#pedro pascal

You shake yourself back to reality, giving the soup another stir in the pot before you reach to turn off the stove. You move to take a spoon from one of the drawers. The smells in the kitchen makes your mouth water, and your moves are maybe too quick as you taste the still too hot food.

The moment the spoon touches your lips, you hear a loud and frustrated sigh coming from the living room.

Well, maybe today isn’t as peaceful as you thought it would be.

You swallow that spoonful of soup, humming at the taste before you put the used spoon in the dirty dishes. It clatters against the plates, but you’re already out the door, worry filling you as you round the corner and your eyes fall on Alex.

You furrow your brows, not noticing anything unusual. Alex is laying on the couch, headphones on, tapping on the bunch of paper in front of him in his lap with a pencil. You almost swoon at the way he looks like. Black tank top with gray sweatpants. One of those outfits he wears when he’s not in his practice room, playing on his cello in just a shirt and his underwear.

“Alex,” you call out, but quickly realize that he can’t hear you because of the music playing in both his ears.

So you walk through the room, your bare feet tapping on the wooden floor quietly as you get closer. When you arrive beside him he still doesn’t look up, and as you sit down a soft breeze hits you through the open window behind the couch.

“Alex,” you try again, leaning closer to him.

When he still doesn’t pay any attention, not even turning his gaze towards you for a second, you do something that you immediately know you would regret after.

You take hold of the bunch of paper in his lap, placing it on the coffee table in front of you, followed by his pencil too.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asks confused, brows furrowing, making the lines between them deeper.

You reach to push back his headphones, letting it hang around his neck as you look at him. “Lunch is ready,” you announce with a soft smile, pushing back a strand of hair that fell in front of his forehead.

His hands fall back onto his stomach, and with a frustrated sigh he throws his head back against the pillow. “I was in the middle of analyzing a very hard passage,” he murmurs under his breath, and you immediately feel guilty for interrupting him.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you couldn’t have known,” he shakes his head, lifting his head and looking at you. With one hand he reaches out, holding you by your waist and pulling you suddenly towards him. To prevent falling across him and landing on the floor, you throw your leg over his lap, straddling his hips. When your eyes fall on his face, you see a wide grin paying on his lips. “It’s okay.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, his arms circling your middle and pulling you down to his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck as much as the headphones allow, and you listen to the music playing from it, the pace too fast, notes flying so quickly you can’t even understand how someone is able to play that.

“What is it?” you ask, curiosity winning as you glance up at him from behind your eyelashes.

“Saint-Saëns, Cello Concerto No. 2, Op. 119,” he answers immediately. Your eyes widen at his precision for knowing the exact passage, and you smile up at him.

“Sounds complicated.”

“That’s why I’m analyzing it first. I may understand harder works, but not this one. The notes I’m making don't make any sense,” he explains, his thumb drawing small circles on your back.

“And it’s making you frustrated because you want everything to go perfectly on your first try.” It’s not even a question. You know him so well now, to understand that he’s a perfectionist, when it comes to his playing and music.

“At this point you know me better than me," he chuckles. He angles his head so he can place a soft kiss on your temple, hugging you tighter.

You stay like that for a few minutes. Him holding you, the music playing beside your ear, the occasional chirping of birds creeping through the window, filling the room. But no matter how peaceful the moment seems like, the position makes your legs go numb, so you start squirming in his lap, trying to find a better one.

As you move, you feel his hands tightening on your waist, and he lets out a low groan. “Shit. Stop moving around, baby.”

You look at him confused for a second, not understanding why he says that, but then realization dawns on you when you push yourself back to sit in his lap again. You can feel something hard under you, pressing against your center. You look at him with a surprised expression, but then a satisfied smile stretches across your face. “You’re hard.”

He tries to ignore your statement, clearing his throat as he looks up and down your body. “This is my shirt. The one that I played in yesterday.”

“Don’t avoid the conversation,” you warn him, leaning close so you are hovering above him, steadying yourself with your hands on his chest. “You’re hard just by me moving around a little in your lap.”

“That wasn’t moving around a little. You were basically dry humping me. Of course I get hard.”

“Oh, Alex. I see some concepts are not clear for you. This is what dry humping is,” you shoot back with a wicked smile, starting to move your hips around in his lap, dragging the most aching part of your body across the hard line of his cock in his pants, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh at the feeling, the thin fabric of your underwear not blocking the sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips and guiding your movements as he occasionally lifts his hips to match your rhythm.

When he closes his eyes and throws his head back, you suddenly stop. He tries to thrust up again, but you lift off of him enough that he can’t reach you, and he looks at you with a wounded expression. “Why did you stop?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop, no? You said it moments before.”

“No, hell no. I don’t want you to stop. The music must have got to my brain for saying that. Too many notes, too many sounds, too many—”

You don’t let him finish the sentence, capturing his lips with yours. He groans into the kiss, and you take that quick moment to take control, slipping your tongue past his teeth. His hands wander down from your back to your ass, squeezing down hard when you teasingly nip at his bottom lip.

You can feel his hands moving again, up under your — technically his — shirt, caressing your back before he moves them to your front, moaning gently when he realized you don’t have any bra on. He immediately starts playing with your breasts, the callouses on his hands rough against your skin, but still igniting a fire on the path he takes with them.

You can feel the wetness between your thighs, and maybe because of the lack of oxygen getting to your brain because of the kiss, or because something else entirely, you get an idea you never had before.

You break away from him with a soft gasp, taking in a deep breath as you look into his eyes, seeing only hunger and desire burning in them, his soft brown eyes turning almost fully black.

When you feel like your brain can function again, you reach for his headphones, taking them off from around his neck, but not putting them down behind you on the coffee table. You just hold them while he looks at you with confusion. You nod towards his tank top. “Take it off.”

He complies without a sound, taking his hands from under your shirt and sitting up so he can quickly get out of his tank top, throwing it to the side. When he is done, he lays back again, his hands finding their place again on your waist.

You lift the headphones a little in the air, hovering above him again. “So I hear this piece is very fast. Must require some amazing finger work,” you wonder, and you watch how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I wonder how yours is compared to it.”

Without warning you take hold of his left hand, guiding it down along the waistband of your underwear until you dip it into the fabric, his fingers immediately swiping across your wetness. He moves to dip his fingers lower, but you stop him with a soft squeeze on his wrist, and you hold up the headphones in your other hand. “You’ll follow this pace, alright?” you ask, and lift it to put it on his head, but he is the one stopping you now.

“I won’t be able to hear you that way.”

“Take it as a challenge or an experiment,” you answer. “Imagine a deaf musician. They simply rely on their feelings and eyes. They feel the vibration of the strings under their fingers, see where they’re supposed to hold them down. You feel too, no?” you ask, bucking your hips into his hand, his fingers gliding across your folds again.

“I do,” he nods, his voice strained.

“Great. Good thing you have this piece on repeat.”

You place the headphones on his head, pulling them over his ears so he can only hear the music and nothing else. You nod at him, and he dips his fingers between your folds, swiping them back and forth until his index settles on your clit, drawing slow and tight circles over it.

But his pace is not matching the music you heard coming from his headphone earlier, so you lean down next to his ear, lifting one side of the headphone so he can hear you. “I don’t think the music is this slow.”

That is all you say before placing the headphone back on his ear and leaning back again. At your words his finger immediately speeds up, following the pace of the piece in his ear. His eyes are studying your reactions closely, and you can see them glint when your mouth opens around a soft moan, your eyebrows running together.

You reach to unbutton the shirt you have on, giving him a free sight of your bare breasts, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he sits up to take one of your nipples in his mouth while his right hand plays with the other. His tongue circles around the hardened nub while his index finger wanders downwards towards your entrance. You hold on to him with your arms around his shoulders, and you tilt your hips a little when he eases one finger inside of you, a soft moan leaving your lips.

He starts to move it in and out of you to the music, and you can already feel your walls tightening around his finger, your orgasm building up faster in you than you expected.

It doesn’t take long until he adds a second finger too, and you look down at him.

He is now resting his chin on your sternum, your nipple still glistening from his saliva. But in his eyes you see such concentration like you never saw before. He is looking out for every small breath you let out against his face, every time you open your mouth when you moan, every time you furrow your brow at the sensation growing in you.

And you know he can also feel the way your walls are tightening around his fingers.

So when the music hits another fast point and he picks up the pace of his fingers again, you let go. You fall forward, letting your forehead rest against his while your orgasm washes over you. Your thighs are shaking slightly around his, but he holds you up, slowing his fingers so you can ride out your high without him overstimulating you.

When you feel like your body can work again, you lean in to kiss him. He reciprocates it, pulling his hand out from your underwear to place it on your thigh.

When you pull back, you also push off one side of his headphones. “And how is your timing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks confused.

“Your timing. When you have to hold down the note, or jump into a passage,” you explain, trying to sound like you understand everything about his world.

“It’s pretty good I guess,” he shrugs, still looking at you with furrowed brows, trying to guess where this conversation is going.

“How about we practice that too?” you ask, slowly climbing off of him to lay down on your back. He follows you, hovering above you. “Do you want the underwear to stay?” you ask, hooking your thumbs in the waistband.

“No, not this time,” he shakes his head, his answer coming out breathless. You start pushing the lacy material off, but he takes over halfway down your thighs, pulling them off himself and throwing it on the ground. His eyes fall on your exposed center for a second, and before you can say anything, he is already laying on his stomach between your thighs.

You place your leg on his shoulders, but realize that this position easily pushes off his headphones, so you reach down to pull it back in place, keeping your hands on either side of his head.

He doesn’t wait for you to approve his action, he dives in, swiping his tongue all the way from your entrance to your clit. You jerk your hips at the sudden contact, and he places one hand on your lower belly to keep you still.

You let out a loud moan when he starts drawing quick circles over your clit with his tongue, you are sure that he can hear it even through the headphones. And when he closes his lips around the little nub and starts sucking it gently between his teeth, you know you won’t be able to last too long this way.

And the second time you come, you want that to happen on his cock.

So you quickly pull him up by his hair, and the sight of him with your wetness glistening on his mustache and beard makes you go dizzy. You partially push back the headphones from his ears again.

You open your legs wider so he can settle in, and when he is leaning comfortably over you, you reach down to pull down his gray sweatpants along with his underwear too. The moment his cock is free, your focus falls on it. His tip is already glistening with his precum, the head almost an angry red for being denied any friction for so long.

You place your hand on his stomach first, following that path of coarse hair from his belly button leading down to his cock, taking a hold of him.

He lets out a long groan above you as you gather his precum with your fingers, spreading it over his length as you stroke him a few times.

When you pull your hand away, he tries to chase it at first, bucking his hips, but then he waits for what you are going to do next. You reach up taking a hold of his headphones. “Concentrate on the timing,” you remind him before you put the headphones back over his ears.

He purses his lips, but nods. He reaches down between your bodies, taking a hold of his cock and guiding it through your folds a few times before he lines himself up at your entrance, pushing in slowly. Your walls stretch around his length, and you throw your head back against the pillows at the feeling.

He lowers himself closer to your body, his forearms resting on both side of your head, his chest making contact with your breasts.

When he bottoms out, you both let out a strained moan. He waits for a few seconds for you to adjust to his size before he starts moving based on the music.

His rhythm is steady, and when he hits the spot in you, you don’t even care anymore if he really is following the music’s timing, or he is just making it up. Your arms are thrown around his shoulders, keeping him close while you wrap your legs around his waist, the new angle allowing him to go deeper in you, making you see stars.

You are moaning at every thrust, and next to your ear Alex is grunting too, breathing heavily and occasionally cursing under his breath. You can hear the music drifting out from his headphones, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

You tear it off from his head, throwing it to the ground carelessly.

Alex falters for a second, pulling back to look down at you, and when you nod in encouragement it is almost like a spell falls over him. He leans down to capture your mouth with his, and he starts driving into you with more force and determination, and you can’t help but hold on to him tighter, every thrust sending you further up on the couch.

The living room is filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other, the smell of sweat and sex lingering in the air. Now the house is not filled with cello notes bouncing off the walls, but with the music of two people merging into one.

“Oh God, Alex,” you moan into his mouth.

He groans too, closing his eyes tightly. “Fuck, I missed hearing your moans,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again.

You can feel yourself get closer to your high again, and you pull back to warn him. “I’m close, Alex. I think I’m gonna—” Your sentence is broke off with a loud moan from you, your walls squeezing him tight as your orgasm washes over you in waves again, this one a lot more powerful than the previous.

Alex doesn’t stop moving above you, but you can feel how his thrusts become sloppier, and he doesn’t need more than a few before he comes hard, burying himself to the hilt, his warmth filling you. You can feel his cock twitching in you as your walls milk every last drop of cum from him, and then he collapses over you, careful not to crush you with his weight.

Neither of you says anything, but you don’t need to.

You brush your fingers through his hair, combing back the sweaty curls as he breathes into the crook of your neck. His hand is all over your body where he can reach — your arms, your shoulders, your sides, your outer thighs.

You have already learned that after such an intense time with you he always needs time to process. He is not used to such level of intimacy, not used to being vulnerable in front of anyone. So after these moments he needs some time to look back at them while you hold him close. Not because he is weak, but because he is afraid of the possibility that it was only just a dream that he made up to comfort himself.

And you always wait patiently until he is the one to break the silence.

Like now.

“I’m hungry,” he says with such simplicity that you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“I bet you are. We’ll need to re-heat the soup.”

“Maybe, but I don’t regret having this moment,” he shrugs, looking up at you with a loving smile. He cranes his neck to place a kiss on your jaw before he pushes himself off of you. Both of you let out a low hiss when he pulls out of you, the emptiness in you suddenly too unexpected. He gets up from the couch, pulling his underwear and sweats back on before he looks back down at you. “I’ll get a wet towel.”

You nod, resting your head on a soft pillow as you watch him walk away, the muscles in his back moving under his tanned skin, hips swaying slightly with every step he takes, making your eyes fall on the curve of his ass.

When he disappears around the corner, you look up at the ceiling, closing your eyes for a few minutes, listening to the birds chirping outside under the window.

You only open them again when you hear his footsteps.

He kneels down beside the couch, cleaning you gently, and you watch in silence as he works. When he is done, you look around for your underwear, and when you see it on the ground you reach for it, but he stops you. You glance at him holding up a simple black material, and you look at him with a questioning expression. “A new pair of underwear. So you wouldn’t have to put on back one that is… well, you know,” he tries to find the words, and you consider it adorable how he stumbles over his own thoughts.

“I get it, don’t worry,” you reassure him, taking it from his hand to put it on. When the material sits around you comfortably, you take his face between your palms, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

“Right,” he laughs nervously, getting up from the ground and pointing in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll, uh, get us some food then. I’ll be right back,” he announces.

Before he can disappear behind the corner you call after him. “Alex.”

He turns around quickly, eyebrows pulled up, waiting for your next words. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His lips pull into a small smile at those three words. He nods before he finally disappears.

He didn’t say it back. He never has, but you're patient with him. You know about some of the traumas that happened in his past. He sometimes is emotionally distant, but you don’t blame him. In those times you let him have his moment in his practice room, and when he comes out after spending hours in there, you keep him company.

Sometimes he talks about what happened at the rehearsal that day, or why he feels that way, sometimes he just prefers the silence and you close to him. There were times he asked you to read for him, or asked if he could play for you while you watched.

Even though he doesn’t say it out loud, you know he loves you. He shows it with his actions.

He just needs time to process his own emotions and feelings before he can say those three little words out loud too.

And you will be next to him when that day comes. Let it be days, weeks, months, or even years. But you know that you won’t ever be his first true love.

His true love will always be the music, and the beauty of playing. He fell in love with it as a child, and since then the bond between him and the music only grew. Nothing proves it better than him still playing on his first cello, that he got from his parents.

But you don’t mind. It was composed for him this way.

And his fingers run through the strings of life with a quiet, but strong confidence, creating a beautiful melody.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from it): @picketniffler, @speaktothehandpeasants, @harriedandharassed, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @misstokyo7love, @shadowqueen2024, @missadangel, @annwrites24, @eviispunk, @baronessvonglitter, @johnssherlock221, @goonersquad101, @my-tearsricochet, @nutbutterjellie, @kokoluwie, @cozymochaa

Fingering

Thumb position

1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th position

Tightening the pegs

Replacing the G string

Joel had always been difficult to reach, he wasn’t cruel to you, never mistreated you..but he was always distant. Sometimes it felt like standing outside a house with all the lights on and knowing someone was inside, but every door remained locked. You tried to be understanding to it, his ways, his habits, but sometimes it became harder than others to just let things be.

He’d brush his fingers against yours while walking through town. He’d quietly hand you the better portion of food without saying a word, he’d stand between you and danger before you even noticed it existed. Joel showed he cared in his own ways, you always noticed this. The problem was that caring was where he stopped, communication was always limited. The closer you got, the further he seemed to be. When he didn’t look fine, he’d insist he was, that was when he’d shut down the most.

Every time you needed reassurance, he’d look at you like you were asking him to translate a language he’d never learned. Yet, you kept trying, kept yourself hopeful that eventually something would change. You knew what he’d gone through and that was only because Tommy told you.

“Joel, talk to me.”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

“Yes there is..”

“No.”

It happened so often it became routine. You reaching and reaching, him withdrawing. He disappeared further and before you knew it, months turned into years of the same cycle. You somehow convinced yourself to accept the scraps, a hand on your lower back, a kiss before he left.

The occasional “You alright?” muttered while cleaning a rifle. But the words you desperately needed never came.

No “I need you” or “I love you.”

Not even “I’m scared you’ll leave.”

You started telling yourself you didn’t need those things although your heart yearned for it. You convinced yourself that maybe this was simply who Joel was. Maybe loving him meant accepting less.

Until one night you simply couldn’t take it any longer..

You had a terrible day..enough small things piling together until your chest felt too heavy. You found Joel on the porch looking out into the sunset.

“Can I sit with you?” He nodded.

You sat beside him as he remained silent. The silence felt like forever until eventually you whispered-

“I don’t think you know me.”

Joel frowned.

“What?”

“I don’t think you want to.”

His jaw tightened.

“Here we go.” The words hit harder than if he’d yelled.

Here we go.

Like your pain was an inconvenience, as if your heart was a chore. You stared at him lost in thought.

“I’ve spent years trying to let you in.”

“You know me.” He uttered low.

“No.”

Your voice cracked.

“I know what you let me know.”

Joel looked away immediately and that told you everything.

You laughed softly..the kind of laugh that comes right before crying.

“I don’t know what scares you more, Joel. Losing me or needing me.” His face tense, he wouldn’t dare look at you.

“You done?” You froze then slowly nodded.

“Mhm.”

That was the first time you stopped trying..Joel didn’t notice. Not at first.

Avoidant people rarely notice when someone starts pulling away because they’re used to the distance themselves. You stopped asking questions, stopped seeking comfort. You even stopped waiting up for him.

Joel just thought things had finally settled down.No more difficult conversations or emotional confrontations. For a while he actually felt relieved.

Then he noticed you didn’t smile at him anymore.Not a real smile at least..the one that used to light up your entire face. A few weeks later he realized you hadn’t touched him first in over a month.

A month after that he woke up and discovered he couldn’t remember the last time you’d said “I love you.”Something cold settled in his chest, fear..

He ignored it.

Until the night he came home and found a packed bag sitting beside the door.

Joel stared at it, then at you.

“What is that?”

You folded a shirt, not answering him.

His pulse began accelerating.

“What is that?” Finally you looked up and the exhaustion in your eyes nearly stopped his heart.

“I’m leaving.” Joel’s heart sunk.

“What?” He walked towards you.

“I’m leaving, Joel.”

“No.” He responded instantly like a reflex.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Exhaustion in your voice.

“The hell are you talkin’ about? You been fine” he took a step closer, confused, defensive.

You smiled sadly.

“I’ve been fine becuase I haven’t been talking to you. That’s what you consider fine?” You shook your head as if that was all the confirmation you needed.

The realization hit him all at once, you weren’t fine. You had just given up..

“So that’s it huh?” He spoke louder, you could hear the anger in his voice. He was pissed but not at you, at himself.

Every conversation he’d dismissed, every time he’d watched you cry and convinced himself giving you space was enough. Every damn excuse he made.

You wouldn’t respond, swallowing your tears as he watched you, shoulders tense.

“And where the hell you gonna go at this time?”

“Maria said I could stay with her until they find somewhere else for me-“

“My brother?” He cut you off defensively, still you wouldn’t look at him.

“Tommy knew about this?”

“Joel, I just told her about an hour ago.” You spoke softly as you zipped up the bag. A wave of emotions coming over him, anger turned into guilt. Guilt that he had pushed you away…that he made you feel unloved. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

You turned placing your bag over your shoulder and that’s when it set in over him…panic. Joel’s expression changed.

“Wait a minute, baby-“ he rushed towards you, his hand brushing over your waist.

“Let’s talk about this, you don’t need to go.” A knot in your throat forming, a look of desperation in his eyes you hadn’t ever seen.

“It’s too late to talk-“

“You don’t mean that, come on, put your bag down. Well- we’ll fix this, whatever you need me to do” He took your hand in his as you slowly shook your head.

“I can’t-“

“The hell do you want me to do dammit?!” He suddenly yelled, anger taking over him, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. Never had he spoken like this to you before.

“The hell you want me to say huh?! What is it?! What do you need from me?!”

“I needed you!” You finally yelled back with tears. You pulled your hand away, Joel stood in shock. Just like that he watched you walk out of his life without turning back..

His chest felt tight, he stumbled slowly towards the wall and placed his back against it. He knew this feeling all too well. The walls feeling like they were caving in, he loosened a button at the top of his shirt as he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. His fear becoming a reality.

~~

The first week after you left was the quietest Joel had ever known..your absence followed him everywhere. He hated it. The worst part was at night, he’d reach for you half asleep only to feel the cold sheets beside him.

I needed you.

Joel could hear your voice over and over again saying this, the pain in your voice haunted him.

He sat on his porch long after sunset, staring at the house a few doors down where Tommy and Maria had taken you in. He could see the light from the kitchen window. He could imagine you inside, laughing, safe..without him.

The thought made his chest ache, he looked away trying to shake the image out of his head.

~~

The next morning, Tommy found Joel repairing a fence that didn’t need repairing.

“You fixed that last week.”

Joel hammered another nail.

“It’s loose.”

“It ain’t loose.”

Joel eyes narrowed on him, Tommy sighed.

“Still thinkin’ about her?”

Joel stopped moving.

As if there had been a moment when he wasn’t. He stared silently at the screw.

“I screwed up.”

Tommy nodded.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to, Tommy. I swear I didn’t” he looked up at his brother who gave him a silent nod.

“She..she ok?”

“She’s not talkin’ much but she’s fine” Tommy responded, Joel looked down pressing his lips together.

“Come on, let’s have a drink, you look like you need one.” He proceeded to turn towards his door.

“I can’t-“

“And why not?”

“She’s-she’s in there ain’t she?”

“She went to check on the horses with Maria, they won’t be back for a bit. Besides I’ll be damned if I can’t have a drink with my own brother in my house” Tommy chuckled as he led the way in.

As soon as Joel walked in he could see your shoes by the door, your favorite indoor slip ons he had found for you brand new a while back. He kept his head down following his brother to the kitchen, hadn’t even noticed his brother was talking till he slammed a cup on the counter before him.

“You there, Joel?” He quickly looked up.

“Huh, yeah. I’m ready”

Tommy laughed as he grabbed the bottle and poured them both a drink. He could see how hurt his brother was, how distracted he was.

“Shit, brother if you can’t let me in, at least let her in. You got yourself a good woman. Not much that would put up with your shit” he smiled before taking a sip. He tried to break a smile out of his brother but it was harder than he thought.

Then they both heard the door open.

Both men turned toward the door to see you and Maria walking in, a smile on your face as you spoke about how being around the horses felt relaxing. How you enjoyed taking care of them. So lost in the conversation you hadn’t noticed Tommy was sitting at the table with someone else across from him, until you looked up. You stopped right in your tracks, your smile instantly disappearing. Joel stood up awkwardly clearing his throat, he knew he wasn’t wanted there. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. He could see Maria giving Tommy a look, a hand on her hip piercing him with her eyes.

“Hey-“ Maria’s eyes softened as she turned to you.

“Let me show you what I was working on earlier” she took your hand and pulled you up the stairs. Joel’s eyes didn’t move from where you had stood, the hurt of the realization that you didn’t even want to look at him. He threw his head back chugging back the last of the alcohol in his cup and slammed the glass down. Without saying a word he walked out.

~~

Maria could see how distracted you were, seeing Joel completely threw you off.

“Sorry about that, I’ll have a talk with Tommy. He should’ve known-“

“No, it’s fine. They’re brothers Maria…don’t say anything. I’m not mad I’m just…I wasn’t expecting to see him.” You stared off into space thinking about how tired he looked. Maybe he was having trouble sleeping again.

Maybe he wasn’t eating right again.

You shook off those thoughts the best you could and sighed.

~~

Joel didn’t step near Tommy’s house for a couple weeks, giving you space but still he could see you from afar when you’d step out.

A few days later Joel showed up at Tommy’s house carrying a basket.

Maria opened the door then blinked with slight confusion.

“Is that bread?”

Joel awkwardly held it up.

You’d once mentioned loving fresh bread. So Joel had spent three miserable hours trying to learn. The loaf looked lopsided, burned on one side.

Maria stared, then couldn’t help but laugh.

Joel looked offended.

“It ain’t funny.”

“It absolutely is.”

She laughed harder.

Joel shoved the basket toward her.

“Just give it to her.”

Maria folded her arms.

“No.”

Joel frowned.

“What do you mean no?”

“You can’t buy your way out of this.”

“It ain’t buying.”

“It kind of is.”

Joel sighed heavily.

“Maria, please. I’m tryin’”

Maria sighed, she knew Joel long enough to see when he had regret. To see when something was hurting him to his core.

Maria continued. “Joel…she spent months feeling lonely while standing right next to you.”

Joel looked down, he knew she was right.

“Didn’t mean to…to push her away. Didn’t mean to hurt her” the more he thought about the pain he caused, the angrier he became with himself.

“Give her time.”

“How much time?”His voice came out rough as he looked up.

“As much as she needs.”

Joel hated that answer but he nodded anyway.

~~

He tried. God, he tried. For almost three weeks he didn’t knock on your door. Didn’t force conversations, instead he began to quietly change his habits.

The way you always wished he would..

He started showing up to community dinners.

Actually talking to people. He helped Eugene’s widow repair her roof, fixed playground equipment for the children. He thought of you as he did everything. He thought about how he shut everyone out..including you.

Especially you.

~~

One afternoon you were helping Maria hang laundry when Ellie appeared.

“You should go talk to him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Not you too.”

Ellie shrugged. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Okay.” You paused, that was suspiciously easy.

“Okay?”

Ellie nodded.

“Yeah.”

Then she smirked.

“But you should know he’s becoming annoying.”

You sighed.

“What?”

“Guy’s like a sad country song.”

You laughed despite yourself. Ellie pointed toward Joel’s house. “He stares at your window.”

“Oh my God.”

“Not in a creepy way.”

“That doesn’t help.”

Ellie snorted.

“He’s pathetic.”

Your smile faded slightly. Because a small part of you wondered if Joel really was hurting as much as everyone claimed.

~~

It had been a month.

A month since you told Joel you couldn’t keep loving someone who acted like he could take you or leave you. A month since you packed a small bag and moved into Tommy and Maria’s spare room. A month without feeling the warmth of his body beside yours in bed.

You’d cried enough that you simply felt numb.

The front door opened, Tommy stepped inside first as you chopped up potatoes on the counter.

“Need a hand with the rest?” he called over his shoulder.

A familiar voice answered.

“Already got it.”

Your knife stopped against the potato.

Joel. Your stomach turned…but not exactly in a dreadful way.

He walked in carrying two heavy sacks of flour over one shoulder and a crate of canned goods in his arms. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, a light sheen of sweat on his skin. He set everything down without a word, nodding politely to Maria.

“Found coffee beans too,” he said.

Maria smiled knowingly. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Joel shrugged.

“Figured I’d save Tommy another trip.”

Tommy snorted.

“You hate making trips into town.”

Joel scratched the back of his neck.

“Guess I don’t mind so much lately.”

You knew exactly who that comment was for.

You refused to look up.

~~

For the next hour he stayed busy. He helped out Tommy with a few things that needed fixing around the house. Eventually it was just you and Joel, you on one side of the room cutting vegetables and him on the other, fixing God knows what.

He never once asked for attention, he never looked to see if you were watching. Which somehow made it worse.

Because you were…every single second.

So much so as you began to chop up some carrots you weren’t paying attention and your hand slipped. You gasped loudly as the sharpness of the knife came into contact with your skin. Joel instantly looked up to see you quickly looking for a rag to cover the wound. Without thinking he put down what he was working on and rushed towards you. He had already seen the blood dripping down your finger so he knew it must’ve been deep.

“You alright?” Without hesitation he grabbed your hands but you held the rag still against it as he attempted to pull your hands apart.

“No it’s bleeding-don’t-“

“Let me take a look” his eyes met yours and you suddenly didn’t know how to speak. You watched as he gently removed the rag, his brows furrowed noticing the deep cut. In that moment you wished Tommy and Maria would appear from wherever the hell they were.

“It’s fine, Joel”

“It ain’t fine, you got yourself pretty good. Sit down-“

“Joel-“

“Damn it baby, just sit down” your heart jumped. He caught himself as he called you baby but he didn’t take it back.

After grabbing what he could find around the house he pushed everything on the table aside and placed a bottle of whiskey down with a first aid kit. Instead of sitting across from you at the table, he pulled a chair up beside you and turned your chair to face him, pulling it toward him.

“Could’ve just told me to turn” you rolled your eyes.

“Figure I’d move quicker.” He responded as you looked over at the bottle of liquor.

“Not the whiskey” you sighed.

“Yes the whiskey.” He responded without looking at you.

An entire month since the two of you had spoken more than a passing hello. A month since everything fell apart. Yet somehow you still found yourself sitting in the chair beside him without another word.

He unscrewed the bottle as you swallowed anxiously.

“This’ll sting.”

“I remember.”

His eyes looked up to yours.

“So do I.”

He tipped your hand over the table, his fingers warm around your wrist.

“Ready?” You nodded and he poured.

The whiskey hit the cut like fire.

“Shit-“ You jerked forward with a sharp gasp, eyes squeezing shut.

Without thinkinf you grabbed onto something, or rather..someone.

Your free hand had wrapped tightly around Joel’s. Your fingers dug into his calloused skin hard enough that your knuckles turned white.

He didn’t flinch or let go, instead he leaned in closer and softly blew across the cut.

The cool air eased the burning just enough that you slowly opened your eyes.

Joel was still there. Close enough that you could see every little line around his eyes, every fleck of gray in his beard. His knees against yours, you didn’t want to pull away.

His thumb absentmindedly rubbed small circles against the side of your wrist while he continued inspecting the cut.

“Little deeper than I thought.” He spoke low.

“But you’ll keep the hand.” A tiny laugh escaped you. It surprised both of you, he couldn’t help but smirk.

“There she is.” Then there was silence, your smile faded.

Joel finally looked down, then over and landed his eyes on your intertwined hands. Only then did you realize you were still holding his.

Your fingers hadn’t loosened once.

“Oh…”

You started to pull away. Joel’s hand instinctively tightened just enough to stop you.

You didn’t move.

His eyes lifted back to yours.

“You okay?”

There was so much hidden inside those two words. Not just about a stupid cut but about everything that’s happened.

You simply nodded.

“…Yeah.”

He studied you for another second like he wanted to ask a hundred more questions. Instead, he let out a deep breath.

“Alright.”

He didn’t want to pull away but he did so slowly to finish cleaning up your cut. Very carefully, he cleaned the last of the blood away. His fingers were gentle as he spread antibiotic ointment over the cut.

“You’ll wanna keep this dry today.” You nodded again.

He wrapped the gauze around your palm before securing it with tape.

“There.” He turned your hand over once to check his work.

“Should heal fine.”

You looked down at the neat bandage.

“..Thank you.”

Joel’s eyes lingered on your face.

“You don’t gotta thank me.”

“I know.” For a moment neither of you moved.

Then the back door opened.

“There you two are-“

Tommy stopped mid sentence.

Maria looked between the two of you sitting close together. Joel immediately leaned back, still holding your hand.

You quickly pulled your hand into your lap and looked away.

Maria frowned.

“What the hell happened?”

You stood a little too fast, nearly knocking the chair over.

“I-“

You held up your bandaged hand.

“I cut myself chopping carrots.”

Tommy’s eyes widened.

“Bad?”

“No.” You forced a small smile.

“I’m fine.”

Maria looked at Joel, then back at you.

Joel had already capped the whiskey bottle and closed the first aid kit, expression carefully unreadable.

“It’ll be alright,” he said simply.

“Really…im fine.”

“I think I’m just gonna…go lie down for a bit.”

Without waiting for anyone to answer, you slipped past Maria and Tommy, keeping your head down as you hurried toward the guest room. The bedroom door clicked shut behind you. Only then did you lean back against it, closing your eyes. Your hand still tingled beneath the bandage.

But what lingered far more vividly was the memory of Joel’s rough hand in yours…

And how, for just a few quiet moments, neither of you had wanted to let go.

You overheard Maria telling Joel to stay for dinner, a part of you not sure how to feel about it.

You didn’t hear Joel say much, his mind still lost in the moment of being so damn close to you.

Well feeling so close, yet so far.

~~

Everyone settled around the table. Ellie was away helping Dina with patrol schedules keeping herself busy. Conversation flowed around you. Tommy talked about a broken fence, Maria laughed about someone’s escaped chickens.

Joel mostly listened. Once in a while he’d look your way, not enough to make it obvious but still enough that you caught him every time.

~~

Halfway through dinner your fork slipped from your hand, clattering onto the floor.

Before you could bend, Joel was already kneeling.He picked it up then reached for another clean fork from the drawer.

“There.”

His voice was quiet, your fingers brushed when you took it. Neither of you pulled away immediately.

“Thanks.”

He nodded once.

“You’re welcome.”

Later that evening Tommy disappeared outside with Maria to check on the horses.

Leaving the two of you alone on the porch.

Neither of them was subtle.You sat on the swing, staring out toward the fading sunset.

Joel leaned against the porch railing, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Your hand ok?” He asked as if it hadn’t just happened a couple hours ago. He knew you were fine, but the silence killed him.

“Mhm, it’s fine,” you spoke softly as you looked down at your hand not noticing the way he looked over his shoulder back to you.

“I ain’t here to make things hard.”

“I know.”

“I told myself I’d leave you alone.”

“So why are you here?” You looked up at him. A slight smirk appeared on his lips.

“I lasted twenty eight days.”

“You counted?”

“Every one.” He looked down at the porch boards.

“I kept thinkin’ you’d be happier.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t either.” He spoke gently, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I spent a lotta years thinkin’ if I kept people far enough away…couldn’t lose ’em.”

You stayed quiet.

“I realized all that did was make me lose ’em anyway.” You watched him carefully.

A month ago he would’ve shut down, changed the subject, hell not even have begun this conversation.

Now he stood there, uncomfortable as hell, saying the things he’d spent years refusing to admit.

His eyes finally met yours.

“Baby, I miss you. Every. Damn. Day.” His voice cracked.

“I’d wake up thinkin’ I’d hear you movin’ around the house. Hell, I still catch myself makin’ enough coffee for two.”

You looked down your lap, his stare too intense.

He continued carefully.

“I know it’s only been a month but I’ve done a lot of thinkin’ and I know what you need me to be and I’m sorry I failed you for so damn long.” His eyes teared up but you still couldn’t look up at him. Instead you fiddled with your fingers on your lap, your heart racing. And that’s when he slowly got down on his knee before you, his hands gently cradling yours.

“I can’t lose you, baby. You and Ellie are the only thing that keeps me goin’.” For some reason as happy as you were to hear his feelings, you almost also felt..angry. You pulled your hands away and shoved them into his chest but he held his balance.

“Why the hell did it take you so long to realize that?!” He began to shake his head.

“You don’t get it, baby I always realized it. I just…I just was too damn stupid to say it.” He noticed a tear falling from your eye and it pulled at his heart. He couldn’t take seeing you cry. He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

“Please come home, baby. I can’t…I ain’t sleepin’ without you. I need you with me,” you looked up, his eyes big and puppy like. You’d never seen him so broken. You parted your lips but couldn’t speak at first.

“I’m..I’m not ready,” you spoke barely a whisper. Your words breaking him. You stood up with him still on his knees before you and rushed back inside into your room, holding your tears in until you locked the door.

Joel held his tears in feeling the burning knot in his throat, he looked down at the ground disappointed in himself. He knew you had every right to feel how you did.

Just as Tommy and Maria walked back towards their home they saw Joel leave with a clear look of disappointment. Tommy sighed and shook his head.

When he walked inside he found you in the kitchen washing dishes, Maria gave Tommy a nod and left you two alone.

“Should’ve left the dishes so your hand can heal” Tommy stood at the doorway. You jumped up at the sound of his voice not having heard the front door open.

“It’s fine” you shrugged. After a moment of silence he continued.

“I saw Joel leave.”

You shut off the water and took a slow breath.

“Did you?” You answered low.

“I haven’t seen him this broken in a while,”

“If you’re trying to make me feel bad it’s not working-“

“Ain’t trynna make you feel bad. My brother can be a bit of an idiot but he’s an idiot who’s crazy for you.” You didn’t respond nor turn to face him either.

“He’s tryin’, sis”

You slowly faced him.

“Now after all this time. It took me to leave for him to show-“

“I know, I know. I told you, he’s an idiot.” You sighed.

“Give him one more chance, let him show you who he really is.”

~~

That night you sat in your room in the dark, contemplating to see Joel. Thinking of what to say, what to do. Eventually you pushed yourself out of the room, Tommy and Maria both asleep you quietly walked out the front door.

You could see Joel’s light still on, of course he was awake. Taking a deep breath walking towards his steps you whispered to yourself what you would say, so lost in thought you were taken by surprise when Joel appeared out the side of the house carrying a lantern. He himself surprised to see you stood speechless. You suddenly felt stupid.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come” you proceeded to turn back but Joel quickly caught up.

“No” he caught your hand gently turning you back.

“Please, don’t go” he whispered. You stood silent for a moment, his eyes tracing your features.

“I thought about what you said” you whispered. “And I don’t know what to think, I don’t wanna feel what I felt for so long-“

“You won’t” he assured you stepping closer.

“I promise you I’ll give you every damn piece of me, whatever you need, baby I just can’t lose you again.” His eyes desperate, he meant every word he said. You didn’t respond at first, just quietly looked up at him before taking a deep breath.

“Can I stay the night?” You whispered as a look of relief took over him. He pulled you in closer, God he wanted to kiss you and you knew he did but you watched him stop himself.