prompt: zed + addison + fire
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It's the bonfire that gets him.
It's a great, blazing thing, built in the middle of some guy from school's backyard, a pile of old garbage and tree cuttings set alight to warm them against the cold night air. He can feel the heat of it even from where he sits on the back steps of the house, prickling at his skin, the smoke burning at his lungs as he's forced to breathe it in and out. The light of it hurts his eyes, burning silhouettes of the humans that stand around it into his retinas so that even when he tries to look away, it's all that he can see.
He doesn't understand the appeal of it, their need to gather around a fire and hold their hands out to it. The urge to throw their empty cans into its flaming depths and watch them curl and pop and melt into the wood as it burns. He'd ignore it and go back inside with the other zombies, if he could, but Addison is out here by the fire, and he came here to be with her, and he's not-
He's not scared of fire.
He's not.
(He's lying.)
Eliza says it's something buried deep inside their genetics or something, a side effect of the mutation that makes them zombies in the first place. Some intrinsic, deep-born fear of flames, an instinct that tells them that fire will kill them without the need for first-hand experience.
Zed thinks it might be more about how humans used to use it to fend them off, before the wall, before they became what they are today. Or maybe it's because every now and then, someone comes into Zombietown and sets a building on fire just to watch them scream and run.
Either way, Eliza had laughed at him when he'd told her he was going to a bonfire. "Do you even know what a bonfire is?" she'd asked mockingly.
"It has 'fire' in its name, Eliza," he'd replied peevishly, and glanced apologetically at Bonzo as he flinched. "I know what it is."
"Then why are you going?" she's said, like he was stupid.
"I'm not scared of fire," he'd claimed, bold as the day is long (and he's not scared, he's just…cautious). "There's other zombies going too. It'll be fine."
"Well, I'm not going anywhere near a bonfire."
"You're not invited anyway," and then they'd descended into an argument about whether or not an invite to this part was an indication of social status, and if Zed was invited because of football or because of Addison.
Addison.
He has his eyes on her, over on the other side of the yard, warming her hands by the roaring blaze. She's found a group of other cheerleaders to talk to and they've been embroiled in a very serious discussion for fifteen or so minutes now (or has it been longer? He hasn't been keeping track, too busy trying to look casual while he hides back here on the steps).
She's beautiful like that, silhouetted between the half-light of the fire and the soft glow that spills from the verandah of the house. It reminds him of how she'd looked in the light garden, the night of their first Zombie Mash, the first time he'd come so close to kissing her…
He'd kiss her now, but she's over there by that pile of blazing logs, and he's over here, glued to a set of stairs.
"Why don't you join the party, bro?" someone asks, and then three members of the football team barrel past him down the stairs like a pack of wild animals. It's Brock that's speaking to him, a big lump of a guy that Zed's kind of come to like, even if he had been anti-zombie when they'd first started playing together. Brock's cool now – he even appears at Mash every now and then, though he can't bust a move or hold a note to save his life.
"Some people givin' you some trouble, Z?" he asks, and jerks a thumb at the small crowd gathered around the bonfire. "Wanna come rough 'em up?"
"No," Zed says before Brock can start any fights. "I'm just waiting for someone."
"Waitin' for who?" Brock asks, and then one of the other boys, Cody, elbows him in the ribs, so hard they both almost fall over.
"Bro," Cody says between giggles, his words slurred and his eyes ever so slightly unfocused. A can of something sloshes in his other hand – Zed wonders just how many he's had before that one. "Bro. Bro."
"What?" Brock snaps, shoving the drunk so hard that he staggers back a couple steps.
"He's waiting for his girlfriend," Cody says, pointing at Addison, and then he laughs so hard he drops his drink, the contents bubbling away into the lawn. Brock grabs him in a headlock and they go down together in a pile of drunken limbs, wrestling on the wet grass.
"Want some?" asks Skip, their other companion, and offers Zed a mostly-empty beer bottle.
"I think you need it more than me," Zed replies with a wry grin, and watches as Skip shrugs and chugs it down.
"Can zombies even drink?" Cody asks from the ground, his head trapped under Brock's arm.
"Who cares," says the other boy as he gets up, giving Cody one last shove as he does so. "Why's the zombie hangin' out over here when his girlfriend's over there?"
Their eyes all turn towards Zed. He shifts uncomfortably.
"No reason," he says, and tries to play it off as cool. "It's just a bit…hot. Felt like sitting over here."
The two drunks glance at each other uncertainly, like they're not sure whether to believe him or not. Brock rolls his eyes and grabs Zed by the shoulder, hauling him up off the steps and onto his feet.
"What are you doing?" Zed squawks as his feet hit the soft turf of the lawn.
"Savin' your relationship," Brock replies with a meaty grin and shoves him towards the fire.
Terror does not stab at his gut as he stumbles the two steps forward to keep his balance.
(He's still lying.)
He looks back at the football players, his clueless, drunk, human friends, and realises with a sinking feeling that they are blocking any chance of escape, all staring at him expectantly. He turns back to the fire and his fate.
Relax, he tells himself, and then he walks, one step at a time, across the yard ad over to the edge of the fire, just three steps from the flickering flames. It's not even the bravest thing you've ever done, he tells himself firmly (lie), and stops his hands from shaking by snaking one around Addison's waist instead, pulling her close.
"Zed!" she exclaims happily at his sudden appearance, and turns to press a kiss to his cheek. "Where have you been?"
"Here and there," he says dismissively, like his random disappearance wasn't totally planned. "You know me, life of the party. Can't let you keep all the fun to yourself."
"You're not going to turn Nicky's party into a Zombie Mash, are you?" she asks, but she's laughing, like she wouldn't really mind if he did such a thing.
"I make no promises," he replies and gives her a grin, trying to pretend that he's relaxed, that he's not fixed entirely on the crackling of the flames to his right, the heat that rolls off the blaze and beats at his cold skin, dry and angry and filled with the same smell of smoke that invades every corner of Zombietown all too often.
Addison frowns at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling in concern. "What's wrong, Zed?" she asks.
"Hm?" he replies, like he wasn't listening, and then, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."
She shakes her head. "You're being weird," she says and he shrugs and turns away, feigning confusion. The fire catches at his eyes, bright and angry, drawing him in. Beside him, Addison's breath catches in her throat.
"Oh," she says, and pulls him back a few steps, waving her friends away as they turn to see where she is going. "Is it the fire? I'm sorry, Zed, I didn't even think-"
"No," he interrupts, before she can get too far into her apology for something she didn't do. "I'm not afraid of fire, Ads. That's just a stupid...zombie...thing." He feels like a liar, his mouth bitter, his tongue bitten. He ignores the sensation.
She's silent for several seconds, looking at him with just the faintest hint of a frown on her face. He doesn't like the expression she wears, the way her eyes dig into his skin, trying to see past the front he's definitely not putting on. He wants to kiss her, or to change the topic, to distract her somehow before she can become properly convinced that he is afraid of a little fire, but he doesn't. She will only call him out on it, and then he will be in even bigger trouble.
He thinks she might say something about the zombies comment, might press the issue further until he has to argue with her or walk away, but she is not Eliza and she knows him well enough not to push the topic. "Do you want to go inside?" she asks instead, motioning towards the house, where the other zombies hide.
"No," he insists. "Stay out here with your friends. We always hang out in Zombietown, I want to spend time with your people too."
She eyes him skeptically. "Are you sure? Zed, I really don't mind going inside, it's kind of hot out here anyway-"
"No, come on, I want to go talk about cheer or whatever." He loops his arm through hers and pulls her back towards the fire, swallowing down the lump that forms in his throat at the sight of the flames, focusing instead on Addison beside him, her hand in his hand, her lips pressed quickly against his cheek as they walk, filled with all the things he won't let her say; comfort, understanding, acceptance of the things she cannot change.
He stands by the fire and he holds her hand and he pretends it doesn't bother him when a log cracks and splits down the middle and sparks shower into the air above them, because he's not afraid.
He's not.
(He's lying.)
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