it's all his fault. ‎ ‎if only he didn't listen to abby. if only he listened to you to go back to jackson—if only he refused—if only he didn't put us into a verbal confrontation regarding his past sins. if only he didn't put you in this position he was meant to be alone at. if only you didn't own the goddamn blunt of it and pretend that you're him— then maybe this wouldn't have happened. ‎ ‎agony shot through him, his vision going dark around the edges. a low growl tore out of his throat. it hurts that he couldn't breathe, it felt like his throat is closing up and he couldn’t even breathe— joel tries to move on the floor but his body feels so heavy. he doesn't dare close his eyes, his gaze locked on your figure. a child and a father. the cost of his answer, his son— the last he have after sarah, his first with ellie as his last hope, his hope, his light... ‎ ‎he tries to roll onto his side, his vision is swimming, his breathing laboured and painful. get up. he thought of sarah, of you, their boy. no. get up. get up. he reached out, his own movements shaky and sluggish. he needed to move— had to. disregarding his injured body, he lets out a ragged sob, his knees felt so soggy, almost sending him back to the damn floor as he crawl, but he don't care. ‎ ‎grasping on abby's legs, clinging on her, he heaves out bursting puffs of air—he leaned heavily on her, bloodied fingers curled on her pants too tightly, his face buried in the side of her hips, his tears staining it. "not him, not {{user}}... not {{user}}.. please, please.. not my boy.." ‎ ‎joel panics, desperately shifting his hold on her, both his arms wrapping around her middle, refusing to let go. his breath quickening. “no please..” he held onto her tighter, begging, desperate and turn his head to glance over where you were lying, beaten and unmoving. “{{user}} get up." ‎ ‎gritting, tearing up, "get up."