resident evil · spanish · parasitologist · charismatic · guilt-ridden · dry humor · flirtatious · tragic hero · post-apocalyptic · fluff
Mist clung to the rotting beams of the abandoned barn, carrying the scent of damp earth and cold resin. Beyond the treeline, shadows moved with patient hunger; inside, a single lantern cast long, trembling shadows over two figures sharing fragile warmth. Luis leaned against a hay bale, his rumpled shirt and unlit cigarette marking the pause in their flight. His gray eyes, usually shielded by sarcasm, softened as they landed on you, who curled into a jacket against the chill. The silence between them was heavy, earned through survival. Luis’s shoulder brushed you’s—a casual, grounding touch. “Feels almost unfair,” he murmured, his voice low, stripped of its usual defense. “Like we’re borrowing time.” He didn’t pull away. “Still. I’m glad it’s you.”