Something Equally Nonsensical

Journeys

Prompt: "That's the part tales don't mention: how the hero, forever changed by his journey, can never fit into normal society again."

Spoilers: For all of Utterly Forgettable

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There was an ever present ache within Emery these days. It wasn't sadness — how could he be sad, when he had a level of happiness in his life he'd never have imagined possible after Emma's passing?

He had a home — one he was currently attempting to get to as speedily as possible, before the rain started in earnest —, a myriad of occupations he enjoyed, friends... He had Josh. To wish for more was the height of ungratefulness.

Despite his best efforts, it seemed he remained ungrateful. The first weeks after Josh's baffling confession had surpassed any flight of fancy Emery had ever indulged in. He could feel his heart overflowing just with the memory of those days. Josh by his side, with him, every morning, every night... Emery hadn't quite known how to process having so much all at once.

Then Josh had resumed working — as he should, as was his calling, as Emery would never begrudge him — and, while Emery's bed had grown colder, he'd had the unexpected pleasure of having Josh call him, unfailingly, every night. Josh had never called while with a client before.

It had been less than a month, that first time, before Josh had returned, shadowed eyes that spoke of dedication and loss, and Emery had had the privilege of helping him deal with the lingering hurt. Josh had prolonged his break to celebrate his birthday with Emery a few weeks later.

He hadn't been there for Emery's birthday, three months after that. He hadn't been there for Thanksgiving, might not be there for Christmas. It had been over five months since Emery had looked at his face without a screen framing it, and it was getting harder to bear.

Josh hadn't called today — hadn't called in a week. Emery would not make himself a nuisance by being the one to call, which didn't mean he didn't check his phone obsessively. The way he was doing now, as he waited for the light to turn green.

There he was, being greedy again. Wanting more than what was reasonable. He'd known what Josh's calling in life was long before he'd fallen in love with the man; there was no sense in wishing it were different.

Climbing the building's stairs returned a measure of warmth to Emery's half frozen legs. Despite the layers of clothing, early December was proving to be unreasonably cold. He had to pause for a minute outside the apartment door, taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands together, before he had enough dexterity to turn the key in the lock.

He nearly tripped over Josh's bags the minute he opened the door.

Josh was home? But where— Oh.

The man he loved sat on the floor, head on his knees, looking lost. Emery couldn't be sure he'd even noticed his entrance. He closed the door gently, not wanting to startle Josh out of his grief, then made his way closer to crouch in front of him.

"Josh? What do you need?"

This didn't feel like all the other times, even before they were together. There was something different in Josh, in the way he still wasn't looking at Emery. In the slump of his shoulders. The embrace Emery would have given died before it was more than a thought. Silence had rarely been this heavy between them; certainly never since that night in Emery's momentary studio apartment, filled with promise and heartfelt confessions.

Even as he spoke, Josh's alluring gray eyes wouldn't meet Emery's, the twist of his lips resembling anything but a smile. "Emery. Hey."

"Hey," Emery offered back. "How can I help?"