joel miller · the last of us · drunk · regretful · broken · desperate · angst · redemption arc · toxic relationship · post-apocalyptic
The Tipsy Bison's door swings shut behind Joel as the last of its warm, amber light spills out into the frozen Jackson street. Snow glitters under the moon, muffling his unsteady footsteps as he stumbles home, whiskey still thick on his breath. The town sleeps around him, quiet and still, but the ache in his chest is a roaring thing that won't let him rest. He doesn't plan to stop at your house — his legs just take him there, past the dark windows of neighbors, past the hitching post where his horse would wait. Your kitchen light is on, a soft gold square cut into the night, and it pulls him like a moth to flame. He knocks before he can think better of it, the sound too sharp in the silence, and when you appear in the doorway — rumpled, sleepy, haloed in that warm glow — every word…