capnjackk

[capnjackk]

Lost in the Darkness | Chapter Four

rockstar!joel au

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

warnings: meet-cute, fluff, mega slow burn (I’m talking >5 chapters of tension), idiots in love, hurt/comfort, little baby sarah, singledad!joel, girl-dad!joel, drinking, gossip, Rosemary has secrets, Joel is kind about it, Joel is 31, Rosemary is 26, Sarah is 5, feelings of unworthiness, self-deprecation.

a/n: big things happening in this chapter! Hopefully you enjoy the tone shift, more to come!

word count: 5.7k

masterlist

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chapter 4

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Chicago.

The hallway behind the stage was narrow, dimly lit and buzzing with the residual energy from the show. Thick wires snaked along the walls, and the low thump of bass still bled from the main floor where the roadies were wrapping up. Joel was peeling out his in-ear monitors as he turned the corner, heading to the green room when he saw Rosemary.

She was coming towards him with a sure gait, fingers tracing the wall, but cautious in that way he’d always chalked up to her being deliberate - graceful even. He liked that about her. She never rushed. 

Her foot caught on one of the thick cables stretching across the hallway floor. 

She stumbled hard, just as they were about to pass each other – arms flailing for balance – she would’ve hit the ground if he hadn’t lurched forward and caught her elbow and waist.

“Shit,” he muttered, steadying her. “You okay?”

She let out a breathy laugh, brushing her curls out of her face. “Yeah. Clumsy. Wires everywhere.”

He nodded, letting go of her, finally. But his eyes lingered. The hallway was dim, sure. But the cable was black against the light concrete floor. And she’d tripped dead centre on it - like she hadn’t even seen it.

A cog wedged deep in the back of Joel’s mind started whirring to life. 

Is she– 

Before he could offer to walk with her, or question her on any of it, she left in an embarrassed shuffle, mumbling apologies. 

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

They regrouped in the green room, the rest of the bands slowly filtering in. Rosemary disappeared with Dina to change, and Joel made small talk with Tommy, already nursing a beer, his post-show high radiating off him in waves. There were congratulations, a bit of teasing, and the usual after-show buzz, but Joel kept stealing glances at the door.

Ever since New York, he hadn’t had her off his mind for any more than a minute. He was watching her even more closely than before, mind ticking, trying to find the right words to say. 

Later, the after-party was thrown together at a small rooftop bar a few blocks from the venue. One of those spots with too much reclaimed wood and string lights overhead. The band was in a celebratory mood. People buzzed around them, drinks flowed freely, and Joel finally let himself exhale.

The rooftop had thinned out to a low simmer of bodies and soft music — the kind of post-show haze where everything felt like a slow exhale. Overhead, fairy lights swayed gently in the breeze, and the city skyline blinked steady and indifferent below them.

Joel leaned on the railing, beer in hand, eyes tracking one person in particular.

Rosemary was standing near the far wall, talking to a few people from the label. Her laugh drifted across the space, quiet but unmistakable. 

God, she was beautiful. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way she moved — deliberate, careful, always with a kind of softness around the edges. Like she was navigating an invisible map no one else could see.

Joel had noticed it before. On stage, during soundcheck, even in conversation. The way her gaze didn’t always lock on, not really. The way she waited just an extra second before responding sometimes, like she was calibrating the space around her.

He kept telling himself it was just her personality. Private. Introverted. Focused.

But the voice in his mind, the one he was starting to trust, whispered there’s more to it.

“You gonna keep staring at her all night or actually talk to her?” Tommy’s voice broke in as he slid up beside him.

Joel didn’t flinch. “Mind your business.”

Tommy grinned, drink in hand. “Can’t. This is my business now. Watching my big brother get all twisted up over the tour opener is the best entertainment I’ve had in months.”

Joel huffed a laugh, eyes still on Rosemary. “You’re a child.”

“You’re in denial,” Tommy shot back. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger and she doesn’t even know it.”

Joel didn’t respond. Rosemary shifted slightly, brushing past a chair, her hand trailing the edge of the table until it found a drink someone had set down for her. She picked it up without hesitation, but still… there was a flicker of something odd in the way her hand had searched first.

He frowned.

Tommy followed his gaze. “She’s magnetic, huh? Got that beautiful fuckin’ goddess look.”

“Yeah,” Joel said, a little annoyed, almost to himself. “She does.” A beat passed before he added, “You ever notice anything... off?”

Tommy blinked. “Off?”

Joel hesitated. “Not bad. Just… different. The way she moves, focuses…”

Tommy raised a brow. “What, like she’s not falling all over herself to impress people like the rest of us?”

Joel gave him a look, but it didn’t have much heat. “Forget it.”

Tommy leaned in, grinning. “Oh my God, you’re spiraling. You’re thinking. That’s new.”

“I said forget it,” Joel muttered, though his eyes drifted back to Rosemary again.

She was talking to someone now, nodding with that small, careful smile of hers. But there it was again — the subtle tilt of her head, the way she stilled when someone spoke, like she was tuning out the world to focus only on their voice. Her eyes didn’t quite follow movement the way most people’s did.

The beer bottle felt warm in his hand. He barely tasted it anymore.

The thoughts flowing through his mind sounded ridiculous; impossible.

Except… it wasn’t. Not really. Not when he started stacking up the way she always had Dina close, the way she rarely made direct eye contact, the way she never read off her phone, or deflected when people showed her something.

Joel’s chest tightened. Not in a bad way. Just… overwhelmed. Like something massive was hovering just outside his reach, and the closer he got to it, the more the pieces started to fit.

Tommy took another swig of his drink, blissfully unaware of the war inside his brother’s head.

“You’re so far gone,” he said. “I give it three days before you write her a song and sob onstage during the bridge.”

Joel didn’t even argue.

He just kept watching her.

Because if what he was starting to believe was true…

Then maybe she wasn’t just mysterious.

Maybe she was surviving in a world not built for her — and doing it so gracefully, no one had even noticed.

Except maybe now… he had.

And he couldn’t unsee it.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Now, she sat beside him on a low couch tucked into the darkest corner of the rooftop. The music pulsed through the air like a heartbeat, but here, it felt quieter. Softer. Just the two of them.

Rosemary leaned back, head resting dangerously close to where Joel’s arm laid along the back of the couch. Her curls had half-fallen out of the neat style from earlier, and her eyeliner was smudged at the corners in a way that only made her look more stunning.

She looked relaxed. But he could tell she was listening deeply. The way she always did, with her head slightly tilted like she was tuning in to something underneath the surface.

He didn’t say much. Joel was happy just sitting in the nearness of her, liking the way her laughter from earlier still lingered around him like heat.

Suddenly, a young woman looking as though she might have just finished her shift at the bar bounded up to them with a copy of Joel’s Red Horses vinyl clutched in her arms.

“Oh my god — sorry, I-  Joel, I’m obsessed with this record. I grew up on this.”

He gave her a polite smile. “Appreciate it.”

She turned to Rosemary next, practically glowing. “And you! You were incredible tonight. I didn’t know your stuff before, but now I’m stalking your entire catalog.”

Rosemary laughed, easy and grateful. “That won’t take long, it’s only an EP.”

“Well, I brought this just in case,” the girl grinned, pulling out a Sharpie and holding Joel’s vinyl toward her. “Would you guys mind?”

“Not at all,” Rosemary said, still smiling.

Joel leaned forward slightly without meaning to.

The girl extended the album and pen toward Rosemary, but there was a moment. Just a second of hesitation. Rosemary’s hand lifted, but it hovered towards the wrong direction. Not just by an inch, but a good way off. Then she tried again, closer this time. Her expression didn’t change. Her voice didn’t waver. But her hand fumbled for it until finally, contact. Then, her fingers subtly traced an area, before they guided the tip of the pen down, and she signed it in a smooth couple of loops – as if nothing had happened at all. 

But Joel saw it.

He saw all of it.

The way she hadn’t even tried to look down at the object. The way her face had stayed turned toward the girl’s voice, not her motion. The second delay. The way her signature went right over the top of some writing, rather than an inch to the right, where there was free space. The care in her cover-up was flawless to anyone else. 

But not to him.

His mind reeled, but his expression didn’t. 

The backstage hallway. That trip. Her step; always so precise until it wasn’t. The way she never reacted to visual cues — only sound. How she'd never once made full eye contact with him. The way Dina had been with her almost constantly – holding her elbow and whispering in her ear. He couldn’t think of a time when he had seen her reading. Never looking down at her guitar…

Oh.

Oh.

She’s blind.

She’s blind, or something like that. She can’t see like the majority of people can. The thought landed in his chest as a soft truth, not a bombshell. It didn’t feel like deception. How could it be? Surviving in the music industry is hard enough, and having this on your shoulders would add a million different hardships to the mix. He instantly understood.

And weirdly, he felt relieved.

He was so lost in thought that he barely registered taking the record from Rosemary and signing it himself, letting autopilot say goodbye to the fan on his behalf.

Silence sat between them once again, until Joel leaned a little closer on the couch and bumped his knee gently against hers.

“You killed it tonight,” he said, soft and true.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Sometimes Rosemary forgot how long she had been pretending.

At some point, it became muscle memory. A practiced way of existing. A habit worn into her bones just like her old guitar calluses. She walked a certain way. Held her head a certain way. Answered questions with just enough confidence to stop anyone from asking more.

She couldn’t remember exactly when it started. It had happened slowly. Piece by piece. The smaller the vision got, the larger the fear became. Not fear of blindness itself. That, she could handle. What she couldn’t bear was the way people looked at her once they knew. With worry. With pity. Or worse, with the assumption that she couldn’t possibly do something.

The memory that always came back, uninvited and vivid, was the first doctor’s appointment.

She was fifteen. Dina and her mom both sat beside her in the waiting room, legs bouncing, pretending to read a magazine. But Rosemary was too nauseous to pretend anything.

The specialist had used the word progressive. He said it gently. Like maybe softening the delivery would help. But it didn’t.

Progressive. As in, it would only get worse.

Her glaucoma meant her visual field shrank from the outside in. It meant missing steps. It meant guessing what was beyond the blur. The doctor talked about options. Support. Accessibility resources. Mobility training. A cane. A disability declaration for school.

All she could hear was the sound of her own breath.

That night, sitting on the edge of her bed with her knees drawn up and her eyes closed, she made a decision.

No one would define her by this.

So, she turned her focus to music. The one thing she would have left when everything else was taken from her. She played and played, more than ever before. And when she practised guitar, she started closing her eyes. She knew the day would come when she wouldn’t be able to see the frets anymore; only able to play by ear. So she took it in her stride. And she became good. Really fucking good.

With her guitar, with her music, she didn’t need vision.

Dina was the first she told about the decision to keep it quiet. She remembered that moment – being met with compassion, rather than resistance. Just a moment of silence, then a simple question.

“What do you need?”

It broke something open in Rosemary. The part of her that felt like she had to do it all alone. Dina didn’t argue or beg her to be open, she didn’t push. She just got in the trenches with her, no questions asked.

Her parents let her be. Rosemary was a force to be reckoned with; angry at the world, and terrifyingly persistent. They were in no place to stop her and they knew it. 

From that moment on, Dina became her confidant. She helped her practice walking like she could see more than she could. She rehearsed handshakes. She read stage layouts and drew up simple maps. She whispered quiet cues when something or someone was in her blind spot. She took things when Rosemary was supposed to grab them herself, subtly queuing her and handing it to her the way they practised. In public, it all looked natural. Two sisters. A singer and her manager.

But behind closed doors, it was strategy. Survival. Preservation.

And now, eight years after that first appointment, Rosemary had lost 60% of vision in her right eye, and had only a small pinhole of sight in her left. 

But nobody knew. 

Their plan had worked.

Touring, though, had changed the game. New venues every night. Unfamiliar staircases. Spilled cables. Stagehands who left things where they shouldn’t. Sound guys she didn’t know. Lighting that shifted every night. Rooms that echoed so strangely she couldn’t always place a voice right away. Darkness everywhere. And endless, endless hallways.

She could handle it. She was handling it. But it was wearing her down.

Enter Joel.

Joel who watched everything. Joel who noticed without asking. Joel who always stood on her right side like Dina would, without ever being told. Who put a hand on her back or shoulders – guiding her without fully knowing it. Who slowed his pace when they walked together. Who moved the water bottle an inch closer to her searching hand during sound check without ever looking at her like she was less.

She had gotten flashes of his face that first day they met, and many more since. And as blurry as the images were, she could tell he was handsome – very handsome. She fought against her corneas to catch a glimpse of his eyes each time they were together; just to have a chance to feel his eyes connect with her own – but she still had struggled. 

Although, she didn’t need 20/20 vision to see his large frame come into view, to hear his deep and grounding voice, or to feel the warmth of his hands. And besides, anything she was missing out on was readily described to her in extreme detail by her sister.

In Rosemary’s mind, there was no way Joel could know her secret. His actions were because he was simply kind and considerate. Part of her hoped she would never have to tell him.

But part of her hoped she did.

Because she was tired.

Tired of the lie. Tired of the tightrope. Tired of pretending she wasn’t scared every time she stepped into a room she hadn’t memorized. And for once, a stranger, now friend, had become terrifyingly close. He was simply so nice to her. So forgiving, so supportive. She felt safe with him. But even still, she was scared.

She hadn’t told Dina how bad it had gotten on the road. She didn’t want to worry her. And now, with things between her and Joel balancing on something fragile and brand new, she wasn’t sure how to say anything without breaking it. And that all just made her feel more unworthy of the man.

So there she sat, head resting against the window of the tour bus, eyes relaxed and feeding her flashes of porch lights, cars driving the other direction, the odd electrical pole. Nothing more. Wondering when it would happen; when she would lose it for good. If she would wake up tomorrow with not enough left. 

If she would get the chance to see Joel's face when she told him she was falling in love with him.

Everyone was in bed, sleeping the early morning through, but Rosemary was still up, her mind running through telling Joel her secret a million different ways.

Her phone buzzed. 

Holding the phone up close to her eye, she read the screen. Unknown number.

She picked it up.

At first, the voice was calm. Too calm. A female, probably around her own age by the sound of it.

“Hi, Rosemary. Big fan of your new EP. Really impressive work. Especially considering what you’re hiding.”

Her body went still.

“Not everyone can fake their way to a spotlight like that. But hey, secrets have a way of slipping out eventually. The press loves a good story. Will they still love you when they find out you’re a liar? Now… should you tell them, or should I?”

Click.

Silence.

Rosemary sat there, spine straight, hands trembling. Her vision narrowed even more, as if the world were collapsing in real time.

Someone knew.

And they weren’t going to be kind.

She had spent years building a version of herself that could survive in the spotlight.

And now, it felt like all of it might unravel with a single headline.

Just as she put down the phone, she heard the shuffle of slippers coming toward the small kitchenette. She held her breath, hoping whoever it was would be gone before they noticed her sitting at the table. But the breathing and shuffling got louder, and she knew who it belonged to. 

Joel had slept well, for the most part, relieved that he figured Rosemary out. But he had woken up just now, plagued with a bad dream – where her secret just made everything more complicated. Where telling her about his feelings just made it all worse.

The earliest peaks of sunlight were enough to guide Joel into the kitchenette area, and just to see Rosemary’s figure huddled against the window. He poured himself a glass of water, before making another and bringing them to the table.

Rosemary struggled to keep her mind from reeling, the voicemail still fresh in her head. 

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

One week later, Minneapolis.

Joel’s foot caught on a coiled cable as he crossed the narrow backstage hallway, and the curse that tore out of him was sharp enough to make Tommy look up fiddling with his cymbals.

“Jesus,” Joel snapped, kicking the cord away. “How many damn times do we have to say! Keep the floor clear!”

Some kid, looking barely out of college stammered an apology, face flushing.

Joel didn’t wait. He shoved the dressing room door open, muttering a low string of things no one needed to hear, and slammed it behind him.

The cord was one of the things he had started taking care of, now that he saw all of Rosemary. No cables were to be left on the floor. No anything to be left on the floor that could be tripped on. No moving her stuff, making sure she would always be able to find it. 

The techs barely questioned him when he mentioned adding tactile tape on the floor in front of large floor amps on stage. “I can’t see them in the dark, maybe if I could feel it I won’t stub my toe…” He’d said. “While you’re at it let's add it in front of the steps.” He would do anything for the girl.

But today he wasn’t just mad about the cord. But he was mad about more than that.

He was mad that the tour felt like it was unraveling, and no one else seemed to notice. Mad that Rosemary had turned into a shadow in the span of a week. Mad that he hadn’t seen Sarah in six days and it hurt more than he thought it would. Mad that the only person who made it all feel okay — even for a second — would barely talk to him anymore.

He sat on the little leather couch and pulled out his phone.

No new messages.

Sarah’s school sent pictures to a shared album sometimes. There was one from this morning: her holding a paintbrush, chin tilted up, mid-laugh.

He stared at it too long. Then shut the screen off, jaw clenched.

He needed her. More than he wanted to admit.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Out on stage, Rosemary’s voice echoed through the venue walls. She was on her second song — one she’d written herself, some quiet acoustic thing the fans were starting to hum along with.

It should’ve calmed him. It usually did.

But something was off.

He could hear it in the pacing, the half-second delays between lyrics — like she was counting her breaths, not riding the melody. Like she was thinking too hard.

And she hadn’t made a single remark between songs. Not one.

Joel pushed off the couch and stepped out to side-stage.

He watched from the shadows, arms folded.

She looked perfect with her hair curled just right, satin black fabric cascading around her body, and stage presence solid. But it wasn’t her. It was a version of her. A more mechanical one. Carefully crafted.

He scanned her hands on the guitar. Her feet when she moved to the mic. Her movements were no longer loving, carefully holding and touching the sacred object around her. Everything was detached.

Joel could feel it in his chest.

She was trying too hard.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Later, back on the bus, everything felt brittle.

The crew was subdued. Tommy and Dina were playing cards in the lounge. Rosemary was curled on the couch again, earbuds in, hoodie up, eyes shut.

But not asleep. Joel could tell.

Because she flinched — barely — when someone dropped a bottle cap.

He sat on the opposite end of the couch, pretending to scroll through something. Watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She didn’t talk to anyone.

Didn’t eat much dinner.

Didn’t ask him how his set went.

It was like she was vanishing in front of him, and he couldn’t stop it.

He thought of the voicemail Sarah had left him earlier.

“Daddy, the dog keeps stealing my socks. He keeps sniffing a-around at the door. Grandma says that means he misses you too. When are you coming back?”

He didn’t know how to answer that anymore.

And then there was Rosemary.

She was trying so hard to act like nothing was wrong — and it made everything worse.

He didn’t know if she was scared. Or angry. Or ashamed.

He didn’t know if she was pushing him away because he knew… or because she didn’t know he knew, and he was at fault otherwise.

He didn’t even know if he should confront her, or wait.

He must have been too forward, too pushy, too overbearing. Something. He did something wrong. And he just wanted it to be fixed. To take it all back.

But he couldn’t take much more of this.

He was tired of being mad.

He just wanted her to let him in again.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

There was a pit growing in Rosemary’s stomach. Every time she messed up, tripped, couldn’t recognise someone this past week, a shovel broke the earth inside her. Deeper and deeper. Every slip up gave reason for this mystery woman to expose her truth. To set her entire world on fire. 

Dina didn’t know what was wrong. She tried to get it out of her, truly. But Rosemary was the most stubborn person she knew, and her usual tactics for getting her to open up had stopped working. Rosemary couldn’t come clean to her own sister. All Dina would do is tell her to tell the world her secret before the press did. 

But she couldn’t. The promise she made to herself years ago to avoid exactly that was still ringing in her ears, and it had never been louder than right now.

And Joel, sweet Joel. She didn’t want to think about him right now. What they had together was her most treasured part of the tour. But his touch had become suffocating. Another reminder of what she would lose when her lies were finally revealed. How stupid it was to think she could ever be wanted by Joel. 

Sitting in her hoodie next to him, she tried to focus on Dina and Tommy fighting over cards. Tried. But the hole in her stomach just started sinking in on itself, sides falling in under the weight of his stare.

He had been so accommodating to her without even knowing it. He picked up what she needed, always offering her a hand, literally. His kind words were always aimed to uplift her. 

And still, she was pushing him away. 

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Two days later, Sioux Falls.

The rain started around midnight.

Thin and cold, it painted the windows of the hotel suite in a quiet rhythm that should’ve felt calming. But Rosemary’s skin itched with restlessness.

Too quiet, after a night that had gone all wrong.

This tour stop was supposed to be smoother than the last. She had been looking forward to a night stay in a hotel room after being on the bus most nights this week. She was ready for a night of contemplation, finally ready to face the issue – to think about the possibility of letting her truth come to light. But instead, everything had unraveled — small things, at first. A mic stand left two feet from where it was supposed to be. A lighting cue that didn't fire. A tech who forgot to clear the guitar cables from the floor again.

To anyone else, they were nothing. Fixable. Background noise.

But to Rosemary, every misstep was a landmine. She’d almost tripped twice tonight. Once catching herself mid-song, and another while coming offstage.

She’d played them off with a smile, of course. A confident turn of the head. A flick of hair. No one noticed.

Except maybe one person.

Now she stood alone in the room’s low light, one hand clenched around her phone. Her stomach twisted.

"One more show, one more lie. How long do you think you can keep it up?"

The voicemail was loud in her ear. Anonymous. Calm. Cruel.

It made her sick to her stomach. She stumbled into the unfamiliar bathroom, arms dragging against the walls. Her hands finally found the toilet seat as she wretched up her guts. 

She didn’t hear the knock. Didn’t hear the door open.

“Rosie?”

Joel’s voice cut through the quiet.

She jumped, startled. But turned back and spat into the bowl.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him. “I knocked. Sorry. Dina said you weren’t feeling great, but—”

“I’m fine,” she said, sharper than she meant. She turned, back against the wall, head down.

He didn’t flinch. Just studied her. Quietly. Carefully.

“You’re not,” he said softly. He walked to the basin, running a small hand towel under the water.

She shook her head, trying to gather herself. “I’m just tired.” 

He took a few steps toward her. Gave her space, but didn’t back off. 

“Please will you let me –” He crouched to her level, holding the warm towel out. But she kept her head hung low under her shoulders, persistent to not let him see the tears that had streaked lines down her face. “Rosie.”

Her chest rose high and slow, a final breath of courage before reaching her hand out for the towel. She scrubbed it down her face, but didn’t tilt up to face him yet.

He took it from her, discarding it in the sink, then sat down next to her on the floor.

“You pulled away,” he said, almost like it hurt to say it aloud. “Backstage. After the show. All week, really.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s nothing. Just—pressure.”

Joel looked at her for a long moment, like he was weighing something. Choosing whether or not to speak. 

“Pressure from me?”

The tears started again. 

“Not you Joel, never you.”

His brows furrowed. He wanted so badly to ask her who, why, what is causing this pressure? But he knew he shouldn’t push. She had been vulnerable enough with that one statement. Right now was not the time to dig into her feelings even more.

“How can I help?”

She stood slowly, bracing against the edge of the sink. Her hands trembled, fingers curled into the sleeves of her sweater. She didn’t look at him.

“I think I need to be alone,” she said quietly.

Joel rose with her, but stopped short. His instinct was to reach for her, to bridge the space, but the way she had crumpled in on herself told him not to.

“I just… I don’t know how to help you,” he said, voice raw.

Her shoulders flinched like the words grazed skin. “You don’t have to help me.”

“But I want to.”

Silence. The hum of the air vent. The rain ticking against the glass.

“I don’t want to be your problem,” she said.

“You’re not,” he replied, too quickly, too fiercely. Then, quieter, “Rosie, I promise you, you’re not.”

She finally turned to face him, and her eyes were red and distant. Not angry, just tired. He saw the curtain being drawn behind them.

He took a breath, a step forward. “Let me in. Please.”

She couldn't. Not when there was someone out there trying to reveal her biggest secret; not when a slip up with one person could ruin her entire career, whether it be Joel or not. 

She shook her head. “I can’t. You can’t help me. You think you can, but you can’t.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. He swallowed back everything he wanted to say — that she didn’t have to do it alone, that he saw her unraveling and didn’t know how to hold her together without breaking something himself.

Instead, he nodded once. She doesn’t want you. His voice came out too soft. “Okay.”

She walked him to the door, looking anywhere but at him.

“Thank you for the towel Joel.”

“Always,” he said solemnly.

She opened the door. He stepped into the hall. Their eyes tied loosely together; his searching, hers unreadable, unfocused.

And then she closed it gently.

On the other side of the door, Joel stood still for a moment, staring at the wood grain. His chest ached. Not with anger. Just a deep, aching sense of everything slipping through his fingers.

He walked away, slow and quiet.

Inside, Rosemary leaned against the door and let herself cry, silently, as the storm outside pressed on.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Tears didn’t fall for Joel, instead they clung to his waterline desperately all the way back to his room down the hall. He had come to talk, to finally see what was wrong. To fix it somehow. But he just made it worse.

He made it all worse, and it was already so bad. 

He sat on his bed, hands shaking as he navigated through his phone to get to his voicemails. He played the most recent one, from earlier today.

“Hey baby, it's mom. We hope Sioux Falls is beautiful! Sarah is here and she wants to tell you about her day,” a bit of shuffling ensued over the line then Sarah’s adorable breath coming through the line told Joel she had the phone up, probably touching her mouth. “Hey daddy, I miss you! Grandma says I have to wait fou– oh wait grandma how many sleeps until I see daddy?” His mothers voice could be heard distantly before Sarah continued; “Five more sleeps until I can go to you. Grandma and I baked cookies today! They were chocolate-chip-and-I-t-think-you-would reeeeaaally like them.” Sarah mumbled half the words together in true 5 year old fashion. “What else Grandma? Oh! I have a soccer game tomorrow and yeah and I miss you and Rosie so much and I miss uncle Tommy too and I miss um Ellie too and–” Joel didn’t realise he was crying until a tear landed directly on the phone. “I love you bye daddy.”

He wished like hell it wasn’t past midnight, because otherwise he’d be calling her back right that fucking second.

Instead, he clicked on the next most recent voicemail.

“Hey Joel, what do you call a cooked fruit playing guitar?” a muffled chuckle, “A jam session! Anyways, I’m in this place called Manarola, I don’t know if you’ve ever been here, but it’s fuckin’ sick. It’s like cliffs and all these rainbow houses and stuff. I think Sarah would like the colours, you know. You’d like the view of the ocean I’ve got right now I’m sure. The owner of this hostel tells me she’s lived here her entire life, never left the region. Normally, that's pretty sad, but I think if I grew up here, I wouldn’t leave either. Pretty sweet. Anyway, wanted to see where you were up to with tour… any romance blooming? An article about you came up on my feed, you know– uh, apparently you’re a very eligible bachelor!? Maybe I should release a statement – something along the lines of how boring you are. Set the record straight.” She laughed at herself, “Or, you know, you could give in and admit that you're in love with your opener… up to you! Tell Tommy I said so. Alright, well I’m thinking of you, I love you, miss you.”

That broke Joel. God he missed his girls so terribly. 

He eventually fell asleep, on top of the sheets, still in his day clothes. The voicemails still open on his phone.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

a/n: boom! I hope you guys were surprised lol. Tried to make sure it was subtly in there that she's blind in the earlier chapters. Also, sorry about the "oh oh" I know it's cliche but I had to hehe. PLEASE give me feedback on anything! I'll also update the tags on the masterlist :)

[capnjackk]

Lost in the Darkness | Chapter Three

rockstar!joel au

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

warnings: meet-cute, fluff, mega slow burn (I’m talking >5 chapters of tension), idiots in love, hurt/comfort, little baby sarah, singledad!joel, girl-dad!joel, drinking, gossip, Rosemary has secrets, Joel is kind about it, Joel is 31, Rosemary is 26, Sarah is 5, feelings of unworthiness, self-deprecation.

a/n: Hellooo it is exam season where I am so times are tough but I finally got this chapter finished! Hope you like it :D

Songs in this chapter: 'Big Black Car' by Gregory Alan Isakov, and 'It Ain't Me Babe' Joan Baez's version <3

word count: 5.4k

masterlist

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chapter 3

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

The sun rose just as Joel pulled up to his parents house in the outskirts of Nashville, slinging Sarah's bag over his shoulder and getting her out of the car seat. He always hated this moment; leaving her, going off on tour. She’d be flying out to meet him in New York next Saturday, he made sure of it. But the separation still scraped something raw inside him.

Leaving Ellie had been different. She’d only been living with Joel for the last of her teenage years after they first met on tour when she was 16. Back then, she was a dropout, orphaned child who had been failed by the system. A girl who had found herself working as a tour hand out of spontaneity after running away from her last home. But Joel instantly connected with her, and became like a father to her over the course of the tour. She followed him around the country, and he kept her safe, treating her with kindness, respect, and sternness when she needed it. When the tour ended, it was only natural that she moved in with Joel and his then pregnant partner. 

When Ellie finally decided she wanted to experience the world outside of music festivals and tour buses, Joel let her go. She was living her own life now, travelling around Europe for the summer. That still hurt, her not being in the house or following him around anymore. But Sarah was still there.

He tilted his hips, letting Sarah reach out and hit the doorbell when he got to the door. Glad that she could not see his face, because it was not pretty. The door opened.

“Come here, baby.” Sarah’s grandmother looked at the girl, but was really talking to Joel.

After a quick unload of his truck and a million reassurances from his mother, it was time to say goodbye. Sarah was still in her pyjamas, clutching her favourite teddy when she looked up at Joel with a frown that was all too familiar - it was the same one he was wearing that very moment. 

“I’m not going to see your concert.” Sarah said.

“Only a couple this week baby, you’ll be at one next week, remember?” She nodded, looking down.

“Can I visit Rosie when I come and see you?”

“Is that what you’re most worried about?” He chuckled.

“Yes. She sings prettier than you.” Joel flashed a fake hurt face and pulled her in for a hug.

“You can see her, I promise. I’ll miss you babygirl. Be good for Grandma, okay?” She didn't respond, just held on to him tighter. “Love you.”

By the time he waved her off, his heart felt like it had been left behind in the driveway.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Load-in at the theater just outside Atlanta was organized chaos. Cases rolled down ramps, cables coiled and re-coiled, lights tested in long blinks. Despite the bustle, Rosemary moved through it all with quiet focus, in sync with her band and her crew. She didn’t miss a cue. Every mark hit. She didn’t seem nervous.

Joel kept finding his eyes drawn to her. The way she tilted her head when people spoke. The way her fingers hovered over her guitar case a second longer than necessary before opening it.

They didn’t talk much during setup, both absorbed in their own prep. But there was a moment — just after soundcheck — when she passed him by the edge of the stage and brushed his arm lightly.

“You good?” she asked, her voice low.

“Yeah,” he said. “You?”

She nodded once. “Ready.”

That was all. But it stuck.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

The theater in Atlanta buzzed with anticipation. Joel’s name was on the marquee, and the merch tables were stacked with vintage tour shirts and updated designs. This was his crowd. People who’d followed him since the beginning — grown-ups who still knew the lyrics from their high school heartbreaks, newer fans who'd fallen for his acoustic revival era, and plenty of journalists ready to review the show.

Rosemary knew exactly what kind of room she was walking into.

She stood in the wings, lit faintly by the amber glow of the stage lights as the house began to fill. You could hear the familiar hum of pre-show energy, the chattering voices, the echo of laughter bouncing off the high ceiling. People were excited. But not for her.

And that was fine.

She wasn’t here to win them over in the first thirty seconds. She was here to do what she did best.

Her hands didn’t shake as she gripped her guitar. Her breath was steady. She nodded to the stage manager. Then stepped into the light.

The crowd quieted as she took her place at center stage, no big intro, no pyrotechnics — just her. The setup was similar to her festival performance, hazy smog in the air, upstage lighting showing her flared black jeans and lace covered top. 

And then she played.

The first song hit softer than Joel’s usual fare, a slow build of fingerpicked guitar and lyrics that cut deeper than anyone expected from the opener. By the second track, a few phones were out. By the third, they were fully paying attention.

When she ended her set with a lively version of ‘One Crowded Hour’, there was no mistaking it: they were clapping for her.

Joel had watched the whole thing from side-stage, arms crossed, one hip against a road case. He knew what she could do. But watching her work a crowd that didn’t come for her become so invested made his heart swell with pride. He had chosen well.

He caught her as she exited the stage. She was glowing, with adrenaline, but also with something steadier. Fulfilment. Dina scooped her up in a hug immediately, all but dragging her to the back where Joel stood. Rosemary barely had time to register being in Joel’s embrace, let alone the way he whispered “That was beautiful Rosie,” as his mouth passed by her ear. Then, they were both whisked off, Joel to get ready to go on, and Rosemary to the green room for a ‘stiff drink’ with Dina.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

By the time Joel’s set started, the crowd was practically electric. He stormed the stage with the essence that came from a decade of doing this – all grit and warmth, banter between songs, and that gritty low register that turned every heartbreak lyric into something personal. He was a natural heartbreaker, the women in the audience fawning over his every wink, frown, stomp, and smile.

The night moved fast. Seamless transitions, fans singing the old songs louder than he did. But every now and then, Joel found himself wondering if Rosemary was still listening. If she was somewhere backstage, hearing these songs in a new way.

After the encore, after the lights went down and the cheers faded into a low buzz, the real energy of the tour began to ignite.

The green room pulsed with post-show celebration. Crew, bandmates, and local friends toasted with red solo cups. Music played from someone’s phone. Boxes of pizza sat open beside half-empty bottles of champagne. Rosemary perched on the arm of a couch, laughing with Tommy about something — casual, but fully part of the scene now.

“Not bad for an opener, Rose. Ever consider playing a Joel Miller classic or two?”

Rosemary shot him a deadpan look. “You mean a song with three chords and a whiny hook?” They laughed. “No I have, actually.” She said, “Been trying to find one that fits my set. I think the fans would love it, don’t you?”

“I do. Let me know if you need any recommendations, I’m all for toying with his heart more than you already have,” he said cheekily. Her face dropped, but she laughed it off. Still slightly unsure of what he meant by that, but not wanting to pry. 

There wasn’t really anything between them, was there? He was never going to fall for someone like her.

Joel walked in, wiping sweat from the back of his neck with a towel, and caught the last edge of her laugh. He hated how much he liked it.

She noticed him, raised her cup slightly in mock salute. “Nice set, rockstar.”

“You too, Rosie” he returned, stepping over a tangled mess of cords and amp cases to join her.

They didn’t talk long — people kept pulling Joel aside, the high from a successful show making everyone louder than usual — but his eyes kept finding her across the room, and she was always tilted somewhat in his direction. A thread pulled taut and humming between them, both of them ignoring it while staring straight at it.

The celebration rolled past midnight. By the time the crew started packing up the last gear and the buses were being loaded, the night had slipped into that liminal space between exhaustion and exhilaration.

Joel leaned against the edge of the tour bus as Rosemary climbed aboard, following her sister. She turned back briefly, silhouetted in the doorway by the soft glow of the corridor inside.

“Atlanta down,” she said. “How many to go?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Twenty-three.”

She whistled low. “Better get some sleep then.”

“After you, songbird.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned anyway, ducking inside. He followed, and for a second, it almost felt like they were already in rhythm.

The door hissed shut behind them, and the bus rumbled to life, pulling them both into the next chapter of something neither of them could name yet.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

The next city was Charlotte. Bigger venue, rowdier crowd, tighter schedule. The kind of chaos Joel was used to — the kind that used to energize him — but this time it felt heavier.

Because Sarah wasn’t here yet.

He’d only been away from her for six days and already it felt like a month. She was coming to the New York show; his parents were flying out with her. But Joel kept checking his phone like something might change.

“Tour Dad already losing it?” Mitch, the bassist, teased as Joel stared at his screen.

Joel flipped him off half-heartedly and pocketed the phone. “I’m fine.”

But the truth was, he felt it. That familiar guilt. Every time he left Sarah, even just for a few days, it clawed at him. He tried to remind himself she was fine, happy, surrounded by people who loved her. But it never quite helped.

So, when he could, he focused his energy on Rosemary.

She was magnetic onstage. Even as the opener, when the crowd was clearly there for Joel, she owned the space. There was a confidence in the way she moved, the way she held the mic like it was an extension of her hand. She didn’t beg the audience to love her — she just assumed they would.

And they did.

Joel caught himself watching from the wings, arms crossed, trying to be cool about it — failing spectacularly. He was taking more shit from Tommy and Tess day by day about it, but there was nothing he could do. She was magnetic.

The team was already running on caffeine, fast food, and adrenaline. Rosemary handled it like she’d been touring for years — unbothered, smooth, all quiet poise and killer vocals.

But Joel was starting to notice things.

Nothing huge. Just… moments.

Like how she always kept her dressing room lit low, sometimes with no lights on at all. Or how she never walked anywhere on the venue grounds alone, always one arm looped through Dina’s – even when she said she was just grabbing tea. How she’d stand perfectly still in the wings until someone cued her to step forward. How she always hesitated, for a half-breath, before sitting on unfamiliar furniture.

Tiny, barely-there beats of awareness. Most people probably wouldn’t clock them. But Joel had spent his life on stages and in green rooms. He knew how performers moved. And Rosemary, graceful as hell, moved differently.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

New York.

He watched her from the audience during soundcheck. She was center stage, testing her mic, in-ears half on, guitar in hand. Everything about her looked natural. Seamless.

But when she finished, he saw her step back and pause. Dina would usually whisk her off stage, but she wasn’t there this time. 

“Alright team, I want this place clear for the audience in 30 minutes!” Tess started barking orders over the loudspeakers for the crew, queuing Rosemary to get off stage. 

Rosemary’s face dropped, only for a second. She walked very slow, hand out tracing the line of amps running across the stage. The toe of her boot brushed the tape line on the floor, a subtle cue marking where the stage ramp started.

He tilted his head. Frowned.

It wasn’t nerves. It was something else.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it though.

Because just as the lights dimmed and his own crew rushed to prep the stage, he heard the small, unmistakable squeal of a kid barreling through the entrance of the pit.

“Daaaaaaad!”

He turned, just in time to catch Sarah as she leapt into his arms, all curls and limbs and joy. His parents appeared a beat later, grinning and out of breath.

“Thought your flight was delayed,” Joel said, heart full.

“It was,” Sarah said proudly, “but I told them to go faster.”

Joel hugged her tightly. “Missed you, kiddo.”

“You saw me four days ago.”

“Still missed you.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but she still mumbled “I missed you too.” Then her gaze darted over his shoulder.

“Where’s Rosie?”

Joel smiled. “Reckon she’s still backstage. Want to say hi?”

Before he could finish the sentence, Sarah was off.

They found Rosemary by the green room, sipping honey green tea and quietly talking with one of the techs. She turned at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps and put down the tea, crouching and her arms just in time for Sarah to launch into them.

“Careful,” Joel called. “You’ll knock her over.”

“She’s strong,” Sarah mumbled into Rosemary’s shoulder.

“I like her priorities,” Rosemary said, ruffling Sarah’s curls.

Sarah looked up at her with a huge grin. “Are you going to sing the crowded song tonight?” The song she danced to in the middle of the floor with Joel. Dina had told her all about it, after Rosemary had regretfully kept her eyes shut during the performance. Rosemary’s heart melted.

“You like that one?”

“Mhmm”

“Just for you, then,” she sighed, and Sarah squealed.

Sarah nodded. “You looked pretty when you sang it last time. Daddy was watching the whoooole time.”

Joel groaned. “Okay, bedtime for you.”

“Nope,” Sarah said, and buried her face in Rosemary’s scarf.

Rosemary laughed low and soft, giving Joel a sideways look. “You gonna let her talk about you like that?”

“She’s not wrong,” he admitted.

And God, the way she smiled all flirty, yet genuine, hit him in a place he wasn’t ready to name.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

The rest of the night flew by.

Joel’s set went off without a hitch. Rosemary sat side stage with Sarah, clapping and singing along until Sarah fell asleep halfway through after using up all her energy on Rosemary’s set. Joel glanced over more than once and saw her cradled in Rosemary’s lap, headphones on, small hand fisted around the edge of her scarf. 

It did something to him, seeing them like that.

Like a glimpse into something that could be, if only he let it.

Backstage after the show, the crew cracked open beers and takeout. It wasn’t a wild afterparty – not like the old days, but it felt good. Cozy. Real.

Rosemary stuck close to Sarah, who was awake again and stealing fries from every box in the room. Joel joined them on the couch, some unspoken thread between him and Rosemary tightening with each passing glance.

And still… that feeling.

That itch in the back of his mind. That there was something she wasn’t saying.

Something he hadn’t seen – but was just about to.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

These two nights New York were set to settle the ache in Joel’s heart, and as he walked Sarah around central park with his parents, he tried with all his might to commit every second to memory. 

Despite his arrangements to keep the paparazzi off his back for the day, he still kept his cap pulled low over his head, wanting to stay incognito while Sarah was around. That didn’t stop a few people from recognising him, but they were thankfully respectful, and his parents were able to whisk Sarah away when the time came.

The little girl was still upset that she didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to Rosemary after falling asleep last night. She had rudely woken him up in their nice hotel room by crawling onto his torso, pleading, “Where’s Rosie?” And it had barely stopped since then. “What do you want for breakfast babygirl?” “Rosie.” “Should we go to Central Park today?” “Will Rosie be there?” It hit him hard that Sarah liked Rosemary’s presence almost as much as he did.

“You saw her yesterday, baby. We need to give her some time to enjoy the city on her own, okay?” He explained as they sat in a shady spot in the park.

“Can I see her before I go home?” She gave him those wide puppy dog eyes, the ones she’d recently found out could get her what she wanted from most of her family. “Please?”

“I don’t know babygirl, I’d have to ask her.” He pat her head, shyly looking across the park.

“So you’ll ask?” Sarah suddenly crawled onto him. “Promise you’ll ask her daddy!” She pushed onto his shoulders, making him fall flat onto his back in laughter.

“Maybe if you’re good.” She squealed and he laughed again.

A little while later, they had finished their picnic sandwiches and Sarah had dragged her grandfather to meet her ‘new friend’, a beautiful golden retriever. Joel sat with his mom, happy and silent. 

“You’re glowing when you talk about her, you know.” She said quietly. “This one is too.” She chuckled, motioning to Sarah.

Joel didn’t know how to respond. 

“She’s even more beautiful than you described, my dear. I hope that whatever’s stopping you from loving her will be gone soon.” Joel started picking at the grass below, always turning into more bashful and childlike when it was just the two of them, “All I want is for you to be happy. And for that, for love… you must try.”

“I’ll try mama.” Joel said it without a doubt.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Joel was lying on the hotel bed watching the end of a movie when he noticed the voicemail from Dina. He stretched his free arm out to the bedside table, not wanting to disturb sleeping Sarah who was tucked under his other wing. He pulled the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Joel. So, don’t tell Rose that I called you because she’d probably murder me, but uhh little miss girl has just charmed her way into playing a pop-up gig at this cafe-slash-record store in the village that we found today. The owner seemed really cool, we got to talking and she just asked us out of the blue! We’re doing a cryptic launch on Rosemary’s story as per Tess’s suggestion, but I figured you might want to surprise her? She’s pretending it’s no big deal, but I know she was hoping to see you and Sarah before Sarah goes home. So, yeah. I’ll text you the deets.”

By the time Joel had himself and Sarah showered and changed, his parents were in the lobby waiting with Tommy so they could catch a cab altogether. 

When they slipped into the cafe, the scent of old vinyl and cinnamon coffee wrapped around them like a blanket. The place was pretty full, and Joel found it very endearing the way people down the front were sitting on the floor between aisles of vinyls. Dina had saved a table for Joel and his family at the back where it was more a coffee shop, giving them a clear view of Rosemary’s little stool and single amp set up in the opposite back corner. 

The whole place had a beautiful hum to it, and he could tell this crowd would be different than the people on his tour. They felt like a community – each person’s face so clearly read from the stage, each clap or voice could be heard and pinned to a single person in the room. And they were here just for Rosemary. She hadn’t had her own crowd of fans since the Solstice festival. 

His heart warmed with the amount of support she was getting, because god knew she deserved it.

There was a small break room in the back, cramped with an office desk, piles of boxes and a lounge set in the corner. Rosemary sat tuning her guitar when Dina rushed in. 

“Girl there’s so many people!” She plonked down onto the couch. “Tess is going to be thrilled! And… Rose, promise you won’t be mad.” Dina huffed.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I may have invited Joel…” Rosemary started to speak but no words came out. “And he may have brought his entire family…”

“Dina! And the shirt, oh my god. This was your plan all along you little rascal!” She slapped her in a sisterly fashion. “Well if this flunks in front of my boss I’m blaming you.”

“Go ahead. I have full faith in you, Rose.” She put her hands up in surrender. “Come on, I think we’re starting.” She pulled Rosemary out of the deep lounge and passed her off to the owner of the shop.

Finally, Joel’s eyes landed on Rosemary as she emerged from the back room. Joel’s eyes trailed up her long white lace skirt, one that was sheer enough to reveal her boots and an underskirt higher up. Her long hair was tamed by a vintage blue cap, which put just the right amount of shade over her face to emulate that mysterious feel she had become known for. Joel drifted his gaze to her faded red t-shirt, and even though it was somewhat covered by her favourite leather jacket, he made out the image – a white bucking bronco, and the words ‘Red Horses, Joel Miller’. Tommy seemed to notice at the same second because he kicked Joel’s shin stupidly hard under the table and smirked. 

Rosemary was wearing his shirt. 

Well, not his shirt, which he certainly wished for, but something that said his name. 

And boy did he like that.

Rosemary carried her acoustic with her to the seat and started setting up while the owner, who introduced herself as “Minnie” gave a short speech. Rosemary took her time getting ready, feeling that her every move was under close observation by her intimate audience just a few feet away. Her fingers swept over each nob of the amp, trailed along the cable from end to end when she plugged it in, and finally settled the strings.

“–Thank you once again for supporting this place, and showing up to events like these! We have tried to make a strong underground music community here and you guys are always welcome! Well, that’s all from me, so without further ado, give it up for Miss Rosemary Wilder.” Minnie turned and put the microphone into the stand in front of Rosemary.

Rosemary adjusted the mic and flashed a meek smile to the room, the smile that Joel knew from afar was favouring one end of her mouth. “Hey,” She said, which made a few people in the room laugh. 

She started picking at the strings.

You were a phonograph, I was a kid,

I sat with an ear close just listening,

Was there when the rain tapped the way down your face,

You were a miracle, I was just holdin’ your space,

The song was gorgeous. No matter how many times Joel had heard it in rehearsal, it was still just so hypnotising. Listening to her play it like this, no backup with only one little amp; it reminded him of the times he caught her alone, playing for herself – the moments he wasn’t supposed to be a part of.

But sometimes in those moments, she let him in. They shared the same feeling, the same air. Just like that night at the festival. Right now, it felt like it was just the two of them in the room. 

The lyrics were so self deprecating, it almost hurt to hear. ‘You were a dancer, I was a rag’ - ‘you were a magazine, I was a plain jane’. It didn’t sound made up. It felt real. Real to Rosemary. Real to everyone in that room. That feeling of unworthiness, of simple pain. 

Sarah was perched on Joel’s knee, leaning back into him more and more as Rosemary soothed the room with her song. When she plucked the last note, the crowd erupted, not harsh and loud, but warm. 

Rosemary played just a few more songs from her album, not talking much, just quietly introducing the names. The crowd hummed along to some of her fan favourites, but let her shine through. Everything was fuzzy as the afternoon sun shone through the front windows on Joel’s shoulder. Before they knew it, Rosemary was introducing her last song.

“This last one is a cover, a song that has been stuck in my heart recently. It's an old one. Some of you might know it. Hopefully not too well though, since it’s a little sad.” She chuckled.

Go away from my window,

Leave at your own chosen speed,

I'm not the one you want babe,

I'm not the one you need.

As Rosemary played It Ain’t Me Babe every word caught on her ribs. It was a song that she’d always known, but hadn’t truly felt until recently. Until meeting Joel. The song felt like it had been written just to expose her, as if Bob Dylan had reached forward in time and expelled it from her own mind. 

She struggled to keep her eyes off the spot she knew Joel was sitting. Because she was really singing it about him. He needed to know. She wasn’t the one he wanted. She wanted him to know that she knew who she was – someone that would never be good enough for him. 

He had Sarah and Ellie. He had a career. He had his whole damn life balanced on broad shoulders she’d seen strain under pressure and fame that she couldn’t even fathom. She wasn’t the one to stand beside him in it – there was just no way. She took the leap of faith to sing this song, if only for herself. Wondering if he would even notice.

But Joel noticed. 

Every note felt like it was hand delivered to him. So tender. Like a scream wrapped up in silk. But he couldn’t believe a word of it. It was all wrong. 

His jaw was set as he watched her. His arm stiffening where it wrapped around Sarah’s waist. Questions and uncertainties painted his vision. Why would she think that she wasn’t enough? Where had he gone wrong? And most importantly how could he show her how much she meant to him?

When Rosemary let the last chord fade, the crowd gave her a standing ovation. Joel’s father turned to him and whispered “She’s marvellous.”

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Minnie had kindly invited Joel’s group out the back to avoid being harassed by fans while Rosemary stayed in the front, talking to everyone and anyone who waited for her. Joel sat with bated breath, wondering what to do; what to say. Little did he know Rosemary was feeling the same way. 

A load was lifted off her chest – at least that’s what she told herself. She had set the record straight, stopped this fantasy from going on any longer. But not a bone in her body felt like it was in the right place. 

She was not relieved at all, actually. Not one bit.

She was excited to talk to fans, take photos and answer questions about her album. She was funny, charming, and sly enough to keep that cool girl mystique. But her mind was on Joel. Dina helped her out, gracefully whisking people away when they were crowding her a bit too much. She leant in and rubbed Rosemary’s back, knowing how her sister was feeling after singing that song. Dina had already gotten an inkling that Rosemary was undermining her worth when it came to Joel, but she had certainly not known she was going to sing It Ain’t Me Babe. She would have tried to shut down that idea in an instant.

When the last fans had cleared the room (every last one, Rosemary had made sure of this), she popped into the back room where her little tour family were waiting on a couple of old couches. Sarah ran right up to her leg and hugged it, while Tess started congratulating her on the turnout. 

“That was fantastic! Big things are coming for you, my girl. You were just phenomenal. This was such a great opportunity,” Tess took hold of Rosemary’s shoulders, turning to the owner, “Thanks again Minnie.” After giving Rosemary one last squeeze, she eyed Joel and Tommy, turning back into her meaner tour manager self, “Alright you two will need to be back at MSG in thirty minutes for soundcheck, got it? Rosemary, thirty minutes too. I’m heading over now, and there are cars for everybody waiting outside. Nobody is going to be late. I do not want a repeat of New York last tour.” She crouched down, “Sarah, honey, it was so lovely to see you. I will see you in …?” She looked over to Joel.

“Wyoming.” Joel said, looking deeply at Sarah, head tilted to the side. That was the first word he had uttered in a while, and you could tell, even without being there for the last little while. Rosemary noticed. 

“Wyoming. I’ll miss you. You make your Dad and Uncle behave!” She fake laughed, booping Sarah on the nose. She laughed as she gave the little one a quick hug before standing and pointing at the Miller boys. “Thirty minutes.” She pointed at Rosemary too, but winked at her before leaving the room. 

“You were soooooo good Rosie,” Sarah peered up at her, back to clinging to her leg. “What’s a plain jane?” And so the questions began, every word she’d picked up, every possible thing she could think of. 

Joel’s hand was wrapped tightly around Sarah’s the entire walk out, trying desperately to make the moment last before it was back to touring and time zones and phone calls that never lasted long enough.

But Sarah had also attached herself to Rosemary, who walked on the other side, tiny fingers grasping at hers while the other stayed in Joel’s. The three of them took up half the sidewalk as they walked slowly toward the two cars waiting. 

Rosemary felt the tension taught between them like a string, exactly in the way Sarah was between them. 

When they reached the cars, she knelt down. “You’re going to have the best flight, alright? Tell me everything when I see you in Wyoming.” Sarah still had one hand lifted and connected to Joel, her head down and looking away from Rosemary. 

“Can I have a hug?” She solemnly swung against Joel's hand holding her up, not wanting to say goodbye just yet. But she eventually let go and leapt into Rosemary.

At the curb, the two black cars waited with engines running.

Tommy had already opened the door to the one bound for the hotel. Joel's parents were inside, their faces visible through the tinted window. Joel crouched down next to Sarah.

“Alright, bug,” he said. His voice wavered slightly. “You’re gonna go with Grandma and Pop now, okay? I’ll see you real soon. And I’ll call. Every day.”

“Okay,” Sarah whispered, her eyes big and uncertain.

Joel didn’t let go of her hand even as she climbed into the backseat. He followed her as far as the door would let him. “I love you, babygirl.” He leant in, kissed her head, hugged his mom and dad, and let the door shut.

Then the door shut. The car pulled away, tail lights blinking into the Manhattan evening.

Joel stared after it for a second longer than in years past.

He promised himself in that moment that somehow, he’d find the courage to fix everything with Rosemary. To take the next step; prove to her that she was worth it. 

That the next time he saw Sarah, things would be different.

[capnjackk]

I love this fic so much omg

I'm Right Here Part 14

BFF!Joel Miller / F Reader

Sometimes the person we've been looking for has been right there all along.

@copperhalfcent, @demonsasss, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @peelieblue @liciafonseca @ultra-nina-bella @joelmillerpascal @kirsteng42 @heartpatch @capnjaket @formulafun, @avidreadee123 @missladym1981 @titlee78 @joelalorian

Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the tag list

WARNINGS: BFF Joel Miller, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Angst, Love Triangles, Miscommunication, Past Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel is a Clueless Idiot, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced/Supposed Sexual Assault, SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF HARM, Joel has PTSD

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 13

***Sorry for the delay in posting... The Flu found me and tried to kill me.***

Mike came to see you still on Friday after school. The connection he told you about was in for a recce, having a look at what they would be working with. The cleaning crew you hired were advised to stop, the ceiling to the front room looking far too saggy to be safe. They did manage to clear the next room, what you remembered to be the living room before they were asked to stop. It seemed Esther didn’t move further from the living room during the final months of her life, sleeping on a sagging couch, where her lawyer found her a few days before her passing.

The new crew was talking to Mike a lot, all of them looking very serious, telling him this and that, Mike coming to you every now and then to tell you what was going on, going back to them, giving suggestions and the likes. The crew listened to him, took directions from him. For a temp teacher, these people seemed to listen to Mike a lot, trusting him with his suggestions, you thought.

“They’re gonna come in tomorrow morning instead, if that’s okay with you? They’re worried that the ceiling would cave before Monday, they’re gonna put in some temporary support beams so it holds ‘til then?”

“Oh, I thought you knew I’m not available tomorrow morning.”

“It’s just a few hours, they just needed to put the beams up, not many of them, just the two rooms, and then they’ll be done. I can come over and lock up after if you like, if you trust me. You can go to your family lunch thing. It’s really no trouble, I live down the street.”

“No, that’s not what I mean… of course they can come tomorrow morning… What I mean is… I thought we were… so, no pancakes?”

He closed his eyes, seemingly kicking himself for forgetting. “Shit, I forgot all about that…”

“It’s okay… let’s forget about it okay? Yeah, tell them to come tomorrow. The sooner the better. At this point it would be better for me if you just put a wrecking ball to the house to be honest. I’m so done with this whole thing,” you mumbled as Ellie climbed up your foot, wanting food, which gave you an excuse to have something else to do. He watched as you bottle fed the kitten, one finger stroking her belly.

The awkward goodbye the day before was now a bright pink elephant dancing Swan Lake in a tutu between the two of you, which neither of you were willing to address.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry too. I guess, I thought… but maybe I thought wrong. I thought you were interested. Sorry…” you said, feeling a bit stupid for telling him that. Great. Sound more desperate, why don’t you.

“I am,” he quickly countered, the sudden rise in his tone making Ellie jump. “It’s just… it suddenly occurred to me that you’re leaving soon, and I don’t want you to feel… obligated to do anything with me. I’ve been told before that I move too fast, and I guess yesterday, I realized that I met you less than a week ago, and you’re leaving soon so I just… chickened out?”

“Okay,” you managed to mumble, hiding what you were feeling by putting Ellie’s now empty bottle away and watched her snuggle back into the towel you placed in her box, full and drowsy. You weren’t even sure it was you were feeling, to be honest.

“I’m sorry, Daze, I really am. I am… to be clear, very interested in you. I just… need a little bit more time?”

“Okay,” you said, starting to pack your stuff up.

“Hey,” he tried, gently taking your hands in his, sitting across from you. “It’s not you, I promise. I’m just being careful. Please don’t be mad,” he pleaded.

“I’m not, I’m really not,” you assured him. “I’m just done with this whole thing, that’s all. I should go back, my shoulder’s starting to hurt. I’m tired.”

You really weren’t lying. This week had not been the best. You had a life in Bangkok. You were fine. Happy, functioning. You had everything you needed. Money in the bank, a roof over your head, food in your belly, good friends to rant to, holiday buddies, the works. Sure, you were having a hard time getting over a certain man, but you managed to keep that firmly under wraps by staying thousands of miles away from him.

And now, you were back here, where you found out the man you’d been pining for had moved on, married with a daughter to the woman he apparently met a month after he chased you down at the airport, and married two months later. The woman who was so nice you couldn’t even find it in yourself to hate her for snagging the man of your dreams, living the life you had once dreamt of having yourself, bragging about what a good husband that man was.

You just couldn’t get away from him.

And just when you thought you found someone you could potentially distract yourself with, maybe even move on with, that man decided this was the perfect time to come to his senses and decided that maybe asking you out on a date, holding your hand when taking walks, leaving lingering kisses when saying goodbye was all a bit too much, too soon. 

Oh, and on top of all that, your fucking shoulder was broken cause you simply MUST be a hero and save a teenage girl from being hit by a truck. And of course the simple business of inheriting a house from an abusive and absent aunt turned out to be so much more that you wanted to handle.

Just your fucking luck.

You ordered an Uber and finished packing up, giving Mike the keys. He took them, his face unreadable. “Just call me if anything goes wrong. Leave the keys with your landlady. I’ll get them from her. Thank you for helping Mike, I really appreciate this.”

“Daisy…”

“No, really, thank you. I should go. I’ll see you around.”

You couldn’t stop. You left, Ellie’s box in your good hand, your pack on your good shoulder. You didn’t stop until the Uber got there and got on, not looking back.

You got back to the rental with a dozen messages from Mike, all of them attempts to explain, to make things better, to ask for another chance, he just needed time.

What time? You were leaving in a few weeks as it was, so might as well nip this in the bud, huh? Even agreeing to go out with him in the first place was a horrible idea. You were vulnerable. Shocked that Joel had been married all these years, so you clung on to the first man who showed any signs of interest towards you. Right?

Okay. So, that’s that. Done. You don’t even have to see him anymore. You could leave before he got back from school and leave the keys with the cleaning crew. Or the lawyer. Yeah.

Yeah, you can do that.

Sarah came over that evening, as she always did since Ellie came to live with you. She was excited about the lunch, having never had one where you were part of the party.

“It’s your birthday soon, right? Tuesday?” she suddenly asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Dad has it marked on the calendar. For Uncle Eddie. He always had a drink alone with Uncle Eddie at the lake. He misses him. He still has his ashes. I think he’s waiting to release it with you.”

You didn’t answer. Frankly you were shocked Joel still remembered.

“Are you and Dad gonna do something on Tuesday?”

“Uh, no, I’m busy sweetie. I have things to do. Plus, I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore. Not since your Uncle Eddie passed.”

She looked sad. “You miss him?”

“Every second of every day,” you told her. “I still wonder what my life would have been like if he hadn’t left. I wouldn’t be living in Bangkok, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe you’d be married, with kids?”

“I don’t know… I was never someone who dated a lot, so… I can’t answer that.”

“Oh…” she said. She opened her mouth to say something but Ellie decided that was the best moment to wrestle Sarah’s fingers with all her might, so whatever she might have wanted to say lost to wrangling a feisty kitten off her hands instead.

“Hey, Auntie Daze?” she asked before she left. “Can we go out Sunday? Just the two of us? Maybe go to the mall? Watch a movie? Have some lunch? You don’t have to say yes, but please? Just so I can say we’ve spent some time together?”

You heart softened at her plea, so you nodded. “That sounds like fun. Make sure your parents okay it first yeah?”

She squealed, giving you a hug before leaving, reminding you to bring Ellie to the lunch the next day. You watched as she ran to her house, Joel waiting for her on his porch. Your heart melted as she gave him a hug before going inside, the man lifting a hand to thank you for making sure his daughter got home safe. You smiled at him, going inside as quickly as you could.

You had to. You had done well keeping your yearning for the man to yourself all this while, when there were two oceans separating you. But when he was four houses down with his wonderful wife and daughter, living the white picket fences life? It was difficult not to feel sorry for yourself.

You ran, that was on you. You ran and left him here. You did that. And now, he’s happy, and you just got rejected by yet another man. That was the lot you drew when you decided to leave the country to get away from him. You’d be lying if you weren’t hoping for him to come after you, that you didn’t come home from work every single rainy day hoping to see him waiting in front of your door and just taking you into his arms and kissing the life out of you.

But that never happened. He met Annie instead. Move on. Bear this for a few more weeks, and then you can stay away for good. Just a few more weeks.

You decided to leave for the Millers early, help Anita with the cooking. Keep your mind busy, off the thought that you were supposed to be having pancakes with a handsome art teacher at that moment. You Ubered over, ignoring Annie’s text to go over to their place at 11 so you could all go together. You were planning on just telling her later, but that went to pot when you ran into her in Anita’s kitchen.

Sarah quickly took the backpack that housed Ellie away from her mother, taking the kitten to meet the other animals.

“What are you doing here?” Annie asked, looking a bit downtrodden, as if you’d just spoiled some grand plan of hers. “You were supposed to get here later, with Joel!”

“And with you too, if I recall you text correctly, I just wanted to help, that’s all,” you explained. She looked a bit caught by you answer, but she quickly pointed out that your plan to help wasn’t really a great one, with one shoulder still in a sling you couldn’t really help much.

She sat with you as she began peeling potatoes, asking you about the house. When you told her Mike was taking a crew there that day, Anita and Aunt Tina visibly tensed.

“Mike? That teacher?” Aunt Tina asked.

“So, how are things going with him? Sarah said you went out with him?” Anita further dug.

“Just a taco dinner. We’re friends. He lives near Esther’s, so…”

Oh, they all quietly said, hands continuing with the prep for lunch.

“So, no more dates with Mike?” Annie quietly asked when Anita and Aunt Tina left to check on something. You shook your head. “I’m sorry,” she said, placing a hand on your good shoulder. “He seemed like a nice guy.”

You smiled, “Even if he is, I’m leaving the country once this is over. This was never going anywhere.”

“You’re still thinking of leaving?” she asked. “I thought you were gonna stay, work at the local branch instead.”

“No, Annie, my life is not here. My life is in Bangkok.”

“But…” she seemed to contemplate on what to say for a while, “You can have a life here too. You know everyone wants you to come back, the family would love that, obviously, Eric would love to have his friend back, I know Sarah wants you to stay, she likes having you around. I know I do, and I know Joel would love to have you back. He misses you. You two could have had a great life together if not for Jen… I think… there’s a chance for that to happen again. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Your head snapped towards her.

What?

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, rather defensively.

“I mean, you guys were BFFs, right? He lost Eddie, and then he lost you. He misses his best friend. He would love to have his best friend back,” she said, not looking you in the eyes.

Oh. Right.

“Why? What did you think I meant?”

You shook your head, “Nothing.”

“He said the three of you were inseparable. Your birthday is coming soon, right? A few days? Maybe you could join him for a drink this time? He’s been going alone to the lake to drink with Eddie.”

“I don’t know… I don’t really celebrate my birthday anymore. And he was more Eddie’s friend, Joel, not mine. I was just the annoying sister they can’t shake off. Eddie… he wouldn’t go anywhere without me. He… he was kinda all I had, so Joel had to put up with me.”

Annie’s eyes softened. If she wanted to say something, she didn’t. Instead, she went back to peeling, telling you there’s been a lot of changes to the land, maybe you should go for a walk with Joel. The treehouse is still there, though Sarah has been forbidden from playing on it. It might be dangerous. Health and safety was different back in the day, she parroted Joel’s words to you.

“It’s okay, I can go for a walk on my own, I’m sure I can find my way,” you countered. Why would you want to go for a walk down memory lane with Joel? She knew your history with Joel. What woman in their right mind would send the woman her husband was in love with for alone time? That’s just asking for trouble. And why was she encouraging you?

She wanted to say something in return, but Olivia and Will walked in. You suddenly felt the urge to get out of the kitchen, pulling Olivia with you. The woman let you pull her away, keeping quiet until you were a ways away from the house.

“What happened? Why are we running away?”

You turned towards her, perplexed that she would ask you that question.

“We’re not running away,” you were rather defensive.  

She took a deep breath. “You sure you’re not just running away from Annie?”

“Why would I do that?”

She shrugged, but looked at you in a way that made you feel as if she could read your mind.

“It’s just…” you took a deep breath. “She kept trying to get me and Joel to spend time together. I don’t know, maybe I’m imagining it, but she sent Joel to come send breakfast to me at the hospital when I have food coming, she sent Joel after me just because I went jogging, she insisted Joel send me and pick me up to and from Esther’s, kept inviting me over for food, and just now, she suggested Joel and I spend my birthday together, and for Joel to show me around the place. I don’t know Liv, but Joel told me she knows, about me and Joel, why would she keep pushing us to spend time together? It just… makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking this.”

“Look,” she began, pulling you to sit with her near the treehouse. “I love Annie, she’s nice, but there’s a wall between us and them, she and Joel and Sarah. They don’t tell us much. They change the subject sometimes when we talk about the past, things like childhood Christmases, schools, the like. It’s like they won’t talk about Annie’s past. And that’s okay, I guess. They’re happy, they’re a great family. They love each other, but… I don’t know. They’re very secretive, those three.”

You didn’t know what to make of Olivia’s story, but you kept quiet.

“But, you know, at the beginning, because of the suddenness of her appearance in our lives, and how traumatized Joel was with the whole Jen business, we sort of… kept an eye, I guess? We were worried Joel wasn’t thinking straight or something. And their secretive nature sort made it worse. She proved us wrong, they seemed happy, I guess? But… their marriage… I don’t know… maybe it’s just me, but I know Will feels the same. Joel and her… they don’t act like a married couple. They are not affectionate with one another. You remember how touchy Joel was with you, even before he confessed his feelings for you?”

You nodded, your heart feeling a bit heavy at the memory. You missed it. You missed being held by him.

“Well, he’s nothing like that with her. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him kiss her or hug her, they don’t even hold hands. A quick peck on the cheek at most, and even that was rare. I don’t know. It’s none of our business, and who knows what happens behind closed doors, but I do wonder sometimes… if they are hiding something. Will, Eric, Benny, Tommy, we all wonder. But we don’t say this out loud, of course. I think the parents wonder too, but we don’t know, we never asked. Joel seemed so… I don’t know, fragile, I guess, after the whole Jen thing, so we don’t dare ask.”

“Joel is fragile? What do you mean?”

“He’s quiet. Not like before. Even when Sarah came into our lives, he’s no longer the chatty, happy, jokey man he was before.”

“Even so, Liv, that doesn’t explain why she would push Joel and I to spend time together. It’s just weird. I’m sorry, but it is. I mean, would you? If it was Will?”

“Uh… I’ll claw your eyes out!” she laughed.

“In all seriousness, though,” she said, “I think she just wants Joel to be happy. It’s no secret he misses you. You should’ve seen his face every time we talk about you all these years. He was hungry for news about you. He lit up every time your name was mentioned. I think Annie and Sarah noticed.”

You felt a huge pang of guilt envelope you. Guilt for running away, guilt for what Annie must be feeling, her husband reacting in such a way at the mention of another woman’s name.

“Daze,” Joel’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “I’ve been sent to get you two back to the house,” he said, his hands up when he clocked the uncomfortable look on your face.

You got up, Olivia following suit. The three of you walked back towards the house, no one saying anything. You hadn’t taken more than five steps when Annie showed up, two baskets in her hands.

“Liv, can you come with me to get some flowers? Anita wants them for the table. Joel, she sent this for you and Daze,” she said, giving him one of the baskets. “Lunch is not quite ready, you have some time,” she said, pushing you and Joel back towards the treehouse. “Come on, Liv,” she urged, pulling a stunned Olivia away from the two of you.

“Wait, you sent me here to get them,” Joel protested, looking uncomfortable.

“I lied,” she said, winking at him, pushing you to go with him. Before you could say anything she had pulled Olivia away, the woman looking at you apologetically for not being able to help.

You and Joel stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. Joel looked in the basket that was handed to him.

“I’m gonna go back to the house,” you told him, turning around to go.

“Wait,” he said, taking your hand in his.

Your hand automatically wrapped around his before the thought even came to you to let go. But when you did try to let go, he wouldn’t.

“Come on, let’s go to the treehouse. Just for a little while,” he pleaded. “I have warm focaccia and butter,” he said, his eyes cheeky, showing you the basket.

You pulled your hand away from his,

“We’re not doing anything bad, Daze, let’s just go have some focaccia at the treehouse, the way we used to,” he coaxed.

As much as you didn’t want to disrespect his marriage, you couldn’t help but nod, remembering the good times you used to have.

He helped you up the deck of the treehouse, pushing up himself after. He tore you a piece of the warm bread, slathering it in butter before giving you some, and the two of you ate in silence, savouring the delicious flavours.

“Annie said you wouldn’t let Sarah play on the treehouse,” you started, wanting to get rid of the awkwardness.

“That girl doesn’t play, she jumps. This treehouse may seem okay, but if we move a bit too suddenly, it might go. I’m not risking the treehouse falling on her. It’s like 20 years old!” he said. “I built her another one near the pond. And she has one in our backyard. She uses it to read now, Annie put some cushions and stuff in it,” he explained.

You smiled, seeing the pride in his face as he talked about his daughter.

“She’s a wonderful young lady Joel, you and Annie raised her well,” you told him.

“Thank you,” he smiled. His face morphed into one of regret for a split second.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I never thought I’d be a happy father,” he confessed, looking guilty. “I can’t stop thinking about the things I said to you, about me hating the possible baby when we thought Jen was pregnant.”

“Joel… that was different. You can’t blame yourself for thinking like that back then, given what you thought happened.”

“I know… but sometimes, when I look at Sarah, I wonder what kind of a man I am for even thinking about being that kind of father,” he looked at his hands, his fingers twisting together.

You couldn’t help it, you took his hand in yours, sandwiching it between your own. “Does Sarah know, what happened to you? Does Annie?”

“Annie does, not Sarah. I don’t want her to know…” he quickly said, but you shushed him, shaking your head. You would never tell her that, she didn’t need to know. “I never told anyone what I told you, about the baby, I mean, about hating it, about wanting to harm Jen.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you assured him, “And you’re a different man then, Joel, you were traumatized, you weren’t in the right state of mind.”

He teared up, nodding. He took his hand out of yours, taking one of your hands, interlacing his fingers with yours, pulling your hand up and kissing the back of it.

“I bought a ticket, I packed my bags, I was going to go after you,” he quietly confessed. “I was gonna beg you to come back, I was gonna move there to be with you. I was gonna do whatever it took to be with you,” he said, his tears falling. “I didn’t tell anyone. But the night before I was due to leave, Jen…”

You were shocked. You never knew this. He never told you that. You laid your head on his shoulder and the two of you quietly cried together for the life you never got to live.

“Do you ever wonder where we would be if Jen hadn’t done what she did?” he asked.

You didn’t answer him, you couldn’t. Not without telling him you were still pining for him. You took your head off his shoulder, pulling your hand away from his. You shouldn’t. He’s married. Annie might walk up any moment. Sarah might walk up any moment.

“We shouldn’t think about that, Joel. Our paths were laid up for us, there’s a reason for that. You wouldn’t have Sarah.”

He nodded, wiping his tears off his face before wiping yours.

You looked him in the eye, “You’re a good man, Joel. Don’t ever doubt that. Annie is a lucky woman.”

At the mention of Annie’s name, his body language shifted. He looked uncomfortable, as if he was reminded of this life he had with her, that he shouldn’t be sitting there reminiscing with you. He picked up the basket, telling you lunch should be ready now. The two of you walked back up to the house in silence.

Lunch was indeed ready, and you got sucked in the merriment of it all, chatting and laughing with everyone. Annie pushed you to sit next to Joel, but he pulled out a chair for you between Eric and Olivia instead, opting to sit with his wife and daughter. You decided to enjoy your evening, laughing and eating with the family, the only one you had left, and forget the awkward way your time spent with Joel ended.

After everything was cleared up and packed away, you finally checked your phone. 12 missed calls from Mike, and God knows how many messages, all asking you to talk to him, to give him a chance, that he didn’t mean what he said, he was just confused. More messages came in, more of the same. And just like that, you were reminded of the fact that he rejected you, and the embarrassment from his rejection came flooding back.

“Hey Daze, you’re going back with us, right?” Will asked, taking the paper bags full of leftovers to take with him and Olivia home.

You didn’t even have the time to process the question.

“Joel will take you, Daze,” Annie chimed in, taking her own paper bags.

You suddenly felt a surge of red crawling up your body. You didn’t know why, but she suddenly seemed like a virus you didn’t want, invading your personal space.

“No, I’ll go with Will and Olivia. It’s okay,” you quickly said, not wanting to cause a scene.

“Oh, okay,” she conceded, “But I want to ask you over Tuesday, for your birthday? I’m sure Joel will want to celebrate with you, just this once? Before you leave?”

“Uh… we’ll see,” you said, quickly leaving the kitchen, finding Anita, Aunt Tina and Jake, wanting to say goodbye. You could feel the annoyance bubbling up. You found them out front, the three of them cooing over Ellie, who had decided she didn’t want to leave, fighting Sarah’s attempts to put her back in her backpack.

“It’s okay Sarah, she can stay, we have the space,” Anita coaxed her granddaughter. Sarah reluctantly conceded, giving the ginger furball a kiss before releasing her, the kitten bounding off to join the ducks in the backyard.

“You’re taking Auntie Daze, right Dad?” she asked Joel, who looked at you, his face unreadable.

“I’m going with Will and Olivia, Sarah,” you told her. “But I’ll see you tomorrow okay? We’ll have lunch, and then we’ll do whatever you want. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, hugging you before getting in her Mom’s car. Annie said goodbye to you, reminding you about Tuesday. You saw Joel’s expression change. He said something to her, side eyeing you as he did so, Annie patting him on the shoulder as if reassuring him of something.

You said goodbye to everyone and got into Will’s truck, desperately wanting to get out of there. It was all so uncomfortable.

Mike kept calling on the ride home, so you switched your phone off. You didn’t want to deal with this. You went straight to bed, threw the blanket over your head, lying wide awake underneath for hours, angry at yourself.

You just felt so low. You didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. You didn’t even know why you were feeling like that. You were annoyed Annie kept pushing you and Joel to spend time together, but at the same time, you longed to actually spend more time with him. But you knew that was not right, especially now that you knew he was planning on coming after you all those years ago. That the two of you could have had a life together.

But things didn’t happen that way. He’s married. And spending more time with him would just hurt you more, make you pine for him more. And you were annoyed that Mike had suddenly changed his mind about you and was now calling you incessantly to what, change his mind yet again? That’s not helping with your mood.

Neither was Joel’s sudden shift in attitude. He was reminiscing, opening up to you at the treehouse, and all of a sudden he pulled away. What changed?

The doorbell rang. Over and over. Knocks followed, insistent ones too.

“Daze!” Joel’s voice called out.

Oh come on, what now?

You opened the door, a bit annoyed.

“My buddy called me,” he told you, “The guy who installed the cameras at Esther’s house. They called you but your phone was off. Something happened. Triggered the alarm. Come on, I’ll take you there.”

You got ready in a hurry, the journey over filled with silence.

There were police cars everywhere, official looking vehicles too. An ambulance arrived just as you did. Mike came over, telling you someone broke in, there was a loud crashing, apparently, they were worried someone might be injured. Joel’s buddy showed you the footage. It was Carl, the principal at Mike’s school. He had apparently broken in and gone upstairs to get whatever it was he was so eager to get and in an attempt to retrieve it, he had inadvertently caused a huge stack of books to fall over, causing the weakened floor to collapse, bringing the contents crashing down along with him. You watched as Carl was brought out by the paramedics. There were cops everywhere, along with some official looking people, not to mention men in hazmat suits.

It was all so overwhelming, you didn’t even know where to look. Mike stayed with you, keeping you out of everyone’s ways, while Joel talked to his friend.

“They’ll take care of this, you know? You don’t have to worry. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mike assured you.

What? What was he talking about? Who’ll take care of everything?

Just then, one of the men in the hazmat suit came out, taking his mask off. You recognized him as one of the guys who came in to recce the house for the structural issue. He looked at Mike, addressing him directly.

“Agent Pike, you might want to come see this.”

Part 15

[capnjackk]

Omg thankyou for the shoutout 🥹🥹 update coming soon!!

Fic Rec That I Personally Love Part 2

Improvised Breakfast(Emily Prentiss x reader) - @cherrygirlfriend

Under His Wing(Pedro Pascal x Reader) - @andy-15-07

Dirty Cash(rich Joel Miller x Reader) - @oldsoul007

Lost In The Darkness(RockstarJoel x Reader) - @capnjackk

Quiet Arrival(DadPedroPascal x Reader) - @fic-girlie

Glow Up(PedroPascal x Reader) - @lazysoulwriter

I do I do I do(PedroPascal x Reader) - @lazysoulwriter

Constants & Variables(Reed Richards x Reader) - @fallenbratfiction

Welcome Home(PedroPascal x Reader) - @lazysoulwriter

Love me like a loaded gun(Javier Pena x Reader) - @thedilfdiaries

[capnjackk]

Lost in the Darkness | Masterlist

rockstar!joel au

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Joel Miller was a rockstar with the world at his feet, but after meeting Rosemary, an up-and-coming musician at a festival, the ground beneath him started falling away. Her delicate air and gentle humour had charmed him, sure. But something told him there was more to her story.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

warnings: meet-cute, fluff, mega slow burn (I’m talking >5 chapters of tension), idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, panic attacks, gossip, drinking, little baby sarah, singledad!joel, girl-dad!joel, Joel is 31, Rosemary is 26, Sarah is 5, Ellie is 19 (she's like a daughter to him), Rosemary has secrets, Joel is kind about it, self deprecation, feelings of unworthiness, anxiety, sadness, disability (blindness), doctor's visits, more tags will be added as we go.

a/n: Hi! I love a good au, and this idea has been on my mind for so very long, I really hope you guys dig it! Kisses to smut writers but I haven’t written smut for this, and probably do not intend to. If that’s not your jam please don’t hate. I’m pretending any songs I use in this fic are written by these characters unless stated otherwise. I will update as regularly as I can.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Moodboards:

[capnjackk]

Lost in the Darkness | Chapter Two

rockstar!joel au

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

warnings: meet-cute, fluff, mega slow burn (I’m talking >5 chapters of tension), idiots in love, hurt/comfort, little baby sarah, singledad!joel, girl-dad!joel, drinking, gossip, Rosemary has secrets, Joel is kind about it, Joel is 31, Rosemary is 26, Sarah is 5

a/n: I hope if there’s anyone out there reading this that you like it :) Please listen to ‘One Crowded Hour’ by Augie March, which is the song Rosemary plays later in the chapter! More updates coming soon <3

word count: 6.2k

masterlist

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chapter 2

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

4 Months Later, Nashville, TN

Rosemary was nervous. A rare emotion for her.

Playing in front of a small crowd, she could handle. Playing in front of a festival? What difference. But meeting with her label about an “exciting new project”… now that was something she felt deep in her stomach.

She’d only been picked up by the label six months ago. After a whirlwind of showcases and online buzz, they’d sent her to the Solstice Festival as a sort of trial run. A litmus test.

She passed.

Blew it out of the water, really — reviews rolling in calling her “haunting,” “thrilling,” “enigmatic.” Everyone talked about the girl with the velvet voice and the shadowy image, the one no one could quite pin down.

With that momentum, the label had greenlit her debut EP, which was now finished — raw and aching and everything Rosemary had poured into it. But this meeting had “Nothing to do with the EP,”.

That’s what had her and Dina on edge as they walked the long hallway to the meeting room.

Dina, as always, was steady beside her, guiding her with a touch and a whisper — pulling out her chair, leaning in close when needed. She was Rosemary’s anchor, her confidant, her younger sister and fiercest protector. And lately, she’d become the final say in everything visual: album art, photo shoots, lighting moods. They decided to lean into the mystique, hiding Rosemary’s eyes in every shot. Never fully showing her face. Letting her music do the talking.

And the fans? They were eating it up.

Still, today felt different.

The room began to fill — familiar voices, a few new ones. Executives chatting, smiling, shaking hands. One sat across from her.

“I’m Tess. Nice to meet you, Miss Mystery,” she smirked, shaking Rosemary’s hand.

Rosemary offered a polite nod, but her senses were crawling, ears tilted toward the hallway.

Then she heard it.

“On time for once. What’s gotten into you, man?”

“Tess said this meeting was actually important. And for once… I agree.”

Joel. Her stomach dropped.

She had regretted that morning after the music festival every day since. She left no number, no contact information. At the time it just felt too good to be true. Too much to have for someone like her. But that didn’t stop her from wanting it. Wanting him.

She had to get her hopes down. He had to be here for something else. Probably signed to the same label. Coincidence. He was here for his own project. Obviously. But he said Tess…?

But then the door opened. And there he was — tall, broad, cap pulled low. And beside him: Tommy.

Joel stepped in and the room dimmed in her ears. His gaze scanned once, then landed on her — sharp and unmistakable. He froze for half a second. Then smiled.

Rosemary stood instinctively, hand extended. Her fingers brushed his before their palms met.

“Hey,” he said softly. Like no time had passed at all. “Nice to see you again.”

“And you,” she said, voice steady despite the quake inside her.

Joel turned to Tess. “So. Haven’t started without me have you?”

Tess leaned forward, steepling her fingers. “No. Take a seat. Rosemary, we’ve been looking for the right opportunity to introduce you to something bigger than just press and playlists.”

She glanced at Joel. “Joel’s going back out on tour next month. Full run. And he’s been real specific about his opener.”

Joel smiled, a little sheepishly. “Guess I only wanted one.”

Rosemary blinked. 

“We would like you to open for Joel,” Tess said. “If you’re willing. Full access. Real exposure. No pressure, but... this could be your moment.”

Rosemary’s mouth parted, words stuck behind her lips.

Dina reached over under the table, squeezing her hand once.

“I’ve been doing this a long time, and voices like yours don’t come around often. You don’t just sing — you gut people. I want the world to hear that. Every night.” Joel said earnestly.

Silence hung for a beat — then Rosemary nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m in.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Good,” he said. “Didn’t have a backup plan.”

After the meeting, the tension dissolved like steam off a kettle.

The executives stood, exchanging handshakes and promising follow-ups. Tess gave Rosemary a warm smile, telling her someone from the tour team would be in touch soon. Dina gave a polite nod and tucked that away to follow up herself within the hour.

Joel lingered.

He didn’t rush over — just waited near the door as the room gradually cleared. When Rosemary lifted her head slightly in his direction, Dina, sensing the space they needed, murmured that she’d grab coffee and vanished down the corridor.

Joel walked around the table and sat beside Rosemary in silence for a minute. Then he ran a hand through his hair and looked over at her, his voice low.

“I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that,” he said. “But I meant every word in there.”

Rosemary gave a small nod, one arm folded gently across her middle, grounding herself.

“You sure about this?” she asked, her voice softer now. “I’m not exactly… I don’t even know.”

Joel chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“That’s kinda the point, Rosemary,” he said. “You don’t fit the mold. You break it. And I think people are ready for that.”

“I might not be easy to work with, I’ve never gone on tour before… What if you find out that I’m crazy?”

“If it means anything, I was pretty damn crazy eight years ago, when my first tour began. Pissing all the execs off, partyin’ too much, being late to everything.” He chuckled a little. “Hell, I’m still late to most of my meetings. But it really doesn’t matter. Point is, this business isn’t about any of this part.” He gestured to the room around them. “It’s all about the music. And you’ve got a vice fuckin’ grip on it. Got it?”

She didn’t answer right away — just let the quiet settle around them like a blanket. Then she nodded once more, slowly this time, a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.

“Then I guess we’ve got a tour to plan.”

Joel grinned at that. A real one — slow and honest.

“Damn right we do.”

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

The warehouse looked unassuming from the outside — just another industrial building tucked behind an empty Nashville lot. But the moment Dina pushed open the heavy steel door, Rosemary felt the thrum of it in her chest. Music — low and full-bodied — spilled into the hallway, drums and bass bleeding through soundproofing like the heartbeat of something alive.

“Okay,” Dina murmured, looping her arm through Rosemary’s. “This is it.”

Inside, the space opened up like a cathedral of sound. High ceilings, exposed beams, lighting rigs. A stage setup on one side, both bands using the shared space on alternating schedules. Joel’s band was deep into a run-through, the guitars roaring in controlled chaos, the rhythm section tight as a fist. A handful of crew moved around with purpose — sound techs, lighting designers, managers in headsets.

Joel noticed her the moment she stepped in.

He stood off to the side, hands busy adjusting something on an amp, nodding along to the tempo. His curls were damp with sweat, shirt clinging to his frame. 

Dina guided her further in. “They set up your station over here — we’ve got your amp all rigged up, but you’ll have to talk to the techs about your pedal board. Guitars are on this stand but we can move them.”

Rosemary nodded, absorbing it all through sound and touch. The subtle scent of polish on strings. The way her boots tapped against the concrete. The warmth of stage lights simmering above.

“You’ll rehearse after lunch,” Dina said quietly. “We’ve got the room for the afternoon block.”

Joel broke away from his band and wandered over, grabbing a towel off a chair. “So… what do you think?” he asked.

Rosemary smiled, small and tight. “It’s... a lot louder than I imagined.”

He chuckled, wiping his face. “Yeah, that’s fair. Tess likes to make the rehearsals replicate the big stage as much as possible, and she's pretty picky about audio. It’s always a little insane at first. But you’ll make it your own.”

She reached out, trailing her fingers across the frets of her guitar. “I hope so.”

Joel tilted his head. “No rush. You’re not here to impress anyone. You’re here because you already did.”

She glanced toward the noise, toward his band still tuning and laughing and not paying her a lick of attention. But he was.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

She was quickly whisked away by a guitar tech, wanting to talk through her levels and pedal movements through her songs.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

A couple hours later, the energy in the rehearsal space had shifted. Joel’s band had cleared their gear to one side, and Rosemary’s team had stepped in — a tight trio of musicians she’d been working with in recent sessions: Ty on keys, Wes on drums, and Mae on bass. They were all seasoned, kind, and, more importantly, gentle with the space she needed to take up.

The rehearsal space had a kind of low-lit stillness, the kind that settled into the bones; part anticipation, part nerves.

Rosemary stood just off the riser, guitar in hand, the strap already resting on her shoulder. She exhaled slowly. Dina appeared at her side without a word, looping an arm through hers.

“Four up, seven across,” she murmured under her breath, calm and steady.

Rosemary gave the slightest nod, then let herself be led toward the platform. Her boots found each step with deliberate precision, her fingers brushing the edge of her guitar as she counted under her breath — barely audible, even to Dina.

One. Two. Three. Four.

She stepped up onto the riser, the wood creaking faintly beneath her weight.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

She stopped, exactly where she needed to be. Her hand shifted, brushing the mic stand just to center herself — a small, practiced motion that could’ve meant anything. Nervous habit. Performer’s ritual.

Dina gave her wrist the lightest squeeze before stepping back into the shadows.

Rosemary shifted her stance, adjusted the guitar strap on her shoulder, and tilted her chin slightly toward the mic. Her hair fell into her face, and she didn’t bother to push it away.

The mic was live. The lights were on. 

“Alright, give me a sec here guys, no in-ears for now I just want to make sure everything is connected, so play something all together and then I’ll get you to separate for troubleshooting and levels.” The sound technician, Bill, yelled from his table across the room.

The quiet hum of anticipation made the hairs on her arms rise. She took a slow breath. Then another. And then—

She played.

The first notes of “Still Water,” the lead track from her EP, poured out low and husky. Her voice followed, threading through the chords like a ribbon caught on wind. By the second verse, the band had found her rhythm, folding around her like they’d been doing this together for years.

A few people lingered along the edge of the room — stage managers, sound techs, someone from the label. Joel stood with his arms crossed again, leaning against a post in the corner. Watching. Really watching.

His expression didn’t shift, but something about the way his jaw moved said everything.

Dina let out a breathy whoop and clapped the loudest. Joel just stood there, arms crossed, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. When she turned slightly in his direction, he gave her a small, proud nod. The crowd shuffled out, on to the next job.

Bill slowly worked on each instrument, the band patiently playing and stopping to allow the older man to do his job well.

“Sweet. I’m happy with our base levels, if you guys wanna take a few days to run the set, figure out everything, I’ll be starting a proper mix for each song on Friday. Take some notes for me on any stereo stuff you want sorted, I’ll see what I can do.” Bill said.

By Friday, the set was tight, and so was the band. When they weren’t rehearsing onstage, they were stuffing their faces with food and talking about every detail of the music. Rosemary revealed her talent day by day, jumping at the chance to craft each element of her songs. She loved the way her team brought her thoughts to fruition - playing arpeggios exactly as described, or adding the harmonies right where she needed them. 

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

The rehearsal break room had become a busy place to be. Paper coffee cups, half-eaten granola bars, gear lists scribbled on clipboards. People milled about — crew, label assistants, session players — all caught in their own quiet hum of activity.

Rosemary sat on the worn leather couch near the back, her guitar resting across her lap like a shield. Dina was across the room grabbing drinks, and Rosemary was taking a moment — letting the low thrum of conversation fade into background noise. Or trying to.

“—it’s not just the music, though,” someone near the hallway was saying. Rosemary muted her strings. “It’s the whole thing. She barely looks at the cameras. Never makes eye contact. And she walks so slow, like a fuckin’ snail. It’s weird.”

Rosemary’s shoulders tensed. 

“Some kind of Orville Peck-style mystique, maybe,” another voice replied. “Gotta admit, it’s working. People are obsessed. But I get you.”

Rosemary shifted her grip on the guitar slightly, fingers curling tighter around the neck.

“Maybe she’s just shy,” a third person said with a shrug. “Or—”

“Or maybe she’s hiding something,” the first one cut in.

Before anyone could respond, Dina appeared — all easy charm and deflection. “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt the gossip hour, but maybe find a way to shut the fuck up?” She smiled, but it had just enough edge to send the conversation scattering like birds startled from power lines.

The voices quieted. Footsteps shuffled away.

Dina crossed the room and set a coffee down in front of Rosemary. “Ignore them,” she murmured, crouching slightly so her voice stayed between them. “They’re just bored.”

Rosemary’s jaw was set, her expression neutral, but Dina knew better. So did someone else.

Across the room, Joel had been flipping through the tour itinerary when he looked up. He didn’t say anything, just watched — the way her mouth tightened, the way Dina leaned in like she always did when shielding her.

He clocked it. Noted it. Filed it away with all the other moments he couldn’t quite explain.

Then, quietly, he walked over and set a granola bar down on the armrest next to Rosemary.

“Didn’t eat earlier,” he said. “You’ll crash halfway through if you don’t fuel up.”

She didn’t look at him, just offered a faint smile.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Joel nodded and stepped away, but not before casting a glance toward the hallway — where whispers still lingered, like smoke from a snuffed-out match.

Dina elbowed Rosemary, and she elbowed her back.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

Two weeks before the tour. This week was their last week of rehearsals, then everyone got a week off to rest before the real grind began. Rosemary’s EP was set to release this Friday night, with a fancy launch party being organised by the label. 

Everything felt easier now, the band were able to communicate onstage with the addition of in-ears, and Rosemary was comfortable, happy. This is what she was here to do. 

It was late afternoon, the crew were breaking before Rosemary’s set. Joel stood with Tess at the audio table, enjoying the warmth buzzing through the room.

“Daddy!” Sarah ran across the large space, leaving Tommy’s hand behind and leaping into Joel’s arms.

“Hey babygirl,” He lifted her to his hip, kissing her temple. She melted against him, arms around his neck and head flopping straight onto his shoulder. “You tired kiddo? How was soccer practise?” 

“Coach made us run aaaaalll around the field.” She shuffled in his grip, turning her head to see the stage.

“Did she now… Well I know what might cheer you up.” Sarah perked up. “Rosemary’s about to play.”

“Where is she?” She tried to wriggle her way to the highest vantage point in Joel’s arms. “I wanna see her!”

“You will, babygirl. But she needs to do her job first. Stay with me and let her play, then we can go talk to her afterwards, okay?” He placed her down on a road case, tiny legs dangling off.

As the set started, Joel leant against the case, humming along, until he felt little fingers cover over his mouth. “Shhh daddy I want to hear Rosie.” Sarah frowned, very serious. 

Rosie. That’s what Sarah had named her now. She’d only met the girl once, but still talked about her almost daily. “When can I see Rosie?” “When’s Rosie coming to rehearsal?” “What was Rosie wearing today?” Joel had meant to get her to rehearsal with him more often, but their schedules rarely aligned – he was very busy, and he knew from experience that having Sarah running around wasn’t helpful when things needed to get done.

Joel stopped humming to the tune, rolling his eyes and pulling her hands off his face. 

On the last song, Sarah climbed down and walked across the open floor without hesitation, her little sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished surface. Joel watched her, brow creased, as she stopped a few feet from the stage.

Then — right there in front of everyone — Sarah began to sway. Just a little at first. Side to side. Then her arms lifted and she danced around. 

Joel's heart tugged.

The stage crew noticed. People smiled. But the only one who didn’t shift or speak or react in any way was Rosemary — eyes closed, expression calm, lost in the music.

And for one, crowded hour you were the only one in the room,

And I sailed around all those bumps in the night to your beacon in the gloom, 

Now I thought I ‘d found my golden september in the middle of that purple june,

But one crowded hour would lead to my wreck and ruin.

Joel stepped forward, walking toward his daughter.

Without saying a word, he took Sarah’s hand and joined her. He let her lead him — small circles and slow turns, just father and daughter under the hum of warm lights, while the music curled around them.

When the last note faded, the pair erupted in a round of applause, setting off everyone in the room to join in. 

Sarah went right up to the edge of the stage, grinning up at Rosemary.  “I like your songs, Rosie.”

Rosemary blinked, surprised. Then smiled. “Rosie, huh?”

“She likes nicknames,” Joel said, lifting Sarah into his arms with a chuckle. “But if you don’t like it—”

“No, I do.” Rosemary’s smile lingered, softer now. “You can call me whatever you’d like Sarah.”

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

Joel hovered by the breakroom door, arms crossed, watching the two girls giggle like co-conspirators. Sarah had already offered Rosemary half of her fruit snack and was now attempting to braid a section of her dark hair — not that she had much idea what she was doing. Rosemary was patient, smiling gently, tilting her head just enough to help the tiny hands find their way.

“You okay to—?” Joel started, his voice quiet, hesitant.

Rosemary turned her face slightly toward him. “We’re good, Joel. Go take your break. I think she’s giving me a full glam makeover.”

Joel let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “You sure?”

“She’s better company than half of this crew Joel, now shoo.” Rosemary said, as Sarah showed her a tangled elastic band and declared she was going to make a bracelet next.

Joel stepped back, nodding. He gave them space.

A little while later, Rosemary sat quietly on the break room couch. Sarah had finally conked out beside her, curled into a tiny ball, cheek smushed against Rosemary’s thigh. Joel entered, slower now, eyes soft as he took in the scene.

“She’s out cold,” Rosemary whispered, brushing a hand lightly across the top of Sarah’s curls.

Joel nodded, crouching to lift her. “She runs herself to the ground every time.”

As he scooped Sarah into his arms, Rosemary looked up at him.

“She’s kind,” she said.

Joel looked at her, really looked, and nodded. “Yeah. She gets that from her mom.”

Something unspoken passed between them. A pause, brief but heavy, where neither quite knew what to say. Rosemary had heard the story - a fatal car crash, unavoidable, nobody to blame. But she was sure he still felt guilt - you could hear it in his lyrics, see it in his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he said, finally.

“For what?”

“For… showing up. For being good with her. For being real.” He adjusted Sarah slightly in his arms. “Not everyone on this tour is. But you are.”

Rosemary smiled, small and sincere. “Anytime.”

Joel left with Sarah in his arms, and Rosemary sat there for a beat longer, the echo of the music still warm in her bones.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

The rehearsal space was empty, save for the quiet hum of amplifiers that hadn’t quite cooled and the soft creak of Rosemary’s stool beneath her. The overhead lights had been dimmed, only a few running strips left on, casting a hazy glow across the floor.

Rosemary sat on a worn stool center stage, barefoot, one leg tucked beneath her, her guitar resting comfortably against her thigh. She wore an old hoodie with the sleeves shoved up and a pair of wide, oversized jeans, her hair a little wild from the long day. Her thumb moved in slow, steady shapes over the strings — not performing, just… being. The song she played was unmistakable if you knew it. One of Joel’s. An old one. A deep cut.

She didn’t hear the door open.

Joel stepped inside, eyes narrowing as he caught the tail end of the chorus. His notebook was the only reason he was back — he’d left it backstage earlier in the rush. But that melody stopped him in his tracks.

She hadn’t noticed him.

He stayed still, listening. Watching the way she tilted her head slightly toward the sound, as if she were listening with her whole body. His breath caught at the way she played it — slower, gentler than he ever had. Like she was coaxing something out of it he’d never quite managed.

Then, without a word, Joel reached for the acoustic he’d left leaning against the amp.

He strummed a chord — quiet, matching her rhythm. Not interrupting. Just joining.

Rosemary didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn. She just kept playing — a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Their guitars wove together softly, like old friends meeting after years apart. Her melody. His harmony. It wasn’t perfect — it stuttered sometimes. You could hear the guitars interact - the slight delay when one took the lead and changed the chord. But still, it breathed.

When the last chord faded, neither of them moved. The silence hung between them, warm and tentative.

Joel set his guitar down slowly, letting it rest back against the amp. “Didn’t know many people knew that one.”

Rosemary finally looked over at him, a crooked grin tugging at her lips. “Well, I’ve got excellent taste and too much time on my hands.”

He chuckled. “Dangerous combination.”

“I like the older stuff,” she said, adjusting her grip on the neck of the guitar. “Before you got all polished and stadium-slick. There’s something rough in the bones of it.”

Joel raised a brow. “You calling me soft, Rosie?”

She grinned. “I’m saying I liked you better when your songs sounded like they might fall apart at any second. That doesn’t necessarily represent you, although…”

He laughed — a real one, from deep in his chest. “Damn. Remind me not to ask you for a review.” He leaned back on his hands, still smiling. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

Her smile faltered just a hair. “You mean the part where I vomit from nerves, or the part where total strangers dissect my soul on twitter?”

Joel winced playfully. “Yeah. That part.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m fine. It’s whatever. Let the haters hate. I already made peace with the whole thing, I think.”

Joel eyed her. “You think?”

“We’ll see.” She grinned again.

He shook his head, still laughing. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m a mystery,” she corrected, sitting up straighter with mock pride. “Get it right.”

Joel melted into a smile — quiet, warm, thoughtful. “You’re gonna be fine, Rosie. Better than fine.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just reached down to retune a string, her face a little softer now. “Thanks.”

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

The party was held in a moody bar in downtown Nashville with exposed brick walls, hanging Edison bulbs casting soft amber light, and towering windows that reflected the golden haze of early evening. Musicians, label executives, photographers, and Nashville’s music scene regulars moved through the room with cocktails in hand and curated carelessness in their smiles. There was a sense of something important in the air.

Rosemary stood just off to the side of the main floor, her hands loosely gripping a Moscow mule. She wore a long black satin slip dress, its simple silhouette clinging to her in all the right ways — understated but elegant, with a thin lace trim at the neckline and a matching sheer black shawl draped over her arms. Her mass of dark curls were fighting against the pins holding them in a half-up half-down style, a few strands falling gently around her face. Dina had picked the dress, insisting it was time for her to look as striking as her voice sounded.

Joel saw her before she saw him.

She stood framed by the light, the kind that made it seem like the whole damn party had paused around her. Her expression was calm, but he could tell she was listening — really listening — to everything: the layers of chatter, the live jazz trio, the hum of anticipation before her record played through the speakers.

He didn’t approach right away. He just watched.

Joel had dressed formally for the event, knowing the paps would be waiting to snap a pic, and he didn’t want to look like a bum. He ditched his jeans and tees for a black button up, mostly undone, covered with a brown velvet suit jacket and matching pants. Low on his exposed tan chest sat a few silver charmed necklaces, matching the large signet ring on one of his fingers. He looked good. 

Despite the many women in the room now ogling at him, he walked towards just the one.

But before they had the chance to talk, Tess clinked her glass and made her way to the mic, inviting everyone to gather around the stage. Rosemary, flanked by Dina, stepped up with measured ease, the crowd pressing in with that eager, expectant hush.

“Let’s raise a glass to the woman behind the mystery — the voice we’ve all fallen for — and the debut that proves she’s just getting started. To Rosemary!”

Applause thundered. Champagne flutes lifted.

Rosemary gave a small nod, touched the mic. “I’ll keep this short — which, if you’ve ever heard me in rehearsals, you know is a rare miracle.” Laughter. “Thank you. For trusting me. For listening.” She paused, fingers brushing the edge of the mic stand. “I don’t take any of it for granted.”

It was short. Simple. But it worked.

As the crowd dispersed again, Joel finally stepped forward.

“You clean up nice,” he said. You could have at least called her pretty, idiot. He thought. How many other beautiful words could you have said? And you said that? Fuckin hell.

She grinned. “Is that right? So I look pretty trash normally then huh.” Rosemary teased.

Joel chuckled. “Didn’t say that.” Too shy to say anything else. The girl wears a nice dress and suddenly you have nothing. Good one Joel. 

They hovered there — close but not touching — and for a breath, it felt like the rest of the night might drift away.

Until someone called Joel’s name. A group of executives. Someone from Rolling Stone. A photo op. He gave her a look, apologetic, and she waved him off — “Go,” she mouthed, smiling.

But as he walked away, she didn’t move. She just listened. Eyes not following him, but locked on some invisible spot in the air.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

Rosemary's night turned at the bar stools.

She had stepped up to grab a drink, the crush of people starting to press on her senses. Dina had left for the water station, and in the brief window she was alone, she overheard it.

Two girls, mid-twenties, glittering with label connections and entitlement, standing just a few feet away.

“She’s weird, right?” one of them said. “I mean, the whole ‘mysterious’ thing — it’s just a shtick.”

“I heard she refuses to do interviews,” the other laughed. “Probably doesn’t even write her own stuff.”

“I bet it’s all manufactured. Another moody girl with a tragic backstory they’re gonna milk dry.”

Rosemary didn’t flinch. Not outwardly. She stood still, like a statue carved from calm.

But inside, something caved.

It didn’t matter how many kind words she’d heard tonight. That small, sharp doubt had a way of cutting deeper than praise ever could.

Dina returned to find her quiet, holding her water tightly. “You okay?”

Rosemary nodded. “Just… taking it in.”

But soon, the buzz of the drinks wasn’t enough to subside her thoughts. So, she let herself have a moment outside. 

The night air was cooler out here, soft and quiet. Rosemary leaned on the edge of the balcony, fingers brushing absently over the railing’s grooves. Below her, the lights of Nashville blinked and blurred — distant, golden. The party still pulsed behind her, muffled by the glass doors, but it felt far away now. She needed it to.

It was supposed to feel like a win. Her EP was out. Her name was on people’s lips. The night was technically a celebration of her. But somehow, it didn’t sit quite right.

It felt silly, but this was one of those times where she really needed her guitar. These were the emotions she could pull from the strings let drift off in the wind, releasing them from her mind and body. 

Pathetic. Real adults can deal with emotions by themselves, and here she was, wishing she could have her guitar. The guitar that everyone probably thinks she can’t actually play. The guitar that bleeds with songs they all can’t believe she wrote herself. 

Her drink was still in her hand, cold and sweating, but she couldn’t seem to swallow anymore. The words echoed sharp and familiar — not because they were true, but because they tapped into the tiny, awful part of her that feared they might be.

Then — footsteps.

She didn’t turn, but she knew.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” Joel said, his voice low and warm in the hush of the evening.

She let out a quiet breath, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Had to vanish. Got to keep up the brand, y’know?.”

He moved to stand beside her, not too close. Just enough that she could feel the presence of him — steady, grounding.

“Hell of a night,” he said after a beat. “You were great.”

She gave a small nod, still staring out at the skyline. “Thanks.”

Joel watched her in profile, the way her jaw tensed, the way she kept her chin lifted like she wasn’t feeling the weight of the world pressing on her collarbones.

“You don’t look like someone enjoying her own launch party,” he said carefully.

“Never said I loved parties,” she joked, but it landed flat. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Joel leaned on the rail beside her, matching her stance. “You know what I think?”

She glanced at him, brow raised.

“I think you scare the hell out of people.”

She couldn’t bring herself to properly smile right now. Not even for Joel.

“Yeah. You’ve got that thing,” he said. “The kind of voice that makes people feel stuff they didn’t plan on feeling. Also, you are gorgeous inside and out, and you look particularly stunning tonight. Some people don’t know how to handle that.”

She let the compliment hang in the air a moment, trying to believe it.

Then she said, softly, “I just wanted tonight to feel different.”

Joel’s hand moved without hesitation, covering hers on the railing. His touch was warm, grounding. His thumb traced a slow line across her knuckles — slow enough that if you were looking, you’d barely notice the movement. But Rosemary did.

“It does,” Joel said. “You’re standing here. Your record’s out. People are listening.”

“People are talking,” she corrected. “Not always in a good way.” 

Joel shrugged. “Let ’em talk. Doesn’t change the music. Don’t let it change you.”

His hand was still on hers. The warmth travelling straight through to her heart. A heart not fixed — not healed — but steadied. 

He supported her. And she wasn’t sure why, but it being him meant the world.

“Thanks,” she said.

He offered a small, crooked smile. “Anytime, Rosie.”

Her heart kicked a little at the nickname, but before either of them could say more, the balcony door slid open.

“There you are!” Tess’s voice broke the quiet. “Pictures, let’s go!” She reached out her hand for Rosemary to take, ready to drag her through the crowd.

Rosemary straightened, the moment already slipping away. She shot Joel a rueful glance. “Duty calls.”

Joel gave her a soft nod, eyes lingering as she walked back inside, head high.

And this time, it was a little easier to hold it that way.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸

The apartment was quiet, dimly lit except for the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Rosemary sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, still in her black satin dress, though her shawl was draped over the nightstand and her curls had mostly given up fighting gravity. Her heels were off, feet tucked beneath her. The night had finally slowed.

Dina emerged from the bathroom with a bag of makeup wipes and two bottles of water, one of which she handed off wordlessly before plopping down on the bed beside her.

“Alright,” Dina said, cracking the cap on her own bottle. “Talk to me.”

Rosemary took a sip. “About?”

Dina gave her a pointed look. “Don’t play coy. You vanished to the balcony like a Victorian ghost bride, then showed up ten minutes later with suspiciously watery eyes and one very intense rockstar trailing behind you like a kicked puppy.”

Rosemary huffed a laugh. “That’s dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic by trade,” Dina said. “Now spill.”

Rosemary was quiet for a moment, picking at the label on her water bottle. Then, softly: “It was a good night. Mostly.”

Dina’s expression softened. “But?”

“Some people said things.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to. “And it got in my head. Even when everything else was… good. It still found a way in.”

Dina leaned her head back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. That’s how it works. Ten compliments, one shitty comment, and guess which one sticks.”

Rosemary let out a breath, nodded. “I didn’t expect it to feel so personal. I mean, I should’ve. But still.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Dina said, “You know they’re wrong, right?”

Rosemary gave her a small, tired smile. “I know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.”

Dina bumped her shoulder gently. “Well. For what it’s worth? You were luminous tonight. Powerful. Elegant. The voice of a generation. And your eyeliner didn’t smudge once, so that’s basically a Grammy on its own.”

That coaxed a laugh out of Rosemary — genuine and bright. “Thanks, D.”

“Anytime, superstar.”

Rosemary went quiet again for a beat, then said, almost too casually, “Joel said kind of the same thing.”

Dina looked over at her, one eyebrow raised. “Joel who looked at you like he wanted to rewrite every love song he’s ever sung?”

Rosemary blushed, and that was answer enough.

“Mmhmm.” Dina took another sip of water. “I swear, if you two don’t kiss by the end of this tour, I’m staging an intervention. Possibly involving fog machines and a string quartet.”

Rosemary groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “Please don’t.”

“I loved his outfit too, there were like maybe three buttons of his dress shirt done up. Everyone and their dog was getting a clear view of–” She was cut off by a pillow being shoved on her face.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while after that. Outside the window, the city was still humming — Nashville refusing to sleep, even after the parties had died down.

Eventually, Rosemary murmured, “I think I’m okay now.”

Dina glanced over, saw the way her sister’s shoulders had finally dropped, how her face had softened with the kind of peace that only came after being seen and heard.

“I know you are.”

And she was.

[capnjackk]

Lost in the Darkness | Chapter One

rockstar!joel au

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Joel Miller was a rockstar with the world at his feet, but after meeting Rosemary, an up-and-coming musician at a festival, the ground beneath him started falling away. Her delicate air and gentle humour had charmed him, sure. But something told him there was more to her story.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

warnings: meet-cute, fluff, mega slow burn (I’m talking >5 chapters of tension), idiots in love, hurt/comfort, little baby sarah, singledad!joel, girl-dad!joel, Joel is 31, Rosemary is 26, Sarah is 5, Ellie is 19 (she's like a daughter to him), Rosemary has secrets, Joel is kind about it, more tags to be added later.

a/n: Hi! I love a good au, and this idea has been on my mind for so very long, I really hope you guys dig it! Kisses to smut writers but I haven’t written smut for this, and probably do not intend to. If that’s not your jam please don’t hate. I’m pretending any songs I use in this fic are written by these characters unless stated otherwise. For this chapter, the second song Joel plays is ‘Thorn in my Pride’ by The Black Crowes, and the last one is ‘American Pie’ by Don Mclean. I recommend playing them as you read if you haven’t heard them :)

word count: 4.2k

masterlist

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chapter One

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

Joel met her in the littlest record store in this tiny little town. He was only there for this one night; the ‘Solstice’ festival was the last date on his tour, and then he could finally go home. As he weaved his large frame through the narrow aisles, he noticed the girl, carefully sifting through the blues records. She was dressed in dark jeans, the tips of her cowboy boots peeking from their wide bottoms. On top she had a vintage brown jacket and long, dark hair cascading in curls all the way down her back. Joel didn’t tend to interact with strangers, more often than not he would get recognised and it all becomes a bit awkward. He was trying to stay undercover in his plain clothes and cap, but to many, his signature curls and facial silhouette still give him away. 

He was drawn to her, noticing how deliberately she moved each finger across the vinyls. Then, she stopped. Pulling out a record from the stack, she turned it over in her hands.

He recognised it immediately. It was Joels. His acoustic LP from a couple years back - the one that never charted but was still close to his heart. Oh, what the hell. He thought.

“Good taste.” He chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?” Her voice was just as soft as her presence. “Well that's good then. I-uh, I pick albums at random usually, try to widen my scope.” She offered a short smile, avoiding eye contact and tilting her head back down.

“And you picked that one?” He smiled.

“I don’t know why. Just… liked the way it felt.” She smiled. “Is it any good?”

“I think so… but I’m a little biased.” He joked, trying to catch her gaze. Her lack of recognition puzzled him, offering just a nod. “What’s your name?” He said, tilting his head to the side.

“Rosemary. Nice to meet you. And you are?” She held out a hand.

“I’m Jo–” Just as Joel’s large hand slid into hers, was interrupted by a startled voice. Their hands simultaneously retreated, and Rosemary felt like she’d remember that short touch for a long while. 

“Joel Miller? Wow, this festival is loaded.” A younger looking girl walked towards the pair in surprise, turning to Rosemary. “It is lovely to meet you, but Rose, we need to get going. They need us by four. Found your album?”

Rosemary lifted it up for her to see. “Ohhh I see.” She smirked. “Not so slick Mr rockstar.” 

“This is my sister, Dina.” Rosemary said. “And this…” She chuckled, “Is your album. Got it. I’m sorry, I’m not very good with names and faces.” 

Dina noted the way Joel’s softened gaze traced Rosemary's face, and the way her cheeks were more flushed than usual. Dina leant in and looped her arm through Rosemary’s. “Alright let’s go. Two hours and you’re on. Nice to meet you Mr. Miller.” 

Joel blinked. “Wait – you’re playing the festival?”

Rosemary hesitated, then gave him a small, crooked smile - almost making eye contact for a split second as she was dragged away to pay. 

“Yeah. First time.” 

He was still watching her as she turned to follow the younger girl, record hugged to her chest.

Before she disappeared out the door, she paused — just for a second — and tossed over her shoulder, “Hope you’re not too biased. I’ll be listening to this.”

Joel stood there, holding a forgotten record in his hand, watching the space she left behind.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

He stood just offstage, half-hidden behind a speaker stack, arms crossed like he wasn’t invested — like he hadn’t been standing there since the first note. He knew he would be recognised sooner or later by someone in the audience, but for the first time in a while, he was too invested to care. 

The tent was packed shoulder to shoulder with festival-goers swaying in slow sync. But from Joel’s angle, she didn’t seem to notice the sheer amount of them. Or maybe she just didn’t care. She sat on a worn wooden stool in the middle of the stage, head tilted slightly down, letting the curls around her face fall in all directions. The fog was thick and low, and warm yellow and orange stage lights were shining from behind her – to the audience she was nothing but a silhouette in a sunset.

Her voice was soft. Unpolished. Honest. Like a letter written in the middle of the night that no one was supposed to read. 

Joel had spent years mastering his stage presence — the eye contact, the smirks, the practised face when he hit that high note. She didn’t do any of that. She just sang. As his eyes adjusted, he could just see the way she had both eyes closed, fingers moving across the fretboard with practised ease. Very skilled. He thought. Playing without looking took practice.

She rocked slightly, finding every chord with exact precision. Deliberate. Measured. As the set drew on, more musicians joined her on stage, and she switched her acoustic to a gold electric guitar, adding layers to her rich music.

She hit the last note and let it linger, like an exhale held just a second too long. Joel watched the outline of her cheeks widen into a smile. It was a smile not to the audience, but to herself. Genuinely happy. Quiet. Content. He knew that exact feeling.

There was no bow. No flourish.

Everyone in the tent was left speechless. Even the stage crew had slowly all stopped their jobs to watch. Her performance was like nothing he’d ever seen before. 

He didn’t clap at first. Couldn’t. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

“Joel!” He felt hands grab his arm, pulling him away. “Why’d you run away? We’ve been looking for you for the last hour! We are on in 20 fucking minutes man seriously.” Just as he started walking backwards, he looked back up towards where Rosemary was being walked off. “Joel, we need to go!” Tommy pleaded. But Joel was too focused on how Rosemary’s ear cocked in the direction of Tommy's voice. Dina noticed her movement and spied Joel, whispering something into Rosemary’s ear. 

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

Dina led Rosemary through the crowded backstage tents, all the way to a secluded space where they’d set up camp already.

“He was there for the whole thing, Rose. All googly eyed.” She giggled. “Uhh your chair is to your left. Got it?”

“Yep.” Rosemary let out a sigh of relief as she slumped down, letting her muscles relax.

“Drink? I think celebrations are in order.” Dina beamed as she grabbed two beers from the cooler. 

“How my barely legal little sister is already an alcoholic I really don’t know.” She rubbed her eyes, putting out her hand for the beer.

“Barely legal is still legal bitch! Alright lets down these then we’re going to watch his set. Or am I going to have to drag you out there?”

“No, it's okay. Just let me calm my nerves first.” She let out another huff. Rosemary usually didn’t get all that stressed about performances, but knowing that Joel Miller had watched her just now… god. 

“He’s wearing like these bootcut jeans.” Dina started. Rose sipped her beer. “They fit so well around his ass Rose. And he’s got on this old band tee, but it’s like a little too small around his biceps.”

“Please shut up.” Rosemary deadpanned.

“What? I’m helping you out! Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you’re too old to have fun!”

“Dina, I appreciate it, but you’re a little over your head. Let’s just enjoy the festival.” 

“By listening to Joel Miller’s set?” Dina stood from her chair.

“I mean…” She finished her drink in one gulp. 

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

The section boarded off for acts and crew was off to the side of the main stage, right up at the front. Dina was eagerly pressed against the barrier, while Rosemary leant her hip on it, closing her eyes and listening to the buzz of the crowd. They looked quite similar like this, with their matching sunglasses and bomber jackets on. 

She could hear the stage hands rolling large amps and cases of equipment across the stage, the whip of leads against the black floor. A cheer went through the audience as a drum tech hit a tom to check their tuning and audio levels. 

When the band took to the stage, everything changed. It felt like the energy in every atom was focused on buzzing in time with Joel’s voice. Rosemary felt it from the metal railing, through her heart and in the air she was breathing. While her performance was real and leveled, Joel knew how to rock. 

But something changed after the first song. Much to the surprise of his bandmates, the song Joel started plucking from his guitar was not on their setlist. Being the talented musicians they are, they picked it up anyway; knowing his entire discography from years on the road together. The crowd went wild for the intro - a song they had barely heard live since the release of Joel’s second album.

Sshhhhh

Wake me when the day break,

Show me how the sun shine,

Tell me about your heartache,

Who could be so unkind?

Tommy held back on the drums as long as he could, muttering under his breath at Joel, cursing his behavior this whole damn day. But when he looked at his brother, he could only smile - Joel hadn’t played this song, or even wanted to play this song for years. He needed to bring a certain conviction to it emotionally - having a more mellow tone than the rest of their usual setlist. Tommy knew that Joel playing this song meant something or someone had gotten to him.

My angels, my devils, a thorn in my pride,

My angels, my devils, a thorn in my pride,

All Joel wanted was to impress her. Rosemary’s set reminded him of those nights writing words, picking at strings, smiling all the while. The times when he was writing not just to make a hit single, but for the art, for the feeling. And damn it if he couldn't show her that.

When he played the final notes of the song, he scanned the audience. God he was stupid. He did all that, and wasn’t even sure that Rosemary was watching. But then, he stole a glance to the very front, and there she was. Laughing at something Dina has whispered in her ear, clapping along with the audience. 

In the very same pit, he found his girls. Ellie was holding Sarah on her hip, as she was far too short to see over the barrier. The little girl had massive soundproof headphones on, making her look even smaller. He grinned and gave them a wink. 

As they continued through the rest of the set, Rosemary swayed to each song, sometimes with Dina’s arms around her, dancing along. Joel slowly became more comfortable knowing Sarah and Ellie were watching, trying to perform them rather than stress about the girl from the record store. He was turning back into his natural performer self. But his usual routine felt more sincere - smiling, bending into the notes of the solos. This performance felt good. And he knew it wasn’t just because of the two girls. 

There was one more.

Finally, it came to the last song. He pressed a pedal on the floor, talking into his secondary microphone to just the band onstage. They all smiled at his words. Then, he hit it again, this time to address the audience. 

“Thank you all for coming to our set this wonderful evening, We just have one more song for you folks.” He stares into the beautiful sunset. “Some might say it’s their favourite of mine,” He winked at Sarah. “But I’ll let you make up your own mind.” He nodded to the band.

A long, long time ago,

I can still remember,

How that music used to make me smile.

And I knew if I had my chance,

That I could make those people dance, 

And maybe they’d be happy for a while…

Looking down in the pit, he checked on his familiar faces — Ellie standing with Sarah still balanced at her hip, both of them singing along. Joel smiled without thinking. 

When the jester sang for the king and queen,

In a coat he borrowed from James Dean,

And a voice that came from you and me,

But by the second verse, Sarah, restless and buzzing with energy, wriggled free from Ellie’s hold. Before anyone could stop her, she darted through the cluster of VIPs — straight toward Rosemary and her sister, who were dancing around together.

Joel saw it unfold as he played — Sarah, tiny and fearless, tugging at the sleeve of Rosemary’s jacket. Rosemary turned, surprised. She bent slightly, letting Sarah babble something excitedly up at her. Ellie was already hurrying after her, but stopped short when she saw Rosemary crouch down and offer Sarah both hands.

Then — unbelievably — the two of them began to dance.

We started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie,

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry,

Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye,

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die,

This'll be the day that I die"

Sarah twirled clumsily under Rosemary’s loose, careful guidance, giggling wildly. Rosemary didn’t move fast — her motions were slow, deliberate, graceful — but she smiled the entire time, following Sarah’s enthusiastic spins with a patience that made Joel’s throat tighten.

Ellie and Dina stood off to the side, laughing before both joining in.

Joel’s voice caught slightly on the next line of the song. 

Oh, and there we were all in one place,

A generation lost in space.

He masked it well — the band carried on, the crowd sang back at him — but inside, something shifted.

Watching Rosemary dance with Sarah under the spill of stage lights, it felt like the whole world had gone soft and golden for a moment. In the last chorus she picked Sarah up, spinning her in a circle.

He barely remembered playing the last few chords, his fingers moving on autopilot. All he could see was the way Rosemary's hands never left Sarah's, even when the song ended and the cheers swelled around them.

And Joel knew — with a certainty that scared the hell out of him — He was already in way too deep.

“I’m Sarah. What’s your name?” Rosemary crouched down to talk to her.

“Rosemary. Thanks for dancing with us Sarah!”

“My daddy’s on stage!” She twiddled her hands in front of her.

“Really! Which one is he?” Sarah reached and pointed up to the dead centre of the stage, where Joel was unplugging his guitar and moving to leave.

“His name is Jowel!” Rosemary’s heart caught in her throat. Oh shit. 

“Speaking of, you wanna go see him Sarah?” Ellie took off Sarah’s big headphones for her, flattening down her hair. 

“Can my new friend Rosemary come too?”

Ellie looked at Rosemary “You wanna meet him? I promise he’s nice. Especially when this one is involved.”

“Pleeeeease?” Sarah grabbed at Rosemary dramatically.

“Funny story… We actually met this morning at a record store. I’d be glad to say hi again.” Rosemary said kindly. It would be rude not to go along with them, right? Sarah seemed so enthusiastic…

Ellie eyed her skeptically. Then she nodded. 

Sarah started pulling at Rosemary’s arm, leaning her entire body weight to get her to start walking backstage. 

“Alright I’ll lead the way.” Ellie walked up ahead.

As they wandered off, Dina leaned to tickle Rosemary’s free arm teasingly, which Rosemary slapped at blindly in a sisterly way.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

The moment he stepped offstage, Joel was hit with the usual chaos — crew shouting, cables being coiled, someone handing him a towel and water bottle he barely registered. But his eyes scanned straight past all of it, searching for two people.

Or three, technically.

He caught sight of Ellie first — arms crossed, smirking at him like she knew everything.

“Nice set,” she said as he reached her. “Very emotionally loaded. Really got that mysterious frontman energy sorted today.”

Joel huffed, not even pretending to deflect. “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s with Rosemary,” Ellie said, too casually. “They’ve been inseparable since you started that last song.”

Joel turned, and sure enough, just off to the side, Rosemary was crouched beside Sarah, letting the little girl show her something on the laminated festival pass around her neck. 

Rosemary was laughing. Genuinely, easily. Joel felt it like a gut punch. Then he saw Ellie’s raised eyebrows, and it made him do a double take.

“What? You think you know something?” he asked Ellie quietly.

“That you were singing half that set straight at her?” Ellie arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, Joel. I noticed.”

Joel exhaled a long breath and handed her his guitar. “Watch this for me?”

“Oh, go get her, you sap,” Ellie said, already taking the instrument.

Joel crossed the space slowly, still sweaty from the lights, heart thudding harder than it should’ve. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. Hey, I saw you dancing with my daughter and now I can’t stop thinking about you didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

“Daddy!” Sarah ran to him and wrapped herself around his leg.

“Hey kiddo!”

But when Rosemary looked up — eyes just to the left of his face, that half-smile still warm on her lips — he didn’t need words right away.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” She stood, brushing off her hands. “Your daughter’s adorable.”

Joel glanced down at Sarah, who beamed up at both of them like she’d just orchestrated fate itself.

“She’s trouble,” he said, ruffling her curls. “But yeah. She’s pretty great.”

There was a beat of silence — not awkward, just charged.

“Rosemary is my new best friend!” Sarah giggled, hands holding Joel's above her head as she stood on his toes and rocked around. 

“I think she likes me,” Rosemary said, half-teasing, half-shy.

“She’s got good instincts,” Joel replied, a little too quickly.

Rosemary tilted her head at that, lips curving.

Joel cleared his throat. “You, uh… you danced real nice with her. Thanks for that.”

“She asked with those beautiful eyes,” Rosemary said simply. “Kind of hard to say no.” They both laughed.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸  

The festival had long since quieted. The last of the tech crew had gone to bed, the generators hummed low in the background, and the stars finally had the sky to themselves.

Rosemary sat cross-legged in one of the old canvas chairs outside her cabin, guitar in hand, her fingers trailing soft, sleepy chords. She wasn't playing anything in particular — just letting the notes spill out and settle in the cool air around her like falling ash.

She often found herself outside playing into the night, especially in the summer; the winter air was usually too cold for her fingers. But tonight, she had perfect conditions. It was cool enough to rug up into her favourite sweater, but perfectly calm with no harsh wind.

Her hair was damp from a late shower, her jumper too big on her shoulders. She didn’t look like a girl who’d just played a set to a roaring crowd. She looked like someone who couldn’t sleep until the music inside her had somewhere to land.

Joel had been heading to the kitchenette in his tour bus when he heard it — faint, familiar, delicate. He was ready for bed, dressed in a black tracksuit, hood up. But he wasn’t falling asleep any time soon. He’d already tried. So, he followed the sound, quiet as a ghost, until he just saw her, the moonlight shining over the curve of the guitar nestled in her lap.

He should’ve turned around.

Instead, he cleared his throat — soft, not wanting to startle her.

She paused, lifting her head slightly. “Who's there?”

“It’s me,” Joel said, stepping into view. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” In the dim light, she recognised his voice only.

“You didn’t,” Rosemary said, smiling a little. “Couldn't sleep.”

Joel nodded. “Same.”

For a moment he didn’t move — just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at her like she might vanish if he blinked. Then he sat across from her and tipped his head toward the guitar.

“What are you playing?”

She gave a small shrug. “Nothing, really. Just fooling around.”

Joel rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You mind if I grab mine?”

“Only if you promise not to show off,” she teased gently.

He grinned, already standing. “Can’t show off if I’m playing next to you, sweetheart.”

Thank god he walked away straight after that, because no level of dark lighting would be able to hide her flustered expression.

When he came back, they eased into a few chords — quiet, comfortable. No words. Just the warm blend of two guitars in the hush of night. 

“Do you know any songs by Bread?” Rosemary asked.

“I’ll pick it up. You go ahead.” Joel’s voice was low and deep, tired from earlier.

She started the intro to ‘Aubrey’, and Joel watched her chord shapes for a moment before joining in, playing the rhythmic role.

At some point, Rosemary started singing — a soft little verse Joel didn’t recognize. Her voice was barely above a whisper, like she was afraid to wake the trees. He followed her lead, and their voices twined like ivy—hers reaching, his grounding, both stronger for the other.

It felt like building something together in secret.

They stopped after a while, letting the silence settle around them.

“I haven’t played with someone like that for a long, long time.” Rosemary admitted. “Like it just… worked.”

Joel looked at her — really looked at her. The way she held herself. The way she always seemed to listen harder than anyone else.

“It’s all you. You don’t play with just your hands,” he said slowly.

Rosemary turned her face slightly toward him. “What do I play with, then?”

He considered. “Your whole damn heart.”

She smiled — small, stunned, and unguarded. Then she laughed, because she didn’t know what else to do. 

“I caught your set today. I should have said something earlier, but I was still processing it most of the day. Shocked me to my core. You make me want to try harder.” He said. Then he laughed too. Something about it was just insane. The feeling they both created was like nothing else they had experienced, and neither could even understand it. All they knew was it made them happy.

They talked for another hour, voices low and close — about their first concerts, weird old guitars, songs that never made it onto records. As they spoke, their fingers wandered around on their fretboards, taking turns to play simple melodies. Joel told her about teaching Sarah to strum open chords with peanut-butter fingers. Rosemary told him about how she sometimes wished she could fall asleep in the body of an acoustic guitar.

At one point, their knees brushed. Neither of them moved.

When Rosemary finally yawned, Joel let her go. 

“Night,” she said, voice already soft with sleep.

“Night,” Joel echoed.

He watched her disappear into her cabin, his heart beating slow and loud in the now silent night.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸 

Joel woke up later than usual, the kind of sleep-heavy morning where everything felt a beat behind. He sat up on the narrow bunk in the tour bus, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to piece together what time it was — and why it felt like something was already off.

I’ve taken Sarah with me to find some breakfast.

Back soon.  

– Ellie

He pulled on his sweatshirt and stepped outside into the cool morning. The festival grounds were half-disassembled now — tents folded, cables rolled, people moving slower. The energy had shifted.

He didn’t see Rosemary.

He scanned the field automatically — the row of crew cabins, the tour buses, the VIP lounge still half-strung with lights. Her chair was empty. The one she’d played in the night before. The ghost of her still clung to it like smoke.

There was an absence around her cabin; no vans, cases or people left behind. She was gone. 

When he finally retreated to his own bus, Ellie and Sarah were at the table, Sarah creating a beautiful thick layer of croissant dust all over it. 

“Daddy look! I found my best friend Rosemary! She gave me this!” She held up a small silvery guitar pick. 

“Oh wow, honey that’s very nice of her isn’t it.” Joel’s hand combed through her hair. 

“She said it’s a super lucky pick. And shee shaid I’m going to be a really really good mu-mushishin when I grow up.” She said, stuffing her face with more croissant.

“Oh really? What else did she say?” Joel was all too eager to hear about Rosemary.

As Sarah went off on a tangent, Ellie scoffed and passed Joel a torn scrap of notepaper in messy, looping handwriting.

Thanks for listening, and for playing.  

Until we meet again.

– R

He stared at it for a long time, thumb resting on the edge like it might burn straight through.

She hadn’t said goodbye.

But she had left something behind.

𓇢𓇡𓇢𓆸