Fic Title: the worst-case scenario survival handbook
Rating/Warning(s): R / sex, character death
Genre: Romance, Angst
Special Rec: 21/30
Why This Must Be Read: I initially clicked on the link because I love reading stories from an outsider point of view, but falseeeyelashes does such an amazing job making Molly and Alec characters in their own right that you can't help becoming emotionally invested in them. Don't let the original characters scare you off, this is a great piece that deserves to be read.
So, like. Time passes.
It’s not like they get invited on hikes or anything. Or if hikes are really the sort of thing where invites are sent out and RSVPs are expected, but it kind of seems that way here at least. And Molly doesn’t really care. Nature can suck it. She doesn’t like the bugs and the mud and how everything on this damn island sticks in gross, gross places and it’s like she can never get clean (but maybe that’s because she showers in the motherfucking ocean now and fish pee in that same motherfucking ocean and oh Jesus Christ she’s been showering herself in fish piss for the last month, ugh).
It just gives her that much more downtime. And if anything, she has learned that downtime absolutely sucks when there is nothing more to do than pace the same strip of land or try to build a fort out of airplane wreckage or befriend a group of misfit strangers.
The bald old dude and the sort of hot guy with the blue eyes ("My name’s Boone," he had told her and she had laughed and actually said, "Like Daniel?" and he had rolled his eyes like he gets that one at least once a year) go into the jungle on a sort of daily basis. Or at least the two of them are gone every morning and they come back every evening all Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
The doctor is bossy and boring. There’s the former rock star dude and he’s sometimes good company, same goes for the knocked up chick. It’s just, Molly sort of forgot how big of an effort it can be to make friends.
"I thought making friends was supposed to be all natural and easy," she tells Alec one evening.
"Well. You are sort of a bitch," Alec says. And then he smiles and raises both his eyebrows all high like he’s saying, "ah-ha!" only without the words and only his eyebrows instead.
She glares at him. Alec puts down the knife he’s holding (he’s like whittling sticks, what the fuck is this?) and he looks at her all mock serious.
"What? The kids not being nice to you on the playground?"
She rolls her eyes.
"Fuck off. Asshole." She looks over her shoulder. The Middle Eastern dude is fiddling with something technical looking by the bonfire. Hurley is with him. She likes Hurley. She thinks Hurley likes her too, so that’s nice. Maybe she can count him as friend. So that gets her up to...one? That’s sad. That’s really past the line of pathetic and into crazy cat lady territory.
And, oh, God. It’s like she misses everything right now. She misses skim lattes and she misses that fucking Norah Jones soundtrack Starbucks played all fucking day long while she made drinks she can’t even pronounce let alone comprehend their composition. She misses loud music and strangers and the way New York was always something new, how it didn’t matter where you went but you might see a familiar face, you might not but either way it was home and that always means something.
Her teeth sink into her slice of mango and this is so fucking lame but she’s blinking back tears and how goddamned pathetic is that? Like, at one point she was cool and at one point she might have even been considered badass, but here all she really wants to do is, like, weep, which, ugh. Lame. Lame, lame, lame, she wants to go home.
She turns back to Alec.
"Aren’t you lonely?" she asks. Alec purses his lips together. He’s one of those people with those ridiculously expressive faces. She’s getting that now. "I mean, I have zero friends here. I’m not used to that. I’m used to people. I’m used to company. I’m not...I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying."
And she doesn’t.
Alec picks up the knife again and then just as quickly he puts it back down. He stares at the knife and the handle and the collection of wood and wood shavings there and Molly is just on the point of asking what the hell he is even doing when he speaks first.
"I’m your friend," he says. He looks at her directly, and he is way, way better at eye contact than she is. Molly tries but she does a pretty shitty job of maintaining it. She wants to, like, yell at him because really - his face is sort of beyond distracting. It’s just, he’s got those blue eyes and he’s wearing a blue shirt and it’s like the two sort of match and that’s not fair and he’s trying to pin her down with those same blue eyes, and he’s gotten tanner since they’ve been there and it doesn’t look bad on him, and his hair’s still dark and messy and he’s still got the stubble and Jesus Christ she finds Alec attractive. That’s what this is about. She finds this Alec Webb guy attractive. That complicates things a little. It always complicates things at least a little when you find someone attractive. It’s just, well, natural then to start extrapolating things like romantic or maybe just sexual potential and -
"Wait. What?" she says.
He shrugs and he doesn’t even look a little self-conscious. That’s not fair either. He twirls the knife between his fingers.
"I’m your friend."
Alec is her friend. Molly is his friend.
"Oh," she says and Alec looks at her like a lot of things are really obvious, things like this, and well. Okay then.