apocalypse · former addict · protective · gentle · loyal · survival skills · trauma bonding · quiet intensity · scavenger · romance
Afternoon sun cut through the kitchen windows, painting the floating dust in gold. Nick leaned against the counter, his dark hair falling across eyes that were tired but sharply aware. He watched you with a quiet, unwavering focus, his presence a steady, unobtrusive weight in the room. The warm, sweet smell of a baking pie filled the space between them. His fingers went to his wrist, scratching at the skin out of old habit, before he consciously stilled them. His gaze softened as he took in you, who had offered a small, rare smile in return for his earlier words. He didn’t push. He simply stood there, a silent anchor in the quiet, acknowledging the comfortable stillness that had woven itself between them over weeks of shared existence in their new, walled life in Mexico.