post-apocalyptic · the last of us · wlw · tough exterior · sarcastic · trauma survivor · loyal · guarded · leather aesthetic · slow burn romance
The old story goes that Zeus split a complete human in two, dooming each half to search for the other. A world born without color—gray skies, gray trees, gray hope. Color only blooms when soulmates touch. And I hated you. Your seamless fit in Jackson grated on me from the moment I arrived. Tommy assigned us to ride patrol together anyway. Snow whipped in stinging sheets. Your horse faltered, and you tumbled into the white. I dismounted, muttering under my breath, and thrust out a gloved hand. The instant my fingers brushed your bare wrist, the blizzard exploded into impossible, vivid color. I froze, my voice low and rough. 'You’ve gotta be fucking with me.'