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vasito-de-leche · 16 days ago

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;R1999 JOE - "highest of highs, lowest of lows" (1/2)

Joe x Reader 3.6k words hurt/comfort Being part of Joe's gang has its ups and downs, chaos being the closest thing you have to a stable routine, every single day full of adventures. Your friends pulled you from the rubble and into the light, you've been with them through thick and thin─and yet, as the years pass, it all grows stale. Repetitive, even. Tiring. A new era approaches. You're not strong enough to hold on and withstand the whirlwind of change, and neither is he. Even so, your faith in the dream Joe has given to all of Haight Street never wavers. You'll find a way out, together. But only if he's willing to move on.

long time no see! I've been struggling with writing and got very busy, but I also missed writing reader inserts sooooo much and got a little carried away with this one, hehehoho

it's the first half of joe's sleepy time fic, since I'm still editing the second half o7 I'll post that one as soon as I'm done with it. this also means that the comfort part isn't quite here yet LMFAO

as usual, this is written to be read as platonic or romantic, whatever floats your boat!

Just one more revision, and then I’ll take a break …

The words repeat in your mind like a mantra. This is your only way to keep your eyelids from closing shut, so heavy with sleep and exhaustion.

Numbers and letters blur together as you scan through the documents laid in front of you; there are bills and more bills, everything necessary to keep supplies coming and utilities working. It’s gotten harder to manage the business lately with the influence of the Chamber of Commerce still lingering over the neighbourhood, and every time you go outside, you notice all the stores that were forced to close, either bought or chased out of town. You think of all the people you used to know and who watched you and the rest of your friends grow up, now lost somewhere in the country, with no means to reach out to them.

Your entire life reduced to nothing but empty streets and dusty displays.

But the world keeps on moving, not waiting for you to catch up. And the atmosphere at Tang’s is the same as always─even at this hour, there are people walking in and out, with small groups scattered about in the booths, but also outside, standing under the neon lights, as if this humble diner were the hottest disco in the entirety of San Francisco. Only a small portion were paying customers, but each and every one of them was a familiar face, the friend of a friend, a soon-to-be-acquaintance.

You have your boss to thank for this sense of community, the man who united all of Haight Street under the hopeful glimmer of his metal badges, a symbol of his friendship and protection. Of course, you also have him to blame for your current situation, forced to crunch numbers and make ends meet out in the open by the bar.

Tang’s restaurant is an ancient relic with only a single office where the walls are thick and study enough to pass for an office. That is where you usually fill in all the paperwork and where Becket often goes to take a nap, it’s the perfect place to hide for a much needed break and to hold important meetings─today, similar to last week, it is being used for the latter, with Joe stepping up to the plate and dealing with every single investor interested in “supporting the local businesses.” You can’t be mad at him, even with this subtle sense of urgency and nervousness lingering in the back of your mind, you trust in the dream Joe has given to all of you. If there is a way forward, he would be the one to find it after weeding out all potential dangers.

The sudden, pulsating pain of an incoming headache makes itself known right behind your eyeballs, causing you to cover your eyes. As you apply a gentle pressure and rub soothing circles in slow motions, you allow your mind to rest from the constant stream of red on the documents. You trust Joe, you believe in him. You have to, even if reality continues to knock on your door in an attempt to wake you up from this fleeting dream.

But how long can this dream last? You all need the sort of help that cannot be gained through camaraderie: money, an investor to keep things afloat, a stable income.

Everyone knows better than to approach you tonight. That little corner by the bar is your territory, your own personal battlefield; with your disheveled and exhausted appearance, nothing but an empty cup and those piles of documents to keep you company, they all know better than to interrupt. Even so, you still manage to give a friendly wave or a nod whenever someone new calls out your name in greeting. The sound of someone pouring you a drink pulls you away from the chaos of your mind; Sputnik refills your cup with a batch of hot, fresh coffee─the scent reaches you and you thank her with a smile, one she timidly brushes off before delighting you with one of her signature, happy, little spins. And just like that, she floats away to attend the other customers. Of course, her presence doesn’t go unnoticed. Her shift ended hours ago, with no way to pay her for the extra hours or longer shifts, and yet, she remains by her own volition.

Your eyes drift to the documents and the ocean of red greets you. You wish you could offer her more than a misery of a salary. While you have friends like Pioneer who can offer good insight every once in a while, he is much too idealistic. And the rest are doers, not thinkers. The only other person who would’ve easily tackled the issue from the root …

Paulina, the little genius of Haight Street. She would’ve known what to do if she were here.

But she isn’t here anymore, and this isn’t the right way to miss someone. You need to get her out of your head.

The pleasant heat of your coffee helps drown any unwanted feelings, it burns your insides with a rejuvenating spark, the warm hits your nose and cheeks. Things might be bad now, but you are currently surrounded by the constant sound of lively chatter and the occasional round of laughter. In the crowd, you spot all of your friends; Becket and Hollick, Mercuria and Pioneer. Maich the Peddler catches your eye and raises her glass, a toast in the name of this small community and a small gesture to cheer you on. Bianca sits nearby too, perched on one of the many stools.

Seeing everyone like this is enough to set your heart at ease from these anxieties. You have all made it this far, supporting everyone in need and feeding as many hungry mouths as possible and if things go well, you won’t have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck.

What follows, however, is not a relaxing night but a series of interruptions, each worse than the last.

Just as you’re about to take another sip, the office door slams open and you feel someone rushing past the diner and towards the door. Turning around, you recognize that sharply dressed man struggling with the broken door handle as the latest investor Joe promised to take care of, the one he was supposed to make a deal with. He promised. He promised you that this man would walk out of here with a smile on his face and one less suitcase full of money in his possession, but your eyes lock onto it, that hefty suitcase dangling around in his grip as he fumbles about. In your impulsive attempt to stop him and mediate, all you manage to do is get into Joe’s way; he blazes past as well, oblivious to your presence, and knocks over the cup in your hands.

It falls unceremoniously on the bar, spilling its contents all over your clothes and, most importantly, your hard work. The papers quickly turn an ugly shade of brown, soaking in the warm drink dripping from the counter. And this goes unnoticed in favour of the screaming match between your boss and the business partner that never was, the people in the diner joining the commotion in support of their leader. You don’t even process Sputnik’s attempts at salvaging the documents, eyes glued on your best friend’s back.

“─And you know where you can shove all those fat stacks of money?!” Joe barks out, that typical and endearing cockiness turning into the bane of your existence as he severs that last thread of hope for the diner. He doesn’t need to finish, of course, the investor has left─you can hear the roaring engine of his car outside, speeding away. Your heart drops at this.

“Tch, serves ‘em right!” Someone comments, you don’t care to know who. A different person adds, “Hey, boss! You’re slacking off, took you 2 hours to scare off this one. That’s 20 minutes more than the last one.”

“... J, Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” Even though your avoid raising your voice, shaking with something you can’t quite place amidst the tight, claustrophobic pressure in your chest, everyone hears this and the diner grows quiet.

“Hey, gimme some credit, would you? These damn suits keep gettin’ more and more annoying, this one wouldn’t shut up about─” Joe stops as soon as he takes in your sorry state. His expression softens, hands hovering over your coffee-stained clothes. “Shit. That was you I hit on the way out? … Here, let me help.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement; Pioneer and Mercuria have stood up, intent on helping you out of this sticky mess. But you gently shake your head at them, fearing that more people in your personal space would only serve in pushing you further to the edge. It is already overwhelming enough to have Joe pat awkwardly ─uselessly, even─at your shirt with a napkin, it is hard enough to keep yourself from lashing out at him after such careless display. Still, you manage to rest your shaking hands over his own, gripping onto the leather of his gloves like a plea for help.

“You promised me the deal would go smoothly.” Voice dropping to a whisper, you force this out without choking in your own grief. It feels silly to feel like this when Joe is looking at you like nothing is wrong. “You─You should’ve taken the deal, J.”

“We’re not charity cases, we can manage without them, just like we’ve always done, yeah? It ain’t nothing new.” The reply is firm, and yet you can tell he’s trying to find a middle ground with you, anything to keep this from escalating.

At least he knows he’s in trouble with you. Thus begins the same old song and dance.

“Maybe improvising worked the first few times, but it’s not going to work forever.” You push forward, still attempting to regulate your breathe. Joe pulls his hand away from yours and continues to dutifully rub the stains of coffee away, a feat both of you know is futile. “We need the plan B before shit hits the fan, not after.”

He pushes forward as well, brows furrowing and avoiding your gaze. “C’mon, and let those rich suits look into our lives so they can feel better about themselves? To brag about how they help the poor and needy? Let them try to change the way we’ve always done things?” A scoff. “As if. Tsk. This damn stain won’t go away─!”

“They can pretend to be Mother Teresa for all I care, as long as we get to keep the diner and pay the bills.We’re not doing well, it can’t be any worse than what will happen if we keep things as they are, Joe.”

Joe, not J. This detail causes him to momentarily flinch, and he finally gives up on this useless task of cleaning you up. It’s only when he slams that used napkin on the counter that he notices the rest of the mess. Joe searches for something in your eyes, he doesn’t find it─or you won’t allow him to─and only then you gain the upper and the right to truly escalate the fight. Unbeknownst to you, the rest of your friends have begun to clear out of the building─they know better than to get involved. One had to match Joe’s own temper if they wanted to be truly acknowledged by the blacksmith. He might’ve learned how to bend the metals to his will but those close to him learned how to fight fire with fire rather than walk around eggshells around him.

“You’ve rejected every single person who offered to help. Sooner or later, there’s gonna be no one left to give a shit about us, and we’re already in the negatives!”

“If shit hits the fan, we ask help from others.” Before you can deliver the perfect rebuttal at his hypocrisy, he interrupts as if seeing your intentions from a mile away. “Help from our friends─not the government, those gangs, those rich assholes or the Foundation. People we know we can trust.”

“Fine. Then what happens when no one else can spare a single bag of groceries or a single dollar for us? What happens when none of them can put their livelihoods on the line anymore because we all have damn bills to pay?” You extend a hand towards the papers, already dissipating. “How many more favors can you cash in before we run out of changes? We’re not getting by just for us five or six anymore, there’s a whole damn group that depends on us now! You heard the sheriff! Everyone carrying these little things? The people they don’t like seeing out in broad daylight? They’re our responsibility now, you’re not a rebellious kid playing around in the streets anymore!”

You tap on the metal badge pinned to his chest with a little more strength that you intended, this small act gets under his skin because the next time he speaks, he’s screaming. “You think I don’t know that? That I need you to remind me?!”

“Someone has to with the way you’re acting.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I bumped into you and ruined the whole thing, but if you’re mad about that, then just say it. Don’t bring up other shit just to pick a fight with me.”

“You’re trying to pick a fight to get out of the fight I’m trying to have with you right now, what are you, five?!”

“Funny you say that! ‘Cause I sure wasn’t the one who decided to have this argument out in the open!”

“You’re being stupidly stubborn.”

“And you’re being stupidly paranoid. When have I ever failed us, huh? Name one time.”

One? You can name more than one, you could name as many as the wounds and bruises he’s earned in the name of protecting this community. All the days he’s spent in jail, all the beatings he’s taken, all the meals he skipped so that someone else could eat, all the dangerous stunts done in the name of pride─to you, someone forced to look on as the entire weight of the world is placed on his shoulders, these are all shortcomings. Things that could’ve been easily avoided if he simply listened. But here he is, looking down on you, playing the role of hero because it’s all he’s ever known. But he can’t keep doing this, not to himself, not to you or the rest.

If she’s not here to stop him, then you will.

“The day you let Paulina go.”

It takes everything in your body not to cry the moment those words leave your mouth, hitting their target with a hint of resentment you didn’t think you had in you.

Joe staggers backwards, his expression shifts; he’s no longer the savior of Haight Street, but your bright-eyed and impulsive neighbour, the tallest kid in the block bragging about his latest feats, the kid in trouble failing to jump over the tall, metal fences, the nosy teenager getting involved with the wrong crowds. An arcanist born in the wrong place at the wrong time. Vulnerability paints his features in a way you recognize, the same pain you’ve experienced throughout your life. The subtle quiver of his bottom lip, although imperceptible to the rest of the world, claws at your chest and knocks the air out of you.

It hurts more than any punch, any insult, any slice of the knife. It feels cruel to steel your gaze after dropping something like this out of the blue, with Paulina’s departure still fresh in everyone’s minds. But you tell yourself that you have to, if only to prevent anyone else from disappearing on you like that. You can’t handle it, not knowing when will be next. One more business closed, one more child abandoned, one more friend missing. Doesn’t he get tired, too? Isn’t he tired of this happening over and over?

“That’s unfair. No, that’s … that’s messed up. What is wrong with you tonight?!”

“Did you even listen to her? Or did you just decide that she was wrong from the beginning and ignored everything she had to say? Isn’t that why she refuses to even pick up the phone? Or even answer any of our letters?”

“She has nothing to do with us anymore, there’s no damn point in bringing her up when she’s left us for a bunch of stuck up─”

“This isn’t about how you feel about her new life.” When you stand your ground, taking a step forward towards him, he does the same.

“Then what the hell is it?! Why would you even bring her up in the first place?!” When he pounds his fist on the counter, you do the same.

“Because it’s the only way to get you to fucking listen, J. It’s about the way you act, how you keep throwing away every chance we get at making things better because it always has to be your way! You go on and on about asking each other for help, but when was the last time you actually listened to me, to Hollick, to Pioneer, to any of us?! If we can’t even feed ourselves, then how the hell are we going to feed everyone else? You told me to run the numbers, I ran the damn numbers and this is the shitty hand we’ve been dealt.”

Suddenly, Joe’s shoulders begin to shake as half a smile, half a grimace settles on his face. He laughs at you, bitterly, mockingly. The type of laugh that can only carry a single message─I know better than you.

“Those investors, they’re only here because they smell the blood in the water! Can you guarantee that they won’t pull the plug once they see an opening to take everything from us? When you sign those damn contracts, it’s over. That’s how they get trap you. That’s how they take advantage of good people like us. I’ve spent the past few weeks doing nothing but talk to these assholes, and not a single one of them gives a shit about this restaurant or the people here. Wanna know what they all wanted to talk about? Bulldozing the entire thing down. Getting me to convince all our friends to give up their homes and businesses, just so these fancy jerks have all the space in the world to play with.”

You know he’s right, it’s an awful truth you have to acknowledge in the midst of the argument─the Tung Ch’ing Chamber of Commerce did the exact same before, it’s stupid to think that others wouldn’t follow the same pattern as well. And yet…

“Then throw Pioneer into the damn room when someone else comes to do business with us! Let me, Becket and Hollick be there with you too, damnit J! You have the entire fucking street cheering for you and all you want to do is fix everything on your own! If you weren’t so stubborn, maybe we could even call Paulina and ask her for help, but you’d rather sit here and argue with us about the same damn issue! You’d rather look at us in the face and say that Paulina looks down on us, when you don’t even have the balls to call her! Is that how you want things to be? When I can’t keep paying rent, when I have to hop on a bus and end up who fucking knows where, is that all you will say about me?”

Silence settles. The hesitation lingering in the air hurts more than anything he could’ve said to you.

Is that all you are to him? Another naive mind, a nagging voice devoid of any worth? He would rather say goodbye to you and allow the distance to slowly chip away at your friendship, than listen or consider any of your suggestions and ideas. Your arms drop to your sides, suddenly losing every ounce of strength in your body at this sudden realization. The shock on your face must’ve been something if it causes Joe to flinch in surprise.

You’re tired, so very tired of living in uncertainty; never knowing when you will have the chance to eat, never knowing when your friends will disappear off to greener pastures or silently deported. So tired of fighting for scraps, of living in shadows, of being so close to making a change for the better but having it all ripped out of your hands by a government that doesn’t care. You’re tired of fighting the world and your friends.

You’re so very tired of being so insignificant in a world that refuses to make space for you, no matter how hard you try to claw your way out of the rubble and poverty.

And so, you retreat.

Maybe it’s the last remnants of pride keeping you together, maybe it’s the debilitating exhaustion permeating your bones, but you manage not to stumble and fall over as you brush past him and make your way outside.

The pair of siblings which you had grown to love so much used to share a dingy room within the diner as children, back when Tang ran the place. And then, one day, you moved right across the street. Throughout all of your childhood, you believed this to be a gift, being able to rush over to play with them as soon as you woke up, and to wave at them from the balcony of your apartment at night. Your best friends, your new family, your new home, all within reach.

Now, you cross the street knowing very well that there is no place for you to hide from those piercing blue eyes of his. You don’t want him to look at you, not like this. Not as an obstacle and a burden.

If only you could run far, far away. Just like Paulina did.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 joe #joe #i think this might be my longest oneshot bc the full draft sits currently at 7k words #BUT YEAH HI LMFAO SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE #IVE BEEN IN EVERY FUCKING R99 PROJECTS IVE SEEN AROUND SOCMED #AND WORKING ON COMMS AND OTHER THINGS AND COLLABS FOR THE R99 SERVER I HAVE #ive also been ignoring twitter bc i cant handle the awful 2.2 takes #anyway enjoy the joe divorce arc

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