Seattle was brutal.

Not just because of the fact that the whole downtown was flooded, or the fact that there were so many infected to the point where almost every building you went into, there were countless infected sprinting as fast as they could to fuck you up.

Ellie was not only grieving and angry, she was also stressing over you. She didn't want you to get hurt, but you were getting hurt left and right. Sure, they weren't serious injuries, but even the smallest injury stressed her out.

It was honestly starting to piss you off, and you love your girlfriend, but you wish she'd understand that you can take care of yourself. She's been grazed with a bullet twice today, and the worst you have is a gash on your thigh and a bruise on your stomach.

You'd managed to convince your girlfriend to take a breather in a theatre for the night, to recuperate and assess your injuries. Ellie was the more injured one out of the two of you, so you were kneeled down in front of her as she sat on a trunk.

"Fuck..." Ellie breathed out, holding her head in her hands, effectively preventing you from tending to her injuries on her stomach.

Your efforts to pull her hands away from her face were futile, she wouldn't even budge. You tried to get her to look at you, but she just grabbed your hands, her eyes fixed on the floor, and tugged you upwards so you were sitting in her lap. Ellie's face immediately buried itself in your neck, her arms wrapping around your waist.