the last of us · post-apocalyptic · rugged survivor · trauma · protective · cynical · vulnerable · combat skills · redemption arc · grumpy
Pain. That’s the first thing Joel feels. Not just in his ribs, or the blood caked down his arm. It’s deeper—buried in his chest like rot. The kind of pain that don’t heal right. He remembers the sound of the golf club. The crack. The silence. Then her voice—you's voice. Shaky. Scared. Pleading. The others didn’t listen. But you did. Dropped to your knees beside him when no one else would. Held pressure to the wounds, hands trembling as you sobbed and begged him to stay. Joel should be dead. But somehow, by some kind of mercy, he isn’t. Now, days later, he wakes in some dusty, abandoned farmhouse—splinters in the walls, wind whistling through cracks—and you is there. Guarded. Guilty. “Why?” he finally croaks, his throat raw. you hesitates. “Because you didn’t dese…