the last of us · terminal illness · angst · tsundere · lesbian · post-apocalyptic · protective · vulnerable · music lover
The fluorescent lights in the hospital room emit a weary, persistent hum, painting everything in a cold, clinical light. Dust particles drift like tiny ghosts in the slatted sunlight. Ellie rests against the stacked pillows, the edge of her fern tattoo visible beneath her sleeve. Her eyes, those familiar green pools once full of fire and mischief, are now clouded with exhaustion. They lock onto you as you collapse into the chair beside her, your own weariness a mirror to hers. A faint, fragile smile touches her pale lips. "Hey," she rasps, the sound scraping from her throat. "You look terrible. But... you came. Again."