Disclaimer - I don't own ZOMBIES or any of the characters involved. Copyright to Walt Disney Studios. Names of BG zombies are mine, characters themselves aren't.

At long last, I'm back to writing fanfics! Another story about my favourite BG zombie, Alonzo~ This is the backstory to his family and his parents' divorce. If you're not familiar with the BGZ, I'd recommend you at least read the chapters of Limelight about Alonzo, Zephyr, Zach and/or Roz, and Since We Broke Up to get all the context you need. The prologue in particular contains spoilers for Since We Broke Up!

As always, you can watch a trailer for this fic made by my lovely friend krut09 on her YouTube channel~ (Kokinu09 on YouTube)

[TW: this story will include references to emotionally abusive parenting and queerphobia]

Prologue theme songs: The Wall In My Head from Everybody's Talking About Jamie

~ Just one tiny thought, started out so small, but the thought made a brick, and the bricks made a wall ~

Prologue

Five years ago, Alonzo left for college, heartbroken.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"It doesn't matter what you meant, it's over!"

Four months later, his heart was mended.

"I am never gonna risk losing you again, you hear me?"

Two years ago, he made a promise.

"After you're done with college... I want to move in together."

"Are you serious?"

"I miss you. I don't want to have to keep missing you. Even if you came back to Zombie Town."

One year ago, he graduated.

"Mom... I don't know..."

"Just take it. You can figure out the rest yourself."

And every day since then, Alonzo would stare at Zephyr, reach into his pocket, then reconsider. Not yet.

Not quite yet.

"Mn..."

Al stirred from his thoughts as he felt Zephyr shift beside him and blindly reach out to pull him closer. He wasn't quite awake yet and Al smiled, running a hand through his curly hair. The past year had flown by and waking up next to his boyfriend, in their bed, in their home, still felt like a dream; everything was moving forward, and yet Al felt... stuck.

Not stuck in the relationship. Not in that sense – not in the sense that he couldn't find a way out. Honestly, it was the opposite. He wanted to find a way in. Further in.

The breakup a few years ago turned out to be a good thing. They had learned to be apart, be independent, but they also learned why they needed each other. They grew up. When they got back together, they treated it almost like an entirely new thing. They took things fairly slow this time, unlike when they were teenagers. (OK, so that first night after they got back together wasn't exactly "taking it slow", but aside from that.) They figured out how to navigate a life together where they weren't depending on each other all the time. Before finding their own place just outside of Seabrook (Zephyr wanted to finally get out of Zombie Town and Seabrook itself was a little pricey), Al managed to get his old job at the music store back, where Zephyr had been working in the meantime, while he was slowly navigating his way to his solo career. They didn't always have the same shifts, but that was fine by them.

Still. He was stuck.

Distracted, Al hadn't realised that Zephyr was now fully awake until there was a hand gently rubbing his forearm. He stirred, his eyes flickering up to meet Zeph's, and waited for him to speak.

"It's a little early for that face," he said, his voice a little rough from sleep, "What's up?"

Al's lips quirked into the smallest smile as Zephyr's hand moved up to his hair, "Just thinking."

"You do that a lot lately," Zeph moved to prop himself up and Al leaned against his shoulder, "What about?"

"Nothing in particular." He didn't know how to bring it up. He didn't know how to start. So he just stayed quiet as Zephyr scanned his face.

"Nothing I should be worried about?"

"Not really. I've got a lot on my mind right now is all."

Zephyr knew when to pry, and when to wait it out, so he accepted Al's response. Soon after, they were up and getting ready; Zephyr had to be at the store that morning, but it was Alonzo's day off and he'd wanted to get a demo recorded of the song he'd been working on. He smiled as he kissed his boyfriend goodbye but once Zeph was out the door, Al's face fell.

How was he supposed to do this?

Colouring his hair usually cheered him up. And maybe it could get his mind off of things. Once he was actually in front of the mirror, though, running the chalk over a few strands, it was easy for his mind to wander.

It was easy in high school. It was easy in college. It was easy when they weren't living together. They used to spend a lot of time together, but it was never a 24/7 thing, or at least not as close to 24/7 as they were now. Alonzo had no reference for this stage in life. He didn't have a good example growing up. He had the next best thing watching Zephyr's and Zach's parents, but that wasn't until later in his childhood, and they weren't a constant presence. He didn't get to experience what most of his friends did; respect, balance, shared responsibility. He didn't talk about it a lot. He didn't even think about it, if he could help it. He hid it well, even from Zephyr, but now it felt like he'd only been running from his past and it was about to catch up to him.

He was going pretty slow this morning, bogged down by the racing of his thoughts, and he hadn't even gotten set up to record yet when his Z-band beeped.

It was his sister calling.

"Zragh vak."

– SOMETHING HE SAID –

Zephyr got home early that afternoon to a strangely quiet apartment. Most days, he would open the door and be met with the sound of a guitar and Alonzo singing along, completely oblivious until Zeph walked into the 'studio' (what was meant to be another bedroom which Al had decked out with his equipment) and turned down the amp's volume, or removed his headphones, or whatever else he could do to surprise him. Today, though, the air was void of music. Peeking into the studio, Zephyr frowned – Al was nowhere to be seen. He continued down the hall into the bedroom and there he found Alonzo sitting on the floor beneath the window, staring blankly at his songbook. He could tell he wasn't actually reading something – his eyes remained still. He was lost in thought. Even without any music playing, even in this dead silence, he hadn't heard the door open and close. He hadn't heard Zephyr's footsteps. Whatever this was, it was weighing heavily on his mind.

"Al?"

He finally noticed Zephyr, blinking himself from his daze and looking up. He tried to smile but it was obviously forced. The hand holding the songbook dropped.

"Hey..."

Zephyr took a few cautious steps towards him, "Hey. What's going on?"

"Nothing..." Al's eyes darted down to the floor for a second, then back up as he shook his head slightly, "Just... Lindzey called and..." he shrugged, then let out a sigh, "We were talking about Dad..."

Ah.

Once he heard that, Zephyr came to sit on the bed, opposite Alonzo, and leaned forward, "What about him?"

Al shrugged again, "That he's a total drak. Like always."

Zephyr impulsively winced; calling another zombie 'drak' would always feel wrong. Then again, that was exactly why Alonzo was so right to say it. His father was a sorry excuse for a zombie. He deserved the disrespect his son always fired at him. In fact, he was the only person Al would ever say such a thing about.

For a moment, Zephyr just looked at him, then he slowly made his way over, pressed his own back against the wall, and slid down to wrap an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. Alonzo, on instinct, immediately dropped his head into the crook of Zephyr's neck and closed his eyes as he felt fingers tangling in his hair.

He hadn't been crying; there were no tear tracks on his face and his eyes were no more red than a zombie's should be. A lot of things could make Al cry, but his father was not one of them. He never cried over him. He would just go... blank. Empty. Cold. Like he couldn't cry. Like he shouldn't. Like he wasn't himself. And those were the moments when Zephyr was the most desperate to help him.

"... Tell me something," he finally said, seemingly out of nowhere, and Al opened his eyes only to narrow them in confusion. He didn't dare move any further away, though. He was comfortable right where he was.

"Like what?"

Zephyr shrugged, continuing to idly twirl the red lock of hair in amongst the green around his finger. The chalk came off easily but he didn't care, he was used to his hands being smudged with it by now. It was the only thing that would stick to zombie hair and Al had always wanted a red streak, "Like... something about yourself. When you were a kid."

"You know everything about me."

"I don't think I know enough."

He knew Alonzo's dad was controlling. Judgemental. Definitely homophobic. But he didn't know everything. He always felt like he only ever scratched the surface.

"... Did I ever tell you I was an accident...?"

That made Zephyr stop. Al's hair fell through his fingers and he turned just enough to meet his gaze. For some reason, Alonzo looked unsure. There hadn't been anything between the two of them for him to be unsure about in so long, and it made Zephyr worry.

"What?"

His expression changed, suddenly defensive, "Don't tell me I wasn't or something, I know I was. My mom admitted it and everything."

That was even more surprising; Hazel never seemed like the kind of person to say something like that to anyone, and certainly not to her own child.

"Your mom told you that you were an accident?"

Al rolled his eyes, "She didn't say it like that," and, unexpectedly, he smiled to himself, "She always called me her 'perfect mistake'. I'm the whole reason she had to marry my dad in the first place," he paused, the smirked, looking oddly proud of himself, "And I'm the reason they got divorced."

"Weren't you, like, ten?"

"I was eleven. Almost twelve."

"Whatever. You were a little kid, you can't still be blaming yourself-"

"I'm not blaming myself, Zeph," Al assured him, "I convinced my mom to leave him. She'd been wanting to forever and I helped her work up the courage."

"... When you were eleven?"

"Yup."

Zephyr was, admittedly, lost, "Why didn't I ever know about this? We'd been friends for, like, four years by then!"

Alonzo could only shrug, "It was hard to talk about when it was happening. Then when I could, it just... wasn't ever the right time. It didn't seem important anymore."

"... Is it the right time now?"

Al, discreetly, patted the outside of his pocket. Still there. Still waiting.

"... Maybe..."