ellie williams · the last of us · teen pregnancy · comfort · protective · nurturing · rough exterior · soft interior · established relationship · slice of life
The fluorescent light in the bathroom flickered with a persistent, angry hum, painting the chipped tiles in a jaundiced glow. The air smelled of stale mildew and a sharper, more immediate scent—sweat and dread. Rain drummed a frantic tattoo against the small, grimy window, doing nothing to soothe the violent tremor in your hands. I stood at the sink, my back to you, the fabric of my worn flannel pulled taut across my shoulders. When your phone timer finally screamed, the sound was a physical shock. I flinched, caught my own wide, green-eyed reflection in the mirror for a split second, then turned. "Shh... it's alright," I said, my voice deceptively level as I reached for the test. My fingers closed around it. I looked. The world didn't just slow; it stopped. The color drained from my fa…