Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a cold late winter morning. The light snow from last night had created a thin white blanket on the front lawns and on the roofs of the houses. The sky was clear and the air was crisp, you could feel the chilly wind biting your cheeks as you made your way to Miss Irina’s studio on the other side of the small village.

You pulled your coat around your body more tightly, the light second hand ballet attire you had on underneath not really helping to warm you up. You made a mental list of the chores you had today: ballet class with Miss Irina for a couple of hours, then the boring patrol of the grounds with Mr. Johnston, followed by shooting practice with Eric and Juliet, and a piano lesson with Mrs. Kim. You also remembered you had to use the last lemons of the summer to bake the pie you promised to Mrs. Wilson before they went bad.

You gratefully entered the toasty makeshift ballet studio in Miss Irina’s living room, greeting her good morning. She was already waiting for you, shifting through some ballet CDs next to the stereo. “I made up new combos for you today”, she greeted back enthusiastically.

“Hopefully nothing too allegro for my taste, you know quick steps give me nightmares”, you replied with a smile as you took off your outer layers and started doing floor stretches. Your calves seized up a little - working those dead pointe shoes was certainly doing a number on them.

She finally figured out the stereo, this time without even asking for your help, and started playing a new waltz song, one you hadn’t heard before. She was marking the steps in the center when she noticed your surprised expression. “Jerry found this new CD when he went to town yesterday. I was just dying to show you”. She had a glint in her eyes and a smile on her lips as she soared past you, dancing. You couldn’t help but feel intoxicated by her enthusiasm, your smile mirroring hers.

“Alright, enough small talk. We’re gonna do a full barre today… and no pointes for now”. She said as she stopped by the stereo again, putting on a plié song. You took your place by the barre and the class began.

You were halfway through your frappés when you heard far away gunshots. It was fairly unusual for the village to have to use guns, being so secluded in the woods that hardly even infected bothered you. You brushed it off and continued the sequence, picking up speed. But the shooting continued. It was closer now, harder to ignore. And then came the screaming and a loud dry thump of something heavy collapsing.

Miss Irina and you glanced nervously at each other before rushing to the front window to see what was going on.

The heavy wooden gate that protected the village laid on the floor as trucks drove over it, making their way to the square, shooting away at anyone on their path. The men on the vehicles had vile expressions, evil grins and triumph mingling on their faces, and they were many. You didn’t recognize any of them, you didn’t even know there was another settlement close by. But clearly these people had not come in peace, and you had to think fast.

It took a few moments for Miss Irina to process what was happening, but when she did, she ran away, not even looking back at you.

It took you a bit longer.

Still watching from the window, you saw as the men climbed out of their cars and split up to enter the houses of the village, guns in hand ready to shoot.

The three men coming in the direction of Miss Irina’s house snapped you out of your inertia. You quickly fumbled around in your coat pocket, grabbing your switchblade, and quietly exited the house through the back door, as the men loudly made their way inside.

You were so focused on the danger in front of you, that the hands grabbing your waist and the arms latching your neck on a headlock from behind caught you completely off guard. He took you off the floor, dangling you against his chest like a plaything. His beard poked your cheek and his foul breath sickened you as he muttered in your ear with disgusting pleasure “Never thought I’d see a ballerina again in my life. I always wanted to have one”.

You tossed and kicked, trying to wriggle free of him as he groped you with repulsive thick hairy hands, but he was much too strong and you were starting to feel lightheaded. That’s when you finally remembered your switchblade, tightly clutched in your fist. Quickly opening it, you stabbed the man on the leg with all your might, not even caring where the blow would hit. He softened his grip, screaming in pain, and you took the opportunity to squirm free of him, turning around and stabbing him multiple times in the neck and upper torso.

You had never killed a human being before, and the shock of realization ran through your body in an electrifying wave. You looked between your blood soaked hands and the man’s slashed face as you panted, trying to assimilate you had caused that to happen. You didn’t have a lot of time to come to terms with that, though, as you heard voices and steps getting louder, coming in your direction. You looked up, and realized you were standing just under the tree you used to climb when you were younger and wanted to hide from the world to get lost in your own thoughts. You rushed to it and started ascending effortlessly, the memory of the right steps coming to you like second nature.

You had just sat down at your usual spot when you saw Dawson run past you, his tiny seven year-old legs barely keeping the pace. He was trying to put as much distance from a group of men who lightly chased him, squawking in enjoyment at his despair, when he got cornered by another group of thugs that came from an alley between houses. They grabbed and dragged him inside the studio, being joined by the men that had finally caught up to them. You didn’t see what they were doing, but you could hear the little boy’s screams and you certainly could imagine what was happening, the feeling of self preservation clashing furiously with the will to protect him.

Ultimately, you didn’t do anything. You sat there on your tree, red tainted knuckles turning white from holding tight on the branches, shivering with cold, tears blurring your vision as you watched them wreck havoc in your village, laughing and kicking at the maimed and bloodied bodies of the people you had lived with and loved your whole life. You stayed there as you saw them leaving Juliet’s house, bloody hands buckling their pants back up. And you continued there as you heard them plan to come back with bigger trucks so they could bring the livestock back to their camp and burn your village to the ground.

You climbed down after what felt like an hour that you saw them leave, the minutes dragging by. It probably was much less. Your body was shaking violently now, but you couldn’t decide if it was because of the cold or out of fear. It took you a little while to realize your feet were taking you to your parent’s house, the visions of what you had witnessed still clouding your mind.

You stopped in front of their back door, hesitating before opening it; scared of what you were going to find but also desperately straining your ears, hoping to hear the muffled sound of their voices. You didn’t. You picked up the courage and slowly opened the unlocked door, making your way to the living room, where you could see a big puddle of blood already starting to dry.

And though you wished to bridge the distance between your parents lifeless bodies as fast as possible, to hold them against you and cry their losses, your feet, again acting at their own accord, took you slowly to the center of the room, revealing the gruesome scene to your bewildered eyes in an almost unnerving pace.

You wanted to touch them, shake them and scream for them to wake up, but you just couldn’t do it. You just stood there, frozen, cold dried tears pinching the skin of your cheeks, looking at your dead parents for what felt like days.

A low shuffling sound finally took you out of your stupor. You hid behind the couch, switchblade in hand, as you listened to soft footsteps entering the kitchen from the open back door. Your breathing accelerated as you gathered up the courage to defend yourself again, when you heard the softest voice calling out your name. It was Miss Irina.

Shooting up from where you were crouching, you ran to the open arms of your ballet teacher, the tears you couldn’t bring yourself to cry finally breaking free. You both cried in your shaky embrace for long minutes, all of your losses and fears combined into the rolling tears. Miss Irina recomposed herself first, and told you to put on some warm clothes because you needed to run. You didn’t oppose and went obediently to your room for the last time, putting on pants, sweaters and boots, not even bothering to strip out of your bloody ballet attire.

When you were leaving, you passed by a framed picture of the village’s community on the wall. It was taken right after a summer barbecue, everyone was smiling and happy. You could see yourself in the warm hug of your parent’s arms. Juliet and Eric held hands and eyed you with mischievous grins, under the watchful stare of Mrs. Alonzo, Juliet’s aunt. Even little Dawson was in the picture, running and beaming from the water hose Mr. Johnston pointed at him. You broke the glass and took the photo, stuffing it into your backpack. This would probably be the last token you had from home.

Taking all you could bring from the kitchen, plus a few guns, ammo and a machete, you and Miss Irina left the house. She asked if you wanted to go anywhere before you left for good, but you just shook your head, not being able to form coherent phrases yet.

***

You wandered the woods for weeks, both of you losing count after the fourth or fifth day out. Miss Irina had vague information about a settlement in Seattle, the closest city from your village, and an even vaguer sense of direction. You remembered a couple of guidance tips your dad tried so hard to get into your head - you could identify the constellations and knew where the cardinal points were. Miss Irina insisted the city was northward, and that’s where you were taking her, but you had no idea what you were going to find there. The closest you had ever been to a city was the small town 10 km from your village, which you’d visited twice on patrol - and it looked tiny even for you.

Being the youngest and better able bodied of the two, you had to learn to defend yourselves for real this time, no whining. Your combat and shooting skills were mediocre at best, not really having the need or the will to learn it when you had the opportunity. You mainly watched Eric and Juliet shoot during shooting practice and combat fighting was just an excuse you and your friends had to grope and hump each other in plain sight.

Out in the woods, you regretfully came to the conclusion you were a terrible shot, and being pressured and scared made it even worse. You couldn’t even practice your aim, having both to save every single bullet you had, and try your best not to attract attention from infected and from other humans alike. You had to invest in stealth and close contact attacks instead, but most of the time the best strategy was just to remove yourselves from somewhere as quietly and quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, Miss Irina wasn’t so bad a shot for a former principal ballerina of the Oregon Ballet, but her age was taking a toll on her, making her hands less steady.

Your food lasted for a good while, but it ultimately ran out. You were scraping by with berries and small animals you managed to trap, but hunger was a faithful companion. You could feel your ribcage becoming more prominent, see Miss Irina’s face getting gaunter, and experience the nights getting colder due to the steady reduction of your body fat, despite the coming spring.

***

Eventually, you managed to get into the city through a collapsed wall that had probably belonged to the FEDRA QZ - but it was awfully quiet, with an almost foreboding aura around it. Everything seemed so big and vast, the tall buildings scraping the sky with their jagged lines awing you. This definitely looked like a city.

You didn't linger on that thought for too long, though. Being as weak and desperate for food as you were, your first instinct was to start raiding the abandoned buildings, being unlucky every time. After wandering for a couple of hours without any incident, Miss Irina pointed to an old restaurant that looked promising, appearing less abandoned than its counterparts.

Both of you carefully entered the place, like you did the other times, and quickly swept around with your eyes, making sure it was free of infected. The bar still had a few bottles of liquor intact, which was a good sign, so you made your way into the kitchen. Halfway there, Miss Irina made you stop, claiming she had seen a shadow passing through and hiding on the far side of the bar countertop. You waited and even threw a metal napkin holder in the direction of the supposed shadow, trying to lure out a possible infected, if it was the case, but nothing happened. After a few more minutes waiting, Miss Irina argued that she had probably imagined it and instilled you to keep making your way carefully to the kitchen.

You split up when you got there, each looking for remaining food on cabinets and drawers on separate sides of the room. You were going through a cupboard full of discarded cans, looking for one that might have been overlooked when you heard the scream and the gunshot.

Quickly turning around, you saw Miss Irina desperately trying to fight off the creature gnawing on her back, the fungi on its face growing upwards, in a way you had never seen before. You lost your composure and screamed a loud “no” as you charged at the infected, shooting at it and missing most of the time. Rage filling your chest, you ran to the creature and, dropping your gun, grabbed hold of the machete, nailing it so deep into its skull it split in two.

You could faintly hear gunshots and voices in the distance, probably attracted by your uproar, but you simply couldn’t pay attention to it, your sole focus being the bloody body of Miss Irina splayed on the floor, fighting against the infection and holding onto your hand with all the strength she still had. Tears blurred your vision, and you wiped your eyes with your free hand, while pleading for her to stay. To not leave you alone.

A bullet brushing past your face made you aware of your surroundings again. Instinctively, you grabbed the forgotten gun on the floor, blindly shooting at the place where you figured it had come from, hearing a loud yelp as you finally managed to hit something. You heard an angry female voice yell at you to drop your weapon, and since you didn’t have any more bullets anyway, you did.

You didn’t try to fight her. In fact, you didn’t even look up at her as you heard her footsteps getting closer, your gaze focusing back at Miss Irina’s form, gently stroking the older woman’s cheek with bloody fingers, as her breathing became more labored.

You didn’t have it in you to fight anymore. Everyone you’ve ever loved was dead, and you were ready to join them.

You felt the barrel of a gun softly press against the base of your skull and heard the same female voice telling you to step away from the infected. You stayed put and felt the gun press harder against you. “Get away from her with your hands in the air. Were you bit?”

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t answer. Your body frozen in an overwhelming wave of despair and sadness, only being able to sob uncontrollably and watch helplessly as the faces of the people you had lost flashed in your mind in a sickening motion.

You felt Miss Irina’s otherwise still hand twitch in yours, and a low, raspy, shrieking sound came from the direction of her face. The infection had completed and now you were officially alone in the world. Miss Irina’s infected form didn’t have a lot of time to live, though, the woman behind you blowing its face off just as it was stirring to sit up, her blood and brains spraying your face.

Still, you didn’t move. The woman was growing impatient, pressing you to stand up and face her. But the only thing you managed to do was drop your head and plead for her to kill you too in the smallest of voices, the sound of it being almost drowned by your crying.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the end to come but it didn’t. Instead, you heard a new set of footsteps approaching the kitchen and calling out to the woman with a thick Spanish accent. “I think this section is clear again, Abs. Let’s go back to the base, I’m fucking starving and I heard we were having quesadillas de pollo toda-" he stopped mid sentence, watching the scene. “What have you got there?”

The woman replied in a low voice “I think this one’s in shock and she seems to be alone. What do you say? Do we take her back to base?”

You heard a scratching sound. “I don’t know, I thought Isaac said we’re not supposed to pick any more strays. Weren’t we supposed to shoot all the trespassers?”

The woman hesitated before talking. “We needed help once too, remember? She looks harmless.”

They still hadn’t decided what to do with you when you heard a third voice calling out for them from the outside. “Hey you two, shift’s over, let’s go back home, I’m hungry!”

Making a decision, the woman pocketed her gun and grabbed you by the arm. She picked you up like you weighed nothing and started making her way back outside. You didn’t stop her, not really having the mental power to do anything at the moment. You just let yourself get carried by this girl, silent tears rolling down your face as you rest it against her strong shoulder, the heat of her body and her close embrace unknowingly consoling you.

The woman’s companion whistled low as he watched the scene unfold. “Ooh, someone’s looking for trouble. Good thing you’re Isaac’s golden girl, they would never allow me to bring an unauthorized snack like this back home,” he chuckled.

The woman groaned and muttered something under her breath that you couldn’t quite get. You were outside now, and she asked her friend to hop onto the truck and grab you so she could climb up herself.

Still limp and unbothered, you changed arms, not making the slightest effort to help any of them out. The man sat you down on the bench of the truck, propping you against the rear panel of the driver’s cabin like you were a life size rag doll. The engine started and the truck got moving, taking you away from the last thing you had from your previous life.

Chapter Text

It was a bumpy trip back to whatever base they kept talking about. The truck swerving right and left, diverting from long abandoned cars, and the occasional road blocks. You couldn’t understand most of what they were saying in hushed voices, but you could feel their glances - especially the girl’s -  piercing your skin. 

You really looked at her for the first time. She was tall and broad, the tip of her freckled ridged nose was red because of the cold and her blue eyes were unreadable. She was wearing a dark jacket with a wolf badge on her right arm and her long blonde braid swept her back every time the truck made a sharp turn. Her eyes darted across the street in a clockwork manner, like she was hunting for prey. Her hand on her rifle poised for immediate action. She divided her attention between watching her surroundings and stealing glances at you.

You were looking at her for some time now, and could sense she was getting uncomfortable under your stare. You also didn’t want her to think you wanted to talk, so you lowered your head again, getting absorbed into your own thoughts. Now that it was all over you remembered how hungry you were. Your stomach churned and you grimaced while hugging yourself - hopefully they would have food back at wherever you were going…

You must have fallen asleep at some point, for you were jolted awake by firm hands shaking your arm. Your first instinct was to yank your switchblade from your improvised leg holster and point at whatever was touching you, soothing blue eyes looking back at you through sleep blurred vision. You relaxed when you recognized the girl’s face and she held up her hands in a surrendering way. 

“It’s just me. C’mon, we gotta check you in”. She said getting up and holding out a hand to you. “Can you walk?” 

You nodded and grabbed her warm hand, the cool tips of your fingers greedily absorbing her heat. She helped you out of the truck and guided you through what seemed like a huge garage all the way to a grated booth. Her companions were right behind you, joking in low voices. 

She leaned on the booth’s metal table and nonchalantly told the two men she was going to check them in and would meet them later, as they placed their infinity of guns on the table to be stored away. They thanked her, and she brought her attention back to you after they left. 

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit self conscious under her stare. You knew you probably looked like shit - you definitely smelled like shit - so you looked down shyly, trying to hide your face as you felt her eyes sizing you up. Finally, she said in a friendly voice “I’m Abby, by the way. What’s your name?”

She was already writing down on a paper when you looked back at her saying your name, the man on the other side of the grating looking between you two with a confused expression. “Who’s that, Abby?” 

“Just a new recruit. No big deal” she shrugged.  “Leave your weapons with him” she addressed you. 

“You know we’re not supposed to pick up strays anymore, right? We don’t have any more rooms available in the Stadium” the man cut in. 

“Don’t worry about that, Pat. She’s staying with me” she pushed the form back to him and motioned for you to follow her, ending the conversation. You quickly dropped your gun on the table and ran after her, scared of being denied entry if you stayed on your own for too long. 

“We’re going to the med bay now, you look like you need a check up” she said as you caught up to her. “And don’t sweat about Pat, you’re safe with me” she glanced at you with soft eyes as she spoke. 

***

The med bay was basically a large tent with cots sprinkled about and some medical equipment you’d never seen before, the green fabric above you tinting everything a sickly tone. Back in your village, the closest thing you had to a doctor was Mrs. Alonzo’s vet practice, and she pretty much treated everyone like large dogs. Or cows, if you caught her on a bad day. 

A short girl with curly hair and friendly eyes turned around as you entered the space and called out to Abby in a husky voice, removing her mask. “Hey, Abby! Who’s this?”

“Hey, Nora. Could you check her up? She’s in a bit of a rough shape”.

Nora eyed you suspiciously and then turned her gaze back at Abby, lightly touching her arm. You noticed the sleeve of her jacket was ripped and the shirt underneath appeared to be soaked with blood. “You need fixing up too. Go to cot number 3, Leyla can patch you up in a second”. She pointed at a cot next to where you were standing. 

“Come with me”, she said looking at you, and you followed her silently. She closed the curtains around a cot as you stood bashfully next to it, unsure of what was going to happen. 

“Alright, my name is Nora. I’m gonna do a quick check up with you, is that okay?” She asked in a soft professional tone and you nodded at her. 

“Are you hurt?” You shook your head. 

“Were you bitten?” You shook your head again. 

“Are you in any pain?” You shook your head once more - this answer was false, but you didn’t want to elaborate. 

“Can you speak?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. That drew a spontaneous chuckle from you, and you finally answered “yes” in a raspy voice. 

“That’s good to know”, she replied warmly, a playful smile on her lips. She continued trying to make small talk as she measured your height and weight and took notes on her clipboard while checking you. 

At some point she looked up at the gap in the curtains and motioned for someone to come in. Abby entered the small room awkwardly. Her jacket was crumpled on her hands and there was a bloody bandage around her muscled arm. You couldn’t help but feel like a kid again, when Mrs. Alonzo called your parents in, after checking you, to tell them you had the flu and needed plenty of water and rest. 

“So, my medical report for your friend here is that she’s probably just exhausted and hungry. Let her take a shower, grab her something to eat and let her go to sleep. She’ll be better in the morning”, Nora told Abby. She turned to you and held your cold hand on her warm one. “And relax, okay? You’re safe now”. 

“Thank you, Nora”, you replied truthfully. You squeezed her hand and got up from the cot, positioning yourself next to Abby. “Am I free to go?”

“Yes, as long as you follow your doctor’s orders”, she joked. 

Abby tugged on your sleeve “C’mon, let’s get you settled in”. 

You both said goodbye to Nora and you followed Abby back into the stadium. You could see the entirety of it now, after climbing some stairs, and just like everything in this city for you, it was huge. And so densely populated. You could see people tending to crops, washing clothes and training dogs. Soldiers went up and down beaten paths, greeting each other and chatting. A group of teenagers was running laps on the racetrack, trying to outrun each other. 

You had never seen so much life in the same place, it was almost overwhelming. You thought of how much Eric would’ve loved this. He was always commenting how life couldn’t be just your little world inside the village, and how he would go out someday, chase some big adventure or something. You missed him so deeply that your feelings started overflowing in your eyes. You quietly wiped your tears and sniffed your nose, wishing Abby hadn’t noticed it. 

She guided you into a large split level room with grey carpets on the floor and a wall of windows, which let the cold dying sunlight of the day in. There were two beds on opposite sides, plus a small kitchen and what could be called a living room to your left side of the upper level. The lower level was way tidier than the upper one - the bed was made and there was a collection of weights neatly placed by the windows. Still, the whole room smelled like dirty laundry and, weirdly, pine. 

Abby grabbed a shower caddy and a fresh towel from her drawer and handed them to you. “I’m gonna get some new clothes for you while you shower. You look so skinny, I’m guessing you probably wear size-“

“Why are you doing this?” You interrupted her. She looked at you confused. “Why are you being so nice to me? We don’t know each other”

She disarmed herself, relaxing her shoulders and exhaling forcefully. “Just let me do this for you, okay? I have to… I’m just trying to be a better person”. Her words were final, there wasn’t much arguing after that. 

***

After you and Abby had taken showers, both of you sat on the floor of the living room to eat. She had gotten chicken quesadillas from the cafeteria, and you were trying your best not to look as famished as you felt. Your damp hair was still wrapped around a towel and the oversized clothes she got you itched a little. 

“Whose bed is that?” You tried to make small talk, pointing with your chin at the unmade bed opposite you, with posters and license plates hanging on the walls. 

She swallowed a bite before answering. “That’s Manny’s. You know that guy that was with me on the truck? The one with the Spanish accent? We share the room. I guess now you do too, at least for the time being”. 

You inhaled your portion while she spoke, desperately trying to satisfy the hunger you felt, but it was over too soon and were left wanting more. Abby watched you with attentive eyes, and pushed her plate towards you, offering her food. You felt bad for accepting it - your mom would’ve definitely scolded you for it - but you took it gratefully, thanking her. 

Nora was right. You did feel better after showering and eating, the gunk and gore of the past weeks wandering in the forest finally off of you. It didn’t ease the pain on your chest, though, or diminish your feelings of guilt and loneliness, but you did feel better physically. 

After a bit of squabbling, you accepted Abby’s offer to sleep on her bed. She had already zipped herself up on a sleeping bag on the floor next to you when you tuck yourself in. Her sheets were fresh and smelled like pine - like her. The warm embrace of the bed engulfed you and sleep came to you immediately. 

It was both hot and cold on your usual spot on the tree. Snow piled up on top of your exposed shoulders, and you vigorously rubbed your arms, wishing the friction would warm you up. The smoke from the burned houses irritated your throat. You watched as dark figures danced around the flames, jeering and pushing each other chaotically. Eventually they left, but the village still burned. 

You climbed down and led yourself back to your flaming house in a sleep walking manner. You could hear something that sounded like a clicker mixed with teeth grinding coming from it, the noise getting louder each step you took towards it.  

As you entered the house from the back door, the roof over the kitchen collapsed, trapping you inside. You didn’t mind. You sensed the house was unbearably hot, but you walked around it like you were protected in a cold bubble, the snow hadn’t even melted on your skin yet. The large puddle of blood in the living room was still there, boiling in the heat. The noise was louder now, coming from upstairs. 

You went up, stopping by the closed door of your room. Whatever was making that sound was there, waiting. You opened the door slowly, drinking in the vision of your room just like you had left it, except for the shadow that stood in the corner, hunched and noisy. You approached it and could see it was a clicker. She was wearing Miss Irina’s clothes, though, and you felt a sharp pain in your heart when you realized you had to kill her. You had to see her die again. 

Inadvertently, you stepped on the creaky floorboard you always knew better to avoid, and the clicker straightened up, listening intently. It turned around, but it wasn’t a clicker or even Miss Irina who stared back at you. It was Abby, and her screech jerked you awake. 

You laid there in the dark, trying to even out your breathing. It had been a while since you had relaxed enough to have a dream, and it was so vivid you were scared to close your eyes again. But despite being awake, that grinding sound hadn’t stopped. Your first impulse was to fumble on your leg holster looking for your switchblade, a cold feeling down your spine when you couldn’t find it. 

Then you were confused, where the hell were you? It took a couple of seconds before the memories of the previous day crashed back on you. You were in Abby's room, sleeping on her bed. Miss Irina was dead. Your whole family was, in fact. And that grinding sound was coming from the foot of the bed, where Abby was sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

You looked over the edge of the bed and could see her face contorted in a grimace, grinding her teeth and whimpering softly; her fingers were clenched in fists over her stomach. With the lightest of touches you reached for her hand, hoping to comfort her, but her eyes jolted open at your graze, startled and confused. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just… sorry” you trailed off, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You were pulling your hand back when she grabbed it. 

“No… it’s okay” she replied sleepily, and intertwined her fingers on yours. 

Her reaction surprised you, and you figured she must have thought you were someone else in her drowsy haze - still, you stayed put, not wanting to disturb the moment, savoring the contact of her warm skin against yours. Your thumb started mindlessly stroking her palm in soothing circles, just like you always did when Juliet or Eric held your hand. You felt her relax after a while, her head lolling to the side when she fell asleep again. 

You don’t know how much time you spent watching her face in the sliver of light that came from a rip in the old curtain, your thumb still caressing her hand. You felt wrong and disrespectful for thinking about this after everything that had happened to you, everyone that you had lost, but you couldn’t help to acknowledge how beautiful she was. Your eyes traced her proud ridged nose, her plump lips, her strong square jaw, the faint freckles that covered her entire face, her fingers entwined with yours… 

You shouldn’t be feeling this, thinking about this, not at this moment. You should respect your dead; mourn them properly. You fell back asleep while still fighting the emotions inside you, but this time your dreams were populated by much more pleasant images.

Chapter Text

You woke up to the sound of muffled footsteps stomping around the room. You could tell they were trying to be quiet, but their heavy weight betrayed them. You heard as they walked around on the upper level, went down a short flight of stairs and stopped shortly next to the bed, then walked across from you on the lower level. 

You vaguely remembered a sweet dream you had of holding hands with Abby in the night. Or did that actually happen? You were so used to having nightmares or no dreams at all that you doubted your brain could even come up with something so nice. 

You tentatively opened your eyes, but the light that hit them blinded you, making you raise your hand to protect them instinctively. The movement drew the attention of the shadow you briefly saw by the window. “Good morning, sleepy head”, a soft female voice called out to you. 

“How much did I sleep?” You stretched lazily on the bed, savoring the warmth of the blankets and squinting your eyes at Abby when you were done. 

“About a day and a half. It’s a few hours past noon now”

Holy shit, you had not planned to sleep this long. You sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the tips of the blankets pooling on the floor. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have slept this much. Why didn’t you wake me up?” You almost ran over your words, scared she was pissed at you for being such a slack. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice was soothing. “You don’t have to apologize for being tired. I’m the one who should be saying sorry for waking you up.” 

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and took a good look at her. She was wearing different clothes, but still had the same braid as before, two loose strands framing her face on either side of her temples. Her golden hair was almost glowing in the yellow afternoon sunlight that bathed the room coming in from the windows, and her clear blue eyes scanned your face, trying to read your emotions. God, did she have to be so beautiful?

“I brought you something to eat”, she said pointing at the nightstand table after a few beats of uneasy silence. “But it’s probably cold by now, I couldn’t stop by earlier.”

You thanked her and grabbed the wrapped burrito, making your way to eat by the kitchen sink, so as not to make a mess on her bed. Indeed it was cold, but you couldn’t care less, happy to simply have something to stuff your stomach with. 

You could feel Abby’s gaze on you. The atmosphere of the room was weird, like she was unsure of how to behave in your presence, almost embarrassed. It was different from the confident and cool posture you remembered her having the day before. You started to think maybe you hadn’t dreamt of holding hands with her after all, but she didn’t give you the chance to ask. 

“I talked to Isaac while you were asleep.” She blurted, like she sensed you were going to ask her something she didn’t want to respond. 

“Uh, okay? Who’s Isaac?” You asked casually between mouthfuls of burrito. 

“He’s the leader of the Wolves, the WLF. We’re the WLF.” She said while making a circular motion with her pointer finger. You looked at her blankly. 

“He allowed you to stay”, she continued, “if you make yourself useful - his words”, she added at the end for good measure. “I’m supposed to give you a tour of the grounds so you can pick a job or something.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Lemme just wash my face and we’ll get going.” So this is what it was about, maybe she was just uncomfortable to tell you you had to carry your own weight around here. 

And it’s not like you had expected to be treated like a princess, you had to work back at the village as well. Not as much as they seemed to work here, though, but you could get used to it. Working would be good for you, you decided, it would make it easier to steer your thoughts away from painful memories. 

Still, that didn’t explain why Abby looked so tense as she walked around the Stadium with you, with her hands tucked in her crossed arms, like she was purposely avoiding so much as brushing you. You kept stealing glances at her from the corner of your eyes, but you weren’t going to push her to tell what was going on. It didn’t feel like you had the right to push her to do anything, really. So you kept your distance, staying away from her imposing figure while you walked side by side.

She showed you the gym, the school, the crops, the kennels, the garage… all while listing a series of jobs that you could take at those places from the top of her head. You couldn’t help but be impressed again by how big this community was, and you looked at everyone you came across, trying to memorize their features and their names as Abby introduced you to them. You got overwhelmed around the 30th person. 

She was so popular too. Most people went out of their way to greet her by name, and she was friendly and considerate with all of them, cracking jokes and reminding them of black gammon rematches. It was clear she was almost revered here. 

She decided the tour was over after showing you the track field. “So, anything piqued your interest?” She leaned on a fence and looked back at you. The sun was low on the horizon now, the clouds tinted orange and pink above you. 

“I want to be a soldier like you.” 

You had absolutely no idea why you said that, your surprised expression probably matching hers. You hated patrols and had no shooting or fighting skills whatsoever, but you wanted an excuse to be around her more. 

She frowned and double took your skinny frame. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re fit to be a soldier right now”, she scoffed. “But I could make you a training schedule and you could get there eventually.”

“Okay, I can do that.” You immediately jumped on the idea, nodding at her suggestion. She was still looking at you, and you guessed she was waiting for an actual answer to her previous question. “Do you need me to pick a job right now or can I think it over for a bit?”

“No, you can think it over”, she replied, but didn’t take her eyes off of you. You held her gaze, trying to read her expression. She looked conflicted, like she was trying to build a wall between you and failing; you saw a flash of tenderness cross her face, but it was quickly replaced by a guarded stare, as if she was scared of the feelings inside her. 

“C’mon, let’s grab some dinner.” She finally said when the weight of your stare became too much. 

***

The mess hall was packed. The long tables were teeming with people, and the recycled air buzzed with dozens of voices and stifled you with the mix of scents coming from the kitchens. 

You were torn between feeling ecstatic and intimidated by being somewhere with so much energy, so you settled for being curious; your eyes sweeping the space as you followed right behind Abby to grab your food. 

You sat across from her on a table in the middle of the room, people passing by and greeting her like they did the whole day long. You had taken two forkfuls of your meal when someone noisily set their metal tray next to Abby and addressed you loudly in English and Spanish. “Look who’s awake! ¿Cómo estás, chica?”

“Hey, Manny.” You remembered Abby telling you his name the night before. 

“I was seriously worried I would never get to see your beautiful eyes again”, he replied with a smirk.

“Oh my god…” Abby rolled her eyes.

“What? That was a good one!” He elbowed her, laughing. “No, but seriously, are you doing better?” He turned his gaze to you, genuine care on his face. 

“Yeah, I guess I was just tired and hungry, like Nora said. But both things have been taken care of”, you answered with a soft smile.

“That’s good to know! Heard you were looking for a job, hopefully you considered joining us, soldiers. We can always use an extra hand.”

“Abby doesn’t think I’m fit to be a soldier yet.” It sounded more accusatory than you had planned it to be. 

“I also said I’d help you train so you could join us eventually”, she butt in. You did not remember her saying she’d help you train, but you liked the idea. 

“Oh, you’re set then. If you follow Abby’s schedule you’ll be having guns like this in no time.” Manny said, jokingly pointing at Abby’s arms. You had definitely noticed how strong they were, though you were trying your best not to ogle her. But, god, did she make it hard. 

Manny was still teasing Abby when he spotted someone pass behind you. He called out, “Hey, Mel! Come sit with us!” 

You turned around and saw a short pregnant woman stop and hesitantly make her way towards the empty chair next to you. She sat down and greeted you all with an uneasy smile. You could almost see the uncomfortable aura emanating from both her and Abby, who was now terribly focused on the food in front of her. 

Manny was either unaware of the awkward situation or deliberately trying to act as if he hadn’t noticed. “This is the new recruit I was telling you about, the one Abby rescued on our last patrol.”

She turned to look at you, her gaze scrutinizing, as if she was trying to figure out what made you so special that Abby would break the rules to save you. This lasted less than one second, so her eyes were soft when she introduced herself to you, “Hey, I’m Mel.”

“Hi”, you replied sheepishly. You had a feeling she did not like you, though you didn’t know why. 

Manny continued trying to make conversation with both her and Abby, but you noticed they never directly addressed one another. The atmosphere was so unpleasant that you finished your food much quicker than you would have otherwise - you just wanted to leave, it felt like you were intruding in something extremely personal. 

Finally you got up, excusing yourself and picking up your tray. Abby took the opportunity to take her leave as well. She coldly said goodbye to Mel and told Manny she’d see him later. 

The two of you made your way back to the entrance hall in an awkward silence. You meant to follow her back to her room, but thought it was better to leave her alone for a bit.

“Actually I made up my mind. I’m gonna go to the kennels to apply for the job”, you said trying to sound casual. 

This seemed to have caught her by surprise. Maybe she hadn’t expected you to choose the kennels out of all the jobs available. “Oh, okay. Do you want me to go with you, or…”

“Oh no, don’t worry about me, I can find it on my own”, you said dismissively. “I’ll see you later then.” 

You thought she looked disappointed for a fraction of a second, then she said goodbye and left; her braid rocking side by side down her back as she walked away from you. 

***

You got lost a couple of times while trying to find the kennels, which led you to have to ask directions to people passing by. They looked at you curiously, and you wondered how long it had been since they last took new people in, a grim thought crossing your mind about what they normally did to trespassers. 

Eventually you found your way outside and managed to get to the kennels, guided by the sound of barking. 

The kennel's overseer, a middle aged redhead named Giana, seemed happy at your job application, saying she and the other two trainers were getting a bit swamped with work, now that they had more than 15 dogs to look after. She even let you play for a bit with Penny, a one year old german shepherd with a lot of energy, and told you to come back the following morning to start your first shift. 

You started making your way back to Abby’s room, but decided to hang out around the Stadium a bit longer. Now that you were away from her you felt like you could think straighter, her mere presence near you was intoxicating and made it difficult to think of anything other than her. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, come to think of it, because now your mind was free to get inundated by what had happened before you joined the WLF. 

You thought consciously of Miss Irina for the first time since her death, and finally acknowledged the guilt that had been building up in the back of your head like a boulder threatening to crush you. You thought of how dumb you were for not making sure the restaurant was safe before splitting up from her, and how useless you had been at protecting her. You thought about how powerless you had been to defend your loved ones during the raid, and how you didn’t do anything to save your parents, or Juliet or even little Dawson. 

The remorseful thoughts kept coming at you, wave after wave like a furious ocean during a storm. Your chest was twisted in pain and your eyes flooded with tears. 

Suddenly you realized you had climbed all the way to the roof of the bleachers without even noticing. Your feet just silently took you there and placed you on the very edge of it, like a subconscious message. You looked down at the ground several meters below you - you’d definitely die if you jumped. And you were so high up you probably wouldn’t even feel pain. 

You considered that possibility for a while and part of you found the idea extremely tempting. A way out. No more pain, no more fear. Maybe even getting reunited with your loved ones, if your mom was right. 

You sat down, your legs dangling in the cold void, and took in the starry clear sky and the ragged city beneath it. You wondered if this would be what life was like for you from now on, just a collection of regrets and suffering. Was it even worth fighting for?

And though most of your brain was absolutely certain it wasn’t, a very quiet part of it remembered a pair of soft and caring blue eyes, a freckled face and a soothing voice calling your name, making sure you were fed and rested. You couldn’t do this to her; you couldn’t repay all her kindness with such a selfish act. 

Maybe you were giving yourself more credit in Abby’s life than you were due; but still, you felt it wasn’t right to let everything she had gone through for you go to waste. So you decided to stay, out of gratitude for her compassion.

***

She was reading on her bed when you finally made your way back to her room. Manny had already fallen asleep, a comic book open across his chest. 

“Hey, I was waiting for you to come back”, Abby said when she heard you come in.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you awake.” 

She had gotten up from the bed and was straightening the sheets when she looked at you. Her eyes filled with concern as she did, and she impulsively raised her hand to touch your face, catching herself in the last second and letting it fall down to her side. You must have been looking like shit for her to react like that. 

“What happen- did you apply for the job?” She asked. Why did it feel like she was holding something back every time she was with you?

“Yeah. I’ll have my first shift tomorrow morning.”

“Uh-huh.” She stood close to you, uncertain if she should ask you more or not. “You can have the bed, by the way, I was just using the overhead light to read.” She said crouching down and grabbing the folded sleeping bag she had tucked under the bed. 

“No, Abby, it’s not fair. Let me sleep on the floor tonight.” You touched her hand to stop her from laying the sack on the floor. She looked at your hand on top of hers and licked her lips, but didn’t pull away. 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind sleeping on the bag.” 

You nodded and she hesitantly accepted your offer; passing you the thinly cushioned sack, her fingers intentionally brushing yours. 

“I’m gonna look for a way to bring in a bed or a couch for you to sleep on next time I’m on patrol.” She laid on her mattress, watching you slip your legs inside the bag and adjust your pillow. 

“That’s sweet of you”, you turned your head to thank her before lying down. You noticed how close you were to her face, and how you were ever so slightly unconsciously leaning in towards her. She didn’t move away from you and held your gaze this time, her lips slightly parted. 

You held yourself back before you did anything stupid. “Good night, Abs”, you boldly called her by her nickname as you turned off the nightstand light. 

Chapter Text

As the days got warmer, so did you get stronger and more adapted to your new life at the WLF. You were no longer the bony, fragile little thing the Wolves had rescued, now that you had been eating well and following your training schedule religiously. 

Because of your ballet training, you had been rather muscular before the starvation period you had gone through, and very familiar with discipline, so the exercise routine Abby made for you didn't faze you much. Your body was used to the strain and went back on track pretty easily after you’d finally put some weight back on. Of course you were nowhere near her when it came to muscle mass, but you could see it starting to reappear, and that made you feel vigorous and more capable. 

Your job as a dog trainer was one of the reasons for the muscles you were starting to develop on your arms as well. Your days now mostly consisted of feeding, bathing, training and playing with dogs. Your exposed skin was constantly scratched and bitten by play fights with them, and your clothes were often caked with muddy paw prints and loose dog hair, but it was a surprisingly fulfilling job. The other dog trainers were nice to you and, most importantly, it took your mind away from thoughts you wanted to avoid for several hours at a time. It was more than you could’ve asked for. 

Out of Abby’s advice - she really took your “I want to be a soldier like you” seriously - you had also started taking combat lessons with Jared, the middle aged former Jiu Jitsu instructor, and doing shooting practice on the shooting range. 

It turned out you were quite good at being sneaky in 1x1 fights, your flexibility working to your advantage. That didn’t mean you didn’t lose most matches, though. And now that you had notions of fighting, it made you think of how silly you and your friends must have looked back at the village trying to fight each other, none of you having a single clue of what to do. 

Shooting, on the other hand, was a whole other thing. It appeared that no matter how much you practiced, you simply couldn’t get consistent with it. Manny was absolutely certain you had some sort of problem with your eyesight - or with your perception of depth. Even Pat had tried to help you out (he had warmed up to you, but you had a feeling he was just exasperated at seeing you missing most of your shots and wasting bullets). 

Despite what both of them thought of you, you did feel you were getting better. It just so happened that you basically started with negative skills, so you were struggling just to reach a zero baseline. You’d get there eventually. 

Your job, your strenuous gym sessions and your soldier training were great at keeping your ghosts at bay, but there was one thing they didn’t do: they couldn’t rip Abby out of your mind. You knew she was the biggest reason why you started and kept doing any of those things. You wanted an excuse - any excuse - to be around her, whether it was at the gym or in the hope of joining her on patrols someday. 

And it’s not like you wanted to be in a relationship. The thought of loving someone again, letting them into your heart, only to lose them and be left shattered and alone, terrified you - you didn’t think you could survive that one more time. So you did your best to fight against it, to deny it, but she had an almost irresistible pull on you, and you felt yourself helplessly falling for her at each interaction, each exercise correction, each shared meal, each bedtime. 

She was always friendly and agreeable to you. She asked whether you had eaten or had slept well, she paid attention to your exercise executions at the gym and was always ready to help you out, she waited up for you when you got the late shift at the kennels, and she even went out of her way to bring over a pretty nice sofa bed she found during her patrols for you. 

But still, you couldn’t, for the life of you, decide what her true feelings for you were. You couldn’t read her. You could see she was growing fond of you, but did she see you like a responsibility, like a pet? Or did she feel something else for you? You honestly couldn’t tell. It was like she kept her emotions inside this impenetrable wall, and all you could see were fleeting glimpses of what she was hiding. 

Like when sometimes she’d touch you, and you’d feel her gaze traveling through your face and stopping at your lips for a few seconds, her eyes darkening and your skin buzzing at the contact with hers - and in those moments you’d be sure she felt something for you too, it couldn’t be otherwise. But then she’d catch herself and part ways, keeping her distance like she was turned off by you, almost offended, refusing to even get too close to you again. 

You felt like the accumulation of your resistance to fall for her, in the first place; the unrequited feelings you were reluctantly developing for her; and her confusing attitude towards you were slowly driving you insane. You missed having someone to talk to, your conversations with Penny, the german shepherd, not really helping as much as you wished it would. 

You figured that was the reason why you impulsively struck a conversation with Nora, when you caught her one day eating dinner by herself at the very end of a table, away from other groups of people. 

“Hey, Nora!” You greeted her with a smile, hoping she’d not rebuff your sudden approach. 

“Hey, there!” She greeted back looking at you over her food. “So Abby’s gym routine for you is paying off, huh? I’m starting to see some muscles appearing.” 

Surprisingly, she remembered you mentioning your training schedule during one of the checkups she insisted you have in your first few weeks at the Stadium. 

At her comment, you looked down at your body. You were wearing a black tank top today and your arms were still glistening with sweat after a long training session at the gym. Your muscles felt sore, but pumped. You also noticed how muddy and filled with dog hair your clothes actually were, having gone to the gym right after your shift at the kennels. You needed a shower. 

“Yeah, I’ve been taking it pretty seriously. Gotta do what you gotta do if I want to get recruited as a soldier, right?” You said taking a seat in front of her, interpreting her friendly conversation as a sign you could join her. 

“You tell me.” She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “I’m just glad to see you’re doing alright.” She said reaching for your hand and giving it a friendly squeeze. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” You said rather hastily. 

“Sure” she countered, curiosity sparking in her eyes. 

You quickly debated whether or not you should ask what you wanted to know, but blurted it out before you could change your mind. “What’s up with the whole Abby and Mel situation? I don’t mean to pry, but it’s kinda hard to ignore.” You added at the end, already prying. 

She seemed taken aback at your words, like she wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. “Oh. I don’t know how much I can tell you, but basically things got a bit weird after Mel started dating Abby’s ex-boyfriend, Owen.”

Abby’s ex-boyfriend?

“Some other stuff came down after that too, but that’s where it all started.” She continued, seeming to try to oversimplify a complex situation. 

Your mind was racing at the information she had just given you, though, so you hardly even listened to what she said after. 

Abby’s ex-boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. 

So she was straight after all, and you were the one trying to read between the lines, searching for something that wasn’t there in the first place. 

And Owen? That’s her ex-boyfriend? You didn’t exactly know him, no one introduced you yet, but you knew who he was and you had seen him around the mess hall. He looked like a jerk. Especially the way you saw him treating Mel - his very pregnant girlfriend - like he didn’t want her around. 

God, she was straight and had bad taste in men. This is the worst. 

You clearly weren’t taking these news very well, because your brain started coming up with alternatives. What if she wasn’t straight? You weren’t straight, but you liked men too. Maybe she was like you? You had to know. 

“For how long were Abby and Owen dating?” you asked nonchalantly, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“At least a year. They broke up shortly after we joined the WLF.”

“Uh-huh… and did she see anyone after that? Did you and her…?” Oh my god, that wasn’t subtle at all! What was wrong with you?

“What? No!” Her voice went up an octave. Then she squinted her eyes, looking at you suspiciously. “Wait, what’s up with these questions? What is it you really want to know?”

Fuck. 

“Me? Nothing! I was just curious, that’s all.” You lied and tried to divert the conversation elsewhere, asking about her medic routine and other banalities, but you could see in her eyes she hadn’t bought your excuse. 

You hoped this conversation wouldn’t come back later to haunt you. 

***

After dinner, you went back to Abby’s room to pick up your shower caddy and a towel. Despite living in her room for a while now, you couldn’t bring yourself to call it your own yet; it still felt foreign to you. You had had an entire room for yourself for most of your life, so sharing an intimate space with two more people was weird to you - to say the least.

You could see Abby and Manny were doing their best to make you feel at home, though. Not only had they brought you the sofa bed, but they also got you a small drawer and a cozy overhead lamp. Nevertheless, you still felt like you were crashing in their living room, and it made you more uncomfortable than you’d like to admit. 

You missed having your own space, and that was probably why you frequently spent hours of your free time on the roof over the bleachers. You no longer felt the urge to jump off, but you liked being alone with the stars, lost in your thoughts. 

You looked around the messy empty room. Abby and Manny had been away for a few days now, out on regular rotation. You didn’t know when they were coming back. You picked up a couple of shirts that were lying on the floor and considered doing the dishes while you were at it, but decided you’d do it after you came back from cleaning yourself. 

You hated putting your clothes back on in the lockers by the showers, the humidity of the place making the fabric feel unpleasantly wet against your skin. For that reason, you had picked up the habit of sprinting back to the room to change after showering, when Abby and Manny weren’t around. The room was only a few meters away from the washroom, so your awkward towel walk wasn’t very long anyway. You just needed to time your exit well so as not to bump into someone. 

You determined you’d take advantage of their absence to do just that today, so you left the room with only the caddy and the towel, your clean clothes neatly spread out on the sofa bed waiting for you to come back, and the door unlocked. 

Except that when you did come back, gracelessly wrapped in your short towel and hair dripping down your back, the door was locked and there was a sock on the handle. Abby had told you about the room etiquette, so you immediately knew it meant that Manny was back and he had claimed the room.

Fuck your life. 

You stood there in the middle of the empty corridor looking at the hanging sock on the locked door. You couldn’t get in - even if you were prepared to see whatever Manny was doing inside - since you hadn’t brought the keys. You could put your dirty clothes back on, but their deplorable state discouraged you. Would it be too weird to knock? The worst that could happen was for them to tell you to get lost, right? 

A small puddle had started forming under your unsure feet when you heard familiar footsteps getting closer. Abby took a quick look at the door and said chuckling, “Oh, so this is why he was in such a hurry to get back.” Then she acknowledged you standing there, her eyes scanning your barely naked body. “What happened to your clothes?”

You were mortified to have been caught like this by her, of all people. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Uh… you know how I hate changing clothes in the locker room?” Your voice was tiny with awkwardness. 

“Yeah, I remember you saying something about the humidity.” She had a slight grin on her lips, like she was finding this situation amusing. 

“Well, I didn’t know you guys were coming back today, so I figured I could just take a shower and sprint back to change in the room.” You explained yourself. “But clearly the Universe didn’t want that to happen.”

She chortled, “And by Universe you mean Manny.” Her eyes hadn’t left your figure for a single second, like she was hypnotized by you. Your cheeks burned hotter under her stare. Could it be lust you were seeing on her face?

She gave you one more look before licking her lips and breaking eye contact. Crouching, she removed her backpack and started rummaging through it when she placed it on the floor. “I have a spare T-shirt if you want. But I don’t have any… bottom items for you to borrow.” 

She looked up at you from where she was squatting, her eye level now dangerously low. You were sure you were misinterpreting her gaze as thirsty, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself if she kept looking at you like that. Your legs were already trembling. 

“I’ll take the shirt.” You accepted the item she was offering you, and put it on right there, over the towel. It fitted you like a very short dress, and the arm holes were so large you had to be extra careful not to flash her your boobs. You wrapped the towel around your shoulders to catch the water dripping from your wet hair. 

The fabric of the shirt was soft against your skin, and it had little tears next to the seams from overuse. You brought the collar to your nose and smelled it. “It smells like you. I like it.” 

Now it was her turn to blush. She got up from where she had been watching you in her crouched position and hung a strap of her backpack over one shoulder, clearing her throat. 

“Do you wanna wait up at the library, or do you have any other plans…?” She asked nervously. “Manny didn’t ask me to stay out for the night, so I don’t think it’s gonna take more than a couple of hours for the room to be free again.”

A couple hours? Oh my god, that man’s a machine. 

“Sure. I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of options right now, considering the situation, right?” You gestured to yourself with your hands and Abby’s eyes followed them, traveling through your figure again. 

She lightly shook her head, like she was straightening her thoughts before saying a quick “Right”, and making her way to the library. You followed behind her, leaving the caddy and your dirty clothes by the door. 

***

The library was empty, as it so often was. It was a dimly lit room, with a few sitting spots and dark wooden bookshelves filled with books people had brought over during patrols. You knew this was Abby’s favorite place in the Stadium, as you had frequently seen her here during her spare time, curled up with books, lost in her imagination.

She sat on a particularly wide armchair with a huff, relaxing her body and sinking into the cushions - you figured she was probably very tired, having spent the last three days on duty. 

You didn’t come here often, so you went to the bookshelf opposite her, browsing book covers with your fingers, feeling the different textures and sizes. You could sense Abby’s gaze following you from the chair on the other side of the room, and felt it reawaken that stupid stir in your stomach. 

Now that you were no longer overwhelmed by having been stumbled on by her while practically naked, you tried to remember the conversation you had had with Nora earlier today:

Abby was straight. 

She liked men. 

And whatever it was that you thought you could see in her eyes when she looked at you was definitely a projection of your desires. It wasn’t real. 

“I saw you benching 20kg the other day.” 

Her voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to look at her. 

“I like how you made that sound impressive.” You gave her a side smirk. 

She snorted at your comment, but replied “Hey, you were a malnourished little thing when you came here, could hardly lift the bar. I’d say you’ve come a long way.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” You went over to where she was and perched on the armrest of her chair facing her, careful not to flash her anything. Her eyes flicked to your legs for one moment before quickly darting away, a flush of red blooming on her cheeks.

“My final goal is to look like you, though.” You joked, watching her arm muscles deliciously roll under her skin. 

“Oh, so your way is longer than I thought”, she teased, a spark dancing in her eyes as she smirked. 

You chuckled, but you were actually melting on the inside, your brain short circuiting at the sight of her smile; at her close proximity to you while you were wearing so little clothes. Your stomach stirred again, but you tried to keep your cool. 

“I honestly don’t think I’m ever gonna get even close to how much you bench, though. Most of my strength is on my core and legs anyway.” And it was true. Since those were the body parts you had trained for most of your life because of your ballet background, they were the first to regain muscle mass. Having upper body strength was a first to you - and you could almost hear Miss Irina clicking her tongue and reproaching you for it, saying she'd never seen a white swan with biceps: 'Arms are for decoration and balance, like a cat’s tail,' she would always repeat.

However, when you commented on your lower body strenght, Abby’s gaze boldly took in your form sitting on the armrest again, her stare lingering just a second longer on the shaded part between your legs. Her eyes were darker and her cheeks were rosy when she looked back at you. She licked her lips before muttering a breathy “Uh-huh”, without breaking eye contact. 

You bit your lip and blushed violently under her stare. You could feel your breathing become involuntarily faster and your stomach twisting furiously, hardly being able to suppress the trembling in your legs. You sheepishly tried to cover yourself up, while feeling her eat you with her eyes.

No, it couldn’t be. She was straight, wasn’t she? Yes, but then why did she look so hungry when she looked at you? Why did she have that stupid smirk on her lips, like she was enjoying making you feel flustered; like she could barely contain herself from ripping your clothes off? 

No. It wasn’t it, that was your imagination. That’s what you wanted to do to her. This was just her having a good time with you, no secret desires behind her eyes - like you kept thinking, no, wishing, there were. The fact that she wasn’t pulling away like she always did meant nothing different. She was just in a good mood today, more playful, that’s all. 

“Are you still taking combat lessons with Jared?” She finally said after a few beats of silence, snapping you out of your desperate reasoning. 

Your thoughts were still scrambled, though, so it took you a while to remember who the hell Jared was. “Yeah. I even won a couple of rounds against Dahlia the other day.”

“Cool. I’m gonna challenge you to a one on one combat one of these days. Let’s see if Jared really is training you for the real thing.”

Wait a minute, was she promising you skin on skin contact? Your excitement was so intense you blurted out before you could help yourself: “Why don’t we do it now?”

Abby’s eyes widened as she considered what you had implied, then that smug expression was back. “Now? Have you already forgotten about your whole pant-less situation?” She gestured to your lower half with her hand, but didn’t allow herself to look at it again. 

You hadn’t. The heat that was spreading through your inner thighs was a constant reminder of how vulnerable you were. “What? I didn’t know you were scared of naked girls.” She blushed, probably not expecting you to be so direct. 

You didn’t give her time to respond. “I didn’t mean right this instant, obviously.” You said dismissively, wishing you had meant exactly that. “After the room is free, I can change and we can do it. Or are you gonna chicken out?” You mocked her. 

She considered your words for a moment, then smirked confidently, making your heart flutter harder. “You wish. It’s a date, then.”

***

You and Abby stood across from each other on the fighting mat on the further side of the empty gym - you were fully clothed now, with training shorts and a workout top. The air was stiffly from the heat emanating from your body and your skin buzzed with anticipation. 

Abby towered above you; her broad, strong figure occupying menacingly all possible space. There was a quiet power in the small movements of her fingers, in the roll of her muscles and in her gaze, trained on you. She looked like she’d done this a thousand times before. She sized you up, trying to figure out the best way to finish you. 

“Don’t go easy on me.” You teased, but immediately regretted your words when she charged towards you, and used her raw strength to effortlessly push you to the ground while sweeping your feet, tackling you under her hips. It all happened so fast you didn’t even have time to process what was going on. First you were standing and the next moment you could feel her weight on top of you, her hands pinning your arms to your side. 

“Okay, maybe go a little easy on me”, you wheezed and she snorted at your words, getting off of you. 

Perhaps you had underestimated how powerful she actually was, although she didn’t try to conceal it. Or maybe you didn’t think she’d take this silly challenge so seriously. No matter, you just had to focus and use the fact that you were smaller to your advantage. At least that’s what Jared would’ve said. 

You managed to divert her when she charged a second time, but she grabbed you by the waist as you were trying to get behind her, and pushed you to the ground again, her knee on your hips and her hands on your neck, threatening to choke you. 

“I thought you said you were still taking combat lessons. Or do you just like getting tackled down? Are you losing on purpose?” She teased. 

Well, you couldn’t deny getting manhandled by her, and having her on top of you was extremely hot and made for a very bad incentive to actually try to win the fight, but you couldn’t say that. 

“Would it make me look better if I said yes?” You answered with a sly smile and she blushed, standing up. 

“C’mon, at least put up a fight. I can tackle you down as many times as you want, but make it more interesting”, she joked, flexing her arms. 

“Someone’s getting bolder.” You replied, but planted your feet firmly on the ground, waiting for her to rush towards you again. 

And when she did lunge forward a third time, you grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, using her body as support to lift your legs from the sides, and trapping her in a headlock between your thighs. 

You could tell she wasn’t expecting this move as she tried to pull your legs apart, but you had a tight lock on your feet, and weren’t lying when you said most of your strength was on your lower body. She struggled a bit, trying to push you off, but when she couldn’t get a good enough grip on you, she said frustrated through gritted teeth “You’re like a fucking spider monkey.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered”, you chuckled, still hanging on to her. 

She blushed and decided to change tactics. She knelt, holding you by your spine and lowered you to the floor more carefully than you would’ve expected. 

“Don’t go too easy on me, though, I like it rough”, you said with a mischievous smile, getting more daring as her close contact inebriated your senses. 

“Oh yeah? You know in real life I could just bite you, right?” She demonstrated by turning her head in the headlock and nibbling the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

It was too much. A shiver traveled down your spine as you felt her lips in contact with your skin. Without thinking, you lightened your grip on her neck, spreading your legs a bit apart as your breathing choked on your throat. It was all Abby needed. 

“Too easy”, she said with a smirk. 

With a swift movement, she pushed your thighs apart, freeing herself from the chokehold, and pushed her torso in between them, your legs straddling her in the air. She leaned over you, grabbing your wrists with her hands and pinning them above your head. She was completely on top of you, her warmth engulfing you, the tip of her braid tickling your breast, and your senses completely overloaded with her closeness. 

“You let your guard down too quickly”, she said looking down on you, her flushed face making her freckles more visible. 

You took a couple of breaths in this pose, your brain working overtime to figure out how to get the upper hand again but at the same time reveling in her touch. You wanted to bridge the space between you two so bad it made it hard to think straight. 

Finally you managed to clear your mind a bit, and decided - maybe dumbly - that the only way out was to get her in a headlock again. Your legs were idly straddling her torso, but her chest wasn’t glued to yours, so you managed to push your knees up and straddle her neck instead. You used all of your flexibility for this, but could feel she helped you get in this position, likely curious to see what you were planning to do. 

“Oh, so you did like the biting?” She asked with a naughty expression. 

Oh my god, she was going to kill you with all that teasing. 

“You wish”, you lied and bucked your hips, pushing her to the side with all your strength. Your sudden movement caught her by surprise, but you knew she was assisting you to push her back onto the mat, freeing your wrists from her grip as you twisted your body and flipped your positions. 

You were now on top of her, your crotch mere centimeters away from her face, your hands on both sides of her head. You could feel your blood rushing to your lower body as you watched Abby in this position, her hot breath against your damp shorts sending shivers down your spine, your soaked panties shifting under you - you hoped she couldn’t tell how wet you were. “I can sense when you’re helping me, you know?” You said breathlessly. 

“I just wanted to know where you were going with it, it’s not what I would’ve done at all.” She replied, but didn’t try to free herself. Instead, she smirked and slid her hands slowly up your legs all the way to your hips, locking you in place. You knew she could feel you trembling on top of her, the shaking too strong for you to be able to control. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by an angry male voice addressing both of you. 

“Hey, this is no place for this! Go get a room!”

You broke apart from each other, faces flushed with embarrassment, like teenagers caught red handed. You went to pick up your stuff to leave, refusing to meet her eyes, appalled. 

Now that your head felt clearer away from her inebriating touch, you started to assess what had just happened. And shit, how were you supposed to look at her ever again? After almost riding her face out? Your slick had pretty much threatened to drip on her mouth at how turned on you had been.

Oh my god, you couldn’t just shove your crotch up someone’s face and hope that they would suddenly realize they liked girls. That was insane. You were out of your mind for doing it. 

You had to remind yourself that there had been no thirsty glances or hidden intentions into Abby’s actions to justify what you did. It had been all in your mind. She was straight, she couldn't feel that way for you. And yes, she had been teasing and playing with you all day long, but just as a friend! She hadn't meant any of it! And now she was probably feeling violated by you.

You felt so gross at what you did you could cry, shame circling around your head as you opened the gym door to leave. But Abby finally caught up with you then, palming your waist with her free hand and giving it a light squeeze as she passed. “Hey, that was a nice practice, I’m looking forward to doing it again with you sometime.”

She winked over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing there, heart racing, mind reeling and wondering if maybe, just maybe, she had actually liked it.

Chapter Text

There was a heavy gray cloud hovering over the city, and a cool wind blowing flyaway hairs on your face as you went down the stairs to pick up your shift at the kennels on a late morning. 

You passed by people washing clothes and cooking meat for lunch on your way there, your stomach churning when you smelled the smoked beef. The lumpy breakfast porridge hadn’t sat well with the painkillers. 

Your right forearm throbbed, the bandages wrapping it starting to get faintly pink again from the blood seeping underneath. It happened a couple days ago, on your first attack training of the day with Nutmeg. 

You were supposed to act as a decoy, under Giana’s command. It should’ve been regular training, all of you - including Nutmeg - having done that countless times. But you didn’t notice the bite sleeve’s handle strap was busted, and when Nutmeg attacked, all she had to do was give it one vigorous shake with her head for it to slide off of your arm, giving her clear access to the fragile flesh that had been protected underneath it. 

You were thankful Nutmeg was such a well behaved dog, even during these circumstances. She let go of your arm immediately at Giana’s order, but the damage had been done. Her powerful teeth sliced the skin open, tearing through the muscle, and leaving a big bloody gaping wound on your arm. It looked awful, and felt even worse. 

Mel said you were lucky she hadn’t torn any tendons or nerves, and you were supposed to make a quick recovery in a couple of weeks, after being stitched up and taking antibiotics. She ordered you to rest and immobilize the arm by hanging it on a sling, but you put it away the moment you left the med bay - you thought it made you look weak. Even if your hope of ever getting picked for patrol was fading, that wasn’t the impression you wanted to make. 

And though you acted tough, the ache was a constant none of the pain meds Mel gave you managed to fade away. You weren’t able to sleep the previous nights, the dull throb waking you up whenever you managed to doze off. 

Giana was sitting on her desk in front of the dogs’ play area when you arrived at the kennels. Her red hair spilled over her shoulder as she lazily flipped through a 25 year old magazine. She looked up at you in disbelief when you greeted her good morning. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You looked at her confused. “Where else should I be?”

“Didn’t you check the assignment board?” 

She huffed when you shook your head. “Why should I? My name is always under ‘kennels’.”

“Well you should, Missy. I sent you over for armory duty, you’re still in no shape to work with the dogs.” She retorted matter of factly. 

“What? But I’m fine! Look!” You said shaking your arm to prove to her it didn’t hurt, but wincing when it did, in fact, hurt. 

“Yeah, alright. Just go to the armory, love, the dogs will be fine without you for a few days.” She dismissed you, returning her gaze to the magazine, signaling the conversation was over. 

You sighed. Armory duty was such a pain in the ass, it almost felt like you were being punished for getting injured. Pat was nice and all, but he usually made you disassemble and clean pretty much every single weapon in that damn storage room, and that meant hours and hours of boring repetitive work. 

Bummer. 

“Hey, Pat.” You greeted disheartened as you stood at the gate of the armory, waiting for him to open it up for you. 

“Oh, hey there. I thought you weren’t coming anymore,” he said, letting you in. “How's your arm? Giana told me what happened.”

“It’s fine, she’s overreacting. You know how she is.” You brushed off, pretending to be more resilient than you actually were. Pat didn’t seem to fall for it. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now, you’re gonna be of great help. Go on to the back, your day partner has already started.”

Oh god, no. 

They usually partnered you up for armory duty with Kevin, the 14 year old boy with pimples and a unibrow. And he’d either spend the whole goddamn day gushing about those stupid race cars tapes he was obsessed about, or trying to hit on you - there was no in between.

You made your way to the back of the room, boots stomping the cracked concrete and bracing yourself for the longest shift of your life, when you saw who was actually sitting in front of the workbench, focused on thoroughly cleaning a semi-auto rifle. 

Her deft hands expertly disassembled the weapon and started scrubbing the barrel with a cleaning rod, mindlessly. Her eyes were vague, her thoughts seemed to be kilometers away. She hadn’t noticed you. 

You cleared your throat and said a shy “Hey,” snapping her out of her musings. Her eyes darted up to you, confused at first, but then sweet and soft. 

“Hi,” Abby answered back, a smile on her lips. 

You hadn’t had the chance to talk to her after your combat challenge yet. She had been whisked away for duty up and down these past days, you’d barely seen her. And even if you could’ve faced her that same night when you went to bed, there was no way to talk with Manny going on and on about the new girl he was seeing. So you were left with things unsaid, and unsure whether you owed her an apology. 

You smiled back at her, but didn’t quite know how to act around her anymore. “I didn’t know you were back at the Stadium.” 

“I got here this morning. Had to run some errands for Isaac.” Her eyes traveled through your figure and stopped at your bandaged forearm. “What happened to you?” She asked, concerned. 

“Oh, this is nothing. Just a minor accident during attack training.” You downplayed, taking a seat next to her and clumsily picking a 9mm to start cleaning. It hurt when you clenched your hand. “But Giana made a big deal out of it and sent me here.”

You still weren’t sure if you were grateful for that or not. Still hadn’t figured out how Abby was going to behave around you; if she was about to start pulling away like she always did when she got a little too close. 

She had indeed made herself scarce these last days, though. Maybe that was her backing away? Her way of trying to make you understand that you had crossed the line and made her uncomfortable?

You hadn’t been able to read how she felt about what had happened, but on your side, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Embarrassment and desire laced the memory of her mouth centimeters away from your crotch, the feeling of her hands traveling up your legs and locking your hips in place on top of her, her licking her lips and looking up at you with those thirsty eyes and that stupid smirk…

Of course there was also a chance that she didn’t even remember that happened in the first place. She had so many duties, it was very much possible that that was something she just stuffed on the back of her head and hadn’t given a single thought about since. 

But to you, this topic felt like the elephant in the room. You felt the need to clarify what had happened, even if it was just to have the chance to say you were sorry for unintentionally almost riding her face out. So you brought it up, before she could ask anymore about your injury:

“Listen, about that combat challenge…” you started, but didn’t know how to finish. Your words lingered in the air while you thought better about the best way to approach it. 

“What about it?” She asked when you didn’t continue, “it was fun, we should do it again.” She sounded nonchalant, but didn’t look at you when she said it. 

Okay then, so we’re pretending nothing weird has happened. Fine, you could get behind that.

“Oh, so you enjoyed beating my ass, then?” You said, trying to lighten the mood. The pistol danced on the tabletop as you tried to clean it using your right arm as little as possible. 

“Last I checked I was the one on the floor when the fight was over.” She was still avoiding your eyes, but you could see a little smirk peaking from the corner of her lips. 

You scoffed, “Don’t act like you didn’t let me take you down, it was pretty obvious.” 

“I just wanted to see where you were going with it.” She said, finally turning her gaze to you. “Didn’t mind the view either.” Her eyes quickly grazed your body sitting upright on the chair, and stopped on your face, watching your reaction intently. 

Wait a minute, what was that?

“What kind of view are we talking about?” You asked, genuinely curious to know if she had meant what you thought she had. The pistol laid idle on the table, all your brainpower focused on what was happening between you. 

“You know exactly what kind.” She said with a smug expression, turning her gaze back to the rifle. 

Oh?

Was she for real? Was this actually happening?

“Is that you flirting?” You asked mocking, but honestly refusing to believe that she was. Your cheeks felt hot.  

“I mean, you were the one who climbed on top of me in the first place…” She shrugged, but her smirk grew wider. 

Okay, so she wasn’t pretending it didn’t happen anymore, she was acknowledging it - but in a flirty way? 

Were you insane or was she actually flirting with you? Had she truly liked that it happened? 

Wasn’t she fucking straight??

You thought really hard about apologizing for the whole crotch on the face thing now that you were here, but you frankly didn’t want the banter to end. It was so easy and fun talking to and being teased by her… so you decided to double down:

“Hey, that was a combat move.”

“Sure it was. You were very tactical with your… positioning.” She turned to look at you again, her sly smile harder to hide. 

Oh my god. 

She was enjoying this, wasn’t she?

“I could show you some other moves to prove to you how tactical I am.” She was allowing you to get too bold. Your cheeks burned so hot, you couldn’t hold her gaze. So you mindlessly reached for the pistol with your right hand to resume your cleaning, wincing and dropping it when the pain of curling your fingers hit you with full force. 

She was fast, but not enough. The weapon landed on your lap, her hand arrived a second later. Her grab was too wide, so her fingertips grasped on your thigh. Her eyes widened when she realized what had happened at the same time as your breath caught on your throat when you felt her hand on you. You didn’t dare move. She loosened her grip but didn’t remove her hand. 

She studied your reaction carefully before continuing the banter. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.” She was unconsciously leaning in towards you now. “Would they have nice views too?” She licked her plump lips and kept them slightly parted. You couldn’t stop looking at them. Your legs were starting to tremble with anticipation. 

“Are you more interested in the tactic or in the view?” You mirrored her, getting closer as you watched her response. She didn’t pull away.

“Can’t I be interested in both?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. You were so close to her, you could see her freckles individually. It felt like her fingertips were sending small electric shocks to your skin. 

You stayed in that position for a moment, drinking in her closeness, her scent, the warmth of her hand spreading through your thigh. You were getting intoxicated by her, struggling to keep your thoughts straight. You could feel the static on your lips, yearning for hers. 

“Are we still talking about combat?” You whispered back, realizing the double meaning of what she had said. 

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on your own lips, that same hungry expression you thought you saw at the library in them. She squeezed your leg ever so slightly. 

You waited for her to make the next move, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. She inched closer, her lips centimeters from yours, your eyes beginning to flutter shut, your heart about to burst on your chest… 

And when you thought she was about to close the gap between you, she changed her mind - like she always did. She dipped her head and pulled away, huffing as she got up and crossed the room to pick up a new rifle. You could still feel the ghost of her touch on you. She cleared her throat:

“I can clean the rifles, do you mind taking care of the pistols or are you in too much pain?” She asked, facing away from you, acting like nothing had happened.

This woman. 

She was on a mission to drive you insane. 

You had to fight an internal battle to act composed and hide the disappointment in your voice as you replied with a flat “I’m fine”. 

Your mind raced with what had just happened. This time, there was no denying it - she had been flirting with you. You had almost kissed. That wasn’t wishful thinking; those were facts. She’d led you on, she’d leaned in, and you hadn’t imagined any of it.

And now what? You wondered. What did it mean? Was this a sport to her? Did she just enjoy teasing and misguiding you? This had been so much more than your regular banter, and here she was again, feigning ignorance. Why was she so exasperatingly confusing?  

Your head was reeling with a thousand questions as she sat across from you on the workbench with another weapon to clean. It was like she was actively trying to put a physical barrier between you.

“Anyway, you made some questionable decisions during that fight, but there was definitely an improvement from where you began.” She continued, as if you were having a perfectly ordinary conversation earlier. 

There were a few beats of silence as you collected your thoughts before you replied. “So you think I’m gonna get picked for soldier duty soon?” Your voice was more stable than you thought it would be. You went back to cleaning your pistol, holding it in place with the back of your hand, instead of grabbing it with your fingers. 

She thought about it for a second. “How’s your shooting practice going?”

“I can hit more things now than I used to be able to.” You shrugged, not wanting to oversell your skills - shooting was definitely the pebble in your shoe when it came to soldier training. 

“Fair enough. Maybe you’ll see your name on the patrol board sooner than you think.”

“Is this a promise?” You looked at her, unable to mask the expectation in your tone. Although, come to think of it, maybe you shouldn’t be so eager to accompany her on patrols. Not if she was going to be toying with you like she did today. 

“More like a prediction.” She replied, but didn’t look up from the rifle she was cleaning. 

You worked the rest of the shift in a sort of uncomfortable silence. Your mind unwillingly circling back to that almost kiss over and over; thinking about what you had spoken to her, wondering if you had said or done something wrong for her to have changed her mind. 

You had to remind yourself that you knew she was straight. Nora had said as much. So you couldn’t help conjecturing if she just found it amusing to lead you on, to see you helplessly yearn for her, and then pull away at the last second, before she had to compromise. Before she had to tell you she didn’t swing that way and had to lose her little toy that was you. 

You felt hurt, played with, rejected. The stitched gash on your arm adding to the pain with its dull, incessant throbbing. 

You stole undercover glances at Abby while you slowly worked on pistol after pistol, trying to figure out what was going on behind her blue eyes, the yellow light of the table lamp making them deceivingly clear. She didn’t look your way once. 

She finally spoke a couple hours after noon, interrupting your thoughts, when she asked if you wanted to go grab lunch. You nodded silently and followed behind her to the mess hall. 

***

You put just enough food on your tray to still count as a meal. A small spoon of rice, half a ladle of beans, the tiniest piece of chicken breast you could find in the buffet pan. You didn’t feel like eating at all, the hurt of rejection making you lose all appetite. 

“Why did you put so little food on your plate? You’re gonna be hungry.” Abby said when she glanced over the tray you were balancing on your left arm, as the two of you made your way to empty seats in the corner of the mess hall. She had insisted on carrying it for you, but you denied it. You didn’t want any of her courtesies right now. 

“Are you out of ration tickets? I can share my portion with you.” She continued, already forking a big slice of beef to give you. 

“It’s okay, I’m just not in the mood to eat today,” you replied dryly as you sat down, declining the beef she was offering you. Why did she even care?

She scoffed. “What does that even-“ she started, but was cut off by a third voice greeting you both. 

“Hey, you guys! Abby! Haven’t seen you in a while.” Nora commented as she set her tray next to Abby’s. 

“Hey. Yeah, I had to do a couple things for Isaac.” She didn’t elaborate, her attention drifting to a group of people making their way out of the cafeteria after having lunch. You noticed Owen was among them and focused on Abby’s reaction. 

She followed him covertly with her gaze. He must have felt it, because he turned around and briefly locked eyes with her, looking away almost immediately. She dropped her eyes back to her tray and didn’t say anything about this interaction, but she didn’t have to. 

You had finally understood what the problem was, the reason why she always pulled away: 

She still liked him. 

And even if she wasn’t straight - you reluctantly had to admit this possibility, there was just no heterosexual explanation for some of her actions - it didn’t matter in the end. She wasn’t emotionally available. She would never look at you the way she looked at him. She’d never search your gaze in a crowd just to be acknowledged. She was probably just curious about you, but clearly wasn’t even interested enough to actually do something about it. You felt a sharp pain in your chest at this realization, like being stabbed with a knife. 

You hadn’t noticed Nora had been silently watching the dynamic between your stares, but was made aware of if when she smugly asked you:

“So, have you figured out the answer to that question you asked me?”

Fuck, Nora!

“What question?” Abby inquired looking up, thinking Nora was still talking to her. 

“No question! There was no question.” You quickly butt in before Nora could say anything more compromising. But now you just sounded insane. “I just told Nora I… wanted to know more about the criteria to pick new soldiers, that’s all.” You added, trying to save face. 

“But… Nora isn’t even a soldier. She’s a medic.” Abby countered. 

“Exactly! This is why she was asking me if I had found it out. Isn’t it right, Nora?” You turned your head to her, eyes wide, hoping she’d follow your lead. The last thing you needed was Abby knowing you’d been asking around about her past relationships. 

“Uhh, yeah. That’s what happened. That was the question I was talking about.” Nora replied, halfheartedly. You could see Abby wasn’t totally convinced. 

“I’m confused, why didn’t you ask me?” She questioned, and then added, “or Manny? We’re soldiers, we could’ve told you.” She looked annoyed, but you didn’t understand why. 

“I didn’t want to bother you with stupid questions. And it’s no big deal too, it just came up in an ordinary conversation.” You dismissed, uncomfortable. Why was she stretching this topic?

“That’s not stupid…” she trailed off, but you could feel her eyes were still on you, as you uneasily played with your food. “Why are you acting so weird about it if it’s no big deal?”

You knew you’d let out something you’d regret later if you continued in this conversation. And to be honest, you didn’t really feel like being around her right now. You needed space, needed to clear your head. Couldn’t deal with her pretending everything was normal between you. 

So you got up, picking up your untouched tray with one hand, and brushing off her question: “No reason! Look, I’m gonna go back to the armory and get a head start on those shotguns. It’ll probably take me all day to get through them with this arm.”

“But we literally just got here…”

“Okay, bye. See you later.” You cut her off, turning around and leaving. You were still able to hear her ask Nora what was wrong with you as you walked away, and sincerely hoped Nora wouldn’t spill too much to her. 

Abby didn’t go back to the armory for the afternoon shift. You were thankful Pat didn’t bother you or tried to make small talk either, this way you were able to stay alone with your thoughts for the rest of the day - and even let slip a tear or two. 

You didn’t think it would hurt this much to get rejected by her. Maybe it was because you never considered you’d get as far as actually getting a rejection. You figured that what made it worse was the feeling of almost having had it, of having been tantalized by her. 

You could feel your pain unwillingly getting twisted into something else. Your feelings felt jumbled inside you: you were angry at her for having toyed with you; heartbroken at the realization that she still liked Owen, and so could never be yours; confused as to what her intentions had been with you in the first place. But you also were involuntarily reeling at the memory of her hand on your lap, of her lips almost touching yours, of her warmth engulfing you…

You didn’t know what to do about it. How to act around her when you see her again. You wanted to forget you ever so much as were attracted to her, but knew that you’d lose your resolution the moment you saw her beautifully sculpted face. You couldn’t help but gravitate towards her pull. 

You hadn’t worked any plan out when you went back to Abby’s room after having dinner and taking a shower. You hadn’t seen her anywhere yet, and she wasn’t cuddled up with a book on her bed as she frequently was. You supposed that was her going back to her old pattern: getting too close to you, doing something a little compromising and then pulling away and vanishing for a few days. You were getting tired of that. 

You took a higher dose of painkillers and laid down, pondering whether you should actively start avoiding her to protect yourself, as the steady numbing of the throb in your arm lulled you to sleep.

***

You were awakened by the thud of something heavy getting thrown right next to you on your sofa bed. 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

You opened your eyes to a backpack laying next to you, and the sight of Abby leaning on the TV hack, an amused smile on her lips. Her hair was up on her usual braid and she appeared ready to go on patrol, with her pack over her sleeveless shirt and her laced boots. You looked across the room at the window and saw through a gap in the curtains that the dawn had just broken. Why the fuck was she waking you up so early for?

“What’s going on? It’s too early for this shit, Abby.” You mumbled, adjusting yourself back into the couch and closing your eyes. 

“Oh, okay, didn’t know you’d rather laze around instead of going on your very first patrol.”

Wait, what?

Your eyes jolted open and you sat upright. “No way. My name is on the board?”

“Yep. You’re supposed to scout and secure Zone 1’s perimeter.” She smiled smugly. “And don’t worry, Zone 1 is pretty safe, you’re not gonna have too many emotions,” she added. 

You squinted your eyes at her, “Did you do this?”

She shrugged nonchalantly and said, already moving towards the door, “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast. You don’t want to be late for your first briefing, do you?”

You hopped off of the sofa and got ready in record time, ignoring the pain in your arm in order to be faster. You couldn’t miss this chance. 

Abby had been waiting for you in the hall to give you privacy. You remembered you went to bed mad at her, but now everything felt like a hazy dream. Seeing her face had this effect on you, and the excitement to go on patrol definitely helped. Still, you didn’t talk much during breakfast or while you waited to be briefed by Manny at the garage - your feelings were still sore. 

“Hey, amigas!” Manny greeted you as he hopped off the truck he just parked on dock five. He had a crumpled map on his hand. “Nice of you to join us, I was starting to think you had changed your mind about being a soldier.” He winked at you. 

“Yeah well, I guess I had to prove my worth first.” You replied with a friendly smile, glancing sideways at Abby. She didn’t react.  

You were joined by a fourth soldier, a boy named Kyle - he didn’t look older than 18 and seemed as green as you. And he was cocky too, swinging his gun and making visible effort to look calm and collected - it was obvious he was shitting his pants. 

Manny straightened up the map and laid it flat on the ground, crouching next to it and inviting you to do the same. He said you were supposed to clear out a condo on the outskirts of the base, near Zone 1’s perimeter. There had been sights of infected, but no signs of Scars. It would probably take you a couple of days to get the job done. 

It was supposed to be just a regular clearing patrol. Kill some infected, loot the resources you could find, and report any Scar activity. 

“Nothing too exciting,” Manny said with a grin, “but things can change any second, so don’t let your guard down.”

You had a vague idea of an ongoing war against this rival group named Scars - Seraphites it’s how they called themselves, apparently. You had never seen any of them and never gave it much thought either, only remembering their existence when you were apprehensive of Abby taking too long to come back from a patrol. You figured this wouldn’t be your first encounter with them, though - if you understood the briefing correctly. 

Kyle sat next to Manny in the truck’s cabin while you and Abby shared the truck bed, opposite each other. It hurt when you held the rifle Pat lent you, so you placed it across your lap, your hands in strategic points to use it on a moment’s notice. 

This would be the first time you went out in the open ever since you joined the WLF. You wondered if you were going to pass by the restaurant where Abby first found you - a flash of your last sight of Miss Irina on the floor crossed your mind at this thought, and made you shudder. She was probably still there, rotting. You shook your head and buried the image back where it belonged. Now wasn’t the time. 

You felt nauseous, but figured it was just your nerves. 

“May your survival be long.” A soldier at the gate said to Manny, after he told where he was taking you. 

“And your death be swift.” Manny responded and took off with the truck. 

The ravaged city stretched before you after you left the safety of the Stadium’s walls. Vegetation was reclaiming the ruins of a dead civilization, and the early rays of sunshine bathed everything in a golden-yellow light. It looked almost beautiful, in a decrepit way.

You realized you had no idea what it would actually be like out here. You didn’t know what it meant to be a Wolf grunt, what was really awaiting for you outside of the gates. Your experience with patrol was just the sweep of your village’s perimeter, removing the eventual infected straggler and going back to a homemade pie by your mom. You had a feeling this was going to be nothing like that. 

You looked at Abby and noticed she had the same expression on her face as on the day they first drove you to the Base. Her eyes darted left and right - like she was hunting for prey, her steady hands were on her rifle, and her body was stiff in expectation. 

Unwanted memories of the events of the day you met her flashed before your eyes again. There were too many similarities for your taste. You silently fought against them, but your pulse had picked up and you were starting to feel anxious. Your foot involuntarily started tapping a frantic rhythm on the truck’s floorboard. 

Abby noticed your apprehension. “Hey, relax. Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m right here, okay?” She gave you a reassuring smile. 

And though you retributed the smile and knew that she had your back if it came to it, her words did not calm you down. The shaking was starting to contaminate your hands, but you took deep breaths and did your best to keep yourself grounded. 

Manny parked the truck at the entrance of a large, wild, walled patio, bordered by two blocks of apartments on each side. There was a peeling and faded arched sign that read Rainwood Heights. The unmistakable groans and cries from the infected reached you from the inky, hollowed out windows of the units. 

“Okay, so this is where we see what you two are made of,” Manny started, as you stood close to the entrance of the closest building. “We’ve been meaning to clear out this condo for a while now. It’s filled with infected and a little too close to the Base for comfort.”

“We don’t expect there are too many of them inside, but you are not to do anything stupid.” Abby continued, looking straight at Kyle. “Deal with them as quietly as possible and ask for help if you need it. We’ll have your backs.”

Both you and Kyle nodded at them and started making your way inside, but before you could take a couple of steps, you felt a large, warm hand softly grab yours and gently pull you back a little. You heard Abby’s voice in your ear:

“Hey, be careful in there, okay? I want you back in one piece.” 

You stood frozen for a second, savoring the feeling of your hand on hers, and the closeness of her face to yours. A shiver traveled down your spine at the sensation of her hot breath in your ear. 

God, this was the worst possible timing for her to do this. Your mind was blank now, you didn’t even remember where you were. 

You got your bearings again, your nervousness hitting you back all at once, double the intensity now. You gave her hand a longing squeeze before letting go. “I’ll do my best,” you smiled. 

The resolution to stay away from her to protect yourself was thrown out of the window - you knew, deep down, that no matter the cost, you’d never be able to resist her. You’d probably cling to whatever crumbs of attention she offered, and feel lucky for even that.

But now wasn’t the time to ponder about it either. You had to focus on your mission if you were to keep your promise and go back to her after this. 

You entered the building after Kyle, your heart thumping so loud in your chest, you were sure everyone could hear it too. Manny and Abby were several paces behind both of you, watchful of your every step, allowing you both to take the lead. You followed him into a unit, knife in your non-dominant hand - it hurt too much to clutch things with your other one, so you were extra aware of being at a disadvantage. 

There were two runners in each corner of the living room, facing away from you and choking their distinct and visceral cries. You and Kyle exchanged looks, silently agreeing to catch them from behind. 

Your steps were quiet and calculated as you approached the tall one by the window. It seemed to have been a teenager, you could see it was wearing a torn and bloodied metal shirt, and it still sported spiky bracelets on its wrists. What a shame. 

You grabbed it by its long hair with your free hand, flinching in pain when you realized you had used your injured arm, but not letting go. You stabbed and slit its throat in a clumsy motion, your left hand hardly as precise as your right one. You turned around and saw that Kyle had taken his infected out without a hassle as well, and you gave each other encouraging smiles. 

You kept going, room after room, unit after unit, Kyle and you falling into a rhythm and building a silent connection at each infected you removed together. Surprisingly, you made quite a good team. Neither of you needed much assistance from Abby or Manny, except the one time Kyle got jumped by a runner who was hiding in a dark closet, while he struggled against a clicker. But Manny stepped in and got rid of it in time, so nothing came of it. 

It was late afternoon when you finally cleared the whole block and Abby called it a day. You and Kyle were drenched in sweat and blood, and your throat burned with thirst - you realized you pretty much hadn’t drunk any water since you arrived. 

And now that you had time to stop and think about it for a bit, this whole patrol thing wasn’t that big of a deal at all! It may have been more intense because of the sheer number of infected, but this was basically what you had done in your village’s patrols countless times. You didn’t understand why they gatekept you from doing it for so long if this is what it was. Such conceited pricks, these Wolf soldiers, you had been doing this since you were fourteen!

You made your way out of the building commenting about the highlights of the day and chitchatting about banalities with Kyle. He wasn’t so bad after all, you realized. He told you about his passion for kung fu movies and how much he loved botany. Abby and Manny walked ahead towards the truck, meaning to grab supplies for the four of you to spend the night somewhere safe.

Kyle crouched at the entrance of the building, analyzing something on the ground. “Look, buttercups,” he called your attention and pointed at the small yellow flowers growing wildly by the door. “I was so nervous when I got here, I didn’t even notice them.” He chuckled and picked one, getting up and giving it to you. 

You were opening your mouth to thank him when you heard a long piercing whistle shatter the quiet twilight. It was followed by a short, but heavy, expecting silence. You and Kyle exchanged nervous glances and the next thing you saw was him dropping to the ground, gurgling blood. An arrow expertly lodged on his throat. 

Your eyes widened at the scene, a scream catching in your throat as you ducked behind a rusting car - just as another arrow whizzed past your head. You heard gunshots coming from where Abby and Manny had probably taken cover, and looked around at the patio through the car’s dusty windows. 

You could see at least five cloaked figures scattered on the alleyways of the condo blocks and the courtyard. Some were bald, some had wraparound braids, most were using bows and arrows but they also had guns. These had to be the so-called Scars. 

You placed yourself strategically against the car and tried shooting with your rifle at them, but pressing the trigger with your right hand sent searing pain through your arm. You changed positions to use your left hand instead, but it made your aim worse. You couldn’t hit shit.

You heard Abby yell at you to try to get closer to her, and you peeked over your cover to trace a route when you thought it was safe. It wasn’t. 

At first you only felt a burning sensation over your left eyebrow and past your temple, like a red hot branding iron had briefly touched your flesh. Then came the pain, sharp and sudden, and the curtain of blood over your left eye, blocking your vision, filling your mouth with an iron taste. 

You could hear Abby’s desperate voice calling your name in the distance through your disorientation. You ducked again, and tried to swipe the blood from your eye, only for it to be covered again by the steady flow. You looked at your hands tainted red and felt light headed. That was a lot of blood. 

The next thing you felt was a brutal kick to your side and the ground roughly meeting your face, scraping the skin raw. You turned around and saw through your clear eye as a dark figure towered over you, twin scars on his cheeks framing the savage look on his face in the fading light of the day. He looked down on you - a pickaxe in his hand. 

He raised it above his bald head, baring his teeth at the exertion, and grunted as he descended it upon you, the pointy end racing to meet your skull. You barely had time to roll over before he smashed it on the ground, cracking the concrete. 

You took advantage of the fraction of seconds he took to dislodge the pickaxe from the ground to grab the hunting knife on your leg holster and deeply stab it in his thigh, dragging it down to tear the muscle and make as much damage as possible. But you clearly didn’t count on him still being able to use his hands, the blow he delivered to your temple knocking you down on the floor again. 

You spit blood, and your eyes scrambled as you saw through your double vision him kneeling over you, his hands firmly latching on your neck and squeezing with all his might. 

You squirmed and hit and scratched, but nothing you did so much as nudged him. Your sight was getting blurry and dark on the edges, and little black dots danced in front of you. You knew you had little time before you passed out. 

You fumbled on the ground with your hands, desperately searching for the knife you had dropped, but all you could feel was battered concrete and blades of unruly grass brushing your fingers. You started to lose hope, thinking how pathetic it was that you got yourself killed on your very first mission, one that was supposed to be easy too. Fucking embarrassing. 

You were grasping at the last thread of consciousness, cursing your dumbness, when your fingers finally grazed the handle of your knife. You used your very last energy to firmly grab it and thrust it with all your dying strength between his ribs. 

His yell rang in your ears as he instinctively brought his hands to his wound, trying to stop the blood. You gasped for air, like you had been held underwater for hours. Even in your dazed state you knew this was your chance - if you fumbled, you were dead. 

Fueled by that certainty, you shoved your attacker to the ground while he was still trying to gather himself, straddled him, and drove your blade into his torso again and again - so many times you lost count. 

Your vision tricked you. Sometimes instead of seeing the Scar getting stabbed you saw the thug that had assaulted you during your village’s raid lying under you. You thought you heard Miss Irina’s scream and saw snow on the ground. You realized you had started crying and wailing at some point, but you didn’t stop with the stabbing. It was like you were trying to transfer your pain, fear, and grief through the wounds you were opening in this man. 

You heard your name and felt a hand grab your arm and pull you away from where you were kneeling. You turned around and your bewildered eyes saw another one of the raiders in front of you, trying to snatch you away to do unspeakable things to you. So you lashed out, swinging your blade wildly in their direction, trying to defend yourself. 

You only stopped when you heard a familiar voice order you to, after a yelp with pain. Your vision cleared out and you saw Abby in front of you, nursing a bloody gash on her arm. You dropped your knife at the realization. 

You did this. 

You hurt her. 

“Abby… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You said with a raspy voice, your raw throat burning. 

She crouched, picking your knife from the floor and grabbing your hand. “We have to go, it’s not safe here.”

She pulled you away towards the truck, where Manny was already waiting for the two of you, cursing loudly in Spanish, and taking off the moment you jumped in. “¡Pinches Scars, hijos de puta! They are getting too bold, this area was secure a couple days ago!”

Abby ripped a piece of her shirt and offered you the rag, “Press this on your forehead, you’ve lost too much blood.”

You picked the cloth with shaky bloodied hands and did as you were told. Your whole body shivered with dying adrenaline as Manny swerved the truck wildly, putting as much distance as possible between you and the condo. You had trouble breathing, but didn’t know if it was anxiety or your collapsed throat after being strangled. Part of you wanted to block out the world and process what had just happened, assess your injuries and acknowledge Kyle’s death, but you knew you were not in the clear yet; you needed to find shelter before you could let your guard down. 

“It’s not safe to try to go back to Base now, Manny, the night is too dark, we’ll call too much attention and get easily ambushed again,” Abby argued from the truck bed. “Stop by those houses, we can spend the night and go back in the morning.”

And so Manny obeyed her order and the three of you wearily descended the truck, quickly swiping the area to check for threats. It was clear, and so was the random house Abby chose to make camp in. 

The house was moldy and drafty, the floorboards creaking at every step. But the windows of the living room were boarded, so Abby deemed it safe enough to light a small fire on the fireplace, certain that no one would notice the light. Manny went looking for kindling. 

She sat you down on a dusty couch and silently wiped clean the injury on your forehead with water from her bottle. The yellowed light of her flashlight was blinding, but you let her do her thing - now that the adrenaline in your bloodstream had definitely dried up, you felt drained. Your whole body ached and pleaded for you to rest. 

“It’s a grazing shotgun wound…” She said, breaking the still, stale air. “I thought you were dead for a second.” Her fingers lingered on your smudged cheek for a second longer.

“Me too.” Your voice was a tiny, whispy thing. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” you said looking straight into her blue eyes. “I don’t know what came into me, I just couldn’t see you…” you tried explaining, your voice cracking at each higher tone.

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand.” She held your hand, tenderly. 

You intertwined your fingers on hers and realized for the first time how close she was sitting. A tiny part of your brain screamed at you to step away and block her; to try to protect yourself from the eventual heartbreak you were going to have if you kept insisting on having something with her. But you brushed it off, her beautiful, deep eyes pulling you in faster than you would ever be able to catch yourself, anyway. 

You considered being bold this time, bridging the gap between you two yourself. The events of the day had reminded you of how fleeting life was. You had almost died. You could die tomorrow and never get the chance to feel her lips on yours, to tell her how much you cared for her. But before you could do anything, Manny barged in with kindling in one arm and a small box on the other hand. Abby and you pulled away from each other immediately at his sight, embarrassed. 

“Look what I found!” He beamed, seemingly unaware of what he had just interrupted, throwing the box at Abby. She caught it in the air. “It’s a box of DVDs! And in perfect condition! That’s something you don’t find everyday.” He looked very pleased with himself as he dropped the kindling on the fireplace and started lighting a fire. 

You peaked over Abby’s shoulder at the DVD sleeves she was browsing through. “Troll 2”, “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes”, “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians” and “Birdemic” were some of the titles you managed to read. 

“Um, Manny, I think those are all trash movies.” You chuckled. 

“Nah, you just don’t have any taste.” He smiled back, picking a place comfortably close to the fire he just lit, and rummaging through his pack, looking for food. 

“Manny does have a questionable taste in movies, though.” Abby smirked. 

“You’re jealous because you’re not able to appreciate the artistry in them like I can.” He smirked back, munching on a piece of beef jerky. 

They kept up the friendly banter, lightening the mood of the room, while Abby finished patching you up, and as you tended to her own wounds. A sharp pang of guilt gripped your chest as you cleaned and stitched the gash in her arm you had caused. 

After you were all as fixed as possible and had your bellies full of jerky, dried fruits and water, Abby decided it was time for you to rest if you were to leave on the first rays of dawn, claiming the first watch to herself. 

You didn’t argue. Your lids felt heavy and your body seemed to weigh a thousand kilos. You were so tired you didn’t even have time to go over what had happened today - like you had meant to - before you dozed off, curled in front of the fireplace and using your pack as a pillow. 

***

You were standing by your familiar tree in your village, wearing your favorite green dress - the one your mom made for you. It was spring, and a thousand wild flowers swayed softly in the cool breeze. The wind sounded like thin, long whistles. 

Kyle came out from behind the tree, calling your name and smiling. He picked a buttercup from the field and gave it to you, gallantly. You accepted the flower and thanked him - but something got hold of you at this moment, and before you realized what you were doing, you stabbed the flower on his throat. 

Except the flower was now an arrow, and it pierced his flesh causing him to gurgle blood as he collapsed on the floor. The wet sound he made as he died echoing in your head. You looked at his quickly rotting corpse in disbelief, trying to come to terms with what you had done. 

Your attention was finally snapped away from him when you heard Miss Irina screaming your name from the open back door of the studio. You ran towards her, but your legs were grabbed by dirty, hairy hands that emerged from the ground, toppling you over. Your assaulter from the raid dragged his big, slimy body from the earth, killing the flowers in his path and laughing, as he pulled you towards him. 

“I just love ballerinas. I always wanted one for myself,” you could hear him say. He grabbed on to your dress as he pulled you, ripping it apart and leaving you in your underwear, the sharp pebbles on the ground scraping your skin bloody. 

You clawed at the ground trying to find something to hold on to, your pleas for help deafeningly loud. 

He managed to pull you to his arms, his vile hands all over your exposed body, leaving traces of dirt and slime as he shamelessly groped you. You tried tossing, kicking, scratching and punching, but he didn’t stop. Your nails were drenched in the revolting goo that oozed from him. 

You saw little Dawson come out of one of the alleyways - attracted by your screaming - and urged him to run away and hide, but that ended up calling your assaulter’s attention to him. 

“Oh, I see we have an audience,” he smirked, and from the hole he dug himself out of surfaced dozens of dark smoky humanoid shadows, each of them with twin silver scars on where their cheeks were supposed to be. 

They rushed to Dawson, jeering, pushing and scratching him. He started crying, curling on the ground in an attempt to get even smaller. You screamed for them to leave him alone, you tried to break free to save him, you pleaded to your assaulter to let him go - he was just a little kid. But he only turned you around on his grip, placing your head in a tight, suffocating headlock in front of his bulging stomach. Tears streaming freely down your face at your impotence. 

“I want you to see what they’ll do to him. And don’t worry, you won’t go before him.” He whispered in your ear with his foul breath. 

He clamped your eyes open with his free hand, so you were forced to see as the shadows bound each of Dawson’s limbs on ropes. And couldn’t close your eyes as you watched, powerless, a group of three or four shadows in each rope pull him apart in front of you, his blood gushing all over your face, tainting your vision red and filling your screaming mouth with an iron taste. 

Your eyes jolted open. 

You felt breathless and wet as your vision adjusted to the darkness of the room - the little fire Manny had lit long gone. You sniffed and brought your fingers to your face, finding that you had been crying. Your whole body ached, your throat felt raw and your arm and forehead throbbed. 

“Are you okay?” Came the quietest voice from behind you. 

You nodded silently, but didn’t know if she saw it. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

You shook your head, but ended up saying after a few beats of silence: “I should’ve done something to help them. I’m so useless.” Your eyes filled with tears again, prompted by this awareness. 

Abby didn’t respond, waiting silently for you to continue, if you wished. 

“I let them take him. I should’ve gotten down from that stupid tree, but I’m a fucking coward.” You proceeded with a choked voice, spilling the guilty thoughts you had managed to keep buried since the first day you went to the rooftop of the Stadium. “His death is on me, and so is Miss Irina’s.” And with the tiniest voice, you added: “You should’ve killed me when I asked you to. I don’t deserve to live.”

She processed your words for a long time. You thought the conversation was over when she finally said in almost a whisper:

“I lost someone that was my whole world - my dad.” She paused, pondering her next words. “And I convinced myself that if I managed to bring his killer to justice it would make things better. But it didn’t. Nothing changed. In fact, they may even have gotten worse.” 

She went silent once again, but then concluded quietly: “Kills and death ultimately don’t change anything. It’s when you’re alive that you can make a difference.”

You sat up and turned around, facing her. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but you were only able to see her silhouette against the faint light coming from the glass panes on the entrance door. 

“I’m sorry for your dad,” you offered, sincerely. You still hadn’t stopped crying. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for the people you lost too.” You saw her raise her hand to your face - like she was about to wipe off your tears - when she caught herself and lowered her arm to her lap. 

Your emotions were running so high that the mere sight of her hesitation to touch you was enough to break you down again. You dropped your head and pleaded to her in a cracked whisper: “Please, stop holding yourself back when you are with me. Stop pulling away from me… please.” 

And to your surprise, she did reach out, cupping your face with her calloused but gentle hand, lightly raising your chin for you to look up, and brushing your tears away with her thumb. You leaned into her touch, letting her warmth spread through your cheeks.

You stayed like this for a moment, grateful for her not withdrawing this time. And slowly and very delicately you inclined your torso, laying your tired head on her lap - paying close attention to her reaction, but letting yourself be more vulnerable than you’ve ever been since you became a Wolf.

She allowed you to stay, affectionately brushing your hair; soothing you. And for the first time in months you felt like you were finally able to relax, sinking deep into sleep as you happily drowned in her scent, her warmth, and her quiet shelter. 

Chapter Text

It took you roughly two weeks to recover from your first patrol, but you thought the pinkish scar you now sported on top of your left eyebrow made you look pretty badass. The wound on your right arm had finally recovered enough for you not to feel much pain when you curled your fingers, and the angry bruises on your neck had finally faded as well, but your voice still cracked a bit when you reached higher tones. 

You had to plead to Abby to not bench you for these two weeks, not now that you had finally been promoted to soldier. She wasn’t happy about it, but did as you asked, sending you out on easy scavenging missions and perimeter patrols with big groups she knew would keep you safe. It was a bit demoralizing, but you knew she was doing it out of concern. Maybe when you were fully recovered she’d send you on more challenging quests. 

Those missions were way below her rank, so she hadn’t joined you like you naively thought she would. You figured out later she wasn’t supposed to be on your first assignment either, but she had probably asked to oversee it with Manny, and there were very few people in the WLF that could say no to her. 

And despite having had an absolutely traumatizing first experience, you had grown to actually like being on the outside of the Stadium, exploring a big city for the first time in your life. You enjoyed walking around the battered streets, wondering how everything was before the outbreak, and picturing yourself wandering in them when the world was in its prime. 

Scavenging missions were your absolute favorite. You loved getting to enter apartments, houses and stores, going through the former residents' lives, puzzling together their fates and collecting trinkets and other useless things you found around - it felt like there were a million stories just standing by for you to find, waiting to get told. You never knew patrolling could be fun. 

In regards to your collection, your best finds so far had been a pair of matching, beaded best friends bracelets; brand new pointe shoes still in the box (they were too small for your feet, but you liked finding them nevertheless); a battered copy of Wuthering Heights (Abby had snagged that one); and a delicate necklace with a tiny pendant of a golden sun with a silvery moon attached - it reminded you of your relationship with Abby, you being the moon that orbited around her sun. 

Just because it was fun didn’t mean there weren’t incidents on your patrols. More often than not you had skirmishes with Scars, but your first encounter with them had made you take your combat lessons and shooting practices a lot more seriously, and you felt like you were finally getting the hang of it. 

You had realized the reason why you were making such slow progress in fighting practice was because everything Jared taught you was diametrically opposed to what you had trained to do your whole life. He was all about brute force and tackling your opponents to the ground, but that wasn’t you.

You were a dancer - and so dance you did. 

You went into cambrés to slip out of their reach when your adversaries lunged forward to grab you, did pas de chats when they tried to sweep your feet from under you, and - your favorites - you launched grand battements and entrelacés, high kicks on their faces. 

It was like ballet on acid - Miss Irina would be horrified if she saw what you were doing to her precious Russian technique, but it worked. You went from being one of the weakest on the mat to an actual worthy opponent. It made you feel good, powerful. 

Even Abby had noticed it, commenting she had seen you fight differently one day when she was correcting your pelvic thrusts at the gym - both her hands on your hips, guiding you through the correct movement. After you had asked her to stop pulling away from you, she always made it a point to touch you - like she was touch starved and you had green lit her - so you touched her right back. 

You entwined your legs on hers under the table at the mess hall when you shared meals, her face unperturbed, but her strong calves pressing against yours. You played with her fingers while you watched Manny’s absolute trash movies on your sofa bed, waking up at the end credits with your head on her shoulder and her hand on yours. And she even accepted your offer to massage her back one time, after you returned from an overnight patrol and found out she had had to sleep on the pathetic ottoman at the library to give Manny the room. 

“I think I busted my shoulder last winter on a trip, it hasn’t stopped hurting since,” she had said, as you pressed the muscles around her scapula. She had taken off her shirt, and your fingers left red trails on her freckled skin. 

“Where did you go?” You asked. “On your trip, I mean.” It took all your strength to stop yourself from kissing the soft flesh that molded underneath your touch. 

“Wyoming.” She hissed when you thumbed a particularly sore spot. “It’s beautiful there, with the mountains and the snow…”

“Have you traveled a lot?” You prompted after a while, she seemed lost in her thoughts. 

“Not a lot. There was the trip from Salt Lake to here, and then this roundtrip to Wyoming. We thought of going all the way down to Mexico, see if Manny’s city lived up to his stories.” She gave a soft chuckle, but her expression looked troubled. She had briefly mentioned before that she was from Utah and her time at the Firefly hospital, but you knew she didn’t like talking about her past, so you didn’t press her. 

“What about you? Where have you been to?” She asked after a few beats of silence, as you drew deep circles on her trapezius. 

“Not many places. I was born in the Portland QZ, but my parents left for the village I grew up in when I was a baby, so I don’t remember anything from it. And then there was the trip here.” You responded, laconically. 

You too didn’t like talking about your past. Not only because it hurt so much to think of everyone and everything you had lost, but also because you realized you had been unbelievably lucky growing up where you did, after getting some backstories from people at the WLF. 

It was like a tragedy competition: there were people who had been orphaned at young ages, forced to fend for themselves; people who had to see their relatives burned alive before their eyes; people whose family committed mass suicide, abandoning them to survive alone; not to mention all the subtle hints of rape they often left implied. It was horrifying. 

And so it would feel like rubbing your dumb luck on their faces if you were to say you had lived your whole life in a secluded and tight knit community in the woods, where everyone was family and life was easy. You had barbecues during summer, went trick or treating on Halloween, and had Christmas gatherings every winter. Your life had been so soft you had had time to be classically trained in ballet and piano - after the world fucking ended! Most people here didn’t even know what ballet was. 

So you kept it to yourself. Never talked much about your past, and often made up vague stories about it if you had to. It was easier this way, and it allowed you to make quicker connections over your shared trauma. At the very least, you assumed you were more likable if people didn’t resent you outright for your early life fortune. 

Even when Abby had asked you where you had learned all the new movements you were using during combat you brushed it off, saying you were just making use of your natural strengths. She clearly didn’t know enough about dance techniques to see through your bullshit. 

“I never felt like leaving my village,” you continued, noticing she had closed her eyes and was leaning into your strokes. “But my friend Eric talked about it all the time, of how he would go out to explore the world someday. He would have loved it here.” Your voice quivered a little at the thought of him, and you tried to suppress the tears that had started gathering in the corners of your eyes. 

Your hands were trailing through her thick arms now, feeling the muscles roll under your steady touch. Your fingers grazed an old scar on her arm, and you used it to change the topic: “Where did you get this?” You asked, caressing her skin. 

She opened her eyes and looked at where you were pointing. “You gave it to me,” she replied, smiling at your confused expression. 

“No, I didn’t. I cut you on the other arm. This scar is old.”

“You shot me on the day we met,” she said casually, like she was telling you the time.

And then you remembered. A bullet brushing past your face, grabbing a discarded gun on the floor and randomly unloading the entire magazine with dazed eyes, a loud yelp with pain, her voice telling you to drop your weapon. She had never told you you had wounded her, and you had never connected her cry to the bullets you had sent flying that day. 

“Are you telling me I shot you, and instead of killing me on the spot you decided to take me to your home?” You asked, incredulously. 

“It wasn’t so black and white like you’re making it out to be,” she defended.

And then a thought crossed your mind. 

“Wait, Abigail… does this mean- I didn’t know you had a pain kink.” You teased, a mischievous smile curling your lips. 

“What? I do not!” She protested, a violent blush flushing her cheeks and the exposed part of her chest. 

“Oh my god, that explains so much!” You laughed, and to make your point, you scratched your nails down her back, hard enough to mark the skin. 

You were just messing with her, so you didn’t expect her to actually shiver under your graze, and let out a soft whimper, craning her neck to the side to expose more skin to you. With a surprised smirk, you scratched your way up her back again, dragging your nails through the sensitive flesh of the neck she was offering, feeling her shudder as long, thin, pinkish streaks bloomed after the trail of your fingers. Her eyes were hazy and half shut, and her lips slightly parted. 

You brought your face near hers, close to where she had bared her neck, brushing the tip of your nose on her earlobe before you chuckled and whispered maliciously “Yeah, you do.”

You backed away when she focused her eyes and got up, red still painting her cheeks. 

“I don’t,” she said, visibly embarrassed, putting her shirt back on, but you could see her nipples were hard under her bra before she covered them up. 

***

The dawn had just broken when you woke up. The sounds of Manny’s snores and Abby’s teeth grinding in their sleep rhythmically breaking the stillness of the room - you didn’t know how you even managed to rest with so much noise. 

You still had a couple hours before you had to present yourself for duty, and since you didn’t feel sleepy anymore, you figured you could stop by the kennels to say hi to Penny. It had been a while since you last saw that crazy girl and you missed her antics. 

She seemed just as happy to see you as you were to see her, and you left the kennels an hour later with a lot less energy than you had arrived, and with a lot more scratches, play bites and dog hair than before. 

The patrol board still hadn’t been updated when you came into the mess hall to grab your breakfast. The place was mostly empty in the early hours of the day, so you sat alone, lost in your thoughts, until Manny placed his tray on your table and sat down in front of you with a knowing smile:

“Buenos días, corazón, guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re on our unit’s rotation today,” he grinned. “What do you say? Feeling up to wipe out a Scar encampment on Zone 7?” He sounded like he was inviting you to a video game match. 

And well, of course you had no love for Scars - fuck those weird psychos - but you still felt no pleasure in killing people, even if they were Scars. You did it, of course. It was part of the deal, and you had asked for it, but there was more than one reason why you preferred supply runs over search and destroy missions. 

You tried your best not to dwell on it, but it made your stomach churn when you thought about the lives you had taken. Not so much the ones where your own life had been on the line, those kills felt justified, but the ones where you had to sneak up on your unaware enemies and slay one after the other. You knew it was war, but it bugged you the way the Wolves acted like it was normal to go out and slaughter dozens of people per day. It didn’t feel normal to you. 

Abby broke your train of thought when she sat down next to you. “Did you tell her the news yet?” She asked Manny. 

“Yeah, but she didn’t look very thrilled. Would you prefer to be assigned to a scavenging party? I know you like those,” he addressed you. 

“No!” There was no way you’d give up the opportunity to go on patrol with Abby. “Let’s go kill some Scars.”

The sky was clear for once, but dark clouds loomed in the distance, foreshadowing the storm that would probably pummel the city in a few hours. 

The unit consisted of five people - two of whom you didn’t know - and Abby was your commander. She led you to the first floor of a hollowed out apartment block, overlooking a clearing where you could see small cloaked figures walking about, unsuspectingly. 

A small group of Scars had passed by in the opposite direction as you had made your way into the building, so Abby told the other two people in the unit to position themselves across from you on the floor to handle them. Then she turned to you and Manny and gestured for both of you to follow her into an improvised lookout. 

You had a clear view of their encampment from where you crouched with the borrowed rifle, leaning the barrel of the gun on a crumbled wall for stability. You counted more than fifteen people in the group, most of them kneeling in front of a makeshift altar, probably saying their morning prayers to their Prophet. Some seemed to be eating breakfast and others patrolled the area, securing the perimeter of the contested area they had claimed. 

“Oh, this could be fun,” Manny said, attaching a silencer to his pistol. “Wanna bet who kills more Scars? The loser has to clean the room,” he proposed to you and Abby with a grin. 

It was obvious you were gonna lose, but Abby was already accepting, mentioning the ever growing pile of dishes that seemed to multiply in the sink - who was even using that many plates?? - so you felt compelled to say yes too, even though you knew you had no chance against them. 

You changed your rifle to a pistol with a makeshift silencer. You couldn’t break stealth if you were to wipe them out from a distance, but without the scope, your chances of winning were even slimmer. Abby had already begun shooting, downing three of the perimeter scouts with clean shots. 

You aimed at the people praying, their backs turned to you. This felt so wrong you almost thought you missed your first shot on purpose. But you managed to hit on the second one, and the following one. The fourth one wasn’t a clean headshot. They were running now, scattering when they realized they were being hunted down, so it made them harder to hit. You managed a shot on the leg and a final one to the chest, your silencer demolished after holding up for six rounds. 

There were no more Scars on the encampment. They were either dead or had managed to scuttle out of sight. 

“I got eight,” Abby said with a proud smile. She looked beautiful, gleaming in the yellow sunlight of the morning, her braid swaying in the wind and a spark on her eyes. 

“I got five,” Manny said. 

“Fuck, I got three,” you said, rolling your eyes. Of course this was going to happen. 

“Aw, don’t be mad. At least you got three, a couple months ago you wouldn’t even get one,” Abby said chuckling, getting up and offering her hand to you. 

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” You asked, taking her hand and wiping out the dust on your pants. Everything felt so surreal to you - the way you were acting you’d never guess you were talking about having murdered sixteen people in one go. 

The other two people in the unit joined you, saying they had cleared out their group as well. 

“Alright, let’s get down and swipe the area to check for stragglers. And don’t stray far, these people are dangerous,” Abby commanded. 

The clearing seemed to be empty, with only the fresh corpses scattered about. Looking around, you noticed one of the buildings that surrounded the glade had once been a book shop. The floor-to-ceiling windows were all busted, giving you a mostly unobstructed view of the inside, and of a big sign that read “DVDs” on top of a shelf with a few items still on display. 

Ever since Manny got that box of trash movies, the three of you had started a Worst Movie of all Time ranking, and actively searched for bad films whenever you had the opportunity to add to the list. The person that had found the top 1 movie acquired certain privileges - and that person had been Manny ever since the rank started, and god, did he take advantage of it. 

You tugged on Abby’s fingers, calling her attention. “Hey, I’m gonna check out that shop,” you said, pointing with your thumb. Your will to scavenge itching. 

Her eyes quickly swept the place, in that hunting manner you knew so well, and, deeming it safe enough, she nodded. “Don’t be long.” She locked her fingers around yours, giving them a parting squeeze. 

The shop was damp and empty. The collapsed bookshelves rotted from water infiltration, and the books still on them looked bloated and deformed. It was a miracle the DVD shelf was mostly dry.

There weren’t many movies left on it, and the ones there were didn’t seem downright awful, some looked interesting even. But you were on a quest, and wouldn’t give up so easily. You continued browsing, checking the lower shelves until your eye caught on a title that seemed too good to be true: Toxic Shark. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

A movie about a shark with projectile acid and bad special effects? And in perfect condition? You may even get out of the bet to clean out the room for it. 

You got up from your crouched position and were turning to leave to brag about your find with Manny and Abby, a smug smile plastered on your face, when you heard the footsteps approaching. Too bad it was too late. 

They yanked your hair like they were trying to scalp you, pulling your head back to expose your neck and pushing a knife down on it. You grabbed their wrist just as the point started to pierce your skin, and tried to push the weapon away from you, whimpering in pain and exertion. They were strong. 

You stayed in this stalemate position for a while, both of you fighting for control, matching in strength, your grunts filling the rancid air of the library. Your mind started desperately thinking of different tactics to get out of their grip, going over every single disarming tactic Jared had taught you. If only you could free one hand to grab the pistol nested away on the small of your back… 

Then you sensed their muscles starting to give way due to holding the stance on an angle for too long. It was the opening you’d been waiting for. You started to twist their arm away from you, forcing them to drop the knife, and knocking your head back straight on their nose, their grip on your hair loosening.

Not letting go of their wrist, you used it as support to launch a high kick on their face, disorienting them enough to buy you time to grab your own knife at the holster on your leg and bury it on their throat with a cry. 

Panting, you looked down at the person you had just killed, collapsed on the floor, blood dribbling from their mouth. It was a girl - the wraparound braid and double scars on her cheeks framing the glassy expression on her face. She looked younger than you. Just a kid. 

“Nice to see you standing up for yourself,” your head shot up at the sound of Abby’s voice. 

She was standing by the door of the library, pistol in hand, seeming like she had been ready to step in to help you. But now she looked at you with the same expression she used when she watched you managing to win a fight on the training mat. It looked like satisfaction. 

“I thought I told you not to be long?” She smirked. 

“You did, I’m sorry boss, but you’ll never guess what I found.” You picked up the DVD you had dropped on the floor, avoiding stepping over the dead girl to hand it out to Abby. 

“Holy shit, Manny’s gonna love this.”

***

It started raining as soon as you arrived back at the Base. It was one of those nasty summer storms, with winds that rattled window panes and thunder that roared deafeningly. Water poured down on the Stadium, drenching the cultivated soil and causing the energy to get flickery. 

Manny had, indeed, been thrilled with the movie you had found, and said he was willing to let you out of the bet you lost if it truly proved awful. You three had set a movie date for tonight, after you had dinner and cleaned yourselves. 

When you came from the showers, Abby was already stretched out on your sofa bed in her pajamas, smelling faintly of pine and reading under the glow of the overhead lamp as she waited for you and Manny. She was quite a sight to be seen. The light hit her at just the right angle to accentuate the muscles of the arm she had behind her head, and the biceps of the other one she was using to hold the book up. The hem of her shirt was raised above her stomach, allowing you to peek at her defined abs. She had her legs in the shape of a four, resting one of her knees on the backrest of the sofa, her juicy thighs showing through the fabric of her sweatpants. 

Your heart fluttered at the scene and your face flushed. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and sat on the sofa next to her, after you hung your towel to dry on the stairs’ railing. 

“What are you reading?” You asked, hugging your knees up while you admired her. 

She held up a hand, silently asking you to wait while she finished, then she closed the book with a soft thud.  “It’s that book you scavenged, Wuthering Heights. I kinda hate all of the characters,” she scoffed. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to like them, they’re awful people,” you smiled. “But I admire the connection they have to each other, it’s beautiful in a tragic way.”

“I thought you said it was a romance.”

“It kind of is. It may be doomed, but it’s still a romance.”

“These people can only make each other suffer. It’s anguishing the way they simply can’t communicate.”

“Well, maybe there are some lessons to be learned from it, then.” 

Your words had barely lingered in the air when Manny came in, smelling real fresh and a smug smile on his face. He took one of your hands on his, “Cariño,” he said, kissing it, then turned his gaze to Abby, “Abs, I’m so sorry, mis amores, but I’ll have to bail out of our movie night.” He said dramatically. “I have a date with this absolute goddess of a woman who just came down from the FOB.”

You were confused but also pretty impressed. How did he manage to get a date so quickly? It had been less than a couple of hours since you had arrived at the Base. 

“Is it with that dark haired girl who was eating in the mess hall with Danny?” Abby asked. 

“You have good eyes, Abs,” Manny smirked. “I think they were stationing her in the further zones, never seen her around here, so I can’t miss this chance, can I? I’m not gonna lose her to Danny.”

“Oh no, you’re right. Fuck Danny,” she scoffed.

Manny kissed your hand again. “You girls have fun, alright? Just not too much.” He left with a grin, the trail of his scent following him. 

You couldn’t hide the pang of jealousy you had felt at Abby’s commentary. “So, are you checking girls out at the mess hall now?” It left your mouth before you could bite it back. 

She might have been oblivious to it, but you weren’t - you saw the glares, the lingering looks, the way people’s eyes followed her more often than not. Maybe part of her charm was that unawareness of just how much she was desired. She never seemed to notice the stares, but that offhand comment about that goddess of a woman cut deeper than you cared to admit. How could you possibly compete with a goddess? A girl so pretty she had caught her eye when no one else had?

“She was just a new face, that’s all,” she responded. Then she looked at you, squinting her eyes and a hint of a smile playing on the corner of her lips. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“You wish,” you sneered, feigning nonchalance. You got up to put the movie on the DVD player, back facing her. “I just thought it was curious that you guessed who Manny was talking about so quickly,” you shrugged. 

Shit, you really needed to control your tongue or you’d end up slipping something you didn’t mean to. 

“That’s a funny way to describe jealousy,” she laughed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you have a crush on me,” she said playfully. 

Your eyes widened and your cheeks burned at this remark. Thank god she couldn’t see your face right now. Recomposing yourself, you decided to use her tactic against her. You turned around to sit back on the couch with a sly smile on your face. “Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you? To have me all over you?”

You didn’t expect her to blush so violently at your words and to avert your eyes. She said a reticent “No” and pretended to be very interested in the movie’s opening credits. You snorted, she was so easy to tease.

“Have you ever felt something you weren’t supposed to? Or thought you weren’t supposed to?” She asked after a while. The toxic shark still hadn’t made its appearance, but she had readjusted herself on the sofa to get closer to you, your legs were touching and her toes played with yours. 

“Like what?”

She thought for a bit before responding. “Like something that makes you feel guilty. Or was supposed to make you feel guilty, but you can’t take it out of your mind.”

“Is it a bad feeling?” Where was she going with this?

“I don’t know. It makes me feel all giddy in the stomach and weak in the legs. I’ve never felt this way before, not for a- not like this.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a crush,” you teased, examining her beautiful profile. You figured she was talking about having feelings for a girl and wished she was talking about you, but you knew better than to hope. “Maybe you should stop fighting it and just let yourself feel it - nobody can tell you what you should or shouldn’t feel anyway,” you offered. 

“You sound like you’re trying to get me into trouble.” She chuckled, but still avoided your eyes. Then she casually rested her arm on the backrest, her fingers mindlessly curling the ends of your hair, sending shivers down your spine. “I guess… I’m still figuring out if it’s worth the risk.”

You didn’t respond. Was she really that interested in the new girl? To come to you for advice? Jealousy swelled on your chest as you silently tried to stifle it. You remembered your almost kiss at the armory. Maybe you had awakened something she didn’t know about herself that day, and now she was considering exploring it with someone she was actually interested in. 

You had to firmly remind yourself that Abby didn’t owe you anything - not even after the armory. She could like anyone she damn pleased. But, shit, was it twisting the knife to come to you, of all people, for romantic counseling in regards to someone else. And even though you knew it wasn’t her fault - she was comically oblivious to people showing interest in her, and it’s not like you had made it crystal clear either - it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The room grew silent as the movie progressed and the toxic shark murdered his unsuspecting victims with his bad CGI attacks. God, this was such a find. It would be completely unfair if it didn’t get top 1 on the ranking. 

You had been so engaged with the movie and your own self-pitying thoughts that it took you a while to notice how physically close you had gotten to Abby. The couch was pretty old and didn’t distribute your weights properly, and since she was heavier than you, you couldn’t avoid but sink towards her. You were practically lying on her chest now, her fingers still playing with your hair, and her head leaning on yours - her soft rhythmic breathing blowing your flyaway hairs next to her nose. 

You were just thinking how glad you were that she was still allowing you to touch her - despite liking someone else - and how you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life like this, simply feeling her solid body glued to yours, when she moved to reposition herself. 

Sadly, you broke apart from her, giving her space, figuring you had made her stay in that uncomfortable position for long enough. You pushed yourself away from her, meaning to sit on the other side of the couch, when she whined a soft “No” and pulled you back to lay next to her, cuddling her on the side. 

If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. You had never been so close to her before, your whole body touching hers, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, her hand drawing mindless circles on your back as your head rested on her firm shoulder. You barely dared to breathe, scared that she would go away if you called too much attention to yourself and she realized the position you were in. 

Following your own advice, you let yourself feel it - to relish in her warm embrace while you could, your mind fogging as you got more and more intoxicated by her. Her hand stilled after a while and you braced yourself for her to push you off of her, except she never did. You waited a bit longer before boldly nuzzling your nose on the crook of her neck, trying to prompt her to continue caressing you, and allowing your lips to softly brush her skin as you did, her shudder under your touch sending sparks down your legs. You looked up at her sculpted face when she continued unmoving, and realized she had dozed off, exhausted. 

You didn’t have the heart or, honestly, the will to tell her to go to her own bed, so you adjusted yourself back into her arms, entwining your legs on hers and daringly passing an arm across her hard stomach, involving her in a whole body hug. 

“Good night, Abs,” you murmured against her neck. 

She pulled you even closer and gave you a sleepy kiss on the top of your head as reply, going soundly back to sleep as the rain roared outside. 

***

You woke up the next morning alone in your sofa bed. The faint smell of pine on your sheets and the book she had forgotten on top of your small dresser were the only proof you hadn’t dreamt that Abby had really slept there with you the night before. 

You spotted Manny in the mess hall, eating and talking noisily with some friends, when you came in to grab your breakfast and check the assignment board - you had the day off for a change. You looked up Abby’s name on the list before you could stop yourself: Inventory duty. She’d probably spend the whole day there being as meticulous as she was. 

Manny was already leaving when he saw you in line to grab your breakfast burrito. “Cariño!” He greeted you loudly, “did you have fun last night?” He asked with a smirk. Had he seen you and Abby sleeping?

“Clearly not as much as you,” you evaded, giving him a good look. His lips were red and swollen, his neck had love bites all over and he looked like he had barely slept, but he seemed to be over the moon. He was certainly acting like he was. 

“Oh man, last night was… yeah,” he trailed off, smiling at the memory. “Anyway, don’t forget the bet you lost yesterday, the room is in a pretty bad shape.”

“What?” You asked incredulously, “that movie was definitely the worst we’d ever seen, it totally deserves to be on top 1!” 

“Ah, but you see, I didn’t watch it. So it can’t be on top 1 if it hasn’t been voted by the three of us,” he answered smugly.

“Aw, Manny, come on…” you whined. Was he really going to make you clean up the room by yourself?

“I’m sorry, Cariño, but the rules are the rules.” Yeah, he was. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Ugh, fine, but this isn’t over,” you threatened jokingly. He only replied with a chuckle as he left. 

There were so many things to do in the room, you didn’t even know where to begin, so you started by putting on one of Abby’s classical music CDs. Listening to this kind of music reminded you of early morning classes with Miss Irina, stargazing on the roof of Eric’s house with him and Juliet, and the soft hum of your mom’s voice as she lulled you to sleep when you were little. It hurt, and part of you wanted to block it out and never think about it again, but you forced yourself to remember. To not let them disappear by forgetting them. 

And so you got moving, letting the music wash over you as you swept the carpet, folded the laundry, changed the bed sheets and dusted the shelves. You only gave yourself a small break a couple hours after noon to grab lunch, and went straight back in to tackle the mountain of dishes piled up on the sink, your one track mind wanting to be done with it as soon as possible. 

The dying afternoon sunlight invaded the room by the floor-to-ceiling windows - it was a beautiful sundown after the downpour of the day before. You absentmindedly did some simple ballet combos from the top of your head to the music, while you washed the dishes. This was the third CD you listened to, and it had some songs from ballet variations that you recognized in it. 

Deep down you had been aching to dance again - truly dance, not just those fragmented steps you slipped into the fighting mat. Of course, you didn’t want to do it in front of anybody, as it was sure to raise questions to where you had learned to move like that. Yet it wasn’t for lack of solitude that you didn’t do it - you were alone plenty of times - but before, even the single thought of dancing almost made you flinch. Now, though, after allowing pieces of it to peek through on combat training, it was like the dance was begging to flow through you again - the music trying to reclaim you back to it, unconcerned if it hurt you or not.

You debated whether to go through with it, finally closing the curtains just in case - but even then, you weren’t sure you would. You hadn’t even stretched… You listened to a couple more songs while you worked, not recognizing any of them, and almost giving up on the silly idea, when, almost as a sign, one of your favorite variations started playing. 

The music signaled the entrance of the prince and you had about a minute of his solo to make up your mind. Just as you were about to miss your cue to enter, you said a low “Fuck it”, and entered the stage (the living room), greeting the imaginary audience Miss Irina always told you to picture. 

It pained you, but it was the most alive you’d felt in months. The music rushed through you, taking control of your body as it always had, maneuvering it like it was meant to. You seduced your pretend audience and the court, persuading them to believe you were the fragile innocent princess they thought you were, as you pirouetted and did grand battements around the room whilst the adagio progressed. You didn’t remember all of the steps, and felt a little rusty, so you had to improvise a couple of bits, but god did it feel good to move like this again. 

You went out of scene for a breather as the prince’s grand allegro began, giving you a few seconds to get ready for the coda. And then the music started swelling again, inviting you back to take your place on the stage, getting ready for the fouettés that were coming… 

And so it started:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5,…, 7,…, 12,…, 16… 

Holy shit, you still got it! You thought as you counted. 

…22, 23, 24, 25… 

Almost there! The ball of your foot burned with the friction against the carpet, and your supporting leg threatened to give out under you, but you pushed through. 

 …28, 29, 30, 31, 32! 

You finished in a fourth alongé, proudly smiling as you caught your breath, while the music continued the prince’s fouettés. 

It was almost the end of the variation now, the part where you finally convinced the prince you were the princess he was in love with, causing him to helplessly fall for your evil spell. 

And so as you turned to position yourself in the corner of the room, smiling as you were about to cast the final portion of your charm on the unsuspecting prince, your eyes met Abby’s wide ones, her mouth slightly agape, incredulous as she stared at you by the doorway. 

“Abby!” You exclaimed, breaking form awkwardly and feeling like she had caught you completely exposed. Your cheeks flushed. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What were you doing? You didn’t tell me you could… spin like that. I lost count after, like, fifteen.”

“You were not supposed to see-” you trailed off, embarrassed, and made your way back to the sink, avoiding her eyes. “You should’ve knocked.”

“I did, but I don’t think you heard me. You were locked in,” she defended. And then, noticing you were not going to say anything, she continued “That was… insane. I’ve never seen anything like it - kinda makes everything else I’ve seen look clumsy.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Those were just fouettés.”

“ Just fouettés? Pretty sure that was the coolest thing I’ve seen in weeks. You really weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?”

“Abby…” you huffed, exasperated, “you were not supposed to see it, no one was. My days of dancing are gone, just like everything from before.”

She shook her head. “It didn’t look gone to me. It looked like it’s still yours - if you want it.”

“You don’t get it…” you lowered your head, voice choking, “It hurts so much. Both the memories and the will to dance - it’s like they’re tearing me apart.”

She leaned on the sink, getting closer to you. “Maybe you should stop fighting it and just let yourself feel it,” she repeated the words you had said to her the night before. “And maybe sharing it could lighten your load. Holding it in will just hurt you more.”

You scoffed. “That’s fucking rare coming from you.”

“Exactly, I know what I’m talking about.” She took your soapy hands in hers, compelling you to look at her. “This thing that you have - it’s beautiful. The world deserves more beauty. We don’t have to be doomed to bleakness forever.” 

It was a side of her you had never seen before - so hopeful, as if she truly believed people could make the world a better place someday. And she looked so lovely like that, her blue eyes shining with optimism, that you felt you’d do almost anything to keep her this way, to protect and nurture that spark inside her. 

“It can’t be dancing, I’m not ready to share that yet. But I can play the piano,” you offered. 

“There’s an old piano in a storage room somewhere in the Stadium. There was an old man who used to teach lessons when I first came here, but he passed away shortly after. I could find it for you.” 

It didn’t thrill you. Although your piano memories hurt less than your dancing ones, everything about your past pained you. But looking into Abby’s eyes in that moment, feeling her warm hands in yours and seeing her hopeful face, you couldn’t help but accept it - you could do it if it made her happy. 

You could do anything for her.

Chapter Text

A couple days after Abby caught you dancing in the room, she approached you at the gym late at night, just as you were finishing your last exercise - a five minute plank. 

You had only seen her in the mornings, restlessly asleep in her bed, before you left for your shifts these past days. You supposed she had been extremely busy, since she kept coming home pretty late, after you and Manny had already gone to bed. 

She flopped on her elbows next to you, mirroring your position, her shoulder almost touching yours. Her muscles were glistening with sweat and her face was flushed, her lovely freckles more pronounced on the reddish skin. 

“Hey, are you almost done?” She asked, her breathing even. 

“Yeah,” you panted, “this is my last one.” 

“Good. There’s something I want to show you,” she said, smiling and flexing her arms, pushing herself deeper into the plank. 

“It better be worth my time, Anderson, I’m fucking exhausted,” you joked between teeth. You had had drills today with unit Quebec and honestly could not wait to take a shower and go to bed. 

You collapsed onto your back on the floor as the clock above the gym’s door finally marked the end of your five minutes - drained. Turning your head to look at Abby while you wound down, your eyes lazily traveled down her body, noticing how the light caught on her back and arm muscles, accentuating them, her sweat leaving them glistening and impossibly hot. God, you wished to be all over her so bad. 

“Enjoying the view?” She asked with a smirk when she spotted you ogling, causing your eyes to snap back to her face. You blushed. 

“Just analyzing your form. Your back is arching a little,” you lied, nitpicking anything to justify yourself. 

“Yeah, right, we both know it isn’t,” she chuckled, breaking form when the clock ticked past her five minutes - she wasn’t even panting. “Well, come on, then. Don’t want to keep you from your beauty rest for too long, princess” she said, getting up and offering you her hand. 

She led you to the depths of the stadium through large winding corridors and past storage rooms filled to the brim with sacks of food and other resources. The place was empty, probably being used by people on inventory and kitchen duty on more conventional times. The peeling walls and cracked concrete, characteristic of the Stadium, amplified the sound of four stomping sneakers and the shuffle of gym duffle bags. Your hand was still on hers, fingers intertwined, your thumb mindlessly drawing circles on her palm. 

A light flickered when you walked past, plunging the two of you into darkness for a couple seconds before turning on again. You were starting to feel unsettled - this place was giving you the creeps being so empty like this. You held on to her hand tighter, leaning into her warmth to sooth yourself. 

“This is so sketchy, are you trying to kidnap me or something?” You joked, trying to take the edge off. 

“Relax, my kidnappings come with perks,” she responded, looking back at you with soft eyes and a playful smile on her lips; her steps constant. 

“What kind of perks?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and keeping her pace. 

“You’ll see soon enough,” she gave you a sideways smirk. 

“Ohh, are you taking me to your top secret sex den, Anderson?” You teased, smirking. “You should have told me earlier, I would have showered first.” 

She snorted, “Don’t worry about that, I don’t mind a little seasoning.” She acted nonchalant, but you could see a faint blush on her glowy skin at her boldness. You laughed, speechless at her words, and your cheeks flushed too. 

“Okay, close your eyes,” she asked as you stopped in front of a blue metal french door, the rusting on its edges giving it an orange hue. 

You did as she asked and felt her hand leave yours. The door creaked as she opened it, the rusty hinges protesting against the movement. The musty smell of the room hit your nose, the dust particles in the air making it itch, as you heard the flip of a switch, and old fluorescent lamps buzzed to life, filling the space with its constant humming. You felt her hands on yours again, steadily leading you into the room while your eyes were still closed. 

“If this is your sex den, you really need to clean it more often, Abby. I don’t think I’m gonna look very sexy sneezing all the time,” you said, scratching your nose. 

She scoffed as you felt her go behind you, her hands on your arms grounding you. “You can open your eyes now,” she said after a beat of anticipant silence. 

You finally opened them and saw standing before you the most beautiful grand piano you’d ever seen in your life. The black polished wood shone under the buzzing lights; its lid was open, showcasing the treble strings; the small bench in front of it slightly turned into your direction, inviting you to take your place and spark the instrument to life. 

It looked nothing like Mrs. Kim battered old upright piano, with its rotten wood and the silent C# key in the second octave, this one looked like it had belonged to a magnificent concert hall. You almost felt unworthy of being in its presence. 

You could feel Abby’s gaze on you, expectant, while you walked around the piano, lightly grazing its frame with your fingertips, admiring its grandeur. You knew it must have cost her time and care to restore it, and your chest tightened with a flutter at the thought of her dedication - this really meant something to her.

“Sorry it’s not a sex den,” she joked uneasily when you kept your venerating silence, testing a chord with an hesitant hand. 

“Abby… it’s beautiful,” you managed to say, “it’s been sitting here forgotten all this time?”

“I guess so. It took me a while to find too. Also, I’m no expert, but I have a feeling some keys are out of tune.” She moved to a small table by the wall, where you could see a few music books and a tuning wrench, probably left by the former piano teacher. “I don’t understand a lot about pianos, so I didn't want to mess anything up,” she said, handing you the tool. 

She looked so adorable with her pouty lips and freckled nose, her eyes gentle and revering at the knowledge she assumed you had, you could barely contain yourself not to pounce on her as you took the device she was offering. 

“Come sit, I’m gonna show you how it’s done,” you said instead, testing the keys to figure out which ones were out of tune. 

It took longer than you thought it would. Abby sat patiently on the bench, looking at you with puppy eyes, pressing the keys you asked her to and listening intently as you talked her through the tuning process and she helped you find the right turn of the pins by ear. She had a good ear for music. 

When you were done, you sat next to her on the bench with a huff, resting your head on her shoulder. She leaned her head on yours. “Can you play me something?” She asked the question you had been dreading with a quiet voice. 

But, as always, you could never say no to her. 

You adjusted yourself on the bench, foot hanging above the pedal, hands hovering over the keys, trembling, unsure. Mrs. Kim's serene smile popped in your mind, holding up the plate with oat biscuits she always offered you before the lesson, the warm recollection tainted by a vision of her mangled and bloody body on the village square. Your breath hitched on your throat, panic slowly rising at the memory. You felt Abby’s hand gently land on your thigh, soothing. 

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” she said with understanding eyes. 

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.”

You took a deep breath and counted from five to eight before starting. It was Abby’s favorite song, the one she always played twice whenever it came on her CD player - you knew it by heart. Your hands flew all over the keys, caressing, coaxing the melody out them with deft fingers, allowing the music to flow through your body in the way you were so familiar with. The feeling of her warm hand on your leg and her arm brushing yours whenever you stretched over the keyboard to reach the further octaves making it less painful to play.

“That was beautiful. Thank you for accepting to do this,” she said genuinely when the music ended, the last chords still vibrating in the stale air. 

“Don’t mention it,” you replied with a playful bump to her shoulder, biting back the words you really wanted to say - that there was nothing she’d ask you that you wouldn’t do. 

The walk back to the room was lighthearted and didn’t take as long as you thought it would. You hummed the song you had just played, the notes bouncing on the empty halls of the Stadium, rivaling the dry sound of your steps, Abby’s head softly swaying to the tune. 

You had just entered the resident hall when you caught sight of a beautiful young woman crossing the corridor in your direction. She was shorter than you, but had more curves. Her hair was long, pitch black, and cascaded down her shoulders in a voluptuous way. She had a little mole next to the corner of her lower lip and her eyelashes were naturally thick.

“Hi, Abby!” Candice greeted when she caught sight of her, not acknowledging you. It was the girl Abby had so quickly guessed Manny was referring to as a goddess of a woman. You had asked at the mess hall about her, faking indifference. 

“Heyya, Candy,” Abby greeted back.

Oh, so she was Candy now? Things seemed to be going fast for those two. 

“Oh, Abby, that reminds me, can I talk to you for a second?” Candice said, wrapping her hand greedily around Abby’s thick exposed arm and pulling her away from you before she could even answer. 

“Uh, sure,” Abby responded, already being dragged down the corridor, back the way she came. “I’ll be right back,” she said to you, as she turned the corner, leaving you alone. 

Huh. 

You didn’t know they had already gotten this far in their courtship. With the grabbings and the “Heyya Candys”. It hadn't even been that long since she had arrived at the Base. 

Jealousy simmered in your chest, the vision of Candice’s hands curling around Abby’s arm haunting you as you went into the room to grab your caddy and towel for a shower. Manny was already asleep, his snores rebounding on the wall he was facing, echoing in your ears. 

Sometimes your mind was far too creative for your own good, you admitted as you got into the shower stall and purposely entered the freezing water before it could warm up, your breath labored as your lungs seized up with the cold. You forced your brain to go over the steps of all the ballet variations you knew, while the icy water washed over you - anything to drown out the thoughts of what else Candice’s covetous hands could be doing to Abby right now. 

***

You had a few people reach out to you about the lessons after you tacked a simple note on the mess hall board the following evening, offering piano classes. You didn’t think anyone would, but it turned out Abby was right - people didn’t like to be doomed to bleakness. 

You didn’t truly believe you had the gift of teaching, so you got quite nervous when people actually came to you for lessons. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks Mrs. Kim used when teaching you, and - most importantly - the music books left by the former piano teacher were beginner to intermediate level, so they were a pretty solid base you could use to plan your classes (thank you, former piano teacher). 

The first person to show up for a lesson was a young mom of twins, Lizzie. She was very embarrassed to have to bring the toddlers for the class because she didn’t have anyone to leave them with. She also seemed very skittish, like she was ready to flee at any moment, but you assured her that the kids weren't a problem. In fact, they were pretty well behaved if you let them draw on the walls - and you let them because you thought their colorful little doodles cheered up the gloomy, sterile storage room. 

A couple days later, both an elderly man and his extroverted granddaughter volunteered to take your classes. Abby came in one time to check in on you - and you ended up teaching her how to play a simple tune - but the person that surprised you the most for showing up to take lessons was Nora. You couldn’t tell if she had come of her own accord or if Abby had asked her to, but you were happy to see her all the same. 

You had liked Nora ever since the day you arrived at the WLF and she was friendly and kind to you, a complete stranger. And it turned out that the two of you had quite a few things in common: she also liked dogs, had watched plenty of trashy movies and was very passionate about music, just like you were. You felt like your bond grew tighter after every lesson, and when she came in one day for her early morning class and invited you to the birthday party she’d be throwing later in her room - just for her close friends and their plus ones - it felt like she made your friendship official. 

The invitation to go to a real party with people your age came as a surprise, but didn’t fail to make you ecstatic. It would be the first time in your life you’d be going to one of those - the parties in your village consisting only of the elders, kids, Juliet, Eric and you. You figured it made perfect sense for you not to be able to take it off of your mind - never in a million years did you think that you’d have the opportunity to be invited to one. 

You spent the rest of the day with your heart fluttering in your chest and your legs shaking with anxiety (the good kind), and thankful that Nora hadn’t invited you too much in advance - it would’ve been terribly draining to be feeling like this for more than a day. 

Flooded with euphoria, your mind came up with a thousand different scenarios, inspired by movies you had watched with your friends growing up and old teenager magazines you had read about the topic. You supposed there would be music, dancing, people making out in weird places and the iconic bowl of punch (you had seen it so many times in movies, but still had no idea what went into them). 

Around noon, your brain gave you a little break from all the different fantasies about the party it had been so focused on creating, allowing you to consider who else Nora might have invited. A fresh wave of anxiety washed over you when you assumed Abby was probably also going tonight, being good friends with Nora as she was. 

As expected, the thought was enough to send your mind spiraling out of control again: it would probably be dark there, right? With a little alcohol to make people looser, and endorphins running high... Maybe you’d get a chance to hang out with her during the party. Maybe she’d forget about Owen, or Candice, just for one night. Maybe tonight you’d finally be able to bridge that stubborn gap that insisted to be between your lips.

You got ready to go to Nora’s much earlier than you needed, but ended up getting there after the party had started. Neither Abby nor Manny had showed up in the room to accompany you, and it turned out that, as the day progressed, all of your excitement got slowly eaten away by self doubt. What if they didn’t like you? - you kept thinking - What if you made a fool of yourself in front of Abby and all of her cool friends? 

You were starting to get terrified of going, and even considered skipping the event altogether more than a couple of times. But eventually you gathered up enough courage to get out of the ball you had curled yourself into on your sofa bed, and cross the Stadium towards Nora’s room. You pondered that you could just not draw too much attention to yourself, and just watch the party unfold in front of you like a real life movie. There was no reason for you to think that all eyes would be on you tonight, right? And if they were, you could always leave. 

You repeated that thought like a mantra to calm your shaking hands as you stopped in front of Nora’s door, listening to the muffled sound of voices and music that seeped through the gaps. She had told you earlier to not bother knocking and to just come in, and so after a few quick breaths you twisted the doorknob, entering the room. 

It was much smaller than Abby’s. The funky 70s music ricocheted around the single level room that had a double pane window across from the door with a couch underneath, and two bunk beds facing each other on each side of the walls. A small table next to the tiny kitchen had some finger food on display - but no bowl of punch in sight, unfortunately. Nora had hung string lights around the ceiling, which bathed the room and the hanging potted plants above the window in a cozy and warm atmosphere. There weren’t a ton of people at the party, but the size of the room made it look cramped. 

You looked around at all the unfamiliar faces, unsure of what you should do, anxiety choking your throat - no one seemed to have noticed you coming in, so you weren’t greeted by anyone. Sweeping the room with your eyes, you finally spotted Nora in the small crowd and made your way to her, your tunnel vision stopping you from recognizing any other face you passed by. 

“Hey, Nora, happy birthday!” You said to her, shyly touching her shoulder and causing her to turn around to face you. 

“Hey! You came!” She greeted you with a spontaneous hug, looking a little tipsy - the glass on her hand half empty. She introduced you to her friends, telling them your name and saying you were her piano teacher. 

“Cariño!” You heard Manny’s voice call you above the music as he walked over to you, grinning - he looked more than a little tipsy. “Good to see you mingling! Here, have some mezcal,” he said, handing you his glass with a clear liquid. “Abby brewed this one, so you can complain to her if you don’t like it,” he joked. 

You gave the glass a sniff and your eyes watered. “What the fuck is this, Manny?” You asked. 

“Heh, just drink it,” he encouraged, “it tastes better after you’re drunk.”

You looked suspiciously at the glass but gave it a try without much thought, denying yourself time to change your mind. Your face crumpled into an involuntary grimace as the vile liquid burned its way down your throat and nested warmly in your stomach. 

“Shit, this is probably the strongest alcohol I’ve ever had in my life,” you choked, as Manny laughed at your reaction. 

“You’ll be having fun in no time, then,” he chuckled, “but take it easy, okay? This is strong enough to knock down a bull,” he warned. Then he spotted another friend in the crowd and, saying bye to you, loudly made his way to another small gathering of people. 

You walked over to the couch after he left, sitting on the armrest and nursing your glass of liquid death, as you watched people laughing and interacting with each other - the alcohol was already kicking in on your empty stomach, you could feel it in the sweet tingling on your legs. Half of your brain thought of how much Juliet would’ve loved to be here, the other half was quietly scanning the faces around the room, looking for a specific one with a proud ridged nose with freckles and soft blue eyes, but it was nowhere to be found. 

You caught sight of Owen and Mel sitting silently on one of the bunk beds across from you. Owen looked annoyed - the same expression he always wore whenever Mel was around. She, on the other hand, looked extremely uncomfortable, her bulging stomach bigger than you remembered it being the last time you saw her at the med bay. They looked like a miserable couple, and you felt terribly sorry for the little baby that was about to be born into a loveless family. 

But your commiserating thoughts were interrupted when a man with asian features sat next to you, trying to make conversation. He wore a beanie and the glass he held in his hand was almost empty.

“Never seen you around,” he said, “I’m Nick, you’re Nora’s piano teacher, right?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” you replied, giving him your name with a smile.

“Have you been around the Base long? I really can’t remember seeing your face before.”

“It’s been a couple of months since I joined the WLF, but I used to work at the kennels, so I didn’t go around as much as I do now.”

“Ah, that makes sense. I’m not frequently around the Base myself, they usually station me at the Serevena Hotel,” he said, his attention getting caught by a couple coming in holding hands. “Hey, Jordan, Leah! Over here.”

“Hey man, haven’t seen you in a while,” the man with a scar above his lip and a cap said as he approached the two of you, giving Nick a dap, “how are things at the Serevena?”

“They’re alright, not a lot of action. Scars seem to be keeping their distance. Oh, this is Nora’s new friend, her piano teacher,” Nick said, telling them your name. 

“Piano, huh? Didn’t know people still played stuff like that. Where did you learn how to play it?” Jordan asked. 

“I, uh…” you hesitated. Weirdly, no one had asked you that before, and you certainly weren’t going to start talking about your past with these people you just met. You whacked your brain to come up with a generic answer, but was saved when his girlfriend - a tall girl with a scar across her chin and a mole above her upper lip - interrupted you.

“I think pianos are really romantic, I wouldn’t mind taking some classes myself,” she said, sitting on the floor facing you - there were no other places available to sit. “Too bad they usually post me at the TV Station, so I’m hardly ever at the Base, but you could give me a lesson one of these days, couldn’t you?” She asked with a smile, sounding suspiciously flirty. 

“Yeah, sure, just tell me when,” you responded with an awkward smile, taking another sip of the mezcal. 

Just then you noticed a broad shouldered silhouette with a long braid talking to some people by the door. Your stomach stirred, and you waited for Abby to turn around so you could catch her attention and call her over. 

“So besides piano… What else do you do? You come across as someone who has some kind of secret talent.” Jordan asked you. He was sitting on the floor now, next to Leah, his hand on her upper thigh.

“Jordan here thinks he’s the best shot in the Stadium. He’s just asking this to have an excuse to brag about it.” Nick teased with a laugh.

“Well, my secret talent certainly isn’t shooting, I can guarantee you that,” you said, eyeing Abby. She had turned around, but was quickly approached by a short and curvy figure, who touched her arm and pushed her to the side, away from the group she had been interacting with. 

Who the fuck had invited that bitch to this party?

“Seriously, though, what do you do around here? I’m curious. Do you just teach music?” Leah asked you, calling your attention.

“Oh, I’m a soldier. I actually got picked to be one recently, I used to work at the kennels before. And the music is just a side thing… It’s more like a favor to a friend.” You looked at the said friend, Candice’s hands all over her arm, laughing loudly as she surreptitiously tried to pin Abby to a wall. You felt your blood boil with jealousy and took another gulp of the drink. 

Manny was right, it didn’t taste as bad after you were drunk.

“You must really like that friend, god knows how tired I am after patrols and drills. I wouldn’t take a side gig even if they doubled my ration tickets,” Nick laughed.

“That’s because you’re a lazy ass, Nick,” Leah teased with a friendly push to his knee. “I think it’s cute that you’re doing it for a friend, I actually like taking photos and developing them in my free time.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you like taking pictures of?” You asked, your attention divided between the conversation and watching Abby. For some reason she didn’t seem to be particularly enjoying Candice’s advances and kept stealing glances at Manny, as if she was asking for help, but didn’t want to be rude. 

Why can’t this girl keep her fucking hands to herself? You thought, watching as she palmed Abby’s biceps.

“Mostly of my friends. Sometimes of scenery, if I find something beautiful enough for a picture. I like taking spicy photos too,” she said with a smirk, her eyelashes fluttering.

“Those are my favorites,” Jordan butt in, stealing a kiss from her and making her giggle.

You saw as Manny finally took Candice away from Abby, pulling her by the waist and kissing her neck. Candice’s eyes were still on Abby as she let herself get dragged away, but Abby looked relieved. 

Well, that was weird. Why did she look so uncomfortable all of a sudden around Candice? Was it because they were in a public setting? Yeah, that was probably it. You knew Abby hadn’t come out yet. It was possible she hadn’t even admitted her sexuality to herself yet too.

Your eyes met hers for a second before your attention was snapped away when you felt a hand on your leg. “We could take some pictures tonight, I brought my camera,” Leah said. “And maybe I can show you some pictures of me I’ve taken…” she added with a malicious smile.

Whoa, what the fuck was that offer? You thought Leah was Jordan’s girlfriend?

“Uh, okay,” you responded with an awkward smile, speechless. You took the last gulp of your glass, feeling like you needed the boost. Jordan didn’t seem concerned with Leah’s advances towards you.

“Yeah?” Leah said with a smirk at your nervous acceptance, “I have a couple ones I think you’ll like,” she bit her lip. 

“Hey Leah, tone it down. Look at her, you’re gonna end up scaring her off,” Jordan reprimanded.

“What? I’m just being friendly, aren’t I?” She rebuffed.

Having lost sight of Abby, you searched for her in the crowd with dazed eyes as Leah and Jordan continued bickering. You spotted her sitting on the bunk next to Owen, talking to him at a friendly distance. Mel was nowhere to be found. Your stomach dropped at the scene and at the realization that your chances with her tonight had probably all gone down the drain, what with Owen and Candice around. She had hardly even acknowledged you.

Fuck it, you thought, feeling Leah’s hand covertly caress your leg. Things may not be going the way you wished they were tonight, but you weren’t going to let it prevent you from having fun. It was your first party after all, and you might as well properly enjoy it. 

“It’s weird that no one’s trying to wrestle yet. Or making out. Maybe the alcohol this time isn’t as strong as last time,” you heard Nick commenting.

“That’s because Danny wasn’t invited to this party, things would be very different if he was here,” Jordan responded with a laugh.

“Yeah, but we don’t need Danny to make parties fun, we can make them fun ourselves, can’t we?,” Leah smirked and turned to you. “What do you say? Feeling up to a little game?” She had a mischievous expression on her face, and your stomach involuntarily stirred.

“I’m not familiar with many games…” You replied, unsure.

“It’s okay, this one is pretty easy, you’ll get the hang of it in no time,” she said, getting up and picking a beer bottle on the nightstand, gulping it dry in one breath. “Hey, everyone!” She said when she was done, addressing the whole room as she wiped her lips clean and rounded them up in a circle, “gather around, I’m calling for a game of truth or dare.” 

Some people cheered at her words and others groaned, but soon enough everyone had sat down in an uneven circle around the small room, expectantly facing the empty bottle Leah had placed in the dead center. 

You had no idea what was going to happen, but could feel your legs trembling and stomach churning in anticipation as you sat on the floor. Abby was sitting across from you, next to Owen, an unconvinced expression on her face, like she didn’t think this was a good idea.

“Bottom asks and neck responds,” Leah instructed, pointing at the parts of the bottle before giving it a spin. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched intently as the bottle skidded on the floor, its neck coming to a stop facing Nick and its bottom facing Nora.

“Truth or dare, Nick?” Nora asked in her husky voice.

“Truth,” he answered after thinking for a second. Some people booed him, and he defended himself arguing it was just the first round.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Nora said, silencing everyone. “Is there anyone in this party that you’re interested in?” She enunciated her words for added drama.

“Yes,” he responded without even thinking. 

People went crazy with hollering and whistling, shouting “You go, Nick!” and “Tell us who it is!”, turning the once quiet room into a cacophonic mess.

“I already answered the question, guys, save it for the next round,” Nick joked, laughing, as Nora picked the bottle and spinned it again.

You thought you had gotten the gist of the game, and followed the whirling glass with eager eyes, hoping that it would point to Abby and you. Your wish was partially granted - the neck of the bottle did stop facing Abby, but its bottom was turned to Manny.

“Truth or dare, Abs,” Manny asked her with a smirk.

“Truth,” Abby repeated Nick’s answer, playing it safe, but people knew better than to boo her.

“Alright, so I ask you the same question: Is there anyone in this party that you’re interested in?” He grinned as she blushed, looking down.

She hesitated for a bit, and it felt like everyone was holding their breath while she thought her answer over. 

“Yes,” she said finally, purposefully avoiding everyone’s eyes.

People went wild again, filling the room with whistles and hollers. “Abby is interested in someone?” - you heard people ask under their breaths - “is it Owen?” “But Owen is with Mel now” “Maybe she wants him back.”

Your mind, too, was racing at her answer. So she was certain enough about being interested in this someone to admit as much for a room full of people. But was she talking about Owen, like they were conjecturing, or was it Candice? Could she be talking about you? The tiniest little voice in the depths of your brain whispered, but you blocked the thought just as fast as it had come. She obviously wasn’t talking about you.

You turned to look at Candice, her eyes almost piercing through Abby, trying to catch her gaze at all costs, but she was vehemently avoiding them. She didn’t look your way either, but you did catch her locking eyes with Owen for less than a fraction of a second, immediately looking away as she did.

Surprise, surprise. She had been talking about him.

Manny picked the bottle and gave it another spin. You felt a bit numb as you processed Abby’s answer while the glass clinked on the floor. It’s not like it had blindsided you - you already knew she still had feelings for him - but hearing her admit it out loud was a sting you were sure you didn’t need to feel.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that it took you a second to realize the neck of the bottle had stopped facing you, its bottom to Leah. You looked up to see that she was smiling at you maliciously, watching your every move.

“Truth or dare?” She asked.

You remembered what you had pondered before: this was your first party, and you would make it a point to enjoy it, no matter what. Plus, you were dying to see what would happen if you didn’t play it safe like everyone else.

“Dare,” you replied boldly, as people cheered you on. 

That seemed to be the answer Leah was hoping for. “Good. I dare you to triple kiss me with Jordan,” she said with a sly smile, sitting on her knees, expectantly. The room had gotten so loud you could hardly hear your thoughts.

“What happens if I say no?” You asked above the noise, just to be sure.

Leah contemplated your question for a second. “You’ll have to drink Manny’s whole bottle of mezcal,” she smirked, knowing you’d never agree to it - it was an alcoholic coma just waiting to happen, if you’ve ever seen one. And anyway, it wasn't like this was the first triple kiss of your life.

“Okay, then,” you replied simply with a smile. From the corner of your eye, you saw as Abby’s face snapped in your direction at your words, but you intentionally averted her gaze, choosing to focus on Leah’s eyes instead.

The three of you met in the middle of the circle, on your knees. You felt Leah’s hand reach out to cup your face with a smile, her other hand cupping Jordan’s. The room had grown silent again, watchful, expecting a show.

So you gave it to them.

Slowly, you inclined your torso towards the center of the small circle you made, not breaking eye contact with Leah as you licked your lips, she and Jordan mirroring your movement. And soon enough, you felt her soft lips crashing down on yours, Jordan’s coming in a second later on an angle. 

The kiss was sloppy and messy, as triple kisses often were. Leah’s hot tongue travelled up and down yours, as Jordan’s wrestled for space, jabbing at both of you. You tried to slow him down, changing your focus to him and guiding his tongue to move in a more sensual and unhurried way, Leah following your lead. But it was like he couldn’t control himself, his tongue slithering like crazy between yours and Leah’s, breaking your rhythm, pulling both of your heads closer to his to deepen the smooch, yet only managing to drool all over the two of you. You thought he wasn’t going to get any better at this, so you unceremoniously pushed him out of the kiss, and turned your undivided attention towards Leah.

She delighted herself in your mouth, giving up control to you, as your tongue leisurely caressed hers. You cupped her face, turning her head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling her moan against your lips, as your tongue found more space on hers to touch. 

You could hear people encouraging you on, and you opened your eyes to peek at their reaction, only for your gaze to meet Abby’s. Her eyes had gotten darker, and her lips were slightly parted, like she was drinking in the show you were giving her. You kept your eyes glued on hers as you explored Leah’s mouth with your tongue, her hands traveling down your spine and pulling you closer to her with a whimper.

“Alright, alright, girls, I think that’s enough demonstration for one night,” you heard Nora saying, signalling it was time to break apart from Leah, her lips trying to keep in contact with yours for as long as she could. “A couple more minutes of this, and some people here would not be able to hide their boners,” Nora joked, as you made your way back to your place in the circle, wiping your face on your sleeve with a smirk. 

Abby’s dark eyes still hadn’t left your face, but you couldn’t read what she was thinking. You gave her a sly smile - just in case - trying to signal it could have been her, instead of Leah, receiving your kiss like that; the alcohol and the endorphins making you much more daring than you normally were.

The game got progressively hotter after your kissing session, and it seemed like people were now only looking for excuses to make out with one another. Owen said he was out after another round of heavy kissing between Manny and Candice, and Abby followed suit, making her way silently to the table of snacks. 

Well, wasn’t that predictable?

Another round of kissing later - this time between Nick and Nora - you, too, called it quits. You went to grab some finger food yourself, catching a glimpse of Abby and Owen talking in low voices in the corner of the tiny kitchen. Though you couldn’t hear what they were saying, it looked like their conversation was getting heated. Owen left abruptly after throwing some stern words at Abby, and she looked at you for the first time since the game. You held her gaze, earnestly trying to read her emotions - her face was stone cold, but it didn’t extend to her eyes. She looked hurt, but you couldn’t clearly tell if it had been Owen that had caused it; for some reason her stare felt accusing.

You meant to approach her and ask her what was wrong, when you heard someone calling out your name. Breaking eye contact with Abby, you turned to see as Leah and Jordan closed in on you.

“Hey, are you leaving already?” Leah asked, holding you by your waist with one hand and playing with your hair with the other. Jordan kept his distance, but didn’t seem unfriendly.

“Uh, yeah, it’s getting kind of late…” you responded.

“Oh. You see, it’s just that I really liked kissing you… so I was wondering if maybe you’d like to sleep over at Jordan’s room with us both tonight,” she asked sheepishly.

Oh, wow. That escalated quickly. 

Her offer caught you off guard, drawing a spontaneous nervous giggle from you. Without thinking, you turned to look at Abby’s face, just in time to see her rolling her eyes and storming out, pissed.

What the fuck was going on?

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll have to decline. I really liked getting to know you guys, though,” you added when you saw Leah’s face fall. “You’re a great kisser, Leah,” you said, caressing her cheek, then you turned to Jordan, “You’re not so much, there’s still room for improvement,” you joked lightly, and he gave a lighthearted laugh. “Maybe next time, okay?” You consoled her, giving a goodnight peck as a consolation prize, before going on your way.

Far from the music, the warm lights and the energetic atmosphere of the party, you could finally assess how drunk you were, and the answer was: a lot. You realized you had been drinking on an empty stomach the whole night long - no wonder your actions had been so unfiltered. The walk back to the room was very humbling and took much longer than usual, the spinning halls making your life a lot more difficult than it needed to be.

Abby’s room was plunged in darkness when you managed to arrive, with only a sliver of light coming in from the tear in the curtains. You made your way around the space blindly, while your eyes adjusted to the darkness, grabbing on to every surface to ground yourself. 

You took off your clothes, climbing up onto your sofa bed in only your underwear and a shirt, but before you laid down, you looked over at Abby’s side of the room. It was so dark you weren’t even sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, or if you actually were seeing her  silhouette curled up in her bed, facing the wall.

“Abby…?” You tentatively called her, only being answered by the soft rattling of the ventilation system.

If she really was there, she clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk. And you didn’t feel like you were in condition to press her either. You’d talk to her in the morning, you decided, after you had slept the alcohol off of your blood and the room had stopped spinning.

***

You woke up late. Your head felt like it was splitting in two, and your throat like you had eaten sand the night before. Even the tiny ray of sunlight coming in from the old curtains was enough to make your sensitive eyes hurt, worsening your headache. Thankfully, your past self had filled your water bottle and left it for you on your dresser. You chugged it down desperately, as the memories of the party trickled back into your brain.

You remembered Abby’s arms getting fondled by Candice’s hands and her arguing with Owen. You recalled she had confessed to having feelings for someone (Owen, most likely), and her looking at you with hurt and accusing eyes, but you didn’t remember why. Then the memory of the kiss hit you. 

Oh my god, you had triple kissed two strangers yesterday in front of Abby and all of her friends. 

What were you thinking? That’s so fucking embarrassing! You reprimanded yourself, the moral hangover weighing down on you. 

You recollected you had gone to sleep yesterday meaning to talk to her - to ask her why had she looked at you with blaming eyes and then stormed off without a word. Had she felt ashamed for your actions in front of her friends? It wasn’t like she was responsible for you or anything, but she had been the one to take you in, and there was an undeniable connection between you and her. You turned to look at Abby’s bed, but found it neatly made. Her pack was gone, and so was Manny’s.

Quickly getting ready for the day, you rushed to the assignment board at the mess hall, skimming the lines and columns searching for her name after you read yours, but it wasn’t there and neither was Manny’s. You checked to see if it had been updated, and it had. Then you examined the rotation of the patrol units - maybe they had forgotten to put their names on the assignment board, but had given either of them an unit to command today - yet their names still weren't there. Weird, that had never happened before. 

You casually asked around for Abby, but no one had seen her for the whole day, nor saw her leaving. You finally got some information when you used your final card and went to the entrance gates during your break to ask if anyone had seen her. The guard on duty told you only that she had left pretty early in the morning with a tiny unit of three people. When questioned where they had gone and for how long, he didn’t answer. Classified information, he said.

Her hurt and accusing eyes swam in your mind the whole day long, but you told yourself it was fine - she’d come back to the Base later and you’d have the opportunity to talk. There was no need to hurry or to get apprehensive about her name not being on the board, she had gone on plenty of undercover missions before. Maybe not this level of undercover, but still. She could take care of herself. Plus, Manny was probably with her on this assignment, and he’d keep her safe - he’d better.

So you waited for her to come back that night, but she didn’t. Nor did she come back the following day, or the next one. You started going to the rooftop of the Stadium every night after you were discharged of your duties, futilely trying to catch a glimpse of the trucks coming in from patrols, monitoring to see if she was in any of them. She wasn’t. 

It had been almost a week now with no news of her - she had never been gone for this long. Unwillingly, you started to fear the worst, but there was no way they wouldn’t know if she had died, right? Right?  

You stopped those thoughts before they drowned you. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. She was always fine.

You tried to resist the desperation and the quiet mourning that creeped up on you as the days progressed, the lack of information and the empty room slowly driving you insane. Then, on an early morning, during a piano class with Nora, you finally heard of her again.

“Have you checked on Abby yet?” Nora asked casually, as she practiced her scales.

Your head snapped violently at the mention of her name. “Where is she?” You almost ran over your words.

“She’s at the med bay. Came in late last night with a bullet wound in her stomach.” 

You felt nauseous at the information. 

Oh my god, Abby was going to die.

Nora looked up from the music sheet to examine your face when she heard your breath hitch on your throat. Your hands felt clammy. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said in her soothing, professional tone. “She’s stable now, luckily the bullet didn’t damage anything important. She’ll probably be discharged later today,” she added, as if to prove how well she was doing.

But you had only one thought in your mind after Nora’s words: you had to see her - check with your own eyes that she really was alive and well. 

You had been assigned a supply run on Zone 4 today, having to present yourself for duty after the class. So you hurriedly asked Nora if it was okay for you to end the lesson early, already picking up your stuff to be gone in a flash, thankful when she told you it was. You didn’t say anything, but you had a feeling she knew why you were so eager to leave.

The green tent of the med bay gave Abby’s skin a sickly tone. She was lying on a cot, attached to some medical equipment that rhythmically measured her vital signs, sleeping with one hand protectively resting over her stomach. Her arms and hands had cuts and bruises all over, there was a patched up gash on her forehead and a lot of dried blood on her clothes. Your hand hovered above hers, aching to touch her, to confirm she really was there; but ultimately decided against it, afraid to wake her up - she was such a light sleeper. So you settled into simply watching her beautiful face, taking comfort in the steady rise and fall of her breath as proof she was okay.

The despair you had felt the past few days about where she was, or whether she had died, quietly cooled down on your chest as you contemplated her, making room for a new emotion: anger. It surprised you - you thought you’d be only relieved to see her alive and back home, but no. 

The worst part was that you couldn’t even tell exactly what was making you mad. Was it because she had actually almost gotten killed as you had dreaded? Or was it because she had left for days, apparently hurt by you, without even saying goodbye? Maybe it was the fear of having lost her, the one that ate away at you for these days without notice, that had twisted into this hateful shape - the feeling not knowing what to do with itself anymore.

Against your will, you left the med bay to go pick up your shift - if it was up to you, you’d sit by her side until she woke up, scared that she would be gone again when you returned. You tried your best to make it the fastest supply run in history, nagging at your unit mates whenever they slowed the pace or stopped to do anything that wasn’t necessary. And you did go back to the Base in record time, albeit at the cost of some dirty looks from your partners. 

As soon as you were dismissed for the day you went looking for Abby, but she was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t at the mess hall, or at the gym, or in the room, and she wasn’t even in the med bay anymore (you had passed by to check). 

Where the fuck is this girl? You thought as panic slowly rose, your dreaded prediction of her vanishing again coming true.

Agitated, you decided to take a shower, in an attempt to clear your head and stop freaking out so much. She was home and she was safe, it was all that mattered - you repeated to yourself. And maybe she had been avoiding you on purpose, that was why you couldn’t find her.

You left the showers wrapped up in your short towel, hair dripping and brows knit - it hadn’t helped as much as you’d hoped. The lockers were empty, except for a tall figure with broad shoulders. She was only in her underwear, a big patch of red tainted gauze taped to the side of her chiseled stomach, and her long blond hair cascading down her back as she neatly folded her pants, the strands looking wavy from being pulled tight in a braid for god knows how long.

You didn’t even think before stomping towards her, almost slipping on the wet floor as you did - your anger and relief mingled into something entirely new you couldn’t describe.

“Hey! Abigail! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You called when she didn’t turn to look at who was approaching her.

Her eyes widened for a second when she realized it was you, but then that unperturbed expression was back on her face again. “Huh? What do you mean?”

You positioned yourself in front of her, looking at her dead in the eye. “You were gone for days, no one fucking knew where you were! And then you come back with a bullet in your stomach and vanish as soon as you’re discharged from the med bay?” You accused as she took a step back, getting trapped between you and the locker. “I thought you were dead!”

“I was on a confidential mission for Isaac,” she replied impassively. “I don’t understand what the problem is here.”

The way she was feigning ignorance inflamed your anger - you felt like hitting something. “Fuck, Abby, you’re impossible sometimes!” You snapped, frustrated.

“Oh, I'm impossible?” She scoffed, “why are you acting like you care so much about me, anyway?” She asked, folding her arms and leaning on the locker, her huge biceps distracting.

You looked at her incredulously, “What kind of question is this? Of course I care about you! I was worried sick about you!”

“That's funny, because it didn’t look like you did back at the party,” she said, expressionless.

“Wh- what are you talking about? That was days ago, besides you were the one who was confessing your feelings for-” you stopped yourself before you said Owen or Candice’s name and amended instead, “to anyone who wanted to hear.”

"Confessing my feelings for whom?" She asked, straightening herself.

"Don't make me fucking say it. It makes my skin crawl when I think of it," you said in a low voice, avoiding her eyes.

"Tell me who you thought I was confessing my feelings for,” she demanded, her face serious.

You didn’t want to throw their names into the conversation, and it wasn’t like you were certain of who she was actually talking about at the party, so you conceded. "Okay, fine, I can't say for sure, but I have two very clear candidates in my mind."

She scoffed at your answer, rolling her eyes and leaning back on the locker. "Oh my god, you're so clueless..."

"What's that supposed to mean?” You asked, confused. “And why did you storm out of the party like that? Didn't talk to me when I came back to the room and disappeared for fucking days without so much as a goodbye?"

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she examined your face for a moment with her unreadable eyes. Then she asked in a low voice: "Did you think I was gonna like it?"

"What?"

"Did you think I was gonna enjoy watching you kiss someone else and then plan a fucking threesome with them?" She elaborated, shifting from her detached position on the locker to lean towards you, intimidatingly.

Her words caught you off guard, but you stood your ground. “I didn't think you'd care. Why would you anyway?" You retorted, mirroring her movement. You knew you weren’t half as imposing as she was, but that didn’t stop you.

"I care a lot more than you think," she said, her face much closer to yours now. Her plump lips inviting, despite the biting words coming out of them.

“Then fucking prove it,” you dared, your gaze slipping from her eyes to her lips. They were now only a few centimeters away from yours, and you could feel her hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

For a moment she didn’t do anything. Just stood there in that stance, breathing in your air, considering your words. Then she licked her lips and brought her hand to cup your face, locking you in. 

You stopped breathing, waiting. 

And very slowly, like she had all the time in the world, she inched her lips closer to yours, watching your reaction keenly, softly brushing them on yours to test the waters, teasing.

You fluttered your eyes closed, the trail her lips left on yours burning the skin with yearning. 

You wanted more.

You licked your lips when she pulled back slightly, opening your eyes to look into hers intently, giving her the silent permission she was asking. 

She understood the message. 

Her lips came fully down on yours, intense and thirsty, but not fast. It was like she was savoring you, feeling every bit of the skin she seemed to have waited so long to touch. You kissed her back, reeling at the sensation of her plump lips finally pressed against yours, mind getting foggy.

Soon her hot tongue was pressing against the seam of your lips, asking for passage, and you gave it to her, meeting her in the middle with a whimper, as your chest combusted into flames and sparks travelled down your legs at her taste.

She was everything you had expected and more. Her sweet tongue caressed yours lustfully, intertwining and fighting for dominance. You leaned into the kiss, matching her passion, unable to suppress the low moan that escaped you as she explored your mouth insatiably, taking her time.

You ran your fingers through her silky hair, bringing your hands to her face and down to hug her by the shoulders, pressing your body closer to hers, feeling her muscles through the thin fabric of your towel. She responded by grabbing your wet hair with one hand and your waist with the other, pulling you even closer, like she was trying to fuse the two of you together. 

You dug your nails on her back and dragged them down, scratching her soft skin, eliciting the most luscious moan from her.

“Fuck…” She said, as she unlocked her lips from yours and firmly pulled your head back to expose your neck. 

You whimpered at the feeling, grabbing hold of her muscular arms to ground yourself, as she set your jaw ablaze with a trail of kisses that went down your neck, tasting your tender skin with her tongue and marking it with her teeth.

“Were you jealous?” You panted with your eyes closed, melting under her touch.

“Hm?” She didn’t stop kissing you, her lips now on your collarbone, her hands travelling down your back to palm your ass.

“Were you jealous to see me kissing someone else?” You asked again with a moan, feeling her squeeze your ass cheeks and pull you closer.

She didn’t respond, choosing to focus on tasting your skin instead. Her hands roamed all over your body, like she didn’t want to miss any part of you, her muscles rolling gloriously whenever she moved.

You grabbed her hair, tugging on it firmly to force her to look at you, she hissed through her teeth, eyes closed. “Answer me,” you demanded.

She opened her eyes to look at you, black pupils swallowing the blue with lust. “Fuck, yeah,” she yielded.

You smirked and captured her lips with yours again, rougher now, biting. She seemed to like it.

“Did you wish it was you receiving my kiss like that?” You asked against her neck, it was your turn to taste her.

“Yes,” she breathed, throwing her head back to offer more skin to you.

“Did you think it was hot?” You asked between kisses and bites on her salty flesh. “It looked like you did.”

“... yeah,” she whined again, both hands splayed across your back pulling you close as you bit her earlobe. You could feel her pebbled nipples through her sports bra.

“I wished it had been you, too,” you said, kissing the muscles on her chest, your hands snaking down her sides to grab her full ass as she whimpered. 

God, she was so delicious you couldn’t get enough of her.

“You have no idea for how long I wanted to do this,” you said, making your way up her neck again. You could feel your slick sticking to the side of your thighs, with no underwear to hold it back.

She cupped your face with both her hands, guiding your gaze to hers. “You should’ve asked me sooner, then,” she said with a smirk.

She brought her mouth back on yours again, relentless and ravishing, kissing like she was addicted to you. You felt dizzy, intoxicated, responding to her touch with all the intensity you could muster. 

You thought you heard someone clear their throat in the distance, but didn’t pay any mind, too busy and inebriated to pay attention to anything else that wasn’t the delicious woman in front of you. But the noise continued, insistent and louder, followed by the sound of banging on one of the locker’s metal doors, which forced you to stop and look for its source.

It was an elderly lady, standing by the entrance door of the communal showers, looking reproachfully at the both of you. “Unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. “This younger generation has no respect for anyone else. I hope you’re proud of yourselves, acting like a public space is some hotel…”

Her words were enough to make you two untangle from each other, faces flushed, lips swollen, the ghost of Abby’s touch on your skin still sending shivers down your spine despite your mortification. 

You said your apologies to the old lady, while she continued muttering under her breath about your disrespect as she entered the showers.

You looked at Abby with sheepish eyes, having a hard time wrapping your head around what had just happened. You felt like you needed to stop and go through this memory a few hundred times to make sure you had every detail etched on your brain - you didn’t know if this was ever happening again. 

“So, was that proof enough for you?” She asked, a sly smile on her face.

“Hmm, I don’t know… I don’t think I’m totally convinced yet,” you joked. “Will I see you back in the room? Or are you planning on vanishing again?” You asked in a friendly tone, but you were dead serious.

She chuckled, pulling you in by the hand to give you one last lingering kiss before taking her towel and making her way to clean herself. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she responded with a smirk, disappearing into the fog of the showers.