Sweet Dreams of Apocalypse (670 views)

Seamus didn’t know when the aliens started to attack the earth, but the signs were there before the girls left. He told Issy to be safe before he gave her a final kiss goodbye, waving to her, watching as she disappeared on some boat with Wyatt beside her. He didn’t know why they were taking a boat to get to the airport, they lived near no islands, but that didn’t matter. It was probably a few days later when the first attack happened – the academy was in shambles, and groups of survivors were trying to track down their friends and family. Seamus and Clint were working together to find Wyatt and Issy.

Seamus was wearing a tee shirt and shorts, his legs covered in scrapes and bruises as people ran around them. When Clint came up to him he was excited, full of life, and the sun was behind him. His bare chest was exposed, the sweat glistening, the tool belt tilting down to the side a little dangerously, bringing his shorts down a little with them. Ooooh boy. Oooooh golly.

Seamus looked over at Clint’s face.

”Yeah, sounds right. Let’s go.” he said, not grabbing anything but his phone as he followed Clint towards the parking lot.

Seamus felt a hand on his chest and his heart rate picked up. Oh, man, he wished those people in that red car whirled back around and made Clint touch him again. He looked to the sky, which was a mix of blue. The clouds looked almost cartoony, like giant marshmallows loitering about. It didn’t take very long for them to be in a hotwired car, though, cruising through the apocalyptic streets with determination on their minds! There were oddly shaped red aliens buzzing around the grounds and roads – it took swerving to get rid of them, and not hit any of them. In the air, amid the marshmallow clouds, were buzzing and whirling ships, casting random laser beams down onto the earth every so often.

”I think so! Unless they have an infiltrator!” Seamus said, his mind beginning to think about that possibility, ”No, no – the aliens look so different, they can’t become humanlike in shape! Don’t worry about it. They’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure! Issy hasn’t responded to my texts, though...”

He bit his lip and watched at the countryside rolled around them

Seamus nodded, solemnly, but hoped that they wouldn’t have to deal with any such people. It was pretty peaceful despite the alien attacks going on outside of the car. How far away were Issy and Wyatt? But then, in that moment, Seamus didn’t want to be anywhere else. He liked sitting there in the hot car with the window down, and the AC on, as Clint drove them through the unpopulated roads. Occasionally the scent of burning came into the car. Seamus wasn’t entirely sure what was burning, but it made him want to make smores.

Unfortunately, they had to stop at some point. The vehicle was running out of fuel and there was no stores in sight (stores that might carry marshmallows) (or fuel). He scanned the area and saw a vehicle, and then suddenly Clint said that there was someone inside of it. Seamus wasn’t surprised to see a beautiful woman in the driver’s seat, with a pair of sunglasses and ruby red lips that matched her hair. He opened his mouth as though to say something, she reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place it.

”Right – we need a ride, we need –“ He agreed, approaching, but then Clint mentioned the seating arrangement and he ran his fingers through his hair, staring at the seat. ”I uh, I don’t mind you sitting on my lap. It’s not too much longer and I’ve got strong legs, so I’ll be okay.”

He sat down in the vehicle, waiting for Clint to occupy his lap, wanting to touch him and knowing this was the only chance in his whole lifetime he’d have an excuse to do so without sounding creepy.

”Buckle up, boys,” The mysterious driver said, as she started up her car and prepared to hit the road.

Seamus didn’t mind that Clint was sweaty and in his lap – quite the contrary. It was a pleasant feeling to have the other guy in his lap. Every inch of skin of Clint’s that brushed against him sent a new wave of feeling over him – like his thighs and knees were going numb. He was acutely aware of the curve of Clint’s butt, how it felt against his thigh, and how very shirtless he was. With the seatbelt fastened, they were squished even closer together. Seamus’ hand wandered to Clint’s shoulder, and rested there, as though he had nowhere else to put it. His heart was racing.

Seamus didn’t like to hear Clint refer to Wyatt and Issy as their girlfriends, but he wasn’t wrong. Seamus instead tried to ignore it, but then he saw Clint’s face transfixed on the girl driving their car. And then it clicked. She had long, ruby hair that flew in the wind and when she tipped her sunglasses down her eyes were bluer than Wyatt’s, but her face, it resembled her to a tee. He could tell that Clint saw Wyatt in this girl and it was odd, then, that at that exact moment the sky started to rain. And from it came marshmallows. A few drifted into Seamus’ hands before the woman closed the roof, and he sent a sheepish smile to Clint, who looked so ecstatic as he held the marshmallow that it made Seamus smile.

”Yeah, it’s raining marshmallows – oops!” A bump in the road made Seamus lurch and drop one of the marshmallows right into the woman’s hair. She growled and the marshmallow disintegrated almost immediately. Instead of leaving a sticky goop in her red hair, it burnt the strand away. ”Crap! Are these toxic?!”

The woman growled again and swerved her vehicle, heading right towards a ditch, and Seamus screamed as he clung to Clint. What the hell was happening?!

Seamus groaned when the car came to a stop in the ditch, rubbing his forehead, feeling something strangely close to him. He opened his eyes and blinked at Clint in front of him, feeling a flush begin to form on his cheeks. He looked at Clint’s face, the way that facial hair grew on his jawline and the way that his eyes furrowed in concern as he looked at him. Seamus hadn’t ever felt as looked at as he did in that moment.

As quickly as they fell, Seamus got up, and thanked Clint, even though his heart was pounding in his chest as he did so. He didn’t have enough time to think, though, before Clint made a noise and pointed to the driver, who revealed herself to be an alien, and Seamus screamed.

”Holy – holy crap –“ He said, watching as the driver groaned and sat up, turning towards them. The beautiful face with ruby lips had contorted and ripped to reveal redness underneath, almost like flesh, except pulsating. But then Seamus remembered the reaction she had to the marshmallows and quickly lunged for the controls, to make the sunroof go down. The alien didn’t like that and swatted at his arm, but in the process she slammed the windshield breaking it, and that was all Seamus needed to reach out and grab some marshmallows and lob them into her face. She screamed as her red fleshy skin started to turn black. ”Keep – try to break the rest of the glass! Then we can crawl out and – and – and run!”

Seamus was proud of Clint as he managed to break the glass and, in no time, the two got out of the woman/alien’s car and were high tailing it out of there. The sun was hot ahead and it was still warm – so warm that Seamus was stepping and slipping in marshmallow goop, but he could hear the sounds of dying aliens not too far away. The marshmallows were their weakness – and whatever was raining them down must be on their side.

Suddenly they were in a forest, and Seamus looked around the trees. The marshmallows had stopped falling for now – or at least they’d stopped falling here. Seamus had many marshmallows in his hands, most of them melting away by now. It was suddenly colder than it was before, and his marshmallows no longer melted in his skin.

”I don't know. We have to be careful, though. Infiltrators really do exist. But we know their weakness! That’s good... I think?” He offered, entering the small cavern that Clint suggested. And then there, he saw it – a blanket from his childhood, one he trusted, waiting for them. ”My blanket met us here. That means this is a good a spot as any.” he said. He saw Clint shivering and offered the blanket. ”D’you mind, uh... sharing? We only have one...”

Seamus nuzzled himself into the blanket, which stretched out to cover both himself and Clint. It was so nice to just sit here, sharing warmth, feeling Clint’s knees and shoulders brushing against his own. He leaned his head against the back of the wall. He was never going to get moments like this again, was he? Not when they found Issy and Wyatt. No doubt Clint would go back to Wyatt’s side in a heartbeat and then Issy would come to Seamus’. And he loved Issy, but at the same time, he just... couldn’t picture Clint with Wyatt. It was too hard to think about. Maybe he was just tired, he thought, as he closed his eyes and exhaled.

Wait. The thing that Clint had said. He turned towards him, very seriously.

”Wait – wait – have you ever seen Wyatt eat a marshmallow? I haven’t. And the aliens started the attack from within right? They had to, that person we rode with she, she looked just like Wyatt, is – is Wyatt human?”

Seamus’ eyes widened as he looked at Clint, as the gears started to turn in his head. And then everything started to make sense. Wyatt wasn’t a fan of marshmallows, and she looked just like the other alien they’d run into. She must be an alien! She must be a spy, a plant, a trap... what if she hurt Clint? Seamus’ jaw stiffened at the thought. No. Nothing could happen to him!

He felt hands gripping his shirt tightly and allowed this to happen. He wouldn’t mind if Clint ripped off his shirt, either, if they were both shirtless under here warmed only by one another and the blanket. He hugged Clint back in return, able to see that he was distraught, and he felt bad. But... but Wyatt had to be an alien! There was no way she wasn’t.

”The alien looked like Wyatt. I... I think the red hair is an indicator. I don’t know how they take the forms but... has she always been an alien? Just waiting for an attack?” Seamus gripped his head. ”I’d feel... I’d have to... I’d have to know. I’d have to stop her. Because... even though she’s my best friend if she... if the aliens win, it’s not just us who get hurt... it’s my family... our families...”

As bad as he felt for Clint realizing this, Seamus couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy when he realized that Wyatt was an alien... she had to be an alien... and that meant that this thing between Clint and Wyatt would fall apart. Wouldn’t it? He did feel more sad than happy when he saw the look on Clint’s face, though. He’d rather be the one stuck in a sad rut than to see Clint in one. It made him want to send a comforting letter – one that told him that nothing was wrong, that he couldn’t blame himself – and almost by cue a letter floated into the cavern, right into Clint’s hands. Seamus was startled, but not surprised. He had sent one recently – he was just glad it had tracked him down amid the chaos outside.

”No, I wouldn’t have figured it out if that alien didn’t look like her.” Seamus assured his friend, his chest warm as Clint rested against it, stifling cries. He saw the way that Clint’s face lit up at the letter and his own face lit up in turn. It was much nicer to see the smile – it was like the sunshine breaking through the windows as the clouds faded away.

”She must really know you, man.” He said, though he felt a twinge of irritation misgendering himself. What if he... what if he told Clint? Would he react differently? Would he think the letters were disgusting, tainted, gross? Was Clint even interested in men? Or was he perhaps bi? That was something Seamus could never figure out... though he was pretty sure he was straight from how he only seemed to lust after one person, one entity – and that was Wyatt. ”What did she say this time?”

Seamus listened to his own words come out of Clint’s mouth. He was glad to hear that Clint was happy but it always felt weird when Clint was reading out his writing. Seamus acquired a persona when he created that literature. It wasn’t something he was embarrassed over, especially not when he saw how Clint reacted to the words on the page, but when read aloud or in a big group like with Wyatt and the others it kind of made him feel insecure.

”I think that if you observe someone enough... and know when they’re hurting and when they’re not then, well, it might come off as psychic, but in reality, that’s only because they care so much about you. They care so they notice, you know?” He glanced at Cliff, almost hesitantly. ”Hey... out of curiosity, what would you do if you met... them? The author of the letters I mean?”

Seamus didn’t know what he thought he’d get from Clint when he asked that. He sounded sincere, and flattered, and when he said that he wouldn’t be hers, Seamus wondered if that meant anything. But he still didn’t have any definitive answers! He was so... so, so frustrated with how little Clint actually knew! What if he knew... even a little bit... even a hint?

”Uh, Clint... what would you do if... I don’t know, what if the admirer was like, a gay guy?” He asked and felt his heart try to jump up his throat and leave his body. Oh God. Had he actually said that?! There was suddenly a fire flickering brightly, and Seamus could see the way the flames danced in Clint’s eyes. ”Just... what if, I mean. She’d probably be mad if she heard me say that, right?”

As he thought, Clint thought the idea that the admirer was a guy was stupid. Seamus laughed in response but couldn’t deny the twinge of sorrow that sent throughout him. If he did find out the truth would he be disappointed in how Seamus made the letters look feminine? Would he think that Seamus was stupid, laugh at him like the rest of the school inevitably would, and forget about him? Probably.

Still, he said he’d appreciate the letters no less. But Seamus couldn’t help but think that he was just saying that because he didn’t believe this was done by a guy.

”Well, I – I mean, no I don’t really think it but I was thinking, if it was a guy, then maybe he was just faking the feminine stuff. You know, so he didn’t get... didn’t get called gay or, or something...” Well it was true – Seamus was very much gay. And he did this because of his... gayness... was that a word? He did this because of his gayness and how attracted to Clint he was. But there was more. He just... he wanted to leave an impact on Clint, but.... he didn’t want to leave a negative one. He smiled back at Clint, but the smile was somewhat forced as he felt nervous, talking all these hypotheticals.

”They're – he's … you? You've been writing me?”

Seamus’ heart stopped beating for a second. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he died right there, right then, as the weather outside their peaceful little cavern began to twist into a windy night, with bitter air uncommon for California seeping into their enclave. Clint suddenly felt cold to Seamus’ touch and he was too hot himself – he opened his mouth to deny the accusation but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t because they were all true, it was him, it was him.

”I – I – I meant –vI meant, metaphorically, uh, I – I mean...” He felt his heart begin to race, preparing himself to be laughed at. Clint was going to be disgusted despite everything, the letters were going to be tainted forever. He swallowed nervously and squeezed his eyes shut. ”It – was – it wasn’t – I didn’t do it to be weird, I – I mean... I’m s—sorry...”

The anger in Clint’s voice made Seamus flinch in hurt, feeling his heart beat so powerfully in his chest that he swore it was going to break his ribs and skin. No. No. The cave around them was darker in hue now – an almost menacing purple surrounded them, the fire long extinguished. Outside Seamus was conscious of the sound of raindrops. Not marshmallows, rain. The sounds of the wind were louder as the brushed trees against one another. The moonlight was somehow bright despite the storm – obnoxiously bright – as it shone on Clint’s face and shadowed his features, making him look more irritate than Seamus had ever seen him before. No. No. Seamus clutched the sides of his head, he clutched his hair as he tugged on it, his throat going dry and tears beginning to well at the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut. He could still feel Clint’s eyes on his skin.

”I’m – I’m sorry,” Seamus said, though it felt like he was trying to talk with syrup in his mouth. He could taste it, cold, dripping down his throat and into his lungs. ”I – I meant – I – how c – could I, how could I say any of that without faking it? Without faking who I was? My dad wouldn’t like me a – anym – more,” He saw his father in his mind, clearly staring at him, with the letters in his hands. He looked disappointed. He could see his brother beside his father, laughing at him with his finger outstretched, calling him a faggot. ”A – and Issy, s – she – I, she –“ When Clint told the whole school about this as he inevitably would, what would she think? She’d be offended. She’d think he was an asshole and she’d think that she turned him gay and she’d hate him. But she was his best friend. But she’d hate him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he hiccupped. ”I just – I just wanted to leave an impression on you, a – and you looked sad one day so I sent that letter a – and all I wanted to do was make you cheer up, I didn’t – didn’t except this.”