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You're... surprised, the first time you see him. It's the first time you've seen a living person in weeks, so you feel entitled to your shock.
It only lasts a few seconds. You blink, and he's gone through a window. You wonder if maybe you imagined it, but... no. If you were going to hallucinate, you're sure you'd be seeing something very different.
A few minutes pass, and you can't even remember what he looked like. You think he was young, or not much older than you at the very least, and you know he was fast. Precise. He probably knows this area pretty well... maybe he lived here, before all the shit hit the fan. He might have been useful to have around, but you quickly dispel the thought - you have to keep heading east, after all, and there's no way you can catch up to him now. The nearest functioning fire escape is three buildings over, in the opposite direction. (Besides, you've long since learned that the living can be much more hostile than the dead.)
You like the rooftops, they're safer. They remind you of home. (They remind you of a time when everything was okay and you weren't on the most twisted cross-country road trip you'd ever heard of.)
You sigh, and turn away from the edge. It's getting dark, so you'd better find a place to hole up for the night.
You've got a long way to go in the morning.
~*_*~
You don't get far.
The apartment you slept in last night was completely devoid of food, and, by the looks of it, had already been completely ransacked by other survivors (who are probably dead by now, you thought with a touch of guilt).
You're getting hungry - how long has it been since you last ate? Two days? Three? - and you know that you're gonna have to make a stop.
Coincidentally enough, there's a convenience store just across the street, but you doubt you'll find anything. Surely the same people who emptied the apartment would have tried there first, right? You know it's a long shot, but you're willing to try anything at this point.
You came in from the roof, so you have no idea what the rest of the building is like. You tighten your grip on your shitty katana, sure that you won't enjoy finding out.
Wonder of all wonders, the elevators aren't working. You don't know why you even bothered trying. You take the stairs, stopping at every floor to take a quick look down the hallways - no one can fault you for being careful - and are surprised at what you find.
No walkers, but a heck of a lot of blood. None of it's fresh. Whoever was here before must have been a pretty big group, to have cleared what seems to be most, if not all, of the building. You wonder what happened to them. Maybe they just moved on, you think distantly.
You know that's probably not what happened.
You reach the ground floor, and then you know that's not what happened. There's about ten of them, shambling around, and the doors appear to be locked. From the inside, with a padlock and chain around the door handles. Effective.
It wouldn't be a problem for you, if it weren't for all the dead people in the lobby.
You're able to make it, after some shenanigans that involve a few broken lamps and jumping over the banister. One picked lock later, you're crossing the street. There's a couple walkers around, but they're not too close - you should be able to avoid their attention if you keep quiet enough.
A bell chimes when you enter the store, and you cringe visibly at the sound - without people to pretend for, you've really let your pokerface slip over the past few months. You suppose for most, it would go the other way, but you've never been normal. A quick glance confirms that there's no walkers headed your way, thank fuck.
You get to searching, but you don't find much. Some canned peaches. A discarded bottle of water. A meagre amount of painkillers behind the counter. Precious commodities, in a time like this. All of it goes in your bag.
You're taking a look out back, but the shelves seem even more bare than they were up front. You fish something out from under a shelf, your mouth widening when you see what it is.
It's.
It's a bottle.
It's a bottle of apple juice.
You were certain this day would never come again. You thought all the apple juice was gone. You check the expiration date, just to be sure. Food poisoning is never fun, especially in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. 12th December 2014. Score.
You're grinning, you think. Is this what grinning feels like? You can't remember, but you think it might be.
Your good mood is cut short when you hear the bell on the door go off again.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
You creep forward slowly, they're still up front, if you stay quiet you can get the jump on them, just stay hidden, maybe they don't even have to know you're here.
You think it's one person. You sure hope it is. One person might be more inclined to let you leave without rifling through all your shit.
(You wonder when you started thinking like this. You have no idea, and don't know if that's a good thing or not.)
Stay quiet, stay hidden, don't make a sound, don't leave the aj behind, okay.
You got this.
You crawl into the front room, crouch behind the counter. Take a peek. You can't see them. Where are they? Did they get behind you somehow? No, you can hear them, behind the shelves, looking for something.
Probably food.
It's a shame you took the last of it.
You can hear their footsteps getting closer. The back room is a dead end, you can't take the door without them hearing you. Think. Think.
Okay, all right.
Breathe in, breathe out.
You got this.
They're still coming closer. When they come past one side of the counter, you'll just have to go round the other. It's the only way.
Stay quiet.
Time it right.
They're getting closer.
Okay.
There's no way you can get out of here without them knowing, so you'll just have to sneak up on them.
There's only one person.
You can do this.
Scare them a little, if need be.
Okay.
Getting closer. Almost there.
They pass the counter and so do you-
-And the aj is on the floor, it made a noise, oh shit he saw you, he's looking at you, and you've got your sword pointing at him from the opposite side of the counter before either of you can blink.
You realise dimly that he's the guy you saw before.
He raises both his hands in surrender.
"I don't want any trouble, alright?"
"That's my line," you reply, a little panicked, as you slowly, so slowly, bend down to pick up your aj while you keep the katana pointed at him.
It's been a long time since you've dealt with people - living ones, at least. You were never good at socialising before, and you doubt you're any better now.
"Do you have any food?" He asks. He sounds scared. You wonder for a second why he would be, until you remember that you're pointing a sword at him, who wouldn't be scared.
"Maybe," you say.
His eyes flit between your face and the aj in your hand, as if unsure.
"Okay," is his answer. "Except, I know you have food. You're literally holding a bottle of something in your hand right now. It looks like piss, by the way."
How the hell do you respond to that?
"...It's apple juice, actually," you correct him hesitantly. Shit, this is awkward.
"Oh. Cool." He pauses awkwardly for a second. "I'm Karkat."
"Um, yeah. I'm Dave."
And then he pulls out a gun and points it right at your face.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," you groan.
"Look, I really, really don't want any trouble here, okay? So, I'm just gonna leave. Yeah. And you stay here."
He starts edging towards the door, keeping the gun trained on you. He's... not taking your food? He's all skin and bones. He's gotta be hungry. And he's just. Leaving.
Dammit.
"Wait," you say, defeated.
He fixes you with a suspicious look. "What."
"I have food," you answer. "And I can share it with you. I guess. If you want."
His suspicion increases. "Why the hell would you do that?"
"Because I feel like a major piece of shit making you go hungry is why," you snap, reaching for your bag and pulling out two of three cans of peaches, placing them on the counter.
"I. Um." His brow creases. "That's awfully nice of you, but I'd feel a lot better if you put the sword away."
"Huh? Oh." You startle, realising the sword is, in fact, still in your hand. You don't really have anywhere to put it, so... You drop it on the floor. Kick it away.
(You have no idea what the hell you're doing.)
"Now the gun, please?" You ask, giving him a compliant look.
His mouth twists, like he's uncertain. You put your bag on the ground for good measure - you're already defenseless, might as well make a show of it.
He sighs. Puts his gun back on his belt. You suppose it'll do for now. He walks over and grabs a can, you take the other.
It sinks in at the same time. He looks up. "...You don't happen to have a can opener, do you?"
You wipe your hands across your face in thought (and maybe a little aggravation at yourself). "Okay, uh... Gimme a second here." You don't have a can opener. You don't have a knife. You do have a sword.
You walk over and pick it up, noticing the way he tenses, but doesn't reach for a weapon of his own. You carry it back to the counter, and you see his fingers twitch towards his belt.
Not good.
"You might wanna take a step back," you comment, trying to act casual, and failing. He takes three steps back.
You hold the can steady with your right hand, slice down the top of it with the sword in your left. It comes off easy. You slide the can towards him, do the same with the next, keeping it for yourself and throwing your shitty katana back on the floor.
Karkat takes a bite, makes a face. "Fuck this," he says. "I don't even like peaches."
You look up at him. "That mean you ain't gonna eat it? 'Cause I'll take it-" You go silent when you see the look on his face. He may not like peaches, but he's obviously hungry enough to stop caring.
You don't really have the luxury of picking and choosing what you eat anymore, you muse.
The next few minutes are spent in silence as the two of you eat; you finish first and stand there awkwardly as he finishes his. He tilts his head back to get all the juice, slamming the can down on the counter when he's done. His eyes are still on you as he stretches his arms and picks up his bag, which you hadn't noticed was on the floor.
"I," he starts, finishes, stares at the floor. "...Thanks."
"...No problem," you return.
He's standing awkwardly, as though he thinks he should be leaving, but isn't. You have no idea where this is going, but you follow his lead, swing your bag over your shoulder, grip your sword comfortably in your hand.
"What's your plan?" The question comes out of nowhere, lightning fast, and you're a little stunned.
"What do you mean?" Is your cautious answer. This is a fucking nightmare, why did you never listen to Bro when he said you should have been socialising with people your own fucking age.
"I mean... where are you headed. You looking for something? Someone? Going somewhere? What's your plan?"
You consider this for a second, hum a little, try to think of an answer that doesn't sound like horseshit.
Fuck it.
You shrug, "don't really got one, I guess."
His eyes scrape over you, evaluating. They're harsh, but they look... warm. They're a nice shade of brown, you think.
Some more silence on his end, until, "nah. I don't believe you."
"What makes you say that?"
He snorts, as though it was obvious. "The fucking accent, for one. There's no way you picked it up from anywhere around here. Means you're from pretty far off, and everyone in their right mind started heading south a long time ago. So, plan?"
He's pretty smart, could be useful to keep around. But no, you remind yourself. You don't do teams.
"What do you care?" You refrain from saying, instead shooting him an entirely different question of "and what about you? If everyone shipped out ages ago, why are you still here?"
He opens his mouth to respond, and then closes it. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. When he finally speaks, it's quiet.
"I used to live in the building across the street. A couple weeks in, a big group came in and took it over. My older brother decided it was safer if we joined them, and things were pretty good for a while. A zombie got in, and I was the only one who got out. They're all still locked up in the lobby. I'm pretty good at finding food, and I know my way around so... even as everyone else left, it seemed easier to stay."
"Oh," you say, because suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.
"Yeah, oh," he agrees, in a way that makes you think you probably should've said something smarter.
"So, what about you?"
Now that he's shared, you figure it's your turn.
"Back home, after everything turned shitty, my Bro and I just holed up in our apartment. One day he went to look for food and never came back. I waited a few days, and then I... found him two blocks over. I grabbed my sword and legged it, so now I'm heading for my friend up east."
His eyes rake over you, as if they're assessing something. "...You know that they've probably already left, right?"
"Yeah," you say, unrelenting. "I know." You accepted that this was a stupid plan a long time ago, you aren't gonna let some stranger by the name of Karkat make you start doubting yourself.
A couple more seconds of those eyes on you, and then he just shrugs. Apparently the surprise is evident on your face, because he's pretty quick to explain himself.
"Yeah, okay. I mean, I've got a couple friends that way myself, and I might even be inclined to start looking for them, if I thought it was worth it."
You raise your eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, seriously. Between them they've got, like, one eye and five arms, but they're also pretty badass, so it might be interesting to see how they held up."
Your other eyebrow joins the first. "What kind of friends do you have, man?"
He flashes you a grin that is absolutely not cute, this is the goddamn zombie apocalyse and you are not looking for love, and this is the first and last and only time you will ever speak to him, okay.
"Maimed ones," he says, kind of smugly, which makes you think that there's a lot more to this story than you will ever get to hear.
You're not even sure what you're going to say, but your mouth opens and those sure are words tumbling out. "Hey, if you-"
You're cut off by the sound of the bell on the door ringing for the third time since you arrived, and both you and Karkat turn towards it immediately.
Wow, that.
That sure is a zombie stumbling towards you.
Half of it's leg is missing, but it doesn't seem to care. They never do.
"Shit," you hear Karkat say, but don't bother with a response, instead moving fast, faster than you've had to move in a while.
You're breathing heavily, shitty sword coated in blood while the walker's head rolls over to where Karkat is standing. You pull yourself up, take a step back, bumping into one of the shelves, which falls over with a loud crash, the sound still echoing in your ears.
Karkat looks like he's panicking, and you think you might be too.
"We should go," you say, and it comes out more wound up than you wanted it to. "We're sitting ducks here."
He nods. "Yeah."
~*_*~
The pair of you leg it round the block.
There aren't many walkers around, but you're plenty paranoid and evidently he's not much better, so you run and keep running, until you're hunched over your knees and gasping for breath.
"Holy shit," you wheeze, and you thought asthma was a thing of the past, but hey maybe not. You look up at Karkat - he's standing tall, but he's huffing a little and his face is kinda red.
Damn, that's... pretty cute, actually.
"Hey, you could-" You're cut off by a coughing fit - oh god, is that phlegm? Gross - before you can finish. Which is good, because you have no clue where that was going. You and your stupid mouth.
Concern is painted on his face, and you don't like the way it looks. "Shit dude, are you okay?"
You flap a hand in his direction, clearing your throat. "Yeah man... totally fine. Never been better. No problem here. I am so good right now, you don't even know." Why do you never know when to shut up. God, you're so irritating, you should just go-
He laughs a little and it's. Nice. Really nice. Wow. Wow, this boy. You're fairly certain that you've never been gayer than you are in this moment. "Fucking hell," he says, "I get it already, shut up."
Are you blushing? You're probably blushing. You clear your throat again as you straighten up, only to realise that hey, Karkat's taller than you. That's cool. You're not sure why you care.
"Yeah, so," You start, as he opens with "so, um" at the same time. Both of you go silent.
"...You go first," he offers quietly, a few seconds later. Again with clearing your throat. At this point it kind of hurts, but whatever. You don't care. Much.
"Um, yeah," you say. "I was going to ask, if maybe... and it's totally okay if you don't want to! I don't want to pressure you into anything, or... something like that." His eyebrow rises. You try to get back on track. "So, uh, I was going to ask if, maybe, you'd want to come with me? Or something," you bluster, coughing into your hand.
He blinks. "You... aren't very good with people, are you?" He's smiling though, so that has to be a good sign.
"Hey, screw you okay," you retort, as a grin makes an appearance on your own face. "At least I didn't hold a gun to your head. That's just poor manners, right there. Maybe you weren't socialised enough as a child? Come on, tell Dr Strider aaall your secrets."
He straight up laughs, and it's nice. You'd forgotten what it's like to be around other people, to have them laugh at your jokes or just make conversation. Maybe that's why you want to keep him around so badly.
"You know what, Dave? You're not so bad. Maybe I will come with you, after all."
You do your best to train your grin back into a pokerface.
"Cool."