Joe Keery Imagines Vol. 2

Protective Best Friend - Joe Keery

TW: abusive relationship, bruises, violence

I looked at the bruise on my cheek and watched as the tears slowly streamed over it. I reached up to wipe it but my throat tightened when I saw the bruise on my wrist. This one was more purple than the one on my cheek.

I jumped, letting out a small shriek when my phone started ringing. Due to the broken screen, thanks to him, I couldn't see who was calling me. I would've held my breath as I answered but my lungs were killing me.

"Hello?"

"Why do you sound so scared?" Joe chuckled. Suddenly, the tone of his voice changed. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

"Nothing," I stuttered.

"Hey," he said, lowering his voice. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

I opened and closed my mouth, wishing I could tell him the truth. I wasn't even sure where I should begin. There was something I could do instead. . .

"Come over."

"I'm on my way."

* * * * *

I sat on my couch, nervously playing with my hands as I waited for Joe. I tried to figure out how to explain this to him but couldn't come up with anything.

How do you explain to your extremely protective best friend from childhood that the guy you've been dating for two years has spent the last 18 months taking his anger out on you?

My breath and heart got caught in my throat when the doorbell rang. With shaking hands, I stood up and went to answer it. I knew who it was, but I still checked the peephole. I took a slow, calming breath before finally opening the door. The minute I did, Joe's face dropped.

"What happened?!" He panicked as he closed the gap between us.

He gently held my face as his eyes scanned my bruised cheek. I reached up and grabbed his wrists. This was a mistake because Joe glanced down at my wrists, seeing the other bruise.

"What the. . ." He let go of my face and grabbed my hands. I held my breath as he examined my wrists. When he looked back up at me, a sob got stuck in my throat.

"What happened to you, Y/N?" He asked slowly. I opened and closed my mouth, unable to find the right words. Joe took a step closer to me, still holding my wrists, and lowered his voice.

"Y/N, who did this to you?"

I looked at the worry in his eyes and the guilt suffocated me. I opened my mouth but nothing came out again. The longer it took me to respond, the more Joe figured it out.

"No," he whispered. "Y/N, please tell me he didn't do this to you."

"He didn't mean to," I sobbed. "He was drunk and got angry. I was on the phone and he broke a cup because I wasn't helping him. He promised he'd never do it again."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "Alex'll never do it again."

"I'm sorry," I finally said, my voice breaking with each word. I waited for him to get angry, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around me.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly. "It's not your fault, Y/N. Alex did this. Not you. He hurt you. And I'm going to fix it."

"How?" I asked, pulling out of his tight hug. Joe reached up with a soft smile on his face and wiped a tear off my cheek.

"By helping you," he clarified. "If you're worried about leaving him, okay. We'll take our time and figure it out. Until then, I will be your buffer. I'll be your escape plan."