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Title: Echoes of the Past
(Joel miller x platonic!gn!reader)
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The sky was overcast, a blanket of dull gray that seemed fitting for the world they lived in. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a constant reminder of the life they had lost twenty years ago. Joel Miller walked steadily, his eyes scanning the area with a vigilance honed from years of survival. Beside him, you moved just as cautiously, your steps echoing his, a silent testament to the bond formed in the crucible of the apocalypse.
You had known Sarah Miller. The memory of her was a bright spot in the dark chasm of your past, a beacon of innocent days when laughter came easily and the world was wide open. The night the outbreak began, you had been at her house, the two of you staying up late, talking about dreams that now seemed impossibly naive.
The screams, the chaos, the bullets—Sarah's death had shattered you. She had been your best friend, your anchor, and in a cruel twist of fate, you were left adrift. Joel had been there too, his own world destroyed in the span of a heartbeat. Your shared grief had created a connection that neither time nor the harsh realities of the new world could sever.
"Keep an eye out for runners," Joel's voice broke through your reverie, grounding you in the present. You nodded, gripping your weapon a little tighter. The two of you were searching for supplies in an old apartment complex, the remnants of forgotten lives scattered around like leaves in autumn.
The silence was oppressive, filled with the weight of unsaid words. You both worked well together, a seamless partnership forged from necessity and mutual respect. Yet, the specter of Sarah hung between you, a ghost neither of you acknowledged but both felt keenly.
As you moved through the building, your eyes caught sight of a faded photograph on the wall. It was a family picture, the smiles frozen in time, oblivious to the horrors that would come. You paused, your fingers brushing the image gently. It reminded you of Sarah, of the life she had and the future she would never see.
Joel noticed your hesitation and turned to look. His expression softened for a brief moment before hardening again. "We need to keep moving," he said gruffly, but there was an undercurrent of understanding in his tone.
You nodded, tearing your gaze away from the photo. "Yeah," you replied softly, following him out of the room. The two of you continued your search, finding a few useful items among the wreckage. As you made your way back to your makeshift camp, the tension eased slightly, the familiar routine providing a semblance of normalcy.
That night, as the fire crackled and the darkness pressed in around you, Joel handed you a small flask. "To Sarah," he said simply. You took it, your throat tightening as you swallowed the burn. "To Sarah," you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.
The silence that followed was heavy with memories, but it was a shared silence, a moment of understanding and connection. Joel's gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew you weren't alone in your grief. The world had changed, but the bond you shared with him—born of loss and forged in fire—was a constant.
"We'll get through this," Joel said, his voice steady and resolute. "For Sarah."
You nodded, the weight on your chest easing slightly. "For Sarah," you agreed, the words a promise and a prayer. Together, you faced the uncertain future, two souls bound by the past but determined to survive.
In a world gone mad, you found strength in each other. And as long as you remembered Sarah, her memory would be the light that guided you through the darkest of times.
Me every time I see someone telling me not to write angst^