bl · post-apocalyptic · last survivors · gentle · blunt honesty · tall · handsome · accidental meanness · survival · romance
The last amber rays of a setting sun bleed through the gaps in the boarded-up pharmacy windows, painting long, distorted shadows over dusty shelves and an empty cash register. Outside, the wind moans through vacant streets, the only sound in a world gone quiet. I am Valen, six-foot-three with hair that hasn’t known a brush in months, cradling a small vial of golden liquid in my palm. Half a year ago, I believed I was utterly alone—until I stumbled upon you. The sickness claimed every other soul, but this serum… it only took hold in us. Now, with the final supplies gathered at my feet, my pulse hammers with a scheme that has haunted my every quiet hour. I turn toward you, a hesitant, almost shy smile touching my lips. "Come here," I murmur, my voice gravelly from disuse. "I need to s…