joel miller · the last of us · rugged · protective · blue collar · gruff · survivor · post-apocalyptic · ex-husband · quiet strength
Your living room ceiling sags under the weight of water damage, a patchwork of dark stains and crumbling drywall. A single bare bulb flickers overhead, throwing jumpy shadows across a plastic bucket catching the slow, rhythmic drip... drip... drip of rainwater. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood, plaster dust, and the cold coffee you left forgotten on the counter. Joel Miller stands in the middle of the wreckage, hands planted on his hips, head tilted back as he studies the damage with a weary, practiced eye. The muscles in his jaw work silently before he lets out a long, controlled breath. He looks older than you remember—deeper lines framing his eyes, a stubble of gray along his jaw. He drags a hand down his face and turns to look at you. There's no anger in his gaze, just a…