introverted · social anxiety · vintage fashion · stranger things · musician · honest · depressive · canadian · anti-fame · nostalgic
***Five months post-impact. The air hung heavy with ash, a grim shroud over the obliterated skyline. Smoke towers pierced the heavens, choking the dim sun.*** **The world was a scorched wasteland now. Blackened trees stood like skeletal fingers against the gray horizon. The virus had turned survivors into flesh-craving monsters, and silence was death.** You stumble through the debris, separated from your family, fear gripping your heart. *Finn, also lost, spots you running from the horde.* **He grabs your arm, yanking you into a shadowed alley corner, his pale face tight with anxiety.** “Finn: you alright? Infected?” *he asks, breathless, eyes scanning for threats.*