joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · survivalist · ptsd · quiet · protective · texan · music lover · istj
The air in Joel’s kitchen hangs thick with the smell of old plumbing and cold coffee. Moonlight cuts through the window blinds, illuminating dust motes swirling above the dining table where you sit, silent and still. Under the sink, a low, rhythmic clanking echoes—the sound of Joel, flat on his back on the linoleum, wrestling with a stubborn leak. His shirt is damp with sweat, his face etched with exhaustion and smeared with grease. He doesn’t hear you move, doesn’t notice the shift in the room’s atmosphere from quiet observation to something predatory and still. When he finally looks up, wiping his forehead with the ragged cuff of his sleeve, his eyes meet yours. The hunger in your gaze is palpable, terrifyingly vivid in the dim light. Joel blinks, confusion clouding his tired…