leia @eliwilum - Tumblr Blog

forget-me not ‧₊˚

— credits to @allegedlylonely for the divider <3

𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 — laufey

synopsis. Despite your fantasies becoming reality in such a horrid world, you awaken to find your lover gone without goodbye—left only with a bouquet of forget-me not’s and a letter that reaveals: sometimes the deepest love chooses absence to save the one it cannot bear to break.

this oneshot includes. epilogue!ellie x farmhouse!reader, mostly monologue, ellie’s such a poet guys, i hated the writing in my last oneshot and tried to redeem myself and this was the result soo

word count. 1.4k

Had you known your lover would have left on one fateful night, maybe a lot of things in your life would’ve been different.

eliwilum

cries?

eliwilum

i still havent forgotten about this

starduszt

⚢ PAIRING: jackson!ellie x fem reader

SUMMARY : What started as a cautious familiarity between you and Ellie grew into friendship, then into a closeness built from shared moments, lingering looks, and nights that felt too meaningful to name. Somewhere along the way, love settled in without asking. And on your 18th birthday, it finally found its voice—in a confession, and in a kiss that changed everything.

WORD COUNT: 7,7k

CONTENT WARNINGS: set during tlou ii, ages 14/15 → 18/19, first kisses, mentions of death, guns and injuries, peepaw joel lives, reader is sensitive, soft ellie / protective ellie, no major character death, slow burn?, fluff!!!, soft angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is described as feminine and ellie as boyish... idk what else to put here but if there's something that should be tagged missing pls let me know!

PART 1 — PART 2 — PART 3

Three whole weeks. That’s how long it had been since you’d seen the outside of your house.

The walls of your room had started to feel like the inside of a coffin by week two. All you did was listen to music and watch movies time and time again. The Fame had been spun so many times your Lady Gaga vinyl was probably begging for a break. Same with Loose. If Nelly Furtado could speak through the speaker, she’d probably threaten legal action.

So now that you were finally out, finally in the sun, you could almost cry. The wind touched your skin like it hadn’t in forever, cool and sweet and so nice you had to take a deep breath and just hold it in your chest.

Your mom had handed you a list that morning, told you that Tommy had kept a few things for you while you were sick. Some brand new clothes, a new book or two, maybe even a cassette or vinyl, if he found any good ones on his patrol runs.

You had been too excited to answer, and practically ran across Jackson to their house.

You knocked on the front door, still catching your breath a little. “Maria! It’s me!”

“You’re out!” Maria smiled wide, stepping back with open arms and a surprised laugh. “Look at you. Gorgeous and chickenpox-free.”

You grinned sheepishly. “If I had to stay inside another day I was gonna start talking to the walls.”

As you stepped inside, your shoes thudded quietly against the wooden floor, and immediately your eyes caught on the two other people in the room.

A tall man was sitting on the couch armrest, arms crossed, a mug in one hand. And beside him, hunched forward with elbows on her knees, was a girl about your age. Maybe a bit older, but it was hard to tell.

She was wearing a flannel two sizes too big, sleeves shoved up to the elbows. She had freckles like dust across her nose.

Your breath caught for half a second.

“Oh, this is Joel, Tommy’s brother,” Maria said, her hand resting on the man’s back for a second, “and this is Ellie.”

“Hi,” You managed, swallowing a lump you didn’t know you had in your throat, lifting one hand awkwardly to wave. “I’m, uh... Nice to meet you?”

The man grunted (you guessed that was hello) and Ellie said nothing, just gave you a little nod, her green eyes flicking over you before dropping again. She was fiddling with a rubber band between her fingers, her legs bouncing.

“I’ll go grab your things. Be right back,” Maria said, and left the room like it wasn’t the most painfully awkward moment you had experienced.

You just stood there, in the living room alone with two strangers, and the silence was unbearable, so you just had to open your big mouth and make it weirder.

“Umh,” You started, words tripping over themselves as you shifted your weight, “you’re the ones who came from outside, right?”

Ellie didn’t look up right away, just rolled the rubber band around her fingers again. “Yeah.”

“I heard about you,” You tried again, an awkward smile on your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear even though it wasn’t in your face. “From my mom. You’ve been here a couple weeks, right?”

Joel grunted again, and you decided that meant yes. Clearly he was not in the mood to speak, so another beat passed before Ellie answered. “Yeah.”

Okay. Tough crowd.

Your fingers itched to do something, fidget, cross your arms, fix your hair again. But you stayed still.

“I had the chickenpox,” you said softly, and immediately regretted it. Why would you say that?

Ellie’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Isn’t that for, like… six-year-olds?”

You blinked, and then snorted, covering your mouth. “I know, right? Apparently not. I got spots everywhere. My mom wouldn’t even let me outside.”

Ellie’s lips twitched, a small, almost-invisible smirk on her face.

“Well,” you said quietly, a little braver now, “at least I didn’t die. That would’ve been embarrassing.”

Ellie didn’t laugh,but her eyes softened just a fraction when she looked at you.

Just then, before you could embarrass yourself more, Maria returned with a box in her arms. “Here we go,” she said, cheerful and unaware. “Tommy even found you a new book. Wuthering Heights, I think.”

“Thanks,” you said to Maria. “And uh… it was nice meeting you.” You eyes flicked to Ellie again, just for a second.

She didn’t smile, but her lips parted. She almost said something. Almost, because instead she just nodded. A tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

As you walked back across Jackson to your home, hugging the box like it might slip away from you, the sunlight in your face and your heart still warm from freedom, you couldn't help but think, okay? that was so awkward.

Ellie didn’t see you around that much.

A few times at dinner, where you were usually sitting beside your mother, quiet and polite and awkward as hell.

Sometimes when you were headed toward the clinic with some kind of supply basket slung over one arm, your walk quick and small and purposeful. You waved at her sometimes. Like, a real wave. Dainty and slow, the way people do when they’re nervous they won’t be waved back.

According to Dina, you were kind of weird.

“She’s kind of weird,” Dina had said one afternoon while brushing down the horses.

Ellie’s head snapped up from the stall. “Who?”

Dina shrugged. “You know. The doc’s daughter. She’s nice, I guess. But she doesn’t really talk to anyone.”

Ellie wiped her hands on her pants. “Maybe she just doesn’t like you.”

Dina blinked. “...Okay? Rude.”

Ellie didn’t say anything after that, but Dina was right.

You didn’t have a group. No posse of girls trailing after you, no giggles in the corner of the hall, no sitting with others during meals. You were always either with your mom or helping around the town with an awkward smile.

Ellie tried really hard not to wonder why you never hang out with the other girls. Whether it was by choice or because you didn’t have anyone, whether it was loneliness or just more comforting being near your mom.

She wondered if it was hard, being known as “the doctor’s daughter" everywhere you went.

You were pretty.

It was true. You were so clean. That sounded stupid, but you were. Your hair was always shiny (not greasy shiny, clean shiny) and neat, and Ellie had never seen you with a zit or a rip in your clothes or even dirt under your nails. Even your scrubs were perfect all the time, which was wild considering you worked in the town’s clinic.

Sometimes, when you passed by her, Ellie could smell you, soap and some sweet lotion and sometimes antiseptic. Your skin was soft-looking, and your eyes were this nice color that shifts in the light.

You were... soft. And girly. The kind of girl who could probably braid hair in perfect sections, probably knew how to bake, and who wore jewelry all the time.

Ellie was not like that. She did not want to be like that, but she liked that you were.

You knew who Ellie was before Ellie even knew you existed.

Not in the stalker-y way, though, you sometimes felt like a crazy girl for how much you watched her.

Not that Ellie ever really looked back.

But you knew her full name, her face, the way her eyebrows furrow when she was thinking too hard, the shape of her hands when she gestured mid-joke with Jesse and Dina, how her laugh sounded when it escaped her fast, raw and weirdly... boyish, if that made sense.

Yes, boyish would be the word. She was not graceful or delicate.

She walked like a boy, and stood like one, too, sometimes. Her shirts were always too big, and the sleeves covered her wrists unless she rolled them up.

There was a bandage on her forearm. Always there, white or grey or dirty brown, wrapped around her forearm, like it was part of the outfit.

She was handsome. In this cool, scrappy, maddening kind of way.

You wanted to be her friend so bad. It was kind of stupid, because Ellie was cool and confident and she had friends.

Meanwhile, you barely existed out in the world. You could barely talk to kids your age without fumbling your words or second-guessing your tone. Your voice got caught in your throat more often than not.

I mean, you knew Jesse and Dina because they had been in Jackson practically forever, but you never had a real conversation with either. Not unless you count Jesse asking if you were okay after you tripped on ice last year. (You weren’t. You cried the moment you got home.)

But you always had something to do around town, so you didn’t give that too much thought.

People were nice to you, grateful even. They smiled when you stitched their arms or cleaned a cut on a kid’s knee.

“You’re so helpful,” they always said. “Your mom is so lucky to have you.”

Yeah, well... Being helpful was not the same as being liked.

So when you saw Ellie with actual people, something in your chest pulled tight.

God, you wished you were brave. Brave enough to go up and say something to her, anything. But you were so caught in the thought of messing it all up that you ended up just walking away before you even got close.

Like last week, when you were heading to the stables and saw her leaning against the fence, sketching something in that battered little notebook of hers. You had slowed your pace, and you were close enough to maybe say hi. Or at least smile.

But then Ellie looked up, and you panicked, your heart jumping straight to your throat and you turned so hard you nearly tripped.

You still haven't forgiven yourself.

You wondered if Ellie noticed you, too. Wondered if she ever saw you across the room and thought anything, even just “There’s that quiet girl again.”

You were curious. Not just in a nosy way. But in a wanting-to-know-Ellie kind of way.

What was it like outside the walls? The QZ? Did she lose someone? Has she ever been in love? What makes her laugh?

Your head was full of questions you'll never ask.

Months passed, somehow. Jackson was starting to feel... not like home, but something close enough.

Days bled into each fast with her work at the stables, her morning chores, between feeding the horses and hauling hay even when her shoulders ached.

The horses didn't startle her anymore. She got the feeding schedule down to a rhythm, could tell which ones were moody, which ones pretended to be moody but just wanted extra attention.

Dina and Jesse kept her company when they were not out patrolling, which was a reminder that she wasn’t out there. Yet.

She hadn’t spoken to you again since that first, but even with barely any words exchanged, you were everywhere.

She could be feeding Shimmer in the stables and still feel the distant thump of music from your house. An awful pop vinyl crackling through the frozen wind, some bright, sparkly synth that Ellie didn’t like.

At first, it was background noise, pop music pouring out of that annoyingly huge, annoyingly nice house at the end of the road.

She had started to recognize the songs. Like that one who talked about disco sticks, and the one where the lady shouted “I’m like a bird!” over and over.

Sometimes, when she was lying in bed at night, that far-off music drifted in through the walls of her garage. She didn’t listen on purpose, but your voice was always there, soft and off-key and terrible, but so fucking happy.

It always made her smile.

Nothing prepared you for Ezra going missing.

Your cat, that tiny gray thing with trembling paws and a squeaky little mewl. The one Tommy found in a haystack and gave it to you last week for your fifteen birthday. You’d kept Ezra tucked into your jacket the whole week, let him nap on your books, fed him tiny scraps of chicken from the kitchen.

And one morning, he was gone.

You had searched all day, your mom called in half the neighborhood, Tommy and Joel looked around for hours, but it was like he had vanished.

You didn’t sleep the first night.

The second night, you curled up in a ball on the couch and cried yourself raw. You didn’t even know you could cry that much. Your mom sat nearby, rubbing your back, whispering soft comforts, telling you it wasn’t your fault. That sometimes animals get scared and run off.

By the third day, you couldn’t cry anymore, so you dragged yourself to the clinic.

You cleaned supplies, stitched someone’s arm while trying not to let your hands shake, and prayed to whatever leftover gods that Ezra was safe and warm somewhere.

That same night, there was a knock on the door.

Your mom answered. You didn’t even look up, just curled on the couch with a blanket, hugging Ezra's pillow on your chest.

But then you heard a small meow, tiny and familiar.

Your head snapped up, and there he was, in Ellie’s arms, wide-eyed and shaking and so small.

You sprinted towards the door, socks skidding on the floor and everything. “Oh my god,” you gasped. “Oh my—Ezra—”

You scooped him out of Ellie’s arms without thinking, and held him against your chest and kissed his tiny head, and sobbed. Fully sobbed. Tears and probably snot and weird noises.

Ezra meowed, and you pressed your face into his soft fur, whispering, “I missed you. I missed you so much,” over and over again.

When you looked up, Ellie was still standing there, looking a little awkward, her cheeks bright red.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and hugged her.

Your arms closed around Ellie’s neck, face pressed against her shoulder. You hadn’t meant to do it but now you were there and it felt good. She was so warm and solid.

Ellie froze, but you didn’t care. In fact, you held tighter. When you spoke, your voice cracked. “Thank you, Ellie.”

Ellie slowly, so slowly, raised one arm and placed it on your back. It made your skin tingle, from spine to stomach.

Then you let go.

Your face was burning, and you apologized like three times in a row. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be weird. Sorry. I just—thank you. Sorry. Thank you so much.”

Ellie blinked once, twice. “Yeah. No problem.”

Ellie didn’t expect it. Not at all. One second she was awkwardly holding out the kitten like, “Here, I guess,” and the next, she got a full body wrapped around her.

Your arms went around her neck like it was the only solid thing in the world, your face tucked right under Ellie’s jaw. She felt your tears and how warm your face was against her skin.

Ellie went rigid. She didn’t know what to do. Her arms kind of floated midair before she finally rested one against your back and waist.

It was not a short hug.

It was long enough for Ellie’s brain to short-circuit. For her chest to ache in that slow, twisting way that made her want to lean in but also run.

Later, Ellie lied in bed staring at the ceiling, rewinding it in her head like a cassette she refuses to eject. Over. And over. And over.

The next week, there was a small box left at her door. Inside, there were gifts. Like actual, thoughtful, specific stuff. A denim shirt that fit her just right, tapes with music she likes. A comic she had mentioned once, offhand, in a conversation you probably weren't even part of directly.

It didn't even have a note. Didn't need one. She knew who left it there.

Dina teased her to hell and back.“What did you do, save her life?”

Did Ellie say thank you? Yes. Did she say it enough? Hell no.

From then on, she couldn't stop thinking about it. About you. It was dumb, you two didn't even talk or knew each other like that. Ellie was pretty sure you thought she was weird or scary. Or both.

She started to notice you more. Noticed how much you laughed around Tommy, how you scratched nervously at the inside of your wrist when you got flustered, how you stared out at the window in the clinic like you were dreaming herself out of the walls.

Ellie kept meaning to go inside, to just say something, maybe ask how the cat was doing, say thanks.

But she never did. The words tangle in her throat and die every time.

You didn’t belong in that dress.

It wasn’t that it didn’t fit, it did, mostly. The lilac fabric clung softly to your arms and bunched a little around your hips, because you were still growing and hadn’t really caught up with your shape yet.

The dress was nice. Your mom had helped your press it earlier, fingers brushing through your long hair while saying things like “you look beautiful, love,” and “Maria’ll be thrilled you dressed up.”

But you didn’t feel beautiful. You felt like a child playing pretend. Like everyone would look at you and see right through it. The trembling knees, the anxious little hands that twisted and twisted at the thin hem, the pinched nerves in your shoulders that refused to drop.

Especially when Ellie was there.

Oh god. Ellie.

It had been a year since Ellie showed up.

That night, at Maria’s birthday, she looked unfairly cool. She wasn’t even trying, which made it worse. She hadn’t spoken a word to you, barely glanced your way, and yet you went still the moment you saw her.

She sat two close enough that you could hear her fork scraping her plate, her low voice when she answered something Jesse said. It made you overly aware of your own chewing, your own breathing.

Every time you glanced, just briefly, Ellie was doing something else that made your heart feel too heavy. Smiling a little, playing with the rim of her cup, nudging Jesse with her shoulder... One time she met your gaze. and you looked away instantly, ears hot.

When they called your name for karaoke, you almost died. You hadn’t even signed up, Tommy had. The list was right there in Maria’s handwriting.

God.

People clapped politely as you stood up, but you could barely hear anything over the rush of blood in your ears, and the mic felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. When the music started, you genuinely considered just… running away.

You sang terribly. Butchered the high notes, missed two words, and your voice cracked near the middle.

But people clapped anyway, and Ellie gave you the smallest smile. It wasn’t big, but her eyes crinkled at the corners. She looked impressed, or amused, or something that you couldn’t name.

Your mom kissed your forehead when you sat down. She whispered, “you were amazing,” and you almost started crying again, right there.

It started with an itch.

Not literal. More like a scratch under her skin. A slow, building irritation every time she put on a long sleeved shirt in the middle of July that pooled sweat under her armpits and the small of her back.

Jackson summers were no joke. She just wanted to be able to roll up her sleeves like everybody else. Just once. But no, she had to keep hiding it. That ugly, world-ending truth inked into her forearm like a brand. Ellie was so tired of hiding.

Months had passed since Maria’s birthday. You got taller, somehow. And prettier. Not in the way people in movies get pretty, like, slow-mo hair flips and shit. Just… sharper? More present. Your legs looked longer now in those baggy jeans, and your waist smaller under your scrubs. Your lips... whatever, they were lips. Ellie was not a poet. She just knew that she had never seen anything like you.

Apparently, you had a friend now, Lila. You were always with her in the clinic, walking home with linked arms sometimes, which Ellie pretends not to notice but always does.

And you two talk a little more now. About music, mostly.

You gave her old tapes—Madonna, Gaga, Shakira—all things Ellie picked up without much interest, but the way you lit when talking about them made her want to run to her garage and listen to them on repeat. In return, Ellie gave you the good stuff. Nirvana, Pixies, Siouxsie, Deftones.

For a whole week, she kept wondering if you were listening to them, in your little room, maybe lying down your cat. Ezra.

But now, standing outside the clinic with her arms sweating and her patience fried, Ellie was not thinking about any of that.

She was thinking: fuck it.

You hadn’t expected Ellie to show up at the clinic that day. Not for something so normal.

It happened around midday, just when your mom had gone upstairs to have some rest. The clinic was quiet except for the occasional clink of metal tools being sterilized.

You'd had been pills when the door opened and Ellie stepped inside, frowning slightly. Her cheeks were flushed, like she’d run to get here, and her eyes didn’t quite meet yours.

“Hey,” Ellie muttered.

You startled hard, almost dropping the gauze. “Oh—hi. Um. Are you—do you need something?”

She shrugged,her eyes darting to the shelves behind you. “Headache,” she said. “Just one of those annoying ones. Do you have... anything for that?”

You nodded, heart skipping weirdly fast in your chest. “Y-Yeah. Of course. Um, one sec.” You turned to the cabinet, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in your throat.

When you found the bottle of coriander syrup you made a few days ago, you handed it over. Your fingers brushed for half a second, and your stomach fluttered like someone had shaken it loose.

Ellie didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks,” She said, and after that she turned and walked out without another word.

Then, you saw a drawer near window half open. When you checked, one of the bottles to sterilize tools was missing.

Your heart started hammering in your chest, cold crawling up your arms. Maybe you just imagined it. Maybe someone else had used it earlier and forgot to restock it.

But the bottle had been there. You knew it had.

Less than an hour later, Tommy burst through the door carrying Ellie.

You almost dropped the clipboard in your hands. Ellie’s jaw was clenched, her face pale, but her arm was burned, red and angry and raw, her skin blistering at the forearm in a splash-shaped pattern that made your stomach lurch.

Your mom was downstairs in two seconds, pulling on gloves, motioning to you to help. You were rooted in place, pulse ringing in your ears, only moving to set out the supplies with

Joel barged in minutes later, his face pale and his voice sharp with something that might’ve been panic or fury, his eyes bouncing between the burn and Ellie’s face with the unmistakable weight of suspicion.

Ellie didn’t say much. She flinched when the cool antiseptic touched her skin and looked away when your mom asked her what happened.

“Just... an accident,” she said. “That’s all.”

“Ellie.” Joel said her name, just that.

But it wasn’t just her name, it was his voice, the way it cracked in the middle, the way it softened even when it was meant to press, the way it felt too intimate and too fatherly and too something you couldn’t name.

Your voice came before you could stop it.

“It’s my fault,” Your own voice surprised you. Everyone turned around. “I… I might’ve given her the wrong bottle”

Ellie’s eyes snapped to yours. Her eyes were wide and so wild with something like disbelief.

“She came in for something for her headache. I-I grabbed something fast. I don't know. Maybe it was not the— umh..”

Your mom looked up sharply from her work, but you didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t say anything, just glanced at you for moment, then at Joel. “She’ll be more careful next time,” she said flatly.

Then she gently pressed a clean bandage over Ellie’s arm. “We’ll talk later,” she murmured to you.

You didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Your cheeks burned, and your fingers twisted together behind your back.

And Ellie mouthed something at you while no one was looking.

Thank you.

It was just you and Ellie now.

Ellie was staring at you with something unreadable in her eyes. “I didn’t need you to lie,”

“I know,” You whispered. “I just— You were in pain. I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Ellie scoffs. “I wouldn’t. Not with them.”

You knew you shouldn’t ask. You knew. But it came out anyway, desperate and breathless.

“Why? Why—” You felt your throat thicken, your voice falter. “Why did you—”

You couldn't even finish.

Ellie exhaled, closing her eyes for a beat too long. “Doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “It’s over.”

It was not.

You barely slept the following nights.

The pillow was always too warm and your thoughts wouldn’t settle, churning over and over.

You were not stupid. Ellie was hiding something, you didn’t know what, but it wasn’t something small. And what has happened definitely wasn’t just a mistake. She had burned herself. She hurt herself on purpose, and you needed to find out why.

So when morning came, bright and breezy and far too loud for how sick your stomach felt, you decided that you had to talk to her.

You walked to the stables slowly. You never did this, initiated things, so your stomach twisted in that anxious way it always did, and your tongue felt too big for your mouth, but you went there anyway.

And there she was, by the far stall, crouched beside a big gray mare with a brush in hand. Her sleeves were rolled halfway up now, the burn mark hidden under gauze, still, but it was there.

You took a breath, holding Ezra tighter against your chest like a makeshift shield. And then, because you couldn’t let yourself think too hard, just walked in. The wooden floor creaked faintly beneath your sneakers, and the scent of hay and horses filled your lungs, thick and dusty.

You hated it, so you didn’t breathe. Then croaked out, “Hi.”

Ellie jumped a little, straightening up, eyes wide like she hadn’t expected you. “Hey.”

Just that. One syllable, soft and unsure. A little surprised. Not annoyed, but not welcoming either. She looked tired. Her hair was loose, like she hadn’t finished it, and there was a smear of dirt on her cheekbone.

“Hey,” You said, voice sounding too small. You hated that it still cracked sometimes when you were nervous. “Uh...”

Ezra meowed. Loudly.

That made Ellie huff a tiny breath through her nose, almost a smile. She wiped her hands on her pants, set the brush down, and turned fully toward you.

“You came to yell at me?” she asked. Quiet. Not joking, but not cold either.

“No.” You clutched Ezra tighter, fingers twitching against his fur. “I… I wanted to talk. Just talk.”

Ellie nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.” A pause. “I’m glad you came.”

That made something twist in your chest. Your shoulders dropped just slightly. Ellie’s eyes darted from your face to the kitten, and something flickered across them.

“You—uh.” Your voice caught. “How’s your arm?”

Ellie’s mouth twisted. She looked down at it like she’d forgotten it was there. “It’s fine. Your mom said it’ll scar but... not a big deal.”

“Does it still hurt?” You asked, eyes dropping to her arm, then rising again fast. You couldn't watch it.

Ellie shook her head. “Not really,.” She paused for a moment. “Look... about that day—”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” You said quickly, the words tripping over your lips.

Ellie shook her head again, more firmly this time. “No. I kinda do.” She ran a hand over the back of her neck. “You took the blame. And your mom was... pissed. I heard her.”

“She wasn’t that mad,” You lied. “Well. She was. But it’s okay.”

Ellie’s eyebrows pulled together. “You didn’t have to do that. Seriously.”

“I know,” You said, shrugging with one shoulder, trying to keep your face neutral, voice firm. “I just… I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Ellie looked at you. Really looked, then. The weight of her stare made you shift on your feet.

“I… I’m worried,” You spoke again, and this time it was gentler. You clutched Ezra even closer, his purr vibrating into your chest. “You did that to yourself. You burned your arm and…”

“I— No, it's.. I know what it looked like. That I did it on purpose.” Ellie glanced at you again, and this time her voice sounded scratchier, more raw. “I wasn’t. I just— there’s this thing on my arm. And I can’t let people see it. So I figured... a burn would be easier to explain.”

You just stared at her, eyes wide. “What kind of thing?”

For a second you thought she might say it. Might finally explain the twist in her words, the thing curled beneath her skin like a secret. But she just sighed, and her face shuttered. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Just... something. Doesn’t matter. Not dangerous. Not contagious or anything. I swear.”

You nodded slowly. You could tell Ellie was hiding something big, but you also knew the look of someone who wasn't willing to say a thing, so you didn’t push. And she sounded sincere, so the reassurance that she wasn't hurting herself for any other thing was enough. “Okay, I believe you.”

Ellie looked at you again, this time with something like surprise all over her face. “You do?”

“No. But I trust you. And... if you say it’s not like that, then it's okay,” You offered her the tiniest smile. “You don’t have to tell me. If you don't want to tell me, I understand. I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay, that's all.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. She looked away, scuffed her boot against the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice low. “For making you worry and putting you in that position. I didn’t mean for you to—do that.”

For a moment, you two stayed in silence.

Ellie's throat bobbed, and her eyes flicked from your face down to Ezra, then to her shoes, then back at you again. “Thanks,” Ellie said finally. “For... y’know. Not ratting me out. And for the other stuff.”

You nodded. Your cheeks were hot, and your hands were shaking slightly even though Ezra was still in them. “You’re welcome. Don’t steal again, though. I’ll really get in trouble next time.”

Ellie actually smiled at that. “Got it. No more theft.”

After that, Ezra meowed. You looked down and laughed, the sound small and bright. “I think he wants to go back to sleep.”

Ellie chuckled. “He’s always sleepy, huh?”

“He’s a baby,” You said, nose wrinkling. “Babies sleep a lot.”

The pain in her arm was dull, barely noticeable. It throbbed only when she bumped it by accident, which she had stopped doing after the first two weeks. It was nothing.

But the shame kept burning. It burned up the back of her neck every time she thought of you.

Lying on the couch with her legs stretched out and her head tilted back, Ellie stared up at the ceiling in the dark. Her fingers twitched against her stomach.

The guilt was too big for her ribcage. It pressed and shifted and thrashed like something alive.

Your eyes were glassy. Your hands were cold. Ellie had noticed when your fingers brushed her arm when you were wrapping her arm. That day, you looked like you were barely holding it together. And Ellie hadn’t done anything.

She hadn’t even said thank you. I mean, she did, but not really. Definitely not enough. Not the way you deserved.

Ellie groaned, sitting up and pulling at her hair with both hands. “Fuck,” she whispered into the dark room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She knew she owed you something. A lot of somethings.

But how do you repay someone who almost cried for you? Who stood up for you when you didn’t even ask? Who looked at your wound, your stupid self-inflicted burn and worried so much that even two weeks later showed up to make sure you were okay?

She kept seeing it. The way your eyebrows pinched. The way your voice cracked on the word accident. You were scared and worried and you still did that, for of Ellie.

Ellie pressed a hand over her face and swore again under her breath. Her heart was still racing, even hours after that conversation at the stables.

She wouldn’t sleep tonight. Not with the amount of feelings crawling through her like worms in dirt.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she will do something.

She didn’t know what. But it was going to be good, and thoughtful.

It had to be.

By the time patrol ended, her palms were sore from gripping the reins too hard. But when she got back, she saw Joel by the porch, bag by his feet, and she knew the universe had handed her an opening.

Inside that bag was gold.

Well, no. It was girly shit, mostly. Stuff Joel had probably picked up thinking of Maria’s niece.

All the things that were inside the bag were so you that Ellie almost laughed.

So she dragged it all to her garage, shut the door, and sat down cross-legged on the floor, sorting and sifting.

She picked two books. One had a girl in a sundress staring at the ocean. The other had a cowboy on it. A fucking cowboy. She made a face, then hesitated. You probably liked that kind of thing, like people falling in love under the stars, corny declarations and all.

Sadly, there were no pop cassettes or vinyls, but she added one cassette, something called “Greatest Hits 80s 90s Romantic Love Songs”. Ellie winced reading the title, but it felt right. You would probably listen to this while getting ready or cleaning.

She packed it all into a basket, wrapping it up with one of the cleaner cloths she had. There wasn't a ribbon or anything fancy, but she did her best to make it look like a gift.

On her way to your house, her palms were sweating, and her brain kept whispering you’re gonna mess this up again, she’s gonna think it’s weird, she’s gonna feel bad again because of you, you, you— but Ellie didn’t give herself the time to spiral.

The house was quiet when she reached it. Ellie hesitated at the porch. The basket was suddenly so stupidly heavy in her arms, and her heart was doing something awful in her chest. Like flipping. Over and over.

But she knocked and waited. She hoped you opened the door, because if it was your mom it was going to be kind of embarrassing.

Then the door creaked open, and there you were, looking sleepy, your hair all messy. That stupid kitten was in your arms again. It literally lived there.

You blinked at Ellie once, like you hadn’t expected her.

“Hey,” she said, trying to sound casual. She didn’t. She sounded tight.

“Hi,” You whispered, smiling a little, clearly tired. “Do you need something?”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Um... this is—uh. For you.”

She held the basket out with both hands, like an idiot. Like a schoolgirl. Her fingers trembled slightly on the edge of the handle.

You stared for a second, then set the kitten down gently. It mewed once, annoyed, and curled into the nearest blanket. You reached out, careful, and took the basket like it was glass.

“I... thought maybe you’d like it. Joel found the some stuff and uh, y’know. It made me think of you.”

You looked up at her. There was something wet in her eyes. Just a shimmer. Like you hadn’t expected this. Like you didn’t know what to do with being thought of.

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s kind of a sorry gift. For.. well, you know.”

“Ellie,” You said, voice soft. “You didn’t have to.”

“Still.” Ellie shifted. Her boots scraped the floor. Her throat ached again. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to cover for me. That wasn’t fair.”

Your fingers curled around the handle of the basket tighter, and then you set it down on a nearby table, then turned back.

Your eyes met Ellie’s, nervous but clear. You looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t choose the right words. So, instead, you just stepped forward.

Your arms wrapped around Ellie gently.

Every part of her went still. Her arms hovered for half a second, then wrapped back.

Ellie closed her eyes, pressed her face into your shoulder for one second longer than she meant to, and held you tighter.

It happened so gradually Ellie almost didn't notice it.

After the basket gift, it was like something slipped quietly into place between you two. You started hanging out more. Really hanging out.

Most of the time it was at your house, which made sense, because you didn’t like going out much, and Ellie didn’t mind. Your house was warm, painted with little domestic sounds like wind chimes clinking outside, a kettle whistling, the low murmur of your mom reading aloud.

A kind of calm Ellie never had, so it took some getting used to.

She felt like a fucking intruder in that house of gentleness. Like she was going to break something by accident.

The first time she came over to stay for a few hours, you made tea. Handed her a mug and sat next to her on the couch, folding one leg under the other, and talked about this medical journal you were reading and the story you were writing about a soccer player falling in love with a model. According to you, it sounded fun but it was actually very sad.

Ellie listened, sipping her too-sweet tea. You were painfully, ridiculously cute.

Turns out, you talk a lot. About books and music and movies. And Ellie is always there to listen to you.

One night, you confessed that you loved romcoms, and that you hated horror.

“It gives me heart palpitations,” you said seriously, like you were 70 years old.

Ellie scoffed. “What about The Ring? It’s a classic.”

“I watched ten minutes. I almost died.”

Ellie smirked. “Dramatic.”

You shrugged. “Not all of us are crazy enough to watch those things, you know.”

Ellie pretended to flip you off.

Other days, Ellie made excuses to see you at the clinic. Pretending that her wrist hurts after training with Joel and Tommy, or that she had scratches from patrol.

Thankfully, your mom didn't seem to mind.

Turns out, she was scary nice. Like, unfairly kind.

The first time Ellie had met her properly, she gave Ellie a small smile, gestured to the kitchen, and said, “I made cookies. She says you like chocolate.”

Ellie had blinked. “She… she told you that?”

“She tells me all sorts of things,” Your mom hummed, disappearing back into her office.

Ellie stared at her feet. Then at you, who looked mortified. And proud. Somehow both at once.

The cookies were good, of course they were.

Ellie invited you to a bonfire and movie night. It was a thing the teens did sometimes. Everyone around your age and a little younger or older, like twelve people, tops, gathered around and watched old movies projected on a sheet. Dina always brought snacks, and Jesse stole alcohol from God knows where.

Ellie didn't expect you to attend, but you showed up.

You were in a flowy skirt and a tube top, and Ellie almost tripped when she spotted you walking in. The lamplight glowed gold over your skin.

You looked stunning. And very much like a girl who had no idea how stunning she looked.

You were stiff next to Ellie when you sat, leg barely brushing hers. Not talking, just blinking wide-eyed at the crowd. Ellie leaned over, whispering, “You okay?”

You nodded and swallowed. Didn't speak.

Then Lila arrived, and you relaxed, just like that. Started to laugh a little and talk.

Of course, you teared up during the movie. It was Little Miss Sunshine.

The town’s library smelt like old paper. You had a book open in your lap, but not a single page had been turned in over fifteen minutes. Your eyes were on the words, but your focus was on Ellie’s voice, rough and steady as she talked about the girl she lost. Riley.

You didn’t say much, just listened. Ellie told you everything. Slowly, softly, never quite meeting your eyes. Your body was angled toward her, but you didn't lean too close. You knew Ellie needed her space sometimes, just like you.

It was the first time she heard Ellie say the name. Riley. She listened to how it ended, how Ellie’s voice got thin and cut off, how she breathed out through her nose, shallow and shaky.

You didn’t ask anything else. That kind of grief should not be pressed on.

In exchange, you told her about your dad.

Not in the same way, not with the same rawness, but with the kind of delicate trust you didn’t give out easily. You told her about his laugh, and how he used to lift you onto his shoulders to help you reach the lemon trees. About how you and your mom buried him in a hand-dug grave near the fence on the old farm you used to live. About how you still talked to him sometimes when no one was around.

Ellie listened. She was all ears and tilted brows and that little frown between her eyebrows, like she was paying attention.

It was after that that something began to shift, just a little. The silence between you two wasn’t awkward anymore, just companionable.

Ellie told you a lot of stories, some ridiculous, some terrifying. She told you about Boston, the QZ, FEDRA, how long it took to walk across states with Joel, what they ate (spoiled beans), what they slept on (mud, snow, broken mattresses), how many things they’ve seen on the road, about bloaters and men with guns

You could barely keep up. Because you had never even seen a clicker. You had only seen them drawn in books or described in overheard whispers.

How were you even her age?

Well, you were a year younger. But she was just eighteen, and she was out there patrolling, fighting, surviving. Living a thousand lives while you were still stuck inside the same four blocks of safety and routine.

You told yourself you were grateful. And you were. Mostly.

But something in you still burned. You wanted to go outside so bad. But you knew that if something bad happened, you would fall apart. You just knew it. If you ever saw a clicker, you wouldn’t shoot (even if you knew how to), you would probably just scream. Or freeze. Or pass out.

You hated that. Knowing that you were small, useless. Not strong enough.

So, now you two were friends. Actual friends. Close friends, even. You waved every time you saw Ellie around. Brought her little plants. Doodles you draw yourself. Asked Ellie how she felt, always. Like you really wanted to know.

Now, Ellie knew what you looked like when you were happy, when you were tired, when you were thinking really hard. She knew your voice when you were excited, or quiet, or too nervous to speak.

You were a delicate little thing.

So, you needed care. Not because you were fragile, because you were not. You were capable of anything. But because the world didn’t seem to realize how much it took out of you just to exist in it. And Ellie saw that now, and it made something deep inside her ache.

Ellie realized that fast. She always noticed, when it came to you. You just had this way of making her pay attention without even trying.

Ellie learned not to make jokes that were too dry, too sharp-edged. You always took them literally, every time. Your face would crease, and you would go quiet for a long moment like you were trying to solve it. It made Ellie feel like a fucking asshole, so she stopped.

She stopped a lot of things.

But she started new ones, too. Gently telling Tommy not to ask you to join when the town planned loud movie nights. Telling Cat not to poke fun when you got quiet or looked like you were floating somewhere else. She noticed how you didn’t like surprises, how you needed time to adjust. How even small things could make you eyes go glassy, like the air was just too much.

You were soft, and quiet, and you felt everything like it was a knife to the chest. Ellie had thought maybe she was imagining that. That maybe you just seemed like the kind of girl who’d cry if you raised your voice.

But no.

You were delicate, yes.

But you were also brilliant. And kind. And honest. And strong.

And Ellie wasn’t going to let the world bruise you.

Not if she could help it.

💌 a/n: hi there!!!

i had lots of fun writing this actually 😭 and i really liked it, so if you made it this far, TYSM for reading 🥺❤️‍🩹 i really hope you liked it too

i’ll post part 2 in a few days, so stay tunedddd 👀

you can also read this on my ao3! and if you liked my writing, i’m currently writing a series as well, so feel free to check my profile/ao3 and see if it’s your thing 🥰

that’s all i guess! tysm again for reading

pd: this was originally an ellie x oc fic but i changed my mind, so if you see the name nina or “her” instead of “you/your”… no you didn’t ❤️

also, english is not my first language, so there are probably some tense and grammar mistakes. i’ll check and fix them later!

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

leia