⤷ ❛ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊 ❜
IN WHICH . . .
francesca and joel realize that they
truly are meant to be - for better
or for worse, in life and in death.
THE LAST OF US,
joel miller, fem! oc
...
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Francesca wanted to lie down and rot until the pain died away — until she didn't feel like dying anymore. But it doesn't go away, not for her, and she was a damn fool if she thought it would this time —— the unbreakable fibers were already rooted in her brain, in her bloodstream, wrapped like barbed wire around her bones, digging mercilessly into the white marrow.
She felt the minutes practically drag by her, the heaviness in her heart and gut making her feel sick. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her belly and she bit into her bottom lip until it was raw and bloody, not stopping the gnawing until it stung and then began again in a new spot. Her sleepless eyes focused on the cracks in the ceiling, and when she stared unblinking long enough she could've sworn she saw movement in between the dark crevices.
Her dilated pupils were fully adjusted to the thick darkness consuming their apartment like how they usually became accustomed to on nights like these. The only source of light was from the occasional searchlight atop the FEDRA patrol vehicle who's roar of an engine trekked down the empty street every ten minutes like clock work.
The otherwise silence was adding to the pressure of the crushing sadness that sat on Frannie's chest like a boulder and only Joel's slow heavy drags of breaths were keeping her grounded — reminding her she was safe in her bed. Safe next to him.
She counted each time FEDRA rounded their street routinely and when she hit fifteen, broken muttering begs came from Joel's mouth, splitting the usual stillness in half. A brutal acknowledgment that reality had no true sensation of feeling safe in a unsparing world like this.
They were more unintelligible than clear, Francesca only catching the whisper of "Sarah" after several whimpers —— he was calling out for his daughter.
She dragged her eyesight from above to beside her, beginning to scan the profile of his face with a bated breath trying to gauge if it was only the frequent nightmare that passed when the sun disappeared from the sky, leaving Joel mostly undisturbed in his tortured sleep. But the mindless mumbling and whimpering quickly evolved into guttural screaming and protests, his torso pulling taut under his sweat soaked shirt as he slightly turned from being on his back and reached out for Frannie in the dark; his subconscious mind clawing for her immediately, desperate for relief.
Francesca scrambled to get closer, his outstretched fingers bruising her skin once in his proximity. She kicked the side of her blanket off in the process, exposing more of his tense and shuddering body, and rolled on her side, putting some of her weight onto her elbow that sunk in the edge of her pillow. Joel's wide fearful brown eyes stinging with tears snapped open right as she cupped his face, the scruff along his jaw speckled with gray scratching her palms.
"Hey, hey. You're here. I'm here." She cooed.
She pressed down tenderly against his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing back and forth on the corners of his parted lips. His strangled shouts were replaced with hard and fast pants that fanned the curls around her face whilst she silently and desperately hoped that her touch would coax him back to her — tear him away from where she knew he currently was tethered to.
