The Boy I Met On the Roof

The Meeting

As it turns out, Ethan was fine; he had crawled into a closet and cried for a couple of hours. Unnervingly enough, he's a quiet crier, making just the bare minimum of sounds with his nearly inaudible hiccups and muffled gasps for air.
Ethan was the first to apologize, telling Dustin that he was sorry for overreacting and "dumping all of that on him," though the other did not particularly mind; he'd heard worse, after all.
To his surprise, Dustin feels more comfortable with him afterwards; usually, he is the one vulnerable and weak, so having the roles reversed was a welcome change.
Slowly but surely, Dustin fell into a comfortable routine: wake up, maybe look around a bit for supplies, have a smoke or two, hang out with the other members, all of whom have come to accept him, and go to sleep. Repeat until he finally gets over himself and thinks about leaving.

The other seven that had ignored him all gradually started acknowledging him. Bashir is another kid from the disease sector with rich, brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes with a little bit of green surrounding the iris. He's kind of clumsy and easily irritable, but he's good-hearted enough, always asking the others how they are doing and doing his best to help.

Charlotte, or Charlie, as they prefer, and Maya are a package deal; both from the surface, they first met after coming here, quickly forming a bond. Charlie is a fair-skinned brunette with sharp features, fox-like amber eyes, a thin, long nose, and high cheekbones. They are rather introverted, not bothering anyone, just existing, with Maya being the only one allowed to invade their space. Tough, she, like Sasha, doesn't seem to understand the meaning of personal space.
The already established trio, Lukas, Felix, and Chris, was the hardest to come into contact with; they seem to have found a balance, with Lukas being the brawn, Felix being the brain, and Chris being the more creative spirit, so they aren't very interested in anyone but themselves, not that Dustin blames them.
The last two, Scarlet and Tam, are on good terms with everyone but not close to anyone; Scarlet, while intelligent, is a push-over; it's either her way or no way at all; Tam has the opposite problem, never disagreeing with anyone, a void personality mirroring everybody.

All in all, life down under would be okay if it weren't for the nagging realization that their supplies admittedly won't last forever; sure, they have low needs with the fact that if they eat too much, they might turn, but even then, they can't sustain themselves on whatever the ones before them have left behind forever.
Dustin has noticed that whenever he goes scavenging, there is less to find every time, and with no new ones coming down, the turned ones are getting aggravated. Even though they can't see or hear well, their wandering has been getting faster and more desperate, and the noises they make have been getting louder and more painful. Whenever their too-long arms drag along the ground, they leave a small trail of blood behind, so they're easy to avoid, but there's the lingering thought that they may be able to feel pain, that they may feel emotions and just can't communicate them.

He had come face to face with one only once, which had both calmed and terrified him; again, he had looked around for something, anything of use, ignoring the hunched figure in the corner.
Sasha had said that they could smell that he's one of them, so with time, he's gotten used to their presence.
He slammed one of the doors just a bit too loudly, frustrated with finding nothing, which caused the turning one to sprint toward him from where it was standing, reaching him in a matter of seconds.

It had straightened its spine, cracking and popping, revealing its unnaturally tall torso, contorted ribs, and sunken-in stomach; its ribs seemingly started growing outward, spiked ends piercing through its skin.
Worse of all was its face: a hairless scalp, bulging eyes, irises whitened, and sclera bloodshot. The holes he saw in the other cheeks were replaced by dangling bits of flesh where its mouth had ripped open, aw hanging in a nearly ninety-degree angle.
Staring into its throat, its oesophagus was wider than it should be, bones shining through where its gums had melted away.
As its face inched closer to his, he had to breathe through his mouth to escape the foul, rotting smell. Its eyes were looking toward him but not at him, unseeing.