Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The man sighs heavily looking in the mirror particularly at his hair that dropped past his shoulders now.

‘Good Christ I look like a hippy.’

He smiled then remembering his dad telling him in jest to cut his hair, and get a real job despite his own hair being twice the length the man had. He frowned then remembering the rougher years of his life not being prepared for almost all of it but who could be? Shaking the thoughts from his mind he focused on the task at hand. First he’d need something to catch the hair with so he retrieved a large bath towel from the nearby cupboard setting it near the sink on the floor. He then retrieved the clippers he’d nabbed during his latest raid into the nearby town.

Knocking twice on the porcelain sink top for good luck. (Beggars can’t be choosers) he plugged the clippers into the wall socket. When no sparks came flying from the socket nor did the lights go out, and nothing caught on fire. He smiled again and began the task of cutting his hair. Going from front to back he opted to keep a bit left for looks in case he came across another survivor, however unlikely that may be.

Shaving both sides of his head proved to be challenging, but eventually with great patience and occasional cursing, he’d removed the mop that had grown on his head in the last six months. Turning his head side to side once more he admired his work his dark blue eyes gleaming in the artificial light.

“I don’t look half bad,”

he spoke with a smile spread across his face and with that the lightbulb above him promptly flickered and blew out shrouding the room in darkness. He snorted at the darkness then started laughing a genuine hearty laugh that reached all corners of his heavily fortified home in the wasteland known as Knox County, Kentucky. Wiping his eyes as he recovered from his laughing fit he spoke to the darkness,

“Fuckin figures.”

Chapter Text

The man looked first up the silent street, overgrown buildings lining both sides of the once bustling town of Rosewood. Pulling his hood up over his head he took one more look up then down the street. Then darted across to the opposite row of buildings, pressing himself to a red brick vine covered wall. He froze for a moment listening for anything out of the ordinary. Gunshots, an alerted screech from the dead, glass shattering, but nothing came.

He turned down the street and keeping close to the buildings he made his way to his destination. Keeping a low crouch ready to spring and fall back in the opposite direction should a threat present itself. Stopping at an old bookstore with the sign overhead falling off. He took a cautious glance around before slipping through the broken doorway. The entire building was shrouded in darkness that was common with the ever dwindling daylight.

Carefully stepping over piles of broken glass, and shattered wood he made his way to the nearest bookcase. Taking another cautious pause he listened for anything that stood out to him. After a few moments he deduced that he was alone at least for the moment. He reached forward then, and moved a pile of magazines to the side revealing a stash of batteries, and the prize he’d been after. A nice collection of VHS tapes and cassette tapes.

A smile spread across his face, silently removing his backpack from his shoulders, and gently set the coveted items into his bag. Once he was finished he zipped up the bag, replaced it on his back, and returned the stack of magazines to their original position. Almost giddy from his haul he turned to leave the bookstore when he heard something, something he hadn’t heard since the start of the outbreak since the last radio station stopped broadcasting and the air waves went silent.

It was music.

Immediately the man went into a crouch. His hand going for his weapon tucked away in case of emergencies. Opting to follow the sound he slowly made his way past several bookcases covered in several layers of dust. Approaching the rear of the store he heard the music growing louder and louder now it sounded off though like it was muffled by a pillow or heavy blanket. Softening his footfalls as much as he could he slipped up to an empty bookcase that he’d raided long ago.

The sound was clear now muffled, but clear he had to stop himself from humming along to the tune for fear of giving away his position should the listener be hostile. Peeking around the edge of the bookcase he spotted the listener or rather the back of their blonde head. They bobbed their head along with the song completely oblivious to his presence. Evidently the man wasn’t as stealthy as he had hoped maybe the wind shifted, maybe the listener was just more in tune with their surroundings than he gave them credit for. Whatever the case this was the moment that the man’s life changed forever.