like a phoenix

neither of them had seen the storm coming—not until it was too late, anyway. the dark clouds overhead had been a nice change from the blazing georgia sun, and it’s only when the skies had gone completely dark does logan realise that something was amiss. “storm’s coming,” logan announces, although he’s pretty sure sloane would have noticed even if he hadn’t said anything. “we should probably find somewhere to hunker down until it passes.”

as if to prove his point, his suggestion is punctuated by a crack of thunder, so loud that he almost feels the car they’re in shake with the force of it. not good, he thinks, the lightning is too close. he hears sloane suggest heading to the motel they’d passed by on the way here, and he lets her lead the way, focusing all of his attention on driving in the suddenly diminished visibility conditions.

“sloane, put your seatbelt on.” normally, seatbelts are more of a liability than anything else, and they rarely make a habit of buckling in, especially when the difference between living and dying could very much depend on the few seconds it would take to undo a seatbelt. but logan hasn’t missed the way their vehicle had gone almost weightless for a few seconds, despite his best efforts to maintain traction.

he waits to hear the click of her seatbelt before taking a hand off the steering wheel to reach for his own, but just as his fingertips grasp the buckle, they’re enveloped by a sudden flash of white. it’s pure instinct that drives him to throw himself on top of sloane, and he only realises that the car windows have shattered when he feels the heavy rain pelting down on his back. the car lurches to the side, but thankfully they’re on a narrow road, and they only skid a small distance before crashing to a stop at the base of a tree. 

🤟🏻 

“Dare I ask?” Sloane pressed a hand to her heart, alarmed faintly. Obviously, he’d been alright, but goodness. Hospitalized. “I hope you learned from that, at least?”

Her top lip curled at the drink and its grit. It was no pulp in fresh orange juice, that. “Me?” She looked back and smiled, flattered twice over. “Aren’t you a darling? If I’m going to be here a while, may as well get to know the locations first-hand.” Her aunt would have derisively called it vetting. Scouting, perhaps. Not quite networking and certainly not schmoozing.

Gesturing with one hand at the glass, Sloane asked, “Is it worth it?”

“have i tried to make my own beer since then? no, i haven’t. do i still drink questionably brewed beer?” instead of answering that with words, he lifts his glass up and takes another swig of it. he still can’t stop himself from pulling a face at the aftertaste, but logan has to admit that the beer is growing on him—or maybe it’s just destroying his taste buds, who knows?

Yahnaa smiled, it wasn’t the usual response, and she liked it. And while she would normally not have any issue explaining why she didn’t drink, she realised she only ever did it when people questioned her. 

The description made her laugh too, it was so obscure, like he might’ve actually done that. She shook her head as she came down from her giggling. “That’s so detailed!” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I like Sloppy Socks. It sounds more like a fancy wine, but hey, it needs to be something people will be into. Yet, also, will be warned of the taste,” she said. 

Yahnaa’s smile was a little more relaxed, a little confident. “Thank you, thank you. And no, at least, I’ve been showed around, but more of a Pokemon tour of the town than an actual tour,” she explained. “Not that I can complain, I know most of the spots now, and I enjoy figuring things out for myself.” 

“sloppy socks,” logan repeats, putting on a faux serious expression as if he’s giving the name serious thought before nodding decidedly. “i like it. sloppy socks it is.” done with his impromptu theatrics, he laughs, brushing the condensation off the side of the glass with his fingertips.

“i was going to offer you a tour, but i think you might know the place better than i do,” he admits with a soft laugh. “maybe you could give me a tour sometime instead?” if he tried hard enough, he could pretend that the world hadn’t ended, and he was still back in ohio, making friendly conversation with a pretty girl at a bar—but what was the point in that? denial wasn’t going to bring his sister or his parents back. he takes another long swig of the beer to clear his mind of the creeping hysteria, his features relaxing again afterwards. 

madison hears the words left unsaid - a lot of people had siblings, past tense, no longer relevant to the world around them. she wonders how if felt, having that finality - that closure. she supposes she has it with her parents, but there’s that tangling detail of melissa, still out there somewhere - or not - that keeps her up at night. 

“do you want to tell me about her?” madison offers; the words surprise even herself - logan was the kind of guy she would have dated a few times in high school to ( ironically ) experiment with and see if she could finally ‘set herself right’ like her father had clearly wanted. none of them had ever really divulged intimacies of their lives, and madison had never really asked about it. in fact, before fletcher, she could count the number of men whom she trusted enough to count as close on one hand - but there’s something about him that feels trustworthy. maybe it’s the fact that the wood sisters both entrusted their hearts with him, or the pain that’s practically radiating off of him - either way, she finds herself meaning the words much more than she normally would.. 

“you don’t have to, but if you want to, i’m a good listener. i had an older sister, once upon a time. she’s not - not that i know of, at least. she left home almost a decade ago. i have no idea where she is, or how she is. having someone that close to you just….leave, it’s not easy. ever.” 

does he want to talk about lori? yes, he thinks. but also—no. he had tried his best to bring her back to life with his words alone back when he’d been on the road with ray, back when he hadn’t known if anyone else who’d loved her was still alive, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her becoming forgotten if one day he was gone too. but now he’s found holly and merrick and ethan, people who knew lori and loved her and feel the pain of her loss. in a fucked up way, he doesn’t want anyone else to know about lori, isn’t willing to let anyone else into this little raft they’ve built for themselves in the middle of this ocean of grief.

but then madison offers him a secret of her own first, and logan feels the walls he’d built around himself start to crack. “i’m sorry about your sister.” he's never been good with words, and a part of him wants to reach out and offer physical comfort—a pat on the back, or a brief squeeze of her hand—but despite the tentative trust that’s slowly tying them together, they’re still strangers to each other. so logan keeps his hands to himself, lets his grip on his glass tighten instead.

“lori was... like the sun,” he says eventually. during his darkest days, he’d felt empty inside, and lori had been the one who’d held his hand and refused to let go, had said to him, it’s okay lo, i’ve got enough light for the both of us. but now that light is gone, and even though he’s not alone anymore, logan can’t help but feel like there’s a part of him that will never be able to shake off the darkness. 

All this was as good as it was gonna get… well beer wise and honestly what could they expect? It was a Zombie apocalypse, miracle they could have beer in the first place. Enjoy a beer in between jobs… well because Yami worked well into the night if she could and no one stoped her. Though it was amusing to see a slight grimace on the others face if it was only there for a few seconds.

“That’s what she said.” Making an inappropriate joke that has been the natural reaction when statements like those were made. “Yeah I like to call it, when there nowt to brew.”

the dirty joke takes him aback for a moment, but then logan laughs. it’s nice to know that the appeal of sex jokes hasn’t been lost even after the end of the world. “not to me,” he responds with a wink. “i’ve got a 100% satisfactory guarantee.” in another life, he might have joked about letting her find out for herself, but logan isn’t the same boy he used to be, his teenage bravado sanded away by the years.

besides, he has holly now. even if they haven’t gotten around to defining this thing between them, it doesn’t change the fact that she is his and he is hers, and he’s not about to let anyone come between them ever again. 

The dark humor Logan brought to the table was much better than the normal cynicism that Ray encountered on a daily basis. Now that they were here together, Ray realized he had missed being around Logan. They had travelled together for long enough that Ray got used to having the other guy around and all of his quirks and noises. The first night in his apartment had felt dead silent while he slept in a room without the sounds of nature of human companionship. It was ironic that Ray slept awful his first week and a half at Fairvale when it was the first time in months he had actually been sleeping in a safe, locked space.

Ray didn’t offer empty condolences when Logan brought up Lori. That was never his style, and he knew Logan wouldn’t be comforted by it. Instead he pulled out a shot glass and one of the less watered down liquors on the shelf. He filled the glass up without any talking about it and slid it in front of Logan. He had some extra tokens lying around his room and he would drop one in the collection when he worked tomorrow.

“I’m glad yours are doin’ okay. That sickness was somethin’ scary.” Ray can’t imagine how terrified he would have felt if he found Luci and then had to watch her fall sick the next day. The fact that Holly made it out of the other side was something Ray prayed for when he realized some of the people in the clinic were the people Logan had shared stories about during their travels. What a small world it was, that everyone could find themselves here at the end of the world with the chance to start over. Ray hoped that Logan figured all of that drama out quickly. Life was too short nowadays to not spend it with the person you loved.

“You can always crash with me at the apartment if you need a place to clear your head. I don’t mind the company and it sounds like ya still got a lot left to figure out.” Logan’s beer was refilled, the same hazy hue in the glass that made Ray’s nose wrinkle in distaste.

“cheers,” logan raises the offered shot glass with a twist of a lip that could possibly pass as a smile, before downing the shot. it’s much more effective than the beer, burning a trail down his throat and settling his nerves. he places the shot glass down on its rim, tapping the bottom of it once with his finger before picking up his beer glass once more.

“i’ll get a place of my own eventually, but i might take you up on that offer before then. hell, maybe even after.” he hadn’t planned on forming any attachment to ray—after all, the more people you care about, the more you have to lose—but the bond that comes from having gone through hell and back with someone is not one that requires his permission to form.

“things aren’t so bad now though,” he acquiesces. in his youth, he’d thought himself a sort of god—not in arrogance, but in penance. like atlas, he’d once thought he deserved to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders in penance for simply existing, had once been willing to martyr himself for the people around him. he’s a lot more selfish these days, not naive enough to believe that the world will ever go back to the way it used to be, but as long as he has the people he cares about within reach, he can’t bring himself to care about much else.

‘can i kiss you?’

he asks the question, but he waits for her to make the decision and its such a logan thing to do, to never just take anything from her unless he knows it’s something she would willingly give even though it should be painfully clear by now that everything she has and everything she is has always been inexplicably his.

she should say no, they should wait. there were still discussions to be had, wires to uncross and untangle, other hearts that needed to be taken into consideration. and they’d been apart for so long, lived entire lives without each other, both of them had grown and changed, there were things they needed to relearn and things that needed to be learned anew. and they were supposed to be miserable today right? she wasn’t supposed to allow herself even the smallest amount of relief or joy.

but none of that seemed to matter, not with logan’s fingers gently brushing her cheek and her jawline and not with their lips barely a hairsbreadth apart.

he asks the question but this time she’s the one the closes the distance between them.

suddenly she’s thirteen again, relaxed and languid by the poolside, logan’s hair gently teasing the skin of her thighs and she’s gazing down at him like he’s the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen.

back then the second his lips had brushed against hers she’d known there was no one else on earth she’d ever love more, that logan was exactly who she’d always belong with and that there was nowhere else she’d ever want to be but next to him .

she’d known and she’d panicked.

(because you’re not supposed to love someone that much at thirteen, you’re not supposed to want the things she had wanted when you’re too young to make those kinds of decisions on your own)

there’s no panic this time, just an almost calm sort of certainty as logan’s warm lips caress her own - even with her heart pounding rhythmically in her chest - and this time when they pull back, holly’s nose brushing against his playfully as they part just enough to be able to see into each others eyes and see every thought neither one of them can give voice to just yet, there’s no denial threatening to spill off the tip of her tongue.

“what did you think?” his smile is slightly lopsided and goofy but breathtakingly soft as he echoes the words of the boy he used to be over a decade ago. the boy that still lived on inside the man that he’d become and she knows the look on her own face matches his exactly.

“i…” her cheeks heat up as she recalls the lie she’d fed him the last time they’d been in this position, how ridiculous a thing it seems to be to say now. i love you - those are the three tiny words she wants to say, the response he can read her well enough to see in her eyes anyway if he looks for it.

but she cant, she wont, not until she can be sure she can say the words and have them be safe with him.

“i think we probably shouldn’t wait another twelve years to do that again.”

even twelve years later, their lips press together so naturally, the sensations so familiar. but maybe it’s not the kiss that is familiar so much as holly herself, their lives and souls intertwined so closely that coming together is inevitable. he laughs at her quip, leaning in to press their mouths together again, tentatively exploring this new aspect of their relationship.

“not sure i can go another twelve seconds without kissing you again,” he murmurs, and then as if to prove his point, kisses her again. chastely this time, but even though it’s nothing more than the briefest brushing of their lips, logan feels the warmth of it even after he pulls away.

it feels wrong, to be this happy on a day that’s supposed to be dedicated to mourning the dead, but he can’t help himself. it’s only be sheer willpower does logan manage to stop himself from kissing her again, but he’s reluctant to move his hand away from her face, needing a way to ground himself to reality, to be sure that this is real, and not simply a manifestation of his deepest desires as he lays dying somewhere along the highways of georgia. 

but no matter how much he wants to bask in this moment, he knows that are things that must be said, bridges that need to be crossed. he’d done a lot of things wrong when he was younger, but his biggest regret is not having been completely honest with holly, and he’s not about to make the same mistake again. so he lets his hand slide down her face, fingers gently tracing down her neck, the slope of her shoulders, until his fingers curl securely around her waist and he pulls her against his side.

“i love you.” he says the words she cannot easily, not because he treasure this thing they have any less than she does, but because he wants to hold himself accountable. he thinks he’d placed holly on a pedastal once, had been so afraid to give voice to his feelings because a part of him had viewed her as something that would always be out of reach. but that wasn’t fair to holly at all, because holly was human too—she hurt too, made mistakes just like anyone else, and all she’d ever asked of him was to be the safe space where she could be herself. not the daughter of the mayor, not the captain of the cheerleader or the high school valedictorian, just plain old holly with all of her imperfections. “i love you,” he says again, grip on her tightening slightly. “i’m sorry it took me so long to let you know.”

“i know i’ve missed out on a lot, and i know things have changed—but there are things that haven’t, and the way i feel about you is one of them. it doesn’t matter that you’re not the same holly that i used to know, and i will learn to love the parts of you that are new, because it’s still you.” he turns his head, presses his face against her hair and breathes her in. “you don’t have to tell me everything at once, we can take things slow. i’m not going anywhere, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

It’s easier to stand outside where it’s less stifling. The heat of the summer makes his button down feel starchy and restricting, but it’s still better than how it feels to tight, too packed in where the vigil is taking place. Fletcher already put his candles down. He’s said his goodbyes, and it’s a weird feeling. He might just be focusing on his family to distract from the patients for the time being, but as time ebbs on the faces of all of them start to overshadow his family’s.

Maybe he should be inside paying his respects. He owes it to the patients they lost, doesn’t he? That might just be the ever-present guilt rearing its ugly head.

When Logan shows face outside, Fletcher doesn’t recognize it’s him. Not initially. He reels himself back in from a stare-off he is having with something across the way - a tree, maybe, or that dandelion poking out of a crack in the side walk? It doesn’t matter because his eyes are now focused on Logan’s face.

There isn’t much he knows about Logan other than he is someone important to Holly and Merrick. He heard them talk a bit about him when they had their comm call in the clinic, before quarantine was lifted and they couldn’t physically see each other. He’s seen Logan popping in and out of the clinic to visit Holly, too, and those he’d been nosy Fletch didn’t ask much about him. They are just on a first name basis which he does intend to remedy that eventually.

“Hey, yourself…” a half-smile lifts his expression to appear a little less angsty - a look Fletcher never liked on himself. Oh god, wipe it away, he thinks as he tries somewhat harder to get it to reach his eyes. “I think so, yeah. I needed fresh air, too. Just… processing everything up in the old noggin.” He gestures to his head with a comical expression and shrugs, but the playfulness is quickly fleeting.

“Just about as good as everyone else. What about yourself?” Fletcher asks it not out of politeness. He is genuinely concerned, and everyone deserves to know they’re cared about - that the emotions they are navigating are valid and people are still looking out for one another.

It also might not be that deep, he’s unaware if Logan’s grieving anyone. “I, uh, haven’t checked on - how’s Holly doing? Have you seen her?”

it’s difficult to believe that fletcher is truly okay—even if the way fletcher’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes hadn’t given him away, logan knows for a fact that it would be difficult to find anyone still left alive in this hell scape that isn’t mourning someone out there. still, everyone is entitled to grieve in privacy, and logan’s never really been the sort to pry anyway; but despite his rough exterior and how intimidating he can come across sometimes, he’s also always been something of a bleeding heart.

so it doesn’t matter that fletcher doesn’t want to open up to him—logan has his own secrets too, and it’d be hypocritical of him to get offended at being shut out—but he figures that he can at least keep him company until he’s regained a better hold of his thoughts and emotions, so he quietly settles at the spot next to fletcher, stuffing both hands into his pockets as he leans back against the brick wall.

“i’ve been worse,” logan answers with a shrug. as dismissive as the answer may be, it’s the truth at least. he’s found the people who had once been the core of his life, and even though there are still past hurts that they have to work through, open wounds from their teenage years that have only stopped bleeding with time and distance, at least they’re alive. 

“holly’s inside.” something that might be a smile tugs lightly at the corner of his lips; even after so many years, even in a different town, somehow it’s still a given that logan is the go-to for any information about holly. “she’s much better now, physically speaking. emotionally, though... are any of us ever really doing okay on that front?”

🔬

a giggle escapes her as she gazes up  at him and rolls her eyes, reaching for his offered hand to climb the small distance up the play equipment.

“still such a gallant farm boy.” she teases once she reaches the top to stand next to him, letting him lead her towards a spot they can both sit comfortably side by side, holly’s head naturally drifting to rest in the crook of his shoulder, the novelty of having him beside her once again, flesh, blood and warmth still lingering, the fear that she might lose him again, sooner than she thinks, the driving force behind her constant need to be close.

this time though every stolen moment is committed to memory - some thing beautiful to hold on to when she can’t hold on to anything else.

the park they’re in is unfamiliar and new but the situation is one they’ve been in a thousand times before. they’d spent the night of her sweet sixteenth in much the same way, side by side on the roof of a shed on the country club grounds while the party, technically her party had continued on without them in the main building, opulent and grand and everything holly hadn’t wanted it to be.

there’s a newness to logan too, one she’s slowly learning. he’s still himself, still her best friend, still the man she loves, but there’s a steadiness there now that hadn’t been present in childhood - at sixteen, at twenty one - and his confidence feels less like false bravado now and more like something earned through experience.

“thank you.” she breathes out as she settles, her nerves slowly dissipating now that she’s away from the mourners and the crowds, now that there aren’t reminders of how much she’d failed stationed in every corner around her or people that she needed to put on a brave face for. 

it’s just her and logan and he’s never needed her to be anything but just holly.

“you’d think the fact that we’ve lived through an actual zombie apocalypse would make awkward social engagements a little easier to navigate.”

her head fits perfectly into the crook of his shoulder, and logan traces his fingers lightly across her back before settling at her waist, the movement familiar yet novel all at once. they’ve sat like this countless times over the course of their lives—even when they’d tried to bury their feelings, convinced that their love was doomed, neither of them had been able to stop themselves from gravitating towards the other. 

it’s strange to think about how it’s been years since he’s been this close to her, and they’ve both changed and grown in the time they’ve been apart, but at the end of the day she’s still his holly—compassionate, stubborn, perfect in all her imperfections—and he will always be her logan.

he’d used to believe that they were two halves of the same whole, and maybe that was where they had gone wrong. he knows holly’s always had the tendency to try and carry the weight of the world on her own shoulders, and his heart aches for all the years he wasn’t there for her to share her burdens with, but maybe they had needed the distance, needed to find out who they were before they found their way back to each other.

“considering the zombie apocalypse hasn’t even ended, i think it’s ridiculous that we’re still being forced to make awkward small talk at social events,” he retorts. “how much do you want to bet someone’s going to get super fucked up at the bar tonight?”

the approaching dusk bathes them in golden light, and he can’t help the comment that slips out from between his lips, barely louder than a breath yet clearer than day. “you’re beautiful,” he whispers, the faintest tinge of reverence in his voice. there are a million things he wants to say to her—i’m glad i found you, thank god you pulled through, i love you—but the words stick in his throat.

logan has always been better with actions than words though, and so he brings his other hand up to cradle the curve of holly’s jaw, thumb brushing her stray strands of hair out of her face as he leans in. their foreheads are pressed together, the tips of their noses barely brushing, lips close enough to share a single breath, but logan doesn’t close the distance between them.

logan hadn’t wanted to come. he’s never been good at dealing with grief, has always been more comfortable with actions than feelings. but holly’s here, and wherever she is, he’s never far away, unable to shake off the irrational fear that she might disappear if he lets her out of his sight for too long.

he glances over at holly to make sure she’s holding up okay, reaching for an unlit candle. logan has no plans to grieve his dead sister in public, but he lights a candle for her anyway, even if only because he thinks she would have liked him to. grief crawls up his throat, and he feels like he’s outside of himself; even though he hasn’t had an episode for years now, it’s hard to forget the warning signs. placing the newly-lit candle down, logan turns on his heels and makes his way out of the community centre, trying to escape the oppressiveness of the crowded space filled with grief.

the air outside is warm and sticky, but it’s a welcome relief all the same. he walks along the outside wall of the building, trying to find a quiet space to clear his head before heading back in, only to find that he’s not the only one trying to find some peace. he recognises fletcher, had seen him often enough when visiting holly at the clinic to say hi to him when they pass each other by in town, but saying hello feels inappropriate now. 

fletcher isn’t doing anything other than just standing there, staring into space, but logan can’t help but feel like he’s intruding.

he means to back away, pretend he’d never been there, but then fletcher seems to come back to himself, gaze flicking over towards logan. “hey,” he greets, feeling strangely like a young boy being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “sorry, i was just—i needed to get outside for a bit, didn’t realise you were out here.”

at first glance, fletcher doesn’t seem all that different from his usual, unflappable self, but logan can’t help but feel that the other young man seems... sad, or tired perhaps. it’s really none of his business, and logan knows he should probably just excuse himself and leave, but the question slips out before he can stop himself.

who: holly wood & logan norris ( @incendiarious· )

where & when: hard times tavern, early evening, 12th of july

she’d managed to last much longer than she’d expected, had kept herself away from the remaining jones’ and had stuck to only talking to a handful of people, half drunk beer bottle clutched in her hand protectively - more a prop then there to enjoy - as she forced herself to remain calm and poised, a cracked caricature of the perfect ice princess her mother had always wanted her to be but holly had failed to live up to.

inside - she felt like screaming.

her heart still skips a beat when she sees him, sitting in the same position at the bar she’d left him in when they’d arrived.

logan hadn’t known any of the people they’d lost when that illness had swept through town indiscriminately claiming lives and holly knows a mass memorial wouldn’t be the way he’d want to say goodbye to lori. the only reason he’d come was because she had felt she had to and he’d known she couldn’t do it alone.

she excuses herself from a conversation she hadn’t been listening to to begin with, and dodges a small but condensed crowd to reach him - amazed still that even after all their time apart he still felt like home to her, that just the blessing of his presence beyond the crowd was enough to calm her stuttered nerves.

sliding her her hand over his as he restlessly taps a beat against the bar top, her other resting against his shoulder, holly leans in and whispers a request against his ear with a wistfulness she hadn’t been sure she was still capable of “run away with me?“

truth be told, logan feels out of place amongst the crowd. there are people crying, there are others huddled in small groups to reminisce the times spent with those who are no longer with them, and then there’s logan—sitting at the bar, sipping quietly from a bottle of lukewarm beer as he quietly tracks holly’s movements across the room. it’s funny, he supposes, that he makes the picture perfect image of a mourner, when all he really wants to do is get out of there.

he doesn’t know any of the people whose lives they’re commemorating, and but he knows why these people died, and it only reminds him of holly’s own close brush with death—of how close he had come to never seeing her ever again, and the thought of it still makes his insides seize with fear, even though holly is right there—

warm, and alive, and barely holding herself together.

he’s not surprised when she makes her way over to him, and he turns his hand palm up to grasp hers back, lacing their fingers together. logan turns his head to the side, presses a kiss against the top of her head. “as you wish,” he murmurs into her hair, and then he’s up on his feet, putting himself between holly and the crowd as he tugs her out of the tavern.

there’s no reason to hold onto her hand now that they’re out in the open, but logan has no intention of letting go, and holly doesn’t pull away either. he lets the heat of her palm against his ground him as they make their way through the empty streets, the silence between them more comforting than uncomfortable, until they finally arrive at the playground.

it’s not as cosy as the abandoned cabin by the lake that had served as his and holly’s hideout back in riverside, but it’ll have to do. he lets go of her hand to pull himself up onto the top of the jungle gym, and then holds a hand out to holly to help her up as well. “my lady.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ray responded with a cheeky smile. After a couple of months of travelling with Logan, Ray had a pretty good feel for the other’s sense of humor. They were never particularly close, bonded from Logan saving his life and a mutual understanding that surviving in groups was far easier than going at it alone, but Ray had enjoyed Logan’s company. He hadn’t seen him around much since they arrived in Fairvale, but Ray had been keeping himself busy with as many jobs as he could find and as many new people that he could meet.

“The new stuff’s already in the bottles.” Ray’s hands drummed along the wooden counter top as he mentally tried to count the days. “Needs at least six or seven more days sealed up, but I’ll add ya to the Fairvale mailin’ list when it’s done.”

Ray’s lips quirked up when Logan punished himself with another sip of the Fairvale brew. Despite it’s reputation and hazy color, people still kept on drinking it. Bad beer was better than watered down liquor, Ray supposed, but he wasn’t eager to drink either of them. Despite a lifetime behind the bartop, Ray only really drank socially. He had seen too many people lose their senses and their families at the other end of the wooden counter to want to travel down that path himself.

“Just been keepin’ busy. A bit of supply runnin’, a bit of helpin’ out in the garage. You know I like to keep my hands busy.” Ray proved his point with the glasses he was absently cleaning in his downtime. “What ‘bout you? I haven’t seen ya around too much. I had halfa mind to think you had snuck back out to the wilds.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” he says with a grin, raising his glass slightly in a mock toast. “i’ll find a way to stay alive for the next week even if only to get a taste of the best apocalypse beer ever brewed.” when you’re surrounded by death and destruction, joking about it feels like the only way to cope, especially when the alternative is spiralling into despair. 

but there’s a darker thought that trails after that last one, an unbidden reminder that lori will never be old enough to have her first legal drink. “lori’s missing out,” he remarks, and then forces himself to take a slow sip from his glass instead of downing the rest of it all at once. he’s told ray about lori, back when they were on the road together, back when he hadn’t known if merrick or holly or anyone else from his old life was still alive, and he didn’t want to be the only one who remembered lori. sharing memories of her had been his way of keeping her with him, and ray had listened to countless tales of all the trouble his baby sister had gotten up to, from when she was a kid all the way up till her teenage years.

logan might have saved ray’s life, but ray had also saved him in a way.

“never a dull moment with you,” he jokes, but there’s no hard edges to his words at all. logan is grateful for ray’s inability to stay still, if anything, because it had kept him busy too, which made it easier to pretend he didn’t feel like a walking wound. “nah, i wouldn’t leave without you,” he teases, throwing a wink at the end for good measure. “i was mother hen-ing holly while she was still on bed rest, but she’s gotten tired of my constant hovering now that she’s up and about again. went out recruiting because i didn’t realise how awkward it would be to share a living space with my high school ex-girlfriend, my high school best friend—who also happens to be the guy she fooled around with behind my back—and the girl i’ve been in love with most of my life—who is also said ex-girlfriend’s sister.”

“Oh no,” Yahnaa threw up her hands with a smile, and slightly moved back from the alcohol. “I don’t drink alcohol,” she said quickly, but her smile was just as vibrant, she wasn’t apologetic for her choices, and she would never be. “So you’ll have to do a great job at describing,” she noted, not even pushing the glass back, waiting for him to take it away himself. “Nice to meet you, Logan,” she said. Then blushed slightly. “Yeah, you would?” she held on hand in front of her lips for a moment. “I’m new, we arrived a week or so ago,” she informed him. 

he’s taken by surprise when she says she doesn’t drink alcohol, but logan recovers quickly, lips pulling into an easy smile as he moves the glass towards himself again. “good for you,” he says, and he means it in earnest, but doesn’t comment on it further without knowing her reasons for not drinking, not wanting to say the wrong thing by accident. 

“well... if i had to describe it, the aftertaste is much worse than the actual taste of this stuff. you know when you leave wet socks out to dry, but there’s not enough sun out so they just get all cold and slightly damp and smell kind of musty? if you squeezed the moisture out of those half-dried socks, i’d bet it’d taste just like this.” amused by his own description, logan laughs as he taps on the side of his beer glass.

🤟🏻

She was there for curiosity, mainly. Sloane didn’t drink outside of special occasions. Particularly not beer. But she wanted to know the ins and outs of the town, and that meant visiting every public location. Even the tavern.

Mercifully, there was a familiar face inside, one Sloane bee-lined for. She hadn’t had his cap on today, alas, it would have made a nice segue. “Dare I ask what’s worse than dystopia beer?” Her grin, at least, was still bright.

Staring at the glass, Sloane shrugs. “No idea, honey. I’m not a beer gal, myself.”

“high school science experiment beer,” he says in response to her question. “tasted absolutely awful and i ended up in the hospital, so that was objectively worse than this.” as if to make his point, he picks up his glass again and swirls the liquid around, watching the way the sediments in the drink turn over with the movement before settling again once he stops.

madison can feel the faint blush on her cheeks - she knew the older wood sister, though not as well as merrick and colette - and was surprised holly had even noticed her absence. they’d been quarantined together, both worried about their younger sister’s outside the clinic doors, but both seemed too quiet to really strike up a friendship. 

( though, according to merrick, they probably had a lot in common. ) 

“no, of course not,” madison assures him - honestly, the addition of two new people in town hardly registered, and only gave madison more insight to who the new people in her life were. seeing merrick doting on the other - ethan, she supposed - had shown her a softer side that no one had seen in fairvale, as much as madison was concerned. “i know merrick’s been busy taking care of your other friend, and colette and i - “ 

colette and her kissed, but they hadn’t spoken of it yet. they probably wouldn’t, either - which was fine by madison. it was a one time incident, something to never be repeated, and the space had only been to help her move on. ( if only it was working. ) 

“we’ve both been busy. i have a younger sister myself - she’s 13, and kind of a handful. plus i work at the library most days, and have a pretty full house myself. i’m from here, originally - when it was prescott - so my home has kind of become a home for others. that’s just usually where i am. i’m not a very social person in general - that’s why i hang out with girls like colette and merrick. i let them take the spotlight for me.” 

logan doesn’t miss the way her train of thought stutters to a stop after the mention of colette, and intuitively he knows that there must be more to that story that she’s not saying, but it’s not like he has any right to pry into her personal business. although he has to admit, he’s at least a little intrigued by whatever might have happened between a sweet girl like madison and the prickly younger jacobson sister, but he also wouldn’t put it past colette to gut him if he crossed any lines she didn’t want crossed. 

so he sets his curiosity aside, and doesn’t interrupt her ramble to ask for any details she’s not willing to give. there’s something about madison that reminds him of holly, and he finds that he’s not surprised at all to learn that she has a younger sister—or that she spends most of her time at the library. “that’s a lot of words from someone who’s not very social,” he teases lightly. “but hey, if you’re not against the idea of having another friend, i can be social enough for the both of us too. or we can be antisocial together.”

he takes another sip of the godawful beer just to have something to do with his hands, and to let her consider his invitation. she has no reason to open up to him, but no one really goes to a bar unless they have something on their minds—logan included—and he finds that it’s easier to confide in strangers sometimes.

The grimace on Logan’s face was impossible to miss. He smoothed it away with impressive speed and Ray had to hold back a large laugh. His reaction was much kinder than Victor’s, but it certainly was not honest. Ray had tried the beer his first day there and it had been the last time he tried the Fairvale brew. The next day he coordinated with Chomsky and the others and with a little creative freedom got to work. That was weeks ago.

“No need to spare my feelings Logan. It ain’t mine,” Ray answered with a soft chuckle instead. He had been working on a new recipe for weeks. After the initial fermentation, Ray had bottled up every ounce of new beer. It was crystal clear, a light lager that wouldn’t have the awful haze or after taste of the current batch. Ray was sure it would be an improvement; it just needed more time to sit, which was the biggest issue when dealing with beer. It took so dang long to make it.

“We can call it ‘out the door’, ‘cause once my stuff is ready it’ll be long gone.”

“oh thank god,” he breathes, pushing the glass of cloudy liquid away from him for dramatic effect. “you could’ve told me i’d just drank some chilled piss and i would believe you. i can’t believe people have been willingly drinking this before you came along.” of course, logan is aware that drinking probably isn’t too high up on most people’s priority list during these times, and he’s sure the townsfolk gather at the tavern more for the atmosphere than the booze, but still.

“and how long will it be until then? asking for a friend.” despite his exaggerated show of disgust earlier, logan reaches for the glass again. it’s been a long time since he’d touched alcohol—even since before the world ended, his therapist had suggested that he quit drinking because it only enabled his reckless and self-destructive behaviours. that’s not exactly a state of mind he wants to return to, but logan thinks he deserves a drink after everything he’s been through. 

huh. maybe that’s why people drink this godawful stuff.