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They slid into eachother as easy as anything.
Joel was petrified that Jimmy would reject him, or question him, or have some adverse response to Joel’s newfound loyalty; but, instead, he accepted it in as even stride as Joel gave it to him. It went unlike every other game that Joel could remember, where Jimmy came to him with some request that Joel pushed aside and mocked him over before stealing off to make his own path. Joel came to Jimmy this time, and just he never left. This time, they were inseparable.
They didn’t have to talk about it, they just knew, both of them.
Joel couldn’t lose Jimmy again, was the thing. It was selfish in the end, he supposed, to try and keep Jimmy alive for his own sake. Just to try and not feel that hollow feeling again, but Jimmy didn’t have to know that. It seemed selfless enough— and maybe it was, and Joel was just torturing himself over nothing— but guilt still gnawed at his gut.
So, he kept quiet about it. Neither of them talked about why they were allied, why the sudden change from past games’ torment to the unrelenting support, to the sweet-talk and pet-names, to the casual touches.
It started as just a brush of shoulders or a hand pressed against a back, but soon enough Joel and Jimmy were sparing no opportunity to get close to eachother. It wasn’t much even now, they weren’t getting into eachother laps or anything (yet, said a little voice in the back of Joel’s head that he still swatted away) but often Jimmy would rest his chin on Joel’s shoulder to peek at something he was working on, or Joel would sling his arm around Jimmy in celebration of something-or-other. And that was nice.
Which is why it wouldn’t be a surprise if Joel just went over to Jimmy now, got some grounding comfort from just touching Jimmy, being close to him.
It had become part of his daily ritual, too quickly integrating into Joel’s needs and sustaining his happiness and energy, and with his bit of self-reflective self-loathing, he was feeling miserable. He needed this.
Jimmy worked a few metres away from him scavenging up dirt and cobble while Joel tried, halfheartedly, to return his focus to the trees he was supposed to be felling.
With every swing of his axe, he thought about building something better. It was a destructive action, but for a constructive purpose. He was so used to violence in these games, and vengeance for when it came to Jimmy— he didn’t want to repeat that. He would build a better foundation this time, instead. He would do better than any other fool who had had Jimmy; Scott, Tango, the whole damn Southlanders for however short he was with them until they threw him aside, he could do better than all of them. Grian had another try with Jimmy, though Joel didn’t know if he would stick around this time, either. Or, erh, that was Joel’s fault last time, come to think of it, dragging Grian down to Red with him and forcing him to break from the Southlands. No matter. Joel was lucky, he was dangerous, he was skilled. He would win this damn game with Jimmy by his side, and they’d wait out what remaining time they had together.
Or, he would just do what he could. Keep Jimmy from at least the embarrassment of being the first to die. Again.
Joel couldn’t bear it any longer.
He stepped up behind Jimmy, slumping his forehead against Jimmy’s back, not tall enough to drop his head atop a shoulder, not close enough to bury his nose into Jimmy’s neck. He just stood there for a moment, pressed still and firm between Jimmy’s shoulder-blades. He should drop his axe at this point, he felt desperate to wrap his arms around Jimmy, draw him even closer, not let him out of his sight or ever into danger. But he didn’t. He just stood there in silence, unmoving, just taking in the simple touch.
Jimmy flicked his left hand back to meet Joel’s free one, catching Joel’s index finger with his pinky, a gentle and fragile hand-hold.
“I don’t…” Jimmy broke the silence at long last, and though he barely spoke above a whisper, it sounded deafening compared everything that came before, especially with what followed; “I don’t want it to be me first this time.”
Joel was glad for the closeness for this too, to be able to speak so softly that they could barely hear eachother, not risk anyone else hearing it too. “I don’t either.”
Jimmy squeezed his finger.
They both knew this, there had been no need to say it, but they had, finally.
Joel should’ve thanked Jimmy, but instead Jimmy thanked him. For being on his side this time, Joel supposed. He could’ve said more, told Jimmy how he would do anything to keep that from happening. How he would raze every inch of the server, kill any enemy or once-ally who may impose threat on Jimmy’s precious minutes or even threatened to out-live him, give up as much of his own time as it would take to keep Jimmy from falling first. He was a lucky man, all things considered, and he would give up every drop of that luck just for Jimmy to find a fraction of it.
He should’ve said all of that, but he just wrapped his left arm around Jimmy, bringing their clutched-together hands up to Jimmy’s chest, feeling the heartbeat that sounded far too much like a ticking clock. He interlaced their fingers proper now and squeezed tight. Jimmy squeezed back and thanked Joel again.
He knew. Joel never had to say it aloud, but Jimmy knew.
Joel nuzzled his face deeper into the soft suede back of Jimmy’s leather jacket and let that still comfort overtake them again. No words, just the two of them, against the world.