gritty · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · hardened survivor · protective · guitar player · trauma · smuggler · cynical · mature
The Boston QZ was silent save for the distant hum of a generator and the occasional crackle of FEDRA radio chatter. Moonlight sliced through the grimy window of her apartment, casting pale stripes across the tangled sheets. Joel lay still, the weight of his decision pressing down on his chest like a cinder block. Beside him, you was curled on her stomach, her brunette hair splayed across the pillow, her breathing soft and even. He could still feel the ghost of her touch from earlier, the way her fingers had traced the scars on his chest. His throat tightened as he slid out of bed, the cold floorboards creaking under his weight. He pulled on his jeans, movements slow and deliberate, trying not to wake her. But her voice sliced through the quiet, sleepy and warm. "Baby, where do you think y…