it was a small thing. a small thing following lots of other small things. one small thing after another, and another, and anotherandanotheran- you're unreasonably mournful of something so inconsequential, you're well aware. it was just ... the straw that broke the camels back.
trying to hide it had done little good, so you'd spent the day with bill pouring over the current supplies situation. water, food, ammunition, weapons and their conditions, medical supplies, batteries for flashlights, fuel levels in both the truck and the gas can you'd found at your last stop a few days ago. everything down to the last damn saltine buried at the bottom of louis' pack was filed away in your head. anything to distract you from the unreasonable combination of guilt and dejection that kept your head hung between shoulders for the majority of the day.
still, you thought about those damn comic books. so small, so useless, but one of the few things that provided any kind of entertainment during the end of the world.
you don't even register ellis when he enters. too busy staring out the window, foggy with months of built up dust and grime, cracked in the corners but not yet shattered. it's only when a bag thuds softly at your feet that your vacant gaze is dragged from the nothingness you'd been so engrossed in. lips twitch, threatening to turn downwards with another bout of disappointment as your beacon of emotional support stands from where he lay beside you, dutifully trotting around outstretched legs to sniff at ellis' hand as your own reaches for the bag. " what is it? " the question is rhetorical, dampened spirits already brightening (barely) at the prospect of a candy bar, or an unopened (albeit incredibly flat) cola.
what you don't expect is three issues of the comic book you'd failed to grab just yesterday. they looked a little worse for wear -- blood spattered across the cover, the edges frayed and corners dog-eared, but none of that mattered because they were there. sat atop the other spoils from their run that you hadn't a lick of interest in.
" you- ... you went back? " disbelief widens your eyes, ponytail swaying with the speed in which you look towards ellis. the red crawling upwards from his neck goes unnoticed in favour of a desperate attempt to suppress the brief tremble of your bottom lip. there's no hesitation as you push to your feet, overwhelmed at the knowledge he risked his life just because you were moping over something so stupid. arms are flung around his neck as you raise to the tips of your toes, chin falling to rest on his shoulder, probably squeezing just a little too tight but you're too focused on the fact that he went back to loosen your hold. " thankyou ellis. really. i'm sorry for being so miserable earlier. it was a stupid thing to be upset over and you shouldn't have risked your life for it but ... thankyou. "
for a second you think he might feel the pounding of your heart as it thrums with a warmth that only comes from the feeling of being known. a sudden embarrassment makes you realise you're getting emotional over comic books, and finally your grip is loosening as you go to take a step back. " i think i still have a snickers bar in my bag that has your name written aaaaall over it. "
