Emotional Boys 2000

41

Friday rolled around after the market continued to completely tumble out of control. To no one's surprise at all, I and dozens of other workers were laid off, just from my brokerage alone. They said if we're open to it, we would be welcomed back when finances were better, but as of right now, having the staff is too expensive. We all saw it coming.

I don't care, I reached out to Marshall for a reason. 

It was time to do something more exciting with my life anyways, whatever the fuck that is. I want to feel fulfilled, and I don't know if I've ever experienced what that's like. I just want to be satisfied, not in a desperate search for something I can't grasp. Maybe that's love with Marshall, maybe that's slipping away from the economic hub of the world, slipping away from the capitalistic mayhem. 

I don't know how I could have ever found contentment, fulfillment, or satisfaction in the fabrics of luxury suits, or the confines of a bathroom stall, getting high on something that would only last minutes, or the idea of being just barely seen as equal to the male gender amongst my emasculated peers. 

I spent most of the lavish private jet flight pondering these concepts. Contentment is the concept of being in a state of happiness and satisfaction, but it feels much harder to come by, though being more long-lasting. Pleasure is the quick fix, the bump of coke, or the cheap orgasm... I don't exactly know where chasing pleasure has gotten me, but it definitely didn't bring me to a place of contentment. 

Watching the cars go by around my confines in the limo Marshall sent me, I wondered if calling him was the right move. 

It had to have been, there was no more monumental of a point in the several-year period without him that it would have been more appropriate to type out his familiar yet distantly used numbers.  

"We'll be there in ten minutes ma'am" voice fuzzy, unclear yet still understandable, I mentally encapsulate the idea that in ten minutes, I'll be essentially seeing the love of my life again after almost three years. 

I'm just so nervous to see how Marshall is doing. Given the whole drug situation and the rehab... I'm anxious to finally set eyes on him again. I haven't visually changed all that much, although I feel I've definitely had a change of heart about my job... obviously. I feel as if I've got a new outlook on the concept of work, one I'm sharing with my old self. The one back in Detroit, the one who was freshly an adult, preparing herself to head into college. 

The old me didn't care about the brands in her closet, or what restaurant she went to, or what class of people she was seen with, even if they were mid-numbingly insufferable. 

She kind of just wanted to have fun... feel content... feel as if she was spending her time in a worthy way, and feel as if she's got control of her life. 

Ah well, I don't know if I could ever really be in control, all I can really hope for is the mental freedom, not surrounding myself any longer with the suffocating feeling of battling for economic supremacy. I feel as if I've just been battling myself, though utterly pointless and emotionally exhausting. I've never fought a greater war than the one with myself, fighting myself for the right to be content. 

"Mr. Mathers will most likely be in the gym, it's where he's spending most of his time" pulling up to his house, I watch as the grand metal gates slowly open automatically, displaying to me how my arrival was expected. 

I feel as if I'm choking down the anticipated butterflies in my stomach, attempting to spill up through my throat and out my mouth. I grab the door handle, releasing myself from the luxurious vehicle, legs extending fully, nipped at harshly by the cold of Detroit Autumn. Yeah, I thought it would be a good idea to wear a slip to try and visually signify the changing of chapters in my life. 

"Thank you" I let slip out, one arm wrapping around my chest as I use the other to snatch up my suitcase from the floor of the large backseat. 

Holy fuck, I'm back here... after years that felt like minuscule seconds. 

My feet carry me up to the large double front doors I'm familiar entering through, though my mind still feels like it's trapped inside the private jet, unable to comprehend I'm seeing him again. Well, life keeps moving I guess, whether you choose to stay on the platform or get on the train. 

He knows I'm coming, given the fact that the door was left unlocked, a bit risky for Eminem, but it still fills me with this sense of home, as if I'm meant to open this door and keep pursuing him. 

The foyer is empty, depressing me slightly, though leaving little surprise, I was told after all that he would most likely be in the gym. 

The handle of my suitcase slips from my hand slowly, letting the small baggage press onto the cold tile floor. I look around, trying to conjure up the memory of where his gym would be, I don't think I ever actually went into it. 

"Esdeath" head turning swiftly, my eyes go from the staircase to the living room entrance, watching the man I came here for running up to me shirtless, skin subtly glistening with sweat. 

All that I'm able to notice in the short time is how good he looks, shocking me slightly. Hair dark brown, its original state, though still buzzed like always, and his physique is better than perfect. 

I feel my heart slam up and down, wanting to burst out of my chest as his arms slip around me swiftly, pulling me up off the ground as he grips me harshly. I feel tears brim my eyes softly, my body going limp in such authentic shock, unable to comprehend how suddenly happy I feel.

I feel as if this distance between us has only given us a reason to love each other even harder...

he starts laughing nervously, as if equally unable to process this moment either, sobs sounding from his throat faintly. He places me back down, though not letting me go from the hug. "I'm sorry I'm all gross, I was just working out and- fuck, after almost three years I think I somehow feel even more hopelessly in love with you" he sniffles quietly, drawing back slowly, placing his forehead on mine, grinning innocently at me, hands resting on my neck, hot thumbs tracing over the contrast of my slightly chilled skin. 

I can't help but crack a large smile back at him, bringing my arms around him, cupping the sides of his face, tracing over the cheek of someone I've missed more than I've ever missed anything in my life. "I can't even express how happy I am, it was worth every minute, I wouldn't change this moment for the whole world" I tear up, even more, vision going slightly blurry as I watch his perfectly rosy lips lean in, capturing mine for the first time in years.

I've spent most of my life up to this point with Marshall at the forefront, as much as I tried to deny it. I have no desire to stop denying myself of someone whom I love so much, someone who loves me possibly more than I can comprehend a person loving someone like me. 

He's the one that I'm crazy about. He's the one I think of every day, the one I'm falling for every day. The one person I can be a genuine human with. Every rock or crumbling battle between us... it's all been worth it. 

His lips devour mine, trying to make up for lost time, seemingly. I can't help but try to do the same, hands on his face trying to him in closer than possible. Our tongues are desperate for one another, attempting to speak without words, attempting to explain how much we've missed one another with the small gesture of the messy kiss. 

"I..." lips coming off of mine for a second before joining and parting mine again, "don't want..." feverish desperate pressing of lips, "you leaving..." tongues colliding momentarily, "ever again." 

I'm never going to leave him ever again, fuck the apartment, fuck all my belongs, nothing can possibly be better than the feeling of another person wanting you more than anything, the feeling of another person wanting to latch on to you and never let you go because just like they are for you, you're the best thing that's happened to them.