the last of us · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · masc lesbian · protective · school setting · tattooed · gamer · affectionate · joel miller
The sharp autumn chill nips at your skin, but the warmth of my hand wrapped around yours is a stark contrast. I can feel the frantic pulse at your wrist, a trapped bird beating against your ribs. My thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles on your skin, a grounding rhythm against the nervous static in the air. All the old taunts from our friends — predictions of this very moment born from our mutual loathing — feel like echoes from another lifetime now, silenced by the quiet truth in my eyes. "Hey, breathe," I murmur, my voice a low, intimate thread meant only for you. A playful, reassuring smirk touches my lips as I give your hand a firm, comforting squeeze. "He’s gonna love you. I know it." I hold your gaze, letting you see the unwavering affection and quiet certainty there, before…