Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Forty-Five: You Know Nothing 1/4

A little less than four years ago, Josh had walked out of Emery's house with every intention never to lay eyes on him again. Today Emery was walking out of Josh's apartment, and Josh could only hope they'd keep in touch. It wasn't supposed to be the end of them — they'd become friends, and if he meant no more to Emery than Tony did, then in theory he meant no less — but he couldn't know for sure. Josh wouldn't force the issue and, if even a fraction of Emery wasn't convinced he'd be welcome, neither would Emery.

It was entirely possible they'd miss one another while never seeing each other again.

He was proud of Emery for what the move meant, proud of everything he'd overcome, from living on the streets to being able to afford the studio. He knew Emery — this was a good thing, and it would be nowhere near his ceiling.

Josh tried to tell himself it would be a good thing for himself as well. He needed to start mourning the relationship he'd never had, and doing it with Emery in the house had proved impossible. Logic told him this was the best outcome.

The pain that lanced through him as he was loading all of Emery's bags and boxes in the car knew nothing of logic.

Emery had given back his key but not his keychain, Josh realized with an aching smile. One final look around the lifeless apartment confirmed Emery hadn't left anything behind. Nothing he'd need, at any rate, Josh thought bitterly.

Fuck.

Enough self-pity. They were going to be late for lunch.

#

There was at least one deity on Josh's side, he decided, when Tony the bedhead called to say he was stuck sorting something out at the shelter and couldn't make it to lunch. It was bad enough to watch Emery's interactions with the man from afar; to be forced to sit through an entire lunch of it would have been medieval torture.

Everyone else was there — Mark and Michelle, Zoe, Dan (who, for the first time in weeks, looked at Josh with something closer to empathy than anger) and Sam — and what was meant to be a couple of hours turned into more.

Several hours later they'd all gone their separate ways and it was just Josh, Emery, and several boxes to unpack. Josh wouldn't have had it any other way.

They only made it through a few essentials before acknowledging how late it'd become. The gross of the unpacking would have to be done tomorrow, which suited Josh just fine: it was the perfect excuse to offer his help and spend another day delaying the inevitable.

He wasn't very good at this moving on business, he mused over the dinner Emery had cooked. Josh didn't know if it meant anything to Emery, but it did to Josh, that the first meal Emery cooked and ate in his own space had been shared with Josh.

It tasted like goodbye.

Josh helped clear the table, lingering as much as he could without making it obvious. So much effort to find Emery this place, and now here he was, dawdling like a lovesick fool; it was beyond ridiculous. They'd often done chores side by side, either amid friendly conversation or comfortable silence, but, tonight, there was no comfort to be had. He had to stop. If he rinsed the dishes any more thoroughly they'd disintegrate, and this— he had to stop.

"Guess I'll be going," he announced, voice unnaturally high with fake cheer as he placed the last fork in the drawer. "Call me tomorrow and I'll come help with unpacking, okay?"

"Thank you. I might take you up on that offer." Emery's eyes were warm but there was something in them, something guarded. "Though it may not be necessary to bother you. Tony has also offered his assistance, and you've wasted an entire day on this move already."