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𓆩♱𓆪 ╭┈┈┈┈╮ rubberband man is best read with: white background palomino font any size ╰┈┈┈┈╯
𓆩♱𓆪 ══════════════════ ― June 25th, 2003. Burlington, Vermont.
Atticus Gardner-Grant is content.
A contentedness that spread all the way down to his toes. A contentedness that filled his chest and made it seem like everything would be okay.
He's 27. He owns a successful business. He loves his town.
Jackson, his partner (or his husband, as they liked to say) is the best thing to ever happen to him. They hyphenated their last names on their own, laws of the state be damned. Matching rings dangle from twin chains around both of their necks.
Not mixing business with pleasure has never applied to them.
Jackson stands next to Atticus now, tapping his foot to the Beatles CD Atticus put on. Abbey Road. One of his favorites.He flips through their financial records- he's always been miles better at math- while Atticus dices a handful of tomatoes. It's their day off. An evening breezes trickles through the open window. The sun glints off the the knife in Atticus's hands, slicing through the tomatoes with a practiced confidence.
"Hey," Jackson says.
"Hm?" Atticus sets the knife down and turns to face him. "What's up?"
Jackson hums. "Nothing, really. I love you, that's all." His freckled cheeks darken ever so slightly, but he maintains his gaze on Atticus's face.
Atticus shoves his arm, but feels his own face heat. He'll never get sick of hearing Jackson say those words. "Sap," he says. "I think I'm getting a cavity."
Jackson laughs, wrestling Atticus into a one-armed hug. "What? A guy can't say that every now and again?"
"I can't see why not." Atticus twists in Jackson's grip and hooks his chin on Jackson's shoulder. "I love you too, though. Obviously."
Jackson's grin rivals the setting sun just outside their door, and all Atticus can do is lean in to kiss him.
𓆩♱𓆪 ══════════════════ ― September 9, 2023. Audubon, Iowa.
Atticus Gardner-Grant is tired.
A tiredness that was bone-deep. A tiredness that refused to go away, no matter how much he slept.
He's 47. His restaurant is probably long gone by now; overrun by infected or destroyed by FEDRA. He hates his town.
Jackson was killed five years ago. Gunned down by a rogue FEDRA agent who didn't take too kindly to him swiping their medical supplies. Atticus can't bring himself to throw out his necklace. The memories of their life together still linger at the back of his mind like an old, stubborn scar that refuses to fade. He's not sure it ever will.
He stands alone in a nearly empty shipping container, tearing through boxes in the hopes of finding something, anything, useful.
He finds a busted camera, a rusted out water bottle, and a copy of Hamlet. So much for good luck. He pockets the book and leaves the junk. Someone back at base will be a fan of the Bard. Atticus sure as hell isn't.
Back outside, the sun is blinding. Atticus adjusts his sunglasses and drags a hand down his face. God, he needs a shave.
The journey back to the walled-up shell of a town he's called home for the last four years is quick enough. That was their golden rule. Never stray too far. Especially if you're alone.
He waves to the sentry standing at duty in the ramshackle guard tower a group of survivors constructed last month. It stretches upwards, a haphazard collection of wooden planks, cracked glass planes and ladders. From this distance, it's hard to tell who it is. New faces are always coming and going. After awhile, you stop keeping track.
The tiny community of Audubon, Iowa had been resurrected a handful of years ago, thanks to a group of survivors that stumbled down from one of the Dakotas. Atticus can never remember which one. He joined not long after. They appreciated his culinary skills, and he appreciated the roof over his head.
Atticus lives above the communal dining area. How ironic. It was a popular meeting place for the residents of Audubon; once upon a time Atticus was a firm believer in the power of a food meal. But now, all an industrial kitchen does is remind him of what was taken away from him.
Atticus still enjoys cooking, though. Even teaches some classes. And he's found himself with a protégé: a young girl named Piper, who's parents were desperate to give her some sense of normalcy and pushed her in direction of Atticus and his dog-eared cookbooks. She's a good kid. Eager to learn and always willing to help Atticus prep a meal to share with the other survivors.
He pushes the door to the kitchen open with his shoulder. He finds Piper inside, listlessly stirring a pot of something on a nearby stove. She's been spending more and more time in the kitchen with him lately. Atticus can't bring himself to ask why. To him, getting involved in other people's business may as well be a death sentence.
"Piper," he greets, setting the copy of Hamlet down on the counter and shrugging off his jacket. "What are you up to?"
"Hmm? Oh, hey, Atticus." Piper waves the wooden spoon in his direction. She's practically drowning in a massively oversized Letterman's jacket. Her curly hair sticks out from under the collar. "Nothing much. Just heating some pasta sauce."
"Want me to put some water on to boil?" Atticus asks, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
Piper shakes her head. "Nah. I've got leftover pasta."
Atticus clicks his tongue. "I'll be back later then. Anything in particular you want to make tonight?"
Piper's eyes light up. "Curry? Please?"
Atticus can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Great suggestion. Start at 7?"
Piper nods, and turns back to her sauce. Atticus takes that as his cue to leave. He can understand wanting to cook alone. He'd kicked Jackson out of the kitchen more times than he could count.
"By the way," Piper says, just as Atticus reaches the door. "I would head down to the center. Apparently they found a car. Couple of people inside."
Atticus frowns. "Alive?"
Piper nods. "Yeah. They're being held at the Mendoza's. Jamie insisted."
Atticus presses his nails into his palms. A car probably means they're being followed. Whoever it is could come straight to them.
The last thing Audubon needs is more trouble.
𓆩♱𓆪 ══════════════════ ― author's note
Hello!!! Thank you for reading. I'm so excited to share Atticus's story with you all. I've been a huge fan of the game for so long, and the show has only increased my love for the series. This fic will mainly be following the show! Votes and comments appreciated :)
