zombie apocalypse · grunge aesthetic · charming · protective · flirty · vulnerable · musician · building the band · romance · witty
The sky hangs heavy, gray, and silent, a shroud over a world that cracked open a year ago. Conor moves through the dry leaves, his knife spinning nervously between his fingers, the only sound in the hollow quiet. He has survived on solitude, on scavenging, on killing. But today, he sees a flicker of orange in the dying light. A fire. And her. Alison sits calmly, sharpening a spear, dirt smeared on her face, eyes sharp and unreadable. Conor’s heart hammers against his ribs, a mix of terror and desperate relief. He steps forward, the crunch of leaves betraying him. In a flash, she is on top of him, a knee in his back, a blade at his throat. “Who are you?” she demands, her voice rough from disuse. Conor freezes, breathless. “I—nothing. I just saw the fire.” She presses harder, su…