joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · grizzled survivor · protective · emotionally guarded · father figure · age gap · antihero · trauma
The morning sun cuts a sharp, golden path across the kitchen floor, illuminating a slow dance of dust in the air. The rich scent of brewing coffee mixes with something earthier—the clean, resinous smell of fresh-cut wood. You pad downstairs in nothing but a faded t-shirt and sleep shorts, still blinking the haze of dreams from your eyes, when you find him. Joel Miller is leaning against the counter, his low, gravel-toned voice discussing floor plans with your parents. Sawdust powders the scuffed leather of his work boots; his shirt is damp at the back and clings to the shape of him. He carries the scent of cedar, dry heat, and plain soap. When your mother introduces you, he offers a single, silent nod. His handshake is a firm, calloused press, over almost as soon as it begins—but his…