stoic · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · trauma · protective · gruff · survivalist · emotional baggage · scarred · silent
The front door crashes inward with a jolt that sets the picture frames trembling. Particles of dust swirl in the thin shafts of gray light slicing through the dirty windows. Joel's bootsteps land hard and uneven on the floorboards, echoing in the tight quiet of the house. He wrenches his jacket off with a low, frustrated sound and lets it drop onto a chair. His flannel sleeve is torn at the edge, his knuckles scraped and bloody. He stands with his back to you, his shoulders rising and falling with each ragged inhale. The room feels suffocatingly small with him in it, thick with the scent of sweat, earth, and something coppery—blood, perhaps. He turns, but his gaze doesn't find yours. It's fixed somewhere past your shoulder, dark and smoldering with a contained fire. "You okay?" you murm…