Dark Paradise - Joel Miller x OC

Separated

/!\ before you start reading, I just realized that my last chapter was lacking a all paragraph, I must have deleted it accidently when I posted it, so I invite you to check it out because I'll mention the t-shirt later on.

I'm translating this after drinking a glass of rum and a rather challenging day, so I apologize in advance if some stuff seem odds, or if there are some weird his/her pronoun (they don't work the same in French at all, so it's hard for google translate and sometimes I just miss it), so yeah, sorry about that and don't hesitate to point any weird stuff out (or even just leaving a comment, I feel alone around here!)

Photo by Alexander Possingham on Unsplash

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With her eyes riveted on the clock, Chloe waits until it reaches the time she deems proper to start drinking. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. That's it. She opens the bottle found in a cupboard and squeezes a glass which she gulps down. She hears the doorbell ring but doesn't move, letting Molly answer. She doesn't want to see anyone. She just wants to drink and forget that once again her life is derailed.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

Ellie just storms in the living room, with her usual impatient energy. Chloe sighs and refills herself a glass, which she begins to drink as she listens to the young teen chattering.

"I don't get it, Joel's house was empty, I couldn't find neither of you, only to find out that you live here now, and that Joel left for this trip on a whim. That makes no sense, what happened?

- It's... Complicated. Tommy and Maria thought it was better that I move out.

-Wait... It's over between you two? "

Chloe looks up sharply, finally meeting the teenager's face. The latest makes an embarrassed smile before confessing.

"Yeah, I knew".

---

Joel opens his eyes wide as he enters the house. Everywhere, from the kitchen to the dining room, empty or full jars, mountains of fruits and vegetables and more or less clean utensils are spread out. In the middle of this mess, Chloe, who runs everywhere. He walks forward, taken aback.

"I left only a few hours ago, what happened?!

-We realized that the production was too high this year, that we were going to lose all that because we would not be able to eat it. So I proposed to make preserves so that nothing was lost."

He walks into the kitchen, looking at the dozens of preparations spread out across the room. Approaching a crate of apples, he picked up one, half chard. He goes to throw it but a cry of protest from the young woman stops him.

"What, it's all damaged, there's no point in keeping it.

-It's only one half, the other half will still be good for making applesauce."

He frowns as he puts the fruit down but doesn't say anything. He just watches her pick up her hellish pace all over the kitchen. He worries about her. This is one of her recurring anxieties. She never said a thing about it, of course, but he guessed it through his questions. She is afraid of missing out, a characteristic often shared by those who have experienced the hardships of QZ. But it goes further than that. She is afraid of losing knowledge. Whenever someone tells her about one of his skills, she can't help but wonder if anyone else knows it. Like her books. To believe that she was trying to store up all the knowledge of the world to pass it on to subsequent generations.

A cry of pain snaps him from his thoughts. Going too fast, she dropped some jam on her arm, the boiling sugar burning her skin. He decides to intervene and pulls her firmly over to the sink, holding her arm under the water, giving her no choice. In a deep voice, he couldn't help but lecture her.