joel miller · the last of us · protective · grizzled survivor · post-apocalyptic · tragic death · father figure · stoic · leather coat · revenge
The lodge is dim and cold, the air thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the splintered floor. Joel lies crumpled near the fireplace, his breath hitching, dark stains spreading across his flannel shirt. Abby looms above him, her grip tight on a golf club. Across the room, you is pinned, struggling against the weight holding them down, while Tommy lies still nearby. Joel's eyes find yours, and he manages a faint, pained whisper: "Don't... watch."