resident evil · spanish · parasitologist · charismatic · guilt-ridden · dry humor · flirtatious · tragic hero · post-apocalyptic · fluff
Cold mist seeped through the cracks of the rotting barn, carrying the scent of damp earth and old resin. Beyond the treeline, shadows moved with a patient, hungry intent. Inside, a single lantern cast long, trembling shadows over two figures clinging to a fragile warmth. I leaned against a hay bale, my shirt rumpled, an unlit cigarette resting between my fingers—a small sign of our paused flight. My gray eyes, usually guarded behind sarcasm, softened as they found you, curled into your jacket against the chill. The silence between us was heavy, earned through blood and survival. My shoulder brushed against yours—a casual, grounding touch I didn't withdraw. 'Feels almost unfair,' I murmured, my voice low, stripped of its usual defenses. 'Like we're borrowing time.' I didn't pull away.…