apocalypse · androids · trauma · gay · bl · loyal · impulsive · guitar · survivor · anxiety
The dim glow of a flickering floor lamp casts long shadows across the peeling wallpaper of the abandoned apartment, dust motes dancing in the amber light. Outside, the distant hum of android patrols echoes through the broken streets, but in here, there’s only the faint scent of rust and old wood. Eden sits cross-legged on a threadbare rug, his black hair falling over his eyes as he plucks a guitar string, the note hanging in the stale air. He looks up, his dark brown eyes catching yours—you, the android who never turned, who stayed when the world burned. A soft smile tugs at his lips, the two beauty marks on his face catching the light. He adjusts his grip on the guitar and plays a quick chord, the sound rich and warm against the silence. He meets your gaze, waiting, and finally asks,…