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On quieter days, when zombies shamble aimlessly, the sun glows smoothly, the air is still, and the sky seems open, runners take deep breaths for the first time in a long time.
On quieter days, when the mood is solemn, and the dewy smell of the countryside is pervasive, runners feel the hidden parts of themselves crawl up their throats.
On quieter days, runners tell Five their secrets. And Five listens.
Most of the time, it’s something simple. Jody once confessed to sneaking a cat into Abel and keeping it in her room for a month before releasing it. Her cat now lives in Abel’s barn, and Jody checks on it every so often, offering it extra food she manages to sneak in from mealtime as a treat.
Simon confided to Five that he actually loves romance novels. The risque, harlequin, hide-under-your-bed type of novels. As a matter of fact, he does hide them under his bed, and offered to let Five read one of them one day if she was very, very discreet about it.
Maxine confessed that sometimes, when she knows that no one is around her, she sings old pop songs and holds the end of her stethoscope like a microphone, listening to her own voice reverberate back into her ears through a metallic echo.
But sometimes, they’re big things. Dark things. When people choose to tell Five their deepest secrets, it's as if they snatch Five’s arm and shove a needle into the inside of her elbow so quickly that there’s nothing she can do about it. All she can do is grit her teeth while they inject their secrets into her with no warning.
She always turns to them with a reverent, resigned smile. Their secrets are safe with her.
Five keeps secrets like she pumps blood through her body. It is effortless and subconscious. It is relentless and under her skin. It is dark crimson and oozing.
As the influx of secrets enters her bloodstream more and more, the less she knows what her cells are actually made of. Is it really her pulse she can feel on either side of her throat, or is it the blood of everyone who had ever spit their secrets into her mouth? What was circulating inside of her? How could she keep the crimson darkness from overflowing in front of everyone?
Five’s blood isn’t her own anymore. Instead, her beating heart is filled with the secrets of everyone she has ever loved.
Some days, it’s easier to bear than others. Some days, the sun hits the skyline just right, and she’s able to feel like she owns her body again. Every blood-red part of her shifts to orange with the light of the sunset. But then the sun finally sinks below silhouetted trees, and she’s left with darkness again, and she is alone.
The only way Five stays sane through all of this is by… running. When she runs, everything bottled up inside of her is released with the mindless pounding of her feet on unkempt grass. Any dark thought can be willed away by thinking about the zombies behind her instead. So she runs, and sheds her unwanted secrets like a snake slithering out of it’s rotten skin. But as she runs, Five no longer watches where she’s going. She stares only a glance ahead of her feet, watching clobs of dirt, grass, garbage, or guts pass her by, only an indiscernible motion-blur in her peripheral vision. She doesn't really care about what happens to her anymore. She cares enough though; whenever Sam warns her that a zombie is coming close, she snaps out of it.
Five knows that Sam notices. He always notices. After a few days of this new habit, he pulls Five aside and asks her what's wrong. She tries to do that savior complex thing she always does, pushing him away with glazed eyes and a shake of the head, keeping a fierce grip on her impenetrable poker face. She can tell he doesn't buy it.
One night when she can’t sleep, Five walks to the storage building on the edge of Abel. Setting down her backpack by an old tire, she goes to the other side of the building and climbs the rusted metal ladder up to the roof. She sits down, crossing her legs like a child on the floor of a classroom. The cold sheet of metal presses into the back of her thighs. It’s uncomfortable, but it keeps her grounded to reality. She switches to the fetal position, tucking her legs to her chest and bringing her sore arms around them. She breathes softly. Tilts her head back. Looks up.
The stars are insanely bright, and there are a million more than she had ever imagined before the apocalypse started. One of the benefits of the complete crumble of society is that since there’s no light pollution anymore, the stars are on full display during cloudless midnights. She’s quiet, like she always is, but the stars seem to speak for her, their twinkling lights undulating like the sounds of animated voices conversing in an echoey hallway. She can breathe up here. She’s still worried about the zombies, and about her friends, but up here, it all slips away and fades wearily into the black haze of nighttime sky.
Creaking metal interupts her peaceful state, and she sits upright immediately. She has a feeling she knows who’s climbing up the rusted ladder.
Sam grunts as he hoists his clumsy body onto the roof of the metal shack. His familiar frame is illuminated by soft moonlight, and Five smiles, just a little bit. She can’t help but smile whenever she's around him.
“It’s a beautiful night out”. Sam takes a few unsure steps and plops down right beside Five, the soft thud of his body onto the tin sheet making the space next to Five much less empty. “Seems like we both had the same idea”.
“The stars are so pretty up here.” Five responds, turning her head up again to face the stars. She feels his gaze on her cheek, and then sees him look up at the stars out of the corner of her eye.
“Yeah, they really are”.
Five turns to look at Sam, a knowing smile on her face. “Are you sure you didn’t follow me over here?”
Sam laughs, the sound breaking the quiet chill of the air. “Maybe. Maybe not,” Sam nudges Five. “I know you’re glad I’m here though”.
“Yeah, I am”.
They both sit there in completely comfortable silence. Something about looking at the stars together made words unnecessary; inappropriate, even. Maybe looking at a beautiful thing together is its own language, and the fact that someone can see the same beauty as you do means more than anything that could ever be expressed with words. The stars seem to eb and flow in sync with each other, like a breathing creature, full of hot summer air and dreamy darkness.
“Five… can I ask you something?”
A pause. Five turns towards Sam, studying his kind features for half a second. He’s looking at her with that half smile, half grimace that he has never quite figured out how to hide, even when he’s doing the best poker face he can. His eyes are flitting back and forth between different parts of her face, going from her nose, her hair, her lips, and finally settling on her eyes. Five finally nods, the motion more sharp than she had intended.
“Are you… okay? Okay, I know that was a vague question, but I just mean… I dunno.” Sam runs a hand through his unkempt black hair. “I just mean, is there anything going on that I should know about?” He looks at her purposefully, his gaze pressing into her like a flashlight into her irises. Five winces. Literally.
Sam continues, “I’ve just noticed that you’ve seemed… off, lately. You’re eating a lot less, you’re hardly sleeping, and you seem distracted whenever you’re on a run. That isn't… like you. And you don’t have to tell me anything, but I really, really wish you would. I’m your friend! I’m here to help you. And if you don’t want to talk to me about it, Maxine is always there, and Jody, and-”
“That's kind of the problem.” Five interrupts him, voice controlled. She wishes as soon as the words come out of her mouth that she could take them back.
Sam’s eyebrows draw together. “What do you mean?”
“...Nevermind”.
“Five. Tell me. Please”.
“It’s nothing”.
“Well, obviously it’s not nothing. I’m seriously begging you Five”.
Sam looks at her, his expression earnest and stubborn. She doesn’t know how to say no to him.
Five takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how to articulate the pain of all the crimson secrets underneath her skin. She doesn’t know how to tell him.
How to tell him that she doesn’t know how to take care of herself.
How to tell him that she doesn’t know how to remember who she is when she is filled up with the parts of so many other people.
How to tell him that caring about him, and everyone else, is tearing her apart.
Sam is still gazing intently at her, his expression that of a wounded puppy.
Her body feels like a wave pool, or maybe red-hot magma, or a clock with the hands broken, no longer moving, but still ticking as if there's someone listening for a break in uncomfortable silence.
“Okay,” Five starts, grimaces, and then tries again. “Okay.”
She explains everything to him, her voice getting shakier and teeth beginning to chatter, either from cold or from nervousness, she couldn’t tell. But she tells him everything. About how people tell her things. About how much it hurts to hear them, and remember them, and keep them, and how she feels like a walking vessel of capillaries and blood and secrets. So, so many secrets. Secrets she can't count, can't even name, can't even think about, because of how much they weigh her down. She tells Sam that she doesn't even feel like she’s breathing her own air, which doesn't even make sense when spoken aloud, but she says it anyway.
She tells Sam that she doesn’t want to be the keeper of secrets anymore.
After her confessions leave her mouth, they are once again left with the quiet of the stars, but now they could feel the tension pulsating around them, the forces between them both pulling them together, and keeping them apart, in a constant state of tension. The silence seems to wrap around them like a blanket of snow, and Five trembles.
“For once in my life, I think I’m at a loss for words,” Sam laughs, the noise a bit too sharp, cutting into the air like a rock thrown against a glass window.
Five smiles weakly, faking amusement to try and ease the tension. Sam scoots closer to her, pressing his arm up against hers, making her feel like he’s the only thing that is truly tethering her to the earth. Five relaxes into him, fighting the severely strong urge to rest her head on his broad shoulder. He seems to notice- he wraps his arm around her, holding her as if she’s a broken porcelain doll that needs to be held together as superglue dries. She can smell his orange sweatshirt. It seems like it's been washed recently, a rare occurrence for Sam Yao. She wants to sink into him- he smells like laundry, and deodorant, and pumpkin candles.
“I’m so sorry, Five. I… I had no idea.”
Five just nods.
He speaks again, his voice earnest and gentle. “Y’know, I always thought that I’d always be here to take care of you, or protect you, or something like that. At least, that's what I've wanted. I've just wanted to be here for you. And I'm so, so sorry that I haven't been able to do that lately.”
He takes a shaky breath inward. Five resists the urge to wrap her arms around him as tight as she can, because she knows that if she does, she’d never be able to let go. So instead, she just sits there silently and resists the urge to melt onto him like candle wax.
Sam meets her gaze now, and she notices that the moonlight reflects into his shiny eyes, showing that his are brimming with tears. He looks upwards again, and Five knows that he’s only pretending to look at the stars. He's really just attempting to hide any tears that might fall against his will.
“It’s okay Sam,” Five’s voice trembles unconvincingly. “Honestly. You shouldn’t put it on yourself to have to take care of me all the time. It’s not fair to you”.
“But that’s the thing!” He suddenly unwraps his arm from her shoulder and grabs her hands fiercely, his warm skin pressing against hers like gentle flames against moths. “It’s not fair to you, either. You shouldn’t have to carry the weight of… well, the literal world on your shoulders!”
“But I'm not doing it alone.” Five looks into Sam’s eyes intensely, trying to convince him, and herself for that matter, that this really was okay, and that she was fine, and that he didn’t need to worry about her. It doesn’t work.
Sam releases his grip on her hands and instead scoots even closer to her, leaving no room for her to fake obliviousness of how close the two of them were. He doesn’t meet Five’s gaze. Their bodies press against each other like magnets, neither of them able to move apart from each other, as if some uncontrollable force was pulling them together.
“You were doing it alone,” Sam says in a grave voice. “But you won't be doing it alone anymore. I swear it”.
As he stares straight ahead into the black night, he grabs Five’s hand. Squeezes it one, two, three times. Five squeezes back.
“Thank you Sam. I can't imagine what I would do if I didn't have you”. She pauses, then laughs bleakly. “Actually,” she continues, “I can imagine it. I just don't want to”.
“And you won’t have to”. Sam grabs both of her hands, and turns towards her again. He smiles, and this time it is as real and bright as the morning sun. “And you don’t have to keep any secrets from me. You can tell me anything, anytime. It might not seem like it, but I can keep my mouth shut when I want to”.
Five laughs quietly, starting to feel the warmth recirculate into her fingers and into her beating heart: her heart, filled with her own blood, not anyone else's. It wasn't Maxine’s blood, or Jody's, or Simon’s, or even Sam’s. It was hers.
“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to head back?” Sam asks, his voice gentle and calming.
“I’ll stay here for a while". Five bites her lower lip, a nervous habit. "Will you… stay with me?”
“Of course I will. Let me just-” He carefully stands up, his absence making Five’s body seem even colder. With surprising grace he walks to the ladder, climbs down, and is back up on the roof in a matter of moments. Wrapped around his shoulders is a soft grey blanket, the one he uses on his bed during the chilly autumn season. He sits back down beside Five with an unrestrained smile, the one he specifically seems to reserve for whenever he is around her.
“I thought it might be cold up here, so…”
“You planned ahead for this?”
“Of course! I mean, that's my middle name. Sam 'Plan Ahead' Yao.”
Five rolls her eyes, not hiding the smile on her face. “If that logic were true, then I’d be a really bad runner.”
Sam laughs, the sound bouncing off of the metal roof like sun rays. He takes the blanket off of his shoulders, scoots his body so that he is shoulder to shoulder with her, and wraps the blanket around the two of them. Five can feel herself start to grow tired, the events of the night rendering her into a vulnerable, sleepy state. She pulls the blanket tighter around her and gives into instinct, resting her head on Sam's shoulder without disclaimer. She hears Sam exhale and feels his shoulder muscles relax. He rests his own head on top of hers. He is like her own personal heat lamp- no, not a heat lamp- her own personal sunrise. He is warm, and bright, and brings even the darkest of nights to an end with brilliant colors and soft hope- hope that keeps you going. A hope that the next sunrise will be more beautiful than the last.
They stay like that for a long time, sometimes breaking the silence with stupid jokes or recent stories, but they never leave that spot or get out of the blanket. Secret forces pull them together, and it seems that nothing can tear them apart.
Right before Five drifts to sleep, Sam kisses her head, the touch of his lips gentle and full of tenderness. Five smiles slightly, and slips into peaceful unconsciousness, the warmth of Sam’s skin acting as a sedative. She sleeps. He guards her from the cold darkness.
They stay huddled on the roof together until the sun begins to rise over the soft, green horizon of the countryside.
Some days, her secrets are easier to bear than others. Some days, the warmth of Sam’s laughter hits her eyelashes just right, and she’s able to feel like she owns her body again. Every blood-red part of her shifts to orange with the light of his smile. And when the sun finally sinks below silhouetted trees, and she’s left with darkness again, she doesn’t have to face it alone, because she knows that he will always be there for her, right by her side.
Sam keeps promises like Five keeps secrets. Unfailingly, and forever.