Dead love in my hands (Troy Otto story/ Fear the walking dead/ ftwd)

I met you in California

"I'm listening to you," his eyes, which a couple of seconds ago radiated satisfaction and joy, became cold and calm. I swallowed a lump in my throat and wanted to talk about moving, but his gaze seemed to pierce me with something icy.

"I wanted to......You know, we need to have a party," my lips blurted out by themselves.

"What?"

"Well, we finally have water, people need rest. It is worth noting your achievements as the new head of the ranch. All you need is some alcohol and music..."

Otto thought about it. After a couple of minutes, he nodded approvingly.

"You're right, it's a great idea. I'll tell Jake after dinner that he and Alisha will arrange everything."

"Great. Thank you. Are you going to dinner?" I asked.

Troy came up to me:

"I think if we stay here a little longer, no one will notice," he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and whispered right into it, "I missed you wildly..."

Goosebumps ran through my body. That's the feeling I needed. It's with me again. I want him, like back then, in that house at number 9... maybe he's not that crazy after all? Maybe he was acting like this just because he was very tired? After all, he has such a responsibility....

We fucked right on his desk, crumpling up all the notes. I wanted him, and I got him, no matter how psychotic he was, I loved him.

The party was excellent. The smell of alcohol was in the air. The ranchers were having fun. The music was playing quite loudly, but it didn't attract a single passerby to the fence. Troy was nowhere to be seen. He gave a speech at the opening and disappeared. Everyone was happy to see him, but he ran away as soon as the first track started playing. I saw a light in the study window in our house. The darker it got on the street, the brighter the yellow square became 30 meters from the simulated dance floor. Jake stole Alisha just in time, because I was tired of dancing and sat down very contentedly on a log next to a tree. It was quite far from the speakers, so the music didn't reach me so clearly anymore. But I could still make out a couple of words.

I do not know whose playlist it was, but I definitely liked it. Suddenly Dean came up to me.

"Why are you here alone?"

"And who should I be with?

"With Troy, probably... Do you want to dance? There will be a slow song soon."

"Did you place an order?" I grinned. It's like I'm back at the school disco.

"Hey, I'm actually the DJ at this party! By the way, it will start literally in 30 seconds, agree! I don't think Troy will mind."

"Trust me, you don't know him very well."

"It's just a dance. Moreover, he deprived you of it by leaving here."

I thought about it, then the song switched. The music has become much smoother. Actually, Dean was right. Troy could stay here with me. He has nothing to do at home. He just sits and drinks whiskey, as if it's normal for him. It was as if he began to feel like his father. Should I be sad?

"Good! But only one dance! Friendly. And it doesn't mean anything!"

Dean nodded and gallantly offered me his hand. I put my palm on his. It was exciting and unusual for me. It seemed like I hadn't danced slow dances in a thousand years. Dean put his arm around my waist. It was hard for me to make out the words of this song. I didn't understand this language. I think it was French:

J'donnerai tout pour être dans tes bras (dans tes bras)

                         Et j'ai tenté d'te haïr mais la colère est partie