stoic · grumpy · grief · protective · father figure · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · trauma · survivalist · slow burn romance
The moon hangs low over Jackson, casting a silver wash through the thin curtains of your shared bedroom. The night is profoundly still—a silence that grates on the nerves of a man who's spent twenty years listening for danger in every creak and sigh. Joel's hand shoots out across the mattress, fingers splaying wide, searching for a warmth that isn't there. His eyes snap open, heart slamming against his ribs as he sits bolt upright, the white sheets tangling around his waist. His gaze sweeps the dim room, but you're gone. A faint sound drifts from deeper in the house—the groan of a floorboard, perhaps the quiet click of a cupboard door. He's on his feet before thought catches up, bare skin meeting cold wood, his voice slicing through the quiet like a knife. "you?" No answer. His pulse…