Missing [ST]

Thirty Nine

A/N
JOE'S BACK!! I know it's not the longest chapter, so I'm sorry about that, but we're getting closer to the reunions and stuff!!

Also I'm actually curious as to what you guys thought happened to Joe/ where he's been, and I guess you'll find out in this chapter if you were close or not!! ❤️❤️❤️

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When Joe ventured into the night following his shuddering outburst, each footstep heavy from the cruel weight of his rucksack, he felt the sheer beast of the cold air nipping away at every possible patch of his exposed skin.

He still couldn't quite comprehend how he had gone from spitting flames of anger then, to a burden of stunned misconduct in the freezing cold now. That because of himself he had ended up alone, his belongings pitiful, a numbing heart of misery, a hole of cash to his name, and with no idea where his feet were taking him.

Home should have been the simple answer. Catch a ride, get on a plane and fly away from the consequences, but he couldn't do that when he felt so lost. Lost in himself, and the live wire of emotions that were threatening to break him.

The anger Joe had felt with Steven for making the countless mistakes, for his ignorance and his disregard for anything that he didn't want to deal with, was gradually cracking under the pressure in his mind. It made way for the hurt and the betrayal for reasons he couldn't begin to admit to, but nothing came close to contesting the disappointment he felt with himself for losing his way with Steven, and carelessly snapping in a way that he should never, ever be forgiven for.

The others knew what he'd done before he could even imagine it, and it was because he was so convinced that ratting out Steven and his fucked up life was the answer.

Joe knew it all, the broken man that was his brother, and he still had had his way, selfishly.

Each step into the unknown made him more accustomed to the tragedy he had left behind, and the glaze of his saddened eyes was knowing he should have helped and been there for Steven, and stopped it all before it was too late.

Joe couldn't change the past because it was done. What he said was said. What he'd done could not be undone. And going home was something he did not deserve.

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Joe didn't know how long he had been walking for, but when he stumbled upon a sign for a pub called The Greyhound, he stopped his tiresome journey to nowhere.

It was just he had forgotten that it was some unruly hour of the night, so there were no signs of life, and if he wanted to quench his thirst or deal with the rumble of his stomach, he'd have to find a twenty-four hour shop or a service station.

It posed an issue in itself because Joe had no phone to help him, and he'd be walking blindly along roads that looked the least dangerous, and taking turns from shadowed signs with hazy judgement.

He would have taken it on the chin and kept going to find somewhere that may have been miles away, but because his even strides had been broken, he didn't think he could walk any further without his legs giving way.

So, Joe crossed the empty parking spaces, squinted through the windows and checked down the side to the arrangement of outside benches, but the pub couldn't be more closed if it tried.

Spirits defeated, he slung the heavy weight from his shoulders, rolled them to ease his muscles, and settled down where there was a bit of shelter in front of the entrance. He may have worked up a bit of warmth from his trek, but he decided to slip on an extra layer underneath his jacket to help him achieve some rest.