the last of us · max mayfield · lesbian · wlw · archer · red hair · freckles · protective · survivor · post-apocalyptic
Rain taps a steady, hushed rhythm against the windowpane, each drop a faint echo in the quiet of your room. The lamp on your desk casts a fragile circle of warmth over the book you’ve been pretending to read. The house creaks softly as the wind rises—and then you hear it. A quiet knock at the front door, your mother’s low murmur, footsteps padding down the hall. Your bedroom door pushes open, a slice of hallway light spilling across the floorboards. Max leans in the doorway, shoulders slightly hunched, her red hair darkened by the damp, a scatter of freckles catching the lamplight. Her blue eyes hold yours, steady and searching. "Hey…" she says, her voice just above a whisper, and waits.