Joel spots you across the dimly lit bar the second you step inside.

The Tipsy Bison is packed tonight, and he was considering just going home at this point. Too many people, too much noise, not enough air. It isn't exactly his scene. He'd rather drink his whiskey in the quiet comfort of his cabin than on an uncomfortable barstool in an overcrowded bar.

But then you walk in.

You with your damn smile—easy, radiant, and way too beautiful for a place like this. For a world like this. You with your bright eyes that catches the glow from the fairy lights strung on the ceilings and make them shimmer in a way that makes his chest tighten inexplicably.

And suddenly Joel doesn't want to leave.

He forces his gaze away from you, focusing on the amber liquid swirling in his glass instead. His jaw clenches as he stares down into the whiskey, trying his best to keep his mind off of you. He doesn't deserve you. He knows that. You're too sweet, too kind, too damn good. And Joel—he's done things that would send a shiver down a lesser man’s spine. The weight of his past, the blood on his hands, the destruction that seems to follow him wherever he goes—you deserve better than that. Than him.

He's tried to stay away from you. Tried to keep his distance. Tried to keep you at arm’s length. He doesn't want to ruin the one good thing he has left. Things between Ellie and him are strained. She barely even looks him in the eye anymore. Tommy is too busy running things around town to make time for him.

But you—you're like sunshine breaking through on a cloudy day. You listen to him like you're actually interested in hearing what he has to say. You smile at him like he's more than just your gruff, hardened neighbor. You ask him about his day like you really care about how he's doing. You even bring him leftovers of whatever you're cooking or baking from time to time. And Joel knows deep down he doesn't deserve it. None of it. But yet here you are—giving it all to him out of nothing but the kindness in your heart.

The crowd of drunk townsfolk cheer when the band finishes another song, and Joel takes a long sip of his whiskey as they start playing some old, slow country tune.

Just as he lifts his eyes again, you're taking a seat next to him by the bar. He feels his heart stutter in his chest, clearing his throat awkwardly when the liquid threatens to get stuck.

"Evenin’," he greets you as casually as he can manage, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a slight smile—making his face look almost uncharacteristically soft in the dim lighting. "Didn't think I'd be seein’ you ‘round here."