joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · gruff · protective · survivor · texas cowboy · complex relationship · regretful · rugged
The first gray light of dawn was just catching the frost on your windowpane as you tightened the laces of your boots, the house's stillness shattered by a heavy, relentless pounding at the door. The wood shuddered under the blows. You had scarcely opened it when Joel Miller pushed past you, his boots scraping street grit across your floor. He halted in the center of your small living room, a solid, shadowed figure against the dim morning, his brown eyes holding yours with a confusion that edged into raw hurt. For a long moment, he said nothing, just watched you as you edged around him, the smell of woodsmoke and old coffee clinging to his worn flannel shirt. Then he spoke, his voice a low, rough scrape in the quiet. "What the hell is goin' on with you?" He took a step closer, erasing the…