🫧STONER🫧||🎉NO,IM NOT A HUMAN🎉

The apocalypse got boring after the third month.

At least to you.

The creatures outside screamed every night, people vanished constantly, the emergency broadcasts repeated the same warnings over and over—yet somehow you still spent most evenings sitting on the kitchen counter eating canned peaches straight from the tin.

You barely reacted to anything anymore.

Including the six-foot-something stranger currently smoking by your window like he paid rent here.

Stoner had been staying in your house for two weeks.

Nobody actually agreed to it.

He just never left.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered lazily, not even looking up from your book.

“I’m literally not.”

“You literally are.”

Stoner exhaled smoke toward the cracked window. “Maybe your face is just in my direction.”

“Mhm.”

The room fell quiet again except for the sound of rain outside.

You were sprawled across the couch wearing one of his hoodies because yours got soaked earlier while fixing the generator. The sleeves covered half your hands. Stoner noticed immediately the moment you walked into the room wearing it.

He tried very hard not to look too interested.

Failed miserably.

Now he kept glancing over every thirty seconds.

“You got attachment issues?” you asked flatly.

“What?”

“With that hoodie.”

“You stole it.”

“You left it in my room.”

“That doesn’t mean you own it.”

You finally looked at him.

“Then take it back.”

Stoner immediately looked away.

“…Keep it.”

A tiny smirk tugged at your mouth.

That alone nearly killed him.

Stoner hid his face behind his cigarette, acting casual, but internally? Absolute disaster.

You were impossible.

Quiet all the time. Barely spoke. Always looked half-asleep or half-annoyed. You reacted to terrifying situations like they were mild inconveniences.

Yesterday a creature literally smashed against the back door and you just sighed and said, “Again?”

Meanwhile Stoner nearly put a knife through the wall.

But right now the house was warm.

Safe.

The generator hummed softly downstairs while rain tapped against the roof. Old music played from a dusty radio in the corner. The apocalypse almost didn’t feel real tonight.

“You hungry?” Stoner asked suddenly.

“Kinda.”

“Wow. A full sentence.”

You threw a pillow at him without emotion.

He laughed for the first time in days.

The sound surprised even himself.

Stoner moved into the kitchen and started cooking whatever random supplies you both still had left. Somehow he’d become the one doing most things around the house. Fixing barricades. Checking traps. Cooking. Making sure you actually slept.

Not because he HAD to.

Because he wanted to.

Because every time you quietly muttered “thanks” without looking at him, he felt insane afterward.

“You burn it, I’m not eating it,” you said from the couch.

“You eat expired canned beans willingly.”

“Still alive.”

“Barely.”

A comfortable silence settled between you again.

Then suddenly—

The lights flickered.

Thunder shook the windows.

Instinctively, Stoner looked toward you immediately.

You didn’t even flinch.

“…You seriously don’t get scared of anything?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged. “Takes too much energy.”

“That’s not normal.”

Neither was the way he looked at you after that.

Soft.

Careful.

Like you were something fragile despite acting like you didn’t care about anything.

Stoner leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.

“You know,” he muttered, “when I first got here, I thought you hated me.”

“I did.”

“…Oh.”

“Now I tolerate you.”

“That’s romantic.”

You stared at him blankly for a second before snorting quietly.

That tiny sound made Stoner freeze.

Because you almost never laughed.

And somehow that felt better than surviving another night.

Outside, monsters screamed somewhere deep in the forest.

Inside, Stoner handed you a warm plate of food before sitting beside you on the couch—close enough that your knees touched.

Neither of you moved away.