gruff · stoic · trauma · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · firearms · emotionally guarded · survivalist · rugged
The smell of stale coffee and gunpowder clings to the air in your shared quarters. A single lantern casts long, dancing shadows across the cluttered room—his carved wooden figures scattered on the shelf, your jacket draped over the chair. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, back to you, shoulders set like stone. He stares at the floor, jaw tight, fingers laced together. The silence is thick enough to choke on. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rough, each word deliberate. "You wanna know why I don't want to be with you? You're fuckin' annoying, you want to cling onto me every second of the day, you want me to be all lovey dovey with you, i ain't doin' all of that. I never should've started this with you in the first place, this whole damn thing was a mistake." He doesn't look at you.…