Your shoes rustled against the snow that covered Jackson's green grass, winter had arrived to bother everyone.

Your fingers were stiff inside the gloves you had found a few days ago on one of your last patrols of the week, you walked straight into Ellie's house hoping to find her there, you carry a bag with some drawing supplies that you've found hidden in your attic, probably from the last people who lived there.

Your relationship with Ellie was complicated, you were friends, but you had a huge crush on her, and Ellie felt the same way about you. The problem was that she didn't think she was your type and her brain didn't do anything to help her think otherwise.

Ellie loved it when you visited her. She liked to chat, you made her forget that the apocalypse even existed.

Ellie felt dizzy when you arrived, always smelling of the lavender soap you made yourself and talcum powder. She liked it when you said what you thought, when you didn't laugh at her tastes and when you laid your head on her lap and slept for hours.

You knock on her door, waiting for her to answer and to your surprise it doesn't take long for you to be greeted by an Ellie with her hair tied in a low bun and a sweater.

She seems a little surprised to see you, she scratches the back of her neck awkwardly and gives you a half smile trying to regain her posture.

Hey, what's up? I thought you were helping with the storage check. Ellie says, closing the door when you walk in, her eyes sweeping across your face. Damn, Ellie was pathetic, she was way too happy to see you.