Chapter Text
The hill wasn’t that steep, but still, Toby paused halfway up, feeling a bit winded as he regained his breath. He even dropped the steel bat for a moment. To be fair, he had been walking ever since sunrise, so it wasn’t really a matter of his shape as much as the fact that he had a backpack packed full on his back.
"Are you all right?"
"I’m fine!"
He yelled back at Claire, where she stood already at the top.
The morning was cold, a day of clear skies that still carried the chill of the night, where morning dew still clung to leaves and blades of grass. Toby took a deep breath, still feeling Claire’s eyes on him.
He knew she worried.
They had checked the hospital after the fight, getting enough supplies to treat themselves and look after every cut, bruise, and bite mark they suffered. He had to fight a fever for two days due to losing his fingers, and Claire had been by his side the entire time, checking on him every five minutes, to the point where they had a whole fight-and-making-up situation yet again. Still, he was much better now, and he knew he had to show it to her, so with renewed strength he climbed the rest of the way up.
"I’m the one with a limp, and you’re still slower." She pointed out, but Toby just laughed, eyes darting to the leg that had received a goblin bite that day. He could see the bandages peeking above her stupid orange shoes.
"Hey, I’m the one without fingers here." He gestured to his properly bandaged hand.
"From your hand, not your feet."
"Rude"
She stuck out her tongue at him, and Toby snorted, pausing to look at the view behind his back.
After recovering from the fight with the goblins, when they stood alone and injured in a trashed apartment, and after taking long showers to get clean – Claire still had goblin blood under her fingernails – they finally agreed to look for survivors.
Unfortunately, after trekking through town for days, they found no one around, and finally decided to leave.
Together, they had combed through the stores all along Delancey’s street, packing food, medical supplies, and things like a camping stove, which Claire had already tested to make some of the worst eggs he had ever tasted. Now Claire was dressed in black jeans and a purple, long-sleeved, Papa Skull shirt that she had always wanted to buy. Toby, meanwhile, had on a pair of brown pants from his house and a button-down shirt that he thought fit his style and made him look crispy.
"I still think you look like a grandpa, dressed like that."
"That is my style, and why don’t you watch yourself, miss orange shoes?"
"These shoes are lucky." He grinned, remembering her pout as she stubbornly cleaned her shoes in the sink after the fight. "Ready to go?"
"Ready." But Toby stopped, feeling a pull, a need for one last look back at their town. There was an odd sense of relief washing over him with every step he took that morning, and now he felt almost guilty for it. He wondered if Claire was feeling the same.
Then he felt a hand over his shoulder and found her deep brown eyes smiling his way. "Come on, TP, we gotta make the most of our daytime."
"Yeah, yeah." She offered her hand to him to take, the bandage still wrapped around the cut she suffered there. He grabbed it, feeling the comfort of the touch until he realized something else. "Wait, what did you call me?"
"TP." She said, pulling him along. "Toby Pie."
"Oh crap, no, I don’t like it."
"Don’t fight it."
"Claire, come on!"
"It’s done now."
"Claire!"
She laughed out loud, and he couldn’t help the way his ears burned because of it, because deep down he fought his twitching lips not to smile.
Later, he knew the pain would come back. Memories would hit him when he least expected them, and nightmares were inevitable. Later, there would be new wounds, and new fears, and brand new hurts to make both of them cry and scream and run away.
Later.
For now, Toby held her hand as they entered the woods.
That was enough.