You are a magnet, i am metallic (torturous electricity between both of us)
The sky at midday is as dark as night and rent with forks of white flame. The storm had passed, raging somewhere nearby (loud and angry), and it's cold and damp and clear. Clouds move in the sky in front of the weak sun, and for a moment you can't decide whether it's the clouds or the sun that are moving.
Your butt and lower back hurt from the two-hour ride. You sway on Shimmer's back, limp and tired and confused. Words Joel had told you this morning are swimming in your mind and absentmindedly, your grip on the reigns tightness. It's a vise grip, like iron, and you wonder whether you'll be able to open your fist without causing too much damage when the time comes.
(Joel had hugged you awkwardly, and smoothed your hair and told you everything will be alright. He made you eat three monstrous pancakes and drink two glasses of water before you headed out and you almost felt like somehow, Joel's promises will move the universe just so, and put everything back in order).
(When Dina refused to meet your eyes and kept her stare stubbornly on Jesse, who made his usual 'be careful, don't be a hero' speech, you almost cried because) (everything is not alright and everything is fucked and one stupid moment of uncontrollable lust and too much liquor had fucked up the only friendship you never wanted to mess up).
Now, Dina is riding a pace or two behind you, quiet and somber and nothing like herself and you make a point of facing forward and not turning your head. (You grit your teeth together with such force your jaws pulse with sparks of pricking pain).
She doesn't talk and doesn't whistle and doesn't send snarky remarks your way, although you can tell she's watching you.
(There's a sting between your shoulder blades and you focus your gaze on the trees and the ground and the sky and the sticky mud of the poorly made trace. You refuse to break the silence and you refuse to look at her and you refuse to let it bother you even though it does) (oh, how it does).
The crashing of thunder is distant, loud enough to be heard but not to loud enough to disturb, and you wander briefly if the eerie sound makes the infected who roam this woods as unsettled as you are.
You and Dina ride through the forest, over a half-rotten bridge, pass what used to be a gas station and on for a couple of miles.
The small town where you're headed is happening slowly, like a migraine. First, you ride through nothing but trees, big and brown and old, then, imperceptibly, the occasional buildings become low roofed homes, abandoned and broken and flooding with water and trash. The sprawl becomes a town (a place that has lost it name many many many years ago) and you can spot your destination, clear as a day (around building a little way to the north).
You ride through the deepening darkness and into a small exposed field that makes your skin crawl.
Shimmer is stretching beneath you. She's padding, dancing, turning, warm and powerful and frustrated at the slow pace.
You stop and turn in your saddle. You watch your surroundings with careful eyes, looking around for trouble (it's a force of habit you know Joel will be proud of). The air is thick and very clear (no trace of infected stench), so clear it stings your lungs when you inhale too deeply.
"It looks fine," Dina's voice comes from behind you, closer than you thought she was and you jump a little, startled and agitated and suddenly having trouble focusing. Her scent fills your nose (sweet flowers and musky pines and fruity shampoo) and images of last night fill your mind.
(Dina with her head thrown back and eyes shut tight. Dina with her back arched and her breasts bared and her mouth open. Dina with two of her fingers buried deep inside you, hovering over you with a tipsy smile and liquid dark eyes and hushed filthy whispers that made you come).
(Your stomach gives a lurch and then drops).
(Your hands start to shake).
(Fuck, you tell yourself. Fuck, Ellie. Fuck).
Dina is talking, hammering your attention back to reality (cold and complicated and dark reality).
"let's have a quick sweep for supplies, sign in, and go back. It's getting too dark out here".
You jump off of Shimmer's back. Dina guides Japan to a small fence and busies herself with her backpack, checking for water and supplies. You can tell she's avoiding you so you take a deep breath (to steady your nerves) and try to remind yourself you've got a job to do out here. Whatever it is going on between you and Dina, it will have to wait till you back in Jackson.
You clear your throat.
Dina's head shots up. Her eyes meet yours and her cheeks color in deep red. You swallow bitter bitter (bitter) spit and lick your lips, mustering enough courage to talk.
"Do you wanna split up? I mean… we could cover more ground if we go on different routes and meet at the lookout post. It'll save us some daylight".
"Yeah, sure," she says and her voice is too high and too eager and too bright to sound comfortable. She is full of fake cheerfulness (cheerfulness that neither of you feel) and when she says "good idea!" the wind whips the words from her lips and you can barely hear her.
"Look," you say and try not to hyperventilate. You play with your fingers to busy yourself while you think what is it exactly you want her to know. "Look, I don't want to seem like I'm… I mean, whet I'm trying to say is that it's just… it's just that… well…" you take another breath. "Fuck, look…" you pause, trying to regroup. (You're cold, standing in the middle of this godforsaken town, trying to talk to someone you never had to pick your words with before, and everything sounds dumb and flat and like it's not the right thing to say).
"Okay, what I'm trying to say is…"
"It's okay. I get it".
"No. I don't think you do because – "
"Ellie!" Dina's voice is strong and agitated and nothing like herself. You take a step back, surprised by the spite in her tone and the sparkle in her eyes.
She says, "I get it. Really".
"Look…" You try one more time because you need her to understand something you have no idea how to put into words (and you're not sure if you're about to apologize or explain or tell her how you really feel). But Dina's done listening.
She nods, once, very sternly and jumps on her feet and walks away. You just stand there, mouth wide open in mid-sentence, eyebrows raised, feeling like a total idiot.
"Fuck," You mutter under your breath. "Fuck".
//
You start your patrol at what you think used to be a motel. It's an old building, with broken windows and a rotten roof and there are holes in the walls big enough for you to fit in easily.
You walk through the long corridor, keeping your eyes peeled to any suspicious movements. The shadows are thick and inky and nerve-wracking, but the place is empty and nothing interrupts the graveyard like silence, so you keep walking.
Deeper into the motel, you find dried pools of blood and a horrible smell that makes your stomach turn. From the blood coloured skid marks on the floor, you can tell infected have been using this place as a hiding (maybe from last week's storm, maybe from your patrol groups or maybe from some other danger you're simply not aware of). You don't see evidence of the people who had been dragged in here but infected rarely leave anything to be recovered, so you dismiss the rising panic in your chest and push forward.
You reach to every cabinet and every drawer you pass. You look into small cupboards and wooden wardrobes, you peer into iron lockers, old dressers, bedside tables. Some drawers have nothing but old papers, useless tools, and what looks like a half-eaten battery. There are small items so damaged with age that you can't properly identify them. Other drawers have things you enjoy stuffing into your pockets; sewing kits and flashlights and rusty nails in neat little packages and all kinds of nicknacks you know Joel would like to have his hands on.
You search empty rooms and empty halls and one empty dining room from which you take a large collection of spoons, knives, and two bottles of whiskey.
You pass wooden doors, swing them open slowly. You push aside half-broken furniture. You stomp heavily through the undergrows that's covering the floor and do your best not to trip on any hidden obstacles. For half an hour you busy yourself with the sweep, searching and roaming and scavenging until the sky is a uniform gray and you know it's time to move on.
Outside, a thick cloud is covering the sky, low on the horizon. You finish your sweep and head out to the lookout post, where you and Dina agreed to meet.
You walk away from the motel, heading along the unmarked and narrow road, wondering about whether or not you'll find enough courage to talk to Dina about what happened last night.
Broken glass and small branches crunch under your feet when you reach the main road. You are wearing layers of warm clothes and you're not feeling the cold, but still, somehow, you feel numb. Your heart is numb and your mind is numb and your soul is numb and cold and confused. The numbness goes a long way down, and a long way back and
(You mentally kick yourself).
(Why the hell did you sleep with Dina?)
When you reach the large building (it looks like a real mess and you have no idea what was the purpose of this place before the outbreak) you make your way to the second floor, where the logbook is.
The room looks comfortable. Almost homey. Someone put a couch the colour of mustard beneath the window, a torn rug, and some pillows and almost made the place look warm enough to want and stay. almost.
Dina is sitting on the mustard coloured couch. She's nothing more than a dark shape against the darkening sky and she's staring blankly at nothing, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
You make your hesitant way to the logbook (just to discover that Dina's already signed your names, with a cheerful message of "all's clear" in the designated sloth).
You take a deep breath and let it out in one, long, painful drag. You are feeling more drained and exhausted with every minute that's passing. You make some comment, mainly to get Dina to move, but she just keeps on sitting there, stubbornly silent.
"Fuck…" say, very quietly.
You hate this tension and you hate not being able to talk to her and you hate this new look In her eyes (mainly, you hate yourself for being the one who made all this mess).
"We should probably get going." You say in a hushed whisper, like there is no energy left in you even to raise your voice. Dina says nothing. She doesn't even look your way and you wonder if she has spotted something in the distance, or maybe she didn't hear you.
"Dina?" you say softly, louder than before, and she turns her head. when you meet her gaze, her eyes are big and sad and familiar and there is a moment of gentle relief.
//
You look at Dina and your heart is hammering in your chest, your forehead is clammy and you're no longer tired or cold or irritated.
In the relative darkness of the room, the light from the outside is not strong enough to illuminate the place, you can see Dina's eyes staring right at you.
Her voice is a whisper but it's a familiar one and you hear it clear and loud and painful.
"I can't do it, Ellie".
You say nothing. Dina sits on the couch and stares at you unblinking.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"I heard you." You say and it's very very hard to look at her. She's very beautiful in the dim light and you have no idea what else you can say.
"What are we gonna do now?"
Dina shrugs. "I don't know".
"We could go back to normal," you say in a spark of a moment and it's not what you meant to say and you know it's a horrible solution but your mouth is moving and your tongue is forming sounds and you are talking and talking and talking and there is no stopping you now.
"We can go back to normal. Just like before. We can forget anything ever happened. I mean, we both were drunk. These things happen. It doesn't have to mean anything, I just… I don't…" you are blabbing, talking so fast you stumble over your own words, and every word you say makes Dina look smaller and smaller and you want to scream and shake her and you want to bite your tongue off.
(Instead, you keep talking).
"We aren't kids. I mean, we are good friends. Best friends. I mean, Those things… they happen right? it just happened. I never… I don't… fuck." (you're shaking, forcing yourself to shut up just shut the fuck up and when you finally let the words die on your lips, Dina's face is ashen and hurt and you know you screwd up. Royally screwd up).
"Is that what you want?" she asks, so small and so sad and so pale and your heart is breaking it's breaking it's breaking.
"No." you breathe out a slow sigh. Your heart is pounding arrhythmically in your chest. You walk across the room until you are standing in front of her. then, because you feel like towering over a sad-looking Dina is a poor way to make her feel safe (a poor way to apologise), you kneel on the rug.
Her smell, that lingers in the room, musky and sweet and very feminine, is stronger now when you're so close to her, and you wish you've had thought about it sooner. Now you kneel there, before her, and her scent engulfs you like morning mist.
"Dina." You say and the crash of thunder is not loud enough to drown your whisper. "Dina…" you say, tasting the sound of the word in your mouth. "Dina." (the thunder echoes from horizon to horizon and her name swells and grows and fills your world like the pounding of blood in your ears).
"What?" she looks like she's about to cry and you realise you have nothing left to lose and you might just be out with it.
You have never felt something in your chest sting like this before. It takes a moment and you have to swallow down this new sensation, hot and sudden and scary. Your lungs sting and your eyes burn and you're worried you won't be able to tell her the truth.
"Ellie. What?" her words are urgent and her voice is shaking and you reach for her hand and close your fingers on her wrist.
When you talk, it feels like the breath has been knocked from your lungs. You've never said it out loud before, not like this, and you don't want it to be rushed, but there is no going back now and you have to be brave so you press her hand to your chest and close your eyes for a long moment. Then you open them and Dina is still staring at you.
"I love you." You say simply.
Dina is staring at you, but she isn't looking surprised or repulsed or scared. She is looking at you a little unimpressed and a little anused and lot reassuringly and for a moment your heart leaps in your chest and you feel lightheaded.
"I love you." You say again (because it's easy and it's fun and the words taste good on your tongue) and then Dina is up and she pulls you to her and kisses you hard on the lips.
"What – " you manage to say before she's pushing her mouth against yours for what feels like several minutes, (but might as well be several seconds in clock-ticking-time) and there is nothing in the world you want more than just keep kissing her.
It's a strange kiss, you think, while Dina's lips pressed against yours. It's a flag-waving kiss, a kiss to let you know how she feels and a kiss to shut you up and a kiss to banish all the demons dancing in both your brains.
(You feel like you're balancing on the edge of a cliff and Dina's lips are the only thing that's keeping you from falling).
(You feel as if there is a lethal fall below and a men-eating tiger above and you already fell halfway down but you manage to hold on for dear life).
(Dina's kiss feels like this).
You want to say something, to clarify, to make sure you're on the same page and you will never ever go back to the silent, angry, ashamed treatment you've been served before, but all you manage to do is close your eyes and throw yourself into the kiss.
You experience nothing but Dina's lips and the softness of her against you, sweet and wild and hot. Then she's pushing your lips apart with her tongue and it doesn't take long for the desired pool in your lower stomach and for your hands to begin to roam.
When she finally pulls away, she licks her mouth and smiles a smile that reaches her eyes and it feels good to be able to breathe again.
You don't talk about it when you pack your things and you don't talk about it when you mount the horses and you don't talk about it when you ride through the damp forest, on your way back home.
//
When you reach Jackson, it's already late and Jesse is pacing the square in front of the gates like an angry lion. Dina is about to say something, but there is a fair amount of scolding and lecturing (you know Jesse's just worried so you keep your head down and let him lash out in an angry sort of whisper) and it takes you another fifteen minutes before you're in relative privacy.
You lead the horses to the barn and unload your packs and return your gunshots and your knives. The people around you are busy with their own lives, but it's packed with activity and you can't bring yourself to ask Dina whatever it is you've been dying to ask her since you left the nameless town, couple of hours ago. So instead, you sign in your names and you talk about nothing and everything, easy and smiling and everything like before.
You're walking down the street, trying to prove a point Dina's been refusing to see for the last couple of minutes (it's an elaborated explanation-turned-argument about the latest volume of a comics Joel brought back from his last patrol, that you and Dina's been reading). You are laying out your argument, a little heated, and a little too eager when she cuts you off and forces you to shut up.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Erm… I dunno. Nothing special," you say and suddenly the muddy road beneath your boots seems very interesting and you inspect the small rocks that are hidden under the thick earth with burning eyes. "What about you?"
Dina puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and waits for you to meet her eyes. When you lift your head, the look on her face is soft and loving and a little mischievous and it makes your heart skip a beat.
"Oh." You say. And then, "Oh!" and it downs on you, icy cold and fire-hot and exciting. "Erm… Okay".
"Yeah?" she says it like a question but also like a request and permission and it spikes hot desire between your legs.
"Yeah".
And it's easy and simple when she reaches for your hand, intertwines your fingers together, and guides you, slowly, back home.