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Louis had first become aware of something being off about Aasim one evening when the boy was hunched over his desk as usual, scribbling away in his journal. Louis had been observing him from the couch some distance away – which had become a habit of his – wondering how Aasim didn’t have chronic back pain from his absolutely terrible posture, when he saw him lean impossibly close to the paper, then pick up the whole book and turn it in the light of the torch behind him, all while squinting his eyes to tiny slits.
Louis had put it down to there being a smudge on the page or something like that, yet he couldn’t help but watch Aasim out of the corner of his eye whenever he was writing in his journal (and Louis had made up a job to do in order to hang around in the courtyard). The same squinting and leaning gradually happened more and more often, sometimes even leading Aasim to closing the book in frustration and rubbing his hands over his face.
At first, Louis had been at a loss. Aasim had always spent the remainder of the evening after dinner chronicling the events of that day, and he had never had any problems writing in the journal – or maybe Louis just hadn’t been paying attention? – and now he was seen at his desk as little as ever. Several hushed conversations and quiet words of concern later, Ruby had casually asked him, “Aren’t you going to write?” as they, Louis and Violet had been sitting by the dinner table after eating, and Aasim had simply shrugged and off-handedly replied that he didn’t feel like it. But Louis had noticed his dejected expression and pathetic attempt at a smile, and knew that he wanted nothing more than to write.
Then it had dawned on him.
Aasim needed glasses.
Louis had to stifle a snort upon the realization. Not only did he want to laugh at himself for not solving the painfully obvious mystery sooner, he also found it incredibly entertaining that Aasim, the nerd, needed nerdy reading glasses. Once the initial amusement had worn off, Louis had silently taken it upon himself to help Aasim read and write again, before he would come apart at the seams from the lack of a pencil in his hand and a crick in his neck.
In the hopes of making things easier for himself, Louis had begun with scouring the school’s drawers for glasses that had been left behind. The headmaster’s office seemed like a good place to start, as he could’ve sworn he remembered the dear headmaster himself putting on reading glasses whenever Louis had gotten into trouble and was called there to be scolded. Unfortunately, it seemed that the only wise decision the headmaster had made in his life was to bring his glasses with him when he and the other adults hightailed it out of the school at the outbreak. The only somewhat relevant thing Louis had found in one of the desk drawers was an empty glasses case, which he pocketed, of course.
So, he’d had to step up his game if he ever wanted to see Aasim in another mood than ‘vaguely grumpy’ again. He knew of an old, run-down pharmacy not far outside the safezone that they had been to previously; if any place nearby had reading glasses, he supposed it would be there. Convincing Violet to come along with him was almost a harder task than convincing Marlon to let him go at all, but he managed to win her over on account of him having died many times if it hadn’t been for her impeccable skills with the cleaver.
“Tell me again why we’re going to this pharmacy that we’ve already scavenged the hell out of?” Violet said as they made their way through the forest, cleaver ready in her hand.
“Oh, y’know,” Louis said, changing Chairles to his other hand and resting it against his shoulder, “I thought it’d be a neat little fieldtrip for us to spend some quality time.”
“A ‘neat little fieldtrip’ where we can get killed about thirty different ways.”
He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Always the pessimist, Vi. What if I just wanted a reason to hang out with a good friend?”
“We could’ve hung out back home, genius. Besides, you never want to go anywhere if you don’t have to.” She stopped abruptly in the middle of the path. “What’s going on?”
Louis looked back and saw that she had crossed her arms in front of her chest. With that stance, he knew he couldn’t keep dancing around the real purpose of the trip, or Violet herself would be one of the thirty ways he could get killed. He sighed. “All right, fine. It’s because I think I know why Aasim’s been acting kind of weird.” Violet continued to look at him expectantly. “I think he needs reading glasses.”
Her face reverted to understanding, possibly realizing that it should have been obvious, and her arms fell back to her sides. “Oh.” Then she cocked her head, her lips pulled into a wry smile, and she put a hand on her hip. “Aww, does Lou-Lou wanna find a pair of glasses for his boyfriend?”
Louis felt his face grow dangerously hot, and he quickly turned around and began nonchalantly walking along the path again. “Nah, Ruby’s worried about him. I just wanna ease her mind.”
Violet caught up with him and resumed her place by his side. “Oh, yeah, sure, it’s Ruby who’s worried about him.”
“She is!” Louis attempted. “She—We’re all worried about him.”
“All right, loverboy, I’ll stop prying.”
Louis knew he’d done a poor job of covering up, but he also knew that Violet didn’t mind, so he made no further attempts to defend himself.
The walk to the pharmacy was relatively fast and painless. They had managed to avoid dying so far, anyway, and the few walkers that were gathered outside the building were quickly taken care of. Once they had made sure the inside was clear as well, Louis made a beeline for the tipped over rack of glasses in one of the corners while Violet looked around on the shelves, which were mostly empty.
“We killed this guy,” she said quietly after a few moments of silence. Louis looked up from the two pairs of glasses in his hands to see Violet leaning on the counter with her arms crossed. Her eyes were fixed on the zombified, dead body on the floor on the other side of the counter, its once white lab coat grimy and black with walker blood that had long since dried. The blood was splattered on the shelves behind it as well, from the arrow that had killed it. Its skin was dark and dry, and its face looked sullen with its sunken cheeks. “Remember? When we came here last time? He came out of the back room and Marlon shot him.”
Louis regarded the dead walker for a moment, then returned his attention to the glasses. “So? He wasn’t any different from all the other walkers we’ve killed.”
“Last we came here, Minnie was with us.” Violet’s voice was barely audible, but their surroundings were peaceful, so Louis heard her clearly.
He turned to her again. “Vi—“
“No, it’s—I’m fine, I just—I remembered how she took the nametag off his coat and kept it, so he wouldn’t be forgotten.” She huffed a short laugh. “It’s probably still back at the school somewhere.”
Louis simply looked at her, glasses forgotten for the time being. He was frowning and his brows were furrowed in sympathy.
She stood up straight, letting her arms fall to her sides and turning away from the walker. “And I don’t have anything to make sure she’s not forgotten. Only memories.” She sighed. “Sorry. Can we get outta here? This places gives me the creeps.”
Louis hurried and put all the intact glasses he could find in the bag he had brought, and then they left the pharmacy behind in silence, the place suddenly feeling cold and eerie.
They did have something to remember Minnie, and Sophie, by, he thought as they walked. They had Aasim’s journal; the journal he had been keeping since the very beginning. It contained their lives, their hobbies, their laughter and their tears, their hardships and their celebrations, their personalities and quirks and bad habits, their friends and their enemies. Everything they were and had ever been could be found in Aasim’s writing, and it would be the most precious thing – maybe the only thing – they would leave behind when they were gone.
And Louis would make damn sure that Aasim could keep writing so no one would be forgotten.
Upon returning to Ericson’s, Violet steered for the graveyard and left Louis with a low, concise “see ya.” Louis watched her for a moment, her back hunched and her hands in the pockets of her jacket, and felt his heart break for his friend all over again.
-
“Can I ask where we’re going? And what the surprise is?” Aasim was following Louis across the courtyard from the dorms to the admin building, having been told nothing about what lay in wait.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now, would it? Just hold your horses.”
“Come on, Louis, I’m not in the mood for this.”
Louis felt his lips pull back in a small, eager smile. “Oh, ‘Sim, I think you’re in the mood for this.”
The doors of the admin building creaked as they were swung open, and closed with a thud behind Aasim as they stepped in and turned to the right from the entrance.
Aasim walked up beside Louis. “If you’re going to sing me a song, I don’t—“
“It’s not a song. Although you might feel like singing after this.”
Aasim furrowed his brows in confusion and shot Louis a puzzled look. Louis merely smiled, feeling the excitement bubble in his stomach as they came to the corner in the hallway leading to the piano room. Suddenly struck with an idea, Louis stopped before Aasim could see in. “Close your eyes.”
Aasim looked incredulous. “What? No.”
“Then I’ll cover your eyes and guide you.”
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Louis could’ve sworn he saw a faint blush pass over Aasim’s cheeks. “Absolutely not!”
“C’mon, ‘Sim, I want this to be fun.”
Aasim regarded Louis for a moment, then rolled his eyes and sighed. “Okay. Fine.”
Louis was practically giddy with anticipation when he reached his hand around Aasim and covered his eyes with his hands. When he began walking forward, Aasim instinctively lifted his hands in front of him to feel the way.
“There’s a fold in the rug there, watch out,” Louis warned so Aasim wouldn’t trip. “All right. Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Louis removed his slightly shaking hands and Aasim saw what was before him: He stood in front of the piano, which was now closed, and on the smooth surface were placed several pairs of glasses, all intact and clean. There were even different styles – thin and thick frames, with and without nose pads, patterns and solid colors. It was like the piano room had turned into a damn optician’s. A couple of pairs had small scratches on the lenses, and some had slightly wonky temples, but, generally, they didn’t look too bad, if Louis said so himself.
He watched Aasim’s expression intently, which started mildly curious, then turned to wondering, and finally ended with another furrowing of the brows and a slightly open mouth, slow understanding painted all over his face. “Wh… I need glasses?”
Louis had to press his lips together to suppress his smile and to keep from laughing. “Are you serious? You’re supposed to be the smart one! What else did you think it could be when you stuck your face so close to your goddamn journal you almost got pencil smudges on your nose?”
Aasim seemed to realize how ridiculously obvious it should’ve been, and melted into a sheepish smile and covered his face in his hands. “God, I’m stupid.” He let his hands fall back to his sides and simply looked at the spectacles in front of him, defeated by his own unawareness. “It’s so obvious, and I spent so long being anxious about what could be wrong, I—I was so worried I could—would never get to write again—“ He picked up a pair of glasses and studied them, huffing a laugh. “It felt like it just—just kept getting worse and worse, and I was…” His eyes flickered to Louis’ face briefly, and back to the glasses. Then he took a breath. “I was scared. Writing everything down is so important to me, because—‘cause if I couldn’t do that, how would… how would any of us be remembered by anyone?”
“I know,” is all Louis said at first, and meant it. Then: “Those work better if you wear them, by the way.” He nodded to the pair Aasim was holding.
“Right.” Aasim put on the glasses and held out his hand close to his face. Then he shook his head and took them off. “These are no good. It’s still blurry.”
“Those didn’t look good on you, anyway,” Louis said, and only partially meant it. Mostly he was trying to keep his own spirits up and not think of how it meant that the probability of a pair fitting was now even lower. “Try the ones with the cool pattern.”
“That’s called tortoiseshell.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Put ‘em on.”
Aasim did as Louis asked, but the frame had barely touched his nose before he pulled them back away. “Nope. Those make me dizzy as hell.”
Louis fought off the slowly growing panic, but didn’t let it show. “Did I say the ones with the cool pattern? I meant those black ones, of course.”
“Of course you did.” Aasim picked up the pair with a thick, solid black frame and relatively large lenses and slid them onto his face. When he held out his hand and observed it, his eyes suddenly widened and he seemed to gasp lightly. A soft, “Whoa…” escaped him, and he turned his hand this way and that, intrigued, closely studying the small creases, folds and scars in his skin. He chuckled. “Wow, I can’t believe my vision had gotten that bad.”
Louis watched his fascination with a small, happy and relieved smile. Then the joy turned to playfulness. “Wait, I have something.” His hand dug into his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper, which he held out to Aasim.
Confused, Aasim took the paper and unfolded it. He scanned over it, and the confusion immediately turned to exasperation. He pursed his lips and turned to Louis. “I do not look like a nerd!”
“Ah, the glasses work perfectly, then. Excellent.”
Aasim exhaled, and some of the exasperation melted away and became elation and sincerity. He took a quick step forward and wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, pulling him into a hug. The action caught Louis by surprise, and he had to take a moment to register what was happening before he returned the embrace.
“Thank you so much, Lou,” Aasim whispered, and if Louis wasn’t mistaken, he actually sounded a little choked up.
Aasim pulled back, but not very far. Ever so gently, he planted a kiss on Louis’ cheek, just a tiny peck that made Louis’ stomach do somersaults and his heart flutter. When they parted completely, Louis felt as if his face were burning up, and he let out a nervous laugh. His eyes flickered for a moment, bashfully, then fell on Aasim’s face. “Oh, you… you got a smudge, on the glass.”
As Aasim took off his glasses and noticed the small print Louis’ cheek had left on the right lens, Louis reached into his other pocket and retrieved the case he had taken from the headmaster’s office. “Oh yeah, on my daring quest to get you some glasses, I found this in the office.” He handed it to Aasim. “There’s a small cloth inside to clean them with.”
“Oh, that’s convenient.” He took out the cloth and began cleaning both the lenses, while Louis put the rest of the glasses on the piano into the bag he had brought to the pharmacy. Who knew? Maybe someone else would need glasses down the line and these would be invaluable.
“Now,” Aasim said, putting his glasses inside the case, closing it with a click, and stuffing it in his pocket, “I’m going to go write.”
“Wonderful idea, my nerdy friend.” Louis slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking toward the door.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Aw, come on. The glasses suit you. Like a sexy librarian.”
Aasim practically spluttered and, even though he wasn’t looking at him, Louis could sense the flustered tone in his voice. “Oh my god, shut up.”