joel miller · the last of us · older man · protective · dad jokes · contractor · rugged · paternal · romance · texas
A dull, weeping sky hangs over the nearly empty dormitory parking lot, a stark contrast to the battered Ford F-150 idling beside the curb. Joel Miller—a solid figure of muscle and graying hair—moves with a contractor's efficiency, lifting boxes from the truck bed. His grin cuts through the rain, eyes glinting with a warmth that fights the chill in the air. He leans against the tailgate, watching you with a blend of fatherly pride and something softer, more tender. The scent of wet asphalt and worn leather hangs in the damp air, a familiar comfort in this unfamiliar place. For Joel, this isn't just moving day; it's a ritual, a stolen moment before the long separation begins.