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Joel's walking down Jackson's main drag when he sees the group of newcomers getting the tour. Looks like two men and a woman, Joel barely spares them a glance. Newcomers aren't common, but Joel's been here long enough that they're no longer a novelty.
He's just about to turn the corner when one of the men speaks, and Joel feels like he was shot. He gasps and has to place a hand on his chest when his heart stutters and his lungs seize.
He turns his head, and gone are the cornrows, but in their place is a dark sea of waves, those eyes like an abyss, are framed by little smile lines, and the lips that have haunted his dreams are as full and soft as he remembers them from four decades ago.
It can't be. No one is this lucky. No one gets this kind of chance.
The man turns as if he can somehow feel his gaze, and their eyes lock. His brow furrows, and his lips purse as he tries to place him. Joel doesn’t blame him. He’s much changed from the young man he was. Hair more salt than pepper now. Wrinkles, violence, and nature have changed the contours of his face. His mustache and patchy beard hadn’t even been started that long ago. But something of the man he was must still be there because recognition suddenly sparks in the man’s eyes.
Joel finds himself stumbling forward, and then the man is moving as well. They meet in the middle of the street, and it's like no time has passed at all. The electricity that always used to surge through Joel at his touch is still there, and Joel can breathe again.
“Jermaine?”
@clickergossip
There was no way, he was sure of it. No way, not a single snowball’s chance in hell that Joel Miller was standing in front of him. Eyes just as big and brown and watery as they were the day he left him.
The last time he saw Joel Miller, he silently drove him home, the taste of young excitement and heartbreak on their lips, his NYU acceptance letter burning a hole in his glove compartment. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear Pat Benatar’s Love is a Battlefield taunting them from the radio as Joel keeps blinking away at his passenger window. With the reflection of the raindrops on the glass bouncing off of Joel’s skin in the street lights, Jermaine thinks he looks like one of those crying angel sculptures.
It’s not the first time he’s looked at Joel and seen some sort of otherworldly being. Like he was too good to be from earth, too good to be held down by him while he was miles away.
There was just no way.
Not when he tasted his lips, felt his hands, and then pushed him away. Not when the last thing they shared was a graze of fingertips as Joel exited the car, taking the smell of lilacs and honeysuckle with him.
But there he was, his crown of curls gone from brown to an artful collection of salt and pepper swirls dancing in the wind. He wasn’t wearing his favorite Metallica shirt with the bleach stains on the collar or the baggy jeans with the holes in the knees, so he couldn’t be a hallucination.
And his hands felt the same on his own newly weathered face, his eyes still searched his own like he was reading a children’s book, and he didn’t taste like now-or-laters and funnel cakes anymore, but he tastes like home.
Jermaine had been traveling in this wasteland of a world for over twenty years and home moved from Austin, Texas, to Jackson, Wyoming, and was always waiting for him.
"Are ya real?" Joel asks, his hands lingering on the familiar yet irrevocable changed face.
"Are you?" Jermaine returns, a smile on his wide lips.
“How are you here?” Joel questions, his hands moving down to rest on Jermaine’s shoulders.
“We walked. It wasn’t easy. We started with 20 people.” Jermaine answers, his eyes lingering on each scar on Joel's face.
“I’m sorry, where did you come from? Last I knew, you were in New York City.” Joel looks up suddenly to the other two people he had been standing with. “I’m sorry I-I should let you get to it, we can talk later.”
Jermaine doesn't look back, he keeps his eyes on Joel like he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he looks away. “Where can I find you?”
“I’m in the blue house on Uclid, number 38. I’ll be there.” Joel gives his shoulders one last squeeze then he steps back.
Jermaine watches him leave.
—
Joel’s sitting on the back porch, guitar in hand, ideally strumming nothing of consequence, when he hears a low cough. He looks up, and Jermaine is standing at the foot of the stairs, hands in his jeans pockets. He’s filled out some since the last time Joel saw him. Wider in the chest and shoulders, more muscular in the arms and legs. Back in 1984, he’d been lean, whip-thin, his body just starting to change from that of a teen to a grown man. His face has gotten slightly fuller, and he is sporting a fairly thick beard and mustache. But his eyes are the same, brown, almost gold in the right light.
“Ya came.”
“Course I did, Joel. I wanted to see you.”
“I almost thought I dreamed you.”
“Nope, I’m real, as real as you.”
“Do ya wanna come in?” Joel asks, gesturing towards the door.
“Sure.” Jermaine comes up the stairs, and Joel ushers him inside, taking him into the kitchen. “Ah, do you want me to take my shoes off?”
“If you would. You can leave ‘em by the door.” Joel toes his boots off and moves to the stove. “Would ya like some coffee?”
“Oh shit, you have coffee?” Jermaine says, his eyes going wide.
“Yeah, not a lot. But I keep some set aside for special occasions.” Joel busies himself with getting out the kettle and coffee grounds.
“I’m happy to know that I denote a special occasion,” Jermaine says, walking into the room and looking at the papers on the fridge. There are a few drawings that Ellie had made him, one of a horse running in the field and another of Joel sitting on the porch playing the guitar. There’s also an essay that Ellie got an A on pinned in pride of place right dead center. Jermaine’s eyes go soft, and he runs a finger along the image of Joel.
“So you have a kid?”
“Yeah, Ellie. She’s ah, my youngest, sixteen.” Joel responds once he’s got the kettle on the stove. “She’s at school right now.”
“You have more than one?” Jermaine asks, his eyes flicking to Joel’s back.
“Yeah, Sarah, she was my eldest. Had her before the outbreak, she woulda been thirty-six this year.” Joel pulls down some mugs from the cabinet and places them on the counter.
“She passed,” Jermaine says, it’s not a question.
“Yup, outbreak night.”
Jermaine comes to stand behind him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Joel.” His voice is soft, and Joel reaches up and gives Jermaine's hand a squeeze.
“It was a long time ago.” Joel fiddles with the mug in front of him picture of an owl on it.
“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.” Jermaine keeps his hand on Joel's shoulder, a solid, steady weight.
Joel sighs and nods. “You ain't wrong.”
“Tommy?” Jermaine hesitates, worried it might bring up more pain.
“He’s actually here in Jackson, house right across the street. Got himself a wife, Maria. She’s on the council here. Got a little boy Mateo, he’s comin’ up on two. Another baby on the way, too, just found out.” Joel explains as he takes the whistling pot off the stove and pours the contents into the two mugs. Jermaine lets his hand fall away and steps back to the table.
Turning, Joel hands him a mug and gestures to the living room. They make their way in, and both settle on the couch.
“Is it just you and Ellie here?” Jermaine asks, wrapping his hands around the mug, relishing in the warmth.
“Yeah, it’s just the two of us,” Joel says, his eyes down, staring into the depths of his coffee. Joel doesn’t see Jermanie put his mug down on the coffee table, but he does see his hands come out to take the mug from Joel’s hands and place it next to his.
“So you’re not with anyone?” Joel knows without asking what Jermaine means.
“No.” The word is barely out of his mouth before Jermaine leans in, his hands coming up to cup Joel’s face. His lips crashing down on Joel’s.
Joel’s hands reach out, fisting into Jermaine's shirt, pulling him desperately closer. The kiss is messy, all tongues and teeth clashing together like they're at war. Joel pulls away, breathing ragged, but presses his forehead into Jermaine’s. The two men stay that way, Jermaine's hands having slipped down to Joel’s shoulders and Joel’s still bunched in the fabric of his shirt.
“You taste different but somehow still the same,” Jermaine says breathlessly.
“I can say the same for you.” Joel’s voice is low, like he’s afraid to break the silence of the room. “We should… have ya eaten?”
Jermaine laughs and pulls back enough so he can look into Joel’s eyes. “Joel Miller, of course, you would worry about that at a time like this.”
@clickergossip
He's asking if I've eaten, together we can taste 1984 and euphoric giggles on our tongues, and he wants to know if I've eaten . Joel Miller never changes. It's been well over twenty years since they've seen each other, and Joel still frets the same way. He's bigger now, takes up more space than he ever thought he could. Slightly taller, miles wider, and still a little softer. Soft curls, soft cheeks, soft brown eyes like freshly baked chocolate chips, so tender that they dip a little when you pick them up. Still soft in the little glances over his shoulder, like he's trying to make sure Jermaine is still there. That he's real and he's not gonna vanish while his back is turned.
He can't believe he's here, truly. Every time he looks down, he doesn't see weathered hands on dirty dark-wash denim against a slightly worn chair, he sees those black jeans. His hands don't have any of the scars he's acquired over the years, just the sugary remains of too many sweets. Only when he looks back up, through his slightly less sharp eyes, this Joel is so new yet so so familiar.
Joel is a father now. Joel offers coffee now. He wants coffee, he gets to have coffee with Joel, and he can have that and so many other moments with Joel. He spent years wondering what would've happened if he could've reconnected with Joel. Maybe they could've been together on Outbreak Day, maybe they could've kept each other safe. Never in a million years did he think he'd see a grown Joel Miller sitting on his own porch plucking at a six string like a living romance novel.
But here he is.
And here is Joel, armed with one hearty slice of 'The Absolute Best Cheesecake you will find on this side Wyoming' and two spoons. He doesn't notice the slight trembling of the plate while he's staring into Joel's eyes.
Joel internally curses his shaky hands and prays Jermaine can't see him sweat. He can.
He loves it.
—
Joel places the empty plate that once held cheesecake but now only holds crumbs on the coffee table, his hands are steadier now, but he can still feel butterflies floating around in his stomach every time he looks at Jermaine. He keeps expecting him to disappear or realize his mistake like so many years ago and get up and walk out of the house.
But he doesn't every time Joel's eyes alight upon him. Jermaine smiles his eyes warm pools of honey, making Joel want to lean in.
"Ah, do they have ya set up in a house somewhere?" Joel asks.
"Yeah, it's a little green one down the street a ways. I'm staying with the man and woman I game with just until they have a separate place for me."
"Oh, so you're not with anyone either?"
"No, not for some time." Jermaine looks down at his hands, which have seen some better days, and he wonders if Joel will mind the roughness. "I was with someone for a while before the outbreak and a little after, but he didn't make it."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Joel's voice is kind and genuine as he reaches out and wraps Jermaine's hands in his. It's been so long since Jermaine has heard anyone speak like that. This world is not built for that anymore. The last few months have been rough. Shit, who is he kidding the last few decades have been rough. You're more likely to hear shouts and curses combined with fists and knives than the kindness and soft hands that Joel is showing him now.
"It's okay, Joel. It's been a long time now." He pulls a hand away and palms Joel's cheek. "God, Joel, I can't believe I'm here with you. You know I regretted how I left you back in 84."
Joel leans his face into Jermaine's hand and smiles softly, his face crinkling with wrinkles, so different from the boy Jermaine once knew, and yet he can still see the ghost of who Joel once was in the angle of his jaw and the shape of his lips.
"I was scared. It wasn't safe to be who I wanted to be with you back then. I didn't think it was fair to put that on you when I was going to be so far away. But I was a fool, Joel. I shoulda taken the risk."
Joel tsks and waves him away. "I can't say I wasn't devastated by you leavin' I was, but if you hadn't, I never woulda had Sarah, and she was everything to me, and even though she's gone, I wouldn't give up a minute of the time we had together."
"We are here together now, in a place where we can try to be what we want to be, and if you're amiable, I think I might like to try again with ya," Joel says, his hand coming up to cover Jermaine's hand on his face holding him there steady and warm.
"Joel, I'd like that very much." Jermaine can't hold back the waver in his voice as his eyes start to glaze with tears. Joel finally leans in and lets himself fall into the warm honey of Jermaine's gaze as their lips meet again. Tasting of cheesecake and coffee.
"Hey Joel, did you hear that they found some new dinosaurs wandering outside of Jackson, brought them in today," Ellie calls from the front hallway as she bangs her way through the front door. Joel and Jermaine pull apart in surprise as Ellie comes skidding into the room with excitement. When she sees them hand in hand, lips just a little flushed from kissing, her eyes go wide, and a low "Ohhhhhh" escapes her mouth.
"Damn Joel, you move fast, my man."
"Ellie!"