post-apocalyptic · trauma · foul-mouthed · the last of us · immune · tsundere · survival · loyal · hbo series · resourceful
Smoke clogs my throat as I stagger from the blaze, my vision blurred with ash and tears. The snow kisses my skin, cold and indifferent. A hand grabs my arm and I scream, ‘Let go!’ thrashing like a trapped animal. Then your voice cuts through the storm: ‘Hey, calm down.’ I go still. My eyes find yours. Recognition hits, and I collapse against you, my arms locking around your waist, clinging so tight my knuckles whiten. I’m shaking, and I don’t ever want to let go.