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The Garden That You Planted

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Joel’s POV)

Summary: A short story about the secluded ruin that follows love. Joel told you to go, believing it was what was best for you. Now he’s haunted by what he broke & what still remains.

Warnings: Themes of Emotional Turmoil/Abuse/Neglect, Heavy Angst, Grief, Heartbreak, Self-Blame, Alcohol Use, Self Destruction, Longing

Word Count: 900

Notes: Inspired by the song The Garden That You Planted By Sea Wolf. Some lyrics are directly quoted, those are in italics (some are part of dialogue Joel speaks at the end, though I didn't put them in quotation marks for stylistic purpose), other lyrics have been changed around & conceptualized to better fit the story. I recommend listening to it after reading, as my story has a much darker tone than the song. I’ve been feeling moody & creative, & after listening to this song, this just came tumbling out of me. I hope you enjoy it! <3 If you did please like, reblog or comment, I’d love to hear from you. I've got many more stories in the works! Masterlist ~ AO3 ~ Fic Recs

The beginning of summer, that’s when you left. To the contrary, it wasn’t what you had wanted. No, you would’ve stayed with him until your dying day. Joel knew this.

But over time, he felt his usual gruffness calcify into something meaner, sometimes even hateful, and always aimed at you.

At first you weathered it with grace, you knew he carried heavy things from his past, things that didn’t ease with the passage of time, and they were all still chained to his back.

After a while, he saw what it was doing to you — especially over that last year you spent together. The way your voice grew quieter over time, words selected out carefully, as if anything you said might strike the wrong nerve and set something off in him.

And as he noticed this, he couldn’t stand the thought of you wasting any more of your time bound to him.

But of all the things he’d done in his life, telling you it wasn't working out anymore & that you had to leave, was among the hardest.

You were so blindsided at first, you thought he was joking. But he wasn’t laughing, and you started crying.

It was pitiful, how much you begged him to reconsider. The way your hands trembled as you tried to find sense in something senseless. It haunted him.

Those last few days that followed were hell, your sobs filled the house as you packed, he heard them percolate through the walls. Joel likened the sound to something so pure being ravaged, and every time it fell upon his ears, it made him feel like he was being eviscerated.

He’d come home from work to the sight of boxes by the door, your life slowly being separated from his, arranged into cardboard, and all he could think was that he’d done this. He’d built the walls, and now he had to live inside them.

When the door finally shut behind you, the house went quiet, there was no solace to be found. Just absence.

Seems that he’s not suited to being in love.

___

Now, it’s only work.

Each day bleeding into the next.

Work, work, work. Somehow even more than he did before. And that was already too damn much. He remembers you asking once if he could slow down, maybe spend a little more time with you. Your voice, the gentleness in it, how careful you’d been to not sound like you were asking for too much. You were so meek, so loving, & only wanting to be near him. The memory quickly becomes acidic, as he recalls what he said back. The tone he’d used.

“Ain't got time to sit around holdin’ hands all day.”

Back then, work was how he kept the burden of his past at bay. Now it’s how he keeps you there, too.

If anyone were to ask though, he wouldn’t admit that. He’d just shrug, say he does it to tire himself out. Just so he can rest.

But rest, it rarely comes.

Most nights he lies awake, body heavy as exhaustion overwhelms him, but his restless mind won’t stop, giving him the punishment he supposes he deserves.

Some days he barely scrapes by, running on coffee that doesn’t taste as good as it once used to, not like it did when he knew you were in bed just down the hall.

He tells himself it’s getting easier. But that’s a bold faced lie, too.

___

He thinks about you, probably more than he should.

As summer cascades into fall. He harkens back to you telling him you were moving back home, that without him, there was nothing left for you here.

Now he pictures you somewhere out there on the East Coast, framed by the turning leaves, & he’d bet his last dollar you look beautiful among them.

Joel thinks about how little the weather changes in Texas, how every season just feels like another version of summer, as he looks out over his backyard — at the garden you planted, the one that still remains.

___

Tonight, he’s drinking some cheap whiskey, straight from the bottle, this now becoming a more regular occurrence. All in the hopes that the burn that bleeds down the back of his throat might cauterize the hemorrhaging inside him. The pain of your severance has become too much for him to saddle. He's such a weak, broken man under all of it. It's what he tells himself. Knowing good & well you saw that frail & fractured man too. But now he sees, knows, you just wanted to hold him when he needed held.

He doesn’t remember deciding to call. One minute the phone’s in his hand, the next he’s listening to it ring. Waiting for your voice to grace his presence. As the line picks up & you say hello, it almost undoes him, the agony of no longer being able to call you his, corrodes everything inside of him. He can’t fathom how he could have done this to you, his sweet girl. And even after everything, you still answer his call.

Will you talk to me?

He begs, knows it's after-hours, the time of night that’s meant for sleep.

Because I need a little help.

Baby, tell me I’ll be alright.

‘Cause everything around me’s changed… but the garden that you planted, remains.

The Garden That You Planted By Sea Wolf <- Link to the song.

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