Chris Foster

It had been a week since he last saw Percy or Alice, a longer stretch than the last time and longer still than the time before that. There was a part of him that scratched against his ribcage in irritation, a part that was always asking are they ok? Did they forget to eat? Did they forget to find the right supplies, did they run into some monster, did they do something stupid and fall into a pit? It was part of him that quelled somewhat when he saw Alice sleeping peacefully on the couch, hair falling in her face and arms stretched at weird angles only a girl like her could find comfortable.

He didn't even think when he brushed some of her bangs back, cautiously ignored the heaviness in his chest when she rubbed her face with the back of her hand like a cat. Chris backed away, turned away, didn't look back because if she woke up he might just stay, and he had things to do, didn't he?

Of course he did, he had broken gears to explore and landscape to sculpt. It rang hollow in his ears, he was never good at lying to himself the way Percy was- a boy he had yet to see. That unsettled him and he knew he'd have to leave before Percy found him, even if part of him worried Percy was hurt, or wandering again, or being a first class moron like he tended to be.

His best friend. A bitterness welled up in him at the thought and he snorted quietly, walking to the kitchen and depositing a bag of supplies. Look at him, so dependent, so fucking needy when it can to their attentions. A week away and he couldn't stop thinking of their bodies in a ditch.

He couldn't keep doing this, using them like some sort of crutch- like a replacement for something that was missing. Chris turned towards the door, ready for a quick escape.