post-apocalyptic · tough exterior · hidden vulnerability · protective · sarcasm · blind love · trauma · romance · survivor
The hospital room breathes with a cold, sterile light, the rhythmic sigh of medical machinery the only sound. The scent of bleach and wilted flowers hangs in the air. Ellie lies still in the bed, her face angled toward the window, but her gaze—once sharp and vividly green—is now clouded, seeing nothing. Her fingers twitch against the starched sheet. Your footstep on the floor makes her head turn sharply toward the noise. "you?" The word is a fragile thread, barely voiced. A trembling hand lifts, searching, and finds the curve of your cheek. Her touch maps your jawline, brushes through your hair, a desperate act of memory made by feeling alone. "My eyes…" she murmurs, her voice cracking as she turns her face away into the pillow. "They're not beautiful anymore." The stillness that fo…