Chapter Text
Dexter returned from the forest alone, dragging his feet and staring blankly into his own personal hell.
The others saw him arrive. They knew what he’d had to do. Knew there was no other option.
He shrank away from them anyway.
Just in case they blamed him.
He lay on his bunk with his back turned to them, and tried to sleep. To get away for a bit.
He heard the others leave, walk out into the night that he would never see the same again
Putting his hands beneath one of the thin pillows they’d managed to bring with them, he felt paper. They’d bought maps and plans with them hoping they could be useful in the strange new lands, so it could be one of those. But the paper felt more substantial, like it held something. So he brought it into the dim light of the tent.
It was an envelope with his name written on it. In Saracen’s handwriting.
He turned it over.
Opened the seal.
And began to read.
——
Dearest Dexter,
——
He laughed, even as his eyes started to fill with tears.
——
I know we won’t find Valkyrie in time so I figured I’d write you something for when I’m gone since at this rate I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk near the end. Turns out slowly turning into a zombie is actually quite painful. Who would’ve thought!
Anyway, I think the first thing I’ll have to say is don’t blame yourself for anything. It was my fault for trying to wade into a swarm of zombies without any sort of close combat weapons. I may or may not have been trying to look cool, and then failed quite spectacularly. You couldn’t protect me but I know that you would’ve tried if you knew what I was doing (not that I even knew what I was doing) or if we just had more time in the moment.
That’s always been a problem hasn’t it? Time. There’s never bloody enough of it. We’ve had years of being around each other and being friends and being surrounded by other friends but I think looking back, I’d still have liked more of it. Nobody wants those sort of moments to stop do they? Let the party go on forever, am I right? Specifically though, I wish I’d had more time with you. There’s so much more we could have done!
Tell the others not to be sad by the way. If they’re sad. I hope they’re sad. Well not “I hope they’re sad” in a sort of malicious way, in a more “I hope I’ve done enough to be missed” way. I think I have. And you. Don’t you be sad either. I forbid it. It’s not allowed. If you get really down though, despite my incredibly effective preventative measures, just think. We might get see each other again at some point! Who am I to say we can’t , this world we live in (lived in my case I suppose) is complete bullshit and works however the hell it wants to. And if I can, I’ll try and get back.
God this feels weird though, knowing I’m going to die. Wonder what it’ll be like. Afterlife? Maybe. Heaven or hell? Maybe. Nothing? Maybe. I have no clue. I hope I don’t get erased though. Like, if I have to spend eternity alone somewhere, I’d like to keep some memories and whatnot. Just something to pass the time I guess.
I should wrap this up soon but, I’ve been stalling a bit you see. Well, more than a bit, I don’t think anyone else has spent centuries stalling. Well maybe. Hm. Something to think about. See! I’m stalling now! It’s like instinct. Anyway, back to the main point. I’ve put things off a lot and I definitely regret that now because I’m running out of both time and ink and I don’t want to miss my last chance to do this.
——
A large scribble fills a line of the page, crossing out a few words. Dexter wonders what they used to say. The only person who could have told him is now gone.
——
That actually wasted a tonne of ink. Shouldn’t have done that. I just need to be braver I guess.
I love you. Have done for quite a while. Is it cowardly of me to be telling you this when I can’t be affected by the consequences anymore? Yes. Does it still feel better to have it off my chest somehow? Yeah. It does. Ah damn, hopefully this doesn’t ruin your memories of me. I tried not to let it affect anything but who knows if you know. Well I suppose you know but eh, not the point. I have wondered several times if you feel the same and if you do, I am so sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. Oh shit. You do don’t you?
I meant what I said at the beginning of this by the way. You are my dearest.
——
The letter ended there.
Dexter looked at it for a few more seconds and then broke down.
Saracen had loved him.
And Dexter had now missed his chance to say it back.