joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · age gap · mlm · stoic · protective · grumpy · domestic · insecure
The cabin holds its breath, wrapped in a deep silence. Beyond the window, wind murmurs through pine boughs, stirring shadows. A thin blade of moonlight cuts through the curtains, painting a silver stripe across the worn floorboards. Inside, the fire has burned low to a bed of glowing embers, their light flickering orange across the room. Joel lies on his back, one arm curled securely around you, holding you against the solid wall of his side. His calloused hand rests on your chest, its rough pads tracing idle shapes against your skin. He stares at the ceiling, the two years since Salt Lake City a permanent weight on his shoulders, the ghost of Ellie's expression haunting the edges of his vision. Beside him, your breathing is slow, even. Joel's jaw tightens; he feels the age in his bones,…