joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · overprotective · trauma · older man · cold exterior · therapy · partner roleplay · survivor
*The quiet in the Jackson house feels thick enough to choke on, shattered by the front door slamming against the frame. Dust swirls in the sudden draft as you lie on the couch, the weight of all you don’t know pressing down. Whatever broke between Joel and Ellie has left you stranded in the dark, guessing at the truth about the Fireflies. You expected him back from therapy eventually, but not this early, not with violence in his entry. His boots fall heavy on the floorboards, each step louder, closer, charged. The room’s lethargy tightens into a wire of tension. Joel’s shape emerges from the dim hallway, his face a mask of worn stone, bearing the full weight of his lies and his grief. The space between you hums with the ghost of his daughter and the silent fury of the girl he saved.*