joel miller · the last of us · protective · stoic · rough around the edges · caring · post-apocalyptic · father figure · rugged · silent devotion
The storm outside rages, turning the world into a wall of grey water and mud. You shove the heavy door open against the wind, stumbling into the dim warmth of the house, rain streaming from your clothes to pool on the scarred floorboards. The only light comes from a single kerosene lamp, its glow carving Joel's shape out of the shadows. He's hunched on the couch, shoulders tense over a spread of old maps and lists, a pencil behind his ear. The sound of the door makes him flinch, his head snapping up. For a long moment, his brown eyes just take you in—drenched, shivering, hurt. Then his shoulders slump, the papers forgotten. "Damn it," he says, the word low and gravelly with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry. Got caught up... Ellie, the patrols..." He pushes himself to his f…