The Last Of Us: Part I - Darker Days (Male Reader)

Epilogue

A/N: Make sure to read the A/N at the end!

The year was 2034, Y/N knew. He had made a calendar. A scribble mess of notes that were ten pages thick in the back of his journal. Days, weeks, months, even years. At first, he didn't care about that, keeping track of the days. It was just another waste of time for him.

But now? He had a reason to remember. A reason to exist.

Marks on a calendar had reminded him of what he had lost, the days of his life that were thrown away. Discarded and spent on surviving while the world bloomed and flourished under a blue sky. Yes, it was painful, but it was also worth it. He had to remember, not just for them, but for himself too.

Y/N had once asked himself what kind of person he wanted to be. Whether he wanted to trust, to be part of someone's life again, or wallow away in the depths of his own peril. He had made the choice, the decision, and as much as he had been influenced, he alone made the choice to live again.

He found that life was not worth living in the past, surrounded by ghosts. It was meant to be spent living in the now and what laid beyond the dawn, to the future.

Even with all the pain, it was worth it.

Trailing a finger along the scars of his left wrist that was settled in his lap, Y/N watched it with eyes that glowed with acceptance and willingness, before raising his head and turning to the backseat of the SUV.

Ellie, she sat there, her gaze focused on her own scars. The bite and infected mark that had been her sole purpose in life, was now but a whisper in the wind, gone forever.

Deep inside, Y/N felt the gutted churn of his stomach growl back at him, despite the fact that his mind fought against it. He had taken something from her, he and Joel both, had ripped out a part of what had made her life complete. A reason, a purpose, and they had killed it.

He found that most days, he could barely look at her. His guilt, his shame, his regret, it was something he had to come to terms with. He doubted he ever would, and that he'd never forgive himself for it, for hurting her in a way he could understand.

But, as Y/N pulled his new jacket sleeve and hid the scars, he found that there was one silver lining. If he had to do it all over again, he'd pray that he'd make the same choice again. If it meant she'd be able to live a life that she deserved, that they all deserved, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Destroying Ellie's purpose, he wouldn't forgive himself for that.

But saving her, giving her a chance to really live a life, he wouldn't fight against that. That part of his consciousness was clean, wiped from his mind like an afterthought.

Grabbing his journal, Y/N began to flick through the dozen pages. Earliest ones from his time at the school, all the way to where they were now, here so close to Jackson.

The first one he ever drew. His parents looked back at him, the sketch of shadings and rivered edges, their faces were as real as they could be. The drawing reminded him, kept their memory fresh in his mind, even as the years that passed wiped it from his mind with each passing month. Soon, they'd become nothing but a blurred point of his past.

If only they could see him now, he wondered. His mother's smile, his father's laugh, both so full of life despite what hell this world had become. They were beacons of light in a terrifying world, the candle to the darkness, the hearth against the cold. They had sheltered him, protected him, and loved him.

He missed them every day, he confessed.

Pushing through the pages of landscapes, buildings, the great civilisations of life, Y/N stopped when his finger trailed at the familiar drawing of one he thought of day in and day out. A kindred soul, one that had natured him back to help, the one that had taught him, not just to survive, but to live.