just be an asshole. “One more.”

Parker grimaces, but he points the gun at the windshield and squeezes the trigger. This time the windshield shatters, glass falling all inside the car, and Parker immediately spins around to face James. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you to shoot one-handed,” James says, unbothered.

“But why? And what does Cib have to do with this?”

“Glisten.” James reaches and takes the revolver away from Parker. “You gotta be able to defend yourself, dude. Especially if we really go road tripping, because weird things happen on road trips. But it’s different shooting with one arm, right?”

“Of course,” Parker says. The balance is different, the recoil is different, and he probably hates it even more than he did with two arms. “And the gun’s different.”

“Yeah, we’re practicing reloading next.”

“James-”

“My point is,” James says, “if you don’t think every one of us was really freaked out when you almost died, you’re not paying attention, dude. Sami Jo said that she’d never seen that much blood when she wasn’t on her period, and I think she might’ve been serious.”

“Dude,” Parker says, because he’s really not sure what else to say to that.

James nods seriously. “I know, I didn’t want to think about it either. But then you went and I had to cut your arm off, and I think that was almost as bad as me as it was for you.”

“Disagreed.”

“I said almost. Anyways, point is, you gotta be able to defend yourself.” James holds up the revolver. “We’re gonna practice with this, because you need to know how to shoot things. All of us do, but you’ve gotta learn something new before we get out of here. Because the southwest was kind of a shitstorm before there were zombies everywhere, and Cib’s gonna be actually pissed if you die.”

“Yeah, also, what part of this was Cib’s fault?”

“Uh, all of it? Didn’t we say everything is his fault?”

Parker shakes his head. “No, at the beginning, you said that it was your idea but it was Cib’s fault. What part of it?”

“Ahhhh.” James smiles, and it’s a weird kind of smile, like he knows something Parker doesn’t. “He was the one who said you needed a different gun.”

“So it was his idea?”

The smile vanishes immediately. “No, dude, I told you it was my idea! Inspired by Cib!”

“No, I know, it just sounds like-”

“Are you accusing me of fucking stealing? ”

Parker holds his arms up in surrender. “No, no, I just wanted to clarify! When did you guys have time to talk about this anyways?”

“What do you mean now?”

“I mean I don’t think you guys have been in the same room in like a week because of supply runs!” And it’s true: with everyone gearing up to go to the Grand Canyon, Parker and Autumn have been by themselves most nights for the last two weeks. It’s been almost uncomfortably empty, and hard to communicate, even with the walkie talkies that James found a while ago.

James snorts. “Haven’t seen him in like a week. That’s cute. He was talking about this last month.”

“Oh,” Parker says, and something warm unfurls inside his chest. Last month, when Parker was feeling useless with only one arm, Cib was trying to figure out how to help him. “Okay.”

“Good,” James says. “Now, are we gonna find more shit to shoot, or are we gonna just keep shooting the shit?”

“Are we- what?”

“Let’s shoot things, come on.”

“Do we have to?”

“Cib’s gonna kill me if you die, and I’m too young to die from anything other than zombies or exposure.”

“Isn’t dying by zombies dying by exposure?”

James holds out the revolver. “Shut up and shoot out that car’s tires.”

Parker smiles despite himself, takes the gun, takes a deep breath, and takes aim.

  #

  Steve, in the driver’s seat of the shittiest, shadiest Jeep that’s left in their entire broken world, slams the car horn. “Get in, come on, today’s the day!”

“I could’ve found a better car,” Cib yells back, but he turns and looks at everyone. “We ready to go?”

“Let’s do it!” Sami Jo leans down and kisses Autumn before running out, carrying half a dozen cans of gasoline. Autumn follows her, arms full of MREs, and James trails behind with what he called a survival kit. Parker’s pretty sure that it’s just a flashlight and a map, but he’s not going to rain on James’s parade.

Cib bumps his shoulder against Parker’s. “Ready to say goodbye?”

“To the place where I lost my arm? Absolutely.” But Parker turns and looks at the store and his breath catches. He already left the stockroom earlier, but now he’s leaving the store. The place he called home for nearly six months, where he and his best friends figured out how to survive. “Oh, my god, you never finished what you were doing with the computer.”

“The computer?” Cib laughs. “Naw, dude, I was just fucking with that. I was never doing anything.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You amaze me,” Parker says, and he means every syllable of it.

Cib’s eyes go soft. He hooks a hand around Parker’s head, and Parker leans in and kisses him. He thinks he could stay all day, just like this.

“Hey!” Steven honks the car horn. “Get all that out of your system now, because there will be no banging in my new car.”

“We’re gonna fuck in the trunk while you’re driving,” Cib shouts back. “Fuckin’ bangarang all night long!”

“Or all day,” Parker mumbles before he can help it. It’s too quiet for Steve to hear, but Cib laughs, and that’s worth it.

“Not if we do it first!” Sami Jo yells. Steve drags a hand down his face. Autumn shakes her head.

“Get your asses in the car,” James yells. “We will leave you behind with a shell of a home and no supplies!”

“We have all the guns, bitch!” Cib lifts the box that they’re storing the guns in. “We can eat those!”

“We can’t eat those,” Parker whispers.

Cib grins. “Aw, don’t worry, babydoll, we’d find other things to eat.”

“Is that a sex thing?”

“Mmmmmmaybe.” He winks, twice with one eye and then once with the other. Parker is, despite all logic, a little charmed.

“Get in the goddamn car,” Autumn yells, and Cib bumps his hip against Parker’s and goes to the car. Parker takes one last look at the kitchen store, pushes down the swell of unspeakable emotions that threatens to rise up, and follows him.

It takes fifteen minutes and a lot of yelling to fit all the supplies in, but they manage it. Cib calls immediate dibs on the backseat, which means Parker also gets the backseat. “For leg room,” Cib explains, and slings one of his legs over Parker’s.

Steven glances in the rearview mirror. “Everyone got your seatbelts on?”

Cib groans. “We all got seashells, Steve, let’s get this fucking show on the highway!”

“Grand Canyon!” Sami Jo bounces excitedly, and Autumn smiles, fondly and full of love. “Let’s go, come on, come on!”

James unfurls a massive paper map. “Okay, I gotta find where we are, hold on.”

“I’m just gonna follow signs that say south and east,” Steven announces. “Until you can figure out something better.”

“No, that seems like a pretty safe bet,” James says, and looks back. “We all ready?”

“Ready,” Parker says. “Can I pick the music?”

Everyone groans. Cib sits bolt upright. “The guitar-”

“I put it in the trunk while you were throwing rocks at Alfredo,” Parker says.

Cib’s face lights up. “You’re the best.”

“Do not encourage him,” Steve says sharply. “Parker, you don’t get to pick the music, because we don’t have any music to pick from. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“Good. James, we good?”

“We good,” James says. “We good?”

“We good,” Cib answers, and he grins at Parker. Parker grins back, and Cib points at Steve. “Let’s get this bitch rolling.”

Steve pulls out of the parking lot. Parker closes his eyes and breathes.

[cgmayra]

Soulmate au is when the 2 characters are meant to be in a more magical way? like, maybe they were born with a mark that helps them find their other half or destiny wants them together, you know what I mean? is like... like the red string of fate! their souls are bonded together. I am not the same anon that ask about the soulmate au, just want to let you know what it was :P

Thank you my friend!

I did some research and found out more about Soulmate Aus! :D

I’ve decided to combined ‘Hearing your name from the Soulmate’ and ‘Having trouble being away from soulmate and having to come back because of longing struggles’. I hope that works xD

(x)

Prompt:

Amy heard the crowd cheer out his name.

Her eyes flicked, something about it felt right, but she wasn’t sure why.

Looking around the crowd, she peeked her head out to see a bunch of rescued flickies being released from a contraption of sorts… a blue boy bouncing on a yellow button to free them.

He posed, hands on his hips with the back of his wrists. His head held high, cocky and confident.

He folded his arms as he smirked for the photos.

She couldn’t help but stare…

She wondered if this was love at first sight.

—

Later, after some tarot card reading, she took off for Palm Tree Panic. Before this, this was a quiet girl, expected to marry and just be a stay-at-home kinda wife. You know, with that dainty kinda life.

But the second she drew forth his name in her throat, the second the syllables formed, she knew.

“Sonic!”

She felt her heart race and something rise from her feet, forcing her to skid with her heels to stop herself.

It was like a truck flew upward and sped out of the ground and up through her body; bringing the sensation with it as it hit hard and swiftly. Completely knocking her clueless as a bubbly sensation of fizzing wonder floated up her stomach and stopped her breath.

What on earth was this?

The boy turned around, his face frozen.

Had he felt it too?

She walked a little closer, though the name rang through her mind and her body was lit up with a warmth again, a pure and underlying longing came to her to be closer and say his name again.

“…Sonic?”

This time, she watched him jitter from his knees up to his nose, having the vibration carry as slapped his two hands to his nose, and blinked, in shock.

His quills bristled, much like her own, and she thought for a second…

Her soulmate?

“Son-”

“Stop!!!”

She plugged her mouth with both hands, about to step forward but became to afraid too.

She desperately wanted to finish speaking his wonderful name, to hear that glorious ring and feel that amazing rush!

But the boy looked afraid…

“I’m sorry…” she softly spoke, but didn’t let this awkwardness continue.

She bounced up and happily did a small sway of her body, having her arms follow the gesture before her hands covered her face in shy fists again.

She blushed, and pulled them down again.

“I’m Amy.” she stated. “Amy Rose.”

She repeated this, just to be certain…

If him saying her name caused the same sensation then.

“…A…EM.” he cut himself off, looking down.

He was clearly uncomfortable, as he slowly moved a leg back, shaking as his whole body wanted to try and say her name too.

He tried to get away, walking like an uncomfortable march, as if something was between his legs, giving him a wedgie. This uncomfortable walk was because his legs had almost gone completely limp, and his heart was pounding while some strange sensation of fire and water boiled within him uncontrollably.

It was confusing and scary.

“Wait!” Amy called, holding a hand out and looping an arm around his arm, nuzzling up to it as she once again swayed herself closer, making him lean his head back.

He sweated as she batted her eyes.

“Uhhh…”

“Did you feel that too?” she inquired, before giggling and looking like a smarty-pants, but trying to be alluring.

She tilted her head down and continued her flirtation, or what she could pass off as flirting…

“If you felt that by me saying your name… then you must feel the same when you say mine!” she cheerfully stated, squeeing a moment as she released his arm and shook back and forth, her face covered again, acting coy.

“Eee! How embarrassing!”

“U-…Um…” Sonic kept sweating profusely, feeling suddenly too hot and faint, he kept trying to inch away… moving backwards as he did so, trying to not startle the strange girl that sent an odd feeling through him. “E-embarrassing?” He spoke through gritted teeth in a fake smile, his eyes slightly showing how crazy he thought this all was.

“Well, yes!” Amy kicked a leg up and swung it behind her, placing her two hands clutched tightly together and up by her side as she closed her eyes.

Her head looked up to the sky, as she sighed- “Because if it is so, then we’re soulmates! And you’ll never want to be apart from me-!”

A sudden gust of wind, and she blinked her eyes open, looking ahead.

“AH!” she gasped, offended as her arms swished down through the air and shook by her sides, seeing him take off without her…

“Ohhh…! The nerve! I’ll have to teach you some manners! Come back here!” she stomped her foot down, the wind kicking up, as she suddenly took a deep breath.

“SOOONNNIIICCC!!!!”

This time, the sensation changed.

She giggled, suddenly feeling like she was being tickled, and then, a massage that completely relaxed her… her eyes looking to enjoy the feeling, her feet digging into the ground as if someone had scratched behind her ears. She blushed before an electrical circuit of sorts traveled up her spine and exited through each individual quill, making her let out a cry of delight before shaking her quills back in place from being elated upwards.

“It HAS to be my soulmate!” she chimed, overjoyed! “My hero~” she swooned, instantly in love with the idea!

She suddenly dropped her arms and looked shocked again, “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed.

“Now we’ll have to get married!” she threw her arms up, jumping in her glee, “Yeee~ I’m gonna be Sonic’s wife!” the same tingling, but on a lighter level now, still noticeable though.

“You are not!”

She suddenly blinked her eyes open from her dreamy state, and looked over across the way.

The boy was trembling, his eye twitching, as he was clearly feeling the effects from her call.

She had no idea if the sensation was doubled because it was his name or not, but she enjoyed the feeling it gave her.

She smiled, happily, before putting an innocent finger to her mouth and ducking her head down.

—

Playing innocent, eh?

Sonic growled in his mind’s thoughts, ticked off he was triggered so easily.

What was this!? A soulmate!?

PAH!

Like he, Sonic The freakin’ Hedgehog, would have any need of any woman-partner!

Bleh.

He felt the sensations finally leave.

Good.

Though they died down slowly…

Ugh.

The feeling lingered a bit but he ignored it, or at least tried to as he folded his arms and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you believe in those stupid mythologies!”

“Myth… Mythologies!? Ah!” she looked deeply offended, and her open mouth expression made him snicker.

Oh good.

He could have fun messing with this one…~

He thought that with deliberate glee, motioning his fingers in a wave on his arm, smirking down at her, a devil’s look of wicked pleasure in his eye.

A soulmate?

More like a nuisance! He couldn’t have ‘soulmate’ on an adventure! Please! She’ll break a claw.

He teased and mocked her, leaning up from his first expression to lower his eyelids, sizing her up and unfolding his arms to place them judgingly on his hips.

She’s not even all that.

He dropped his smile.

If she WAS his soulmate, wouldn’t she be more than pretty?

His face suddenly dropped, looking up and off into the distance.

Did he just think that?

Pretty?

He shook his head.

Nah, man! It’s gotta be the sensations! Ah-! N-not like he believed that stuff was real though, anyways!!! And even if it was-

He spat at the ground, lifting a leg up exaggeratedly to do so.

He would fight it till the day he died! Just in spite of it all!

“Do yourself a favor, Pinky.” he didn’t dare call her by her name. “Eggman’s afoot, and I wouldn’t want ya gettin’ hurt. Just run along home and forget about me, alright? Thanks for being a fan though, see ya!” he leaned forward, using the hand motion to ‘shoo’ her away as he flapped it back and forth a moment, looking like he didn’t care as he saluted a ‘cool-dudes’ goodbye and was about to take off.

His leg was positioned right.

His hands were curled and ready to reel forward.

He could almost feel the awkward moment dissipating behind him before-

“But..! Ohh.. I don’t have a home.” She ducked her head down, her sudden soft eyes revealing a helplessness Sonic’s eyes couldn’t ignore.

His eyes had shifted back, just by hearing the shift in tone.

He glared forward, sweating..

‘Don’t let her get to you, Sonic…’

He frowned, though his kind heart was starting to show…

He tried to bury it deep, telling himself it wasn’t safe for her anyway, but then again…

Why did he care?

“Augh.” he threw his arms up, relaxing and leaning forward in a hunch, before turning back to her.

She wasn’t trying to be annoying… she was just looking for her hero.

He pouted, looking up again and away from her.

“You really don’t have anyone? Not one single person who gives a care about you at all?”

The harshness wasn’t meant to be so… well… apparent.

But the poor girl seemed to shrink away, her fingers starting to roll over each other in nerves, and a look of pity suddenly came over her.

“I… I guess not.” She felt rejected, and by her soulmate?

Harsh…

Wait, what!?

Sonic shook his head.

Don’t start that again!

“Ahh, come on! I can’t stand to see you sulk all of a sudden from being sunshine and rays a moment beforehand. Dang, I’m getting soft.” he scratched the top of his head, turning away as if to dismiss his sudden kindness, but she raced at lightspeeds up to him, shocking him at her agility, before tacking him down the tall hill he was on.

“Woah-hey-waaiiitt!”

as they tumbled, he felt a sudden pull to make sure he took any damage instead of her.

This was normal though, as he was used to defending others, but…

His hand wrapped around her waist, and he seriously focused on getting upright, jumping up and holding her bridal style, looking on.

He was suddenly aware of his strange maneuvering of having her in his arms, and blinked, looking down as if that was pure instinct…

She smelled… good… AH!

He shook his head and flailed his arms about, letting her go on the ground as she stared at him, wide-eyed in admiring love for him.

Or so he thought.

He clutched his hand to what felt like a about to burst out heart, as if willing it to stay in there.

“Look, just leave me alone, okay? You’re better off on your own.” he started walking ahead, dusting his arms off of her… ugh, scent and the feeling of her soft fur and- Grr.. he’s got strange thoughts now!

He took off, darting forward and moving through the stage.

When he felt he was far enough away, he relaxed, sighing in relief and started stretching.

“Let’s never have to go through that again…” He muttered to himself, before a strange feeling of guilt came over him.

Amy…

“Amy Rose!”

She had said that.

A strange allure of longing… followed by deep, profound impulses and urges to hold her again, took over and created a quake in his hands, as he held them out in front of himself, watching as they tensed and shook by just the thought of her name, the memory of her in their possession…

“W-wo-wo-woah… what’s happening to me?” Sonic, feeling the odd thoughts start to swarm, rapidly started having his body shake, and he slowly pulled his hands up to his withdrawn head.

His eyes widened as he twitched slightly, his feet wanting to go back, his body feeling queasy…

Suddenly…

“I found you!”

“WAH!”

He flinched away but she caught onto him.

Instantly, a volcanic eruption sent a signal boost throughout him, and a wave of relief followed by a gentle pressure release gave him the sensation of a pleasant nap. At least, he wasn’t sure how to describe it either than that.

To his inexperience, he thought he had a heart-attack followed by heat stroke and a sudden condition of anxiety induced cerebral palsy.

His body wasn’t coordinating and he was helpless to fight her off.

He just looked up, his nose twitching so he rubbed it to try and excuse himself from this mess.

Should he… really let her tag along?

How’d she catch up to him so fast anyway?

Was she able to really be his..?

“Please don’t leave again! You scared me!” Amy stated, shaking her head. She started leaning up and whining slightly, the tone of her pitch right in his ear sent a goofy smile on his face, and suddenly his foot started thomping the ground like some kinda thumping in glee.

He must have lost his mind.

“If you leave, I’ll be drawn back to you! So that’s mean to make me long for you like that!” she shook him up, but his face just showed complete surrender to the ecstasy.

He’d never felt this dumb before.

“Um.. miss, could you not… haha…” he was meaning for her to do this to him, but she just let him go, thinking he meant the shaking.

“Opps! My bad. hehe.” she giggled, having a hand up by her mouth, “I forget my own strength sometimes..”

“Your strength is… strong.” he was still wobbly, still goofy face, before he shook himself out of it and looked really upset.

“Ble-blr-blr-blr-GRUFF. Hey! What’s the big idea?!” He was starting to lose his temper…

Amy ‘eep’d, covering her face slightly, but peering over gloved hands, leaning away.

“Look, I don’t have time to play with little girls.” he leaned his face forward,.. but was that really just the pull?

His fist came up to make a point… or was it his hand wanting to be closer to reaching for her again?

“Like I said before. Eggman’s hunting more flickies, and I don’t have time to waste around and mess with you! Scram, kid! I’m a loner! And always will be!” he flung his hand out and stated his point bluntly, before taking off.

“Oh, wait!” Amy desperately cried out, “Son-!”

“Oh, and another thing.” Sonic came speeding back, placing a finger on her mouth, and turning his head with an eye squinted and the other having it’s eyebrow up, as if he was pointing out another thing…

“Don’t call me back! It’s weird! And you’re better off with some prince charming. Trust me!” he removed the finger, but the touch was suddenly something he couldn’t ignore…

“You.. you alright with that?”

She had ducked her head down, covered in shadows.

“…H-hey… you aren’t crying are ya… Miss?” He bent his head down, refusing to speak her name.

—

Anger swarmed through her.

Her true love, her soulmate.

Rejecting her so cruelly.

Didn’t he know this was a once in a lifetime opportunity?

Soulmates couldn’t be apart without desperately longing for the other, and saying each other’s name was suppose to give a forever strength to their bond, a never-ending love that only grew and grew as the name was spoken by them.

She found him… and he was telling her to buzz off.

Like she couldn’t follow him.

She could play hero too!

She rose her head up, determined.

“I CAN PROVE IT!” She hollered in his face, making him move back and blink in utter disbelief.

“P-prove?” He gawked, “Prove,… what? Exactly?” he leaned forward with his hands on his hips again, feet together, looking curious but confused at her words.

“I can prove soulmates are real!”

He must have admired her gusto, Amy thought.

Cause he stood up straight, turning slightly to the side with his body angled, and folded his arms, giving her a formidable look…

“Oh, you can, can you.”

“Yes! I can! I’ll prove it right now!” she stepped boldly up towards him, toe to toe, as he looked down at the foot positioned out to her, the other on the side, and then back up with just his eyes.

“You for real, girl?”

“Say my name!”

His head shot up and his hands unfolded, horror and shock coming over his face, before tensing it up and having a snarl replace his frown, a look of contempt in his eyes.

“Come again?”

“I’m sick of you denying it! You know if you said my name, you’d feel it too! You couldn’t run or.. or hide from it anymore!” she shouted out, letting her voice fill the zone as he twitched his fist, tsking…

“Pfft. As if.” He leaned back up, trying to not take this seriously.

“I’m on a very important mission. I don’t have time for your silly games, lady!”

“AMY!”

He froze a second, twitching an eyelid down as if he was bracing himself, lifting an arm as if he had expected that to do something to him.

“See! You moved!” Amy pointed out, “Say it and you’ll know!”

“I… I don’t believe you! Or in your magic jargon of silly love stories!” He defended, but he was sweating again, nervous…

“Do it!” She wasn’t backing down, her face right at his, making him stagger back.

“Uhh…” he slowly started retreating, realizing this girl’s will was equal to his own.

At least, Amy hoped that’s what was coming off.

She advanced forward, taking one step at a time as he repeatedly stepped away one foot at a time.

“Amy. Amy… Rose.”

“Quit it, girly! Ah..” Sonic was cut off by a loose rock, seeing it fall from his foot’s weight and retrieving his foot back. Looking down at the drop, he looked a bit panicked for a moment.

“Now!” She lunged forward, as his arms spread out and he tried to arch his back away from her.

“Alright, alright! But it’s not gonna change anything! You’ve gotta go!” Sonic demanded back, shouting so she understood him.

—

Geez, I never knew a girl with so much -tude.

He snarked to himself, before watching her back away, her eyes still daggers as if threatening him to keep his bargain.

“If you feel the same… I stay with you!” she folded her aggressive little arms and pouted like most little girls do.

Sheesh.

How’d he end up in this mess?

“Fine…” he scratched the back of his head, “You win…” he buffed up his chest, sucking in some air.

He was about to release it, when she was suddenly swooped away.

He blinked, before turning to look up.

“What… just happened?”

“SOOONNICC!!”

“Eeee! Hey!” he gripped his quills, having the sensation return but differently this time, having the quills stick up and shake straight, but his impulses feel like they had a million-bolt batteries in each part of his movable body!

“Metal me!” Sonic looked ahead to see Metal carrying her off. “Darn, we must still be in sync!” he realized, and darted his head down, glaring.

If he thinks he can take her away, I’ll-!

He sped off, not giving the thought a second look.

“Hang on!” he called from below, before seeing her let out a cry of help, her eyes spraying tears as suddenly Metal flew off into the sky.

Sonic reached up, his boyhood voice suddenly echoing out a sensation he hadn’t known before.

It was as if he was meant to say this sound, born into it, destined to speak it and let it rest on his tongue forever.

“AMMMYYY!!!!”

(Awww, so cute! XD I love classic Sonamy!!!)

Others like this (x) (x) (x)