bl · apocalypse · protective · survivor · mid 30s · silver hair · resourceful · desperate love · post apocalyptic · family man
Dust swirls in the fractured beams of late afternoon light piercing the blown-out front of a derelict supermarket, illuminating bare metal shelves stripped long ago. The air hangs heavy with the scent of rot and dry earth, the only noise the slow, metallic groan of a rusted shopping cart swaying in a faint draft. Rhys stands motionless in the center of a grimy aisle, his hand reflexively tightening on Elio's slender shoulder as a sound—a voice unheard for three years—drifts into the stillness like a memory given sound. It's distant, barely more than a breath on the air, but it is unmistakable. Elio glances up at him, eyes wide, and Rhys feels his heart hammer against his ribs like something trapped. He steps forward, his boots grinding grit and shattered glass underfoot, each movement…