With their backpacks and shopping bags loaded with supplies, Noah and Levy made their way back toward the house.
The return trip was noticeably slower, though not because of the extra weight—their increased Strength made the bags feel far lighter than they should have—but the streets had grown considerably more dangerous now that darkness was settling in.
As the last traces of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, more walkers began emerging from the surrounding neighborhoods and alleyways. Their sluggish groans echoed through the streets as they wandered aimlessly, occasionally turning toward the sound of their footsteps.
Whenever a lone walker blocked their path, Noah dispatched it with a single thrust of his spear. If two or three wandered too close together, Levy quickly moved in to deal with whichever ones Noah missed before they continued on their way.
Neither of them lingered. Their objective wasn't to hunt walkers anymore. They had what they needed, and the most important thing now was getting their supplies home safely.
By the time Noah's house came into view, dusk had settled over the neighborhood. The boarded windows stood exactly as they'd left them, and the front yard remained littered with the corpses of the walkers they'd killed earlier.
Noah unlocked the front door and ushered Levy inside before quickly locking it again. Only after checking each window and making sure the barricades were still secure did he finally allow himself to relax.
Levy emptied the contents of his bags onto the kitchen table with a weary sigh. Within moments, the surface had disappeared beneath stacks of canned food, bottled water, medicine, and the other necessities they'd scavenged from the convenience store.
Noah immediately got to work.
He sorted the canned goods by type before placing them neatly inside one of the kitchen cabinets. Bottled water was stacked against the wall beside the pantry, while the medical supplies were separated into drawers where they could be found quickly if needed.
Levy leaned against the kitchen counter and watched him organize everything with mild amusement.
After a minute, he let out a quiet chuckle
"Are you always this organized?"
Noah didn't even glance up.
"I need something to occupy my time."
Levy stared at him for a moment.
"...I'll be in the living room."
Once everything had been put away, the kitchen looked considerably less cluttered. Noah glanced over the organized supplies and gave a small nod of satisfaction.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep them going for a while.
"I don't know about you," Levy said, rolling his shoulders, "but I could eat."
Noah gave him a small smile.
"No kidding."
He opened a few cans of soup and heated them on the stove while Levy laid out canned tuna, beans, and a sleeve of crackers on the table.
The meal was simple. Nothing about it would've stood out before the apocalypse, but now it felt like a feast.
Neither of them spoke much as they ate. The only sounds filling the kitchen were the quiet clinks of spoons against bowls and the distant groans of walkers drifting through the boarded windows.
Only after Noah scraped the last spoonful of soup from his bowl did he realize just how hungry he had been.
Levy leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.
"I didn't realize I was starving."
Noah nodded.
"Neither did I."
A comfortable silence lingered after they'd finished eating. Outside, the occasional groan drifted through the boarded windows, accompanied by the faint rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
Levy absentmindedly turned his spoon over in his hand before finally breaking the silence.
"I'm sorry about your parents."
Noah stopped messing with the water bottle on the table. The words hung between them for several seconds.
"I don't really know what to say," Levy admitted. "I can't even imagine what that must've been like."
Noah lowered his gaze toward the half-empty bowl in front of him. His thoughts drifted back to the bedroom, the freshly turned earth in the backyard, and the prayer he'd whispered over the graves.
"I wouldn't want you to," he muttered. "It's not even something I'd wish on Jared.
Levy smiled for a moment, but the expression faded just as quickly when he saw Noah's face.
He cleared his throat before letting out a soft sigh.
"I've lost people before, but having to..." He stopped, struggling to find the words. "Having to be the one to put your own father down..."
He shook his head.
"I don't know if I'd have been able to do it."
Noah's grip tightened around his spoon.
"I hesitated," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "but that wasn't my father. Not anymore, at least."
Another silence settled over the kitchen, heavier than the last.
Levy rested his elbows on the table and looked at Noah for a moment.
"I know saying they'd be proud of you probably doesn't help."
A faint, humorless smile crossed Noah's face.
"No."
"Didn't think so."
Levy looked down at the table before meeting Noah's eyes again.
"But for what it's worth... I think they would've been proud of you."
Noah didn't respond. He gave a small nod before looking back down at his bowl. The words didn't make the weight in his chest any lighter.
Some losses were harder to bear than others
Neither of them spoke for a while. The distant groans outside and the occasional creak of the boarded windows filled the silence well enough.
Eventually, Noah pushed his chair back and stood.
"I'll clean up."
Levy looked up.
"I can help."
Noah shook his head.
"Thanks, but it's fine."
Without waiting for a response, he gathered the empty bowls, spoons, and cans before carrying them to the sink. He turned on the faucet, and the steady stream of running water briefly drowned out the sounds from outside.
Levy remained seated at the table, watching him quietly wash the dishes.
He knew Noah wasn't cleaning because the dishes desperately needed washing. He just needed something to keep his hands occupied, something that would stop his mind from wandering back to everything that had happened.
After a moment, Levy stretched his arms overhead before glancing toward the sink, where steam slowly rose.
"Still got hot water, huh?"
Noah glanced over his shoulder.
"Looks like it."
Levy let out a quiet laugh.
"Mind if I take advantage of that while I still can?"
Noah pointed toward the hallway leading from the entrance with soap dripping from his wet hands.
"There's a guest bathroom downstairs. First door on the left."
Levy nodded.
"Mind if I borrow a towel?"
"Bathroom closet," Noah replied as he rinsed another bowl. "There should be some clean ones in there."
Levy grabbed his backpack and made his way down the hallway toward the guest bathroom. A moment later, the door clicked shut.
Noah remained at the sink, quietly washing the last of the dishes as the sound of running water echoed faintly through the house.
He rinsed the final bowl before setting it on the drying rack. With nothing left to clean, he turned off the faucet, and the steady rush of water gave way to the familiar groans drifting in from outside.
After drying his hands on a nearby dish towel, Noah took one last look around the kitchen.
For now, nothing else demanded his attention.
He quietly made his way upstairs to his bedroom.
As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately wandered toward the empty weapon rack where his practice spear had rested that morning. Beside it sat his neatly made bed and a desk cluttered with textbooks and notebooks from a life that now felt impossibly distant.
Noah let out a quiet sigh and walked toward the window.
He peeled back the curtain just enough to see outside. The last remnants of daylight had disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving the neighborhood shrouded in darkness. Every so often, the silhouette of a walker passed beneath one of the streetlights, shambling aimlessly along the road.
Noah watched for a moment before letting the curtain fall back into place.
His gaze dropped toward his hands.
The day's events had left him drenched in sweat, grime, and dried blood.
He pulled off his bloodstained shirt before stepping out of the rest of his clothes and gathering them into a pile. Carrying them into the adjoining bathroom, he placed them inside the sink and turned on the faucet.
Warm water poured over the fabric, slowly loosening the dried blood and tinting the water a faint crimson.
Once the clothes were submerged, Noah shut off the faucet and turned toward the mirror.
He looked at the man in the mirror.
Amber eyes stared back at him.
They looked the same as they always had, but something about them was different now.
They appeared duller than before from fatigue and mental exhaustion.
The eyes looking back at him no longer belonged to the carefree high school student who had woken up that morning.
They belonged to someone who had watched the world fall apart in a single day and had been forced to do things he never could have imagined.
Noah slowly gathered his locs and tied them back into a low ponytail.
His reflection lingered in the mirror for another moment before he finally turned away.
He slid open the shower door and stepped inside.
Warm water cascaded from the showerhead, filling the bathroom with steam as Noah closed his eyes. The water washed over him, carrying away the sweat, grime, and dried blood that had clung to his skin throughout the day.
For the first time since morning, there was nothing he needed to fight, nothing he needed to organize, and nowhere he needed to go.
Noah simply stood beneath the warm water and allowed himself a brief moment of stillness.