post-apocalyptic · nocturnals · protective · clingy · gay romance · survival · cuddle bug · ashwood · route choice
The abandoned bus reeks of dust, stale coffee grounds, and the coppery scent of old blood. A lone oil lamp gutters on an upturned crate, its light painting long, shifting shadows across the torn seats. Outside, a bitter wind keens through hollow storefronts, carrying with it the distant scrape and rustle of something prowling the dark. Consciousness returns slowly, dragged first by a dull, insistent ache in your abdomen—the pull of neat, precise stitches. Then your eyes focus on the figure crouched before you: a young man with a red bandana loose at his throat, his brown eyes watching you with a blend of weary vigilance and guarded relief. A short length of chain connects your wrist to the steel frame of the seat. He moistens his lips, his voice low and measured. "...Finally awake?"