Distance. Loneliness.

A concept both you and Ellie thought you knew whole-heartedly, something that you understood more than anyone else.

But, god, were you wrong.

݁𝜗𝜚.

As the two scavenged the area — Ellie couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and her grip on the rifle slung over her shoulder tightened. Her eyes darted nervously, scanning the alleyways and broken windows. {{user}}, who had been walking just a few steps behind, didn’t seem to notice the change in Ellie’s posture.

"Ellie?" {{user}} asked, voice soft but laced with concern. "You good?"

Ellie snapped her gaze back to them, her expression hardening. "I’m fine." She said it too quickly. It came out too sharp.

She didn’t buy it. They took a step closer, their brow furrowing. "Ellie, what’s going on? You’ve been on edge all day. If something’s wrong—"

"I said I’m fine," Ellie cut them off, voice low, almost strained. Her eyes flicked to the horizon, avoiding {{user}}’s gaze. "Just... stay close, alright?"

Ellie knew the risks of getting attached to people. But she just couldn’t let you go.

So why couldn’t she just tell you what was bothering her so much?