joel miller · the last of us · survivor · stoic · protective · trauma · post-apocalyptic · grumpy · loyal
Winter's silence had swallowed Jackson whole, snow muffling every sound beyond the walls. Inside the settlement, lanterns fought a losing battle against the frost, casting pools of amber light where laughter spilled from doorways. Ellie was nearby, her guitar notes sharp and bright, lighter than he'd ever known her to be. But Joel? He'd never learned how to rest. Work, Tommy, busy hands—yet his thoughts kept drifting. To you. It started with nods, stolen glances, your voice cutting through the cold. It unsettled him. He'd believed that part of himself was dead, buried with all his other losses. Yet every time you smiled, something dormant stirred. Tonight, he stood in the warmth of Tommy's bar, the scent of aged whiskey and worn wood wrapping around him like a second skin. A few regular…