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Cat remembers the first time she saw Ellie. Ellie had already been in Jackson for a year by the time Cat and her mom arrived. Cat was sixteen. Ellie was fifteen, still small, baby-faced, and impossible to read if you didn’t already know what you were looking for.
Cat did.
She had known who she was early. At eleven, she came out to her mother, who reacted like she had just confessed she liked berries in her beans. Mild surprise, followed by full acceptance. Her mom had always been like that. A civil rights lawyer who could quote Gloria Steinem and roast a bigot in the same breath. She gave Cat everything she needed to know about being gay, including the books and the rare DVDs or VHS tapes they managed to scavenge during supply runs. Cat grew up out, proud, and unbothered. A young homosexual in the apocalypse. How lucky.
So when she saw Ellie, she knew. There was a quiet queerness there. Not the kind you wear, but the kind that flickers in how you look too long and pull away too fast. Cat clocked it immediately.
Not that it mattered much at the time.
Cat was sixteen, a bit tall and sharp-featured. She thought Ellie was cute, sure. But cute in that “freshman trying to act cool at a bonfire” sort of way. Cat barely noticed her. She figured she was one of two potential lesbians in Jackson anyway, so the odds of overlap felt slim.
Ellie had her own circle. Two core friends. Jesse, who was nineteen, tall, broad-shouldered, and exactly the kind of guy teenage boys wanted to be. Whatever. And Dina. Dina was a few months older than Ellie, a pretty girl with big eyes and curls she could weaponize. She was soft-spoken but tough. Definitely feminine, but in the “I’ll give you a black eye if you talk slick” kind of way.
Back then, Jesse and Dina didn’t hang out much. Ellie hung with Jesse only because he was a fighter and she wanted to train. Cat didn’t think much of it. Jesse was cool, and she ended up training with him too. Ellie and Dina were still stuck on group patrols until they turned sixteen, so their paths didn’t cross.
But once they did, Cat noticed.
Dina was always smiling at Ellie, leaning in too close, brushing shoulders like it was no big deal. Ellie, on the other hand, seemed allergic to touch. She’d stiffen, look away, crack a joke. Cat recognized the deflection instantly. She’d done the same thing for years. Giving just enough, but never enough simultaneously. It was all very familiar. And very gay.
One afternoon, after a long sparring session, Cat was heading out of the barn, sweat drying on her neck, when Ellie was walking in. Jesse, wrapping his knuckles nearby, called out, “Hey Ellie, give me one second, I need to rebandage.”
That left Cat and Ellie alone by the door.
“Hey,” Cat said with a nod. Not one for small talk.
“Uh. Hey.” Ellie stuffed her hands in her pockets. Also not one for small talk. Great.
“Sparring with Jesse?” Ellie asked.
Cat nodded, waiting. She had a patrol question to ask Jesse.
“Cool,” Ellie said. She shrugged off her coat like she needed something to do. She’d grown a little. Less baby face, more defined edges.
Cat remembered something, a life raft of a thought in the middle of the awkward.
“I saw you reading Savage Starlight the other day,” she said. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”
Ellie’s face lit up, finally looking directly at her. “Yeah, it’s my favorite. I mean, there’s not a ton of comics left, but it’s really cool. You know it?”
“Oh yeah. I love the writing. Very female empowerment and survivalist realism. But I’m mostly into the art style. I’ve been trying to copy it for years.”
“No shit, really?” Ellie’s voice perked up. “You draw? I draw.” She winced a little, as if she got too excited and needed to reel it back. “I’m not that good, but I try.”
Comics and drawing. Okay. Maybe Ellie was cooler than she thought. Cat was about to say something else when Jesse came back, flexing his bandaged hands. “All good. Cat, what was that question about patrol?”
They talked shop for a minute. When it was time to go, Cat turned back to Ellie, who was already heading toward the sparring bags.
“Hey, maybe you can show me one of your drawings sometime. We can talk about it.”
And that’s how they became friends.
________________________________________
They started meeting up in the food hall during the lull between lunch and dinner. Not every day, but enough that it became a thing. Cat would slide into the seat across from Ellie, their comics already pulled from their bags like contraband, edges worn, covers creased. They’d trade issues, swap sketches, argue over linework or color palette choices. Just two loser nerds in the apocalypse, geeking out over sci-fi and pretending they weren’t watching each other’s reactions a little too closely.
Dina was around sometimes. She’d drop into the seat beside Ellie, fork in hand, nibbling on whatever was left from her last meal. Cat noticed she’d lean back, quiet, letting Ellie and Cat ramble about plot holes or alien species, only chiming in with an eye roll or a smirk. Subtle. Always just on the edge of mockery.
Cat never missed it.
Dina didn’t say anything outright, and Ellie never noticed. Probably because Dina always sat next to her, not across from her. But Cat had the full view. Every raised eyebrow. Every glance. Every little expression that said, What are we doing here?
Cat didn’t know if Dina just hated comics or if she hated that Ellie had a new friend. Either way, they tolerated each other. The unspoken agreement was clear. Don’t make it weird. Don’t upset Ellie.
It was a quiet truce until one afternoon, when Ellie, almost seventeen now and more herself than ever, said something that cracked the whole thing open.
They were talking about the a particular Savage Starlight arc, passing a tattered issue back and forth between bites of something vaguely like soup. Dr. Daniela Star was knee-deep in some intergalactic crisis, and the story had just introduced a new character. A love interest.
Cat hadn’t even finished flipping through the panels when Ellie scoffed.
“God, I hate this part,” Ellie muttered, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “He just shows up and suddenly Daniela forgets how to be a person.”
Cat glanced up. “You mean Commander Rafe?”
“Yeah. Him.” Ellie scrunched her nose. “He’s just… unnecessary. Like, why does every badass character need to fall for some square-jawed guy who has no personality? It’s lazy writing.”
Cat tilted her head. “You think it would’ve been better if they kept her solo?”
Ellie hesitated. Shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe if it was Zarah instead. She and Daniela actually had chemistry. Real chemistry.”
Zarah was the rebel pilot. Sharp-tongued. Brave. Loyal to the end. Cat could see it.
She raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice.”
Ellie didn’t flinch. Just kept picking at her plate.
Cat leaned back in her chair. “So why do you think that? About Zarah and Daniela.”
Ellie looked up, blinking like she hadn’t expected the follow-up.
“I mean,” Cat went on, careful but curious, “you never really talk about that stuff. Love interests. Boys. But now you’re swapping out a guy for a girl. Just curious.”
Ellie’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. She chewed slowly, then set it down.
“I was just making an observation,” she said finally. Her tone was flat, but not defensive. She shrugged again. “And besides. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Cat nodded, playing it cool. “Didn’t say there was. Obviously.” She motions to herself.
Ellie went quiet, eyes flicking down to the comic again, fingers tracing a crease in the cover. Cat didn’t push. She just let the silence hang there, charged but bearable, like the kind of quiet that means more than any conversation ever could.
________________________________________
Eventually, Dina got sick of being the third wheel. She didn’t say it, but Cat could feel it in the way she started getting irritated over nothing. A look here. A sharp word there. She’d roll her eyes before Cat even opened her mouth, like she was already bracing for annoyance. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. So, without a fight or a scene, Cat and Ellie just started hanging out alone.
They spent afternoons at Cat’s place. Her mom was always around, always warm, always acting like she’d been waiting for Ellie to come over her whole life. She made them grilled cheese. She offered them real milk. She never once asked what they were doing behind a closed door. Probably because Cat had already told her the truth. Or part of it. She’d admitted that she liked Ellie — liked her liked her. Not in a say something now kind of way. Just enough to confess it out loud, where it couldn’t be taken back.
But Ellie didn’t need to know that.
One afternoon, Cat had something to show her. She pulled a small box from her dresser drawer, opened it carefully, reverently, like it held something sacred.
“A tattoo gun,” she said, eyes gleaming. “Found it on patrol. Wires were trash, but I got it working again.”
Ellie lit up like Cat had just offered her a jetpack.
“Shut up. Seriously?”
“Swear to god,” Cat said. “Been practicing on pig skin. You wanna see?”
Ellie nodded fast, already leaning in.
Cat peeled back a cloth from a patch of pig skin stretched tight over a board. The ink was black and bold, a half-finished alien skull with sharp teeth and bug eyes. Ellie’s knees knocked against Cat’s as she settled beside her, close enough that Cat could feel the heat off her skin.
“That’s insane,” Ellie whispered, grinning. “Like... good insane.”
Cat picked up the needle, didn’t turn it on yet, just let the weight of it rest in her hand.
“What would you get?” she asked, not looking directly at her. “If you could?”
Ellie was quiet for a second, thoughtful. Then she started listing.
“A space helmet. Not a whole one, like... cracked, maybe, with a flower growing out of it. That’d be sick. Or like... a hand holding a knife. Not in a creepy way. More like... ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes.”
Cat smiled. “Poetic violence. Love that.”
Ellie laughed under her breath. Then added, “And... the moth. Y’know. The one on my guitar.”
Cat’s gaze flicked up. “I’ve seen it. You drew that?”
Ellie nodded. “Sort of. My version of it, anyway.”
Cat set the machine down and opened her sketchbook, flipping through a few pages until she landed on a spread of soft, spiraling ferns. They curved like question marks, delicate and curling.
“I thought about getting these,” she said. “When I’m good enough.”
Ellie traced one of them with a fingertip, eyes a little wide.
“They’re really pretty,” she murmured.
“You should let me do one on you,” Cat said, voice lighter now, teasing. “When I’m ready.”
Ellie looked up, brows raised.
Cat smiled. “What? You scared?”
“No,” Ellie said too quickly. “Just… don’t want a fucked-up alien skull permanently etched into my leg.”
“I said when I’m ready,” Cat shot back, grinning.
She reached out then, without thinking, and touched Ellie’s right forearm lightly, fingers brushing over the burn scar there. The one she never covered. The one that seemed to hum with quiet history.
“You ever think about covering this?” Cat asked, her voice softer now. Less joking. “Could do something cool here. Hide it. Or make it into something better.”
Ellie didn’t pull away. She looked at Cat’s hand, then back at her.
“Maybe,” she said. “If it’s one of your ferns.”
Cat’s stomach flipped, but she didn’t show it. Just smirked and said, “Deal. You’re my first canvas.”
The moment stretched. Too long, maybe. But neither of them moved.
Interesting.
-----------------------------------------------
Suddenly, Ellie was seventeen.
Not actually suddenly. Cat had seen it happening in slow motion. The way Ellie moved changed, the way she laughed a little less loud, held herself like someone aware of being watched now. But it still felt like a jump forward. Like time just skipped ahead without warning.
By then, Cat had practiced ferns and moths and until she could patch up a whole pig skin without problem. Her hands were steady. Her lines were confident. She didn’t need stencils.
She told Ellie she was ready.
“You serious?” Ellie asked, when Cat pulled out her gear one afternoon. The door was shut. Her mom downstairs, pretending not to hear anything.
“Yeah. Freehand,” Cat said. “Trust me?”
Ellie rolled her eyes, but the small smile tugging at her mouth said everything. She pushed up her sleeve.
Her forearm was all burn and memory. Cat looked at it and then at her.
“You want me to cover it?”
Ellie didn’t answer right away. She looked at the scar. Then at Cat.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “Let’s do it.”
Cat nodded. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I want to see something else when I look there.”
So Cat sat beside her on the bed, arm braced, and got to work free handing. Just her hands, her eyes, her muscle memory from all those nights practicing. A fern curling soft and elegant, the curve of a moth’s wing nestled close beside it. Like something living had started growing through what got burned.
Ellie didn’t flinch. Barely moved. Just breathed slow and steady while Cat tattooed her. Her eyes stayed on Cat the whole time. Being that close to Ellie felt different now. Something warm and charged beneath the quiet. Like they were both trying not to say something out loud. When Cat finished, Ellie sat up straighter, flexing her arm slightly to look at the tattoo. The fern curved perfectly with the moth, its wings delicate but bold over the old burn scar.
“Holy shit,” Ellie said. “That’s… that’s fucking awesome!”
Cat smiled, still holding the machine. “Looks kind of perfect on you.”
Ellie glanced at her, eyes catching for half a second before darting away again. Cat felt the space between them buzz, thick with something unspoken.
So Cat leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn’t tentative or soft. It was sure. But Ellie froze.
Then she pushed her back, not hard, just sudden, like a flinch.
Cat sat up straight. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought…”
“No,” Ellie said quickly. “No, it’s not… I mean—” She looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. “It was just-that was my first kiss.”
The words came too fast.
Cat tilted her head. “Really?”
Ellie nodded, then shrugged. “Yeah. First one ever. Just surprised me, I guess.”
She wouldn’t meet her eyes. Her hands were in her lap, fidgeting with her hoodie strings. She gave a short laugh, too forced. “Don’t worry about it.”
Cat didn’t push. Ellie asked if she could stay over, said she was tired and didn’t feel like heading home. But that night, Ellie didn’t sleep.
She curled up on the floor, but Cat could feel her watching. Quiet. Still.
Like she was waiting for something.
When Cat woke up, light just starting to warm the room, Ellie was already sitting up.
She leaned in without saying a word and kissed Cat again. This time, it was softer. Slow. But Cat noticed how tense she was.
Not nervous. Not uncertain.
Like she had been holding her breath.
When they pulled apart, Ellie was staring at her. Searching her face. Not for a reaction. For signs.
Cat blinked. “You good?”
Ellie nodded a little too fast. “Yeah.”
But the lie was all over her face.
Ellie was holding something back. She was lying.
And scared.
Cat didn’t know why.
Not yet.
But she felt it.
Deep down.
________________________________________
Cat asked Ellie once if she would ever tell anyone they were dating. Ellie froze. Her smile faltered and she quickly changed the subject, brushing it off like it was nothing. Cat pressed a little more, asking if Ellie had at least told Dina she was gay.
Dina was Ellie’s best friend. That seemed normal, right? Dina cared about Ellie a lot. But there was something strange about how Ellie avoided the topic. Cat wondered if Ellie’s reaction to their first kiss was tied to Dina somehow.
It would not be the first or last time Cat thought maybe Ellie had a crush on Dina. Maybe it had faded or maybe Ellie was just really good at hiding things. Cat knew Ellie kept her secrets close.
Then came that night at the bonfire. The air was cool but the fire made the circle of friends warm. Cat slipped her hand into Ellie’s, holding it gently, fingers curling around like she never wanted to let go. When Cat kissed Ellie in front of everyone, Cat felt like she might burst with happiness. Ellie kissed back, shy but real, and Cat’s heart beat faster.
But Cat noticed that the warmth did not reach across the fire to Dina. Dina sat on a log nearby, close to Jesse, but her eyes were fixed on them like lasers. Cat had never seen that kind of look on Dina’s face before. Not even with the infected. It was more than anger; it was sharp, tense, like something broke inside her and she did not know how to fix it. Dina’s jaw was tight, her arms folded, her whole body tense, but she didn’t look away once. It made Cat’s skin crawl but Ellie didn’t seem to notice or maybe she just didn’t want to.
The longer Dina stared the more Cat felt it. It was nerve wracking sitting there with Ellie when someone was watching like that. Then Dina and Jesse got up and walked off into the trees. When they came back, Dina was different. She clung to Jesse like she wanted the whole world to see, hanging on him with a possessiveness that was loud and clear in the way she laughed and touched his arm. Cat caught Ellie’s eyes and saw something flicker, confusion, maybe guilt. Dina’s reaction was not subtle.
Cat was not sure what it all meant but she knew one thing. This was not just about friendship anymore for Dina.
________________________________________
Not long after, late one night in Cat’s room while her mother was out scavenging or drinking or doing whatever kept her from coming home, things between Cat and Ellie changed. They had kissed a hundred times before, had lain in bed holding hands and whispering secrets. But that night was different. That night, Ellie didn’t stop when Cat’s hand slid under her shirt. She touched back. Pulled Cat in. Whispered her name.
"Are you okay?" Cat had asked softly, barely above a breath.
Ellie just kissed her neck and murmured, "Yeah. I want to."
That was the first time they slept together. Then came a second time. Then a third. Then more than they could count. They did what teenagers discovering sex do, especially girls who didn’t need to worry about the world’s dwindling stash of condoms. It was messy, clumsy, and absolutely electric. Cat had never felt more wanted. Never felt more certain.
Except when it came to Dina.
Dina had stopped talking to Ellie the day after the bonfire. No explanation. Just cold shoulders and tense silences. The kind that left Ellie quiet and withdrawn after every shift they passed in the same room.
"She’s just... going through something," Ellie would say, pulling at the hem of her shirt. "It’s not about me."
But Cat didn’t buy it.
She remembered the lake party. Everyone had been tipsy on homemade drinks, the fire reflecting off the water, and that same stupid round of “Never Have I Ever” made its way around. When someone said “Never have I ever lost my virginity,” Cat and Ellie both put fingers down. Dina didn’t. Her eyes flicked up when Ellie moved. Then her jaw tightened and she stood up, muttering something about needing a smoke and dragging Jesse with her, toward home.
________________________________________
The next time that question came up, weeks later during a smaller get-together, both Dina and Jesse lowered fingers. Ellie looked away. That night, she barely spoke. Cat started noticing more things. Dina’s stare lingering on Ellie like she was trying to burn a hole through her. The way she seemed to find a reason to leave anytime Cat walked in holding Ellie’s hand. At the community Thanksgiving, Cat saw Dina watching Ellie as she helped carry dishes, her gaze narrowed and unreadable. At patrol meetings, if Cat kissed Ellie’s cheek, Dina’s voice got sharper. More clipped. Like everything was a problem suddenly.
And Ellie. Ellie noticed. She got quieter every time Dina was around. She stopped holding Cat’s hand in public. Stopped brushing hair from her face like she used to. One night, after a long day of patrols, Cat leaned against her and kissed her shoulder, only for Ellie to shift away when she saw Dina watching.
"Why do you still care what she thinks?" Cat finally asked.
Ellie blinked. "I don’t. I mean... I don’t know. It’s not like that."
"It feels like it is."
Ellie didn’t respond.
And then it just kept building. Little things. Ellie lingering when Dina came into a room, hoping she’d talk to her. Ellie came around less, grew moodier.
Cat tried to ignore it. She really did.
But after six months of wondering, watching, and waiting, she couldn’t anymore.
________________________________________
One evening, back in her room, the air thick with summer heat and tension, she sat up abruptly in bed. Ellie was lying beside her, reading some worn comic she found in a safehouse stash, one leg draped over Cat’s.
Cat took the book from her hands and tossed it to the floor.
"Hey," Ellie said, reaching after it.
"No. Listen to me."
Ellie looked startled, but Cat didn’t back down.
"Do you still like Dina?"
Ellie froze.
Cat leaned forward. "Because I think you do. I think you’ve been lying to yourself. And I think you’ve been lying to me."
Ellie didn’t answer right away. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap.
"It’s not like that," she said softly.
"Then what is it like? Because every time she walks into a room, you look like you’ve been caught cheating. And I’m the one you’re actually dating."
Ellie’s voice dropped. "She was my best friend."
"Was she more than that to you?"
Silence.
Cat sighed and sat back, her voice thick. "That’s what I thought."
________________________________________
One day, all the sudden, Ellie had gone to some camping trip with Joel. Cat didn’t even get a chance to break up with her before she left. Perfect timing.
When she came back, she was even moodier, but the second she got off her horse, Dina threw her arms around her, feet dangling like this was wartime and her husband came home safe. Cool. Cool cool cool.
That night, Cat broke up with Ellie. She told her to get a clue, and ask Dina out. Cat wished her well.
________________________________________
Cat didn’t think much about what happened anymore. Ellie never said she loved her, so maybe it was never real for her. It stung, sure, but it dulled with time. Cat moved on. Not with any other girls, she was pretty sure the only ones in town her age were busy making goo goo eyes at each other and dancing around their feelings like idiots. It was peachy. She just hoped that one day the truckloads of refugees to Jackson would bring someone actually worth her while.
Then New Year’s Eve came around.
Ellie and Dina, glued at the hip ever since Ellie got back, were obviously flirting all patrol. Ellie was kind of dumb about it, oblivious in that way she always was. But by now, that was normal. Cat had stopped letting it bother her.
Still, something felt different that night.
When the music changed to a slow song and the lights sparkled, Ellie stood at the edge of the crowd, staring at Dina like she was the only person in the room. And when Dina finally reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her onto the dance floor, Cat knew. She knew by the way Dina held her close, made her stay. The way she leaned in to say something that made Ellie laugh. The way Ellie couldn’t stop smiling.
And then there it was.
A kiss. Not a short one. Not a maybe. Dina kissed her like she meant it. Ellie kissed her back like she had been waiting her whole life for it.
Then Seth, of all people, started running his mouth about it being a family party. Called them dykes.
And Cat? She just laughed.
Fucking finally.