Today was a lazy sort of day, a day where the sky wasn't quite the perfect shade of blue but the sun rays were still a comforting warmth. The sort of day where everything seemed to have fallen into place and all was well with the world.

Rachel hummed underneath her breath as she stepped on asphalt, her sandals slapping against it satisfyingly. The crowd of teenagers around her chattered loudly. It was like they were absorbed in their own little world, whether they be talking to the person next to them or through a phone. Of course, nobody noticed Rachel Gardner slipping through.

She didn't really have a destination in mind. Even though Rachel had gotten what she was looking for (three bags of groceries swung at her side along with a heavily worn purse), it didn't seem right to go back just yet.

Zack won't care too much if I'm late by a couple of minutes, she reasoned with herself. Rachel tucked a strand of dyed black hair behind her ear. Yes, a little detour should be fine.

Which is how Rachel found herself at a nearby park, feeding pigeons with the little bit of bread she had bought.

"What nice birds," she cooed softly as a pigeon plucked a crumb out of her hand. She let out a small smile when it chirped back in response. Other birds pecked at her shoes, demanding for more. Rachel complied and broke off a little more from her bread.

Slowly, the sun began to set, casting an orange hue to everything in vicinity. The shadows of her abandoned groceries stretched more and more as seconds grew to minutes and minutes to hours.

"...I ran out." Rachel brushed off the remaining pieces of bread on her legs and sat back. Only a single pigeon remained now. It cocked its head and jumped forward a couple of paces, nearing Rachel.

"Come here, little bird," she said, reaching out with her hands. At her call, it let out a few chiming notes, not unlike a musical box. Rachel's lips upturned as the pigeon came closer with small hops and then-

"Yo."

A foot slammed next to the pigeon, stray pebbles scattering from the force. The pigeon screeched twice before flying away in a burst of feathers.

"Zack? What are you doing here?"

Zack ignored her, instead choosing to head towards the groceries with heavy, clunky boots thudding against the ground. He picked up a random bag and immediately started rifling through it. "Crap, crap, crap, why the hell do you have to get so many vegetables and shit, crap, crap, cra-aha!" Zack pulled out a bag of chips with a crow of delight.

"Can't you wait until we get back home?" Rachel asked, gathering up the rest of the bags.

Zack stared at her for a second before walking away briskly. "Hell no, do you know how long I've waited?! It's eight-o'-fucking'-clock! And have you seriously been letting me starve because of some shitty bird?"

"...Sorry." Rachel hurried to his side. The pair walked in silence (aside from Zack crunching on chips). Rachel looked up as she walked, tracking the progress of the moon's journey until Zack suddenly stopped and swerved to get a closer look at two posters tacked on a wall.

"Holy shit, is that supposed to be us?" Zack squinted at the grainy words illuminated by the flickering street lamp above. Rachel stepped closer as well, curious.

On the left was a poster that read, "MISSING PERSON: RACHEL GARDNER" with her picture. The photograph, if she remembered correctly, was from a week after Zack and Rachel had escaped from the building. It was odd to see her emotionless stare reflected back at her.

She fingered her newly black hair that Zack had cut short. Somehow, Rachel was kind of envious of the long, blonde locks the other sported. Which was ridiculous because that was once her, after all. Growing it back and letting the dye fade away wasn't an option though. The police were still trying to find her and Zack, even after six months had passed.

Rachel was snapped of her thoughts when she heard Zack's voice. "A clear e-mag...a clear image cannot be provided due to kir...cir? Due to circuh-"

"Circumstances," Rachel said, tugging on Zack's sleeve.

"Yeah, whatever, circumstances. Bet these assclowns're only using big and fancy words to sound like they actually have their fucking act together. Due to circumstances, a rough sketch has been produked, wait, shit, a rough sketch has been produced to display the sus...the suspect's features. Ha! Done! Take that, you goddamn government cunts!"

Rachel peered at Zack's poster. Instead of a photograph like hers, only a rough pencil sketch was provided. Although she could tell that the artist had tried their best with making a rendition of Zack, the final product ended up with an overly crooked nose and a chin long enough to pop a balloon. The eyes seemed to be too spaced out and were depicted with pinpricks for pupils. All in all, the drawing was...it was kind of...

"They couldn't have done a shittier job if they tried!" Zack cackled, ripping the poster from the wall clean off. He put it close to his face, grinning wildly. "Say, Ray, what do you think? Think these fucktards got my "features" right?"

Rachel flicked her eyes between the two, observing once again for dissimilarities. Zack kept looking at her expectantly with a smug look. After a few more seconds, she arrived at her verdict.

"I think you're more handsome than that," Rachel said honestly.

The smug aura dropped immediately as Zack began to sputter. Rachel watched as the little amount of skin show started to redden. "H-huh? What kind of...what kind of fucking answer is that?! Are you trying to make fun of me?!"

"I thought you wanted my opinion." Rachel started walking again, leaving Zack gaping.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you would have actual shit for eyes," Zack spat. Despite his words, however, he caught up to Rachel in long strides.

"Eyes..." Rachel murmured. She pressed a hand on her purse where the comforting bulge of her gun was.

The action didn't go unnoticed. "Are you thinking about that creepy bastard and his "peepers" bullshit?" Zack scowled.

"Mhm...yeah." Rachel tilted her head back. At this point, the only light was that of the streetlights and the moon. The moon, she noticed, was tinged a slight blue.

"I hope he burned nice and long in that fire," Zack said under his breath. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if that bastard managed to survive somehow. He's like a fucking cockroach. Did you see the way that he was crawling on the floor? Eugh."

"Hey, what's with that weird face? Are you actually scared of that son of a bitch?"

"No, but..."

"But fucking what? I can't read your mind, if you want to say something, spit it out."

Zack sighed heavily. "Shit, Ray, d'ya think he's going to come after us or some crap? Even if he is a cockroach, there's no way he can survive being burnt to a crisp and having a goddamn building fall on him to boot."

"But you did," Rachel said quietly.

"Yeah, but I'm a monster, remember?" Zack huffed. He tightly squeezed the now empty bag of chips before throwing it on the ground.

"You're not a monster." Rachel turned to look at Zack straight in the eyes. He froze, pinned in place by piercing blue. Time seemed to slow as Rachel remained fixated on him with an almost unnerving stare. A drop of sweat ran down his cheek.

"If I'm not a monster, what the fuck am I?" he managed to get out, defiant.

"You're..." my God, my executioner.

But no, that wasn't right. Rachel had long since accepted that Zack wouldn't be willing to step on that pedestal of God. And she couldn't cling to the hope that she might be redeemed through the words of the Bible.

"Her executioner" sounded so cold, like Zack was just a distant figure who had only one purpose, which wasn't true in the slightest. Rachel thought back to the frantic mornings where Zack would hastily gulp down breakfast before breaking into a mad dash to his new job of the month (or sometimes week), hollering a goodbye as he left. The calm noons where Rachel and Zack would sit on the couch with a book as Zack sounded out words and scribbled in a heavily worn notebook that Rachel had bought for his birthday.

The warm evenings where Zack would chatter about "the dumb motherfuckers polluting my job. God, I wish I could run them through with a knife," as they washed dishes together. The quiet nights where Rachel would snuggle into her blankets as she fell asleep to the loud snores in the next room over.

No, Zack wasn't either of those things, and definitely not a monster.

So then, what was he?

Rachel blinked and focused back on Zack's face. Aside from his usual surliness, she thought that there was a sort of agitation and uneasiness present too.

"So, have you finally realized that a damn monster is the only word that can describe me?" Zack sneered, self-deprecating in his words. Rachel shook her head and thought harder, for that perfect word that would describe him, her, and everything in between.

Finally, she found it.

"You're not a monster. You're my very important partner, Zack." Rachel said, beaming.

She felt a curl of amusement as his skin started flushing red again. "You…" Zack opened his mouth as if to say something scathing but then closed it. After a couple of renditions of acting like a fish out of water, he let out a gusty sigh and turned away. "Don't you ever feel embarrassed by the stupid sappy shit you spout?"

"It's okay if it's you," Rachel told him.

"You're really-"

"Really what?"

"...You're really annoying, that's what!" Zack snapped. "Man, I'm so fucking hungry that I could eat a horse and its children. Maybe grandchildren. The whole generation." He kicked at a rock, watching it bounce.

"I bought instant ramen," she said. Rachel held up the two grocery bags before frowning. "I bought some ice cream but it must be all melted by now. I'll have to go back to the store."

Zack held the grocery bag he was carrying far away from him. Goop was collecting on the bottom, threatening to drip on his boots. "Ugh, that's fucking disgusting!"

"The store's right past this block," Rachel said. She peeked inside of her bags and frowned when she realized that the chocolate ice cream that Zack wanted had melted as well. It also had leaked onto her other purchases.

"Fine, fine, we'll pick up your damn ice cream on the way," Zack said, throwing his hands up in the air.

"We?" Rachel asked.

"What the hell do you mean, "we"?" Zack raised his voice so that it was high and pitchy on the last word. "I'm not letting you walk around alone at this time of night, what kind of asshole do you think I am, huh?!"

"I'll be fine," she replied, glancing meaningfully at her purse.

"I need to make sure you don't wander around for hours like a mindless idiot, again," Zack emphasized. He picked up the pace and turned around when she didn't follow. "Stop dragging your goddamn feet, are you coming or not?"

Rachel remembered a time when nobody would come for her. Even if she cried or screamed, her parents had refused to listen, instead choosing to angrily talk to each other with voices growing larger and larger until the house felt like it was going to explode. She had run away to the comforts of her books and burrowed underneath blankets like they might shield her from the terrors of the world.

They didn't, of course.

But what she had now was better than blankets.

"Ray?"

Rachel smiled. "Yeah. Let's go together, Zack."