Who Out Here Joosting They Klein

Joost is a workaholic. You knew this already when you two first got involved. And when all of his friends also work with him, he has a hard time knowing where that line lies between work and play. He's been burning the candle from both ends all summer, taking every gig opportunity that comes his way. Sometimes several shows over a single weekend, then going out to party with friends after. No wonder he’s sick.

Now if you were to ask him, he would never admit he was feeling unwell. You've only seen him ill a couple of times since you've known him, and those times were after a big night out of not knowing when it was time to call it and go home. Even on those occasions he would always downplay how shitty he actually felt and tried to put on a brave face.

You first noticed him sniffling and clearing his throat a lot while he was facetiming you from the car on the drive to the next festival. “I can’t wait to see you lieverd,” he said with an exhausted grin. “When I get home, I want us to go out somewhere, maybe that new restaurant that just opened down the street?”

“That sounds great,” you really can’t wait to just spend some time with him.

“oooh I also heard that the aquarium has new baby sharks, and we need to check that out!” His excitement was adorable.

When he’s away for weeks at a time you don’t really end up leaving the house much as you work freelance from home, and you’re a massive homebody anyway. Joost is much the same, but he always feels bad about leaving and likes to take you out on fun adventures during his short trips home in the middle of tour. Truly you wish you both could just stay cuddling in bed all day or on the couch for a movie marathon, but you aren't going to complain. Time together is scarce during his busy season so you’ll take what you can get. You two will have plenty of time to laze around when he’s back for good later next month.

Sunday afternoon you’re curled up on the couch with some cartoon on the tv, Joost said he’d be home sometime after 3. Suddenly you hear keys jingling at the front door and muttered swears, so you get up and open the door to see Joost all disheveled in the entrance, several bags on the floor around him. As soon as he sees you all the frustration and tension dissipates from his body. He holds your head with both hands and kisses you urgently, then pulls you into an all-encompassing hug, just holding you close and tight for what feels like an eternity.

After a while he takes in a deep breath from where he is tucked into your neck and says, “I missed you so much lieverd,” placing a few kisses into where your shoulder meets your neck.  His voice catches you off guard, he sounds different than normal, more nasally and rough. Sometimes he gets like this the morning after a big show where he did a lot of screaming but not this late into the afternoon. You pull back to look at him and you see his face is paler than usual, and he has bags under his eyes.

“You look like shit,” you say before thinking.

“Wow thanks, I love you too”

“Sorry, I mean are you feeling okay? You don’t look so good.”

He feigned offence at that, before smiling and saying he was just tired from a long week and kissing you all over your face.  You didn’t exactly believe him, but you were just glad to have him home.

After helping him get all of his things inside, he decided to take a shower to wash himself of all the travel he had done since last night. You decided to make a start unpacking his bags and doing some laundry because you knew he would put it off till the last minute and then stress about getting it done before he had to leave again at the end of the week. You figure you might as well grab the clothes in the hamper from the bathroom while you’re at it, so you poke your head in, not wanting to disturb him. You can't see much with all the steam, but you can hear him trying to clear his throat in the shower. All you can do is roll your eyes and get back to what you were doing.

Later when he emerges from the bathroom, towel low around his waist, as he walks over to you on the couch from behind and asks, “Are you ready to go out to dinner soon?” but when he gets closer, he sees you in your pajamas curled up with your book.

“I thought we could just get something delivered, you need your rest,” he pouts and does his puppy dog eyes and says

“I know I said I was tired, but I still want to take you out, I'll be fine,” he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, hoping of his usual charm has some effect.

“You’re not just tired Joost, you’re getting sick aren't you?”

He scoffs, “No, I’m not, I don’t get sick, it’s just been a long week with all the traveling-” His lungs interrupt him with a cough, “I have a superhuman immune system you know?”

“Okay yeah sure dude, anyway we’re staying in tonight, what do you want to get for dinner?”

After dinner you were both cuddled up watching the guilty pleasure reality show that you were both overly invested in, Joost was trying to hide it but his nose would not stop running, he thought he was sly with his handkerchief but every time he wiped his nose you felt the movement and you couldn’t ignore it. You looked up at him with eyes that said; ‘are you going to admit I'm right?’ and all he did was give you a cheesy grin and went back to focusing on the television.

That night in bed, him spooned up behind you, you wanted to enjoy the closeness that you had been missing for weeks, but all you could hear was the slightly wheezing breaths and sniffles of the stubborn man behind you, and it was driving you crazy. After one particularly gross sound right by your ear, you sat up and said, “Okay I've had enough, if you aren’t going to admit you’re sick, at least turn around and let me be the big spoon so I don't have to hear your gross noises in my ear.”

He took obvious offence to that, “First of all; not very nice, second of all; I am not sick, it's just allergies or something from travelling all this way, and third of all... fine.” and he rolled over with a huff and let you wrap around his long body like a backpack. He was a little tense and kept giving dramatic sighs for a few minutes, but as he got sleepier, he wriggled back closer into your chest and drifted off.

When you woke up it definitely wasn't late enough in the morning for your liking, you looked up to see Joost sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over coughing, and looking overall miserable. You sat up against the headboard and patted the spot next to you to invite him to join you. He crawled over and curled up into your side. "I think I'm sick lieverd,” he said in a dull tone.

“Yeah, no shit,” you rolled your eyes, but you could not stay annoyed with how much he looked like a poor puppy dog left out in the rain. You pulled him in closer “I’m sorry my love, are you hungry? I’ll bring us something to eat here?”

“Yes please, and some ibuprofen while you're up?” You slip on your robe and your fluffy slippers,

“of course, back in a second.”

You come back in about 10 minutes later with a tray of two bowls of soup and a big glass of water with the requested painkillers for him. “Where the fuck did you get soup from?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“I ordered it last night with our dinner and put it in the fridge when you weren’t looking. I had a feeling today would be a soup kind of day, and I was right.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes, “yes okay, you were right, are you happy now?”

“A little, but that doesn't matter now,” you hand him the ibuprofen and water. After he swallows it down with a grimace from his sore throat, you pass him his bowl of soup, then join him back in bed with your own, and open up your laptop in front of you both with some random recommended movie on Netflix.

After you left him to get some more sleep and caught up on some work it was already 1 in the afternoon, so you decided to go and wake Joost with some more medicine and run him a hot bath. He reluctantly got up but once in the steamy water he got immediate relief for his aching body and thanked you. While you let him soak you brought him some herbal tea and sat with him in the bathroom, and he told you all about the gossip and drama he’s seen behind the scenes of all the festivals he’s played at since he’s been gone. Just how much you miss him when he’s not around really hits hard.

Later that evening when trying to decide what to have for dinner, Joost was no help, politely turning down every option you brought up for some reason or another. “Okay then what DO you want?” you asked, getting frustrated.

He pouts and says, “I don’t mean to be difficult lieverd, I know you’re just trying to be helpful,” your face softens, remembering he does not feel good right now.

“Would you object to getting some more of that soup I heated up earlier? I thought it was really nice, and it can’t hurt your condition,” he looks up and you can tell he’s interested “and we can see if they do desserts too?” A smile spreads across his face, and he nods excitedly. You can't help but chuckle. These are going to be a long few days with him home like this, but maybe that’s a good thing, as you aren’t ready for him to leave again.

After eating in front of the TV watching Lilo & Stitch because ‘he’s sick and he gets to choose,’ and you can't tell him no, you both went to bed, this time he immediately assumed the position of little spoon. You climbed in and snuggled up behind him, holding him close with your hand on his chest, “I love you so much, you know that right?” he mumbles.

“I know.” You take a second just to wonder how you ever ended up so lucky. “Ik houd ook van jou” you whisper into his neck, and you feel his whole body relax and swiftly fall asleep.

When you wake up, his warm, slightly sweaty body is almost on top of you, his head using your chest as a pillow and his leg sprawled across both of yours, trapping you in place. It's cute at first but is quickly becoming uncomfortable and too hot. You try to gently shift him off you so you don’t wake him, and in the process his hardness in his sleep becomes apparent, pressing into your hip. You try harder to move him off of you and he wakes up with a whine as he accidentally grinds into you. He looks up at you from your chest still quite out of it and slowly realises what's going on. He blushes and mumbles a sleepy apology before removing himself from the position that he had trapped you both in.

You lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek before sitting up against the headboard and grabbing your phone.

“Goedemorgen” he says through a yawn and rubs his eyes. He looks down at his obvious tenting under his pajama pants and just sighs.

“Do you want some help with that?” you ask, trying to give off an aura of nonchalance. Really you had been wanting some skin-on-skin contact since he got home, but didn’t want to push anything while he wasn’t feeling his best.

He looks at you with a questioning look to see if you were serious, before a smirk spreads across his face “did you really just ask that? Of course I do” and he sits up next to you and leans over towards your neck, kissing and sucking that spot he knows so well.

You slide your hand down his chest and over his happy trail, before palming the outline of his cock through his pants, which makes his breath hitch and briefly he stops his work on your neck.

You sit up and crawl down between his legs, pulling down his pajamas, dick springing up and leaving a smear of precum on his soft belly. You look up at him and his face is flushed and he’s breathing heavily looking down at you in awe.

“hold on schat let me get my glasses, i need to see you,” as he leans over to the bedside table for his thin framed glasses he uses around the house. He puts them on and looks down at you with your hands gripping his thighs and he groans at how beautiful you look laying between his legs.

You take him into your hand and give him a few slow strokes. He looks exhausted already, so you decide not to tease him any further. You lick the precum off of his tip before taking the head into your mouth.

“Oohh fuck schat I've missed you so much” he says with a shiver, his hands gripping the sheets tightly, making you grin around his cock. You take as much as you can fit into your mouth and start sucking and sticking out your tongue and running it along the underside while your hand works the rest. Spit starts spilling down his shaft and down onto his balls making everything so slick. You take your other hand and start massaging them in time with your mouth.

“I’m not going to last long with you doing that” he warns, you look up into his eyes which are watering at this point, and just hum and gently nod encouraging him to cum.

He reaches down to gently hold your hair and comes hard, involuntarily thrusting slightly into your mouth with mumbled apologies amongst the moans and grunts. You pull off and give him a few final strokes with your hand to help him through his orgasm. You look at his spent state and lick your lips of the cum that spilled out, drool running down your chin. If he was able to, the sight of you alone would get him hard all over again.

He looks so heavenly post orgasm, pink nose and cheeks, half lidded eyes and the dumbest grin on his face. No thoughts only pleasure. “I don’t deserve you lieverd.” he says with a breathy chuckle.

“Well, you’ve got me, so you better get used to it,” you say with a proud smile “Let's get you into a bath, I made quite a mess of you.” you gesture down to his stomach and groin splattered with cum and drool.

“You have no idea how much of a mess you make me schat.”

After leading him to the bathroom, and running a hot bubble bath, you decide to strip down as well and join him in the less than roomy bathtub, but he doesn’t mind. With you in front of him sitting between his legs, he holds you close to his chest and just enjoys the closeness.

With his head buried in your neck he says “I’m not ready to leave again lieverd. The calls and the facetimes just don’t come close to actually being with you.” with a quiet and vulnerable voice.

“I know, me too, it just isn’t the same without you here.” He just hums into your neck and you both sit there, comfortable in each other's silence. After a while you remember that baths do have a purpose other than relaxation, so grab the loofah and body wash.

“Here let me,” Joost says, so you pass them over and he gently begins to wash you, you relax into his touch. After a while you trade places and return the favor. This ends up filling that need of closeness and skin to skin you were craving after all.

After drying each other off and coming into the bedroom to putting on something comfortable to wear, you realise how late in the day it’s gotten already. How long were you in the bath for? You make some easy brunch for you both, which is really just lunch at this point as its past noon, and sit down together at the table to eat.

You look up from your plate to see him staring at you with those big blue eyes,

You knew you were in for a hell of a night the second group of rowdy middle-aged men were sat in your section. Tourists clearly judging by their accent and utter disregard for everyone else around them. It had been one of the worst parts about restaurant work in a major city; the people who thought just because they were on vacation they were entitled to everything they wanted. Entitled to be waited on hand and foot, entitled to say whatever they want, to be as loud as they want, entitled to you.

You had expected you'd need to awkwardly laugh at some uncomfortable comments or or brush off a few crude jokes just to keep the peace. Maybe they’d snap their fingers for refills or talk over you when you tried to take their order. You’d probably have to pretend not to hear the whispered remarks when you walked away — the kind that made your skin crawl but were overall manageable.

But this, tonight was different, the three men having left you trying not to cry, or worse, throw up in this tiny bathroom stall.

It had started with the remarks you were used to, maybe a little more brazen than usual, but nothing you couldn't brush off with a laugh…

snickering with each other as you lean over to give them their drinks, “Careful, boys, if she bends any lower, I’m not responsible for what happens.”

"With an ass like that I betcha'd make a lot more money working down in the Red Light."

"Bet you’d look better in less of that uniform."

But tonight had well surpassed the line of uncomfortable comments.

Forcing a grin after you'd just sat down their food, giving your usual spiel,

"Is there anything else I could get for you guys tonight?"

You had hardly realized what had happened as it was happening, one man in the group, his hand settled on your ass with a firm slap, hard enough to make you wince at the sting before he attempted to grab at the flesh that had been covered by your work trousers.

"Yeah I'd like a piece of that."

Instinctively, you jumped back, the words hit your ears like a punch. Your forced smile faltered, teetering on the edge of panic. You laughed awkwardly,

"Sorry, but that's not on the menu" you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, your hands trembling slightly as you clutched the tray, trying your best to just play it off.

They laughed, that loud, cruel, triumphant kind of laugh that made your stomach twist. The one who grabbed you leaned back in his chair, eyes dark with amusement. “Don’t be shy, love. We’re all just having a bit of fun.”

And now here you are, in this tiny bathroom stall, trying not to spill your guts at the thought of having to see those men again. By now, your shift had ended, you had clocked out, you were technically free to go home. But you couldn't really leave not when those men still lingered behind, having taken themselves right on over to the bar after paying their bill, their eyes having been trained on you while you rolled silverware and cleaned tables.

Your phone screen feels brighter than usual against the dim lighting of the bathroom, reflecting in the tears that welled in your eyes. Your fingers tremble as you scroll through your contacts, landing on Michael's, hoping he'd be of some comfort to you now.

"Hello?" He picks up with only a few rings, and you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he's most likely not at the office.

"H-hi, Michael? A-are you at your apartment?" Michael lived not 10-minutes from your work, it would be a fairly quick ordeal for him to come pick you up, take you home with him, give you some peace of mind and hopefully make those creeps fuck off.

"Yes. Why?" His words are sharp, short, like he's already eager to get off the phone.

"O-oh, I was just wondering… well I'm at work and there's these guys… and and I was serving them but they've just been so creepy… saying weird shit to me all night and I mean one of them groped me a-and so I was just wondering if maybe you could come pick me up? I-I just feel a little uncomfortable…"

You can hear Michael sigh on the other side,

"Don't be ridiculous, sweetheart" It almost shocks you how completely, and utterly unbothered he sounds.

"W-what?" You choke out.

"Look, pumpkin, what do I tell you, maybe if you didn't wear so much makeup and you covered up a little bit you wouldn't attract this sort of attention."

"I-I'm wearing my uniform." Not that Michael would know, he had never even bothered to ask you about your job, let alone visited you.

"Well, whatever whatever. Look, I want to go to sleep early tonight, okay? I'm not going to come get you. You'll be fine, consider this a teaching moment, yeah?"

"Did you not hear me say o-one of them groped me." Your voice gets a little louder, a little angrier. He should care, shouldn't he?

"Yes, pumpkin, I understand, but you know how guys are…You're a big girl right? You can handle yourself."

"I-I guess." You stutter, "Y-you know you don't live that far…"

"You'll be okay. I'm going to go now, okay? Goodnight, Sweetheart"

"Night."

You're sure the phone call ends before you can even get the full word out. You run a hand through your hair, biting back tears as you lean your head against the wall of the cubicle. Your lip quivers, had Michael been right? You guess your work clothes had been a little form fitting- perhaps you could have opted to buy a pair of trousers that hadn't been so flattering, maybe you could have buttoned up your top just a little higher. Would it really have made such a difference?

You sigh, hoping that by now the group of men had left. You step out of the stall, and eventually push open the bathroom door altogether, peering your head out just a crack. Much to your disappointment, the men hadn't moved, still nursing their pints, heads on a swivel like they were looking for something, looking for you. The thought made you nauseous all over again, and you quickly find yourself scrambling back into the bathroom stall.

By now you were at a loss, racking your brain of how you could possibly get out of here. Exhausted, you were in no mood to wait them out. You sniffle, you just want to go home. You turn back to your phone, anxiously scrolling through your contacts, desperate for anyone you could possibly call to walk you home.

You bite the inside of you cheeks, well you could…

It had been about a week since you last talked to Joost, for no reason in particular besides the usual, regularly scheduled animosity that bubbled up between the two of you every few weeks. You couldn't exactly remember why you were giving Joost the silent treatment, only that you were. And for that it felt wrong to call him now, worried he probably wouldn't even pick up, off with Lina or out getting drunk with his mates. But as tears begin to roll down your cheeks, you tell yourself to suck it up and just try.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings, and you're beginning to think he won't pick up when-

"Hey, baby, what's up?" Joost sounds characteristically flirty, like you could almost hear the smirk in his voice amidst the slight slurring of his words and music in the background. You had deduced he had probably been out, and your heart sinks a little.

"O-oh you're not home? S-sorry to bother." Your voice wavers, cracking slightly, realizing nobody was coming to save you tonight.

"Y-yeah, I'm out with Bruno and Teun. Could always get home." The flintiness drains from his voice, but he doesn't sound all the way serious, still lighthearted, "What's wrong, sweetie? You sound sad."

You sniffle before speaking again, "I-I was just g'na ask if maybe you could walk me home from work." You wonder if Joost can even hear you on the other side, your voice so small, so meek in contrast to the music that booms behind him.

"Yeah, yeah of course, honey, but I'm like-ehh fuck, 20 minutes out? I dunno… something happen?" It almost brings you to a different sort of tears the way Joost had been just so willing, eager almost, despite not even knowing the situation.

"Some creep fucking grabbed my ass, and he and his friends just won't fucking leave me alone and I know it sounds so stupid but I just am so scared to leave, I don't wanna see them again." By now you'd really broken down into tears, and it had made you feel so stupid, so pathetic. You could just walk out right now, you could leave, they weren't holding you hostage. But something was keeping you tethered here, some uneasy feeling about what they might try to say or do if they were to catch you walking out alone so late at night.

You could almost hear the way Joost's jaw clenches on the other end, the music dying, replaced by wind whistling as he steps out of wherever he had been.

"Fuck," He mutters, "Shit, schatje, don't cry, I'll be right there, oké?" His voice is soft, full of concern, "Not even g'na walk, I'll get an uber, baby, I'll be there as soon as I can. Why don't you stay on the phone with me?"

Joost doesn't hang up until you hear a knock at the bathroom door,

"You in there, schatje? It's me."

You feel like you can finally breathe again, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand,

"I'll be right out!" You yell, voice cracking slightly. You open the stall door and head for the bathroom mirrors, leaning over the sink to check yourself out. Your eyes are a little bloodshot, cheeks puffy from crying, some mascara streaked under your lashes which you quickly wipe away. Joost has seen you in worse states, you exhale, heading for the door.

It almost startles you how close Joost is standing to the door when you push it open, your eyes widening slightly as he gives you a small smile. He steps aside, just enough for you to slip past,

"There you are." He murmurs, a slight slur to his words, the faint smell of beer on him. He reaches out, palm caressing your upper arm, "You okay?"

You don't respond with words, only a shrug as your lip begins to quiver, the events of tonight replaying in your head. How disgusting it made you feel, how Michael didn't seem to care at all.

"Oh, mijn schatje," Joost coos, a pout forming on his lips, "Come here." He pulls you in for a hug, and immediately your clutching at his middle, fingertips gripping into the thick material of that green Bape hoodie he always wore.

Your shoulders shake as you cry into Joost's embrace a frantic apology leaving your lips, "I-I'm sorry, I just- I didn't know what to do. I called Michael first but h-he just kind of blamed it all on me."

Joost's body stiffens, his arms wrapped around you tighter now, "What?"

You turn your head to the side, cheek pressed against Joost's chest, "I dunno," Your breathe stutters as you inhale, "Just told me if I covered up more, wore less makeup, whatever that this wouldn't happen."

Joost exhales through his nose, something that isn't quite a laugh, something more bitter.

"Jesus fucking christ," He mutters under his breath, "Fucking idiot. You know you really shou-"

"I know, Joost," You almost whimper, "Save the lecture, please, I feel shit enough as it is."

Joost sights, his hand finding the back of your head, palm smoothing over your hair, his voice softens,

"I'm sorry, schatje, you're right," He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, "You want me to go say something to them?"

His words are quiet, close to tender, but you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers twitch at the back of your head like he's holding himself back.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, his eyes just a little darker than usual, pupils wide in the low light of the hallway, "No," You shake your head, "No, I just want to go home." You can sense Joost's anger, and for his own sake you'd rather just move on from this.

"Okay," He exhales, putting you at arms length, his hands now resting on your shoulders, "Lets do that then, yeah?"

You nod, unable to speak around the lump in your throat, arms crossing over your middle as you look around the restaurant. Even with Joost here, the thought of seeing those guys again made your stomach churn.

Joost notices this, your sudden sense of shame of even just having a body to exist in. It almost paralyzes you, like you just can't quite bring yourself to leave this small corridor lest you be reduced back to merely an object. At least standing here you felt human.

"Take this, hm?" Joost pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt, nodding before pulling it over his head, ruffling his already messy blonde hair.

"Thanks." You smile shyly, at least you could hide somewhat in the oversized garment, perhaps if you put the hood up they wouldn't recognize you at all.

"Cute." Joost pulls his lips into a thin smile as you slip the sweater over your head, pulling your hair from where it gets stuck in the collar.

You try to smile back at him, but it falters slightly, "Um," You start, pulling the sleeves over your hands anxiously, "Do you think I can stay the night at yours, actually?"

Joost shrugs, "Fine by me, baby. You ready to go?"

You nod, throwing the hood of Joost's sweater up, pulling the strings a little to tighten it around your head. Joost puts an arm around your shoulder, hugging you close to him while the pair of you head back out onto the restaurant floor, toward the exit. You bite the inside of your cheeks, just trying to look down at the floor, carefully watching as you step one foot in front of the other, hoping the group of men don't notice you walk by. Wishful thinking.

"Oi, there she is!" One of them yells, "Where you goin, love?"

"Hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave!"

You stop for a moment, not because you want to, but because Joost stops, feeling the way his body grows rigid around yours. You keep your head down, no desire to give those men the satisfaction of your attention in any capacity.

But before you know it Joost's is arm leaving your shoulder, his shoes squeaking against the tile below as he suddenly turns around.

You barely have enough time to process what is happening when your body whips around, arm stretching out, catching Joost by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He peeks behind him, only turning his neck to look at you while you stare up at him with a pout,

"Joost, please." Its almost begging, "It's okay, really, you don't have to say anything."

Joost turns his entire body around, walking closer to you now, his free arm wrapping behind your back as he leans down just slightly to kiss the top of your head through the sweatshirt,

"Why don't you wait outside."

Your mouth quirks to one side, lips turned down, but you have no energy to fight Joost on this. It was sweet, you suppose, in some sort of way.

"Try not to get me fired." You mumble, backing away from Joost, "Or you arrested."

"I'll be good," He winks, "Promise."

You give Joost a sheepish smile, you don't entirely believe him, but you don't protest, he's lucky he's cute. And in the face of Michael not even showing up, it was somewhat endearing to have someone swing so far in the opposite direction for you.

"Hey, say that shit again, asshole!" Joost is turning on his heels, and you take that as your cue to leave, to let Joost handle whatever it is he wanted to say to those guys.

You wipe your eyes, probably smudging some mascara on the sleeves of Joost's sweater, already smelling of beer and cigarettes, one more stain wouldn't kill it. Behind you, back inside the restaurant an argument pursues in muffled fragments. You can only hope the confrontation is brief, if not for Joost's sake than your own, for the sake of your job, and for just how tired you were now, already picturing snuggling up against Joost and falling fast asleep.

Your teeth chatter under the chill of the night time breeze, and your arms find themselves wrapped around your stomach once more, trying to conserve some heat.

You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until Joost pushes through the doors a moment later, jaw tight, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

"You alright?" You ask, almost immediately, approaching Joost, clinging onto the sleeve of his T-shirt. You stare up at him, observing the tightness in his face under the dim, yellow streetlights, the slight twitch in his lips. You can feel him from where you stand beside him, "You're shaking." You pout.

"I'm okay, schatje," He gives you a small smile, though, it's unconvincing, his voice wavering as it struggles to stay soft, "I think they got the message."

"You sure?" You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he said to them, what they said to him, what they said about you. If there was anything that would rile Joost up, and leave him shaking in anger the way he was, that was it.

He exhales through his nose it's a slow, controlled thing, like he’s trying to drain the tension out of himself one breath at a time. “Yeah. I’m sure.” His eyes flick away from you toward the restaurant windows, glowing faintly behind the dark tint. “They just needed someone to tell them to shut the hell up.”

You can tell that’s not the whole of it, but you know if they were to have said anything about you Joost wouldn't tell, unable to get the words off his own tongue. And perhaps, you don't want to know.

He looks back at you then, and the anger still riding through him softens, “Sorry about tonight, baby” he mutters, jaw flexing again. “Shouldn't have to listen to that shit from them. Or Michael.”

Your heart pinches at the way he says it, low, almost guilty, like he somehow thinks he should’ve prevented it. You reach up, brushing your thumb over the seam of his sleeve, trying to ground him the way he does for you.

“Joost,” you murmur, “Don't apologize, 's'not your fault.” You lean into him, shoulder pressing against his side, and his arm instinctively curves around you, warm, steady, protective. You remember something that Michael had said to you at Julie's halloween party a few months ago, something about Joost always coming to save you. Michael had framed it as such a bad thing, like you had left Joost to clean up your messes when you couldn't do it yourself.

And maybe there was some truth to that, that Joost was always there to save you. It wasn't like you needed him to, but it certainly was nice. It almost makes you want to cry again, it was a bittersweet sort of feeling; Joost had been so sweet to you tonight and how do you repay him? By playing along like you're his girlfriend again knowing damn well you're not, knowing at the end of the day you'll forgive Michael and run right back to him.

"I know but still…" Joost trails off, hugging you closer to his side, "That sort of shit sucks to hear I'm sure."

"Yeah," You shrug, "Feel better with you here." You tip your head, resting against his shoulder, "It was really nice of you to go out of your way for me tonight, y'know?"

"You're never too far out of the way." Joost says it so casually, like it isn't the sweetest thing anyone has said to you in recent memory, "Call me first next time, schatje, you know whenever you need, I'm there."

Despite the cold Joost's words bring a warmth to your cheeks, and your heart swells. For a fleeting moment it feels like he's still yours, wishing things could be like this all the time. If you had any sense about you, you'd end things with Michael right now for what he said to you tonight, and run right back into Joost's arms. But the thought opens a deep pit in your stomach, a decision you've labored over for far too long now. But you could never go through with it. You feared what would happen to your relationship with Joost if you didn't have someone to mutually dislike, if he didn't have someone he needed to prove he was better than.

You can't even respond, nothing in your brain besides the thoughts of how in love you are with Joost, the words threatening to spill from your lips. You bite the inside of your cheeks, stopping yourself from saying something you know you won't be able to follow through on.

"That means a lot to me, Joost." You smile softly, a gross understatement.

"You mean a lot to me, schat."

-

Joost's apartment is a lot warmer than the outside, thankfully, relief finally finding you once you step inside.

"I'm gonna go change out of my work clothes." You flick your head back behind you, and point towards Joost's bedroom.

"Go ahead." Joost shuts the door behind him, "Mind if I come with? Kinda wanna get out of these jeans."

"It's your room." You blow a breath out of your nose, something soft but not quite a laugh.

You make your way through Joost's apartment as if it was your own, walking towards his bedroom, Joost not far behind.

You push the bedroom door open with your shoulder, it smells like him, his cologne, the faint scent of cigarettes under it all from the times Joost had been too lazy early in the morning or at night to go outside for a smoke.

You toe off your shoes by the dresser, pulling at the drawstring of the hoodie Joost had given you. “God, I feel gross,” you mutter, hands eventually finding the hem of the hoodie, pulling it off of you, desperate to get out of your uniform as soon as you possibly can. It's like you can still feel that man's hands on you lingering over your skin. It makes you shutter, wanting nothing more than to crawl inside yourself as the memory replays over and over in your mind.

"Anything I can do to make you feel better?"

You toss Joost's hoodie onto his bed before looking up at him, shaking your head slowly,

"I don't think so." You bite at the inside of your cheek anxiously, "Just feel, eugh, I just need to get out of these clothes." Your face screws up.

"You want me to turn around?" Joost asks, despite just how often he'd seen you in some sort of state of undress, it's clear he senses your discomfort now, not wanting to push it.

"N-no its okay." You shake your head, frantic fingers landing on the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them, letting them fall down the length of your legs before you kick them off to the side, discarding them like they're contaminated.

You throw your shirt off soon after and you wrap your arms around yourself automatically, nails digging into your skin as if trying to scrape the feeling off.

"Here, schatje," Joost walks passed you, opening a dresser drawer, fishing out a T-shirt, "Why don't you get changed?"

You nod, slow, arms leaving your sides, reaching out for the shirt. You pull it on over your head, letting the familiar scent of Joost's clothes envelop your senses once again. You reach behind your back, pulling up the shirt slightly to unclasp your bra, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

"Need pants?" Joost asks, still bent over by his drawer. You look down, noticing Joost's shirt fell at your mid-thighs, that was fine. You shake your head, no.

Joost closes the drawer with a quiet thud, straightening up as you stand there in his shirt, swallowed in soft cotton and the scent of him. His eyes flick over you, it's quick, respectful, nothing lingering, before he focuses on your face again.

“Okay,” he says, voice low, careful. “Just checking.” He begins undressing himself, lifting his T-shirt over his head and off. You smile softly at the state of him, "What's that face for?" He chuckles, unbuckling his belt.

"Just think you're cute, I dunno." You shrug.

Joost huffs a laugh under his breath, like he’s trying not to show how much that small compliment means to him. His belt slips loose with a quiet clack, and he pauses halfway through tugging his jeans down, giving you a look,

“Yeah?” he says, an eyebrow raising, and there’s something warm in it, softer than his usual teasing.

“Yeah.” you repeat, lifting one shoulder, pretending it’s nothing even though your cheeks feel hot.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to hide a smile, pushing his jeans down the rest of the way and tossing them somewhere vaguely near his hamper. Now he’s just in his boxers, and for the first time since you got home, maybe for the first time all night, your chest doesn’t feel so tight.

"You want to go to bed now?" He asks, head tilting toward his mattress.

"Could we actually, uh, maybe just watch some TV or something for now?" Your voice wavers a little, despite your exhaustion you're not quite ready for bed, knowing your nerves will keep you awake.

“Yeah,” he says immediately. “Of course. TV’s good.”

The two of you head for the living room couch. Joost pulls the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over the two of you once you settle down. You snuggle into Joost's side, his arm instinctively coming to wrap around your shoulders. You wrap your own arms around Joost's middle as he flips through the TV channels, looking for something to watch.

"What're you in the mood for?" He glances down at you.

"Literally anything." You don't really care what you watch, just anything that'll help you shut your brain off. Joost nods, continuing to flip through the channels until landing in the middle of an episode of some cooking competition show. Good enough.

"You comfortable?" Joost asks, shifting his position under you slightly.

"Perfect" You nod, nuzzling into his chest.

You try to lose yourself in the TV show, try to rid yourself of the image of those men, try to shake the sinking feeling in your stomach every time the events of tonight replay in your mind, but it's like you're still there. Perhaps worse, Michael's words ring in your ears, and you wonder to yourself what were you doing? You weren't stupid, you weren't oblivious. You knew full well you had broken up with Joost for what seemed like much less than what Michael had done to you. But you couldn't bare to lose Joost again, and if you tried to be anything more than this it scared you too much to think of what the outcome could be. As long as Michael was around, you knew Joost would be too.

That thought settles over you like a weight and a comfort at the same time. It shouldn’t be like this, shouldn't feel like you need someone else to treat you badly so you could have Joost step in. But still, you don't want to risk leaving Michael and ruining the delicate balance this relationship has given you and Joost.

"You sure you're okay, baby?" Joost mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Dunno." You sigh, "I-I just," You feel yourself becoming choked up again, tears welling up in your eyes as you think about what is going to come out of your mouth next, "Feel like the worst person in the world." You wince, a sharp pain in your chest, heart aching as you speak.

"Where's that coming from?" Joost's voice shifts to a different tone of concern, a sadness lingering behind it.

"I think I'm so horrible to you, Joost." You lean forward, burying your head into Joost's bare chest, tears beginning to pour down your cheeks and onto his skin, "You're so so sweet and I just-"

Joost's other arm wraps around you, hugging you close to him, squeezing you tight.

"I don't think you're horrible, silly girl." He plants another kiss to the top of your head, "No need to cry, schatje, it's okay, you're okay."

"It's not okay," You're sobbing now, "Joost, I miss you so much."

"I'm right here, baby." His hand smooths over your back, up and down, trying to comfort you as you cry in his arms.

"Not like that, I miss you."

Joost exhales, "I know." He continues to rub up and down on your back, keeping you pressed firm to his chest. You can hear Joost's heartbeat, the way it speeds up with the sudden nature of the conversation, "I miss you too."

"Oh," You cry into Joost's chest, harder now at the confirmation that he missed being with you too. Perhaps this would have been easier to stomach if this was more one sided, if Joost wasn't so close to being in your grasps and you just could not go through with it.

"You know, schatje, I'm still here," He places a few scattered kisses to the crown of your head, "Whenever you want, you know, I'm here."

"I do, I do want," You shake your head against Joost's chest, "I-I just don't know what I would do if we ever broke up again, I couldn't handle it, Joost."

Joost’s hand slows on your back, fingertips resting flat between your shoulders. Bracing. Like your words hit him somewhere he wasn’t expecting.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low, “look at me for a second?”

You sniff, lifting your head reluctantly, tears still streaking down your cheeks. Joost cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing beneath your eye. His eye contact is unwavering, expression understanding.

“Baby,” he says, thumb grazing your cheekbone again, “You know I couldn't handle it either…I know I wasn't exactly forthcoming about how the breakup affected me but, you know, I haven't really even recovered yet.”

That knocks the air out of you.

You open your mouth, then close it, throat tightening. “Joost…”

“I’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” he adds quickly, shaking his head. “Just… being honest. I-it- the thought of losing you really scares me too.”

You don't respond, the room falling silent besides the faint mumble of the voices on TV, and Joost speaks again, something that drops your heart right down to your stomach,