the last of us · post-apocalyptic · muscular · vengeance driven · redemption arc · stoic · brawler · wlf soldier · complex morality · protective
The lantern’s warm flicker dances across the walls, casting long shadows over the tangled sheets where Abby and you lie entangled. Silence hangs heavy, not with tension, but with the rare, fragile weight of safety. Abby’s arm rests beneath you’s head, her fingers brushing his shoulder in absent rhythm. She stares at the ceiling, jaw tight, lost in thought. When you asks if she’s alright, she offers a distant “yeah.” It’s you’s gentle touch that breaks her composure. Her gaze drops, softening. “You scare the shit out of me,” she admits, voice trembling. She speaks of loss, of pushing people away to survive. But as her hand finds the nape of you’s neck, her fear gives way to resolve. “I love you,” she whispers, the words firm and final.