Archive of Our Own

The empty wind howl of the desolate ghost city of Paradise came to replace the loud rooster cry that Meagon had been used to waking up to. It’s been more or less three months of the same routine: wake up, check for zombies, check their inventory and rations, and then move from place to place to map the city out in detail.

It was the most unconventional place she found a shred of comfort in. For the most part, Paradise City was still highly uncomfortable, still reeked of death, and was still something she was ready to leave behind. Yet, like polarizing sides of the magnet, she was drawn to it; the promise of a life left behind sparked a twisted sense of hope from within her, even though she knew firsthand that it was futile. It was the kind of hope that was slowly chipping away for every block they cover, yet something so stubborn was deeply rooted in her heart as well.

But nights like tonight — where the twinkling stars illuminated their space sufficiently — revitalized that empty promise.

“You know,” Grayleigh said, neck craned upward to watch the night sky from the tiles of the rooftop, “I kinda, like, don’t even know what the date is anymore.”

“Dude, I’ve been keeping track,” Rotation said, sitting next to Mike who was sat across Grayleigh. “If I’m correct, it’s probably the second week of September. Maybe the 12th?”

Mike hummed noncommittally, but didn’t say anything else. Despite that, Meagon nudged him lightly with her leg, making him furrow his eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyway,” Meagon feigned a cough.

“Oh, it’s my mom’s birthday next week!” Grayleigh gushed, peeling her eyes away from the sky. It wasn’t hard to miss the shift from bubbly to sentimental just by the sparkle in her eyes, but the smile etched on her lips—one that was seemingly permanent—told enough of the story. “You know, it’s, like, super sad that they jammed the signals and something. I can’t wish her a happy birthday.”

“I feel you, man,” Mike sighed, shaking his head. “It sucks even more because I drained my phone from recording my first week in Paradise City. Phones these days suck ass. I’m not even sure I’ll make it out alive so this shit is useless.”

Grayleigh gasped loudly, making Rotation flinch. Before he could open his mouth, Grayleigh started her nightly affirmations session with, “Nuh-uh! Don’t say that, Mike! You should be more optimistic because you’re so talented and nice and you’re my favorite! You’re gonna live!” She leaned forward, frowning at Mike. With such animated movement and expressions, it was easy to tell what she would say next, but her face suddenly twisted upside down and the smile was back on her face as she said, “Wait, maybe we can even get out before your birthday! And then you’ll be alive and a year older. And have cake!”

Rotation cut his sight back and forth between Mike and Grayleigh, silently observing the two as they exchanged words to each other. They somehow had their own language—their own way of speaking—that wasn’t a standout to either of them. He wasn’t all too familiar with the concept of fraternities or sororities and whatnot, though he has definitely heard of it in passing. If everyone in their respective organizations acted the way they did around each other, he probably wouldn’t like it. This was a thought that waned and waxed in his head the past three months they’ve stuck together.

He casted a glance at Meagon, sending an S.O.S signal covertly. It doesn’t really work.

“Dude, Grayleigh, did we pass your birthday?” Mike asked, propping a knee up.

“Nope! But we haven’t yours too, have we?”

“Yeaaah, but a cold can of beer is all I need and I’m set,” Mike chuckled, resting his chin on his knee. “Cake is… good. Yeah, sure, I miss cake.” He turned to Rotation, his face laced with… nothing, really. It was hard to read Mike. He’s always either going to say something stupid, offensive, or— “Have you ever had cake, Orphan Boy?”

Or both.

“Mike,” Meagon said warningly, smoke rising from the grill she was facing. She turned to look at her companions, shaking her head slightly.

“What? I was curious!” Mike raised both of his arms. “You’re micro-managing me so much tonight, Meagon. I don’t appreciate that.”

Meagon decided she didn’t care enough to retort, which Rotation thought was good for her, but he was a teenage boy who kept a mental note of all the moments they’ve made fun of him and so he said, “Thanks, Meagon, though you did also just ask me yesterday if I’ve ever had boba.”

“I… was curious,” Meagon defended weakly. She pointedly ignored Mike’s little, See!

Rotation rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to Mike. “I haven’t had cake nor boba,” he deadpanned.

“Dude.” Mike straightened his back, looking at Rotation seriously. He placed a hand on the younger’s shoulder, shaking his head forlornly.

“Grayleigh, get this bastard away from me,” Rotation called out, futile a request it might be.

“No, like, I get it,” Grayleigh nodded. “Rotation, you should totally eat cake with us.”

“Yeah, Orphan Boy,” Mike dropped his hand and relaxed his body. “See, people from our side of the world usually ate cake to celebrate their birthdays.”

Rotation hummed. “That’s nice. Why?”

“You were born so you’re celebrated,” Mike replied plainly. “It’s a pretty straightforward venture I would say. I mean, I always had one for mine.”

“You’re, like, mega rich, man. Not a great standard,” Rotation winced.

“He’s right…” Mike murmured beneath his breath. He looked away, furtive. As if he settled on something—again, hard to follow his train of thought when he looked deadpan more than most of the time—he turned back to face Rotation and said, “We’re buying you cake on your birthday, man. You have to taste it.”

“Yeah!” Grayleigh agreed enthusiastically. “It’s so, like, delicious! I looove red velvet a bunch, and I’ve had it for years. It’s in our uni colors as well! Go Capital Uni!” she giggled, raising her right fist and pressing the left against her chest.

“Hell yeah, man, go Capital U,” Mike added, pumping his fist in the air. He slowly put it down and said, “Y’know, I’m more of a moist choco guy myself. It’s very decadent and… moist.”

“Waiiit, that’s like, so good!”

As Grayleigh and Mike started talking about cafés and cake slices and John D, F, G, Rotation decided to peel himself away from them and approached Meagon, who was still grilling potatoes. He lingered around her quietly for a few seconds, and Meagon being Meagon, she only looked at him briefly to cock a questioning eyebrow.

It was strange for her to be mum despite the riveting conversation two of their friends were having; Grayleigh with her hands flying around enthusiastically, and Mike with his voice rising a pitch. Sure, she was preoccupied with grilling, but they were just potatoes. Straight-laced and laser-focused as she was, she usually spared a comment or two as her contribution to the topic.

And it definitely wasn’t because Rotation was feeling just the slightest bit left out.

“Have you ever had cake?” Rotation asked, wordlessly picking up a finished potato and dropping it on the container beside the grill. He blew on his fingers, wincing at the burn he probably sustained from that.

“Careful,” Meagon said belatedly, laughing slightly. “Also, yeah.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Meagon shrugged, turning the fire down as the last of potatoes were finished. “There’s this cake my mom always used to bake for me during my birthday,” she mentioned, looking up in the sky as she started recalling. “It was chiffon, I think? Sponge? I’m not sure what it’s called, but it fucking slaps.”

“How’s it your favorite but you don’t even know what it’s called?” Rotation snorted.

“I mean,” Meagon shrugged again. “I’ve only ever had that cake for my birthday, and it’s so fucking bomb and it was all that I ever knew, so.”

Feeling inquisitive, Rotation once more asked a question: “Don’t you bake it for yourself?”

“Eh.” Meagon crinkled her nose, portioning out the potatoes so they’d all have a fair share. “Baking was more of mom’s thing. I’m a cook, you see,” she paused, vaguely gesturing towards her makeshift kitchen. “Besides, I’ve stopped celebrating my birthday a long time ago. I just turn a year older, anyway. You get a quarter through life and birthdays stop becoming special.”

Rotation grew quiet, memories of him and Venus celebrating each other’s birthdays flashing in his memory. It wasn’t anything grand, not like the parties Grayleigh and Mike always raved about; they were simpler celebrations, spent quietly huddled in a warm spot and a handful of dandelions in which they passed their birthday wishes on the seeds that the wind carried away.

Simple celebrations like that happened all around them, but that doesn’t mean that people who preferred not to didn’t exist. He knew a handful of them, and so this culture of non-celebration wasn’t new to him.

Yet, there was that bugging feeling that twisted Rotation’s stomach the more he thought about it. After all, this was Meagon. Sure, they all kept each other safe and sound, but it’d be a disgrace if her contributions were understated. Only the gods knew how many times they could’ve been in grave danger had it not been for her incessant insistence to redirect their focus on to more important things.

And more than that, the companionship she provided more than filled the hole in his heart that was hollowed and carved out. It just felt… wrong. To sideline herself like that.

But of course, Rotation was mortified at the thought of verbalizing all the emotions welling up inside him. As a compromise, he settled with, “Oh.”

Meagon ruffled his hair, giving him a slanted grin. “Sorry, I probably ruined birthdays for you, haven’t I?” she sighed. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep celebrating your birthdays. You plural.”

Unsure how to react, Rotation looked away. “Well—” A perfectly-timed cough cut him off briefly, “—thank you.”

🎂

Dinner was like the usual. They had their baked potatoes with a side of onions and carrots, eaten in silence and broken by occasional conversations. They always chose to eat in the rooftop for multitude of reasons, including but not limited to surveillance. While Mike and Grayleigh’s conversation has long pivoted to another adjacent topic about some homecoming game, Meagon was looking at the ground from their vantage point.

Rotation was about to speak, yet cut himself off by yawning his thoughts away. Everyone immediately looked at him, and then at each other. Grayleigh was the one to announce, “Sleepover time!”

“All right,” Mike stood up from his squatting position flawlessly, fishing a torch from his seemingly-bottomless pocket and throwing his scythe on his back. “Can I get some light? Please. Meagon.”

“Why are you saying my name so hauntingly? The fuck?” Meagon said incredulously, placing her lantern down to light it up.

“Hey man, I was just enunciating,” Mike raised his hands, a playful lilt dancing in his voice.

“Yeah, okay, buddy,” Meagon snorted, shoving the lit torch to his hands. “Let’s just haul ourselves down there. Poor Rotation is gonna fall fast asleep.”

“Aww. Don’t worry, Rotation, we’ll be quick.”

“Fuck you guys.” Rotation rolled his eyes at the response being synchronized laughter fading out as they descended the stairs, though he quickly got over it and turned to Grayleigh. “Grayleigh, I need to tell you something.”

“Yes, you can tell me anything,” Grayleigh chirped.

Rotation walked past her, pressing his ear against the steel door, ensuring that the two who just left were out of earshot. Not that doing that helped much, anyway, considering the thick steel material the door was made out of; nonetheless, it gave him some sort of peace of mind hearing nothing. “Okay,” he breathed out, turning to Grayleigh and walking towards the ladder. Sitting on the footsteps, he said, “I need your opinion on this. Since you seem to like birthdays and stuff.”

“Oh, I love birthdays!” Grayleigh squealed. “You know, one time—no, umm, it’s mean to interrupt your story with mine. I’m sorry, Rotation, please go on.”

“Nah, you’re fine. It’s just… I don’t know,” Rotation sighed. “You and Mike were talking about cakes and birthdays, right? I kinda asked Meagon about hers.”

“Aww, yes! I wanna know too!” Grayleigh grinned.

“That’s the thing, though. She said she liked this cake she doesn’t know the name of because she doesn’t really celebrate hers anymore,” Rotation said, trying to keep a straight face upon hearing a dramatic gasp coming out of Grayleigh’s mouth. Though he knew even without looking, the frown in her face was enough of a confirmation to him. “I mean, like, there are people who don’t, right? So it’s not like she’s special in that regard. I just… feel odd.”

Grayleigh’s frown deepened, a hand rubbing her arm as she thought deeply about it. Eventually, tears started welling in her eyes, making Rotation look away and heave a deep sigh.

“Gra—”

“Rotation, thank you so much for telling me,” Grayleigh said, sniffling. She held his hands tightly, squeezing it with so much force it was less comforting and more painful. Still, it didn’t erase the fact that Rotation was bombarded with so many emotions that made him feel even weirder, so he continued avoiding Grayleigh’s look. Still, she continued, “There’s no way we’ll allow her to skip her birthday! Did she ever tell you when it was?”

“Uhh, nope.”

“Why didn’t you ask her!?”

“Was I supposed to?” Rotation took his hands back, scratching his head. “I mean, she did say she doesn’t like celebrating it anymore, so.”

“Well, we want to celebrate her!” Grayleigh sighed. “Can we let Mike in on this, please? Then, when we find out when her birthday is, we can throw a surprise party!”

Rotation hummed in agreement, bobbing his head slightly. “A surprise party, huh… Yeah, y’know what, I know what those are like. Sounds great.”

🎂

“Well,” Meagon yawned, tucking herself in close to Grayleigh, “I’m sorry that you’re doing this first, Rotation. We can switch if you want.”

Rotation waved his hand. “Just go to sleep.”

“If you say so.”

When the moonlight showed their peaceful sleeping faces—Meagon, with her brows slightly furrowed and later, her tendency to grind her teeth together and Grayleigh, with the brush of sadness and contentment in her face that goes all up Meagon’s face deeper in the night—Mike and Rotation immediately shut the door. Mike left it slightly ajar, though, just enough to get a peek of their companions. He’d done this initially at the behest of Meagon, ruled by paranoia during her worst times, which was something they got used to doing.

Though, speaking of: “Mike.”

“Why are we whispering?”

Rotation plucked an overgrown weed on the walls. “I learned something about Meagon tonight,” he added, a lot quieter, conscious about the person in question being actually still awake. “And I felt all weird about it, and Grayleigh did too, so she suggested that we add you in the loop.”

“You are making it sound like she’s an asshole right now,” Mike whispered back, though in a lot less controlled silence. “I can’t see her being, uh, a moral asshole. What’s this about?”

Rotation started telling Mike.

It was generally difficult to get a read on Mike’s expressions with his blank face and hard jawline that appeared as though the gods themselves sculpted him to look like a textbook definition of a jock asshole, but every now and then, Rotation would notice his face twitch slightly, producing a frown. He knew at the very least that it would affect Mike this way; after all, he and Meagon had stuck with each other way longer than the rest of them did.

Similarly, it didn’t come as a surprise when Mike spoke and he sounded so defeated. His emotions were all channelled through his voice, after all.

“Dude,” Mike said, voice shaking.

“I know,” Rotation replied. “Grayleigh thought a surprise party would be good and I’m, y’know, down.”

“I just… never knew Meagon felt all of this,” Mike sighed, frowning. He leaned against the doorframe, looking at both Grayleigh and Meagon who were now fast asleep and stopped stirring. “She definitely needs to be celebrated. Wonder what happened between her and her mom?”

“I don’t know. I can imagine they had a good relationship, though,” Rotation mentioned. “Something must’ve… happened.”

“Ah.”

They both grew quiet, with Rotation thinking that Mike probably would have no idea how that would feel. Even he had no idea. He was abandoned young, and all the memories he had of ever losing a loved one came… elsewhere. Close enough to the present, but distant in that he was slowly trying to let go.

In any case, it was hard for either of them to understand Meagon, point blank. While she made sure they knew how she felt at an exact moment, she was a pretty secretive person. Retrospectively, Rotation recalled having only ever heard about anything she’s ever felt about a certain situation she’s only made one-word comments on right after the fact has passed, and that conversation they had in the rooftop was probably enough of an evidence to her tendency to bottle things up.

Grayleigh had the privilege to learn more about her, though. Even though she knew Mike longer. Even though he’s saved her more than they could count.

It wasn’t upsetting, Rotation thought. But it was more complicated than that.

“How do we find out, though?” Mike suddenly said, startling Rotation out of his train of thought. The older started flashing his flashlight on the empty hallway for no particular reason, music spilling from his iPod through the barely-functional wired earphones they fished from the deepest crevices of MÖBLA. “I mean, it’d be kinda strange if we went up to her and said, ‘Hi, Meagon, when’s your birthday? Totally unrelated to the conversation you had with Rotation yesterday. Also, we are definitely not going to bake a cake.’”

“Okay so first, we don’t say that.” Rotation rolled his eyes, voice giving away his amusement.

“No, but the implication is there. How do we unimplicate it?”

They both fell into silence, though this time it was contemplative. After a few moments, Rotation suggested, “We can always bait her into it. She’s pretty easy to bait. Especially with ragebait.”

“How do you even ragebait her into admitting her birthday?” Mike cackled. He pitched his voice up slightly, in his best Meagon impression, and said, “Gah, I’m Meagon and I’m so mad that I’m telling you my birthday!”

Rotation laughed. “That sounds like something she’ll do as a bit.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“So, what do we do?”

Mike shrugged. “Do we think we can succeed with the bait route? I think we can succeed with the bait route.”

“Mmm… Yeah, I think so, yeah,” Rotation nodded, agreeing in earnest. “She’ll definitely tell us tomorrow.”

“Oh, definitely.”

🎂

Their grave mistake was letting Mike make the first move.

At the break of sunrise, Rotation stirred awake to find that they somehow stumbled inside the room without waking Meagon and Grayleigh up for their shift on the lookout. He also found Grayleigh’s head on his stomach and her feet on Meagon’s, her arms sprawled across to brush Mike’s who was asleep close to Rotation’s shoulder. Naturally, he had rustled Grayleigh awake first, who thankfully did so without a fuss.

Meagon followed, leaving them no time to debrief about the conversation Rotation and Mike had. They were at the point in their relationship to understand nonverbal cues, though, so when Rotation gave Grayleigh a knowing look, she responded with a slight nod before turning to Mike to wake him.

Breakfast was usually spent in the rooftop or outside, just to get their dose of sunlight in. This time, however, they opted to stay in their shared bedroom, mostly because it was the only room they’ve managed to get a functional water system working. How Mike did it was beyond them, but they really couldn’t afford the suspicion as he also managed to get some lights going.

“So, you know for today,” Grayleigh started, “I want to kind of go back to the bridge and explore out that area. We haven’t been back ever since and it’s, like, really good to see our options, I think.”

“Hmm.” Meagon stuffed her mouth with bread. She said something along the lines of that’s true and we need an escape, but all that came out were incoherent strings of words that they could barely make out.

“Dude, don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere,” Mike said, laughing.

Meagon swallowed down her food, laughing. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just famished. I meant to say, you’re right, Grayleigh.” She pulled out the atlas Mike kept in the storage, laying it out on the table. “Map’s looking a little blank over in this side,” she remarked, making huge circular motions on the empty space next to a blaring red marker that Mike noted at the foot of the atlas as boat.

“Where is that? West from here?” Rotation asked, looking at the lines and marks scattered around the paper.

“Should be, I thiiiink,” Meagon muttered, tracing the lines starting from the big bold X that marked their homebase. “If we’re here, and this is the boat… And this is the big church, and that’s the hostel… So the smaller church is—okay, there… Then if we loop around here…”

As Meagon was figuring out the route, both Grayleigh and Rotation sent each other signals, speaking through scrunched eyebrows and tongue clicks. This doesn’t escape Mike, who, upon figuring out what was going on, tried to signal towards Grayleigh to add him in the conversation as well.

Impatient as he was, when he wasn’t given enough attention off the fly, Mike immediately made a big move and said, “Hey, Grayleigh, we’re doing the thing today, right?”

The silence that washed over the room was defeaning.

Meagon looked up from her plotting, confused by the sudden absence of chatter. She looked at Mike with furrowed eyebrows, regarding his faux-innocence with suspicion. “What’s the thing?”

Mike—that bastard—only grinned cheekily. Questions like these would normally go unanswered, but for reasons neither Rotation nor Grayleigh understood, he had the absolute gall to act sickeningly sweet about it and say, “Oh, you don’t have to worry, Meagon. You’ll see eventually.”

“Michael, you are scaring me.”

“Ew, don’t call me that.”

Meagon, thankfully, shut the conversation down with that remark. Still, the incessant cues from both Grayleigh and Rotation towards Mike does not really escape her, so she looked up at them a second time and directed her inquiry towards Grayleigh now. “Grayleigh, what’s this about?”

“So, um.” Grayleigh glanced at Rotation, asking for a quick S.O.S.

Thinking he could escape her eyes (see: Meagon was sitting right across him, making it quite… improbable) Rotation just did a quick neck slice gesture, shaking his head slightly. He then covered this gesture up with a fake cough, drawing the attention to him now instead of Grayleigh.

“What are you guys hiding from me again?” Meagon furrowed her brows, attention fully on the three. “Rotation, don’t think I didn’t see you do what you did.”

“Do what?”

Meagon scoffed, hitting Rotation on his head lightly. “You are not gaslighting me like that, child.”

“It’s not gaslighting if I’m being honest,” Rotation countered easily, shrugging as he took another bite of his bread. “Honestly, you should ask Mike and Grayleigh. I mean they seem to be the ones up to no good.”

“Rotation—?!”

“Dude.”

Meagon squinted her eyes, cutting her look between the three. “There’s something you guys are scheming… and I’m not liking it…”

“No, just trust me, Meagon,” Mike said, patting her back. “You’ll see. It’s gonna be cool.”

“I really don’t trust your definition of cool, I hope you know this,” Meagon replied, laughing as she did, though there was a tinge of worry woven in between the chuckles. “Anyway, I’m dropping this because you guys don’t seem to like nor trust me anymore. See you outside if you still care, I guess.”

This immediately made Grayleigh spring up to her feet, trailing closely behind a chuckling Meagon. She was pouting as she chased after her and said, “No, I’m sorry, Meagon! I love you!”

Left alone with Mike, Rotation threw him a questioning look. The former only shrugged.

“Seemed funny to do.”

“Well, yeah, but now we’re going to have to try a lot harder, so thanks.” Rotation stood up, swinging his backpack on his shoulder.

“We don’t, trust me.”

“You have so much unfounded trust in your actions.”

Outside, Grayleigh and Meagon were peacefully chattering away, mostly with Grayleigh buzzing all over Meagon. It went without saying that the younger got her reassurance and that the older was just kidding when she made a “dramatic exit”, which now led to the usual scene.

Mike waved at the two, saying something along the lines of, “Meagon, I’ve decided I don’t hate you,” but that was immediately drowned out by Rotation guffawing when he heard Grayleigh say, “So, Meagon, I’m kind of, like, bored and something… Want to say our birthdays at the same time?”

“Excuse me?” Meagon exclaimed, shock evident in her face—whether it was from Rotation’s sudden burst of laughter or Grayleigh’s abrupt question, none of them knew, including Meagon herself.

“No, I’m sorry,” Grayleigh backed down, sheepish but still giggling. “Let’s all go now! Yippee!”

Meagon shook her head, but nonetheless assented. “Yeah, okay, let’s just gloss over that, I guess.”

Upon walking down the building, they encountered two zombies, which wasn’t all that unusual with a seemingly recent outbreak that gifted them with waves of horde almost every time they were outside at night. The zombies in the building wasn’t anything Rotation couldn’t handle, though, so with him up front and Meagon following closely, they were pretty much set for safety.

Mike and Grayleigh hung back a little, putting the slightest bit of distance between the two that they could whisper to each other comfortably. “So, what was that?”

“Mike, I have to tell you something,” Grayleigh whispered back.

“Yeah?” Mike gulped, cutting his look between the two ahead of them and Grayleigh beside him.

“I was kind of awake last night,” Grayleigh said sheepishly, quietly putting up a peace sign. “I heard about the whole bait-into-admission plan and thought I’d try it. And like, element of surprise, right?”

Mike laughed softly, holding a fist out. “It was awesome.”

Grayleigh bumped her fist against his, grinning widely. “Thanks!” she said, a decibel or two louder than the normal whispering voice. She quickly hushed herself, waving Rotation off who shot them a look, and said quieter, “Thanks. But like, how do we get her now?”

“Y’know, in football,” Mike started, voice moving away from a whisper now, “sometimes it’s tactical to hang back and not pursue the touchdown. There are 11 of you in the field, y’know? Sure, it’d be amazing to outrun everyone, and it was fucking exhilarating to be responsible for a score, but strategy is everything.”

Grayleigh craned her neck to get a better look at Mike, actively getting lost in the sauce and just reminiscing. It placed a soft smile in her face, thinking of the better days with as much tenderness as he; however, his always looked the tiniest bit painful. “So, we like, just have to think more about our strategy, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Mike snapped his fingers. “This is why you’re my favorite, Grayleigh.”

“Aww, you’re my favorite, too!” Grayleigh grinned, walking with more pep in her step.

From up ahead, Meagon spared a glance at the two. She turned to Rotation and gave him a slight smile, the perpetual amusement and exasperation internally clashing whenever the two would orbit around each other for even as short as two seconds.

“I’ve grown used to them at this point, but,” Meagon laughed softly, “they do remind me often of their university life and how they live in a different plane of existence as I had.”

“I was trying to follow Mike’s sport talk and I could not, for the life of me, understand,” Rotation commented, nodding sagely.

“Oh, yeah, football is so… straightforward, when it comes down to its barest bones,” Meagon agreed. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit wrapped in shoulder pads at the end of the day. No offense.”

Rotation snorted. “Yeah, I believe that. It’s just running and tackling other people. Can’t be that fun.”

“For sure,” Meagon said, memories of high school homecoming games that she had watched passively with her friends flashing in her mind. It was fun showing up to heckle the other team and show support in that way, though, so at the very least the spirit of camaraderie was shown in that sense. “On second thought, yeah, I get the fun as an audience member, but not as deeply as they do,” she appended, jutting her thumb backward.

“Huh,” Rotation deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

They let Mike and Grayleigh fill in the silence once more, listening to their talks about the NFL themselves reaching out to his team, but he was apparently apprehensive about accepting whatever offer was placed on the table due to certain circumstances he was undergoing. He left it up in the air hanging, but Meagon knew the insinuation behind that. She knew that Rotation did, as well, and definitely Grayleigh, too.

“Things went awry after that, so it’s a thought that resurfaces every now and then,” Mike concluded, laughing though his story was tragic. “Shit happens all the time. Just happened to land on a pile.”

“Well, that’s one way to put it,” Meagon murmured under her breath.

“Yeah, well, y’know what happens all the time, too, Meagon?” Mike suddenly said, roping her in the conversation. He jogged a little to close the distance between them a bit, leaning forward as he said, “Parties.”

Meagon, instinctually, hit Mike’s face with her palm.

“Ow!”

“Oh shit, sorry, man!” Meagon exclaimed, eyes widening. She turned back, face to face with a frowning Mike. She laughed. “I was surprised!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mike grumbled, massaging his nose. “You know you have to make this up for me.”

“I don’t think I have to, honestly,” Meagon said, “but sure. How?”

“Tell me when your birthday is.”

Rotation had to hold back himself back from hitting someone.

“Bro.”

Mike was looking at Rotation with some sort of smugness on his face, though he couldn’t exactly understand why. This wasn’t going to lead them anywhere; in fact, it would move them further away. They were moving goalposts, but only in the stupid, self-sabotage sense. Not that it was uncharacteristic for them, to be frank.

“What is up with you and birthdays, Jesus Christ,” Meagon murmured, shaking her head. “I’m not telling you because of that, I hope you know this.”

Great.

“You’ll tell me though, right, Meagon?” Grayleigh said, pointless hope swimming in her eyes.

“Nope,” Meagon replied dismissively, popping the p. “Look, we’re getting so sidetracked. If we want to make it there before sundown, let’s pick up our pace.”

Grayleigh wilted, pouting slightly. “Aww… Okay…”

🎂

It was when they reached the docks when another memory flashes in Rotation’s mind. Something a little less heavy, a little more… bait-y.

“Y’know, my birthday’s three days before Halloween.”

“Okay,” Meagon replied easily.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it? I’ve never even experienced a Halloween before,” Rotation continued, examining a fishing rod they found lodged in between planks. “But I’ve seen kids in the richer neighborhood dress up for it. Do you think it’s insensitive that some of the older ones dress up as a zombie?”

Mike laughed at that. “They’re only stupid, if anything.”

“What he said,” Meagon agreed, giggling herself.

“I suppose,” Rotation shrugged. “What holiday is closest to your birthday? Sss. Birthdays.”

“I am not falling for that, Rotation.”

🎂

“The plan might suck.”

Rotation glared at Mike, throwing a pebble at random as Meagon conversed with Snowbird—whom they found hanging around near the bridge, for God knows what reason—not too far away.

“I’ll have you know that that was a suggestion and you enabled it,” Rotation said, “so this isn’t on me.”

“I never said it was, what the fuck,” Mike exclaimed in disbelief, shaking his head. “Still, that was such a weak attempt, dude.”

“Mine? If anything, it was the least suspicious!” Rotation turned to Grayleigh, all quiet sitting on the roof of a dilapidated car and shifted the conversation to her, “Grayleigh over there deadass said she was so bored and asked if they could say their birthdays together.”

“Well,” Grayleigh pouted, “I tried. But the plan does suck. Sorry Rotation. I love you still.”

Rotation heaved a sigh, wordlessly assenting. No matter how many times he turned it over in his head, he knew that they massively failed this attempt and reached the limit for the day, though he didn’t know why he had to carry most of the blame when it was—

Grayleigh, with her stupidly assertive and unsubtle attempt? Or was it Mike, with his even more unsubtle attempt coupled with the hints he dropped earlier on? But then again, Rotation’s was the nail in the coffin and the reason why Meagon was on high alert with their shenanigans currently…

Well. It was hard to tell whose fault it was. They all committed a heavy—stupid—blunder, so it would only be fair if they capped it with a we all made a mistake! and held hands as they sang around a campfire. Besides, it was hard for them to parse through the situation, especially with the thought of asking her normally not crossing their minds at least once.

They’ve grown paranoid the longer they stayed in the city. Who’s to say Meagon wouldn’t be suspicious if they just asked out of nowhere?

“What if we ask—”

“Nope, nope, nope!” Grayleigh immediately cut off. “A surprise party only works if it’s a surprise. That’s the beauty of it!”

“I guess you’re right,” Rotation mumbled, rubbing his nape. “Maybe if we, like, got Nobody and Snowbird in the plan?”

“Dude, Nobody goes in and out like a stray cat so there’s no guarantee what she’ll do. And Snowbird is just old as fuck. What if he gets a heart attack when we do the surprise part?”

Grayleigh giggled. “Yeah, Miss Nobody just does that!” she nodded. “I don’t think Snowbird is that old, though.”

“Is he?” Mike looked behind, watching the said man with crow’s feet on his eyes. “I mean, he does seem pretty active.”

“If anything, maybe he can add more to the surprise element of the surprise,” Rotation added furtively, pinching his chin with his index and thumb. “Maybe he’s worth investing in.”

“I still think he’s real old and decaying. Maybe even decre—”

“Anyway,” Rotation coughed loudly, deliberately cutting Mike off, “I think we should rethink our approach.”

“I agree!” Grayleigh chirped, jumping down from the car. “It’s, like, totally valid that Meagon is kind of, doubting if she should reveal her birthday. If somebody asked me out of nowhere, I would like, be on edge for a long time and overthink it and it would totally foil the surprise party.”

“Yo, you actually make sense,” Rotation remarked, snapping his fingers. “We lowkey need to rethink our plan deeper.”

“So, how do we…?”

They fell into another minute of contemplative silence. It felt like it’d drag on for so long, and Meagon seemed to be wrapping up her conversation with the old man (how they had that much to chat about, none of them knew, but they were thankful nonetheless), so Mike said, “Wait, how about this. And hear me out on it, okay?

“We act normal.”

Grayleigh and Rotation shared a look. For one, the latter didn’t think Mike would be the preaching type; if he’d append that vague statement with something like they should be on their better behavior and something, he would seriously punch his face, no matter how painful that would prove to be. On the other hand, the former thought it had the twang of a leader who would start his speeches with an outrageous hook.

Somehow, all of these thoughts still culminated to a singular, unified thought: We’ll hear you out. “Go on.”

“Okay, so…”

🎂

As the sun started dipping on the horizon, the group found themselves in a rather precarious area; they managed to pivot themselves away from the main crossroads of the city and towards the bridge earlier, but now they were extremely exposed as they’re trekking towards the city once more. On top of that, the area leading towards the residential area had been a hotspot lately. If they were to find themselves in a pinch, it wasn’t really ideal to run towards the area for refuge.

“Well,” Meagon huffed proudly, holding the map out, “it was still a productive journey, at the end of the day.”

Rotation spared a glance behind his shoulder, catching a view of both Grayleigh and Mike idly chatting. He looked back at Meagon, taking a peek at the map. She wasn’t exactly wrong; though he felt like he spent the entire day worrying about birthdays, their map proved otherwise. They started filling it in with more roads and buildings, courtesy of Mike’s precise hands drawing neat lines of varying thickness.

“You know, we should’ve paid the bus a visit,” Rotation said, throwing another glance towards the two—perked up, now, upon hearing the sentence. He subtly coughed, looking back at the road ahead. “It’s not like I miss it or anything, I don’t know. I just feel kind of nostalgic. And angry.”

Meagon snorted, rolling the map carefully. “I get it. It’s like, sponsor me all the fuck you want, fund my studies, but don’t leave me to die out here, what the fuck?”

“Dude, exactly,” Rotation nodded, a little aggressive. “I mean, it makes you wonder… Was this their goal? To kill us?”

“I won’t put it past them,” Meagon said grimly.

“Yikes.”

A soft gush of warm air swooshed past them, rustling their hair softly. Meagon brushed her fingers through her hair, twirling pieces of her fringe that fell in front of her eyes. This kept her somewhat preoccupied, mind swimming with the thoughts of missing shampoo, that is until she heard an exhausting conversation start behind them again.

“No, but remember Janice L?”

“Oh dude, do I?”

Meagon sighed softly. She looked at Rotation with exasperation, who only returned the favor with a slight shake of his head and a shrug.

“Yeah, so remember I’m friends with Janice T, too, right?” Grayleigh said, cheerfully, voice somehow echoing out in the vastness of the empty city. “And, like, Janice T and Michelle P were, like, part of Delta Delta Delta and they were total besties with Janice L, so like, there was this network!”

“Oh my God.”

Rotation laughed, halfheartedly. In his head, he apologized to Meagon, also still halfhearted. He really had no time to sympathize. The truth of the matter was this: the conversation was staged.

“Go on.”

“Okay, so, you know how we probably freaked Meagon out by coming on so strong about the fact that we want to know when her birthday is?” Mike sucked air in, speaking faster than normal. He continued upon Rotation’s and Grayleigh’s quick nod, “Don’t you guys think we’d make her less suspicious if we acted… normal?”

“I mean, how normal are we talking about?” Rotation asked, brows furrowed. “Because if we suddenly became aware that we’re supposed to be normal, things would be unnatural.”

“Rotation’s right.”

“I mean normal. Let’s forget about trying to get Meagon to choke the birthday out and just… plant the idea in her head. Let her reveal it like it’s the most natural thing to do, but that’s only because we’ve been sending subliminal messages.”

Grayleigh’s eyes lit up, catching on quick. “So, like, we can just chat and stuff about what we normally do!”

“Meaning, we’ll hear about Jessicas A through Z again?” Rotation groaned. “If I’m outward about my disdain, how can you be so sure that Meagon isn’t tuning you guys out?”

“Simply because she’s Meagon,” Mike smiled, all teeth. “She’ll act so tired, but she’ll listen, anyway, if not 100% actively. But she’ll still absorb some.”

“I don’t know, dude…”

“Dude, Orphan Boy, trust me. This will not go wrong.”

Rotation glanced at Meagon, who did seem a bit spaced out but not quite enough to be absent. She was active, at least in whatever she was doing in her headspace, because she’d smirk and laugh quietly every now and then. He wasn’t so sure if it was from Grayleigh and Mike’s conversation, considering they’re still on the—for the lack of better terms—premise of their story.

“So, Janice L,” Mike said. “She had that big 21st party, didn’t she? Or was that—?”

Grayleigh skipped, lightly hitting Mike’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re right! She totally did! OMG, I have, like, such a craaaazy story about that!”

“Oh, really? Dude,” Mike laughed. “It was insane though. I mean, 21 bull terriers in a little tuxedo? Adorable.”

“To think I could’ve missed that!” Grayleigh sighed. “Because, like, I was in the middle of an important midterm, but also I cannot miss her birthday, because she was a friend, y’know? And she’s so important, and I know she prepped it for a long time because she’d always Snap me things that appeared in her birthday invitation.”

“Wait, was that the reason why there was a bowtie and an animal shelter in the invitation?!”

“Yeah! And so I was there in the cafeteria, and I was like, chatting with my friends from a course I took the previous sem, because like, I hardly see them anymore, right? So, I was like, Hey, Derek! I haven’t seen you in a while. BTDubs, are you attending Janice L’s party?

“Can you believe it?! He really said, Hi, Grayleigh. I can’t go.”

Mike gasped, a little too overdramatic. “No way.”

“Yes way!” Grayleigh huffed. Without really meaning to, Rotation got engrossed in the story, so he listened in further as she continued, “And so I was like, Derek, you can’t possibly bail! She’s been planning this for so long! But then he told me, Uhh, no, I’ve already RSVP’d a long time ago. Obviously I had to tell Janice L, but then she told me, He didn’t RSVP! He only told me he had plans that day! which was, like, so crazy.”

“Dude, so he was lying?” Mike tsked. “Bro, I was wondering why he wasn’t there.”

“Well, not exactly,” Grayleigh sighed. “I did see his IG story. He was with his girlfriend. It was their third anniversary.”

“That wasn’t Derek, then. Their anniv is the second.”

“Huh? Wasn’t that Chad C?”

“No, Chad C’s guy asked him out on the 26th, not the 25th.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Meagon cussed underneath her breath, drowning the argument Grayleigh and Mike had about Chad C and Derek and their respective partners. She walked faster ahead, dragging Rotation by his wrist as she did. “Rotation, let’s leave. One more mention of Derek and Chad C and I’m feeding them to a horde.”

“Yup,” Rotation nodded, almost forgetting about the plan as the irritation started catching up to him. He managed to snap out, however, and slowed his pace. He said, “Have you ever been to parties?”

Meagon groaned, dropping her grip. “Yes, but I don’t care! There were no Dereks and Chads!” She looked back at their companions, then around their surroundings. They managed to make it towards more familiar roads, easing a bit of her nerves. “Rotation, let’s hurry the fuck up, it’s getting so dark and I fear I don’t have to feed them to the horde myself at this rate.”

“No, I wanna hear about this party though,” Rotation pushed, matching his pace with Meagon’s again. “The most party I’ve ever experienced was, like, I don’t know. What are parties?”

He cringed internally at that question. It was probably unsubtle and definitely stupid. This didn’t bother Meagon, apparently, as she only rolled her eyes and said, “You’re a literal child, you don’t need to know.” Amusement coated her words despite the deadpan expression as she added, “It’s just a bunch of dancing and talking and drinking. I imagine there’s a slight difference if you’re a sister or a brother.”

“Huh,” Rotation answered noncommittally. Then, the hook: “How are birthday parties any different, then?”

“It depends, really,” Meagon shrugged. “But it’s usually still a bunch of dancing and talking and drinking. At least for me and my friends.”

Here it comes, Rotation thought to himself, barely containing the smirk creeping up his lips. The question How about yours? was forming in his mouth, when—

“FUCK!”

“GRAYLEIGH? MIKE?!” Meagon stopped abruptly, promptly turning around to check on their friends.

Fuck. It was the worst timing ever, just when it was about to sink. This feeling vanished almost immediately as he turned around and saw the panicked expressions coating Grayleigh’s and Mike’s faces. Behind them, he saw—

“SHIT! Run!”

Mike didn’t have to be told twice; the last thing Rotation saw was the former dragging Grayleigh by her wrist as they all ran as fast as they could, cutting through alleyways and avoiding overgrown fauna and flora. They weaved through broken-down cars and debris, looking for platforms high enough to protect them temporarily and to escape the abomination: a multi-headed sludge that spews poison on top of zombies running at full speed. The burn in Rotation’s legs were unbearable, but the adrenaline that surged through his body overpowered it.

“I’m gonna try killing it!” Rotation yelled over muddy footsteps and jagged breaths.

“You’ll fucking die!” Meagon yelled back, looking over at him with panic and anger settling on her face. “Or worse, get infected!”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yes, you fucking will!”

“Mike!”

“There’s light!” Mike yelled out, completely drowning out the argument they had. Instinctively, they looked around, managing to spot the area immediately. But— “Fuck, it’s the hostel!”

“No choice! Let’s just hope they accept us in!”

“STELLA! MAGIC! IT’S ME, MEAGON!” Meagon yelled, though she immediately added, “Oh shit, the zombies will probably—AH, FUCK!”

At that statement, a zombie managed to sneak up on her and hit her. In her panic, she put out the light from her lamp and missed a swing. The shaky grip on her sword gave away the unpreparedness she—they, really—still had after all the weeks spent in the city. Thankfully, Rotation was able to cover for her and drove his blade straight in its chest cavity, containing the undead with an unbelievably wet squelch.

Taking a deeper breath and clearing their mind, they managed a sitrep: the sludge was extremely slow, so they were out of its poison’s range. Fast approaching was a horde, and Grayleigh had managed to conceal herself a little behind a bush, her hands gripping on her skillet. Mike also managed to unsheathe his scythe, and with one heavy swing, he took out two of the speedy ones by knocking them away.

Rotation got closer, crouching to avoid the area of the scythe. Though he could spare a bullet or three on the horde, his hands instinctively reached out to his blade, so that was his weapon of choice. Not that anyone could blame him despite its inefficiency compared to the gun; it was something he was used to that saved them a couple of times, more than any of them could count on their ten fingers. With an easy slash, he took down one zombie and the next, oftentimes punctuated by Grayleigh’s skillet and its resounding whack, and Meagon’s own blade cutting through the air.

They were all out of breath when Grayleigh whacked the last of the horde. Mike moved in closer, taking Meagon’s arm to inspect where the zombie hit it, holding a sigh of relief when he saw the light scratch.

Then, they heard another set of clicking and groaning.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Mike muttered underneath his breath, dropping Meagon’s arm rather abrasively as he gripped on his scythe tighter. “When are these guys gonna lay off us?”

“I think the hostel definitely knows now that we’re here, at least,” Grayleigh said airily, grip around her skillet tightening to the point of almost crumpling the handle—if that was even possible.

“Yeah, but they’re assholes, so they’ll let us fight these zombies first before sending assistance,” Mike countered, completely unbiased. Definitely.

“Let’s hope you’re wrong,” Meagon laughed nervously, grip on her hilt loosening a bit out of fear when she saw the new wave closing in. She snapped herself out of it, closing her fists along the hilt tighter, when all of a sudden she heard a steady surge of water flow nearby.

Her neck snapped to look behind her, and from the portion of the building’s walls that slowly grew darker than the rest, was, “THE WATERWAY!”

Mike spared a glance, eyes widening.

“Mike, you’re wrong! Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Wow, okay, way too happy about my mistake there,” Mike deadpanned, but nonetheless dragged Rotation to rush in and swim after everyone else.

🎂

Mike wasn’t normally a grateful person. He thought the things he received were things he deserved. At the moment, however, he was nothing short of grateful when all they found in the rooftop was a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and loose uniform: Nobody.

“Where are the people here?” Mike asked, breathing heavily.

Nobody shrugged. “It was empty when I got here. I heard some rustling not too far out, though, so they’ll probably return by daybreak or before.”

“That’s fine enough,” Mike coughed, wringing his shirt to get rid of the moisture. He looked at the diamond-crested vest he chucked close to his feet, and then at Grayleigh. He shook his head. “Still don’t like it here, for the record.”

“Aww, why not? I kinda like Thomas!” Grayleigh said, shaking her pom-poms to also get rid of the moisture.

“Dude, he’s a lapdog for that Flux guy,” Mike said with disgust. “They’re gonna rip my shirt off when I’m not looking.”

“Whoa, okay,” Rotation butt in, “not really up for that.”

Meagon snorted. “Definitely not. Let’s stay the night here, though.”

“Meagon, they’re gonna rip my shirt off.”

“You’ll have your other shirt underneath, you’re fine,” Meagon sighed. “But I promise you I won’t let that happen. I can bark at them or something.”

“Well, we don’t want them to think we’re a strange group, too, so maybe no,” Mike laughed. “Thanks, though. It’s cool that you’re willing to—okay, you know what, never mind, what I was about to say sounds weird.”

Nobody laughed, understanding the insinuation. “Mike Ro, that’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, okay, I understand that too. I’m barking at you now,” Meagon threatened, immediately making true of that promise. She started barking with an eerily close accuracy, at least to Mike who got reminded of Janice L and her bull terriers, though she stopped immediately as laughter kept interspersing between the barks.

“Girl, that’s such a good impression, I’m, like, obsessed,” Grayleigh gushed, genuinely mesmerized with her jaw slightly dropping and her eyes sparkling.

“It really is,” Mike nodded, a bit terrified but still impressed.

“Look,” Grayleigh giggled, “I can do a duck impression!” She started honking, twang so good it’s almost like they were in the lush pond as the water lilies themselves. Meagon nodded sagely, with Nobody and Mike clapping softly on the side.

“Rotation, what are you good at?” Mike looked at him.

Trying to maneuver back to their initial plan, Rotation stupidly said, “…party horns?”

“Do you know what that sounds like, even?” Mike said, genuinely flabbergasted.

“Dude. Sometimes I think you think I’ve only known the world for ten minutes,” Rotation glared, turning back to the hostel’s makeshift clothesline where he contemplated on hanging his jacket. “I know things, okay. Some I’ve never seen, but I know things. Your stupid rich ass couldn’t even climb until recently.”

“Oookay, now that’s not true,” Mike coughed, approaching Rotation’s line of sight just to flex his biceps. “These things? Me? Not climb?”

Rotation turned to face Mike just to sneer. “Yeah, see, you can’t even formulate sentences properly. How am I supposed to believe that you know climbing since forever?”

“No correlation at all.”

They spent the entire night after that conversation just lounging around and making themselves at home. Meagon and Grayleigh used it as an opportunity to catch up with Nobody, while Rotation and Mike looked at their (one-sided) rival group’s crops. Even though they agreed not to move anything, they harvested a crop or some to add to their meal after solemnly vowing to replant it—if they remembered. Of course, none of them were really too bothered about repaying, since they’d made sure to leave before daybreak upon Mike’s request.

Despite the long day and an even longer one awaiting them, their adrenaline still hadn’t died down, therefore none of them were feeling particularly sleepy. Even after a hearty meal, they all sat around a solitary bed, backs against the frame and heads on the mattress with their eyes wide open and their minds active. They knew they had to recuperate soon, but forcing their eyes close only led back to them being wide awake.

It led them to stargazing. Less stars more sky, though, as even their environment suffered from the outbreak; though there weren’t any human activity rousing the environment, the nature of what the city boasted still lingered and hung around the atmosphere. The environment told the story, as well: broken down tanks, fresh helicopter landings, factories splattered across the map, it wasn’t hard to glean how much pollutants the city produced. It resulted in a dark night sky with hardly anything to see, like a scratch on a translucent surface.

Though in spite of that, the moon still shone like it had all those decades ago.

“Funny how that sticks out,” Rotation commented, moonshine hitting his glasses.

“I know right,” Grayleigh murmured, her head falling on his shoulders.

“It sometimes feels like it’s taunting us,” Mike said, almost angry. His voice remained calm, however. “It’s so unaffected while we’re lapping at puddles to keep ourselves alive.”

“Yeah, I kinda get what you mean,” Meagon laughed, though there was no humor in her voice. She took out her flask, shook it as if to confirm the remaining ounces left, and took a sip. “It’s one of the few reminders of the world that could’ve been. Even then, it’s just a painful one.”

“And it’s probably worse for the people who were here for it,” Nobody added, sighing.

They fell into silence after that comment, their minds immediately wandering to the people they’ve met.

It was in this silence that they look back to the previous weeks and the multitudes they’ve gone through. Without meaning to, the pain and comfort of remembrance lulled them fast asleep.

Grayleigh woke up first. It felt less like waking up and more resurfacing from sinking into cold water; she drew a heavy breath and her muscles started to spasm, her heart racing, her sweat cold. She looked around frantically, sunlight hitting her face painfully. We overstayed our welcome.

But Grayleigh was a people person. She hadn’t any qualms about staying in the hostel, though she couldn’t say the same for the rest of her friends. She looked at either of her sides, a soft smile making its way upon seeing Rotation and Meagon sleep peacefully and, next to Rotation, Mike.

“EEP!”

And in front of her, unfortunately, were Thomas and Mr. Flux.

She wasn’t scared of either of them. She liked Thomas and found Mr. Flux agreeable to an extent. What she was worried about was Mike’s anecdote, and his bedazzled vest that he kept stuffed away in Rotation’s bag that was sprawled on the bed. There was no one to protect him, with everyone fast asleep and Rotation’s head on her shoulder. Even Nobody, in typical Nobody fashion, was nowhere to be found now, so she’d assumed that she was already off to her own adventure.

Thomas met Grayleigh’s eyes, definitely aware of her presence after she yelped. He tapped Mr. Flux’s shoulder twice, his free hand pointing at the group. “Mr. Flux, they’re awake.”

Mr. Flux was an outstanding man, ragged but dignified, with an air of authority around him. He looked like a man who had done nothing but try to survive, even prior to the city. His acknowledgment as he peered closer to the group made Grayleigh curl into herself, intimidated a little because all she thought about was Mike and his stupid shirt.

“We’re, like, so sorry we barged in,” Grayleigh said as quietly as she could, smiling sheepishly as she made eye contact with the esteemed Mr. Flux. “But we were like, chased by a horde and had no choice.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Flux assented, eyes shifting away from Grayleigh and to the rest of her little group. His eyes locked on Mike, a bit distant from the rest, a space between him and Rotation marking Nobody’s earlier presence. “We welcome friends in the hostel.”

“Please don’t steal Mike’s shirt,” Grayleigh immediately followed up, shuffling her body. This somehow rustled Meagon and Rotation awake, rubbing their eyes.

“I’m not gonna,” Flux responded, mischief coating his tongue and eyes, a poorly hidden smirk on his face, if not on purpose. “I was just… looking at your friend.”

“He said you, like, tried to pry it off him and threatened him,” Grayleigh pouted. “You can, like, ask nicely, y’know.”

“I think Mr. Flux did,” Thomas barged in. He knelt on one knee to take a closer look at Mike. He traced the lines of the Capital Uni football team shirt with his eyes, landing on his chest and on the number 15 that slowly peeled away. He noted the steady and rhythmic rise and fall, giving the assurance that he didn’t die suddenly while they were all deep in their REM sleep. “I mean, he’s not wearing the shirt right now, no? No reason to take this shirt off.”

“Oh, because I thought you guys just wanted to see him shirtless,” Meagon laughed, mind still hazy from the sleep.

Thomas just furrowed his eyebrows at this and said nothing in response. He got up, stole one more glance at Mike, and then left to tend to crops and chat with Stella.

Grayleigh and Mr. Flux exchanged a look, with the latter shrugging and following after Thomas.

“Think we can wake Mike up?” Meagon asked, directing the question at Rotation.

“Sure,” Rotation bit back a yawn, shaking Mike’s shoulder less than gently.

“I think we can figure it out today,” Meagon mentioned quietly, tapping Grayleigh twice on her arm. “The—thing. In the big church? The Atropos machine.”

Grayleigh hummed, looking at Meagon. She cocked her head sideward, silently urging her to go on.

“So,” Meagon continued, “we’re close to the big church right now. I… don’t think we can figure figure it out, per se, if we go there, but the tides have been telling me that it’s more or less been a month since Mike, err, stumbled. Down there.

“Strategically speaking, it’d be quite hard to return to, the uhh, bridge area right now because we don’t really have a means to move fast, so if we figure out where these darn hostel people got their horses, it’d be convenient…”

“We can, like, ask them,” Grayleigh replied, looking at Stella and Thomas who were hoisting Magic up.

“Nah,” Meagon snorted. “We’ll figure it out ourselves.”

“But Meagon,” Grayleigh called out to her, “do you think Mike can… handle it?”

Meagon grew quiet, memories of a manic Rotation and a grieving Grayleigh flashing through her mind. Her stomach churned when her mind wandered to the day they found Mike, alive, all banged up. She gulped thickly, remembering the sloppy tourniquet that he somehow managed to give himself, and a tender red that dyed his matted hair. At his yawn, Meagon said, “He will have to. And then we can start focusing on the getting-out-of-here part. Right, Mike?”

“Whuh?”

Meagon laughed. “Right.”

If it weren’t for the expedition that managed to get them down the lower facility safely after Nobody’s suggestion, they wouldn’t have found Mike in whatever state he was in when they saw him.

There was a swirl of uncertainty and—something else—that made Meagon’s stomach hurt when the echo of his footsteps gave him away and they finally saw Mike in his pitiful state. She wasn’t so sure if it was relief, anger, or both; it was probably both. The sharp edges of Ish’s Roghost access card and Nobody’s voice echoing as she read passages of the Roghosts’ involvement in Paradise City rung in her ears when she saw Mike, and in her eyes he morphed into someone with a crisp suit living in comfort on the topmost floor of a high-rise away from the troubles on ground.

The image suited him better than his state of being banged up, pitiful, pale and dying.

Meagon couldn’t help it. She knew that he was Mike—their Mike. She knew him before she knew his father, but she knew their company long before them both. She was familiar with the atrocities it had committed. She was far too long a victim of it before she was a friend.

And how did he survive the fall? He couldn’t have been made of metal. That much would’ve killed someone. Unless the city favored a Roghost…

No. I can’t.

The suspicion and resentment were ugly feelings that mixed into guilt. Though they unanimously agreed with nursing Mike back to health, it never really did repair the strain Meagon caused when she accidentally called him ‘Roghost’ instead of ‘Mike’. Her mouth moved a lot faster than her brain did, on most days. She was bound to step on a landmine; she just didn’t think it would be during a situation with heightened tension.

Somehow, the fabled scientist—Saps—managed to care for Mike as well. He wasn’t a doctor by any means, and neither was Meagon, but they worked side-by-side to their best ability as they poorly recalled their anatomy and physiology classes. It was painful for Saps, being stuck in between a silent war; Mike fuming every time Meagon dipped a cotton ball on his forehead, and Meagon aggressively bandaging his shoulder wounds that verged unsafe territory.

“I was lucky, you know,” Mike said one day, while Rotation and Grayleigh were away with Saps. “I somehow grabbed onto a ledge, which by any means didn’t soften the blow but delayed it. I was out for maybe 12 hours. Then I wake up near a room with a clean bed and various medical supplies. I managed to delay death.”

Meagon listened silently, rearranging the supplies left in the medical kit they pulled out from the lower facilities.

“I’m not a saint, Meagon,” Mike continued. “But I try not to be the devil either.”

“I know,” Meagon replied, quiet. She managed to peel her eyes away from the analgesics and met Mike’s eyes. She realized it was the first time in a month that she looked at his face, in its entirety, without quickly averting her eyes.

He was still a Roghost, that much she couldn’t deny. Chiseled jaw, wide shoulders, and metallic eyes that hardened with time. Was it ever warm, at some point? Meagon didn’t know. She didn’t know a lot of things; about the Roghosts, about the city, about survival, and about the infection.

But at the end of the day, he was still Mike, wasn’t he? She knew as much.

Meagon looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Meagon sighed. “I have to talk to Stella and Magic. You guys stay here for a bit.”

“That’s fine,” Mike waved her off, following her with his eyes as she made a beeline to the two women. He was leaning against the ledge of the rooftop, both elbows propped up. The other two kept silent, peering down from above, and so he started a conversation by saying, “Do I talk about another frat party?”

Rotation and Grayleigh looked at him.

Mike didn’t look back, though he continued, “I’m gonna be honest, the more we talk about parties the more irate I grow. I long for a swig.”

“I can’t believe I’m around someone experiencing beer withdrawals.” Rotation shook his head.

“Dude, no!” Mike defended himself, breaking out of his calculated pose. “It’s just… longing. Okay?”

“Okay, whatever,” Rotation snorted. “I think the holiday strat still works. She feels like a St. Patrick’s baby.”

“Wait, yes, you’re right!” Grayleigh squealed. “She’s, like, so green and rainbow.”

“Is Meagon gay?”

“Am I what now?” Meagon chimed in, cackling. “What the hell are you guys even talking about?”

Rotation simmered, biting down his laugh. Mike looked away, winking at Grayleigh. All yours, he said. And so, she blurted out, “Pride march!”

“Oh?”

“You know, we had to, like, organize one ourselves because Capital Uni was being so oppressive about it, and we had so many gay sisters!”

Meagon cackled even harder at that, making laughter spill out from Rotation as well. “There’s a very thin line between a convent and a sorority, huh?” she commented in between giggles. “Gay sisters.”

Grayleigh laughed at that statement, doubling down. “Yes, girl!” She wiped tears from her eyes, looking at Meagon’s eyes. “We would like, encourage people to be open about themselves because it’s so important to be honest with yourself, you know? And love is love and I love seeing my girls love other girls and being true to themselves!”

“That’s very admirable, Grayleigh,” Meagon replied sincerely, a tender smile lingering in her lips. “It’s great that you guys stand up for each other.”

“Tri-Delta is a wokerority,” Mike agreed, nodding sagely. “I beat up multiple homophobes in my time.”

“Wow,” Rotation deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence, looking at each other as the morning wind howled over them, unsure what to do next. It’s Rotation that broke this silence by saying, “So are we just going to have a standoff here?”

🎂

“It’s not too late to use the waterway!”

Mike looked up at Magic, snickering boyishly. He waved at her grandly, shaking his head slightly. “Thanks, we’re good!”

“Really?!”

“Let’s just slide down,” Mike muttered underneath his breath, jumping down from one handle to another, pointedly ignoring Magic now. “I need to get out of this creepy building.”

“Why do you hate kindness?” Grayleigh pouted.

“I don’t,” Mike said, defensively. “It’s just… the hostel. They’re them.”

While Meagon and Rotation agreed to an extent—they really did not like Flux all that much—they stayed quiet, for the sake of Grayleigh who seemed to be carrying their group’s kindness all by herself. As such, they broke into their usual pairs—Meagon and Mike, Grayleigh and Rotation—as soon as they touched the ground.

“So, where are we headed?”

“I think we should restock while we’re here,” Meagon mentioned, fishing around her duffle. “We’re running out of bread and protein. By that I mean just fish.”

“Bet,” Rotation nodded. They started heading towards the docks, deeming the open sea more beneficial. Though the apartment was closer to the Atropos, the fish was clearly of bigger importance.

Rotation immediately walked towards the fishing rod that he left leaning against the railing, buckling slightly under its weight. The sea was rather calm that day, like most things were; when you’re surrounded by death and the undead, nature did its absolute best to try and provide a sense of comfort.

While he was busy looking at his rod, the rest of his companions went to work, as well; Meagon unlatched the portion of the yacht that they, somehow, safely disassembled to dump dirt on, which became their mini-farming area. Mike worked with her and started crushing bones, meanwhile Grayleigh took off her cardigan to go bare-hand fishing. Rotation sheepishly jogged towards the two on board, helping with the seeds.

They worked harmoniously in silence, the sea crashing to shore providing the better background music. Occasionally, they would hear Grayleigh shout updates which eased their minds.

“Y’know,” Rotation suddenly said a few minutes in, “Ve—my friend and I used to think about fishing.” He sprinkled the crushed bones—bone meal—on the crop, crouching in front of the dirt patch. “There were tons of contaminated water around us, but we’d read about camping and survival stuff. We thought that since we’d survived our conditions, surely we can survive being out in the wilderness and just, y’know, collecting food and stuff.

“We tried,” he simpered, looking back up at his friends. “We didn’t really think that far ahead and almost drowned in the river several blocks away from what we called home. That’s how we learned to swim.”

Mike crouched next to him, sprinkling bone meal on the soil and jumping a bit from the sudden growth. He pointedly ignored Meagon’s mischievous look and said, “I tried fishing once in high school. I got so scared at the thought of a freshwater crocodile getting lured in instead of, like, bass or something.”

“You went fishing in crocodile-infested waters?”

“It probably wasn’t, but hey,” Mike shrugged, “you never know.”

“You can know, actually. They put signs up and stuff.”

“You can know, actually,” Mike mimicked, making a face right after. It was hard to remember sometimes that he’s a good 4 to 5 years older than Rotation.

“All right, now you’re just being annoying,” Rotation shoved Mike away, though it backfired and he tumbled instead from how sturdy the latter was. This put a scowl on the former’s face. “Dude, you’re freakishly sturdy. It’s so disgusting.”

“Aww, don’t worry, Orphan Boy,” Mike cooed, “I’ll introduce you to gymming when we get out of here.”

“W bodybuilding!” Grayleigh managed to say, swimming up close to the gangway. She threw a whopping amount of four fishes on the bucket they placed for that sole purpose, and by the moment they turned to look at her, she was already diving right back in.

“Man, Grayleigh’s fucking metal,” Meagon commented, a bit absentminded.

“Definitely,” Mike agreed, now completely neglecting his farming job to chat. He does that a lot.

“True,” Rotation, surprisingly, agreed as well. “Does she act the same in uni?”

“Oh, she does,” Mike nodded.

“Do people, like, hate her? Or something?” Rotation asked, voice small and teetering into some sort of sheepishness.

Mike looked at the crown of Rotation’s head, then at Meagon. The latter only shrugged, so he said, “Nah, she’s generally well-liked.” He stared out at the scenery before them, slowly understanding the younger’s shame. “She’s, you know, Grayleigh. She usually means well most of the time.”

“I mean, I know that,” Rotation coughed, turning away.

“I’m pretty sure she had almost everyone at her birthday party,” Mike recounted. Rotation perked up, his head almost snapping with how quick he was to look back; however, Mike was genuinely just reminiscing, so he continued, “There were some nerds—I mean, geniuses in that party that I normally wouldn’t see. They probably attended a few, just not the ones we host. They’d steer clear of me for some reason.”

You’re a jock and a Roghost, Meagon thought, uprooting a potato. That’s probably why. She didn’t say it out loud, though, knowing who Mike truly was: a man who was more than the stereotype he (unfortunately) fulfilled from time to time.

“That’s probably because you call them nerds,” Rotation pointed out.

“Okay, nerd,” Mike rolled his eyes. Out of boredom, he checked on their crops and the bag. “Meagon, you think that’s enough?”

“Probably,” Meagon murmured, scattering wheat seeds after being done with their root crops, almost mechanically at this point. “I’m just trying to stock up on some bread… A sandwich might be good… Even if it’s just, like, pure slop. Slop sandwich can be good sandwich. It’s an elevated type of meal in these circumstances…”

“Yeah, I think we can spare a mutton or two,” Mike said, standing up to help her with the wheat seeds. “It’d probably be disproportionate and dry as fuck with no spread, but I do miss sandwiches.”

“Would’ve been nice if chickens survived somehow,” Meagon sighed, slumping against the rake the yacht somehow had that’s became her emotional support. “I fucking miss mayonnaise. I wonder if mashed potato with just water and potato would substitute it well enough.”

“I… am glad for the provisions, Meagon, really,” Mike said slowly, sprinkling bone meal on the wheat. No one really questioned how it compresses months-long growth into mere hours, but this was also the city overrun with zombies that understood them sometimes that also housed a machine that could rid them of an infection, so everybody stopped questioning it two weeks in. “But I think our stomach’s gotten used to eating bread and vegetable and fish. We can use the meat for… celebratory purposes.”

Rotation doesn’t miss the look Mike threw at him. He said, “Yeah, celebrations.” Then, somehow, blanked out and started staring emptily at Meagon.

For a second, he expected to see a visage behind Meagon. Finding none, he just seemed… expectant.

“We’ll leave before Halloween, don’t worry,” Meagon waved him off, certain about that uncertainty. “Unless you guys’ parents celebrate their anniversary any time soon, you can have a celebration. Or, uh,” she looked at Rotation awkwardly. “Sorry.” She cut her look between Mike and Rotation, settling on the former, then added, “Sorry, too? I think?”

“…shut up.”

“You’re cool. The old man sucks.”

They fell in silence once more, tending to crops and watching Grayleigh fishing from a distance. It broke occasionally with passive comments about the crops or from Mike getting the urge to beat the dead horse for the umpteenth time; though perhaps, this time, the horse was on life support as he apparently felt Thomas’ eyes practically stripping him when they were in the hostel earlier.

“They’re a bunch of vultures, I swear,” Mike whined, sprinkling the bone meal in a particularly brash manner. “I’m living out of spite. Though if I die—”

“Nope, we’re not having this talk,” Meagon hit Mike on his head lightly, squeezing his crown. “You are not dying, and neither am I nor are Rotation and Grayleigh.”

“Yes, Meagon, no death talks,” Mike repeated in a singsong, causing her to hit him again. “Ow, dude, stop that.”

Meagon snickered, but didn’t say anything. And as if on cue, Grayleigh returned with more fish, forcing Mike to swallow down another complaint.

“I think I, like, fished a lot less today,” Grayleigh said, breathing heavily as she hoisted herself up to sit on the dock.

“Dude, you’re amazing,” Mike immediately said, standing up to hand her back her cardigan. “Four fish is better than no fish.”

“Four multiplied by, like, twelve at that,” Meagon added. “You’re good, Grayleigh. We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Aww, Meagon!” Grayleigh shrilled, maintaining a safe distance—on account of her being wet—but still making gestures that expressed her appreciation and love. “You’re, like, seriously my best friend and I love you.”

Meagon smiled softly, wordlessly combing Grayleigh’s wet hair with her fingers. She promptly moved on to the grill they kept on deck, starting a fire to cook the fish that would become their rations for the week. That got Rotation started on their vegetables, as well, vacuum sealing it to the best of his abilities; a skill he picked up in 0-1 from listening around.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it did enough to prolong the longevity of their food for at least three more days. They decided that it was more economic and practical since they did lose a bunch of their food when they were on the run, anyway, so it was best to drop something edible for whoever would come across the item rather than have it decomposing alongside the undead. This idea after long deliberation and three months of survival; from picking up behaviors and recognizing patterns. As it stood, they were all acquainted enough with how to live in the city that Meagon and Rotation learned to keep their guns tucked away dealing with zombies, having picked up—or honed—the skills in mid-to-short range combat.

It was almost cohabitation, though it wasn’t really transactional. At some point, they’d just learned to accept that Ish—bless Meagon—was still wandering freely somewhere. Only fate could tell whether or not their paths were meant to cross again, or if it ended at the key. The point was that for most of them, they never really had to scrape by in order to ensure food in their mouths. The city, alive for all its death, pushed them to their most instinctive selves.

Meagon hadn’t had the time to sit with these realizations lately. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she’d drifted away from searching for traces of her mother. Instead, hoping to preserve the lives of these people—the people she’s grown to care for—became her priority.

Life in the city be damned. She hoped to get out with theirs intact.

“Yo, I think we’re good and ready to head out,” Rotation’s voice calling broke her out of her reverie. She looked at him extinguishing the fire from the grill, at Grayleigh mostly dry, and at Mike packing up. She had drifted away mentally longer than she had expected.

“Yeah, okay, let’s set out while the sun’s still mostly up,” Meagon agreed. She secured her items, accepting the ration that Rotation set aside for her, and jumped down onto the docks to gaze at the sky. She walked ways ahead of them, coming to an abrupt halt and staring at a random cloud in the sky, getting lost in her own train of thoughts. She did that a lot.

Taking advantage of this, the three reconvened. Mike was first to say, “I hate to say this about my own genius, but I don’t think the plan is working.”

“Dude, you had a billion openings,” Rotation pointed out. “You didn’t take a single of them.”

“Says the guy who spaced out stupidly after I provided you with a good segue point,” Mike retorted. “We both suck, dude, let’s just face it.”

“Wait, guys, let’s not fight,” Grayleigh mediated, physically coming in between them. She grinned assuredly. “Let me take the lead this time.”

Mike and Rotation looked at each other, feeling lighter. If they were in those vintage cartoon shows that Mike loved watching, a giant, shared lightbulb would have popped up on top of their heads in unison as they reached a brilliant-yet-obvious idea.

Grayleigh was, as it stood, the closest to Meagon currently, emotionally speaking. After that period of time when they’d constantly get separated, it was Grayleigh who stuck by Meagon the most and vice versa. Although Mike’s recovery period was decidedly longer than their separation, the cracks between their relationship with Meagon started showing the moment they lost each other.

Absence made the heart grow fonder, corny as it may sound; Grayleigh would proclaim, confidently at that, that Meagon did care for all of them as deeply as they think she only did for her. But still, the trust wasn’t that easy to build.

Grayleigh already had an edge against them when it came to that.

“Y’know what,” Rotation said, “I trust you.”

Mike gave Grayleigh a thumbs up. “Yeah, dude. You can do it!”

“Yay! I won’t let you down!”

While they packed their things to follow Meagon, Mike and Rotation both had the same thought in mind: Why didn’t we do this in the first place?

🎂

Church architecture wasn’t something either of the four actively thought about. Still, there was something quite unsettling about a dilapidated parish: from the outside, it looked perfectly fine and upright. But once you stepped in, the decay was more apparent than you’d see in the exterior. From the dusty pews, a stream of afternoon sunlight encased the altar and the lectern. The ceiling and floor all around the four corners were wrapped in invasive vines, snaking along to wrap the length of the beams that revealed itself from the collapsed structure. Only the pulpit maintained a semblance of normalcy, at least from the barely-green fabric that laid on top of the wood that told the story of when the infection broke out. Ordinary time in the Catholic church’s calendar.

But, perhaps the strangest part yet, the crucifix was left untouched. It merely stared down at everything from where it was.

Grayleigh was raised Roman Catholic, and she remained devoutly so. The practice of doing the sign of the cross whenever she’d come across churches was so deeply ingrained that, upon stumbling across the church, she’d instinctively put her fingers up to her forehead.

She did seem to be deep in prayer at the moment, though, Mike thought. He watched as the cheerleader was kneeling on the “kneeler thing” of the pew, with her forehead down to her clasped hands, lips barely moving as she recited a prayer, words leaving her mouth almost soundlessly.

Mike didn’t know what any of it meant. He wasn’t raised as anything at all, really, but at some point, he did try to blend in; he mimicked the people around him, put his fingers to his forehead whenever he saw people do, not really understanding the significance of any of it. He knew of prayers and chants, even knew of God. He didn’t know God, though.

And if Grayleigh does, then does he? he thought, mind wandering to cranky, old Jonathan.

At Grayleigh’s second sign of the cross—probably finished praying—Meagon looked at Mike. Gently, she said, “Are you ready to descend, Mike?”

Mike tried to laugh. What came out instead was a shaky breath and an awkward smile. He felt a phantom pain shot up in his head, and he tried not to show it, but he ended up wincing. In his embarrassment, he looked away and said, “I’ll manage.”

He didn’t even look when he felt someone’s warm and assuring hand squeezing his. He tried to hold back his tears when Meagon said, “We don’t have to, you know. I… I know I was being an asshole to you some couple weeks back, and I regret that, I truly do. I know you’re not your father, and I’m confident that Roghost is just an inescapable name.

“Mike, you don’t have to prove anything to him, y’know? Take control of your life. We’ll be here for you. Machine be damned. We don’t have to check this.”

Mike chuckled, sound devoid of happiness. “I know that. Deep in my heart, I know that. But I still want to prove to him that I’m not a fuck-up, you see? I also want him to say that he’s proud of me, for once,” he sighed, squeezing back. Their hands detangled, and he leaned against the pew. Facing Meagon, he threw her a half smile. “Let God be my witness, though, right?”

“For what?” Meagon knit her eyebrows together in confusion.

“My confession,” Mike sighed, looking at the crucifix. “All of my sins. My life.”

“Don’t say that,” Grayleigh said, voice shaking. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.”

“Oh shit,” Mike whispered underneath his breath. In a louder voice, he said, “Dude, I’m not, trust me. A touch with death is all I needed to know that I don’t quite like it. And I need to outlive my pathetic excuse of a father.”

Rotation coughed. “He’ll die sooner or later. Maybe sooner. Trust me.”

“What does that—”

“Meagon has been raring to go,” Rotation laughed, looking at the woman next to Mike. “If she doesn’t get him, then a strange and powerful divine intervention will give him an incurable illness right about now.”

“God be my witness,” Meagon echoed with a sage nod, accent turning Southern. They shared laughter over this.

“For what it’s worth, I still think it’s worth venturing and poking around the facility,” Mike proclaimed once the laughter died down. He stood up to stretch, looked at the entrance of the basement from where they were. “I don’t think it’s gonna be much of a problem now.”

“You a hundred percent sure about that?”

“Yup.”

“All right, then.”

🎂

The flickering of the overhead lights framed Rotation’s wounds with more horror than it actually held. Mike actually felt a sense of nostalgia being in the same room he crawled in when he fell down, though it was a lot more lighthearted this time around.

It was hard to hold his laughter back.

“Dude,” Rotation groaned, trying to evade the clean washcloth pressed against his cheek that was dipped in antiseptics. “I told you it wasn’t—OW! You did that on purpose!”

“You weren’t being fucking careful!” Meagon yelled back, heart thumping wildly against her chest. “What would I have done, huh, Rotation? You guys were so busy dicking around you weren’t looking! Be glad that your reflexes are quick and you’re alive, because Jesus fucking Christ, that fucking scared the shit out of me!” She pressed the cloth harshly against his cheek once more, on purpose, glaring at him. “Now stay still.”

Mike looked away, avoiding eye contact with Grayleigh in fear of bursting out loud in laughter and incurring Meagon’s wrath again. He knew the severity of the heart attack they gave both of their companions, and while he felt a shred of guilt, he still felt like laughing.

For the second time, one of them almost died on the steps.

It went like this: Mike was descending slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time with Rotation trailing closely behind him on their way to the Atropos machine. They understood, considering the situation and memories of the place they both had. Meagon and Grayleigh went ahead of them, mostly to gently guide them and to show them that the path was safe.

Taking it as an opportunity, Grayleigh opened up the conversation by saying, “Meagon, have you ever prepared a gift for your mom?”

Meagon took a good look at Grayleigh, suspicious. However, she started to recall the conversation they had some nights ago on the rooftop, which dispelled it a bit, so she said, “Yeah. I’ve always prepared gifts for her. Even when she… disappeared.”

“Oh,” Grayleigh remarked. Quickly, she added, “What do you usually give her?”

“I told Rotation I wasn’t a baker,” Meagon smiled, “but that’s not the complete truth. I do bake, but only once a year. For Mom’s birthday. She never told me what her favorite flavor was, so I’d just make some bullshit based on what I had in hand.” She laughed fondly at that memory, though she started tearing up. She looked at Grayleigh, tears still welling her eyes, and gave a soft smile. “I think what matters the most is the effort you pour in. I sure as hell would be happy if my kid gave me a shitty doodle or something—just, you know, something you can tell they put effort into making.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept any birthday present from us?” Grayleigh segued smoothly, cheekily, resting her chin on Meagon’s shoulder. She stood on her tiptoes, grinning so wide that Meagon just can’t help but giggle.

“I guess that depends, Mike is pretty rich,” Meagon joked, thinking about it. “Maybe I’m gonna ask him to send me to med school. That’s an acceptable gift.”

Grayleigh laughed, turning to latch onto Meagon’s arms as she heard Rotation and Mike’s banters grow quieter, though they now sounded a lot closer. She said, “Yes girl, drain his dad’s money! I’ll even give you some of mine as well.”

“Grayleigh, I’m kidding, you guys don’t have to,” Meagon immediately followed up, chuckling. “I mean, hypothetically, I guess yeah. Surely we’re already out of the city once my birthday rolls around.”

“Oh? When is it?”

Meagon looked behind her shoulder, her vigilance at an all time high. She raised an eyebrow when she realized the silence from behind them, finding both Rotation and Mike crouched down, eavesdropping. As such, she decided to turn to Grayleigh and whisper her answer.

In an attempt to listen in, Rotation leaned forward to catch at least a syllable.

Mike, apparently, thought of the same thing.

It happened way too fast; as soon as they did, Mike’s foot slipped and accidentally kicked the back of Rotation’s legs causing his knees to buckle and give out. He fell forward, Mike’s voice caught in his throat when he saw Rotation’s torso fall in between the gaps before the younger man managed to grab onto the ledge below them.

Seeing Rotation’s trembling limbs, Mike rushed forward to hold on to his legs. Involuntarily, he yelled out, “Oh shit!”

Mike helped him up, though Rotation was also already pushing himself up. That additional force made his body graze the side of the ledge, making him sustain the wounds and cuts he had now.

Meagon and Grayleigh whipped their heads back immediately, and upon seeing the situation, Meagon yelled, “ROTATION!”

And as if her body moved on its own, Meagon’s legs twitched to jump down from the ledge she was on. Thankfully, Grayleigh managed to hold her back as she was already latching on her arms, anyway, though she had to stop herself from yelling and adding to the stress.

Which brought them to the present.

“I’m sorry we were dicking around,” Rotation sighed, defeated. He winced as Meagon dabbed the cloth on his cheek once more, but not really protesting now.

“Why were you guys eavesdropping, anyway?” Meagon huffed, hand gentler and lighter now. “Actually, why are you guys being so weird lately? Are you selling me off? Am I about to be fucking betrayed right now, because I’m telling you, I’ll back down myself and just go frolick with Flux and Thomas or some shit.”

“Betrayal? What?” Mike chimed in. Both Rotation and Meagon turned their heads to face him, making him raise both of his hands. “That’s just nuts, dude, why would you think that?”

“You know you just sound more suspicious when you say that,” Rotation pointed out.

“Thanks, Rotation.”

“It’s not like I don’t… trust the two of you boys,” Meagon started off, placing the cloth elsewhere and scouring through the first-aid kit she found, “but you suddenly went so fucking quiet that it just became awkward. It’s like I’m announcing my birthday like it’s some sort of PSA or something.” She laughed, fishing a bandage out.

“Well…” Greyleigh started awkwardly, fiddling with her fingers.

“Well?”

“We did… kind of… wanted to know…” Grayleigh said slowly, pressing her back harder against the wall. “Don’t worry, Queen, we aren’t using it for mean things!”

“Yeah, what Grayleigh said,” Mike agreed with a nod. “It’s just… uhh… Rotation.”

Rotation shot Mike a glare. Meagon noticed this, furrowed her eyebrows. She looked at Rotation and gently said, “Is this because I told you I don’t celebrate my birthday?”

Rotation looked away, shy. “I didn’t like that, dude. It’s like,” he grumbled underneath his breath, looking even further away.

“Say that again?”

“I said, it doesn’t feel right that you don’t celebrate yourself,” he said louder, somehow getting the courage to face Meagon. “I just think you kind of deserve cake, too. I guess.”

“Awwwww, Rotation,” Meagon cooed, though it’s in part mocking. The other part of it is, in fact, sincere. “You really don’t have to, I promise!”

“No, Meagon, you’re a queen and a star and you’re my favorite person ever and you have to be celebrated!” Grayleigh quickly added, scooting close to her and giving her a hug from behind. “I love you so much so we must celebrate your birthday. It’s your day!”

“Yeah, like,” Mike scratched his nape, “I get the whole non-celebration thing. I do mine, but it always feels shallow. But you’re… Meagon. You’ve helped out more people than you think. Of all people, you deserve the non-celebration the least.”

“Awww, guys,” Meagon repeated, laughing, though there were now tears welling her eyes. “I’m speechless. I didn’t think… you were thinking about that the whole time,” she said with a small smile. “But I am serious, though, it’s… nothing to me. Really.”

“Gah, stop saying that!” Mike protested. “We’ll celebrate it. Okay?”

“I mean, if you wanna,” Meagon shook her head, smiling. She wiped her tears, then asked, “Why didn’t you guys just ask me to my face, anyway? I wouldn’t have minded.”

They all looked at Rotation, who looked away. Wordlessly, Meagon understood.

A month later.

As it turns out, you can never revive what’s already dead.

Meagon accepted, long enough to be considered “a long time ago” now, that her mother is gone. She knew this the moment she pursued lab work, when she decided to dye her hair with a thick balayage, and when the red lipstick that sat on their shared vanity started gathering dust.

She doesn’t really know what part of grief allowed her to believe in finding remnants of her, almost definitive. It’s probably from knowing her mother, and knowing that she won’t back down without a fight. She also liked to believe that if it weren’t for this unwavering belief, her mother wouldn’t have left her a note.

The note that made her accept. The note that, internally, made her think that she’s accomplished what she had wanted to when she accepted the offer to come here.

Accepting someone’s death fully, after a long time, is a weird kind of solemnity.

“Meagon,” Mike chimed in, popping her thought bubble. “Would you rather sweat through your eyes or cry through all your pores?”

“Pores,” Meagon answered way too quickly, casting a sideward glance at her companion as they walked through the hallways for their nightly routine check, and quite possibly their last. The thought of that made her chest swell. “We sweat all the time, but we don’t cry often.”

“Okay, but since you cry through your pores you’ll have crazy dry eyes now because there’s no self-lubricant,” Mike pointed out.

“Wait, so I also lose all the properties sustaining my eye health?” Meagon snorted. “Then I choose sweat.”

“Okay, then—”

“For the record, it won’t make much difference. The sweat will just cool my eyes down instead of the usual sensation,” Meagon cut in, smirking in victory.

“Stupid STEM kids,” Mike narrowed his eyes. He quickly got over it, however, and said, “Okay, how about this. Would you rather eat dinner with zomb-Ish or blow up the ci— Wait.”

At that sudden halt, Meagon froze up and upped her vigilance. She didn’t know what they were stopping for, as she merely heard an empty howling of the dead nighttime. She looked at Mike, worry coating her face.

“What are we—WHOA!”

“SURPRISE!”

The door busted open from the inside, revealing Grayleigh, Rotation, and Nobody with a party popper. Snowbird was, for some reason, also standing there with them, a proud look on his face as he looked at the confetti fly in the air.

The room looked the same as usual, just the slightest bit cleaner and prettier, though Meagon should’ve been clued in when an unusual stream of warm light spilled through the cracks of the door even when they were still a few steps away. From the ceiling hung unusually clean pieces of cloth carefully stitched together; embroidered on this Frankenstein of a banner was her name, albeit a little clumsily. On the table was the usual, plated to look festive, topped with slices of mutton.

Meagon had her mouth ajar. Her eyes darted to each corner, looking at each of her friends in their eyes, then at the table; then, she’d look at the banner again, and laugh at the ‘E’ stitched backwards. “Guys.”

“So,” Rotation said.

“So,” Nobody echoed, giggling.

“They asked for my help,” Snowbird chimed in. “They wanted to make their own party popper, one that was safe but still had the same explosion effect. I missed that last part initially, so if you find TNT detonators somewhere in your building, you’re safe, I have the TNT with me.”

“Hello?!” Meagon exclaimed, closing the distance between them. She placed her hands on either sides of his shoulder, almost towering over the old man. “Snow, what’s—”

“Meagon, get this,” Mike said giddily, gesturing towards the three—or, now that Meagon looked closely, behind them. She craned her neck to see what he was hiding, but Rotation and Nobody were faster. “So, we managed to pull something together.”

“He even swallowed down his pride and talked to Thomas,” Rotation added. “It took him a long, long time and that’s why this didn’t happen until now.”

Mike narrowed his eyes, kicking Rotation lightly on his calf. “Anyway. We also asked for Jonathan’s help for this. Grayleigh?”

Grayleigh reached over behind them, carefully carrying a box over to show to Meagon. The latter drew in a breath.

“Should we—?”

“Nah, I don’t think I want to.”

“But it’s lowkey important…”

“Let’s not.”

Meagon laughed, shaking her head at the barely-contained squabble unfolding in front of her. All the while, Grayleigh still managed to hold the cake upright, allowing Meagon to take a good look at it.

It looked different from what Meagon was used to all those years ago. It looked dry, more haphazardly decorated and unprofessionally iced on. Much like the banner, the ‘HBD’ on the cake was crooked, the slices of apple of varying sizes.

It still warmed Meagon’s heart. Of course, it did; from the moment she stepped foot inside the room and saw their happy and anticipatory faces, she felt overwhelmed by happiness and love.

She didn’t notice the tears already spilling from her eyes until she heard, for the first time in a long time, an excited and loud happy birthday.