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satoruxx · 1 year ago

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ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader (hinted) | 5k words

✧ SUMMARY: ghost!reader, major character death, jjk manga spoilers, so much angst bc you literally die lmao, longing, mutual pining, suppressed feelings, everyone sucks at love, some fluff, banter, might be slightly suggestive, lots of hinted feelings (read: suguru), arguments, overall this is painful so read if you enjoy angst !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: this idea randomly came to me before i went to bed a few days ago and in the spirit of halloween, i figured why not? i live off of angst and need to share the pain with everyone lmao oops. this is late for halloween tho my bad !!

i. 2007

satoru brings one more flower than he did the day before. morning glories again, of course, but an extra one. he had added one more to the the bunch every day since the day you died. the first day, he brought three, wrapped with a cheap blue ribbon that he found in his desk drawer. it was hardly a respectable bouquet, but those three flowers were the ones he'd grown for you, so it only seemed fitting.

he didn't care much for gardening. but one day you asked shoko what her favorite flowers were so you could give her some on valentine's day. she asked you what yours were so she could return the favor.

satoru never forgot morning glories after that day.

he's not even sure if morning glories are appropriate to bring to a grave, but he knows you'd like them.

you would tell him it didn't matter anyway.

ii. 2007

(suguru did not cry when you died. satoru watched, intently, because there was nothing in the universe that his six eyes couldn't catch. he waited for it, even a sliver of emotion that would betray suguru's bleeding heart, but he gave nothing. he just stood in front of the stone that marked the end of your life with a deep stare. something had settled there in his eyes, cold and resolute.

a few months before you died, you had told satoru that there was something wrong with suguru. you said that he'd been distant, somewhere far away, and you worried for him. you always did, so open with your affection for him.

"don't want him to get lost." you had hummed, your shoulder brushing against satoru's as you raise the mango ice pop he brought you to your mouth. satoru watches your lips out of the corner of his eyes, his stomach flipping eagerly even as he keeps his face impassive.

"he said it was just the summer heat," he answers, ignoring the sweet mango juice dripping down his knuckles. "should be nothing."

you don't look all that convinced, turning your head to look up at him with meaningful glance. "you sure?"

he stares at you for a lengthy second, cerulean eyes darting over your facial features, before he reaches up and knocks his knuckle against your forehead. "yeah. he'll be fine." he assures, and your shoulders relax as you continue to eat the ice pop.

you were right about it all. four days after you die, suguru massacres an entire village.)

iii. 2008

satoru shifts in his bed, grunting quietly he begins to stretch his stiff joints. his eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep as he waits for his dark ceiling to come into focus. except it doesn't, because all he can see are a pair of very familiar looking eyes. unsaturated, but still so obviously the color he once knew. his own eyes snap open, all traces of sleep gone as he finally makes out someone who looks exactly like you, perched on his stomach with a confused and slightly panicked expression.

he shoots up, and you pull back a little. it looks like you're on his lap, and yet he can't feel you on him at all. he gulps.

"hey toru." you say quietly, and his stomach drops. the same eyes, the same voice. gods above.

"you're dead," he says simply, trying not to betray the way his pulse is jumping at even the smallest glimpse of you again. "you're not real."

"i'm dead," you confirm, nodding your head as you look down at your translucent palms. "but i'm here somehow."

he sucks in a breath, reaching out a hand as if to touch you. the disappointment he feels when it passes through your form is sickening.

you smile shakily, shrugging your shoulders as you attempt to make light of the situation.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

he stares at you for minutes without saying a word and you stare back, equally silent.

iv. 2007

(nanami had carried your body back, his teeth gritted as his blonde hair fell over his eyes. satoru never brought it up, but he knew that nanami remained bothered by it for the rest of his life. your death was bad timing, especially after they had just lost haibara a few weeks prior.

nanami had no reason to blame himself though. if anything, it was satoru's fault you were gone.

shoko had called him from the infirmary, her voice hard and pinched as she spat out three words: "get down here."

when satoru saw your body, he didn't say a word. just took a few long strides until he was at the table where nanami had placed you down. your eyes were shut, face resting in a way that seemed so unnatural. he opened his mouth to ask shoko something, but felt like he was choking on air, so he stopped himself.

then he grabbed your limp fingers, squeezed them gently. they were still a little warm, but not as warm as you usually run. shoko didn't say anything, just stood there with her hands clenched, short brown hair falling over her dark eyes.

satoru remained there for the next thirty minutes, waiting for you to sit up and laugh at the prank you were no doubt pulling. as if your blood wasn't still dripping all over the table.

shoko was the one who finally pulled a sheet over your body with shaking hands. she didn't look satoru in the eye, and didn't spare a glance when suguru burst into the room ten minutes later.)

v. 2008

it takes satoru a while to get used to the fact that you're not physically there. he has to bite his tongue when he moves to bump your shoulder or flick your forehead only to find that his skin goes right through yours. you always give him that same little rueful smile, and he sighs to himself.

he doesn't make an effort to figure out why you're there. he figures it's similar to how jujutsu users can come back as curses due to strong feelings. when he thinks about it though, guilt lodges itself into his throat, because the first thought he had when he heard you were entering death's door was no, don't you dare die.

every day he wonders if he's the one who cursed you to stay.

you act like it doesn't matter, hovering around him as he busies himself in his empty room. at first you're quiet, as though you've forgotten how to speak to him in your incorporeal form. but then you start asking him questions, and it's one question that satoru dreads to answer that you finally bring up.

"where's suguru?"

he's not stupid. he knows there's more you think of suguru than you've ever revealed. of course you'd want to know. but that doesn't mean he wants to be the one to tell you. you had died with nothing but a good impression of geto suguru. you'd probably died with your feelings for him still intact too.

it'd be selfish of satoru to ruin that.

"nothing, don't worry about it," he dismisses, voice clipped as he busies himself with preparing dinner. he knows that won't deter you.

you huff, moving to hover in his line of sight. you cross your arms as you glare at him seriously, and satoru hates how nostalgic your expression makes him feel. he tongues his cheek before sighing.

"he's gone." satoru answers simply. he tries to keep his tone even but it comes out bitter and strained. he can hear your quiet gasp, and feels your form move closer to him. if you were alive, he'd be able to feel your breath on his skin now.

"what do you mean, gone?"

satoru sighs again, turning to look at you completely. he hated everything about this. "he left school. went crazy. killed a bunch of people, including his parents."

he would've laughed at the comical way your jaw dropped if you didn't look so hurt. you sputter over your words as he picks up his bowl and moves to the table, trailing after him and demanding more information.

he doesn't hesitate to share, because he's always hated keeping secrets from you. you had this uncanny ability to see straight through him, and it never failed to make him feel unsettled. so he tells you everything that happened in the few weeks after you died. suguru leaving, their confrontation in shinjuku, his plans for non-sorcerers. he leaves nothing unsaid.

when he's done, he finally looks at you, trying to gauge your reaction. but you're just staring at his food with a bitter expression, brows pinched and lips pursed. satoru says your name once.

you glance at him, and it's too quick for him to look for any accusation in it. doesn't matter though, because he's ready to own up to his mistakes.

"you were right back then. about suguru." satoru admits quietly, turning to his food. he doesn't want to look at you anymore, because he's scared you'll show him how disappointed you are with him.

you don't say anything in response. but you sit down at the small dining table and watch him eat with soft eyes, one bite at a time. satoru doesn't admit it, but the whole time he imagines that you're gently rubbing his shoulder, and he thinks he hasn't missed you more than in that moment.

vi. 2007

(it was satoru's fault you died. if he hadn't been so selfish, you'd still be next to him, shoulder brushing his as the two of you walked through the streets of tokyo.

you had knocked on his door that morning before you had left for your last mission, rocking on your heels. he opened it groggily, still half asleep.

"you going on a mission?" satoru had yawned, drowsy eyes trailing over your uniform. you nod with a grin.

"mhm, with nanami. there are two separate areas with curses though, so we'll split up when we get there. should be simple enough." you shrug, toying with the collar of your uniform jacket.

satoru decides to be annoying. "then why are you here disturbing my sleep? get out." he groans dramatically, peering at you with narrowed eyes. you smack his arm, scoffing. you've stopped questioning why he keeps his infinity down for you do those things to him.

"i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with," you hiss, crossing your arms defensively. "but i'm taking it back, asshole."

he grins. "what? can't stay away?"

you roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sarcastic laugh. "don't flatter yourself."

satoru pauses for a second. "i was gonna go back to sleep." he admits, feeling a little guilty. he had just come back from a mission the night before, and he doesn't feel like leaving again. he doesn't know how to say that to you though.

but you see right through him, like you always do.

"you've been going on missions a lot lately," you smile earnestly, patting his shoulder. "no wonder you're tired."

"'m the strongest, i don't get tired." he protests, crossing his arms with a scoff. you roll your eyes again, sticking your tongue out at him as you heft your weapon over your shoulder.

"keep it up and you're seriously gonna fry your brain or something," you say with a shake of your head, eyes betraying your concern for him. he notices it, and tries to smother down the way it makes his stomach flip. "i'll be fine. you can come on my next mission with me."

fair enough, he thinks. he hadn't gone on missions with you or suguru in a while. he should remember to ask yaga to let him go on your next one. just the two of you. you and him. maybe he'd buy you a mango ice pop on the way back.

"fine." he acquiesces easily, not even thinking to protest. he'll see you later anyway, so he'll talk to you more when you get back.

you smirk a little, motioning to his bedhead, before gently kicking his shin. "go back to sleep then, stupid."

he rolls his eyes, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your forehead like he always does. "whatever. bring me some sweets on your way back, yeah?"

the laugh you give him as he shuts the door is the last thing he ever hears from you.

he should've gone with you.)

vii. 2012

satoru hates the way you're looking at him right now.

it was a stupid little mistake. he had gone to see little megumi and tsumiki earlier that afternoon, and as usual, you had tagged along with him. you'd watched him raise up the two kids over the last few years, never failing to tease about his newly acquired fatherhood, or how much he seemed to care about them despite his efforts to hide it. he didn't ever think to say that you'd helped him raise them up too. even in your incorporeal form you'd always been around to tell him what meals he could prep or to remind him that megumi liked black forest cake for his birthdays.

he'd gotten so used to you being around and he slipped up once. that afternoon when he had walked megumi home from school, teasing and poking fun at the kid, he'd made a stupid joke. megumi had rolled his eyes and told him to shut up.

and then without thinking, satoru had turned to you as you hovered next to him and groaned your name out dramatically before whining, "this kid is so mean to me!"

your eyes widened immediately, and if you were alive he'd probably see the color drain from your face. his stomach had sank and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, even when megumi glanced at him with a raised brow.

"who are you talking to?" he asked, and satoru gulped, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you to look down at the kid.

"nobody." he had answered.

he tries to ignore the meaningful stare you pin him with for the rest of the afternoon, hoping that you'll just forget about it. but as soon as satoru has left the kids and he's back in his own room, you're on him. he busies himself with making a cup of hot chocolate, even though he feels sick to his stomach.

"satoru you have to figure out how to get rid of me!" you plead, eyes so sad it makes his stomach churn. "i'm gonna drive you insane!"

"i'm fine!" he snaps back, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his mug, the warmth distracting him from whatever it was you were trying to remind him of. he places it down on the table in front of him and crosses his arms defensively. "it was a stupid mistake. won't happen again."

you shimmer in and out of focus, manifesting in front of him with a glare, though your eyes are still the same. wounded and hurt. "it wasn't and you know it! you can't keep living like this. i've been haunting you for years, toru!"

"well who asked you to go ahead and die?!" he yells without thinking, and it's like he sees your hurt bubble forth in slow motion.

"i went and died because i made a stupid mistake on a mission! quit blaming yourself, you dumbass!" you shout, voice raised higher than he's ever heard it.

satoru's mug shatters against the wall.

the two of you immediately turn to look at the mess with wide eyes, before slowly turning to each other to ensure that it really did happen.

"how'd you do that?" satoru asks quietly, his voice strained as he takes a few long strides towards you. you look down at your hand, the same one that you had lifted to swipe at his mug during your fit of rage. you look back up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. satoru's head is pounding, some kind of sick hope stirring within him. "you had to have touched it."

"i don't…" you trail off, voice filled with awe and a bit of fear. satoru reaches up a hand, ignoring the tremble in it, and moves to touch your face. he will never admit to the amount of times he begs in his head, please please please.

his hand goes straight though your skin, and your eyes soften. satoru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, hiding his disappointment as he takes a step back and turns away.

viii. 2006

(satoru thinks gardening is ridiculous. plants are so fragile, needing to be constantly monitored and cared for like children. he can't understand why anyone would choose to garden as a hobby when there were less stressful things to do in spare time.

even the process was time consuming, he realizes as he scoops out piles of dirt into the small pots he had set out on his windowsill.

he thinks back to the silly little grin you had on your face as you answered shoko's question.

"morning glory," you had said, leaning against her shoulder. "i like the way they open in the morning and close at night."

shoko hummed, staring at the sky even as satoru quietly eavesdropped. "you got a favorite color?"

"the blue ones," you answered. "they're the prettiest."

your voice echoes in his head as he places the seeds into the soil, and he sighs heavily. why he was doing this for you was beyond him.

the thought makes him annoyed, and he huffs in frustration the entire time he plants them. gardening had to be the stupidest hobby ever.

and yet when three blue morning glories bloom against his windowsill, he can't hold back his grin.)

ix. 2017

satoru's grateful that you don't watch him kill suguru.

he tells you to go, and you give suguru a long stare, face pinched and sour even though your translucent eyes are shining. it's a shame suguru can't see you though, because satoru thinks you look so pretty. suguru would've been lucky to have you be the last thing he ever saw.

you turn away and disappear without a word, and after one last exchange, satoru finishes the job.

it's only after he watches rika's final goodbye to yuta does he realize the extent of what a goodbye even means. he'd said one to suguru, and yet he can't help but miss him as he walks back home. he wonders if suguru wouldn't have had to die if you were still around.

satoru had never gotten a goodbye with you though. you're somehow still with him, but he misses you so much. it puts an ugly feeling in his gut, twisted and dark. it weighs down on his shoulders as he finally opens the door to his room, heavy and overwhelming as he sees you sitting on his bed, face vacant.

he says your name, and you don't move. he takes a seat next to you, and something about your sad expression makes him so unbelievably angry.

"quit being sad about it," he finally spits out, the truthful extent of his feelings coming out. "it's not like you're even alive that you'd be able to see him."

you scoff as you give him a sidelong glare. "what's that supposed to mean? one of my closest friends just died and you expect me not to be upset about it?"

"at least he'll find a way to you!" satoru hisses, clenching his fists so hard that his nails leave crescents in his skin. "you two can have fun together for all of eternity."

there's a tense silence that follows as he grits his teeth, turning away from you. he's so disgusted right now. with suguru, with you, with himself.

"i'm all by myself." satoru mutters bitterly, the words so foreign on his tongue as the truth hits him.

god he misses you so much.

he suddenly feels a sharp thwack on the back of his head and he's turning around with wide eyes.

"don't you dare forget about shoko!" you hiss, tears in your eyes as you glare at him, hand raised. "i'll never forgive you!"

his throat goes dry, because the smack you just gave him was the first time you'd touched him since the day you died. there's a storm in his throat that threatens to break free, but he tries to keep it lodged in his throat. even with your teary eyes, he thinks you look just as pretty as you did with life flowing through you.

he misses suguru. he knows you do too, because there are translucent tears dripping down your cheeks and he has never ached to touch you more. but he can't because you're dead.

you remain in front of him all night, barely saying a word in between your sniffles. he doesn't say anything either, just watching you.

he doesn't know what there is to say. the only thing he ever wishes he got to say to you was goodbye. but you're here, in front of him, so a goodbye seems pointless.

when the sun comes up, you wish him a merry christmas, and he swears you never left him.

satoru says it back to you. you smile sadly.

he misses you so much.

x. 2007

(satoru had cleaned out your dorm room three days after you died.

he didn't really understand why he was doing it so early. shoko had frowned when he told her that he planned to pack away your things, frowned in a way that made her look like she disagreed.

well even if she did disagree, it didn't stop her from sitting in your desk chair, chewing on her nail quietly as she watched satoru fold your clothes. he didn't even understand why he was doing this.

maybe it was because every time he walked past your empty dorm room he felt sick to his stomach. there was a twisting feeling in his gut when he realized that you'd never curl up in that bed again. never sit by the window with a grin watching him and suguru bicker as they threw playing cards on the floor. he figured the faster he got rid of your remnants, the quicker the feeling would go away.

that's what he's hoping anyway. but when he picks up your jujutsu uniform he feels something claw at his throat, and he unconsciously digs his fingers into the fabric. he hears a sigh from behind him and then shoko is at his side, wordlessly easing the cloth from his hand. she lays it on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding it carefully. when she places it into the box, satoru thinks her hands shake a bit.

there's a bitter expression on shoko's face that he's never seen before, and it makes his stomach twist.

they work on your room for the next few hours, until the sun has disappeared behind the horizon and the cool evening breeze bullies its way into your old space. neither of them say anything, save for the occasional nostalgic hum as they remember something that you did or they're reminded of the story behind one of the trinkets in your room. otherwise it's silent, and for a second satoru feels like he can hear your laugh.

it isn't until night has completely fallen that they are interrupted.

"what are you doing?"

satoru turns around just as shoko looks up, both of them finding suguru standing in the doorway. he hadn't taken a step in yet, eyes still trailing over the emptiness of your old room from behind an uncrossed line.

"cleaning." satoru answers, his voice oddly clipped.

"it wasn't messy…" suguru mutters back, his lips slanting in such an unusual way. there was an uncharacteristically determined look in his eyes, as though there was something in him that was struggling to burst forth. satoru didn't understand what it was.

"never said it was." satoru replies noncommittally. he hears shoko inhale deeply, shifting in your old chair as she watches the two of them stare at each other. there's a tense silence as he notices suguru frown.

satoru can't remember the last time he even had a full conversation with suguru. he remembers seeing you leave for your last mission, and he wants to kick himself for not asking earlier to be sent on group missions with the two of you.

even now, he doesn't really know what to say to suguru. all he can do is tighten his fingers around the edge of the box with your stuff neatly packed in, and watch his best friend sigh.

suguru wets his lips, eyes darting over your desk. there's an odd expression on his face, and his brows pinch as he notices something. then suguru reaches out to pick up an old polaroid, and satoru knows exactly which one it is. your arms slung around suguru's shoulders, smile so wide your cheeks probably hurt. suguru's expression was uncharacteristically gentle.

satoru remembers it so well, because he's the one who took the picture.

suguru looks at the polaroid without a word, rubbing the corner between his thumb and forefinger, and his expression suddenly mirrors the gentleness in the picture. his eyes remain stormy, deep and unsettling as he reaches conclusions that satoru will never understand.

the three of them stay quiet for a few minutes, even though satoru has so many questions that he can't figure out how to phrase. shoko toys with a cigarette between her lips, leaving it unlit because you've always hated the smell of smoke. suguru just stands there, silently eyeing your unfiltered smile through the lens of a camera.

satoru wonders if suguru's trying to say goodbye to you. he doesn't ask, and suguru doesn't say.

only after something had clicked in suguru's eyes, did satoru realize something was over. he couldn't help but feel like he had just buried you in that cardboard box with all your things, and he swallows hard.

then suguru clenches his fists, veins flexing as he looks around your room, almost like he was committing it to memory. satoru didn't understand why; it's not like suguru couldn't come see your room anytime he wanted.

then he turns away, hand lingering on the doorframe heavily, without another word.

just as suguru walks away, satoru thinks he hears your voice whispering in his ear.

"don't want him to get lost."

xi. 2018

something is wrong. something happened. something is wrong.

satoru knows he needs to wake up. but he's so tired, so exhausted from carrying on all by himself. he suddenly remembers the taste of frozen mango, sweet and chilled, and he wants to keep thinking about it for the rest of eternity.

but something is wong. he needs to wake up.

the minute satoru forces his eyes open, he can ignore the taste of blood in his mouth because you're there.

you're kneeling at his side, sunlight shining behind your head in a way that makes you look almost angelic. he'd believe it if you said you were an angel, because you've been dead for so long now.

you'd been a ghost for so many years, hovering around him and getting him through everything that had come his way. isn't that what guardian angels were supposed to do, guiding humans through their own trials? isn't that what you were doing to him since the day you died and came back to him?

you'd been a ghost. you'd been his angel. you'd been haunting him.

you'll always haunt him.

you seem to know it too, because the expression on your face is understanding, soft and yet so sad.

for what seems like the millionth time in his life, satoru aches to touch you.

he tries to move his hand but finds that he can't. synapses misfire. he can't feel his body anymore.

he wants to touch you. gods above, he wants to touch you so badly. please just this one last wish.

your translucent forms shimmers in the sunlight, and satoru can't tell if he's hallucinating or not because you suddenly seem to become fully physical. the particles of your form solidify, slowly filling with more color until you don't look quite so dilute. the saturation of your eye color comes back, and satoru can't look away because he's never seen a ghost so pretty before.

his breath hitches as you gently cup his cheek in your palm, warm and gentle. the melancholic look on your face makes his eyes sting.

"it's good to see you." he says with a weak smile, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue. his breath is short, mind racing because your skin is on his again. finally, after so many years. you're so soft, just like he remembers.

"you weren't supposed to join me this quick." you sigh, eyes shining as you smile down at him ruefully. your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and satoru's cerulean eyes flutter.

no. no more waiting. he'd missed you too much. he doesn't have it in him to stay away from you anymore. he'd done it long enough. your fingers tremble against his skin and he almost laughs.

no more haunting.

there's a resolute part of him that knows you'll be the first thing he sees when he gets to wake up again. he decides that, when he does, he'll get you a mango ice pop and plant some morning glories with you.

his eyes fall shut with a sigh.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

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shellshocklove · 9 days ago

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red moon risin' | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: in the aftermath of the raiders, you and joel struggle your way to jackson.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, canon-typical violence, guns, panic attacks, angst, blood, wounds, suicidal thoughts, smut, unprotected sex, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the third part to this. i know it's taken me 100 years to post this and i'm sorry about that. i've somewhat settled into my new job, but i have much less time to write now than i used to have. this story will be finished tho!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist / fic updates

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under him, Joel felt the way the mare's muscles moved as he rocked back and forth in the saddle. She was a good horse, young, but trusting; always letting Joel take the lead. It made the job easy, the patrolling, knowing his horse could read him just as well as he read her. Softened thuds left horseshoe prints behind as they rode down the tired path for the fourth time this month.

A quiet day.

The snow had given way to the sun a few weeks ago, and when the last patch of rotten snow had finally dried up, the world had flowered with spring. Birds chirped, the days had gotten longer, and a hint of what some people would call hope was in the air.

But Joel wasn't 'some people'.

Under his padded leather jacket sweat dripped down his back as the sun warmed him from behind. All day it had bothered him – it was just too bright, and all the squinting had a headache brewing behind his eyes.

Behind him, Joel could hear the hoofs of Tommy's horse and his voice muffling praise to the stallion. His little brother. The one he'd spent his whole life protecting and worrying about, had now settled down with a wife and a child. Joel was happy for him, he truly was, but it also reminded him of all he'd lost.

Joel squinted up at the empty sky, and found himself wondering what would happen if he managed to shoot a hole in the sun. Would it fizzle out like a balloon draining of air? Maybe the hole would crash in on itself and explode in a supernova like he remembered reading in one of Sarah's old science books a lifetime ago.

The death of a star, and the birth of a black hole.

It seemed fitting. A black hole. That's what he was. A monster. Your words. A killer. Someone who destroyed everything in his path; destroyed every single thing that was good in his life. The reminder of your words, of that night all those months ago had an invisible hand wrap its fingers around his heart. His breath quickened and that familiar pressure started to build in his chest – the pressure that seemed to push him down more and more.

Fuck.

His hand moved on its own, loosening the reins before it tightened into a fist over his heart, pushing against the pressure. He tried to remember to breathe but it was like his throat had tightened into a pinhole.

C'mon now, Joel told himself, just breathe you stupid old man.

When the world started to blur at the edges something black and brightly orange fluttered before him. Joel had to use all of his energy to focus his eyes where it landed on his fist over his heart.

Slowly retracting and widening its wings, the butterfly rested over his fist. Watching it with widened eyes the pressure in his chest fizzled away, and suddenly with a shaky breath Joel could breathe again.

It's okay dad, he heard in the wind, it was her voice, his babygirl's, a voice he was so afraid of forgetting, you're on the right path.

Joel studied the wings, the bright orange against the intricate black lines, and he was reminded of the butterfly he'd seen in the woods with Arthur when he'd first arrived at the farm. How it had rested on his knee, calm and unafraid of the winter to come– a winter that had taken everything from him.

He wasn't on some right path, he'd steered off it the day she'd died and he'd never found his way back. Every waking hour for the last twenty years he'd lost another part of himself to violence, to the sound of a neck snapping, a gunshot echoing, or flesh breaking open underneath his fist.

Why pretend he could ever find his way back?

Joel figured he could live with all the blood on his hands, and all the nightmares reminding him of all the lives he's taken. They had all blurred together by now, all the red, like how you could get lost staring at a Rothko painting.

Shifting his weight in the saddle, the strap of his shotgun dug into his shoulder and rubbed at where he ached. The wound had healed up now, finally, but he'd wished it had taken him. Infection might've been the cruelest way to go, but didn't he deserve it after everything he'd done? To die painfully?

The only solace he could find in surviving was that you were finally safe. He didn't care that he was alone or that you hated him, you were safe– that's what he'd told you.

Down the barrel of Joel's gun your body shook, visibly, with widened eyes full of fright and your hands above your head. They were shaking too, your hands. To your left, inches from you, the man's lifeless body spilled red, feeling nothing as the life of him pooled in a steady stream at your knees where it stained your jeans. The wood drank greedily, feeding the foundation of the hunting cabin, turning fat and gluttonous from Joel's generous offering.

The way your eyes met his, terrified and disturbed, pulled him from the trance that had clouded his mind with fire smoke. Dropping his gun, he moved with haste, falling to his knees to take your head in his palms. Joel didn't realize how cold his hands were until they met your warm cheeks, but the way you flinched at his touch yanked at his heart.

"Shh," he cooed, "You're safe now, angel, you're safe," he told you, almost desperate.

"H-he's d-dead," you stuttered, "J-Jonah's d-dead."

He tried to soothe you, rubbing his fingers over your skin, but still you trembled under his touch. Worse, you didn't meet his gaze, instead your eyes stared a hole in his shoulder. Or maybe it was the bullet from the man bleeding out beside you?

"Y-you're b-bleeding," you muttered.

When Joel's own eyes found his shoulder he realized his mistake. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving his body, or the way your terrified eyes looked at him, but the ache in his shoulder intensified into an excruciating pain.

Gritting his teeth, Joel had to pull himself together before answering, "I'm okay, angel, I'm okay." He emphasized every word with a rub of his thumb over your cheek, but what he'd meant to be a soothing action, instead, smeared blood in thumb sized streaks over your skin.

Fat wet tears mixed with the blood, and lines of salty rivers cut through the iron stains. The look on your face hurt more than the open wound and awakened the beast inside of Joel who screamed at him to protect, protect, protect.

"It's okay," he told you again, "you're safe."

Like repeating himself would do the trick, like if only he said it enough times it would come true, like hearing it again would convince him that the world wasn't broken.

More tears streamed down your cheeks, the drops wetting his fingers where they pooled over the ridges of his skin. You were shaking as you watched the blood pour out of his wound, or maybe this time it was him that was shaking? Joel couldn't tell – Joel didn't want to know – he just needed to feel you close, and know that you were real.

His nose pressed harshly into yours as he caught your lips in a rushed kiss, and he melted against you as all borrowed adrenaline-fueled energy seeped out of him and into your kiss. In his hands your body finally relaxed, the shocked stiffness of your muscles fading you away into a puddle of a woman – the water of you soon to run through his fingers.

The winter wind howled like a clown, laughing at Joel's attempt at orientating through the endless dark wilderness. The knee-deep snow clung to his jeans with every step, and made them stiff like they had been starched. If he'd been of clear mind, and with a gallon more of blood running through his veins, they'd stayed at the cabin until you'd gotten the bleeding under control. But his mind wasn't clear, and with each step Joel took he felt the life drain out of him.

You'd patched him up with shaky hands– twirled strip by strip of a torn cotton t-shirt around his shoulder, but the wound gushed blood with every movement Joel made. He didn't know where they were going, only clearing a path in the snow for you in the opposite direction he'd come from after he'd finally found you.

There was a town, a commune, something, somewhere– he remembered you'd told him one sparkling day when the sun had shone. A place where Tommy might be, where you'd been supposed to take him come spring. But Joel's dream of spring was as fruitful as a thirsty man's dream of water in the midst of a hot desert.

When night came, the branches seemed to rustle like living things as the wind picked up its pace whipping flakes of snow in your faces. Joel dragged his feet after him, and the weight of the gun tipped him to the side. Behind him, you'd been quiet all day– the only reason he knew you were still with him was the sound of your feet through the snow and the rhythm of your shaky breath.

Joel didn't know when you'd stumbled on the river, but the wind blew harsher here, biting through his body. The snow grew thicker and wilder, and soon the only thing Joel could see was a sea of white. He knew you couldn't continue like this– you needed a place to camp and ride out the storm.

When you happened upon the cliffside along the river bank, the wind hid behind the mountain wall, and the snow didn't feel like a thousand icy daggers no more. It was a relief, but without shelter Joel knew the night would be long.

"Joel."

Your voice was quiet, but firm nevertheless. “We need to stop.”

“It’s not much further,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking hard in an attempt to dispel the spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“To where? You’ve been saying that for three days now– but not once have you told me where we’re going,” you told him desperately, “I'm freezing, starving and I'm tired– you can barely stand straight... we need to stop and find shelter.”

A sharp gust of wind blew your voice away, and Joel felt the earth crumble underneath him before a pair of arms locked around his middle.

“T-Tommy?” Joel managed to stutter out.

“Joel,” you sighed again, but there was something hurtful hiding in the lilt of your voice.

In your arms Joel swallowed hard as he felt a wave of nausea sweep over him while the beat of his heart thumped through his poorly bandaged wound. In the darkened winter he searched for your face, but the moon had abandoned him behind the clouds that spat wild and icy snowflakes.

“I think I saw some caves on the cliffside when we were walking earlier... not perfect, but–” he thought he heard you say as you locked your arms tighter around him before you started moving.

Joel's feet somehow moved on their own as you dragged him along. He tried his best not to lean too heavily on you, never wanting you to carry the burden of him on your back – but once again he had failed.

This wasn't supposed to have happened.

The gun shot should've never had happened.

It had been so easy. He'd found their tracks quickly, fresh in the snow, like breadcrumbs to follow, and once he'd found the scout, a darkness had taken over Joel's body. Every pull of the trigger was just a means to an end, just a body standing in the way of the only light in Joel's world. But when he'd kicked down the last door he'd been blinded by you, and just for a second the time had stood still while a wave of relief had washed over him.

You were alive.

The man’s finger on the trigger brought Joel back to the moment in the blink of a gunshot, and the world that had moved in slow motion sped up. Joel's own finger on the trigger was quick, methodical, sending a bullet right between the man's eyes.

You were safe.

When you reached the inside of the cave, Joel stumbled out of your hands before he felt himself sink through his knees. Catching his breath he rested his head against the cold stone wall for a moment before he closed his eyes as exhaustion finally took over his body, the pain somehow intensifying as he struggled to keep his stomach from turning.

A rustling sound pierced through the pain and had him opening his eyes. He could barely see you where you moved about the hard stone floor of the cave, crouching down and searching around the ground with your fingers.

“No,” he croaked, shaking his head feebly, “No fire.”

“We’ll freeze to death,” you told him matter of factly, continuing to search for twigs and placing them on a growing pile.

“If anyone finds us, we’re gonna to wish we did,” he managed, but Joel’s eyes were starting to get heavy despite all of his efforts, and his body sank to the floor. He opened his mouth to rebut you, but instead felt his consciousness start to slip away before he could say a word, staying alert only a moment longer to hear your voice speak quietly.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Joel dreamt of darkness and a cold that made his hackles rise. It penetrated through him, through muscle and fat and deep into his bones. Nothing burned like the cold, and nothing was as blinding as the darkness.

When Joel regained consciousness, it was because of the pain.

Blinking his eyes open an angel leaned over him. The flickering flames of the fire contorted your face – casting strange shadows. Joel felt your hands on him, saw how they shook as you fiddled with the poorly bandaged wound, and then he felt it, spikes of hot red pain scouring through his body. There was nothing to hear except his own cry echoing against the cave walls.

"Shh," you hushed, your eyes glued to his wound.

"Angel," Joel muttered, breathlessly, while his hand searched for you, for something to hold on to. Under his fingertips you tensed, your whole body twisting away from his loose grip to get a better look at his wound.

In his chest, Joel's heart cracked – a pain stronger than the hole in his shoulder. His hand fell to the cold rock, and Joel couldn't look at you. He'd been so strong for so long now, but the blood loss and tiredness had drained the last remaining drops of strength from his body.

Instead, his head fell back and his gaze fell on the cave ceiling – to how the shadows seemed to dance on the walls. They contorted against the ridges of the stone walls, flicking flashes like splatters of blood. When the shadows shifted into faces, haunting him with hallowed expressions and dead eyes Joel wished to forget, he shut his eyes tightly.

He let you fuss over him, tie the makeshift bandage across his chest again, and sucked the melting snow from your fingers. It didn't take long before his body shook from the cold, but inside he felt like burning up.

You didn't say much, but he felt your eyes on him where you'd laid him down close to the fire. Joel tried to stay awake, he didn't know why, he knew it didn't look good for him. It seemed like the night was forever, and Joel couldn't stop shaking. You sat watching the fire, lost in your own thoughts.

Joel tried to focus on you, on memorizing every inch of your face, how the lines of you curved, how your hair looked, and he knew he wanted you to be the last thing he saw before he died. He'd been ready for so long, ready to die, but now he couldn't let go. So, he forced his eyes open and watched you as you fed the small fire.

His angel.

When it seemed you'd had enough, you crept closer and laid down before him. Reaching out your hand, you hesitated only for a second before he felt your arm around him and all the tension in his body fell away.

"You should get some rest, Joel," he heard you whisper, but to Joel no rest would come easy knowing it might be the last time he'd ever hold you.

The day blinded him and the harsh white of the snow burned his eyes as Joel struggled to keep them open. Every step he took felt heavier than the last– even with your arm around him helping him with each step. From the sky a thousand butterflies flickered like blinking stars, and Joel felt his mouth stretch into a smile at the sight…

"Please," he heard a voice say, but it sounded so far away it couldn't possibly be important, "Help me, please, Joel."

Shimmering wings landed on Joel's arm and the glint of them caught in the deepest depths of him. Another set of wings landed on his arm, and another, and another, and soon he felt heavy with the weight of a child on his back. Small fingers dug into his jacket, and he felt the ghost of a kiss to his cheek.

Joel laughed.

"Joel," he heard the voice again, cutting through the warmth of his memories, "Please," it cried, but Joel just laughed.

The beat of drumming thunder surrounded him, circled him, and the weight slid off his back in a stream of red. It coated his fingers and his clothes, stained him in crimson. When he looked down at his hands his vision tunneled slowly, and for a small moment Joel frowned.

"No," he muttered, "No, babygirl, no-no-no."

Joel felt himself fall to his knees as a darkness enveloped him, the intensity of the blackness making his head spin…

Dad?

Joel perked up at the word, one he hadn't heard in a long time. Stumbling to his feet, Joel could move mountains with the strength it took to walk into the pitch black. There was something there– something bright and peaceful at the end.

Deeper and deeper he walked while muffled voices he couldn’t interpret hammered at the walls surrounding him. They didn’t matter, he felt safe in here– like he was finally where he belonged.

The closer he got, the clearer everything became. A smile crept over his features when he spotted the wooden door, and he didn't hesitate as he pushed it open. In the blink of an eye the darkness vanished, and Joel was stood by her bed.

Sitting down at the edge as quietly as he could, Joel let his hand rest over the back of his sleeping little girl. Her body rose and fell in a calming rhythm and his palm warmed at her touch as he brushed it gently over the fabric of her sleep shirt.

Then, a shout, a garbled voice he barely recognized.

Shaking his head at the noise, Joel laid down next to his daughter. She was so small – curled up into a little ball with her legs tucked up under her. Wrapping her up in his arms, Joel remembered when she'd just been born; how small she'd been as she'd slept so peacefully on his chest.

Another shout, this time clearer. His name.

Joel’s head moved to look, his eyes squinting down the darkness of the tunnel, seeing nothing. Then, a strangled wince startled him, and he looked back, only to watch as Sarah started gasping for air.

No, no, no, no.

The ground underneath him dug into his knees as he turned to sit up. Beneath him, his babygirl panted for breath.

Okay… Joel acted on autopilot. You're okay. Move your hand, baby. Move your hand.

“Joel,” the voice floated through his head, an echo like the grating of rocks against each other, his temples splitting with pain as he tried to focus on Sarah, “Stay with me, Joel.”

I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts. Stay with me, Sarah.

Her blood gushed beneath his fingers, and the sound of her labored panting had a coldness run down Joel's back. He had to do something. The sound of her pained yelps chipped away at his heart as he gathered her up in his lap.

Come on, baby. You're okay, you're okay. You're gonna be okay. All right… baby, baby, baby, listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I got to get you up. All right? You come on.

Joel could feel her clammy arms dig into his shoulder as he moved her. Burning tears pushed at the back of his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding.

No, no, no, I know, I know, I know, I know.

"No," he muttered, his mouth forming around the words sluggishly, his frown deepening, "No, babygirl, no-no-no."

"Joel."

There it was again, that same voice. It hooked itself at his neck and pulled Joel away, further and further from Sarah as she laid, dying, in his arms.

“No,” he muttered, before something surged through him, a strength he didn’t know he had, “No! Sarah!”

He was shouting now, he was sure of it, the force of his voice reverberating through his throat as he felt the vague imprint of hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the darkness.

“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he felt hot tears push behind his eyes, “Please... Sarah.”

Through the welling of his tears a face swam into his vision, a face he hadn’t seen for a long time, a face he had longed to see.

Tommy?

A surprising wave of relief washed over him, picked him apart and put him together again. Joel wanted to speak, but the words felt too heavy, and he found himself somehow unable to form the words with his lips.

"I'm here– I’m here, brother."

Brother. Brother. Brother.

The word bounced around in Joel's brain as his vision tunneled again, this time darkness creeping around the edges, growing and growing until eventually, Joel felt himself slip, falling backwards into the abyss, mouth open in a silent scream as his mind went completely dark.

In the silence of the blackened darkness Joel moved deeper and deeper into the blinding emptiness. He didn't know what he was searching for, and he couldn't feel his feet move, but he knew something was wrong with him.

Something was very wrong with him.

Still, even if he knew what was wrong it wouldn't matter anyway. Nothing had been right in a long time.

Lies.

The voice echoed against the walls of his brain, like the voice came from within and not from the depths of the darkness. It didn't frighten him, it felt familiar in a way he couldn't put his finger on, a voice he'd heard thousands of times before. Joel kept moving.

Lies, lies, lies.

Her face bled through then, and Joel felt a smile pull at his face. A rift opened in front of him, and in the blink of an eye he was back in their apartment, in their bed with her arms wrapping around him.

"Hey," he rumbled, his voice stained with sleep. Her arms tightened around his torso, and his own hand found hers. It was warm and bony, and Joel felt himself relax into her.

"Hey," Tess whispered back, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," he answered back, "impossible to get a second of shut-eye when FEDRA's blastin' that alarm every half hour."

"Yeah, fucking Robert," she cursed, and Joel could feel her breath against the back of his neck.

Then a curious feeling of deja vu flickered in the back of his mind, and he knew he'd had this exact conversation before. In a second Tess would tell him that she'd spoken to Bill and that they'd have to delay their planned delivery drop for the month. It was too risky after yesterday when one of Robert's guys got busted by FEDRA and most likely had ratted out their current routes.

Joel didn't want to admit how jittery the thought of going a month without the pills made him. At least he had his whiskey, but he couldn't sleep without the pills– he needed them to dull his dreams.

And Tess knew. She always knew.

Slipping her hand from his grip she sat up and pushed him onto his back. Joel let her do it, they both needed it just as much as the other. Pushing the blanket away she fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, and when he felt her hand wrap around him, Joel couldn't help but let out a breathless sigh.

She pumped him a few times before she sat up to pull at her own jeans. Joel watched her undress for him while he pumped his cock, spitting in the palm of his calloused hand to make the glide easier. When she moved to remove her shirt, Joel reached out to stop her.

"Joel," she only said, wisps of her hair falling in front of her face like a curtain fall, "let's not kid ourselves."

Tess held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, a conversation passing between them he wasn't sure he understood. It wasn't love, they both felt it, but it wasn't not love, either. Instead, it was a need. A need for companionship; a need for someone to understand who he was and not flinch away.

She helped him out of his clothes, and when she straddled him naked as the day she was born, Joel's only thought rolling around in his brain was of how beautiful she looked above him.

With one hand resting her weight on his chest, and the other guiding the head of his cock to her entrance, Joel let her use him like she wanted. A deep grunt escaped him when he felt the walls of her wet cunt pulse around him, and his hands slid up the thick of her thigh to grip dents into the skin around her hips. When she started to move her hips, Joel held her down, eyes closed for a moment longer just to feel the warmth of her this close.

His back ached when he sat up, bringing her with him as he leaned back against the headboard. Her lips tasted like whiskey, but her soft moans sweetened the taste. Tess rode his cock like the world was ending, and it had, so many years ago. She kept a steady pace; let Joel touch her how he wanted as she chased her own pleasure as well as his own. It was animalistic, both of them caught in their own worlds and thoughts.

Joel watched her face, how her mouth hung open, and the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she shut her eyes tightly as Joel met her hips with his own thrusts. He loved to watch her like that– a side of her she'd only show to him. It turned him on, to watch her take what she wanted from him– to know he gave her pleasure. When her legs started to shake and he felt her cunt tighten around him, Joel felt his own orgasm quickly approaching. Wrapping his arm around Tess' waist he flipped them around. Taking his cock in his hand Joel hovered over her as he pumped his cock, coaxing forth his own orgasm.

"Come, Joel– come for me," Tess ordered, her eyes locking with his. With a deep grunt and a tug of his cock Joel came hard, painting her stomach and tits in ropes of hot cum.

In the aftermath Joel wiped her clean, wet cloth in soft hands, as Tess looked at him in the way only she could– like she knew all his secrets. Crawling back into bed, Joel felt Tess' arm wrap around him again– like they'd held him so many times before.

"Try and get some sleep, Joel…" she said, words unsaid lingering between them, words about his dreams, about remembrance, and about remedy.

Closing his eyes, the room faded out into black, and when the rift opened again it was morning. The sun through the yellow curtains stained the room in sepia, and in his arms an angel slept. Joel thought nothing of it as he dipped his head to breathe in the intoxicating scent of you.

Something inside him missed you, something inside him always missed you; he missed you even when he held you in his arms, it was never enough.

You stirred, heavy eyes smiling at him as you took him in in the morning light. Then the smile spread to your lips and you hovered above him, pressing light kisses to his eyelids. Whatever was wrong with him didn't exist anymore when he was with you, or it was like the thing that was wrong with him was also wrong with you, like when two puzzle pieces from two different puzzles fit together.

"Joel?" The voice was like a rock tossed in a still lake, making ripples in Joel's heaven.

No… no, no, no.

Blinking open his eyes, Joel glimpsed a figure to his right. Everything was clouded in fog, and when Joel tried to move a sharp pain shot from his shoulder and ran through his body making him wince.

"Joel!" The figure suddenly moved closer, and through the fog Joel could make out the face of his little brother.

"Where…" Joel tried, his throat dry like sandpaper and his voice not above a whisper.

"What are you sayin', brother?" Tommy squeezed his hand.

Looking around, Joel could make out what looked like a faded hospital room. The walls had yellowed over time, and in places he could see where the paint had started to peel.

"Where… is… she?" Joel tried again.

Tommy shifted in his chair and leaned forward in his seat like he couldn't find a comfortable position. His brother wouldn't meet his eyes, they looked past him, flickering to the wall behind him before he got up to push the chair even closer to Joel's bed. Squeezing his hand tighter, Tommy's front teeth caught on his bottom lip as he ignored his question, "How're you feelin'? The bullet caused you a pretty bad infection and you ain't out of the woods yet–"

Shaking his head Joel couldn't listen to any more of this, it wasn't important, "Where is she?"

Squeezing his lips together, Tommy finally looked at him. There wasn't a time when Joel couldn't read his brother, how he bit his bottom lip when he was nervous, the glint in his eye when he was teasing, or the barely there smile of gratitude he'd gotten so many times when they were kids and Joel had taken the blame for something Tommy had done.

"Tommy," Joel begged in only the way a man on his deathbed could.

"She's… she's alright brother… she's safe– she's sleepin'," Tommy told him with a friendly squeeze of his hand.

She's safe.

The words had a soothing relief spread through Joel's body and he sunk back into the bed. Knowing you were safe was like a switch had been turned off and Joel could finally relax.

He'd found his brother and you were safe. Joel could rest now.

His eyelids felt heavy then, and for the first time Joel noticed how awful he felt. The wound ached with every breath he took, and he felt somehow both like he was burning up and shaking cold at the same time.

"What happened man?" he heard Tommy ask, "You show up here– half dead and both of ya covered in blood. She won't say a thing, not to me, not to Maria… What am I s'posed to to think here, brother? That poor girl's traumatized."

Traumatized? No, Tommy said she was safe.

The word was like a trigger, taunting that thing inside of him that needed you, that thing that barked and howled to keep you safe, to protect you from everything cruel in the world.

"I need to see her," Joel said, moving to sit up. Unknowingly, he leaned his weight on his injured shoulder, sending a blinding shocking pain through his body. Gritting his teeth, Joel yelped in pain.

Tommy's chair screamed against the floor, and it hurt Joel's ears as he fell back against the pillows. Through his heavy eyes Joel watched his brother's face multiply and slowly fade away into black.

Traumatized…

No… happy.

You were happy.

Sitting across from him at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in your hand, you looked happy. Maybe a little tired, but tired in that drowsy Sunday morning way where the hours pass on their own.

Joel flipped the page of the newspaper in his hand, and in the corner of his eye he felt your gaze roll over him. The letters danced before his eyes like they'd been tossed randomly across the page. Squinting his eyes he tried his best to put them back together again.

"Forgot your glasses, old man?"

Joel could hear the laughter in your voice, and when he looked up at you you’d raised your eyebrow playfully at him. Behind you the early morning Austin sun streamed in through the kitchen window and stuck to every surface.

"Who you callin' old man, huh?" Joel teased and folded the newspaper, "Ain't what I remember you callin' me last night, angel."

Letting out something between a snort and a laugh you hid behind your coffee cup for a beat before you placed it gently down on the table. "Careful now, honey," you leaned forward on your elbows, "You don't want your daughter hearing you talk like that, right?" you whispered as you nodded towards the ceiling.

"She's sixteen– Ain't no way she's awake before noon on a Sunday, baby," Joel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

He'd done it on purpose, and couldn't fight the smirk spreading on his lips as he noticed the way your eyes trailed over his biceps. When he cleared his throat playfully with a raise of his eyebrow, your eyes found his. Something like pride bubbled up inside him then, pride at having caught you checking him out.

When you realized you'd been made, you rolled your eyes at him and stood to your feet. With slow steps you rounded the table, stalking towards him with a curious glint in your eyes.

"So we've got what? 2 hours of alone time to kill?" You stepped between his spread legs, and Joel couldn't fight his hands from finding your waist.

"Somethin' like that," he smirked, looking up at you with moony eyes as your hands threaded through his hair. A wave of emotion washed over you suddenly, like a needle had popped the balloon of your happiness and your lips started to quiver.

"Don't leave me," you begged him, "Please don't leave me, Joel."

Outside, rain started pouring down heavily, drumming harshly against the windows. A panic started to bubble up in Joel's chest and he quickly stood to his feet to pull you into his embrace.

"What’re you talkin' 'bout, angel– I ain't leavin' you," he tried to wipe away the tears starting to stain your cheeks.

"It's too bright," you started to babble, "The light is too bright– don't go," you cried.

Joel tightened his arms around you, but the closer he hugged you the more it seemed like everything fell apart. The walls of his home crumbled around him, brick by brick tumbling down as they fell away into darkness. His hands clung to you tightly, but in his fists you sifted through his fingers like sand.

Traumatized…

The room was darker when he woke again, only lit by a small candle close to burning out. Turning his head slowly he watched how the wax had spilled out onto the weathered wood of the bed side table while the flames flickered shadows across the walls. It triggered a memory in the back of Joel's mind of a cave wall and your arms around him.

A crack in the door invited a line of light to cut through his bed. It was harsher than the candle, and it blinded the drowsy sleep from his eyes. Sitting up in his bed his head felt clearer now and Joel started to remember.

He remembered the cabin, and what he'd done. He remembered how the snow had blinded him, and the people he'd killed to save you– what he'd done to keep you safe. It all came back to him in flashes. He remembered how you'd taken care of him in the cave, and the face of his brother.

"… there are clearly things you don't know about Joel…"

Down the hall Joel heard echoing voices, and he could've sworn he heard your voice answer. Swinging his feet out of bed, the floor was cold underneath him. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a small ache, but it wasn't important anymore, only you were– he needed to see you.

"… so then you understand my concern?""

Pushing the door open, Joel felt a smile tug at his lips when he spotted you down the hall talking to a woman with a baby in her arms. Joel tried to be quiet, to not disturb your conversation, but the woman with the baby noticed him quickly out of the corner of her eye. Following the woman, you turned your head towards Joel and when you finally locked eyes, a smile spread over his face.

"Joel?" you said, almost stunned, and stepped a little closer, "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Joel couldn't care less if he shouldn't be out of bed, especially not when you were finally walking towards him, the real you this time, not some twisted dream version of you that would fade away.

The woman with the baby called out your name, and with a quick look over your shoulder you stopped dead in your tracks. "We'll wait outside for you– ten minutes is enough time, right?"

Ten minutes? What was this lady talking about?

"Okay, Maria," you said with a nod, and finally closed the space between you. Joel watched as Maria vanished around the corner, finally giving you some privacy.

"Hi," he said, reaching his hand out to touch you, his voice deep and gravely from no use.

"Um, hi," you said, your eyes not meeting his as you ignored his hand, instead your hand found his back, pushing at him to go back inside the room.

"You need to get back into bed, Joel. You were really sick– you lost a lot of blood and the bullet caused an infection. We didn't think you were gonna make it," you told him, but your voice seemed far away like they'd been rehearsed.

"I'm okay, angel," he told you, sitting back on the bed, "I'm alright–"

"No, you're not, Joel," you cut him off with a strain to your voice.

It sent a jolt through Joel's body, it perked up his senses and he could finally see you clearly. The way your shoulders seemed to hike up over your ears as you crossed your arms around yourself. It should've been his arms around you– his arms to sooth you.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Joel forced himself to say.

"Nothing… I– I've been staying with Tommy and Maria– that's his wife," you informed him as you started to pace back and forth, "you'll get your own house when you're better–"

The way you moved about the room had his head hurting, he wanted you to sit down and look him in the eye the way you always did– he wanted you to look at him like he was a good man.

"You mean we are?" Joel asked, eyebrows pinched together as he tried to process all this new information. He figured they'd finally made it to Jackson, that you'd been rescued somehow out in the cold– his brother had been there, he remembered.

"No."

"Why?" Joel's voice was quiet and hollow, and finally you stopped your pacing.

With your back turned to him, Joel watched you take a deep breath, and the seconds that passed before you finally spoke felt like hours.

"Because…" you turned around and Joel could see tears push at your waterline, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Joel." A tear broke loose and ran down your cheek, "I didn't want to believe the things they told me about you, but they're all true…"

Joel's eyebrows met in a furrow as he stumbled to his feet, "Who're 'they', angel? What things?"

"Please," you sighed and stumbled backwards, "please don't call me that– don't call me that anymore."

Joel froze to the ground. You'd stepped away from him and he felt like a bad dog who's leash had been yanked. There was no reason for this, no reason for you to be afraid of him.

"I don't…" Joel trailed off as he sat back down on the bed.

"I know what you did Joel–" The way your face twisted with hurt, he knew exactly what you were talking about. All the blood on his hands, what he'd done to survive all those years ago when the world wasn't worth living in. "–I know it's true, a-and the worst part is that it could've been me and you know that– it could've been me and my family."

"I know, ang–" Joel stopped himself before the pet name slipped from his lips, "but you gotta understand I did what I had to do to survive… I ain't that man no more."

"But you are," you almost shouted, "I-I saw it with my own eyes– you k-killed all those people and you didn't even blink… like some kind of–"

"Monster."

Joel finished for you, and the poisonous word stained his mouth.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

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