x.9
fallintolife
the worst vegan
- Location
- Los Angeles
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[] You're stronger than she ever thought you could be. Fuck her, and fuck this. Wake up.
You wake a bit at a time. Your limbs don't want to respond; they've got that pins-and-needles feel that makes you mutedly wonder how long you've been lying down.
Speaking of lying down, you're no longer on the floor.
"Wise?" Something on your forehead gets taken away, then the cool weight of cloth replaces it. You sigh a little in relief. You hadn't realized you were overheated until you felt it.
Fingers feel at your wrist, taking your pulse. You didn't know Sammy knew how to do that.
Wait. Sammy?
Your pry your eyes open. Sammy's kneeling at your side, mouthing a count for your heartbeat as he checks it, face set in lines of concern. Candlelight highlights his features, smoothing them the way only fire can do. In that moment, you realize:
[] you're in love with him.
[] he doesn't look sick at all.
[] he's in love with you.
[] he doesn't look sick at all.
[] he's in love with you.
A thick, hacking cough breaks your concentration, and you sit up all at once. You wish you hadn't; your head spins, and you realize how empty your stomach feels.
"Hungry?" Sammy asks carefully, letting your wrist go so you can cover your mouth as you cough.
You nod. You're not sure what, exactly, you want, but you want a lot of it. You can't remember being this hungry before.
"I want something..." you trail off, one last cough punctuating your sentence.
"Meaty?" He guesses, and your hunger rises fiercely at that word.
"Yes," you say, a little off-balance by your own desire. You want meat right now, need it.
Sammy stands and crosses the room. It's your room, now that you're looking, and you've been lying in your bed. The last thing you remember is... that fucked up dream... but before that, you were on the floor of Sammy's room.
"You brought me up here?" You ask, slowly moving so your legs are hanging off of the side of your bed.
"I thought it would be safer," he says, picking up a can of beef stew. There's a pile on your nightstand; it looks like he grabbed all the non-perishables out of your kitchen and stacked them in your room. "There are... people outside."
"People," you repeat, remembering the screaming, then moaning from outside.
"Yeah," he says quietly, pouring the can of stew into a bowl.
You notice, then, that he's got your tomahawk hanging at his back, and your pistol is on your nightstand. Neither one of them look like they've seen use, but for Sammy to feel like they're necessary, something must have happened.
He hands you the bowl, and you hold it to your lips, greedily downing the stew. It fills the void of hunger, and your eyes close. You needed that.
"People have been screaming and banging around outside for the past two days," Sammy tells you, leaning against your nightstand.
Two days? You've been out of it for two days?
"You were sick," he says, "you... said some things, but mostly just asked for food." He gestures to a case of water bottles at the foot of your bed. "It's a good thing you bought those last week, because the water went off yesterday."
"Is the power still on?" You ask, settling the bowl in your lap. You don't think you're quite ready to get up.
"Yeah. The internet was on for a little while, and I printed out some things I think we might need." He takes a deep breath. "I'm just... I hope my parents are okay."
Your parents are gone, but you had some connections here. You wonder to yourself about:
[] Anna, your girlfriend.
[] Karl, your not-quite-boyfriend.
[] Your aunt and uncle.
[] Your coworkers.
[] Wormwood. Where is that cat?
[] Karl, your not-quite-boyfriend.
[] Your aunt and uncle.
[] Your coworkers.
[] Wormwood. Where is that cat?
-
For both choices, pick as many as apply.
Since you took care of Sammy, he's survived and is now one of your companions. I'd be much obliged if someone could find a good picture for him. He's a person of color, with blue eyes, and isn't heavily muscled.
