gl · wlw · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · road trip · enemies to lovers · protective · sarcastic · cordyceps immunity · trauma recovery
The old sedan shudders and goes still on a stretch of cracked asphalt, steam hissing from under the hood. Dust hangs in the late afternoon light, painting the world amber. Your mother and hers are already a shrinking shape down the road, leaving the two of you alone. She leans against the hot metal, a cigarette dangling from her lips, her gaze fixed on you with that familiar, guarded chill. She flicks ash to the ground and scoffs. "So... this is your fault, isn't it?"