I started this to try to get my brain working, since I have no direction for Off and no inspiration for it
I wanted to do something a bit more familiar to me, with plans for what will happen already in place. (Off is pretty much just whatever comes to mind while writing-)
This probably will NOT be a romance story. The characters will be much more focused on survival than making out.

oxoxoxo

His voice had never sounded so cold. Every word stung like a shot in the heart, leaving Craig bleeding and hurting. The venomous words were purely intentional, and Craig knew that. Token knew that. It was known the moment the two began to bicker. It was known the moment Token saw Craig stealing from the Coffee Shop. Craig didn't say why. In fact, the teenage boy spoke not a single word that wasn't towards apologizing. It didn't matter, in the end. Token wasn't going to talk to him.

So Craig left, after the last words were exchanged. He didn't want to go home- he knew it was simply not a good idea. He never told his parents he left, and if he came in now he would certainly be shouted at, especially at this time of night. Not to mention, he wished to talk to a friend, and of course, his mind fell on the only person he could trust right now. Clyde Donovan.

Craig's cold hands found their way into his pockets, followed by a vulgar hiss about how he wished he had chosen to wear gloves. He could see his breathe in the cold, vicious air. The snow on the streets were piled on the sides, the height of each pile well over a foot tall. The night only intensified this freezing cold, making it hardly bearable. A few small tears slipped down his face, slightly freezing to the pale skin. The walk was excruciatingly painful for Craig, as he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

That is, until he makes it almost to his dear friend's house. His phone went off, and gives him a number unknown to Craig. The area code was of South park, 719. Craig gives a small grunt, before halting his walk to read it.

[The virus that reanimates will destroy the living. Prepare yourself before the fall of man] Craig let out a snort after he read the message. He decided to humor whoever sent the message.

[virus?] He simply sent, before he walked up the door and giving it a confident knock. He wiped away any tears, making it almost impossible to guess he was crying. Not that he was. Craig had shed only a few tears, which to him was not the definition of crying. Nope.

Clyde opened the door, giving a small innocent grin. The dork wrapped his arms around Craig, pressing his face into the crook of Craig's neck.

Clyde was always like that, touchy-feely, with little regard for personal space. Ever since the two of them were in preschool he acted like that. Perhaps how strange he was is why Craig grew so attached to the bubbly boy. It wasn't something he was usually drawn to- no, Craig prefered those who were more forceful, rude. But no, his best friend happened to be a little baby.

"Hi, Clyde." Craig grunted, forcefully removing the clingy boy off of himself.

"C'mon inside!" Clyde chirped at his friend, grabbing the boy's wrist and pulling him into the warmth. "Why'd you come over? I thought you said you were busy." Clyde gave a small hum, raising an eyebrow at the other boy.

"I, uh, can we talk about this in your room or something?" Craig responses, taking in the the familiar surroundings. This was practically like a second home to him. The air smelt of pancakes and sugar, which makes Craig feel warm inside. It helped him relax, especially in a time like this. The house had a lot of stuff filling it, but it wasn't overwhelming. It was cozy.

"Of course, buddy!" Clyde said, pulling on his friend's arm once more towards the stairs. It was strange how similar each house was. Many houses were made out of the same cookie-cutter. Even so, each was decorated to seem different, and while Clyde's house was almost identically made, it had a much different feel to it.

He pulled Craig into his room. It was messy, but not cluttered. Clothing was scattered here and there, though not to the point where it seems horrendously unclean. It was similar to any teenage boy's room, as none of the boys in his class had the patience to clean often.

"So dude, whats up?" Clyde asks, dropping to the floor at the foot of his bed.

"I, uh…" Craig paused, taking a deep breath. He knew this probably wasn't going to go well with Clyde. "I steal from shops. To make money for my dad. He's in the hospital. Token caught me taking from the Coffee shop."

"Craig!" Clyde yelled, smacking the top of his best friend's head. "Stealing? You could've asked for help, you idiot!"

Craig's hand reached up to his head and rubbed the place Clyde hit him, "I'm not a charity case." he retaliated, punching Clyde on the shoulder playfully.

Clyde frowned, and shook his head slightly. He never really liked theft, "Don't do this again dude, I don't want you, like, going to jail."

Craig groaned, running a hand through his hair, "Dude, whatever. Can we just go to sleep or something, asshole?"

Clyde only nods in response, and Craig digs through the boy's closet for a second blanket. Clyde was a blanket whore. Once finding his favorite of Clyde's blankets, a Red Racer one from their childhood, Craig crawled over to his friends bed and laid down on it. The lights shut off, and Clyde turns on a movie for the two to watch.

It took a while for Craig to sleep, and he didn't let Clyde stay awake while he suffered insomnia. They both ended up sitting through two and a half movies before both were passed out.

The next day of school wasn't like any regular day of school for Craig. He made a conscious choice to avoid his friends, especially Token. For reason obvious.

It was strange braking his usual routine, it made him feel like something was wrong. Something was off about his day, and there was. He realized this from the moments he entered the school doors with Clyde, and left for his first class. He knew that now, sitting in the middle of his third period classroom.

Craig spent the majority of the day wondering about this. Would he ever be forgiven by his friends, primarily Token, for stealing? Would they call the cops on him? He couldn't help but feel extremely cautious. He prepared to lie to the cops. To the world.

[Yes, virus. It's already hither and yet payed no heed to. It's escalating and not a soul whispers a word about it.] Craig looked up, looking for whoever could be sending the text. Nobody seemed to be messing with their phone. Of course, it was very possible for the texter not to be in his class, or even in the school. They were probably some messed up adult, and yet the boy was intrigued.

[when will we see it, though? Who are u?] He typed up, not looking down at his phone as he does so. He long since grew used to typing without looking. Once he finished typing, he looked back down at the phone, sending it. Then, Craig saves the number into his phone as 'Virus' for… future reference.

[I'm only another resident in this washed up town. In due time it will strike at it's worse, and it will be much too late for everyone.]

[should i prepare, then? is that why u texted me?]

[Perhaps. Or perhaps not, Craig.] Craig let out a growl, how did this guy know his name. Why wouldn't he reveal himself? It bothered him immensely. His fingers curl into a fist and he digs his fingers into his palms.

The bell went off and Craig was quick to leap out of his seat and dash out the doors towards the doors. He long since decided to eat outside instead of in the cafeteria with everyone else. Kids weren't restricted to the cafeteria, but weren't allowed to leave campus grounds. Not that it would stop Craig, and Craig began his short walk to the park nearby.

Craig glanced to the side, and spotted something weird. He stopped in his tracks, staring at it with wide eyes. A man was limping down the streets, his entire body pale as ever. Though far away, Craig noticed bloody wound on the guys arm. The man turned to Craig, making eye contact, before continuing down the streets slowly.