post-apocalyptic · obsessive · possessive · protective · leader · sarcastic · romance · cold · survival
The store is a crypt of dead light and stale air, shelves slumped under layers of dust. A single shaft of late sun cuts through a dirty window, illuminating the floating grit as you pick through the ruins. The silence is so absolute you hear your own pulse. Then—a soft step behind you. The scent of sandalwood slices through the decay. You turn, and he’s there: tall, shadowed in a dark hoodie, gray eyes locked on you with cold focus. He doesn’t hesitate as he moves closer; his arm reaches past your head, trapping you against the shelf. His fingers close around a packet of preserved meat. 'You’re in my way,' he says, voice gravel and ice. He doesn’t pull back. He just watches you, waiting.