okayyyy picture this; post breakup joe keery x reader fanfic after reader broke up with joe because she faced backlash from his weirdo fans after they went public. it can be hurt/comfort, angst, make up fic, WHATEVER, just the concept is burned in my skull for so long I need to read it
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!
Summary: After relentless online hate destroys their relationship, you and Joe reunite months later and realize you never stopped loving each other.
Warnings: Online harassment, anxiety, emotional distress, breakup/reconciliation, toxic fan culture.
You know it’s bad when your therapist says the phrase “internet-induced hypervigilance” with genuine concern. You sit curled into the corner of the couch, sleeves pulled over your hands, while she explains that what happened to you after going public with Joe was, in fact, traumatic.
Not dramatic, not “part of dating a celebrity.”
You nod like that information belongs to somebody else, because people only really sympathize with public scrutiny when it happens to celebrities themselves. The regular person beside them is apparently collateral damage. Background object. Acceptable casualty.
You learned that quickly.
The first paparazzi photos of you and Joe had dropped eight months ago. Eight months since he’d grabbed your hand outside a tiny sushi place because he was laughing too hard at something you said to remember there were cameras nearby. Eight months since the internet decided your existence was public property.
At first it was exciting in the surreal kind of way,friends texting screenshots, your coworkers whispering, fans posting things like:
omg joe keery has a girlfriend???
wait they’re cute actually
You thought maybe it would pass, maybe people would lose interest.
Instead, interest sharpened into obsession. Your Instagram following jumped overnight, then doubled, then tripled.
People dug up your LinkedIn, your college roommate got DM’d asking if you were “nice in real life.”
A TikTok with blurry zoomed-in paparazzi shots of your body got over two million views under the caption:
joe keery’s gf is proof men only care about personality
You stopped reading comments after that.
At least you tried to, but curiosity is a form of self-harm sometimes, and eventually the cruelty escalated beyond random insults.
People figured out where you worked, someone posted photos outside your apartment building, girls online started making side-by-side edits comparing you to Joe’s exes, rating who “deserved him more.”
You laughed about it the first few times. Then you cried in the bathroom at work, then you stopped sleeping properly.
Joe noticed before you said anything.
You’re sitting cross-legged on his couch pretending to watch a movie while actually rereading a Reddit thread about yourself for the fifteenth time.
Joe appears in front of the TV suddenly, blocking the screen.
“Hey,” you protest weakly.
“You’ve been staring at your phone for an hour.”
You sigh dramatically. “That term is so ugly.”
“Appropriate though.” He said reaching for your phone, you yank it away instantly. Too instantly.
Joe pauses and the playful expression fades “What are you reading?”
You hate when he does that little hum. That I know you’re lying but I’m trying not to push hum.
He sits beside you slowly “Can I see?”
No argument, no pressure and this was somehow worse.
You stare at the paused TV screen.
“You ever wonder,” you say quietly, “if people are embarrassed for you?”
You instantly regret speaking “Forget it.”
But he’s already focused now, brows pulling together. “No, what do you mean?”
Your chest tightens, you shouldn’t tell him, you know how this ends. You know very well:
Joe getting angry on your behalf. Joe blaming himself. Joe apologizing for strangers like he personally handpicked every psychotic fan on the internet.
Still, the words spill out anyway “People say stuff,” you mumble. “About me. About why you’re with me.”
Joe’s face hardens immediately. “What stuff?”
“It matters if it’s hurting you.”
You laugh once, but your laugh was sharp “It’s the internet, Joe. Everybody’s mean.”
You look away, big mistake, because once he notices your eyes watering, it’s over.
Joe gently takes your phone from your loose grip before you can stop him.
Too late, his eyes scan the screen, you watch the exact moment his expression changes.
Confusion at first, then disbelief, then anger so immediate it almost looks like pain.
The thread is brutal, hundreds of comments.
Picking apart your appearance, your voice, your clothes.
Conspiracy theories about you using him for fame despite the fact that you’d literally deleted most of your social media by then.
she looks like she’d bully me in high school
he downgraded so bad i’m actually grieving
And your personal favorite:
if i looked like that i’d never post my face again
Joe stares at the screen for a long time.
“Say something,” you whisper.
Very quietly, Joe locks the phone and sets it face-down on the coffee table.
Then he looks at you, not disgusted, not embarrassed but devastated.
And that… That almost breaks you more than the comments themselves.
Because pity from Joe feels unbearable.
“I’m fine,” you say quickly.
“You are absolutely not fine.”
“It’s just stupid people online.”
You look down, your hands are trembling.
Joe moves closer carefully, like he thinks sudden movements might scare you of “How long has this been going on?”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Your voice cracks unexpectedly. “Hey Joe, your fans think I’m ugly and manipulative and they wish you were dating someone hotter?”
His face twists immediately “Don’t,” he says softly.
“Repeat that stuff like it’s true.”
You laugh again, except this one sounds dangerously close to crying.
“Hard not to internalize it after the ten-thousandth comment.”
“No, it’s not!” The words burst out harsher than intended. “Because even if I delete everything, people still know who I am now. I can’t unknow this. I can’t walk around without wondering if strangers recognize me as your girlfriend.”
Joe’s expression crumples slightly at the last two words.
He reaches for your hand slowly. “You didn’t ask for this.”neither did he. That’s the horrible part.
Joe never treated you like an accessory to his fame. Never acted like you should just “deal with it.”
If anything, he seemed genuinely shocked by how ugly people became once your relationship turned public.
“You know what somebody said to me yesterday?” you ask quietly.
Joe’s jaw tightens. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.” You stare at the floor. “I was getting coffee and this girl recognized me. She asked for a photo.”
Joe frowns slightly. “Okay…”
“She took the picture and then said…” You swallow hard. “‘You’re prettier in person. Joe’s fans make you sound busted.’”
You laugh weakly because his horror would almost be funny if it didn’t hurt so much “She meant it as a compliment.”
Joe rubs both hands over his face slowly. You can practically see the guilt setting in.
“Hey,” you say quickly. “This isn’t your fault.”
“But it’s happening because of me.”
“No, it’s happening because people are weird.”
“People are weird about me.”
You hate that he sounds genuinely ashamed of himself. Joe stares at the wall for a long moment before saying quietly: “I can make a statement.”
“I’ll tell people to back off.”
“Because they don’t see me as a real person, Joe.”
The room goes still. That one lands, you continue more softly, “To them I’m just… an obstacle. Or a projection. Or proof they can somehow lose you to somebody ordinary.”
Joe looks at you then with this awful mixture of heartbreak and helplessness.
“You’re not ordinary to me.”
And there it is, the reason this becomes impossible, because he loves you so sincerely it hurts.
The breakup happens three weeks later. Not during a fight. Not because you stopped loving him.
Honestly, that would’ve been easier. It happens on a Thursday night in Joe’s kitchen while pasta water boils untouched on the stove.
You’ve barely slept in days, somebody leaked photos of your apartment building online again.
Your mom called crying because strangers found her Facebook account.
Joe had spent the last forty-eight hours oscillating between fury and panic.
And you’re exhausted, bone-deep exhausted.
Joe is talking when you finally say it.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
He stops mid-sentence. The kitchen suddenly feels too quiet.
You stare at the counter because if you look at him, you won’t survive this.
“I can’t live like this.”
Joe’s voice softens immediately. “Okay. Then we figure something else out.”
“There isn’t another solution.”
“I’ll hire security if we need to.”
“That’s not normal, Joe!”
“I don’t care about normal!”
The words echo, joe goes silent, you press trembling hands against your eyes.
“I miss being anonymous,” you whisper. “I miss leaving my apartment without panic. I miss not feeling watched all the time.”
Joe steps closer carefully “We’ll get through it.”
You start crying instantly because he sounds so certain and you aren’t certain anymore.
“That’s the problem,” you choke out. “I don’t think I want to.”
The second the words leave your mouth, Joe looks physically hit.
Like you slapped him and you immediately regret it.
“No, that’s not what I meant….”
“It’s not about loving you.”
You open your mouth then close it again.
How do you explain that loving him became tied to fear? That every sweet moment started carrying dread underneath it? That every date night became strategic exits and baseball caps and checking over your shoulder? That strangers took something beautiful and made it feel dangerous?
Joe’s eyes are glassy now.
It isn’t accusatory. You start sobbing harder.
Joe’s expression shatters, immediately he pulls you against him on instinct.
You let him, of course you do. He holds you while you cry into his sweatshirt, one hand cradling the back of your head.
“It’s okay,” he whispers automatically, but both of you know it isn’t.
After a long time, you finally force yourself to pull away, joe looks wrecked.
“You deserve somebody who can handle this better,” you whisper.
His face crumples instantly “I don’t want somebody else.”
You nearly cave right there, nearly take it all back but then your phone buzzes on the counter.
Another notification, another stranger, another reminder.
You stare at it numbly, Joe follows your gaze.
Something in him breaks a little, because now he understands.
It’s not him you’re running from, it’s what loving him has done to your life and maybe that hurts even more.
“Please don’t do this,” he says quietly.
You’ll hear that sentence in your nightmares later.
Joe wipes at his face angrily “You’re really gonna walk out because of people who don’t even know us?”
“No,” you whisper. “I’m walking out because I don’t know myself anymore.”
That silences him, and when you finally leave his apartment that night, Joe doesn’t chase after you.
Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he loves you enough to let you go anyway.
Three months after the breakup, you become excellent at pretending. You pretend you don’t still sleep on the far left side of the bed because Joe always stole the right. You pretend hearing his songs in grocery stores doesn’t make your stomach drop. You pretend you don’t still instinctively reach for your phone every time something funny happens because for almost two years Joe was the first person you told everything to.
Mostly, though, you pretend you were the one who wanted this and That’s the hardest lie.
Because the breakup starts to calcify online almost immediately, fans celebrate, not openly at first, they disguise it as concern
they just weren’t compatible
honestly he seems happier now
she never fit his vibe anyway
But eventually people stop pretending.
Edits of Joe flood TikTok again with captions like:
we survived the war ladies
One tweet with over eighty thousand likes reads: joe keery beating the loser girlfriend allegations we all cheered
You stare at it in bed at two in the morning until your vision blurs, then you finally do something your therapist has been begging you to do for weeks. You delete every social media app.
Every single one, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, Reddit. They are all gone.
The silence afterward feels unnatural. For the first week, your fingers twitch toward apps that aren’t there anymore.
You keep wondering what people are saying. Whether Joe’s been photographed with someone new, whether fans are still celebrating your disappearance.
Then slowly quietly and in the absence of constant noise, something terrifying happens.
You start missing him clearly again, not through panic, not through stress.
You miss the real things: joe singing absentmindedly while cooking, Joe’s stupid impressions, Joe tugging your legs into his lap during movie nights without even thinking about it, Joe kissing your forehead every single time he passed you in the apartment like affection was reflexive for him.
You miss being loved by someone gentle and unfortunately, therapy can’t fix that part.
“You should date,” your friend tells you over wine one night.
You stare at her like she suggested arson “No.”
“I’d rather actually die.”
She snorts. “You’re being dramatic.”
“You broke up with him months ago.”
“Against my will emotionally.”
“That’s not how breakups work.”
You sink lower into the couch. “I genuinely think Joe Keery ruined men for me.”
Your friend points her wine glass at you. “That’s the first sane thing you’ve said all night.”
You laugh despite yourself, then immediately get quiet again. Her expression softens “You still love him.”
You stare down at your drink “Yeah.” You said looking down, a knot forming into your throat
“Then why are you acting like this breakup is irreversible?”
“You left because you were drowning.”
She sighs. “Okay. Maybe. But do you know what I think?”
“I think if that man loved you enough to fight the internet for you, he probably still loves you now.”
Your throat tightens with more intensity and you look away before she notices.
Joe, meanwhile, becomes impossible to avoid accidentally not in person, online, or technically offline now, since your friends keep involuntarily updating you.
“You know he mentioned you again in an interview?”
“Nope,” you say immediately. “Don’t tell me.”
“He said, and I quote ‘Some things are too important to turn into performance.’”
You close your eyes “Oh my God.”
She looks deeply amused. “Like what?”
“Like a divorced poet from 1972.”
The worst part is that Joe never publicly moves on, no mysterious girlfriends, no rebound headlines. Nothing, which should not matter. And yet one night, unable to sleep, you make the catastrophic decision to google him for the first time in weeks.
Big mistake. You find paparazzi photos from two days ago.
Joe leaving a studio in a hoodie and sunglasses looking exhausted. The comments underneath are suddenly different now. People saying he looks sad, saying they miss how happy he looked last year.
lowkey think we bullied that girl out of his life
You stare at the sentence for a very long time. Then close the laptop before you can spiral.
Too late though because now your chest hurts again.
The first time you see Joe after the breakup is worse than you imagined because this time he’s tipsy.
You’re at a mutual friend’s birthday party in Silver Lake, something you almost didn’t attend specifically because you knew there was a chance he’d be there but your friend convinced you.
“You cannot reorganize your entire life around avoiding your ex forever.”
Turns out maybe you can, because the second you walk into the backyard and spot Joe leaning against the railing with a beer bottle in hand, your soul nearly exits your body.
He notices you immediately. For a moment neither of you moves.
Then his expression changes into something small and startled and painfully warm all at once, like seeing you still catches him off guard.
Joe sets his drink down immediately, you notice he’s wearing the sweater you bought him last Christmas. Which feels illegal somehow.
“You came,” he says before seeming to realize how that sounds. “I mean…not that you wouldn’t—I just…”
You smile despite yourself. He exhales a little like the sight of that smile physically relieves him.
“How’ve you been?” he asks.
“You already asked me that at the grocery store.”
“Right.” He laughs softly. “Still bad at this.”
There’s music playing somewhere inside the house. People talking. Glasses clinking, but suddenly all of it feels distant. Because Joe is looking at you in that terrible attentive way again, like the entire room rearranges itself around your existence.
“You look good,” he says quietly.
Your stomach flips traitorously“So do you.”
Joe laughs again, more genuine this time.
God, you missed that sound. You missed him. You missed him so much it became background radiation in your life.
Before you can stop yourself, your eyes flick toward the beer in his hand.
Joe notices instantly “I’m not spiraling, by the way.”
You shrug weakly. “You look tired.”
His expression shifts he became more serious now
Something in your chest twists painfully, because once upon a time, exhaustion in Joe was something you knew how to fix.
You knew how he liked his coffee, how he needed quiet after long shoots, how he got overstimulated at crowded events and squeezed your hand twice when he wanted to leave.
Now you stand three feet away from him feeling useless.
“I heard you deleted social media,” he says after a moment.
Your eyebrows lift. “Who told you that?”
The simplicity of it hurts, he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I actually almost texted you when I realized.”
His eyes meet yours “Didn’t think I was allowed to miss you out loud anymore.”
Your breath catches embarrassingly fast.
“I’m serious.” He gives this small helpless laugh. “I keep trying to do the respectful ex-boyfriend thing and then I see you and suddenly I’m seventeen emotionally.”
You look down quickly because your eyes are burning already “I didn’t stop loving you,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.
When you finally look up again, Joe is staring at you like the earth just tilted off its axis “You didn’t?”
The vulnerability in his voice nearly kills you.
“No.” Your throat aches. “I just couldn’t survive what everything became.”
Joe’s jaw tightens slightly “I know.”
“No, I mean it literally.” Your voice shakes now. “I was anxious all the time. I stopped eating properly. I stopped going places alone. Every notification made me panic.”
Joe looks physically sick hearing it said out loud “You should’ve told me how bad it got.”
“I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
You laugh weakly through the tears threatening your composure “Yeah, I figured.”
Joe takes a small step closer, not enough to touch, but enough that you can smell his cologne again.
Immediately your stupid heart reacts.
“I hated myself after you left,” he admits quietly.
“Not because you left. Because I kept thinking…” He swallows hard. “What kind of life was I giving you if loving me made you afraid all the time?”
The ache in your chest becomes almost unbearable “You gave me good things too.”
Joe looks at you then, really looks at you “And were they worth it?”
You open your mouth to speak, but then you close it again, because that’s the horrible impossible question, isn’t it? Was loving Joe worth losing pieces of yourself?
And somehow your answer is still immediate.
Joe inhales sharply, you continue before you lose courage “I think I’d do it all again just to know you.”
That wrecks him, you see it happen in real time.
Joe looks away abruptly, rubbing a hand over his face.
When he speaks again, his voice is rough “You can’t say shit like that to me.”
“Because I’ve spent months trying to convince myself letting you go was the right thing.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
Joe laughs once, it is a small and broken laugh “Now you’re standing here looking at me like that and I feel completely fucked.”
You stare at each other. The air changes. You feel it happens. That terrifying magnetic pull that never actually disappeared.
Joe notices too, you can tell by the way his breathing shifts slightly.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.
Your heartbeat stumbles “What?”
“The way I’m looking at you right now.” His eyes flick briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
You should. You absolutely should.
Instead you whisper “I don’t think I want you to.”
Joe’s composure breaks instantly, he crosses the distance between you so fast it almost startles you. Then stops himself at the last second.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.
And that almost undoes you completely. Because even now, after heartbreak and months apart and all the ways this relationship became painful Joe still asks.
You nod before your brain catches up with you. Joe exhales shakily like he’s been holding his breath for months.
Then he kisses you, and it is not cinematic, there are no fireworks.
It’s familiar. The exact softness of his mouth, the way his hand instinctively slides to your waist like muscle memory never left him, the tiny sound he makes when you kiss him back harder.
Your entire body recognizes him immediately, and suddenly three months apart feels both impossibly long and not long at all. Joe kisses you like he’s trying not to overwhelm you, like he still isn’t fully convinced you’re real.
Then you grab the front of his sweater and something in him snaps, his other hand cradles your jaw, the kiss deepens.
You missed this. Missed him. Missed the way Joe always kisses like he means it.
When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathing unevenly. Joe rests his forehead against yours.
“Well,” he murmurs breathlessly. “That seems emotionally catastrophic.”
You burst out laughing, actually laughing, and Joe immediately smiles at the sound like sunlight just hit him directly in the face.
“There’s that laugh,” he says quietly.
Your chest aches because he sounds like he missed it desperately.
“You’re such an idiot,” you whisper.
But he says it fondly, like maybe being an idiot got him this moment back.
Music drifts faintly from inside the house. Someone shouts over a drinking game. The whole world continues around you while Joe keeps looking at you like he’s terrified to blink and lose you again.
Then reality creeps back in. Cold and sharp.
Your smile fades first, he notices instantly and his hands loosen slightly on you “What?”
You swallow. “This doesn’t fix anything.”
Pain flickers across his face, but he nods immediately. “I know.”
Your voice shakes now. “We can’t just kiss and pretend the last year didn’t happen.”
The words land hard Joe goes still and suddenly you hate yourself for bringing it up because the softness in his expression gets replaced with that familiar guilt again.
“I know,” he says quietly.
You step back then, arms wrapping around yourself instinctively “I don’t think I can survive going through all that another time.”
Joe watches you carefully.
“You know what the worst part was?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
His face tightens slightly. “What?”
“I started resenting being seen with you.”
The confession hangs there ugly and awful. You rush to continue.
“Not because of you. Never because of you. But because every nice thing became…” You laugh shakily. “A risk assessment.”
You continue softly, “Dinner dates became wondering if someone would photograph us. Vacations became checking whether hotel staff leaked information. Going outside became trying to figure out if strangers recognized me.”
Joe rubs a hand over his mouth, you can practically see his heart breaking all over again.
“I’d catch myself getting anxious every time you reached for my hand in public,” you whisper. “And I hated myself for that.”
Joe’s voice comes rough. “Hey.”
“That is not your fault.”
“You say that like it changes how ashamed I feel.”
Joe steps closer again carefully “Look at me.”
“I never once thought you were weak for leaving,” he says quietly. “I thought you were overwhelmed. There’s a difference.”
Your throat tightens painfully.
“Of course I was angry.” He laughs once without humor. “I was losing the person I loved most.”
Present tense disguised as past tense.
You notice, apparently Joe notices you noticing because he sighs softly and looks away for a second.
His eyes flick back to yours carefully “You know what really killed me after the breakup?” he asks.
“That everybody acted like they won.”
Your breath catches, Joe’s jaw tightens slightly now, months of swallowed bitterness finally surfacing around the edges.
“People were congratulating me,” he says quietly. “Like I escaped something.”
“I’d go online and see strangers celebrating losing you like it was some kind of team sport.” He laughs once, hollow. “And all I could think was, congratulations, I guess. You bullied somebody I loved until she couldn’t do it anymore.”
The tears come instantly after that.
“No, seriously.” His eyes shine under the backyard lights. “Do you know how insane it felt? Watching people who never met you decide they knew what was best for me?”
You wipe angrily at your face. “I didn’t want you fighting with your fans because of me.”
“They weren’t fans in those moments.” His voice sharpens unexpectedly. “People who enjoy hurting you aren’t loving me. That’s not the same thing.”
The certainty in his tone hits somewhere deep inside you.
For months you’d carried this quiet humiliation around like maybe the cruelty had been inevitable. Maybe this was simply the price of loving someone famous, but hearing Joe reject it so plainly cracks something open in your chest.
He notices your expression immediately and softens.
“I’m sorry,” he says more quietly. “I just… i spent so long being careful about what I said publicly because I didn’t want to make things worse for you.” He swallows. “But I hated watching you disappear.”
Your throat tightens painfully.
Joe gives you a look “You deleted yourself from the internet,” he says gently. “You stopped going places. Half our friends said you barely answered texts for a while.” His eyes search yours carefully. “You looked scared all the time near the end.”
The shame returns hot and immediate.
Joe shakes his head instantly. “Hey. I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty.”
“I just hate that it changed me.”
His expression softens into something unbearably tender.
“Of course it changed you.”
The music from inside swells briefly when somebody opens the back door. Laughter spills into the yard before fading again.
“I really thought I was doing the right thing,” you whisper after a moment.
Joe closes his eyes briefly like that sentence physically hurts.
“I loved you enough to leave.”
His face crumples slightly at that.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “And I loved you enough to let you.”
Silence settles between you again, heavy and intimate. Then Joe looks down at the ground and says, almost to himself, “Still think that might’ve been the worst decision of my life.”
“No, I mean it.” He laughs softly without amusement. “I kept trying to convince myself that if I really cared about you, I should stay away. Give you your peace back.” His eyes lift to yours again. “But every day without you felt wrong.”
You can barely breathe suddenly.
“I’d reach for my phone constantly,” he continues. “Every stupid thing reminded me of you.” A tiny smile flickers. “Saw a woman drop an entire iced coffee in a parking lot last month and my first thought was I need to tell…”
He cut himself off abruptly, your lips part despite yourself.
Joe shakes his head once, embarrassed. “See? It’s still automatic.”
Emotion climbs your throat so fast it almost hurts.
“For me too,” you admit quietly.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers.
The vulnerability in that tiny reaction nearly undoes you, you look away first because suddenly the eye contact feels too intimate, too revealing after months spent trying to cauterize this wound shut.
“I don’t know what happens now,” you admit.
You laugh weakly through lingering tears. “Great. Awesome. Love that for us.”
Joe smiles immediately, helplessly, like your sense of humor still catches him off guard in the best way.
“There you are again,” he murmurs.
Your stomach flips “What?”
“That version of you.” He gestures vaguely. “The one who says weird little shit when she’s emotional.”
You groan softly. “Please never describe me like that again.”
God. There he is. Not the version of Joe the internet built in your head over the last few months. Not headlines or edits or paparazzi photos.
Just him, warm, earnest, slightly awkward when he cares too much.
The man you loved before strangers got involved.
The realization hits hard enough to make your chest ache. Joe notices you getting quiet again “What’s happening in your head right now?” he asks softly.
“I think I’m realizing the internet made me forget you’re a person too.”
His eyebrows lift slightly.
“Not permanently. I just… everything got so loud. Everybody had opinions about us all the time. About me. About whether I deserved you.” Your voice shakes faintly. “And eventually I started seeing you through all that noise instead of as just… Joe.”
Something vulnerable flickers across his face.
“That happened to me too sometimes,” he admits quietly.
Joe leans back against the railing slightly, looking almost ashamed.
“There were days near the end where I’d see paparazzi outside and immediately panic about how stressed you were gonna be.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “And then I’d start feeling guilty before we even went anywhere.”
“I hated that,” he says softly. “Hated feeling like being with me was hurting you in real time.”
“You weren’t hurting me.”
Neither of you argues after that because it’s true.
Joe exhales slowly “I think we stopped getting to just be together,” he says. “Everything became defensive.”
You nod immediately because yes. Exactly that.
Every outing calculated. Every post scrutinized. Every public moment filtered through the awareness that strangers were watching, judging, documenting.
“You know what I miss most?” Joe asks suddenly.
“You holding my hand first.”
The answer catches you off guard “What?”
He smiles faintly, sad around the edges “You stopped doing it near the end.”
Your stomach drops because he’s right, not consciously at first. But eventually you’d started waiting for him to initiate affection in public because you became afraid of what attention it might attract.
“I didn’t even realize,” you whisper.
There’s no accusation in it. Somehow that makes it worse.
Joe studies your face carefully for a long moment.
“Come here,” he says softly.
You hesitate only a second before stepping back into his space.
His arms wrap around you instantly, instinctively, like they remember exactly where you fit.
The second he pulls you against his chest, your entire nervous system betrays you.
Relief floods through you so fast it’s almost dizzying.
Joe exhales shakily too, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
Your eyes burn immediately. You forgot how safe he felt.
You clutch the fabric of his sweater tighter.
“I’m scared,” you admit into his chest.
“What if it just happens again?”
Joe is quiet for a long moment.
Then he says carefully, “Then maybe we do it differently.”
You pull back enough to look at him. “Differently how?”
“I don’t know yet.” His thumb brushes beneath your eye gently, wiping away lingering tears. “More boundaries. Less access. More private.” A small humorless smile. “Maybe I stop pretending I owe strangers unlimited pieces of my life.”
Joe shrugs slightly. “I should’ve protected you better.”
“You couldn’t control people.”
“No. But I could’ve stopped acting like enduring it silently was the mature option.”
Something about the conviction in his voice makes your heartbeat shift.
“Yeah.” He looks at you steadily. “Losing you clarified some priorities for me.”
Emotion swells painfully in your chest again.
Inside the house, someone starts loudly singing along to a song off-key. A burst of laughter follows.
Neither of you even glances toward the noise.
Joe’s entire focus stays on you “I don’t need us to decide everything tonight,” he says softly. “I just…” He exhales shakily. “Can you at least admit this still exists?”
You look at him, at the tiredness under his eyes, at the hope he’s trying very hard not to let become expectation, at the man who loved you enough to let you leave even when it destroyed him, and maybe your therapist would say this is reckless. Maybe your friends would call it emotionally dangerous.
But the truth arrives clean and undeniable anyway.
“It never stopped existing,” you whisper.
Joe closes his eyes briefly like the sentence physically hits him.
When he opens them again, they’re suspiciously bright.
“Okay,” he says quietly careful with it.
Like your love is something breakable he’s being trusted to hold again.
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areudirty
gummygunk
2087
