#lickbatteries

Tiny  feet  tiptoe  through  the  diner  and  into  the  little  storage  room  Party’s  claimed  as  his ,  stopping  at  his  side  where  she  kneels  down  and  holds  out  a  trembling  hand  to  gently  shake  him  awake .  Tears  adorn  doe-wide  eyes ,  nose  sniffling .  she’s  had  a  nightmare  again ,  about  the  days  before  she  found  safety  in  the  rag-tag  group  of  anarchists ,  when  she  had  no  choice  but  to  narrowly  outrun  the  clammy  unforgiving  grasp  of  white-clad  zombies  so  hellbent  on  destroying  her  all  on  her  own .   

“ They  got  me , ”  she  whispers  when  Party  opens  his  eyes ,  and  she  doesn’t  need  to  say  any  more  for  one  arm  to  hold  up  a  corner  of  his  blanket  in  invitation  for  her  to  crawl  underneath  and  lay  her  head  on  his  chest  as  she’s  often  inclined  to  do  in  times  of  need  or  panic .

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎, 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚝ō 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝙴𝙼𝚃. 𝙰 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚃-𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚂𝚄𝚅 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵-𝟷𝟻𝟶 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎, 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠—

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍; 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚝.

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚊, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝙲𝙳𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝙽𝚒𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚊, 𝙱𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚎, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜...

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝... 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍...

𝙷𝚞𝚑...

𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍—

“𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘.”

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗, 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝙵𝚘𝚘 𝙵𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝙰𝙲/𝙳𝙲—

“𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘. 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗’ 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜— 𝙴𝚢, 𝚢𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗’ 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎, 𝙲𝚊𝚜?” 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚣𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢.

𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚊.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝’𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍—

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛. “𝙺𝚒𝚔𝚒....?” 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗.

“𝙺𝚒𝚔𝚒! 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔! 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑! 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊 𝚠𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝚗𝚘 𝚞𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚞 𝚔𝚘𝚝𝚘 𝚘 𝚊𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚔𝚞𝚍𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚒!” 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝙴𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎— 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. “𝚂𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑— 𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙰 𝙶𝙾𝙳𝙳𝙰𝙼𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙽𝙾𝚆.”

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𝙰𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝙿𝚁 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚝ō 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍. 𝙲𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎...

𝙰 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚊, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚏.

𝙷𝚎’𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙷𝚎’𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜, 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚃, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

𝙰𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚊’𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜...

Mickey had been in one of the bathroom stalls of the fairy tail when he had noticed the number. He had been known to write and draw obscene things on the walls for the hell of it, so when he noticed the number with the message, ‘call for a good time xoxo ;)’ written underneath it, Mickey couldn’t help but want to have fun with it. Typing the number onto his phone, followed by a message, he began to scribble the number out before he sent the text.

[ TEXT → UNKNOWN ] : just wanted to let u know i scribbled ur number out at the fairy tail

Once he sent the text, he took a picture of the wall before attaching it to a new message.

[ TEXT → UNKNOWN ] : [attachment]