The Zombie Apocalypse with MCR (Complete)

Inevitable Confessions

I linger in the living room doorway with the little box in my hands.

It's a bad idea, I already know that. I promise myself to keep the conversation light, simple and quick. Give him the gift, explain briefly, leave. It's a step-by-step process, one I will stick to rigidly.

He's lit up by the glow of the Christmas lights, sat with his back to me on the sofa. His hair is a fuzz of black snarls, curling against his forehead and the tops of his ears.

Enough lingering.

"Hey," I murmur. He looks up at my voice, turns his head to follow my movements as I settle next to him, an arm's-length away.

"Everything okay?" He raises his dark eyebrows.

There's genuine concern in his face, twisting his brow and his mouth. He's picking at his palms.

"Fine," I smile. I'm choking on awkwardness, wondering how to broach the subject.

"I'm glad you like your ring." He says, filling the silence. He reaches and wraps his fingers around mine, twisting his gift on my finger. Admiring it. "I had to guess the size, but it's perfect. It suits you." His touch is warm and gentle.

"I hope you didn't spend too much money." I raise my eyebrows.

He rolls his eyes, let's go of my hand. "It cost one broken window."

I chuckle, and my words come easier. "I got you a present, too."

Without any ceremony, I hand over the little leather box. Roughly the same size as the one he gave me. Big enough to fit into his palm.

He opens it silently, and looks down at the gift. It's about the size of a 50p, round like a penny. It's silver, with a strange image depicted. Frank tilts it into the light of the Christmas tree to exam it. A crude horse, mid-gallop. A woman on it's back, with a thick rope of hair. In one hand, she raises a shield. In the other, a spear. It's a primitive drawing, only outlines.

"She's a British goddess, one of the old ones." I mutter, "Andraste. It means 'The Invincible One', and she's a goddess of war. In the stories I can find, it says Boudicca prayed to her before she went into battle against the Romans."

It's on a long silver chain, and Frank pulls it free of the box to admire it closely. His face is thoughtful, his eyes full of secrets, lips pressed together to hold onto the words in his mouth.

"I thought..." I shift, holding onto my knees. "I've been writing stories about the British legends. Researching them. She's been one of my favourites, but there's not much to go on. I found the medallion by chance, in this weird mystical shop."

He turns to me, eyes guarded. "Why are you giving it to me? Don't you want it?"

Scratching at my cheek, I give my reasoning to the glowing tree rather than him. "It's silly, really. All the myths and folklore and old Gods I researched and wrote about, and this one stuck with me more than all the rest. A violent woman, made for battle and not for beauty or fertility. It's said they sacrificed humans to her, which makes her monstrous, I guess-"

"-And you... Saw yourself in her." He guesses, and he's right.

I huff a laugh, embarrassed. "I suppose. I thought she could protect you, if ever I can't."

He's running his thumb over the bumpy surface, over the archaic drawing. There is a savagery and simplicity to the image. The woman is both frightening and beautiful. If nothing else, she is powerful.

Frank opens his mouth, but I cut over him. "I wanted you to take something home with you."

He blinks, surprised. "What do you mean? We are home-"