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The coast was a good place to be when the Outbreak hit.
Fish couldn't be infected by the virus and therefore remained an endless food source where all else failed, no matter how many bodies were heaved into the ocean to be disposed of. The infected couldn’t swim either, so many small islands became safe havens for humanity’s last, though an equal number got overrun by the dead.
Flins imagined eventually, after a few years, the walking dead there would run out of things to eat and self-cannibilize into annihilation. The islands would be free to be overrun by nature once again after that, as nature had its way of always winning against any foe it faced. Even humanity itself nature had seen fit to dispose of in this way, with a virus that killed and took over the brain of ninety eight percent of all humankind. And then nature would win over this virus, when the dead ran out of food sources or simply decayed into bones and rotted flesh, and plants grew over what little remained of their corpses, using the flesh of the dead to feed their roots.
But until that happened, the coast was a good place to be. Flins had inherited management of a lighthouse, one that had remained burning bright for weeks after the Outbreak to signal to humans that there was still civilization here, and to call boats back home.
The light had been smashed out by its last keeper, when the town at its base had been overrun and it was no longer safe to call people back to this place. Even the rocky shore became a better fate for ships than landing in this harbor.
And yet, Flins remained. Once the light was out the building itself made an incredibly safe place to live, thick sturdy walls on one side and the beating spray of the ocean to the east. The drawback was the house was small, even crammed to the brim with those of humanity’s last two percent, small enough to be suffocating even when it had only been he alone here.
He hadn’t expected Varka. A military man who had lost all but a handfull of the troops he’d commanded, and that handful had wound up here with Flins, using the tactical advantages the lighthouse held to her full potential as a defensive point.
Flins had never liked the military, but. Varka and his men had shown up in need, and still alive, and that was enough to convince Flins to help. He didn’t have to respect their past lives to respect their right to live.
The tower stood quiet right now, as Flins and Varka remained at base while most of the others were all out on a group supply run. They had one courier, Venti, who had gone alone for most of their runs because he was small and quick and could slip quietly places entire groups could not, but… Last month he’d pulled a muscle in his ankle and almost got eaten alive, and ever since then he went with Dahlia and Rosaira at his tail.
Kaeya and Jean were the two left here, but it was their shift to be allowed to sleep now. That left Varka alone to watch at the top of the tower for signs of their away team, keeping guard with his best rifle and waiting for them to come back so he could create an opening to get them back inside safely.
Flins was technically not a part of this team or these missions, as he was not a part of Varka’s unit. But the responsibility of protecting the lighthouse belonged to everyone equally, so here Flins was, at the top of the lighthouse with Varka at his back, each keeping a sharp eye on one of the directions the away team might possibly come from.
“We’re gonna have to check the nets after this,” Varka’s voice broke the drumming of the water hitting the rocky shore at the lighthouse base. When Flins glanced at him, Varka was looking out into the dark ocean with an assessing gaze. “A storm is coming through. We’ll need to pull in what we have before it hits and we lose everything in the nets.”
Flins hummed in affirmation, his own rifle held loosely against his shoulder. “The wind is changing,” he agreed.
“Storms are good,” Varka offered cheerfully. “Good ones can wash a whole hoard out to sea. Not like the infected are smart enough to take shelter from the rain and wind, right?”
”Fish are easier to catch after storms, too,” Flins said. “Maybe we’ll catch some delicious crab this time. Or a tuna.”
Varka laughed. “I don’t think we can find tuna this close to land, Flins. Those tend to be… a little deeper into the ocean, with how big they get.”
“Mm,” Flins nodded. “It’d be nice, though. To eat something different for a change. Make sushi out of fatty tuna.”
”We don’t have anything else to make sushi with, Flins. I think if you try to eat it without the vinegar rice to cook it, you just end up with raw fish.”
”You’re crushing my dreams.”
“If your greatest dream is sashimi, I’m kind of sad for you,” Varka said, voice full of pity that was probably sarcastic considering the size of the grin he wore.
”And your greatest dream is what, a nice cigar and a nudie magazine you haven’t read yet?”
”Damn, I was gonna say ‘undiluted whiskey,’ but I think I like your answer better.”
Flins hid a smile in his collar. “Pervert,” he accused fondly.
Varka grinned at him, waggling his eyebrows. “For you my dear, always and anytime.”
Their words were taken over by the sound of the sea crashing around them, the fading sun long taken over by dark clouds that cast the sky into slowly growing darkness. The others would be back soon.
“You know, if your greatest dream is really sushi, we can make that happen. There’s still a couple bags of rice, and people weren’t in enough of a hurry to loot vinegar or lemon juice that it’d be impossible to find.”
Flins was quiet for a long moment. “I’ve… been keeping something from you,” he said quietly.
Varka spared a confused glance at him, looking worried. “What? For how long?”
”For as long as you’ve been here,” Flins admitted.
Varka was quiet for a moment. “You… don’t have to tell me, if you’re not comfortable…”
Shaking his head, Flins stopped him. “No, it’s alright, I’m. Ready to tell you.”
Varka turned to him, giving Flins most of his attention - all that could be afforded, without letting the chance of their friends slipping into range unnoticed. He nodded at him to continue.
“When I inherited this lighthouse, there was something in it. Something I never wanted you to find.”
So invested you could see the ache of interest in Varka’s eyes as the anticipation built.
Finally, Flins finished with, “A bottle of Glenlivet 12 Year whiskey that’s been taped to the bottom of the ice box since 1996.”
Varka’s jaw dropped. “You fucking bitch,” he gasped.
Flins couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. “Tell you what. You make my dream come true, and we’ll toast over it.”
“Don’t think I won’t! I’ll find a working boat and fuckign row out to nowhere with a fishing line to get you what damned fatty tuna.”
”I meant any sushi,” Flins said, still laughing softly. “Just me the vinegar and rice and the mackerel we’ve been eating all year will be fine.”
“I’ll make it my new life’s mission,” Varka promised with a grin.
”Wow,” Flins said flatly. “What a life of wonder we lead, when getting drunk and eating food cooked with salt is the most you have to look forward to.”
“Well,” Varka turned his attention back from the horizon long enough to spare him a crooked grin. “It’s not the only thing I have to look forward to. I have my reasons I wake up in the morning, like everyone does.”
It was Flins’ turn to tear his gaze from the dead city below to look at Varka. “Protecting your little family, I suppose?”
Varka hummed. “Well. There’s that.”
The city was stirring. Wind was picking up outside, and the tension in the air could be from the oncoming storm just as easily as ruckus from the away team causing trouble in town. Either way, Flins and Varka both kept their eyes on the path from the city, even as they spoke to each other.
”What about you, Flins? Why do you wake up every morning, what keeps you from wading out to sea and casting yourself into Mother Ocean’s endless embrace?”
Well, wasn’t that a loaded question. Flins considered it carefully. ”Because for everyone who gives up, humanity has that much less of a chance of surviving. And… I like being alive. But… I guess it’s because I think, eventually, the outbreak will die out, and whoever’s left will have to rebuild humanity. I can only contribute to that future by protecting those who are alive. Someday, it’ll be safe to travel, and people will come together again, and when that happens… I want to be here. In his lighthouse. Because I think this could be one of the places humanity comes together again.”
Varka whistled, impressed. “I didn’t know you were such an optimist, Flins. I have to admit, my own motivations are a lot more nearsighted than yours.”
“Hm? Like what, then?”
”I’m alive for the little things,” Varka said. “I’m alive for stale cigarettes I trade with Rosaria like we’re in prison. I’m alive to listen to Venti’s singing - I can’t believe how many songs he remembers the words to, even now. I;m here for the stories and lies Kaeya comes up with, you know he can turn the absolute worst experiences we’ve ever had together into thrilling tales of adventure? He’s so good at it, he even makes me remember the stories differently. More fondly, than I would have if he hadn’t changed it when he told it.”
Varka sighed, long and tired. “I’m here because Jean and Dahlia never agree on anything, and I’m the only tiebreaker they’ll listen to. And because Jean misses her sister, and her partner, and someone has to be here to offer her a shoulder to hide her tears in. And Dahlia gets mean and pushes people away when he’s scared, but he loves all of us, and has a way of reminding us to be better to each other with his temper, makes us all closer because he makes us say things that are real even when no one wants to hear them.”
“But,” Varka was smiling again, and when Flins glanced at him those piercing eyes were on his again. “Lately, I have my own favorite reason to wake up. And that’s because getting up in the morning is the only way I get to see you.”
Flins’ eyes widened, a blush overtaking his face. “You basically just said that your favorite reason for being alive is me.”
Varka laughed. “You can’t make fun of me, sashimi boy. I know what’s really keeping you alive, and it’s no better. What are you even gonna do when I get you that saba sushi, anyway? Have nothing left to live for after that?”
Flins hummed. “I was thinking, I’d get drunk with you and let you make out with me for a while.”
It was Varka’s turn to blush. “Wait, seriously?” He was about to turn around to look at Flins properly, when movement caught his eye down below and he tore his focus back to the city.
“And that’s just for rice and vinegar. Imagine what I’ll let you do if you find me soy sauce, too.”
They spotted Venti’s signal at the same time, a brief flicker in the dark.
Varka looked between Flins and the signal. “This conversation is NOT over,” he said, even as he readied his rifle.
Flins smiled, opening the door to head to the railing outside to clear a path for the away team to get in.
He was counting on it.