Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
Part V
Summary: Whenever things seem to be getting better, something happens to show that things can always, in fact, get worse.
joe keery x foreing!reader (probably Latina)
Warning: some violence, but not very graphic or intense; drinking; vomiting; hangovers; references to violence
English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if anything sounds a little off.
Monday hit you like a punch in the gut. You woke up without the alarm going off, feeling sick and unsure of what had happened. You tried to go back to sleep, but every time you closed your eyes, the image of the girl running into Joe’s arms flashed through your mind. You could feel your jaw tightening.
So, the only solution was to get up. After a shower and a cup of coffee, you packed your bag and headed out for university.
Usually, on Mondays, you can get to work a little later, but today you knew that the longer you stayed at home, the more your stomach would turn and the more likely you were to do something stupid.
You ignored your phone for the entire time and for the rest of the day as well. You just knew there were 8 unread messages:
2 from your mom, asking about you, your cat, and telling you how she was going to visit your brother this week;
1 from your brother, saying that your mom was going to spend a week at his place and that he hoped to talk to you sometime this week—he and your nephew were missing you;
2 from Laura, urgently wanting to know about the concert;
2 from Julia, asking if everything was okay and saying that late last night she went to the bar to meet everyone but didn’t find you there;
1 from Joe, asking if you were feeling better and wanting to know what you were going to do today.
Well, you were going to work. Your job basically involved helping the professors in the university’s literature department. You graded papers, taught extra classes, assisted new undergraduates and then spent time researching things for your thesis. And that’s exactly what you did: you stayed from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m., working, reading and writing. You used to write when you couldn’t get your thoughts in order—mostly poems and songs—so, at some point toward the end of the day, when the office was empty, you took your notebook out of your bag and started writing. When you finished, it was already dark outside and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything besides a sandwich at lunchtime and that you needed to go home to feed your cat.
On the way home, you stopped by a pizza place and picked up a pizza to eat at home. When you arrived home, it was as if the day had been the most normal and the weekend hadn’t even happened.
You ate a slice of pizza, spent some time with your cat on your apartment balcony and went to bed. The only problem is that when you went to bed, you realized you needed to reply to your messages. Your mom and brother had already sent more than twice as many messages, Laura was losing patience, and Joe… He sent a message with a photo of the studio saying he was super busy and figured you were too, since you hadn’t replied yet. So, you started replying to everyone.
To your mom: I'm fine, Mom. Milo (your cat) is too. photo of your cat sleeping I hope you have fun this week!
To your brother: Good luck with Mom! Tell Gabe I miss him so much too.
To Julia: I think I ate something that didn’t sit well. But I’m fine today :) Just a lot of work.
To Laura: Girl… We need to talk, but not today. All I can say is that it wasn’t what I expected.
To Joe: I’m feeling better today :) Thanks for asking. And cool studio! Lots of work here too.
You put your phone on silent and tried to silence any intrusive thoughts that might disturb your sleep.
The rest of the week was exactly like Monday. Until Thursday.
On Thursday, you woke up to a message from one of the professors in the literature department telling you not to come to work. You’d been working overtime every day up until then and could use some rest. You muttered something under your breath and got out of bed. What else could you do besides work and study? Clean the apartment. Since you had avoided feeling anything that week, you also avoided staying home for too long. Your clothes were lying around the house, books and papers piled on your desk and dining table, dishes piling up… After a few hours, everything was in order. And it wasn’t even noon.
You finally decided to have a decent meal for the first time in the week and go for a run. It was starting to get hot in New York, so you put on some leggings and a sports top, grabbed your headphones and headed through the door. After running for a while in the park, your stomach started to get hungry and you decided to head back home, stopping by the grocery store on the way. Your fridge was completely empty.
At the grocery store, you saw that Joe had sent a few more photos from the studio and was telling you about something funny he’d seen on the street. Your interaction was usually like this: he did most of the talking, you replied, but tried to keep a little distance. So you took a photo of the fruits and vegetables at the store and mentioned that you had the day off today.
A few minutes later, already in the street outside your apartment, you heard—even with your headphones on—someone shouting in the street. Between holding all the bags and pausing the music to listen and see what was going on, you spotted Joe.
“I thought I might run into you around here,” he said with a gentle smile, a little out of breath because he’d run a bit to catch up to you, taking the bags from your hands to help you.
“Here in the street of my building right after I said I was on the street, heading home?” You replied in a slightly sarcastic tone, but not harshly; you were laughing and felt your cheeks flush as your hands touched while Joe took your grocery bags.
“Yeah. You haven’t been answering my texts as much as I’d like… So I thought I might find you here.” Still smiling, he seemed a little more nervous, he couldn’t look you in the eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. “We’re still going to grab coffee tomorrow, right?”
You took a deep breath and forced a smile, reaching again for your shopping bags in Joe’s hands, but he made no move of letting go. “Joe… I don’t know if this is a good idea…” His smile faded, you could see his eyes trying to figure out your expression. “You know… You have a girlfriend, don’t you? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything bad. That day backstage, she seemed a little possessive, maybe jealous?” You smiled at him again. “Please, don’t get me wrong. And… You don’t have to keep holding my bags. I-I… I need to go home.” When you made a move to grab your bags, Joe gave a quiet laugh and replied, “Can I walk you to your building?” You nodded and took a deep breath, looking straight ahead and avoiding Joe’s gaze, which, even now as he walked with you, remained fixed on your face. You were starting to get nervous about the whole situation.
“She’s not my girlfriend, you know... I don’t have a girlfriend.” You weren’t sure if you were hearing correctly, so you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at Joe as if you were listening to someone speak in a foreign language you didn’t understand at all. You tried to talk, “B-But…”
“I know. She’s my ex. I didn’t know she was going to show up at the concert on Sunday. We broke up a few months ago, but she texts me sometimes, and on Sunday... Well, she showed up there because apparently her new boyfriend was ignoring her and she wanted to make him jealous.” He pressed his lips together, his expression serious, now looking straight ahead.
You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even know what to say in that situation, so the silence followed you both to the entrance of your building. Once there, you started taking your bags from Joe’s hands.
“So, now that I don’t have a girlfriend… Coffee tomorrow?” he said, now with a more hopeful smile, like when a child asks their parents for something without knowing for sure if they’ll get approval.
“Sure, coffee tomorrow. Send me the address and time, okay?” You replied with a friendlier smile and when you entered the building, you looked back and saw Joe standing there, smiling at you.
A few hours after you got to your apartment, Julia called you.
“Hi! The guys are all going out together, they’ll be talking about music and trying out some new songs… Why don’t you come over? We’ll have some wine, chat, order something to eat…”
You accepted immediately. The nervousness of going out with Joe tomorrow was taking over your body and you needed a distraction. You quickly took a shower and left the house. The night was warmer than usual, so you put on a classic short black dress and loafers. When you arrived at Julia’s house—which you’d never been to before—she immediately handed you a glass of wine and showed you around the apartment. It was a large apartment. They had a room just for music, where Julia said she and Javi spent most of their time together.
You then went back to the living room and chatted about everything and nothing. After an hour or so, the apartment door opened:
“Oh! Babe, we came over to hang out for a bit, okay?” Javi said as he walked through the door, followed closely by his friends. They were talking loudly and laughing, apologizing to Julia and saying hi, all at the same time. Joe was the last to come in, laughing at something Wes had said. He immediately locked eyes with you. You were sitting on the couch, legs folded up on the sofa, your dress a little wrinkled and barely covering your legs. Your cheeks were a little red from the wine, and you were laughing at everything everyone was saying. You just looked at each other and greeted each other with a nod.
“Well, then that solves my dilemma. Y/N and I are going to the bar we’ve been wanting to go to for a while, and you guys can have the apartment all to yourselves!” Julia said, looking at Javi, without a hint of irritation or frustration, just genuinely expressing her desire to go to the bar.
"We are?" You looked at her, confused, but since she was already standing, you got up too. Your dress, still a little wrinkled, almost revealed a bit of your ass and Joe couldn't help but notice.
The bar was a mix of a bar, a party, and karaoke. You arrived and went straight for the drinks, then a few beers, then the dance floor and then more beer. You could already feel everything spinning around you, your body was hot, your feet were begging for a break. You went to the bar again and Julia told you that Javi and some of the guys were arriving too. You sat at the bar, chatting with Julia, when a guy sat down next to you and tried to strike up a conversation with you:
“Hey, where are you guys from?” he said, without even saying hi or introducing himself first, interrupting the conversation you and Julia were having.
“From here”, Julia replied sharply and you remained silent. You were already used to people asking where you were from because of your accent, and besides it being a boring conversation, the alcohol was really kicking in and you just wanted to go home at this point in the night.
“I meant you, baby. ” The guy leaned over and you could smell the alcohol, sweat and cigarette scent coming from him. So you got up from the bench and said:
“From here too. Sorry, we need to go find our friends.” That’s when the guy grabbed your arm tightly and said under his breath, “But I wanted to get to know you better, you know, I’ve always wanted to try a foreign woman.”
You forced a smile, while Julia yelled at the guy in the background. You knew exactly how this situation worked, you’d been through it before, so you tried to stay calm.
“Sorry, but we really are going to meet up with our friends.” You blinked a little longer, because you could feel the man’s fingers squeezing your arm tighter and tighter.
“Oh, come on, honey…” he said, squeezing your arm even tighter. You knew right away that it would leave a mark. You let out a soft cry, closed your eyes, and said, “You’re hurting me, please.”
The pain, the alcohol, the heat, Julia’s screams in the background—they distracted you from noticing that Joe had come up beside you and made the guy let go of your arm. He said something to the man—you didn’t even understand what—and kept looking at you.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Joe looked worried, but you could already feel the tears burning in your eyes and your stomach twisting. You pushed him gently to make some space and said, “I need some air,” before running out the door of the bar. Joe followed you instinctively. When he got to the street, you were breathing heavily, hands resting on your knees, trying to focus so you wouldn’t cry. Your arm was still aching and you could feel the man’s fingers there. When Joe approached, you jumped, thinking it might be the guy again.
“Let’s go home”, he said seriously, staring at you without looking away for a moment.
“I don’t want to go now”, you said, still looking at the floor. You wanted to and would love to go with Joe, but you knew you’d end up crying at some point that night, and you were already feeling humiliated enough as it was—you didn’t need to add crying in front of others to the list.
“No arguments,” he said, taking your hand and guiding you to his car. He opened the door, sat you in the seat and buckled your seatbelt. You sat in the seat with your head leaning back, eyes closed. The ride home was silent. You fought back the tears and if Joe asked you anything, you just replied saying that you were fine.
When you got home, Joe insisted on walking you up to your apartment to make sure you got there safely. You just grumbled and went into the building, you accepted that there was no point in trying to argue. And you didn’t even have the energy for that anymore.
As soon as you walked into the apartment, you took off your shoes and started heading toward your bedroom, trying to unzip the dress at the back. Your cat was following you and you whispered, “Not now. I need to take this off and take a shower first.” Joe stood there watching you struggle with the dress’s zipper, lost in his own thoughts. He almost jumped when you came up to him, turned your back to him and asked him to undo the zipper. You weren’t steady enough to balance yourself yet, so he put one hand on your waist and used the other to unzip the dress. For a moment, he imagined himself taking the whole dress off, carrying you into the bedroom, and…
“Thanks. Just close the door when you leave.” You said in a drunken voice, heading toward the bedroom and closing the door to take a shower in the bathroom attached to your room.
You stepped into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror, you didn’t look as bad as you’d imagined, but your arm… It was starting to turn bruised, the pain pulsed and during the shower, with the hot water hitting your skin, it hurt even more. You stepped out of the shower, slipped on just an oversized T-shirt and threw yourself onto the bed.
You heard Joe’s quiet voice coming from the living room, but you closed your eyes and ended up falling asleep.
The next morning, you didn’t wake up because you’d already slept enough or because your cat was meowing around you, begging for food. First, you smelled coffee. Then, you heard other noises coming from the kitchen. That’s when you got up quickly and realized that everything around you was still spinning. You leaned on the bed, tried to find a pair of shorts to put on, and began to sneak out of the bedroom. You didn’t even remember that Joe had brought you home or what had happened before that. Only when your eyes met Joe’s—who was in your kitchen, hair messy, barefoot, making eggs and bacon—did a flashback of the last night run through your head. You and Julia. The guy at the bar. The pain. Joe putting you in the car. Him carrying you up to the apartment. You stood there, mouth half-open, eyes not quite fully open yet, looking confused.
“Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I ended up sleeping on the couch.” He smiled, and God… That smile could kill you.
“Also... I couldn’t leave this little guy”, he looked at your cat, who was rubbing against Joe’s legs, purring so loudly that you could hear it from where you stood.
“I’ve fed him already. Here’s your breakfast… I have to go now. But we’ll see each other today, right? At the café?” He was still smiling. You nodded, no words would come out of your mouth. You still didn’t understand what was happening. He handed you a plate with eggs, bacon and a bowl of chopped fruit, kissed you on the forehead and walked out the door. You stood there for a few more seconds, unable to move in the middle of your living room/kitchen, until something in your stomach twisted and you dropped everything to go to the bathroom.
After throwing up what seemed to be all the alcohol you’d consumed the night before, you flushed the toilet and sat on the bathroom floor. Your cat was sitting by the door, staring at you. You looked at your arm, which was even more bruised. The bruise seemed to have doubled in size. And then you started crying. You must have sat on the bathroom floor crying for about 10 minutes before you could work up the courage to get up. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw that the dark circles under your eyes were huge. You were, without a doubt, dealing with one of the worst hangovers of your life. Not just a hangover from alcohol, but an emotional one.
You brushed your teeth, tried to eat a little of what Joe had prepared, and went back to bed. That was 8 a.m. At 1 p.m. you woke up again. At 2 p.m. again. This time with a message from Joe:
After a shower, an aspirin and nearly a liter and a half of water, you started to feel better again. But the bruise on your arm reminded you of last night, and you felt like crying all over again.
You put on a T-shirt, a black skirt, a pair of All Stars and threw an oversized denim jacket over everything, even though it was warm enough that you didn’t need any kind of jacket. But you were dying of embarrassment and didn’t want anyone to see your arm like that.
At 3:30 p.m. you left the building, the heat made your stomach sick, you took a deep breath and headed toward the café.
