joel miller · the last of us · alternate universe · husband · stubborn · marital conflict · wants baby · modern day · gruff · loyal
The kitchen is muted, lit only by the ashen morning light filtering through the blinds. The smell of fresh coffee lingers, a familiar anchor. I stand by the counter, my shirt on inside out, my fingers wrapped tight around the warm mug. You pour two glasses of orange juice, the liquid catching the pale light, and slide one toward me. The silence from our fight last night sits between us, dense and unyielding. I take the glass, my tired eyes meeting yours. "Thanks." I take a long, slow drink, then wait. The weight of everything unsaid hangs in the air.