Chapter Text
Daymare [noun]: A nightmarish fantasy experienced while awake.
On the bright side, Oliver is pretty sure he’s not going to die today. He glances past the tree, making sure it’s safe to step out. Oliver looks back at his watch.
Any second now…
The tick of his watch is cut off as the music blares distantly through the speakers, marking the end of today's hunt, alongside the end of today’s four.
‘Not today.’ Oliver thinks, though it stopped being much of a comfort a long time ago. He’s tired of living off sacrifices. Still, after a final quick look around, Oliver starts to make his way back to the village.
This is just how it is.
He halfheartedly kicks a small stone and watches it skid through the grass. It isn’t like he was expecting the hunts to get easier— He knew they wouldn’t. Although he has gotten better at knowing where to hide and when to run, in the end, he can’t do anything but just that. It makes him sick. But, this is all is just a routine he’s had to adapt to, and one that after so many repeats, he’s numbed himself towards.
Routine. Oliver plays around with the word in his head bitterly, but it’s too risky to indulge in the emotions it brings. The routine isn’t getting easier anytime soon. In the meantime, all they have is hope that one day they’ll be able to fight back.
‘One day.’
It felt impossibly far away.
Well, at the very least, the hunt’s gone for two days. Still, everything's not quite over just yet.
Oliver hears the village before he sees it, and the awful cries only get louder upon reaching it. Unfortunately, Oliver expected as much. It was the first hunt since the new kids had arrived, and they were, understandably, in shock.
Now in the square, there are some kids that stop and look at him for direction, most likely because he’s one of the oldest here. It reminds Oliver to keep his head high, and maintain his best “everything is okay” look. A calm exterior can go a long way, he’s found.
He’ll attend to everything soon, but first, before he can address anything, Oliver quickly scans the clearing to make sure his own friends have made it out.
He spots Paula outside the windmill, already helping out with the food.
It takes no effort to find Sandy, who’s spotted helping his older brother at the make-shift first aid station.
Oliver has someone else on his mind though. He surveys the area near the medical station.
Aha.
Zack is, unsurprisingly, close to said medical station. Again. But it doesn’t concern Oliver— the sight of a bloodied-up Zack hasn’t fazed him for a good year. This was normal. So, though Zack is technically among this hunt’s ‘injured’, the term doesn’t quite apply to him, it never has. ‘Injured’ implied ‘incapacitated’, and Zack was anything but.
Zack notices him and sends Oliver a low wave before turning his attention back to bandaging his arm— Ouch. Oliver winces, but he lets it be. Zack will catch him sometime later, and they’ll go hang out for a bit, like they always do. (Oliver was actually fond of that part of the ‘routine.’) He’ll ask Zack about that new wound then.
Now with confirmation of his friends’ survival, it was time to start helping out. He had only one job, that being ‘attend to anything that needs immediate action.’ It sounded pretty simple, but Oliver wasn’t fooled anymore. As suspected, it takes him ages, because, of course, everything was urgent after the hunt.
He’d briefly checked in on the new weapon batches, but for the most part, Oliver dealt with the little ones: helping a young girl find her sister, and breaking the news to a little boy who couldn’t. Each time he’s had to do it always gnaws at him, but Oliver forces the unwelcome feeling away. Everyone was relying on him to be dependable— he couldn’t go soft. This was just another one of his duties.
In between it all, Oliver had done a considerable amount of running, fetching more bandages here, more water there, more of everything everywhere, all while answering questions like:
“Where are we?”
“Why are we here?”
“What's going to happen to us?”
(Even though he’d actually already answered all that in the morning…)
He’d also been on the lookout for any new potential resistance members… But nothing yet. To top it all off, about 30 minutes in, he’d been met with a spectacularly sadistic headache.
It was a lot, but some time later, everything finally settles down and Oliver wraps up, going to see if he can offer any help to Paula.
“That’s alright. It’s good as done.” Paula assures him when he gets there, taking off the pot lid and stirring the soup. Oliver was instantaneously met with the pleasant smell. Come to think of it, he was starving.
“Woah.”
Paula smiles under her mask.
“I’m getting better at it, I think.”
Oliver nods his head.
“You’re far too modest,” he tells her. “I’ve seen the way the food comes… It looks like prison food.”
“Well, in a way it sort of is…” Paula hints.
“True that.”
Paula puts the lid back on, sitting down.
“You didn’t run into any trouble today?” She questions, changing the topic.
Oliver shakes his head.
“I got lucky today.” He admits. “I have this headache though. It’s stubborn, it doesn’t want to leave me alone.”
Paula hums.
“You should go for a walk then.” She concludes.
It’s very tempting… But Oliver hesitantly shakes his head.
“No, I don't want to ditch everyone. Besides, I’m supposed to wait for Zack.”
Paula laughs softly.
“He’ll be busy stitching up for at least ten more minutes.”
Oliver considers it, but must have conjured up another excuse because he opens his mouth to object, but Paula catches him before he can.
“I’ll be fine.” She insists.
He pauses.
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
And so, Oliver succumbs.
He walks off from the clearing, feeling like he can finally breathe again. He goes on to the edge of the village, where the houses start to thin out and the streets start to broaden until they give way to an open field of grass that stretches to the horizon. In front of him, 3 plain little stone steps. He sits on the middle one.
This place is his favourite. It’s great for thinking, and even better for not, which is exactly what he needs right now. Here, he can forget how everything’s been getting a little worse every day: How the weapon situation looks bleak, how they’ve been making essentially no progress, how the resistance keeps getting smaller, with him as the leader who’s supposed to always know what to do.
He can forget how he’s a couple days away from another hunt where he might die— where others will die, and how everything makes him feel like he’s being slowly eaten alive from the inside, and has to keep pretending it’s not killing him.
But here, that’s all gone.
It’s the only place he can really zone out, not just because it’s so far away, but because it’s so strangely tranquil. The saturated hues of the village have dissipated and the colours around him are at peace. Plus, his headache is almost gone. It’s pretty calming. He’s not sure if that’s a result of being the perfect time of the afternoon, being far away from the monsters or really just because-
Cough.
Zack is here.
His hands are in his pockets, and he’s standing at the top of the steps– When did he get there, Oliver wonders. In any case, he finds himself smiling for the first time today.
“How long have you been standing there?” He questions.
“Uhh,” Zack looks away guiltily, “Just now.”
“And honestly?”
“‘Bout five minutes.” He confesses. “Sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt, or anythin.”
Oliver tilts his head.
“Interrupt? Interrupt what?”
“I don't know… I mean, I went looking for you after I finished up n’ Paula tipped me off that you went for some air, so I waited around, but you didn’t come back.” Oliver narrows his eyes slightly, puzzled. “I figured I’d come here instead, but when I did you seemed all zoned out- in, actually, really zoned in.” He corrects. “I wasn’t sure I should say somethin’. Sorry for sneaking up on you.”
“No, that’s alright...” Oliver says, rolling up his sleeve to look at his watch. “But I was sure I was only five…”
He’s been here 30 minutes.
He’s rendered speechless, blinking at his watch.
“…Time flies?” Zack offers.
“Yeah, it… really did, wow.” Oliver shakes his head, collecting his thoughts. “I honestly thought it had only been a few minutes, I’m sorry I ditched you.” He laughs half heartedly. ”I’m switching off.”
Zack shrugs.
“Can’t blame you. It’s pretty neat out here.”
“Yeah. I’m surprised people don’t come out here.” Oliver says and Zack nods in agreement, before jumping down a step.
“It’s better that way.”
Oliver shuffles over to make way for Zack, who takes off his jacket before crouching down one step above Oliver. He sits leaning against the metal railing, where he hangs his jacket. Oliver isn’t sure why he wears one so much. It’s always dirty from new blood and dirt and Zack has to get a new one almost every two weeks because of how quickly it essentially disintegrated. Zack barely takes it off, even though the weather in this place is consistently at 21° degrees and sunny. He only ever takes it off to sleep, or when he’s here with Oliver. It’s a little silly thing, sure, but it gets Oliver feeling all light. It’s like seeing a part of his friend no one else can, or will. Their friendship is like that a lot.
“Its good to see you.”
“Yeah,” Zack replies, getting settled, “You too man.”
“So, you’re still breathing?” Oliver jokes.
“Well, unfortunately, it's looking that way.” Zack jokes back, earning him a pair of rolling eyes from Oliver. “How ‘bout you? Didn’t see you at the med station, so I'm assuming you still got all four limbs?”
“It seems so.” Oliver answers, now playing spot the difference on Zack, to observe new injuries. He finds quite a few.
“What's up?”
Oliver loosely gestures to Zack’s T-shirt. It’s (somehow!) in worse condition than his jacket, covered in bloody patches and odd bits of grime. He also gestures to the new bruises he can now see on his arm.
“Oh.” Zack winces, probably recalling the pain. “Yeah, I’m fine… Y’know. Different day, same shit.”
Oliver just nods. That just about sums up Goldy Pond.
“How many today?”
“Four.” Zack says sourly.
“Just the usual then.” Oliver concludes, equally bitter.
“Yeah.” Zack whispers.
There’s something awful in talking about the dead as numbers, but it’s a necessity to numb the pain. Its a shared hurt— They both know how it is after hunts. They try not to talk about it too much, sort of like an unspoken rule. After acknowledging the death count, that’s usually the end of any hunt-talk, and it was much appreciated too. This is the small time they get to distract each other.
“Hungry?” Zack asks.
“Honestly, I’m starving.”
“I got you.” Zack passes a bread roll over. Oliver gives him a nod of gratitude.
“When we get back, there should still be soup too. Might be cold though.”
Zack brings the bread up to his mouth. His right hand is wrapped up from an incident a week ago— A fracture, but Lucas said he’d be good to go in a month and a bit. What catches Oliver’s attention is the stained bandage on his forearm, he’d seen Zack attend to earlier. It looks violently red.
“Is that one new?” Oliver asks, though he wouldn’t be surprised if it was.
“Uh... No?” He offers, looking down at the bandage. “I mean, the blood is old.”
“Old as in… An hour ago?” Oliver presses, unconvinced.
“Give or take a few?”
Oliver laughs, amused but clearly not buying it. Zack sighs.
“Alright, yeah, it’s new. But the bleeding stopped ages ago, so if you ask me, the blood is technically old.”
Oliver rolls his eyes.
“I’d say ‘be more careful’ but I think we both know better.”
“Oh come on,” Zack protests. “It’s not like I’m trying to, what?-"
“Earn brain damage?”
“Sure. It’s not like I’m trying to earn some brain damage every shot I get?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Oliver laughs and punches Zack playfully, who punches Oliver right back.
“You know, any sane person would be a dead man by now.” Oliver says and well, it’s not like Zack can deny that.
“Well, I guess it’s a damn good thing I’m not sane then, hey?” Zack combats, sending a grin.
“I guess it is.” Oliver replies lightly, now turning his attention back to Zack’s new wound. “Can I ask how you got that?”
“Hm?” Zack looks at his arm. “Oh, this? I mean, sure, it just wasn’t anything interesting if I’m bein’ honest- It was only Luce. He tried going for this small kid— Tiny guy. I wanted to give the kid a break and I ended up pretty close to him- to Luce, ‘n before ya know it, his claws were up in my space. I'm fine now but, y'know…”
The way Zack was talking, you’d expect him to be talking about anything other than nearly being clawed to death by a monster, but Zack’s always been like this, and there wasn’t any point in trying to change him. In the end, no matter how many injuries he collected or how badly they hurt, Zack would still go and do it again. Oliver secretly admired that. It took serious courage… Or stupidity. Maybe both.
Still somehow, no matter what reckless thing Zack did, Oliver had to hand it to him, he always managed to pull it off. Sometimes, you just had to let Zack do his thing. Even if it didn’t always seem like it, Zack knows what he’s doing. Still, it’s not something Oliver (or anyone else) could replicate. He’s irreplaceable and thankfully, would never need to be replaced. That’s part of the reason why Oliver could be so close with him— because out of everyone, he knew Zack would always make it back. Although there had been close calls that left Lucas sweating bullets. Which reminds him…
“Hey, but didn’t you and Lucas agree on a week of taking it easy?" Oliver inquires.
“He agreed. I made no such deals.” Zack replies. “I like to make promises I can actually keep.”
“Well aren’t you a gentleman…” Oliver remarks sarcastically and Zack decides to play along.
“Y'know, I do like to think so!” He answers, smiling, before answering Oliver properly. “Anyway, I did take it easy today.”
“Guessing Lucas doesn’t think so?”
Zack sighs, a wry- no, guilty expression on his face.
“Lucas worries too much.”
“Meaning you got lectured again.” Oliver concludes.
“Hey. Whose side are you on?”
“You know I’m always on yours.” Says Oliver, putting his hands up, a white flag of surrender.
“Thank you.”
“…So you did, then?”
“l mean yeah, but I reckon a lecture was uncalled for. Only a tiny scratch today.”
Somehow, Oliver doubts that. He raises an eyebrow.
“Oh? You don’t believe me?”
“Can you blame me? Your shirt looks like Bloody Mary got to you.” Zack opens his mouth to object- “And it’s not like you’ve got a good track record either.”
“Honest, it was just a scratch!” He pulls up his sleeve and unwraps the bloody bandage. “See? I barely needed stitches this time.”
Dead silence. Zack looks over to his friend. Oliver seems blank- no, he’s focused intensely on Zack's wound, his eyes scanning and his lips… Moving? Zack listens closer. Oliver’s whispering something under his breath.
“Six… seven…”
What’s he doing? Hold on. Is he?…
Zack’s eyes widen.
“You jerk!- You’re counting!”
“Nine… ten…”
“Stop that! Hey!” Zack slips his shirt arm back down.
“Twelve… THIRTEEN?!” A moment too late. Oliver bursts out laughing.
“I’ve changed my mind. You’re not a liar. You just genuinely believe that is tiny.”
“It is!”
“Who do you think you’re fooling?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t need 9 stitches on your knee a week ago!”
“I don’t act all nonchalant about it! You’re the crazy one.” He says, shaking his head. “But really, are you alright?”
Zack nods.
“Yeah, I'm good. I mean it’s deeper than I’d like but the stitches are only there so it doesn’t scar ‘n all- I got enough of those.” He catches Oliver’s next question before he asks it. “And don’t worry. I asked one of the older kids to do ‘em. I’m not stupid enough to attempt my own stitches with a fractured hand.”
“…Debata-“
“Hey!”
Zack elbows him, but Oliver just laughs.
“How is the hand?” Oliver asks Zack.
“I’ll live, it’s a pretty mild fracture. But my handwriting has seen better days.”
That’s true, but honestly, it’s illegible either way.
“It’s not that bad…” Oliver insists.
“My turn to call ‘liar’.” Zack clears his throat. “But listen, I’ve got a plan, right- a master plan.”
Oliver’s intrigued.
“Oh really now?…”
“You doubt me?”
“Alright, let’s hear it.”
“I’m gonna become ambidextrous.” Zack declares. Oliver hits him with a curious, but very confused stare.
“What on Earth is that? Can you even spell that?”
“…That’s beside the point, look!-“
Oliver’s laughing and Zack starts to as well.
“Alright, enlighten me. What is it?”
“Lucas told me about it. It means I’m going to be left and right handed at the same time. That way, if one hand gets hurt, I’ve got the other.”
He’s ridiculous, but still, Oliver is interested.
“Can you really teach yourself that?”
“Lucas says you can.”
“You know, an easier solution is just, not getting hurt?”
“Get real!” Zack says lightly, looking out in front of them. It's getting pretty late. “Hey, you want to get going?”
Oliver doesn’t want to. What he wants is to stay here and keep talking, but for today, their time is already up. He sighs.
“Yeah. Let’s head back.”
Zack slips his jacket back on and the two of them walk back to the windmill, after taking a little detour to the food station to grab a bowl of leftover soup.
Coming into the windmill, it’s no surprise that everyone is already here, settled around various spots in the room. The windmill has long since turned into a hangout space. Whether it’s comforting because of the warmly-lit space or the people there, Oliver wasn’t sure, but it was the place to be.
Their friends, Paula, Sandy, his brother and a few others sat at the table. It’s been temporarily cleared of plans and diagrams, instead, covered in playing cards. It seems Oliver isn’t the only one that craves a distraction.
“Hey Zack. Hi Oliver.” Paula calls over, without taking her eyes off her cards. She was facing Sandy, playing what looked like a game of ‘Fool’. Zack slides in next to Paula, setting his bowl down. Oliver follows.
“Who’s winning?”
“I am.” Paula answers.
“Yeah, not for long.” Sandy answers back grinning. He places down a pair, King of Diamonds and King of Hearts, his last two cards. “I’d like to see you beat that.”
Oliver peers over Paula’s shoulder, peeking at her cards. Ace and a queen. Same suit, diamond.
“Hey, what’s the special suit this round?” Oliver whispers.
“Diamond.” Paula responds.
Oliver nods, keeping a blank expression, though the corner of his lips twitch for a second. Zack however, bursts into laughter. Sandy narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“…What?” He looks at Zack who doesn’t reply because he’s still laughing. Sandy turns to Oliver. “What??”
“Sorry. You should’ve bet harder.” Paula says, laying down her last two cards. Ace beats king. Queen beats Jack.
Sandy sighs, defeated. “Good game.”
Paula smiles, taking the cards in her hand and shuffling.
“Man, she really does win every time.”
“You bet...” Sandy replies, turning to Oliver and Zack. “So, how’s it go… Oh.”
Zack tilts his head as Sandy trails off. He follows his friend’s eyes, to find them caught on Zack’s red sleeve. Ah.
“That looks really nasty. Is that what you were bandaging today?”
“Oh. Yeah. It was just Luce though. I pissed him off a bit. Guess he wanted to get me back for that.”
Sandy’s brother lets out a shocked choke. “It's like you’re trying to get brain damage, dude.” He says, shaking his head.
Zack pauses. He’s heard that line before. Oliver snickers and Zack whips around to face Oliver.
“…Did you tell him to-“ Zack turns to Sandy’s brother. “Did Oliver tell you to say that?”
Zack side-eyes Oliver, who just puts his hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t say anything! Honestly.”
Oliver’s not lying. Zack sighs in defeat.
“So my best mates look at me and the collective thought is ‘Oh look! Here comes brain damage’. Is that seriously going to be my thing?” He asks.
“The little kids call me broccoli,” Sandy tells him gingerly. “Take what you can get.”
Zack snorts.
“Besides, it's pretty accurate.” Sandy’s brother teases.
“What they mean to say,” Paula chimes in, “Is to take better care next time.”
“Yeah,” Sandy agrees, “I see you at the med station every second day. We’d like to miss you for once.”
“The first aid kit certainly would.” Oliver jokes.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it, I get it,” Zack dismisses, “I hear enough of this from Lucas.”
“I think it’s neat, as long as you make it out alive.” Sandy grins.
“Well,” Zack starts, “That’s the plan.”
Paula finishes shuffling the cards and they end up playing a game together. Oliver had intended to do work, but was roped into the game as always. It was nice though. Card games might be the one of the only things left that Oliver can actually relax doing, even if the cards are looking worse for wear. It was good to have something that brought him back down to Earth, something that reminds him of being a kid– Of being safe: a feeling that he rarely came across. Nostalgia works wonders.
“You didn’t shuffle right.” Zack accuses Paula, after ending with yet another bad hand.
“How do you even end with such bad hands?” Oliver asks amused, looking over, “It’s literally harder than getting a good hand.”
“Dude, I don’t know! She’s gotta be doing something.”
“Yeah, using skill.” Paula snorts.
“Using witchcraft.” Zack retaliates.
The petty argument had only been solved once they found an unbiased dealer, (Lucas).
They played one final round.
…Zack came last again.
Soon after, the windmill begins to thin out. It’s only around nine o’clock, but it’s easy to get tired around here, and most people tend to go to bed fairly early, so soon it’s only Oliver and Zack left. It happens a lot, neither of them being early sleepers. Even if they sometimes don’t do a lot of talking, Oliver welcomes the time together. It’s, in a weird way, kind of like a hangout, though for the most part, they do their own thing.
Zack gets busy sorting out the medical supplies shelf, a real chore. And so, without anything else to do, Oliver is faced with work. He’s been dreading it the whole afternoon. It’s not that he awfully minded doing it, but really, that at the end of it, he was probably going to hit another dead end. Still, he really hasn’t got a choice but to try again.
Oliver’s not sure how long he stays, staring at the diagrams and adding onto the notes, while absently playing around with some small bolts in his hand. He does find a few flaws, miscalculations here, some contradicting information there… But no solutions.
He finds himself getting more irritated the longer he sits there.
“You gonna go to sleep?” Zack calls over from the other end of the windmill, putting down the last box of gauze on the top shelf and coming over. “If ya are, I’ll help clean up.”
“A little later.” He replies, fixated on the papers in front of him. “If you want to go, don’t wait up for me.”
Zack just shakes his head and sits up on the table, picking up a bolt to fiddle with. "Ain’t in no rush.”
He peers over at what Oliver’s doing. The lake of papers has since doubled into an ocean.
“Won’t kill ya to take a break.”
“It might.” Says Oliver dryly, catching the irony.
“I’m sayin’, if you’re tired you should get some shut-eye."
“I’m not tired.”
It’s a lie and without looking, Oliver knows that Zack has clocked him. He’s not a bad liar, but his dark circles aren’t doing him any favours. In truth, Oliver hasn’t been sleeping well recently.
…Or at all.
“There’s no point in going to sleep,” he disputes, “I’ll just lie there awake anyway. Might as well get something done.”
“Can’t sleep either?”
“Can anyone?”
Zack laughs at that. If there’s one thing they all share, it’s a poor sleep schedule.
“I’ll be alright," Oliver insists, "I just need to tire myself out a bit.”
Zack nods and the room goes quiet again.
“…Do you wanna talk about it?” Zack offers suddenly. It’s not aggressive or prying, but it still catches Oliver more off guard than he’d like to admit.
“About what?” Oliver asks, staying nonchalant, not taking his eyes off his paper.
“Whatever’s been bothering you all week, I guess.”
All… Week? Oliver frowns. Sure, he might have been a little obvious today, but the rest of this week? Yeah, the past few days had been particularly rough, but he doesn’t think he’d done anything too showing, nothing that might prompt Zack into asking him about it… Right? Unless Zack noticed something he didn’t?
Oliver sits up a little straighter.
“Nothing's bothering me.” He insists.
“Yeah, except I know you’re lying.” Zack says lightly, before resigning. He tightens his jaw, awkwardly looking away. “You don’t gotta tell me anythin’, but I know something’s up.”
Zack’s more observant than people give him credit for.
Oliver sighs, puts down the bolts, and leans back in his chair. This is probably a bad idea, and he’s probably going to regret saying anything in the morning but right now…
Oliver looks around quickly. When he’s certain there’s no one nearby, he finally caves.
“I feel like we’re getting nowhere.” It’s a sugarcoat, and he’s leaving a lot out, but it’s all he can say.
It’s not a feeling unfamiliar to Zack- probably not to anyone, but it’s the first time he’s heard anyone say it out loud, and Zack hadn’t expected it– Especially not from Oliver. Come to think of it, this is probably the first time he’s ever heard Oliver express doubt.
Zack tries to conjure up something to say— something assuring, but he’s never been very good at this sort of thing and his mind has gone blank. Running out of time to say something, he ends up blurting out,
“Oh.”
Zack cringes internally.
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” Oliver sighs deeply. “I know that’s not what anyone wants me to say, but…” He trails off, frustrated.
“No- No, I get it. I feel the same way sometimes- A lot, actually.” He corrects. Zack glances over to Oliver, who’s looking a little defeated. Perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to say. So, Zack adds, “But we’re getting somewhere.”
‘No we aren’t.’Oliver thinks. He can appreciate Zack’s attempt to try to cheer him up, but they both know it’s a lie.
“It’s been almost 7 years. Longer for Lucas.” Oliver continues, before reprimanding himself for being so blunt.
“…Sure, it’s takin’ longer than we thought but it’s happening- It will happen.” Zack assures Oliver, hell, assures himself, too.
Oliver hums a low note, but doesn’t object this time, almost like he’s waiting for more. So, Zack goes on.
“We didn’t have a working prototype a month ago, so that’s pretty sick. Half those plans were made in the last 6 months– And half the research too. We’ve got most of our bases covered.”
“You’re generous,” Oliver replies softly. Zack doesn’t miss that brief smile. “But we don’t even know if we can break their masks.”
“We know we can kill them.” Challenges Zack.
“We’ve never seen one die.” Oliver counters.
“So? You n’ me, we’ll be the first to kill ‘em.”
Zack gives Oliver a little nudge. Finally, Oliver's looking a little more hopeful.
“I don’t doubt that there’s a way, I know there is. I just don’t want to die before we find it.”
Zack’s face dims.
“Hey. C’mon.”
“It’s not out of the question. There’s been so many close calls, and you barely make it back each hunt. I don’t know how you do it.”
Zack frowns.
“I’m not gonna die.”
“Yeah,” Oliver starts, “Don’t you dare.”
A thought comes into Zack’s head, and granted, it’s silly, but in the moment it seems like a great idea and it comes out of his mouth before he can think it through.
“Well, how ‘bout I promise you? That I won’t die before we get outta here, ‘n all.”
Oliver looks at him, a little intrigued.
“I don’t break ‘em, remember?”
A smile cracks through Oliver, the worry gone from his face.
“I remember.”
“But it’s gotta go both ways.” Zack prompts.
“You got yourself a deal.”
Zack clears his throat, getting all formal. “Promise neither of us will go n’ die before we’re outta here?”
Sounds perfect.
“I promise. You?”
“I swear it.”
They shake on it, and it's funny. It’s only a flimsy handshake, and it doesn’t quite mean anything, but it feels like they’ve solidified each other's survival. Maybe it’s only a quick fix, but right now, it’s a real comfort to both of them.
“Alright. Looks like you guys can finally stop worryin’ about me”
Oliver nods.
“It seems like I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Oh yeah. You’re stuck with me for life now.” Zack says playfully.
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”
There’s a nice second there, almost a little too friendly, but still one that Oliver regrets breaking when he says,
“I think I am going to head off now. If you’re still offering?-”
“Mhm,” Zack agrees hastily, “Where's everything go?”
Zack helps Oliver clean up the mess on the table, and Oliver points Zack in the right direction with all the new papers.
Oliver hasn’t really told Zack anything, but that’s alright. Some things can be left unspoken. Still…
“Hey, Zack?” Oliver starts quickly, now with a little worry in his voice. “Don’t tell the others, alright?”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” He affirms.
Oliver puts a pile of papers on a bookshelf.
“Thank you. I mean that for everything.”
Well, what’dya know? Maybe Zack isn’t so bad at this comforting thing.
“Don’t sweat it. Leaders gotta have someone to confide in, right? That’s why you got me, I’m your right hand man.”
“Right and left hand man, apparently.” Oliver jokes. When it clicks, Zack cracks a grin.
“Damn right! Besides, even if I wasn’t, we’re mates. I always got your back.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I know ya do.”
Eventually, they start walking back. Even though he’s left a lot of things unsaid, Oliver's certainly feeling lighter. Zack tends to have that effect on him.
They walk in a nice silence for a while— a long while. The sky is dark now, the fake stars shining just as sadly as the fake sky. It’s surely just them awake now, and that’s a calming notion. No monsters, or other people, just them, like it’s the apocalypse and they’re the only two people left alive. Oliver thinks that being alone at the end of the world wouldn’t be so bad, if Zack was there with him. Besides, in some ways, they’re already there.
“We’ll make the time up next hunt?” Oliver asks Zack, still feeling a little guilty for losing track of their time.
Zack nods.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Just don’t die before then.” Oliver jokes.
“I won’t. I promised ya.”