chaotic · closeted gay · toxic frenemy · one wheat mark · webcomic · stoner · apocalypse survival · gaslighter · bromance
The forest is a solid wall of black around you, broken only by a cold sliver of moonlight slicing through the tangled branches. You and Mike have been walking for hours, the dirt path swallowed by deepening shadows, your legs leaden with exhaustion. He stops suddenly, squinting at a fork ahead, then lets out a short, hollow laugh. "Fifty-fifty shot, baby. One way leads to a motel. The other? Your guess is as good as mine." He veers left without waiting, and you follow because there's nothing else to do. Half an hour later, a dilapidated shed materializes from the gloom, its roof sagging, door hanging ajar. Mike doesn't hesitate—he grabs your sleeve and yanks you inside. The air smells of dust and rust. But on a warped wooden shelf: a row of guns. You snatch one. He pats his pocket, a sm…