Don't let go: Joel Miller x OC

About last night

The walk home was short. Ten minutes at a maximum perhaps but it was enough time to allow his mind to spiral. What the fuck was he thinking? How old even was she? Certainly not his age, that was damn obvious. He didn't need anyone else in his life and he was too damn old for meaningless flings. He didn't need anything that would cause complications. Ellie was always meant to be the priority. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Before long he was pushing his own front door open. The light to the living room had been left on and it didn't take him too long to notice that Ellie was perched tensely on the couch cushions looking straight at him with a less than impressed look on her face.

"You're home late" She stated bluntly, her arms folding tightly over her chest as her glare bore into him.

"Shit, M'sorry kiddo" His words slurring slightly as he kicked the door close behind him.

The girls eyes narrowed and she picked up on the exaggerated southern accent that had seemed to thicken significantly since she spoke with him that morning and the subtle stagger to his steps as he walked. "You're fucking drunk?"

There was an incredulous attitude to her insolent tone, one that had his intoxicated mind riling up. He was nearly fucking fifty, if he wanted to go out and numb his mind for a few hours then he didn't need the approval of a little brat. He'd earned the damn right to enjoy a drink. "The last I checked I'm the adult here"

Ellie scoffed, her voice now raised and brash "Then why am I the fucking sober one worried about where you are? Surely, it's meant to be the other way around?"

Joel rubbed his eyes and sighed. He didn't want to fight her. He was too damn tired and his head felt heavy. If he continued, he'd only end up speaking words he would later regret. "I can't deal with you right now, I need to go to bed"

The teenagers nostrils flared. Deal with her?! It was her having to fucking deal with him! She'd been sat alone and worried sick all evening whilst he was where? Getting pissed up in bar without having spared a single thought for her! "I've not fucking eaten" she spat.

"Fuck" He muttered aggressively beneath his breath as he staggered his way to the kitchen.

He pulled a singular can of ravioli from the cupboard, pouring it into a pan and heated it up over the stove on a high heat- much higher than he should have had it. It only took a few minutes to heat through before he poured it into a bowl and roughly handed it over to Ellie.

She dipped her finger into the bowl, sliding it through its squelchy contents. She slammed her eyes upon feeling the stone cold pasta situated in the centre. To fucking drunk to even successfully heat up a bowl of tinned pasta... It seemed pointless to fight him on the matter. Unevenly cooked ravioli was better than nothing. Her tone still full of attitude as she spoke bluntly. "Thank you."

Joel shook his head mumbling incoherent sentences beneath his breath and swiftly left her to it. He thudded up the stairs before collapsing into a heap on his bed - not too different from how most of his nights ended back in the QZ. Not even bothering to remove his clothes.

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The bright morning light seeped in through the gaps in the curtain with a light breeze that slowly stirred Joel from his previous night's drunken slumber. He slowly sat himself up, his index finger and thumb pinching the throbbing pain located in his forehead. The heavy drinking was a coping mechanism for him back in the QZ, the only time his mind would fall numb enough to allow him to possess a decent night sleep without being disturbed by the relentless nightmares that had once haunted him. Whilst in Boston, glorious little white pills were always in arms reach to nurse the hangover the next morning. The seven month cleanse of alcohol whilst travelling the country seemed to have done a job in lowering his tolerance quite significantly and to make matters worse - no pills.