Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Twenty-Three: Emery: A Single Madness-Induced Moment

The sound of the front door closing made Emery release a shaky breath, then another. He waited a few more minutes in his bedroom, providing ample time for Josh to return without being forced to face him, in case Josh had forgotten anything. When Emery was confident that wouldn't happen he moved to the living room, to deal with the leftovers of their ill-fated dinner. He didn't think he'd ever cook marinara sauce again in his life.

He ought to have known he was taking too many liberties with the kindness Josh had extended him. The kindness he should have repaid with restraint, rather than with the sorry display he'd put on during dinner. Josh touched him so often, so freely, and yet Emery couldn't get enough. Couldn't be content to just sit in his corner and allow it to happen as Josh willed it, no; he'd had to go out of his way to reach for more, for even the pretense of more.

Once again, he'd destroyed something good involving Josh. Emery was quite good at that.

The look in Josh's gray eyes... For a single madness-induced moment Emery had thought Josh might kiss him. What was nothing but empathy and pity, he'd mistaken for want. It elevated the concept of seeing what he wanted to see to an entirely new level.

He placed the remains of Josh's plate in a plastic container in the fridge and went back to force himself to eat what was left of his dinner, not bothering to reheat it or sit down. It was hard not to wonder if Josh would meet anyone special, tonight. If that would be the direct consequence of Emery's clumsy overreaching. And what if it were? At least he'd have brought something good into Josh's life, regardless of intent. That should be the very end result to hope for.

Why couldn't he wish for the best for Josh? Why must he be greedy, selfish?

No. He didn't want this. Didn't want to stand here, in Josh's kitchen, spiraling into an endless abyss of self-pity, this time for something he'd been the one to cause. He'd done enough self-pitying to last him several lifetimes already.

What he needed was to get his life in order sooner, rather than later. Josh had made it very clear that it would affect him personally, if Emery didn't leave in the best of conditions, and he certainly had no wish to cause Josh further pain. He could swallow down his own emotions with the same purpose he'd just swallowed the last of the pasta, and make something of himself again.

Taxes. He could do taxes. He was good at it, and there were a few places where he could advertise his services. He made quick work of washing the dishes and setting them to dry before grabbing his laptop and disconnecting it from its usual spot, opting to do his research sitting at his desk in the bedroom. It wouldn't do for Josh to come home and have to look at his face tonight.

Especially not if Josh were to bring someone home with him, Emery reminded himself, something sharp twisting inside his chest. It was just as well. Actions had consequences, and Josh's kindness sometimes made Emery forget that fundamental fact of life.

In moments like these, he felt Emma's absence all the more keenly. She'd always been there to offer wisdom and support, all his life. She'd have been able to see an angle he couldn't, to tell him how to go forward, how to control his pain, rather than letting it control him. She'd done it before — after the accident that had taken their parents' lives. After Simon... After Vincent. She'd always known just what to say to put him back together. Others might think him childish, a man of forty-three and still yearning for his big sister to fix the world for him.

Others hadn't had the privilege of having a sister like Emma, so they'd be forgiven for not understanding.

He always missed her, every day, but... Since Josh had reappeared in his life, since he'd pulled Emery from the park and forced him to start feeling again, it had been easier, somehow. 'A burden shared is a burden halved,' as the saying went, and Josh shouldered more than his fair share of Emery's burdens.

Tonight had proved how reliant he'd become on Josh and the constant comfort and reassurance he provided. No more. Josh had gone out of his way — far, far out of his way — to give Emery a life; it wouldn't do to repay that by clinging. He'd find a way to live with the ghosts of those he loved and of the decisions he shouldn't have made. Josh deserved at least that from him.

So. Taxes.

He spent the rest of the night advertising everywhere he could think of: on forums, on social media, by sending emails to the few people he still talked to. Light was already in the sky when he finally called it a night.

The front door remained closed. Emery reminded himself he should be glad, and hoped his dreams wouldn't include seeing Josh in someone else's arms.