#you 2018

Your underwear. Photos of you. Multiple phones. And whose fucking teeth were those?

You felt dizzy like the room was spinning. Staring down at the mess of glass and teeth, you briefly thought about your chances of getting away. Just leave, and don't look back. Block Joe Goldberg's number; never see him again. But he already knew too much, and if the previously hidden box, now discarded on the floor, told you anything, it was that he would find you again.

Then the front door opened.

"Y/N, I’m back." Shit. Speak of the devil. A new wave of terror flowed through your veins as the unmistakable sound of the only way in and out of the small apartment was sealed shut with a resounding click as the lock was latched into place.

You were trapped.

"Hey, Y/N," Joe called again. You could hear him making his way to the bathroom you were hiding in, quickly, you stood from your place on the toilet seat and quietly closed the door just as he wrapped his knuckles against the old wooden frame. "You in there?"

"Just a moment!"

You waited in anticipation, watching for the toes of his worn boots to disappear from your view, the crack beneath the door offered you little insight into whatever happened beyond the bathroom, but still, you breathed a sigh of relief when his footsteps grew further. Joe was still talking to you as he made his way to the kitchen, but you couldn't comprehend a word he said too entranced with the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You set about carelessly cleaning up the mess on the bathroom floor with only one goal in mind the whole time. Get the fuck away from Joe Goldberg.

Sweeping the glass shards into your bare hands was a dumb idea from the beginning, and yet the pain of a particularly jagged piece catching on the pad of your index finger still had you crying out in surprise. You slapped a hand over your mouth, praying Joe hadn't heard you. You listened to him in the kitchen, a mere few feet from where you cowered, the rustle of him going through the plastic bag of food he had brought home momentarily paused when you cried out. You knew that if you took any longer, he would get suspicious…

Shutting the bathroom door softly behind you, you nervously met the loving gaze of Joe Goldberg. "Everything alright?" He asked you sweetly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek while slipping a paper cup of coffee into your hand. You took it from him without a thought. The warmth of the cup was somewhat soothing to your heightened nerves. "Yeah, sorry.” You apologized, swiftly making your way past the dark-haired man. “Oh, hey, I actually just remembered I have this thing I need to do for work today-"

But he wasn't listening. Why was he looking at you like that? How could he already know?

"Oh my God, Y/N." His voice was full of concern as he grabbed the wrist of your coffee cup-clad hand, immediately disrupting your exit plan. Lowering your gaze, you noticed the murder scene of blood decorating the cup. "What happened?"

You shook your head at him, trying to free yourself from his grip. "Just a paper cut. But Joe, I do have to go now."

He quickly moved his hands to your shoulders, guiding you back towards the bathroom you had just escaped. "Come on, Y/N. Let me take care of you."

You tried to shut him down, but it was hard to get a word in when he kept playfully scolding you, telling you not to be ridiculous, to let him take care of you. You felt like you were being suffocated as you crossed the threshold into the dimly lit bathroom once more. Joe might as well have been holding you by the neck, his toothy grin and eagerness to help did nothing but further tighten the knot in your chest.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his question laced with genuine concern. His fingers brushed against your own as he freed the blood-stained cup from your clammy hand, setting it beside the sink before gently guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat. "You're shaking." He noted calmly, holding your hand tightly to inspect the damage—something that would have been so comforting to you just twenty minutes earlier. "Yeah, I just have this thing with blood, you know?”

God, even your voice was shaking. Joe looked up from your injured hand and eyed you warily, barely acknowledging your obvious lie before he stepped back, moving to open the medicine cabinet above the sink, from it, he took out a plastic box of bandages.

You had no idea the crunching of glass beneath a shoe could be such a deafening sound.

Your heart stopped beating.

Joe tilted his head to see what he had stepped on, immediately noticing your poor attempt to hide his terrifying secret. He crouched down, and you held your breath. You should've been more careful cleaning up the mess. He found something. Of course, he found something.

Pinching whatever it was he discovered between his thumb and forefinger, he held the minuscule detail, the one that would be your demise, up to the light.

He saw it was a tooth right away. You saw it too. He knew that you knew.

Gulping, you stood from your spot on the toilet seat. "Like I said, Joe, I have to go.” You tried to sound confident, but when you went to meet his eye, he only stared beyond you. He was putting it together all too quickly. Reluctantly, you followed his gaze to see that the ceiling panel above you was not quite in its proper place. You glanced back down at Joe, but he was already watching you. Standing from his crouched position, his eyes never left you, and his gaze was deadly.

If looks could kill…

Shaking your head, you felt your eyes welling with tears. "I'm so sorry."

It was now or never.

You moved to shove past Joe. But he was already anticipating your escape attempt, grabbing you by your biceps, his once gentle grip was now painful and vicious as he slammed your back into the tiled wall behind you.

He wasn't going to just let you go.

"Joe, please!" You shrieked, your panicked breaths coming out hard and fast made your words all the more difficult to understand. "I have to go!"

"No." He growled, voice dark. The palm of his hand came down hard over your trembling lips and muffled your cries. Tilting his head at you, his expression was hard to read, his face void of emotion and it scared you. "No, you don't."

Fuck.

Wrapping your bloodied fingers around his wrist, you stared up at him with watery, desperate eyes. You tried to plead with him, but between your tears and the calloused hand against your mouth, your words fell upon deaf ears.

"Stop it!" He shouted suddenly. You immediately froze beneath him, falling silent, Joe never raised his voice at you. It was clear he hadn't expected himself to lose his temper as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before addressing you again. "I need you to trust me," He spoke slowly and firmly as if you were a misbehaved child and not his girlfriend. “Only then can I think about trusting you.” Once he saw that he had your attention, Joe hesitantly removed his hand from your lips, both his hands coming up instead to gently graze your jaw with his fingertips. The action was tender and intimate and had you biting down on your lower lip despite yourself, your other hand came up to latch onto his free wrist, holding onto him tightly with both hands as Joe slightly bent his knees to meet your gaze head-on.

"Please just let me go home." He offered you a sad smile in return. "You know, I can't do that."

For some reason, that’s what made you break. You were just so confused and overwhelmed. Your face scrunched up with emotion, eyes closing in distress, almost like an unconscious attempt to block out the horrible situation before you, and finally allowed a violent sob to rack through your body.

You barely got a tear out before Joe's arms were engulfing you in a strong embrace. One hand rested on your lower back, keeping your body close to his; the other held the back of your head protectively as he shushed you with a tone so sweet your stomach churned. You knew, despite it all, Joe hated seeing you like this and he was desperate to offer you whatever comfort he could.

But the embrace did no more than make you realize just how doomed you were. Your knees buckled at the ugly truth, and you leaned all your weight into Joe's embrace. "Shhh, I've got you." He cooed, easing the both of you to the floor, worried you could faint if he forced you to stay upright.

You buried your tear-stricken face into his chest, but your crying wouldn’t let up, even as he began to run his fingers through your hair, an action that you used to love.

"Y/N, I need you to calm down."

"But you're going to kill me!" You exclaimed, your own shaky hands coming up to grasp desperately at the dark dress shirt he wore. You needed to ground yourself in some way and Joe, who used to be your comfort and was the thing you feared all at once, made it so confusing. You didn’t know if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. Huffing a sigh, Joe decided for you and hugged you tighter to him. Did you really have so little trust in him? "I would never hurt you, Y/N. I just need you to listen to me. I need to take you somewhere."

"No! No, Joe! I'm not going anywhere with you!" You shouted, abruptly pulling yourself away from him. Joe raised a finger to his lips, signaling for you to lower your voice. "Now, Y/N, if you can't cooperate, then things will get messy. I need you to trust me." Resting a hand atop your own, Joe maintained some sort of physical contact with you not trusting you enough otherwise. His face softened just slightly when you twisted your wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. "Can you trust me?"

Gulping, you shook your head at him. "I'm just so confused." You explained, dropping your gaze. "I know, Y/N. I know.” Joe gushed, bringing his face closer to yours when you tried to look away. “Let me take you to Mooney's, and I promise to explain everything to you then." He finished his attempt to convince you by brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, making sure to graze his fingertips along your cheek in the process.

Your heart froze at the thought of going anywhere with him. What if he was lying? What if he took you somewhere secluded just to kill you? However, you knew deep down you weren’t going to be better off here if you continued to fight him. Taking in a shaky breath, you wanted to appear confident, so you allowed Joe to deepen your eye contact. You spoke slowly. "I trust you."

Joe sighed, his eyes fluttering shut in relief. "Good girl."

Pressing his hands onto the worn knees of his jeans, Joe stood up from his spot next to you on the floor. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe." He told you again, grabbing a washcloth from the side of the sink, turning on the faucet, he soaked a corner of the small towel. "No one will be able to find you there” Joe briefly glanced down at your vulnerable and frightened form, before quickly adding on, not wanting to scare you more, “But it'll only be temporary." You looked up at him through your lashes, your legs were too shaky to stand let alone to make another break for it. You tried to accept your fate, hanging on to the promise of temporary. Again, Joe came to crouch in front of you, gently dabbing your tear-stained, heated cheeks with the cool washcloth. "It'll only be long enough for you to calm down and for me to know I can trust you again."

His hand came up to caress your cheek, and your eyes snapped up to his face. He smiled at you, setting the washcloth aside. "I'm going to take care of you. I promise."