#and just a side note; the store i work at dethorns all their roses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildemaven · 1 year

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bloom : one | joel miller

→ pairing: no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

→ WC: 2494

→ warnings: meet cute vibes, reader is single mom, small injury at work, Joel to the rescue using nontraditional techniques to help (I don't want to give it away), daughter is a teen and bleeds sarcasm, fluff and more fluff, mention of divorce and adoption.

→ a/n: some of you are probably like “wait, what is happening?!” i started this series on another account that i was using to take a break from this one. I had plans to finish this series out over there and then just abandon the account and move back here. but i love this series and want it to live here with my other work. so, im getting things set up so i can post part two later this week and move back to this account for good. also, this is series is a TLOU AU, so I've fudged all timelines and relationships to make it work for me. Ihope you like it, am very nervous to share it with you all.

two | series masterlist | main masterlist

You’re staring.

It would feel less awkward if it were somewhere else, anywhere but where you are right now. Like sitting a table away at a packed restaurant, enough people crowded around to lessen your obvious ogling of a handsome stranger, eyes locked on his profile as you hide behind the empty glass you’re pretending to sip from. The crossing of paths in a grocery store would also feel less awkward, a quick glance back over your shoulder after your carts squeeze through the nearly claustrophobic aisle, your gaze on him as he stares at the shelves filled with sugary snacks— he most definitely would have a wicked sweet tooth you think.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, it’s just you and him, alone in the store front of the floral shop— your floral shop.

He’d walked by the front window, stopping instantly to read the shop’s name in gold letters above the entrance, then hands cupped over his eyes and face pressed close to the glass contemplating the shop’s worthiness of his time.

It’s a corner spot, sitting at the crossroads of two of the town’s busiest shopping streets— prime location. Bold was a chance you took with painting the exterior black, even with the apprehension of the city council deeming it too “gothic” for the town's rather conservative appeal. The dark exterior paired with black and white striped awning over the door was the perfect balance of moody and romantic.

It was worthy enough, pushing the front door open he stepped inside, the automated bell signaling through the shop. The heaviness of his boots scuff across the wood floor a few steps, his broad body stopping in front of one of the cold displays that held an array of dramatic arrangements. His hands tucked securely into his pockets as he looks around aimlessly, it’s evident this isn’t a regular occurrence for him.

“Welcome to Wilder Floral. Is there anything I can help you with today?” You greet him from your workbench.

Your hands busily work to trim the ends and dethorn the stems of a bundle of antique mauve roses, one of your best sellers, then trimming off the lower leaves before placing them in a bucket of water.

“Not really sure at the moment. Just browsin’ for now.” His deep voice sounds through the small space, the raspy tone sending a tingle down your spine.

“Okay. Well, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.” He nods to you, catching the way his gaze doesn’t immediately break from you, he gives you a half smile then continues to look over everything again.

You’re staring.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of only this handsome stranger, quietly watching him over the now full bucket of cleaned roses.

You note the way his hip cocks out to the side as he stands with his large hands secure against his small waist. His eyebrows pinch together briefly, a look of deep thought painted over his face accentuating the little crinkles around his eyes. After a moment, his beautiful face relaxes into a calmer expression.

You can make out every muscle that runs the length of his arms, the weight of the arrangement he’s now holding provoking the defined musculature. His arms lifting and turning the vase with ease, examining every detail of the floral design you created.

You’re still staring. You can’t help it though. Actually, you can, but your brain convinces you that you are just admiring, so that makes it more than okay— right?

“You know, if you take a picture it lasts longer!” A hushed voice pops up from behind you.

“Ouch!! God dammit, Ellie! Why do you do that?!” You yelp, tossing the rose stem you were holding onto the table.

“It’s too easy! You were lost in la la land over some grumpy guy looking at flowers. I saw an opportunity, so I took it.” She laughs, pushing your buttons brings her a weird satisfaction.

There’s a throbbing pain coming from your hand. Looking down you see part of a thorn had broken off and was now embedded deep into the pad of your finger— a rookie mistake at this point in your career. You wrap your other hand around the base of your fingers, hoping some pressure will elevate the pain.

“I’m glad you enjoyed this. Can you just go grab the first aid kit in the back, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Try not to fall for him too hard while I’m gone— don’t think you have enough bandages to fix that mess.” She sulks away into the back room.

“Shit!” You hiss, the pain getting more intense and now radiating through your entire finger.

“You okay ma’am?” The handsome customer asks you, stealthy in his approach to where you’re standing, still clutching your hand.

He places the floral arrangement he was holding down on your work table, his feet still moving in an urgent manner until he is standing in front of you.

“Yeah— actually, no… The thorn broke off and it’s in there real good. It hurts and I’m trying really hard to not be a baby about it. Someone’s getting a first aid kit out of the back for me.” You hold your pained finger up to him.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” His hands slowly reach out, your lips parted and ready to speak but words fail you, only managing to nod a response.

Your mind briefly wonders what Ellie is up to, but the thought vanishes instantly once his hands wrap around your wrist and he brings your injured finger closer to his face.

“My name is Joel.” He looks over to you, heat pricks over your cheeks as he holds your gaze. It’s a cosmic thing, his touch activating warmth you’ve longed for. A corner of his mouth lifts, you can’t help but fixate on the dimple that forms resulting in a barrage of flutters erupting in your chest.

“Hi Joel.” Giving him yours in return, his smile growing louder as he repeats it back to you softly, like he couldn’t wait to say it out loud.

He refocuses back on your injury. A pinched expression, similar to the one he wore earlier, is even more adorable up close— zeroing in on the small wound that was tormenting you.

Joel’s movements are dizzying, an unbridled enthusiasm that elicits a sudden burst of desire you hadn’t experienced in ages, but he senses you trust him at your willingness to let him take control of the situation. Bringing your finger to his mouth, he wraps his pillowy lips around the tip of your finger and sucks with a gentle pressure. You watch him unabashedly, completely mesmerized by the way he jumped into action, how his cheeks draw in from the suction.

Your eyes lock when he looks up from your hand, sensing your eyes already on him, his thumbs drawing circles over your wrist, soothing over your racing pulse, as he continues to suck at the fleshy pad of your finger. It feels nearly overwhelming, the fierceness of his warm brown eyes has an inebriating feeling blooming inside you.

A gasp shoots through your throat at the feeling of his tongue slightly flicks over the part of your finger that is in his mouth, pressing the back of your other hand against your lips, embarrassed by your reaction to the erogenous sensation.

The whole thing is over as quickly as it began. Joel is pulling your finger from his lips, his grip still holding on to your wrist as he lowers your arm down to your side. You watch as the tip of his tongue breaches his lips, his pointer finger and thumb picking at the small little thorn that was once lodged into your skin, now resting on his tongue. He rubs his lips together almost nervously, the weight of the whole situation kind of sinking in.

“Got it!” He rasps, holding the annoying culprit up between his fingers.

“How did you know that would work? I usually have to dig those out with tweezers. That was— wow, thank you.”

“I get splinters regularly— I’m a carpenter. Sometimes when I’m out on the job, gotta use what you have. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just knew it needed to come out— the last thing you want is an infected finger.” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t over step in anyway.

“No! Not uncomfortable in the slightest!! Thank you, seriously. Rose thorns can cause a mean infection too. I appreciate it—“

“I leave for two minutes and you’ve already moved onto second base with the guy?!” Ellie announces her reemergence, holding the first aid kit in her hands and a grossed out look on her face.

“Ellie!” Your body runs cold, completely mortified, ready to crawl into the nearest hole.

“He had your finger in his mouth— probably more like rounding to third if I’m being honest.”

You grab the kit from her hands, setting it on the counter, turning to see Joel still rooted in the same spot with his hands tucked into his front pockets and a tinge of red across his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry! Sometimes I think my daughter forgets she has a filter and that she can actively choose to use it before she speaks.” You try to make sure he isn’t the one who feels uncomfortable now.

“Adopted daughter, actually.” You roll your eyes at her need for technicalities. Adopted, yes, but daughter nonetheless. “Also, in case you were wondering, cause I’m sure you are, she’s single.”

“Ellie!” You look back at her with a sternness in your voice, eyes blown wide in hopes she picks up that she can stop at any point in time. Turning back to Joel, you mouth an ‘I’m sorry’, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

There’s an awkward silence that settles over the three of you. Joel looks like he doesn’t really seem to know how to diffuse the awkwardness at hand, Ellie has a shit eating grin she wears proudly when she knows she’s embarrassed you just enough, and you simply would like to evaporate into thin air.

“So, this is the part where you give your relationship status to her— makes this whole ‘her finger in your mouth’ thing feel a little less weird for all of us.” She has a point. You had been wondering that very thing, but how were you supposed to bring it up when he’s sucking a thorn out of your finger with his gorgeous mouth.

“Single— very much single.” He laughs at how forward she is, knowing she’s just looking out for you. “I do have a daughter, probably about your age too.”

“What, your wife die or something?” Ellie asks with zero hesitation.

“No. Just an ole fashion divorce. Anythin’ else you wanna to know?” He looks to Ellie, ready for whatever comes next.

She studies Joel for a beat, “Nope, that’s all.”

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful to what ever greater power decided to switch Ellie’s filter back on.

Ellie turns to head to the back room, where she had previously been working on her homework, but turns on her heels in the process to look back at Joel and you.

“One last thing, she needs to be wined and dined before you even think about kissing her.” Then she's gone before you can say anything else.

The awkwardness creeps back into the room, you’re not really sure how to come back from all of that. You open the first aid box, rifling through the contents for a cleaning pad and small bandage.

“She seems like a fun kid.” Joel decides to take the lead, watching you swipe the alcohol pad over your finger.

“She is— she definitely keeps me on my toes at all times. But, she’s got a big heart under all her sarcasm.” You tell him. You grab for the bandage, but Joel beats you to it, snagging it off the table and ripping it open before you get the chance.

You hold your finger out in front of you, ready for him to wrap it up properly for you, but instead of sticking gauze, your wounded finger is met with his plush lips for a few seconds.

“Obviously, a kiss to make it better.” He smiles again and you melt, biting at your lower lip as he wraps the dressing around your finger.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Speaking of daughters— mine is the reason I came here in the first place. I was wanting to get this arrangement for her. She passed a test she’d been stressin’ about. Thought I’d get her a little something to celebrate her.” Joel points to the flowers on the cash stand that he had been holding earlier, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket and pulling out his credit card ready to pay.

“They’re on the house today.” You tell him as you walk up to your computer, imputing the information to zero out the sale.

“No— no, I can’t let you do that. Lemme pay for them please. Least I can do for all your time and talent you put in.” Holding his card out to you, insisting he pay in full.

“You practically saved my life,” A slight exaggeration, but he laughs anyway. “How about you come here for all your flowers in the future, instead of my competitors, and we’ll call it even.”

“I can do that. I might just have a need for flowers soon then, I’m sure I can find an excuse to come back for more— you think you can handle that?”

“Yeah— I can handle that.” Handing him the vase of flowers, hoping he does find an excuse to come back and tell you how much his daughter enjoyed them.

Joel walks a few feet in the direction of the door then stops, turning back to see you’re already busily back to work with a handful of flowers. He says your name, falling from his lips like sweet honey, and you don’t think you could ever get tired of him saying it the way he does. “I’ll be seein’ you around. Try to be safe until then, m’kay?”

“See you around Joel. I’ll keep the injuries to a minimum until then.”

“I’d prefer no injuries at all, actually.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You exchange goodbyes, watching him cross the street and get settled into his truck from the store front window. You’re not sure why you miss him, having only just met, but there’s a longing that’s started to burn inside your heart.

Joel’s truck merges onto the road, he takes one last glance in your direction, his hand thrown out the window waving at you as he drives off, planning his next visit so he can see you again.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #bloom series #no outbreak!joel miller #tlou au #pedrostories

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itoldheraboutyou · 6 years

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i feel different - chapter 4

you can read previous chapters here: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ao3 link

notes: oh my god. i am so sorry lol. i know i told you guys not to hold me to my schedule (thanks for doing that by the way) but i just feel so bad about saying you’d get a chapter weekly and then just leaving for 3 weeks. i really didn’t think i was gunna get burnt out as quick as i did, but here we are. from now on, there will be no schedule, i’m sorry! you’ll get content though, don’t worry. anyway, enjoy. ;)

chapter 4

“but then she-“

“got mad at you, i know.” amber mumbles as she clears the table behind me. “you told me.”

“amber i’m having a crisis-“

“when are you not having a crisis?!” she spits frustratingly, slamming the plates she’d taken from the other table onto mine.

“well sorry my problems are bothering you!” i retort, crossing my arms.

amber rolls her eyes. “god, you’re such a drama queen. jonah, your problems aren’t bothering me, but my break ended 15 minutes ago. as much as i’d love to play therapist for you, i have a job.” damn, that stung. i bite my lip and lift my arms to rest on the table, backing off for the time being. amber sighs, putting her hand on my shoulder. “thank you. call me later, alright? i charge $300 a phone call.”

i swat at her arm, a small, amused smile spreading on my face. one thing that would never change about amber as that she’s blunt, always has been always will. and she never sugarcoated anything even if it stings, like right now. amber gives me a final, thankful nod before heading off towards the kitchen. i might as well get out of here, amber hates when i hang around while she’s working for reasons i just witnessed. my bad. i’m about to stand up when in my peripheral vision when i see cyrus walk through the door. he spots me almost immediately, and i, without thinking, wave him over.

“hey.” he smiles, sliding into the booth across from me. i’ve always liked that smile, it always seems brighter around me.

“hey.”

“so, what’s up?” he asks, not even hesitating before delving into my basket of baby taters.

“literally nothing.”

“well,” cyrus says, standing up apruptly. “let’s go then.”

“what?”

“andi told me you wanted my job. the shop is empty and bowie is busy working at the music store, he left with a ton of stuff to do. we’re gunna go do it.” he says like i should’ve known. to be fair, what i should’ve known is that saying i wanted the job at judy bloom’s was going to come back to bite me in the ass. is this a bite though? i get to hang out with cyrus. “well, are you coming?”

i nod, getting up from my seat with a smile. cyrus smiles back, looking almost relieved. i don’t know why he would, i could never say no to him.

•••

“so what’re we doing?” i ask absentmindedly as we walk the streets of shadyside. cyrus glances at me fleetingly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his chinos.

“well, i’m gunna be filling arrangement orders and you are gunna be doing the dirty work... because you’re obviously much more equipped.”

“oh, is that right?” i tease him, a small smile forming on his lips. “i’d be flattered if it weren’t for the fact that i know you’re just afraid of nature.”

“it’s a healthy fear!” he persists.

“why did you get a job here then?” i ask as we approach the shop. cyrus pulls open the door, letting it swing closed after i’ve let myself in.

“i like putting arrangements together, or, the flower part. the other stuff i didn’t think i’d have to do.” he replies, grabbing a pair of gloves off the counter and handing them to me.

“and why do i need these?” i raise an eyebrow, cautiously taking them from him.

“i told you i’m making arrangements, i need you to dethorn some roses.”

“and how am i more equipped for this?” i chuckle, sliding my fingers through a glove.

“because my hands are fragile!” he says matter-a-factly. “you play frisbee, i figured yours would be tougher and like, calloused.”

i let out a full laugh at cyrus’ conclusion causing him to pout. “cyrus, i’m not playing volleyball, jesus. throwing a frisbee around won’t give you callouses.”

cyrus reaches out, snatching my other ungloved hand from my side. “it’s tougher than mine though, don’t you feel it? my skin is like tissue paper compared to yours.” the feeling of cyrus’ hand in mine is surprisingly familiar, or it should be. i let out a breath, my shoulders loosening up. cyrus pulls my hand towards him, turning it over palm up, as if showing me. “see?”

i nod, and he lets go, walking behind the counter. “so where are the roses?” i ask, looking around.

cyrus points to a huge pile sat in front of him and i grumble sheepishly, saying some kind of excuse for my unintelligence. i grab a rose and start picking at it, thorn by thorn, as cyrus rolls out some paper and starts arranging.

“you never answered my question from last time. before we, ya know, got trapped.” i say, shaking off a particular thorn that had gotten caught in my glove into the trash cyrus had kicked out from under the counter.

“what question?” he asks, the same focused look on his face that was there that night. it takes a lot for me not to get distracted by it.

“why you’re into all this.” i wave a gloved hand over his current project.

“i believe you asked me when and not why,” he corrects me, and i make a face back. “and i answered you, just kind of always.”

“well okay, why then? what’s the tea?”

cyrus’ hands stop abruptly, and i realize that he’s gaping at me.

“did you just say what’s the tea?!”

“ya, amber taught it to me.” i let slip, hoping he doesn’t get angry over the fact that that insinuates i hang out with her. instead, he bursts out laughing, literally doubling over he gets so worked up.

after a minute or so, he straightens ups and says through heavy breaths; “tell her i love her, oh my god,” calmed down for the most part.

“better than docious?” he turns back to his flowers, still giggling. “way better.”

“alright, i get it, you didn’t need to say way.” i joke, picking off another thorn and letting it fall into the trash can.

“so the tea is,” he emphasizes tea, and i catch him smiling to himself. “flowers have their own language.”

“language?”

“ya so, i’m making this bouquet for austin knight-“

“knight? are you talking about cece’s neighbors?” i ask, cyrus nods.

“mhm. according to austin, him and lilian had a fight, and purple hyacinth means “i’m sorry.” he places one last branch of foliage into his bouquet of purple, and then wraps it.

“what do these mean?” i wonder, resorting to scraping the stem, causing multiple thorns to pop off.

“love.” he answers simply, finishing off the white bow he’d tied around the hyacinths and then set them down gently into a large vase. “but only the red ones. yellow ones mean friendship, white means sympathy, and pink ones mean gratitude.”

“well shit,” i exclaim with a lopsided grin, it’s intriguing to say the least. i like that, i don’t know. i like that a simple gesture that i never gave any thought to before now has meaning. maybe that’s why cyrus likes them so much, maybe he relates.

“those ones?” i point to a a certain bucket on the bottom shelf.

“jonah, i’m not where you are i can’t see them.” he chides with an eye roll. “what color are they?”

“orange.” i answer him, straining my neck to examine it further.

“well you’re probably looking at orange lilies, those mean hatred.”

“damn, so you can be like, totally fake to someone?” i ask, letting out a whimper when my sliding technique backfires and gets me stabbed. “fuck, these gloves don’t even work!” cyrus chuckles, glancing over at me.

“do i need to get the first aid kit again?”

“cyrus, i’m dethorning a rose, what do you want from me?” i whine, shaking my hand around wildly knowing that it’s probably not doing anything. cyrus just chuckles, shaking his head fondly at me as i struggle.

“hey, what did the flowers i gave bex and bowie mean?” i ask, ripping the glove off my hand.

cyrus bites his lip, bring his eyes back to what’s in front of him. “uh, good luck and kindness.” i nod, too distracted with my finger to really think about it. “speaking of,” he clears his throat. “how was dinner?”

i groan, shoving my hand back in the glove despite the dull ache. “didn’t andi tell you?”

“she did, but i wanna know your side of the story... if you wanna tell me.”

i pick up another rose, going back to removing the thorns individually. i almost smile at cyrus caring about what i have to say. “what if you have other motives?” i joke, though i am worried about that.

“like what? telling andi? this is your stuff to figure out, i don’t want to be involved. besides, she may be one of my best friends but you’re important to me too.” he says nonchalantly, walking out from behind the counter and bending down to grab what i think are tulips. i lick my dry lips, his last sentence ringing in my ear.

“well, i did space out. like i wasn’t mentally there. just thinking of some- some stuff.” which is the truth. “stuffs been like, weird, i guess.”

“is everything okay? are you okay?” cyrus asks, setting down the flower in his hand and looking me dead in the eyes. i could say yes, but i’m tired. i’m really tired.

“not... really?”

cyrus rests his elbows on the counter, smiling sympathetically at me. “okay,” i give him a questioning look, biting my tongue. maybe i shouldn’t of said anything, god i really shouldn’t of. did i totally just fuck up? “well what’s wrong?”

i let out a breath i didn’t know i was holding. “i just get like, overwhelmed sometimes ya know?” is that too much? does he even care? of course he cares, why would he have asked then? i realize i’m arguing with my anxiety and i try and drown it out.

“i do, and it sucks. like it just hits you out of nowhere and you’re like “okay, gotta deal with this now, it’s not like i was doing anything important!” we laugh, and i smile down at the rose in my hands. it’s the last one.

“that’s exactly what it feels like.” cyrus opens his mouth to say something else, but then my phone goes off in my pocket. i fish it out, skimming over the texts from andi.

- can you come over? we need to talk about friday

i look up at cyrus who’s started to work again, messing with various foliage branches. “its andi, she wants to talk. you don’t mind if i-“

“no,” he interrupts, his eyes never leaving the foliage. “go ahead, i get it. thanks for helping me.”

i take off the gloves and set them down next to the new dethorned pile of roses and head to the door. the doors open and i have a foot out before i stop dead in my tracks. “i’ll text you.”

he still doesn’t look at me, but i can see his lips turn up. “okay.”

•••

should i be nervous? i don’t know, she didn’t give me any indication that i should be. then why does it feel like the anxiety is slowly creeping up my throat? i bite down hard on my lip and attempt to swallow any fear i have as i walk up the steps to andi’s apartment building. god, my heart rate is way too high for a simple talk. i start going over my apology in my head, making sure it’s absolutely perfect. i can’t take any chances. it takes me a second, but before i know it i’m knocking on her door. the next fifteen seconds are absolute grueling, what does she need to say to me? i can’t even try and reassure myself before andi opens the door, looking less than pleased. there’s no smile, or happy kiss hello, but it’s not like i was expecting that.

“hey, come in.” she offers, opening the door up wider for me to step in. as soon as she closes the door, an uncomfortable aura washes over the room. i can practically feel the awkward as we just stand there, staring at each other. finally, andi sighs, going to sit on the couch. i follow, hoping that’s what she wants to me to do. it’s still just as awkward, but now we’re sitting down.

“can i go first?” i blurt out, the silence becoming too much. “please?” i give her a pleading look, but she’s not looking at me.

andi doesn’t look surprised, relieved maybe. she nods, and i take a deep breath. “i am so sorry about dinner. i did space out, that wasn’t a lie, but being tired was not an excuse for how rude i came off-“

“you’re right, it wasn’t.” she interrupts, her voice icy.

“and i will apologize to bex and bowie also. but andi, i want you to know that i did know how important that dinner was for you- for us. and i wanted it to be a turning point too.”

andi’s breath hitches and she slowly runs her hands down her legs, her eyes trained on the carpet. “did you?” her anger seems to have dissipated into genuine curiosity. she turns towards me, her eyes still attached to the carpet. “did you want it to be a turning point?” i open my mouth to answer, but she holds up a hand. “and don’t even think about lying to me like you have been. i deserve the truth,” our eyes lock at the last word. “jonah.

“i...” it takes everything in me to keep my breathing fairly level. i’m too focused on calming myself down than her words, but one phrase in particular does resonate. she does deserve the truth, she deserves more than i’m willing to give her. and does that make me a bad person? or does it make me confused? “it depends on what you mean by turning point.”

she throws her hands up, practically jumping off the couch. “okay, see, this is what you do, jonah. you make it so you’re not technically lying but it’s never a straight answer. god, who even are you? this is not the jonah beck i know.”

i stand up too, turning on her. “and who’s that? who’s the jonah you know because i sure as hell don’t know who i am!” it’s more of a whine than anything as there’s no venom in my voice, but it’s the most truthful thing i’ve said to her in weeks. i look down at my hands, a little stunned at my own confession, letting myself slowly sit back onto the couch. andi is just as surprised, if not more. she sits down beside me again, seemingly mellowed out a bit.

“what do you mean?” she asks cautiously after i’ve regained some sobriety.

“what do you mean what do i mean? we’re teenagers right?” i try and play it off as if i’ve already come to terms with this and i’ve known for a long time, but this is really the first time i’ve admitted it to myself. “aren’t we all still figuring out who we are?”

“ya, no, you’re totally right. i just... you have to know what i mean when i say you’ve been acting different though.” she responds, trying her hand at a more gentle approach.

“i know.” i say with a shaky breath, losing more and more of the reigns as time passes.

“so, i think we need to take a break-“

“what?!” i practically yelp, panicked. “i- i thought we just came to an understanding?”

“we did,” she shrugs. “and i appreciate the honesty. but that still doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t thinking of this dinner the way i was thinking of it.”

“no, andi,” i chuckle, trying to cover up how quick and sporadic my breathing’s gotten. “i was.” the words die on my tongue, and i realize what a blatant lie that is. though i knew she was thinking of it like that, i had never felt the same way. though i knew she wanted this to be the next step, i never did.

“you weren’t though.” she says bitterly. “and we both know it. and honestly, it’s my fault. we’ve been doing this since the 7th grade, jonah. you say one thing and mean another.” she gets up, making her way towards the door. she opens it, and gives me an expectant look. “we’re taking a break.”

i start violently shaking my head, tripping over words left and right. “andi please, andi, i wanted- i want it, please!” she just shakes her head, looking away from me. i take the opportunity and walk out, pretending as if i’m not on the brink of an anxiety attack.

•••

“amber? amber, andi, she, i can’t breath, i can’t move, please come- come get me,” i heave into my phone which i’ve managed to put on speaker. i’m currently sat on the sidewalk a block away from andi’s place, absolutely frozen with fear. i’ve done the breathing exercises and now i’ve just absolutely given up, allowing myself to panic and my insides to scream and cry and not stop.

“i’m on my way, where are jonah? do you know?” despite the fact that i’m practically incoherent, she sounds pretty calm.

“a block- a block from andi’s. center street.”

it takes amber approximately 3 minutes to get here. and those 3 minutes were even more grueling than the 15 seconds i spent waiting for andi to open the door. this was a different kind of grueling though, and it was on top of agonizing fear. her car pulls up in front of me, and she’s by my side in seconds.

“jonah, hey, hey, breathe.” she coos, grabbing my hand for some stability.

the breathing doesn’t work, but i knew it wouldn’t. it wasn’t working 10 minutes ago why would it now? amber’s at a dead end, opting to just hold my hand as i ride out the attack. i’ve never been more afraid in my entire life. the attack lasts for 23 minutes in total from the time i stepped out of andi’s apartment to where i am now, cradled in amber’s arms on the sidewalk of center street. once my breathing evens out, amber helps me up and into her car.

“what the hell just happened?” she asks once we’ve both into the car.

i stare straight ahead, my hand tightening around the handle of the door. “i have no idea.” i reply honestly. i tell amber the whole story as she drives me back to my dads place, from talking to cyrus to andi telling me we’re going on a break. she just listens, one hand on the steering wheel and one resting on the side of her cheek. “jonah, i love you, and i’m saying this out of love...” she starts, glancing over at me.

“what?”

amber bites her lip, then lets out a frustrated sigh, slamming the hand that was holding her head of down on the car door. “look, if you’re not gunna tell your parents about this, then i will-“

“you wouldn’t.” i cut her off, gritting my teeth.

“jonah, we are in way over our heads with this,” she spits. “you just collapsed on the fucking SIDEWALK, like, you need help-“

“i don’t need help!” i yell, squeezing my eyes shut. there’s nothing wrong with me, i want to argue.

“you do though," she argues, her voice raising as well as mine. “you need help, and i’m enabling you in ignoring that. admit it jonah, because you have an anxiety problem, okay?! this is real, this is happening, you can’t keep-“

“i’ll do whatever i want! i’m not fucking crazy, alright?” i take in a staggered breath.

“i’m not saying you’re crazy, jonah.” she rolls her eyes. “i’m saying you have a serious mental health issue. you can’t keep treating me like i’m a goddamn licensed psychologist, alright? it’s time you grow the fuck up and realize that hiding this is just hurting you.”

i frown, looking down at my shoes. “i thought you understood.”

“jonah, this IS me understanding, understanding that this has been going on for way too long.” she glances at me, and i know exactly what that look says.

“i’ll tell my brother, okay?” i blurt. “will that shut you up?”

“for awhile, maybe. but my ultimatum still stands.” she says, roughly hitting the breaks in front of my apartment building. “get out of my car. and seriously jonah, fuck you.”

“ya, fuck you too.” i grumble, getting out and slamming the door for good measure. i watch as she drives off, and i can’t help but feel incredibly guilty for what just happened. she’s the person who’s kept me stable since everything went down, and i just punished her for it. i turn towards my apartment building and start walking in, hoping to give into the urge of curling up in a ball and not getting out of bed for a few days. i stick my key into the lock twisting it and shoving the door open. daniel’s on the couch, and i’m just praying to god that he ignores my existence. but of course, i’m not that lucky, and daniel turns around.

“hey, where’ve you been all day?”

“breaking up with my girlfriend.” i deadpan, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me be.

“what? oh my god, jo, i’m so sorry. do you wanna talk about-“

“what i want if for you to leave me alone.” i growl. daniel stiffens, obviously taken aback by my attitude.

“fine, be an asshole then.” he shrugs, resuming his position on the couch. i will be an asshole, thanks for that. i think, storming into the bedroom. this was gunna be a long night.

#jyrus #andi mack #ifd

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