#I love her because she’s kind of horrible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lostfracturess · 3 days ago

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symptoms and causes | ch. 16

pairing — professor gojo x med student reader

summary — he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart — and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

word count — 11.5 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance and alcohol abuse, dark and themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency, trauma, medical content and mentions of death, illness, abuse, and blood. full trigger warnings available on the masterlist. reader discretion is advised.

previously — unable to watch satoru turn to his abusive family for help with naoya's massive lawsuit, you're heading to his party against satoru's wishes, hoping to find something, anything, that might help his situation. but what happens when satoru decides to crash the party? and what will you find in that locked room?

author's note — hello lovelies, welcome back !! this chapter picks up right where we left off, but through satoru's eyes this time. also important note: this chapter contains a brief mention of SA concerning a background event not related to any of our main characters. as always, please mind all trigger warnings. and now enjoy the chaos <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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I saw her the moment I stepped into that goddamn party, and everything inside me went still.

Like that moment right before you drown, when the water first fills your lungs and the world goes quiet. Terrifying and so still.

She stood there under those cheap neon lights, looking scared and yet so beautiful—beautiful in that terrible way that makes you want to destroy something, that makes you want to tear it apart just to prove it's real.

Every fiber of my being screamed to go to her, to grab her and get her the hell out of here. Away from this place, away from him, away from all of it.

But I couldn't move. Couldn't let the mask slip, not here, not with all these eyes on me. So I plastered on that easy smile and played the part of the mildly annoyed professor who just happened to crash a student party.

As if my skin wasn't crawling with the need to use again, veins begging for something—anything—to take the edge off. As if the mere sight of her didn't make me feel like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my fucking heart out, her next breath away from something I might regret.

She looked up at me with those pretty eyes of hers, and I saw the guilt there, swimming just beneath the surface. And for one horrible moment I thought, Good. Let it pull her under like it's pulling me. Let it fill her lungs the way fear is filling mine.

I almost hated her then — for lying to me again and again, for doing stupid things behind my back again and again, for making me feel this goddamn helpless again and again and again and fucking again.

But what lay beneath was worse. Because I knew why she was here. Always trying to save me, even if it meant throwing herself into the deep end, drowning right alongside me. And that's the worst kind of torture, isn't it?

Watching the person you love cut themselves open on all your broken pieces, bleeding themselves dry, yet still reaching for more. And that thought made me want to scream.

"We'll talk about this later," I said, forcing that easy smile back onto my face though everything inside me was screaming to get her out of this goddamn house before she got herself into more trouble. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a drink."

I pushed past her, shoulder grazing hers, and I had to clench my fists to keep from turning back. Had to bite my tongue until I tasted blood to keep from saying something I couldn't take back. She had no idea what she did to me. Or maybe she did, and that was even worse.

Love and hate tangled together in my chest until I couldn't breathe. Because that's what she does to me — makes me feel everything at once, until I can't tell what's real anymore. Until I can't tell if I want to love her or ruin her. Until I can't remember which one would hurt more. Who I was before her. If I was anyone at all.

And it hit me then, as I left her standing there, all defiance and reckless stupidity and so unbearably precious it physically hurt—this must be what they mean when they say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Because I loved her so much it felt like hatred. Hated her so deeply it could only be love.

Always on the razor's edge. One wrong step, and we'd both bleed out. Maybe we already were.

When was the last time I even went to a party like this anyway? Years ago, probably. Back when I could still pretend I had my shit together. Before I understood what it meant to love someone so consuming that self-destruction became a form of worship.

I needed a drink. Maybe ten. Maybe something stronger.

Bass thundered through the floorboards as I shouldered my way deeper into the house, some shitty pop track slamming in my skull. Or maybe that was just the rage still burning in my bloodstream.

Sweaty bodies pressed in on all sides, but I barely noticed, lost in the chaos raging in my head. Lost in the desperate need scratching at my throat to turn back, to find her, to make sure she hadn't slipped away like every other good thing in my life.

I ordered vodka. First sip burned, but not enough. Never enough to wash away the fear, to forget that she was here, in this house, with him. The same bastard who'd tried to—My grip tightened on the glass. Yeah. Definitely needed something stronger. Here's hoping these kids still remember how to party.

"Professor Gojo! No way!"

A group of my students appeared beside me at the bar, their faces flushed with alcohol. Aoi, of course—that kid was everywhere. And Miwa, looking starstruck as always. Just my fucking luck.

"Is this what you all do instead of studying for my exams?" I asked, letting that easy smile slide into place.

"Come on, Prof, we've been killing ourselves over your damned hard exams," Miwa chimed in, all bright eyes and alcohol courage. "We deserve a break."

I let myself slip into the familiar role. The cool professor. The guy everyone wants to hang with. It was easier than I expected, letting their drunken energy wash over me, cracking jokes, making them laugh. Almost enough to wash out the withdrawal that made it nearly impossible to think straight. Almost enough to forget why I was really here. Almost.

Aoi was rambling about something, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I turned slightly, catching her gaze across the room. She looked at me like she wanted to kill me. Funny, how we wanted the same thing sometimes.

My woman. My stubborn, reckless, absolutely infuriating woman. Even now, with me watching her from across the room, I could see that defiance bright in her eyes. Even now, even here, in defiance of everything I'd asked of her, she stood her ground.

It was admirable, really. And sometimes, that very defiance made me want to break her. Perhaps only to prove I could. To prove she wasn't in control. Perhaps because I was terrified that I wasn't. That I never was.

It's terrifying how thin that line is.

"See? Fucking legend!" Aoi raised his beer, at something I said, I think. I can't remember. Something clever, probably. Something that fits the role. "To the coolest professor on campus!"

I raised my glass, I think. I can't remember. And that's when I caught sight of them by the front entrance. Suguru walked up to her, still standing where I'd left her, and cradled her face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. My god, could he be any more obvious about it?

I knew that look in his eyes. Had seen it countless times before, during all those long hours in the lab when he thought I wasn't paying attention. The way he'd lean in close to check her work, his hand lingering on her shoulder a moment too long. The way his eyes would follow her every move.

My best friend, in love with the love of my life. What a sick fucking joke.

He was examining her face now, probably making sure she was alright, being the good, caring friend he always was. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and something violent stirred in my gut. Because she didn't pull away. Of course she didn't. She never did, not with him.

They looked good together, standing there in the dim light. The brilliant researcher and his gifted student. No addiction between them. No sharp edges that sliced you open if you got too close. And I hated that.

I watched as she placed her hand over his, the gesture unbearably tender. Watched as he smiled down at her, that gentle smile he reserved only for her.

And just for a moment — one single, agonizing moment — I let myself picture a world where I hadn't reached her first. Where she'd chosen him instead. The better man. The one who'd never drag her down into his own personal hell.

The thoughts spiraled darker, louder, until I could barely breathe through the noise. Glass creaked under my grip. I needed a fucking pill. Needed something, anything, to make this stop. To make everything just fucking stop.

"Professor?" Miwa’s voice. "You okay?"

More students crowded the bar, blocking my view of them. One of them—what was his name? Third-year, not a complete idiot—shoved another beer into my hand. I chugged it in one long pull, their chatter fading to background noise.

"Well." That voice. That fucking voice. "Look who decided to crash my party after all."

I turned, meeting Naoya's scarred face with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "Zenin. Quite the gathering you've got here."

"Indeed." He signaled the bartender. "I gotta say though, I'm surprised to see you here, Professor. Don't tell me you're playing chaperone tonight?"

His words stripped away any pretense. He knew. Of course he fucking knew why I was really here. Not that I'd been particularly subtle about it.

"Just felt like reliving my youth," I said, taking the drink he offered. Anything to keep my hands busy, to keep myself from finishing what I'd started with his face.

Zenin's smirk widened, the scars pulling his flesh into something even uglier. "Ah yes, the good old days. Back when teachers knew their place and didn't go around screwing their students."

The fake smile slid off my face, the glass creaking in my grip as I pictured how easily his windpipe would crumple under my hands. How satisfying it would be to watch that smirk disappear for good.

"Careful, Zenin. Your face is already fucked up enough as is. Would be a damn shame if something happened to what's left of it."

He laughed, the sound grating on my last nerve like nails on a chalkboard. "Always so protective. But tell me, Professor, does she know the real reason you're here? Does she know about the—"

"Enough," I bit out.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" His eyes flicked across the room, landing on her. The way he looked at her made my vision bleed red around the edges. "She really is something else, isn't she? Too bad I didn't get a chance to get her alone that night—"

My hand lashed out before I could think, fisting in his collar. The fabric bunched in my grip as I hauled him close enough to see my own fury reflected in his eyes. "You fucking—"

Then Suguru was there, his hand slamming down on the bar between us. Silent, steady—a wall between me and a one-way ticket to unemployment. He didn't say a word, just fixed me with that look. The one I'd explicitly asked for earlier. Stop me before I do something I'll regret.

Fuck, I was really starting to regret that request right about now.

Then I felt her—her touch impossibly gentle as she laid her hand on my bicep, the heat of her skin seeping through my shirt. She leaned in close, "Satoru, can we talk for a minute?"

Her soft plea sliced through the haze, and suddenly I became acutely aware of the deafening silence that had fallen over the room, of the countless eyes boring into us.

I uncurled my fingers from Naoya's collar one by one, even though everything in me screamed to finish what I'd started. To paint the walls with whatever was left of his face. But I couldn't. We both knew. So I stepped back and followed her.

─── ·✧· ───

She led me through the crowd, her fingers still wrapped so gently around my arm. We pushed our way past the prying eyes, down a hallway, until she found what looked like an empty office. Probably belonged to Naoya's father, judging by the dark wood and that rich people smell.

For a moment, we just stood there, neither of us willing to shatter the fragile silence. Moonlight sliced through the blinds, turning everything silver and strange, like we were underwater. Maybe we were. I wasn't sure anymore. Her hand slipped from my arm, and suddenly I felt cold.

I collapsed into the chair behind the desk, the leather groaning under my weight. She stood silhouetted at the window, arms wrapped tight around herself, and I had to look away. Had to focus on something else, because I knew one glance at those eyes and I'd break.

My fingers found the pill on their own. Out of habit, really. Without thinking, I snatched up the silver letter opener next to me and crushed the pill beneath it, watching the powder scatter across the polished wood like fresh snow. I bent down and let the burn fill my nose, sear through my brain, numbing everything in an instant.

When I looked up, she was staring. Always fucking staring, with eyes that flayed me to the bone. And she did it so effortlessly. Saw through everyone around her with that unnerving precision. Or maybe she saw through everything so clearly because she looked for the very things she wanted to hide from others.

"That's new," she said. Not an accusation. I was glad it wasn't.

"It's faster."

I averted my gaze and sank deeper into the chair, letting my head fall back against the headrest as warmth flooded my veins and the ceiling blurred and shifted above me. And then everything went soft around the edges, like looking through frosted glass.

A long exhale escaped my lips. Finally—fucking finally—the constant noise in my head, all that shit I can't shut up—the love, the hate, the fucking terror of it all—it faded to a whisper. The world got a little quieter, a little less sharp. A little more bearable.

For one perfect moment, I could actually breathe. Could almost convince myself I was in control. That this wasn't killing me. That I could walk away if I had to. That I wasn't fucking terrified of losing her. Of becoming him. Of everything.

I groaned, fingers raking through my hair, pulling, needing the pain. My hands were shaking again. Or maybe they never stopped. I couldn't tell anymore.

"You're angry," she said.

"No shit. What gave it away?" I scrubbed my hands over my face. "You showing up here after I specifically fucking told you not to? Or me nearly rearranging Zenin's face again?"

"Satoru—"

"Don't." I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers yanking at my hair again, trembling worse now. From the drugs, the rage, the fear, who the fuck knew. It all bled together these days. "You have no idea what he'd do. If something happened—" I stopped. Couldn’t continue.

"I'm not alone," she said, like that made a difference. "Maki, Yuta, Toge—they're all with me. We're being careful."

"Careful?" I sat upright, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "There's nothing fucking careful about this! It's reckless! You shouldn't even be—"

"I'm doing this for you—"

"Don't." I cut her off. "Don't make this about me."

"But it is!" She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "What, you expect me to just stand by and watch? While you fall apart?"

"This isn't your problem to fix—"

"Like hell it isn't!" Another step. Her eyes seared into mine. "I can't fucking take it anymore. You're in this mess because of me. Because you protected me that night. So don't you dare tell me this isn't my problem to fix."

I stared at her, something in my chest fracturing. "You think that's why I'm doing this? Because I feel obligated?"

"I think you're trying to protect me, like you always do."

"Then don't make me protect you all the goddamn time!" I shoved up from the chair and braced my hands on the desk. "I beat him within an inch of his life that night. I would've killed him if—" My throat closed around the words. "And I'd do it again. In a fucking heartbeat. That's what scares the shit out of me. What I become when it comes to you."

She went still.

"And if he hurt you again," the words scraped out of me, "I—I don't know what I'd do. So please. Just please don't make me find out."

I said the words I'd been turning over in my head for what felt like eternity. Don't make me find out, don't put yourself in danger, don't break my fucking heart. Which really meant break me all you want, just don't leave. I wouldn't survive it.

Her gaze dropped briefly to my hands, and she said, "You done?"

Her question threw me. Done? God, this infuriating woman. But then I followed her line of sight and saw my hands clenched into white-knuckled fists around the desk’s edge. I slowly released them, my knuckles cracking in the sudden stillness.

I slumped back into the chair, exhausted, defeated, throwing an arm over my eyes. "God, I fucking hate you." The way she stood there, unflinching, unafraid—it made me insane. "I hate that you make me feel like this—so fucking terrified all the time."

"You don't hate me," she said.

"Sometimes I'm not so sure anymore," I answered.

How does it never get easier, I wondered. Loving her. Needing her. It just cuts deeper, spreads further, until I'm drowning in the ache. Until I can't breathe without feeling it in my lungs. And yeah, I hate her for that sometimes.

I couldn't look at her. I knew she'd be there, unyielding, waiting, enduring everything I threw at her, as she always did. Never breaking. Maybe that's what I hated most.

"You're so fucking stupid," I breathed, but it came out wrong. Too soft. Too much like 'I love you'. Too much like 'Please don't leave.'

"I think that's mutual." She crossed the room then and leaned against the desk, arms folded over her chest. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

I lowered my arm and looked at her. "No, you're not."

"I am sorry for worrying you," she tried again, and I almost believed her, wishing desperately that she'd never have to worry about anything the way I worry about her. "Go ahead, say it. Tell me how stupid I was to come here. I know you're dying to."

"Why would you think that?"

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "Because it's true. I make the wrong choice every fucking time."

I watched her, this brilliant, stubborn woman that I love so much, beating herself up over choices that weren't really choices at all—just impossible situations with no right answers. Like there was ever a right answer. And sometimes she reminded me so much of myself. As if I hadn't spent years doing the same thing, and probably still do.

But seeing her do it—it was like staring into a mirror and seeing not just my reflection, but the reflection of everything I hated about myself.

"I think that's mutual," I echoed her words back to her.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed up from the chair, gripping the edge of the desk for a second. Then I reached for her, hands landing on her hips, tugging her close, needing her close. My lips ghosted over hers. Hesitant. Unsure. When she didn't pull away, I kissed her. My hand came up to cradle her face, thumb skimming her cheekbone as I deepened the kiss.

"Alright, what's the plan?" I murmured against her mouth.

She told me about the locked room upstairs and her plan to get it. So calm. She told it so calm. Like it was that simple. Like this wasn't the most insane thing I'd ever heard. But I knew she'd go through with it no matter what I said.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you anywhere near him with alcohol involved?"

"No," she said. "I think you're going to help me."

"Times like this, I'm really feeling that age difference between us," I said, but we both heard the resignation in my voice. The moment I'd already lost this fight.

"So you'll help?" she asked, ignoring my comment.

Before she could celebrate her victory, I yanked her closer, fingers twisting in her hair. With a sharp tug, I forced her head back until she had no choice but to meet my gaze, her throat bared. Our eyes locked, and I saw the instant her breath hitched.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"When we get home, you're gonna make it up to me for all the stress you've caused. Got it?"

"Is that really how you want to play this?"

"Oh, love, I think we're way past propriety at this point."

A shiver ran through her — one that made me almost smile. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, could feel the way she melted into me despite herself. It almost made this whole mess worth it.

"Now then." I pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye. "let's have some fun, shall we?"

─── ·✧· ───

So, here's the fun story about how I ended up playing beer pong with my arch-nemesis (besides Sukuna, that is) against my future lovely wife and some chemistry nerd who wouldn't shut up about covalent bonds. Not exactly the Saturday night I had in mind.

I mean, here I was, standing next to Naoya — yeah, the same guy whose face I'd rearranged a few months back — trying to aim at red plastic cups while you were absolutely wiping the floor with us. Turns out that whole '10 years of grief training in alcoholism over your dead father' wasn't just a cute phrase you threw around. Who would've thought?

But really, trying to out-drink an opioid addict? That's like challenging a fish to a swimming contest. Except the fish is in heavy withdrawal. So like, with no fin. Not my finest analogy. I blame the alcohol. What was my point again?

Anyway. Most annoying part? This chemistry department kid with these wide, bright eyes wouldn't stop talking to you about molecular structures. And you were actually entertaining him. At a party. About electron transfers. Of all the insufferable things.

"So if you consider the aromatic compounds—" he was saying, and I swear on my medical license, I didn't mean for the ball to hit him. And I definitely didn't mean for it to hit him that hard. Pure accident, really.

The ball bounced off his shoulder, effectively shutting him up. They both turned to look at me. "Molecular restructuring in organic compounds? Really?" I shrugged. "At a party?"

She shot me that look. You know the one. The classic 'I-can't-believe-I'm-sleeping-with-this-idiot' glare. It's become quite familiar these days.

"Trouble in paradise?" Naoya said beside me, and I briefly considered rearranging his face again. For symmetry's sake, of course.

But then she bent over to pick up the ball, and suddenly organic chemistry was the furthest thing from my mind. I definitely shouldn't have let her leave the house in that skirt. Though knowing her, she probably wore it just to torture me.

"Getting distracted, Professor?" she said, straightening up with that little smile that never fails to make me want to do wildly inappropriate things to her in very public places. She leaned across the table, deliberately tapping one of our cups with her finger, giving me her most innocent eyes. Because apparently, driving me insane was her new favorite pastime.

"Me?" I lifted the red cup she'd tapped to my lips, taking my sweet time with the drink, my eyes never leaving hers. "Never."

And somewhere in the haze of beer and the way she was looking at me, I tried to remember why the hell we were even here. Oh right—something about stealing keys. Real professional operation we've got going here. The medical board would be so proud. Their star surgeon, reduced to playing beer pong as a distraction tactic.

Naoya's keys were right there on the table, practically screaming to be grabbed. But between her legs in that skirt and the way she kept biting her lip every time she lined up a shot, I found myself giving fewer and fewer shits about saving my career and more about how quickly I could get her alone. Priorities. I clearly had them. Alcohol might have scrambled them a bit, I guess.

I caught a glimpse of Suguru standing off to the side of the beer pong table. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes darting back and forth between me and her like he was watching the world's most stressful tennis match. I really owed him one for putting up with this shit.

Near the chemistry kid, a girl approached who looked a bit like Higurama's intern—though I wasn't entirely sure. She looked different, wearing makeup and dressed up. But that couldn't be her. She'd avoid places with flashing lights because of her epilepsy. I must be seeing things.

Then Naoya, because clearly this shitshow wasn't enough of a disaster already, decided to "level up the process." He snapped his fingers at a passing bartender, and before I could process what the fuck was happening, there was a tray of perfectly lined up tequila shots on the table. Complete with cinnamon and orange slices, because apparently, we're keeping it classy while trying to get my future wife drunk.

"New rule," Naoya announced, his scarred face pulling into what I can only assume was meant to be a grin. "Next shot I sink, you drink both. Beer and tequila."

I glanced over at her, my gut churning. Not from the alcohol—it'd take a hell of a lot more than this to get me there—but from the way she met Naoya's challenge with a nod. That stubborn tilt of her chin that always meant trouble. My palms started to sweat.

Of course, Naoya's ball dropped perfectly into her cup. Because the universe really does have a sick sense of humor.

Watching her reach for both drinks, I found myself wondering what the medical board would be more pissed about — me playing drinking games with students, screwing one of my students, or the fact that I was seriously considering murder. Again.

Then, by some physics-defying miracle or sheer dumb luck, the chemistry kid actually landed a shot. He looked as shocked as the rest of us when the ball plopped into Naoya's cup. But it was her next shot that really got my attention — perfect arc, clean landing, like she'd been doing this her whole damn life.

"Drink up, Professor," she said, but there was something different in her voice.

She reached for the tequila, and then—fuck me—propped one leg up on a nearby beer crate, the motion making her skirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of skin above her tights. Wait. Those weren't tights. Those were fucking stockings.

My brain short-circuited as I realized she'd been walking around all night in stockings. Actual stockings, with what I knew had to be a garter belt hidden under that criminally short skirt. The same spot where she was now deliberately sprinkling cinnamon.

The sight of that exposed sliver of skin between stocking and skirt made my blood boil. When the hell had she even bought those? Had she worn them just for tonight, knowing they'd make me lose my goddamn mind? Was she trying to get herself killed?

Because right now, watching her purposely dust cinnamon on that band of exposed skin, I wasn't sure if I wanted to murder her or fuck her. Probably both. My mouth went dry, and it had fuck-all to do with the alcohol.

"Well?" She tilted her head, all innocence except for that knowing look in her eyes. "Coming to get your tequila?"

Like she had to ask twice. Yet I hesitated. With all these people watching? What was she playing at? It was reckless, careless, like she was deliberately trying to expose us. It was power play, a challenge. And I knew, that she knew, that I couldn't resist.

A slow smile spread across my face as I sank to one knee before her, the crowd fading into a blur of noise. All that mattered was her—the way her breath hitched as I gripped her calf, the way she tensed as she realized that I made a whole show for her (poor girl didn’t expect that now, did she?)—the feel of her skin on my tongue.

I took my sweet time with the cinnamon, letting my tongue glide over the exposed strip of flesh, feeling her shiver. My teeth grazed her skin, just enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips. If she wanted a show, I'd give her a show. And part of me wanted to shove that skirt higher, to chase that taste of salt and cinnamon further up her thigh until—

Focus. Fucking focus.

I straightened, stepping into her space. She held an orange slice in one hand, the shot glass in the other, and I couldn't help but notice how her pupils had blown wide, how her chest rose and fell just a little faster than normal.

I plucked the orange from her fingers with my teeth, my lips brushing her skin, then took the shot glass, using the movement to press closer, my mouth right by her ear, "What exactly is your plan here?"

"Create distraction," she breathed back.

God help me, but it was working. I was definitely distracted. Whole damn crowd was distracted. And watching her play this game—watching her play me—was probably the hottest and most infuriating thing I'd ever experienced. And I'm pretty sure everyone could see I was hard too.

"You're distracting the wrong audience," I whispered before knocking back the shot.

In the midst of trying to control my homicidal urges over those goddamn stockings, she caught my eye and subtly jerked her head. I turned, making it look like I was just checking something, and spotted them—Zenin, Okkotsu, and Inumaki hovering on the other side of the table behind Naoya, waiting for their chance.

Right. The keys. The whole reason we were here. I almost forgot.

The game continued, the tension building with each shot. We were down to the last round — winner takes all. That's when she decided to really test my patience.

"Let's make this more interesting," she announced, her voice carrying over the crowd. "Losers jump in the pool." A pause, then because apparently she was hell-bent on giving me a coronary. "No clothes."

"You wouldn’t dare," Naoya scoffed.

"Try me," she replied.

I shot her a warning look. She subtly chewed on her bottom lip, meeting my gaze with an unnerving calm, perhaps her way of saying everything's gonna be okay. It did little to ease the knot in my stomach.

One shot left. If she made this, Naoya and I would be stripping down for a midnight dip. If she missed—

I tried not to think about her in that pool. Tried not to think about those stockings getting soaked. Tried not to think about murdering every sorry bastard who might lay eyes on her. Either way, this woman was going to be the death of me. If I didn't kill her first.

Naoya landed his shot, fucking prick. I missed mine for obvious reasons. Chemistry kid missed too, leaving everything on her shoulders. The ball left her hand, arcing through the air in what felt like slow motion. It circled the rim, then rolled away.

The crowd went wild. Naoya's victory smirk made me want to punch his face in. I glanced over at her, wondering for a second if she'd missed on purpose. But there was no time for that.

"Well?" Naoya's voice. "I believe the losers owe us a show."

"The game wasn't exactly fair—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Naoya?" She turned to him, her words sharp. "To see me undress without having to drug me first?"

The crowd went dead silent. Naoya's scarred face contorted into something ugly. "Watch your mouth, little girl. You're not as untouchable as you think."

"And you're pathetic," she spat back, then turned away from him. "At least I get to choose when I undress, right?”

She started walking toward the pool, each step deliberate, commanding. I followed, caught between pride and sheer terror at what she was about to do. At the edge, she turned back to me.

"Don't," I pleaded, but she was already reaching for the hem of her skirt. It fell, revealing the dark lace of her stockings. Then her top followed, and I stepped closer, trying to shield her from the leering eyes.

"This is insane." But my protest died as she stood there in only black lace, and then I saw them—the bruises from the fire still painted across her waist and ribs. Dark purple and yellow marks that hadn't yet faded, cruel reminder of how close I'd come to losing her.

The sight sobered me instantly. Something twisted in my chest, sharp and painful. The bruises I'd carefully tended to, the ones that still made her wince when I changed her bandages—on full display for this crowd of drunk idiots, turned into a spectacle.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely audible. "Don't do this."

She met my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I’d reached her. But then that smile—the one that sealed my fate—touched her lips. "Sorry, Professor," she whispered, and then she was gone, falling backward into the pool, taking a piece of me with her.

The splash echoed in my ears like a gunshot, and I was already shrugging off my jacket, ready to either dive in after her or use it to cover her when she surfaced. A cold, hard fury settled in my gut. Naoya was going to pay for this.

The crowd roared as she surfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water tracing the curves of her body beneath the soaked lace. Our eyes met across the distance, me standing at the pool's edge, and I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment. Something flickered across her face—regret maybe, or shame—before she looked away.

Hell broke loose. Bodies crashed into the water, sending waves across the pool. Even Naoya stripped off his shirt and dove in, reveling in the attention. The whole party seemed to shift to the pool in a matter of seconds — clothes flying, drinks splashing, the pristine water turning into a churning mess.

Perfect distraction.

But I barely registered any of it, my world had narrowed to her. I watched as she climbed out, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the concrete, practically sprinting past me, her gaze fixed on the floor, while water dripped from her hair, her skin, the dark lace clinging to her form.

Behind her, the pool had turned into chaos — exactly what she'd planned, I realized.

I gathered her clothes from where they'd fallen and followed her inside. I caught a glimpse of Okkotsu's quick movements near the discarded clothes by the pool.

Well played.

─── ·✧· ───

Her dripping form drew curious eyes as we moved through the foyer. Each step felt like a penance—hers for the recklessness, mine for letting it happen. Heads turned, conversations died, the sudden silence punctuated only by the soft drip, drip, drip of water from her hair.

Kento’s face flashed past, but I barely registered him. No doubt he'd give me shit about it at the university later, like he didn't already know something was up with me and her.

I wrapped my jacket around her shivering shoulders, fighting the desperate urge to reach for the opioids hidden in my pocket. Withdrawal, guilt, and fury burned together in my veins, making me want to crawl out of my own skin.

I stepped in front of her, partly to block all those eyes on her, partly to hide how bad my hands were shaking. None of it was worth it. Not the keys, not avoiding my parents, none of it. How did we end up here? How did I allow things to get to this point?

Upstairs, she dressed quickly, water still dripping from her hair, leaving damp patches on her clothes.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm okay," she said, avoiding my gaze.

She was shaking. I could see the goosebumps on her arms. "You're shivering," I said and reached for her, but she pulled away.

“I’m fine, really.”

Despite her words, I pulled her close. She didn't resist this time, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes were bright, and for a second, I thought she might cry. The world could have been watching, for all I cared. If those tears fell, it would be my undoing.

And then I thought of everything she'd done, everything she'd had to do—for me. My twenty-four-year-old student, forced to protect me from my own damn parents, to beg for my own money. Because I’d hit a guy who tried to hurt her. Why was it all so fucked up?

The high was long gone, leaving this gaping hole. My limbs felt heavy, detached, like they belonged to a stranger, unable to reach out and fix what I’d broken. And we were so far from where we started.

"You're disappointed," she finally said. She wasn't asking.

"We should leave." Because I couldn't bear to watch her sacrifice one more piece of herself for me.

"You can leave."

Before I could say anything back, Zenin came bursting into our corner, Okkotsu and Inumaki right behind her, her eyes all lit up. "That was fucking insane!" she yelled, waving something around—Naoya's keys. "But it worked! I can't believe it actually—" She stopped short, finally noticing the tension between us.

The win felt empty. Yeah, we got what we came for. But what did it cost? Looking at her, still shivering a little in my jacket, I wasn't so sure it was worth it. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I just kept watching her throw herself in the fire for me.

Some professor I was. Some man I was.

Strange how winning can feel so much like losing, especially when you realize you're not the one paying the price.

─── ·✧· ───

I stayed outside Naoya's room, playing lookout. At least that's what I told them. Truth was, I couldn't stand being in there, couldn't bear being near her, watching her fight my battles while I was barely holding myself together.

The itch under my skin had spread, making my whole body crawl with invisible insects while she did the dirty work. Even after everything, she was still trying to save me.

And I was still letting her.

I slid down the wall, my head hitting the floor. How did we end up here? What the fuck were we doing? What the fuck was I doing?

I'm thirty-five years old, for fuck's sake. Why was I acting like a goddamn teenager? I should've stopped her, shouldn't have let her leave the house to begin with, should've been the adult. But instead, I let it happen, standing by and watching where it led. Again.

This whole situation was insane. We were in too deep, and I knew it. But I couldn't seem to find my way out, couldn't seem to stop this trainwreck we were on. It was like I was watching it all happen from outside my own body, powerless to change course.

What kind of man was I? What kind of professor? I was supposed to be her mentor, her… something more. Instead, I was dragging her down with me.

I thought back to that night, the one that started it all. The night I found her in the lab, working late, hunched over her microscope. She looked up at me with those eyes, those damn eyes that seemed to see right through me. And I was lost. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have walked away. But I didn't. I couldn't. Drawn in. Consumed.

And now, here we were. Trapped in this fucked-up situation of our own making. I wanted to blame her, to say it was all her fault for being so reckless, so damn stubborn. But I knew that wasn't true. I let this happen. I didn’t stop it. But why?

I could replay the events in my mind, frame by frame, but the crucial moment, the point where I should have intervened, remained a blur. It was as if some part of me had wanted to see where this ended.

Music still drifted up from downstairs, the bass thumping through the walls. It felt wrong, out of place. Like we were in a different world, a fucked-up one, while everyone else was living their normal, happy lives.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, trying to pretend, just for a moment, that this wasn't happening. That we weren't here. That everything was okay. But it was happening. And I was in it, and I knew I couldn't hold my breath much longer.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Kept seeing things in the corners of my vision. Shadows that shouldn't move but did, faces that weren't faces at all. The wallpaper breathed. In and out. In and out. Like a lung.

Stop it. Just stop all of it. Make it stop. But it won't stop, can't stop, because she's in there right now, digging through his things, trying to save me save me save me why won't she just stop trying to save me?

Everything felt wrong, sick, twisted. Too bright and too dark all at once. My skin didn't fit right anymore. Nothing fit right anymore. God, I needed a goddamn fix.

A cough. I pressed my hand against my mouth. When I pulled it away, my palm was red.

Huh. That's new.

I stared at the blood, watching it pool in the lines of my hand. It looked wrong somehow, too dark, too thick. The longer I stared, the more it seemed to move strangely, crawling along the creases of my palm.

Was blood supposed to move like that? Like it was alive? Like it was trying to tell me something? I couldn't remember anymore. I couldn't remember a lot of things lately. The blood kept moving, kept spreading.

Maybe this was it—maybe I was finally losing whatever scraps of sanity I had left, sitting here on a dirty floor watching my own blood drip down my palm.

A part of me wondered if he'd been right all along, that I was becoming him, the very thing I’d always feared. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be better, different. Not this—huddled on a filthy floor at a college party, watching my blood move as if in psychosis, while she risked everything for me. Again.

The door handle turned. Shit. I wiped my palm against the dark carpet, smearing the blood into the fibers where it vanished like it was never there. I scrambled to my feet just as they emerged. She moved quickly, shoving something beneath the waistband of her skirt. Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm.

"Let's leave." There was something like panic in her voice. "I'll tell you outside."

I gripped her hand, my own pulse quickening, and we went downstairs and pushed through the mass of drunk students. But then the music cut abruptly, plunging us into a moment of strange silence before panicked voices filled the void.

"What the hell—?" Okkotsu’s shout cut through the din from behind us.

Then I saw the flashing lights—red and blue strobing through the windows. Fuck.

"Cops!" Someone shouted, and the whole house erupted into chaos as people scrambled in every direction.

"Everyone freeze!" A voice boomed through the foyer. "Nobody moves!"

We reached the entrance as two officers shouldered their way through the front door. The bigger one looked like he benched trucks for fun, taking up almost the entire doorframe as he planted himself there.

"Listen up!" he bellowed, one meaty hand resting on his belt. "Party's over. Nobody leaves until we check IDs."

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I felt her tense beside me, those things hidden in her waistband might as well have been burning her skin. I could practically feel her panic.

"Look, officers." I stepped forward, forcing my voice into something professional. "There seems to be some confusion—"

"No confusion here," Truck-Bencher cut me off, the scar on his lip twisting as he frowned. "Got noise complaints, reports of underage drinking. Everyone stays put."

"I'm faculty at the university. These are my students and they're all over twenty-one. You're wasting everyone's time—"

"Nobody leaves until we say so."

"You really want to process IDs for over two hundred students?"

"You telling me how to do my job?" He shifted closer, chest puffed out despite me having two inches on him.

Withdrawal crawled beneath my skin like insects, each bite feeding the rage that built vertebra by vertebra up my spine. "Depends. Are you actually doing it, or just power tripping?"

"Back the fuck up." His hand dropped to his belt. "Last chance."

I felt her fingers digging into my arm, trying to pull me back. But the rage was a living thing now, burning away anything resembling sense or restraint. "Or what?"

The punch came fast. I dropped, and heard the sickening crack of bone against flesh—not mine. Some poor student next to me. For a heartbeat, everything stopped. Then chaos.

Bodies everywhere. Screaming. Shoving. Radio static cutting through the roar. Her hand in mine as we pushed through the surge. Her friends somewhere behind. Everything blurred. I can't remember when she let go of my hand.

I just remember the scream. Different from the others. Then her voice, "Get her on the ground!" I shoved through the mass of bodies. Saw the girl on the floor. Ice flooded my veins.

I knew that face. Higurama's intern. My patient. My responsibility.

I dropped beside her, my hands shaking so violently I could barely feel them. Her eyes rolled back. Withdrawal made everything too sharp, too bright. I couldn't think. Couldn't—

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. It was her voice. Fingers gripped my arm. "Satoru, look at me." I met her eyes. Steady. Unnerving. "Focus."

Everything snapped back into place. My phone was in my hand before I realized I'd moved. "This is Dr. Gojo from Jujutsu Medical. Twenty-six-year-old female, epileptic, pre-seizure presentation. We need immediate assistance."

My voice was mechanical, professional. Inside, my mind screamed. Why was she here? Had she been drinking? Were her meds interacting with something? I should know this. Should be better than this. Should be fucking better.

Nausea rose in my throat and I'd never felt more like a failure in my entire fucking life.

Behind us, the fight continued to rage. A man’s voice bellowed, trying to restore order. Then Suguru was there, kneeling beside her, his hands gentle as he cradled her head. He murmured something, soft and low. The tenderness in his movements caught me off guard.

"The ambulance is taking too long." His voice cut through everything. Before I could process it, he had her in his arms, head protected against his chest and moved.

─── ·✧· ───

I can't remember how we got to the hospital.

Everything blurred into fragments. Flashing lights, squealing tires, the weight of everything crushing my chest. Each breath scraped like broken glass. My hands wouldn't stop shaking until I swallowed three pills. Maybe four. I lost count.

The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, too harsh, making my skull feel like it was splitting open. I wanted to crack my head against the wall.

Some part of me was still moving, still speaking in that detached doctor voice — rattling off medical history, medications, possible interactions. Years of training overriding the screaming in my head. But they never trained us for this.

Never trained us for how guilt tastes like acid in your throat while watching your mistakes breathe shallowly on starched white sheets.

They taught us to make clean incisions, to suture arteries, to restart hearts. But not how your own heart would seize when you recognize the face on the floor. Not how your girlfriend’s hands would be steadier than your own worthless trembling ones as you fumbled for your phone, your throat closing around the words "this is my fault", "please" and "I'm sorry."

Didn’t prepare us for withdrawal turning your hands into treacherous strangers while someone seized at your feet. For the shame that festers in your gut as you come down, struggling to remember basic fucking dosages through the need scorching through your veins.

They never warned us how love would carve you open worse than any scalpel, making you both butcher and victim, instrument and incision. Never warned us about loving someone while you’re falling apart. How it feels like drowning in open air, your chest cracked wide and your beating heart wrenched out into daylight, desperate and terrified and somehow still pumping, still fighting, still so fucking afraid.

Higurama's intern lay still now, the steady drip of the IV marking time like a metronome in the silence. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, my mind replaying the medications, the dosages, searching for the mistake I must have made. There had to be one. There was always one.

Perhaps he was right about me after all. Funny how even now, even here, I could still hear his voice so clearly.

"You okay?"

She sat across from me, swallowed by my spare clothes—an old t-shirt and sweatpants that draped loosely on her frame, a blanket draped over her legs. Anything was better than those clothes from before, those fucking stockings I'd personally thrown in the trash.

"Satoru?" she tried again. "You okay?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer.

"Talk me through her meds again," she said, resting her head in her palm. Her eyes, piercing and unwavering, never left my face as she waited.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus through the exhaustion. "Standard anticonvulsants. Levetiracetam, 500mg twice daily. Added phenytoin after the first seizure." I fell back into my chair, scrubbing my hand over my face. "She couldn't tolerate the Levetiracetam, so I switched to Topiramate, 500mg thrice daily."

She was quiet for a moment. "Side effects?"

"Minor. Tremor in her extremities sometimes, but nothing she couldn't handle. It was working." I paused. "It was supposed to be working."

"EEG results?"

"Showed mild abnormalities. Nothing that would explain a seizure this severe." I scrubbed at my face again, harder this time. "I should have seen it. Should have caught something."

"Satoru." Her voice held that gentle firmness I knew so well. "You did everything right."

"Then why did she seize?" I stood abruptly, the chair screeching against linoleum. I turned away, unable to bear her gentle gaze. Outside, dawn was breaking in shades of grey. No color, no warmth, just an endless stretch of concrete and clouded sky bleeding into each other. "If I did everything right, why is she lying here?"

"Because sometimes that's just how it goes. You know this better than anyone," she said. "Medicine isn't perfect. Neither are we."

My reflection stared back at me, ghostly and distorted in the glass. Dark circles, stubble, hair a fucking mess. A doctor coming down from a high while his patient lay in a hospital bed.

"I should have increased the dosage earlier. Run more tests. I should have—"

"Seen the future?"

"I should have been better."

"You are already the best," she said, but it felt like a lie to me. "But even the best can't control everything."

Higurama's intern stirred slightly in her sleep, and we both fell silent, the moment stretching taut between us. I dragged myself back to the chair, sinking down with my face in my hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she whispered, leaning forward to brush a stray strand of hair from the girl's forehead. "Sometimes life just happens, and all we can do is be there to pick up the pieces."

I wanted to believe her. God, how I wanted to. But the truth sat like stones in my stomach.

"I hate this," I whispered.

"I know."

Silence.

"Do you blame yourself?" she asked quietly.

"How can I not?"

Because it's stupid, you know this. I could feel them in my bones, the words forming on her lips before she could speak them. "How did that ever change anything?" I said before she could start.

She leaned back, the chair creaking slightly. "Do you think we are terrible people?" she asked, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

I turned to look at her then, really look at her. Even exhausted and worried, wearing my old clothes, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Like a drug I couldn't quit, a high I'd chase until it killed me.

And what did that say about either of us? That I wanted to crack her open, crawl inside her skin and nestle myself in her marrow? Wanted to consume her, devour her, until there was nothing left but the two of us, fused together in the most depraved way possible?

It was as if we were always meant to find each other. But it was a penance, for both of us.

"I think I am what I am because of you," I finally said.

And it was the truth. She'd molded me, shaped me, just as I'd shaped her. We'd ruined each other for anyone else, stripped away the innocence and left only the filth and grit behind.

Her hand fell from her face, her eyes meeting mine. "And I am what I am because of you."

"Does that scare you?"

"I think one gets used to it."

"Yeah," I said finally, my voice rough. "I guess you do get used to it. Until you don't."

She frowned, but before she could voice something, Suguru stepped inside.

He said we should leave, and maybe that was for the better anyway, though I couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was an edge to his voice. Anger, perhaps. But I couldn't blame him. Not really.

I grabbed her things, my hand finding its familiar place at the small of her back as we headed for the door. Suguru's voice followed us down the corridor. "What did you find in Zenin's room anyway?" he asked, as if it were something to be discussed in the doorway.

I walked ahead.

I didn't need to hear again about the unconscious women on the Polaroids.

─── ·✧· ───

Too quiet.

He was never this quiet.

"How bad is it?" I asked, perched on the edge of the exam bed where the paper sheet betrayed every nervous shift of my weight with stupid crinkles. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the linoleum floor.

I'd coughed up blood again earlier this morning. More than last night. The metallic taste had filled my mouth before I even opened my eyes. I'd stumbled to the bathroom, careful not to wake her—she needed the rest after we spent the whole damn night at the police station.

I stared at the red running down the drain. Way more than there should be. I'd blamed it on stress and alcohol last time. But now? It meant my liver was probably failing faster than I'd thought. Coagulation system breaking down, blood vessels becoming fragile. Textbook end-stage.

I called him then. He was still at the hospital, had slept there while looking after Higurama's intern. His face had gone pale when he saw me walk in. Guess I looked as bad as I felt.

We ran tests. All of them. Blood work, chest X-rays, the works. And now here we are. I watched him reading what I assumed was my death sentence, waiting for him to finally look up, while the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds.

But he kept his eyes fixed on the test results, holding himself with the careful rigidity of someone handling explosives. Another bad sign.

"Suguru."

He exhaled slowly, finally meeting my gaze with eyes that said everything before his mouth could form the words. "You should have started treatment sooner. We talked about this months ago."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I tried to wave off his concern. "What do the results say?"

His fingers tightened on the papers until the corners creased. "Your liver enzymes are through the roof. AST over 1000, ALT even higher. Bilirubin's climbing while albumin's dropping. Your PT/INR values—" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. Not just damaged anymore—failing."

I let the clinical terms wash over me. The doctor in me understood the implications perfectly. The addict in me wanted to laugh at the irony.

"Well," I said, forcing lightness into my tone, "guess I should have listened to you sooner, huh?"

Suguru's expression hardened. "This isn't a joke. Without immediate intervention—" He caught himself, but I could read the rest in his eyes as clearly as any lab report.

Without immediate intervention, I was dying. Fitting, really. That my body would choose to betray me just when I'd finally found something worth living for.

"How's the withdrawal going?" Suguru asked, setting down the test results.

"Managing." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ignore how even that simple movement felt like too much effort. "Reduced the hydromorphone gradually. Down to about 5mg now."

"Satoru." His voice carried that familiar note of frustration, the one I'd heard a thousand times before. "You need to stop completely. Not reduce—stop. Your liver can't handle any more strain."

"I'm trying," I snapped, then immediately regretted the harshness. "Sorry. I know you're trying to help."

Suguru pulled up a chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "We need to start treatment immediately. The protocol won't be pleasant—high-dose corticosteroids, immunosuppressants, possibly plasmapheresis if things get worse."

"Sounds fun."

"It'll be brutal," he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "The side effects alone—you'll need to be monitored constantly. Multiple blood draws daily, frequent imaging. And absolutely no narcotics—your liver won't survive it."

I absorbed this, the clinical reality of what lay ahead settling into my bones. "So basically, I get to feel like shit while you stick me with needles and watch me suffer."

"That's about right. But it's either that or start planning your funeral."

"At least you're honest." I attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll admit you tonight, get you set up in a private room," Suguru said, already reaching for admission forms.

"Monday morning."

He looked up sharply. "What?"

"I have a family dinner on Sunday," I shrugged. "Can't skip it."

"Are you insane?" Suguru's voice rose to fill the small room. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. This isn't something you can postpone for a damn dinner party."

"Monday morning," I repeated firmly. "I gave my word I'd be there."

"Your word won't mean much if you're dead."

"I can manage two more days."

"No, you can't." Suguru slammed the test results down with enough force to make me flinch. Since when is he always so fucking tense? "Your numbers are critical. Every hour we delay treatment increases the risk of complete liver failure."

"Monday."

"For fuck's sake, Satoru—"

"I said Monday. I need to do this, Suguru. Please."

He stared at me for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. Finally, his shoulders slumped.

"Fine. Monday morning, first thing. But if you show any signs of deterioration—any at all—I'm admitting you immediately. And no alcohol at that dinner. Not a single drop."

"Deal."

"I mean it, Satoru."

"I know," I said, trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere. "You can do all sorts of things to me on Monday. Not like I have much on my schedule anyway."

"So Yaga has exempted you?"

"Temporarily relieved of my teaching duties until further notice." I tried to keep my voice light, but the words still choked me. "Apparently, licking your student's leg in public view isn't considered acceptable behavior. Who knew?"

"Everyone would have known that."

"Most people were too drunk to remember anyway, or too busy dealing with the police raid afterwards to care." I shrugged. "Silver lining?"

"This isn't funny. Do you have any idea how serious this is? Your career—"

"My career?" I almost laughed. "In case you missed the memo, my liver's failing. I think my career concerns just got bumped down the priority list."

Suguru fell silent.

"Besides," I added, "maybe it's for the best. Can't exactly teach while going through treatment, can I?"

"Yaga doesn't know about your condition?"

"No, and he's not going to. As far as he's concerned, I'm just taking some time to... reassess my professional boundaries."

"And when he asks why you're not fighting this?"

I sighed. "Let him think what he wants. I've got bigger problems right now."

"Like a family dinner you're insisting on attending despite being on death's door?"

"Exactly." I flashed him a grin, this one a little more genuine despite everything. "See? You're getting it."

"You're impossible."

"That's why you love me."

"That's why I'm going to enjoy sticking you with needles on Monday."

"Kinky."

His expression sobered, eyes searching my face. "You should tell her."

The mere mention of her sent a knife twisting in my gut. "No."

"Satoru—"

"I said no. She has enough to deal with right now. This stays between us."

Suguru shook his head but didn't argue further. He knew me too well to waste his breath.

"I will," I added softly, more to convince myself than him. "When I'm a bit better."

"This will kill her."

"I know."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "For being an asshole. For everything. And... thanks for coming to the party with me."

"You already apologized."

"I mean it." I met his gaze. "You've always been there, even when I didn't deserve it."

Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of the friendship we'd shared before everything got so complicated. Before I'd dragged us both into this mess.

"Just don't die on me," he said. "I've invested too much time in keeping your stupid ass alive."

I pushed off the bed, steadying myself against the sudden dizziness that threatened to knock me over. "See you Monday."

"You're a stubborn idiot," he called after me. I didn't disagree.

I stopped at the door, turning back. "Hey, what's going on between you and Higurama's intern anyway?"

Suguru stiffened slightly. "Nothing. Just concerned since she's my patient now too."

I studied him, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze shifted slightly left—his tell when he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Sure," I said, too exhausted to push it further. "See you Monday."

As I walked away, I wondered if he knew how obvious he was. Then again, who was I to judge? I was hardly an expert at handling matters of the heart.

─── ·✧· ───

I paused outside our apartment door, my hand trembling on the handle. Withdrawal clawed through me, a living thing twisting my gut. Each breath was a struggle, my lungs constricting as if they'd forgotten their purpose. Just breathe, idiot. In, out. You're almost there.

Relief flooded through me the moment I opened the door. Her shoes were there, neatly arranged next to my scattered ones. Her coat on the hook. She was home.

Strange how that simple fact could lift the weight crushing my chest, made breathing a fraction less painful. No matter how bad things were, coming home to her felt like breaking the surface after being underwater too long.

Dog bounded up to greet me, tail whipping back and forth, before darting off toward the bedroom. Smart boy knew exactly where to find her. I kicked off my shoes, let my jacket fall where it would, and followed.

She was there, sprawled across our bed in a sea of papers, bathed in the warm light of the bedside lamp. The sight of her stole what little breath I had left. Hair messily pulled back, drowning in one of my old t-shirts, completely lost in whatever she was reading. Beautiful. It was a beauty that made my heart ache.

Without a word, I crawled onto the bed, dragging myself up until I could rest my head on her stomach. I paused, remembering the bruises on her midsection. But before I could pull back, she gently tugged me closer and I surrendered, resting my head against her warmth.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and her fingers found my hair instantly, like they belonged there, gentle strokes that made my eyes flutter closed and I thought, this was home. This was peace. Even as my body screamed for relief, even as guilt gnawed at me, here with her, I could almost believe everything would be okay.

"What are you reading?" I mumbled against her shirt, already knowing the answer. Why did she still throw herself into this project? Did it even matter anymore? But I already knew that answer too. Distraction.

"Research papers. For our project." Her fingers never stopped their magic. "Everything okay at the hospital?" I wondered for a second how she knew where I went, but then she said, "Antiseptic smell."

Did I always smell like that? Like the harsh, sterile scent of the hospital? I hated it. Hated how it seemed to cling to my skin no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands raw. Hated the way it reminded me of sickness and death.

I hugged her tighter, breathing in her familiar scent as that was so unlike the clinical smell of the hospital as I crafted the lie. Yeah, everything's fine, I told her. Had to check on something with a patient. Normal stuff, nothing to worry about. Standard procedure.

But even as I spoke, the guilt in my stomach twisted. The truth was, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going like this. I could feel myself slipping, losing my grip on the things that mattered most and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd even make it to the end.

If I'd be there to witness the results of our research, to stand by her side as we perhaps do something great. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts, focusing on the feel of her beneath me, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

Her fingers paused momentarily in my hair, and I knew she sensed something off. She always could read me too well. But then she resumed the gentle stroking.

"You'd tell me if something's wrong, right?"

"Of course," I whispered, another lie to add to the growing pile.

I tightened my arms around her waist, as if by holding her close enough, I could somehow make up for my betrayal. As if loving her fiercely enough could somehow balance out the pain I was about to cause her. Monday felt both too far away and not nearly far enough.

Desperate for a distraction, I asked about how it went at the police station. She said it was fine, her friends were with her as they'd needed to clarify their statements, she explained, her fingers still weaving through my hair. Everything had been too hazy right after the party.

She mentioned they needed me to verify my own statement again too. I bit back the urge to say that they'd likely have to come to my hospital bed for that. Instead, I just hummed in response. Whatever it took to make that little shit pay for what he'd done.

"He won't hurt anyone else," she added. "We'll make sure of it."

Something about her struck me as odd. How could she be so unaffected by everything that had happened? Like we didn’t just discover that Zenin Naoya was—

"You're so calm about it."

"And what would you have me do?"

I didn’t know. Maybe I should be grateful that at least one of us could keep it together.

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. I wanted to tell her how proud I was of her, how sorry I was for dragging her into this mess, how I feared the rumors that would follow her through university halls. How fucking terrified I was. How much I loved her. But it all just crowded in my throat, tangled with all the other truths I couldn't voice.

Instead, I just held her tighter. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Or lie again. I clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping me from falling apart, pressing my face into her stomach, trying to blur myself into her very being. "Satoru,” she winced, a small sound escaping her lips. "You're hurting me."

"Please," I pleaded, tears pricking at my eyes. “Just… bear it for a moment. Please.” But then, a sudden tickle rose in my throat, and I sat up abruptly, he movement sending the room spinning.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting up as well, her hand cradling her side.

"Yeah," I managed, before another cough clawed its way out. I stood, turning away from her, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. When I pulled it away, blood glistened on my palm.

"Satoru? You sure you're okay?"

"Everything's fine." I curled my fingers into a fist, watching red seep between my knuckles. "Just need some water."

I should call him again. Should probably head to the hospital right now. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to seek help, to stop this madness before it was too late.

But Sunday's dinner loomed in my mind. One last chance to fix things with her, to make things right before everything inevitably crumbled around us. Just two more days. I just needed to hold on for two more days and then I could let the chips fall where they may.

Even as blood painted the back of my throat red, I clung to that desperate hope, that foolish notion that I could make this right. I knew I was being stupid. Reckless. Playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun.

But then again, what did it matter anyway?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — welcome back, i hope this wasn't too intense, even tho i went through all stages of grief writing this chapter, but i'm quite happy with how it turned out. hope you all survived seeing things through satoru's eyes once more. writing from his perspective is always both challenging and thrilling in some strange way.

quick note, as this is somehow not obvious to some people: i understand that this story deals with controversial topics and might not be everyone’s cup of tea but this is purely fictional work, and i'm just here to enjoy a stupid little hobby. i am not looking for criticism. if the story makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me and move on.

for those following the spin-off: yes, this chapter runs parallel to remedies and reasons chapter 04 ! if you want to see how certain events played out from a different angle, definitely check out the suguru spin-off.

and i want to thank you all for your incredible support. your comments, messages, and theories continue to blow me away. seeing how deeply you connect with this story and catch all the little details i sprinkle throughout brings me so much joy. your thoughtful analyses and wild speculations make writing this stupid story so much fun !! :''))

also a massive thank you to @/nanamis-baker who beta reads all these chaotic chapters, listens to my rambling about plot points, and talks me down whenever i'm convinced everything i write is terrible <3

& second quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

next chapter we'll be back to our regular pov as we deal with the aftermath of... well, all of this. until then, take care of yourselves ! and as always, thank you for joining me on this chaotic journey and being patient with my slow updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @browrm @panteramarron @starlightanyaaa

@myahfig4 @rosebluod @bloopsstuff @depressedemosantaclaus @nanamis-baker

@tofumiao @shoruio @s3vtrue @rosso-seta @bnha-free-writing

@chiyokoemilia @bonequinhagojo @janbannan @mikkmmmii @yeiena

@coeqi @faustina @glenkiller338 @yenmrtnz @buni-bunnydoll

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 days ago

Text

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 17

Summary: Negan gets a visit from Y/N after the fight he had with Joel and she has him make a very emotional promise to her. Joel opens up to his brother about something he kept locked away for many years.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Tommy Miller, Lucille Smith, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/157173025 Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, Smut, talks about someone wanting to hurt themselves, a character has memories about what it felt to experience both abuse and homophobia from their parent, mental trauma from a character, etc.

Notes: This chapter I just edited and finished at 430 in the morning. I'm trying to keep up with schedules, but I know I'm falling behind and I'm doing my best! This chapter has someone talking about their past and the homophobia they had to face when they were younger. Especially in terms of their family. It is emotional and it could trigger some if they have ever been in this situation. I just want to put it out there.

Overwhelmed would be an understatement for Negan right now. After everything that happened today, it was really hard to focus on one thing. Dropping his head back against the couch, Negan reached up to cover his eyes releasing a stressed exhale. He was trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing that he was feeling in his knee right now. After all the injuries that Negan had experienced from playing baseball, he knew what it felt like when he was severely injured. This was not that kind of pain, but it certainly did fucking hurt. And it hurt bad. But it was the kind of ache that he would get when he overworked his knee. Not so much the pain of a horrible injury.

To help with the pain, there was a bag of ice wrapped around his knee while he was laid stretched out on the couch. Even with his eyes closed it felt like the room was spinning around him. It was probably from a mixture of the pain along with the adrenaline that was fueling through him. There was a dull ache in his fists along with his face since he had gotten into a fight with Joel even though he tried so very hard to not let it happen.

Disappointment was flooding through his veins as well. For so long he did pretty well with handling Joel, but tonight Joel went too far and made him snap. And that was bad because Y/N was right. Joel was drunk and he had no filtering system. Fighting with Joel while he was drunk made no sense, but once Joel started spouting off about Lucille, he couldn’t contain himself.

A faint knocking drew him to drag his palms down over his face. Turning his head toward the door, Negan sighed loudly when there was a second knock alerting him that he wasn’t making up the sound in his head. Lifting his head up from the couch, Negan wondered if his knee could make the trip to the door or if it was even worth it. Forcing himself up, he pushed up onto his hands and it probably took him way too long to get up from the couch. Setting down the bag of ice, he limped over toward the door and reached for the handle. Bracing most of his weight on his good leg, Negan felt his heart sink when he opened the door to see Y/N standing before him.

“What were you thinking running off on me?” she blurt out with Negan shamefully lowering his head to avoid looking at her. Clinging to the doorknob, Negan swallowed down hard and felt a chill running through his veins. “You were hurt. I don’t even know how you got home without getting in an accident and hurting yourself further.”

“I was ashamed and figured you wouldn’t want to be around me,” Negan confessed, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. There was a lot that was said today and thrown out on the table for her to deal with, so he didn’t even know where to start with things. “There was a lot thrown at you and…”

“Do you not want me here?” she interrupted Negan having his sad hazel eyes connecting with hers. Slouching, Negan bit down on his bottom lip and could see that she was worried about him. “I can leave if you don’t want me.”

“You know that I want you here,” Negan claimed, his long eyelashes fluttering. Nodding toward the inside of his rental home she waited for Negan to step aside and allow her into the house. Closing the door behind her, Negan rubbed at the back of his neck with the incredible amount of tension that was building up inside of him.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be around you?” she wondered, noticing the bag of ice that was sitting on the couch. Turning on her heel, she looked to Negan expectantly wanting some kind of answer from him but he was at a loss of words.

“There are plenty of reasons,” he stated, taking a few steps closer to her limping as he did it. “I should have never attacked Joel. I tried so hard to keep it together, but I didn’t. He was drunk and he didn’t have a filtering system. It was wrong for me to attack him. And Joel isn’t wrong Y/N. I’m a horrible person. I did terrible things…”

“I’m surprised you held it together as long as you did,” she suggested, stepping forward to reach for Negan’s hands. Holding them, she felt them trembling with her caressing over the backs of them with her thumbs. Right now the number one thing he was feeling was shocked. Especially since her caress was so kind and gentle. More than anything he thought she would be mad at him. “And I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” he stammered, confusion flooding his features. He wasn’t too entirely sure what she was pertaining to when she said that.

“I don’t care what you used to be,” she whispered, closing the distance between the two of them. Palming in over the side of Negan’s face had him letting out a tremoring breath, his eyes coming to a slow close. Leaning into the warmth of her touch, Negan’s bottom lip was slightly trembling while she comforted him. “I don’t care what you used to be like. All I care about is who you are now. How you treat me, how you treat my children.”

“I’m not good enough for you. I know he’s right about that,” Negan confessed, his eyes still closed with him cuddling his face in against the warmth of her palm. “I realized too late the mistakes I was making in life. I should have been a good husband the whole time, but I let things get to me. I wasn’t a good man for a very long time.”

“I don’t doubt that you loved your wife. I see it in the way you talk about her,” she hushed him, lifting her other hand to cup his face in her hands tenderly. By the time he opened his eyes, she could see that tears were burning at them. “One thing you’ve never been able to do is lie to me Negan Smith. I can see right through you and when you talk about her, I see pure love. I can see the pain in your eyes when you talk about her. I know how you took off time from work to take care of her. You still wear your wedding rings on your body Negan. You fucked up, you did. But I don’t think for a second that you didn’t love her.”

A sob fell from Negan’s lips and she urged him to lower down so she could press a lingering kiss over his forehead, “I don’t doubt that by the end of her life, Lucille knew how sorry you were. She knew how much you loved her and how much she loved you.”

Leading him over toward the couch, she got him to sit down and then lowered in beside him. Sweeping her fingers over his jawline, she allowed him to rest his head against her shoulder. Brushing her fingers through Negan’s thick hair, she hushed him when he started to cry.

“It’s okay,” she comforted him, wrapping him up in her arms allowing him a moment to go through that pain that had been pent up inside of him for so long. “I know that you miss Lucille and I can’t imagine what it’s like losing someone you love that much the way that you did. But please. Promise me that no matter what happens in the future…don’t hurt yourself. Keep fighting for me…for Lucille…”

Lifting his head from her shoulder, Negan’s reddened over eyes looked miserable. Placing another kiss over his forehead, she let it linger before frowning, “I need you here. I want you in my life. So no matter what, if things ever get hard or you need to find strength, please call me. Talk to me. Open up to me. Because a universe without Negan Smith is not somewhere I want to be.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan muttered with a firm nod, his chest aching with an incredible amount of guilt that he was feeling. Only a handful of people had known about him trying to kill himself in the past, but never having the strength to do it. Now Y/N and Joel were added to that list.

“Promise me,” she pled with him, her own eyes tearing over with the thought of what Negan admitted to both her and Joel. Hell, she knew Negan was depressed and upset about losing Lucille, but she never pictured that Negan was the kind of person that would try to kill himself. Especially since Negan seemed like the type to be high on life, never wanting to lose a moment. “Promise me that you will never try to kill yourself again. Because that would break me. It would break my heart forever and I would never forgive you for it. Because I love you. Do you understand me?”

Nodding his head, Negan had a hard time forming words, but she forced him to look at her and he released a broken breath.

“I promise,” Negan exhaled, his body trembling with her sweeping his tears away. With how emotional she was getting over all of this, it broke his heart to see. But with how emotional she was about it, he knew that she genuinely cared for him. “I know I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be having a breakdown…”

“I’d be worried about you if you weren’t,” she declared, sliding in closer to him to caress over the length of his back toward his shoulders. “You’re broken. You loved someone so deeply and you lost them. You have to talk about it. You have to feel…”

“Joel talks about how he missed out on so much, but he’s wrong. Stardom only made me worse,” Negan insisted, his fingers reaching up to curl around her wrist to caress over her pulse point with his thumb. “I would have given anything to have the life that he had with you and the children. We tried so hard to have children and we were always fighting about it. What he mentioned with me not being able to have children, it might be true. I might be broken completely…I was never brave enough to find out. She wanted me to, but…”

“If you can’t, there is nothing wrong with that Negan,” she insisted with her eyebrows furrowing and her head shaking slowly. Even the idea that Negan could possibly not be capable of having children was tearing him apart. But it wasn’t something that she thought he should be focusing on since there was already so much on his mind about things. “That doesn’t make you broken. And for all you know there is nothing wrong with you. Lucille was sick. And you don’t know for how long. It could have been a combination of things.”

“You shouldn’t be being nice or empathetic to my situation,” Negan suggested with a firm shake of his head, his jaw flexing with discomfort. After what Joel broke to her, he figured that she would never want to speak or talk to him again. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself enough?” she inquired with Negan’s expression growing sadder. When something like suicide was a topic of discussion, it wasn’t something you should blow off and with how emotional Negan was, she was happy that she came to him tonight. “Lucille asked you to live life for her and you promised that you would. Do you think she wanted you to continue to hurt yourself over the things you did wrong?”

“No,” Negan answered honestly, his bottom lip trembling further while she stroked over his face. There were a lot of discussions that the two of them had about the subject. Lucille was always angry with him for being so emotional. Begging him to promise to continue on with his life. To make something with the time he had left. Because she couldn’t. So if someone could, she wanted Negan to. Especially since she loved him.

“Then don’t do it,” she was doing her best to pull him from what it was that actually broke Negan tonight. “Focus on the good times you had. The moments you got to share together before she passed away. Because those are the moments that mattered. I know it hurts. More than anything you want to hug her, touch her and tell her that you love her, but she hears you Negan. Talk to her. Because she is and will always be with you.”

Placing her hand in over the center of his chest had his cries growing harder. Shakily his hand covered hers and squeezed it tightly in his grasp, “It’s so hard because we can’t hold them anymore, but they never really leave us. They are always there. She’s part of you and she always will be.”

Slouching forward, Negan’s forehead rest against hers with her stroking over the back of his neck, over his scalp and through his hair in a soothing manner, “You see so much darkness in yourself Negan and I see so much potential. So much love.”

“You always saw the best in me when no one else did,” Negan reminded her, palming his hands up and over her arms. “I think the other people were right about me. You just saw hints of something that weren’t really there.”

“No, I don’t believe that,” she whispered, refusing to allow him to sink into the thought that he was a terrible person. “Yeah, you’re a smart ass and you probably deserve to get punched sometimes, but everyone does. I’ve seen the things you do for the people you care about. You have a big heart when you allow yourself to show it. I’ve seen it many times since you came back to town. It’s there. And it shines bright.”

“I don’t know what I would have done if we didn’t run into each other again,” Negan admitted, swallowing down, turning in to press a loving kiss against the center of her palm. “I love you, so fucking much.”

“And I love you,” she whispered, enjoying the warmth of him before her. It ate away at her hearing Negan break down like he had when they were all together. Those words continued to play in her head like a broken record. The idea of Negan killing himself was a horrible nightmare for her. One she never wanted to face. “I always have and I always will.”

“I’m so sorry I let what Joel did break us apart,” Negan stammered, his breathing uneven with her tenderly caressing at the side of his neck and over his face. “I knew you had a crush on him. I should have understood. I was just so young and selfish. “

“I think you’re defining me right now,” she rolled her eyes at the idea that he was the bad one in the situation. There were a lot of things that she could say about Negan, but in the past he was the biggest victim in this whole situation. “The only person that wasn’t in the wrong in that situation was you. I wish you would have told me what was going on with Joel, but…”

“But you loved him so much,” Negan spoke up before she could finish her sentence getting her to look at him fully. “If you thought there was any question about the purity of your relationship, I knew it would break your heart. That’s why I never told you. You would question everything. And you shouldn’t have. Because he looked at you with so much love whenever I saw the two of you after that night. It’s why I never did anything. It may have broken me, but it made two people that I cared about happy. Two people that deserved happiness very much. I don’t question that Joel loved you.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she admitted in terms of Joel and the things that he told her. “I feel like there is so much that I don’t know about Joel. Things that he was never honest with me about. Unlike you, I can’t tell when he’s being honest or lying to me.”

“I think Joel deserves the same opportunity that I do,” Negan explained with a loud swallow. Something in her eyes showed that she didn’t understand. “You forgave me for my past. You mention the man that I am now…Joel is right I was a worse husband than he ever was. I’m just innocent when it comes to you because I wasn’t the one that hurt you. If you can get over that part of me, you should realize that he can be different too.”

“The man devastates you and gets you angry enough to start a physical fight with him, yet you’re still defending him,” she noted, surprised that Negan would go to bat for Joel even after everything that happened. Then again, that was something that Negan seemed to be doing longer than she ever even realized.

“Because he’s broken,” Negan replied with a frown. Hearing that took her breath away. “He’s at the stage I was when I first lost Lucille. He’s hitting all the stages at once. Regret. Pain. Anger. Disbelief. Fury. Rage. They are eating away at him and he’s just lost it because he loves you, but he doesn’t know how to show it. I’m not lying to you when I tell you that I think Joel regrets everything that he did. I think if he could go back in time and stop it from happening, he would. I don’t want to lead you on and make you believe that he’s this terrible piece of shit. Because he’s not. He did shitty things, but I do fucking believe that he loves you. And that he’s a good man. Just a man that had a lot of bad shit happen in his life, so he’s bad with his feelings and his emotions.”

With a deep inhale, Negan looked down and shook his head, “I know you love him too. I can see it in the way that the two of you look at one another. And if you want to be with Joel, I don’t want to hold you back. I feel like you are experiencing guilt because you don’t want to let me down, but I love you. So fucking much that if Joel makes you happy, if Joel is where you feel whole—I love you enough to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to let me go,” she was quick to respond, hushing him when she brought him in closer to her. “I can’t lose you from my life again Negan. You have brought back a joy that I never thought would be there again. You awakened that thing inside of me that I thought was long gone. Whether we’re together or not, I need you.”

“And I need you,” Negan agreed with her nuzzling his nose in against hers in a tender moment. Cherishing the warmth of her near, Negan still felt an ache at the center of his chest. “But I don’t want Joel suffering either.”

“Nor do I,” she acknowledged knowing that there was so much love in her heart for her ex-husband still. That wasn’t something that she could hide. Joel still held part of her heart in his hand and that would never leave her. “But if making Joel feel better is kicking you out of my life, I can’t do that. I’m probably not a good person and I acknowledge that because I love the both of you. Very much.”

Meeting her stare, Negan exhaled loudly with her getting up from the couch. Turning when she applied pressure at his shoulders, Negan sat the right way on the couch. Sighing, he bit down on his bottom lip when she caressed in over the center of his chest to get him to relax. Lowering down to her knees before him, she started to caress over Negan’s hurt leg eliciting a pained sound to fall from him. Grabbing the bag of ice, she placed it over his knee with one hand while the other continued to caress over his thigh.

“I love Joel. Nothing will change that. I’m smart enough to admit that,” she confessed, her breathing growing louder with the way that Negan was looking at her behind heavy eyelids. “But I know how I feel about you. I love you so much. No one makes me feel the way that you do. Poor, happy, sad, rich…I don’t care. You mean so much to me and I can’t throw you out of my life.”

“Y/N,” he exhaled loudly with her getting up further on her knees. Setting the ice aside, she started to undo his belt. Unhooking it and pulling it apart had Negan’s breathing growing more uneven. With her fingers undoing his pants and opening them, Negan lowered his hands and grabbed her wrists to stop her. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay,” she hushed him, urging his hands onto the couch beside him. Tugging at the material of his pants, she pulled the dark slacks from his body. Setting them aside, she took her time to caress over his thighs. It had him inhaling sharply when she lowered down over his knees to sweep over them and down to his calves. Slightly turning toward his hurt leg, she started massaging at his flesh. When her fingers swept over the scars that were over his knee area, she lowered forward to press loving kisses over his flesh. “You are so beautiful. Inside and out.”

Caressing his fingers over the back of her neck, Negan grasped at her hair and let out a pleased sound with her touching him. For a while she gave his leg a massage, working to get him to relax with it aching. Truthfully? She was one of the only people that he would trust near his leg like that.

Placing a final kiss over his knee had chills running down his spine. Getting up carefully from the ground, she took her jacket off as she kicked out of her boots. There was something that he should have said, but he couldn’t form words when she took her time to pull her sweater from her body. Once she had the material at her side, she dropped it next to where she had set his pants down.

Adjusting his positioning on the couch, Negan’s lips parted and he was ready to tell her that she didn’t need to do this. But as she started to shimmy out of her pants, it had a lump growing at the center of his throat. Almost immediately, he became breathless. His heart hammered in his chest with her reaching around herself to unhook her bra allowing the material to fall. The first sight of her bare breasts had him nervously licking his lips. Even though they had been together many times at this point, she still took his breath away. When she pushed her fingers into her panties to get them down her legs, he could feel his heart skip a beat.

Carefully lowering down to her knees over him had his hands settling in over her hips with his rough fingertips caressing over her flesh. Staring up at her in awe, Negan wondered if he truly deserved her at all.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you,” she apologized bringing their lips together in a passionate, unhurried sweep. Caressing at the back of her thighs, Negan kissed her back. Chills were running up and down his spine.

“No, don’t,” Negan silenced her, his eyelids heavy with desire for the woman before him. “If anything, I should be the one that is sorry. Joel was right. I should have never abandoned you and your family. I should have been here all along helping you. I loved you so much and I let something like that ruin our relationship that we had our whole life.”

“This is one time you can’t take credit,” she whispered, sliding further in over his lap having Negan tip his head back to keep his eyes hooked with hers. “I let my crush on Joel persuade me to be a certain way and I wasn’t thinking.”

“You really do deserve better than me,” Negan admitted with a frown, his rough palms caressing up over her back toward her shoulders. “I’m a broken mess and I don’t deserve the love and support that you give me.”

“I think we’re all a little broken,” she thought aloud, her fingers caressing at Negan’s scalp with her left arm hooking loosely around Negan’s shoulders. “But there is no one that makes me feel better than you do. I think you realize the person you were and you’re trying your best to make things better. For everyone.”

“I think I’m fucking up Joel,” Negan countered with a firm shake of his head, letting out a sigh. Watching her hands palm down in over the center of his chest toward his abdomen, Negan bit down on his bottom lip when she reached the bottom of the black henley that he was wearing. Raising his arms, Negan allowed her to tug the material up his body and drop it on the floor with the rest of their clothing.

“You’ve been trying to help Joel,” she corrected him with a shake of her head, her fingers teasing through the dark curls of hair over Negan’s torso. “I see it. What you did at that bar, the way you handle him. I think you’ve done a really good job.”

“We fought tonight,” he reminded her, exhaling loudly with the way her lips hovered over his. “I could have done better.”

“Joel isn’t used to my heart not belonging one hundred percent to him,” she recognized, sliding her hands up over the sides of Negan’s neck toward his face to cup it lovingly in her palms. “You were the one that kept trying to keep the truth from me. You don’t have any ulterior motives. You care about me. You care about him. You treat our children good. I like the man that you became. I like the man that you are with me.”

“I want to be the best version of myself for you,” Negan announced, his voice growing raspier when he felt her reach for the material of his black boxer briefs. Lifting his hips up, he helped her work the material down his body. Wiggling his legs, he grunted with her pushing firmly at the material working to get it to his knees. Lowering back onto the couch, Negan kicked at the material getting it to his ankles. Allowing her back in over him, he cherished the warmth of her body wrapping him up in her arms. Nuzzling his nose at the side of her neck, Negan’s hand caressed over the lengths of her back with her peppering kisses at his freckle covered shoulders.

“You are,” she assured him, pressing a faint kiss over his ear having him suck in a sharp breath. “I have no doubts when I’m with you. I know how I feel when we’re together.”

Grabbing a hold of his right arm, she led his hand toward the center of her chest allowing him to place it over her heart. Stroking her fingers at the back of his hand, she could tell just by the way that he looked at her that everything he felt was pure.

“You make me happy. I haven’t been happy in a very long time,” she told him the truth, loving the way that his eyes stared out at her. Lifting his hand up, she pressed a loving kiss over the center of it. “When I’m with you, I feel a warmth…love…”

“But I’m putting you in a hard place because I know you love Joel,” Negan commented, his other hand reaching up to trace over her features. “If I wasn’t here to mess things up, you could have everything you wanted with Joel.”

“I’m not sure Joel would be acting the way that he is if you weren’t here,” she sighed loudly, stroking her fingers through Negan’s short beard that covered his face. “You weren’t here for four years with us being divorced. So in a way, I guess you bring out both the best and the worst of Joel. I could whine that I’m in a horrible position, but I have two men that I love very much in my life right now. People can only hope to have one.”

“But what if you decide that you want to be with the other man?” Negan inquired, sucking in a sharp breath when she dropped one of her hands to curl her fingers loosely around his manhood. Tracing over his shaft had Negan’s neck flexing with his lips parting. Fluttering his eyelashes, Negan kept his eyes hooked with hers while she caressed over his length.

“Who am I with right now?” she questioned, her lips hovering in over his. Breathing both loud and uneven, Negan pressed in closer to kiss her but she kept him from kissing her. Smirking, her eyebrow arched and she was waiting for an answer. “Where am I?”

“With me,” Negan responded, dragging his bottom lip in over hers humming out with the sensations she was drawing out from inside of him.

“I could have been with either one of you right now, and you’re the one I chose to come to,” she pointed out, lifting her hips enough to lead his body toward hers. There was something in the way that his eyes hooked with hers that took her breath away. Accepting him into her body, she carefully lowered herself over him moaning with him in unison. Getting comfortable, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders pressing their bodies closer together.

“What if Joel forces you to choose?” Negan stammered, his lips hovering just over hers. Tensing up beneath her, Negan found his body easily reacting to the warmth of her surrounding him without them moving.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” she whispered, caressing her fingers through his hair at the back of his neck. Having him fully inside of her stagnant ached, but she liked the way that it felt. “I just want to spend my time with you. Be with you. We missed out on so much time together. I don’t want to miss a moment of it.”

“I question if Joel was right,” Negan winced when she lazily rolled her hips upward, taking her time in bringing them back down over him. Every movement was slow, drawn out, and was focusing on their connection. “Maybe the only way for us to truly be happy was to separate us during those years. We would have been hurting both Joel and Lucille. There is something between the two of us that is so strong. I don’t doubt that the two of us would have done something that we regretted if we were still around one another.”

Resting her forehead against his, she cried out at the way that Negan touched her while she moved over him. So much focus and care went into the way that he was with her, “Maybe that makes us bad people.”

“Joel can say whatever he wants to defend his thought process, but that’s not how things worked themselves out,” she silenced Negan, finally bringing their lips together to give him a passionate kiss that had him cupping her face in his hands. Moving ever so slightly back had their lips still brushing against each other’s while she spoke. “So we can talk about the maybes all day long, but that’s not how things were. So we’re not bad people for loving one another.”

“Now that I have you in my life, I can’t lose you,” Negan asserted, his palm sliding up over the center of her chest toward her neck. Curling his fingers around the side of her neck, his thumb traced over her jawline until hovering over her bottom lip. It had her kissing at his flesh and he smiled. “You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

“I feel the same way about you,” she promised, cuddling her head into his touch starting to rock her hips a little harder over his. Their breathing matched each other’s, growing louder with her movements. “I never want you to doubt the man that you are. I think Lucille would be proud of the man that you are now.”

“She’d kill me if she saw what I was doing right now,” he snickered, lifting enough to pepper kisses over her jawline. “I feel like she’d rather me be pining over her still, not falling head over heels in love with someone else.”

“I think you’re doing both,” she whimpered, her hips rolling firmer over his length having Negan moan out. Keeping them close had the warmth of his breath twisting with hers. This moment wasn’t about sex. It was about connecting. Showing how much they cared for each other.

Firmly wrapping his arm around her waist, Negan rolled her onto her back on the couch. Yelping out, her back arched and it was followed by a laugh with the confused expression that Negan was giving her, “The ice! The ice! It’s cold.”

“Oh,” Negan snorted, reaching behind her to dig out the bag of ice that was there. They both were laughing with Negan dropping his head against her chest. Setting the ice on the ground, he felt her kissing at the top of his head and he sighed loudly.

“A bag of ice up my ass sure did add a new sensation,” she teased him, tugging at his hair enough to bring his lips back to hers so they could kiss. Adjusting his body enough, he made sure to take the pressure off his hurt knee before he started to roll his hips up against hers. Locking his eyes with hers, Negan didn’t want to let go of this moment.

“Promise me that we will have each other for the rest of our lives,” Negan begged of her, his fingertips tracing over her jawline. Their bodies moved together in unison with her bouncing up with every thrust. “In whatever way possible.”

“You don’t have to beg me to promise,” she assured him, peppering kisses over his lips with him pausing his movements over her to give her his full attention. “We both know what it’s like not having each other in our lives. It hurts too much. We’ll always have each other from here on out.”

That was all he needed to hear. Now that he knew what it was like to be happy again and to feel loved after being lonely for two years, Negan knew that he couldn’t lose this.

Their love making session was slow, drawn out and by the time they were done, they were laid stretched out together on the couch. Her thigh was wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest with her drawing shapes over his abdomen.

“You don’t think I’m trying to steal Joel’s life, do you?” Negan still found himself considering the things that Joel had lashed out at him for today.

“Negan,” she frowned, her fingertips tracing over the tattoo that was over his pectoral muscle. “Don’t let that eat away at you. Joel is just jealous because people really like you. And it’s hard for him to get people to like him. The children still very much love their dad. They have just happily accepted you into their lives too.”

“I just don’t want…” Negan started only to yelp when he felt the sensation of something cold over his nipple. Arching his back up, he lifted his head to see that she had grabbed one of the ice cubes that was mostly melted from the bag that he set aside earlier. “Jesus!”

“It was the quickest way to get your mind focused on something else,” she was highly amused with herself, replacing the cold sensation with warmth by kissing over his nipple. Circling her tongue over his nipple, she snickered against his flesh with him moaning out. Running a line over the center of Negan’s abdomen down toward his belly button had him sucking in a sharp breath. Looking up at him, she shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip. “Joel was drunk. The worst thoughts that Joel has come out of his mouth when he’s drunk. I think you’re right about what you said with Joel. He’s having a hard time coming to terms with what happened between you and him. His brain is hooked on me, but his body wants both you and me.”

“I think he’s worried about what people will think about him if they find out we…” Negan considered the words that he should be using to describe what he did with Joel. “Fucked?”

“Joel hasn’t been comfortable with himself since he was eighteen years old,” she alerted Negan with a long sigh, dropping the ice cube back on top of the bag she pulled it out of. “Give it time. Everything will work itself out. I promise you that.”

“I should be the one promising you that,” Negan noted, his fingertips tracing over her back doing his best to comfort her. “You’re the one being placed in the middle of me and Joel…”

“Poor me. Stuck between two incredibly good-looking men who both love me,” she caused Negan to snort and laugh with her bluntness. “I’m more worried about you and Joel. Allow me that. Because I’m fine. I’ll be fine and I don’t doubt that. Right now, I’m in the arms of the man that I want to be with and I’m perfectly happy with that.”

----

“You can stop babysitting me,” Joel glanced over at Tommy who was falling asleep at the other end of the couch. After they came home, Peter went to bed almost immediately because he was exhausted. Elizabeth and Tommy stayed up with Joel, both of them visibly worried about him. Pretty quickly Elizabeth had picked up on the fact that Joel had gotten into a fight but he refused to tell her with who. That wasn’t something he was about to bring his daughter into. So instead she stayed up with both him and Tommy for as long as she could. And when she started falling asleep, Joel carried her upstairs to bed. Tommy made him promise to come back downstairs, but Joel didn’t get it. It had been hours since he put Elizabeth to bed, yet Tommy was still holding true to staying with Joel. There was a bag of ice that Joel had placed on his knuckles on his right hand and with his left hand he was holding ice to his nose. In the few good hits that Negan had got on Joel, he had managed to hit Joel in the nose and there was a cut over the bridge of it. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy’s eyes grew wide with him trying to wake himself up. Sliding into a better position to focus on the screen, Tommy was still wary about leaving Joel alone. “I don’t trust you alone with yourself right now.”

“You really think I would kill myself and let my children have to deal with that for the rest of their lives?” Joel snapped getting a certain look from Tommy that told him he did think that Joel was capable of hurting himself. “I might be selfish in your opinion, but I’d never do that to Ellie and Peter.”

“I’ve heard the way you talk when you’re upset,” Tommy reminded Joel, turning on the couch to face Joel to give him his full attention. This was why Tommy wouldn’t leave his side. He was worried that Joel would hurt himself. “You’ve threatened it before. Not so long ago either.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Joel stressed, throwing his hand that was holding the icepack to his nose up in the air to silence Tommy from even talking about it any further. “It was a stupid thing to say and I should have never said it.”

“People don’t always make the best decisions when they are drunk. Emotions get high, their feelings get enhanced and they do…stupid things,” Tommy waved his hand about in the air suggesting that Joel was a perfect example for that. “I don’t think you would have done a lot of things that you did tonight if you were sober.”

“Noted,” Joel scoffed, lowering down on the couch, spreading his thighs further apart so he could get comfortable.

“I’m not trying to be rude Joel, but you say one thing and then you act another,” Tommy recognized how things were with his older brother right now. It was confusing trying to understand what Joel was doing with his life. “Here we are talking about Y/N and how you don’t want to upset her. How you want her happy. Then you are running off on her and attacking her boyfriend.”

“It’s complicated,” Joel suggested with a frown, dropping his head back against the couch out of frustration. What happened tonight was not something that he wanted to explain to people or even go into detail with. Tommy was trying, but Joel was attempting to keep things locked up.

“Everything is complicated with you,” Tommy blurt out with a frown, stroking his fingers through his long hair. “I love you big brother, but you’re emotional because you are jealous.”

Most days, Joel would have fought back. Swore he wasn’t jealous, but deep down? He knew that he was. And there was a strong sense of confusion that filled his veins too.

“Jealousy, anger, alcohol…” Tommy listed off the things he knew were going on with Joel right now, “they make you do stupid things.”

“I get it, I’m stupid,” Joel grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes back to a close. That was a word that Tommy had focused on pretty heavily at this point. “You don’t have to keep reminding me of it.”

“I know it’s hard to hear considering,” Tommy reasoned with Joel knowing that he had offended his brother with that word. There were just a lot of decisions that Joel was making lately that Tommy didn’t agree with or understand. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I said no, it wouldn’t stop you,” Joel pointed out, his head dropping to the side with his eyes slowly opening. “So why bother asking?”

“I’m trying to be polite,” Tommy said with a tip of his head, his dark eyes gazing over his brother. “If you really do feel the way you say you do about Y/N then why does the idea of being together with all three of you bother you so much?”

“Really?” Joel grunted eliciting a dramatic shrug from Tommy. By the expression on Tommy’s face, he was genuinely curious. “Would you be okay if Maria told you that she was in love with another man and she wanted to be with him, but also be with you on the side?”

“If I was desperate enough and that was the only option, I’d take it,” Tommy surprised Joel with his answer. It didn’t seem to bother Tommy that much. “I love Maria. I know it was fast, I know that you would disapprove, but I love her a lot. So if that was the only way to have her in my life, I would deal.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Joel commented, his brown eyes unsure of the way that Tommy responded to his question.

“Beggers can’t be choosers Joel. You’re lucky enough that she still loves you,” Tommy snorted, his hands rubbing out over his own thighs in a stressed manner. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Joel was glaring at him, but he didn’t care. “The things you did to her? Most people don’t come back from that. And you only recently broke up with Tess. Yet, you are expecting her to give up the one person who makes her feel good about herself to give you another chance? After how many? You’re lucky that she wants to be with you in any way.”

“Thanks for the support little brother,” Joel snarled, his eyes rolling when he dropped his head back against the couch in frustration again.

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Tommy defended himself with a yawn. Right now he was fighting falling asleep off, but it was hard. “If you love her, I think you’d want her to be the happiest version of herself. Right? So if she’s the happiest with both of you…?”

“What would people think?” Joel stressed, his nose wrinkling and that sent a rush of pain up to his forehead. Cussing out, he lifted the ice pack back to his nose to place it where it hurt the most. That was a thought he had been worried about from the start. What the world would think about the three of them being together in some kind of relationship.

“When have you ever cared what people thought?” Tommy was confused by the comment considering Joel always hated people as it was. There was never a moment where Tommy even thought for a second that Joel would care about what others thought about him. “You’ve never been the type to care what people thought of you. They told you that you were too young to be my primary caregiver, but you did it anyways. When people told you that Y/N’s parents were right, the two of you should get an abortion, you told them to fuck off.”

Going to say something, Joel scoffed when he realized that his brother was right, “And if people said things, do you really think it would be out of judgement or jealousy? Most people would love to be in a poly relationship with two people. Especially someone like Negan. Most straight men would happily bend over for Negan.”

Glaring over at Tommy had Tommy shrugging dramatically and making an awkward expression, “I’m just saying Joel, they would. They would brag about it too. So I don’t think you have anything to worry about. People might judge, but they would secretly be thinking how fucking lucky you were.”

“What makes you think I bent over for Negan?” Joel questioned with venom in his tone and it had Tommy’s face twisting with an array of emotions. Of all the things, that was what Joel was focused on and it seemed to put Tommy in a hard place.

An uncomfortable smile donned Tommy’s face and threw his hands up in the air once more, “Originally? I didn’t think you did, but your response to it tells me otherwise.”

A rush of warmth flooded into Joel’s face. Biting down on his lip, Joel kept himself from saying what he really wanted to, forcing himself to look away from Tommy. It embarrassed him to know that Tommy knew what had happened between him and Negan. That wasn’t something he wanted people to know.

“I didn’t think it was that kind of threesome, but I support it,” Tommy threw it out there, taking a moment to consider his next thought. “I’m not gonna judge you for being in a relationship with two people that might make you happy. You haven’t been happy in a long time Joel. If another man makes you happy? And if you sleep with him like that? I support it. Because I know you love Y/N. And something tells me that you like Negan more than you give up too. And if people give you shit for it? I’ll break their face.”

Again, Joel was quiet. It was hard being open with Tommy over…this. That was everything that someone in his position would want to hear from someone they loved. He just didn’t know if he wanted his little brother looking at him like that.

“So…” Tommy finally broke the moment of silence that surrounded them. Clearing his throat, Tommy adjusted his body on the couch and looked to Joel. “How was it?”

“How was what?” Joel scoffed, the line at the bridge of his nose growing deeper.

“Y’know,” Tommy nodded his head about trying to hint to Joel what he was talking about. When Joel realized that he was asking about the sex between him and Negan, Joel scowled and forced himself to look away from Tommy..

“I’m not doing this,” Joel was quick to respond and it had Tommy snickering. Warmth flooded into Joel’s face with his brother now asking him details about the sex that happened with Negan. “It’s not funny Tommy.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Tommy swore, placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “I guarantee every man in this town would be jealous. All the women too.”

“So you’d sleep with Negan?” Joel retorted having Tommy groan in disgust. Tommy shook his head and it made Joel angrier. “See, you’re a liar.”

“He’s like my brother you moron,” Tommy realized they were talking too loudly and he lowered his voice. “You, Y/N and Negan were my family growing up. People told me all the time that I should have stolen Y/N out from under you when you got divorced, but I can’t look at her like that. She adopted me Joel. You and her are the closest things I have to parents. And Negan was always like a big brother. So no, I couldn’t sleep with Negan because that would be like sleeping with you.”

Growling out, Joel set aside the ice pack and dropped his head forward into his hands, “Stop overthinking things Joel. You’re sabotaging yourself and your own happiness because you’re suddenly worrying about what other people might think of you?”

“Tommy…” Joel’s voice sounded irritated with it vibrating against his hands.

“Look at me,” Tommy called out to Joel, reaching out to shove at Joel’s shoulder when he didn’t. Another shove had Joel lifting his head in anger. “Do you love Y/N?”

“Yes,” Joel was quick to answer.

“Really love her? Or are you only feeling these things because of Negan?” Tommy brought up the thing that so many others had already done.

“Really love her,” Joel was disgusted that his own brother would question his motives. “I made a mistake when I divorced her Tommy. Why do you think Tess left me?”

“I thought that was a mutual thing,” Tommy commented, his brown eyes confused with his brother’s response about his ex-girlfriend. “You said that she wanted more from you than you were willing to give.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Joel scoffed, pointing toward Tommy who tipped his head to the side like a confused puppy dog. “Toward the end of my marriage with Y/N, I wasn’t very affectionate. It was something that always upset her. She wanted to cuddle. She wanted to hear how much I loved her. Instead I slept on the edge of the bed, the opposite side away from her, I wasn’t touchy feely…”

“Right…” Tommy was waiting for the explanation with Joel rambling.

“I couldn’t be loving and emotional, when I wasn’t that way with Y/N,” Joel expressed how he felt, remembering what he was feeling when he was dating someone else. “And I guess I was always comparing her to Y/N. Using our relationship as an example of how things should be. I liked Tess, but I never loved Tess. She put up with it for as long as she could, but I couldn’t give her what she wanted in a relationship because I was always so hooked on Y/N.”

“Then why did you leave her?” Tommy stressed the question that was always on everyone’s mind. Why would he be stupid enough to leave Y/N when he was still so visibly in love with her?

“I don’t know,” Joel had no really good answer for that. And that infuriated Tommy with his response. “I don’t know Tommy! I could blame my mental health. It was poor. And I think that’s really what it was, but it was still me making a really stupid fucking decision little brother. And I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea in the first place because it never was.”

Tommy was considering everything that Joel was saying, but he was quiet because it was obvious this whole thing was complicated like it had been stressed many times before, “I guess my brain thought I needed time to discover that she was what I wanted all along.”

“Well your brain took its sweet ass time,” Tommy replied back with a disgusted breath at his brother’s confession. Joel didn’t disagree with him. Especially now that they were in such a strange position that had Joel questioning everything. “How many women did you sleep with after you got divorced?”

That was not something that Joel expected Tommy to ask of him. And when he did? Joel got angry. That wasn’t even something that he thought they should be talking about.

“Don’t make me answer that,” Joel begged of his brother, rolling his eyes that Tommy would even go there.

“How many other women have you slept with other than Y/N?” Tommy continued to push having Joel’s jaw flexing. Here he was going to be stubborn and not answer his brother. “Is it so many that you don’t know or are you afraid that I will tell her? Because I’m your fucking brother and you should be able to tell me these things. We should be able to talk to each other about this stuff.”

“There are two answers to your question,” Joel resented the fact that Tommy was going to this. Especially since he didn’t know what it had to do with what they were talking about in the first place. “I slept with a few people before I ever got with Y/N. You know that she wasn’t my first, right? I was her first, but with me...a lot of girls wanted to hook up with me when I was younger.”

“I assumed that. You were popular, girls were falling at your feet,” Tommy recalled what it was like when Joel was in high school. “And it’s not like I couldn’t hear shit because my room was right next to yours. So while mom and dad were sleeping, I knew that you were sneaking people into your room.”

“Yeah, well your dad wouldn’t have had as much of a problem with it as you might think,” Joel swallowed down hard, his eyes gazing over at Tommy from where he was seated on the couch. It was hard to admit this to his brother when he let out a tremoring breath. “Our father is the one that got me the condoms. And he sure as hell didn’t have a problem with me sleeping around. In fact, he urged me to do it.”

“What?” Tommy snapped at Joel realizing that this was headed in a direction that he wasn’t expecting. “Joel, why would dad do that? You know that he just about ripped my head off when he found that magazine I was keeping in my room.”

“Because…” Joel paused, biting down on his bottom lip and looking toward the stairs. “Do you promise not to look at me differently if I tell you something?”

“What?” Tommy scoffed, sitting forward on the couch when he gazed over Joel. “Did you kill someone or something? Because I always thought you had it in you to do it.”

“Tommy, shut up,” Joel couldn’t help but laugh that his brother was being so ridiculous in the moment. “Please just give me a moment to say this, okay? I reckon you’ll never look at me the same again after I tell you. Because I…I hate myself for it too.”

“Okay?” Tommy didn’t know how to respond, he just listened and kept quiet like Joel asked him too.

“When I was younger, I thought I was hot shit. People really liked me. And girls were throwing themselves at me. The first time I had sex, it was awful. I mean, terrible,” Joel stressed, biting down on his bottom lip and he hit his knee. “I didn’t know if it was me or the girl because I really didn’t like her that much. I just did it because I’m a guy. There were a lot of hot girls that wanted to sleep with me and I didn’t turn them down. Some experiences were better than others. But? I uh…there was always one person I really liked.”

“Y/N?” Tommy spoke up, his head shaking about with Joel sucking in a sharp breath of air. Joel’s eyes grew damp when he looked to Tommy with a shake of his head.

“I didn’t start having feelings for her until this one day I was in class, but let me get to something else first,” Joel hushed his brother, lifting his hand up to silence Tommy so that way he couldn’t stop himself from continuing his story. “Tommy, I always liked Negan. And not just in the way that you like a friend. I crushed on girls that were like in the magazines and what not, but when I was around Negan? I just kinda felt things that I knew I shouldn’t be feeling. He’d come over to hang out and we’d watch things that we shouldn’t have been watching when no one was home. And at first, we’d just do things to ourselves. I just thought it was something that guys did together. But throughout time, we started touching each other. And this one time, dad came home early for something. He walked in on me and Negan doing that together and he…he beat the shit outta me Tommy. Calling me a fa…you know. He was so ashamed of me.”

“How did I not know about this?” Tommy asked, clearly horrified from what he was learning about the past.

“No one knew. The only people that knew were me and him. Not even mom knew. He called me that word, threw Negan out of the house and then he kicked my ass. Wanted to beat it outta me. Told me he wasn’t going to have a queer living in his house. Said I had to get my shit together because if he found me doing that again he would throw me out and take everything away from me,” Joel informed his brother, his voice breaking when he forced himself to look away from Tommy. “We came up with some stupid story about me being attacked by another kid from an opposing school so he didn’t get in trouble. The only reason Negan found out about it is because he was there when dad showed up. When I came to school looking like I did? He immediately knew. So now the only people in the world that ever knew were me, Negan, dad and you. It’s not that I was gay, I had feelings for other women throughout my life, I just…I really liked Negan. I think I knew pretty young that I had feelings for both men and women. Or Negan and women. I don’t know. Because there isn’t another guy that I’ve felt like that toward, but I don’t know if that’s because it’s how it is or because our dad beat it out of me.”

“You should have told me,” Tommy looked upset to hear that Joel went through that and Joel shrugged his shoulders. Joel was emotional about the past and it was devastating Tommy to think that Joel went through that alone. “I remember how upset mom was about the way you looked. Wanting to call the police, but dad wouldn’t let her.”

“Because he was the one that did it,” Joel released something that sounded like a whimper even though he didn’t want it to be like that. “That’s how I knew that Y/N was the love of my life. Because when I kissed her? When I slept with her. I felt something for her that I had never felt for anyone. Not even Negan. I slept with a handful of people to try to prove I wasn’t what dad thought I was, but it wasn’t until her where everything in the world felt right.”

Pausing to think about everything, Joel nervously rubbed at the back of his neck and shrugged, “You know when I was dating Tess, that I cheated on her with Y/N, right?” Joel brought up what was true to his little brother, catching the way that Tommy’s eyebrows bounced up. “We never stopped sleeping with each other Tommy. We may have been divorced, but we were never apart more than a month or two. So I didn’t completely just give up on her those four years.”

“I don’t know if that makes things worse or better Joel,” Tommy was honest with Joel about how he felt with things toward the whole Tess and Y/N situation. “She probably thought the whole time it was a sign that you still wanted to be with her, but then you never did come back. No wonder she thinks it’s because of Negan that you want to be with her.”

“I had problems,” Joel defended himself, his hand raising to place over the center of his chest. “You know just as well as me Tommy that we’re soulmates.”

“But I think Negan is her soulmate too,” Tommy was honest with Joel and for the first time he actually saw disappointment in Joel’s eyes. “Is that so wrong? Maybe…just maybe he’s your soulmate too.”

“I’m nothing compared to him,” Joel declared, his head lowering with his confession. “I have no chance if that’s really the case.”

“Yet, they both have been more than willing to include you in things,” Tommy reminded Joel, sliding in closer to his brother to give him a firm nudge. “Maybe start thinking about the positives in things. You can be alone, or you can have something which is better than nothing. And with what you just told me…? I think that’s more than enough reason to prove that this whole poly relationship thing is a great idea. After what you went through? Dad isn’t here anymore. I am. And I support you. I support you loving both of them.”

“But what about the children?” Joel’s breathing was broken and it had Tommy sucking in a sharp breath of air, his finger shakily pushing into his dark hair.

“I don’t think they’d care. They love all three of you. I think they’d be okay with it. As long as you don’t act like it’s a weird thing, I think they would accept you as you are,” Tommy stressed to his brother what he believed was true and honest. “They are good kids Joel. You raised them to be accepting of people. You never taught them to be any other way. It’d be a lot easier having the three of you together than having you separated. Let them show you that Joel.”

“She learned the truth Tommy with what I had done,” Joel admitted to his little brother, turning to look at him with a saddened expression. “Why Negan really stopped interacting with me and her. What I did to Negan. Why I really slept with her the first time.”

“Does that matter anymore?” Tommy responded in a way that wasn’t what Joel was expecting. “Yeah, you got with her to be a douchebag, but you fell in love with her. The two of you were together sixteen years before you got divorced. Your feelings weren’t fake those sixteen years. I think she knows better than to assume that it was all just to fuck with Negan. Negan left when you were eighteen. You could have dropped it, but you didn’t because you love her.”

“I have fucked things up so much little brother,” Joel realized, dragging his hands down over the sides of his face. “I don’t even know how to fix things.”

“Try,” Tommy said one word, but the emphasis on it obviously meant something to Tommy. “Just try. That’s all that matters. Trying.”

Giving a nod, Joel didn’t know how he would even approach trying, but it wasn’t bad advice. Standing up from the couch, Joel went into the kitchen to put back the ice packs and returned to step before Tommy, “I’m going to go up to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy blurt out getting Joel to look back at him over his shoulder. “I don’t want to wake up to something bad Joel.”

“I promise, I’m just going to my room to rest,” Joel swore, giving Tommy a firm nod moving toward the stairs until Tommy called out to him.

“You could have told me Joel because I would have loved you no matter what,” Tommy promised Joel, swallowing down the lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away after Joel explained to him what happened with their father. “Unlike dad, I think you have the right to be happy. And you are always gonna be my hero big brother. You were more my father than he ever was. You weren’t broken because you were attracted to both Negan and Y/N. And I look up to you even more now cus’ you were able to tell me. I love you Joel. I’m sorry you had to go through all that alone.”

Moving to the stairs, Tommy could hear the sounds of Joel’s breathing. It was broken and he was upset, turning Joel to face him, Tommy wrapped his brother up in his arms and gave him a strong, lingering hug that had Joel finally returning the hug after a few minutes.

“I think a lot of what you are going through is dad’s fault,” Tommy whispered, patting Joel at the center of the back. “You were never allowed to be you. But stop letting dad be your inside voice Joel. You’re good enough. Stop forcing yourself to be miserable. You deserve to be happy. And this is your chance.”

Swallowing down hard, Joel pulled back and away from Tommy. Patting the side of Joel’s face, Tommy gave his brother a reassuring nod, staying at the bottom of the steps when Joel started to head up toward his bedroom.

Once inside of his room, Joel kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot. A tremoring breath escaped Joel’s throat with him bringing his hands up to his face to cover it. For so long Joel had held that in and to finally tell someone had him shaking. Talking about his past had him feeling things and feeling them very strongly.

Looking to his laptop, Joel saw that it was opened and he bit down firmly on his bottom lip. This whole thing had Joel thinking about what he had done tonight to both Negan and Y/N. And then Lucille popped into his mind. Never had he really been open with anyone about the secret friendship that he had with Negan’s wife. They used to talk all the time, but when Joel separated from Y/N, they really didn’t talk as much as they used to.

Logging into his e-mail, Joel typed her name into the search bar bringing up all their messages that they shared together. Often back then they would send each other messages, videos, voice recordings and he had all of them saved.

It had been so long since he really thought about Lucille. After divorcing Y/N he got distracted. Noticing how many unread e-mails he had from her truly made him realize that. Guilt started to build up inside of him considering how quickly he abandoned that relationship once he was no longer with Y/N.

Opening a few of the messages, Joel realized most of them were just her writing him to ask how he was doing. But the final one? It was a video that he never even bothered to look at. Swallowing down hard, he opened the message and waited for the video to download. Shifting in his seat, Joel rest his elbows on the desk and bit down on his bottom lip when it started to play.

“Hey there stranger,” Lucille’s weak voice drew a labored breath from his lips. In the video she was wearing a purple wig that was shoulder length instead of having her naturally blonde hair. Leaning further back in the chair, Joel bit down on his bottom lip. It was obvious by the way her eyes looked that she was tired and weak. There was always a glow and an energy to Lucille when they spoke, but that wasn’t there. “It’s been a long time since we’ve talked and I thought I would send you this. What do you think about the area back here?”

Moving out of the way of the camera, she focused on the room that she seemed to be in, “Negan insisted that we have our own little space so we can spend all of our time together.”

Sliding back into the frame, Lucille gave what looked like to be a happy smile causing an ache at Joel’s chest, “I think he knows I don’t have much time left. He’s having a hard time with it. I’ve pretty much accepted it at this point. I’m ready. I’m too tired to fight.”

A broken breath fell from Joel’s throat, an overwhelming overflow of guilt eating away at him that he never seen this or even responded to her. And he knew that she had been dead for years now. They were friends and he did the one thing that he accused Negan of doing with Y/N and him. Abandoned her.

“We have our own little couple cave here. It’s the most doting he’s ever been. I made him go out to get me ice cream while I made this video for you. He never wants to leave my side anymore. I had to beg him to do it,” Lucille stated with another long sigh, her head shaking as she spoke. “I’m worried about him. He’s not sleeping. I think he’s scared that if he sleeps, I’m going to die and he won’t be with me.”

There were tears burning at Lucille’s eyes as she spoke, “I’m just worried about him in general. He’s not strong enough for this. I don’t know what he’s going to do when I die. I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle it.”

There was a long silence and Joel could see tears sliding down her face when she shrugged, “I need you to do something for me. I think we were wrong in keeping all of us separated. More than anything when I’m gone, I think Negan is going to need friends. People to keep him from drowning. I think he needs you and Y/N. People who really know him. So when you find out that I die, please find a way to get in contact with him Joel. I’ve appreciated this friendship that the two of us have had and I hope you can do this for me.”

Stopping the video, Joel lowered his head and let out a trembling breath. Why did he never open the fucking e-mail? Why did he avoid her after he had broken up with Y/N all those years ago? Trying to gather himself, Joel pushed forward and hit the play button to start the video back up again.

“I miss talking to you,” she declared with a nervous laugh, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke to the camera. “I wanted to give you some advice Joel. Take it or leave it from a dying woman with nothing but a small amount of time. I know that you want more in life. That you felt cheated for the things that happened to you, but I think you need to reconsider your divorce to Y/N. I was really upset with my life for a long time too, but I realized something. I loved Negan. Through and through. I always knew there was a good man deep down inside of him and he’s really proven that the last year or so. He’s the man I always knew him to be. The only thing I regret is never being able to have a family. Joel, you have the one thing I always wanted. The one thing I always longed for.”

It took a minute for Lucille to gather herself, biting down on her bottom lip with her tears sliding down her face. Wiping at them with the back of her hand, Lucille sniffled and shook her head, “A family Joel. A family that loves you endlessly. Hear it from someone who has what you would consider everything. I have everything, but when I die, I’ll have nothing to be remembered by. You had someone that loved you, children who think the world of you. I have Negan. And he’ll be the only person to keep my memory alive. And he’ll be alone. Trust me when I tell you Joel, the everything you long for…you already have it. Nothing beats love. Not money, not fame…love. Because at the end of your life you truly realize who it is you want to have with you. And I realize now that it was Negan for me.”

The sound of a door opening was heard and Lucille was looking off the screen. At the corner of the screen Joel watched Negan walking over toward the back table to set down a few bags, “I’m sorry for taking so long. I had to go to two stores just to get these. I bought you a few just in case you keep having cravings.”

Pointing her finger back toward the corner of the room in the video, Lucille smiled and whispered faintly, “Goodbye Joel. Thank you for everything.”

“What was that?” a younger Negan turned on his heel to face her with her glancing back over her shoulder. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Lucille stammered before ending the video.

It had Joel sliding further down in his chair feeling the ache growing at the center of his chest. Now, not only did he regret what he had done with Y/N, he realized that he also made a huge mistake in ignoring Lucille and her messages. It made Joel wonder how long after that video Lucille passed away.

Her last message was her telling him that his family was the most important thing. And now that she was gone and it was years later, Joel realized that she was right.

Sliding in closer to the desk, Joel went through a few folders until stopping on one that he wanted. Clicking open the video, Joel focused on the lower quality video smiling when he saw Y/N holding onto a young Peter sitting by the Christmas tree come into focus.

“Look at all those presents,” Joel’s voice was younger and he turned the camera toward him to show that Elizabeth was in his arms cuddling her head in against his shoulder. This was when they were still so happy and Joel didn’t doubt his life. “It looks like Santa was very good to the both of you this year.”

Pressing a quick kiss over a younger Elizabeth’s head, Joel turned the camera back to Y/N and Peter. Peter was clapping his hands together and reached for a present to inspect it, “I wonder what you did this year to be so good.”

“We’re just good always daddy,” Elizabeth’s younger voice was heard with her being set down and running to sit by the other two next to the tree. “You know that.”

“Yes you are,” Y/N wrapped her arms around both the children hugging them close. “You both are the best. And we love you very much.”

“Daddy, come on. Come here,” Peter called out moving his hands in a dramatic motion. A rumble of a laugh from the other side of the camera fell from Joel’s throat. A moment later Joel was setting up the camera so it would frame the whole family. He walked into the frame and dropped down on the ground next to Y/N. Peppering her with kisses had her smiling and Joel truly wondered where he went wrong. What was it that made him question the love he had for his family? He had the perfect life and now he was left realizing he should have never doubted that.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

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