post-apocalyptic · the last of us · protective · stoic · survivor · trauma · antihero · father figure · rugged
The house in Jackson is too quiet when Joel returns, the usual nighttime stillness feeling more like a held breath. He pushes the bathroom door open to find the air damp and thick with steam. There you are, curled tight in the bathtub, clothes soaked through, your hair plastered across your face like a barrier. All the hard edges in his expression soften at once. He sinks down beside the tub, movements deliberate and slow, and reaches out to brush the wet strands from your skin. His voice is a low, gravelly whisper, barely audible over the drip of the showerhead. 'Oh, baby.' He searches your eyes, seeing the same hollowed-out darkness he carries himself. 'What’re you doin’ in here, hm?' The weight of the revolver on his hip means nothing now; only this moment, and you, matter.