Joe Keery Imagines

Someone Before Me-Joe Keery

Joe and I moved to LA shortly after graduation. He came to become an actor while I came to become a famous artist. He was fulfilling his dream. He loved his job and loved where he was.

I wish I could say the same. I wasn't famous. I wasn't fulfilling my dream. And I didn't love where I was.

I was working on my feet all day as a hostess at the nearby Olive Garden. I do get to take home an entire salad and a dozen breadsticks at the end of the night.

I walked into my apartment, every muscle in my body aching. I kicked off my shoes, tossed my keys into the bowl, and hung up my jacket and purse. I sat down on the couch, trying to sigh my day off.

I groaned, turning into a whimper as my phone started ringing. Unfortunately, it was still in my purse. I forced myself to stand up and answer my phone.

"Hello?"

"You sound tired," Joe laughed.

"Because I've been on my feet for six hours," I sighed as I walked back to my couch and collapsed onto it.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "Are you too tired for movie night?"

"Never," I instantly perked up. "I can order pizza. Are you done with filming?"

"I will be by the time the pizza gets to your place."

"Are you okay?" I asked when I noticed the tone of his voice change.

"I'm fine."

"Joe," I cut him off, "what's going on? You sound weird. Is everything okay at work?"

"It's fine," he tried to convince me again.

"Joe?"

"Fine," he sighed, giving in. "For some reason, I seem to be struggling this season. Not with my acting. Just with. . . everything else."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he sighed, his frustration coming through the phone. "I'm tired a lot more. And sometimes. . . I struggle to get out of bed."

"Do you think you could be depressed?" I asked cautiously. "I don't want to be overstepping my bounds, but you're my best friend and I worry about you, Joe. I know how it feels."

"What do you mean?" He asked my earlier question but with a little more panic.

"When we first moved here, art school got really overwhelming," I sighed. "I got scared. I was on my own and you were busy so I didn't want to bother you."

"You should've," he said so softly I almost missed it.

"I was about to, but then you got that call from your manager."

"What call?"

"The one where he told you that you had landed the role of Steve Harrington," I explained.

"Oh," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't tell me you were struggling."

"You didn't," I said quickly. "I could've still told you, but I didn't want to ruin your excitement."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty," I sighed. "I wanted to make sure you knew that I understand what you're going through. I want to help you."

"I appreciate that," Joe said, his voice finally lightening up. "I'll be over in about twenty minutes, okay? Want me to pick anything up on my way?"

"I'll handle the pizza," I smiled. "You grab some treats."

* * * * *

Joe and I spent the rest of the night binge-watching our favorite TV show. The entire time he was over, he was acting a little strange. He kept glancing at me, chewing his bottom lip. He only ever did that when he had something on his mind. I paused our show and turned toward him.

"What?" He laughed.

"You tell me," I said simply. "You haven't been yourself since you came over. I know that you've been struggling with work, but I feel like something else is bothering you. Something heavier."

"I guess you're not wrong," he mumbled looking at his hands instead of me.

"What's going on?" I asked gently. I reached over and grabbed his hand.

"Sometimes," he started to explain as he looked up at me, "I look at you and I can't understand how someone before me didn't see what I see. Sometimes I look at you, and I can't understand how someone before me didn't notice how beautiful you are. Sometimes I look at you and I feel lucky that someone before me didn't notice because if they had seen what I've always seen within you, then I wouldn't have been able to have a chance to love you the way I do."

"Wait," I stuttered, my voice getting caught in my throat. "I don't. . . I don't understand, Joe. You're. . . What?"

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," Joe smiled. "That's what. I've been in love with you since middle school."

"Middle school?"

"Since Ryan Anderson asked me if he could ask you out and I punched him in the middle of PE."

"Wait," I smiled, "is that why you got suspended for three days a week into eighth grade?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, his face slightly turning pink.

"I think that's adorable," I whispered.

"That I got into a fight?"

"That you got into a fight over your protectiveness for me," I said like it should've been obvious.

"Over my love for you," he corrected. That's when I realized we both have been leaning closer.

"Oh, right," I smirked. "That."

I don't know who initiated it. All I knew was his lips were pressed to mine. Joe reached up and cupped my cheek in one hand while his other gently rested on my knee. He deepened the kiss, proving his confession. I leaned fully into the kiss, neither one of us holding back.

I giggled when he pulled me over so I was straddling his hips. I broke the kiss to see him still smiling at me.

"I don't understand what has gotten into you," I whispered as I looked up at him, "but I'm not going to question it."

"It's simple," he shrugged. "I've been in love with you for so long. I can't believe I finally get to call you mine."

I bit my lip to stop the moan that almost slipped. "Call me," I whispered.

"What?"

"Call me yours."

He smirked as he closed the gap between us, pushing his hands on my back to press my body against his. He slightly rubbed our noses together as different parts of his body rubbed against mine.

"You are all mine, gorgeous," he whispered sending a chill down my spine.

I moaned as I grabbed his face and pulled his lips down to mine. We got lost in the kiss as we showed each other how much we loved each other. I broke the kiss long enough to get a few final words in before we officially crossed the line between friendship and something more.

"I don't want to be anyone else's."