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SlumberingVoid — Perhaps... who could say for sure? This chapter may or may not expand on that idea... we shall see :)
This chapter is going to be from the 3rd perspective.
A chapter about a boy who goes on a date.
-Mikey-
By the next day, excitement over Maggie Rhee's son arriving at Alexandria for the first time in over a year had died down. Most people realised that he was just a boy with one ear and a tendency to wave awkwardly at those that tried speaking to him. The older of Alexandria's residents already knew this about him.
Mikey Monroe was sitting inside his house that he shared with Aaron and Gracie, deciding between visiting Rhys or getting actual work done today.
Begrudgingly, the latter had to come first today.
Michonne was kind enough to help Mikey move his mother's old desk out from his old basement and into 101 when he moved a year ago. Mikey wasn't there now, though, preferring the light that the dining room got this late in the day. He sat with books on Latin and ancient Greek democracy stacked high around him. It was getting late in the day when Mikey finally checked his watch. Dusk was just around the corner.
A brisk knock came at his door.
His chair legs scraped against the dining room floor, and Mikey made his way through the house to his front door, where he found Nora waiting on the other side.
Mikey loved Nora. Obviously, that didn't mean all that much since Mikey doesn't really 'like' people — Carl once described it as he either doesn't know them or he loves them perpetually. But ever since Nora showed up at Alexandria's gates eight months ago with her bag of books on Roman invasions of Europe and told the guards when they asked why she had them that she "very well couldn't let them rot," Mikey decided he loved her extra.
Nora was kind of Alexandria's secretary by this point, and since she was holding a clipboard close to her long crochet cardigan, Mikey invited her through to the dining room to talk.
"Doing some light reading, I see?" Nora chuckled brightly, peering through her obtusely rounded spectacles at Mikey's mountain of books.
"Working, actually," Mikey huffed as he moved a particularly heavy-looking pile on the Greek alphabet so that they would be able to see each other sitting down, which they then did.
She read a couple of the spines around her and frowned. "Working on what exactly?"
"Good question," Mikey answered slyly, grinning at having hooked her interest. He held up two books, one that read 'Studies on Greek Law, Oratory and Comedy,' and another that was covered as 'Latin For Dummies VOL. 6.' Mikey watched her read the covers and spoke when she un-tilted her head and he knew she was done. "I figured since Michonne is writing up this charter of laws for all the communities to agree on, we should at least check what the people that invented democracy think about the whole situation."
Nora raised an eyebrow that made her face look pretty impressed. "What about the Latin one?"
"That's more of a pet project right now," Mikey said. "My mom made me and my brothers learn it as part of our 'growing educational experience'. I think that if we get some phrases down, we could have our own coded language for radio transmissions. Stop nosey people listening in. It also means that we won't have to send out a rider every time we're passing information too sensitive for open channels."
"Oh so we're the dummies?" she said, her voice going up and amused.
"Well..." Mikey frowned in hopes of finding a better way to put it. "Maybe?"
He didn't.
"That's actually a pretty smart idea," Nora said then.
"Thank you!"
Then Mikey found himself frowning at the clipboard still held in her arms.
She sighed and looked down at it, taking in a deep breath. "Michonne's pretty busy today with the whole Negan hunger strike situation, and Rick and Aaron are gone, and I didn't wanna disturb Carl since he's got his boyfriend over— mind if I run some stuff past you?"
"Past me?"
Nora rolled her eyes. "Mikey, you can't keep acting surprised when I ask you for advice... you're helping Michonne with the charter... you partly handle the guard rotations with Aaron now— not to mention you're technically Alexandria's longest-standing tenant. Your brain is helpful to me."
Mikey blew air out his cheeks, tempted to hide under a book on Alexander the Great he was halfway through. "Okay... shoot."
Nora smiled, running a finger down the list. "Well, we've given up about a fourth of our tomato crops to the crows— Michonne said we need to plant more stakes and flags, but there's just too many of them."
"The windmill is next on the agenda, right? That'll help."
Nora made a face.
"What?" Mikey asked.
"Michonne said the same. But with Eugene gone, construction has really slowed down. Plus, Aaron had guard patrols doubled before he left, so we're short on people to actually, y'know, build the windmill." Nora's eyes went a little wider. "I was hoping..."
Mikey's face was blank and clueless. "What?"
"Could you give the word for us to take a few people off the guard rota and onto the construction team? Just until we get this windmill up."
"It's not really my place to—"
"Please, Mikey? With our food stretched so thin supplying to the bridge camp and Sanctuary... we can't lose this next crop yield."
Mikey groaned, rubbing his face and wishing he hadn't answered the door. "Okay... give the all-clear for any guards that want to work on the mill in their off-time. But I'm not changing anything until either Aaron is well enough to come home or I can get him on the walkie. If I can't, I'll talk to Michonne in the morning."
"Good luck with that," Nora laughed. "You know she's been going outside the walls more and more the last few nights. Always coming back covered in walker guts."
"I'll talk to her," Mikey insisted.
"Thanks, M." Nora smiled, looking exhausted, actually. "This should really help."
Mikey saw Nora out, and as she walked down the porch steps, Marco came trotting up them. The two exchanged a short greeting before Nora was gone, and Marco was standing there, Mikey staring at him from the open door.
"Hi," Mikey said, smiling.
"Hey," Maro replied cooly, leaning back against the porch railings.
"Is everything okay?" Mikey added quickly. "Sorry, with the charter stuff going on, I forgot to figure out where you're staying tonight."
"Oh, no," Marco laughed, holding his hands out as if Mikey would charge. "I ran into someone called Barbara? She set me up in one of the apartments."
Mikey nodded a few times. "Good. It's nice to finally have you here."
"It's nice to be here," Marco laughed, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Alexandria is a lot bigger than Hilltop."
Mikey stood in the doorway for a few moments, the silence between them getting a little awkward.
"So, did you need something or...?"
"No," Maro laughed, standing upright and suddenly fidgeting with his hands. "I actually wanted to— erm, well, ask you if you— you wanted to hang out, maybe?"
"Tomorrow?" Mikey pondered. "Or... now?"
Marco smiled, swinging his arms by his sides. "I'm here now."
Mikey gulped. "Okay... sure!"
Mikey closed the door on Marco briefly while he grabbed an oversized cardigan from the back of his dining chair and his shoes from a messy pile of footwear beside the door. Marco grinned when Mikey stepped out into the cool air, black and orange gripping at the sky, the sun so low it was invisible behind the walls.
They strolled down the street without a destination in mind. Marco told Mikey he looked nice, to which Mikey looked himself up and down in his slightly torn jeans and three-sizes-too-big green cardigan that he stole from Aaron. Marco snickered at him.
Mikey noticed then that Marco was actually dressed up. He had arrived in a pair of muddy blue jeans and a sandy camo flannel. Now he was wearing a clean pair of tan khaki pants with a neatly tucked, black denim shirt. The former was buttoned all the way up to his chin. Above that, his long dark hair was pulled up, secured in a tight bun behind his head.
"Are you wearing new clothes?" Mikey asked observantly.
"You are correct, sir," Marco said. "I'm not proud of what I had to trade for this."
"Now I'm curious..."
Marco hung his head.
"Oh, c'mon," Mikey laughed. "You can't not tell me after that."
"Okay, okay." Marco raised an eyebrow. "You answer me something first."
"Okie-dokie."
Marco stopped walking when they got halfway across the bridge over the lake. It used to be silent here, where the lake was still and calm against the dirt banks and sewer grates, but now the churning of the water wheels by their feet gave the whole area this calming swashing sound that Mikey loved.
Marco turned to look at him. Mikey had no idea why he suddenly had a case of the collywobbles.
"Why do you live in that big house all alone?"
Mikey pulled a face like he found the question funny. Marco found that funny, and they both laughed. Breathless and desperate laughter.
"Sorry," Marco said quietly. "If that's too personal—"
Mikey shook his head, and before he knew what he was doing, he had taken off his shoes and rolled his jeans up to his knees, sitting down on the bridge and pulling his socks off before letting his legs dip into the lake water below.
Marco raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this drinking water?"
"It gets filtered," Mikey giggled.
Marco followed Mikey's lead and joined him down there. Mikey noted his strange pink converse with holes in the toes and mismatching laces.
"What's that?" Mikey asked, pointing to the small piece of paper rolled up behind Marco's ear. "You smoke?"
Marco snickered, taking it from behind his ear and rolling it between his thumb and index finger. "Not tobacco."
"Marijuana?" Mikey asked.
Marco snorted at him.
"What?"
"It's weed," Marco told him.
"That's what I said..."
Marco put the joint between his lips and fished a lighter from his khaki pocket. He lit it with three strikes of the flint, breathing in with his eyes closed. Mikey watched, fascinated.
After a second puff, Marco offered it to Mikey.
Mikey hesitated, staring at the smouldering paper between Marco's fingers.
"Life is too short," Marco said. "Plus, you look stressed out today."
Mikey accepted those reasons. Herbs crackled under his breath. Marco placed his hand on his lower back on the breath in. He couldn't stop coughing after.
"You have to breathe in like... a second time," Marco told him, pulling his hand away to take a drag when Mikey passed it back.
After a little while, half a joint, and a few less terrible attempts later, they both started to feel the influence of all the smoke around them.
"Is this high?" Mikey asks, his eyes wide and looking around like the ghost of his family might collectively appear to smack the joint from his hand after Marco passes it back to him.
Marco chuckled. "Nah, man. You're just buzzed."
"Where did you even get mariju— weed." Mikey caught himself.
"Last time Jenny came to Hilltop with a trade caravan."
"What did you trade for it?"
"Four new knives and a cured osage orange branch for a bow." Marco giggled. Maybe because it was that funny, or maybe because he was also 'buzzed.'
"All that for just this?!"
Marco laughed again. "No! There was more."
"Did Rhys smoke it with you?"
"Erm... no."
"What do you mean, 'erm, no.' Mikey made his voice gruff and deep.
"Hey, I don't sound like that! And what I mean is that he didn't smoke it with me. I gave him some to smoke with Carl for their first time. But you can't tell him I told you. Maggie would kill him then put his walker down if she knew." Marco shrugged. "Got two new Christie books out of it, so, good trade overall."
"Speaking of trading," Mikey snickered along with him because he was definitely buzzed. "Tell me about these clothes."
"You still haven't answered my question," Marco pointed out.
Mikey nodded, seeing that as fair.
"I live with Aaron and Gracie," he said. "I used to live in Rick and Michonne's house... but my family went from five to one, so downsizing felt appropriate."
Marco nodded. "Shit."
"Yeah," Mikey hummed. "That word fits."
"Did you have any brothers?"
"Yeah," Mikey said, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "Two."
"Were they nice?"
"Sometimes."
Marco nodded like he got it.
"You had brothers?" Mikey asked.
"None that were blood..." Marco smiled. "But yeah... yeah, I had brothers."
"How many?"
Marco raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Seven."
"Jeez-Louise," Mikey said in awe.
"Yeah, my foster mom liked kids."
"How'd you find Hilltop?" Mikey asked.
"How did any of us find any of this?" Marco snorted. "I was on the road. People died. Some of them were nice... some of them deserved better— I guess most of them did. I almost killed someone over a can of beans once."
Mikey's eyebrows arched sadly at that despite Marco's smile.
"It was okay," Marco went on, "because a dog attacked us after that, and we had to kill it, and then there was enough food for the both of us. We were together for a long time. I even tried to kiss him once."
"How'd that work out?"
Marco shook his head, taking another puff. "He was just sad— then he was dead. We got into a fight with some other people we joined up with. They shot him over a tent peg."
"A tent peg?"
"He stole it."
"Why?"
Marco shrugged. "Never got to ask."
"I'm sorry," Mikey whispered.
"Sorry your brothers are dead."
Mikey nodded, opting to reach for the joint over talking about it.
"How did you find the great kingdom of Alexandria?" Marco asked, watching Mikey roll the smoke between his lips.
"My mom founded this place."
Marco's eyes went wide as two full moons appearing in the last of the orange sunset.
"Didn't realise I was speaking to royalty," he laughed. "Should I call you lord? Rhys likes it when I call him lord."
"He does not!"
"Nah," Marco chuckled. "But that would be funny."
Mikey just snorted. He watched Marco flick the last of the joint onto the lake's surface, where it fizzled out, then he swore under his breath and scrambled to fish it out when he remembered this was going to be filtered into drinking water. Then, suddenly, as if some magic trick, Marco rested his hand over Mikey's on the wooden bridge. Mikey wasn't sure what to think about it, only that those collywobbles wouldn't stop.
"So you weren't one of the famous fifteen?"
Mikey frowned. "Famous fifteen?"
"Enid told me about them," Marco explained. "The group that showed up here and started the world over."
Mikey snorted.
"What?"
"Don't let Carl and Rhys hear you call them that?"
Marco bumps his foot against Mikey's under the cold lake surface. Mikey looked at him, and then Marco kissed him. It was quick, and new, and over.
"Was that okay?" Marco asks quietly, his breath was warm, and his lips tasted like herbs. He smelt like herbs. Everything about him was sweet and felt like it was wild.
Mikey sighed and smirked and dipped his head and nodded all at the same. "I think so."
"First kiss?" Marco asked.
"Kinda," Mikey breathed.
Mikey noticed that he kept scratching the inside of his palms nervously, and his legs wouldn't stop bouncing. Marco must have noticed, too, because he leant into Mikey, putting his hand on his knee to hold it.
"Are you nervous?" Marco asked with a tone that wasn't teasing.
"Is that weird?" Mikey questioned, suddenly breathless.
"I don't think so."
They sat there until the sun was completely gone. Orange crept away from the walls, and moonlight reflected gently off the running water below.
"Can I walk you home?" Marco asked, standing up and pulling on his shoes when the water got cold.
"Okay."
"It was my boots, by the way."
"What?" Mikey asked, looking bewildered.
"My boots." Marco wiggled his toes in the torn converse. "I traded them for the clothes."