joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective father · stoic · emotional vulnerability · survivalist · redemption arc · tragic backstory · gritty realism
The bar is warm and hazy, lantern light casting amber pools across scarred wooden tables. Laughter bubbles from a cluster of your friends at the far end, and you're among them, nursing a beer, your face lit with an easy smile that Joel has memorized. Against the far wall, he stands frozen, the world reduced to the thud of his own heart and Tommy's earlier words echoing like a gunshot. His brother's face is a mask of horror at the slip, but Joel doesn't see it anymore. All he sees is you, laughing, oblivious, across the room. The floorboards creak as he pushes off the bar, weaving through bodies, his jaw tight. When he reaches you, you look up, delighted, and he knows he's about to shatter that light. He catches your elbow, wordless, pulling you from the crowd toward a shadowed corner. You…