It's your tradition to walk alongside the walk for a few miles; it has been since you were around eleven. You live alongside the walk, so it just seemed natural to do. You've always liked watching the boys as they walk, making up stories about them in your head, maybe making conversation with them if they're close enough to the edge of the road. Thankfully, you live near Canada, so the crowds aren't that big and the boys aren't too tired.
This year, though, there's a boy that interests you more than the others.
He's small, and dark, with a rainhat shoved in his back pocket and a perpetual scowl on his face. He walks alone, and keeps an erratic pace. You wonder if you can catch up to him. He seems a lot more interesting than the big-muscled blond from the Midwest, or the tall ginger one.
"Hello," you say when you get close enough, and he just glances at you, then back at the road. Well. He's sort of rude.
Eventually, he talks. "Who the hell are you?" he asks. His expression is guarded. You have a feeling that this is going to be a hard guy to talk to.
"Just a fan of the Walk," you say, and he doesn't seem like he's satisfied, but he doesn't press it. You rarely exchange names with the Walkers you talk to. It keeps it less personal.
This guy gives you his name anyway.
"I'm Gary Barkovitch," he says, puffing out his chest a little as he does so. "I'm from Washington, D.C., and I'm going to win."
"Everyone says that," you tease, and his temporary look of pride is replaced once again by the scowl. "I was only teasing."
"Sure," he says, but he starts angling his way toward the middle of the road. You sigh.
"Hey – wait, I want to talk to you!" you say, and he stops.
"Really," he says, and you nod. His scowl is replaced by something almost endearingly little-boy like.
"Yeah," you say, laughing a little. You brush hair out of your face and smile at him, and he looks away, a light blush showing through his olive-sallow skin. "So, how did you get into this, Gary Barkovitch of Washington, D.C.?"
"Nothing better to do," he says. "I mean, Christ, what else am I going to do with my life? If I win this – I mean, when I win this, I'll be set for life. I can move away from that shitty place and find somewhere I really like."
"Come to Maine," you suggest, and he snorts. "Apart from the massacre every May, it's a very nice place."
"Sure," he says. "There are less people here."
"If you want no people, go Wyoming or North Dakota," you say. "You'll also get snowed in every winter and you won't even have to see the three people in the hundred mile radius."
He actually laughs at that, and you can't help but think that this boy is fairly cool. A lot cooler than the guys you've talked to the last few years the Walk has been taking place. At least he laughs at your jokes. That's always a plus.
"When I win, I'll come get you and we'll move to fucking North Dakota," he promises. "I don't know your name, but I'll just… hell, I'll just show up on this stretch of road."
"I'll meet you with a suitcase," you say. "We can elope."
He laughs again, blushing a little. You sort of wonder why he isn't by any of the other guys walking, then dismiss it. He's probably just a loner. Sure, he was a little rude when you first spoke to him, but he's not that bad of a guy. Just gets off on the wrong foot, you'd guess.
"So," you say. "How are you planning on winning?"
"My Plan, obviously," he says.
"Ah," you say. "Obviously."
"You can't win this unless you have a Plan. You have to have a Plan," he says. You would reply, but you're sort of getting out of breath. You just nod. "Getting tired?"
"A little," you admit. "The only physical activity I do during the year is walking along the Walkers."
"Well," he says. "I guess I'll see you after I win."
"Don't forget, you promised to elope to North Dakota with me," you say, and he manages an awkward smile. You stop walking, watching that rainhat flap in his back pocket, smiling softly. Odds are, he isn't going to win, but if he does…
Well, you're really looking forward to that North Dakota elope.
Alright, so, someone on Tumblr wanted a Reader Insert/Long Walk guy (specifically Barkovitch) and… I guess this is what happened? It's my first time writing a reader insert, but I tried to make it as ambiguous as possible. So.
There's that.