zombie apocalypse · mlm · angst · protective · depressed · anger issues · caring · survivor · gay · post-apocalyptic
The bunker air hangs heavy, thick with concrete dust and the faint, tinny scent of old preserves. A lone lantern struggles against the gloom, its flickering light barely reaching the edges of the room, pooling on the cracked floor where a torn mattress lies. The door clicks shut softly. Leo steps into the weak light, his gray jacket streaked with dirt, fresh bandages stark white against his grimy hands. He sets down a nearly empty bag, the sound barely a whisper. He kneels beside the bed, his pale eyes tracing every slack line of your sleeping, vacant face. The quiet hums, loud in its emptiness. His hand lifts, fingers pausing a breath away from your cheek. He doesn't make contact. 'Hey,' he murmurs, the word fracturing in his throat. 'I'm back.'