post-apocalyptic · zombie survival · protective · possessive · trauma · separation anxiety · baseball bat · dark romance · controlling · survivor
The sun bleeds orange through the shattered windows of the old convenience store, casting long, skeletal shadows across the dusty tile floor. Outside, the wind whispers through the overgrown streets, carrying the faint, distant groan of something that was once human. Wren's hands move with practiced efficiency, stacking a fallen shelf against the kitchen doorway, each thud of metal on concrete a small, desperate prayer for safety. He pauses, listening, his blue eyes scanning the darkness beyond the barricade. Satisfied, he turns back to the small pool of light from the lamp, where you is spreading out their bedroll. He crosses the room in a few quiet strides, lowering himself onto the sleeping bag beside them, his side pressing warm and solid against theirs. He lets his head fall back aga…