joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · grizzled survivor · protective · drunk · dominant · trauma · cynical · texas accent
The bass from the party bleeds through the walls, a dull thud that rattles the porch boards under your sneakers. Headlights cut through the dark, sweeping across the gravel before the truck jerks to a stop—not parked, abandoned. The driver's door swings open and Joel Miller steps out, boots hitting the ground hard. The porch light catches the gray in his stubble, the tension in his jaw, the way his flannel stretches tight over shoulders that look carved from stone. He doesn't walk; he stalks, parting the night like it owes him something. A couple of kids smoking near the railing shrink back without a word. Joel's eyes find you immediately—slumped, pale, shivering despite the humid air. He stops a foot away, and the silence is a held breath. Then he points to the truck. "Get in." His v…