Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Alright Toms, I’ve come back with a shit tonne of food from the store,”

Tommy was fiddling with his knife in the corner, the warm summer sun reflecting. The faint murmurs of zombies drowned out at the warm brightness of Charlie.

“Most of those bad supermarkets are abandoned now but this was packed with zombies, like a shit ton,” Charlie huffed.

He collapsed onto the table as he placed a huge cardboard box of food. Tommy jumped up quickly, reaching out before his small faded.

The part of his brain which usually failed him began again. It begin with whispers, choking him with red ribbon around his neck before the scream.

The flashes of familiar red came back, the grunting and groaning of days long ago before Charlie found him. The clutching of his stomach as the smell of food made him scream. Tinged with red and meat which haunted him, his body corrupting before his own eyes.

He couldn’t bare to eat food, the memories of his mother’s traditional meals putting him off. It lasted from a few hours of hesitant, careful looks at his body before it ascended into days without end. Any remaining sanity would scream at for susistance, hiding his body and strangling thoughts to forget.

He couldn’t bare to look at himself, he didn’t deserve to healthy.

In fact, he didn’t deserve after what he did for the matter.

Charlie poked up in confusion, slowly dropping the wrapped piles of food. “Hey, come on bud, what’s going on?” Charlie hesitated. Charlie gaze dropped from towards Tommy’s eyes as it trailed across his body hidden by clothes.

He knew what he was looking for, he was seeing. Tommy should have been more cautious when asking for a needle and string, bringing more attention than he deserved.

He couldn’t believe he just that, what if Charlie could hear his thoughts?

Charlie reached a handout with hesitance before Tommy lashed back. “Why are you acting so suspicious, why are you doing this?” Tommy snarled, stepping back.  

“I don’t know what you’re thinking now Tommy but I’m not going to hurt you,” Charlie said. “Of course, you and you’re going to force me to fucking eat, just like my mom,” Tommy hissed. Realising what he allowed to slip, memories filled his mind with glutinous desire.

What if Tommy would be tied down to a chair, be forced to garble food until he was an acceptable weight? What if he couldn’t turn his eyes away and see his body grow horribly?

He couldn’t bare it, the mental and blinding images of food burning holes in his brain. The still remaining memories of flesh, the only thing he allowed to fill him up.

He couldn’t do that again; in fact, he wasn’t sure how much he could go without eating? He shouldn’t have let himself eat that piece of granola on the sidewalk! But he should of, he would have died before he met Charlie!

“Please Tommy talk to me, I just want to know what’s going on?” Charlie asked. “Was it me, was it something out there or in your head, fuck’s sake!” Charlie whispered at the end. The usual composure left his stance, filled with a lack of confidence he’d seen before.

The shards of mirrors stung more than people thought.

“I’m not going to let you tie my down to a chair or eat and you can do nothing about it! I’m not something to be fixed you fucking bastard!” Tommy yelled. Silence rang heavily in his ears.

“That’s all you’ve ever wanted to do, make sure I was your little hobby project!” Tommy screamed. “If it wasn’t for me and probably others, you might have been less fucked and an actual okay guy!” Tommy huffed.

Charlie had no right to disrespect him that much, the urge to grind him down into a little grain. Why did he think he had to right to fix his problem, which in fact made him better or more fucking stable than his little adoption problem?

“Either way, you’re whole adopt a kid and become their therapist project will blow up in your face!” Tommy whispered. “I will be the one to do it first thank you very much!” Tommy finished.

“Why did you even bring me here? I didn’t obviously need that much help, did I…?” Tommy pondered. Charlie reached over, tremors in his hand.

“To be honest, I don’t notice you had that much of a problem,” Charlie stuttered. “But I promise I’ll help you as best as I can, without duct tape or anything,” Charlie smiled.

Still afraid, Tommy placed his hand into the open palm of Charlie. The embrace was warm, sweat mixing together as Tommy grimaced.

“Alright good progress, we can get back on track with putting everything in chests,” Charlie said. “You can start on the left side, me on the right!” Charlie said.

“Hopefully, we’ll do it before dawn and I can check on the zombie population under, maybe Florida Man will show up soon,” He began to ramble.

His mind never stopped, a constant ramble of boxes to fill and people to fix. Maybe all he was a simple checklist to become an acceptable teenager, like before the plague.

He didn’t think he needed to fill any boxes, honestly feeling worst before he blurted like a sheep. Like before, he never realised glass shards hurt that much.

Specially when they were stabbed behind your back.