magnets | ethma

27

Ethan

I could feel the blood in my body turn cold. How did Grayson find Emma and I? What was he doing here? Was he here alone?

"Ethan," Grayson's face shifting in fear as my reaction wasn't exactly heartwarming. "Can we speak please?"

"What are you doing here?" I inch towards him, feeling Emma's eyes burn into the back of my solid head.

It felt like hot lasers sizzling through my skull. The non existent pain felt a lot more prominent than the real pain in front of me.

"That's the first thing you say!" Grayson randomly bursts. I grab his arm before anything can irrupt. The eyes of people stick on us. I move both of us into a smaller room and lock the door behind us.

"Answer my question. What are you doing here?" I spit. Sudden anger forming in the pit of my belly.

"I called, texted, I tried to reach out to you and you were a dead end Ethan. Don't ask me what I'm doing here, where were you?" He shoves me. His eyes wet.

"Gray-"

"Don't fucking Gray me. You, her- you left and everyone thinks your dead! Emma's Mother sold a story saying that you kidnapped her, killed her and then killed yourself. You're in shit and so am I..."

Everyone thinks we are dead? That I've killed Emma? It explains the saddening but shocked face Grayson had when he saw us.

"We're not dead."

"I fucking know that now, you dick!" He waves his hands around and I stood there still struggling to wrap the concept around my head.

"But bodies weren't found?" Obviously they were not Ethan.

I may have fucking back problems at my young age but I'm definitely not dead. And I definitely did not kill the love of my life. No matter how many emo freaks think that couple suicide is romantic.

"They just took the story and didn't research into much. Which is obviously sad but Emma's Mom said she didn't wanna find the bodies- the public obviously find that weird but no one cares enough. You were a menace and Emma become poor. No one cares." He shrugs.

It stung hearing that but it made sense. If it was rich blonde little Emma- things would be different.

At the end of the day people don't care about me at all due to being a little shit back when I lived with Mom and Dad.

Being away has made me realise I weren't a bad kid. I was living in a bad place. Them not searching for our 'bodies' just shows that.

Look at me now- 19, got my own apartment in New York City with my girlfriend and I provide for us both. And I do a pretty damn job at it too.

If the people back home saw me now, they'd think I did die and got resurrected as a 45 year old rich man- or as Emma's Dad.

I wonder what he thinks of this all.

"How did you find us?" I question.

"Pa came to visit me, told me to check on you. But anyway, I'm in shit. And it's because of you. So please come back home and fix it!" He growled through his teeth.

"In shit with who?" I cross my arms tight, lifting my brows in doubt.

"I'm not sure." He mumbles. Crossing his arms too.

I giggle through frustration. "You've come all this fucking way to tell me you're in shit and when I ask who... you tell me- you don't know!"

"Yes ethan! I know it's fucking stupid but I'm desperate and I'm confused and I'm fucking alone." His face pleads. "Please just come home and let everyone know your safe so that I don't die."