#roommate!joaquin

currently untitled | joaquin torres (situationship!joaquin)

It’s as if he couldn’t get away from you sooner. As if the idea of sleeping beside you was so awful that he had to run away from you. Again. 

You huff, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

The tension doesn’t leave with Joaquin. If anything, it thickens, settling over the room like another layer of motel dust. 

You sit on the edge of the bed beside Bob and another sigh escapes before you can stop it. Next to you, Bob hovers for a second. He’s awkward and very unsure, that much you can sense. The foot of space between the two of you doesn’t do a great job at hiding Bob’s nerves. 

He glances at the bathroom door before quickly looking back at you. Quietly, Bob asks with furrowed brows. “Is he…still mad?”

The confession about what happened between you and Joaquin came about three days after you first met Bob. One late night at the Watchtower going through piles of data and a plate of leftover lasagna that Bob made for dinner was all it took to have you unraveling. 

Technically, he had been the one to initiate it. It’s easy to be perceptive when you spend most of your time silently watching others. So when Bob asked you what the deal was between you and Joaquin and why it was so damn uncomfortable every time the two of you were in the same room—you cracked. 

You let out a small sigh, “Joaquin’s…complicated.”

Bob thinks about it for a moment. Then, with all the soft earnestness in the world, he asks, “...Is it something I did?”

You blink, stunned for half of a second, before you let a laugh escape. “No, Bob, trust me. It’s not you.” Your eyes glance over at the bathroom door, silently listening to the loud pattering of the water running. Biting your lip to stop them from trembling, you softly admit: “It’s me.” 

currently untitled | joaquin torres (roommate!joaquin)

he doesn't mean to do it. he swears he didn't. but it was like his brain short-circuited, body moving before his mind could keep up and think it through. god, it was so weak. so pathetic. before he could think twice, like, really think twice--

"ow!" joaquin yells, collapsing to the floor. his hand swings wildly, knocking a vase of flowers that he got you off the counter as he descended.

the loud crash resonates through the living room, and joaquin's heart hammers in his chest when you whip around with a startled gaze.

he didn't have time to think about it. glad that you didn't have time to think about the way that he screamed in pain before the crash even happened, instead too preoccupied by rushing through the space and towards him. away from the front door, away from your date.

"oh my god, joaquin," you gasp. "are you okay?" you quickly scoop up your curious cat who was sniffing dangerously close to the hazard joaquin just created, dropping her in a nearby room before turning back to your idiot of a roommate.

when the spur of the moment wears off, the pain truly starts to settle in. wincing, joaquin finally has the courage to look down at the mess he made. flashes of red cloud his vision and he tilts his head upwards. "oh, i think i'm g'nna be sick."

the gash was deep. deeper than joaquin was anticipating.

he waits for the ridicule, wait for you to joke about how dramatic he's being, but when silence fills the room, dread settles into his stomach. oh god, maybe it really is that bad this time.

the second one is an old draft for the roomate!joaquin series that i'm still tbd on, but situationship!joaquin is in full swing right now :) i'll try to finish up and post soon, writing is hard </3