three.      messed up world

          Jackson is quiet tonight. The kind of quiet that makes the world feel smaller, more suffocating, like a secret waiting to be told. The town is still, tucked beneath the dark expanse of the endless sky, the occasional spring breeze carrying the scent of pine and rain. Alaska's heart pounds as she crouches behind the fence, her breath shallow. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the shadows for any movement.

  The last thing she needs is to get caught again.

  "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ellie's voice cuts through the distant silence, low yet full of mischief.

  Alaska's lips curling into an excited smile. "Who's gonna stop us? Maria?" She says playfully, although she knows that Maria would, in fact, kill them if she sees.

  Ellie gives a soft snort. "Yeah, she's got eyes everywhere."

  "We'll be back before anyone notices," Alaska assures her, reaching for the gated fence and pushing it open with a soft creak. "Promise."

  Ellie hesitates for a moment, looking back at the town they'd leave behind. Alaska's words feel like they have some sort of weight. Ellie brushes the thought aside with a sigh. They walk side by side, boots stomping on the ground. The city of Jackson is still and safe, but just ahead of them lies the wilderness— a world that's been untouched for far too long.

  Truthfully, Alaska doesn't know how they'd ended up here. One second, she'd felt like she needed a breath of fresh air, a break from the four walls that surrounded her. And the next, she'd been knocking on Ellie's door, asking her if she wanted to come along. Maybe that'd been a dumb idea. Impulsive. Either way, Ellie had agreed.

  It's better to have company, right?

  The two are quiet for a while, the sound of their footsteps mixing with the soft rustle of the wind. The cold creeps up on them, tinting their cheeks. It isn't until they're out of the town's limits, the distant lighting fading into nothing, that Ellie speaks again.

  "So," Ellie begins, her voice almost teasing. "What's the plan? Just... walk around 'til we get cold?"

  Alaska chuckles softly, glancing over at her. "Well." She shrugs. "We could always head towards the cliffs. I heard the stars are better out there."

  Ellie simply nods her head with a hidden smile, her hands tucked into the pockets of her familiar green jacket as her eyes scan the night sky.

  They keep walking, their pace slow and steady as the world around them grows quieter. Alaska looks up and watches as the sky stretches above them like an endless canvas, speckled with stars, bright and sharp against the pitch-black paint.

  As they reach the cliff's edge, Alaska sits on a large rock, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her eyes never pull away from the sky, as if calling her name. The chill in the air doesn't really bother her, not with Ellie by her side. It's fresh, cleansing in a way that's impossible to describe.

  Ellie sits down beside her, closer than she might've expected. Her legs stretch out before her as her arms cross over her chest. Ellie lets out a long sigh, tension in her shoulders still evident as ever. Maybe this escape will relieve some of the burden she carries.

  "Good thing we made it this far without anyone noticing," Ellie mutters.

  "Yeah, I think we're safe." Alaska leans back, resting her hands on the cold stone beneath her. "Besides, no one ever pays attention to us, anyway. They've got bigger things to worry about." She says teasingly.

  Ellie offers a quiet chuckle, but it doesn't last. Instead, it fades into a familiar silence. Alaska notices it, too. Something unspoken hangs in the air, the weight of their pasts pressing down on them both.

  "Y'know..." Ellie says after a long pause, her voice somehow softer than usual. "I used to sneak out all the time. Back when I first got to Jackson. He hated it. He'd always find me. I never thought anyone cared enough to notice," she says.

  Alaska feels a pang in her chest, an understanding. She looks over at Ellie. "I think people care more than we realize," she responds quietly.

  Ellie doesn't say anything at first, her eyes trained on the stars above. There's a distance in her gaze. Maybe a flicker of something more— something hidden beneath the surface, desperate to come out.

  "I never really had anyone that cared about me. Not until Joel," Ellie admits, her voice low. "I mean, yeah, there were people. But they..." She trails off, biting her lip in hesitance. "They all died. I was always alone. At least I had him."

  "You still have him, Ellie," Alaska says in an attempt to mend the wounds. She doesn't say anything else about Joel. It isn't her place, after all. She swallows the lump in her throat. "But I know how it feels. Being alone."

  Ellie looks at her, brows curled together. "You? But you've got Tommy and Maria now, right?"

  "Yeah, of course," Alasya says, the corners of her lips twisting down. "But it was different before."

  Ellie stays silent, her eyes studying Alaska's face. The structure of her clenched jaw, the curl of golden eyelashes. Ellie has never been this close. She wonders how she's never noticed these details before.

  Ellie silently gestures for Alaska to continue.

  Alaska sighs. "As a kid, I was sick. My mom..." She stops herself, words bitter in her mouth. "She never really wanted me around. I guess she couldn't handle it, or didn't care enough to try. I dunno." She looks down at her hands.

  Ellie lets out a long, dragged breath. "That sounds horrible," she mumbles, her voice low, as if she were trying to make sense of what she'd been told.

  Neither of them says anything. They're unsure of whether or not they should. The silence returns once more, like a warm blanket on a winter night. It isn't heavy this time around. It feels safe. Different.

  They look up at the sky with this new understanding, a new view of one another, proof that they're both just human– just two girls that had found each other in the middle of a messed up world.

  Alaska watches the stars, trying to catch sight of constellations, naming them as they pop up. She's always had a fascination for them. The stardust in her bones inspires her, reminds her that one day she'll be up there with the rest of them. It used to be a scary thought, but now it's slightly comforting.

  "Do you ever..." Ellie sucks in a sharp breath, breaking through the silence like a fist to a jaw. "Do you ever feel like nothing you do is ever enough? Like no matter how many times you fight to survive, it's never really worth it?" She asks.

  The pain in Ellie's voice is raw, something she carries with her every day, something that no amount of time could possibly erase.

  Alaska's heart shatters. "Yeah, actually." She blinks, shocked by how deeply she relates. "I've never really been able to explain that feeling before."

  "I just–" Ellie looks down at her hands. "So many people have died. I should've been able to save them, change their fate somehow. But I couldn't." Her shoulders slump in defeat.

  Ellie's words echo in Alaska's mind and stab her in the chest. Ellie's immunity forbids her from being taken from the world the same way many others have. And, although Alaska can't speak of this knowledge out loud, Ellie's vulnerability makes her feel oh so guilty.

  Flashes of Saint Mary haunt her. The guilt gnaws. Alaska promised to never tell Ellie the truth– to never mention the other doctors, the children, the families, all the lives lost in the wake of Joel's decision. She can't break that promise. Can she? The weight of it is suffocating. How long can she hide the truth?

  "You can't save everyone, Ellie." Alaska finally speaks softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Even if it feels like you should be able to, like you have to... sometimes the world's just too fucked up to fix."

  Ellie lets out a breath, her shoulders relaxing. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

  They sit in silence for a while longer. The stars above are a reminder that the world keeps spinning. It's something bigger than any of them, bigger than the pain they carry. The quiet amongst them isn't so lonely anymore. Instead, it's full, heavy with a mutual grief and words they don't dare say out loud.

  Alaska feels the air between them thicken in a way she can't explain. There's a secret bond that neither of them are ready to confront. Alaska is terrified. This, whatever it is, between them– it's fragile. Fleeting. It truly might not last forever. One wrong move, and it could all just disappear.

  She wonders if Ellie notices the same tension, the feeling in her chest that somehow always pulls them together. The same strange pulse of something much more. Yet, just as quickly as the thought surfaces, Ellie breaks through it once again.

  "Alright, enough about the past," Ellie says, her voice dropping back into something lighter. She stands up, wiping her hands on her jeans, and holds out her hand for Alaska to take. "C'mon, before we freeze to death."

  "Oh, please." Alaska rolls her eyes playfully. "It's not that cold," she says with a smirk.

  Alaska gets a hold of Ellie's hand and, for the first time in a long time, there's a sense of peace. Warmth radiates across her body, as if it'd come directly from Ellie's soul. This feeling, it's uncertain. Confusing. All Alaska knows is that it's real.

  As they walk back to Jackson, the stars above them flicker like distant promises. Alaska knows, deep down, that she's finally beginning to understand deeper parts of herself– and Ellie. This connection they've built within such a short time, it means something. She just doesn't know if she's ready to face it yet.

***

          It feels darker by the time Alaska and Ellie reach Jackson. If that's even possible. The stargazing had brought up hidden sides of them, memories that had been buried had risen up in the star-streaked night. It was one of those rare moments where neither of them felt the weight of the world and its cruelty, where every bad thing had felt miles away.

  Now, back in the familiar embrace of Jackson, the same comfortable silence settles. They walk side by side, not speaking, but not needing to. Alaska still feels the tug of tension, but tonight had been different. Not only is the weight of the world lighter but there's also a small acknowledgement that something between them has shifted, just barely.

  As they reach the front of Ellie's place, Ellie hesitates, her hands jammed deep into her pockets. Her breath almost shakes, barely audible. Alaska can't help but notice the uncertainty in her posture.

  Ellie has always been confident, comfortable in her own skin, but tonight there's something else. Something softer. Plus, the walk to their separate homes would've been a long one– too long.

  "Wanna come in?" Ellie asks suddenly, her voice low and entirely reluctant.

  Alaska merely blinks, caught off guard. They'd been walking in silence for so long, she'd almost forgotten that they'd been walking in the first place. Now, everything comes rushing back, and Ellie has suddenly thrown out an invitation. One that carries meaning in the simplest form.

  She opens her mouth, ready to make some half-assed excuse. Tommy and Maria would probably kill her in the morning. She has early patrols with Dina. Anything to run away from this moment. It's strange to imagine the inside of Ellie's place– a place she hasn't visited since her first few months in Jackson back when they were fifteen. It's strange to finally visit the place that had once felt like a safe haven.

  But the words don't come out. Instead, she studies Ellie's face. She notices the vulnerability that flickers through, the fallen wall that Alaska hadn't even tried to tear down, all buried under the layers of her usual defensiveness. The truth is: Alaska is also terrified. After everything, keeping her distance was the only way to prevent the pain. But that's impossible when it comes to Ellie, and she doesn't know why.

  Ellie is offering something that she'd never expected. She's willing to let her guard down with a silent hope that Alaska will do the same. It's subtle, but it's there. They can both sense it.

  "Yeah," Alaska finally says, her voice barely above a whisper, almost shaky. "Okay."

  Ellie pushes past the front door– a small shack beside Joel's house. She holds the door open for Alaska to step through. Alaska stops for a moment, taking in the little details that she'd never noticed before. The potted plants, the flickering fairy lights, the comic books, and posters, and her gaming console with the dozens of video games she's collected. Her bed, and the comfy couch, and her guitar by the TV.

  There's so much that Alaska remembers– so much that remains the same, yet so much that has changed with Ellie's age. On the outside, it doesn't look like much. But it's Ellie's. And somehow, that feels significant.

  "Make yourself at home," Ellie says with a short grin.

  Alaska paces around slowly, unapologetically letting her eyes roam the four walls. Part of her wishes to stay here forever. It's lived in, personal, raw. The walls are adorned with memories– some faded, some vibrant, all carefully placed. Alaska takes a seat on the couch, doing as Ellie had insisted. Her chest tightens as she does so.

  Ellie crosses the room and stumbles upon the bookshelf above her TV, pulling out a box of some ancient cassette tapes. Her fingers brush over them briefly before she picks one and lightly tosses it in Alaska's direction. Alaska catches it with ease, examining it with a smile. 

  "Remember the ones I gave you, way back when?" Ellie asks, a playful glint in her eyes.

  Alaska recalls the moment. She'd still been new to Jackson, having gotten there several weeks before. She'd been quiet, cautious, scared of the town's enormity and population. There'd been so many strangers, so many faces she hadn't yet memorized.

  Ellie had been her first friend. She'd gifted her some old mixtapes to go along with the walkman Tommy had found on one of his patrols. That had been one of the first times Alaska had ever felt seen by somebody– truly noticed.

  "Of course I do." Alaska chuckles. "Still listen to them all the time."

  Ellie smiles again, her cheeks tinted with a familiar shade of rose. Alaska thinks she could stare forever. Is that wrong to think? She brushes the thought aside.

  Ellie approaches her and sets the box of tapes by the couch. She takes a seat beside Alaska and digs through the box, seemingly searching for something specific.

  Alaska takes the chance to glance around the room again. She notices Ellie's sketches littering the baby blue walls, photographs of her friends pinned up by her bed, the messiness of the bed covered in layers upon layers of blankets. It's all so... warm. Alaska feels this peace wash over her, never washing away. She physically feels her shoulders fall slowly, like a weight being lifted.

  "There it is," Ellie mutters to herself, pulling a singular cassette tape out of the box.

  She reaches for the roll of beige painter's tape and a black marker from across the coffee table, ripping a piece off with her teeth to stick onto the front of the cassette. Alaska's eyebrows curl with confusion. She tries inching forward to see what Ellie's writing, but her view is blocked by the back of Ellie's head. Alaska notices the singular strand of red hair fall from Ellie's ponytail, just wishing she could pull it behind Ellie's ears with her fingers.

  "Here," Ellie says, handing her the mixtape. "Listen to it when you can."

  Alaska beams, but she tries to hide it. She wonders if Ellie notices. Her nose scrunches up at the weird, intense feeling in her chest. It's like an explosion.

  Ellie can somehow see into Alaska's mind, infiltrating, knowing every little thing about her without even trying, without even speaking. Sometimes, music does all the talking. There's something about this moment that feels simple, yet crucial. It's a moment where they don't have to worry about the next day or the next fight, they can just breathe in each other's existence.

  Nothing more. Nothing less.

  She looks down at the old mixtape and reads the label Ellie had just written.

  'Al and El's Mixtape'

  Their eyes meet once again. A stolen glance, a moment that feels like it might last forever, yet escapes from their hands like a butterfly. Somehow they can exist in a way they haven't in a long time. There's a softness in Ellie's eyes. Alaska sees it, the way Ellie seems to be letting her in, the way Ellie looks at her for longer than usual.

  "Thanks, Ellie." Alaska smiles, blinking her overwhelming thoughts away.

  The weight of everything, past and present, is still there. It always lingers. Sometimes it hides better than others. But for a while, for this short moment, they don't have to carry it. They don't have to be anyone or anything but themselves.

author's notes.
— 2,933 words

hello... i really like this chapter i think it captures alaska and ellie's relationship so well. like, yes, they're close and they're great friends but there's just that tinge of something more that they're both scared of. u guys are gonna be so heartbroken next chapter.. sorry.