02.04.202X - Hope Theory

 Hope Theory

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The chilly air bit through her still-wet jeans, the parka now drying in the boiler room, replaced by a loose sweater that had definitely seen better days. The threadbare, dusty blue gave way to grass stains further down her rolled-up sleeves, and faded droplets of white paint covered her chest and shoulders.

The gravel crunched underneath her red Converse. Sayori cradled a heap of pre-cut birch in her arms, absentmindedly running her tongue across her gums, carefully poking at swollen lips and aching teeth. The bleeding had stopped some time ago – just after they'd unloaded their haul into the fridge, when Katie had grabbed the shotgun with shaking hands and muttered something about taking care of it.

Taking the elephant in the room behind the shed, as it were. The whole business with the boiler and the woodshed was, to be honest, more of a chance to spy on Katie than anything else – Sayori's legs ached like no tomorrow, she felt raw and tired and strangely warm, a slight trail of steam following the girl as her sodden t-shirt dried a little with every step she took.

Judging by her staccato speech and shaky hands, Sayori had half expected Katie to just take the stupid thing apart as quickly as possible. Close the lid on her latest fuck-up. Talk around it while stuffing her boots with newspaper. Let bygones be bygones.

The peek she'd... sneaked? Snuck, maybe?

Sayori grimaced.

Sneak a peek, past tense; snuck a puck. Sounds about right. Make like a hockey player and sneak the peek out of here. Why is English so pucking difficult sometimes?

Anyway, Katie was sitting on the hayloft, shotgun in her hands, her back towards Sayori, and that's as much as she remembered because the silence was heavy – the way ten grams of lead, twenty-three-years, and a chair that would always stay empty were heavy – it wasn't a paltry physical weight, no, Katie could always push herself harder if it was.

It was the weight of absence, all too familiar, like a pair of shoes left on the roof of a school.

So, she fled back into the woodshed and the buzzing lights, piled on log after dusty log as she wished for a scarf or a mask, ignored the silence from barely ten feet away, made herself useful again.

Sayori was busy learning how to operate the boiler when the front door quietly swung shut. There was just one paltry wall between her and the coat room, so naturally she heard the mechanism snap shut with a gentle click. She definitely wasn't listening for just that, perking her ears just to catch that familiar, swaggering tread, no, she was poking around in the roaring fire with a poker – very important stuff – and considering whether she should toss another log in. Her trip to the shed had been enough to fill the firewood basket completely, and the heat from the open hatch made her face feel like it was slowly tanning, her jeans beginning to quick-dry, the parka already mostly done, and...

She sighed, closed the hatch with the poker, quickly flipped the latch into place, and made her way back to the living room, poker in hand, intent on giving Katie a big hug as soon as the iron thing found it's way home. It promptly did, hanging off a cast-iron holder next to the unlit fireplace, the boiler proving quite enough for April.

Familiar sounds. Newspaper being torn off by the page and crumpled into balls – Katie said it helped shoes dry faster and was better for the leather than excessive heat, too, and Katie's delivery had been so matter-of-fact that Sayori never even considered doubting her. Not that she had any reason to, anyway.

She unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water, the vintage blue Coca-Cola glass soon half full, and the lukewarm drink was almost sweet with how tired she was. Now empty, her glass found the sink, and Sayori wondered how long it was prudent to leave Katie alone for, or if maybe she should just walk out of the kitchen and ignore her shame and anxiety for once, ask Katie if she was alright, show her that she cared.

That she was done fucking up.

Thick wool socks, sliding over hardwood. The door to the coat room had a little window with a very unhelpful curtain, and almost grinding her teeth at all this pointless trepidation, Sayori gently opened the door.

“H-hey, Katie...” She stuttered as the door swung open, revealing a threadbare rug, Katie's boots, Katie herself in her soaked outerwear dejectedly staring at some red things in her palm, coats and a bench and folded umbrellas and- “...h-how are you... feeling?”

“Hm?” Katie blinked, gaze meeting hers, reflexively clenching her fist, as if to hide the things – sweets? The color matched, at least – from view, before relaxing slightly. “Oh, uh, sorry for taking so long, I just... needed some time to think. I guess.”

“A-anything you want to talk about?” Sayori piped up, hopeful, pointing a playful finger at Katie's hand. “I'm all ears, especially if you share your c-candy with me.”

“And I thought you were worried about tooth pain.” Katie looked at her, bemused, before tossing one to Sayori. “Tuck in, if you can.”

Sayori almost fumbled the catch – maybe it was the candy apple red plastic, or the hunger from before, or her somehow still being punch-drunk, but she'd completely missed the regular shape and glimmer of brass in the sunlight, and the weight in her hand was unfamiliar and strange. Oh. Stainless steel and black plastic, propped into the umbrella stand, her latest fuck-up was on full display.

Candy. You childish, clueless cu-

“Yeah.” Katie sighed, and Sayori snapped out of her trance. “I was gonna disassemble it, throw the shells in the trash, but... I dunno. I know I chewed you out over it, but maybe... maybe we can use it. For hunting, or... something.”

“W-was it l-loaded...?” She had been a slip of the finger away from blowing a hole into Katie, the shell in her hand was proof enough of that. “I... I could h-have...”

“Loaded, as in, there were shells in the tube. Nothing in the chamber, though - kind of hard to work the action after painting the ceiling with your hopes and dreams.” Katie's explanation was... grim. And yet, exactly what Sayori needed.

But the stench of guilt stayed in place.

“You wouldn't have. It was just... careless, even though you took the worst of it by far.”

"O-oh... maybe that's f-for the best...” Sayori shuffled her feet awkwardly – she was much closer to Katie now – her cheeks an embarrassed red. “Um.”

“Consider it a... learning experience.” Sayori nodded nervously. “Also, are your lips that swollen or did you put on lipstick? It really suits you, either way.”

“Wuh.” Sayori blinked once, twice, Katie was still smiling and her cheeks were tingling, her train of thought utterly derailed. “It's... j-just, uh... swelling... thanks... Y-you too...”

Katie snorted with laughter, her smile now a familiar, welcome grin. “You know you're as smooth as peanut butter, you little fire truck, you. Jesus.”

"U-um."

Fire truck? Her cheeks burned. Oh. Fire truck. Sayori rubbed the shell nervously, running her nails along the barely-noticeable lengthwise ridges in the plastic, gingerly poking at the crimped end of the case.

FEDERAL PREMIUM
FRANGIBLE
9 – 00 BUCK
2¾" 70MM

It might as well have been Russian for how much Sayori understood. Premium was good, right? Frangible, too. That was definitely something. The litany of numbers underneath was decidedly something as well – the "00 BUCK" likely didn't refer to the price of the shell itself, but she couldn't even be sure about that. The cartridge carefully changed owners, now joining it's friends in Katie's hand again, and Sayori probably didn't even let her hand linger too long either, so she didn't come across as weird, and...

She elected to hazard a spot of eye contact – Katie looked bemused more than anything, a smug smile on her face. Fire truck. God damn it.

"S-so..." She started, lamely.

"Yeah?"

“S-should I... uh.” Sayori cleared her throat, scratching her scalp nervously. “...you know. Cook?”

“Thought you'd never ask.” Katie chuckled. “I'm hungry as fuck. No pressure.”

“Oh, um, me too... is there, you know, anything you'd prefer specifically, o-or...”

“Surprise me.” Katie's gaze felt like it lingered just a little, both of them stuck in place for a tiny, precious moment, exhausted and hungry and lost in thought.

Then, Katie winked, sauntered off, and Sayori shuffled into the kitchen, cheeks still warm, her thoughts a familiar, disorganized mess. Surprise me. Yeah, no pressure at all.

A second glass of water later, the fridge door swung open, and Sayori found herself smiling ever-so-slightly. Yeah, she'd fucked up a bit, but... they'd really lucked out. The fridge was stocked – fresh produce here, package after package of fresh beef, classically American in both branding and size, even a massive jug of calcium-fortified milk (for her leg, apparently – Katie had insisted).

They had dry goods, as well, and the knives seemed pretty sharp, although a bit well-worn, and after taking inventory of the spice cabinet, surprising Katie actually felt like a manageable goal.

Sayori smiled. Done fucking up.

Kate stood in the boiler room, stomach grumbling, feeling the warmth wash over her, her skin raw and dry, the heat from the boiler almost as comforting as a hot shower. Their boots were carefully placed in the far corner of the room, as far from the blazing heat as possible – the newspapers she'd stuffed inside them would do most of the work, anyway.

Sayori had perhaps been a bit overzealous with feeding the boiler, but Kate wasn't going to complain any time soon – the girl had been through one hell of a roller-coaster as it stood, and she had no interest in making it even worse.

No, it was live and let live now.

And after Ekron, the heat was more than welcome.

If she perked her ears and ignored the roaring of the fire, she could hear the tell-tale sound of a knife scratching against the cutting board – just more rapid-fire than she was used to hearing. Maybe Sayori was a more experienced chef than she let on? Quite possible. But in that case, why was she so thin?

Kate exhaled, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She had half a mind to just take them off and leave them in the boiler room-

Fuck.

She'd forgotten the fucking shells in her pocket.

No harm, no foul, but... they still made her antsy.

She shivered as the door to the boiler room shut behind her – the house was warmer than before, but with the weather they'd been having and with the wooden construction, it was still much colder than she'd hoped. Ah well. Summer was coming.

Kate froze.

Summer was coming.

Was she really going to stay in fucking Kentucky until summer? With the disease spreading, the military in tatters, the people all crazy, with death around every corner...

She shook her head, and shuffled through the living room, slowly trudging up the stairs to her bedroom. The crouching jog her and Sayori had relied on to remain unseen in Ekron made itself very much known – her thighs stung with every step. She'd need to stretch, that much was certain. Sayori would likely need to as well.

Kate was reasonably athletic, but she recognized future DOMS when she felt it. She'd have an easier time than Sayori, as well – Kate still remembered the first time she'd racked plates on the barbell while squatting. She'd skipped stretching, then, and for the next four days, her legs ached so badly that she couldn't even walk. She hadn't missed a post-workout stretching session after that.

Sayori would likely end up in similar shape if she skipped stretching today. She'd asked Kate about perhaps working out together, or just getting pointers on how to get in shape – while she was incredibly cute, she wasn't particularly... impressive physically, and with things as they were, helping her build a better cardio baseline and a few pounds of muscle would serve both of them well in the long run.

Running her through a proper full-body stretch session would likely be a good introduction to the whole concept – pushing her into a full workout after today's misadventures would just be cruel. Training you don't enjoy is training you don't stick to.

She'd learn to love the burn eventually. 

There was no point in rushing it.

The door creaked open, and Kate placed the shotgun shells into the drawer of her bedside table. Everything else seemed to be in order – odds and ends, paraphernalia, toys, old cassettes she'd picked up on discogs.com...

A quick rummage through her cabinets produced a pair of sweatpants, and soon enough Kate trudged downstairs, hissing with every step, her jeans slung over her shoulder.

She heard humming from the kitchen. Maybe she should have brought her CD player downstairs – maybe Sayori would have appreciated a little bit of background music? She had a lot of bands she was itching to introduce her to, but... listening to her was surprisingly cozy. It wasn't a song she recognized, and it seemed a bit out of tune, but that soft, slightly hoarse voice still brought a smile to her face.

Right.

Summer was coming.

Whatever happened, she wouldn't be leaving Sayori to fend for herself.

That much was certain.

“How's it going?” Sayori seemed slightly surprised, but very cheerful – she'd clearly been hard at work, judging by the neatly sliced, matchstick-thin vegetables separated into different bowls, and she flashed a slightly awkward grin as Kate entered the kitchen proper. “Whoa.”

“Oh, hey! I'm, um, doing alright...”

With that, she turned back to the counter-top, her hair tied back in a tiny ponytail, equal parts silly and painfully cute, one of Kate's worn bandannas tied around her temples. As she juggled dishes back and forth, boiled noodles, fried eggs and sliced beef with gusto, Kate felt a sudden surge of pride just watching her work – she came across as a bit ditzy and awkward now and then, but just watching her workflow was enough to make Kate's head spin.

Occasionally Sayori would wash her hands, rewind the egg timer Mom kept next to the microwave, casting glances at the timer every now and then as she added ingredients and crushed spices and stirred pans and pots.

“Um... the kitchen knives are really good, did you sharpen them? I haven't made cuts this nice in a long time, heh...”

Chop, chop, clang, sizzle, I'm not even going to ask... Kate stared off into space, almost hypnotized. Sayori's little pony tail fluttered and bobbed, the threadbare red fabric complimented her hair perfectly, the entire kitchen smelled edible, Sayori working methodically all the while, timing her dish down to the minute, adjusting the heat as she went.

“U-um... did you?”

“Uh? W-sorry?” Kate blinked, realizing that she'd stared at that silly little ponytail for what must have been minutes. “Was, uh, lost in thought.”

“Did you sharpen them?” God damn it. Fire truck. “T-the knives?”

“Oh, right! No, sadly, my grandpa was always really, uh...” Kate scratched her neck. “...traditional. Guess he kinda kept them in shape... or maybe my mom started doing it in secret...”

“...Oh. That's...”

“...Yeah. Bullshit.” Kate snorted. “He's a decent grandpa, I guess, most the time... problem is, he's a shit father figure. Still acts like it's the fucking 60's.”

“...B-but you turned out r-really, um, wonderful... I m-mean...” Sayori winced and blushed, accidentally dropping the egg timer. “Damn it! S-sorry...”

“Keep it coming, sweetheart.” Kate giggled. “I... guess I learned what not to be like, heh. And I used to stay with my uncle a lot... he's like the exact opposite. O-or, um... was. He was the... only person in my family that I could tell about coming out of the closet, and... yeah.”

Sayori dropped the egg timer again.

“W-wait, so you're... I mean, not that there's anything wrong with it, I just didn't... Damn it, the egg thing...”

“Uh, y-yeah...” Fuck. Maybe I shouldn't have told her. What if she thinks I'm just trying to get into her pants? What do Japanese people even think about... people like me? God, why is this so fucking hard? “...I'm... um. A lesbian. Thought it was kinda... obvious.”

“I n-never... really... thought about it...” Sayori's hands were shaking, her gaze darting around the room. Fuck. “W-what's it like?”

“Could ask you the same.” Kate laughed nervously. “What's it like to cuddle with a woman?”

“Um.” Sayori's face went beet red, and she turned to drain the noodles, somehow miraculously emerging unhurt, despite her shakiness. “I... um.”

“Sorry... was just, uh, teasing you.” Kate put her hands in her pockets, gaze fixed on the floor. “I didn't... mean to... you know. Make you uncomfortable.”

“I-it's okay! Don't w-worry about it!” She seemed to slowly gather herself again, tossing the noodles into a frying pan. “N-normally I'd let t-the noodles rest overnight, b-but... maybe that wouldn't be such a... g-good idea.”

Kate almost managed to vocalize her agreement, but Sayori continued, very quietly, wringing her hands all the while. “...I s-suppose it feels... nice. N-not scary... it m-makes me feel... safe, m-maybe? Um.”

“Oh! R-right, that's really nice to hear, I, uh, I was worried that... you know, I'd scared you or something, b-but...” Kate hazarded a smile, her heart pounding. Jesus Christ, this has to count as cardio... “I'm happy t-to, uh, hear that. Really.”

“W-well, you've been really nice to me, a-and... yeah...” No, I haven't. You'd deserve so much better. “I just... need to think ab-about this... a little. W-wrap my head around... things.”

“Please don't worry, okay? We can just... stay the way we were.” But I want to play with your ponytail and taste your tongue. I want to eat you. Please. I wanna ruin our friendship. “Nothing... has to change, right?“

Sayori broke into a smile, a genuine, relieved, bright smile, blue meeting green once again, and Kate's heart skipped a beat, despite the pang of sorrow she felt at the implication. It probably wouldn't work out. A girl could dream, but... maybe it would be better not to.

Why did she have to look so pretty in over-sized hand-me-downs and a messy little ponytail? Why did the sun have to catch on her baby blues like that? Why did her busted lip make Kate want to pin her down and kiss her until she healed? She fought back the urge to sigh. Live and let live. Sayori had been through a lot, and that was putting it lightly – there was no point in upsetting her on purpose.

Besides, it took two to tango.

So, she stamped out her yearning and sat down with Sayori, the girl excitedly portioning out a large serving of fried noodles with vegetables, beef and eggs for her, the steam rising from her plate dancing softly in the midday sun. It smelled wonderful.

Things don't always work out, Katie.

But it could be so much worse.

So, so much worse.

The sunlight glinted in Sayori's eyes as Kate tucked in, and despite everything, all was well with the world. For now.

“You feeling up for a bit of exercise after lunch?”

“Mmff...y-yeah!” Sayori chewed, swallowed and took a sip of milk from her trusty Coca-Cola glass, leaving a little white stain on her upper lip. “You'll have to k-kinda walk me through a lot, b-but I'm really looking forward to lifting some weights!”

“Oh?” Kate couldn't help it – her enthusiasm was contagious. “I thought we'd just stretch today, but if you're up for it... we could start by just getting your form on lock, how's that? Less weights, more technique – if your form sucks, then you won't grow and you'll likely hurt yourself, as well.”

“F-form?” Kate wanted to wipe the milk off Sayori's lips. Possibly with her own lips. “Do you mean... like b-body shape, or is it... like, technique? Um.”

“Technique. There's actually a lot that goes into weightlifting, all the way from breathing properly to figuring out what your own body responds to, which takes... a while.”

“O-oh. Oh dear.” Sayori pecked at her food. “Did it take you a long time to learn all that, Kates?”

“Kates, huh?” She snorted and shook her head, flashing a toothy grin. “And I guess I'm still learning. You'll get the basics down pat in a few months maximum, but this isn't really something I think you ever stop learning.”

“Ohh... right!” Peck, peck, peck. Sip. Not hungry? “Sounds like a super cool hobby.”

“Yeah, and it feels really nice... almost like meditation, once you get used to it.” Sayori's eyes brightened even further. “But you really gotta eat more, sister – especially if you wanna grow.”

“O-oh... I'll try...”

And try she did, staying at the table long after Kate was done, finally managing to peck her way through the whole plate, bloated, nauseous, but ultimately victorious. After a brief post-meal nap, Sayori – with the help of Kate – took her first steps on a path that would eventually have consequences far beyond her wildest dreams. Not that she knew anything about that at the time – as far as she knew, she was sore, sweaty and super-tired, and when night fell, Katie and Sayori found themselves in a very familiar position yet again, both of them equally exhausted and content.

Cho looked at Dima's meal with quite some curiosity – he had no idea what the packaging said, but the contents seemed pretty interesting indeed.

“What ya' got there?”

“It is... what you call it? Beef and buckwheat porridge. Tastes good until you eat it every day.”

“Buckwheat, huh?” Cho cut the plastic packaging of his MRE open. “Wanna trade? I got some beef goulash and cheese spread. Really good, but it's got the same problem.”

Dima cocked his head, furrowed his brow, and fell silent for a moment.

“Hmm. Okay, sure. I could try. Smells alright.” The tin can of buckwheat porridge was equally easy to open, and Cho found himself pleasantly surprised by the contents. “I thought American soldiers eat pizza for every meal.”

“Yeah, sadly we've got new rifle trials going on, so the pizza budget has been cut.” Cho grinned. “This is pretty good stuff, by the way.”

“Likewise, maybe if I have other stuff we could trade more often?”

“Maybe.”

The rain had stopped, and the buckwheat was quite good. It's the little things in life.