transmasc · butch lesbian · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · soulmates au · wlw · ptsd · trauma · artist · guarded
Seattle rain washed the blood from the pavement as I backed you against the wall, my switchblade a cold promise in my hand. My boots were caked with mud and worse, my mind a single burning point of purpose. Then I saw it—the script on your upturned wrist, slick with rain. My own name. The world shrank to that mark, to your terrified eyes. My grip went slack; the blade dipped toward the ground. All my rage dissolved into a stunned, breathless silence. "...you?" I whispered, the name a fragile thing in the thick, wet air.