Dark Paradise - Joel Miller x OC

Do you regret?

The creaky floor rouses Joel from his sleep. Before he even opens his eyes, he realizes she's no longer in his arms. He sits up and sees her standing in the dark. Outside, the day is just around the corner. He frowns seeing what she's wearing.

"Are these my clothes?

-I needed to go to the bathroom and I was cold.

-What am I supposed to do then, stay naked?

-Fine by me."

A slight smile on the corner of her lips, she walks up to the bed without sitting down, catching the alarm clock. She sighs when she sees the time. She's exhausted but she doesn't really have time to lie down. She rubs her eyes and mumbles.

"I have to go get ready, but you should sleep, you've just come back from a long patrol. I'm doing two jobs today, I won't be back until dinner. "

Without further ado, she walks to the door and leaves the room. He should have stopped her, gently grabbing her arm, and asking how she feels after what they did a few hours ago. But he didn't budge. He remained silent.

He leans back with a sigh, hearing water running into her bathroom. He hates himself for being so coward. He swears himself he'll get up when she's done washing herself, to talk to her. But the sound of the water rocks him and these three days of patrol get the better of him. When he wakes up again, she is long gone.

----

It's not yet noon but Chloe hates herself. In addition to her usual shift at the bar, she had agreed to be part of the team consolidating the defensive wall. She had done it to leave the house to Joel for his day off, to be out of his hair. But now she regrets being far from the comfort of the home, from its comfortable beds.

She didn't sleep much. He came home in the middle of the night, then it took them quite some time before falling asleep. She didn't have many hours to rest. And she felt it all day long.

When she finally finishes her job, the mere prospect of having to walk home puts her off, even though it's only a few blocks away. She needs to muster all of her energy to finally dare to walk the path that separates her from a good night's sleep. From him.

When she walks through the door, a smell of food greets her. He's taken care of the meal, which for Joel means to bring back something to eat from dinner. She doesn't mind though. As long as she doesn't have to do a thing. Exhausted, she barely answers his questions and eats from the tip of her lips. She's not really hungry. Joel worries seeing her like this. Is it just fatigue, or is it the aftermath of them having sex the night before? Is she returned in a bad place by his fault? To the time she was barely eating and was having nightmares any time she would close her eyes?

He should talk to her, to know what's going on in her head, to help her. But he can't. He was rarely in the place of the one asking the questions. Every time, he let her come to him, playing the role of the listening ear. He had never tried to push these confidences, letting her go at her own pace.

But at the moment, she's not expressing anything. Perhaps she no longer dares to confide in him since he's the one her confidences would be about. So he remains silent as well. He waits for the evening to go on, for them to dim the lights. Maybe that way he could learn something.

He knows she's tired, but he offers her a movie anyway. He just wants to buy time with her, to see the slightest sign of trouble, of fear. She gladly accepts and they move into the living room. Unsurprisingly, she falls asleep in less than ten minutes, collapsing on the couch. He smiles and gets up to put a blanket on her.

He can't help but worry. What consequences will have his actions of the day before? He doesn't regret anything. But she might. If he made her suffer, he will blame himself terribly. But why would she initiate things if she wasn't ready? He had offered her several times to stop, she had always refused. But now she had had all day to think about it, maybe being in the harsh daylight had made her see things differently than the day before, when she was immersed in the privacy of his bedroom. The film ends without him realizing it. He would be unable to describe the plot, so much time he had spent looking at her, wondering. He turns off the TV and goes to pour himself a glass of water in the kitchen before returning to the living room.

Slowly, he removes the blanket covering her and lifts her up. She may have gained weight since her arrival a few months ago, she is still just as light. So much the better, even though he is strong, he is not getting any younger. Arrived on the doorstep of her bedroom, he hesitates. What a message he sends her if he drops her there? She might think he used her as a reel and now he is rejecting her, no longer needing her.

But if she needs some space and time to digest the events, if she doesn't feel safe around him anymore because of what they've done? He cannot force her to sleep in his bed. Would she even dare to express this need for distance if she ever felt it?

He stays in front of the door, hesitating. He should have left her on the couch and stayed in his chair until she woke up. It's not like he's going to sleep anyway. His arms are starting to hurt but he can't make up his mind.

"You better put me in yours."

She mumbles, still asleep. He gives a slight smile and does so, heading for the room down the hall. Once deposited in bed, she rubs her eyes. She's falling asleep but she tries to struggle. Her jeans are not comfortable, she undoes the belt and buttons, trying to free herself from too tight legs. She growls as she struggles, without success. She's stuck in the garment.

"Want some help with that?"

She nods and lets himself do. Once her legs are free, she lifts her sweater and t-shirt, keeping only her tank top before slipping into the sheets. The instant her head hits the pillow, she collapses, heaving a sigh of comfort. He smiles at the sight and goes to get ready for sleep.

When he joins her in bed, she leans closer, pressing her cold legs against him. Gently, he takes her against him, wrapping his arms around her. One of her hand leans on his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his t-shirt. He gently kisses her forehead, pulling a sigh of satisfaction out of her.

He's not tired yet. He should be able to fall asleep now. Although he doesn't have all of his questions answered yet, she looks fine. He absently strokes her uncovered arms. Her skin is so soft under his callused hands. This feeling takes him back years. Before all that. When women filled every available space in the bathroom with their ever-increasing number of creams and products of all kinds. These products haven't been around for a long time, so how could she be so soft? Youth, probably, he thinks with a pang in his heart.

------------

They don't have to work the next morning. Yet both wake up before the sun even points its nose. With her head on his shoulder, she absently browses the scars on the man's skin, like so many paths to explore. He follows the movement of her fingers, taking advantage of this peaceful moment, as if out of time. He knows now is the perfect time. He has to get started. Caressing her hair in a reassuring gesture, he finally asks her.

"How do you feel?

- I feel good. Honestly. Better than I thought I would.

- Do you regret what we've done?

- No. Do you?

- No."

She comes to rest her chin on his chest, plunging her gaze into his. They stare at each other for a few moments before a mischievous smile appears on her face. Puzzled, he questions her silently.

"So, tell me... You've been hiding some of your talents.

-I have?

-Yeah... Where did you learn to be good like that? Spit it old man, who have you been training with?" She says in a false tone of suspicion, making him laugh before he leans in to kiss her.

"Maybe you're the one who inspires me.

-God you're cheesy" She answers before kiss him back more intensely and spanning him, determined to test his talents again before starting the day.

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Shitty chapter with shitty writing, where we discover Joel as an overthinker, who would have thought that.

Photo by Ihor Malytskyi on Unsplash