Apocalypse [will not be finished]

Chapter Ten

It's been ages since I can stare up at the ceiling, warm and safe, the heat from someone else warming my skin. Quinn has one arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him, and the other hand's fingers interlocked with mine. My other hand is balled into a fist, resting lightly on his chest.

With every breath he takes, I rise gently up and down, the therapeutic motion soothing me and making my eyelids droop.

I'd just woken up, my limbs feeling like giant weights dragging me down, like the anchors of a ship. I can remember my dream from last night, clear as day. That's why I was still so close to Quinn. In other circumstances, I'd have probably moved away by now. But some annoying, helpless part of me yearns for the feeling of safety he gives me, so I stay where I am, cuddled close, his familiar sugary scent somehow soothing.

I didn't get this boy. I would try to be hostile, but he would just have to smile and I'd already be softening. Why did he try? Why was he so persistent? What in me was even worth fighting for?

I was a broken record. Always spouting the same thing. Lou this, Lou that.

Only, with Quinn, he seems to understand. He knows that Lou is more important to me than anyone or anything.

Quinn stirs and I glance up at him, stifling a yawn. His eyes flutter open, eyelashes long and thick as they leave his cheeks. What have boys done to deserve such good eyelashes? Christ.

"Morning." I struggle to hold back the smile that so eagerly wants to take over my mouth. He gives me a grin, and I feel my cheeks flush with warmth.

"Morning." I mumble, heaving myself off of him, coldness washing over the part of me that was previously pressed against him. My stomach makes weird growling sounds, and I clutch it, wincing. I haven't eaten in a long time, and it seems to be just taking its toll on me. I hear footsteps and I look up briefly, not removing the grimace from my face. From Tom's point of view, I probably look like I'm giving birth.

"You okay there, kid?" I nod, and force a smile. Quinn stretches, letting out some kind of sound that is like a walrus being strangled. I raise an eyebrow at him and Tom chuckles.

"Come on, you." I glance upwards and Tom has extended a hand towards me. I hesitate, but finally come to gripping it with my own. He pulls me to my feet, and I stumble a bit before regaining my balance. Then I let go of his clammy hand, wiping my palm down my jeans. I don't do it discreetly, mind. I'm determined not to show any kind of regard for what he thinks of me. He, after all, knows nothing about me but my name.

"Breakfast is ready." He says sullenly, spinning on his heel and walking out the door. I look expectantly at Quinn, who is still on the floor, but then catch myself, reminding my brain I don't need him to operate. So I follow Tom, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"So, this is Laurie, I presume." I jump, startled by the new voice, one hand still raised to my left eye. There's two people sitting at the table, not counting Tom.

One of them, the one who spoke, is a woman, her brown hair messily cut in a pixie style. Her eyes are a vibrant hazel, staring at me so intently I feel vulnerable all of a sudden. She looks young enough, in her early thirties, I'm guessing. There are a few wrinkles on her forehead, but those were most probably caused by stress. Who wouldn't be stressed, after all, in this chaotic world we live in?

The second person is a male, probably around thirteen, give or take a few years. As soon as I assess his age, my eyes analyse his face, expecting some essence of youth. The face I see, though, is hardened, eyes hiding nothing but cold stone. Whatever he's seen or been through is unknown to me, yet I still feel that if I were to know, I would barely be able to sleep, if at all. Any hint of innocence that would have graced his face before the disaster was completely gone now.