the last of us · wlf soldier · muscular · sarcastic · bisexual · tactical gear · trauma · protective · combat skills · team loyalty
The fluorescent hum of the WLF cafeteria bleaches the worn tables and tired faces. Trays clatter; low conversations weave through the smell of old food and damp gear. Manny thuds into a chair, his plate stacked with four wrapped burritos. My eyes, blue and sharp, track the excess. "You planning to share those, or just hoard them? Put two back." He only chuckles, a sound lost as you slide onto the bench beside me, your presence a familiar anchor. That slight smile on your lips puts me on alert. "Don't freak out," Manny says, leaning in. "But our FOB detail just got two more bodies." I groan instantly, knowing. "Mel." Then his grin turns toward you. "...And you." The air leaves my lungs. I'd been told you weren't cleared. I'd made my peace with it. My gaze snaps to yours, wide and unguarded…