thinker bell

if there was one thing your mother had always drilled into your head, it was to be good and respectful company.

you took her advice to heart — whenever you went over to someone else’s house, you cleaned up after yourself, said please and thank you so often that some people would’ve labeled it as excessive, and swallowed whatever snarky remark was itching to escape whenever someone said something particularly irritating. well, you did all this at everyone’s house but mike wheelers.

see, with mike and his family, it was different. you’ve known him your whole life — practically grew up with him. no, scratch that, did grow up with him.

when you were younger, the two of you would race into his house with scraped knees and dirt-smudged faces, trying to make it home in time for dinner. you spent countless afternoons sprawled across his couch, watching whatever movie nancy had rented with her friends, and listened to ted’s old stories as if he were your own father

you loved the Wheelers like they were family. karen, nancy, holly, and you had girls' days every other week. every once in a while, ted would even take you and mike fishing, proudly labeling it a "family bonding experience."

nancy, especially though, was like the older sister you'd never had. she took you shopping and out for ice cream whenever you were having a rough day, painted your nails while the two of you exchanged the latest hawkins gossip, and held you through more heartbreaks than you cared to admit.

so yes, in the wheeler home, you were more than comfortable leaving your socks hanging off mike’s bed frame, wandering around the house without asking permission, and talking to his family the same way you talked to your own — even when mike wasn't there.

this made the scenario you were in right now was confusing to say the least.

for context, you were currently getting your pussy tongue fucked by nancy’s long time boyfriend, steve, while you were laid over the counter where you two made waffles together the morning prior.

“mmm, fuck, feels so good, steve,” you moaned quietly, hand gripping on his hair weakly as your mind went numb from the combination of the feeling of his fingers moving across your heated walls and his tongue lingering under your fingers and inside as well, collecting the slick gushing out from in between your slit.

you could feel his lips curl up before he decided to disconnect from your heat, much to your dismay, to replace his tongue with another finger and focus solely on biting and kissing a chunk of skin of your inner thigh absentmindedly.

“yeah? you like that baby? getting all dumb just from my mouth and fingers?” he teased against your raw skin, voice low and careful.

his free hand that was previously laid upon his growing bulge moved to grab both your knees together and push them up, making the ridges of your spinal bone dig even harder into the cool counter.

steve, who was now eye to eye with your throbbing and neglected clit, blew out a cold, invigorating breath against you, causing you to gasp lightly before quickly moving to cover your mouth.

this situation wasn’t even your fault…kinda.

earlier, you had reluctantly left behind the snug, comfortable setting you were in, which was also known as mike’s bed, to grab a cold cup of water from the kitchen in order to at least somewhat cool down from the summer heat that swam around mikes small room when you bumped into steve who was leaning against the counter looking like a kicked puppy, zoning out.

you two have never really talked like that before, only sparing a few words to each other whenever you happened to bump into one another, but for some reason this time his pathetic demeanor led you to cave in and ask what he was doing down here.

he hesitated before shyly admitting that nancy and him had gotten into a fight and she ignored his pleas to make up, instead going to sleep.

one thing led to another and now here you two were, betraying both your companions somehow, someway.

you were so dazed out of your mind that you didn’t register the feeling of steve’s fingers leaving your hole until the cold wind produced from him getting up abruptly practically slapped your pussy in the center.

he stepped closer to you, hand reaching to cup your flushed cheek while his thumb lingered near the corner of your lips. “you sure you wanna do this with me, pretty?” he asked you with scrunched eyebrows, wanting to make sure this wasn’t something you were doing out of pity. you looked up at him, eyes wide and boring into his own big ones before dancing around the light freckles scattered across his face, and nodded your head lightly before mumbling a small, “i’m sure, stevie.”

he seemed to hesitate before moving his hand to the back of your neck and pulling your head up to connect your lips together, surprising both you and himself.

the kiss was hard and full of passion — his nose was crushing itself into your cheek as he tried to take the kiss deeper and his tongue was slipping and sliding all over your mouth, focusing on the roof of it especially.

you pulled back gingerly and reminded him of one key detail. “sorry, but i think maybe we should um…hurry up. we are kind of in the middle of the kitchen.” your voice came out in a low whisper, amused smile planted onto your face.

steve softly chuckled, moving to untie his pajama pants. before he could finish, he paused abruptly and looked back up at you. “shit, i don’t think i have a condom with me today.”

“oh, yeah. i’m on birth control, so, you can..you know..” you dragged on, feeling a bit shy at the admission.

steve bit back a giddy smile, clearly excited to be inside you with no layers in between, and quickly fumbled to pull his pajama pants and boxers down in one swipe, leaving them hanging on his mid thigh.

your eyes zeroed in on his solid, heavy length while his eyes remained on your face to gauge your reaction.

“holy shit, stev— how is that gonna fit?” you asked worriedly in a hushed whisper.

“i’ll make it fit, baby. don’t worry.” he reassured, eyes flickering down to watch the way his flushed tip now slid against your slit, teasing into your hole.

you don’t know what compelled you to grab his hand and interlock your fingers, but when you did, both your eyes met for a brief second.

“you ready?” he questioned quietly, positioning his tip directly over your hole.

you let out a quiet hum and pushed your hips forward, giving him your answer indirectly.

steve pulled you closer to him, using his hands to wrap your legs around his waist while he pushed himself inside your wet hole. his brows were furrowed and mouth hung slightly open as he tried to distract himself from the warmth surrounding him, not wanting to embarrass himself and cum fast.

a string of whimpers that were too loud for the environment you were in left your swollen lips before steve moved quickly to muffle your whines with two fingers shoved into your mouth.

as he slowly started to bottom out, your eyes fluttered shut, taking in the feeling of being oh so full. he started to move his hips against your body, slightly shoving you back on the counter with one particularly rough thrust, and moved his free hand to cup your mound.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he moaned out quietly, groaning as he kept thrusting and pushing his palm onto your clit, keeping you still while also bringing your bundle of nerves pleasure with each push.

steve’s thrusts remained passionate and powerful, his pace never weakening or stuttering. his dick dragged against your sweet spot with each thrust, leaving your body to unknowingly clench around him tightly to keep him there.

“steve, steve, steve.” you repeated his name like a mantra, voice muffled due to your tongue that was still swirling around his fingers, eyes rolling back from the pure pleasure.

steve slipped his fingers out from in between your lips to lean down and muffle your noises instead with his own mouth pressed against yours, still keeping the same pace and roughness of his thrusts.

the sound of his balls slapping against your bare skin echoed in the small corner of the kitchen you were located in, and the pleasure you were feeling was so intense you couldn’t help but move your fingers to his back to ground yourself, nails leaving pink, staggered lines across the soft expanse of his skin.

steve’s lips disconnected from yours, but the space between the two of you didn’t expand. his forehead was now pressed against yours while he muttered sweet praises to you.

“you feel so fucking good, oh my goddd.” he groaned out, breath mingling with yours as his hips began to slow down. “i can cum in you, right? please baby, let me cum in you.” he begged, thumb replacing his palm to rub hot circles directly onto your clit, wanting to get you both to cum at the same time.

“yes, steve, yes. please don’t stop, please.” you whined loudly, walls clenching tightly around his length as you felt your peak coming closer and closer.

steve continued ramming into you and rubbing, eager to get you both there. his breath came out in staggered patterns as your walls practically strangled him.

you redirected your hand from his back to the back of his neck to pull him down to your lips, smashing his to yours as the mounting tension in you began to snap, hurling you into a pleasure you’ve never felt for anyone else before.

steve followed after you, hips starting to stutter. he gave a few more passion filled thrusts before spurting inside you, his thick load of cum spurting across your inners walls.

a few more weak thrusts followed his high while whines left your mouth at the overstimulation.

he slowly started to pull out, careful to not make a mess on the floor or counter. “fuck.” he muttered at the sight of the combination of cum leaving your pulsing hole.

he stared for a few more seconds before pushing all the spilling liquid back in with his thumb and leaning down to give your pussy one last, wide lick.

straightening your legs from the awkward position they were previously in, you quickly pulled your shorts and panties up, and tried to stand up properly, which failed. your legs felt weak and it was clearly obvious because steve wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you.

you looked up at him to see him already meeting your eyes, a star struck look hid behind his eyes and his mouth opened to say something before closing again.

“this was..fun. um, see you later, mayb—” you spoke first before getting cut off from steve’s lips smashing against yours, the taste of you still lingering inside his mouth now being in your mouth as well.

he pulled away after a few seconds, wanting to speak this time. “let’s do this again sometime, yeah? been wanting to do that since i saw you.”

you answered with a dazed nod, before quickly stepping away and wobbling back to mikes room.

safe to say, that was not the last time you and steve had sex somewhere in the wheeler house.

sure, there were times people got suspicious, like when there were random scratches on his back or when someone stumbled upon you two with ruffled hair in the kitchen at night, but you never got caught…you think.

younggirldad!eddie who learns how to do hair entirely because of her. sure, he had long hair and probably shouldve known how to do it for his own hair before, but before his daughter came onto this earth, he’d just throw his hair in a low bun and hope for the best. now, he sits with beauty magazines analyzing the hairstyles and asks random older moms for tips because “i’m not sending my girl out lookin’ crazy.” half the time the ponytails are crooked and the braids are wildly uneven, but she still gasps dramatically every morning like he’s some celebrity stylist.

younggirldad!eddie who still carries her around everywhere, even when she starts to get too old for it. he genuinely can’t help himself. his back hurts constantly from it bu he refuses to admit it.

younggirldad!eddie who knows he’s getting manipulated by his daughter, but doesn’t actually do anything to stop it. he falls for it every single time. huge wet eyes. tiny pout. a whiny “daddy pleaaaase.” and suddenly eddie’s acting like spending twenty dollars on a singular stuffed animal is justified.

younggirldad!eddie who feeds into the ‘mini me’ belief he has and buys her tiny band tees before she can even walk. little black sabbath shirts, miniature leather jackets, topped off with tiny converse. he thinks it’s the coolest and cutest thing ever when she waddles around dressed like him.

younggirldad!eddie who lets her put makeup on him once and walks around the entire trailer park afterward with blue eyeshadow up to his eyebrows because she looked so proud of herself.

younggirldad!eddie who dances with her in the kitchen at two in the morning when she can’t sleep and wants waffles. socks sliding across the floor, music playing low from the radio while she stands on top of his boots giggling. and every single time he looks at her there’s this expression on his face like he genuinely cannot believe he got lucky enough to have her.

younggirldad!eddie who falls in love with you all over again after seeing you become a mom. he already thought you were the coolest girl on earth before, but now he catches himself staring at you doing the smallest things with this stupid overwhelmed look on his face.

you’ll just be sitting on the floor helping your daughter color and suddenly eddie’s leaning against the doorway smiling to himself like an idiot at the sight of his girls.

“what?” you laugh eventually.

he just shakes his head. “nothin’. think i won at life a little bit.”

younggirldad!eddie who gets unbelievably clingy with you after the baby is born. always touching you somehow. whether it’s the usual hand around your waist while you make dinner, or chin on your shoulder while you brush your teeth, he’s just always touching you. going as far as hooking his finger through your belt loop while you walk through the grocery store because ‘he likes keeping you close.’

younggirldad!eddie who still flirts with you constantly even after years together, like embarrassingly bad too.

you’ll be standing there holding your daughter, snot probably all over your top, and eddie just whistles obnoxiously from across the trailer.

“you’re literally insane,” you snort, not looking up from your daughter who’s starting to doze off while drooling on your chest.

“sorry,” he shrugs dramatically. “my girlfriend’s hot. what do you want from me?”

younggirldad!eddie who absolutely cannot handle seeing you overwhelmed as a mom. the second he notices your eyes getting glossy or your voice getting tighter and frustrated, he’s immediately stepping in.

“hey, hey,” he murmurs softly, taking the baby from your arms. “go sit down for a sec, sweetheart. i got her.”

and then after, when you’re apologizing and drowning in self pity, he reassures you and repeats that it’s not a big deal at all because he never wants you feeling guilty for needing help.

younggirldad!eddie who still gets nervous around you sometimes, especially after arguments. he’ll pace around the trailer rubbing the back of his neck trying to figure out how to apologize properly because despite all the confidence and literally having a child with you, he still hates the idea of you being upset with him.

younggirldad!eddie who kisses you constantly in front of your daughter because he wants her growing up around love that’s loud and obvious and safe. her young mind has probably grown accustomed to the little forehead kisses he gives while you cook. him pulling you into his chest during family movie night. and him absentmindedly grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles during conversations or car rides.

your daughter eventually starts gagging dramatically every time she catches you kissing. “ewwww!”

“your mother’s beautiful, sweet girl, you can’t blame me,” eddie says seriously.

younggirldad!eddie who gets weirdly emotional at night sometimes after both of you finally get your daughter to sleep.

the trailer’s quiet. you’re exhausted. he’s laying with his head on your stomach while you play with his curls absentmindedly.

and out of nowhere, he says, “you know i’m gonna love you forever, right?”

you blink down at him. “that was random.”

younggirldad!eddie who still looks at you like a 15 year old in love even years later. you’ll catch him staring while you’re talking and he won’t even deny it.

younggirldad!eddie who gets insanely protective over your relationship after becoming parents because he grew up around instability and he refuses to let that happen to his girls. so even when money’s tight or life gets stressful, he still makes time for you.

still dances with you in the kitchen and takes you on shitty little dates.

to him, you were never just the mother of his child, you were his also girl first.

younggirldad!eddie who thanks you for everything all the time. it’s usually after your daughter finally falls asleep after a rough night and you’re both laying in bed exhausted.

joe has always been busy. even before the acting jobs started becoming bigger and the crowds outside bars started getting larger, he was always moving, always chasing something. recording audition tapes at three in the morning in your shared, shabby apartment while trying not to wake you, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by notebooks full of lyrics and half-finished ideas, running from one tiny gig to another right after work with a coffee in one hand and his guitar case in the other.

and you loved that about him — you loved how badly he wanted things.

even back then, before everything became so public, joe had ambition stitched into him so deeply it practically bled through his skin. you remembered sitting on your tiny kitchen counter while he paced around the apartment rehearsing lines for some ad under his breath, stopping every few minutes to ask, “does that sound natural or do i sound like a boring salesman?”

you’d giggle every time. “i mean, you always sound a little like a mid age man.”

“cool,” he’d sigh dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “that’s exactly what casting directors want.”

and then ten minutes later he’d crawl into bed exhausted, burying himself against your chest like the entire world stopped mattering the second he touched you.

but no matter how busy he got, no matter how many jobs or rehearsals or shows he had lined up, joe always came back to you.

he’d stumble through the apartment door past midnight smelling like cigarette smoke and cold air and cheap beer from whatever tiny bar he’d been performing at, kicking his shoes off halfway across the room before immediately finding you.

sometimes he’d barely even say hello.

he’d just collapse onto the couch beside you with a long groan, shoving his face into your neck while mumbling something incoherent.

“hi to you too,” you’d laugh softly, fingers slipping into his hair while you put your book down.

“missed you,” he’d murmur against your skin.

“you were gone for like four hours.”

“terrible experience. hated every second.”

and he’d say it so seriously too, voice muffled against your throat while his arms tightened around your waist dramatically until you were laughing harder.

back then, nights used to feel warm and endless. you’d stay up with him while he talked about everything that came up in his mind — music, movies, auditions, stupid customers from the restaurant he worked at for three months before quitting.

sometimes he’d pull you into his lap while talking, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while rambling on and on about whatever new song he and his friends were working on.

and every single time, it ended the same way.

him stopping mid sentence just to stare at you with a soft adoration behind his eyes.

“what?” you’d mumble eventually, smiling shyly under the attention.

“nothing,” he’d say quietly. “just like looking at you.”

from the very first months of you dating, you knew you’d love him forever, even when things started changing. even when his name started spreading across the globe on tv screens.

it wasn’t like joe was unknown before everything happened. he already had people recognizing him occasionally, already had small crowds after shows, already had fans waiting outside venues asking for pictures while he stood there awkwardly blushing through every interaction.

but then stranger things happened and nothing was really ‘small’ or intimate anymore, everyone knew him.

excluding all the social media notifications that would blow up joes phone during dinner together, the first time you actually realized things were changing was after one of his shows.

for some reason, joe had especially wanted you to come to this one, saying something about how, “this venues the biggest one we’ve been invited to.”

so you called off work and showed up — that’s just what you did for each other.

the venue was tiny meaning people were packed shoulder-to-shoulder and incredibly sweaty, mumbling lyrics they thought they knew while colored lights flashed across his face. you stood near the side of the stage watching him perform, smiling every time his eyes found yours in the crowd because somehow, they always did.

and later, after the show ended, you were waiting near the side exit while joe packed up backstage, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone while muffled voices echoed through the hallway.

you looked up at the sound of feet shuffling thinking it was joe, but instead you saw a girl around your age stood frozen a few feet away staring toward the backstage door with wide eyes and both hands covering her mouth.

“holy shit,” she whispered to her friend. “that’s literally steve harrington.”

you brows lifted immediately and you couldn’t help but immediately put your phone away to listen in more.

before you could even shuffle closer, joe walked out carrying his guitar case over one shoulder, still flushed from performing.

the second the girl made eye contact with him, she looked seconds away from exploding.

“i’m so sorry,” she blurted out instantly. “i just, oh my god, i loved you in stranger things.”

joe immediately froze and stopped walking, knowing him, his heart was probably doing a marathon.

his eyes widened almost comically. “wait, really?”

at the time, the expression on his face had you cheesing bad. every time he was in pure disbelief, his big eyes widened and became even more cuter.

the girl nodded rapidly. “yeah! me and my friends watched it together and we literally freaked out when we saw you were playing here.”

joe blinked once like his brain genuinely couldn’t process the sentence.

“that’s really cool,” he said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck with this shy little smile that immediately made your chest ache. “seriously, thank you.”

you could see it happening in real time. the realization settling over him slowly that people knew him.

not just from local shows or auditions or just because he was “that guitarist from that one band.”

they knew him.

the girl asked nervously if she could take a picture with him and joe looked genuinely honored by the request.

“yeah,” he answered immediately. “of course.”

he nearly dropped his guitar trying to set it down fast enough.

you had to bite back a laugh while watching him smooth down his big and messy hair quickly beforehand like he suddenly remembered he existed physically.

afterward, once the girl finally left practically glowing from excitement, joe just stood there staring after her for a second before he turned toward you.

at the time, you genuinely thought he was going to start crying.

“did that just happen?” he asked quietly.

you smiled so hard your face hurt. “mhm.”

“she knew who i was.”

there was something so vulnerable about the way he said it like he was shocked that he was out there and people actually liked him.

your chest tightened immediately.

“baby,” you laughed softly, raising your hand to settle it on top of his own.

joe looked at you with this overwhelmed expression before suddenly grabbing your face with both hands.

“she knew me.”

“i gathered that, yeah.”

“holy shit.” then he kissed you hard, his sweaty hands planted onto your face and eyes squeezed shut because he was trying not to cry … seriously.

for a while after that, everything felt good. like life had finally cracked open for him the way he always dreamed about.

joe started getting booked for bigger, more serious auditions. he’d walk around the apartment trying to act casual even though you both knew he was probably freaking out with butterfliesbswarming his insides.

and joe was a stress cleaner, so during this time especially, the house was spotless.

sometimes you’d walk into the kitchen at midnight and find him aggressively wiping down counters that were already clean while muttering lines under his breath.

“you’re doing the thing again,” you’d yawn one night, shuffling into the kitchen wearing one of his old shirts.

joe looked up immediately. “what thing?”

“stress cleaning.”

“i’m not stress cleaning.”

you stared pointedly at the spotless counter in front of him.

“…okay maybe a little.”

you laughed softly, walking over until your arms slid around his waist from behind. instantly, his shoulders relaxed.

“you’re gonna do good tomorrow,” you murmured against his back.

joe sighed dramatically. “what if i bomb so hard they blacklist me from hollywood forever?”

“baby, it’s an audition for a toothpaste commercial.”

“exactly.” he turned in your arms suddenly, grabbing your face with both hands. “oral hygiene is important.”

you couldn’t help but let out a snort before laughing regularly after.

you didn’t realize it, never did, but every time you laughed, joe would look at you with this stupidly soft expression, like your laughter alone could keep him alive.

“there she is,” he’d mumble quietly whenever you laughed really hard. “pretty girl.”

moments like these back then are what made you so adamant on the belief that nothing could ever get between the two of you.

even as stranger things started pulling joe further into the spotlight, even as his music started gaining more traction and interviews slowly became a regular part of his life instead of a rare exciting occurrence, he still came home to you the exact same way he always had.

stumbling into your guys’ apartment after long days looking completely exhausted with messy hair and sleepy eyes, tossing his bag onto the floor before immediately searching for you.

sometimes you’d barely get a “hi” before he was collapsing onto the couch beside you, wrapping himself around your body dramatically while groaning into your shoulder.

“missed you,” he’d mumble, warms lips pressing into your freshly lotioned skin.

you’d laugh softly every single time because he always sounded so serious about it.

“you know you saw me this morning.”

“that was years ago.”

“joe, it was eight hours.”

“exactly,” he’d sigh. “horrible. traumatic experience.”

maybe that’s also why the loneliness has been hitting you hard recently.

joe still loves you the same way he did back then.

nothing about him has actually changed at his core. he’s still affectionate to the point of ridiculousness, still reaches for your hand absentmindedly whenever he’s near you, still looks for you first in crowded rooms like it’s instinct instead of thought.

even now, after exhausting press days and flights and interviews and recording sessions that leave him barely functioning, he still comes home and immediately folds himself into you like his body only fully relaxes once he’s touching you again.

but lately, every time he “comes home”, it barely lasts long enough to make it actually feel real. he just feels like a guest now.

as stranger things keeps getting bigger and joe starts building more for himself outside of it with his music, his life starts moving at a speed neither of you really know how to keep up with.

you try so hard to be the “supporting and understanding” girlfriend. you tell yourself this is temporary. that this is what happens when someone’s dreams are finally coming true. you remind yourself that years ago the two of you used to lay awake in your tiny apartment talking about this exact future, joe rambling excitedly about wanting to act more seriously, wanting to make music people actually cared about, wanting to create something meaningful enough to leave behind.

and now he’s actually doing it, so why does it hurt you so much?

the distance never even feels dramatic enough to actually justify your sadness. it’s more of the little things that come with it.

the little absences or moments where you reach for him in bed before realizing he’s off sleeping in a hotel somewhere.

you start noticing how often you eat dinner alone now. how many nights end with you curled up in bed staring at the ceiling while his side stays cold for another week. how conversations slowly start revolving around his schedule instead of your silly little conversations.

you remember all the same apologies:

“i land thursday.”

“i leave again monday.”

“studio ran late.”

“baby, i’m sorry, i completely lost track of time.”

every time you think about cutting off the supportive girlfriend act, you remind yourself that none of this is even on purpose.

you can hear it in his voice during late night facetime calls when he’s sitting in some hotel room halfway across the world, curls damp from a rushed shower while exhaustion hangs visibly beneath his eyes.

“talk to me,” he murmurs one night, laying back against stiff white pillows while the dim hotel lamp casts shadows across his face.

you smile softly. “about what?”

“anything.” his eyes stay fixed on you through the screen. “just miss hearing your voice.”

your chest aches so bad every time that you have to take a breather for a second.

you miss him too, constantly.

you miss him while grocery shopping because you pass snacks he likes and instinctively reach for them before remembering he won’t even be home to eat them on time.

you miss him when you wake up from a bad dream in the middle of the night and your hand lands on cold sheets instead of his chest.

you miss him during stupid insignificant moments that shouldn’t matter as much as they do.

sometimes the missing starts turning into resentment before you can stop it.

not towards him though, but more towards the situation itself — that random strangers get to see your husband (a/n: see how i incorporated that ayooo 👀) more than you do.

every time the feeling appears, you feel a rush of guilt afterwards because you are so unbelievably proud of him and how far he’s come.

you still remember the first time someone recognized him after a show and the way his entire face lit up afterward like he couldn’t fully believe people cared.

you remember how hard he worked for this and how badly he wanted it.

so every time loneliness creeps into your chest, guilt follows right behind it.

which means you stop thinking about it entirely. what are you even supposed to say? “hey, i know your career is finally taking off and your dreams are coming true, but i’m starting to feel lonely enough to cry over your side of the bed smelling like you?”

it was just pathetic.

so instead, you adapt.

you start pretending facetime is enough intimacy to survive on.

you start memorizing time zones.

you start measuring relationships through flight schedules and countdowns and “only two more weeks” instead of actual time spent together.

the scary part is how normal it starts feeling.

until one night you’re sitting alone in your apartment at nearly three in the morning waiting for a phone call that was supposed to happen hours ago.

until one day you look around and realize you’ve been missing someone who’s technically still yours the entire time.

today, joe’s coming home.

and that thought alone has you up before the world even remembers how to breathe, staring at the ceiling while pale morning light leaks through the curtains in thin, trembling stripes across the bed—his side still untouched, still perfectly made the way it’s been for three months, like the mattress itself has been holding its breath.

your alarm goes off and you kill it instantly, sitting up slow, rubbing at your face like you can physically erase the anticipation buzzing under your skin. the apartment is too quiet in that way that makes your ears ring, and you hate how normal that silence has become.

all you can think about right now is how joe’s finally coming home.

it’s been three months. ninety-something days of facetime calls freezing mid-laugh, of falling asleep to the noise outside because silence got too loud, of reaching across cold sheets half-asleep and remembering, over and over, that no one is there. you stopped cooking proper meals somewhere along the way because it felt absurd feeding just yourself when your brain still expected two forks, you started sleeping on his side of the bed because his pillow still faintly remembered him if you pressed close enough, like memory had a scent.

you spend the morning finding something to do with your hands. cleaning the kitchen twice, changing the sheets, scrubbing down every surface in the already clean bathroom — the house is spotless but you keep going and going, not knowing what else to do.

by two-thirty, you’re outside the airport, fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against the steering wheel while people spill in and out in waves.

after a while of waiting with your cheek pressed against the rim of the steering wheel, you see him.

he’s there walking out the airport, messy curls shoved under a beanie, jacket slipping off one shoulder from the weight of his bag, post airplane exhaustion carved into his face. his eyes scan the crowd of cars and the second they land on you sitting in the car, his chest moves out like he’s exhaling a deep breath.

“pretty girl,” he breathes.

you’re out of the car before your brain can stop you and remind you you’re in public, crashing into him hard enough that he stumbles back a step before catching you instantly, arms locking around your waist like muscle memory, lifting you slightly like he can’t believe you’re actually here.

“you smell like sweat,” you mumble into his neck, voice already shaking.

he laughs into your hair, tired and warm and alive. “i missed you too, baby.”

and it hits you then, sharp and clean in your chest, that he is real, that this is not a screen or a frozen voice or a delayed signal, but warmth and rings pressing against your back like proof.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes softer than anything you’ve known in months. “hi.”

your throat tightens. “hi.”

then he’s pulling you in again like letting go before burned him. “missed you so bad,” he whispers, and you almost laugh because you want to make a funny comment that you talked six hours ago, but you were too focused on relishing in his touch.

-

the first week feels okay, normal even.

joe still leaves his hoodie on chairs without thinking, still eats off your plate without asking, still falls asleep on the couch and wakes up reaching for you immediately like it’s instinct.

you laugh and breathe easier than you used to when he was gone, and for a little while it worked. everything felt kinda like how it used to.

well, until the small changes you’d grown accustomed to started popping up.

it’s around three in the morning when joe wakes up to movement beside him, sleep still heavy in his bones, only to find you already halfway out of bed.

“baby?” his voice is rough, confused.

you pause at the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyes barely open. “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“where’re you going?”

“couch.” you reply simply, as if this was not something you’d only do if you two were in a bad fight.

joe’s chest tightens immediately. “what?”

you blink at him slowly. “i had a nightmare. didn’t wanna wake you.”

there’s a silence that feels too long, too sharp. like he’s waiting for the rest of you to show up in the sentence. it doesn’t.

so he sits up fully, pushing the blanket off. “c’mere.”

“joe, it’s okay-”

“baby.” he says softer now, but not asking anymore.

you hesitate, then climb back in, and the second you’re near him he pulls you into his chest like he’s afraid you’ll disappear mid-breath, one hand in your hair, the other dragging slow circles down your back.

“you can wake me up,” he murmurs.

you nod against him, already drifting. “i know.”

but he stays awake long after, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what could’ve brought this up.

-

another night, rain is tapping softly against glass while joe sits on the couch with his guitar half-forgotten in his lap when he hears you in the kitchen.

he looks over to see you’re making tea, wrapped up in one of his hoodies.

he watches without saying anything at first, mostly because he’s missed this view, just following the rhythm of you — kettle, mug, spoon, honey, steam rising like a thought you don’t notice you’re having.

then he sees it. there’s only one mug, not two.

his fingers stop on the strings. this probably doesn’t seem like an anomaly to an outsider, but it is to joe. you guys always have tea together, he doesn’t even think there’s been a single time you haven’t. before the big gaps of distance, there were always two.

“baby?” he says softly.

you glance over. “hm?”

“you didn’t make mine.”

you look down like you’re surprised there’s only one in your hands. “oh. i didn’t know if you wanted any.”

and something in him just…sinks, a heavy realization settling into his bones.

he sets the guitar down carefully. “c’mere.”

you come over slowly, sitting beside him. he takes your hand immediately, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he’s trying to memorize what’s changed.

“what?” you laugh nervously.

he doesn’t answer right away. just studies you like he’s reading a version of you he doesn’t recognize but desperately wants to understand.

he takes a shaky breath in then carefully asks, “did something happen while i was gone?”

your smile falters. “what do you mean?”

“you just seem…different.”

“i’m not.” you defend, a bit too fast.

“baby, you’ve been sleeping on my side of the bed,” he says quietly.

your eyes flick up.

“you don’t wake me up anymore when you have bad dreams. you just leave.” his voice cracks a little. “you apologized for being in the kitchen yesterday.”

you go still because you don’t remember that at all, even the part where you sleep on his side of the bed.

your eyes flick up immediately. “i don’t remember that.”

that’s the moment his expression shifts slightly because that’s not something you should be forgetting.

“you seem different,” he says more quietly now.

you force a small breath out. “i’m fine.”

he shakes his head once. “no, you’re not really answering me.”

you look away. “i just got used to being alone.”

the admission slips out before you can stop it and the second it does, joe goes completely still.

“what do you mean you got used to being alone?” he asks, softer now, but there’s tension underneath it.

you swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady, trying not to let anything show. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then explain it,” he says gently.

you try. you really do. but it comes out uneven, messy, like your brain can’t organize it fast enough. “it just… felt like i was by myself most of the time and i didn’t want to keep telling you that when you were working and you sounded happy and i didn’t want to make you feel bad for something you‘be worked years for”

your voice starts to crack at the end of it, and you immediately try to push it down, inhale sharper, blink faster, like you can force it back into place.

joe’s face drops completely. “baby…”

you shake your head quickly, already trying to stop it before it fully happens. “i didn’t mean- i didn’t want to make it weird, i just-”

you’re trying to keep your voice steady, but your voice breaks anyway.

your eyes immediately glass over and you look down like that will fix it, jaw tightening like you’re physically holding yourself together, shoulders stiff like if you move wrong you’ll fall apart completely.

joe is already moving.

“hey,” he says immediately, voice low and urgent but careful, like he’s approaching something fragile. “hey, look at me.”

you try to answer but it comes out uneven. “i’m fine, i’m fine, i just-”

another crack in your form, but now it’s worse because you’re actively trying not to cry, which makes your breathing worse, which makes everything worse.

joe gently reaches for your face, both hands cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look at him but not in a harsh way—just steady.

“you don’t have to hold it in right now, baby,” he says quietly.

your breath shakes and you turn your face slightly like you’re trying to hide it but it’s already happening, tears spilling over despite how hard you’re trying not to let them.

“i didn’t want to make it your problem,” you say, voice cracking completely now.

joe shakes his head immediately. “no. don’t do that.”

you try to speak again but it falls apart halfway through and he pulls you in before you can finish it, arms tight around you, one hand at the back of your head, the other pressing you into his chest like he’s trying to make sure there’s no space left for you to pull away.

you break fully against him now, quiet sobs that you clearly tried to hold back for too long, shoulders shaking as you finally let yourself lean into him completely.

joe doesn’t move away even a little.

“i’ve got you,” he keeps saying under his breath, over and over, like he’s trying to overwrite every second you were alone. “i’ve got you, i’ve got you.”

you clutch his shirt like you’re afraid you’ll slip back into that version of being alone if you let go.

he holds you tighter. “i’m sorry,” he says quietly into your hair.

you shake your head against him. “don’t be.”

“i should’ve seen it,” he says, voice rough now, less steady. “i should’ve noticed sooner.”

you try to pull back slightly but he keeps you close, just enough space to see your face, and he wipes your tears with his thumbs like it’s the only thing he can focus on.

“you don’t have to disappear when i’m gone,” he says softly, firm but not angry. “you don’t have to shrink yourself into something smaller just because i’m busy.”

you breathe unevenly, still trying to stop crying even though it’s already happening.

“i didn’t want to ruin your work,” you whisper.

joe shakes his head immediately. “listen to me.” he pauses, forehead almost touching yours again. “you’re not something i fit into my life. you’re part of it. you’re the part i come back to. you’re the point.”

you stare at him, still shaking slightly, still trying to steady yourself.

he presses a slow kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, then one to your cheek, lingering each time like he’s making sure you feel it instead of just hearing it.