Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Ten: Yet Here You Are Anyway

The reality of living with Emery turned out to be far more peaceful than the nightmare Josh had envisioned. It helped that Emery was in recovery, weak from his time living on the streets and adjusting to a harsh cocktail of antibiotics. There was little energy left for arguing every detail.

Despite that, he was on the mend: he had a healthier coloring, he was awake for longer periods of time, he regained some weight... It was a thing of beauty. Josh tried not to check in on him too often, past bringing him his meds and some food, but most nights he found himself stealing into the bedroom and adjusting the covers so Emery would always be warm.

Well.

If Emery had something against that he wouldn't sleep with his bedroom door ajar.

Mark went above and beyond, regularly making visits to check up on Emery regardless of his opinion; he was instrumental in putting Josh's worries to rest. Things with Michelle were progressing well; Josh hadn't met her yet, but there were things about her that made her seem an excellent fit for Mark, such as the fact that she was as likely to go with him to an art show as to set up a date in a bowling alley. Mark was enjoying keeping her for himself a little longer, and he found ways to schedule their game nights so they'd be date-free after that first time.

Josh was the one who didn't go. He didn't tell Emery — he wasn't insane enough to court an argument — and Mark, for once, didn't needle, respecting that Josh didn't feel at peace leaving Emery alone yet.

All these changes to Josh's routine had left him floundering. He spent too much time at home and not entirely comfortable in it — worrying about making noise, wondering if he should interact more with Emery, or if they ought to interact even less. There was no manual for this sort of thing and, with their history, he had a hard time compartmentalizing.

In the end, against all his expectations, it was Emery who put him out of his misery, venturing from his bedroom to the living room on a Saturday afternoon. Josh couldn't deny that seeing Emery — with his ever-present mask despite barely coughing these days — out of bed was a bright spot in his week.

"Hey," Josh greeted, always eloquent. He was never as critical of his ability with words as when Emery was the one he compared himself to.

"Josh." Emery sat down on the sofa, less wobbly on his feet than the week before, turning to face him. "There's something I've been wondering."

"Oh?"

"Is the reason you've been avoiding me like the plague because of my sparkling personality, or because you don't think I'd welcome your company? Or," he added before Josh could reply, "is it because there's a case to be made that I do have a modern-day version of the plague?"

Josh was helpless to resist the laughter so casually wrenched out of him. It was liberating after the past three weeks, to not feel suffocated in his own home. "The second option," he replied as the corners of Emery's eyes crinkled, "definitely the second one."

"Allow me to disabuse you of that notion then. I would enjoy it tremendously if you were to make some popcorn, get whatever sugary aberration you drink these days, and we could watch something; I'll endeavor to tune out the unseemly sound of your chewing."

This, from the man who considered Josh's love of energy drinks a lapse in judgment, and who'd always had a fierce dislike for people who ate popcorn while he was trying to absorb whatever was going on onscreen. Josh felt unreasonably moved by the suggestion.

TB was still taking its toll on him; he fell asleep on the sofa halfway through the movie. Sitting beside him with a respectable gap between them, Josh munched on his popcorn, paying more attention to Emery's sleeping features than to the TV.