A Beautiful Distraction(Aris Jones x Reader)

11) WICKED Was Right

I don't know when, but during some point in the night I had drifted to sleep. When morning came some looked more awake than others. It was Winston I was worried about. He looked like he was going to collapse at any moment.

"How's your torso?"I asked.

"It's wrapped up. What about your shoulder?"He asked. I forget what he was talking about until I noticed the blood on my once white shirt.

"That's going to be fun to pull out,"I muttered, reaching over the shard of glass. It wasn't buried enough to shatter the bone but definitely deep enough to leave a nasty puncture mark on my skin.

"Here. Stop moving,"Aris said, reaching for my shoulder. I tried not to look at him. Knowing I once used to look forward to seeing him every day, to going through so much pain because of him made me nauseous.

"One, two, three,"He counted, pulling the glass out. It wasn't too bad, but I couldn't really see the damage before he pressed a bandage over it. I didn't say anything or show any kind of emotion throughout. I'd done enough of that.

"You should be good now. It doesn't seem bad."

"That's because it's not. Are we going to get moving? The sooner I'm alone the better."

"Aren't you just a great big ball of sunshine?"Minho remarked.

"Absolutely,"I deadpanned.

"Come on then. Hopefully, these mountain people can protect us from the sun,"Frypan said lightheartedly. I just picked up a bag and waited for everyone to gather their stuff.

ᕙᕗᕙᕗᕙᕗᕙᕗᕙᕗᕙᕗᕙᕗ

Winston was falling behind so I stayed with him in case we had to run again. Thankfully, we hadn't run across anything, yet at least. Unfortunately for me Aris was staying back to. I was subtly using Winston as a human shield by staying on the other side.

The wind started blowing sand into my eyes. I pulled my scarf up so it at least wouldn't find its way in my mouth.

"Another hill. Fun,"Someone remarked from the front. It was hard to tell. I didn't care enough to figure out who. There were other things on my mind.

And other people.

Shut up mind. You're supposed to be on my side.

You kissed him on the forehead before leaving, you know? You held hands. You opened your heart, even before this.

Why wouldn't it shut up? I didn't want to think about it. It was just kid love. Everyone knows that doesn't mean anything.

It didn't feel like it when he said he loved you.

I hated all of this. Kids don't know what love is. I still don't. Maybe I thought I did, but that wasn't true.

We made it up to the top of hill. We were able to see what civilian once was. Broken buildings and abandoned cars littered the streets. I'm only assuming they were streets. Now every inch was covered in scorching sand.

We were all continuing to take in the awful scene when Winston collapsed from beside me. We raced back down the hill to see how bad this really was now.

"It's spreading,"He panted. Before anyone dared to ask what it meant be pulled up his shirt revealing black veins that seemed to grow along every inch of his skin.

"Please? Don't let me turn into one of those things,"He begged. Even if he didn't directly say it we all knew what he wanted. He wanted to die.

"Please?"He continued to beg. A part of me wanted to object. At the same time he was right about it. There was nothing we could do for him.

Nobody said anything, but Newt took a handgun and handed it to him as he lied on the ground.

"Thank you,"He breathed out. A few friends kneeled down to say their goodbyes. Newt had walked off. As much as I would have liked to do the same it felt wrong to leave without saying something, almost disrespectful.

"Goodbye Winston. I wish I could have known you better,"I whispered. With that I walked off so everyone else could pay their respects and love to their friend.

The walk was tense as the last person left. Some people walked almost aggressively while others seemed like they had to force themselves to move. There was one important thing in common with them. Everyone's walk seemed to be solemn and the air felt dark.

A gunshot rang out through the air. It was as if the world had stopped. At the same time we had all stopped with it. Whatever we were thinking didn't matter. Someone was dead, and it may have been for the best. Was WICKED right about surviving in this world? Even if we did would it truly be living or would it still be the bare minimum we had seen our entire lives?