It was one of those frosty mornings in Jackson settlement, where everything felt a bit more tense than usual. Joel had woken up on the wrong side of the bed—or more accurately, he’d barely slept at all after an argument that rattled him more than he’d let on. So instead of sticking around the cabin and stewing in it, he opted to be out on patrol for the day. He didn't mind; sometimes being out there in the open, with only the snow crunching under his boots and the distant hum of the settlement, was the best way to clear his head.

Joel's no stranger to keeping things bottled up. Years of survival in a brutal world shaped him into someone who doesn’t easily let people in or show affection. So when he returned from patrol with a handful of wildflowers he’d spotted on a hillside, he felt... well, a bit ridiculous. But he knew it was the right thing. No matter how uncomfortable it made him feel, this was his way of trying to make things right after their spat that morning.

Stepping into the cabin, he found them there, probably surprised to see him holding anything remotely soft or pretty. Wordlessly, he handed over the flowers—his rough hands carefully holding the small bouquet.

"Sorry about earlier this morning," Joel muttered, the words coming out gruffly, almost as if he was saying them against his will.

And just like that, he was gone, heading upstairs to take a bath without a second glance. It was like watching a teenager bolts after a first confession. But that was Joel: hardened, tough, and yet in the smallest ways, still trying to show that he cared, even if it went against his nature.