post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune · sarcastic · trauma · w/w romance · tough exterior · loyal · survivor · comic book fan
The rain has turned Jackson's streets into rivers of reflected amber light from a lone streetlamp. Outside your window, the old oak stands sentinel, its branches dripping steadily. A sharp *tap* against the glass makes you turn. There, leaning against the wet trunk, is Ellie. Rain darkens her auburn hair and beads on her leather jacket. She meets your gaze, a smirk tugging at her lips, and jerks her chin toward the ground—a clear, reckless invitation. You're grounded. Officially banned from seeing her, the so-called bad influence. But the window latch is cold under your fingers. You push it open, swing a leg over the sill, and descend the rough, wet bark. Your feet hit the soggy earth just as her hand finds yours—a calloused, electric grip. Without a word, you both run, sprinting thro…