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SMASH! The glass of the window fell to the floor, closely followed by the infected child. At this point, they weren't sure which of their actions were their own and which were the spores inside them, working as a silent puppetmaster. Unfortunately, they were only starting to enter the second phase, so they still had almost half an hour before the pain went away forever. They viciously picked at their skin until a pool of blood formed under their fingertips, as if they could peel out the infection that had taken them hostage. They heard heavy footsteps downstairs and felt an intense desire to talk to the person down there. No. They thought. That’s the spores talking. It’s not worth infecting someone else. They had to physically pull their body away from the door, but their efforts were in vain as the door on the floor started to push open.
…
Downstairs, Hugo had broken the basement door. He had tried to keep himself from breathing, tried to fight off the infection to keep the owner of the house safe but he had failed. The spores flowed through his body, making feel things he had never felt before. He had tried knocking on the door to get the attention of the owner and quench his uncontrollable urge to talk to someone, but they hadn’t answered. Ultimately, he had been unable to control the spores inside of him, and he forced the door to bend to the will of the infection. When Hugo stepped out, his heavy footsteps resounding through the quiet house, he found the owner, the person who had shown him kindness and given him his towel, dead, taken over by the same spores threatening him. The front door was ajar and a government I.D. was sitting on the door step, a clear sign of what had happened to his new friend. Hugo was about to leave, there was no point in staying anymore, when he heard footsteps coming from the attic. That’s weird, he thought. I didn’t think there was anyone else in here. His self control was already shattered and between his curiosity and the spores telling him to go, he pushed open the door to the attic.
“Do-don’t come in here!” Came a voice from inside. At first, it sounded fairly normal to Hugo, but, after listening closer, he recognized the voice as one that was fighting its own colony of spores.
“It’s okay,” Hugo said, his relief and the spores’ disappointment at war within him. “I’m infected too.” He pulled his towel over his shoulders as he walked towards the pile of boxes and cloud of spores where the voice had come from.
There was a kid seated in the corner. They couldn’t have been much older than 16, and, despite his distaste for children, Hugo couldn’t help but feel bad for them. They didn’t look to be too far into their infection, only a few bulges on their neck where the spores were building and a few very visible beads of sweat trickling down their body betrayed their fate.
“You look awful.” The kid said bluntly. Hugo had to laugh at that. He could feel the mushrooms poking out of him, his eyes swelling, the bulges on his neck threatening to burst with spores. Deep down he knew he must look like something off the set of a horror film, but he didn’t feel that way. Instead, he felt beautiful.
“You get used to it kid. Soon we’ll both be beautiful” He said, placing a hand on their shoulder, before pulling it away when they flinched away from him. “You okay? You're not scared of being infected again are you?” He teased.
“No!” The kid said defensively. “I just don’t like being touched.”
“I get that.” Hugo said, sliding down the wall to sit by them. “I’m Hugo by the way.”
“Noah.” They said, not meeting the man’s bloodshot eyes. The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a while. “So do you live here or what?” Noah said, shattering the quiet between them.
“No, but I knew them, but they're infected now. Already dead.” It wasn’t fully a lie. Hugo had known the house’s owner, but only for an hour or two. It was a better story then him breaking into the basement before being slowly contaminated by the spores. “What about you? What are you doing in some rando’s attic?”
“I broke in.” They said matter-of-factly. “I tried to convince somebody to let me in, but they wouldn’t open the damn window. Now I just wanted to give them a piece of my m-mind…” They shook their head. “No. No, that's the spores talking. I wouldn’t have come in if it wasn’t for them. I promise.”
“I know. To tell ya the truth, I also broke in. You see, I found a way into their basement and the rest,” he spread his arms to show the slowly blossoming spores. “Is beautiful history.” Noah just stared at him. Hugo couldn’t tell if they were scared or fascinated by the view of both their fates. Finally they spoke.
“I’m going back to the roof. No point in staying inside anymore. Might as well get comfortable.”
“Mind if I join?” Hugo asked. They could tell the kid was scared, and despite everything he had been through, he was too.
“Sure.” They deadpaned. “I’m feeling very social right now.”
…
Downstairs, Hugo pulled open the fridge. It’s not like they’re gonna use any of this stuff. They thought. “You want a beer Noah?” He called over his shoulder.
“I’m 16.”
“You’re dying. Nobody’s gonna care.”
“No thanks.” Noah said as they opened the front door. “I’ve had some shitty experiences with alcohol in the past.”
“Fair. They’ve got a few sodas in here too if you want anything.” But Noah didn’t hear him. They were already pulling themself onto the rooftop. Hugo watched as they effortlessly scurried up with the grace of a kid who had done this very thing too many times before.
“Damn kid. H-how did you get so g-go-good at this?” It was getting harder to talk because of the spores in their throat, but they ignored it. Noah laughed a humorless laugh as they extended a hand to Hugo and pulled him up next to them.
“I’m n-not saying anything without a lawyer pre-.” They were interrupted by a flood of blood red bile pouring from their mouth and streaming down the sloped roof. It was obvious that both of their infections were getting worse. The only question left was who would die first. Despite Noah’s dislike of touch, Hugo held back their hair from the flood. He took Noah not slapping his hands away as acceptance of the action.
“Sorry about that.” Noah said, wiping the last smears of red from their face.
Hugo laughed. “Don’t apologize. You should see what I did to the basement. We can’t help our symptoms.” Noah gave a humorless smile at this and laid back against the roof, watching the spores weave through the sky.
“You know. I never imagined that this was gonna be how things ended.” They paused and rolled over to look at Hugo. “What with me dying on a dead stranger's roof with another stranger who broke into the same house. At least I don’t have to go home tonight.”
“Do your folks know you’re out in this?”
“’It’s just my dad at home. He probably doesn’t give a shit that I’m dying. One less burden for him to deal with.” The contempt in Noah’s voice was thick and Hugo could practically feel the disdain radiating off of them.
“You’re not a burden.” Hugo didn’t know why he cared so much about this child, but they had clearly been hurt by the world, and were going to die before they could process the pain. “Sometimes life is sh-shitty,” he said, pausing to cough up a mass of spores. “But it’s not your fau-”
“Don’t fucking say it!” Noah said, the shadows of tears building in their eyes. “Every day that… monster makes me feel like an insignificant piece of shit and all anyone can say is it’s not my fault. Do you all think I’m fucking stupid! That I can’t see what’s going on ri-right in fr-f-front of me.” Hugo couldn’t tell if their choked up voice was from the spores or the tears that were rapidly escaping their containment.
“Sorry,” they said, their voice working overtime to hide their emotion. “The spores must be getting to me.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re dying, I think you’re entitled to an outburst or two.”
“Can we just talk about something else? Or, better yet, just not talk at all?”
Hugo nodded and mimed zipping his lips, which made Noah throw one of their necklaces at him. They both stared at the fallen pile of beads, before simultaneously breaking the silence with laughter. It wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. But they were dying and for some reason that made a sixteen year old throwing a necklace at the man they were dying with hilarious.
Eventually, the laughter died. Hugo laid down next to Noah. The two of them remained there for a while, simply taking in the presence of another human. Is this part of the uncontrolled desire to socialize? Hugo thought. Or has it just been too long since I’ve been around another person? Ultimately, he decided not to question it anymore. Even if it was just the spores talking, that didn’t change the fact that, for some unknown reason, he cared about this kid. No, he knew the reason. He could see himself in the kid. Somewhere, in another timeline where they hadn’t fallen to this plague, maybe he could have helped them in the way that he had needed when he was Noah’s age. But, as Hugo felt the spores inside him grow angrier and angrier, he knew that it was far too late for that. Sighing to himself, he closed his eyes, not knowing if he would still be alive when he opened them.
…
Noah had lost all sense of time since they had moved back to the roof with the weird emo stranger. The hours? minutes? seconds? all floated by in a meaningless haze as the storm raged on. Every cell in their body was telling them to give themself over to beauty and oblivion and it was starting to seem like the best option. Accepting their fate, they closed their eyes and gave themself over… No. They couldn’t die yet. They needed to say goodbye to Hugo, their new… friend. Was that the right word to describe the strange and traumatic bond they shared? Regardless, they sat up and turned over to Hugo.
The older man had fallen asleep and Noah couldn’t help but smile at his face of relative calm. It was such a contrast against the visceral body horror. Noah couldn’t bring themself to wake him up. Besides, they thought, he probably doesn’t even care that I’m here. I know no one else does. That was the realization that broke them. They had no one. Hot tears spilled onto the roof as Noah stood up. Their jacket fell off as they stood, but they didn’t bother to pick it up. They didn’t need anything anymore. Letting the tears flow freely, they ran off. Better to die alone. It was how they always had been. They ran, not knowing where they were going.
They ended up somewhere high.