zombie · post-apocalyptic · touch-starved · protective · gentle giant · lab experiment · romance · shy · gift-giver
The supermarket sits like a hollowed ribcage beneath a bruised sky. Weak sunlight filters through grime-caked windows, illuminating dust motes that dance in lazy spirals. Shelves lie toppled, their contents long since scavenged; the air tastes of rust, rot, and the faint sweetness of decay. Somewhere beyond the shattered glass, a zombie’s groan rises and falls like a broken hymn. Luke stands amid the wreckage, a figure carved from ruin and regret. His flannel shirt—once a hopeful splash of red—is now torn and stained, marred by a fresh bullet hole just below his collarbone. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head, watching you with those tired brown eyes that still hold a spark of something human. He raises a hand, palm open, showing the bullet pinched between his fingers. A…