Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Nine: Emery: Something Irrevocably Outlandish

The lethargy that seeped through Emery's muscles and robbed him of strength had, for once, no emotional cause. It was the combination of physical factors — his medicine, his TB, his history of malnourishment over the last seven months — conspiring to make him need to lie down and sleep. His history of malnourishment over the last two and a half years, in all honesty — eating hadn't been a priority of his since Emma's funeral.

Emotionally he was in turmoil.

He'd spent so long, so very long, learning how not to feel, and Josh had waltzed back into his life one night and wrecked the entire endeavor with nothing but the shouting of his name. Emery despaired at how the part of him he'd been convinced he'd excised had woken up in an instant, his longing for Josh as overwhelming as it'd ever been.

At first, he'd thought it was superficial kindness, though he ought to have known Josh was incapable of it. He'd imagined Josh wanted to make a token effort to give him one good, warm, fed, comfortable night before sending him on his way, most likely with enough money in his pocket to attempt a fresh start.

He'd wanted none of it, but he'd found himself enthralled by the possibility of spending a few more minutes with Josh, of being in his presence, of breathing the same air. That need warred with the humiliation of allowing Josh to continue witnessing what Emery had become. He'd only wished he could make out his features clearly enough to remember, to take that moment with him and be gone. It had been worse than merely feeling; the bigger problem had been that he'd found himself wanting to feel.

Josh's effect on his heart and mind had always defied all logic, and this time had been no different.

Even the lice crawling through Emery's hair and beard hadn't deterred Josh from helping him, from taking him home, from bathing him, from... Touching him. Freely, with no terms or demands, just gentle, caring hands on his skin, as he hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

He'd never stood a chance, really.

How a man who ought to hate him for the hurt he'd caused could go out of his way to extend him this level of kindness, Emery didn't know. What he did know, knot forming in his throat as he took in his surroundings for the umpteenth time, was that Josh had spared no expense in his attempt to make Emery feel welcome. No, it was more than that. It wasn't a matter of expense, it was a matter of care. The glasses, the way he'd thought to track down his doctor, to give him back his sight... Emery couldn't even bring himself to feel ashamed at the tears that had formed in his eyes in front of Josh.

He'd thought it cruel, that night in the park, that he'd face Josh without truly being able to see him; Josh had offered him that back, instinctively knowing, with no need for Emery to ask. He was still as handsome as Emery remembered, if not more so. Absence made the heart grow fonder, or so they said, but Emery's heart had been in no condition to feel in Josh's absence. In his presence, though, it was all it could do.

It was more than Josh's height, more than the broad shoulders and the toned body; more than the agility and grace of a man that was also undeniably strong; more than the shoulder-length dark-blond hair Emery longed to run his fingers through, or the unusually beautiful light gray of Josh's eyes. It was the perpetual kindness in those eyes, the warmth of his easy smile. It was the way he looked when Emery's mouth was faster than his brain, when he ended up saying something irrevocably outlandish; that amused, judgment-free surprise that Emery found himself trying to coax out of him. It was the way he slanted his eyebrows when making a point, or how deeply he cared. How much better he made the world around him.

It was nothing so definable that it would have required the use of Emery's sight, but he couldn't deny that being able to see Josh again had only served to remind him of how deeply he loved Josh still. Emery had never imagined Josh could care for him in even the most cursory of ways, after how Emery had hurt him.

His fingers were clumsy unbuttoning his brand new coat — the coat Josh had bought for him. Feeling woozy, he divested himself of the rest of his clothes and folded them with care, setting them on a chair before opening the drawer containing sleepwear. Flannel, jersey, and cotton. Cotton, implying Josh not only didn't mind Emery being here that long, he expected it. Not a single pair of sweatpants anywhere, as if Josh knew Emery would hate the mere sight of them, after being forced to wear them in the wake of losing his trousers. Without having a clue as to the circumstances behind it.

How could Josh know him so well, when he'd failed Josh so thoroughly?

There were other clothes, several drawers, and a wardrobe filled with items that weren't just insulating and practical. Clothes that had been purchased with Emery in mind, by someone who knew him, who understood him. Clothes that were not simply warm and comfortable, but stylish. A nod to the tailored suits Emery had once worn, his suit of armor of old, to distract from his blandness. The bed was freshly made, with inviting high-thread-count sheets and an eiderdown that would ensure Emery would never feel cold.

His brand new glasses were speckled with tears he couldn't swallow.

Josh had brought warmth to every corner of Emery's life, and he didn't know how he'd cope with the loss once he overstayed his welcome. For now his body demanded sleep, even if a part of his mind rebelled against it, terrified of waking up to discover none of this had been real. He ought to have closed the bedroom door, but he was too tired to get out of bed once he remembered that.

He slept.

#

His sleep was troubled — it always was, these days, plagued by unwelcome memories of the last seven months, his brain refusing to shut down and afford him a semblance of peace — but he welcomed it. Every time he woke he felt the bed beneath him, the warmth above him, and he was reminded of whose house he was in, who had gone to all these pains to welcome him, and the cacophony of feeling assaulted him anew.

The bed was messy every time he woke, sheets wrinkled, eiderdown tossed aside, or close to falling. He tried to tidy it up every time, but the level of exhaustion he was feeling meant he wasn't very effective at it; there were several times where he fell back asleep without having managed to move a muscle.

And then he woke with Josh in the room. Josh, who was pulling the eiderdown up to cover Emery's shoulders, tucking him in before walking out.

Emery knew then he'd never close that door again.

#

He barely saw Josh.

That wasn't technically true — he saw Josh at every mealtime without fail, when Josh would come in the bedroom to bring him a tray of easily digestible food that wouldn't make his drug-induced nausea flare up; he saw Josh whenever he had to take his medication, or when Josh would escort his friend Mark to Emery's bedroom, so that his health could be appraised.

None of that counted as actually seeing Josh, though. Emery missed him — how could he not? — but he understood. It wouldn't be easy for Josh, living with the burden that was Emery, with having someone who'd hurt him so deeply live in his home.

He ought to have let the matter lie, but something — whether wishful thinking or insight, Emery couldn't tell — nudged him in the back of his mind. What if Josh, for whatever ridiculous reason, wanted to see him? What if he were just giving Emery the space he thought Emery needed? What if he'd welcome the company, not as wholeheartedly as he once had, yet genuinely nonetheless?

There was a strong case to be made for Emery not forcing his presence on him, but if there was a chance that wasn't how Josh would see it, then... Josh deserved it. That Emery be the one to reach out, to expose himself, to suffer the sting of rejection if that was the inevitable result. Josh had earned that from him.

Wiping the fog from his glasses and adjusting the mask on his face, Emery summoned the aura of confidence he'd so effortlessly projected in the past and walked in the living room. He wasn't going to hide from whatever emotions were lying in wait anymore.