Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Aasim was engrossed in his writing in his journal chronicling what happened that day. Mrs. Martin had suggested it a while ago as a coping mechanism and it was working extremely well. 

            She said that since he enjoyed reading so much, writing might help him cope with his day and give him a sense of purpose; since… Even as a child he never really wanted to live and survive.

            Suicidal starting at only age eight wasn’t the best outcome… to say the least. 

            And now, at fifteen, he was still feeling those things. He wanted to die, but at the same time he felt a sense of survival. He just… had to try… that’s what is really important, right?

            Right. That’s what Mitch said.

            Writing everything that happened and how he felt about it had become a therapeutic exercise, which was exactly what Mrs. Martin said when she had suggested doing so.

            While yes, his journal was very personal and had a lot of things exclusive to him, he also wrote a lot about the group. Maybe one day when they’re all gone, someone could find it and share his life experience.

            That might be nice. He was… a survivor. Of many things. Of his parents and now the apocalypse. That’s what Mrs. Martin said… so yeah. It would be nice to be remembered.

            Right as he was turning the page to and began to write on it, Mitch showed up in his peripheral vision, putting his hand on his journal to stop him.

            “Hey,” was all he said. Nothing else.

            Aasim waited a few seconds, hoping maybe Mitch would add on, but he didn’t. “Uh… Hi? What do you need?” he raised his eyebrow looking at him.

            Mitch had almost always been Aasim’s best friend and he had always enjoyed talking to him… but the others rarely interrupted him while he was writing. Especially not as rudely as he just did.

            Everyone had always let him have his time to himself to write. It was kinda his thing at this point. 

            Just leave Aasim to write, it’s what he does.

            “Okay, Sim, I’m gonna cut right to the chase here. It’s inevitable, so when I die—”

          “Dude!” Aasim cut him off quickly. The mere thought of Mitch dying was absolutely unbearable to him and even brought on some distress. It was not something he wanted floating around in his head. “Don’t start talking like that! Sure, death will happen, but god, come on man! You’re fourteen, dude.”

            “And? We’ve had people younger die here at the school. It might happen to me too. Just— please listen to me, Aasim. If anythin’ happens to me, please promise you’ll take care of Willy… please. I just… I need to know someone is there for him. With everythin’… I just need to know.”

            He was a little stunned by this. Mitch was showing more emotional maturity than he had in his whole life. And also… the fact he chose Aasim was shocking.

            Deep down, he knew it made sense. They were best friends and had been just regular friends when the apocalypse started and then got closer as the years went on,

            It only made sense… but he still felt the need to ask. Aasim would always undermine himself, this was just another part of that.

            “I— why me?” he asked slowly, so fucking unsure of himself.

             Mitch crossed his arms. “I uh… thought it would be obvious why I asked you. He trusts you. You’re the only person other than me and Mrs Martin that knows about his parents.  Plus he really enjoys talking to you and just overall looks up to you. So uh… yeah. Just… please? For me if not for him.”

            He glanced down at his journal. The fact Mitch even started taking care of Willy and protecting him when he was just a child himself… that was something Aasim had always admired about him.

            Mitch was the first person to ever show him any kindness — well, if you count beating the absolute shit out of a few kids twice his size because they were being racist and ableist towards Aasim as ‘kindness’ which he did — after only having his family for so many years. 

            His family was absolutely awful. They basically tortured him. It was… not good, obviously.

            He always had to remind himself just how bad it was… but…

            His whole life had been nothing but pain and suffering until he met Mitch. It sounded dramatic and over the top, but it truly wasn’t. It was just true. 

            Mitch saved his fucking life. The reason Aasim fought his suicidal ideation so hard was to be there for his best friend.

            So yeah. The least Aasim could do was make a stupid promise that would never come true to make the other feel safer.

            He knew he’d probably die long before Mitch did anyway, but the reassurance was nice.

            “Yeah. I promise I’ll take care of Willy if anything happens to you. He’ll be safe with me, big guy.”

            “Pinky promise?” Mitch held out his pinky.

            “Aren’t you too old for pinky promises?” Aasim played, but interlocked his pinky with Mitch’s. “I promise, dude.”

             “Thank you. Now, you should know, if you don’t follow through, I’ll be waitin’ to kick your ass in the afterlife,” Mitch said with a large goofy smile. 

            “You don’t even believe in the afterlife, dumbass.” Aasim shook his head with a small laugh.

            “And you believe in reincarnation. I’ll still find a way,” he stuck his tongue out.

            “Okay freckle face. Let me finish writing this and I’ll sit with you at dinner, okay?”

            “Got it!”

            Aasim watched as Mitch took off and he took a deep breath, continuing to write. 

            As he wrote, he couldn’t really focus on what he was doing, and rather he found himself reflecting on the promise he had just made to Mitch. 

            It really wasn’t something to take lightly… Well, in general death is never something to take lightly.

            He quickly jotted down about their conversation — after finishing the train of thought he had written before, of course — to make sure he always remembered.

            Afterwards, Aasim sat there for a moment, staring at the words he had just written. 

            He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease during the whole conversation. The promise he made…

            Mitch was his best friend… the kid who saved his life — from himself — without even trying.

            But the thought of taking care of Willy if something were to happen to Mitch...it was a heavy burden to bear.

            He knew that Mitch had taken care of Willy for years, and that he had always been there for him. 

            That just wasn’t like Aasim, sure, he attempted to protect his little sister from the abuse that they experienced at the hands of their parents… but… fully taking care of a kid? Especially one as chaotic as Willy?

            That was just a hard thing to think about. It really was.

            Still, he had made a promise to Mitch, and he knew that he had to keep it. He couldn’t let his friend down, not after everything they had been through together.

            Aasim took a deep breath and closed his journal. He had a lot to think about, but for now, he needed to focus on the present. 

            Nothing like the present… right…?

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.