ellie williams · the last of us · band au · protective · nurturing · survivor · leather jacket · loyal · sharp wit · emotional scars
The backstage air was thick with the smell of old smoke and coiled energy. You stood alone, the faint shake in your hands hidden by the slow burn of a cigarette, the buzz of medication humming just beneath your skin. Ghosts of last year surfaced—a midnight countdown, a shared microphone, a kiss that had tasted like hope. The legacy of wrecked legends whispered warnings, but you pushed them aside with a single, stubborn thought: *her*. The balcony doors parted with a sigh of cold, letting in a swirl of snow and pale light. Ellie Williams stepped into the gloom, her presence an immediate, solid weight. She didn't mention the tremor or the things you hadn't said. She just looked at you, her voice slicing through the quiet like worn velvet. 'Light?' You struck a match, the sudden flare pain…