CYOA Page 110
"No, Joel, I can get out the back!" you yell as loud as you can when you hear him threatening to come in again. Hopefully he heard you -- you did manage to get it out before succumbing to a coughing fit.
You run to the back, burst through that interior door that you were eyeing... you find an office, a kitchen, a bathroom -- and yes, a back door, but it's heavily barricaded. Fuck! The only room connected to an outside wall is the bathroom, and the window in there looks too small to climb through.
Maybe there's still time to get out that first window!
You rush back to the front... and to your dismay, the window is no longer an option: the curtains are on fire, and the rod has even fallen, physically blocking your path even if you did want to risk going through. You look around for Joel, sort of hoping that he ignored you and came in somewhere... there's so much smoke it's really hard to see. It's also getting extremely hard to breathe. Shit -- you should have been covering your mouth and nose with something; the smoke is going to scorch your lungs.
You run to the back and close that interior door behind you this time. There's not much smoke back here... but you're finding it painful to breathe. And you keep having to cough, which hurts even more! Maybe that bathroom window WILL work, if I can climb up to it... You hear noise from the outside--
"Joel?"
"I got the door open -- I'll get you out, kiddo, just hang on!"
He's hacking at the furniture with something; you hear wood splitting. There's a dresser or an overturned table or something behind the couches and chairs which are... creatively stacked, on your side. You tug on one of them with all of your might, but it won't budge, and you fall on your ass, suddenly dizzy as fuck. Your chest is burning, your eyes and nose and throat are stinging...
I can't fall asleep! You fight the sensation, terrified that you're dying. You're dying, but you can stave it off -- just don't pass out! Don't... don't pass... out... nooooo...
The darkness wins.
... Joel... Joel?!?!?!...
...
... ...
... ... ...
... ...
...
You're watching a movie with Joel. You must've fallen asleep on him again. But something's wrong... your chest hurts. Pain when you inhale, pain when you exhale.
You open your eyes... and find that you're not watching a movie, and you're not even on your couch. You're outside, on the ground-- ?
"Hey... there you are. How you feelin'?"
You are snuggled up to Joel, though. You blink until his face comes into focus. "Where are we?" you ask (in lieu of replying that you feel like shit).
"Down the street."
That... really doesn't answer your question. But you're starting to remember where you were before you fell asleep. "Your eyes are all red..."
He coughs. "Lotta smoke in there."
Yes there was... that must be why you have a headache now, and why your insides sort of feel like they're on fire. "I don't remember getting out."
"I got you out."
You sit up straighter, and his arm falls slack beside you. You look around until you see the smoke; now you can place where you are, and it's way down the street. On the opposite side of the doomed building, so you can see that the flames are viciously consuming it. You stare at it, swallowing a lump in your throat (and grimacing because owwww). "Sorry..."
"For what?"
You turn and look at him more closely. "Are you okay?"
He hands you his canteen. "You must be thirsty -- here, drink."
"Answer the question and I'll drink."
"I'm fine. What are you sorry for? It wasn't your fault."
"Yes it was! I started the fucking thing. How is it not my fault?"
"It was a fight. Shit happens. Drink."
You take a sip. It hurts to swallow, but other than that, the water does feel refreshing. "I could've killed you," you continue, because it so was your fault.
"Nah," he says lightly. "You gotta try harder than that if you wanna kill me."
You frown and hand the canteen back to him. "Are you sure you're okay? You're not lying?"
"I'm sure." He traces circles on your back; he knows you like that.
Why did I even ask him that? I can't tell if he's lying or not. He's probably lying. You slump back into him and lay your head on his shoulder. "Thank you."
He puts his arm around you again and gives you a squeeze. "You don't have to thank me."
"Yes I do. You could've just left me in there."
He chuckles. "You're right. I almost did. I was thinkin' about it."
You snort (...fuck -- that hurts, too!). "What made you decide to rescue me?"
"Well... I'd hate to run into more infected an' have to face 'em on my own. I need you watchin' my back."
"Ohhh right. Of course. Good thinking."
"You wanna go rest somewhere?" he suggests. "I figured you needed the fresh air, but... maybe now we can go inside one of--"
"No, this is good. I mean... I'm actually ready to go."
"You just barely woke up."
"Yeah, but... what good is sitting here going to do?" And who knows how long you're going to be in pain. You figure it's just like anything else -- you just have to push through it until it wanes.
"Maybe I ain't ready to leave just yet."
"But you said you're okay!" You lift your head to give him an accusing look.
"I am. Just not ready to leave."
"...Okay..." You're actually glad for this permission to be lazy; you don't really want to leave yet, either. The thought of moving makes your head hurt (worse). Plus, you like being close to Joel. More than you're willing to admit out loud. You suspect he feels the same way... which means it's kind of silly not to say so, right? ...Well, no, not really. We already KNOW. It's nice to be so comfortable with someone that we don't even HAVE to say anything.
...Of course, that does leave some things open to interpretation.
So... when Joel said he's not ready to leave yet, did he say it because he wanted to give me more recuperation time that he knew I wouldn't ask for myself? ...Because he feels safe here and wants it to last a little longer? ...Because he feels worse than he's letting on? ...Because he was so afraid I was going to die that he doesn't want to let me go yet?
That last one almost makes you want to laugh (and how painful would that be!)... but it's your favorite theory. It's also the only one you wouldn't feel comfortable just straight up asking him. And THAT'S why it's better to understand each other without words! Plus your throat is all sore and raw. Joel's probably is, too.
But now I just have to say-- "Thank you," you tell him again, draping your arm over his chest so it feels more like an actual hug.
"I told you--"
"Not for that -- for this. Thank you, Joel."
"Uh... you still don't have to--"
"Can't you just say 'you're welcome'?" you tease.
He gives you a squeeze. "You're welcome. And I'll thank you not to ever scare me like that again, yeah?"
"I'll try not to." You smile to yourself, convinced that your favorite theory is also the correct one.
If you'd like to start another adventure, return to page 1.