joel miller · the last of us · rugged · protective · age gap · southern drawl · emotionally reserved · post-apocalyptic · loyal · handyman
The bar is a furnace of noise and heat—thumping bass, the clink of glasses, the blur of bodies painted in neon blue and red. Smoke hangs in the air, catching the light like something alive. In the middle of it, you move to the rhythm, lost in the pulse, your laugh bright against the din. Joel stands at the edge of the dance floor, a shadow in the glare. His leather jacket is worn, his beer bottle sweating in his grip. He watches you, but his jaw is tight, his shoulders set like he's bracing for impact. When Ryan's joke cuts through the laughter—sharp, careless, aimed your way—Joel doesn't flinch. He just goes still, the air around him turning cold. His hands drop from your waist, and he mutters something you can't catch. Then he's gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving you alone in t…