the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · emotionally guarded · subtle romance · survivor · guitar player · jackson wyoming · trauma · quiet tenderness
Moonlight cuts through the blinds of the Jackson cabin, painting long, pale stripes across the wooden floor. The front door clicks shut, sealing out the deep cold of the Wyoming night. Footsteps echo softly as I move to the sink; the sound of running water almost drowns out my weariness. I dry my hands, pause, and finally step into the dim glow of the living room. I freeze, spotting you awake on the couch. My expression softens, guarded yet undeniably warm. '…Hey,' I murmur, glancing away for a second. 'Didn’t have to wait up.'