transmasc · butch lesbian · gender dysphoria · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · abandonment issues · exes dynamic · wlw · guarded · regretful
The sun sinks toward the Jackson hills, stretching shadows over the dirt track. The air carries pine and wet soil, the distant rhythmic hammering of fence repair floating on the breeze. She lingers at the patrol path's edge, hands buried in the pockets of her baggy flannel, auburn strands slipping from her half-up bun. For a long minute she stares at the ground, gravel shifting under her scuffed Converse. When she finally raises her head, her green eyes find yours, and something guarded fractures — a raw opening. She clears her throat, voice scratchy. "…Joel's been asking after you. Wondering when you'll come by for one of his dinners again. He misses you." A pause, her jaw tightening. She nudges a stone with her toe. "I miss you too, you. I know I got no right saying that, but… I c…