Chapter Text
The Entity’s appetite was particularly empty today. Maybe she was bored with the survivors- or she was preparing for something far, far worse. Whichever it is, it was of no concern to the survivors. At least, not at the moment. The growing herd of human livestock took the day with refuge and peace, a day in which no trials were held.
Ever since the first few entered the Entity’s realm, a small sanctuary had been constructed- a makeshift home for the tormented. Supplies and necessities were foraged, The Entity leaving them as small tokens of pity and humility. Tents were set up and the campfire grew ever larger with each addition to the herd. Each survivor had adapted to the environment, becoming more accustomed to their new, endless lives.
Today was different. It was a day of rest, to relish their lives for once. Early in the morning, the sun rises in a uniform grey. In reality, no sun ever rises and no stars ever dot the sky. The world is always painted in two shades: grey and black. One to signal the day and the other, the night. No one is eager to see either.
In the morning, conversation is exchanged, the new addition still silent in her shared tent. It’s a lucky break for her as well. No one knew how they understood The Entity- they just did. Her call and beckon draw survivors in for a trial, the fog overwhelming their minds until they happen upon whatever cursed location she would take them. Today, a warmth enveloped them, as if the sun had actually risen from its grave of ash and mist.
So, they knew. The Entity was content, and graced them with whatever peace she allowed, much to the gratitude of the group.
“Mornin’ Dwight!” A comforting voice echoes in Dwight’s tent, waking him from another dreamless sleep as he fumbles to find his glasses.
As soon as his vision was restored, a smiling face greeted him, Kate Denson. Her eyes sparkle with a near-childish positivity, knowing well that the day was one free of blood and sacrifice. “Good morning, Kate... “ His gaze averts, unable to maintain eye contact as he stretches, readying himself for the only day of tranquility he has seen in ages. Her curled hair bounced as she beamed at the awkward man, country accent laced in her voice, “It is a good morning! I’m not gonna get my rear end kicked by one of ‘em monsters, and neither are you!”
“C’mon, rise and shine!” Her words rang in a sing-song manner as she opened the tent flaps, allowing all the grey light to flood inside. A groan left Dwight’s lips, eyes quickly adjusting to the dull lighting of the fog. The campfire was surrounded by survivors, talking, laughing, telling stories. A few were absent from the main group, taking a walk through the looping forest or sleeping as late as they desired. It was almost blissful to see the team so relaxed. Meg jogged past the group, running laps in an endless trail, Quentin and Laurie chatted amongst each other, and Claudette sat contently at her makeshift table, examining plants and offerings which grow in the fog.
Kate offers her hand to the leader-figure, and he takes it hesitantly. With ease, the southerner helps him to his feet, another yawn escaping him as he finds his balance. “We’re all pretty much relaxin’ and whatnot, a few survivors are playin’ cards and bettin’ items, wanna join?” Gambling never goes well amongst the group. Arguments break loose and very rarely blows are exchanged, but all grudges formed are short-lived. Everyone needs each other for survival, and losing a card game isn’t worth letting another suffer. But today, grudges would last until tomorrow.
“I’ll pass, but I’ll just… watch everyone. Make sure nothing too bad happens.” Dwight shrugs his shoulders, perfectly content with just watching, but moderating the scene would ease his anxiety just a bit. That and Dwight was never a good gambler, having lost almost every game he had been invited to. “Sure thing! They’re over by the campfire.” He trailed behind Kate, awkwardly fiddling with his tie until they reached the group, a small gathering surrounding the two players. One of them was Ace- as expected- and the other was David King.
And by the sound of it, David was losing.
“Yer a bloody fuckin’ cheater- there’s no fuckin’ way in ‘ell you got that!” Ace only chuckled in response to the angry cockney man, “Listen here bub, I’m just playin’ fair and square.” The two sat criss-cross from one another, using a clear patch in the dirt as their playing field. Ace had always carried a deck of cards with him, even the day he had been abducted by the fog. Dwight recalled Ace inviting him to a game of rummy to calm his nerves.
Right now, they were playing two-man poker, of which both were very familiar with. A few silent turns later, Ace claims victor over the game, much to David’s displeasure. Begrudgingly, he hands over the sports flashlight put in place for the bet. But, fair is fair- until it’s not. As Ace offers a handshake to the Brit, a card slips from the inner lining of his sleeve.
“You goddamn bloody fuckin’-”
Visconti’s eyes widen behind his sunglasses and the thought of escape ran through his head, “Well, looks like I gotta get back to the tent y’know-”
Before anyone knew it, David took the other man by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground. “I was right, you are a bloody cheater- I oughta beat tha fuckin’ piss outta you!” As a fist was raised, voices rose in protest.
The only thing that truly stopped David from landing a blow was Dwight. Without another thought, the dark-haired man had intervened, grabbing at David’s wrist mid-punch. This was fairly unexpected from everyone, including Dwight himself. He was rarely confrontational outside of trials, even struggling to maintain eye contact with his fellow survivors. Yet here he stood, his hand firmly wrapped around David King’s wrist.
“I uh...” The grip loosened as Dwight realized what he had done, heat rising at the nape of his neck from all the intense stares, “Please… Please don’t hit anyone, David.” He struggled through his sentence, letting go once David released his grasp on Ace. “Y-Yeah… go take a hike or something, bub.”
At his words, David’s anger flared once more, ready to resume his previous actions. Again, Dwight intervened, simply laying a hand on the taller man’s shoulder, “C’mon, leave it be…” The taller of the two shot Ace a glare, “You better leave me fuckin’ flashlight at my tent.” Dwight only tugged at his sleeve in response, urging David to move. He complied hesitantly, mumbling something under his breath before turning his back to the group.
So, the two began to walk. There was no particular destination in mind, and as a few minutes passed by, David had taken the lead. The forest was wide and endless, forever looping back to the campfire. No words were exchanged and Dwight simply trailed behind the taller man, silently examining him as they walked. A rose tattoo adorned David’s neck, one that Dwight had only seen a handful of times, but he couldn’t help but admire it under the grey light.
“I can feel yer eyes on me, Fairfield.” At his comment, Dwight averted his gaze, the heat of embarrassment rising on the back of his neck. “Sorry… just never noticed your tattoo that much and-”
“Just spit it out, Fairfield, for the love of god.” David slipped a cigarette out of his pocket, a token from Bill. Soon enough, a flame flickered and plumes of smoke left David’s lips. “Go ahead and scold me, or whatever you do as the leader.” He leaned nonchalantly against an oak tree, eyes cold and hard as he eyed down the dark-haired man.
Dwight was not an athletic man to say the least. Sure, years of running and surviving had slimmed him down and toned him, but the poor man could never hold his own in a fight. And his constant slouching made his figure near-impossible to see, a habit from his years in high school. “You really need to stop getting so violent with the other survivors.” Dwight’s breath caught in his throat, eyes down to the ground with anxiety, “We need each other to survive and-”
Once more, David cut him off, voice low with irritation, “I also need that fuckin’ flashlight to survive, yeah? Had he won that fair an’ square, I wouldn’t ‘ave had to try an’ beat the shit outta him!” He took a quick drag of his cigarette, smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke, “An’ look at me while yer tryin’ to get a point across, I can’t take you seriously when all you do is look at the bloody dirt.”
Dwight bit the inside of his cheek, anxiety beginning to bubble inside of him as he finally lifted his gaze. His eyebrows furrowed nervously- David King was incredibly intimidating to say the least. He was tall, built, and out of all the survivors- he was the strongest. Dwight almost regrets intervening, as he was now alone with the group’s hot head.
“Look,” The shorter man began to speak, gesturing as he did, “a flashlight isn’t worth punching Ace in the face, there’s always the chance The Entity-”
“It’s not about the goddamn flash-”
“I’m not done yet.” Dwight stood his ground for once, arms crossing as he straightened his posture. In his mind, he was trying to imagine himself in a trial, one where such firmness and confidence was required. “Whenever you start fights with other survivors, they won’t wanna trust you when it comes to the trials, it hurts them and yourself.” David rose from his spot on the tree, nearly making Dwight flinch. As the bearded man walked closer, Dwight stepped back instinctively until his back hit the trunk of a tree. “You’ve gotta lotta nerve sayin’ ‘at, Fairfield.”
“I’m- I’m saying it because it’s true! Also, no one likes getting beat up by their own teamma-” A yelp of surprise interrupted him as David slammed his forearm on the tree’s rough bark, just an inch or so away from Dwight’s head. “That’s what I oughta do to you right now.” The whole scene was very reminiscent of Dwight’s high school years, being cornered and talked down to, being pushed and pulled right before his bullies would beat down on him.
He grimaced at the memory, the nostalgia this situation was giving him. He refused to stoop down this time, he refused to be a laughing stock once more. “Listen here David,” Dwight took a hold of his collar, tugging him closer to his face, “You can beat me up if you’d ever so desire, but it will only prove my point.” A deep scowl tore through David’s lips, and Dwight could smell the smoke on his breath. He gradually released his grip on the bearded man’s collar, readying himself for the worst.
David took a drag of his cigarette with his free hand, and blew the smoke right in Dwight’s face. “And ‘ere I thought you were a pushover.” Dwight fanned the smoke away from his face, coughing at the sudden cloud of tobacco and nicotine, “W-What?” David stood back up to his regular posture, removing his arm from the tree. From Dwight’s perspective, he could really take in the detail of the other man.
A small scar ripped over David’s left eye and his beard was unkempt and messy from the lack of a razor. The British man was a few inches taller, but tall enough for Dwight to crane his neck in order to look him in the eye. He took another drag, this time, blowing it away from Dwight’s face. “You ‘eard me, Fairfield.”
“I thought you’d be a right pushover, good thing yer not. Otherwise,” He looked down at Dwight once more, but there was less harshness in his gaze this time, “I would’ve beaten you like I had threatened.”
“Good thing you ‘ad the gall to say that shit to me face.” Dwight blinked a few times out of confusion, a little starstruck as to where this conversation led him.
“So… you were fully expecting to beat down on me?”
“More ‘r less, yeah.” For a moment, the shorter of the duo stared silently, unable to read David’s intentions.
“So… you’re not going to beat me?”
“No, but if ya keep askin’, I might think you’d want me to.”
“Jesus christ.” A sigh of relief left Dwight’s lips, a hand resting on his chest to calm his pounding heart. “Ha, were you really that nervous, Fairfield?”
A smirk threatened David’s lips, but he held it back in fear of looking too friendly. “Yeah. Before the fog and everything,” Dwight waved his hand about, gesturing to their surroundings, “I wasn’t exactly the type to defend myself.” David cocked an eyebrow, curious. He shifted his weight onto one leg, continuing to smoke in between sentences, “Before all o’ this shit eh? Tell me about it.”
“ Really ?” Dwight paused a bit, surprised anyone would want to hear about his life, out of all of the survivors. “Really. Now get on with it.”
“Well...” Dwight proceeded to tell him about his life before the fog, being a victim his entire school career, friendless during college, and laughing stock in his retail career. He didn’t exactly have it easy before The Entity. Those around him were the reason for his disappearing, leaving him in the forest to fend for himself in a drunken stupor, only to be abducted by the hellish Entity and her vices.
After his short recounting of the past, David couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit sorry for the man. He had the complete opposite of what Dwight did. He was wealthy, strong, and had every bit of room to fuck up and recover from it. His life was as easy as it could get until The Entity captured him as well.
His thoughts were interrupted as Dwight spoke up, a nervous smile on his lips, “I was a pretty big loser back then, so I did get scared about you beating me to a pulp. Brings back bitter memories.” His gaze averted from the other once more, habitually biting on his nails. “I’m not as weak-willed as I was back then.”
“Good.” David’s gaze faltered, examining things that weren’t particularly important at the time, “Can’t ‘ave a weak leader, can we?”
“No,” Dwight momentarily looked up at him, a small smile on his lips, “I guess we can’t.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. It was an uncomfortably comfortable silence, one in which both had run out of things to say, nothing to add onto the remainder of the conversation. A cold breeze drifted by, and leaves rustled in its wake, patterned shadows trembling on the forest floor. Dwight leaned into the tree, resting as his mind momentarily went elsewhere. The same applied for David as he smoked his cigarette, for an almost comical amount of time. The two just paused in time, silently relishing each other’s company, though neither would admit it if they were asked.
“Can I have a hit?” Dwight’s voice broke the silence first, almost startling David when he did. His eyes flickered between the cigarette and David, waiting for a response.
“Since when did you smoke, Fairfield?” Finally letting his guard down, David cracked a little smirk, “You don’t seem like tha smokin’ type.”
“Haven’t smoked since I quit sometime in college.” He sighed in response, taking his hand from his mouth and running it through his unkempt hair.
“College, eh? ‘Ave you ever shotgunned someone?” The British man chuckled a little, lighthearted and unconcerned, “I’ll let you if you can shotgun me.”
“Shotgunned? I can’t say I have.” Dwight’s voice rang low, nearly mumbling as he spoke. He knew what shotgunning was, but the idea of doing it with David King of all people rubbed him strangely. It seemed a little scandalous to the nervous man, having only two intimate relations in his life. Shotgunning was intimate, right? Lips nearly closing in a kiss as smoke passes through one and enters the other, it was a little devious for him, to say the least.
Maybe it wasn’t intimate, maybe it was simply David being unpredictable and impulsive. Without another thought, Dwight answers, “I guess I can shotgun you...” His gaze meets the floor once more, a little flustered. He had overthinked the small interaction as per usual with every other interaction. Was this something intimate? Was it just a sputter of the situation? Those thoughts flew by him as the taller man approached him once more, this time, with less violence.
He took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it for a moment before moving in, mere centimeters away from Dwight’s face. David’s lips parted, and so did Dwight’s. They were ever so close to each other, just fractions away from brushing their lips together, a link of smoke connecting one from the other. With his free hand, David placed his weight onto the tree, nearly leaning into Dwight as he took in the smoke greedily.
Dwight savored the bitter taste of the tobacco, letting it settle in his system before releasing the smoke into the cold air. “Fuck...” The anxious man cursed lightly, the sound leaving a mark on the back of David’s mind, “I haven’t had a good cigarette in a while.” The taller of the two stood back, rubbing the back of his neck, a soft heat rising on his nape.
No longer hovering over Dwight, he shifted his weight again, voice ringing with an almost noticeably forced nonchalant, “Bill seems to ‘ave an endless supply of ‘em, I’m sure he’d give you one if you asked.”
The younger man shook his head, smiling casually at David, “I don’t think I’ll get cigarettes from Bill. Don’t wanna restart a bad habit.”
“Anyhow, cigarettes didn’t do much for me, only made me more anxious than I already am.” Dwight shuffled in his place, brown eyes flickering from David to anything else within the expanse of the forest, still unable to maintain eye contact. “Can’t ‘ave ‘at either.” David finished the cigarette, much to Dwight’s internal dismay, putting it out with his boot.
“So…”
“So?” David replied, repeating the other.
“So will you stop picking fights with the other survivors?” Dwight returned to the original subject, eyes now planted firmly on David’s collar, being the closest he can get to direct eye contact. He was still nervous that the Brit would react poorly, that he would lash out and continue his streak of impulsiveness. But, only a calm sigh left the taller man. David had long since cooled down, knowing that he had overreacted, impulse and anger driving him blind.
Of course, he would never say this out loud, pride lodging the words in his throat. He could never say sorry, but he may show other ways to apologize. “I’ll try.” Dwight’s lit up at David’s words, making eye contact for just a moment, “Really? I’m glad to hear it.” For once, David was the first to break eye contact, taking his gaze off the shorter man. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get back to the camp already. It’s already fuckin’ midday.”
“Sure, let’s go.” Dwight led the way, having memorized the quickest ways to return to camp, years of experience teaching him so. Once they returned, a few glances were exchanged, and a few survivors walked up to the duo.
“Welcome back Dwight, oh, and Mr. hot-head.” Kate teased, a chuckle leaving her lips as David rolled his eyes. “Sod off with that one, Kate.”
“Actually,” Feng Min chimed in, joining Kate, “You two were gone for at least two hours, a few of us actually assumed only you two got sucked into a trial.”
“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” Dwight looked over at David briefly, then back to the two ladies in front of them, “We just talked a bit is all.”
“Mhmm. Gotcha.” Feng’s voice rang with a playful suspicion of the two, leaving the scene before David could catch onto it.
“Well, I think I’m gonna find Ace an’ tell ‘em he can ‘ave the stupid flashlight.” David pointed over to the campfire with his thumb, Ace anxiously fiddling with his collar nearby. “I’ll see you later, Fairfield.” Dwight waved him off, a small twinge of disappointment panging him in the chest as the Brit left. Kate was quick to move, wrapping her arms around Dwight’s arm, beaming up at him cheekily.
“Why don’t we go onna walk? I’ve gotta song that I want somebody to critique, why don’t you be that somebody?” Dwight was quickly knocked out of his thoughts, his face turning hot as Kate held herself close to him. “M-Me? I don’t- I’m not really good with music, I don’t-|
“Oh shush, just be there an’ listen to me sing.”
“I- uh…” Dwight looked down at the smiling southerner, finding it too difficult to refuse on account of being too rude, “Alright, I’ll listen.”
From a distance, David watched the encounter out of the corner of his eye, lips pursed as he handed Ace the flashlight in which he attempted to return. “Next time, don’t cheat.” Ace only chuckled nervously in response, not guaranteeing an answer. Something bubbled inside of David as he watched their acclaimed leader wander off into the forest with Kate, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and one which didn’t originate from the smoke.
The rest of the day continued as promised, no trials, no bloodshed. Dwight became an audience to Kate, yet his mind was elsewhere, occasionally handing half-honest compliments to the singer. His mind wandered and wandered until the late hours had arrived and they had long since returned to the camp. A few night owls gathered around the fire, speaking of their anxieties and concerns, but occasionally laughter would leave their tired lips.
Dwight Fairfield laid awake in his tent, eyes glued to its ceiling as he thought about the day slipping through his fingers. Unbeknownst to him, David King did the same. His eyebrows furrowed, creasing his face as he tossed about in his tent. Two men who struggle with both words and feelings, confused and lost on where things stand after today. They had to sleep on it.
Maybe, they were overthinking.
Yeah. Definitely overthinking.