You know he's leaning against the door by the rate at which it creaks whenever he shifts his legs in order to get comfortable again, to stretch and rearrange his limbs before he stands diligently still and waits for you. You curled up in blankets and pillows and stuffed animals (and nobody would be judging you for it), you try to remember the last time you'd had a good Christmas.
Maybe when you were little. Maybe when you'd been greener and the world had been kinder and every coloured light had held magic and every snowflake had dipped wonder on your tongue as you caught them unsuspectingly. And then the successive incidents: the car crash on the icy road in '07. The explosion on the train courtesy of a technical fault in '08. The death of [family/friend name] in '09. The Sledge Catastrophe in which little children had hurtled head over heels from toboggans into roads and been hit in '10. All the fear building up through the years, until now, until this year right here, '15.
"[Y/N]?" Joe asks, rapping his knuckles gently on the wood. This has been a repeated process, one that he had exhausted the instant he'd performed it, but he keeps trying anyway and why is beyond you. "[Y/N], please open the door."
Joe is fairly certain he could break it down if he had to, if you were in danger... but, as much as he hates to leave you stewing in it, sadness doesn't constitute you being in harms way and so he refrains. Besides, he may be able to break a door down but can he shift heavy furniture that you've shunted haphazardly in front of it? Does he really have that kind of strength?
"Go away, Joe, I'm not coming out."
Tears begin to burn the corners of your eyes for you're so scared and he's the single good thing you've had all year. You're scared he's going to wind up in trouble, losing his good health or even his life like people before you had, as ifyou're the bad omen.
"I'm not letting you barricade yourself in your room again for Christmas!"Gatto retorts fiercely. Whatever has happened to you - for he knows so much has - he's not going to allow it to ruin everything for you; you deserve to be happy, to feel loved– because he does love you. "[Y/N], please."
The desperation in his voice has you standing to your feet. You don't want to open the door but you feel yourself moving the set of drawers that's blocking him out, storage boxes filled to the brim with books and old study materials being shifted aside before you lean against the other side of the door and bite your lip to hold back tears.
"...I'm scared, Joe."
The admission makes his heart thump, his resolve hardening as he places a hand on the door handle and pushes it down slowly, slipping in through the gap in the door once it's wide enough to let him through. You're backing away, hands raised defensively in front of you as you will him away... but all he does is sweep you into his arms and press you against him.
It comes all at once, the shaking of your shoulders and the choke of a sob as you bury your head in his shoulder and cry. And all the time he's shushing you, willing you to be calm as he rubs your back and strokes over your head. Sobbing hard, body wracking with every breath you take as Joe holds you tightly, protectively, hoping to push all the bad memories away.
When you calm enough to take somewhat even breaths, he pulls back and takes your face in his hands, thumbs swiping gently under your eyes and ridding your gaze of tears. "[Y/N], you have nothin' to be scared for. I know stuff's happened, whatever it may be... but ya don't have to worry. I'm gonna keep ya safe."
"But I can't keep you safe!" you sob, body shuffling in closer as you silently beg him not to let go of you. And he doesn't, tightens his arms around you and hushes you as he rocks gently from side to side.
"Ya need to let someone take care of you for once," he whispers, hand smoothing over the top of your head as he listens to your breaths slow into deep exhalations. Heaving has stopped though hands cling to his shirt and make messy indents in the fabric, him easing forwards encouragingly as you use it to wipe at your eyes. "You do that for your nose and I'm leavin'."
You laugh brokenly, despite your fear, and pull away from him. "I'm such an idiot... you should just go and enjoy the day without me. I'm just ruining the mood."
"It isn't Christmas without you," he replies, expression somewhat diffident as he leans close and presses a sound kiss to your lips. Your eyes flicker shut, hand moving to touch his chest tentatively. Joe smiles at you softly. "I don'twant Christmas without you."