Our Red String Of Fate

Hero

tw: zombies, blood mentions, guns, swords, semi-major character death?? lmao where is the chill

Phil's POV

Vaguely, I can hear Louise arguing from the other room and I can't help laughing out loud at the snippets of their conversation I manage to catch. I will admit, I am still a bit weary about those two coming with us, but their intentions with us seem good enough and I can tell Louise is really happy to have more people around. She's been incredibly helpful since we stumbled across her leaving town, but there's only so much she can do to get the mood up. Seeing her interact with the new members of our party in such a genuinely relaxed manner has really boosted my own morale.

I smile to myself, feeling unusually hopeful for the first time in days. The expression faltered mere seconds later though, when I remembered that not everyone here had the luxury to feel the same uplifted sensation.

I look toward Dan, finding him sitting in the same worn chair that he'd claimed the moment we'd stumbled across this shelter. He's definitely a creature of habit, I've hardly seen him sitting anywhere but that piece of furniture since we got here. He always sits in the same slumped manner as well, keeled over across the table with his face buried in his arms.

I debate it for only a moment, glancing between him and the open door that leads to where the rest of our companions are, before reaching the same conclusion as always. Choosing him over the far more upbeat crew in the other room, I march over and hop up onto the table beside where his arms are resting.

He shifts a little bit, grumbling under his breath about how I'm taking up too much room, but otherwise he doesn't react to my presence. I tap my fingers against the table as I attempt to come up with a conversation starter, feeling my heart race in my chest as I do so. That meets an abrupt end rather quickly though, the constant steady thrum finding a stuttered skip in the pattern when his hand clamps down on mine.

I freeze, ever-so slowly looking down at where my pale hand has been captured by his.

"Stop tapping, you're giving me a headache." He snaps, not even looking up before letting my hand go as quickly as he'd grabbed it. I gulp, feeling mildly guilty about my actions before I realize they'd worked as a decent conversation starter on their own.

"You're so grumpy lately, I can't believe you let them come with us." I comment, looking up to the ceiling and concentrating on the awful looking yellow stain that I've come to know in the past days staying here. I still don't know what caused it and I really don't want to know, but it gives me something to look at that's not Dan. He doesn't like people staring at his face for too long, and I don't particularly like the squeamish feeling that engulfs me every time I do.

"We could use them for something." He suggests rather indifferently, starting to shift beside me. I can't resist the urge to look down at him then, too curious to see what he's up to. I try to brush it off as something meaningless, the kind of look you would give any old thing in the room. I put so much effort into looking at him the same casual way I'd look at that wretched stain on the roof, I end up going slightly cross-eyed.

I watch as he lifts his head, staring toward the door with feigned annoyance. "Although from what I've seen, they look pretty useless."

"Maybe, but Louise is really happy." I argue gently, stuttering over my words slightly when he turns unexpectedly to face me. His eyes are guarded, difficult to read beyond the initial coating of indifference he's painted so thickly over his expression. I've known him for years, yet I'm still as lost as the next idiot when it comes to what goes on inside his mind. Sometimes, more often than not, I find myself wondering if I'd even want to know if I were given the opportunity.