Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

When you were just a child you found a deer in the woods behind your childhood home.

Right on the edge of the forest where there was a road you weren’t supposed to go near. You had gone out to find stones to paint when you came across her. You knew she was a girl. Your mother taught you how to tell. 

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.” 

You were sad when you saw it, and a little frightened. But mostly just sad. 

You surprised even yourself when you laughed. 

You hadn’t wanted to, but something about the sheer despair you felt when you looked at her filled you up so much that you’re small high pitched giggles had nowhere else to go but out. 

It didn’t matter how scared you were, you couldn’t stop laughing, your wide innocent eyes growing damp. 

She was supposed to be pretty but instead she just looked wrong. Her body was twisted and smeared in red. You wanted to help her. 

So you did. 

You fixed her. 

Your little hands had bent her legs back into place and covered the parts of her coated in dried blood with flowers. 

She was pretty now. And suddenly you weren’t scared anymore. 

Your mother had screamed when she saw the red on your palms that afternoon, when you told her about the doe she had made you shower twice, lecturing you about germs and bacteria. Telling you that under no circumstances should you be touching dead things. 

She had sent you to bed without supper. 

And when you had drifted off to sleep you dreamt of a doe covered in chrysanthemums. 

↟

Monongahela  

That’s what the sign you drive past says.

Monongahela National Forest

Seems like the kind of thing you learn to pronounce before traveling across the country. You look down at the map again, tracing your finger across the winding outline of the forest before resting on a tiny dot.

Honey, West Virginia

If you’ve been following along with the bus well enough you should be there in less than ten minutes. You had done a bit of research on Honey when the lawyer had contacted you, telling you about the inheritance. You learned three important things about your future home.

One, It has only one grocery store.

Two, It has well over a dozen tourist traps.

Three, it has an Applebee’s. 

And that was pretty much everything from what you could tell.

Not the most interesting town. 

But you don’t need it to be. 

The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that there was a funeral home in town and that they were hiring. You’d been having trouble finding a job in the city, you were about ready to give up if you were being honest with yourself. But you couldn’t be a waitress forever, not when you had a perfectly good mortuary science degree hanging on your bedroom wall, but you also couldn’t handle another interview without so much as a call back. 

You were staring at the rent check you had just written, trying to figure out if you even had that much money in your checking account when your phone started ringing. 

This was it. The call you’d been waiting for, you’d had an interview the day before and you had a gut feeling that this was the one. Your hand trembled as you picked up your cell, pressing the green accept button and holding your breath. 

A woman's voice on the other line says your name.

“This is she.” 

You cross your fingers.

Can you start Monday? 

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I’m your aunt Darlene's attorney.” 

And just like that all your money problems were solved. For a while you were certain they had the wrong person, you called your mom, trying to figure out who the hell Darlene was. 

In a matter of minutes you suddenly had a great aunt you’d never heard about and a rather hefty inheritance, with one condition: you had to take care of her home, a renovated camper on a plot of land she owned in a town you’d never heard of . 

“Last stop, miss.” The driver's voice snaps you out of your reminiscing. You look around the bus to find that you’re the only one left, hauling your backpack over your shoulder and grabbing your one suitcase you stand, nodding at the man before stepping out onto the bus station platform. You don’t even get a chance to wave to the driver, he’s already turned around and going back the way you came. 

Not a soul in sight, or even a building. With a sigh you start walking down the only road into town, dragging your bag behind you.  

It’s only about a fifteen minute walk to your aunt's place. Based on your map, everything is about fifteen minutes away from everything else in this town.

You sort of wish aunt Darlene left you a car. 

You pass three different gift shops as you walk. All three have signs advertising definitive proof of Bigfoot's existence. 

You pass a few trailers and RV’s before you see the camper, you recognize it from the pictures the lawyer had sent you. An ancient camper, the foliage of the forest growing around it, seemingly tethering it to the earth. 

It’s stunning. 

It looks like it was ripped straight out of a fairy tale. 

You reach into your pocket, finding the key you’d received in the mail before unlocking the door and stepping inside.  

It’s lovely once you’re settled. 

There’s a fully functioning kitchenette, a little booth to sit at, a bathroom, and a bed. It’s even hooked up with water and electricity. There’s a photo you’ve never seen before hung up with magnets on the fridge. 

It’s you as a baby, in the arms of a woman you don’t recognize. 

Aunt Darlene. 

What more could you possibly need? 

You take a seat at the table and start looking over the paperwork. 

You were now the sole beneficiary of Darlene Wilson. She never married or had children, from what your mother told you she wasn’t close with the family either. You wish you had known her. It feels strange to inherit someone's entire life and not know a thing about them. 

You were left with an acre of land, this wonderful little camper, and her savings account. It took you several hours of hyperventilating when you’d first read the bank statement to fully understand it. 

It came out to just over $250,000. 

You don’t even know what to do with that kind of money, so you’ve made a decision to let an accountant handle it, putting a good amount into savings and letting someone else invest the rest. 

You won’t touch it unless there’s an emergency. 

You have a good job now. After all, tomorrow's your first day at the Miller Funeral Home. 

It’s the only business of its kind for miles. They do everything, apparently the owner not only runs the funeral home, and the morgue, but she’s also a licensed pathologist. 

They don’t have to take bodies out of town to be autopsied, she can declare cause of death.

Not that you can imagine a town this size having a lot of bodies needing to be autopsied. 

Once you’d read through the website though you decided to call, there was no harm in that. 

You’d spoken to the owner on the phone, she had been ecstatic when you’d called and inquired about her employment opportunities. Apparently they don’t get a lot of new people in town and she’s been looking for help for ages now, after a fifteen minute phone interview you had the job.

You’ll be assisting her in everything, you’ll get to learn the entire process from start to finish and you won’t have to live paycheck to paycheck anymore. 

With a yawn you stand and find a takeout menu on the counter. You’re exhausted from the trip but you’ve barely eaten all day. Looking over the pamphlet you get ready to order something to be delivered, you can sleep once you’ve eaten. 

It looks to be a little pizza place that thankfully delivers, it doesn’t even seem to have a name, the menu just says “Pizza.” You laugh to yourself before dialing the number, you’re told it’ll be about twenty minutes so you begin to settle in, unpacking a few more things while you wait, trying your best to make the space feel familiar. 

You just need to keep telling yourself that this is your home now until it feels true. 

↟

When you wake up everything's wrong. 

You aren’t in the camper, all you can see around you is darkness and trees, the ground is mossy and cool beneath you.

You’re still in your pajamas when you sit up, looking around the woods. Despite your confusion everything is calm here, peaceful and undisturbed as you stand. 

You begin to walk, unsure of what compels it but your bare feet are suddenly padding across the forest floor. After a few minutes the silence is broken by a sound you aren’t familiar with.

A tearing sound. 

A wet, tearing sound. 

You carry on towards the noise now, your wonder driving you onward, as the sound gets louder, more distinct, you see the faintest light up ahead. 

There was no fear up until now. 

But when a snarl rips through the silence you freeze in place. As if you were a deer hearing a twig snap. You wait for another but it never comes, and the tearing resumes, you can’t help it. You have to satisfy the curiosity building in your gut. 

The light gets brighter and the sound seems to occupy the entire forest now as you approach a particularly large tree, you know that whatever is making that sound is behind it. 

Your hands rest against the bark, and your breath starts to quicken as you slowly peer around the wide trunk. 

Well that doesn’t make any sense. 

How can you be there if you’re here? 

You aren’t entirely sure what you’re looking at. It’s you, that much is clear, wearing the same clothes you’re in now. A big red shirt and striped sleep shorts. 

Except you’re broken.

Five large lacerations run cleanly across your chest. You don’t need to be a mortician to know that that kind of wound is fatal. But for some reason you’re still alive. A weak gurgling sound you hadn’t heard during your approach comes from your body, a small spurt of blood is spat up, dripping from your lips. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

This isn’t right, you shouldn’t be there. 

When you look down at your own body you’re wearing those same pajamas. You look back up, the you lying against the tree trunk weakly grabs at the flickering flashlight on the ground beside her, struggling to pick it up with how slick her hand is with her own blood. You want to run.

But you can’t just leave her here.

Leave you, here. 

Where did the tearing noise go?

You rush over to her, trying to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to dress wounds like this. 

You don’t know how to treat the living. 

Now that you’re beside her you can see where the tearing sound must have been coming from, her left leg is completely gone, the wound is the furthest thing from clean, it’s as if it were pulled off completely by force alone. 

You’re tearing at scraps of your own clothes, trying to find any way to stop the bleeding but it’s too much, and she keeps moving. She keeps grabbing your wrist as you try to help you, making that terrible gurgling noise all the while. 

“Please, you have to let me help you, please stop trying to talk, miss.” You whisper, your eyes can’t even settle on any particular wound at this point as you press the fabric of your shirt against her chest where the cuts are the deepest.

You don’t want to look at her. Particularly her face but you know she’s trying to get your attention and you can’t help her if she’s this hysterical, so you finally look her in her eyes. 

Your eyes. 

She’s petrified, you can’t blame her, if your roles were reversed you’d be the same way. When she finally has your attention you realize she’s pointing. Her entire arm trembles as she points just over your shoulder. 

Don’t look.

You’d be an idiot to look. You already know what’s there. Whatever did this to her is back to finish the job. 

She was never trying to get you to help her, she was trying to warn you. 

Don’t look. Focus on treating the wounds in front of you. 

You feel a gruff exhale against the nape of your neck. Hot and heavy as it rests against your skin and no matter how hard you shudder you can’t seem to get it off of you.

With a grunt you tear the entire bottom half of your shirt, trying to tourniquet her leg rather poorly, your entire body freezing up as you hear that snarl again, except this time it’s so loud you have to cover your ears, you feel it leaving the beast's mouth, it’s spit clings to your back. You’re whispering silent prayers to yourself as you put as much pressure as you can on the deeper torso wounds, you’re horrified when you realize her chest isn’t rapidly rising and falling anymore.

“Please don’t do this- no, no, no, please , don’t leave me please.” You whisper uselessly to the corpse under your hands now. 

Her eyes have shut. 

This must be what you look like when you’re sleeping. 

You don’t hear her breathing anymore, only your own and the beasts. You close your eyes, putting your head in your hands as a sob falls from your lips. 

When you finally find the courage to open your eyes the girl is gone, in her place is a doe with matching wounds.

“What…?” The confusion is back now as you stare at the bloody animal before you.

Your trembling stops all together as a hush falls over the forest. 

“Look at me.” The voice behind you is gravely and all consuming.

It speaks. 

“N-No.” You whisper back. 

“Please.”  

Huh. The monster has manners. 

“I’m not afraid of you.” What a silly thing to say when your voice is an octave higher than it usually is and your entire body starts to shake like a leaf in the wind. 

“I don’t want you to be ‘fraid of me.” Its voice is jagged, it somehow feels cold against you, like its words physically manifest and stick to you like rain on a windshield.  

Huh. The monster also has a southern drawl. 

You let out a high pitched nervous laugh against your better judgment. 

“Then what do you want?” You try to sound more stern but your voice ends up cracking as you laugh through your sentence. 

“I want you to look.” 

Fuck. 

Fine. What else are you supposed to do?

If you don’t it will most likely make you look.

You grit your teeth and turn around.

It has too many eyes.

And it’s big. 

Far bigger than anything that speaks should be. And tall like the trees, you can’t see its face, it’s high up in the darkness. As far as you can tell it has the flesh of a human, but it definitely isn’t human. Humans are soft and round, the monster is sharp.

You aren’t breathing anymore. 

It doesn’t speak again, instead a hand emerges from the darkness, the fingers are too long and thick, they look wrong . The pointer rests below your chin, tilting your head up, its nails are sharp like talons, yet it’s so gentle with you.

You feel that hot breath against your face, it smells like the forest itself, as if this creature came straight from the earth. 

For a brief moment you aren’t sure if it’s going to kiss you or consume you.

And then you wake up.

The sheets stick to your sweaty skin as you sit up, desperate to get your bearings. 

Everything is how you left it. 

What a terrible dream. You’ve never had a dream like that before, let alone one you remember with complete clarity when you wake. 

You don’t have time to dwell on it, you don’t want to be late on your first day of work. 

↟

Maria Miller is a delightful boss.

For someone whose entire career is built around death she sure is in a good mood this morning. 

Although you suspect she’s been doing this on her own for sometime. How lonely it must be, just her and the bodies. 

She lets you know that she plans on having you handle most of the morgue work while she’ll take care of the desk work and any autopsies. You couldn’t ask for a better situation. You get to do the work you were trained to do and she does all the papers. From what you can tell the funeral home is quite literally her home. The first floor is the business, the second being where she lives with her husband and the morgue is in the basement. 

The best thing about Maria though is that she doesn’t hover. 

She simply points to the cadaver and tells you to take care of it before heading back upstairs. 

And just like that, you manage to settle into a routine here in Honey. (And you don’t have any more dreams.) 

The walk to work is only about ten minutes. Although it’s cloudy most days you never get caught in anything more than a drizzle. 

You figure out where the supermarket is and you don’t order take out the rest of the week, opting to just cook for yourself. 

And on days when there are no bodies Maria shows you how to fill out forms you’re unfamiliar with, and overall just helps you stay busy. 

It’s a little lonely but it’s everything you ever wanted. 

Your own place, your dream job, and a sort of, almost friend. 

You go a full work week without another dream. By the time Friday comes along you’ve all but forgotten about the entire thing. 

“No bodies today.” Maria doesn’t look up from her desk when you walk into her office, setting your coat onto the ornate chair across from her. “End of the week is always slow around here.” She sighs, signing the bottom of a document before finally smiling up at you. 

“If you want I can clean up downstairs for a bit, if there’s nothing else to do.” You offer, not wanting to stare at a wall all day. 

“Perfect.” She goes back to her papers and you take that as a sign to see yourself out, leaving your coat and bag in the office, as you open the door she clears her throat. “Do you want to get lunch today?” 

Maybe you do have a friend in Honey.

“I would love that.” 

So you sweep the morgue. 

You wipe down the stainless steel surfaces. 

And you dust away any cobwebs. 

It takes several hours as you methodically go through each room of the basement, making sure everything is spotless. You like this job, the last thing you want to do is half ass it. 

Once everything seems to be in order you rush back upstairs to find Maria waiting with your things. 

Turns out the place your ordered takeout from is a full blown sit down restaurant. (Which in Honey apparently means that they have two tables in the lobby.) 

Much to your delight the sign above the shop says nothing but the word Pizza. You both order, one of the tables has a couple already occupying it so you take the free one. 

You expect this to be all work talk, Maria’s fine and she’s generally in a good mood but she loves her job and she loves talking about her job. 

A part of you thinks she didn’t even really need the help and she only hired you to have someone to talk to. 

You can talk shop.

You just want to talk, the camper is wonderful but something about being alone every night just makes you so cold.

You’re a little shocked when the first words out of her mouth are:

“So, are you seeing anyone?” She plants both hands on the table and gives you a look more serious then the one she uses to tell you that a new body is in the basement.

“Not currently, I’m actually in a bit of a dry spell.” You cough, hoping she’ll move on immediately but of course she doesn’t. 

“I know just who to set you up with.” She says it so eagerly you have to wonder if this was the entire reason she asked you out to lunch. 

“You don’t have to set me up with anyone, I’m perfectly fine on my own right now I promise.” 

Not true. But the last thing you need right now is a blind date. 

“You have to trust me on this, you’re gonna love him.” She shuffles through her purse until she finds a pen, scribbling a number down on a napkin and putting it in your own bag before you can object. 

“I’m not sure…”

“Trust me. I’ll set it up, you won’t even need to do anything, you don’t even have to call him ahead of time if you don’t want to, just meet him at the bar Sunday night.” She’s already on her phone, supposedly sending them a text. 

“This town has a bar?” You didn’t know this town had enough people to justify a bar. 

“Don’t act so shocked, I know it isn’t anything like the city but we still have things out here in the middle of nowhere.” She sets her phone back down as she rolls her eyes, taking the plates from the waiter who appears and setting them down in front of the both of you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it, but first tell me about this man I’m going to love.” You say before taking a bite. 

“He’s in construction, he’s very polite, good looking, and he’s very single.” This feels like a speech she prepared. 

“And how exactly do you know this well mannered, handsome bachelor?” 

“He’s Tommy’s older brother.” 

“And you’re sure he wants to be set up?” 

“Yes, he’s always asking me to set him up.” She says it so dismissively that you aren’t sure you believe her. 

One date won’t kill you…

And it would make Maria happy. 

“Anything else I should know?” You sigh, already accepting defeat as you take another bite. 

“Nothing I can think of… unless kids are a dealbreaker for you.” 

“He has kids?” You say through a mouthful of food. 

Seems like the kind of thing you lead with when setting people up. 

“Two, he’s got a girl in college and a girl in diapers.” She checks her phone when it buzzes, you assume he replied but she doesn’t respond, just putting her phone back down.

“How’d that happen?”

“When the oldest went away he got lonely, adopted a little girl from Boston. Cutest three year old in West Virginia.” 

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t sound sweet. 

“Okay.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yes, one date.”

“You won’t regret this, I promise. He’s a little grumpy, and I’m pretty sure it’s been a little while since he’s had a date but trust me, he’s got that Miller charm, you’re gonna love him.”

You don’t care if you love him.

You just hope you can remember how to act on a first date. 

When you get home you shoot him a text before tidying up around the camper. 

[ hey it’s maria’s friend, she said to meet you at the bar this sunday, what time works best for you? ] 

You wait for a few minutes with no response, It isn’t until you’re in bed, waiting to fall asleep that you hear your phone chime.

[ 8 ] 

Yikes. 

That feels a little cold.

After all, Maria had said he was a little grumpy, who are you to judge someone off of one text message?

↟

It’s been a long time since you’ve had a night out, and an even longer time since you’ve had a date. 

You probably should have dressed warmer. 

You still aren’t used to how cold the nights get here, you shiver as you pull your cardigan around your shoulders a little tighter. Fuck, you should buy a car, now your cold and late. You pick up the pace until main street is visible, looking around for a sign that might indicate one of these being a bar, finally you lay your eyes on a neon sign that says Pub. 

Smoothing your shirt out and brushing your hair behind your ears you pull the door open and step inside. 

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the smell. The entire room is filled with the lingering scent of the forest, as if the floor of the bar was littered with pine needles. 

It smells more like fresh air in here than it does outside.

You’re nervous enough as is but the moment you step in you realize you don’t have any idea what he looks like. For a town so small the bar seems pretty busy, he could be anyone. Maria has a photo of her husband on her desk but you can’t recall his face right now as you search the room. 

You freeze in place when you spot someone sitting in a booth towards the back, it’s like an invisible string pulls you towards the back corner, the dark curls swirl into tendrils and drag you towards him. 

A few seconds before you speak his head twitches ever so slightly to the left, like somehow in the noisy bar he managed to pick up on your presence. 

“Joel?” You have no reason to believe it’s him other than the fact that some omniscient force of nature dragged you over here.

Then you finally see his face.

Lord have mercy. 

Maria could have warned you that her brother in law is drop dead fucking gorgeous. He looks like he should be perpetually chopping wood outside a cabin without a shirt on. Is he trying to kill you with that smile? That lopsided smirk. How the hell does someone with salt and pepper hair have such a charming, boyish smile. 

He gives you a nod as you sit down across from him. 

“Sorry I’m late, I wasn’t really sure where the bar was and it took a little longer to get here then expected.” You set your bag down in the booth next to you as you give him a timid smile. 

Based on Maria’s words and his rugged demeanor you expect him to be stoic and silent, nothing prepares you for how quietly he speaks, the bass in his voice makes you feel as if the booth itself trembles.

“S’okay, bunny.” He says it so softly you barely hear him, like it’s an absentminded thought as he stares at you with a concerning amount of intensity, looking you up and down in a way that you’re pretty sure is considered leering. 

“Bunny?” You clear your throat, trying to get his attention and thankfully he seems to realize what he’s been doing as he coughs, finally looking into your eyes. 

“Sorry, force of habit.” He mumbles out, the lopsided smile turning apologetic. 

“What habit?”

“I read a lot of fairy tales, watch a lot of movies, my little one calls people who are late bunnies.” His voice is so smooth, it flows like molasses, absorbing any other sound in the bar until all you hear is him. “White rabbit.” He clarifies as he continues to grin. You hadn’t expected him to be so amiable, based on your limited information you’d assumed he’d be a bit more reserved. 

“Alice in Wonderland.” You say, trying to recall the exact scene. 

I'm late, I'm late for

a very important date.

Cute. 

You haven’t been on a date in a while, what are you supposed to say next? 

“Been a while since I've been on a date.” You say it like it’s a fun fact and not something you’re a little embarrassed about.

Thank god he laughs. 

“I… can tell.” His curls fall forward as he stares down at the table, you want to reach out and brush them out of his face.

Jesus.

Calm down.

Is there a window open nearby or something? The pine smell is overwhelming. 

It seems like he’s worried he’s upset you because he chimes in again. 

“I mean no offense I promise, you just seem nervous, s’okay, been a while for me too.” 

Not a sexy conversation topic move on for fucks sake. 

“How long?” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth. 

Nice going.

“Longer than you, trust me.” At least he’s still smiling. It’s such a nice smile. 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.” Stop, stop, stop, why can’t you stop. 

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t asked.”

“Eight months.” You say it proudly, hoping to ease the tension you’ve caused. 

“Four years.” 

He was right. You wish you hadn’t asked. 

It’s fine, everything’s fine.

Four years isn’t that long. 

You definitely don’t feel pressured to make this date good so he isn’t scared away from dating for another four years.

“I knew I shouldn’t have said it.” He looks sorry and you immediately feel bad for even bringing it up.

“No it’s fine, seriously-” You reach across the table to give his arm a reassuring squeeze but you yelp and recoil the moment you do. 

When you were twelve you had gone to a farm on a school field trip. When one of the other girls had dared you to touch the electric fence you had. It had coursed through your entire body in the blink of an eye, you distinctly remember feeling the shock all the way in your teeth. You’ve never felt anything like it since.

Until now that is. 

Your entire body is tense now, your skin tingling. 

A few people look over at you before resuming their conversations, when you look back at Joel you expect to see concern, or maybe confusion.

Instead his eyes are swimming with something akin to realization. You experimentally reach back across the table, grabbing his arm in the same spot. 

You don’t get shocked this time. Quite the opposite actually. This time it feels as though touching him soothes the pins and needles you currently feel all over.

“I’m so sorry, static electricity.” You shake your head, trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince him. 

“You know what, where are my manners,” He slides out of the booth and you immediately miss the contact with him as his arm slips free of your hand. “let me go get us some drinks.”And with that he makes a hasty beeline to the bar. 

You’re definitely scaring him off.

What is wrong with you tonight? 

Pull yourself together. 

You wipe the sweat off your forehead as he returns holding two drinks in each hand. 

“I- umm, I forgot to ask what you wanted so I got a couple of things…” He mumbles, sitting back down as you stare at wine, a beer, whiskey, and a can of soda. 

Oh my god.

You burst into a fit of laughter.

“I’m so sorry- just, holy shit.” You’re still laughing as you say it. Looks like your laughter problem is back at the most inconvenient time possible. 

Thankfully he cracks a smile as he takes the thick rimmed whiskey glass in his hand, swirling the ice. 

“I’m sorry, this is so sweet.” You wipe a tear from your lash line willing your damn laughter to stop. “I’m so sorry I swear I’m not laughing at you, I just- I can’t help it.” With one final gasp you manage to stifle any remaining giggles. 

“Can we… start over.” He reaches out towards you this time, leaving his hand out for you to take if you want it. 

Yes. Please. God. 

“Absolutely.” 

Something different about him the second time around. 

You giggle through your reintroduction and graciously take the soda from him.

But he doesn’t ogle you this time, his gaze is fixed on your eyes and he talks to you like you’re an old friend. You’re still a bit of a bumbling mess but something about him just makes a heat wash over you. 

Obviously he’s attractive.

With those shoulders and that sprink of gray in his beard? You’d be a goner even if he didn’t speak to you all night. 

But this is something primal. It’s been creeping up on you all night but now it’s the only thing you feel. 

You want to be near him. 

Touch him. 

You can’t help but wonder if you have the same effect on him because when he goes to get you another drink he slides into the booth next to you when he returns. 

You can feel the heat radiating off of his skin and the words just fall from your lips. You tell him anything he wants to know and in return he does the same. 

You tell him about your aunt, and how hard it was to find a job before coming here, and how you love what you do. 

And he tells you about his girls, and his job, and his dumb younger brother who he can’t stand but would seemingly do anything for. 

You don’t want to stop talking to him but suddenly the bar is empty, you hadn’t realized you’d missed last call. 

“Let me drive you home, it’s not safe to walk this late at night.” He takes your hand as you leave the bar, guiding you to a pick up truck. 

↟

“Your aunt was Darlene?” Is the first thing he says as you point towards the camper. 

Of course everybody knows everybody here. 

“Great aunt, were you close?”

“Not very, she was a real sweet lady, I built that kitchen.” 

You make a mental note to ask him about her when you aren’t actively trying to figure out if it’s too soon to invite him in. 

“You did a really good job.” The moonlight makes his eyes shimmer, you want to try and recall the wood working of the kitchenette but you’re too focused on him. 

“Thank you… did it myself, Darlene didn’t want my whole team stomping around in here.” His hands are in his pockets as he nervously taps his thumbs. 

“That’s so sweet…” He’s walked you to the door at this point and you’re standing on the short steps leading up to it.

“I had a wonderf-” He starts but you don’t want him to go, you need  him. 

“Do you wanna come in for a few minutes? See how the kitchens doing?” 

Well he clearly sees right through that. 

“Yeah I can do that.” He follows you up the steps and once the door is closed and you’re both just sort of awkwardly standing around the tiny space the need to have him only grows. 

The last thing you want is for this to be a one night stand. 

But your desire for him is so compelling it’s starting to feel like your stomach is cramping from the lack of his touch.

“Do you want to listen to music?” You reach for your phone but he stops you, grabbing your wrist. 

“Did you really invite me in here to listen to music?” He raises an eyebrow and your knees feel a little wobbly. 

Fair enough. 

“I guess not.” You take a step forward as best you can considering the already cramped space you’re in. 

He doesn’t speak, he just stares down at you. 

His pupils are fucking massive. 

Or are his eyes just that dark? 

“Joel?” He’s definitely moving closer to you, even if it’s in such small increments that you don’t actually perceive his motion. 

“Hmm?” He moves his face closer to yours, inhaling deeply. 

“I’ve had a really good time tonight.” You’re feeling a little starstruck. 

In the bar he was intoxicating enough, but in a space this small?

His presence threatens to smother you. 

“You kickin’ me out already?” He chuckles, it sounds as though his drawl is becoming more distinct. 

“No.” The furthest thing from that actually. 

Turns out, Joel Miller is full of surprises. 

First he’s some mysterious, surly blind date, then he’s a soft spoken Adonis, and now it seems he can’t get his hands on you fast enough. 

You squeak in surprise when he scoops you up in his arms and carries you the short distance to the bed, unceremoniously dropping you down on the mattress. You pull him forward by the collar of his flannel.

Nothing about his attitude tonight indicated that he’d growl the moment he got his lips on yours yet when you crash your mouth into his he silences the rest of the sound in the camper, commanding your attention with a low rumble  in his throat. 

He pushes you flat onto your back, crawling up on top of you.

It’s been a while.

Based on your conversation earlier, you assume for both of you.

Which is why you can’t remember if it’s normal for a man to immediately start lapping at your neck. You can’t find it in you to care because his tongue leaves a residual feeling on you that makes your skin feel like it’s on fire in the best way possible, a burning you’ve never known and never want to stop feeling.

You want to feel it everywhere. 

With an impatient whine you take his face in your hands and bring him back in for another kiss.

His mouth is sweet.

There’s no other way to describe it. Like his saliva is liquid sugar. 

What had he had at the bar? 

Only whiskey if your memory is correct. 

You can’t focus on that though as his teeth graze your bottom lip and you instinctively poke your tongue out trying to taste more of him, his kisses are slow and sloppy as smiles against you.

He shifts his legs so his knee pushes up between your thighs and your head falls back into a pillow, finally separating your lips. 

“Joel- Joel, just like that.” You shut your eyes, already dropping any and all inhibitions as you grind down against his thigh.

“Yeah?” He sounds fucking elated as he steadies his leg so you can rub against him without any resistance. “Show me how you like it, little bunny.”

You can’t even moan in response because the moment you open your mouth he leans back down, sucking your tongue like it’s candy, swallowing your groans as you try and get more pressure against your core. He grunts as he uses his other leg to spread your thighs wide, his mouth moving lower, he isn’t even kissing you, he’s like an animal as he bites you, starting at your jaw and moving down you shoulder, every bite is followed by his tongue soothing the sting before he moves on. 

Your hands find those curls you’d wanted to touch all evening, tangling your fingers in them, as you do so he runs his own hands down your body, resting them on your hips and accentuating every bite with a squeeze.

Did you pack any turtlenecks? 

You’re probably gonna need one after this.

“Joel-” Your voice is strained as he pulls his leg back, suddenly leaving you without any friction. 

“We should- stop.” His breathing is heavy as he murmurs against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into you one last time, he certainly isn’t acting like someone who wants to stop. 

“W-why?” Are you stammering?

“I- We need to stop.” And with that he pulls back a bit. 

“Are you okay?” You sit up on your elbows, nearly bumping your forehead against his. 

“Yes it’s just-”

Shit, did you do something wrong? 

“I’m a gentleman, bunny. What kind of man would I be if I took you to bed on the first date?”

There are those good southern manners you’ve heard so much about. 

You didn’t realize they’d be such a cockblock. 

“We are in bed.” You tease but still feel rather relieved that that’s seemingly the only reason. 

“You know what I mean.” He tilts his head to kiss your cheek as he says it. 

“So what date are you allowed to ‘ take a woman to bed?’” 

“Third.” He says it like it’s common knowledge as he lets his forehead fall against yours with a breathy laugh. 

You aren’t really sure what to do next. 

You don’t want him to leave. 

“Will you stay anyway?” His gaze softens even more if that’s even possible as he nods. 

“If you want.” He lays down next to you and you don’t hesitate to rest your head on his chest, turning your head to the side to inhale the scent of pine off of his shirt. 

↟

You can’t help but feel a pang of confused sadness when you wake up and blindly search the blankets only to find them cold and empty. 

When you sit up his boots aren’t next to the door anymore. 

Stretching your arms above your head you swing your legs over the side of the bed before making your way to the table. There’s a torn piece of paper there, 

morning bunny,

had to get to the job site before sun up, didn’t wanna wake you. i had a great time.

i hope there’s a third date.

• joel 

You smile down at his barely legible handwriting before heading to the bathroom. You’re about to hop into the shower when you feel an all too familiar sensation between your legs.

“Damn it…” You sigh as you slip your shorts off, as expected your panties are stained. Fuck. Did you even pack tampons? You shuffle through the bathroom cabinet and thankfully find an unopened package of pads. 

You make your way to the shower with a groan, scrubbing yourself clean, taking extra between your legs. Once you’re wrapped in a towel you call Joel, hoping to catch him on his way to the site, the sun is only just now starting to come up. You grab a pad off the counter and leave the bathroom. 

Straight to voicemail? 

Weird. 

Maybe he’s busy, is it too weird that you called him immediately? 

Once you’re dressed you text him.

[ text me when you get to work, hope you have a good day :) ] 

Shoving your phone in your bag you lock up and head out. 

Something feels off though when you walk through town. People are whispering and keeping to themselves more than usual. 

It’s clear as to why when you turn the corner towards the funeral home you see a police cruiser out front. 

You give the officer a polite nod as she leaves before walking inside, Maria already seems swamped with paperwork when you close the door behind you, only giving you a brief glance before pointing towards the basement. 

“Can you get started in there, I’ve got a few things I need to do first.” She starts absentmindedly chewing on a pen. 

“Of course, is everything okay? I saw the police cruiser outside.” You try to get a look at the forms she’s filling out but just can’t make out the words from this angle. 

“Don’t worry, just a bear attack, I already did the postmortem examination. It’ll be a bit of a sight but trust me, you’ll get used to it, we get a lot of these, hikers from out of state, unfamiliar with the trails, happens more often than you think.” You nod, an uneasy feeling in your stomach but you write it off as just cramps. “Oh and don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little date, I’ll be down in a few, I wanna hear all about it.” You give her a weak smile before turning and making your way towards the basement stairs. 

You have never once in your life been scared of a morgue. 

In fact, not a lot scares you in general, that’s why you chose this career path. You wanted to help people and you felt a calling towards this.

But right now the sight on the steps descending into the basement makes you nauseous. 

You’re a grown up. You can handle this. It’s your job for Christ's sake.

You take a tentative step. Once everything seems fine you relax more, letting yourself go the rest of the way with no issue. 

Everything is fine. Everything is as it should be. Until you open the door to the morgue and see the cadaver on the table. 

A woman who looks to be about your age lays on the steel cart. 

Everything is fine.

You remind yourself that you’ve seen far worse as you shut the door behind you.

Her left leg isn’t attached to her body, instead it’s been set down on the table next to her. You don’t get much of a chance to let that sink in because you’re staring at her chest. 

Several large lacerations have been carved into her flesh. 

Your body is wracked with fear yet you can’t help the spill of laughter that falls from your lips. You haven’t laughed at the sight of a cadaver since you were a little girl in the woods but right now your body and mind are trying to reject the sight in front of you, to chalk it up to some freak coincidence.

“Must’ve been one hell of a bear.” You whisper to yourself, trying to stifle your fit of giggles. 

↟

By the time Maria joins you you’re elbow deep in the woman's chest cavity. You’re used to getting a body that’s already seen by a coroner but because Maria does it all so you’ve gotta start from the beginning. 

She does a quick inspection of the body as you try to make sense of her remaining organs. 

“We might still be able to manage an open casket if that’s what the family wants.” You mutter, staring down at the woman's broken jaw. 

“That won’t be necessary, I just got off the phone with them, it’s gonna be a closed casket.” 

That’s probably for the best. 

“I still want to fix her up.” Why the hell are you whispering? You’ve attended to bodies in much worse condition, who met much worse fates, there’s no reason to get sentimental now. 

“Fine by me.” Maria hops up on one of the steel carts not in use. “How was your date? We had Ellie all night so it must have been pretty good.” You can tell she’s been waiting to ask by how quickly she says it. 

“ Really good actually. I expected him to be a little less of a teddy bear if I’m being honest, you described him as a bit of a grouch.” You do your best to suture everything shut now that you know no one will be seeing her anyway. 

“Teddy bear? Are you sure you went on a date with the right Joel Miller?” She watches, brows furrowed in concentration as she follows every one of your stitches with her eyes. 

“Little bit of gray, big brown puppy dog eyes, shoulders that go on for miles?” You don’t look up from your work until you’re done and her chest is closed. 

“I’m not sure that’s how I would describe him but sure.” She leans over to hand you another bundle of thread as you move down to her leg. 

It’s a disaster. 

How did a bear manage this?

You’ve never seen an amputation like this, you didn’t even know it was possible to tear someone apart like this. 

“He was a sweetheart, funny, oozing charm all night.” You’re going to have to put her in a long skirt. 

“Well that doesn’t sound like Joel at all. Let me do her leg.” She hops off the table and takes the needle from you.

That’s fine, you don’t want to look at it any longer. 

“All I’m hearing is that you tried to set me up with a dud and you’re surprised that he wasn’t when I met him.” You scoff as you wipe the woman's face down with the disinfectant before making an attempt to set her jaw. 

“I didn’t try to set you up with a dud. You just seemed lonely and I know he’s lonely, I thought you two might hit it off. I just sort of, kind of, downplayed just how irritable he can be to convince you to go.” You can’t really be mad. You had a really good time and he was the furthest thing from irritable. Besides, you’re more focused on wiring this woman's jaw shut, trying to keep her natural face shape despite the damage that's been done. 

“I’m not lonely.” You just spend most of your time with corpses. 

“Not anymore thanks to me.” She takes a step back, admiring her own work. 

She really is good, she did a better job making the reattachment look natural then you ever could have done. But when you don’t respond she frowns, paying extra attention to your expression.

“What’s wrong?” She says, you know she sees the way your eyes dart to your phone.

“It’s nothing, just… he hasn’t called.”

You suddenly don’t want to talk about Joel anymore. You need to find the glue so you can properly close the woman's eyes. 

“It’s been less than a day, he’ll call.”

↟

He doesn’t call. 

You wait. That night you text him again despite your remaining shreds of dignity telling you not to.

[ hope you had a good day! ]

Your face gets hot the moment you press send, feeling a shameful desperation as you stare at the little text bubble, setting your phone down and rolling over, inhaling the lingering scent of pine he left on your pillow. 

In the morning you have no notifications. 

It’s fine. He told you he works a lot and he’s a single dad with a toddler. 

He’s probably busy. 

You help Maria process the papers for the bear attack all day, periodically checking your phone only to be met with nothing.

If she notices she doesn’t say anything.

When you get home that night you call him. 

You don’t ever grovel, or beg, why are you suddenly chasing after this man who very well might be uninterested? 

It’s like a compulsion. Like you absolutely have to hear his voice.

But it goes straight to voicemail. 

You feel worse the next morning, and your period definitely isn’t helping. When you get into work Maria’s frantically going through papers again mumbling something about having to clean up everybody else's mess. You assume you know exactly what she means when you see Tommy Miller in the flesh standing beside her desk, holding a little girl in one of his arms. 

You can see the resemblance despite how different he seems from Joel at first glance. 

They have the same smirk and dark curls. 

The little girl's hair is pulled back in a wispy ponytail and you watch as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, still in her pajamas. 

When Tommy sees you he gives you the very same grin Joel did when you first met him.

“Don’t take it personally if she’s a little high strung today, she isn’t happy with the bears.” He nods back towards his wife, giving you a conspiratorial wink, as if you’ve known him for years and he’s made a joke only the two of you get.

“Tommy, out!” She scolds before returning to her work. 

He doesn’t even introduce himself yet he says goodbye to both of you by name before leaving with the little one. The last trace of him is the heavy clunk of his boots going up the stairs. 

“Did we get another bear attack already?” You set your things down, getting ready for another long day.

“I told you, it happens more than you think.” She mumbles, she doesn’t normally seem this upset when you get a body in. 

You can’t help but think of the little girl who seemingly looks nothing like Tommy or Maria.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” You know she doesn’t. You just want the confirmation.

“I don’t. We’re watching her for Joel.” 

You’re waiting for more. For some kind of context, but it never comes.

You want so badly to ask where he is but if she isn’t telling you now she probably won’t if you inquire further. 

Maybe he’s out of town.

And forgot to mention it. 

Maria doesn’t say another word about it for the rest of the day.

She doesn’t come down to talk to you when you go to take care of the cadaver, all she tells you is that it’s another closed casket. 

The man on your table has been torn apart at the waist. 

Hell of a morning. 

And a hell of a night. 

Because you get another body just as you're about to leave. 

Maria tells you you can go home but you don’t think about Joel when you’re working so you stay. Texting him before going back to the basement.

[ everything okay? ] 

Why can’t you just take a hint? 

You can worry about your current lack of self-respect after you finish your work. 

Another bear attack. How many fucking bears are in these woods? Do people not take more caution when they hear about these kinds of things?

This ones just like the first, those nasty claw marks over the front of his torso. 

You just hope he didn’t suffer. 

↟

The walk home that night is… different. 

You’re used to walking everywhere, you’ve never owned a car, how else are you supposed to get around? It’s never been a problem, you aren’t scared of the dark, you don’t jump at noises and in a worst case scenario you keep mace in your bag.

Would mace stop a bear? 

Fuck you should have just asked Maria to drive you home. 

You haven’t had to walk after dark since the bear attacks started and suddenly all your bravery goes out the window. 

Fuck it. 

You take your phone out and stare at the contact.

Maybe he’ll answer and you can talk to him while you walk. His voice is so comforting, is it really that pathetic to just want to hear it? You sigh as you press the green call button, walking a little faster as a particularly harsh breeze hits your skin.

Straight to voicemail. 

You feel so… stupid. 

Maybe you came on too strong? You thought the date had gone well, maybe it was just you. 

As you stare down at the call declined screen a rush of heat washes over you. 

You know what? Fuck Joel Miller. You deserve a text back at the very least, even if it’s to tell you he isn’t interested. 

You’re just about to text him and give him a piece of your mind when you hear rustling from the woods. 

Shit. 

When you close your eyes all you see are the three bodies on your table. 

Do the bears get this close to town?

Maria made it seem like they were a far off danger that sayed in the national forest, nowhere near where people live. 

Damn it, what’s the protocol for a bear? You don’t have anything to bang together to make noise. 

Screw it. 

You look to the forest one last time, searching for any signs of life before breaking into a sprint. 

You feel silly the moment you do it but once you hear a noise you’ve only heard once before in a dream you don’t dare slow down. 

Something is being torn apart. 

You don’t look back, and you definitely don’t slow down. 

There’s nothing there. 

You fumble with your keys but once the door is shut and your back is against it you're thrown forward as something slams against the camper door. 

An ear piercing screech rips through the air as you scramble backwards.

This isn’t real. 

This isn’t real.

This isn’t real. 

The entire camper rattles, it's a good thing there aren’t any photos hanging on the walls because you’re certain they’d be shattered. The snarling from outside is so loud you don’t even hear your own screams until everything goes silent and still all at once. 

The camper is freezing. 

Through your tears you crawl to the bed and wrap yourself in your blankets, closing your eyes. 

Rocking yourself back and forth. 

It wasn’t real. This is just another nightmare and in the morning you’ll realize that. Maybe you fell asleep at Maria’s or you were so tired that you passed out right after coming home and you’ve been dreaming this all up. 

You barely sleep.

But you just keep telling yourself it was a dream because what else are you supposed to do? 

You call in sick the next day. 

And the day after that. 

You can’t bring yourself to open the door but you’re going to run out of groceries soon if you don’t. 

You feel a little better after a few nights of rest. Chalking it up to jitters because of the gore you’ve been exposed to these last few days. 

You’ve seen a lot of suffering these last few days.

That’s all.

So you created a monster to help you cope. 

A monster that you dreamed of. 

That’s what you tell yourself. 

You check your phone, your heart soaring when you see a text notification. 

[ We got another bear attack last night. Worse than the others, gonna be an all day job. ]

Just Maria. 

Fuck it. 

No more hiding. 

You get dressed and when you go to change your pad from last night it’s clean so you don’t bother grabbing a new one.  

At least one thing’s going your way. 

When you get there Maria seems happy to have you back, even if you can’t bring yourself to return the smile. 

You head downstairs to assess the damage, your jaw drops when you see the cadaver. 

Wouldn’t a bear eat its victim? 

There should be a bite mark or something. 

This is just a woman whose head has been separated from her body.

She looks waterlogged. 

This isn’t a body they found immediately after the attack, based on the water damage and the lack of rigor mortis. 

She’s been dead at least two days. 

You hear that distant tearing sound in the back of your mind but shove it away. 

You’ve got enough on your plate today. 

Maria joins you after half an hour. 

The family wants an open casket. 

You’re gonna be here for a while. 

It quite literally takes all day. With the water, and the bugs, and the general race against decomposition. Thankfully Maria never leaves your side.

This time around you have no shame as you ask her for a ride home.

You can’t bring yourself to walk. 

And you’re just so tired.

You don’t talk to Maria, even though it seems like she wants to say something as you get into the truck. You haven’t said anything unrelated to work in the twelve hours it took to salvage the woman. 

You take your phone from your bag as Maria turns the radio on, a quiet country song filling the truck cab. 

[ 14 missed calls ] 

[ 57 unread messages ]

What the hell? 

Your brows furrow as you scroll through the notifications. 

Joel fucking Miller. 

You’re staring at an onslaught of apologies, you can’t even read through in the short time it takes to get home. 

All you catch is a mess of:

[ please call me back ]

[ just give me a chance to explain myself ] 

[ i miss you ]

[ call me ] 

[ i’m sorry ] 

When you pull up in the truck he’s sitting on the small steps leading up to your door, a messy bouquet of flowers in one hand and his phone in the other, you get another text as you approach, his knee bouncing up and down rapidly. 

You can’t fight your smile. 

Your joy is brief though, your mouth settling back into a deep frown as you watch his eyes light up when he sees you get out of the truck. 

“Thanks.” You turn towards Maria, wondering if she knew what she was bringing you home to.

“Anytime.” You watch as the truck pulls out of your driveway, leaving you to turn and face Joel.

He opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You’re already trying to push past him and he doesn’t stand in your way as he steps away from the camper. 

“Please, bunny-”

“Don’t call me that. We went on one date. You don’t get to act like you miss me. You don’t even know me well enough to miss me.”

“I’m sorry, just let me explain myself.” His voice is strained, desperate. 

You turn sharply on your heel, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Okay.” You grit your teeth.

“Okay…?”

“Okay, explain yourself. What’s your excuse for the week long radio silence?” You gesture at him, exasperated as he stands there with a confused look on his face. 

“I had work.” He says it like it explains everything away perfectly but all you do is roll your eyes. 

“Good night, Joel.” You turn, opening your door but he quickly climbs up the steps, gently grabbing your arm. 

“I just wanna talk, please.”

You shouldn’t. With anyone else you would laugh in his face and shut the door. 

But it’s Joel. 

Joel with the mouth that tastes like maple syrup, and the hair that smells like baked goods. 

Joel who feels as though he was handcrafted by the gods to appeal specifically to you. 

You step into the camper, kicking your sneakers off.

“You have five minutes, then I want you out.” You leave the door open for him as he hurries inside, you take a seat at the table. He doesn’t sit, leaning against the counter and facing you, his hands in his pockets with his thumbs tapping nervously against the denim. 

“Well? Say whatever you need to say and leave.” You try not to look at him, if you’re faced with those sweet brown eyes who knows what you might do. 

“It doesn’t matter how much I apologize or what excuse I come up with. I fucked up, I know that.” His forehead is creased with anguish as he looks at you, his broad shoulders take up so much space in your home. 

“Not the best apology so far, Miller.” 

“Let me finish, I just wanted to say that… I don’t apologize.”

Huh.

“I don’t beg, or say sorry, or get nervous, or…” He sets the bouquet down on the table in front of you. “Or bring flowers. I don’t do any of that.”

“Get to the point.” Your anger is already wavering much to your dismay.

“I don’t do any of this, and I haven’t had to worry about anyone other than myself and my girls for a long time. I know we only had one date but I meant it when I said I hoped there was a third, I hope there’s a fourth and a fifth, but I should have been more honest with you about myself before starting anything with you.” He doesn’t meet your gaze when he talks, staring down at his boots. “I didn’t want to go out with you. I lied when I said I hadn’t been on a date in years. Maria's tried to set me up before, Tommy’s tried too, but those dates never last more than ten minutes. I normally just grumble to myself until they leave. But I saw you and you were just so… you, and your perfume was damn near the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelled and your words were kind and it was like I couldn’t get enough of you and it was like I couldn’t breathe or focus on anything. Does that make any sense at all?” He sounds so genuine but you can’t help the feeling that he isn’t telling you everything. 

Still, it makes perfect sense. 

It’s exactly how you feel right now. 

You want nothing more than to send his ass packing, but you can’t because he’s just so… him. Everything about him pulls you in deeper despite your best efforts. 

“Why did you disappear for a week?” You stare down at the flowers.

“I told you.” 

“I want a better reason.”

He sighs, he looks so genuinely remorseful when you glare back up at him, even if you don’t want to believe it. 

“I got overwhelmed at work, I lost track of time, I’m sorry.” 

He sounds sorry. 

Maybe this is just a part of him. Maybe he’s a workaholic. 

You want so badly to believe that.

He’s so safe.

And you’ve been so scared these last couple of days.

“Fine.” Giving him a second chance won’t kill you.

Just don’t give in completely too quickly, he doesn’t deserve it. Set up boundaries with him.

You reach out as if there were magnets in your hands, despite your best efforts to resist you grab his hand. His touch alone has a wave of relief washing over you. 

You’ve lived in a few different places and nowhere has ever felt like home the way Joel Miller does right now.

Your mouth moves faster than your mind. 

“Stay?” You whisper.

Goddamnit.  

So much for boundaries. 

He gives your hand a squeeze. 

“If you want me to.” You really do. 

You feel so spineless.

But you’re just so sick of going to sleep afraid.

And now you won’t be cold tonight.

“Take off your shoes.” You grumble, more angry at yourself than at him as you stand and push past him to get to the bed, you unbutton your jeans, shoving them down and crawling under the covers. 

He hesitates staring at you with something akin to pity. 

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” You’re twisting around in bed to try and get your bra off, throwing it at him as he kicks off his boots. 

Maybe everything will be okay. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as he climbs up beside you, you roll over to face away from him, hoping he understands that despite your moment of weakness that you’re still mad at him. He only takes it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you and pull you flush against him. You wish you were more worried about this going wrong again.

Instead you just feel confused about a detail you shouldn’t be focusing on. 

You find so much comfort in his arms you don’t have to worry about made up monsters when he’s here. 

It still doesn’t make any sense.  

Nothing seems to right now. 

“...and your perfume was damn near the sweetest thing I’ve ever smelled”

You don’t bother fighting your fatigue, the last thing you register before falling asleep completely is Joel's nose pressed against the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. 

You hadn’t brought any perfume with you when you moved.

↟

You’re back in the forest. 

You’re much more aware though this time that this is not a safe place, despite the comforting quiet around you, you know that this is a bad place. 

Because the tearing noise is there again. 

This time you run towards it, desperate to save the girl with your face before it’s too late.  When you come across the enormous tree you don’t anxiously peek around it, you sprint past it. Bracing yourself to see the creature. 

But there is no monster. 

Instead you see you again. Your body is in a completely different kind of disarray this time. 

The monster didn’t do this. The monster isn’t here this time. 

But Joel is. 

You watch with a perplexed look as he kisses her neck, loud, sloppy wet noises accompany the tearing noise.  

Why isn’t he helping her? 

Your breath hitches when you step forward and see the hole torn through her stomach. 

You take another step forward and in a sharp motion he perks up. 

He heard you. 

The tearing noise stops and ever so slowly, he turns towards you. 

He wasn’t kissing her. 

His pretty plush lips are curled back in a snarl, giving you a clear view of the gore staining his teeth. 

He wasn’t kissing her.

You wake up with a gasp, jolting up a bit only to have Joel pull you back down against his chest, his face buried in your hair. 

“Bad dream, bunny?” He murmurs against the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss to your throat.