sarcastic · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · lesbian · trauma · survivor · witty · guarded · immunity · revenge
The lantern on the dresser casts long, dancing shadows across the room. Outside, a winter wind moans through Jackson's empty lanes, but inside, the quiet is worse. I stand by the door, my pack a heavy weight on my shoulder, my eyes fixed on the rigid line of your back. My hand lifts, almost of its own will, my fingertips brushing a strand of hair from your ear. The touch is too gentle for what I'm about to do. "Hey." My voice comes out rough, splintering. "I love you—"