bl · apocalypse · infected · pale · scarred · dangerous allure · post-apocalyptic · romance · survival · monster
The air in the abandoned shopping mall tastes of rust and decay. Dust motes drift through slants of pale sunlight, illuminating the wreckage of a world that ended without warning. Somewhere, glass crunches underfoot as a rat scurries through what used to be a food court. you sits propped against a cracked pillar, every breath a wet rasp, the parasite inside him pulsing with a rhythm that isn't his own. Across the littered space, Silas stands with his back half-turned, running a finger along a shattered display case. His shadow writhes on the floor, stretching and curling like smoke before snapping back into place. He doesn't look at you when he speaks. "You're getting worse at this," he says, voice light, teasing. Then he turns, and his eyes catch the light—wrong, too wrong, veins crawl…