Chapter Text
It had been a week since the whole ordeal happened with the Delta. Since they lost Tenn and… Mitch.
God… Mitch.
It was still so fucking surreal. It was so hard to believe. But it was true. That was the actual reality of the situation.
Mitch died, trying to save Tenn who fucking died anyway.
Even though it happened later, it was still a tragic loss… and it also felt like some sick joke. One Mitch would probably give his ugly snort type of laugh at.
Now, Aasim was in charge of taking care of Willy.
When Mitch and Aasim made that promise, Willy was only nine years old; now he’s twelve.
He was definitely way more independent and capable of survival, but still he’s a kid.
Not even a teenager yet.
Just because he can kill walkers with ease and shoot a bow extremely well doesn’t make him no longer a kid.
And even when he reached the teenager stage, he’d still be a kid. Definitely compared to the other kids, as now he was the youngest other than AJ, a literal toddler
That’s what Aasim was writing about. How capable of a kid Mitch managed to raise. But still gave him a childhood.
It really was admirable… His best friend was an amazing guy.
Was.
He’s dead.
Mitchell Lee Richards, his best friend, was dead.
And Aasim couldn’t help but tear up every single time he thought about it. He wasn’t even at the burial due to the Delta taking him.
That whole time he was in the cell he was panicking over the image of his best friend dying in front of him, holding Willy back.
Not only was he thinking about that, he was having a severe trauma episode from being reminded of his childhood. The abuse and isolation that he was forced through.
So yeah, he had a trauma episode mixed in with an autistic meltdown because of the sensory issues.
Dorian didn’t like it and would yell at him to stop and he couldn’t. He just… couldn’t.
Caused Louis to lose his tongue defending him.
That’s… don’t think about it.
Aasim looked up to see Willy standing in front of him. “Uh… shit, how long have you been standing there?”
“Only a couple of minutes!” he gave his toothy smile and a small ugly laugh. “I just wanted to see how long it would take you to notice me. You get so… uh… focused when you write! It’s kinda funny.”
“Yes, yes I do,” Aasim said with a small laugh, adjusting himself to match Willy’s energy. “Do you need something?”
“No, I just wanted to bug you! It’s fun and funny. I like bugging people.”
“Well, bug me as you please! I don’t mind… uh… kiddo?” he said, using the nickname Mitch always used for Willy.
Mitch said it’s what his own father called him, so it only made sense for him to call Willy that.
Aasim might as well try…? It would maybe be reassuring for the kid… or something like that.
“Hey… you don’t have to take over for Mitch like that. Just… he wanted you to keep me safe…”
“Oh. You knew about the promise we made? I didn’t know that he told you. Not sure why, thought he’d keep it a secret or something.”
“Mhm, he told me right before the raid… I didn’t think he’d actually die though,” Willy said as he began to fiddle with his hands. “I think he knew, though. He always was like that…”
“Maybe…” Aasim said weakly, looking down. “I just… you know he would have died for anyone. He cared so much about all of us. Especially you or me. That dumb asshole…” he shook his head. “Are you okay, though? I know it must be hard”
“Ruby’s been helping me with it. Clem said it’s normal to be sad a lot. Trauma is like that. Give yourself time, right?”
Aasim looked back up at him and nodded. “That’s right. You go at your own pace. I’ve been writing, that’s how I’ve been working through it.”
“I’ve been trying to carve this thingy for him,” Willy looked down at the carving knife in his hand. Aasim hadn’t even noticed it earlier.
“Uh… what thingy? That’s not very descriptive.”
“Well I wanted to make a cartoon style bomb— I don’t really remember any cartoons but Violet talks about them a lot! I’ve seen them in Mitch’s drawings. I think it would be nice, right?”
“Awe, Willy, that’s so sweet,” Aasim smiled. “You just need to make a circle, right? Then have the top? I can’t carve myself but I heard Mitch yammering about it so often I have a general idea of the process.”
The kid nodded and smiled once again. “That’s the plan! I’m just struggling a little. I’ve only really made spears before. And a few other things. But I think I can do it! Practice makes perfect.”
“That’s true…” Aasim looked to the side, an idea popping back in his head. “Hey, remember how Hindi is my first language?”
“Yes. Urdu, too. But you’ve forgotten a lot of it, haven’t you?”
“Well… yeah, not the point,” Aasim rolled his eyes playfully. It was actually terrifying to lose both your first and second language due to an overuse of your third. “I can call you, baccha. It means ‘child’, but is used like ‘kiddo’. I think it would be nice.”
“Sure, if you want!” Willy rocked on his toes. “I think I’m gonna go sit back on the couch to try and finish the carving. Thank you, Aasim!” he said, running off.
“You’re welcome!” he shouted back. “For whatever? I don’t know,” he lowered his voice back to normal and chuckled, looking down at his journal.
As Aasim wrote about the conversation he just had with Willy and his little carving project, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth in his chest.
It was moments like these that reminded him why they fought so hard to survive in this world.
These things were why, despite his suicidal ideation and feelings, he needed to stay alive. He needed to fight those feelings through more positive shit.
That’s what Mitch always told him. That one must stay around for the happy parts in life. Because that’s what surviving was for.
They needed to stay alive for each other, the small moments of joy, and hope that they could find amidst the chaos of the apocalypse.
But as he continued to write, his thoughts drifted back to Mitch… it was still so fucking hard to believe that he was gone, that they would never hear his boisterous laugh or see his mischievous grin again.
Aasim found himself writing about their friendship, about the times they had spent together and the promises they had made. He poured his heart and soul into the words, hoping that somehow they would reach Mitch wherever he was now.
Maybe his reincarnation, as that is what Aasim believed in, and by now his soul would have moved on to its next life. Something new.
It brought him a little bit of solace. It was okay.
When he finished writing, Aasim closed his journal and leaned back in his chair.
He let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over him. Grief was a heavy burden to bear, but he knew that he wasn't alone in it.
Mitch might be gone, but he’d always be remembered. His impact on Aasim, Willy, and the others at the school will never be forgotten. Never.
They had each other, and together they would find a way to keep going.
It was okay… it was okay.