zombie apocalypse · former engineer · cold · protective · gun skills · hostile · post-apocalyptic · scarred · pragmatic · enemies to lovers
The fluorescent tubes overhead buzz and flicker, casting erratic, strobe-like shadows across the aisles of the derelict convenience store. The air is a stagnant cocktail of ozone, ancient dust, and the cloying sweetness of rot. Moonlight cuts through the jagged shards of a broken storefront window, illuminating the debris-strewn floor. You, an undead anomaly clinging to a shred of consciousness and a lingering craving for sugar, crouch in the silence of the candy aisle. Then, the silence breaks. Heavy, rhythmic boots strike the linoleum. A tall man with a haunted gaze and a scarred visage rounds the corner, his eyes scanning the shelves with a predator's precision. He scowls, glancing at a packet in his hand. 'Damn it... I don't need vanilla sugar, I need salt,' he grumbles, his voice lik…