You turn over on your make-shift bed on the floor of some old farm house you’d been holing up in for the last couple of weeks. Although it looked like it had been raided - there were no mattresses, no food in the pantry, and so on - it had a good location, close to a river, far enough from any other houses or cities.
When you opened your eyes with a groan, that could have come from one of the dead themselves, the sun was already high up in the sky, judging by the light that fell through the cracks of your barred windows. You sighed. Everything was just so … useless.
“So what? Are you just gonna lie there all day?”
You sigh again and reply “No, of cause not…” you stare at the man you love, who’s standing in the doorframe, eyes on you, while you slowly sit up. Something feels strange, you can’t put your finger on it, so you ignore it. For now. “You could lie here with me…” you suggest.
“ ‘s important to stay in a routine…” he tells you. “Get up early, eat, check the perimeter, fill the water bottles, …” and he goes on listing things to do. You can’t remember how often you’ve heard this speech.
You smile lightly, typical Frank, with his military precision, almost endless set of skills and of cause he wasn’t hard to look at either. You were really lucky you were stuck in this with him, he knew how to fight, how to fix things and people. He knew how to survive.
He stops and looks at you critically. “…Are you … high?”
Your smile freezes on your face when his question gets through to you. “What?”
“I asked if you were high? You have that weird smile on your face again…” he steps closer and squats down in front of you, looking worried.
You shake your head, no. “Where would I get drugs in a world like this?” you ask. “Besides I have been clean for 4 years…even before all this started… you know I have…” you look at the boards nailed across the window. “… Although I guess using would make all of this…” you gesture towards the window. “… a lot more bearable…”
“It might…” he agrees. “…but It might also get you killed…” he gets up again and walks towards the window, peering through one of the cracks for a moment. “And don’t think I don’t know about that little pack of Meth you have tugged away in your backpack!” he turns around and looks at you with his best judging / I’m-so-disappointed face.
BUSTED! Ha, of cause he knew about it… you grab your backpack and rummage through it until you find the little packet of blue crystals, still wrapped in a pair of your undies. You found it while raiding a petrol-station for food and other supplies a couple of months back.
“How did you know I had it?” you ask, looking at him again. He smiles, sadly. “I know everything that you know…”
You glare at him. “Like that is an answer…”
“I know you had a crush on your brothers best friend, … Shane? Was it?” he states matter-of-factly.
“You can’t know that…” you whisper, more to yourself.
“Strange how much we look alike, isn’t it?”
“You can’t know that..” you repeat, louder this time. Almost shouting.
“L/N’s not your real last name either, ain’t that right? Y/N Grimes? Does your family even know you’re still alive? Did you ever let them know you were still kickin’ before this world went to shit?” his voice is sharp, accusing
You put your hands over your ears and shut your eyes. “You can’t know all of that… HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL THESE THINGS??” you shout.
“I don’t…” his voice goes soft again. “Only you know all that… I died, remember?”
You stare at your knees for a moment, tears well up in your eyes and you wipe them away with your sleeve. When you look up again he’s gone. “Frank?” your throat feels very dry all of a sudden; it only comes out as a croak. “FRANK?”