The Boy Without A Name

Chapter Fifteen

"Emmett Anderson." He mused.

"Denver Hemmings." Emmett responded, mirroring his gleam.

"I never thought I'd fall for you, Anderson." Denver confessed, softly caressing his cheek with his hand.

"But I'd rather fall for you than anyone else, Denver." Emmett admitted, leaning into his touch.

"That is a good point, I'd call you cheesy but then I'd be lying to myself if I wasn't feeling the same." He chuckled.

"What made you fall for me?" Emmett pondered.

"I could ask you the same." He was quick to deflect.

"But my poem was sufficing in its elaboration, wasn't it?" Emmett retorted.

"More than that, Anderson. But let's not waste time by talking, for I have it all planned." He moved closer to him.

"You do? I thought it was supposed to go my way." Emmett couldn't but sharply exhale at his  proximity.

"Not quite. We are a team, aren't we?" He lowered his voice, brushing away some of Emmett's curls from his face as he observed him.

"Yes, we are. But I don't understand. What more could we possibly do than this?" Emmett referred to their present activities.

"Well, Anderson. How about I show you?" He quirked a brow, smirking at the hesitant boy.

"Then I'd say, Hemmings, bring it on," Emmett commented a bit smugly, feeling somewhat confident.

"I have taught you well then. You've become notoriously troublesome for your own good and I like that." He looked proud of him.

"It's the effect that you have on me." Was all Emmett could say in response.

"Do I?" He asked curiously.

"Very much so." Emmett nodded.

"Would you consider showing it to me? I'd like myself a little demonstration, to be honest." He suggested with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Is that your way of asking me to kiss you?" Emmett already recognised that particular look.

"Maybe, you'd have to find it out then!" He simply said.

"Maybe, I'd like that." Emmett copied him.

"Maybe, I'd want that." He leaned in.

"Maybe, I need you." Emmett leaned in too.

"Maybe, I need you too." Denver only gazed into his eyes.

"Maybe then," Emmett mumbled out.

"Maybe it is." He said before crashing into him.

Faces, distinguished, distantly forlorn identity masks, that held a resemblance to something Emmett had only known once, flashed fluorescently through the galleria of his mind as he reminisced the love that he had held for him, once upon a time. The silhouette of the love that had marked his soul was but a semblance of bliss restored on the isle of never-endings that Emmett had believed himself to presume, a shingle imbricated to soothe the dilemmas swathed into his self-deprecated self-worth rather gratingly than he had thought. Yet it had happened once upon a time, Emmett had to remind himself of where he was now, he had quite moved on from Denver and despite being fuelled by an affection too strong to be carried forth as love, he had to let him go.