The Draft (boyxboy+)

18

A/N not the longest of long but indeed long overdue.

a chapter is out!! woo!!

in case you didn't see and were curious to where I have been, I took a little hiatus from writing this story and writing in general. I have no real reason as to why except lack of ideas and motivation.

I always intend to finish my stories for my readers so no I will not be leaving this story till it's time has come!

senior year has beaten my butt a little and I'm exhausted, but good news is it's thanksgiving break, I'm on anxiety medication that's working, and my birthday is on sunday!

so, here at last, a chapter for all my patient readers!

please continue to be patient as I work my way through the last bunch of chapters of this story! if i publish another I'll make sure to have most of it completed haha

enjoy <33

I didn't realize how long Noah and I had been out until my feet couldn't feel my very own shoes because of the aching. It was as though I had been walking on jagged stones and pulling the muscles in my feet with every step.

We hadn't had much luck with job hunting at first, Noah used all his connections to find openings for me but I was just too picky.

I knew I could begin with one job and find a new one in the future that better suited me but I just couldn't put myself to work in a place I didn't care for.

I wasn't going to waste my days adjusting to this new place in a job I hated working at. I was in no way going to be a waiter, or a barista, or an engineer of sorts. I just wasn't interested in any of the places we'd been to.

Everyone in the city contributed in some way, and I knew I needed to do my part.

It wasn't until the two of us were aching all over, tired, hungry, and had looped half the city over a dozen times that we found a good shop.

Little Old Margo owned this shop called 'Margo's medicine'. Margo was the oldest woman in the city, having been a rejected citizen of the safe cities after protesting the draft.

She wasn't a fighter, knew nothing about destroying the infected to protect herself, but she was strangely stealthy.

Margo had a mysterious aura around her, as though she was all knowing and seemed to disappear and reappear often.

Jenna, a younger girl who was maybe 16 or so, was the main worker at Margo's and took care of Margo as well.

The shop was small, but still felt impossibly big. There was a cozy feeling, maybe it was the carpet or the soft glow of the lights.

There were lamps and string lights all around, a small loft area towards the back just behind the main counter with a little book nook area. There were stands spread across the room with different knick knacks.

On one stand you could find a variety of rocks and crystals, butters and honey, creams and ointments in colorful containers. On another stand you could find fabrics and jewelry, spices, and strangely colored liquids in bottles.

Other stands held markers and papers, glitters and journals, buttons and pins and ceramic dishes.

It was like this tiny little shop had everything, and an open door in the back presented even more shelves of things.

The place was busy when we stepped inside and Jenna was busy answering the questions of many customers.

Everyone was polite but even with the kindness it still seemed hectic. Jenna never faltered her smile and seemed to genuinely enjoy helping the teens in the shop.