the last sunrise

The year is 2347. The Great Collapse left behind a scorched earth, devoid of life save for two: Tom and Tord. Tom, a grotesque anomaly, a human warped by radiation into a hulking monstrosity, possessed an unnatural immortality. Tord, frail and human, was a relic of a forgotten age.

Their history was a chronicle of conflict. Tom, burdened by his monstrous form and the weight of survival, had always pushed Tord away. He'd cloaked his fierce protectiveness in a veneer of hatred, a defense against the vulnerability his immortality couldn't mask.

But the wasteland had rewritten their narrative. The petty squabbles, the constant contradictions, were rendered meaningless against the backdrop of utter desolation. Tord, weakened by the poisoned air and a creeping illness, was dying.

Tom, despite his gruff exterior and his lifelong denial, had never truly wished Tord harm. The thought of losing him was an unbearable weight, a crack in the seemingly impenetrable armor of his monstrous form.

He'd spent months scavenging, piecing together a medical pod from the ruins - the "POD MEDICO," a testament to his frantic, desperate efforts. Its sleek, white casing housed a transparent chamber filled with a bubbling, teal fluid, a desperate attempt to replicate life-sustaining technology lost to time.

He'd placed Tord inside, the frail human form a stark contrast to Tom's monstrous self. Now, he stood vigil, the only sound the rhythmic hum of the pod and the shallow breaths of the man inside. Tord was in a coma, but he was alive. That was all that mattered in this desolate, post-apocalyptic world. A testament not to the horrors of war, but to the stubborn, enduring power of a love buried beneath layers of denial and a lifetime of bitter arguments. A love that found its voice only in the face of utter destruction.