Summary: Joel doesn't die after the brutal encounter with abby because you saved him on time.
wc: 4k>
warnings: angst,mentions of blood, mentions of murder (reader becomes violent), fluff, mentions of broken bones. english is not my first language so excuse my mistakes. Written in a rush.
a/n: so uhmm. How are we feeling? I personally feel broken by the events from episode 2 so I rewrite the story while i was free in the morning to help me cope with the grief and joel is alive.
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Something felt wrong in your bones the moment the snowstorm hit harder than expected.
Not just the kind of wrong that came with whiteout conditions and freezing wind — this was deeper. Ancient. It whispered through the trees like a secret from another world, brushing icy fingers down your spine. A warning dressed up as weather. You felt it in your chest, in the weight behind your ribs, where your breath stayed too long before escaping.
Your skin burned from cold, your limbs throbbed with fatigue — but none of it compared to the way your heart pounded. Not from exertion.
From fear.
“Hey, you alright?” Jesse called ahead, pulling his scarf down just enough to glance at you.
You nodded too fast. “Yeah, just—cold.”
Ellie was further up the ridge, carving her own path through the deepening snow with the horse, unaware of how your whole body shook with more than frost. You hadn’t told them. Couldn’t. How do you explain that your body knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet? That every step forward felt like walking away from safety?
Your heart was screaming in a language older than logic. Since the morning. Since Joel left before you could fully wake up.
The echo of his voice still lingered in your memory — low and warm, brushing against your ear as you stirred under the covers.
“Get some more sleep, darling”
But he hadn’t kissed your forehead like usual. He hadn’t lingered. And when you finally did get up, your gut twisted when you saw the empty space in the stable, the saddle still had damp with snow.
Joel was out there with Dina; you had no idea under what circumstances. And the sky had turned gray with anger.
You shook your head, tried to focus on Jesse’s voice. Tried not to feed the panic unraveling in your chest like a pulled thread. But the cold in your mind spread, and no matter how tightly you gripped the reins, no matter how fast your horse moved, the feeling remained.
Something was wrong.
You finally found a rundown outpost, an old hunting cabin half-buried in snow and swallowed by pine trees. The roof sagged, one of the windows was cracked, and the door barely held on its hinges, but it was shelter. You and Jesse pulled your horses inside the narrow lean-to out back, while Ellie stomped snow off her shoes and kicked the door open with more force than necessary.
Inside, it was cold and smelled like old weed and damp rot, but you didn’t care.
There was a radio.
You didn’t hesitate. Your gloves were off before Jesse could even say anything. Your fingers moved over the knobs, turning dials, trying to find the frequency Jackson always used for patrol check-ins.
A burst of static.
Then another.
Finally, a signal.
Your breath caught. “Jackson patrol, do you copy?”
Ellie moved closer. Jesse pulled his scarf down, suddenly silent.
“Joel? Dina? Come in.”
Only static.
“Come on,” you muttered, heart hammering, twisting the dial again. “Joel, please, respond.”
Nothing.
The silence wasn’t ordinary. You knew silence. This wasn’t delay. It was absence.
Your body went rigid, every instinct screaming louder than your racing thoughts. Your limbs moved before you made the decision. You were out the door and into the snow again before Jesse or Ellie could stop you.
Jesse called after you.
But Ellie was already grabbing her rifle.
“Where are you going?” Jesse yelled, chasing behind.
“Something’s wrong!” you snapped, swinging onto your horse. “I just know it!”
Ellie mounted up beside you, eyes wide and fierce. “Then we’re not wasting time.”
Jesse hesitated, glancing between you both and the radio inside.
“You don’t even know if that’s where they went—”
“I know,” you growled, already riding. “I feel it.”
Ellie followed without a word.
The snow clawed at your skin like it wanted to peel the truth away. The wind howled as if it knew what was waiting ahead. But you didn’t stop.
Because something had happened.
And Joel and Dina were out there.
You and Ellie rode hard, the snow whipping across your faces like knives, the hooves of your horses lost beneath the storm. You could barely see five feet ahead — but then, in the distance, a glow.
“Shit,” Ellie hissed beside you, pulling her hood lower.
You followed her gaze. Through the trees, past the slope of the hill — firelight. Orange, flickering, wrong. It wasn't from a patrol cabin or torch post. It rose in a bloom, too wild to be controlled. You slowed your horse as your stomach dropped.
“It’s from Jackson,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Ellie.
It wasn’t the whole town, not yet. But something was burning. And it was enough to send a coil of panic twisting through your gut, feeding that same deep certainty that had been clawing at you all day.
“Come on,” you growled, spurring your horse harder, cutting off the cold fear before it could settle. “We are too far.”
And it wasn’t long before you saw it, the lodge.
It sat crooked and hunched near a clearing, like it had been dropped there by accident. One of the side windows was shattered. Smoke was seeping through cracks in the boarded upper floor. The front door hung ajar, barely moving in the wind.
You pulled hard on the reins. Your horse bucked a little, skidding in the snow. Ellie drew her rifle and slid off hers.
Your eyes locked on two shapes near the side of the lodge.
Horses.
Your heart stopped.
Joel’s and Dina’s.
Both were tied loosely, their coats soaked with snow, hooves pawing nervously at the ground. Alone. No movement near the front entrance. No voices. No patrols. No sounds but the wind and the creak of the old building groaning under weight it wasn’t meant to bear.
You slid off your horse.
“Ellie…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, breath clouding in front of you.
She already had her knife out.
“Oh shit...”
You didn’t wait for backup. Couldn’t.
Because Joel’s horse was here. And he wasn’t.
And whatever was inside that building, you felt it—It was about to break you open.
The sound of screams of agony and a body hitting the ground echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.
You knew that sound. It was torture. It was pain.
Your boots thundered down the corridor of the lodge, Ellie at your side, a worry and desperate look in her eyes. She’d followed the path like a wolf hunting a pray, her eyes screaming please don’t let it be too late.
You didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. Your heart was stuck in your throat, and the only thing that moved was your body, in fast motion, furious, drawn to the man who should have never left your side in the first place.
Then you saw it. The door, a from inside, screaming slipping from the lips you used to kiss every day. Joel’s screams.
You didn’t wait. You didn’t breathe. You kicked the door open and your world shattered.
Joel was on the floor, a mess of blood and pain and something worse. His legs bent at unnatural angles. One hand barely raised in instinct. His face, bruised, bleeding, one eye swollen shut. His body twitched like it wasn’t sure if it should keep trying.
And above him, a woman. Blonde. Rage carved into her face like she’d practiced it. Her arms raised again, a golf club in her grip, stained red.
She didn’t see you at first. Her eyes were solely focus on Joel, but you weren’t having that.
You roared, not screamed, roared and tackled her with everything you had, all your weight, all your fury. You slammed her into the wall with a force that cracked wood. The club dropped from her hand and hit the ground.
“No more.” you growled.
Her people came fast, like shadows. One tackled Ellie to the ground. Another raised a knife.
But they hadn’t counted on you.
You were already moving, eyes wild, mind gone. You fought like someone who had nothing left but him.
You weren’t skilled like Joel. You didn’t need to be. You were desperate. Right now, you were desperate.
Fists cracked bone. You took hits but didn’t stop. Didn’t feel them. You were pulling someone off Ellie, dragging them by their collar, throwing them into a chair that splintered on impact. You used what you had — a piece of wood, a broken lamp, your fists, your fury.
And they couldn’t stop you. Because you couldn’t be stopped.
The blonde tried to rise again. You met her halfway and slammed her back to the floor. She spat blood. You didn’t flinch.
“Get away from him!” you screamed.
The crack of your shotgun echoed like thunder as the first shell slammed into one of the men flanking her. Blood hit the wall. Chaos exploded in every direction.
“Who the fuck—?!” Abby turned, fury and shock colliding in her face.
You dropped the shotgun, drew your blade, and charged.
The first one that tried to reached for you got a knife through the ribs. You shoved him off like he was made of paper. The next came at you with a bat, you caught the swing and used his momentum to slam him face-first into the fireplace bricks.
“You don’t get to touch him,” you hissed. “Not him.”
Abby swung the club toward your face. You ducked.
Then you hit her. Right in the gut. The force of it sent her staggering back, wind knocked from her lungs.
“You wanna kill him?” you growled. “Try me first!”
She looked at you like she wanted to, but she hesitated.
And that was her mistake.
Because Ellie broke free just long enough to grab your dropped shotgun and aim it at her. “Step back,” she spat, blood in her teeth, voice shaking but solid.
“Now.”
Abby looked between the two of you. At Joel — bleeding, still breathing — at her fallen group. Then she backed off, raising her hands slightly.
“This isn’t over,” she said.
“Yeah,” you snapped, “it is.” You said, pointing your gun right between her brows.
Your shotgun echoed in the stillness of the room.
The blast slammed into her chest, and her body jerked back like a puppet with its strings cut. She hit the floor; eyes wide. No final words. No redemption. Just silence.
Ellie flinched.
You stood over Abby’s body, breath hitching, heart pounding in your ears. The room reek of blood and then there was silence, except for Joel’s ragged breath.
You dropped beside as your knees had finally given out.
“Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking into pieces. “Joel, look at me. I’m here. I got you.”
His one good eye fluttered open, dazed, unfocused. There was blood crusted at his brow, dried and fresh, a cruel mask across the face you’d kissed so many times before.
“Y-you---"he rasped, voice like torn gravel.
You nodded, cradling his face in your hands, not caring that blood smeared across your palms. “I’m here. You’re safe. Don’t you dare go anywhere.”
His breath stuttered, chest rising too slow, too shallow. His eyes couldn’t stay fixed on you. They wandered, like he wasn’t fully in the room anymore.
“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, leaning close. Your forehead rested against his, warm against cold.
“Hurts,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed again.
“No, no,” you said quickly, your hands gently patting his face. “Stay with me. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay. Help’s coming, okay? Just—just hold on.”
But he didn’t answer. His breathing slowed.
Your heart lurched in panic. “Joel!”
Nothing.
You pressed your fingers to his pulse—still there, but faint.
“Don’t you do this,” you choked out. “You fight, dammit. You’ve been through worse, haven’t you? Don’t you leave me now.”
You’d already faced your worst nightmare. Now you were living in it, holding it in your arms.
Joel lay limp and broken on the floor, his breath rattling against the stillness. His face was swollen and unrecognizable on one side, purple and black with bruising. One eye swollen shut. Blood trickled from his nose, his mouth, the side of his head. His legs—
Don’t think about the legs. Not now.
“Hey,” you whispered again, voice hoarse. “Joel. You still with me?”
A faint groan. Barely audible.
But it was enough.
He was still here.
You pulled off your jacket and shoved it under his head. Your hands were shaking, but your mind was locked in: every first aid trick you’d learned from scraps of survival guides, emergency manuals, anything Joel had ever shown you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You had paid attention.
You just never thought you’d be using it on him.
Dina stumbled in, still pale and groggy, her hand gripping the wall. “Ellie?” she rasped. “Wh—what the fuck happened…?”
You didn’t look up. “You were drugged. Ellie is moving the bodies. We need the space.”
Dina staggered past, gagging at the sight of blood, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew. The air had changed.
This was a war zone. A zone you had built in seconds because you didn’t know what else to do. You blinded yourself; you had become a murderer monster just to save Joel.
You pulled Joel’s shirt open — shredded, stained with red. Purple splotches across his ribs. Swelling. At least two broken.
Your voice cracked. “You’re gonna hate me for this, Joel. But I have to move you.”
“Don’t…” he mumbled, almost unconscious. “Just… leave me—”
“Shut up,” you said, fierce now, your tears splashing onto his collarbone. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t get to give up.”
Ellie appeared, face pale, blood on her shirt, Dina behind her with a blanket and an old mattress from the back.
“We cleared the room,” Ellie said. “It’s just us now.”
“Good,” you said. “Help me splint his legs. We need to keep him still until we can get him out of here.”
You tore up a curtain and grabbed two broken chair legs. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing about this was. Ellie held Joel’s leg as steady as she could, while you worked the makeshift splint around the worst of the fractures.
Joel screamed.
It was guttural, raw as if he was being dragged through hell.
You didn’t flinch. “I know,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as you tied the cloth tight. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve got you.”
You felt his breath against your skin, shallow and hot.
His lips moved. “Why?” he whispered.
You leaned back and looked at him. “Because I love you,” you said simply.
His eye fluttered open — just barely. And for one fragile second, the pain slipped away. There was only you and you brush the hair from Joel’s face. He was burning up. You needed to clean the wounds. Stop the bleeding. Keep him warm.
Keep him alive.
And somehow, by the grace of whatever broken god still watched over you all, you would.
You pressed a damp cloth to his temple where skin had split beneath Abby’s final blow. His blood soaked through instantly. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.
Your hands moved on their own now. Wash. Compress. Tie. Splint. Whisper to him. Stay with me. Please stay with me.
Ellie and Dina had gone quiet. Standing behind you. Watching. Waiting for direction.
Then your voice broke through the stillness.
“Go back to Jackson.”
Ellie flinched, like she hadn’t expected you to speak.
You didn’t look up. You were holding Joel’s hand — limp and calloused in yours.
“We need help,” you said, barely audible. Your voice was shot. A raw whisper. “Tell Tommy… tell him to send help. We need to get Joel back there.”
Silence. Just the sound of Joel breathing. The sound of blood dripping from the club Abby left behind.
“Please,” you added, and that word cracked like bone. “Please. I can’t carry him by myself. He’s—he’s too heavy. He’s—”
You swallowed hard. Your fingers curled tighter around Joel’s hand.
Ellie stepped forward. “We’re not leaving you.”
You finally looked up, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “You have to. We need a stretcher, a team. Horses. Anything. I can keep him alive for a few more hours. But I can’t move him like this.”
Ellie’s jaw clenched. Her knuckles went white. “I don’t want to leave you with him like this.”
You reached out, brushing Joel’s graying hair from his brow with trembling fingers. “I’ve got him.”
A pause.
Then Dina touched Ellie’s arm. “I’ll go,” she said gently. “I’ll ride. I’m faster. You stay.”
Ellie nodded, eyes not leaving yours.
You left a loud gasp “No,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes once more to Ellie’s. “Ellie… you go with Dina. I’ll stay here.”
Ellie’s shoulders stiffened. Her brows pulled together like she was bracing for another blow. “What? No. I’m not leaving you and him.”
You sat back on your knees, your hands bloodied, trembling. Joel’s chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged motions beneath you.
“You have to,” you said, your voice breaking. “You have to, Ellie. Dina shouldn’t be riding alone.”
Ellie looked at Joel. Looked at you. And shook her head. “I can’t leave him like this. I can’t.”
You grabbed her hand.
That startled her.
It startled you too.
But you held on, grounding her, pulling her attention back to your face. Your voice dropped to a whisper.
“Please,” you said. “Please. Help me save him.”
Ellie’s eyes filled. Not with tears — not yet — but with everything she couldn’t say. The guilt. The fury. The fear that maybe… it was too late.
But you looked at her like there was still something worth fighting for.
And Ellie, for the first time in what felt like forever, let herself believe it.
She swallowed hard. Nodded once.
“I’ll go.”
Your chest caved with relief. Joel let out a faint groan beneath you, and you turned back to him, brushing your thumb against his jaw.
“I’m here, baby,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”
Ellie hesitated at the doorway. “Will he be okay?” she asked before daring to step a foot outside the room.
You nodded, but it was instinct, automatic, hopeful, desperate. The truth lodged in your throat like a splinter you couldn’t spit out.
“I don’t know,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I—I need to stop the bleeding. His leg is bad. His ribs—fuck, I don’t know how much damage they did.” Your eyes flicked over Joel’s body again, breath catching at the way his chest rose unevenly. “But he’s breathing. And that’s something.”
Ellie stepped closer, still pale, still wide-eyed, her clothes soaked with blood—some hers, some not. “What do you need me to do?”
You looked up at her then, and for a split second, she looked like a kid again. Shaken. Haunted. But standing tall.
“Just go back to Jackson and bring help,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath.
Ellie’s eyes burned. She nodded once; jaw clenched. “Okay. Okay. Just hold on, please.”
You gave her one last look. “I’ll keep him breathing.”
She was gone the next second—boots pounding out the door, calling for Dina. You were left in the broken room, just you and Joel and the slow drip of blood on floorboards.
You pressed your hands to the worst of the wounds, breath shaking. “You hear that, Joel?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Help’s coming.”
He didn’t speak. But his fingers twitched again, slow, and curled around your wrist.
It wasn’t much but it meant he was still here.
That night felt heavy like wet ash. Outside, the snowstorm had died to a bitter hiss. The wind still screamed through cracks in the lodge, but inside, everything had gone quiet—except for the sound of Joel’s ragged breath and the low creak of floorboards every time you moved.
You’d done everything you could.
His legs were splinted crudely with a broken table leg and belts. His wounds were packed with gauze you tore from your own coat lining. You boiled snow over a fire in the next room just to clean the worst of the blood from his side. You weren’t a medic. But you were a woman in love. And that made you terrifying.
He’d faded in and out of consciousness, his lips murmuring your name between groans, sometimes not even sure it was real. You sat beside him, your back against the bloodstained wall, holding his hand in both of yours.
But then it went still.
You hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten until the sound stopped completely.
“Joel?” you whispered, leaning close.
No answer.
You shook his shoulder, gently. Then harder. “Joel.”
Nothing. His head lolled to the side. His skin felt clammy beneath your palm.
Your breath broke in your throat. “No, no—please, no. Joel—” You cupped his cheeks. “You stay with me; do you hear me?”
Still nothing. And then a twitch.
His brow twitched. His lips parted, barely, and a broken whisper slipped out.
“…Sarah.”
The name came out like a breath lost in time. You froze. Your heart cracked open.
His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, a flicker of life.
In his mind, it was Austin again.
The smell of smoke and gasoline in the air. Sirens in the distance. Sarah was laughing, running ahead of him, calling back over her shoulder: “Dad, come on!”
And he was smiling. Genuinely smiling. He could hear her. Feel her hand in his again. It was warm. Real.
He turned and they were on the couch. Watching a movie. She was leaning against him, head on his shoulder. He’d just said something dumb. She rolled her eyes. He didn’t want to blink—afraid it’d all vanish.
But then came the gunshot.
Her warmth gone. He spun. He screamed for her. And when he looked down—
You were there.
In the memory. Not Sarah. You. Covered in blood. Crying. Calling his name.
Joel, please. Please.
Your hands were glowing with firelight, trembling as they pressed against his chest.
He tried to reach for you. He couldn’t move. The world was slipping.
And then—your voice cut through the haze.
“Joel, please. Please don’t do this.”
His heart stuttered once. Then again. A sharp inhale tore through his chest as if he’d been drowning.
“Joel!”
He coughed, body shaking, and your hands caught him just in time.
You sobbed, half-laughing as you gripped his cheeks again. “You scared the shit out of me—oh my god” you sobbed.
He looked up at you, dazed, confused. Then his eyes cleared, just a little.
“You were crying…” he mumbled, lips cracked.
“Yeah,” you whispered, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. “Yeah, I was.”
He blinked slowly. “Stop...”
“I won’t,” you promised. “I’m here. I’m staying.”
And as the fire cracked quietly, Joel leaned ever so slightly into your palm, the pain pulling at him, but your voice anchoring him.
The night lingered like a wound that wouldn’t close.
You didn’t sleep.
Your body screamed for rest, but you stayed next to Joel—watching the way his chest rose and fell, slow and shallow, praying it wouldn’t stop again. Every time his breath caught or he groaned too hard, your stomach twisted into knots.
The lodge was cold. Blood had dried into the floorboards. The fire in the next room was too far away to warm either of you, and you didn’t dare move him to get closer.
So you pressed your body to his side gently, just enough to share warmth without causing him pain.
“Still with me?” you whispered.
His eyes fluttered open, sluggish and heavy. “Yeah…” His voice was more gravel than sound.
You breathed out a shaky laugh, your forehead resting lightly against his temple. “You’re stubborn as hell, y’know that?”
Joel let out a faint puff of breath—maybe a laugh, maybe a wince. “…Learned from the best.”
Your throat clenched. You reached for his hand again, interlocking your fingers with his—gingerly, so you wouldn’t brush the torn knuckles.
“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.
His eyes moved—slow, searching—until they landed on you again. Then he mumbled something you barely heard.
Silence settled like snow. You closed your eyes, listening to the wind groaning against the walls. Time stretched, only broken by Joel’s breath stuttering again.
Then—his fingers twitched around yours.
Then you whispered, “Joel?”
He made a sound.
“I love you.”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were glassy with pain. But then he squeezed your hand, and his voice came soft, barely a breath.
“I love you too.”
It felt like the first time he had told you those three words and that had broken you in the gentlest way.
You buried your face in his shoulder, careful of the bruises, and let yourself cry—not in panic, not in fear. But in overwhelming, soul-shaking relief. He was alive.
He was alive.
Joel woke to the soft hum of voices and some old machines. The scent of cleaner stung his nose before the light even reached his eyes.
His body was pain, muted but deep, like a dull echo in his bones. He tried to move, but something warm and heavy rested on his side.
Your head.
You were slumped in a chair beside him, your cheek pressed gently to his arm. Your fingers were laced with his, your grip loose with sleep but still holding on. Still there.
The light in the room was soft, filtering through the curtained window like morning fog. Outside, life stirred in Jackson. But here, it was quiet. Just the two of you.
Joel blinked slowly, his throat dry, the taste of cotton still on his tongue. His gaze drifted down to you. There was a crease between your brows even in rest. You looked exhausted. Pale. Eyes ringed with shadows.
But you were here.
He breathed your name, raw and hoarse.
You stirred at the sound, your head lifting slowly as if from the depths of a dream. Your eyes met his, still sleep-warm but wide with shock. Disbelief flickered, then relief so powerful it made your lips tremble.
“Joel…” you whispered, leaving a sob behind.
His smile was small. Barely there. “You didn’t leave.”
Your hand came up to cup his cheek. “Never,” you said. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He swallowed hard, his hand tightening weakly around yours. “How long?”
“Three weeks,” you said, voice shaking with the memory. “You were unconscious the first few days back. Fever wouldn’t break. They weren’t sure if you’d make it through the second night…”
He looked at you again, really looked. “And you sat here the whole damn time?”
You gave a soft, broken laugh. “Where else would I be?”
His good eye softened. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
You leaned closer, resting your forehead to his. “You promised me once you wouldn’t leave me.”
He nodded faintly, his eyes closing for a moment as your breath mingled.
Your fingers brushed his temple, so gently, as if afraid he’d fade again like some half-formed dream. Joel’s skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than it had been in days, and that alone nearly broke you all over again.
“It’s going to take time,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the hum of the machines. “To heal. For everything.”
Joel didn’t say anything, but you felt the tremor in his breath.
You threaded your fingers more tightly with his. “But I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?” you said, firmer now, voice catching on the tears in your throat. “I’m not leaving your side. You will get sick of me.”
His lips parted like he wanted to argue, maybe even protest, but then he looked at you again. Really looked. The cut on his brow. The bruising on his cheekbone. The pain behind his eye, and beyond that, the softness that only came when it was just you.
“You shouldn’t have had to—”
“I had to,” you cut in, gently but unshakable. “Because I love you. Because I couldn’t lose you. And I won’t.” you paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “You and I will grow old together, and we will die peacefully in farm, together.”
Joel blinked. His hand tightened slightly in yours again, like the only strength he had left was meant for that one touch. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I don’t deserve you.”
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, bruised, stitched, healing. “You’re mine, Joel. And I’m yours. That’s not about deserving. That’s just how it is.”
Silence fell, heavy but not suffocating. The kind of silence where you could finally breathe again. Where you knew, he was going to live.
Joel let his head rest back into the pillow, the edge of a tear slipping from the corner of his eye.
“Okay,” he whispered, smiling at you.
You smiled through your tears, the kind that burned hot down your cheeks but carried no pain—only release. Relief. Love.
You shifted in the chair, reaching up to brush a bit of hair back from his forehead, careful not to touch where it was most tender. His skin warmed beneath your fingertips. Alive. He was alive. The reality of that still hadn’t fully settled in.
“I’m gonna be here when you wake up,” you promised, voice like a hush of wind through leaves. “Every morning. Every damn day if I have to. You focus on getting better.”
Joel's smile trembled, worn and crooked, but it was his. The first real smile you'd seen in so long it felt like a lifetime ago. His good eye drifted shut, but not before his fingers gave yours one more squeeze, like he couldn’t bear to let go even in sleep.
You watched him as his breathing evened out again, slow and steady, like the beat of a familiar song you never thought you’d hear again. The machines hummed softly beside him. The faint glow of a streetlamp outside filtered through the hospital window, painting golden lines across the bedsheets.
You rested your head by his side again, your cheek brushing his arm, eyes closing just for a moment. Not to sleep, but to hold the feeling. The warmth. The miracle.
The best part is OP got fired because their boss asked why they weren’t “incorporating blockchain technology” into the video switcher they were building and OP straight up said “you have no idea what you’re talking about” and went to lunch
@frannyzooey get your ass in here I just wanna talk.
WHAT THE FUCK WITH THESE TAGS MA'AM? I have plans today and things to do and now im FORCED by your hand to sit and stare into the abyss thinking about this man going absolutely feral.
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
discoholicmusic
annaxmalina
vaporwave
