The Boy Without A Name

Chapter Nine

Flabbergasted, a word that Emmett could, comprehensively relate to, for the first time in the eighteen years of his existence. What he had done, was in itself, a blunder, an unfathomable mistake that he thought he'd never commit, at least not in his wildest of imaginations but it was apparently, the truth from the shocked expression of the stranger. Something had conclusively possessed him to undertake such a life-altering task, he was certain of that by now. Consent, he was taught to rather ask for consent in every little thing he'd do or had been told to do, but today, he had understandably proved his folks in their bitter judgements against him and the person he had become.

His eyes were transfixed, they were unmoving, relentlessly staring at the ground, in utter disdain and discomfort because of his previous actions. His mind was mesmerisingly muddled by the muffled silence preceded by the awkward apprehension that was dangerously looming, encircling them like some predator, preying to satisfy his thirst for some chaos that Emmett and the stranger had the misfortune to fall victim to, because of the former's transgressions transcendent in the lieu of his imperceptible actions.

Nevertheless, Emmett's misdemeanour and his said infraction had particularly taken a toll on his mental health, especially on his anxiety that was deliberately persuading him to elope from the scene that he had just caused and Emmett, was intent on following the command of his malfunctioning instincts since it was apparently the only option he was left with. Without sparing him another glance, he turned on his feet and hastily, sped away from his heart's bane, the stranger in the plain.

He was essentially a coward, he was quite aware of the fact. Countless of many times, he had the misfortune of stumbling and meddling into things that were not related to him, to even begin with. Yet, his inquisitive impersonation that resembled of a dwarf had him always tangled up in quite a mayhem, a predicament that he couldn't escape and he couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan at his affliction.

The memories of what he had precipitated, were freshly ingrained, replaying on some transcribed tape-recorder, that had catalysed some distressing moments over and over again. It was rather hard for Emmett to get him off his mind, for the tangerine like aftertaste that his rose roseate like rainberry lips had provided him with, were inbred inherently in his psyche's phenomena, aggravating him purposely, like he was secretly on Cupid's hit list, sort of.

"What in the bloody hell is wrong with me?" He exclaimed upon reaching his secluded shelter, shivering slightly in his soakingly wet clothes. Something about this felt remotely familiar, he admitted as he flung himself on the rusted bench with a sigh.

"What in the bloody hell is wrong with you, Em! Why would you do that?" Gwen reprimanded with a glare.

"I don't know, it was instinctive, I cannot recall it particularly, since I was a bit-" Emmett started but was immediately interrupted by a furious Gwen.

"Drunk, because you were drunk, Emmett. Do you have any idea as to what you have done, and how Denver is going to react, huh?" She asked sarcastically.

"I didn't and you did tell me to confess it to him that I..I love him." He took a deep breath before sighing softly.

"Yes, I did tell you to do that, but not like this, especially not in the way that you have done it, Em." Gwen gave him a disappointed glance.

"I know. I don't exactly understand how I had confiscated his phone number though, to send the recording, it just doesn't make any sense to me." Emmett sighed heavily.

"Maybe you did exchange numbers with him in your intoxicated state, you just cannot seem to remember this whilst being sober?" Gwen suggested.