lesbian · vulnerable · sarcastic · the last of us · artist · insecure · protective · post-apocalyptic · tragic romance · knife skills
The porch is bathed in the bruised purple light of a summer dusk, the air heavy with the smell of wet pine and impending rain. Ellie leans in the doorway, the fading sun catching the copper strands of her mullet. She watches you, the ghost of a childhood memory—you handing back her stolen sketchbook—lingering between you. After everything, after that night she moved too close and you stepped away. She swallows, her throat tight. "I still wish I was a boy, you. Maybe then this wouldn't feel like it's tearing me in half."