Tom Holland/ Peter Parker Imagines

315 Days// Peter AU

9,920 words. Be prepared for this zombie au that only has one zombie in it. I was trying to work on character development and I just couldn't stop.
And there is one scene in here that maybe uncomfortable for some people, just a warning.

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August

The quiet can drive one mad. The quiet let's your thoughts run on and on, and soon your own thoughts can make you believe the craziest things.

I use to love the quiet. I use to love to let my thoughts go with no boundaries; to daydream the most wanted possibilities or to create the most unusual of stories.

I guess that has actually happened ever since the virus has gotten out.

Now I just wander the woods outside of the city, making little to no noise as I listen to my own surroundings for the telltale sign of infected. Their moans and groans of discomfort has the same effect on every uninfected left: grab a weapon fast as possible, you don't know who will see the other first.

Their sounds cut through the silence easily, just as easy as stepping on a twig or a decently sized pile of leaves.

My sight is constantly shifting. From my feet to in front of me, behind me, and above my head. Always watching for branches on the ground, infected around, and anyone taking cover in the trees. My hands switching from the over my shoulder to my front, right pocket; the only two weapons I need to survive.

There are times when I scare myself. My mind likes to play tricks on me; someone I know calls my name, there is someone behind that tree trunk, something brushed the back of my neck, I felt a bug on my leg, etc. There are times when I think I need someone to spend the rest of my limited days with, but then I think why should I put myself and them on the line if anything does happen.

I stay in this one story house that's almost in the middle of the woods. No one even tries to come in and search it for supplies. The house is a mess, most likely abandoned even before the shit storm hit. I make it seem like it's not worth the time to even check. I left the front door open, along with all the possible cabinets in the house. The windows are all shattered so broken glass lines the creaky floor boards. I threw piles and piles of dead leaves and dirt all over, including some of the previous owners belongings on the floor. The ceiling is slowly starting to cave in from the elements, so grass and weeds are beginning to grow out of the carpet that was probably placed in the 90s.

The house is small, one bedroom and bathroom off to the side with a kitchen and living room that connects. I take refuge in the basement. It's the exact same size of the house so it not like I'm cramped down there, but it's still as safe as someplace can be. The door leading down is locked at all times (I only have the key to it), there's one small, narrow window with a curtain over it, so no one can peak through and it's too small to think of even breaking through. The whole place is cement with multiple shelves for storage, so you can say I made quite a home for myself even though I'm ready to bolt no matter what.

I was making my way back to my basement now, I had tonight's dinner wrapped in one of the sections of my bag. I have to make it back before night fall so I can cook the rabbit that my snare captured. I would cook it in my basement but like I mentioned before: one window that seems impossible to open. I wouldn't be able to let the smoke out, so my rabbit must be cooked before the stars come out. Can't risk anyone seeing the light from the fire. The smoke is a risk too, but it's not as high if I cook far enough from my basement and if I don't use too much greens to start the fire.

My thoughts of dinner were clouding my hearing yet again, "Come out." I stopped my footsteps, drawing my bow with an arrow notched, "I know you're there, might as well come out now." I haven't used my voice in a while so I sounded somewhat gravelly and low, but it will still get the point across that I'm not looking for any visitors.