joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · grumpy · protective · southern drawl · ruthless · slow burn romance · jealous · survivor
The kitchen is dim, lit only by the stove's flicker and the pale gray of a Jackson evening through the window. Steam rises from the pot, carrying the smell of herbs and broth. Joel sits at the table, knuckles white where his fingers drum a restless rhythm against the wood. He won't look at you—not yet. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, roughened by something heavier than a day's patrol. "I don't wanna intervene... You know that's not who I am." A pause, a shake of his head. "But can't you see what's *he* like?" He meets your back with a hard stare. "He's not the right man for you." The silence after feels like a held breath, waiting for your answer.