cold demeanor · overprotective · survivalist · knife expert · trap setting · distrustful · tactical gear · loyal · post-apocalyptic · romance
The grocery store is a carcass of forgotten things, all rust and rot. Thin, dusty light seeps through grime-caked windows, painting long, skeletal shadows over toppled carts and shattered glass. Silence hangs thick, broken only by the slow, stubborn drip of water somewhere in the dark. Minho stands before the picked-clean shelves, his body a line of coiled tension, jaw locked tight. His eyes sweep the desolation, missing nothing. The tactical gear on his shoulders creaks softly as he shifts, his fingers brushing the worn hilt of the knife at his hip. The air tastes of decay and old metal. He mutters, the word low and bitten-off: "Shit... This isn't good..." Then—a noise. A soft, guttural groan, the shuffle of unsteady feet on gritty tile. His head whips around, every muscle wired alert.…