firelight
Quinn
Quinn now observes the moon keychain that hung from her backpack, still holding up decently well. It was probably one of Quinn’s most prized possessions.
The two were sitting on the ground, huddled around a campfire outside some cabin in the trees of Oregon, the night beginning to cool and the fire keeping them warm. Ellie looks at Quinn, noticing her looking at the keychain. She lets out a small laugh.
“You still have that?” Ellie asks in disbelief. Quinn looks up at Ellie, almost offended.
“Of course I still have this!” Quinn exclaims, running a finger along the moon. “I love it.”
Ellie gives a lopsided smile, making Quinn’s heart slightly flutter. Quinn looks away, busying herself with something in her backpack. Ellie’s journal was out, as it usually is around this time of night, and she was scribbling something. Quinn glances up, daring to ask, “What are you writing?”
Ellie sighs. “Nothing exciting. Recalling the day’s events, aka, eight-hour horse ride.”
“Thrilling,” Quinn snorts before a thought enters her head. She puts her elbows on her knees, resting her chin in her hand. “Hey, do you keep track of the date?”
Ellie looks up, meeting Quinn’s eyes. “Yeah. Why?”
“What is it today?”
Ellie pauses, looking at a previous page. For a brief moment, Quinn sees random sketches and scribbles, before Ellie puts the page back down, mindlessly continuing her entry. “March 30th.”
Quinn’s eyes immediately pricked, the day seeming to echo in her head. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “It was my mom’s birthday yesterday.”
Ellie whipped her head up, her eyes immediately searching Quinn’s. Quinn couldn’t look at Ellie—she just stared at the fire, watching the wood burn and snap, flames licking the logs until they were nearly white with heat. Quinn sometimes felt like she was on fire, that she was slowly burning, inch by inch, until all she’ll be is ash blowing in the wind.
Before she could even register what was happening, Ellie had moved from across Quinn to the left of her, their shoulders touching. Quinn felt warmth radiate through her body, but she wasn’t sure it was from the fire.
“What was she like?” Ellie asks, softly, and Quinn was taken aback by the question. She blows out a breath, willing herself not to cry. She focuses on the fire, conjuring up memories of her mother.
“She was kind,” Quinn whispers. Her eyes became blurry but she didn’t care to stop the tears. “She never seemed afraid. As I grew up, she told me about the day of the outbreak, how mania ensued and she and my father escaped before the government could separate them. She was strong and taught me how to be strong, too. She was compassionate and hard-working and even after all the cruelty in the world, she had hope.” Quinn sniffed, feeling embarrassed as she wiped her eyes. “She still managed to find happiness. With me and my father.”
Quinn glanced at Ellie. She was silent, her eyes soft and—fuck—so beautiful in the firelight. “When…when they got bit–” Quinn let out a choked sob and cleared her throat, trying to gain composure for what she was about to say next. Whenever this subject came up before, Quinn would change the conversation, insistent on avoiding delving any further. Quinn swallowed hard. “My father got infected somehow and bit my mother. I watched her…watched her kill him and then she turned to me and begged me to leave before she turned. She told me she loved me and then said I needed to go.” Quinn’s shoulders slumped, recalling her mother’s pleading face, the desperation in her eyes, and the blood leaking from her neck. “I left her to die alone—”
Ellie took Quinn’s hand in her own, making Quinn stop short. “Look at me, Quinn.”
Quinn pulls her gaze away from the fire, tears streaming down her face, knowing she definitely looked a mess. Ellie looks almost distressed, and she shook Quinn’s hand for emphasis. “I’m so sorry Quinn. But you did what you could. She died with the memory of you being safe. You did nothing wrong.”
Quinn nodded, unable to say anything, looking at Ellie’s shoulder instead of her eyes. Ellie tilts her head to the side, bringing up her hand to Quinn’s face, swiping a tear away with her thumb. Quinn subconsciously leaned into Ellie’s hand, her hand calloused and cool against Quinn’s warm cheeks.
Quinn realized what she was doing and gently pulled away, deciding to avert her gaze to Ellie’s tattoo that wrapped around her arm. Ellie watched Quinn grab her arm, grazing her fingers over the tattoo and the bite mark. Quinn leans her head on Ellie’s shoulder, observing the shading of the moth and the ferns.
“This is so badass,” Quinn whispers, making Ellie laugh. “I wish I had tattoos.”
“What would you get?” Ellie asks. Quinn feels Ellie lean her head on top of Quinn’s, making her heartbeat speed up. Quinn pauses, letting out a long hum.
“A mushroom.”
Ellie bursts out laughing, making Quinn giggle. Ellie shakes her head, watching the fire slowly begin to dwindle.
“We should probably head inside,” Ellie says eventually, the fire now dissipated to hot coals, and Quinn nods, slowly pulling away from Ellie’s shoulder. They head into the cabin together and silently agree to share the bed, just another part of their nighttime routine. Quinn and Ellie laid on the bed, backs facing each other, and Quinn sunk into the depths of sleep almost immediately.
— — — —
Quinn woke up feeling slightly restricted. She panicked briefly and her eyes shot open, observing her surroundings, realizing it was Ellie’s arm around Quinn, her head in the crook of Quinn’s shoulder and neck. She blinks once, twice. It was Ellie’s arm around her. That was new.
She slowly and quietly disentangles herself from Ellie, knowing her cheeks were a burning, fiery red. Ellie stirs but doesn’t wake. Quinn usually finds herself admiring Ellie, especially when Ellie was sleeping, her face peaceful and not as clouded. Ellie finally looks like a teenager when she’s sleeping, not tainted by the world she opens her eyes to.
Quinn quietly walks to the living room, grabbing things and making a plan to feed the horses before they set out on the journey again. She finds herself smiling at the thought of the two falling asleep with their backs to each other and then waking up in that position. What the fuck does that even mean? Quinn shook away the thought. Focus on the horses.
Quinn steps outside, admiring the crisp morning air. The sun was beginning to show, birds were chirping, and Quinn basked in mother nature. Quinn has enjoyed the past few days in Oregon, admiring the budding forests and clear rivers and lakes. The sunsets have been absolutely breathtaking, and the nights nearly glowing with the moon and stars. Quinn has observed Ellie also admiring these things and, if feeling particularly inspired, will jot something down or sketch in her notebook. The nosy part of Quinn has wanted to read through Ellie’s notebook countless of times, but Quinn knew how wrong and intrusive that would be. She just has to accept the vague responses Ellie gives whenever Quinn decides to ask about the contents of the journal.
Not too much later Ellie arrives outside, looking disgruntled and half-asleep. She had a wrinkled button-down shirt on, her hair messy and falling in wisps in front of her face. Quinn has been the appointed hair braider since the first time because Ellie can’t seem to teach herself how to braid it herself. Quinn felt flustered but she gave Ellie a quick smile, distracting herself with the horses.
“How do you always manage to wake up before me?” Ellie grunts, hauling her backpack onto her back. Quinn grins.
“I’m just better than you,” she says with a shrug, and Ellie scowls.
“C’mon, dork,” she says, and Quinn flashes an innocent smile before turning and rubbing Bucky’s nose, then hopping on. Ellie led the way, as usual, and Quinn trots behind her, nonstop thinking about this morning.
Quinn has been in denial over her feelings for Ellie for about four months now. She takes every slightly flirtatious thing as just Ellie being comfortable with Quinn—purely platonic, nothing more or nothing less. Quinn knew that Ellie thought of her as only a friend, and Quinn constantly reminded herself if any romantic feelings decide to surface. Plus, besides Dina and Jesse, Ellie was Quinn’s only friend. Quinn valued their friendship and knew if she were to make a move, that wall might break and never be the same again.
Quinn stares at the back of Ellie’s head, thinking about how she’s seen Ellie grow over the past four years, their bond strengthening through time. Quinn lets out a small sigh, finally deciding to come face-to-face with herself: she’s got a massive crush on Ellie. She makes a deal with herself, thinking that when this is all over, as long as Ellie and her make it out alive, she’ll confess her feelings. The thought made Quinn’s palms slick with anxiety, but she intends to hold herself accountable to the promise.
Ellie suddenly groans, snapping Quinn from her thoughts.
“What?” Quinn asks, and Ellie looks over her shoulder, looking truly despondent. Quinn’s face grew with alarm. “What?” She repeats. Ellie hunches her shoulders.
“I left my pun book at the cabin.”