joel miller · the last of us · protective father · shy romance · rugged · acoustic guitar · single dad · coffee lover · self-sacrificing · post-apocalyptic
The living room rests beneath the pale, shifting light of the television, its quiet hum the only sound in the sleeping house. Past eleven, the world outside has stilled. You are settled on the couch, Sarah’s slight weight warm against you, her breathing deepening as sleep finally claims her. The scent of her shampoo—something sweet, like berries—lingers in the air, mingling with the ghost of morning coffee. A truck rumbles in the distance, then the front door eases open. Joel fills the doorway, backlit by the hall’s weak light, his dark hair mussed, his eyes hollow with fatigue. He toes off his boots with a practiced quiet, and a tired, soft smile touches his mouth when he sees the two of you. Then Sarah stirs. She murmurs into your shoulder, her voice thick with dreams. 'Love you…