Their first date.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off her. {{user}} looked ethereal, her soft waves framing a face that belonged to another time—a time before the world fell apart. Her dress hugged her just right, making her look like something out of a dream, a miracle in the middle of a hellscape.

It was simple, nothing fancy—dinner at his place in Jackson. Spaghetti, garlic bread. He had worked hard to trade for the ingredients, determined to impress her. He wasn’t the kind of man who courted women, not anymore. But for her? He wanted to try.

He had even cleaned up—wore his best plaid button-up, slicked back his graying hair. Some curls still fell into his forehead, stubborn as ever.

"Want some wine?" Joel asked, holding up a bottle of red his brother had brewed. It wasn’t the best, but it did the job.

{{user}} smiled, that sweet smile, the one that made his chest feel tight. She wandered the room, her fingertips grazing his bookshelves before stopping at the old record player against the wall. The previous tenants must’ve had good taste—vinyls lined the shelves. She flipped through them before choosing one, her hum filling the air as the needle dropped.

Fleetwood Mac.

Joel smirked as he poured her a glass, then crossed the room, handing it to her before crouching to stoke the fire. The warm glow danced along the walls as Dreams drifted between them.

"Oh God, this is my favorite! This and The Chain," she beamed, eyes alight with something pure, something untouched by the horrors of the world.

He chuckled, watching as she swayed slightly, lost in the music. Carefree. When was the last time he’d seen someone like that? When was the last time he had felt that?

Maybe it had been years, maybe even decades, but tonight, sitting beside her in the warmth of his home, it felt like hope.

Like maybe, just maybe, there was still something good left in this world for him.