. broken bones .

[joel marston]

=

Immediately when Zelda left, Joel was confronted by the fact that his Instagram was going to be off. For the last few years the only pictures he posted in colour were pictures of her, and then the whole thing seemed stupid, gimmicky. All the times she'd teased him for his fantasies about being a hardboiled PI came back to him distorted, he started convincing herself that she hadn't been playfully teasing, she had truly been mocking him. Of course it was the booze and the depression talking, and these perceived slights did nothing to stop him also feeling miserable about how truly in love they had been, a love now wasted. Essentially, if there was an avenue to further sadness, Joel had forcefully walked himself down it. Part of him feels like this must be a dream, though it sounds and feels and looks like Zelda in his arms. "No, I was shitty," he says, though he'd spent the last few weeks telling anyone who'd listen that she was in fact a brat and he was a saint. As she sits back his hands fall to her tiny waist. His heart swells as she kisses him and he kisses back hungrily, desperately, so grateful to have her back in this, his lowest of moments. He nestles into the nape of her neck. breathing her in and trying to convince himself this was actually happening. When he looks at her he's beaming. "God, I didn't think I could feel like this. You have no idea how much I missed you."

[zelda atwood]

The older she gets the more confused she becomes about people. How can people be apart of your life one day, and gone the next? And not even gone, they're still in your world but you don't know them and they're strangers. People were your people and then you're supposed to act like they didn't fucking exist. Pretending Joel didn't exist was impossible. He floated in and out of her mind every ten minutes. When she wasn't thinking about him, she would kill herself over the fact that she'd forgotten to think about him. It was hard to turn her everything into a stranger. Her thumb strokes his cheekbone and she looks into his eyes. God, she missed those eyes. They were such an impossible blue, like waves fighting in an ocean. "We're both idiots," she takes in the warmth of his lips. He tastes like his diet of whiskey and cigarettes. "I don't know how I did it for so long. God, it was so fake," she can't stop kissing, holding, touching him. "You need to know it was such a lie. I was miserable."

[joel marston]

More recently, Joel had downloaded Tinder. It ranked highly as one of the most depressing activities in a month full of very depressing activities. It had felt like a safe opportunity to talk to girls, Coronavirus giving him a get out of jail free card to never have to actually meet up with them. His hope was that he'd get some sort of ego boost out of it, that it would be a pretty easy way of demonstrating that there were plenty more women out there. Which of course there were, but not one of them proved even mildly tempting. He runs his hands over her back, feeling how small she is, how perfectly she fits in his lap. He kisses her, something he had thought of constantly. Leaning back, he takes her in, grinning ear to ear as she speaks. "I don't believe you. Can you list everything you missed about me, in alphabetical order and in full detail? It'd just help me understand." He laces his fingers between hers on both hands, giving them a squeeze. "Have you broken up with him? Damn, I was kinda into the idea of stealing a famous guy's girl," he says, as if it weren't the other way round.

[zelda atwood]

She needs to pinch herself. It feels surreal to be here after months of wishing it. She didn't know how he could be so accepting of her but she was here for it. His hands warm her back and his fingers dance across her spine. How ordinary did her famous boyfriend seem compared to Joel? He was bland against Joel's light, he couldn't even compare. Zelda grins, "alphabetically? You know I'll start with D." Her puffy eyes crinkle as she smiles brightly at him, her lips dab his neck with kisses. He asks if she's broken up with him and she shakes her head. "Maybe, I don't know. He hasn't spoken to me in few days." She looks at him, her fingers rake his blonde hair and her heart beats rapidly in her chest. "I think I figured him out. He's a ghoster."

[joel marston]

When they had argued in the past, Joel felt like it was a necessary clearing the air. But seeing the u-turn that this has taken, his bitterness and anger from barely an hour ago turned to this... she had always been right, at their core was usually a misunderstanding that wound up being worsened by miscommunication. He wished he could go back in time and tell her clearly and honestly that Zara was not a priority, that he would park it if it meant Zelda felt happier. He would spend less time at work, pay more attention to hers, whatever it took. The feeling of having her back was so good he felt as though he'd never fuck up again. He feels a frisson of what can only be described as glee as she speaks. Already he wants to take her to bed, to make her dinner, to go on a proper date, to get down on one knee-- the works. "You have no. idea." He buries his fingers in her hair as she kisses his neck, squeezing her against himself. "It's a pandemic," he reminds her, unable to keep the grin off his face. Her fingers feel so good in his hair, it's amazing how much comfort there is in human touch. "Who cares, fuck that guy. You don't have to go, do you? I can clean up, give me half an hour, it'll be just how you left it. Please stay. Please."

[zelda atwood]

She's so cloudy with happiness that she can't remember why they'd split in the first place. How could she have left her home when it was so clear that this is exactly where she belonged? Not even these walls, but this person. She should have listened to her gut when it told her to go back, but she was far too stubborn to give in. Why did she have to be so stubborn. A pandemic?" she repeats, diving in for a long kiss and pressing her chest against his. Her thumbs knead the back of his neck and she nods, don't clean, I'll stay." There's things to do at the other apartment, but she pushes away those priorities and forces herself to live in the moment. The dogs there can wait, everything can wait. I really love you, I really missed you. Promise we won't do that again, we'll work through it."

[joel marston]

Everything ebbs away, the sharp sting of grief dying down to a dull ache for the first time since it happened. Though he had never fully accepted that Zelda had left for good, the fact that his life seemed to be spiralling more and more since the event had made him think that nothing good could ever happen again. Despite keeping their apartment how it was, a mausoleum for their relationship, he didn't really expect her to walk through the door, not when she had so publicly moved on. He was so happy to be wrong that he wanted to burst into song. He doesn't press for more details on her staying, too overjoyed at the prospect of sharing their bed again. He's aware of how desperate he sounds but he doesn't care, because he is desperate, and he's determined to never let anything like this happen ever again. She speaks and it's like she's read his mind. "Never again," he agrees, kissing her. "You're the girl for me, there isn't a person alive who compares."

[zelda atwood]

She'd told herself that this would happen if she walked in these doors. She told herself that she would become lost in him and their love. That opening the doors back up would wash away the negativity that cloaked their relationship and she'd forget how they'd even become that way in the first place. There's a piece that reminds her of false promises and how there could be consequences that touched their soft fragility. She thinks about catch onto it, but decides she'll stick around for the ride. "Alive? Sure. But you'd trade me for a 1940's starlet in a second," she jokes, pressing her lips to his. There's plans to be made for the morning. She'll have to go back to the apartment, but does she get her dogs and come back here? They're barely five minutes in and she's thinking about breaking this trance. Trying to ignore it she pulls him in for a deeper kiss, "come on, take me to bed."

[joel marston]

He grins at her comment, Lauren Bacall looming behind her on the huge TV. "I would. But I'd feel bad about it," he says, though in all honesty he didn't think he would. Joel had been nothing if not committed to his noir detective schtick since he was a little boy, but he had packed up and left New York for her, left his job and the city he loved to make her happy. It took this moment for any residual bitterness at the sacrifices he'd made melt away, and he could finally admit to himself that he'd do it all again, move to Timbuktu and take up basket weaving if it meant he got to do it with her. He watches her face as she thinks, hoping she's not reconsidering. Kissing her, he nods, before blushing slightly. "Um, I haven't actually changed the sheets," he says, "maybe since you left? So give me ten minutes." Kissing her one last time, he hoists her onto the couch beside him. Running upstairs, he shoves all the clothes he's left strewn about into an overstuffed closet, changing the sheets as rapidly as he can. "Ready," he calls down, before reclining on the bed, knee up and elbow bent like he should be sat in front of a fireplace on a tiger rug in a 70s cologne ad. "Don't say I don't spoil you."

[zelda atwood]

Zelda tilts her head and looks at him, "... you haven't changed your sheets? Joel. It's been months." She kisses back and sits back into the couch. If she's left to her own devices, she'll overthink her way into trouble. She grabs her beer and downs it, it's still cold as it splashes down her throat. If they were going to progress, things would have to change. Austin wasn't doing it... should they go to couples' counselling.... oh, there's Joel calling. Thank god. Zelda grins when she she's Joel posing on the bed. "Oh, you're perfect," she shimmies out of her sweatpants and joins him. "Ugh, this bed! We need a new mattress... I don't know how we lived," she rolls on top of him and dots a kiss on his lips. "Maybe one like this," she lays her chest on his and her head on his shoulder, "mhm, this is fine."

[joel marston]

"Thou shalt not judge," he calls down the stairs as he runs up them, aware of the grossness of his actions. It had been impossible to find much motivation once Zelda had left, and when Schmidt started showing serious signs of decline he had given up on everything that was not related to the Great Dane. He spent his days pampering the dog, making him his favourite meals from scratch, letting him lie on the couch with him, taking him for walks until he could walk no more. Slowly the dog lost interest in exercise and then in food - Joel had really fallen to pieces then. He grins at her as she shimmies out of her sweatpants, clapping at the sight of her taking her clothes off, just like he used to do in the early days of their relationship. "Bravo. Really," he says, slinging his arm around her neck and giving her a squeeze as she slipped on top of him. Kissing her back, he swallows back a seeping bitterness. Was she comparing this bed to his? He imagined the multimillion dollar pad she must have been staying in. "This works for me," he says quietly, kissing her on the top of her head.

[zelda atwood]

It feels good to be so close. Her heart is warm and her mind is blocking out negativity, which becomes easier the more she kisses him. She missed his safe embrace and the taste of his lips. The past few months felt empty of joy and no matter how often she pulled her lips into a smile, she couldn't feel full. Here it was. The feeling of fulfillment, like Christmas dinner knocked it out of the park. There's a short awkwardness that radiates off Joel and she's quick to prod his shoulder with her thumb. "Hey, it's a mattress," she reminds him and kisses his chest. "This is good, right?"

[joel marston]

Joel can't remember the last time he had human interaction that went beyond a "thank you" to a delivery driver. He'd spoken to his family on the phone a few times, mostly to stop his mom ringing incessantly, but actually being close to someone... it would have been Mia, and that felt like a lifetime ago. "I really missed you," he repeats, stroking her hair as she nestles into him. He'd also forgotten just how well she knew him. He had shown the tiniest glimmer of angst and she sensed it, really she should be the detective. He smiles. "We can order a new one. Fresh start." He tilts her chin up, craning his neck a little to kiss her full lips. "It's great. You're great, perfect, even."