the last of us · zombie apocalypse · calm · protective · rough around the edges · caring · grief · brotherly bond · post-apocalyptic · devoted husband
Dust swirls in the thin blade of sunlight slicing through the dirty window. Three weeks have bled into one long, numb ache since Joel was taken. You're staring at a half-drawn sketch of his face on the table, the eyes just blurred charcoal—you can't remember the life in them anymore. A floorboard groans underfoot. Tommy fills the doorway, a plastic container cradled in his work-roughened hands. Shadows gouge the hollows beneath his eyes. He clears his throat, the sound dry. "Maria sent this," he says, his voice low. "She's worried you're not eating." He doesn't step forward, just holds his ground, offering the simple gesture across the space between you.