Archive of Our Own

There wasn’t much to say, after the lights went out on Planet Earth.

It was just a long, silent walk, for however many hours. Not like any of them had a clock to check on the time. Not like it meant anything. There wasn’t anything to get back to, especially not in a rush. The beer had slowed them all down anyway.

There was a lot that could have been said that wasn’t. Further apologies, words of reassurance, fears for the future all left unsaid. They didn’t want to have to think about it much longer, what they’d done, the impact it had on the world. It hurt too much to bear. There was essentially nothing left.

A part of Andy wanted nothing more than to probe further, speak with Gary. Anything that could possibly make things feel right, normal, something adjacent to it. He’d known parts, whatever parts he’d shown when they were younger, but it wasn’t enough. Gary would lean back in his chair in high school, stretch out his back, and he’d get a glimpse of an old burn the shape of one of his mother’s bobby pins against the side of his body. He never brought it up. How are you supposed to?

Words wouldn’t do enough, but the strength of a hand in Gary’s might be able to do something. He didn’t know what, though. Gary held his in return and for hours, he refused to let go.

--

A few miles from Newton Haven, their legs had started to give out. The heat of the air was nothing compared to the cool tar of an untouched road, where they decided to rest. Far less comfortable than the grass, but it was almost entirely embers. Still, not a word was spoken.

Sam and Steven had fallen asleep fairly easily, lulled into slumber from the booze and the exhaustion. Andy had too, not long after. Though, Gary was still awake.

He’d alternated between staring at the sky and staring next to him. There was Andy, shoulder-to-shoulder with him, like they’d been when they were younger. Sleepovers where they hardly ever slept, talking with each other about everything and nothing for hours on end, everything they could talk about without the other Musketeers. Best friends knew everything about each other.

He couldn’t help but feel selfish. Selfish about everything he’d done. Maybe things would be better if he hadn’t recovered from that overdose, hadn’t left him there. Gary stared at Andy as he slept, watching his chest rise and fall. His shirt had ridden up at the bottom. The femoral artery was in the leg, wasn’t it? Still, a large keloid had traced above his waistline. Was it really that bad? How could he have left Andy if it was that bad? He could hardly remember what happened, other than the fever shakes and the loss of breath and suddenly things slammed to a halt and he needed to run. Because that’s what you do when you’re faced with a situation like that, an uncomfortable situation, you run and you don’t stop.

He rolled back over, holding onto himself. He needed to run.

--

Andy stirred awake after what felt like a day, as did his headache soon after. His mouth was dry, but there wasn’t any water around that he knew of. As his eyes blinked open, he soon realised that it was still night, and time had hardly passed at all. Something had to have woken him. He glanced to his side to find nobody there. Gary. He needed to find Gary.

Near the side of the road out of Newton Haven was a cliff. It was a decent walk away, with a bench to stop and have a picnic at. Gary wasn’t seated at the bench. He dangled his legs off of the edge, staring at the untied laces of his boots. They’d come undone halfway through the walk, and he couldn’t be bothered to fix them.

“Gary.” He jolted a moment, but a strong hand on his shoulder held onto him tightly, keeping him on the edge.

He looked back, wet-eyed and voice weak from the ash. “...What’re you doing up? Go back to bed.”

“Can’t sleep.” With a small groan, Andy sat himself down next to him.

“...Neither.”

“...You could’ve called me, you know. If you didn’t have anyone else to call.”

“Nah, I couldn’t have. You wouldn’t have picked up anyway.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know you. And I know what I did. No matter how often I pretend like I don’t because I hardly remember a thing of it.” Gary looked through the pocket of his jacket before pulling out a packet of smokes, pulling one out and resting the tip against a smoldering pile of grass and bracken until it lit. “I wouldn’t pick up the phone either.”

“...You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear from you.” Andy sighed. “You ruined my fucking life but I couldn’t help but think of you. I hadn’t heard from you in ages.”

“You were better for it.”

“I’d’ve been replaced like all the others.”

“At least it would’ve been good for a while, then, yeah?” He took a small puff from the cigarette, letting it dangle between his fingers. When his sleeve shifted, Andy could get a glimpse of the hospital bracelet again.

“...How long were you in?”

“A month or so.” He sniffed. “Got picked up on the street by an ambulance ‘n haven’t been home since. Don’t know how. Don’t think I called it.”

“...Divine intervention, maybe.”

Gary scoffed. “Yeah. Divine intervention.”

“You know we wouldn’t have judged you, right? If you’d said it upfront. It’s alright if you need us.”

“What is there to say? We haven’t had a proper conversation since ‘97. I should just call you up and go ‘Hey, come and get me, I wanna kill myself’?”

“Yes. You know I would’ve come for you, right?”

“That’s why you’re stupid. You keep throwing yourself onto swords for me like I deserve it.” Andy opened his mouth to speak. “But I’m selfish. Everything you’ve said about me is true. God, if it wasn’t for the fuckin’ world going up in flames I would’ve ruined everything for you. Only reason I didn’t take off these stupid bandages and this stupid ID is so you all wouldn’t blame yourselves.”

“...You were gonna…”

“One last hurrah.” He took another drag, blowing the smoke into the air. “One more good night to prove there are good nights left. Then that’d be it. I’d stay up the rest of the night, sneak off while the rest of you sleep. Get some closure and let you all go home. Selfish, selfish actions on my part, to drag you into it.”

“Why do you think you have to carry all of this yourself?”

“Not like I’ve got anyone else to turn to.”

“You’ve got me.” Carefully, Andy took the cigarette from Gary’s hand. Blank lipgloss stained the end. “...I’ve tried letting you go. I’ve tried letting you go but I’ve never been able to. I’ve tried to throw away our old photos and I’ve tried to ignore all of the memories you left me with and I’ve tried to ignore all of those special, sleepless nights and all of the things you told me that I’ve never told anybody else. But you’re stuck in there. If you’d’ve called me, I would have been there in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t deserve your love.”

“But you have it anyway.” He took a small puff of the cigarette. It was just like old times, almost; wagging gym behind the shed, watching Gary’s lips around the end of a smoke, hanging off of every word as they listened to Sisters of Mercy on Andy’s Sony Discman. “That’s something neither of us can fix. You’ve got into my head.”

Gary’s eyes started to well. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’d be blank if it wasn’t for you.” Andy gave him a tired, weak smile. “I’m glad you’re still here. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“...I don’t want to talk about this. Not now.”

“Not your idea of a good time?” Gary shook his head, and Andy wrapped an arm around him as the tears started to break.

“...I was gonna leave, you know?”

“Where to?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere that isn’t here.”

“...Don’t want you to leave just yet.”

“...Don’t know if I want to leave just yet either.” Gary rested his head against Andy’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was thrumming fast. Sounded like he meant it. “...But when I do go, I don’t want you stopping me.”

“As long as you’re not leaving to drink, die, or both.”

He scoffed, weak. “Hell no. I’m getting out of here and starting anew. The new Gary King’s gonna be on top of the world.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them sat there for a while, Andy’s arms wrapped around Gary’s torso, and things felt almost like they were back to some sort of normal.

--

The next day they continued to walk until they found a body of water; a lake nearby. With a rock, they’d managed to carve Gary’s Eye of Ra necklace into a makeshift razor, and Andy held his face with a bizarre softness as he helped shave Gary’s face back to its normal state. Despite the shake in his hands, Andy managed to avoid nicking him, even when sighing and smiling at Gary’s quips. In return, Gary managed to get the parts of his back he couldn’t reach.

A few nights later they watched the stars, as they’d returned to the sky after the ash settled. Without the internet, there was a lot to talk about. They caught up on 16 years of lost time, learning about Andy’s wife and kids, and his miraculous plan to get them back with the story of how he helped save the world from aliens. Gary didn’t have much to say in response, only sharing a half-hearted story about his life bouncing from apartment to apartment after moving to London, but he was getting a lot better at listening. Staring into Andy’s eyes definitely helped as he hang off of every word.

A few weeks later, when Sam and Steven went searching for food, Gary finally allowed Andy to remove the bandages under the condition he didn’t say anything, one which he agreed to. There was a thick line down each wrist, smaller scars littered around the place. Gary couldn’t help but wince, prepare himself to be berated for staying quiet, but Andy didn’t say anything. He asked if the scars were sensitive, then let it be after he said no. It was appreciated. He didn’t want to be fussed over, and Andy knew that without him saying it. They’d gotten into a good pattern, together. Like they had when they were younger.

They couldn’t help but think about the school camps they’d gone on in the 90s. The way they’d snuck out of their bunks, found a place to sit outside and chatted until the sun rose and they didn’t have the energy for the morning’s activities. Gary would ask Andy if he found any girls in their class fit, Andy would blank, then lie and say Becky Salt. Gary would push further, saying everyone said Becky Salt. And they’d laugh, and their eyes would linger on each other a little too long, and then they’d change the subject. There was a rhythm that they were able to get into, even though it had been so long. It had been months on the run, then. Sam and Steven had split off when they found a home to renovate, so it was just the two of them as they tried to find some semblance of home that wasn’t around anymore. A selfish, childish part of Andy wanted things to stay that way for forever.

Then, one night, Gary left, and Andy couldn’t say anything.