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The road stretched out for miles, dead weeds popping up between the cracks of fractured blacktop. A billboard stood alone in the horizon, its image sun-bleached to near nothing. Only a few red letters left, the rest swallowed away by rust.
Lucy’s eyes lingered on it as she walked. She liked looking at the many billboards that scattered the Wasteland. Since leaving the vault she had been trying to imagine what the old world looked like, the world that wasn't riddled with violence and radiation. Posters, billboards, the remains of buildings, were the only clues to what the past held and she took them all in eagerly.
“It must’ve been something,” she said after a long moment, her voice light. “Driving down these roads, stopping at places like that,” she pointed to a diner in the distance, “You could eat until you were full, laugh with your friends, go back home and… everything was still there the next morning.”
Beside her the Ghoul didn’t answer. His boots crunched against the pavements loose stones, steady, measured. His gaze flicked up at the sign, then back to the road ahead.
Lucy went on, undeterred. She pointed toward the husk of a gas station in the distance, its faded paint peeling, the rocket itself tilted down on the verge of collapse. “I bet kids would beg their parents to stop. Imagine pulling in, getting ice cream, music on the radio…” she said dreamily.
Lucy’s words didn’t stop with the gas station. Her eyes caught everything. A half-buried corvega with its doors missing, chrome long gone, the soda machine on its side, glass door cracked, no contents left. All the faded outlines of life that slowly vanished with time.
“Even that machine,” she said, her voice bright. “Putting a coin in and getting something ice cold. Can you imagine what that must’ve felt like on a hot day?” she remarked. The vault was climate controlled and the wastes offered no refrigeration. She wondered if she would ever have the satisfaction.
She laughed a little, almost to herself, then pointed toward a patch of cracked concrete steps leading up to a barber shop. “I wonder if those doors jingled with a little bell when you walked in.”
Coop remembered it. Not the way she pictured it, shiny and untouched. Rather the endless consumerism, relentless advertisements at every turn, some of which he was regrettably a part of, and perfect looking people hiding under a mask of civility. Optimism was at an all time high, even amidst the threat of nuclear war. In some ways the world of the wastes was easier, there was no hiding out here. The harshness eventually stripped everything down to its bones, who people really were whether they admitted it or not.
The Ghoul kept his eyes forward, scanning their surroundings, his jaw tight. He hadn't said anything about her incessant daydreaming thus far, but the small detail of a bell, which served no purpose in the world of today, brought him out of his silence.
“You can picture it all you want vaultie. Doesn’t matter. It’s gone. Places like that… nothin’ left worth remembering,” the words escaped him before he knew what he was saying. There wasn’t anger in his tone, rather a frayed weariness, he had given up dwelling on the past long ago.
Lucy paused as she looked at him then back at the barber shop, lips parting like she might argue. Instead she nodded to herself, her gaze drifting back to the broken windows and relentless decay that swallowed the landscape whole. She frowned as she took in his words.
Lucy’s chatter tapered into silence, she suddenly felt a sudden sadness for him. She had long suspected that before her, the ghoul, no…Coop had been traveling alone for a long time. She couldn't imagine what carrying the weight of living between two worlds would do to someone, it dawned on her that it looked a lot like Coop.
Her eyes roamed the roadside for scraps of what used to be. Cans littering the sand, bottles turned upside down empty, tires scattered along the road. Something glinted faintly in the dirt. She slowed coming to a crouch, picked up the object, brushed the dirt away with careful movements until she made out what it was.
There between her fingers was a small, tarnished coin. It was a jukebox token, she remembered them from the vault, the words ‘ONE PLAY’ still legible.
Her smile bloomed instantly, it was a remnant of what the past held. Lively music, bubbling laughter, carefree dancing, nights where people gathered together under no threat of violence. The token was totally worthless, but to her it felt like proof that not everything was gone.
She rose with a new confidence, slipping back into step behind him. The token felt warm and light in her palm. For a moment she watched his broad shoulders ahead of her, his worn duster swaying with each step. Her heartbeat quickened at the idea that sprung into her mind. She hurried to close the distance between them.
“Here,” she said, a little breathless as she caught up, definitely not from nerves she told herself. She extended her hand, holding the token carefully between her fingers so as to not drop it.
The Ghoul glanced down at her small hand, then to her bright eyes, confusion flickering across his rough features. A coin? He didn't make a move to take it.
Lucy smiled softly, then grabbed his hand, his skin much softer than it looked, and so warm. She found herself wishing they touched more. Lucy pressed it into his hand, curling his rough fingers around it with a gentle insistence. He looked at her with a blank expression, eyes a little wider than normal, surprised by her touch, she swore his cheeks had a hue of pink. Her stomach flipped at the thought.
She hoped to give him a smile that seemed to say, not everything is gone, there’s still good left to remember, the token a promise of her words.
The Ghoul stared down at the token in his palm, the metal dull and weathered against his skin. He turned it over once, thumb brushing the stamped print. Moments passed and he said nothing, her gesture leaving a heaviness in his gut.
With a grunt meant to sound like dismissal, he shoved it deep into his coat pocket.
“Just junk,” he muttered, as if the act of keeping it meant nothing at all.
But then he remembered how her fingers lingered on his when she pressed the token into his hand. Warm. Soothing. A touch that startled him more than the token itself. He hadn’t expected that either.
Lucy only smiled, satisfied, and stepped ahead of him, humming faintly to herself as nothing had passed between them. She was right back to imagining the old world in its glory.
Coop watched her go, he wanted to call her out, bring her back to the reality of the brutal cruelty that was the Wasteland. Instead, his hand brushed the token in his pocket, an unexpected tightness hit him in the chest. As quickly as it came he forced it down, trying to bury whatever it was that stirred in him.
His jaw tightened. He forced his eyes back on the horizon, because the memories Lucy dreamed of weren’t worth the pain of remembering, not in a world like this.
⸻
The wind picked up suddenly, an empty bottle of Nuka Cola skirting across the pavement with it, glass clinking against the rough surface. The clouds shifted quickly above them. A breeze drifted over, carrying with it a familiar, sickly metallic scent.
He slowed, lifting his head to the changing sky. “Keep moving,” he ordered low but firm.
Lucy blinked at him, surprised by the sudden edge in his tone. She glanced up just as the first sliver of dark green shimmered in the distance. The storm seemed far off.
The wind shifted, sudden and sharp, tugging at the edges of his coat. He stilled, head tilting back toward the sky. Heavy clouds were darkening too fast, greenish veins spreading through them as a warning of what was to come.
Radstorm.
Clouds thickened, rolling in like a wave. The air pricked faintly at her skin, the Geiger counter on her wrist ticking to life, signaling danger. The first drop fell, sizzling when it hit the hot asphalt. Then drops were coming down all around them, they hissed, steaming up from the sunbaked earth.
The Ghoul’s chest clenched with the realization that Lucy would never make it to shelter in time.
“Shit.”
Without hesitation, Coop tore his duster off in one swift motion and threw it around her protectively, pulling the collar up over her head. He knew it wouldn’t hold for long, not against the full force of a radstrom. But maybe it would hold just long enough to get them to shelter.
“Do not get that shit on you,” he barked at her in a firm voice. His eyes frantically scanned for the closest structure. He knew what radstorms could do to clean flesh. He’d seen it and a sudden new fear gripped him, he couldn't have anything corrupt her prewar skin. The wastes would not claim this too from him.
Lucy stumbled, confusion flashing across her face as the heavy coat enclosed her without warning. “Wait, what?” She gasped, startled, half-fighting him, disoriented. “What are you…” The air stung, every drop that fell spit back up where it landed. A splash hit her wrist, she let out a yelp, jerking back further into the coat as the burn seared hot.
“Move!” he barked again, his hand gripping her shoulder, steering her forward as the storm began to roar. “Stay covered!” His voice was fierce. He hunched over her, using his body as a shield. His bare arms already stung from the rain, smoking faintly where droplets landed.
A crack of lightning struck, fire tearing across the sky, thunder made the ground tremble. She froze, wide-eyed, unable to look away from the green-tinged nightmare. Lucy stumbled when the Ghoul shoved her forward, breaking her out of her pause. She flinched, let out a startled cry when her foot slipped on the fractured asphalt.
“Lucy!”
Coops hand shot out, catching her hard before she hit the ground. He pulled her against his chest, coat whipping around in the wind. His grip was firm as he wrapped the duster tighter, sealing her away from the storm.
"Can't let that touch you,” he repeated to himself this time, voice frantic . His heart thudded like the thunder above. He couldn't let her skin melt under this poison, she was the last piece of the world he came from.
Another crack of lightning, the sky broke, rain pouring down all at once.
He could barely see ahead of him, the downpour was a wall of acid-green rain, but the silhouette of the Red Rocket sign caught his eye, the one Lucy pointed out. He remembered next to it there was another building, a diner. He pushed toward it, holding her close, the storm wouldn’t wait, and neither could she.
⸻
They stumbled through the cracked glass door, a bell chiming above them when they crossed the threshold. Coop let her out of his vice grip to lean back heavily against the door, sealing it shut, the sound of the storm muffling instantly.
Inside, the diner was a graveyard of the old world.
Checkered black-and-white tiles were dull, grimy, delaminating. A long counter stretched across the room, stools missing their plush cushions. Booths lined the walls, red vinyl split open, stuffing spilling out. Dust hung heavy in the air, disturbed by their sudden arrival. Plates and silverware set out on tables, an old jukebox shoved in the corner, its glass face webbed with cracks, dully humming as if it might spark to life.
Lightning flashed through the windows, the storm roared, rain pinging hard against the metal roof above them.
The Ghoul scanned the room quickly, guiding Lucy to the back of the diner away from the danger of the thin windows. A pile of overturned tables and broken chairs had been shoved against the wall, maybe used as barricades once in a firefight. Behind it was a narrow pocket of space that offered cover, shadowed and closed off from the world.
“Here,” he muttered, pushing the debris aside just enough to make room for her. “Stay low.”
They slipped behind the barricade, both immediately sitting against the diners wall. The air smelled heavily of dust and mold, but it was dry. The storm raged against the diner’s walls, muted but relentless, windows shaking against the wind.
For the first time since the sky split open, the Coop let out a harsh breath he didn't know he was holding, she would be okay. His shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes, the tension in his frame easing as he leaned back against the wall.
Lucy clutched his coat tighter around herself, her wide eyes fixed on him in disbelief. She studied his face, taking in the lines of worry etched deep, lips slightly parted as his breath came heavy and uneven.
Lucy sat curled against the wall, still wrapped in the Ghoul’s heavy duster. She took a moment to process what just happened. The urgency he showed, the way he folded around her without hesitation, the desperation in his voice when he shouted her name. She was left breathless at the implication, he cared.
Suddenly Coop's eyes shot open, he stood quickly, the adrenaline still hot through his veins. He needed to move, unable to sit, release the tension building in his chest. He stalked through the diner, scanning counters and began yanking open cabinets behind the bar. Crumpled napkins, broken glasses, and shattered plates was all that greeted him, “junk” he growled out in annoyance slamming the drawer shut.
The token Lucy gave him weighed heavy on his mind, she was wrong. Everything out here was shit. The Wastes didn’t care, everything was stripped down bare, eaten alive and spit back out as dust. He huffed in frustration, ran his hand down his face, leaning back against the counter.
Then something caught his eye.
He slowed his movements, a glass jar that sat forgotten on a shelf behind the counter. He grabbed it, tearing it open, expecting nothing but more disappointment. But to his surprise he was awarded a handful of wax-paper candies.
“Taffy,” he muttered, almost a laugh under his breath. He turned one over in his hands, examining it closely, and found a purple hue. He scowled, and bitterly hoped it wasn’t lavender.
Lucy watched him from her spot on the floor. Without the duster, he looked…different. His frame was leaner than she’d realized, his shoulders narrower without the bulk of leather hanging off them. This was a new shape she hadn’t seen before, a man’s shape, no longer the silhouette of the Ghoul.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly. For the first time, she was seeing Coop, not just the armor he wore of lone wasteland survivor.
She glanced down at the coat that weighed heavy around her shoulders, it was enormous. The duster swallowed her small frame, his warmth still held within it. She felt it cling to her like a second skin.
When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she pulled the duster close to her face, pressing her nose into the worn leather. She took a slow breath.
Smoke. Dirt. Gunpowder. A metallic tang from the rain that coated them. But then, something different, irrefutably human.
The salt of skin, a ghost of sweat, an earthy, distinctly masculine scent. It smelled like him. Lucy let her eyes flutter shut for a heartbeat, the storm fading into the background. She felt comforted. Safe. She held the warmth close, taking in another breath, his scent washing over her, she let out a soft contented hum.
She didn’t notice the footsteps until a shadow fell over her. Lucy peeked up at him, her cheeks warming, she blinked, breath catching.
Coop stood silent, eyes fixed on her, his face unreadable. He had watched her burrow herself into his duster, small hands clutching the fabric tight. Her face was half-hidden, eyes closed, she looked…content, as if she was in the safest place she’d ever known.
Something inside of him stirred at the sight of her.
He tried to look away, make some cruel remark and reclaim the duster that he felt half-naked without. That coat had been his armor through two hundred years of hell, carrying the blood of every damned soul that had the misfortune of crossing his path. Without it, he felt exposed, bare in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in centuries. And yet here he was letting her curl in his coat as if it was the safest place in this god forsaken wasteland.
He stayed silent as he lowered himself to sit. He made sure to leave distance between them, because space was safe, it kept the lines from blurring. And against every instinct Coop left the coat where it was, settled on her shoulders, keeping her warm and safe.
The diner groaned under a strong gust of wind that rattled the walls, cracks of lightning painting the room in a greenish glow. The storm outside screaming, but inside, his only worry was the growing ache of something he couldn’t name and didn’t dare acknowledge.
They sat in silence. The only sound was the storm around them, acid rain pelting against the roof, wind howling through broken seams in the walls. Coop let his eyes fall closed trying to let the storm’s rage drown out his own thoughts.
Lightning split the sky again, a jagged green flash that lit the whole diner, thunder following an instant later, violent and bone-deep.
Lucy startled hard, a small sound caught in her throat as she jumped causing her body to shift closer, shoulder brushing against his. She ducked her face into the folds of the coat, attempting to hide. Coop went rigid. He felt her tremble. “They never… they never showed lightning in the vault. Only rain.” Another flash of green filled the room, “it’s terrifying” she whispered out, words barely audible.
He glanced down at her huddled frame for a long moment, saying nothing. The touch where their shoulders connected grew suddenly hot. Before he could move away, the storm roared again, this time Lucy pressed herself further into him, shivering against the sound.
Coop's jaw clenched. He couldn’t offer words, not when his skin boiled beneath her touch. Instead his hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around the waxed papered candies he’d found behind the counter.
Slowly, he pulled two free and offered them between pinched fingers.
Lucy blinked at it, stunned. “For… me?”
He didn’t answer and kept his gaze fixed ahead on the cracked tile.
Hesitant, she reached out. Their fingers brushed in the exchange long enough to make her chest flutter. He pulled back quickly, as if burned.
Lucy took the candy with delicate care, carefully unwrapping it, pulling each twisted side apart. She popped it into her mouth and gasped, overwhelmed with the taste of sugar. It was real sweetness, melting on her tongue. She hadn’t tasted anything like it since she left the vault.
Beside her, Coop did the same and silently slipped the taffy into his own.
Grape.
Of course it was fucking grape.
Cooper Howard loved grape.
He should’ve laughed, tossed the damned things across the room. But all he could do was chew slowly, memories threatening to surface.
“It’s grape,” she said, surprised and pleased. “That’s my favorite.”
He stared at her, something bitter curling behind his ribs. He didn’t dare tell her it was his favorite too, back when the world was whole.
“I think…” she said quietly, “sometimes the little things survive because we’re supposed to remember them.”
She leaned back against the wall, letting the flavor linger, her eyes slipping shut. Without thinking, she shifted closer to him, snuggling into the folds of his coat as though it were made for her.
Coop sat rigid beside her, his pulse thudding. Her words struck something raw in him, and his throat tightened. He didn’t move, didn’t trust himself too.
Lucy opened her eyes, glanced up at him, she felt like she should say her thanks. But words fell flat upon seeing how stiff he was, his eyes seemed far away, as if bracing from something.
So she stayed quiet, curled deeper into the duster, and let her head rest against his shoulder, breathing him in. A small sigh of contentment came from her lips, she hoped he understood her silent gratitude. Long seconds passed before the only acknowledgement he gave was a slight shift, so small she might have imagined it. She swore he leaned, almost imperceptibly, closer to her.
Lucy smiled softly into his coat, a comfortable silence fell between them as the storm lulled into a faint rumble.
⸻
Time slipped by in silence. The shrieking wind had long gone and the violent crashes of lightning across the sky went with it. Only the steady patter of rain remained.
Lucy lifted her head from its spot on his shoulder, the unease she had felt from the storm faded from her mind. She stood carefully and pulled her arms free from the duster, the weight of it heavy in her hands. Lucy smoothed the leather once more in goodbye before leaning down to hand it back to him.
“Thank you,” she said with a warm smile.
Coop took it without a word, his touch careful. She let go slowly, she wasn't sure if she would feel that warmth again. She turned away before the disappointment could show on her face.
Her eyes took in the diner's contents scattered across the room, waiting for her to explore. She stepped gingerly past a broken stool, her boots clicking against the cracked tile as she moved toward the counter. A jukebox caught her eye, glass face fractured but a dim light bulb glowed within. Coming closer, she touched it with her fingertips, wiping away the dust that covered its glass pane, curiosity getting the better of her.
Coop watched her from his position on the floor, before standing himself. He slid his arms into the duster, being covered back in his familiar leather grounded him. It was still warm, for a moment he swore it carried a trace of her, its smell altered, a new sweetness cutting between the usual smoke and earthiness.
He drew a slow breath, letting it linger. He forced a selfish thought down, pulling his collar back into place. He couldn't go there.
Lucy’s eyes lingered on the jukebox, it pulled at something in her chest. She remembered the one back home, Vault 33’s slice of respite after a long day of tending to crops. Having repair skills was a trait valued back at home so she did her part to learn how to keep the jukebox running. The reward of music filling the atrium was well worth it, her vault family singing and dancing along to the music it brought. Her lips curved faintly at the memory.
“I wonder…” she murmured, crouching down. Her fingers traced along the metal chrome casing, and located the service panel. With a tug it popped open. A mixture of dust and old wires rushed out, but she only leaned in closer, hands already busy at work.
Coop let his gaze fall back to her. She was bent over the jukebox, hair falling forward, shoulders set with determination, her hands a flurry as she tinkered with the wires and knobs. He scoffed, she actually believed the damned thing had a chance, of course she did.
“You know,” his graveled voice cut through the hum of rain, “that thing’s not gonna work.” The words came out dry, but there was no bite in them. He sounded like a man tired of stating the obvious.
Lucy ignored him. Her hands fiddled with a frayed wire, tightened a loose connection, then gently blew the dust away from the components. She pulled back to a standing position and confidently pushed the reset button. For a second nothing happened. Then came a low hum, a whirl, flicker of neon and it was brought to life. When the first happy notes spilled out, Lucy squealed with delight, clapping her hands together.
“I knew it!” she laughed, spinning in place. The familiar swing filled the diner, “Civilization! We used to play this all the time in the atrium,” she said with a smile.
Without hesitation, she let the beat carry her. She moved into the open space, twirling, her hair flying everywhere as she laughed.
Coop sat frozen for a moment, staring like he couldn’t believe it. The damn thing worked, and that song he hadn’t heard in… hell, longer than he could remember. Back before, if it played on the radio he would switch it, thought it was corny, annoying even.
But now, watching Lucy sway, spinning in her boots, her eyes bright with joy, it might’ve just become his favorite.
Before she could catch him staring, he dragged himself to the counter and dropped onto a bar stool. His fingers fumbled with the lighter before bringing life to a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, smoke curling around his face and stared hard at the countertop, determined not to look back.
From the corner of his eye, he caught her grin, the way she spun with her arms wide like she was the center of the world, and in a split, brutal second, he realized, to him, she was.
“Come on!” Lucy called over the music, breathless with laughter. “Dance with me!”
He barked a laugh and shot her a look like she’d lost her damn mind. “Not a chance.”
Her only answer was a shake of her head and a dazzling smile. She twirled again, unbothered by his refusal, letting the rhythm carry her.
Coop kept his cigarette tight between his teeth and fixed his gaze forward. But his eyes betrayed him. They kept flicking her way, drawn to the light she carried, her warmth filling through the diner.
And for the first time in a very long while, the wasteland almost felt alive.
⸻
The jukebox rattled and whirred as the first song faded, the gears clunking before another track poured through its cracked speakers. Lucy clapped again, delighted that it kept going. “Oh! I know this one too!” she chirped, as the swingy beat picked up.
Coop sat at the counter, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, gaze focused on the cigarette that burnt down between his fingers. Every so often, he’d steal a glance over his shoulder. Lucy looked radiant in her own joy. One song rolled into the next, each brighter, more cheerful than the last. She danced without hesitation, laughter bubbling out when she spun too fast or nearly tripped over her own boots.
He dragged slow pulls off his cigarette, trying to bury the tug in his chest. Every time the jukebox sang another tune, he told himself he wouldn’t look this time, and every time, he seemed to fail.
The jukebox groaned, gears whirring as another song began to play. This one was different, slower, the opening notes drifting through the diner with a melodic swell.
Lucy’s dancing slowed with it, for the first time all night her steps faltered. She turned and looked toward Coop where he sat on the barstool, cigarette smoke curling lazy above his head, and her heart tugged. He looked like he was weighted by heavy sorrow.
She crossed the room slowly toward him and she placed a tentative hand over his, unsure.
Coop didn’t look up until her hand lay atop of his own, his head jerked toward her, startled.
“Dance with me?” she asked, her voice quiet, only meant for him.
Coop just stared, hot ash tumbled from his cigarette, burning him. Then, before he could think better of it, he felt his legs moving on their own. He stood, his hand still caught in hers as he followed her to the middle of the room.
At first it was awkward, he hadn't been this close to someone in decades. He hesitated, unsure of where to put his hands but Lucy only smiled, as if encouraging him. She swayed gently, prompting him with her movements, soft and easy.
He followed stiffly at first, boots falling heavy on the tile. He felt her sigh, leaning in just enough that he felt her warmth.
“You’re doing fine,” she reassured gently, her voice carrying that bright certainty that never seemed to leave her.
Coop let out a huff, eyes flicking anywhere but at her face.
The song changed, lyrics that floated over the diner like a dream.
“Welcome to my world…won't you come on in?”
Lucy sighed, the sound slipping from her without thought, her head tipping slightly toward him. It was wistful, like the song had reached into her chest and tugged.
He hadn’t danced in over two centuries, not since before the bombs. Back when parties were with friends, crowded with fellow celebrities, a cold drink in one hand and his other firm against his wife's back leading her to a private space. Music like this played when he held Barb close, back when things were simple and he didn't question her job's intentions. A man that had long been gone.
Something in Coop broke at her sound. Before he could stop himself, he pulled Lucy closer, his hand sliding firm against her back, his steps steady, confident. Lucy gasped softly, her body reacting before her mind caught up.
“Miracles, I guess, still happen now and then”
She tilted her head back to look up at him, wide-eyed, her brow arched in surprise. Coop’s mouth twisted, the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips. His voice was rough, nearly lost in the music.
“Some things sweetheart,” his voice dropped low, “you don’t forget.”
Her stomach fluttered. She gave a small, delighted sigh when he drew her in closer, one arm tentative around her waist.
“Step into my heart… leave your cares behind…”
He ignored the words. Inside, he justified this as the least he could do to give her something of the old world. She deserved that much.
Lucy’s breath caught the lyric settling into her chest. She felt his hand tighten against her back, she leaned closer to him, cheek brushing his chest. Her eyes drifted shut into the faint smokey scent of him that clung to his shirt. She exhaled a shaky sigh, sinking into the rhythm of his steps.
Coop stared down at her, every nerve burned at the feel of her pressed against him. He hadn’t held anyone like this since before the bombs. Lucy had collapsed into his hold, her body falling into his lead as if she’d been dancing with him forever.
The jukebox crooned on, but Coop hardly heard it anymore. All he could hear was his heartbeat, fast against his chest. They slowly swayed together across the floor with practiced movements.
“Waiting just for you…Welcome to my world.”
The final note hung in the air. Their feet came to a still but they didn’t separate. Lucy’s arms slipped up around his shoulders, drawing him in close.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his chest.
Coop melted into it, arms wrapping tighter around her waist. His coat cocooned them both together. When she finally leaned back, their eyes locked. Cheeks flushed, hearts pounding, breaths uneven. The air between them thrummed with something fragile and charged.
Neither of them moved. Their worlds had no business touching, and yet the wasteland brought them together. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other. Lucy's cheeks pink, eyes wide, lips parted in anticipation. Coop gazed down at her glowing cheeks, his chest tight, pulse hammered in his ears, the kind of rush he hadn’t felt in a lifetime.
They came together slowly, the world narrowing around them.
A steady rain pattered against the roof, a heat burned between them, an echo of a song lingering in the silence.
Welcome to my world.