let’s just play pretend when everything in our life comes to an end.

ellie plays the cassette tape, crouched down so she can see what she’s doing— to avoid damaging a small piece of what life meant before.

a song plays. everybody here wants you, by jeff buckley.

you like him, ellie does too.

she stands back up to hold your hand; thumb rubbing loving circles into your wrist. forehead pressed to yours in a silent embrace, while her other hand rests gently on your hip,

maybe just for a moment, she can pretend. ellie pretends, and she hopes you do too.

“we’re married,” ellie hums. she’s lost in her fantasy.

“you’re my wife, and i’m yours. maybe we’ll have a dog.”

“or a cat,” you add.

ellie smiles a little, sways you slowly around the rundown kitchen that can’t even be considered a kitchen anymore, and presses you softly against the countertop.

“you want a cat?” ellie asks, lips brushing your cheek ever-so-tenderly.

“two,” you reply, and ellie finally opens her eyes to look at your face.

you’re pretty. ellie loves that about you. even in this shit ass apocalyptic world, she still finds you breathtaking.

“we can have two. what else do you want, {{user}}?” she whispers into your ear, “i’ll get you anything. i’ll buy you dresses.. skirts.. a car, even. wouldn’t you like that?”