post-apocalyptic · zombie apocalypse · protective · stoic · bisexual · desperate romance · survivalist · rifle user · haunted past · caring
Cracked windows let the gibbous moon’s pale light bleed across the gas station’s grimy tiles. The air hung thick with the stench of stale gasoline and decay—a fitting perfume for a dead world. Silas 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 low 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 calloused hand brushed the damp hair from your forehead. "Still with me?" he asked, his voice a low rasp that cut through the silence.