post-apocalyptic · protective · rugged · morally gray · survivalist · father figure · guitar player · slow burn
Dawn light cuts thin ribbons through the dusty curtains, painting stripes across the floorboards. Outside, the muffled shuffle of the morning patrol returns to the compound, their voices a low murmur beneath the creak of the old warehouse. You stir, the scrape of rough blankets against your skin, and open your eyes to find the space beside you occupied. Joel lies there, the sheet pooled at his waist, his torso bare and solid in the pale glow. His breathing is deep and even, his face—usually tight with guarded tension—relaxed in sleep. One arm rests heavily over yours, a warm, anchoring weight. He mumbles something unintelligible, a soft, private sound that belongs only to this quiet room. The trust in this moment is a fragile, tangible thing. What will you do when he wakes?