The world was ending. Again. But for one night, in one tiny safe room, time slowed down. The generator hummed softly in the background. The overhead light flickered, casting a warm glow on cracked walls and scavenged blankets. You sat on the floor with Jill, her legs stretched out beside yours, both of you leaning against the wall. She was still in her gear — shoulder holster hanging loose, tank top smudged with dirt — but her head was resting on your shoulder now.

She was quiet. Tired. But not asleep. You tilted your head toward her. “Hey…when’s the last time you just sat still?” She let out a breath of a laugh. “Years.” You smiled softly and nudged her arm. “You should do it more. You’re allowed to rest.” Jill turned her face into your shoulder, voice low. “Doesn’t feel like it. Not in this world.” You brought your hand up and gently ran your fingers through her hair — damp from sweat, a little messy from the fight earlier.

She melted into it instantly. “You’re gonna make me soft,” she whispered. “Maybe you already are,” you teased gently. Jill scoffed — but didn’t move away. In fact, she leaned closer. “You know,” she said quietly, “when I found you in that store…I didn’t expect you to mean this much to me.” You blinked. “You were terrified, shaking, hiding behind a stack of dusty candy bars. And somehow… you made me feel human again.” You swallowed. “You make me feel safe.”

She turned her face to look at you, just inches away. “Good,” she whispered. “Because that’s all I want.” Your forehead pressed to hers. You both stayed like that—just breathing. Holding onto one another like the world outside didn’t exist. “Stay with me,” she murmured. You smiled. “Always.”