No One But Me

Chapter 4 - Restraint

"Well, I think that's enough for today. Gotta let these walls dry."

He packed up the tin of paint and went to the small sink in the storeroom to wash the paintbrush. You walked over to the freshly painted walls by the counter and appraised Oscar's work. He had done very well considering he had no paint roller and only a simple large wooden handled paint brush. Such a task required quite a bit of patience and dedication, you mused.

"What do ya think?" Oscar asked when he reappeared from the storeroom, wiping his hands clean with a rag.

"It looks great," you said with sincerity. "It already makes the library look so much brighter."

Oscar tossed the rag onto the counter and came to stand beside you. He was so close you could smell the natural scent of his skin intermingled with his sweat and a faint hint of something you thought was like cinnamon.

"Mm," he murmured softly, his eyes wandering over the expanse of the wall. "It does. You don't think the colour is too much, do you?"

You studied his face for a brief moment, taking in his features; the prominent shape of his nose, the distinct thickness of his eyebrows, the pensive downturn of his lips. He was so unassumingly beautiful. The sober expression of his face coupled with the tone of genuine concern in his voice was quite endearing.

"I think Light Summer Blue is perfect," you replied with a playful little smile.

Oscar glanced at you and huffed a breathless chuckle of mirth. You and Oscar surveyed his handiwork for a few more moments before he gave a soft sigh.

"Ready to call it a day?" He asked gently.

"Yep," you replied quietly.

Oscar gestured to the front door with his hand and you both ambled toward it. There was a palpable shift of energy in the air now, a reserved shyness between you two, as if you both wanted to linger yet neither knew what to say. Neither of you spoke as you and Oscar stepped outside, or as he shut the door closed behind him and locked it with the key. He pocketed the key, turned to face you, and then cleared his throat.

"Thank you." Oscar said quietly. His eyes wandered from the ground up to your face. "For today. For being such good company, I mean. I haven't...I hope you had a good day."

"I did," you replied truthfully. "Thank you, Oscar. I'm glad we could work together."

Oscar gave you a small smile and you were sure you could detect a slight glimmer of hope in his expression. It was a kind of yearning you were sure mirrored the one you kept locked in your own heart - a desire for friendship, for understanding and companionship, for affection.

When you said farewell for the day and parted ways, turning to walk in the opposite directions of your homes, you wondered what was going through Oscar's mind at that moment.

******

Joel's POV

From the beginning of the end of the world, after Sarah had died, Joel was a broken man. The agony of losing his only child, the only shining light of happiness in his life, had planted a seed of hate inside his soul that rooted itself and festered. The sorrow never eased, not even with time to dull the sharpness of memories. Instead, the deeply entrenched hatred spurred him to tear things and people apart, to destroy them. He wanted everyone left in this fucked up world to hurt just as he did - irrevocably. Simply, Joel lost his sense of humanity.

He survived through the years by using brutality and violence, carving out a widespread infamy as a raider that incited fear in the neighbouring settlements and QZs. Joel repressed any emotion he felt would make him weak or unfocused. He abused pills and alcohol to quell the nightmares of Sarah and help numb himself from the hellish reality of surviving the end of the world.