Two men alone in the apocalypse, Joel Miller and Steven Richards find each other. As their relationship grows stronger they must fight their way to safety in order to finally find peace with one another in their world of horrors.
I was the first to wake up, groggily lifting my head from the reclined seat. I had the idea to crash inside one of the hundreds of abandoned cars, Steven was quick to call the backseat. I didn't care much, I don't even know if I can fit back there.
I then looked behind me to see the boy asleep in a strangely peaceful looking way, almost pretty.
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The morning sun is currently illuminating his face and only his face as he begins to wake up. Steven woke up to me staring at him which wasn't expected, "Gah! Fuck!" He screamed in surprise, "Oh shit- sorry," I exclaimed, quickly turning away from him out of sheer embarrassment. Jesus, I'm a mess. "Don't do that again," Steven smirked as he and I exited the car. We didn't have to pack up or anything so we were back on our way pretty quick. Steven slipped on his hoodie and we were out.
For the first ten minutes or so we walked in complete and utter silence, it was peaceful, if a bit uncomfortable. The only acknowledgment of each other was the occasional glance at either man. As the tension between us continued to build in density I was delighted when the boy began to talk.
"You got a family?" Steven asked "Pass," I replied, I don't want to talk about it. "Do you?" "I did." "You mind if I ask what happened?" I questioned as we assumably continued to strive towards Oregon. We had made it about halfway through Denver so far, time seems to fly when walking and talking. Not to say I wasn't feeling the effects of walking so far, my legs are letting me know I'm moving a lot more than they'd like.
"Eleven years ago a couple of raiders broke into where me and my family were staying. One minute my family was there with me and a few later they all were dead." Steven sniffled briefly, I know the pain.
"Sorry," I muttered, I've never been good at comforting people. "How old even are you?" "Twenty-Eight. I think. It's not like we celebrate birthdays anymore."
I just met the guy and I already have a crush like a goddamn child, I need to control myself or something because it's so strange. I'm fifty. I'm nearly double his age.
We had just left Denver and we're currently walking down a large highway. Hundreds of cars were littering the path but we moved fine through them. We were so used to everything that neither of us even flinched at the sight of a corpse, we were almost completely numb. We even saw a fresh corpse as he continued stepping around the puddle of blood that was splattered across the road.
Besides being almost void of any emotions I am however pretty observant of people. I'm pretty good at figuring out who someone is by their personality, clothing, and mannerisms usually. I noticed that Steven was wearing a pair of black pants, a dark almost black-green hoodie that looked both comfortable and helpful for stealth, a green shirt that had some blood soaked into it, and a pair of black sneakers, underneath it all was a strangely clean looking guy.
He had a somewhat feminine face, with no beard or stubble to be seen it seems. He had a nose that had a gentle curve inward to provide an almost adorable side profile; messy yet perfect eyebrows, and nice full lips. I couldn't deny that he was pretty good looking, my favorite thing so far though has to be the dewy look of his skin that makes him look almost angelic in the sunlight.
