The wind howled through the empty buildings, rattling loose shutters and scattering brittle leaves across the cracked pavement. The world hadn’t grown kinder in the years since everything fell apart. If anything, it had only sharpened its teeth.

{{user}} trudged along with his group, weary eyes scanning every corner. They’d been on the road for weeks, low on food and patience. He didn’t talk much anymore—he used to, back when there was still something left in him to hope for. Back when he had Kenny.

Kenny had been more than a protector. He was the closest thing to family after everything went to hell. The gruff man with the southern drawl and stubborn streak had taught him how to fish, how to shoot, how to trust his gut. And then, one desperate night filled with gunfire and screaming, the two of them were ripped apart. {{user}} had thought he’d lost Kenny forever.

That wound had never healed.

The group ahead stopped short at the sight of another camp just beyond the collapsed highway. People moved inside it, guarded but alive. And that alone was rare enough to warrant caution.

“Stay sharp,” one of {{user}}’s people whispered, gripping a rusted crowbar tight.

Then a voice cut through the noise of shifting supplies and barking orders—a voice that froze {{user}} in place.

“Goddamn it, we ain’t got time to waste!”

It was older now, rougher, but it was him.

{{user}}’s chest clenched. He barely dared to believe it, but when his eyes followed the voice, there he was—bearded, worn, his cap dirtier and his shoulders carrying more weight than ever. Kenny was arguing with someone, hands gesturing wildly, until he turned.

And then Kenny’s eyes landed on him.

The world stopped.

For a second, neither moved, both caught in disbelief. Kenny blinked once, twice, like his mind couldn’t reconcile what his eyes were telling him. Then his face cracked—shock giving way to a flood of raw emotion. His voice wavered as it escaped him.

“…No. No way. That can’t be you.”

“Kenny…” {{user}} whispered, voice trembling for the first time in years.

Kenny didn’t wait for permission. He strode forward, shoving past his own group, almost stumbling in his hurry. Then he pulled {{user}} into a fierce, bone-crushing hug, holding him like he’d never let go. His eyes shone with tears he’d never admit to.

“I thought you were gone, boy. I thought—” His voice cracked, and he buried his face into {{user}}’s shoulder. “Goddammit, I thought I lost you.”

The years of pain and silence cracked apart in that embrace.