Chapter Text
Andrew Minyard had no friends.
It didn't displease him. He didn't like people, and people didn't like him. It was an unspoken mutual agreement.
Once, he had people to trust- people he could have shared secrets with, but those bonds had been disrespected and broken.
Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. But if he was, Andrew never cared. He was just being realistic, really. If people were just going to fuck him over, and over, and over again, he might as well not even give them the chance.
The evening sun was bright and hot, and sweat dripped down Andrew's forehead as he trudged up the rocky hill. His gaze lingered on the movements in the trees, and he heard birds whistling. He hopped a fallen trunk and huffed when he landed.
This had had to be the longest, most disgusting thing he'd ever done. Andrew hated the outdoors, so why he had signed up to stay all on his own in the wilderness-
Yeah, because people suck.
Right.
A signpost caught the corner of Andrew's eye.
Two Forks Lookout
20 Miles
He groaned and tightened the straps on his rucksack.
Two Forks Lookout was a sturdy white lookout post, stairs wrapping around the poles up to the building. Andrew glared at the seemingly unending stairs, before continuing along the final stretch of his trek.
He climbed, hand gliding along the handrail until he reached the white wooden door. He looked through the glass, raising an eyebrow.
Andrew saw the desk against it, a radio receiver in its nook, and a pencil holder with a sparse few pencils. There were some assorted books inside, and a large contraption in the center of the room. He entered, clicked the door closed behind him.
The silence was eerie, but that was okay. He'd come here for silence, after all.
The bed was done, a grey blanket pulled tightly across it.
"Cool."
The silence was broken with a distorted cough, and Andrew's shoulders rose with the fright.
"Two Forks, report. Two Forks, report." A smooth, clear voice, masculine and- "Two Forks, I see you there. Pick up."
Masculine and patient.
Andrew reached for the receiver and clicked the button on the side. "Hi- hello. This is Two Forks."
"Hi. This is Thorofare. Nice day, right?"
"It's... a day, I guess," mumbled Andrew, glancing around. "Where..."
He spotted Thorofare Lookout, across the forest. He walked over to the window, crossing his other hand over his chest. The sun was going down, a gorgeous sunset hiding behind the mountains.
"I see you."
"Hi."
The blond furrowed his brow and looked away. "Hi," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. "Do I have to talk to you."
"Every day? Well, no. No, no."
"Good."
"But I think we should."
Andrew groaned, flopping down to the bed. "No."
"Well, won't you get bored?"
"No."
"Lonely?"
"No."
Thorofare let out a light chuckle. "No," he mocked, "I don't like fun. I like to go to the forest and cry to myself."
Andrew stifled his laugh. "Ding ding ding."
"What's your name?"
As the sky dimmed further, Andrew looked out to Thorofare. "Andrew."
"Okay, Andy."
"No. Not Andy."
Thorofare hummed. "Okay. Andy?"
"...Hm."
"My name is Neil."
Andrew scoffed. "I didn't ask."
Neil scoffed right back. "I didn't say you did."
"Okay, Neil, have you checked the time? I'm going to hang up now."
"You're going to hang up? On a radio receiver? You sure?"
Andrew reddened and glanced back to Neil's lookout. "Yes. Shut up."
Neil sighed. "You really don't wanna talk, huh? Not even just a little idle chitchat to settle you in?"
"I don't think you should expect anything of the sort."
"Then, I'll tell you now that you shouldn't expect me to give up so easy."
"Goodnight, Thorofare."
"Goodnight, Two Forks."
"Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."
Andrew flipped Neil off from his window, squinting at Thorofare lookout. He couldn't believe that even in the most remote job in the world, he would still have to deal with annoying people. Well, an annoying person.
He tugged his jeans half off before lying down, too lazy to finish the job. He groaned and reached over to slot the receiver back where it belonged, and conked out soon after.
The next morning Andrew was woken bright and early to the sound of music.
Literally- somebody was singing 'The Hills Are Alive'. And no, he wasn't dreaming. He'd pinched himself twice to be sure.
He had almost forgotten where he was. "Ah yes," he mused. "Big National Park, middle of nowhere, USA."
He leaned up to the receiver, which seemed to be the source. He clicked the button and coughed. The singing stopped.
"Oh, good morning!"
"Good morning," mumbled Andrew, picking the receiver up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Were you... singing?"
There was a pause, and Andrew could hear Neil pouring a cup of something- coffee, tea, orange juice?- before he got his response. "Absolutely not."
"You weren't singing."
"No. I don't know why you'd say something as absurd as that."
"So the hills aren't alive with the sound of music?"
Neil took his time and sipped his drink. "Nope."
"Are you my alarm clock now?"
"Oh, I mean, if you want me to be."
"I really don't."
"Then I'm not. I'm just a boy on the phone."
"This isn't a phone."
"Figure of speech!"
Andrew rose to his feet, changing into fresh boxers and shorts, and stretched out. With a yawn, he set down the receiver and padded his way to the stove. What to eat?
He'd been left eggs, waffles, and he'd brought with him several bags of Haribos, a whole tub of ice cream... which he had left in his rucksack overnight. Fuck.
He reached for the rucksack and pulled out the tub of Ben and Jerry's, wincing as he tucked it into the minifridge. He sighed at his now sticky bag.
"Slight problem. My rucksack is compromised."
"Sabotage?"
Andrew was hissing at his past self as he emptied the rucksack then tossed it aside. "Sabotage, yep. Just me, myself and I. Any place I could pick up a new bag?"
"There are caches about the place," offered Neil. "You could check for a spare backpack. Don't know where it'll get you though, those things are old."
"Cool," said Andrew as he pulled on his heavy jacket. "Cool. Where?"
"There should be a map on your desk."
Andrew looked to the desk. Sure enough, there was a map, a side lamp holding it down. He cocked his head and tugged it out, looking it up and down.
"Cool."
"That your only vocabulary?"
Andrew brought the receiver to his mouth and breathed into it. "Coooool."
Neil chuckled. "Wow, you’re an actual child. Good luck in the wilderness."
"I hope I get caught in a fucking rockslide."
"Careful what you wish for."
Andrew raised an eyebrow as he left the outpost. "Forest fire?"
Neil gasped. "Whoa! Heresy! Absolute blasphemy- and you call yourself a lookout?"
Andrew cracked a smile as he fastened the receiver to his belt, and headed down the hill in the sun.
Andrew folded the map up carefully, lining the edges up before shoving it into his back pocket. He wasn't sure what he'd need, but he didn't particularly care either. In the end, he settled on grabbing his radio, his phone, and one of the knives he had stashed in his bag.
The wooden stairs creaked under him as he descended them, the sun glaring into his eyes and making him squint, bringing his hand up to cover then enough to see.
He knew his way down the hill pretty easily, and he only stopped to look at the map for a moment before stowing it away again, setting off in the direction of one of the caches. It led him up into some rocks, and from there he could almost see over the whole valley. He could see streams of sunlight catching on the water of the nearby lake, scattering diamonds. Someone else might have called it beautiful, but Andrew just hummed and then turned away again.
It wasn't long until his mood soured, though. Something glinted, in the corner of his vision, and he turned to see a crumpled up beer can.
Soon after that, he saw a couple more of them.
"For fuck sake..." he took out his radio and held the button down with his thumb. "Looks like someone had a party."
"Oh yeah? What's the sitch?"
"Cans," grunted Andrew. "Loads of empty, crushed beer cans. Not only are they alcoholics, but they're dirty litterbugs too."
"Bastards."
A sideways glance had Andrew spotting two flannel shirts draped across a large rock, two pairs of jeans not far off. He wandered over and cocker his head, eyes dragging to the direction of the lake.
Something hot pink lay on the path to the lake, and he went to investigate.
He sighed. "Neil, we've got loose panties- I repeat, loose panties."
"I'm sorry?"
"Panties. And..."
Andrew continued along the path to the edge of the lake, shaking his head. "Bras."
"Skinny dippers?"
Loud, obnoxious pop music seemed to emanate from the lake's edge. Andrew approached and sure enough, there were two figures a long way out in the water. "Correct. Any chance they could catch pneumonia?"
Neil stifled a giggle at the suggestion. "Kind of dark, don't you think?"
"No," replied Andrew honestly, hopping over a log to the sand. It sank under his shoes, and he trudged over to where the water lapped at the edge. "Hey!"
The two figures glanced over, and one shrieked, covering herself. "Hey, creep! Get out of here!"
Andrew cocked his head. The music was coming from a sturdy boom box that sat on a large beached rock. "This yours?” he called out. "And the beer, too?!"
The girls flipped him the bird, Andrew squinting to even see them.
"Brats."
"Okay, Andrew, just... get them out of there, I guess."
Andrew glared at the boom box, playing songs at least ten years old. He glanced to and from the girls, before letting a small smirk escape.
He picked up the boom box, easily heaving it with one hand. "Hey, get the fuck out."
"Creep, put our stereo down!"
Andrew shook his head. "Learn your lesson, kids."
He reached back, before tossing the stereo into the lake, leaving a loud splash in its wake.
"Asshole!"
"Yeah, whatever."
Neil chuckled coyly over the receiver. "Dealt with?"
"Dealt with. Now, the cache..."
"Hmm... along that path by the lake, no? In a smaller clearing? Check your-"
"I remember the map."
His above-above-average memory did come in handy sometimes. He jogged along the path, occasionally glancing back to the girls, and eventually, he came across the clearing with a thick tree rooted in the center. A crate sat next to it, with the insignia of the forest’s fire watch. He approached it, leaning down and tugging at the lid.
It didn't budge.
"Neil..."
"One, two, three, four."
Andrew glared at the number lock. "You're joking."
"It's easy to remember!"
The blond put the numbers in. "It's barely a password."
He swung the case open and inspected the contents. A map, detailing the northern walks and the way to get to Thorofare, as well as the location of the next cache site.
"Cool. I'm just gonna take a bit of a walk."
"Okay-"
"Alone," grumbled Andrew. "If that's okay with you, mom?"
"Not a problem, soldier."
Andrew picked up the backpack and hooked it over his shoulder, keeping a grip on the strap as he closed the cache again. No point locking it, if it was empty.
He set off to walk around, then, enjoying the silence, only disturbed by the sounds of distant nature. It was peaceful, and if there was one thing that Andrew had needed in his life if was peace.
It was easy enough to lose himself in exploring, and he hardly noticed when the sun started to set, casting an orange glow onto everything it rested on.
"Oh, it's sunset." He sighed, and then took out his radio, pressing down the button. "Did I miss anything?"
"Don't think so, darling. Aw, ain't it beautiful though?"
The time had crept up on him, and Andrew knew that he'd have to start trekking soon to get back to Two Forks. He started to make his way back, making sure to keep an eye on his surroundings. “I’d been hoping that the forest had burned down in my absence."
"I'd been hoping so too. Get you actually motivated, for once."
Andrew hopped a few ledges until he reached an outlook point, with another few cache boxes. One was labeled Thorofare, another Two Forks, and another, Nest.
He flipped them open, to find empty plastic bags. "Ugh, these caches are useless."
He closed them again and then continued, following the path back to his own station. "What did you find?"
Andrew next came across a small gap, rocks that had cracked and fallen, a log lying across it as a makeshift bridge. "Fuck all. Plastic bags, and that’s it."
"Oh, that must have been the food drop off. Yours has already been picked up by... well, me.”
Andrew wobbled as he balanced himself and walked across the log. He glanced upwards to avoid his fear of heights when something caught his eye. From a low hanging branch was an empty orange rucksack.
"Andrew?"
Neil's voice caught Andrew off guard, and he wobbles further, almost falling. "Gah-"
"Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"
"What's- One sec."
Andrew crossed the log and then got a stick, trying to loosen the bag. He pulled it to him and searched it.
The initials M.B. were embroidered on it "Do you know an M.B?" Andrew frowned.
Neil paused, too long to be casual. Andrew pressed his lips together but didn’t comment on it, waiting for Neil to speak. "Uhhh. Nah. No. I don't think so. Why?"
The night began to fall, and Andrew hurried along the ledge to a larger, more sturdy path. His own lookout was in sight now, lights on as he'd left them.
He shrugged and held the bag tight. "No reason."
He just wanted to get out of the dark, now.
"Did you bring your torch, blondie?"
"Of course I did. Shut up." Andrew paused. "How do you know I'm blond?"
"It was a shot on the dark, really. Glad to hear it, though, I like blonds. Tell me more about how you look, handsome. I'm in my tower sketching right now."
"Sketching. Didn't peg you for an artist, Picasso."
"Well, Picasso is definitely most accurate. I do pass off a lot of my sketch work as abstract."
"Well, then it's good that my nose is down by my jaw."
The torch lit up most of what was in view, but Andrew stopped short when he thought he heard a twig snap from a ledge above him.
He turned immediately, scanning the area for the source of the noise. He shone his torch above, and sure enough, a large figure of a man was standing above him. He had a torch of his own, which blinded Andrew for long enough that he was able to run away. He dropped his torch, and it tumbled down to a few feet away from Andrew.
Andrew cursed, and then started chasing him, talking into the radio. "There's someone here."
"Fuck. Really? Someone... in a public national park?"
"Look, shut the fuck up okay? They saw me and they booked it."
"Maybe the creep thought you were the creep."
"Fuck you, I can't see them anymore." Andrew huffed and kept walking, soon getting sidetracked again. "What's in this cave?"
"What cave?"
The entrance to the cave was barred, with a locked steel door as part of it.
"It's locked?"
"Oh. The- yeah, that shit's been locked since a little after I got here. Nobody's been able to tell me what's behind it. Probably just service... stuff."
"Huh. That's weird."
"Yeah. Hon, get home."
Andrew finally made it back to Two Forks, climbing up the seemingly never-ending steps and heading into the watchtower. He didn't realise that he needed to pee until he'd already stripped and tucked himself into bed.
When he'd made the trek to the outhouse and back, he finally sighed. "Well, Neil, g'night."
"Turning in? Already?"
"Some of us need sleep to function, Neil."
"Not me, old man. I just had a cup of coffee."
"That's great. Goodnight."
"Hey, Andrew. Hey Andrew. Andrew?"
Andrew groaned, and leaned over to grab it again. "What?"
"You're blond with... what colour eyes?"
Andrew let the silence linger for almost a full minute. "You're still sketching me."
"I wasn't able to continue! I have my watercolours out and ready. By the way, would you say you have a round face? A square face? Pointed chin?"
"What if I'm a monster?"
"Then I'll just draw that in, hon. Aren’t we all?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. "My eyes are brown."
"Okay."
Neil was actually silent, for a few minutes.
"Would you say a hazel, or a chestnut-"
"Hazel."
"Nice. Handsome."
Andrew clenched his jaw. "Shut up, Neil."
Neil hummed a little. "Okay, you're really headed to sleep then?"
"Yes. You should too."
"Maybe. Maybe."
"I’ll talk to you tomorrow."
He heard Neil move, the clink of what Andrew guessed was a paintbrush in a glass. “Goodnight, Andrew.”