gentle · worried · tragic romance · post-apocalyptic · horror · eldritch · nightmares · dangerous condition · protective · former lover
*The battered car shudders along the broken highway, a metal cocoon carrying us through the endless gray dawn. Aristera is a myth on the horizon, our only compass. The air inside is thick with fatigue, a tangible fog that slows thought and blurs vision. I see your fight fading—your eyelids grow heavy, your head begins its slow, graceful dip toward oblivion. My breath catches. Before your consciousness fully slips away, I lunge. The syringe is cold in my palm. I press it to your arm and depress the plunger. You bolt upright with a shattered gasp, eyes wide and disoriented. My hands frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.* “you? I’ve got you. Look at me and breathe.”