These Different Times (Nick Clark FF)

19.

Killing someone, wait, no. Killing an infected, felt strange. I hadn't expected to feel like that. I thought it'd be fine. That I'd be fine.

But no, I felt guilty. For what? I had no idea. Like Seth had said, they're not alive.

I stayed rooted to the spot I was stood in, staring at the gap in the fence, which was soon filled with another infected.

"Don't worry," Seth murmured, taking the crowbar from me, "This, the killing? It'll get easier."

I nodded, stepping back before turning to return to the house but then thought against it, "Hey Seth? What's that building by your house?"

"It's the souvenir shop."

"Is it unlocked?"

"I think so," he nodded, "Why?"

"I don't know," I called over my shoulder, "I might go check it out. Grab a postcard or two."

The outside of the shop looked as if it had been painted. I saw that there was a notice board with fliers tacked to it and on one of them, a birdwatching group, there was a familiar drawing on the white paper.

The heart Matt drew for Alicia.

I began tracing it with my fingertip and being so focused on tracing it perfectly, I didn't even register anyone coming up behind me until someone crashed into my back, their arms wrapping around my waist.

"Hi, Beautiful."

"Dammit," I breathed, placing my hand over my heart and looked over my shoulder at a grinning Nick, "Don't do that."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "But hey, gets you back for that day in the pool."

I rolled my eyes. I guess he was right.

He had a grin on his face, "What are you doing out here?"

I shrugged, "'m going exploring."

He hummed and took my hand, "In here?"

I nodded, following him into the small shop, nose wrinkling at both the cheesy shit on the walls and the stale smell that was lingering in the air.

"Hey," Nick got my attention again while I was flicking through postcards, "Look at this. You think it's a good look for me?"

Looking over my shoulder, I started laughing at the sight of the large tourist sunglasses he had on, along with a ridiculous hat.

I started fanning myself with the cards in my hands and fell dramatically against the table behind me, "My, my. I do not know how I'm going to keep myself from ripping those off you."

He let out a playful growl and rushed forward, lifting me onto the table, his hands resting on either side of my thighs and I watched his face become a little more serious.

"What?" I murmured as he stared at me intently, reaching my hand up so I could gently stroke the creases on his forehead, "What's the matter?"

"Are you okay?" he asked, "I feel as if I, sorry we, haven't talked about it."

"About what?"

"Tay,"

I sighed and hopped off the table; focusing my attention on the sea in the distance. "I don't know," I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest, "I'm sad. Of course I am. Then sometimes I'm not and then I feel guilty because I feel as if I'm not upset as I should be..."

"Hey," he said softly, touching my arm, "Everyone deals with this sort of stuff differently, yeah?"

"I guess," I murmured, "But Nick, I miss her so much. I know I don't show it but..."