AN: I wrote this a long time ago, but I've been wanting to post something else for a while now. This will be several chapters long, a good portion of it already written, but I don't plan on getting to the unwritten parts anytime soon. So sit back and enjoy my story about of couple of people and their mental problems.
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He took another bite of the sludge that was called food. It tasted a little spicy. That was new. Then again, everyone had been getting tired of the tastelessness of it. At least, he thought they were. He hadn't exactly talked to any of them lately.
Or at all.
Kevin looked up, seeing past his small table with three seats on either side, to the two dozen other tables just like it. He was alone at his table, as always.
Not always, actually, not at first. There were a few people, as lost and confused as him, perhaps even more so, but they'd settled by now and had found a different place to sit. Away from him.
It didn't matter. At least, he told himself it didn't. He couldn't tell if he believed himself or not. He told himself that didn't matter either.
He looked around the cafeteria, watching the other people eat, and talk. Try to have a good time. At least, he thought they were. He didn't really know.
He caught a girl his age looking at him. She quickly looked away. But then she looked back, before turning to her friend. She said something, and both of them burst into giggles before they both turned to him.
At first, Kevin was genuinely confused. But he could infer what it was all about.
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Kevin had been sixteen when the bombs fell. His parents had sent him off to Vault 72 when the first warning had been given, promising to catch up. They never did. None of the friends, acquaintances, or even people he'd briefly met or known had been in the Vault when he'd arrived. And none of them showed up afterward either.
For nearly two years, or at least, he was pretty sure it was nearly two years, he had literally done nothing but eat, drink, sleep, and breath. Just simply going through the motions. He couldn't believe everyone he'd known was gone, or at least might as well be gone. That he would never see them again. Never hear from them again. For all intents and purposes, his life before simply didn't matter anymore. And so he let himself waste away.
Like everyone else, when it become apparent that their stay was permanent, Kevin had been assigned a room and half a dozen jumpsuits. He would spend almost all his time in his room, only ever coming out to go to the bathroom or go to the cafeteria. He moved like clockwork, his schedule was the same. He was never aware of when the time for job assignments came and past, leaving him without one. There were plenty of qualified people in the vault. Not everyone needed to work, and several were dealing with post-traumatic stress.
Like Kevin was, probably. He'd told himself it didn't matter.
Then one day, he broke his rhythm, one he'd kept for nearly two years, and got up to look at himself in the mirror. His brown hair fell to his waist and was unkempt and knotted, and the beard he never would have grown out otherwise made him look dirty and old. His body looked like it was nothing more then bone and skin.
As he examined himself, he came to a decision. His old life was worthless. Right now, he was worthless. He would make himself valuable again. One step at a time.
He reached for the electric razor and systematically shaved his head and beard.
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Six years had passed since then. He was now as hygiene proficient as any other self-respecting human being. But while it made him far more presentable, there was still the major social barrier that had been somehow constructed around him. And so, his decision ended up doing little more then adding to the number of activities in his clockwork schedule.
He woke up. He showered. He ate breakfast. He brushed his teeth. He worked out. He showered. He ate lunch. He brushed his teeth. He worked out. He showered. He ate dinner. He brushed his teeth. He sat on his bed thinking, until he finally fell asleep. He woke up, and the cycle repeated itself.
So Kevin had been originally confused as to why a girl, even a girl his age, would be staring at him. It was the first form, however meager, of social interaction he had consciously experienced since the door closed, shut, locked, silenced all that was outside this little vault.
But his memories of what girls had been like before the vault, of his experience with friends and socializing; they told him that maybe, just maybe, one of the girls were interested in him.
Or maybe not. He looked away. He told himself it didn't matter, and finished his sludge-food.
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Kevin had been half way through his morning breakfast when he became aware of someone sitting directly across from him. He looked up, and stared confusedly at the determined face of a black-haired girl with brown eyes. It was the same girl from yesterday, the one who'd looked at him. No it wasn't. Yes it was; the hairstyle and color was the same.
As he wondered who she was, she suddenly smiled at him, "Hello."
His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he had no idea how to react. But a long forgotten habit that had been ingrained into him by his now-probably-dead mother made him answer back, "hello."
His voice was scratchy and weak, and forced him to cough immediately after the word left his throat. He realized he hadn't used it since he first got into the vault, eight years ago. After clearing his throat, he tried again, "hello."
When he'd first replied, the girl's smile had turned to a frown, but quickly changed back with his second attempt, which proved he was actually capable of normal speech. Sort of.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked, slightly curious.
"Not in eight years," Kevin wheezed out. It was annoying; surely he should be able to speak normally? But he wasn't willing, for whatever reason, to try out words while still in front of her. He cleared his throat again.
She did it again, the frowning. But this time it wasn't just disappointment, now she actually looked downcast, "When the door closed," she whispered.
Though it hadn't been a question, Kevin nodded, glad he could at least do that normally.
She seemed to force a smile, before extended her hand, "I'm Kelly. Kelly Montenagro."
"Kevin," replied, clearing his throat again, "Kevin Grahm." He shook her outstretched hand.
"Nice to meet you!" she said happily, "I noticed the other day you were sitting alone, and you looked like a nice enough guy...but if you haven't talked in eight years you must not have very many friends, huh?"
Kevin wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just answered her question with a shake of his head.
"Would you like to be one of my friends?" she asked pleasantly, her smile losing that forced edge.
Kevin stared at her in surprise for several seconds, before he blinked and nodded. For some reason, he suddenly felt out of breath.
"Great!" Kelly yelled, "I've got to get to work right now, but I'll see you tomorrow! Bye, Kevin!" and just like that she was gone. Kevin found himself feeling even more confused.
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"He's a nice enough guy, just doesn't get much of a chance to socialize," stated Kelly as if it were obvious.
"He doesn't work. There's probably a reason," pointed out a man with dirty blonde hair sitting across from her in the booth. He took a bite of his lunch; the same sludge food they had always served.
"He hasn't talked to anyone in eight years! He probably doesn't work because no one's asked him to!" exclaimed Kelly angrily.
"So you're going to get him to work?"
Kelly shifted in her seat, "When I asked around, I found out he doesn't really do anything. He either works out or stays in his room, supposedly. So, yeah, I might get him to work."
"I still think you should stay away from him," sighed the man, "but then again, you're twenty-three now and we're gonna be stuck in this vault for the rest of our lives, looks like. Might as well make as many friends as you can."
Kelly smiled before leaning across the booth to kiss the man on the forehead, "thanks daddy. See you around!" and with a twirl of her long black hair she was gone.
The man, Kelly's dad, gave another sigh.
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At lunch, Kelly grabbed a tray of the processed food before sitting down across from Kevin. She took notice of the fact that this time he'd looked up at her instantly, instead of her having to wait for nearly a minute before he noticed her.
"Hey," she said.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice this time empty of the discomfort and pain that had previously come with talking, both surprising her and making her smile in the process.
"You've been practicing," she said, sounding impressed.
Kevin felt the blood rush to his cheeks, but he was more concerned with the conversation then his current emotions (which he was still remembering how to interpret) and so he ignored the discomfort of it.
"Yes," he said.
Her smile widened as she took a bite, ignored the mostly bland taste, and then, upon swallowing, said, "So why don't you tell me about yourself?" at his blank stare she reconsidered, "Better yet, I'm the socially active one so maybe I should start," she saw him open his mouth to say something, but then he closed it and nodded at her.
She sighed and looked at the ceiling, a single finger resting on her chin thoughtfully, "Where to begin...well, as you know I'm Kelly Montenagro. I'm twenty-three, and I work on the ventilation system in the maintenence division of our lovely little Vault. Before I came here, I was living with my dad in the city, because he was like super-rich for some discovery involving cold-storage, though I guess I still live with him since he lives in the room across from mine. My mom died when I was seven in a car accident, I don't really talk about it, but this was hers," she held up the end of a metallic necklace that had been hidden underneath her jumpsuit, showing a green orb with an ornate metal design covering nearly half its surface area, before stuffing it back underneath the jumpsuit, "I did have a boyfriend in high school, but we broke up a few months before the bombs fell. Thank god he's not in this Vault, though I guess that means he's probably, erm, dead. I don't want to sound cruel, but he was a cheating prick so...heh, sorry, I'm getting a little off track."
"I don't mind," said Kevin. He really didn't; it was interesting hearing another person's life story. At least, more interesting then merely guessing it by watching them from afar.
She gave him another smile, which made him blush for some reason, before she continued, "I got mostly average grades in school, but that was more because I didn't always do the work then me not knowing how, and my friends always came to me for help.
"When I first got to the Vault, I only had my dad and two friends from school, Jessica and Arnold Kennedy, who were brother and sister. I don't know what I would have done without them. Since then, I've become friends with most all the girls my age and a few of the boys...though none of them are single," she looked at Kevin, "well, except you, I guess. But I only met you yesterday and, um..." she laughed nervously and looked away, a slight blush on her cheeks.
Kevin got the urge to speak, but wasn't certain what to say. So he started talking about himself, similar to how she had, "I'm Kevin Grahm. I'm twenty-four, I think, and...I work out in the gym, I guess," he said awkwardly, "how exactly do you get work in the vault?" he asked curiously.
She looked back at him, still looking a little nervous, "well, when we first got here, they assigned most people to a job. But since there were twice as many people as jobs, not everyone got one, and some people, erm, weren't even considered because of...well, mental conditions derived from getting stuck in the vault. Like you, probably," she added the last statement sheepishly, and was looking like she really didn't want to be there at that moment. But Kevin merely nodded, and continued where he'd left off.
"Before the vault, I lived with both my parents. They made plenty of income from owning a good portion of Index Computers (1). I was on the basketball team at my high school. I wasn't a very good shot, but I was pretty good at stealing the ball and passing it to someone who could make it. I haven't ever had a girlfriend," added Kevin awkwardly, feeling the need to include it since she breached on the subject before, as well as feeling some of the old embarrassment he used to feel about it, "My parents sent me to the vault at the first sign of trouble. I think I was annoyed about it, but a week later the door closed. Only no parents. I think I spent the first few days looking for someone I knew before, but I didn't recognize anyone. I...I'm not sure what exactly I did after that," he said, confusion evident in his voice, "Most of what has happened in the vault...well...nothing really..."
"Stands out?" finished Kelly for him.
"Yeah, I guess. It's mostly a blur really. I guess I've been sort of living in shock for the last eight years, but I doubt things like that last this long, and if they did I doubt I'd be able to admit it."
Kelly merely stood there, smiling pleasantly at him. He couldn't figure out what she was thinking, but he had an odd feeling he wasn't going to like it. Or maybe he would like it too much. Or maybe he was just being paranoid.
Then she spoke, "I think you've just been waiting for something else to live for," and with boldness Kevin would have never have imagined even if he his old self, she leaned over the table, put a hand on his cheek and kissed him.
His eyes widened a little. He didn't pull back. He didn't lean forward. But then he closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth on his lips and that was growing on his face and in his chest. He'd been kissed before, by girls he had hoped he might be able to hook up with. It was only a couple times, and he never got one, but he had been kissed before. Even so, the experience seemed new and comforting.
After another second, she pulled back. When he opened his eyes, he saw her smiling warmly at him, "We're going to need to work on that, but later. Right now, I should probably get to work. See you later Kevin!"
He waved goodbye as she left, not quite able to use his voice anymore. His eyes followed her until she went through a door, then his eyes remained glued to the door she'd walked out of. Eventually, his gaze went down to his food. And, for the first time in eight years, Kevin felt himself smile.
(1)- Nuka-Cola is to Coca-Cola as Index Computers is to Intel. Except Nuka-cola is canon, while Index is not. Arn't I original?
