The Boy Without A Name

Chapter Seventeen

Lingering, lumbering moments of staggering lonesomeness were turning tumultuous, a helter-skelter situational hiccup that was left behind by something nettlesome, nestling underneath an emotion intermittently reflecting upon his languish for the bewitching, belittling indignation, defaming him of his calibre, coaxing him to belabour; love.

Love, Emmett was insanely interested in ignoring this phenomenon which, according to him, was but, a mesmerising misery interceded as something heavenly. Surely, he knew what it could do if reciprocated but the boy, was never so fortunate. Yet again, he was traumatised by his inherent disposition and incapably, hoped for him to come. But what would he say to him? Could he possibly set himself up for the repudiation of his selfishly immersed and intriguing fancy notions, set apart by the apparent love that he held for him or would he forever hold his silence? Guileful, the working of an ingenious mind was famed to be adept in the comprehensive approach of some chemical senses, resourceful to the extent of stimulating a sensible solution but Emmett couldn't think straight, as he was overwhelmed by these resurfacing emotions that had him undeniably knackered.

"Daydreaming now, are we?" His sweet, symphonic voice was enough to reel him in.

"Sorry...I didn't realise-" Emmett stuttered out.

"That I have been stalking you since the past five minutes?" He interrupted him, giving him a sly glance.

"Well, yes. I apologise for doing that to you, I didn't mean it." Emmett offered him a hesitant smile. 

"I know you didn't but do you want to know something, grey eyes?"  He quipped. 

"Yes?" 

"I am slowly going insane."

"I don't understand." Emmett blinked at his  statement. 

"You wouldn't ever understand, darlin'. Feelings, they are a deliberate, delectable source of our inner desires. We are insatiable, but if you'd want to pinpoint that blame on something, then hurl it all on 'em. Because they make us who we are, too and I guess, what I have been trying to tell you mirrors my sentiments. In an arcade of arbitrary and irrational words, I want to say that I do feel for you strongly, and it seems to be possessing my thoughts lately, like amnesia, I do not know what to do, or what to think except you, and only you, grey eyes, is that not strange?" He confessed, with hands clasped together as he gauged Emmett's face for a possible reaction to his words. 

Breathlessly winded, Emmett was left thunderstruck by his implied confession. He was breathless, ambiguously gaping at him, with inquisitive eyes, as if he was desperate to find something of a loophole in this, for he could be playing charades with him, and he couldn't present himself to be so gullible in front of him, Emmett thought to himself, blatantly refusing to believe his ears. Without offering him a chance to speak, he bolted towards his safe-shed, adamant on leaving the boy of his dreams behind since he couldn't fathom the thought of being loved, let alone by him.

"Grey eyes! Please, do not leave me. I did not mean to hurt your feelings, just stop. Stop!" He was quick to catch onto Emmett's cowardice, as he confronted him, this time with a much-determined stance.

"Let me go," Emmett mumbled out.

"Absolutely not! I did not expect you to do this, darlin'. I thought that you'd be-" He started but was instantly interrupted by Emmett. 

"That I would be ecstatic, elated to hear your confession? I can't do this. I urge you to leave me alone, I am quite exhausted." Emmett exaggerated whilst moving away from him.

"Give me a reason then." The boy demanded, eyes fuelled by a rage that was not unknown to him.

"What?" Emmett questioned.