#i keep getting sidetracked by writing scenes that are wayyy ahead of the events in part 2

[thelastofhyde]

On my hands and knees begging for more of likeability paradox

since you begged, have a sneak peak at part 2 <3

The door creaks, a beg for oil, and announces Joel's arrival far sooner than he would have preferred, stumbling upon the scene of you. More specifically, the back of you, doubled over. Everything from the waist up digging through the backseats of the vehicle, seemingly searching for something, while everything downwards is on full display for his starved eyes to feast upon. Boot covered feet, the hem of the most nonsensical skirt resting upon bare calves, the curvature of thighs beneath silk, the stretch of tightened fabric against your ass.

Joel thinks himself a strong man, but he is weakened by the sight.

You startle at his entrance, rushing to straighten yourself so quickly your head smacks against the top of the car's door frame. A hiss and a pressing of a hand to your head is not enough to comfort the witness of your harm, crossing those three steps forward needed to grip your jumper covered shoulders and spin you to face him, eyes immediate with their scanning of your features, frantic to confirm you're not teary-eyed, nor pouty-lipped, nor in the beginnings of a concussion.

"I thought-" you pause whatever you wish to say when one of his hands covers your own, cradling the back of your head. He's well-aware this is too close, too unlike him, too noteworthy. But he can not seem to care enough to welcomed back the distance that so often sits between you. "Oh, it's you."

"Sorry to disappoint ya."

He surely is.

Disappointed, confused, conflicted. Here you stand, no runny nose, no bloodshot eyes, no scratch in your voice, no need to be cared for. It's a selfish thing, to feel his heart lurch at the fact you're in full-health, no pesky cough in sight, but his distaste towards the feeling only makes it double in size.

"No! Sorry, I just," you're the first to inch back, head tilting to meet his stare with your own. He follows suit, taking your unvocalised desires and stepping away from you, hands back by his own side and vowing to keep themselves there. "I thought it would be Tess teaching me."

So maybe you'd never called for him.