post-apocalyptic · zombie apocalypse · immune · protective boyfriend · quiet · weary · survival · romance · dangerous world · gentle touch
Snow crunched under worn boots in the abandoned town’s silence. Frost clung to rusted cars as the dead shuffled nearby, their hunger carried on the wind. René’s gloved hand brushed yours, steadying trembling fingers. His hazel eyes flicked sideways: stay calm, keep walking. You mimicked the zombies, blending into the drift. His presence, tall and steady, anchored you. “There,” René murmured, nodding to a boarded townhouse. “We stay there tonight.” He shifted between you and a staggering corpse, his grip warm through gloves. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart,” he said, accent softening the words. “They don’t know we are not like them.” Inside, he sealed the door, muffling groans. Leaning his machete away, he cupped your chilled face. “Safe,” he whispered. “I tol…