You, I And The End Of The World
Staring - Finn Wolfhard X Reader (Post Apocalypse AU) Rating - 15 Reading Time - 9 min 58 sec (1295)
The world has a funny way of making things go horribly wrong in ways no one would have expected.
Everything had seemed to have been going so perfectly, the new movie released to critical, box-office and public acclaim with chants for a sequel days after opening weekend. The recent album was selling well and on track to clear some bars. And the offer had gone through, and he was now officially a homeowner!
So Finn had decided to take some deserved time to… wallow a little in his success, and lie on his laurels.
He’d made sure he had a completely open two months, no castings, no writing, no producing, no press, just two months of settling himself into his new home. He adored the place the moment he found it, a stylised modern home on stilts with a double garage, triangle windows, and a mini music studio, all on a private track out in the woods about a ten-minute drive from a fairly large town with everything he could need and very few people. He wasn’t far from family and friends and had a quick train trip to a nearby airport. So he’d been filling the place with art, furniture, instruments and trinkets while he enjoyed his rest.
However… one dark afternoon, the news gave the word. An outbreak had sparked in the US, some escaped chemical thing, but no one was sure. Borders closed, and a quarantine was enforced. He stocked up on essentials and ensured the generator had fuel to keep him going, and locked himself away in his fortress of glass and steel. But… the calls from family and friends stopped coming, the work group chats dried up, and as two months turned to four, and then six, and then nine. And before he had time to really know what was going on… the world was changed, forever.
It had been two years to the day since the first reports came in. The world beyond his home had been silent. Music, movies and memories on his phone were the only way he’d even heard a voice in the last few months. He had truly begun to believe he may be the last person in the world, or at least in the country, as he theorised… surely other places must have been okay? Other countries? Other cities? Maybe… scientists on small islands? But he had enough to worry about.
Finn spends most of his days making music, walking to his home, playing guitar and writing lyrics, if nothing else, in the hope of keeping his mind busy. He had tried a daily video diary, in The Martian’s shadow, but… he ran out of enthusiasm very quickly. Any day he left the house, he took endless precautions and gathered as many supplies as possible.
Today was one of those days, he’d woken early before the sun had fully risen. He’d showered, using up the last of his shampoo and bodywash. He got dressed in two pairs of socks, some warm jeans, three different shirts, a sweater and his blue coat, pretty much everything had been gathered over time, collecting up whatever fit him. He pushed back his curls, knowing he really needed to cut them again, and set his green southpark hat on his head, one of the few relics he had kept. He grumbled at himself in the mirror, knowing he needed to shave too, but he’d been out of blades for his razor for the last six months.
He went down to the garage, grabbing his backpack and his one single pistol; he’d never needed to use it, but just having it made him feel safer. He grabbed his bike and its small homemade trailer and headed out into the thick snow to head towards town.
He made sure he locked everything up, so the place seemed abandoned if someone came across it. He’d never been the most social, and these years alone hadn’t helped. He took his ride slowly, passing the houses that had long been empty; he didn’t know what had happened to them, and he knew better than to push his luck trying to find out. Once in town, he found the many shops he’d already visited, only ever taking what he’d needed, so some stores were more picked over than others. He’d taken flour, sugar, and other shelf-stable things from the bakery, even taking one of their stand mixers. He’d taken knives, dried food, water purifying tablets and tools from the camping store. He’d taken endless things from the hardware store and… very little from the newsagents… but… not nothing.
But his destination today was further out, on the very edge of town, close by the train station, even if the place was buried in snow and ivy since no train had run for years now. The place was a large bulk warehouse store, which he’d been frequenting for pallets of shelf-stable or long-preservable items. The place had served him well for the most random of things, toilet paper, batteries, powdered milk and of course food.
He chained his bike to the entrance, making sure the trailer was close to the door so it was an easier transfer when he was done with his ‘shopping’, and he headed inside using the sunlight to cascade inside through the ceiling windows. He grabbed a pallet trolley and headed through the aisles, thanking himself every time for clearing out the perishables when he did, as he could only imagine what the smell would be like when this place dries up, and he needs to head into the next town, which may have just been sitting rotting for all these years.
Finn gathered things he needed, medical supplies, toiletries, food and anything in a can, jar or sealed package that would still be good enough to eat. All the while humming to himself to fill the void of utter silence.
But… the void seemed to answer him today. As another voice joined his humming.
He jumped out of his skin, flipping around like a creature possessed. He doubted himself instantly, not trusting his own senses after so long alone. But he followed the humming, deeper into the store, drawing his gun as he entered the homewear section.
He let out a long breath before he jumped around the corner, and instantly his eyes met a fort of blankets, pillows and mattresses, like someone had made a home here. He looked around, trying to find whoever had made it, but not dropping his gun. “Reveal yourself… supermarket siren.”
“… You… you’re alive?” the voice replied,
Finn flipped around, and instantly his jaw fell open. There stood before him, was a woman. She wore thick boots, motorcycle jeans, a heavy-duty snow jacket and carried a machete. She looked as shocked to see him as he was to see her. Both not trusting their own eyes as they slowly and carefully stepped closer to one another. “You… you’re real?”
“Last I checked… and you… you're real? Are you alive? And real and… here?”
“I am. I promise I am.”
Without another word, they both dropped their weapons and closed the gap and threw their arms around each other, crying into one another’s embrace as they clutched on and squeezed like a hurricane was about to rip them apart.
“I thought I’d see another person again,” she whimpered,
“I… I began to think I was all that was left,” he cried against her head, “Please… please just tell me your real.”
“I’m real. I promise,” she nodded, “Please… tell me too,”
“I’m real. I am so so real.” He cooed, “What’s your name? Sweet angel, what is your name?”
“Y/n… do you… Do you still remember your name?”
“Yeah, Finn.”
“Nice to meet you, Finn.”
“It is… beyond wonderful to meet you, Y/n.”
