Dead EndChapter 10

The next morning is—not easier, exactly, but more predictable. And there is a kind of comfort in predictability. 

Jordan wakes up the next morning in the same bed as before. For a moment, he doesn’t move. He simply stares up at the white ceiling, his eyes half-lidded as he listens to the outside world. When there aren’t any loud cars honking or gunshots or explosions, the house is well-soundproofed. He can’t hear anything from the streets outside. There is only silence. (He doesn’t know if that’s worse or better.) zQnZm1

Eventually, he gets up. Yesterday, he’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. He has vague memories of waking up now and then from nightmares, of being surrounded by warmth, even of being moved to the bed. There is no-one else here now, though. Just him, and the silence.

He sits up, ruffling his hair as he goes. His mouth is dry, the taste of soda still there; he doesn’t think he brushed his teeth before he fell asleep. Smacking his lips, he slowly scoots over to the edge of the bed and throws his legs over the edge. His feet meet the grey carpet on the floor, sinking into the fluffiness. It looks new. He blinks at it, winding his toes through the strands and patting at it. It’s soft. Smooth. 

Chrysanthemum Garden.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Taking a deep breath, Jordan pushes himself to his feet. He glances out the window as he goes, but he doesn’t try to see any details. For a moment, he would just like to pretend that everything is normal. So he turns away from it and leaves the room.

There is the sound of music coming from downstairs. Jordan follows the sound, getting closer and closer to the kitchen as he goes. His hand trails along the walls, his feet scuffing on the floor, his breath carefully kept in control. When he reaches the kitchen, he stops just behind the bed. Breathes. Counts to ten. Then he squares back his shoulders and turns the last corner. 4dySFn

”Good morning,” Jordan calls softly, coughing a little to clear his throat. He couldn’t quite get the volume that he was going for.

Sebastian stops in the middle of stacking cans on the kitchen counter. There are considerably fewer boxes on top of the kitchen table (though some still remain), and the music is coming from a phone lying on the table. Sebastian smiles and turns to him, ”Good morning. I hope you slept well?”

”As well as possible, I think,” Jordan says and walks further into the kitchen. He hesitates for barely a second before he sits on one of the chairs, leaning back against it and drawing his feet up. Licking his lips, he asks, ”Is there any chance that you have more of that hot chocolate?”

”Do you want powdered or should I make it properly?”

”Ah, you don’t have to—powdered is fine, thank you.” Jordan tries his best to smile at Sebastian, and he thinks he even succeeds. When Sebastian smiles back at him, the grin soft and the eyes gentle as they look at him, Jordan ducks his head a little and curls up tighter. He sways on his seat, leaning a little toward Sebastian. 

Sebastian quickly gets some water from the sink, idly saying, ”The water system will be shut down in about a week. It’s not actually that bad yet, the whole zombie thing. We’re just in the part of the city that gets hits first,” while he works. Jordan makes a questioning noise and Sebastian continues, ”There’s a quarantine going on right now that should fail in about… ah, a day or two, I don’t remember exactly. So it’s no use trying to go anywhere until then, we’ll just be stopped by soldiers.”

Jordan accepts the cup of hot chocolate, the liquid steaming from the trip it took in the microwave. ”So, we’re trapped?”

”Just for now,” Sebastian mutters, already beginning to stack cans again. They’re very big cans, metal and clearly the kind that lasts for years. Jordan watches the progress, the surface of half the kitchen counter slowly being overrun. Soon enough, the hot chocolate has been depleted and he’s left staring forlornly at the bottom of the ceramic cup. n8QWqS

He places the cup calmly on the table and stands up. Stretching, he pulls on his arms and back, wincing a little as some kinks are worked out. He frowns, running a hand over his face. ”Have you had breakfast?” he asks Sebastian, bouncing a little on his heels. He’s not certain how much free reign he has here, but he’s getting hungry. He doesn’t think he’d eaten a proper meal yesterday aside from the breakfast and that… was a while ago, according to the clock above the kitchen’s entrance.

”Yeah, I’m good,” Sebastian says, a distracted note to his voice. He’s digging through a box, frowning down at it. Jordan eyes him for a moment, then hums and bobs his head.

He moves through the kitchen, approaching the fridge. Sebastian has no reaction, busy reading the labels on the new can he grabbed and frowning heavily at it. So Jordan keeps going, looking through the cupboards for cutlery and then for bread. When he finds the things he needs for a quick and simple breakfast—bread with butter and milk—he walks to the table to keep out of Sebastian’s way.

It’s easy, is the thing. Jordan keeps waiting for Sebastian to stop him, waits for him to take over and take control. But Sebastian barely seems to be paying him any attention, aside from looking over at him and smiling every now and then. As if he’s just pleased that Jordan is still here. And Jordan… just doesn’t really know how to deal with that. Zy0Odl

It shouldn’t be this easy, he thinks. Sebastian kidnapped him, never mind that he was right about the zombie stuff. He kidnapped Jordan, scared him half-to-death, and he shouldn’t be this kind. It’s easy, and that’s probably the weirdest thing of all.