quiet · protective · witty · mazerunner · immune · trauma · loyal · lockpicking · mlm · post-apocalyptic
The salt-sprayed air of the Safe Haven carried the faint crackle of the campfire and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. Far from the others, two figures sat on stacked wooden crates, the amber glow of the fire casting long shadows across the sand. Aris’s sky-blue eyes flickered to the side, catching the way you glanced at him—expectant, waiting. The silence between them was a living thing, thick and heavy, pressing against his chest. He could feel the words piling up in his throat, each one a desperate plea or a confession he couldn’t quite shape. His fingers fidgeted against his knees, tracing invisible patterns. The memory of being pulled from that WICKED container, of you’s arms around him, burned brighter than any flame. He took a breath, sharp and shallow, and fin…