Chapter Text
You’ve been alone for a long, long time. Scavenging, hunting, stealing, doing whatever you could to survive in this cruel, dystopian world. That was until a gruff but kind man named Tommy Miller found you and led you to the sanctuary of Jackson.
You’re smart, good with the sciences. Tommy took you in on the account that there was a new teacher needed to continue educating the kids and fixing up meds for the townspeople when colds or fevers got bad.
“We can’t help everyone,” Tommy sighs with regret. “Jackson’s already nearing its capacity as it is, so we have to pick and choose.”
You nod with understanding, looking out at the bustling streets of this small town, where people attempt to revive a sense of normalcy amidst the apocalypse. It… almost works. But you see how the houses are packed side by side and the meticulous ways that supplies are rationed, so you shiver with relief that you have at least some skill that makes you useful, to trade for the safeties of these walls.
“We’re working on building new housing for people by the west wall, but it’s gonna be at least a few months. For now, you’ll have to room with someone. That okay with you?” Tommy asks, his brows knitted with exhaustion. Despite the brief time you’ve gotten acquainted with him, you’ve already seen the way he moves through Jackson— commanding, organized, but always stressed. You don’t blame him. Being the leader and making important decisions on the safety of so many people tends to run you dry.
You don’t want to add on any more to his plate, so you nod quickly, obediently. “Of course, Tommy. I’ll always be indebted to you. I’m happy to room with whoever.”
His brows relieve a little bit of tension. “Great. Thank you. How about I put you with Joel? He’s my older brother. He can be a bit… reserved at first, but I wanna put you with someone I trust.”
“Got it. Joel. Sounds good.” Despite your slight worry at being with a male roommate, Tommy’s older brother sounds like quite the perfect roommate for you: someone who keeps to themselves, but also responsible and respectful. While you know you have to get familiarized to Jackson sooner or later, this was a task your anxious self intended to procrastinate for as long as possible. Joel’s introverted character would be perfect for you.
You trailed behind Tommy, stopping at a cozy, wooden cabin. You looked around curiously, eyeing the Miller mailbox at the entrance and how the blinds are drawn shut, uninviting.
Tommy steps forward, knocking on the door. “Joel, s’me.” A low grunt answered him behind the door as you heard someone making their way over.
You stand three steps behind Tommy, looking at your feet and fidgeting in the awkward silence. Your eyes are flitting around when the door suddenly opens, revealing a grumpy man who resembles Tommy, but taller and wider. God, he’s handsome too, with warm chocolate eyes and a full, cleanly groomed beard. His biceps stretch deliciously as he leans against the door, taking up the whole space even when he isn’t standing up straight.
You were just about to take another greedy glance at his soft eyes before they hardened with suspicion, eyebrows furrowed as he looked you down. You freeze up, feeling the warmth leave his eyes as soon as he makes eye contact with yours...
“Who’s that?” He asks with a southern drawl, crossing his arms, low voice filled with distrust.
“She’s a new one. I just brought her in today.” Tommy explains.
“Hell she’s doing here?” You wince at the hostility in Joel’s voice as he talks about you as if you aren’t right there. You know Tommy said he was closed off, but you never expected him to be this closed off.
“Relax, big brother.” Tommy attempts to calm him as Joel’s voice rises in volume. “You know how I told you we’ve got too many in Jackson and those houses are still being built? She’s got nowhere else to go.”
“Y-”
“-And before you interrupt me. No, there’s no one else she can stay with. She’s nice, Joel. And smart. She’ll be good for this town.” Tommy sighed. “Joel, just do me a favor. I still gotta get to that meeting on tomorrow’s patrol.”
Joel’s face seems to be brewing with displeasure, and just when you think he’s about to say no, he relents. “Fine.” Just one simple word. Strained, like he’s forcing it out.
You give a thin lipped smile to Tommy as he leaves. “Thanks,” you nod, before approaching the door with apprehension. Although Joel was a sight to see when he opened the door, his height and manners make him formidable now. Not to mention how aggravated he sounded just at the idea of being in the same room as you. Being in Jackson was starting to feel like you were more of a burden than of use from the way the Miller brothers talked about you right in front of you. Despite this, you extend your hand out to Joel, introducing yourself quietly.
“M’Joel. Joel Miller.” He nods in response, a large hand engulfing yours before he retreats back into the kitchen, tending to whatever’s on the stove. His hand felt warm, callouses rubbing your skin slighting as you replayed the sight of his veins from the back of his hand to his arm. They might be the prettiest veins you’ve ever seen.
You remove your shoes before looking around the house curiously. You don’t know how long Joel’s been living in this cabin, but it’s depressingly void of character. Save for a few carved wooden figures near the TV, there’s only three pictures in the house hung above the stairs. One of him and Tommy when they were younger, one of a little blonde girl, and another of Joel and a brunette, freckled girl. You soften at how you can instantly tell how much of a family man Joel is. A guitar lies on the couch, its strings worn as if being played for ages. However, the body is still well maintained enough to know that it’s being tenderly cared for.
“You can sit, you know.” Joel’s voice suddenly rings through, snapping you out of your thoughts as he peers at you from the kitchen.
You’re suddenly aware of how out of place you look as you anxiously shift from foot to foot, antsy already in this unwelcoming environment. “It’s fine, it’s not my house-”
“It is now, ain’t it?” He cuts through matter-of-factly. Then, softer, as if he realized how harsh he was being, “Dinner’s ready soon.”
You gingerly take a seat at the table as Joel brings out a pot of stew with some bread on the side. You wince a little more in guilt at how the portion is clearly meant for one person since your appearance was so last minute, yet Joel still generously gives you more than half of his bread and a full bowl of stew.
“Joel, it’s really fine, I can’t eat that much-” You said sheepishly, before your stomach growled loudly and interrupted your sentence.
“Eat.” He mumbled simply and dug into his food.
The rest of dinner was quiet, no conversations. You devour your food quickly, and despite your attempts to refute the portion earlier, you finish it in no time. When was the last time you had a properly cooked meal? You could barely remember.
After dinner, Joel led you upstairs to show you the bathroom and two bedrooms side by side. One was occupied, sheets still tousled and unmade, full of Joel’s scent, but stronger. You imagine Joel sleeping here, what his hardened face would look like as his wrinkles relax from frowning with worry all day. The other had a bed, closet, and a desk, but it looks like it’s been vacant for ages. It makes you even more curious and worried about how isolated Joel is.
You don’t have much belongings on you, especially not a lot of clothes, so Joel gives you one of his t-shirts and a clean, unworn brief while you put yours in the laundry. After your first warm shower—with soap, even!— you slip on Joel’s clothes and melt into their comfort. Not only does the cotton sit snuggly against your skin, his scent, a mixture of something wooden and honey, also makes your head swim.
You head to bed, and for the first time, you fall asleep without worries. No Clickers to watch out for, no smugglers to stab your back. Just a house within sturdy walls, and Joel in the room across.
It’s 2 A.M. when you wake with a startle. No matter how warm and secure the bed is, old habits of needing to bolt at any small sound die hard. You hear small, distressed sounds coming from the direction of Joel’s bedroom before they turn into stifled whimpers, like someone’s trying their hardest to suppress their discomfort. You almost think it’s an animal outside before the sounds switch into strained gasps of air.
Then, abruptly, the sounds quiet down. You lay still on your bed as you hear Joel’s bedroom creak open quietly before heavy footsteps discreetly make their way down the stairs. You think of checking on him before deciding against it. Thinking back to your interactions with him, your goodwill would probably be met with animosity. Plus, you’re tired… And sleepy…