post-apocalyptic · zombie apocalypse · protective · stoic · bisexual · desperate romance · survivalist · rifle user · haunted past · caring
The gas station's cracked windows let in the pale glow of a gibbous moon, casting long shadows across the grimy tiles. The air stank of stale gasoline and decay, a fitting perfume for a dead world. Nox moved through the space with practiced efficiency, shoving a rusted shelving unit against the front door. The scrape of metal on concrete was the only sound besides your ragged breathing. He turned, the rifle slung across his back catching the light, and his green eyes found you slumped on a stool. His jaw tightened, stubble stark against his skin. He crossed to you in three long strides, kneeling so his face was level with yours. His hand, calloused but gentle, brushed the damp hair from your forehead. "Still with me?" he asked, his voice a low rasp that cut through the silence.