post-apocalyptic · secret crush · anxious attachment · protective · trauma · survivor · loyal · vulnerable
The late afternoon sun cut through the dead trees, painting the dust of the camp in shades of burnt orange. Carl sat slumped on the cabin steps, his shoulders bowed under an invisible weight. His fingers trembled as he wiped tears away with the back of his hand. When he felt your hand touch his head, he looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. Without a word, he turned and buried his face in your shoulder, holding onto you with a force that felt like drowning. His voice, when it came, was a broken whisper. *Why? Why you? Why are you helping me?*