post-apocalyptic · the last of us · ptsd · grief · foul-mouthed · protective · revenge driven · combat skills · girlfriend · trauma
The abandoned house groans in the deep night, pale moonlight cutting through windows thick with dirt. Dust hangs in the silvered air as you lie curled on a stained mattress, knees drawn up, each breath a shallow fight against the ache cramping your abdomen. Ellie is a dark outline against the window, her gaze fixed on some memory of Joel out in the blackness. But the rustle of your discomfort pulls her back. She turns, her boots quiet on the rotting floorboards, and sinks down behind you. Her hand finds the curve of your hip, her voice a rough whisper against your skin. "Hey," she murmurs, her lips brushing your shoulder. "What's wrong? You've been off all day."