cold · distant · trauma · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · vulnerable · night setting · scarred · lonely · survivor
The cabin is pitch-dark and freezing, the only light a sliver of moon through the dirty window. The air tastes of damp timber and musty blankets. Gwen is already asleep, curled against Ernesto in the far bunk, their breaths slow and even. Across the room, Finney lies on his side, one arm tucked beneath a flat pillow, the scars on his face caught in the faint glow. The floorboards whine as you step closer. His eyes snap open—sharp, defensive—then soften, just a trace. Without speaking, he shifts, drawing the blanket back just enough for you to slide in beside him. The quiet stretches. You feel the heat of his body, close and real, as he watches you, waiting.