#fiierlis

a rick / nick ship aesthetic that @fiierlis didn’t ask for , but that they get a n y w a y .

               maybe it was the brush with death sending zach into hysterics, but there was no containing the deep belly-laughs choking out from his lips.  he stood with both hands on his knees, a mess of rainbow confetti from that stupid party popper at his feet.  it was supposed to be a dumb prank.  zach would hide in the old freezer, ready to pop the plastic party favor in nick’s face as soon as he turned the corner.  of course he hadn’t anticipated any fellow undead freezer buddies.

               once his laughter calmed and the adrenaline rush wore off, zach straightened up to take a deep breath.  his hand found nick’s shoulder, giving mr. serious a brotherly squeeze as a silent means of saying thank you.  he really did appreciate nick’s concern, and if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, zach would be dead on the floor — or worse.

               ❛ not a scratch.  hey —- dude, I’m sorry.  it was a stupid joke, I thought this place was wiped clean’a those things.  I owe you one. ❜

he’s here, and that alone means more to her than anything else.   the world ending is never something you wish for, nor is it considered something good, but with this curse she got the gift of getting her  brother  back. no, it hasn’t been easy, and  no  he wasn’t always there towards the beginning, but he’s here now. he’s always had a way in calming her, undeniably. when no one else could get her to say what was on her mind, why she was crying, especially when she was little  --  it was always her big brother. he always had her back, which is partially what contributed to her having his even when it was not reciprocated. 

she leans into his touch, eyes squeezing shut to let more tears cascade down her cheeks, and she shakes her head. everything was okay, everything was finally put together ; they had a home, they had each other, they were growing crops again -- for the first time in a  long  time  (   even when things were right  ), everything felt  normal. she’s always been independent, but this world amplified it -- made her  hard.   yet, she still breaks in his arms, hands all of her burdens over to him to alleviate the weight on her chest.   i love you so much.  god, she doesn’t hear it enough. often, she thinks he  doesn’t.   ❛  i love you, too -- ❜  she sobs it out, voice catching as the words are choked out. but here’s the thing: she doesn’t want to fight, but she  will. what she needed was for him to bring her back down to earth, get her head screwed on straight. her head shakes again at his suggestion, reaching for the gun that rests in her lap while eyes stay on her brother.  ❛  we do this together. i’m not leaving you. ❜   she never will.

she  hates  this.

it’s  annoyance, frustration, pain...  -- when did she start  loving  him so much? the day she was born. all throughout their childhood, all throughout his troubles, all the way up until  now, and for the rest of forever. he’s her big brother, her rock -- her  idol. there’s no one she cherished more, not even their father, and, at the time, not even  matt. nick would always be the choice because nick is her  family, nick is her blood, and she knows that he has such a beautiful heart despite his demons and the squalor he leaves in his wake.

right now? she doesn’t think he’s going to die, she knows. she can feel something in the pit of her stomach, and it might be either partially or directly related to the fact they lost their mother not too long ago. somehow, some way  --  she’ll be the last one standing. why? because she’s always the one left alone. it may be her own selfishness that she doesn’t want him to die, but isn’t that just the way it is? there’s always going to be a part of you that is selfish when you lose a loved one and that’s something that’s exempt by default. that’s not something you can  control. she’ll admit it, she doesn’t know what she’d do without him. she doesn’t know if she would die along with him or keep fighting. either that or be an entirely different person.

the place isn’t far.  he’s missing the point. one second, one minute, one hour, one day, one month, one year  --  it doesn’t  matter  how long it is, it’s all too much. why can’t she go with him? he’s treating her like how mom did. let her crawl on her hands and knees when it’s convenient, like to clean up after her brother during withdrawals or something else, but when it’s inconvenient then, well..  you’re too young  or, the back-handed way of saying it is:  i need you to stay here and do this, this, and this. like it’s somehow going to  soothe  her to feel like she’s included in the groups activities!! -- it’s  not. she isn’t a child, that’s  long  gone.

         IT STILL SEEMS LIKE a day ago without rick grimes instead of YEARS. his death had created a much bigger hole in nick’s heart and watching carl fall into the same bullshit spiral he had when his father passed was unbearable to watch. why was he unable to help? why couldn’t he find the words? rick had always said nick was like him in many ways, so what happened? the night had started with carl DRINKINGand nick stuck in a corner, fumbling with a coin he’d found, turning it over and over until it SLIPS and rolls its way to where carl is sat. as if the useless currency triggers the younger boy, he speaks, bitterly and so broken down.

         a truth. one he had a hard time spilling in front of the elder, not wanting to seem WEAK. witnessing the explosion, the sudden realization that HIS OWN beacon of hope had finally died out crushed him. it always ends in fire for him – fire and no body to be laid to rest. while nick had shut down and spoke not much about the older man’s death, some nights ( MUCH LIKE THIS ONE ) he couldn’t escape the heat behind his eyes and the painful ball curling up in his throat.  ❛ neither was i. he..i miss him.  ❜  thinking more about the situation, he and rick were dreadfully ALIKE minus one part.

        they both caused an explosion in front of the eyes of their loved ones, to SAVE them, but unlike rick, nick was alive. and that hurts the most.

🔫 It shouldn’t be like this. Things could have gotten better with the communities if Rick had just let the people go who didn’t want to be there. Who didn’t want to work with former enemies. Carl had told him not to kill every Savior, but Rick had taken it to extremes. Wanted to build this... amazing, loving world or something for Carl and Judith. He knew where Rick had been coming from, but now Carl couldn’t help feeling that all of this was his fault. It was hurting so many people, and it was all because... Carl had been tired of fighting? Rick... Rick had had to die for... that?

“Would’ve been better if I never made it outta Alexandria... Night Negan bombed the place.” He slumped further against the wall, part of him wanting to actually just go back to that time. Try to fix so many things. Maybe prevent the disaster he’d become and everything that had happened to the communities since they lost Rick. The more he thought about it right now, the more sick he felt, but the images, the thoughts, the memories... nothing would leave him. They stuck. They just stuck.

For a minute he found himself staring at the floor. It felt like time itself had just ceased to move along the day Rick died. As if Carl had just forgotten what time was. He just knew the sun rose and was replaced at night by the moon. That was a day. How many went by? How fast did they go by? It was all a blur to him. Like it was all the same day. How many times in a single day then could he have gotten this drunk? He was still here against a wall because he knew he couldn’t stand.

“Stupid thing is, I’d probably be dead already if I didn’t have Daryl watchin’ out for me. Don’t even realize how much I’m drinkin’ half the time... More than half the time.” After a few seconds of staring at the now half empty bottle that he’d consumed over the course of the day - a record for slowness, probably - he returned it to his hand and downed more of it than he’d hoped he would. When he set it back down, he cracked his knuckles a couple times and stared blankly at the floor again, halfway to where Nick was on the other side of the room. “...I’m scared. I don’t even know why. I just always feel scared. Ever since my dad died... the feeling just stays. Sits there. Just... consistent.”

how can he trust him again?  he’s was just  beginning  to trust him when he decided to pull his stunt. the joke of it all is there’s not a lot he can blame him for because he’s the  same.  they both have similar demons, their addictions are their worst enemy, the hate they hold for themselves...  it could wipe out nations. and the thing is, he really  has  started to care for nick. it’s too soon to be sure exactly  where  his feelings lie, but he’d be kidding himself if he said they weren’t  remotely  intimate. 

      he had wanted to take the edge off so focusing wouldn’t feel like a damn burden and he could stop shaking like a leaf. who could survive with withdraws wrecking them to the point they wanted to curl up and die? what nick hadn’t counted on was being spotted as he popped the pills into his mouth and crunched them up like candy, body whipping around until he’s faced the source of the voice. “don’t,” nick warns in a near whisper. “don’t act like you know me well enough to give a damn about my well-being.”

        the concern from jonathan angers him for some reason and he doesn’t know why. actually, he doesn’t know why he’s not being smacked upside the head and yelled at for doing something wrong. how dare this person fucking care about an unsteady junkie still popping pills while the world falls into shambles around them? nick can’t leave the room. no, instead he lingers because some teeny weensy part of him is curious about the boy. “–it’s to help with the…with my uh…issues.” he stammers, waving his hands about as if it’ll help him process his words better. “shouldn’t you be asleep? why aren’t you asleep? go to sleep.”

JONATHAN WASN’T SURE what to expect when he approached Nick and whether he should be prepared for an unexpected surprise from the other teen. He had been on his way back to bed from using the bathroom when he heard some rustling in the room down the hall and nosed his way inside with his knife brandished. A time before Nick had arrived there had been a couple, one of whom was bit and during the night the woman turned and took out several of their group members. Sounds that went bump in the night never did seem to bode well given the current atmosphere of their grueling circumstance.