Being Human || Lashton AU - boyxboy

chapter seven.

a.i.

When the kid finished explaining himself to me, he fell asleep in the backseat, half in my lap, half out. I didn't say anything once he'd finished speaking, just lolled my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, and when I opened them a minute or so later, his legs were sprawled across my lap, his head leaned against the window, and he was asleep. I wanted to move, to be productive because I hated sitting with my thumbs up my ass during the apocalypse, but his torso was still barren aside from the bandages wound tightly around him, and I thought that maybe the kid deserved a small break.

I tug off the raggedy maroon flannel hanging off my frame, throwing it over his naked torso. It's a bit chilly outside, it being the middle of October in Indiana and all, and surely, low body temperature is no way to ward off infections. Least I can do, really.

I eye the green, glowing numbers on his watch that say 4:23pm, and allow myself to lean my head back and close my eyes. The first break I've allowed myself in 181 days. I figure the kid could sleep for hours, and it wouldn't do any harm for me to sleep the day off. The long, hard, stressful day, of killing a kid and fighting with another. My chest feels heavy as I drift off.

*

When I wake up, I find that the kid's already beaten me to it. He's leaning on the door on the other side of the vehicle, his legs still in my lap, eyes on me, not averting his gaze when I make eye contact with him. He's wearing the flannel I threw around him earlier, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, none of the buttons buttoned. There's a ghost of a smile on his face, like there's a joke I'm not in on, but I'm sure it's nothing. His hair's in disarray, tufts of it all over the place, and I can't help but laugh a bit at his disheveled appearance. He looks at me like I must've looked at him--like I didn't get the joke.

I reach over and tousle his already messy hair, shooting him a sarcastic smile while he pouted at my action, before climbing out of the car. I walk over to the half-assed fire pit I made when I stopped here a few weeks prior and kneel down in front of it. It takes five minutes, some old newspaper, wood, and a lighter, and then we have a small but sufficient fire going.

I didn't check his watch when I woke up, so perhaps it's only been half an hour; however, I find it more plausible that I've slept nearly all the way through the night, since it's almost pitch black outside despite the full moon and my car lights turned on by the opening of a door.

I see his head of sandy blond hair pop up from behind the car, and when he rounds the front over to the fire, I can see that he's buttoned the flannel. It looks far better on him than it ever did on me. It suits him better, too--better than that ridiculous dress shirt I found him in. He wanders over to me with his hands tucked into his pockets before taking a seat by my side on the ground. His arm presses against mine, and his body heat mixed with the stuffy, hot heat of the fire warms me in the all-over-and-inside-out kind of way. It's nice. I'd never admit it, but it's nice.

"Can I ask you a question?" he starts, and I wish he would just stop with all the questions, all the stupid fucking questions that bring me back to darker places that I don't want to be in. I wish he would just leave me alone like I've done for him.

However, when I look over at him, he's already looking at me, biting softly on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling that light blue color that keeps managing to dig its way under my skin. His eyes sparkle and his arm brushes against mine once more and I find myself nodding without even thinking about it. He smiles gently at me before continuing.

"Why are you here?" he asks, and I'm not quite sure what he means by it. Does he mean it like, why are we all here? What is my purpose on this Earth? Or is he asking what my business in East Bumfuck, Indiana is? "Like, why didn't you go to one of the refuges when they opened?" he clarifies, but he won't look at me. I wish he would look at me when he spoke to me.