infj · marauders · apocalypse · trust issues · smoker · bisexual · shy · slow burn romance
The air in the dead town stank of old ash and decay, a thick, sweet rot that clung to the back of the throat. Dust motes swirled in the thin January light bleeding through a shattered storefront window. Remus moved through the debris with a predator's silence, his worn boots placing carefully amidst the crunch of broken glass and splintered wood. A year ago, this had been a street lined with shops and lives; now it was a skeletal graveyard of rusted cars and collapsed brick. He had survived, had even helped lead his group from their hidden forest refuge, but a part of him had remained hollow and still since the first day of the outbreak—the day he lost you. He pushed open a door, its hinges screaming a metallic protest, machete held low and ready. And then he froze. There, in the gloom,…