tattered & torn | joey jordison x fem!reader

8. home

'bloodhail' - have a nice life

⛧

Your eyes fluttered open to the bright room, the sun rays hitting you straight in the eyes. You awoke on the couch and winced in pain quietly, feeling your head throb in discomfort. You pressed your thumb and index finger to the bridge of your nose, pinching it slightly. Everyone was still in the living room, either sprawled out on the couch or lying somewhere on the floor.

'My breath smells fucking horrible.' You thought, aerating your mouth. Some memories flooded into your head from last night, although you couldn't remember much. As you attempted to stand up, your legs immediately gave in, making you fall back down onto the sofa. A flashback from last night replayed in your head; Joey leading you into the bedroom whilst laughing, kissing, been placed onto the bed.

'Did that really fucking happen?!'

You let out a sigh as you grabbed onto things near you, helping you stabilise your movement a bit. You waddled over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with clean tap water. You refilled it several times and swallowed it before making your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Managing to rid the smell of alcohol slightly from your mouth, you got into clean and comfortable tracksuit pants along with a hoodie.

The rest of the boys started waking up one by one, each having the same aftermath. Maybe there was just a little too much alcohol last night. You decided to skip breakfast and watch TV instead; you weren't very hungry anyway. You smiled at the morning cartoons you remember seeing when you were a child, giggling slightly at the dumb kid friendly jokes. Your mouth suddenly grew dry, so you made your way over to the kitchen again and grabbed the same glass from the sink, filling it with water.

"(Y/N)."

You turned around to see Joey. His eyes had dark circles around them and he looked incredibly tired. His bright and funny personality was gone, and was instead replaced with a grumpy and annoyed look. You felt as if his eyes were burning straight through you. You finished your drink and set it back into the sink.

"What's wrong?" You asked, clearing your throat.

"We need to talk." His tone was low and serious; it scared you a little if you were being honest. He walks to the bathroom with you following nearby, letting you close the door behind yourself.

"We can't keep doing this anymore."

"What do you mean..?" You felt your stomach drop through you from those words.

"Whatever this is." He said, his voice raising a little bit. You felt yourself take a small step back.

"I don't understa-"

"(Y/N), I am sick and tired of getting drunk and ruining myself to love you. I feel like I can't even kiss you without having to drink something to forget it the next day. Every time we've kissed or done something, we've always been drunk. I feel like I can't even be around you anymore." His voice was stern and continuing to stay low, however you could start to see how long he's been meaning to say this.

"What about the first time we kissed.. in the pool." You felt tears start to prickle into the back of your eyes.

"I felt like I was forced into it, it all happened so fast." He mumbled. You felt your eyebrows furrow in anger.

"So you never really loved me, huh." You said. He didn't reply. He just stared into your tired eyes. You swallowed the tears that were about to spill; he didn't deserve to see you cry. You scoffed as you scanned his face one last time before turning around for the door handle, pulling the door open.