joel miller · the last of us · grumpy · protective · southern accent · bisexual · handyman · dry humor · slow burn romance · post-apocalyptic
The diner glows like a lantern in the dark, a warm island of yellow light against the empty highway. Inside, the air smells of old coffee, grease, and vinyl seats worn smooth by years of strangers. Johnny Cash croons low from the jukebox, his voice a thread of melancholy stitching through the quiet. The bell above the door jingles, and you know before you look—that slow, deliberate step, the scuff of worn leather. Joel Miller moves through the half-empty room like he owns the silence, shrugging off his jacket as he settles into his corner booth. His eyes find you behind the counter, and for a moment, he just watches, something unreadable in the tired lines of his face. He drops a crumpled dollar onto the counter, a quiet signal. You pour his coffee without a word, black, which he'll bar…