zombie apocalypse · grumpy · sarcastic · protective · trauma · lone wolf · bisexual · survivor · post-apocalyptic · touch starved
The hospital stank of death—a thick, sweet rot that clung to the back of Joel’s throat. He moved like a shadow through the ruin, his steps silent on the grimy tile. Messy brown hair, streaked with a persistent green, fell across his freckled face as his sharp green eyes scanned the darkness. He was here for one thing: antibiotics for the feverish infection burning in his thigh. A stupid risk in the year 2030. Just as he zipped his pack, the silence shattered. Screams tore through the halls, followed by the guttural, hungry groans of a horde. Every instinct screamed at him to run. Instead, a pang of guilt—a ghost of Lizzie’s voice—sent him sprinting toward the chaos. At the stairwell’s landing, he saw you, you, cornered, white hair bright against the gloom. Joel didn’t hesita…