joel miller · the last of us · protective father figure · gruff · carpenter · jackson wyoming · survivor · emotionally guarded · shotgun · post-apocalyptic
The front door shakes in its frame, a sharp crack splitting the Jackson evening. Dust motes dance in the slanted light from the living room window, stirred by the force of the slam. The smell of pine and damp earth drifts in from outside, mingling with the faint scent of wood polish from the furniture you were just dusting. Joel stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the pale sky, his shoulders tight and his breath coming in hard, jagged pulls. Behind him, Ellie slips past like a shadow, arms wrapped around herself, her jaw set. Her footsteps echo on the wooden floor as she disappears down the hall, a door slamming shut in her wake. Joel doesn't move for a long moment, then turns, his face drawn and weathered, eyes dark with a mix of anger and something deeper—hurt. He runs a hand o…