A/N: Ellis' eyes are often described as blue, whereas Nick's eyes are described as green. In the wiki, Ellis' eyes are green, whereas Nick's are grey. So in my fanfiction, I follow the wiki's information, please don't get confused!
And…I don't know where I'm going with this, but I'm pretty happy with this first chapter. Reviews and comments fuel me with motivation, which equals updates. No flames, please, but helpful and thoughtful criticism is always accepted.
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The pistol trembled in his hands as he leaned against the wall, staring down at the infected he had just killed.
Ellis had a hard time believing what had just happened. His heart throbbed against his ribs and his mind scrambled to process the events which took place before him a mere few seconds ago.
He noted how bad the doctor looked, though he only considered it as a bad night's sleep, and the doctor was about to take his blood…when he suddenly turned. The doctor turned into a Hunter! If only Ellis hadn't been quick enough to kick it away, the human-turned-zombie was sure to have pounced at him.
He remembered his horror when the Hunter stumbled into the lone military officer in the room, pulling off his protective mask in the process of the fall. Ellis watched as the Hunter moved from him to the soldier, pouncing on him before proceeding to claw his guts out.
After pulling himself together, Ellis shoved the Hunter off the soldier, before snatching the pistol to shoot the Hunter in the head. But he was too late, for the military officer was already dead at his feet.
"Aww, shit, this whole fuckin' ship must be contaminated!" He exclaimed in dismay, hands flying to his head, leaning against the wall. 'This shouldn't be happenin'! Coach an' Ro an' Nick an' I made it so far ta get here! This is s'pose ta be safety!'
He quickly snapped out of his thoughts. The infection was probably in the soldiers already, considering the soldiers and the doctors communicate with each other, sometimes when the soldiers didn't have their masks on.
Ellis pushed the door open, making his way down the hallways stealthily, pistol in hand. He had to find his teammates and get out of there.
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"AAAAH! Get this thing off my back!"
Nick's desperate scream sliced through the air like a sharp blade, drowning out the zombies' groans and quickly catching Rochelle's attention. She whirled around to find a Jockey stuck to the conman's back, dragging him towards the door leading out to the deck.
"Hang on!" She shouted, bringing her pan down on a few of the infected soldiers in her rush to the brown-haired man. Luckily for Nick, she reached him before he was led out to the deck, and the Jockey was shoved off him.
The conman swung his bat violently at the Jockey, killing the mutated zombie as it flew back.
"Thanks," He said tersely to the dark-skinned woman, who nodded briefly in reply.
The duo dealt with the remaining infected for a few minutes. Finally, the cafeteria was clear, and Rochelle tiredly slumped down the wall. Nick, on the other hand, took a seat at one of the tables, wiping his palm over his damp forehead as he took in slow, deep breaths.
"Alright, so the military officers turned into zombies," Rochelle mumbled in irritation, "Let's go look for Coach and Ellis."
"Good idea," Nick agreed, pushing himself to his feet as Rochelle stood up. After claiming M16 assault rifles from the dead military officers, the two continued with their objective.
"What happened to the other survivors?" She wondered as they exited the cafeteria, turning into a lonely hallway. Her voice echoed as she continued, "Weren't there about…twenty other survivors on the boat with us?"
Nick was saved from replying when they came across the bodies of the strangers Rochelle mentioned. The bodies, those who have also fought their way to the 'safety' of the military, laid strewn about the hall in pools of blood.
Their faces twisted into grimaces at the gory scene. Rochelle felt something prick at her heart as she imagined the fear and despair as the other Carriers were crushed by Chargers, pounced by Hunters, strangled by Smokers, or dying away in Spitter acid. There were no weapons and it was impossible to outrun special infected.
"Nick! Ro!"
The two spun around in the direction from where they came from, happiness flooding them at the sound of the deep, assuring voice. Coach stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, a shotgun in hand, with Ellis behind him.
"Coach! Ellis!" Rochelle ran up to the team leader and gave him a friendly, relieved hug. "I've never been so relieved to see you."
"It's cause'a Ellis I'm safe, ya know," Coach gave the young hick a proud pat on the back, "Killed the Charger a few seconds after it caught me."
Ellis smiled, before turning to look at Nick.
"Heya, Nick," He greeted childishly, his smile breaking into a handsome grin. "Glad ta see ya doin' alright."
"Good to see you too, Ace," Nick gave him a warm smile, which sent a strange sensation surging through Ellis' body.
The team hadn't seen each other for the few days they spent on the boat since they were saved in New Orleans, separated from each other due to 'safety reasons' as the doctors ran tests to find the cure for the infection. For some reason, Nick was (much to his surprise) happy he could see Coach, Rochelle and Ellis again. He never thought he would get attached to them, but he was more than attached now—they were his family.
The group re-entered the cafeteria and walked out on deck.
The sun's warm rays kissed Rochelle's bronze skin, the wind gently blew in her face, and the pleasant sound of birds in the distance whistled in her ear. Looking up, she saw the brilliant blue sky, and was quickly reminded of how much she wanted to escape from this nightmare.
"So…any idea of how we're getting out of here?" Rochelle asked, reluctantly looking away from the scenery.
"I haven't the slightest idea," Nick heaved a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Well, wha' about we fight our way up ta the control room or sumthin', then we drive the boat ta shore?" Ellis suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders, "We might even find some kinda radio or'a map."
"Good one, Ellis," Coach praised, a grin playing on his face, "Let's get 'round the deck. The entrance ta the room should be on the other side."
Coach took the lead, and the team followed the railing around the boat. The deck was free of infected and military officers, and they weren't sure whether it was a good or a bad sign—if there were soldiers, hope for safety was still present, but then, if there weren't any infected, the group wouldn't have to worry for their lives.
Nick was suspicious of how Coach had the knowledge of the entrance, but quickly decided it wasn't a good time to ask, for the bursting sounds of gunfire and shouts came into hearing.
"Other survivors!" Ellis exclaimed, but his excitement quickly changed into fear as the boat began to rock violently. As they stumbled, he shouted once again, the panic in his voice high. "TANK!"
Three figures emerged from around the boat, and following them was the large, terrifying monster of the zombie apocalypse.
"Shoot the Tank! Shoot the Tank!" Nick barked, he and Rochelle lifting their M16 rifles simultaneously.
The gunfire increased in volume as the hundreds of rounds of bullets from Nick and Rochelle came tearing through the monster's pink flesh at break-neck speed. Coach joined them by sending powerful bullets of the shotgun, mainly aiming for the Tank's head. In addition to the strong support from the three other survivors (who also had assault rifles), the Tank soon fell on his knees and keeled over.
Ellis felt useless, for he did the less damage to the Tank, wielding only two handguns. He watched with a small wave of disappointment as his teammates, and the other survivors, stopped running and caught their breaths. The boat ceased its precarious rocking.
The three survivors looked incredibly familiar. It took a few moments, but Ellis finally identified them and snapped his fingers.
"Zoey!" He exclaimed her name first, for she was the closest to him. The names of the other two men followed. "Francis! Louis!"
Nobody immediately said anything following Ellis' exclamation, though. The rest were still recovering from the sudden encounter with the Tank. However, a few seconds later, Francis wiped his forehead and glanced at Ellis.
"Well, if it isn't the hick who had the hots for Zoey!" He gave a friendly, small grin. His eyes wandered off to the other familiar faces—from Coach's friendly smile, to Nick's digusted expression, and to the beautiful Rochelle.
"Nice to see you guys safe!" Louis beamed, as happy and as cheery as he was when the two teams first met, though fatigue was evident in his voice.
"How did ya wind up here?" Coach asked.
"Well, the military caught us recently," Zoey replied, slowly sitting on the floor, "We were here a couple of hours when the first zombie jumped at us."
"Ya guys're lucky ya just arrived," Ellis frowned. "They still treated us like shit—bossin' us 'round with them guns like we're prisoners, ya know. They said we're Carriers'a the infection and they were keepin' us just in case one'a us had the cure in our blood."
Louis, Francis and Zoey exchanged glances, their encounter with the military prior to Bill's departure came to mind.
"Where did y'all find that Tank?" Coach asked, reloading his auto shotgun.
"Down near the…quarantine room or somethin'," Francis replied gruffly, scratching the back of his head. "Lucky by then we had some rifles of our own, if not we would've been dead meat."
"What do you plan on doing?" Louis inquired, eyes meeting Nick's in search of an answer.
Nick glanced at Coach, who simply nodded. Nick proceeded with saying, "We were on the way to the control room."
"Huh," was all Zoey breathed out, silently surprised by the idea.
"Well, let's stick together," Louis got to his feet, the M16 cradled in his hands, "The headquarters – or control room—is the only place we haven't checked. Other than that, other parts of the boat are clear."
"The other people didn't make it," Francis said solemnly. "Plenty of Special Infected, though."
"Well, let's getta move on," Ellis urged, excitement flickering in his eyes. He was so eager to find a primary weapon other than his two handguns.
A few minutes later, the group of seven approached a greyish-white door. Coach pushed the metal slab open, revealing to them a long, depressing hallway with many doors, with a flight of stairs at the end.
"Those stairs should take us up ta the controls," Coach said, his voice heavy with hope.
"Are we planning on searching the rooms?" Rochelle asked, looking inquiringly at Ellis as she bashfully ignored Francis' flirtatious glances. "Might as well make sure this sector's clear if we're going to steer the boat to shore, right?"
"Great idea, Ro," Ellis played along and gave her a wink, realizing she was purporsely ignoring the biker.
Rochelle glared at him.
Ellis, Nick, Rochelle and Francis continued with kicking the metal doors open, only to find different rooms of different use to the military, such as rooms for medical purposes, and some with beds for the soldiers. There were no zombies around.
"We have guns here!" came Rochelle's voice from a certain room. Louis followed up behind her and took a look inside from over her shoulder.
The rest of the group poured into the room, picking out from the wide arsenal of guns and ammunition.
"This is cool," Ellis mumbled to himself, a puerile smile adorning his lips as he picked up a combat shotgun.
"My guess is this sector's clear and safe," Zoey surmised as she replaced her M16 with a hunting rifle.
"I'm with the girl," Coach nodded in agreement. "Let's get up ta the control room. Pray there's some sorta radio."
They left the 'gun room', according to Francis, and climbed the short flight of stairs, entering a dim room with a clear view of the open sea.
Ellis whistled as he swept his gaze across the room. "That's a holy lotta buttons. What happened ta the classic steering wheel?"
Nobody replied to his query, for the steering wheel was at the back of the control room. Ellis spotted it a few seconds later and, embarrassed, mumbled something incoherent.
Nick approached the blinking controls. He stared at them, subconsciously reminded of his criminal days, for he once had accomplices who knew how to operate such a boat. Though a part of him missed the old days free from zombies and danger lurking at every corner, he also didn't want to return to that life. He couldn't believe it himself, but he wished he had met his teammates before the apocalypse.
"There's no radio," Francis announced, disappointed. "There ain't no map here either."
"Well, looks like we're gonna have ta find our way ta shore, then," Coach shook his head before he glanced at Nick, who was still staring at the controls. "You could operate those, Nicolas?"
"Nope," He said simply, turning away from the buttons. "But the boat's still moving and that's good enough for me. All we have to do is steer off in a direction."
"Which direction?" Ellis asked, gingerly putting his hands on the steering wheel. Traces of blush lingered on his cheeks from his earlier foolishness.
"Let's vote," Nick grinned, earning a snort from Francis.
"And risk getting lost in the ocean?" The biker sneered, folding his arms. "Not a chance."
"Fine, let's all just sit in the control room and wait to death for rescue that's never coming," Nick scoffed, his powerful glare meeting with Francis', whose was equally as threatening.
"A fight is the last thing we need right now," Zoey snapped, reprimanding the two men like a mother scolding her children. "We have to get along. We depend on each other for survival. So stop being a bunch of jackasses and work together."
The two men huffed out in frustration and looked away from each other. With a smile, the dark-haired woman continued cheerily. "I vote we go east."
"I vote west," Louis shrugged.
Nick nodded approvingly. "I'm with Louis."
"Well, east," Francis said thoughtfully. "I'm on Zoey's side."
"I was thinking of going north," Rochelle's lips broke into a grin. She knew she was just causing trouble.
Coach laughed heartily. "Me too, Ro."
All eyes turned to Ellis. He had yet to make a decision.
"Well, I don't mean ta dissapoint ya guys an' all, but…" Ellis's green eyes wandered off to the ceiling after a few moments of silence. "I was thinkin'a headin' south... but I'm okay with any direction. It doesn't really matter, right? Every direction we're votin' is jus' a roll'a the dice."
Silence settled between the seven at the harsh reality of Ellis' words. He was right—even if they've reached a conclusion as to which direction to head to, there was no confirmation whether they were heading deeper into the sea or out towards shore. It was a risky gamble, but one they must make.
"Alright then, we go south," Nick concluded, almost in a peremptory manner. Nobody objected to him, though, and his grey eyes set their gaze on Ellis. "Who's going to steer the boat?"
Just as the auburn-haired boy was about to speak, Francis quickly replied to his question. "I'll do it."
Ellis stared disbelievingly at Francis, earning a laugh from Louis. The biker approached Ellis, who stood in front of the steering wheel, and put a hand on his shoulder, one edge of his lips curved upwards into a smirk.
"You can take the next shift, kid," He said, gently pushing him to the side.
As Francis gained control of the steady-moving boat, Zoey tugged on Louis's sleeve, inviting him downstairs to barricade the entrance in the hallway.
The two soon disappeared down the flight of stairs. Nick stared vacantly at Coach, Rochelle and Ellis, who each found a seat at respective parts of the controls. Francis slowly turned the wheel, and the boat made a slow turn to head south.
"It's nice to get some air-con," Rochelle flashed the conman a lopsided smile, pointing out the air-conditioners in the room. She leaned more into her leather seat and folded her arms, a snug smirk replacing her smile. "The rooms I was in were stuffy and hot and their fans didn't work."
"Tell me about it," Coach shook his head at the bad memory. Ellis was true about another thing—the military treated Carriers like prisoners.
"Well, I'm going downstairs," Nick declared, approaching the stairs. As he descended, he summed up the rooms in the hallway.
There was a room for medical purposes—with plenty of first-aid kits and pain pills—and a room with half a dozen double-decker beds. There was a small cooking area in the place as well, with a freezer beholding tinned foods and frozen goods. Other than the room with guns and ammunition, two bathrooms occupied the other two doors.
By the time Nick finished his descend, he found Louis and Zoey at the end of the hallway, having succesfully barricaded the entrance, engaged in a conversation. They took no notice of his presence as he turned into the dorm, shut the door behind him, and plopped down on one of the beds.
He removed his white coat before lifting his feet off the cold, concrete floor to lie down at full-length. The atmosphere in the large room was cool and dim, encouraging further drowsiness and engulfing him in the comfort of the soft mattress and thin sheets. It was times like this did he remember how backbreaking surviving an apocalypse was.
He was in a pleasant state of calm in the partially-dark room, until the metal entrance opened. It was noiseless, the door, but it was the light which splashed into the room from the hallway that aroused Nick from his rest. Reluctantly, he lifted one of his eyelids to see who had entered.
"Ellis, I'm trying to sleep," Nick mumbled, forcing both his eyes open.
"Sorry, Nick," Ellis flashed the brown-haired man an innocent smile. The hick stepped into the room, gingerly closing the door behind him, blocking out the light. Darkness reclaimed its place in the air-conditioned room, and Nick detected from sound and movement as Ellis shuffled his way to Nick's bed.
A weight pressed down on his side and Nick soon realized Ellis was sitting down on his bed.
"What is it, Ellis?" He demanded impatiently, running a hand over his forehead though there was no sweat to wipe away.
"I jus' came by ta tell ya I really missed ya, Nick," Ellis' said, his voice assuring in the dim. Nick struggled to focus on his face, only to find a warm smile on the auburn-haired man's face as he stared back at him. "With ya bein' a conman and whatnot, I thought they musta been treatin' ya worse than the others."
"Nonsense." Nick meant to scoff the word out and roll over his side, facing away from Ellis. Instead, he found himself lost in his beautiful green eyes and meaningful smile, and he whispered the word out softly instead of sneering in his usual snarky tone.
"Well, I'm purdy tired myself," Ellis lifted himself off the bed and shuffled to the one next to Nick's. As he sat down, a yawn escaped Ellis' lips and the hick stretched, lazily muttering, "Imma get some shut eye. Sorry fer wakin' ya up, Nick."
"It's alright, kid," Nick replied softly, shifting underneath the thin sheets as he re-adjusted himself into a comfortable position.
Silence fell upon them. Nick kept his eyes up at the ceiling, but he knew Ellis was still awake. The steady breaths coming from Ellis were not the same ones he made when he was asleep. Nick, being a light sleeper, always found himself awake during the nights on their way to New Orleans. He always ended up listening to the calm, deep breaths Ellis took in his sleep; the inhalations and exhalations which calmed him to a certain extent always guided him to sleep comfortably. The breaths Ellis took now were different—they were steady, yes, but slow and furtive—and Nick just could tell he wasn't asleep. The hick was relaxed, not dozed off.
"What do you feel about seeing Zoey?" Nick suddenly asked, turning his head in Ellis' direction.
His eyebrows were shot up, as though he was surprised Nick knew he wasn't asleep. After a brief moment, the young man coughed and averted his eyes to the ceiling, a blush creeping up to his cheeks since he was caught staring.
"Well, I'm happy she's alright an' all," Ellis stammered, his face heating up from the red tint on his cheeks. "She's still really beautiful as when we first met her."
"Oh." Nick honestly had no idea what else to reply, especially with the burning feeling welling up in his chest. For some reason, he was sort of hoping Ellis wasn't going to obsess over the college girl again.
Just as the awkward quietness returned, Ellis continued, his voice heavy with consideration and meaning. "But, ta tell ya the truth, I think Zoey's attracted to Louis, so I dun wanna get in the middle'a their relationship, ya know?" He glanced at Nick, his green eyes meeting grey orbs, "And besides, I guess my attraction kinda died away. She's still real pretty, tho' I vote Ro's beautifull-er."
Nick released a chuckle. "It's 'more beautiful', not 'beautifuller', Ellis."
"Yeah, sure," Ellis muttered, closing his eyes and breaking off their gaze.
Once again, the situation returned to silence. This time, it was longer—Nick spent those long twenty minutes shifting uncomfortably in his bed.
"Geez, Nick, it's so hard ta sleep with ya movin' all the time," Ellis complained finally, sitting up. The edge of his lips was slightly tugged upwards as he glanced at the sleep-troubled conman. "Don't tell me ya need somebody ta snuggle up next ta ya fer ya ta sleep."
"Well, I don't need that," Nick's retorted, annoyed. "Go to sleep."
Ellis stayed sitting up for a while, before shrugging and pulling the sheets up to his chin. "Well, up ta yew, Nick."
As the silence found its way back between them, Nick felt a tinge of regret in denying Ellis' offer. He knew the hick was innocent and friendly in his offer—if it even was an offer—and had no other intentions.
Nick couldn't help but stare at the auburn-haired man. The steady rise and fall of his chest, followed by the familiar, almost melodious breaths, assured the conman he was asleep.
Nick closed his eyes, forcing himself to doze off.
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"Come on, Rochelle," Francis whined, almost like a child, as he stared pleadingly at the beautiful woman. "I don't hate your pretty pink shirt! What's so wrong with my vest?"
"It's ugly," She blankly remarked, checking her nails.
A small grunt came from the biker, and the tan-skinned woman stood up from her seat, moving across the room to unite with a smirking Coach.
"Girl, you are one who likes ta play hard-ta-get," He said in a low voice, followed by a chuckle.
"Oh, Coach, I'm not so naïve," Rochelle whispered with a roll of her eyes. "We've only met each other for ten minutes, at the bridge. Five seconds he's been shouting to us from up there, and the other nine minutes and fifty-five seconds when we were getting the fuel for the generator."
Coach remained silent, and this urged her to continue. "I mean…I don't know him, and although he's quite handsome…I don't like him romantically."
"Well, ta tell the truth, I ain't all that fond'a people like 'im," Coach admitted, shrugging. However, he hastened to correct himself, "I mean, it ain't right with all that tattoos on his arms and neck. Jus' don't really like it, y'know?"
"I totally understand," Rochelle smiled.
Francis, annoyed he was left out of their conversation, cleared his throat and remarked, "Y'know, it's gettin' pretty dark out there…I guess I've been driving this thing for about two hours."
Rochelle and Coach glanced out the wide window offering the view of the ocean, and discovered the sky was absorbed in purple, red and gold. The orange sun, setting into the sea far out, made the waters glimmer beautifully, and their goal—land—was distant and remote from where they were.
"If you ask me, we should reach land by tomorrow mornin'," Francis shrugged. His dark eyes moved to Rochelle and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, pleading, "I noticed a kitchen down there, sweetheart. Could you whip us all up somethin' to eat? Or else I'll pass out just driving this thing."
"Sure," Rochelle giggled slightly after meeting both the hopeful eyes of Francis and Coach.
She descended down the stairs and found Zoey leaning against Louis on the crates barricading the entrance. Apparently, the young woman was asleep, whereas Louis was falling in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep awake.
"Louis, what're you doing?" Rochelle asked with a smile, her tone that of a caring friend. "If you and Zoey are tired, go get Coach or me or Ellis or Nick to replace you two. No use sleeping when taking care of the barricade, huh?"
"I don't want to trouble Nick and Ellis, they're both asleep," Louis persisted, though the heavy sleepiness in his voice gave him away. He reddened, then muttered, "Well, we could go to the dorm later…what're you doing here?"
"I was about to cook something," Rochelle answered, "Let me wake Nick and Ellis after I'm done cooking. That way, once you and Zoey here have a good meal, you could go rest in the dorm while Nick and Ellis stand out here. Is that alright?"
"Sounds great," Louis smiled warmly. "Thank you."
"How's your leg, though?" Rochelle asked, standing by the door leading to the mini-cafeteria-like kitchen.
"It's healing good," He replied, and with some other necessities Rochelle finally disappeared into the kitchen.
There were frozen goods and canned foods, and the rather large kitchen was complete with a microwave, counters and a few stoves. Very soon, Rochelle managed to cook up a simple meal for the seven of them, composed of fried chicken, sardines and the like.
She stepped out of the kitchen, to find that during her half an hour disappearance, Louis had finally surrendered to sleep. He slept soundly, and with Zoey leaning comfortably against his shoulder, Rochelle couldn't stop the smile on her face. The two were cute together.
'Poor Ellis,' She thought with a small snicker. Upon remembering his name, she decided to go and wake the two men up. She knew both he and Nick were in the dorm room thanks to Louis, who told her that he had seen them enter the dorm.
Slowly, she pushed the metal door open. It opened noiselessly, inch by inch, until it was big enough for her head to go through. Peeking in, what she saw would have made her laugh out loud if she hadn't been so caught up with surprise.
She stood there for about a few seconds, finally believing what her eyes were showing (for, she thought, that the dark was playing her mind tricks) and quickly slipped into the room without letting much light in. After closing the door behind her, she stealthily approached the nearest bed.
Ellis slept just like how he slept on the night to New Orleans—peacefully; serenely, with one hand on his stomach while the other by his side. The way he slept mystified her, for she always thought he would be the type who'd roll over and suffocate somebody in their sleep, or take up all the space available by spreading their arms and legs out wide, or would snore up a storm during the night. He contrasted all of her beliefs.
Nick was lying on his left, his hands serving more or less like a pillow underneath his head, and with such a relaxed face, the conman looked much younger than thirty-five. He was trapped in a dream, dear Nicolas was, and Rochelle smiled sweetly at his sleeping form.
"Ellis…" She murmured softly, shaking him awake.
"Mmpphh…" Ellis groaned and rolled over to his left, facing away from Rochelle, flipping his arm over whatever was lying by his side.
It took everything Rochelle had to not laugh. First, Ellis and Nick sleeping comfortably on one bed when there were about twelve other beds, and now, Ellis curled up to Nick with an arm over him? If only she had a camera.
"Ellis…wake up," She whispered and another attempt to awaken him started.
This time she was successful.
Ellis felt his face heat up when he found his face in Nick's blue shirt, and quickly pulled away, almost hitting Rochelle in the process. He sat up and threw his legs on the floor, his eyes downcast, his cheeks red, and his hand scratching the back of his neck. Rochelle finally giggled—though, mind you, it was a laugh stifled into a giggle. She did not want to further embarrass him, but at the same time, could no longer contain her mirth.
"Food's ready," She said, the smile still plastered on her face. Ellis made an incoherent mumble and she proceeded out the door. "Get Nick up, quickly eat, and then take over Louis' and Zoey's position at guarding the barricade."
"Yes, ma'am," He nodded, and was left in darkness as she exited.
Ellis ran a hand over his forehead and through his auburn locks, before glancing at his cap (which he took off before napping) on the floor. Embarrassingly, he looked over his shoulder to see the sleeping Nick.
How did Nick suddenly end up next to him? When he offered a bit of his bed to share with Nick (because of his inability to sleep), the conman refused. And with him just abruptly lying next to him, how could Ellis not end up snuggling up to him? He was mortified by the thought.
"Hey…Nick," Ellis reached a hand out, and quickly succeeded in waking him up. After a brief repeat of what Rochelle told him, Ellis watched Nick rub his eyes, grunt and sit up.
And he didn't miss the blush which crept up Nick's cheeks when he realized he was caught next to Ellis. Despite embarrassed, Nick coughed and shuffled out of the room without saying a word to Ellis.
The auburn-haired man just watched with curiosity as Nick closed the metal door behind him.