#sworiginal

Once upon a day, Julie had enjoyed thunderstorms. When they knocked her power out, it forced her to slow down, to stretch her fingers and step away from her sewing. She would stand in the dark, looking through the glass doors of her parents house, her silhouette blazoned by the lightning striking before her. She always returned to her projects rejuvenated, rested, and reinspired.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, you're doing really great."

Now though, thunderstorms were a different kind of distracting.

Julie was chilled down to her bones, her long hair plastered to her face as a rude reminder that having long hair in the apocalypse was a bad idea. Dysphoria be damned, she was one bad night away from shaving it all off.

Claire was working quickly beside her, stitching up a nasty slice on Julie's arm. To her credit, Claire's hands didn't shake, not even when thunder seemed to shake everything around them.

"Ow." Julie meekly complained as Claire finished another stitch.

"I know baby, we're almost done."

But it was never going to be over. The wound may close. The rain may stop washing her blood off the pavement. The sun may shine again, but there was never going to be an end.

Claire's warm hands wouldn't end either though. There were tiny blessings in the new world.

Taeyoung was shaking. Even with the emergency blankets, even with the attendants watching him closely, even when he was offered an extra layer.

He couldn’t look out the windows. Being up in the air never made him uneasy before, but each shutter of the helicopter threatened to throw him back into the ocean. He didn’t quite believe that such a horrible thing could be truly over, like he was bound to that island.

It wasn’t right to leave like this, with the fates of three of the members up in the air.

In sharp contrast, Jesse was not shaking. His eyes were hazy, unseeing, it put Taeyoung off.

“Jesse?” He whispered.

Nothing.

“You in there?”

Nothing. Figures. Such a horrible thing couldn’t truly be over.

The wee hours of the morning cast a light grey hue over Aaron T’s room. Robaire counted the seconds in each minute, too restless to actually sleep. Aaron T was a heater next to him, softly snoring despite how sick he’d seemed forty minutes ago.

They were both sick. That’s why they were together.

Robaire twisted under the covers and reached for the thermometer on the bedside table. It sat at a steady 20 Celsius, about 11 degrees hotter than it felt. He fiddled with the end of it, watching the little red line reach up higher and higher as his fingertips warmed it.

Aaron mumbled something, so Robaire turned back to face him again. His brows were furrowed. The bed shook along with him.

Robaire shuffled closer, wrapping an arm around him. Aaron nuzzled into him and mumbled something barely legible.

“Mom?”

It took everything to stop himself from flinching.

“I’m cold.”

Robaire pulled the covers up higher, pulled him closer, did everything he could to make him comfortable. “I’ve got you.”

There were times that Julie would've killed for cool water. She spent many long summer days longing to swim at the pool at her childhood home or to throw back a glass after hours hunched over a project. Hell, sometimes Julie would even daydream about a long, cold shower. Those were dark days.

Now though, that she was knee deep in a river no more than a mile away from the base, she couldn't imagine ever wanting to feel the tiniest bit cold ever again. Her toes had gone completely numb. Each tiny movement was a bite.

"You ready?" Clover's voice came somewhere from behind her, almost song-like in its own way.

"Don't look yet."

She chuckled. "You'd think I'd never seen you naked before."

Julie took another reluctant step. "I'm almost there."

"Yeah?"

"No." She shook. "It's cold."

"Can I come in?" Clover sounded closer. "It'll be easier if we go in quick."

"Only if you hold my hand."

"Try to stop me."

At the sound of a sploosh, Julie twisted to watch. Clover waded closer, barely flinching at the bitter cold. When she matched Julie's depth, she ran a careful hand over her shoulder. The touch was warm despite how cold Clover's fingers were. She shuddered under it.

"Let's go," Clover whispered. Her smile was kind.

“I think you hate me.”

“You know I love you.”

Julie smiled, which faded immediately as she waded further into the water. “Christ.”

“C’mon, just to your hips.”

She followed Clover, laser-focused on the hand which had drifted down to her back, guiding her forward. Once they’d made it a decent way further, they both stopped. Water lapped at Julie’s waist, and she wrapped her arms around herself to counteract the cold.

“We dunk?” Julie took Clover’s hand and squeezed it. “Cause I’m not going deeper.”

She breathed out a laugh, shoulders high as she shivered. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They inched closer, just a little, and adjusted so they had their arms hanging loosely around each other’s necks. Julie liked to pretend they were slow dancing, that the river swaying was actually a current taking them across a ballroom floor. They would dance together, each in a dress Julie had stitched herself.

Clover’s would be an A-line gown, a deep green to complement the earth of her skin. The sleeves would hang below her shoulders, because how could Julie cover her freckles? She didn’t have a favourite part of Clover, but if she did, it might’ve been those freckles.

The illusion only lasted a moment though. She knew the real reason they were standing like that was to make sure one couldn’t chicken out of dunking their heads under the water. She supposed that was its own kind of love.

“Ready?” She brought her eyes up to meet Clover’s. She found a lively sparkle there.

“When you are.”

Julie took a breath.

And she submerged.

She was only under the water for a second before her head bopped back up. She kept her knees bent so her shoulders would stay under the water, hands frantically trying to get her hair out of her face.

Clover came up only a few seconds later, eyebrows furrowed against the cold. Julie giggled as Clover wiped the water from her face. Julie rinsed her hands to wipe at the grime on her face.

“You’ve gotta let me know when my face is clean.” She insisted.

Clover leaned a little closer, and Julie froze as she was inspected. “Hi Julie.”

She gave her a puzzled look.

“I’ve been traveling with some crazy lady covered in dirt, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “Oh you’re so funny.”

“You look good.”

Some of the warmth returned to her face. “You do too.”

After a moment, Julie shuffled a little. “Do you think you could wash my back?”

Clover nodded for her to turn around. “Of course.”

She shifted to face the other way, and pulled her hair forward to expose her back. Clover’s hands brushed lightly at the small of her back, a warning before she came in with a little more pressure. She shivered under the touch.

“You’ve gotten strong.” Clover commented.

“It’s the axes.”

“We should keep you on firewood then.”

Julie suppressed a smile. “I’m starting to get calluses.”

“The fact that you haven’t gotten calluses three years into the apocalypse is genuinely impressive.”

“I’m just so dainty.”

“Okay, sure.”

She laughed as Clover pressed into her back, chin resting on Julie’s shoulder as she hugged from behind. “All clean.”

“Thanks, Clover.”

“Oo,” she teased, “I love when you say my name.”

“Dork.”

“You love me.”