Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Twenty-Six: Emery: Blatantly Unfair On A Cosmic Scale

It was lunchtime before the front door opened to admit Josh. Emery didn't need a bigger hint than that, that the night had gone well for him. Not that Emery's night hadn't gone well, albeit in a different sense — he'd just gotten off the phone with someone who might need to retain his services.

"Josh," he acknowledged, stilted. The rapport they'd built over the last few months had vanished without a trace.

Josh seemed as ill at ease as Emery felt. "Emery," he replied in the same vein.

This was usually where Emery would ask if Josh wanted to eat something, but the thought of dredging up the previous night's marinara sauce was enough to make him nauseous. He sat, suspended, not knowing what to do. Turning back towards his laptop would look dismissive; maintaining his eyes on Josh, failing to resist the urge to search for signs his clothes had been hastily shed the previous night, would be contemptible.

Moved to action, Josh disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Emery to wonder if he ought to remain at the counter or hide in his bedroom once again. He didn't so much make up his mind as he ran out of time — less than half an hour went by before Josh reemerged, bags packed.

"I'm going to a client tomorrow, but, I'm, erm... not staying tonight. Call if you need anything while I'm gone."

The previous night must have gone better than well, for Josh to sleep elsewhere for two nights in a row. Emery hated the kind of empty pain he felt, hearing the door close.

He couldn't stay home right now, couldn't eat the remains of a dinner that had cost him so much, or force himself to cook while knowing Josh would have been there pestering him for leftovers, if the night had gone differently. A walk through the neighborhood would do him well, he decided as he closed his laptop and fetched his keys.

The keychain Josh had made for him never failed to bring a smile to his lips, or to bring to life an impossible ache mixed in with yearning. He ran his fingertips over it in a caress, wishing he could go back to that night in his office and do everything differently.

Unrequited love tended to be blatantly unfair on a cosmic scale. Two people at different moments in their lives, wanting different things, except what one of them wanted was the other one. No one's fault. A joke, made at the expense of humanity by an indifferent universe.

Love that was only unrequited because one person had destroyed any hope for it was much harder to stomach. Much harder to move past. It was someone's fault — his own. Some days he had the horrifying impulse to go to Josh, to ask if there would ever be a conceivable chance of earning his forgiveness. How could there be, when Josh wasn't interested in an apology, when he refused to ever revisit the subject?

No. His decision from the previous night felt clearer, solidified overnight. Emery wouldn't repay Josh's kindness by turning what was already an awkward cohabiting situation into an untenable one. He'd already driven him to seek a client before he was well and truly ready. His overly needy behavior stopped here.

His thoughts always turned circular where Josh was concerned. Today would be different.

Emery had always been good at planning, at devising winning strategies. Grief and listlessness had made him lose sight of that for too long, but Josh had offered him a second chance at life, at everything but a romantic relationship with him. He was going to take that chance with both hands, starting now.

On his very first morning here, Josh had mentioned how Emma had never had a choice. Emery had been too numb to really let the words sink in, but they'd stuck with him regardless. He had to be worthy of being the one to have lived. That meant more than surviving, more than financial independence and an existence trapped in a self-imposed bubble, removed from all that might hurt.