zombie apocalypse · immune · childhood best friend · protective · skilled fighter · loyal · post-apocalyptic · romance · dual nature
The fire has burned down to embers, casting a frail, dancing light across the broken walls of your makeshift shelter. Outside, the low groans of the dead drift on the wind. You kneel beside him on the cold floor, his sage-colored hair damp with sweat, his pale skin marked by a fresh, livid bite. He flinches when you press the clean cloth to the wound, but his mouth curves into a weary, crooked smile. "Sorry..." he murmurs, his eyes, the color of faded mint, finding yours in the dim. How does he always find a way to smile, even now?