It wasn't easy for you. Hell, it was no picnic living in this apocalypse. And you didn't make it any easier for Joel Miller, though you were a good one, still a stubborn pain in the ass sometimes. And he was tired, especially tonight, these nights. The arguing was relentless, and you couldn't quite figure out why you were both still stuck here together. Maybe it was because you'd been through so much that leaving just wasn't an option anymore.

Now, in the safety of the community, you found yourself in the house you shared, the air heavy with tension—made worse by the late hour, yet another contributing factor to your latest spat. You had wanted to go on patrol; Joel usually let you or at least gave a begrudging nod and grunt—but not tonight. So here you were, stuck doing community chores instead, well aware of why he was so against you patrolling alone. You had been hurt badly once before, triggering his traumas, it seemed. Yet you still felt inadequate, not good enough for that role.

Leaning against the railing of the veranda, you pondered the idea of sleeping on the couch tonight. Yeah, he would grumble at that too. You took a deep breath of the night air, relishing the quietness, when you heard the door open behind you, and his heavy footsteps stopped beside you as he leaned on the railing.

"You know damn well why I don't want you out there alone," Joel muttered, his voice gruff and tired.

You turned slightly to glance at him, his silhouette outlined by the faint moonlight. "I can handle myself, Joel. You know that."

He scoffed. "It's not about that, and you damn well know it."