They're walking through an Old World building—a "waxing salon", whatever that is. It's a small building, with even smaller rooms lining up the hallway.
If this were any ordinary patrolling mission, Dina would ask Ellie what she thinks this place is for. Or explore the rooms and guess herself. Or just tease Ellie because she lives for the way Ellie's nose scrunches up, the way her big eyes grow bigger, and the way her lips twitch to one side as she tries—and fails, always fails—to hide her smile.
But this is not any ordinary patrolling mission.
After all, a citizen from Jackson was found half-dead near the gates, claiming he'd been jumped at by an infected, and that he'd locked it up inside this very building, barely managing to escape.
That was less than an hour ago.
And now, here they are, shoulder-to-shoulder, Dina with a flashlight and a handgun on each hand, and Ellie holding a shotgun with both of hers. One step, then another, each as light as a feather.
Then, Ellie holds her hand up, and Dina stops.
Ellie crouches down, presses her hand against the floor, spreading her fingers wide, closing her eyes. She's listening. Listening in a way only she and Joel know how to do. Listening in a way Dina can never understand, not even after Ellie tries to teach her many, many times. Crouching down next to her, pressing their hands together, her lips close to Dina's ear as she murmurs something about the walls, something about the vibrations, something, something, her voice husky and soft in a way that only Ellie can pull off, because only Ellie can pull off being such a contradiction, like how her eyes are so soft but her scars are so hard, how her teasing grin is so wide but her real smile is so small, so shy, and, and…
Damn it, Dina, now's not the time!
"It's in the last room, on the right," says Ellie. Dina aims her gun and her flashlight in that direction, but again, Ellie shakes her head, and fishes something inside her jacket. Something that turns out to be dirty, and old, and made of glass.
Dina gapes at her. "You—" Dina purses her lips, then lowers her voice. "You brought an empty bottle ?!"
Ellie raises her scarred eyebrow. "You didn't?"
Before Dina can respond, Ellie shucks the bottle to the opposite side of the hallway, near the last room.
A growling emerges, exactly where Ellie said the infected would be, and then a runner bursts through the door, arms flailing and jaw torn off.
It turns its head in their direction, and what's left of its face explodes into blisters, the BANG! of a shotgun echoing through the building.
"Welp," says Ellie, turning around to face Dina and grinning, her jacket crinkling as her shoulder lowers, "we did it."
You mean you did it. Dina tucks away her flashlight, and places her now-free hand on her hip. "I'm more concerned about the fact that you keep empty bottles around."
"Wha—?" Ellie scoffs. "I don't keep them around ."
"So what? You buy them?"
" No , I found them."
" Found them ? What the—where the hell do you, like, even—"
" Everywhere , Dina, damn. Haven't you ever noticed that?"
"Why the hell would I fucking notice some goddamn bottles lying around?!"
"Uh, because they're, like, the best? I mean, bricks are better, but still."
"Ellie, what the fuck are you—"
A screech of an infected.
A gasp.
A POP! of Dina's handgun.
A thud as a body falls down, jerking and croaking before falling still.
Ellie is still, and pale, and Dina tucks her handgun away, not bothering to click the safety off. "Hey," she says, grabbing Ellie's face. "Hey, Ellie. Are you okay? Ellie, are you—"
"H-holy shit," says Ellie, her voice a whisper. "That was—"
"Ellie."
Ellie finally meets her eyes. "I'm—yeah, Dina, 'm fine."
Dina bites her lip. "You sure?" She grips Ellie's shoulder, turns her around—her converse knocking against the infected's body—and checks to see if there are any bite marks, any wounds, anything. "It was getting real close to you, Ellie. Like, really, really close. And I—" I don't think I can handle it if anything happens to you "—I—"
"Whoa, whoa, Dina, I'm fine," says Ellie, grinning too wide to be genuine, pulling Dina's hands away from hers and clutching them. "I'm not gonna, like, turn into an infected or anything."
"Promise?" Dina asks, more a whimper than a voice.
Ellie's too-wide grin falters. "I promise. I won't turn. Ever."
Dina shouldn't believe her, but she does. And she sighs, her head falling. "Fuck…"
"Yeah," says Ellie, pulling her into a hug. "Sounds about right."
They stay there for too long, too long for them to be in the best friend zone, but Dina doesn't care.
But then she does. And she steps away, wiping her nose with her sleeve and chuckling. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine," says Ellie. "No harm no foul, right?"
"Welllll, there might be some foul."
"What?" Dina says nothing, letting the direction of her eyes speak for itself. Ellie follows her gaze, to the lower part of her jacket. "Are you kidding me?!" She grabs it, pulls it closer to her face so she can see the stain clearer, and Dina winces. "This is my favorite jacket!"
"Why the hell are you wearing it here then?"
"Fucking Tommy said there was only one infected!"
Dina raises her eyebrow.
Ellie glares at her.
Then, her glare falters and she looks back down on her stained jacket. "Goddamn infected," she mutters, "always runnin' around, causin' these goddamn messes…" And there's something there, something in the way Ellie speaks her words, that makes Dina tilt her head. Ellie notices the motion. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing," she says, waving her hand. "It's just…" I could've sworn you had a drawl, just like Joel's. Instead, she lets her lips curl into a wicked smile. "Your ass is nice."
"What the—? Dina !"
"It's true, though."
"It's not—you can't just say shit like that!"
"Why not?"
"Because!" Ellie raises a finger. Opens her mouth. Closes it. Blushes. "Fuck!"
She stomps away.
Laughing, Dina follows.
Where Ellie goes, she goes, after all.
…
From then on out, Dina makes it her mission to pay attention to Ellie. Which she's already been doing anyway, but this time, it's different. It's not just Ellie's behavior she's observing, it's how similar they can be to a certain man she knows. One with big shoulders, a terrifying face, and a soft heart.
Come to think of it, that's exactly how she'd describe Ellie after a terrifying encounter with an infected. Except for the man part, obviously.
…
Ellie has this tick where she scratches the side of her face. Her hand starts off on her scalp, then it runs down to her jaw, near her chin. It's rare that she does it. Dina's seen it exactly two times.
The first time was when they were playing the Old World game called spin the bottle, where they—guess what?—spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to pick between truth or dare. The bottle landed on Ellie, who picked truth. Jesse, being the horny dumbass that he was, asked Ellie, "Who do you prefer—girls who are younger but act mature, or girls who are older but act like she's your age?"
Ellie did the gesture, whistled, then said, "I dunno, man, I just like girls in general."
That was a good time.
The second time was when they were trapped in a basement, with a horde of infected beating down their only exit. Dina screeched, "What do we do?! Ellie, fuck, what do we do!?" and Ellie, coated in blood and grime and sweat, did the exact same gesture.
That was a not-so-good time.
Dina doesn't think about it much, not until today, when she comes into Joel's house and asks him if it would be okay for her to take Ellie out for a swim on her birthday. She knows Joel's gonna say yes, and besides, Ellie's turning seventeen, she doesn't need permission anmore. But Joel's a worrywart. And his love for Ellie is special. And Dina doesn't want him to get all judgey if she whisks Ellie away, like that. Not that Dina has any intentions with Ellie, per se. Not that she hasn't thought of it. Thought of Ellie's lips against hers, Ellie's hands on her hips, Ellie's teeth on her collarbone…
Dina, for god's sake, her dad's, like, right there!
And you've been standing there for like a minute! Say something!
"So," Dina says, her voice too squeaky. She lowers it. "So, uh, I have this surprise for Ellie, where, uh…" The sole of her shoe stubs the ground. "So, there's this lake, right?"
"Inside the safe zone?" he asks.
"Of course," she says, straightening her shoulders. Who does he think she is, asking her a question like that? As if she would ever put Ellie in danger like that. "We're bringing our guns too, just in case. And knives. And maybe the med kit—"
"Alright, alright, take it easy," he says, waving his hand. "Just makin' sure is all, Miss Dina."
"It's, uh—it's Dina."
"Sure," he says. That's when he does the tick, where his hand rubs the beginning of his beard from his scalp, right down to in-between his jaw and chin, where it's grown more wild.
"Oh," says Dina. "Oh, wow."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Joel stares at her, rubbing his chin before lowering his hand. "So, uh… Dina."
"Yeah?"
"I've noticed that… well, I think someone's taken a likin' to her."
Oh, shit.
This is not a conversation she's prepared for.
"Y-yeah," Dina says, praying for a heart attack just so she can avoid this.
Joel leans in closer to her, his eyes turning hard as steel—and even though his eye shape and color are different from Ellie's, that look right there is too familiar—and says, "I've gotta ask, though…" He clamps his jaw. Frowns. "This Jesse boy—is he good?"
…
From then on out, the similarities grow bigger, more identifiable.
Ellie and Joel, getting psyched about a new shipment of weapons. "It's arrows, Dina!" says Ellie, shaking her. "Arrows!"
From the way she's saying it, she might as well be telling Dina they're going to the moon again. (Which makes her wonder—what happened to the astronauts that were in space? Did they die? Did they come back to Earth in a vain effort to help out? Oh, fuck, what if they upped and just floated away, like, towards Mars or some shit?)
"Ellie," Dina says, mentally filing away the astronaut thing for later, "they're just arrows."
"Just arrows?" Ellie gapes at her. "Just arrows?" She looks back over her shoulder. "Joel! Did you—tell me you heard what she said!"
Joel, who's been admiring the woodsmanship of the bow, glances at Ellie. "What's that now?"
"Ugh, nevermind," says Ellie, rolling her eyes. "Dina, dude—"
"Don't call me dude."
"—you can't just not love arrows. They're, like, the best."
"Well," says Joel. "There's always something better than arrows."
"What could possibly be—" Ellie blinks, smirks.
Joel smirks back in the exact same way.
"Empty bottles," they say at the same time.
"And bricks too," supplies Ellie.
They turn to her.
"Uh—" Dina swallows. "Flamethrowers could be good too."
"Flamethrowers? In the world we're living in?" Ellie snorts. "As if."
And that's just one incident. One amongst the many. Such as Ellie and Joel, both ordering the same beer at a party, and sipping it in the same way—tipping their mouths down to taste it and taking small sips. Ellie and Joel, telling the same bad jokes. Ellie and Joel, and their love for flannel. Ellie and Joel, and the Old World slangs they use, slangs Dina has never heard of.
…
One thing leads to another, and Dina is kissing Ellie. Then Ellie is kissing her back. Then Dina's being like, "So, uh, do you wanna maybe go out with me?" and Ellie's like, "I mean, if that's cool with you," and Dina's like, "Ellie, you dumbass, I've been in love with you for like years now," and Ellie's like, "Wait, really?" and Dina's kissing her again.
And now they're official.
…
One thing leads to another, and Ellie's arm is in a cast. She's fine. The doctors said so, Ellie said so, even Joel said so. But Dina is a worrywart. (Maybe Ellie's not the only one picking things up from Joel.) Besides, they're official now, so it's fine. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself.
In the late morning the next day, Dina knocks on their door, intent on checking up on Ellie.
It's Joel who opens the door. And he's in an overgrown shirt and too-short shorts.
It's possible that Dina's definition of "late morning" might not be the same as everyone else's.
"Who's at the door?" asks Ellie from inside.
"Just your new girlfriend," says Joel, thankfully not noticing Dina choking on air.
"Oh," says Ellie, her voice smaller. "Well, bring her in, then."
"Sure, sure," he says, then does just that.
Inside, on the dining table, Ellie is wearing an overgrown shirt brushing her cast and too-short shorts, rubbing her eye. "Mornin'," she says, and it's even thicker now, her drawl. She looks half-asleep as she waves at the seat next to her. "C'mere, babe."
Dina casts a nervous glance at Joel, but he looks half-asleep as well, rubbing his eye and slumping in his chair.
It's almost uncanny, really.
With a nod, she does the same, pressing next to Ellie. "How's your arm?"
Ellie shrugs with her good shoulder. "Fine," she says. She takes a sip of her coffee, and her nose scrunches up. "Oh, yeah, help yourself, we've got, um…" She looks at Joel. "What've we got?"
Joel looks down at his mug. "Coffee?"
Ellie does the same. "Oh, yeah." She takes a sip from her mug at the same time he does, and they make the same face. "It's shit, though," says Ellie, extending it to Dina, the liquid sloshing inside the ceramic.
"It's part of the experience," says Joel.
Ellie frowns at him. "To what? Ruin my morning?"
"To help you wake up," says Joel, his face composed as he takes another sip. Ellie turns her attention towards Dina, looking down at the mug, then back at her. Joel, out of Ellie's perception, makes a face, but stubbornly takes another sip.
Dina shrugs to herself, then takes the mug. She takes a sip. Then hums. "Honestly, it's not that bad."
"What?!" says Ellie, at the same time Joel says, "You're insane, young lady."
"What? It's true," says Dina, a chuckle slipping out of her lips. "I mean, yeah, it's a little bitter—"
"A little ?" Ellie wrinkles her nose.
Joel shakes his head, like Dina's just told him a Clicker just saved her life.
Dina offers the mug back to Ellie, who shakes her head and pushes it back towards her. She excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Dina and Joel alone. Joel stares at her retreating form, waits until the footsteps are inaudible, then frowns at Dina.
Dina swallows.
His frown then redirects itself at Ellie's mug. "You, uh, really like the coffee?"
Dina bites the inside of her cheek. "I mean, I wouldn't say I love it, but…"
His eyes soften, then he looks down at his own mug. He raises it up in her direction. "Want some of mine?"
Dina keeps her smile from breaking, and shakes her head, tipping her chin down. Sipping her girlfriend's coffee is one thing, but sipping her girlfriend's dad's coffee? Yeah, no. Nuh-uh.
Ellie returns to the bathroom looking fresher than before, takes one last sip of her supposedly-super-horrible coffee, says, "Yuck," then drags Dina into her room.
…
Dina brings it up only once.
"You know, Ellie, you and Joel really aren't that different—"
"What the—? Dina, first of all, no, and second—no, just no. How dare you. He and I—we're—ew, that old man, ugh, how could you even—"
She never mentions it again.
It's okay, though.
Some things are meant to be a secret.