Summary: on his way though the stadium, legundo stumbles upon an old photo and dosen't take it well.
Genre: Angst, Hurt no Comfort ( :( )
Scenario: Zombie Apocalypse
Ships: None
Characters: Legundo, and the others are mentioned quite a few times.
Other Info:
Legundo Centric,
Probably OOC,
Sad, so sad, pure angst,
No Dialog Pretty Much,
Canon Divergent
Content Warnings!⚠:
Mental Breakdown,
Derealization,
Slight Metion of Blood,
Crying,
Word Count (minus notes and such.) : 1,202 words.
-START-
"Everything stays, but it still changes."
Footsteps fall against the soft grass of the stadium, making barley an audible sound. The place would've almost seemed serene if it weren't for the distant sound of zombies moaning outside the walls.
Legundo picked up his pace, the sun was setting and setting fast, and he had no intentions of stopping at this rate.
But he did.
A sharp shattering of glass rang out across the air. The sound snapping Legundo out of his thoughts and stopping him in his tracks. Looking down at the ground beneath him, a small object lay there. Overgrown and worn, the paint chipping off right from the frame. Not in disrepair but far, far from new by any means.
Disregarding the world around him, and the sky fading into a dark blue, he picks the painting up. Taking care to not break it more, he carefully peels vines and grass tangled on its base off and turns it around.
The other side was undeniably faded, what should've been vibrant reds and greens now form dull pinks and blues. The frame of the picture, obviously handcrafted, held little engravings of flowers and streaks of chipped ink and paint, all seemingly added by a different hand….
Yet so familiar somehow.
The glass was fogged, obscuring the actual content of the picture. Taking the back off, it was slowly pulled out. Only to leave him in shock.
A picture he never thought he would see again.
7 Teenagers lined up outside what seemed to be a pristine laboratory, all wearing the same (while, slightly altered from person to person.) school uniform. They're individual personalities shone across the laminated paper, each one unique to themselves.
On the left of the photo, two stood together, one with red hair and a disheveled uniform looked up at one in a red-ish winter coat with gold and black accents, smiling back down at him, with a hand rested in the middle of taking his hood down.
His other hand rested upon the shoulder of a man beside him, slightly taller than him, he had short black hair, and was holding two peace signs over two others heads, a bright grin on his face. Standing in front of him was one slightly shorter, in the middle of moving his hand away from his head, striking red eyes with a facade of annoyance at the act, though an obvious smile was on his face anyways.
On the left were two others, one unaware of the sign above his head he softly smiled, two long horns stretched towards the sky from the top of his head, and his face was almost entirely shaded off from the shadow of the cloak he wore, though one purple eye glowed from beneath the darkness of it.
At the very right, standing beside him, was a man in a menagerie of soft colors, colors that almost seemed to shift under the light. Cyans, reds, and whites were what stood out the most. He lifted what seemed to be a small mask or veil from his face to smile over at both him, and the camera.
Standing in the very middle was a man with long blonde hair, a bright open smile shined from cheek to cheek, he seemed nervous but undeniably beaming. A lab coat was draped over his uniform, and a nametag was clipped to its collar.
And he held in his hand a certificate.
A certificate of acceptance to work at none other than… Forge Laboratories.
"Forge Labs, Experiments and Testing Department: Sean [LASTNAME]'' That's what read on the nametag. Sean of Forge Labs.
Beside him. Beside Sean. Stood him, him and his friends…. What used to be his friends.
Ryan, Himself, Kim, Robert, Shadow and Sneve. All standing beside Sean in pride.
They all used to be friends. Not enemies, or assets for each other's survival, or anything else. Just friends, because they were.
Legundo barely noticed the tears falling from his eyes until he was snapped away by a sharp claw of a zombie digging into his arm, blood running down his arm. The night loomed above, and he was being swarmed. He wiped what tears he could from his eyes and shoved the picture and its broken frame into his bag as he jumped into action, quickly slashing down the zombies that surrounded him, he thinned out what he could and ran the minute an opening appeared.
His boots tore against the dirt under his feet, and his breath could barely catch up with him. He didn't look back… or forward, just ran. Eventually, the hot blistering lava glowing in the night, led a path to his base. The volcano stood tall and unfriendly, but he shut himself inside as soon as he could.
And collapsed onto the floor, sitting with a hand clawed over his face. His pupils dilated and body shaking, he could barely get himself to stand up. Just sat there, for the next few minutes, or hours. He couldn't even tell, he could barely even see or hear the world around him, just the banging sound of his own heart and hyperventilating breaths. Tears ran down his face and his sight began to blur and twist as the world drowned out, he sobbed there as puddle on the ground. He couldn't even process why. Everything was too much and somehow not enough, the world shifted under him and he grew dizzy, a sharp ring of static was sounding though his ears, and he drifted into unconsciousness.
Waking up in the morning, he stared up at the ceiling. It didn't move now, but he still felt off. He slowly sat up, feeling a sore pain throughout his whole body. He reached over to the bag he wore, and pulled out the photo. It hadn't changed. Somewhere he hoped that last night was a bad dream, or nightmare. But no, the picture stayed. Its dulled colors and frozen figures were still there.
In a part of him, he wished it could all be like that again. The blissful ignorance of their lives in those moments, genuine smiles he hadn't seen for years. But he couldn't. He'd gone too far to go back now, all the preparation and work he'd done to get to the extraction day. Months of tired looting, and sleepless nights spent planning. They couldn't go back. None of them could, even if he wanted them to, the others had their set goals too, and he bet- no, he knew. That they wouldn't give it up.
But it couldn't stop him from falling into dreams of the days they had when in bed at night. Or look at his alliances with fondness, even if in friendship they had been lost.
Even while plotting and preparing for the extraction. One thing was left as a fragile memory.
An old handcrafted frame held a delicate and faded picture, the brand new glass pane shone and framed the vision. A small relic of the past that lay atop a chest next to his bed, unmoving and untouched. Even against his best judgment, he kept it there, and there it would stay.
"In little ways, when everything stays."
-END-
Ow my feelings
Hope you enjoyed, comments (and votes!) are appreciated, i love to hear what you people have to say!! :3 (as long as it dosen't make me cry lol)
also uh i accidently transferred it all into italics but i kinda like how it looks but idk what should i do lol
