storywalks | she's a work in progress

['This is the story of a man named Teo, who was real and remembered, even if he couldn't remember himself well and didn't have enough for a biography.'

It's the one rule she has for her most prized possession and she's breaking it. For him. Maybe it's starting to lose seat on its long-held throne. That's the power of friendship, baby.

'He has a letter I've never read. A letter I've never seen. It was with him when he woke up, and even though it's been ruined with blood and time, he keeps it safe with him. Inside his pocket is a link to the life he had before all this.

Oh. By the way, this is taking place at the end of the world -- not the location, because the world is spherical so that doesn't exist, and I hope there's enough written word and intelligent life that this fact survives, but I can't predict the future. Humanity's let me down before. Now they're all dead: in the ground, on the ground, walking, or inside. I was like that, too, until I met one of these walking dead guys who felt the name Teo was right, so that's who he is. Funny that a zombie's the best guy I've ever known, and the only friend I've ever had.

I didn't know him before, so I don't have a lot to share yet. There might never be more, since he says flashes of memories come to him in little pieces and feelings. What I do know is that he's generous and compassionate. He's shown me that much, along with silly little doodles I've taped to the inside cover of this book.

Other things I know:
- He's a Latino man in his twenties. He keeps himself covered up so others can't see he's undead. His left cheek is ripped off so you can see his teeth, so it would be pretty hard to argue against any accusation.
- His eyes are dull and sensitive to light, so he wears goggles.
- His hair is long. It was probably black or one of those darkest browns, but it's gone more gray.
- His entire self is like someone dialed down the saturation level. His personality is still vibrant, even if he has to wheeze pieces of it out slowly, bit by bit, with lungs that don't work right anymore. As little as I've seen so far, I can make the judgment that his body is undeniably dead.
- He can cook. He made me vegetarian sloppy joe today, or at least the apocalypse version.
- He likes animals. They're not so fond of him now, what with the whole zombie thing.
- He dresses like a punk. I don't know enough about the style or music to explain the patches that are sewn onto his clothes, but maybe he can tell me something. Stay tuned, reader.
- He likes romance novels. Pretty sure he's bisexual.
- On a related note, he mentioned cooking breakfast for partners after spending the night with them, but in various places. He remembers the electric buzzing sound that certain lights make.
- He remembers probably sleeping in cars, like I sometimes do now for safety, but back when he was alive.
- He's been shot before. His blood now is black. Zombies are able to mostly ignore pain because they always have a more prominent focus. For the rest, it's just hunger. He has hunger and the whims of his heart.'

Ryder pauses and listens with a frown. Even without the sound of people or television, lights or air conditioning...it was hard to make out all the noises. Damn walls, protecting her. Was that something, or her imagination? Was it him?

...After a straight minute of straining to hear something that would pierce the calm, she returns to her secret notes.

'- He cares about me. He'll hold me even though he's scared of infecting me. If I get infected, I probably won't be the same as him. He wouldn't be able to hold me anymore. He doesn't want to lose me.
- I care about him. I don't want to lose him.
- This isn't enough. I want to know more.'

She adds their story so far, omitting a lot of the details. There's so many parts scribbled out from a misspelling or plain embarrassment. As much as she wants a record of his existence for the world -- his importance as a person and not a medical marvel or hiccup of fate -- she doesn't...want to share him. She only just got him.

The hallway has a muffled thump to it of steps approaching, so she quickly stashes her pen away and snaps her book shut.]

Hey. All clear over here with me and Chancellor -- [Ah. Teo enters her view and her voice falters shamefully.] -- Bounce. Um. You? I -- thought I might have heard...

[Something?]

[The things he would say if he knew she was writing of him. What he'd feel if he knew she was writing for him...

He doesn't know. He jokes knows the sound of her voice, of rustling movement, and the way she falters when he comes into view. He's glad to know her well enough that he doesn't attribute it to his own presence-- at least in the sense of being unwanted. It makes him look apologetic, at least up until she turns a question on him.

It's his turn to falter. He wants to say he's fine, but if she heard something... He lets out a rueful breath of a laugh and ducks his head.]

Last one... spooked me... [Which seems ridiculous since he's also undead, but--] Expected something... living... pounced... Fine of course... but...

[He pushes back a bit of hair and then goes to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He shrugs.]

Never forgot... how I died... Irony...

[It takes her a second to register that the one "expecting something living" was the proverbial other guy, not Teo. When she's letting that and the fact that he got hurt again settle, he says something else to distract her and she's left staring. Did he...somehow know? There was no way he could know she was writing about what she knows of him so far, that would be -- impossible. She flicks her eyes to her fingertips and assures that they're free of ink to further assure herself of this before exhaling and crawling over to him. It's his turn to get the sheet wrapped around him, starting like a hood but wrapping around his torso as her arms guide it. Ryder takes up the spot behind him, letting a leg fall on either end and resting her forehead against him. Gosh. It's like some kind of drug, instantly stirring up that good dopamine everyone was low on these days.]

Was that how, um... Your face?

[In fairness, he wasn't that hurt. He'd managed to block what he needed to. That old leather jacket was good for more than just looking cool and keeping his letter safe.

She gives him a strange look and it makes his head tilt. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. Maybe that's too morbid, breaking some rule or other he hadn't noticed. But then she's at his side, leaning on him and he leans just the slightest bit back, resting his head on hers. He feels some of his tension unwind for a second before that question. It makes his breath catch, but his words are calm.]

No... that was later... [He should be grateful for that. And yet.] It's not clear... it's... probably not different... than anyone's story... I remember... patches... something caught... my ankle... tried to bite... grazed... but I got away... just to be caught... too scared... too scared...

[And fear led to carelessness and carelessness... well.]

...fell on me... tried to grasp... to claw... [He reaches up, his fingers grazing his throat, where the gaiter covers most of the scratches.] tried to bite... stupid... blocked with... my arm...

[His eyes close. He sighs. There's not much more he needs to say there. He was bit. It was over.]

Found some... shed... can't recall... bleeding everywhere... hurt... I-I wished... I wasn't alone... wished... I'd lived... wasted chance... Fever was fast... It was all... too fast... too much...

[So much for being her hero. He'd gone out cowardly.]

[Later... After, he means. Ryder gives a soft hum to acknowledge that, privately weighing if that's good or bad. Probably good... It looks painful as hell. She doesn't know how much a face bleeds, but it's probably a surprising amount. Definitely would have brought even more attention to him, and maybe he wouldn't be sitting here telling her about it. His slow, strange way of speaking gives her plenty of time to roll the words around her head, first remembering the shape and feel of them so she could commit them to paper later. Hearing them comes after. Slow breaths are pulled from her like maybe she's flaunting how easy it is for her when his own were a clumsy brush of a bow against violin strings.

Maybe it wasn't an epic, original tale, but who cares? It's important nonetheless. Going out with a shriek or a whimper didn't really matter to her, either. He'd saved her in different ways from the start, and she's sure that the stereotypical, ideal hero would have been the same in that situation. Feeling alone when you've got a regular sickness was bad enough. It must be extra lonely to be dying. Besides, hiding away wouldn't have done a lot for him, but it was ultimately safer for the other survivors in the area. Even when acting out of pure adrenaline and maybe unaware of the good he did, Teo was kind. Everything else he says keeps the bitter smile from forming.]

I'm sorry.

[Not that saying it does anything. Her hands fall back again, avoiding his arms out of respect for his mistake and settling them where the back of his ribs are, underneath the sheet, his clothes, and his sallow skin.]

You think you -- wasted your life...? I -- can't picture...

[He blinks when he hears that apology. His brows furrow. It's not something he ever expected to hear. He's not sure he even deserves it. All the same, it overwhelms him. He feels her let go and he wants her back, but then she is back and he understands what she's trying to do.

He starts to speak but he hears his hitching breath.]

Sorry... hang on...

[He tilts his head up. He takes a minute or two just to breathe. He speaks then with a faint, rueful smile.]

Getting emotional... looks awful... if I cry... The worst...

[He says it like a joke, even though it isn't.]

I don't know why... don't know why... I felt that... but I did... I do... Something... I did something wrong... but I don't know... it's just... a feeling...

[He gives a lot of hollow jokes, she's starting to notice. He'd tried to do it about his arm, too, before they'd even been face to face. ...The fact that he was surprised she found out is a bit of a hollow joke in itself. Poor guy. Especially since now the person currently most dear to him is thinking about how she wants to see him cry. What a pal!]

Mm... I don't -- think mistakes make you waste your life. It's like, um, like a -- rough draft. If it's too late, then -- a parable. For someone else. That -- way is shitty. [A pause, then a cough of a regretted laugh.] With how mmmuch you do for -- me, it wouldn't surprise me... To be -- for others, I mean.

[Best pal he's got. Even if these particular words make him uncomfortable, he's still going back to leaning on her.]

You think I'm... a bad example...? [A parable. He understands that. A hard lesson for others to learn from. He hums.] Might be one... to myself... at least... Trying to do better...

I -- what? N-no.

[She lifts her head, and this time her face is burning from a storm of negative feelings rather than the pleased, embarrassing twittering of her heart. Was this another bad joke, or had she finally fucked up? As much as she wants to believe it's the former, the way he trails into more glum statements has her doubting it. He sounds like the voice inside her head. It makes her stomach flip-flop like a diver that's slipped backwards onto the diving board.]

I just -- um. Y-you said --

[Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Her fingers curl into the sheet, not wanting to lose this after finally getting comfortable enough to not question it so much. And why is she blaming him for her fuck-up? God. Talk, you goddamn idiot!]

[Her words catch. With her arms around him like this-- this way that would probably make his heart race, if it moved at all-- he can't see her. Even if he turns his head, there's the sheet. But she sounds panicked. Regardless of anything, he doesn't want that.]

Hey... it's okay... Still here... still listening... Explain again...?

[And now he's reassuring her even though she doesn't deserve it. Even though she should be the one spoiling him with kindness and praise, because even if he felt otherwise, she knows he was good for those around him. There was no way he wasn't. Her breathing is kept slow, but it comes out a little heavier than before as she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to concentrate on making words happen. They were hard to begin with, but this sort of thing... This was one of the reasons she'd shut down in conversations early on in life. Not often had she tried to actually fight back against the feeling, but Teo wants her to explain it better. Can she?

One hand releases its hold and moves to his back to push a finger enough that even through the jacket, he hopefully wouldn't have trouble feeling it. She carefully traces.

W A I T

She wants to phrase it another way, when her tongue and brain both loosen enough to let her. Please be patient, she miserably thinks over to him, letting her forehead fall against him again. He's there. He's listening.

After some time, it's fortunate the hotel is so eerily quiet, because it lets her pathetic voice be heard.]

You ssssaid... You -- y-you did something -- wrong. Um. ...Um.

[Boy, she hates herself. Rolling with things so far had always been pretty okay, but what if that made it seem like she didn't care? She'd have to be more careful, if she doesn't do the smart thing and keep quiet.]

But you s-said that, um. Wasted life. I don't -- think -- that's true. [Shaky exhale. Ryder wonders if she can bury herself in him fully. Let him be the grave he never got to have himself.] M-mistakes don't -- have to be bad. Um. You're nnnot. And -- and mistakes teach, s-so. Not a waste. You could -- never be. Please -- mmmake sense. Please.

[That last bit's for her.]

[He waits and the world goes silent, their room and each other. He waits and he listens to her breath. Wait. He feels the letters on his back, surprising him at first, but he stills to focus and try and pick out the shape of each letter. She asks him to wait, so he waits.

At last, her voice comes. It's a relief to hear it. He nods. Yes. He did something... something...

His brows furrow. He feels her so close.]

I understand...

[He wishes he could see her right now. He wishes he could pull her close, like any normal person.]

I just... I died... that could've been... it for me... [Should've been, a voice in his head whispers.] Whatever I did... or didn't do... it was long enough... and big enough... that I felt that way... It's scary... I don't want to... miss things again...

[He says he understands, but she keeps questioning if he really does. What if he only wants her to calm down and shut up so they can move on from this, but he still feels like shit because of her? He obviously already does because of the situation -- dying makes you feel shitty! -- but what if all she's done is make it worse by trying to correct his feelings? Selfish, stupid girl. She can't stop clinging to him, one part comfort and another part terrified he'll move away.]

...Yeah. [Great commentary.] Y-you...deserved more.

[Some would argue that everyone did, but not Ryder. Lots of shitty people out there deserving to spend the rest of their lives worrying about being zombie food. "Eat the rich" indeed.]

If -- you w-want. We'll do -- things. [Whatever he wants to do...even if he'd only just got done telling her that living at her side was all he wanted. Of course there would be more than that. It was stupid of her to just accept that and decide to sit pretty doing her own thing. She wasn't even good at that.] Always. S-so it -- feels less.

[Deserved. He's not sure about that. Especially now, he's not sure he deserves anything. But he wants. He wants and he's selfish enough to take it. To live, even if it's a threat to others.

But here she is, still reassuring, still doing her very best. She promises they'll do more and he feels himself smile, a bittersweet ache in his heart. He leans back against her. He lets his melancholy disolve.]

We are doing things... silly goose...

[Surely she's noticed. But then she keeps thinking she hasn't done enough.]

We've been... living... I've been... alive with you...

[In a sense.]

[He's insisting that thing that makes no sense again, and the only thing keeping her from shaking her head in disbelief is the fact that he's leaning into her, now. So...she's not allowed to argue. She holds him back enough. He'll tell her something more he wants someday, maybe, if she's better about hearing him.]

...Mm.

[They're living...and he came back. That's what's important. Hesitantly, Ryder lets her tension ease, unclenches her fingers, and loosely worms her arms around Teo's waist, weak and limp outside of what's necessary to hold him.]

I'm -- ...m'glad y'ere.

[He feels her arms wrap around him. He grips the edges of the sheet so he can more confidently hold her arms in place. He imagines staying here, just like this, in the warmth of her... and her words.]

Glad to... be here...

[Even undead. Even with all that means. He's here, present and away. He's here and held and safe.]

Thank you...

[She might be able to fall asleep like this, she thinks. It'd be a really uncomfortable sleep, but a lot of sleeps are uncomfortable these days. Well, not these days specifically, because the most recent days have been full of pampering and included mattresses. The general apocalypse days. Those these days.

But she doesn't actually want to sleep, as exhausted physically and emotionally as she is. She wants to take a minute or two to gather herself up again, then switch to resting her chin on him instead of her forehead.]

I wanna see you cry, though.

[He scoffs though it comes out as more of a cough. His head shakes.]

Not very... nice...

[He's teasing, but his tone turns serious a moment later.]

No... you don't... It's black... stains... infectious... I hate it...

[She hums her agreement, amused and glad that this time, it really does sound like a joke. Maybe it's because he doesn't intend to hide the truth in the same breath -- he lays it in front of her right after.]

Mm... Sounds metal.

[But her tone is quieter, gentle. She understands. Not necessarily dissuaded, but she doesn't want to push him on it, either. Actually...]

I know this -- topic sucks, so. You can shut me up whenever. How do you... Um, I mean. Do you know? What all -- will...make someone turn.

[He snorts at that. Metal. He guesses so. But after all, what's more metal than apocalypse?

He hears the way she tries to mind him, even as she ask for details. He really got lucky, running into her. Still, he pauses before answering.]

... No... Not sure... Not safe... to test... Infection's gotta... get in people... gotta spread... why we're hungry... [Always hungry.]

Oh...

[Yeah. The second part's obvious -- pretty much all zombie media she'd seen had that premise, and she did know the first part on some level. Duh, of course it wasn't safe to test. Curiosity killed the cat...and they both liked cats, so she shouldn't -- be so curious. She shouldn't want to test the limits, no matter if she wants to see black tears or trace exposed teeth. Curl up next to him, facing him, and maybe...

Well. She shouldn't be curious. She shouldn't test it. Still, she thinks about telling him that it would probably be okay to be a little less cautious, seeing as she's obviously touched zombies before, and as long she wasn't bleeding or, like, licking him, then -- oh god. Jesus. Fuck no, she's not going down that rabbit hole. Uhhh. Shit. What was she saying?]

Sorry, I...was just -- um. It was a really good -- day. I wish you didn't have to worry so much. About what's -- okay. With me. I know it's smarter, though, to...not.

[Not...something. Yeah. Yeah!]

[He looks back, but he still can't exactly see through the fabric. Where he holds her arms close to him, he gives a light little squeeze.]

I had... a good day too... I'm sorry I... can't be more sure...

[He doesn't really know what she's hoping for. Honestly, he doesn't know what he'd hope for. But he knows they both want more, or at least for the option to be there.]

For what it's... worth... this is... nice...

[Softly,]

Yeah.

[It is nice. Really nice. That should ease her anxieties, and yet! Well, wouldn't be Ryder if she wasn't spending too much time thinking. Things that matter, things that don't matter -- it's all rattling around in there.]

Um, but if -- um. You can tell me if I'm -- being too weird. I don't want -- to accidentally drive you aw-way or, um, freak you out. Just because I'm selfish.

Selfish...

[He repeats that as amused as is bewildered.]

When have you... been selfish...?

[Did he miss something? Was he not paying attention? He shakes his head.]

I'm... the selfish one... and besides... I don't think... you're too weird... at all... I like you...

[She wants to protest by shoving a magnifying glass in front of him, and maybe it would catch the sun just right and cause her to burst into flames so she can have an excuse to feel so warm and to sweat, ugh she's so damp? It's fine when she's moving around and exerting herself, but this was just dumb baby nerves getting more frayed by the second because she's thinking too much, it's not like he means he likes her when he says he likes her, don't worry so much, that's impossible so you don't have to worry about it, and definitely don't get carried away, even if that would really show him what she means about her being a weirdo freak that wants to smooch an undead guy -- oh, fuck, she's started to tighten her hug like he was just a pillow she could squeeze to herself for comfort. Better -- let him go now. Sorry! Sorry, sorry... Those aren't the words that come out, though.]

"Tell me I'm clever,
Tell me I'm kind,
Tell me I'm talented,
Tell me I'm cute,
Tell me I'm sensitive,
Graceful and wise,
Tell me I'm perfect --
But tell me the truth."

...I -- just don't normally, um... I like you a lot. And I keep -- touching you, or wanting, u-um... It's just weird.

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