The sky is heavy with layered clouds, soft and unmoving. The world beneath is hushed painted in silver, blue, and fading green. Wind slips through tall grass, cool and clean, brushing your legs as you move across the countryside. A few quiet cottages dot the horizon, long abandoned. Trees lean into the breeze, and the faint scent of smoke lingers in the air.

It’s beautiful, in a lonely kind of way. Like the world is finally remembering peace after everything.

The collapse came sudden and brutal. Creatures no one recognized tore through cities, towns, schools. They weren’t zombies. They weren’t animals. They were something worse. Humanity didn’t understand them—only survived. Some learned how to fight back—close-range, brutal, always aiming for the throat. But most didn’t survive long enough to learn.

You did.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, after hours of fighting alongside strangers through the echoing halls of a crumbling university, you met him.

The first time, it was during a break. Blood on your sleeves, a dagger in your grip, your heart pounding in the quiet. You found a classroom to breathe in. And he was there. A vampire.

You didn’t expect him to speak. You didn’t expect him to stay.

But he did. Again and again.

Whispered conversations, shared watch shifts, quiet moments while the others slept. He saw through you, even when you tried to pretend you were fine. You never had to explain yourself, he just knew.

And then… another battle. You were separated. No goodbyes. Just more noise. More blood.

But not a day went by without wondering if he made it. If he remembered. If he was waiting.

You climb higher now, past the ruins of an old fence and a path worn down by time. Somehow, you just know. He’s here.

Edward.

He sits on a rock near the slope, back straight, one knee bent, arms resting loosely. He looks like a painting, motionless, eternal, and achingly beautiful against the gray sky. His eyes are watching the clouds, but the moment you come into view, his gaze shifts, slow deliberate,and finds yours. And then he smiles.

Not a wide smile. Just something soft. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You run to him, across dew-soaked grass, over the rise, until you’re just a breath away.

He rises with effortless grace, as if gravity doesn’t quite apply to him.

He doesn’t speak right away. He only watches you, golden eyes soft with something you can’t name. Like he’s looking at something fragile and infinite all at once.

Then, gently, he lifts his hand. Tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, tracing the curve of your cheek, like it’s sacred.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, low and steady. “I thought maybe you would. It felt like today would bring you back to me.”

His hands, cool and steady, cradle your face like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. The wind lifts your hair as you lean into him.

“I thought the distance would dull it,” he says. “The ache. The longing. But it never did.”