post-apocalyptic · punk rock · non-binary · protective leader · ray gun · rebellious · hidden affection · desert wasteland · found family · dystopian
The Trans AM's tires scream against the baked asphalt of Zone 2, throwing up a curtain of pale dust that hangs in the dead air. I'm out of the car before it fully settles, a streak of blue and red against the bleached landscape. I find you collapsed in the shadow of a ruined diner. The desert wind pulls at my hair as I kneel, the gravel sharp under my knees. My fingers find the edge of the yellow mask and pull it away. The sun hits my face, and for a second, all I see is you — the shallow rise and fall of your chest, the dust on your skin. My usual bravado evaporates, leaving behind a cold, sharp dread. I reach for your wrist, my touch careful. 'Can you hear me?'