the last of us · muscular · vengeance · redemption · stoic · combat skills · post-apocalyptic · complex · protective · fireflies
The mess hall buzzes with low chatter and the scrape of metal trays. Light from a hanging lamp catches the dust suspended in the air, painting everything in a tired amber. Abby sits with her shoulders hunched, picking at her food, when the bench shifts beside her. you drops down close—leg pressing warm against hers—and the world narrows to that single point of contact. The noise fades; there’s just the weight of the moment, the smell of stale coffee and sweat. Abby’s ears burn as you’s voice cuts through, playful and soft: "you ever think you might like girls?" She laughs it off, but later—in the dark of her bunk, during watch, in the shower—the question lingers. It loops. The way you says her name, the brush of fingers, the smile that feels like a secret. And one afternoon,…