ok wait idea
growing up with Joe/childhood friends to lovers would be sooo cute 😭
CO - CAPTAIN
joe keery x reader
val speaks - ok when i tell u i took this prompt and ran like its 10k words i need to stop. anyways i had so so much fun writing this n i think its the longest fic ive ever done but i do not have the willpower to proofread it so if u see any mistakes my dearest apologies. i love you! thanku for requesting!
word count: 10k
the street you grew up on in boston was the kind where everyone knew everyone. the houses were close enough that in the summer you could hear people’s music through open windows and smell whatever someone’s mom was cooking three houses down. your house and joe’s were directly across from each other. two old colonials with creaky steps and big backyards that never quite grew grass evenly.
your parents met the week his family moved in.
your mom brought over a pie because that’s what people do, and his mom invited her inside, and within ten minutes there were kids running everywhere. joe had four sisters trailing behind him like a pack of birds, and you had your older brother who already looked annoyed that he’d been dragged into a social situation.
the parents had already decided how it would go. you’d hang out with the girls. joe would probably get along with your brother.
they were wrong almost immediately.
you and joe ended up standing next to each other in the driveway while everyone else talked. he was holding a hockey stick that was almost as tall as he was, tapping it nervously against the pavement.
“you wanna see my backyard?” he asked.
you shrugged. “sure.”
that was basically it.
after that you were attached in a way that made the adults laugh and shake their heads. every day after school one of you would cross the street without knocking. sometimes he’d show up at your back door, sometimes you’d wander into his kitchen like you lived there. it never mattered.
the two of you turned your backyards into entire worlds.
one week they were jungles, full of imaginary animals and secret missions. the next week they were deserts where you were explorers mapping out land no one had seen before. you dragged old chairs and planks of wood and blankets into piles that became forts or pirate ships or whatever the adventure needed that day.
you took it very seriously.
“captains don’t quit” joe would say, standing on top of a wobbly lawn chair like he was addressing a crew.
“you’re not the captain,” you’d argue. “i found the island first.”
he’d think about it for a second, then nod. “fine. co-captains.”
most nights ended the same way.
one of you would ask your parents if you could have a sleepover, and the parents would pretend to consider it even though they both knew the answer was yes. half the time someone ended up falling asleep on the couch anyway.
your brother mostly stayed out of it, and joe’s sisters eventually stopped trying to pull him into whatever they were doing because he was always already busy.
busy meant with you.
when you got older the adventures got smaller but they never really stopped.
by middle school the two of you had discovered 'the creek' which wasn’t actually a creek at all. it was a small pond on the edge of town with a crooked wooden dock that had been there longer than anyone could remember.
it became your place without either of you really deciding that.
almost every night, especially in the summer, you’d walk down there together. the path cut through a patch of trees and opened up to the water, quiet except for frogs and the occasional splash of something moving under the surface.
sometimes you talked the whole time.
sometimes you didn’t.
you’d sit on the edge of the dock with your feet in the water, kicking slowly and watching the ripples spread out.
one night when you were fourteen the air was warm and heavy and the sky still had a little pink left in it from the sunset. you and joe had been there long enough that the wood of the dock had cooled under your hands.
he leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the sky.
“i think i’m done with hockey” he said out of nowhere.
you turned your head. “really?”
he shrugged, like he’d been thinking about it for a while.
“yeah. it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t like it that much anymore.”
this was recent news. his whole life had been hockey practices and games and early mornings at the rink. but the last few months you and his sisters had dragged him to a couple school plays and drama club meetings, mostly as a joke at first.
joe had turned out to be weirdly good at it.
not just good, confident in a way you didn’t usually see.
“you like the drama stuff more” you said.
he nodded a little. “yeah.”
after a second he added, “don’t make fun of me.”
“i wasn’t going to.”
he looked over at you like he wasn’t completely convinced, but then he smiled anyway.
“i think i wanna try acting,” he said. “like actually try.”
you kicked your feet through the water again.
“you should,” you said. “you’re already dramatic.”
he snorted. “shut up.”
“i’m serious. you’re good at it.”
there was a quiet second where he just looked at the water.
“what about you?” he asked.
you didn’t even have to think about it.
“journalism.”
“like a reporter?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
you shrugged. “i like knowing stuff. and asking questions.”
he nodded like that made perfect sense.
the sky had gotten darker by then, the kind of deep blue that shows up right before the first stars.
after a while joe said, “promise something.”
“what?”
he sat up a little, turning toward you.
“promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.”
you rolled your eyes automatically. “why would we?”
“just promise.”
you watched the water for a second, then held your pinky out toward him.
“fine.”
he hooked his pinky around yours without hesitation.
“promise” he said.
and at fourteen, sitting on a crooked dock with your feet in the pond and the whole summer stretching ahead of you, it felt like the easiest promise in the world to keep.
-
high school didn’t change much between you and joe.
if anything, it just made it more obvious.
you were still glued together in the same way you’d always been. walking into school at the same time, leaving at the same time, sitting together whenever you could. people started noticing it more once everyone got older and suddenly everything had to mean something.
by sophomore year people had basically decided for you.
“so how long have you two been dating?” someone asked once, like it was the most normal question in the world.
you and joe looked at each other.
“we’re not” you both said at the same time.
they didn’t believe you.
that happened a lot.
at first you tried explaining it. childhood friends, neighbors, known-each-other-forever type of thing. but people always gave you the same look. the one that said yeah, sure.
eventually you both stopped bothering.
if someone asked, joe would just shrug.
“yeah” he’d say casually.
and you’d roll your eyes but not correct him.
it was easier that way.
high school meant parties now too. the loud, crowded kind where someone’s parents were always conveniently out of town. you’d show up together most of the time, walking through rooms full of people you barely knew, music shaking the walls.
but you never stayed inside for long.
after a while one of you would tilt your head toward the door and the other would already be halfway there.
outside was always quieter.
sometimes you’d end up walking back to your house, crossing the street like you had a thousand times before. a couple years earlier you’d both figured out the perfect way to climb from your bedroom window onto the roof. a loose bit of gutter and a ledge that made it just doable if you knew what you were doing.
it became the new spot.
you’d sit up there with your legs stretched out, looking over the street that had basically raised you both. the neighborhood looked different from up there. smaller, somehow.
sometimes you could hear a party down the block, muffled through the trees.
“we could go back” joe would say occasionally.
you’d glance over at him. “do you want to?”
he’d think for about half a second.
“no.”
so you’d stay.
the creek was still yours too, just not every night anymore. life had gotten busier. homework, practice, rehearsals, everything that comes with being seventeen and thinking every decision matters.
but you still ended up there when things got heavy.
breakups happened. bad ones sometimes.
joe dated a girl junior year who made him miserable by the end of it. you sat next to him on the dock while he complained about the whole thing, throwing little rocks into the water between sentences.
“she said i’m emotionally unavailable” he muttered.
you raised an eyebrow. “you cried during toy story 3.”
“that movie is devastating.”
you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his.
your own relationships didn’t go much smoother. one guy broke up with you over text during winter break and you showed up at joe’s house ten minutes later, still in pajamas, phone clutched in your hand.
he opened the door, took one look at your face, and stepped aside.
“come in.”
that was usually how it worked.
you helped each other through everything. bad relationships, family stuff, school stress, the weird pressure everyone started feeling about the future. the world kept getting bigger and more complicated, but somehow the two of you stayed the same.
he was the kind of person you could sit next to in complete silence without it feeling awkward.
one night senior year you were lying on the roof again, the air cool and the street below quiet except for the occasional car passing through.
joe had his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the sky like he used to on the dock.
“kinda weird we made it this far” he said.
you turned your head toward him. “what do you mean?”
“i don’t know. everyone kept saying high school changes people.”
“did it change you?”
he glanced over at you.
“not the important stuff.”
you smiled a little, looking back up at the stars.
joe nudged your foot lightly with his.
“still co-captains” he said.
and really, you were alway's going to be.
-
by senior year the question everyone kept asking was where you and joe were going to college.
people asked it like it was a joint decision.
for a while, it kind of was.
you spent a lot of afternoons sitting on your bedroom floor or at the kitchen table with laptops open, comparing schools like it was a group project. every time one of you liked a place the other would look it up too.
“this one has a good journalism program” you said once, turning your laptop toward him.
joe squinted at the screen. “yeah but chicago has a better theatre department.”
you both paused.
then you looked at each other.
“chicago?” you said.
he shrugged. “just saying.”
for a while it felt natural to plan it that way. like wherever one of you ended up, the other would just follow. you’d done everything else side by side your whole lives. it didn’t seem that weird.
until one night you were both sitting on your roof again, college websites open, and you both kind of realised it at the same time.
“this is stupid” joe said.
you looked over. “what?”
“we shouldn’t pick schools based on each other.”
you closed your laptop halfway, thinking about it.
he wasn’t wrong.
as much as the idea of ending up in the same place felt easy, it also felt small somehow. like squeezing both of your lives into the same box just because you were used to standing next to each other.
“yeah,” you said after a second. “it is.”
joe nudged your foot with his.
“we’re still gonna be friends.”
“obviously.”
“like… nothing’s changing.”
you nodded.
“nothing’s changing.”
and for the most part, that’s how you treated it.
applications went out. acceptance letters came back. you ended up choosing a school in new york with a journalism program you couldn’t stop talking about. joe the picked one in chicago where the theatre department had a reputation for being intense in the best way.
everyone around you acted like it was some big emotional thing.
you and joe mostly just shrugged.
“planes exist” he said once when someone asked if it would be hard.
“phones to,” you added.
but it hit a little differently the night before you both left.
of course you were at the creek.
the dock creaked under your weight the same way it always had as you sat side by side, your feet dipping into the water. it was late enough that the town was quiet, the air warm but with that hint of fall starting to creep in.
you’d both been talking about random things for a while. dorms, classes, whether or not you’d end up with weird roommates.
then things got quiet.
you glanced over at joe.
his elbows were resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared out at the water. the moonlight caught his face just enough that you noticed something off.
it took you a second to realise what it was.
there were tears in his eyes.
you hadn’t seen him cry much since middle school. maybe a handful of times at most.
you didn’t say anything.
instead you just leaned your head gently against his shoulder.
he didn’t move away.
for a while neither of you spoke.
then joe let out a quiet breath.
“i’m gonna miss you” he said.
your chest tightened a little, but you smiled anyway.
“i’m gonna miss you too.”
he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
“i’m not gonna promise to call you every day,” he added. “because i’ll probably forget.”
you laughed softly against his shoulder.
“honest.”
“but that doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore or that i've forgotten about you” he said quickly, like he needed to make that part clear.
you lifted your head just enough to look at him.
“joe,” you said, smiling. “i know.”
the next morning the two of you went to the airport together.
it felt strange walking through the building knowing you were both leaving, but not in the same direction. your parents were there, his family was there, everyone juggling luggage and last minute reminders.
your gate ended up being first.
you stood there with joe while they called for boarding, the line slowly forming behind you.
for a second neither of you moved.
then you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
he hugged you back just as tight.
“text me when you land” he said into your shoulder.
“you too.”
“and let me know if your roommate is weird.”
you pulled back slightly. “same goes for you.”
he nodded.
it was weird.
standing there, letting go of him and turning toward the gate.
but it wasn’t the kind of weird that felt like losing something.
as you walked onto the plane, it mostly just felt like the start of a new adventure.
and you still had your co-captain
-
the first few months of college were chaos.
everything was busier than either of you expected. classes, new people, assignments piling up.
for a while it felt like you were both just trying to stay above water.
the first couple weeks you and joe texted constantly. random updates, pictures of dumb things you saw on campus, complaints about professors. but eventually the schedules got messy and the messages started spreading further apart.
it wasn’t intentional.
life just filled the space.
so you figured it out.
after a few trial-and-error phone calls and missed texts, the two of you realised you both had thursday afternoons free. no classes. no rehearsals for him. no late newsroom meetings for you.
it became a thing.
every thursday night one of you would call the other and you’d prop your phones up somewhere and watch a movie together. sometimes you actually paid attention to the movie. most of the time you just talked over it.
you’d catch each other up on everything that had happened that week.
joe would tell you about acting classes and weird theatre kids and how exhausted he was after rehearsals. you’d talk about your journalism courses and the ridiculous assignments professors thought were reasonable.
“you had to interview a stranger on the subway?” he said once, half laughing.
“three strangers,” you corrected. “one of them thought i was scamming him.”
he grinned through the phone screen. “you probably were.”
it was still weird sometimes.
there were moments where you’d see something and instinctively turn to tell him before remembering he wasn’t actually there. but the distance never felt like it was breaking anything. you both just adjusted.
years passed like that.
college moved fast. semesters blurring together, trips home for thanksgiving and christmas where everything felt oddly the same and completely different at the same time. sometimes your families even planned things together, like the summer vacation where both households rented a place on the cape.
everyone joked that nothing had changed.
in a lot of ways they were right.
by the time you were nearing the end of college, things started shifting in real ways.
joe had done small acting jobs before. little things here and there. minor roles, student projects, stuff that never quite felt like the big break everyone talks about.
you were always proud of him.
but one night during your usual thursday call he sounded different.
excited in a way you hadn’t heard before.
“wait,” you said, sitting up in your dorm bed. “slow down.”
he ran a hand through his hair on the screen, practically bouncing where he sat.
“okay so there’s this show,” he said. “it’s called stranger things.”
“that’s a good name.”
“right? and i just found out i got the role.”
you blinked. “joe.”
“yeah?”
“that’s huge.”
he laughed nervously.
“i’m playing this guy named steve harrington.”
you could practically see the energy coming off him through the phone.
“i start filming soon,” he said. “like… really soon.”
a couple nights before he had to leave, you flew out to see him.
his dorm looked like a tornado had passed through it. clothes half packed, boxes on the floor, random junk scattered everywhere.
“wow” you said from the doorway.
joe glanced around.
“yeah it’s bad.”
you spent most of the day helping him pack things up. folding clothes, stuffing notebooks into bags, trying to make sense of the mess he’d lived in for the past few years.
at one point he sat down on the floor, staring at the half-filled suitcase in front of him.
“i had to quit my waiting job today” he said.
you looked up from where you were taping a box shut.
“and?”
he rubbed the back of his neck.
“it was so awkward.”
you laughed.
“they were like ‘good luck with your acting thing’ in that voice where they clearly don’t think it’s real.”
you tossed a rolled up sock at him.
“well they’re wrong.”
he caught it and tossed it back.
“i know.”
there was a quiet moment after that.
“this is happening,” he said, almost to himself.
“yeah,” you said softly. “it is.”
things were moving for you too.
a few weeks earlier you’d landed an internship at a small media company in new york. it wasn’t glamorous mostly smaller assignments and write-ups about local events or people.
but it was real work. real bylines.
you’d told joe about it during one of your calls and he’d nearly knocked something over in excitement.
“see?” he said now, pointing at you from across the room. “we’re doing it.”
“we are.”
you both just looked at each other for a second, smiling like idiots.
because somehow you actually were.
when filming started, things got busier for joe.
the thursday calls didn’t happen as regularly anymore. sometimes you’d just get a quick text late at night or a short phone call when he had time between shoots.
but you could tell he was trying.
he’d send you random updates about the set, about the other actors, about the weird hours they kept while filming.
and when filming wrapped around christmas, you both ended up back home in boston at the same time.
the first night you went straight back to the creek.
nothing had changed there.
the same dock, the same quiet water.
joe was pacing a little as he talked, words spilling out faster than usual.
“i don’t know,” he said. “i just really hope this turns into something, you know?”
you watched him for a second before smiling.
“joe.”
“yeah?”
“it will.”
he stopped pacing.
“you really think so?”
you nudged his shoulder lightly as you walked past him to sit on the edge of the dock.
“i know so.”
and honestly, you were completely sure of it.
-
stranger things blew up in a way neither of you had really expected.
when the first season came out, it was suddenly everywhere. clips online, interviews popping up on your feed, people talking about it on the subway, in cafés, in your office. the first time you saw joe on a late-night show you actually had to pause the video halfway through because you were smiling so hard it felt ridiculous.
steve harrington.
your joe.
you’d always known he was good, but watching the world figure it out at the same time was something else entirely.
you texted him the night the show dropped.
holy shit, harrington.
he replied a few minutes later.
shut up.
but you could tell he was happy.
for a while things were still normal enough. you’d text sometimes, call occasionally when schedules lined up. he sounded busier, a little more tired, but still like himself.
then a few months later he mentioned he’d started seeing someone.
he said over the phone one night, sounding a little unsure of how to bring it up.
you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.
“nice,” you said. “do you like her?”
“yeah,” he said quickly. “i do.”
“then i’m happy for you.”
and you meant it.
at first nothing really changed. but a few months into the relationship you started noticing the distance.
texts took longer to come back. calls happened less and less. sometimes you’d send something and get a reply hours later that felt rushed, like he was answering between other things.
you didn’t say anything about it.
partly because you didn’t want to make it weird. partly because you knew his life was moving fast right now. interviews, press stuff, the show exploding overnight.
and you were pretty sure he was getting ready to film season two soon.
it might not even be about you at all.
so you left it alone.
your own life in new york had started taking off too.
the internship turned into real work. real assignments, longer pieces, actual names attached to your articles. you’d started building something for yourself there, slowly, but steadily.
you had a small group of friends now too. people you’d met through work and through other friends, the kind of people who showed up at your apartment with cheap wine and stayed too late talking about everything and nothing.
there was even a guy for a little while.
nothing serious. just a few months of late dinners and wandering around the city at night. it ended easily, without much drama, and you stayed friendly after.
life was good. really good, actually.
just with a small, quiet space in it that used to belong to joe.
sometimes you’d notice it in the weirdest moments. when you saw something funny and instinctively went to text him before remembering you hadn’t talked properly in weeks. or when someone mentioned stranger things and you had to stop yourself from saying i know him.
you wondered sometimes if this was just… how it went.
people grow up. their lives get bigger. friendships that used to take up all the space start fading around the edges.
maybe the friendship that had carried you through your whole childhood had simply reached its natural ending.
even if part of you didn’t really want to believe that.
months passed like that.
you mostly kept up with joe the same way everyone else did. seeing clips of interviews online, the occasional headline, random photos that popped up on social media.
seeing him laugh on a talk show felt strange when you hadn’t heard his voice in weeks.
eventually christmas started creeping closer again.
on the flight home to boston you found yourself staring out the airplane window longer than usual.
you wondered if joe ever missed you.
it was easier for you to see him. he was everywhere online now. but he didn’t have that same window into your life. he couldn’t just open instagram and see your face everywhere.
and even if he could, would he look?
you shook the thought away.
when you got home your mom filled you in on the neighborhood updates over dinner, the usual stories about who moved away or whose kid had gotten engaged.
then she mentioned it casually.
“oh, and joe isn’t coming home for christmas this year.”
you glanced up.
“he’s not?”
“no, he’s staying with his girlfriend.”
you nodded slowly.
“oh. okay.”
and honestly, you were happy for him.
really.
if things were serious enough that he was spending christmas with her instead of flying home, that probably meant he was doing well. building a life somewhere else the same way you were.
that night, while you were sitting on your childhood bed scrolling through your phone, a message popped up.
joe.
merry christmas!
you stared at the screen for a second.
it wasn’t hey, i miss you or how have you been or anything like that.
just simple. just christmas.
but you typed back anyway.
merry christmas.
because maybe this was just what growing up looked like.
even if part of you continued to have that quiet space where your co-captain used to be
-
months turned into more than a year, then longer than that. somewhere along the way the silence between you and joe just settled into something normal.
you stopped expecting texts. stopped checking your phone for his name.
life filled itself in other places.
but every now and then you’d catch yourself thinking about how it used to be.
little things would bring it back. the smell of lake water in the summer, even stupid things like seeing a hockey stick leaning outside someone’s garage.
memories came back easily.
running through your backyards as kids. the roof of your house in high school. thursday night movies during college. the creek, always the creek.
and eventually you realised something that probably should’ve been obvious years ago.
you were in love with him.
not in any dramatic kind of way, it was quieter than that. more like noticing a piece of yourself that had always been there.
looking back at your life and realising how much of it had been built with him standing next to you.
part of you probably still was in love with him.
honestly, he’d been everything to you.
in a lot of ways he still was.
but that didn’t mean you were going to go chasing after him now.
his life had grown into something huge and busy and full of people you didn’t know anymore. and you weren’t about to force your way back into a place where you might not belong.
so you left it where it was.
what surprised you, though, was that you ended up getting closer with his sisters.
you’d always liked them growing up, but as kids you’d mostly been busy with joe. now that you were all adults, the dynamic shifted a little.
kate was the one you talked to the most.
when she texted you one afternoon saying she was moving to new york, you nearly dropped your phone.
seriously? you wrote back.
yeah, she replied. new job. terrified.
you smiled.
don’t worry. i’ll show you around.
and you did.
the first few weeks after she arrived you took her everywhere. small cafés you liked, parks she hadn’t seen yet, the bookstore you practically lived in on weekends. sometimes you’d just wander the city with no real plan, talking about everything from work to family to stupid stories from when you were all younger.
it was really nice. comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected.
one week your brother happened to be in the city too for a work trip. you all met up in central park one afternoon, grabbing coffee from a street cart before sitting on the grass together.
for a moment it felt strangely familiar.
you, your brother, one of joe’s sisters.
just missing the rest of the crew.
“this feels weird” your brother said at one point, glancing around.
kate laughed. “because not everyones here?”
“yeah.”
you shrugged a little.
“yeah. a little.”
but it still felt good.
like reconnecting with pieces of your childhood without having to dig too deeply into the parts that were missing.
that year you didn’t go home for christmas.
work offered you the chance to travel to france for a winter piece, something about documenting the slower pace of life in smaller towns and how it compared to the nonstop rush of big cities.
you said yes almost immediately.
and honestly, it was incredible.
snow-covered streets, long walks through old towns where everything felt slower and softer somehow. you spent weeks bouncing between different places, interviewing locals, writing late at night in small hotel rooms.
it was the kind of thing you’d dreamed about when you first decided you wanted to be a journalist.
one night you were alone in a random hotel somewhere in the countryside, half curled up on the bed with your laptop open, scrolling mindlessly before going to sleep.
a video clip popped up on your feed.
joe.
you almost scrolled past it automatically.
but something made you stop.
it was from an interview. joe sitting on a couch somewhere, laughing about something the host had said. the caption mentioned him talking about his childhood.
you clicked it.
“i loved growing up in boston,” he was saying. “i miss it sometimes.”
you smiled faintly. that part wasn’t surprising.
then he said your name.
you actually blinked at the screen.
“i had this best friend growing up,” joe continued, smiling a little. “we lived across the street from each other. we were basically attached at the hip.”
he talked about you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
about adventures in the backyard, about the creek, about growing up with his sisters and your brother around.
“it was the best time” he said.
something warm and bittersweet settled in your chest.
then the interviewer asked the obvious question.
“are you two still friends?”
joe hesitated.
just for a second.
“i guess… yeah,” he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck a little. “i think we always will be.”
you let out a quiet breath.
right.
okay.
you ignored the part of your brain that wanted to point out the obvious. that he had stopped talking to you a long time ago.
instead you focused on the part that mattered.
that he remembered. that he still appreciated the years you’d spent side by side growing up. that somewhere in the middle of his very big life now, there was still a small place where those memories lived.
-
the next summer you ended up back home for a few weeks.
work had given you a break between projects, and for the first time in a while you didn’t have somewhere else you needed to be. so you flew back to boston and stepped into the same quiet street you’d grown up on.
it felt different.
not physically, the houses were the same, the sidewalks still cracked in the same places, the same trees hanging over the road. joe’s house was still sitting right across from yours like it always had.
but the feeling of it had shifted. like time had moved forward without asking anyone’s permission.
your parents had made a decision while you were gone, apparently.
they got a dog.
“you got a what?” you asked the first morning you were home.
your mom looked very pleased with herself.
“a dog.”
the dog in question was currently sprinting around the kitchen.
“we thought the house was too quiet” your dad added.
so naturally, the next morning you were given the task of walking it.
you clipped the leash on and stepped outside into the warm summer air, the dog pulling slightly ahead of you like it had somewhere important to be.
without really thinking about it, you started walking toward the creek.
partly because the dog needed the exercise.
mostly because you just wanted to go back there.
the path through the trees hadn’t changed at all. same dirt trail, same patches of sunlight breaking through the leaves.
when the water finally came into view you slowed down.
the dock was still there. crooked like always.
you walked out to the end of it and sat down, the wood creaking faintly under your weight. the dog circled once before flopping down next to you, satisfied.
for a while you just looked at the water.
it felt weird being there alone.
your mind wandered the way it always did there, drifting through memories you hadn’t thought about in years. late summer nights, your feet in the water, joe sitting beside you talking about some random thing that suddenly felt like the most important conversation in the world.
and then you thought about the promise.
fourteen years old, pinkies hooked together.
promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.
you smiled faintly to yourself.
after a moment you pulled your phone out of your pocket.
it felt a little ridiculous.
you hadn’t texted joe in… you weren’t even sure how long.
but sitting there on that dock made it feel less strange somehow.
so you typed something simple.
hey. this is kinda random but i’ve been seeing what you’ve been doing lately and i’m really proud of you. hope you’re doing okay. i’m back home for a bit and i’m sitting at the creek and it reminded me of you.
you stared at the message for a second.
then you hit send.
the dog shifted beside you, sighing softly.
you set your phone down next to you on the dock.
it felt good.
not because you expected a reply.
but because a part of you felt settled. like you’d closed a small door that had been left open for too long.
even if he never answered, he’d at least see it.
that was enough.
meanwhile, across the country in los angeles, joe wasn’t doing great.
the last few months had been rough.
he and his girlfriend had broken up. one of those long, messy endings where nothing dramatic happened but everything still fell apart anyway. interviews kept piling up, filming schedules were exhausting, and fame had started bringing a thousand little pressures he’d never really prepared for.
it felt like everything in his life was moving too fast.
he was halfway across his apartment when his phone buzzed.
he almost ignored it.
but when he glanced down and saw your name, he stopped walking entirely.
for a second he just stared at the screen.
your message sat there, simple and calm and completely unexpected.
…i’m really proud of you.
joe felt something twist sharply in his chest.
not because you’d said anything dramatic but because it suddenly hit him that this was the first time you two had spoken in… how long?
years?
how the hell did that happen?
he rubbed a hand over his face, pacing slowly now.
he’d meant to text you. so many times.
he’d thought about it while traveling, while sitting in trailers between scenes, while lying awake in hotel rooms after long days of filming.
i should text her.
i’ll do it tomorrow.
and then tomorrow turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and suddenly it felt too late.
now here you were.
texting him like nothing terrible had happened. just telling him you were proud of him and that you were sitting at the creek.
he could picture it perfectly.
joe leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at your message again.
…i’m really proud of you.
that sentence hit him harder than he expected.
he remembered the first time you’d said that.
you were both maybe seven years old. his little hockey team had won some junior game. nothing official, just a bunch of kids running around on the ice while parents cheered in the stands.
he’d walked out of the rink and there you were, waiting with your parents.
missing teeth. biggest smile he’d ever seen.
“i’m proud of you” you’d said like it was the most important announcement in the world.
later you’d teased him for months about the fact that you’d lost more teeth than him first. you used it constantly whenever you needed to win an argument. and somehow, even after all the premieres and interviews and applause and everything else that came with the last few years joe didn’t think anything had ever felt quite like hearing you say that.
he stared down at his phone again.
a heavy, guilty feeling settled in his chest.
because he had let it get to this. he’d let years pass without fixing it.
and he really fucking hated himself for that.
his thumb hovered over the screen.
for a second he wondered if he even deserved to text you back.
but of course he did anyway.
yeah i’m okay.
he sent it.
then immediately frowned at himself.
that wasn’t really the truth, and it definitely wasn’t how he talked to you. even after all this time it felt weird pretending things were fine when it was you on the other side of the conversation.
actually that’s kind of a lie.
he rubbed the back of his neck while he typed.
things have been a little stressful lately. but i’m alright. mostly.
and i’m really sorry it’s been so long.
he stared at the screen after sending that one.
hope you’re still killing it over in new york.
back at the creek your phone buzzed and you blinked down at it, a little surprised he’d actually replied.
you read the messages slowly, then typed back.
the conversation wasn’t long. just a handful of texts back and forth at first. the kind of awkward catching up that happens when two people haven’t talked in a long time but also know each other too well for it to feel completely strange.
you told him work was going well. he told you filming had been chaotic. you asked how la was treating him.
at one point you mentioned kate.
because she moved to new york a while ago, you typed. we’ve been hanging out a lot. i promised i’d show her around.
on the other side of the country joe leaned back against his counter, reading that line twice.
a weird little twist of jealousy hit him in the chest before he could stop it.
which was stupid.
he had absolutely no reason to feel that way.
but the image of you wandering around new york together made him wish he was the one there instead. wish he was the one seeing you all the time.
that’s good, he typed back.
you eventually stood up from the dock, clipping the leash back onto the dog.
anyway, you wrote, i should probably head back before this dog drags me home herself.
but it was good hearing from you.
he stared at that message for a second before replying.
yeah. it was.
you slipped your phone back into your pocket and started walking home through the trees, the dog trotting ahead of you happily.
even if that ended up being the last time you and joe ever spoke properly, it felt like something had settled into place. like the story had a little more clarity now.
that night, though, your phone rang.
you squinted at the screen from your bed.
joe calling.
for a second you considered letting it go to voicemail out of pure shock.
then you answered.
“hello?”
“hey.”
his voice sounded almost exactly the same.
maybe a little older. a little more tired. but still joe.
and somehow the conversation slipped into place almost instantly, like the last few years had been nothing more than a long pause.
joe started rambling within the first two minutes. something about filming schedules and a ridiculous story about a co-star forgetting their lines in the middle of a scene. you laughed, leaning back against your pillows while the house around you stayed quiet.
then you told him about france.
the small towns. the interviews. the weird hotel rooms.
“that’s incredible” he said.
and you could hear it in his voice, he meant it.
genuinely.
toward the end of the call it was well past midnight for you. the room was dark except for the faint light coming through the window, while joe was sitting somewhere in the middle of a sunny la afternoon.
he went quiet for a second.
“you know what’s weird?” he said.
“what?”
“this feels exactly the same.”
you smiled a little into the phone.
because it did.
even after everything it was still easy. still comfortable in that strange way that only existed between the two of you.
joe leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his hair.
he’d spent years thinking he’d somehow lost his best friend.
and now after one conversation he could feel it again, like it had never really gone anywhere.
“i’m gonna text you more,” he said suddenly. “like actually this time.”
you hummed softly in response.
“okay.”
but the way you said it sounded careful. like you weren’t sure you believed him.
and honestly, that stung a little.
but what else could he expect?
you hung up not long after that.
and for a while, you both meant it. but life slipped in again.
when you were back in new york, things got busy. work piled up, his filming schedules shifted, time zones still made things harder than they should’ve been.
weeks passed. then more. and you didn’t really talk again.
until months later.
you weren’t even thinking about joe that morning.
you were just in the grocery store near your apartment, pushing a cart slowly down the aisle while half-reading a list on your phone.
you turned the corner at the end of the aisle.
and walked straight into someone.
“oh- sorry” you started automatically.
the other person froze.
you looked up.
joe looked like he’d just seen a ghost.
but not in a bad way, more like shock mixed with something softer.
“oh my god” he said.
before you could even react, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
you laughed in surprise but hugged him back automatically, your arms wrapping around him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“what the hell?” you said into his shoulder.
he pulled back slightly, still grinning in disbelief.
“what are you doing here?”
you blinked at him.
“…i live here.”
“right,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “right, yeah. that makes sense.”
you grabbed the cart again, still laughing a little.
joe immediately fell into step beside you and then followed you around the store like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“i’m here for a conference thing,” he said as you grabbed something off a shelf. “like interviews and panels and all that.”
“fun.”
“not really.”
you smiled faintly.
as you reached the checkout area he shifted awkwardly for a second before speaking again.
“i’m in town for the week” he said.
you glanced up at him.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
he hesitated.
“we should… meet up or something.”
-
you did end up meeting up.
a couple nights later you were sitting across from joe at a small restaurant you liked a few blocks from your apartment.
joe kept glancing around like he was taking everything in.
“this place is nice” he said.
“i come here a lot,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “the pasta’s good.”
“good to know.”
for a while the conversation stayed light. catching up properly this time instead of in rushed texts or late night phone calls.
at one point joe leaned back in his chair a little.
“i actually got into music recently” he said.
you raised an eyebrow. “like listening to it?”
“no, like… making it.”
“of course you did,” you laughed. “you can’t just pick one job like a normal person?”
he grinned.
“apparently not.”
you tapped your fork lightly against your plate.
“i actually did a piece a while ago about music in the city,” you said. “small venues, street performers, that kind of thing.”
“really?”
“yeah. it was one of my favourite things i’ve worked on.”
joe nodded thoughtfully.
“that sounds like something you’d like.”
as the night went on the restaurant slowly got quieter. tables emptied, the noise dropped until it was mostly just low conversations and the clink of dishes from the kitchen.
joe had been fiddling with his glass for a minute before he finally spoke again.
“can i ask you something?”
“sure.”
he hesitated slightly.
“do you blame me?”
you looked up at him.
“for why we stopped talking.”
you didn’t answer immediately.
not because you didn’t know the answer. just because you wanted to say it honestly.
“partially,” you said after a moment.
joe nodded slowly, like he’d expected that.
“but i was never mad,” you added. “i kinda just… expected it.”
his brow furrowed slightly.
“expected it?”
“yeah.”
you shrugged lightly.
“you moved on with your life. things got big and busy and complicated. that happens.”
you leaned back a little in your chair.
“so i just decided to be happy with the childhood we had.”
joe looked down at the table for a second.
“and it’s not like i was trying that hard to stay close either,” you continued. “i let myself drift the moment you did.”
he let out a quiet breath.
“yeah,” he said. “that’s… fair.”
after a moment he looked back up at you.
“i’m still really sorry though.”
you smiled faintly.
“i know.”
“i never wanted you to feel like you were something i could just let go of,” he said. “even if that’s kind of what happened.”
you both sat there quietly for a second.
“i just got caught up in everything” he added.
you raised an eyebrow.
“that’s kind of a shitty excuse.”
he snorted.
“yeah. it really is.”
you both laughed.
after a minute joe leaned forward again slightly.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
“will you come home for christmas this year?”
you blinked at him.
“that’s months away.”
“i know.”
“why are you asking now?”
he shrugged.
“just… try.”
you narrowed your eyes at him.
“you’re gonna blow me off again.”
joe scoffed immediately.
“i am not.”
you tilted your head skeptically.
he shook his head, smiling a little.
“just try.”
somehow, months later, it actually happened.
you were home for christmas.
so was your brother. and joe. and all four of his sisters.
it had been years since everyone had been in the same place at the same time, but somehow it worked out that year.
which is how all of you ended up outside in joe’s family backyard, sitting in the old deck chairs that had been there forever.
it was literally snowing.
everyone was wrapped up in blankets and jackets, breath visible in the cold air.
“this is stupid” one of his sisters complained.
“it’s tradition” someone else argued.
and they were right.
every time the whole group was together growing up, you ended up out here eventually. it didn’t matter if it was summer or winter, the backyard had always been the meeting spot.
so now, even with snow dusting the ground and freezing air biting at your noses, you were all sitting there laughing and talking like it was the most normal thing in the world.
your brother was telling some ridiculous story from work. kate was arguing with one of the other sisters. someone passed around mugs of hot chocolate.
joe sat a little quieter than usual.
not because he wasn’t enjoying it. but because he was looking around. really looking. at his sisters. at your brother. at you. at all the people who had been there since the very beginning.
it hit him suddenly how rare something like this actually was.
how rare it was for a group of people to grow up together and somehow still find their way back to the same place years later.
and you. you were the rarest part of it.
joe leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you laugh at something kate had just said.
and for the first time in a long time, he thought about how much he loved you.
-
that night joe couldn’t sleep.
the house was quiet in the way it only gets late at night during winter. the heat humming softly through the vents, the occasional creak of old wood settling in the cold. everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.
but joe was wide awake.
he was lying there staring at the ceiling, thinking about you.
really thinking about you.
about the first time he realised he was in love with you.
he could trace it back pretty clearly now. high school. someone had made another one of those comments. the ones people had been making for years.
are you two dating or what?
normally he’d roll his eyes. normally you’d both deny it automatically and move on.
but that time he didn’t. he’d just shrugged.
“yeah.”
he remembered glancing over at you right after he said it. waiting. half expecting you to make a face or shove his shoulder or laugh and immediately correct the person.
but you hadn’t.
you’d just rolled your eyes and kept walking.
and for some reason that had made something flutter weirdly in his chest.
he hadn’t done anything about it though.
not then. not later.
he dated other people. had real relationships even. girls he genuinely liked, even loved in different ways.
he never said anything to you.
not when you graduated high school together. not when you hugged goodbye before leaving for college. not when he first flew out to start filming stranger things.
never.
the closest he’d come to losing you completely was when you stopped talking those years later. when life got loud and messy and he let distance do what distance does. and even when he met his most recent girlfriend, someone he really did care about, loving her never really erased you.
it just dimmed that part of his brain for a while.
like turning the lights off in a room.
but the room was still there.
so now he was lying there staring at the ceiling wondering one thing.
at what point was enough enough?
he’d already lost you once. he only kind of had you back now. so when was it going to be too late to say anything?
if it wasn’t already.
because honestly, it probably was.
that thought made his chest tighten.
so he did something impulsive.
he grabbed his phone and texted you.
are you awake?
a minute later your reply came through.
yeah.
he sat up immediately.
wrap up and meet me outside.
you didn’t ask why.
you never really did when it came to him.
ten minutes later you stepped outside your house bundled in a coat and scarf, the cold biting instantly at your cheeks.
joe was already waiting across the street.
“hi” you said, breath fogging in the air.
“hi.”
“what’s wrong?”
“nothing.”
you raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.
“okay.”
you started walking.
neither of you said where you were going.
you both already knew.
the path to the creek was icy in patches, the trees bare and quiet under the pale winter moon.
you walked mostly in silence until your foot hit a slick patch of ice and you almost went down.
“shit-”
you yelped, flailing slightly before catching yourself.
joe grabbed your arm instinctively.
“you good?”
“yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “almost died but it’s fine.”
“dramatic.”
“shut up.”
when the pond finally came into view it looked completely different from the last time.
the water was frozen over, a smooth sheet of pale ice stretching across the surface. the dock was still there though. you both walked out to the end and sat down like you had a thousand times before. for a moment you just looked out at the frozen lake.
then you turned your head slightly toward him.
“so,” you said. “what’s wrong?”
joe smiled faintly.
“nothing.”
you studied him for a second.
then, surprisingly, you seemed okay with that answer.
you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky instead.
the stars were sharp in the cold air.
joe watched you quietly.
and he had a sudden, overwhelming thought.
you were always beautiful. he’d known that forever. but moments like this, under moonlight, felt different. like they belonged to him somehow.
selfish. but true.
before he could talk himself out of it, he reached over and took your hand.
you turned your head immediately, surprised.
joe was already looking at you.
“you know,” he said quietly, “i was thinking.”
“that’s dangerous.”
he huffed a small laugh.
“i think i finally know the moment i fell in love with you.”
you froze slightly.
completely caught off guard. for once you didn’t have anything to say.
joe looked back out at the frozen lake.
“i think it was when we decided to be co-captains” he said.
you blinked.
“i didn’t realise it then obviously. not until high school actually”
“what?” you said softly.
he just shrugged again and looked away.
“i just… wanted you to know.”
the two of you sat there quietly for a moment. the words settling into the cold air between you. then you spoke. very calmly.
“when you gave me your ice cream.”
joe turned his head back toward you.
“…huh?”
you smiled faintly.
“that’s when i did.”
“did what?”
“fell in love with you.”
he blinked.
you laughed softly.
“i dropped my ice cream and started crying,” you explained. “and you gave me yours. it was already half eaten.”
the memory came rushing back immediately.
joe stared at you, a soft, almost stunned expression spreading across his face.
for a second neither of you spoke.
then he said quietly,
“i’m sorry i let you down.”
the words hung there for a moment.
you didn’t argue. didn’t tell him he hadn’t. you just shifted closer and rested your head against his shoulder.
and the two of you sat there on the old dock, looking out over the frozen creek, like you had your whole lives.
you stayed there for a while after that.
neither of you really said anything. you were both just sitting there, your head still resting against joe’s shoulder, his hand loosely holding yours while the cold air settled around you.
then suddenly something streaked across the sky.
“oh-” you sat up quickly. “look!”
a shooting star.
you immediately closed your eyes, hands clasped together like you had when you were a kid.
joe rolled his eyes.
“you’re unbelievable” he muttered.
but a second later he sighed and closed his eyes too.
you peeked at him.
“did you make a wish?”
he opened one eye.
“maybe.”
you grinned.
after another few minutes you both finally admitted defeat.
“i think my toes are about to fall off” you said.
“yeah,” joe agreed, standing up and offering you his hand. “we should go before we actually get frostbite.”
the walk back was quiet. the confession hung in the air between you, but neither of you felt the need to dissect it right away. it was just there now, something real that had finally been said out loud.
when you reached the street between your houses you slowed to a stop.
“well” you said softly.
“yeah.”
before you could say anything else, joe stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
it was warm despite the cold air, familiar in the way only he could be. your arms wrapped around him automatically.
after a moment he pulled back slightly.
his hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks.
he was smiling at you.
you smiled back.
you both leaned in slowly, almost carefully. and then you kissed.
it felt like everything at once.
years of history wrapped into one small moment.
when you pulled apart you both just stood there for a second, smiling a little like you couldn’t quite believe it.
“goodnight” you said quietly.
“goodnight.”
and that was it.
you both went inside and went to bed like nothing dramatic had happened. but something had definitely changed.
-
when it was time for you to fly back to new york, joe flew with you.
“i have some time before i need to go back to la” he’d said casually.
you didn’t question it too much.
new york was loud and bright as always when you got back. the city buzzing with that end-of-year energy as everyone prepared for new year’s.
your friends were thrilled when you told them joe was visiting.
they’d heard about him for years, the childhood best friend who showed up in half your stories.
“so this is joe” one of them said when you introduced him.
joe laughed.
“feel like i’m being evaluated.”
“you are” your friend replied.
but they liked him almost immediately.
that night you all ended up packed together in someone’s apartment, music playing, drinks in hand, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.
joe stayed close to you most of the night. not in a clingy way, just near. like he’d always been.
when midnight finally came everyone crowded around the window watching the fireworks burst over the city.
people were shouting the countdown.
“three!”
“two!”
“one!”
cheers erupted around the room.
and before you could even think about it joe leaned down and kissed you again.
this time it felt different. this felt like a beginning. something new unfolding between you. something that hadn’t existed before. and that’s exactly what it was.
-
life didn’t suddenly become perfect after that.
joe still got busy. filming schedules were still chaotic, interviews still happened, life still moved quickly.
but this time he did something differently.
he made sure the things that actually mattered stayed at the top of his list.
you.
you still made him grovel a little, obviously. you reminded him often that he had a lot of years to make up for.
he never complained about it. if anything, he seemed more than happy to earn his way back.
you met the rest of the stranger things cast eventually, long dinners where everyone talked over each other and joe looked weirdly proud every time someone made you laugh.
you met his new friends in la. he met more of yours in new york.
slowly, the two of you settled into something comfortable again. like finding your way back to a place you’d known your whole life.
until one evening, months later, joe finally said it.
you were walking through central park when he suddenly stopped.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
he rubbed the back of his neck a little.
“do you want to go out with me? officially?”
you blinked at him.
“joe.”
“i know,” he said quickly. “extremely overdue.”
you laughed.
“extremely.”
he smiled sheepishly.
“i swear i’ll make it worth it.”
you studied him for a second before nodding.
“okay.”
because of course you would.
honestly, you were kind of glad to finally have joe earning his way back into your life properly.
and joe had never been happier to have his co-captain back.
——————-
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