Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Two: As Though Cerberus Were At Your Heels (1/2)

Belvedere Castle.

Murphy's Law at its finest — it couldn't have been somewhere close to one of the entries, no, Josh thought as he flew through the brightly-lit main paths of Central Park. He'd double-parked next to the Natural History Museum and had no idea whether the car would still be there, once he went back with Emery, but if it got towed he'd deal with that tomorrow. Right now nothing was as important as finding Emery. The twisting feeling that had taken residence in the pit of his stomach from the moment Josh had seen him on TV hadn't abated one iota.

He scanned the area surrounding the castle, but Emery was nowhere in sight. Mark had cost him too much time — of course Emery wasn't there anymore. The park was huge and he could be anywhere. Shoeless, clearly hurt, hungry and alone, on an autumn night that could have passed for winter.

Climbing to the top of the castle to get a better view wouldn't help, not at night. Josh didn't stop — couldn't stop; a single moment might be the difference between finding Emery or losing him for good. His chest hurt, a stabbing pain all the way to his throat that robbed him of breath and made his vision blurry.

Emery wouldn't have stayed on open ground once the reporter left. He'd have wanted to get away to where he couldn't be found again. But he couldn't have run - not if his gait on TV was any indication. How far could he have gotten like that in half an hour?

The Ramble. That had to be where he'd fled to. Alone, at night, Josh's mind kept repeating as he raced into the wooded area. An icy wind whipped his hair into his eyes, making him shiver despite his warm clothes and the physical exertion. Emery must be freezing, and here Josh was, wasting time with no clear direction in mind. He pulled his hood up and tightened it: he couldn't afford hair in his eyes right now.

The lamps were few and ever further apart, until there were none at all to provide the barest hint of light. In the inky darkness, Josh couldn't see his hand in front of his face, let alone anything else. He fumbled with his phone to turn the flashlight on, managing not to drop it by sheer luck, and still the most it illuminated was the ground directly in front of him.

The Ramble was eerie at night, the cascading sound of the Gill the only comfort in a place where Josh couldn't see a soul, yet knew he wasn't alone. He'd never find Emery like this. Not if Emery didn't want to be found, and especially not if he didn't know Josh was looking for him. Abandoning common sense, he left the path in a random direction, calling out Emery's name.

Why hadn't he checked in on Emery when he heard about the trial? Yes, the way they'd left things hadn't been the best, but he'd known how Emery didn't have anyone else when they'd parted ways, after the funeral — why hadn't he done the decent thing and at least found out if he had a roof over his head?

It was so cold out here... If anything happened to Emery — No. He'd find him. Nothing else was an option. "Emery!"

A tree hit his left shoulder out of nowhere, pain blossoming and leaving him reeling from the impact. It was lucky his phone was in the other hand. Josh couldn't keep running without a destination; he had to think. Telling where he'd come from was impossible by now — he'd gotten turned around in the dark, barely knew up from down, let alone left from right.

He stopped for a moment to draw air into his abused lungs, folding in on himself with one hand braced on his leg for support, wheezing. He was used to jogging every night, should have known how to control his breathing, but sprinting through the park, half-blind and sick with worry, made him struggle to catch his breath. "Emery! Emery, it's Josh. Winters, Josh Winters."

There were other people in these woods — Josh could feel their presence. One of them had to be Emery. Giving in to despair, he overcame the need for air as he bellowed at the top of his burning lungs, "Emery! Emery, where are you? EMERY! EMERY!"

A dry coughing sound from somewhere behind him made him turn, but he still couldn't see. He pointed his flashlight to the ground, moving it upwards once it hit the ruined socks of another person. He didn't want to blind whoever it was, especially not if there was a chance it could be Emery.

The light revealed a pair of ugly sweatpants, and whatever brief flare of hope Josh had had was quashed. Emery wouldn't be caught dead wearing sweatpants.

But then, "Be silent. This is not a place where you'd want to go yelling at night."

Emery. Josh went weak at the knees. He'd found him. Emery was here, haughty and impatient regardless of his predicament. Josh would know his voice anywhere, despite the cough and how long it had been. His vision swam with the comforting familiarity of it; he suspected the hardest part was yet to come, so he'd take whatever comfort he could get. His throat worked, but it took him a few moments for it to form anything other than jagged gasps. "Em... Emery."

"Josh," Emery replied, as casually as if they'd ran into one another at a coffee shop.

"Emery," Josh repeated, words failing him now that he had Emery in front of him, "I saw you on TV."

"And now you've seen me in person," Emery rasped, in between bouts of coughing, "so feel free to leave."

There it was. The stubbornness that defined him hadn't taken long to make an appearance. "No, I haven't. I can't see a thing. Can we go somewhere else? Please."

"What are you doing here, Josh?"

"Trying to see your face, for starters. Can we please go where there's light? Or," he continued, anticipating resistance, "I can keep right on yelling while you walk away from me, if you'd rather?"

"If you'd do that here I have no choice but to conclude the years haven't been kind to your intellect," was Emery's unflappable reply.

Emery hadn't lost his touch — he could still wrench helpless laughter out of Josh with a straight face. Or what Josh assumed was a straight face, considering his phone was still pointed at Emery's ankles. "Want to prove you're the grownup and go with me somewhere else, then?"

He suspected Emery would have offered a long-suffering sigh, if he hadn't been busy coughing. As things were, he simply said, "Very well. Follow me."

Josh would have gotten lost — or rather, he'd have remained lost — if not for Emery, who could apparently navigate better in the dark than Josh ever could during the daytime. He made his slow way through the twisting paths, his shoeless feet hindering him, but he never stopped to figure out where he was going. Soon they were out of the winding paths and onto the main one, street lamps making a timid appearance; Josh put his phone away in his pocket and sped up to walk side by side with Emery, drinking in the sight of him at last.

The first thing he noticed was that Emery wasn't wearing a jacket; he was dressed in the torn remains of what Josh could only guess had been one of his tailored shirts and a pair of ugly sweatpants two sizes too big. His usually impeccably shaved face now sported an overgrown unkempt beard that somehow only emphasized the weight he'd lost. He'd always been a thin man, but now he was downright gaunt. His face was bruised, the crusted blood near his eyebrow a likely clue as to why he wasn't wearing his glasses.

Emery couldn't see without his glasses, Josh remembered, a knot forming in his throat. How long had he been out on the streets without even being able to tell expressions apart?

Emery halted as Josh made to unzip his jacket. "Do not."

"It's freezing, and your shirt's seen better days," Josh pleaded. "Mine's warm enough for a bit."

"It's freezing," Emery echoed, "and you were just running as though Cerberus were at your heels. Exposing yourself to this temperature when the sweat hasn't even cooled is asking to catch your death."

There was no arguing with him on the best of days, and Josh had bigger battles to pick. He dropped his hand from the zipper, hoping it would only be a little longer before Emery was safely in the car. If the car hadn't been towed or stolen — Josh couldn't remember if he'd locked it.

Emery sat on a long narrow bench opposite a lamplight, gesturing for Josh to sit as he once had in his office, whenever they had something to discuss. Instinct told Josh to maintain his distance as he complied.