The Boy Without A Name

Chapter Six

Strumming sensitively, was a chiming reverberation in an otherwise, tranquil solstice. He slowly instituted a step towards the same rusted bench, that he had the mischance of stumbling into, yesternight. There was something oddly befitting about the evening tide, Emmett couldn't help but give it a thought as he stealthily, glanced at his surroundings. Green shrubbery enveloped him thoroughly as he broke into a small smile at nature's way of soothing his psyche. Sun glimmered gloriously in the sapphire-stately sky, empyrean effulgent eminent in the paradisical hindsight. It was breathtaking, he was sure that it was a sight rarer than a shooting star and he wished to stay a little while longer but it was as if his conscious had decided to segregate itself into two, for he was tentatively torn yet he was compelled to follow after the voice which was, like a lorelei, tantalising him to take a little peek.

As his hesitant movements forwarded into a similar direction from before, he couldn't help but be dreadful of the whole situation. It was eerily implicit, he thought, he could be mugged or worse extorted to sack someone innocent? Emmett momentarily shivered at the possibility of all this before sighing to himself, he was overthinking for the umpteenth time and he couldn't comprehend as to why he was so timidly apprehensive, especially when it came to the stranger. As he neared the aged-old tree, he knew he couldn't afford to be seen, since the bench was almost adjacent to the aforementioned tree, the chances of being caught singlehandedly was too much for him to bear and there was something more, something beguiling about the stranger as Emmett stared at him again.

Tousled blackish-brown hair was disheveledly organised as if they were exhausted from being kempt. He donned a white shirt, from what Emmett could analyse since it could be easily distinguished just like an extra pair of limbs, or an extra-terrestrial being. He could barely make out his facade, and the raucous roaring sound that had nearly startled him to the extent of almost exposing him had him truly befuddled. Great, it was going to rain again, he thought. The weather seemed to be extensively bipolar, but it was nothing new, not for Emmett as opposed to the boy who shuddered at the ringing, resounding bellow from some chaotic clouds.

"Bloody hell!" He screeched, making Emmett smile at his selective choice of words.

His voice was deep and soft, just like the velvety honeydew mixed with some soothing snowfall in wintertide. Emmett was bewildered by the nameless stranger, who was apparently fiddling with his guitar, tuning the strings characteristically to sound melodious, or so Emmett had assumed. He was inherently aware of the basics when it came to the guitar or the piano, but that was all, he couldn't go any further because of the constant intrusion from his parents who absolutely disfavoured music and creativity alike. Hypocrites they were, in his opinion for creativity was profoundly prolific and sentiently fulfilling, he adored his art and writing a little too much and he had no qualms in pursuing them, he was disinterested and couldn't really care about what his parents would think of him, it sadly didn't matter, not anymore.

As soon as he heard the pitter-pattering sound, he knew he'd get drenched completely and this time, Emmett couldn't help but welcome it warmly, just like the stranger did. He had paused abruptly from strumming the guitar strings only to close his eyes and face towards the greyish blue sky in what Emmett could feel as relief and pleasure. He couldn't help but pathetically copy his actions and commit himself to the peace that was brought forth by the stormy weather. But, unfortunately, the spastic boy had slipped clumsily onto the slippery ground, which had gained much of someone's attention, to his disdain.

Horrified, Emmett wished to teleport himself to the realms of Neverland, at least Peter Pan would be able to help him escape the embarrassment that he had just caused to himself, he wordlessly hoped before clambering onto his feet and hiding behind the bushes farthest to where he was seated. The stranger, on the contrary, was frantic. He had heard the mishap and Emmett wanted to brutally slaughter himself for his apparent failure.

"Hello?" He called out as he shuffled closer to Emmett's hiding place.

He was a dead man walking, Emmett thought before mentally face-palming himself for his idiocy. He was such a dunderhead, how he sometimes loathed himself was not even a wonder, in his eyes. It was then that he realised that somehow, in the midst of concealing himself from the stranger, he had involuntarily, closed his eyes whilst impatiently waiting to be either caught or not, he wasn't so sure but as his fear subdued and combusted into curious flames of anxiety, he slowly opened his eyes. He could hear his rapid breathing, smell his enticing incense but as he peered from behind the bushes, he was floored with dubious feelings of some unfamiliar kind.

Rosy roseate aflush, lips mirroring Adonis's sanguine like spring jejunity, plush pomes of profound desire intoxicating the onlooker, enthralling with dipsomania resembling like Dionysus, he was otherwordly, a creation of Ostara. But it was his eyes that had held him ransom. Jaded gems of visceral Vili's earth, they reflected Jupiter's sanctity, purity and divinity. As the waterfalls cascaded in a flutter-flurry, Emmett was too astounded to be perplexed by the potential consequence of his unabashed, blatant stare directed towards the overwrought stranger, who was fretting and looked distraught on mistaking himself. With an aggravated sigh, he seemed to be thoughtlessly meandering, whilst Emmett followed his every action with speculated interest. He was entranced, heartlessly allured to be focussed, outrageously besotted with the wanderer of his dreams to make sense of the situation.

It was only when he was abstractedly absorbed in some pipe dream, musing like an artist's fancying, did he realise the severity of his dilemma. With widened eyes, Emmett could do nothing but furiously blink at the visage, his composed demeanour shattering as soon as he came undone.

"Oh, no!"

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Author's Note-Greetings to everyone!I know it has been quite sometime since I had last updated The Fourth Wind, but I was engrossed in writing chapters 12 and 13, hence the delay in posting this chapter. I hope that everyone's doing well and here's chapter six for y'all. Okay, question time, what do you think about Emmett's character, are his actions justifiable? Do you like or hate him, I am quite curious to know what you think of him. Well, don't forget to vote and comment, I'd love to read your views. And before I go, I would like to inform you that I'd be posting chapter seven in a while, to make up for the lack of updates, so keep your eyes peeled and I am gonna see you soon. Take care and stay safe! :)