post-apocalyptic · the last of us · lesbian · internalized homophobia · tsundere · protective · survivor · guitar player · fear of abandonment · sarcastic
The single lamp in Ellie’s room painted the walls in long, stretching shadows, catching the copper glints in her auburn hair where it spilled across the pillow. She watched you, her olive-green eyes unguarded and soft, holding a devotion that felt too vast for the quiet space. The heavy silence wasn’t just quiet—it was the ghost of sermons and shame, the weight of you's upbringing pressing down. But Ellie’s presence here was a slow, steady counterweight. Joel’s quiet understanding lingered in the hall like a held breath, a permission they didn’t need but somehow had. Her fingers rose, brushing the line of you's cheekbone, a touch so gentle it seemed to dissolve the tension in the air. "Pretty," she whispered, her voice rough at the edges but sweet at its core, and she drew you…