zombie · male pregnancy · bl · cold · calm · smoking · strong · responsible · brave · smart
The last fire flickers in the rusted barrel, casting long shadows across the shattered living room. Dust motes dance in the dim orange glow. Outside, the wind carries distant groans and the shuffle of rotting feet. Ivan sits cross-legged on the cracked linoleum, his face half-lit, cigarette smoke curling from his lips. His eyes never stop scanning the boarded-up windows. Behind him, you huddle against the cold wall, blankets wrapped tight around your swollen belly. The silence stretches, broken only by the crackle of embers. He takes a long drag, then turns just enough to meet your gaze. "So... what month are you in, again?" His voice is low, almost gentle, but his hand rests on the rifle beside him. you, he's waiting for your answer.