Reviews:
Guest- Thank you!
BabySlothXYaoi- It was so jarring to write Rhys in such a normal setting, but kinda fun, idk. Thank you ever so much for that image of Sasha as Rapunzel, it's stuck in my head now! Ah, poor Tara, just trying to find love... she'll get there. Augh, if I hadn't had already written up to 6b I totally would have gotten a garage band done, damn! Although I feel like Rhys could be the singer, no? I'm glad this story can help, summer school sounds like a terrible concept!
"Rhys... breathe."
"I am breathing..."
"Breathe better."
"How the hell am I suppose to-"
"Don't talk."
Frustrated, I lean back to the rifle scope, trying to breathe differently from how I was. Sasha doesn't say anything, so I figure I'm doing it better now.
Since Deanna permitted me to work in the tower with Sasha, I've been designated my own rifle from the armoury. Made from dark wood, the rifle sits comfily against my shoulder, a red leather wrap keeping my arm protected from its kickback. As I aim down the slightly smudged scope, I realise it's bigger than the one on Sasha's gun, though seemingly no better. I attached the belt strap Carl made me for my spear at the prison, making carrying the gun far easier.
"What am I aiming for?" I ask, my cheek pressed against the gun.
"See blue vest?" Sasha points down the road outside Alexandria's gate. "The one with no arm."
"I see him."
"Take your time, and don't forget-"
"-To breathe?" I cut her off.
She lets out a small sigh, "Yeah."
Crack!
"Missed."
Crack!
"Good job," Sasha nods, aiming her own and, in a second, she drops a walker shuffling past the blue vested corpse.
I get up, thanking her as I open the tower's hatch, preparing to go down the rickety ladder that leads below.
"Where are you going?" Sasha asks, not looking away from the world beyond.
"Told Rosita I'd drop by the infirmary before heading to Ron's house with Carl."
Sasha nods slowly. "Leave your rifle. I'll check it back in for you."
"Thanks, Sasha."
I wrap my fist against the infirmary door three times.
"Adelante!"
I open it up, peeking inside to see Rosita pouring over a textbook.
"Hi," I grin, slipping into the building and closing the door behind me carefully.
"You know you don't have to knock," Rosita points out as she shuts the heavy looking book of medicinal practice. "It's an infirmary..."
"Oh, right."
Rosita gets up from the kitchen counter. The infirmary is the strangest building in Alexandria to me. Similar to the pantry, it's a normal-looking house, only transformed into something not so normal looking. The would-be dining room has been emptied of normalities and instead set up with necessities, with five beds, neat and tightly tucked, alongside a whole mess of medical equipment. The kitchen is a storage unit for medication, utensils and spices, exchanged for aspirin and gauze.
Ron's father, Pete, the doctor of Alexandria, is sitting at his desk situated opposite the beds, cluttered with notes and stationery. He is a tall and lanky looking man with a long face that seems to have a perpetually resting sneer.
"This a social call?" he grimaces without looking up from whatever he's writing.
"No," Rosita tells him, sounding irritated with him already. "I asked Rhys to stop by."
"Rhys..." Pete repeats under his breath as if just learning my name.
Rosita points at one of the beds, so I take a seat, watching her as she grabs a clean partition screen divider that leans against the wall, stretching it out so that Pete and the infirmary door are blocked from sight.
"So this isn't a social call?" I joke.
Rosita crosses her arms, clearly having had a tough day already.
"I want to take a look at your leg," she answers.
"Why," I shrug, swinging my legs as they hang off the side of the tall bed. "Hasn't acted up since we got here."
"I know," Rosita nods. "Have you been changing the bandages?"
"Daily," I nod.
"And the stitches are holding?"
"...think so."
"You think so?"
I shrug again.
Rosita just shakes her head, "Take your pants off."
"Fine," I groan, slipping out of my jeans when Rosita gives me the, 'Don't make me kick your ass' look.
I take off my bandage too, and Rosita checks the stitches she put in a few days before the barn, discovering that they didn't hold. "You're only meant to have stitches for a little bit," Rosita tells me, "but you kept breaking them out there... in here, if you're not stupid, you should heal in a few days, maybe a week."
I thank her, getting re-dressed once she finishes the new stitches and dressing.
"You're good to go," Rosita tells me as we re-appear from behind the screen. Pete looks up at us, giving his widest shit-eating smirk.
"Did you do the stitches properly, Rosey?"
Rosita rolls her eyes at him, "Yes, funnily enough, I did, Peter."
Pete doesn't find this funny, "It's Pete."
"Yeah... Rosita." She tells him in a hiss.
Covering my snickers with a hand and waving goodbye to Rosita with the other, I leave the infirmary.
I knock at the home of the man I just saw in the infirmary. His wife answering.
"Hi, Jesse," I smile.
"Rhys," she grins, "How was watch duty?"
"Good," I nod. "Is Carl here?"
"Sure is, with Ron and the others upstairs," Jesse tells me. I go to head up the stairs, but she stops me with a light tap on the shoulder. "Can I get your opinion on something?"
"Umm..."
Before I finish, I'm being driven by the shoulders into the kitchen, half of which is green, the other half orange. Jesse steps in front of me, throwing her arms up and spinning in a circle, clearly at a loss.
"Which colour?"
"Wasn't this room red the other day?" I look around, all the colours making my head hurt.
"It was, but now it's not. Which one?"
"Uhh, orange?"
Jesse tilts her head, turning to look at the orange half of the room. Squinting hard at it.
"Really," she scratches her blonde head, "coulda swore the green worked."
I edge closer to the hallway, "Anything else?"
"Oh, no, thanks a bunch."
I leave Jesse to ponder, climbing the staircase, running my hand along the smooth bannisters as I go, only stopping when I'm confronted by Sam, sitting on the top step.
"Sam..."
He smiles at me, wide and toothy. "Hi, Rhys!"
"You okay?" I ask, sitting down a few steps below him. His tone sounds off and forced.
"Yes!" he says, a flash of worry on his face before he lowers his voice to a whisper, "I didn't tell, swear."
"Tell?"
"About the armoury."
I shrug, "Nothing to do with me anymore."
"Oh..."
I think for a moment, "Still, you shouldn't say anything."
Sam crosses his finger over his heart, "I swear! Hope to die, and everything."
"Sorry," I tell him, feeling like I can't avoid it. "What Carol said... that I didn't step in."
"It's fine..." he trails off. "Are you scared of her?"
"Are you?" I avoid his question.
He thinks about it, shaking his head when he decides.
"Cool," I say, not wanting him to repeat his question, I get up, moving past him, heading to Ron's room.
"Rhys..." Sam calls after me.
"Yeah," I turn, my hand on the door to Ron's room.
"Do you think... you and Carol might make those cookies soon?"
"You'll have to ask her."
When I walk inside Ron's room, the sound of giggling becomes apparent immediately.
"You are kidding, though, right?" Mikey sound concerned about something.
"No, I'm not." Carl chuckles.
"Dogs?!" Ron gives him an unbelieving laugh.
"I ate a tortoise once," Enid tells them nonchalantly.
"Rhys!" Mikey shouts in greeting when he sees me standing at the door watching.
"What are you guys doing?" I ask, closing the door and joining them on the floor, sitting in a circle like we did the day of the party.
"Playing questions and answers," Mikey answers.
"What's that?"
Ron snorts. "It's like truth or dare... but just the truths, because Mikey's a pussy!"
"Dude, you dared me to sneak out of the walls! How the hell would I do that?!" Mikey retorts.
"I do it all the time..." Enid tells him, her back to the wall sitting below an open window, a light breeze in her long brown hair. She seems actually engaged for once.
"Yeah, but you're weird," Mikey tells her.
"I've done it too," Carl adds.
"Yeah, me too, kinda," I admit.
Ron laughs at Mikey, who's speechless and embarrassed.
"What do you mean kinda?" Mikey asks me.
"Front gate..." I answer, "Daryl lied for me."
"Damn," Ron shakes his head, "Daryl's such a badass."
"He's got a soft side," I tell him.
"Daryl? The lone ranger?" Mikey laughs, "The man that got skittish Buttons the horse to trust him, only for the dead to eat poor Buttons, and Daryl to avenge him? You don't say."
"Poor Buttons," Enid nods along with the conversation.
"You want to play?" Carl asks me.
I nod, sitting between him and Mikey, with my legs crossed neatly.
"Okay," Mikey points at me with his whole hand, "Basically we take turns asking questions... we go round the circle, and everyone has to answer each question. If you don't answer, then you have to answer a sudden death question from the last person to answer."
Ron holds up a bottle of what looks like alcohol. "The forfeit was going to be that you take a shot, but Mikey chickened out again."
I nod again, asking, "Where'd you get that?"
"My dad's liquor cabinet," Ron looks proud of himself.
"You need to put it back before he gets home," Enid reminds him.
"What's your favourite food?" Ron throws the question out.
Carl thinks for a second, being the first on Ron's right. "Probably chocolate pudding..."
My turn now. "Big Cat chocolate bars. Easy..."
"What about sweetcorn?" Carl asks me.
"Shit," I scratch my head. "Sweet corn flavoured bigs cats?"
Ron fakes throwing up at the idea.
"Hmm," Mikey hums on his turn, "Mrs Miller's apple cobbler for me."
"Fuck," Ron spits out, "that was mine."
We all look at Enid, her turn to answer. "I don't know... probably candy apples."
"Gross," Mikey whispers.
"Okay, my turn," Ron announces. "Since Mikey took mine because he's a dick, I guess my favourite food is pasta."
"What kind?" Carl asks.
"Plain," Ron answers him, rubbing his stomach hungrily at the thought.
"Well," I chuckle, "Mrs Niedermeyer keeps bothering Daryl and Aaron to look for a pasta maker while they're out finding new people... so you might get lucky."
"who's got another question?" Ron asks, moving to close the window when he starts to shiver.
"Who did you have your first kiss with?" Mikey asks the room.
"We talking cheek or face?" Ron cocks an eyebrow.
"Your cheeks are on your face..." Mikey tells him with enough sarcasm that Ron throws a shoe at him from under his bed. "Cheeks count..." Mikey tells us, rubbing his arm where the shoe found its mark.
Enid's the first in the circle after Mikey, so she has to answer first. "I was twelve... my friend in school dared me to kiss him. So I did."
"Now you, Ron," Mikey points a finger in his face only for it to be slapped away.
"Enid," Ron says as plain as the pasta he likes.
Mikey nods, "Carl?"
"Rhys," Carl answers just as plainly.
Mikey turns to me, a look on his face as if he knows the answer.
"A girl from where we were living before," I answer, a lump forming in my throat, which I manage to clear with a few stressful coughs.
Mikey's eyes light up like a firework as the fuse of his interest is suddenly ignited. "Do tell..."
I give Carl a quick glance to check he's okay, and he smiles at me sweetly, so I explain.
"It was just on the cheek to say thank you for singing with her... it was just a friend thing."
"First proper kiss?" he asks.
"Carl," I answer, "although we pretended that was friend thing too for a while."
Ron looks like he's about to ask us something, but a deafening slam from downstairs makes him jump. We look towards his still bedroom door, listening for the cause, but Ron just sighs. Enid and Mikey also look unfazed.
About a minute later, we hear a shout.
"RON!" I hear the recognisable sound of Ron's dad from downstairs as Pete screams his son's name.
"Yeah?" Ron calls back.
"Why did Sam just tell me you were near the liquor cabinet again? Get down here now!"
Ron gets up with his shoulders hunched and head hanging, heading out the door, closing it behind him. We've all gone quiet, holding our breaths as we listen, Carl and I, not sure what we're waiting for. Then there's shouting from both of them; something breaks, and Ron lets out a cry.
Carl and I are both on our feet, our hands instinctively reaching for knives, but Mikey stops us, a hand on either's shoulder.
"Jesus... don't," he whispers, looking worried.
I turn to Enid, who's in the process of opening the window Ron had just closed.
Another loud crash comes from downstairs.
Mikey tugs on our shoulders again. Carl sheaths his knife and steps away, following Mikey as they both climb out the window and onto the porch roof below.
I stay still, my grip deathly and my blood boiling. Old scars start to burn.
"Come on."
I turn. Enid sits on the windowsill, one leg hanging in the room, the other out, waiting for me.
Letting out a heavy breath, I fold my knife against my leg and pocket it, following Enid out.
The four of us walk down the street with heavy feet, Carl and Mikey ahead of Enid and me. All of us carrying a cloud over our heads.
"Why the hell-"
"Pete hits him," Enid says evidently. "Ron and his Mom, they both deal with it, sometimes to protect Sam. Sometimes just because they have to."
"Why doesn't Deanna throw him the fuck out?" I ask, my voice low, but my brow furrowed to show her I'm still angry.
"Because he's the reason your friend Noah can walk properly. He's our doctor... he's untouchable."
"It's not fair..."
"I know," Enid whispers. "It isn't."
A/N
Another chapter of kinda fluff, but whatever, I'm enjoying it. Feel like it's important to have these quiet chapters.
Didn't get the chance to edit this one as heavily as usual, so apologise for any errors!
Reviews and Feedback are always Welcome!
:)
