Emery hated the hospital every single time he visited, and today was no exception. Emma was doing better — she'd be released tomorrow — but walking into that bedroom to find his active sister confined to a bed, glaring at her surroundings with exhausted eyes, never failed to drag his spirits down. It made no difference, how mentally prepared he'd thought he'd be for the sight. The smells didn't help — the neat clean sterility of this environment bringing back competing memories, none of them happy over the years. But visiting her at the hospital meant she was alive; he'd take all the oppressive memories he could get under the circumstances.
Today it wasn't just her surroundings she was glaring at, but him. He risked a "Hello," only to be made to feel he'd committed some unspeakable evil.
"Not talking to you. Unless you've smuggled something. Book? Phone?" His expression told her all she needed to know. "Go away then."
Her heart wasn't in it; it was just a dance they did during the single visitation hour she was allowed.
"You'll find me as unwilling to go away today as I have always been." Ignoring both the chair and the protests of the blameless fabric of his suit, he reclined on the bed next to her, careful not to disturb the wires keeping her monitored. His eyes were trained on the ceiling.
It hadn't always been a ceiling — she'd had the patience to lay underneath the stars with him, during his brief stint wanting to be an astronaut, finding the time in her busy older sister's life to learn the constellation names so she could teach him. His parents close by, too enraptured by one another in the fleeting moments of peace their children allowed them to really pay any attention to the stars. He held nothing but fond memories of that time, could still recall the warm summer breeze on his skin with perfect clarity.
"Always the stubborn brat," she replied, making a play at resentfulness.
"You'll be home tomorrow, and I know fully well I won't have any luck slowing you down. Allow me to savor this last day during which you're not trying to shed your mortal coil, if you please."
She pressed a kiss to his forehead, with a gentleness she rarely displayed these days. "Not trying to shed anything, kid. Things to do. People to terrorize. Tired of being stuck in bed."
"I know. It doesn't prevent me from wishing you'd allow yourself to rest."
"Rest? Over my dead body. Soon enough."
He forced a smile at her gallows humor. It might be selfish of him to want to keep her alive longer, but he didn't have it in him to be selfless, not in this. The point was moot. She'd do what she always did, he'd worry as he always had, and one day too soon she'd be gone. He grasped for something innocuous to say, wishing Josh had been allowed to come with him. Josh would have said something to fill the silence, something that would distract them from the sword of Damocles perpetually hanging over her head, its single hair ever closer to fraying completely. Her sole responsibility that of staying alive, but an impossible one to rise up to.
"On the subject of dead bodies and terrorizing people — have any other priests come to visit you?"
Her voice was gleeful in its malice. "None. Shame. Should have seen his face. Coward ran and never came back."
"I can appreciate the sentiment," he confessed. "You often have that effect even in me."
"Minion stuck around," she quipped, challenging. "Either I'm not that bad or you're that good." Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "We both know I'm that bad."
"You continue to make it your mission not to miss a chance to try and steer me towards Josh, don't you? There's no need." The mention of Josh never failed to bring a smile to his lips. "You are, as they say, preaching to the choir."
"Choir's uselessly passive, then."
"My apologies," he bristled. "I'll be sure to fall down on one knee and make a sweeping declaration when next I see him."
"Not your worst idea."
He could try to argue the lack of merit in such a suggestion, but he didn't have the strength. "Allow me to proceed at my own pace, Emma. If, for some mysterious reason, Josh is interested and feels it's too slow for his liking, he knows where to find me."
She didn't press the issue. "Going to put him in my will. Lawyer coming by later."
"Oh?" Emery sat up, turning to face her. He couldn't pinpoint why he felt surprised, really. She'd spent her money on people, not abstract causes, from the very moment she'd had so much as an allowance from their parents to spend on candy. And Josh was a good choice. However much money he had, from what Emery knew of him, he'd put towards charging as little as he could to those who'd need his services but couldn't afford them.
Mr. Davies had paid Josh from his own pension, and it had been anything but a fortune. Emery could have easily chosen to add to that at the time, but he hadn't known Josh then — he'd feared the man might be just another quack, preying on the grief of vulnerable people. Ironic, considering how much he'd been willing to pay by the time he'd needed to hire Josh himself.
Emma eyed him carefully, her question not loaded, for once. "You think he's a bad choice?"
"No," he was quick to reply, not bothering to hide the fondness in his voice. Josh was the best person he could think of, to be on the receiving end of a monetary gift, and Emery couldn't fault Emma for thinking the same. It was just unfortunate that it would remove from the equation the only remotely enticing thing Emery might have had to offer him. "Not at all. I think he's the best choice."
#
Emma might find his feelings for Josh endearing, Emery mused as he tried for the third time to read the same paragraph, but he found them nothing but terrifying. It was one thing to desire such an obviously handsome man, to admire him from afar; it was quite another to have the overwhelming urge to be next to him at any given moment. To feel toe-curling delight at being the one to elicit something as simple as a laugh; to want to share everything that made him who he was with Josh; to hold nothing back.
He was pathetic.
Josh had been working there for over seven months. Whatever victories Emery imagined, whatever smiles and warmth there were, were not likely to be more than the consequence of boredom. Emery had nothing to offer a man such as Josh, a fact that would become apparent to Josh as soon as he had other options available. As soon as Emma... If he tried to embark on a relationship with Josh now, would it outlive his sister? Worse yet, would Josh stay a few more months by his side out of pity?
It was better not to even attempt such a thing than to suffer the indignity.
Realizing he was staring into space, Emery dragged his eyes back to the screen. Allowing for time with his sister was a worthy reason to put off work; flights of fancy involving Josh were not. He'd always enjoyed even this part of his work — reading obscure reports on things most people would think had nothing to do with his chosen field, and using the knowledge he gleaned from that to make decisions — but today it felt unspeakably tedious.
It would all have been so easy if all he felt were desire... It always had been. There was an honesty, a simplicity to it, no resentment or unrealistic expectations from either party.
Yes, it would be simple. If only he couldn't see himself sharing an entire lifetime with Josh and never tiring of it, his journey made brighter and fuller by Josh's presence... A family, even, if that were something Josh would also want. He craved all Josh had to offer with such fierce intensity that he was left aching whenever he allowed himself to dwell on it for too long.
But he was an awkward, painfully unremarkable creature, and Josh was... Josh. Kind, generous, nurturing, and yet with such a strong backbone he'd stood up to Emery since the very first day, whenever he felt it mattered. That combination, of kindness, strength, and conviction, was rare enough, but Josh had to compound it by wrapping it into what was easily the most handsome package Emery had ever come across.
A man like that would have no use for Emery in the long run. He'd probably never have had a use for Emery even in the short run, if not for their particular circumstances. Emery knew all this.
None of it prevented him from wanting to hoard whatever he could get.
He dragged his attention back to the beginning of the sentence, managing to make it through three words before his thoughts spiraled once more out of control.
That night at the diner... If Josh weren't working with Emma, Emery would have asked him if he could kiss him. It'd been on his mind the entire drive home, the fanciful notion that he'd pull over, ask his question, and maybe, just maybe, Josh might say yes. He couldn't get Josh's smile, the look in his alluring gray eyes, out of his head. 'I'm pretty sure I'd envy my position if I weren't in it right now,' Josh had said, voice earnest and kind even as his tone turned astoundingly flirty. As if that weren't the most baffling thing Emery could have heard at that particular point.
There was always the insidious, soul-crushing notion that, even if Josh weren't under his employ, Emery could choose to escape the sting of rejection if he were content not to ask.
Was that any kind of living?
He gave up on trying to read the report for the moment, opting to open his personal inbox instead. Hope flared brightly, twisting in his gut, then was instantly quashed when he read the email. Despite the copious amounts of money he donated to research projects related to Friedreich's ataxia, the replies he received were always the same: they were years away from testing. The results, when they came, would come too late to help Emma, and all his money couldn't change that. He'd lose Emma no matter what. Within months, if he were lucky, weeks if he weren't.
Time was running out on every single thing that made his life worthwhile.
And Josh... He had nothing to offer Josh that other men couldn't offer twice as much of on a bad day. Nothing to hold his interest when the forced confinement of his house ceased being a factor. He could try to find a sliver of pride and tell himself it was time to stop shooting for the stars when his feet remained so firmly shackled to the ground. That he might go on to find someone more like himself one day, a dull creature with love of his own to give, trapped inside much like his was. Perhaps like would call to like.
Was that really all there was to look forward to? A relationship based on the lack of more enticing alternatives? Love smothered for so long it'd finally overflow and latch itself onto the next viable candidate, no matter how unappealing? No longer love at all, only the desperate desire for any form of companionship to stave off the worst of the loneliness?
Emery took off his glasses, massaging his temples to alleviate the oncoming headache. He had to deal with his feelings for Josh one way or the other — he had a responsibility towards his clients, one he couldn't shirk. Emma's earlier revelation had brought his shortcomings to the forefront of his mind, but he couldn't let that paralyze him.
He hadn't decided to love Josh. Wouldn't have chosen to fall for such an impossibly beautiful dream, if given that chance. But he'd had no agency in what he felt, only in how he acted. He had limited options and a near-infinite capacity for regret. It stood to reason, then, that regretting action would cause him less pain in the long run than regretting inaction.
He had to go through with it. Talk to Josh, lay all he had to offer on the table. Hope against hope Josh might find something in it worth giving Emery a second glance. He'd try.
Tonight.
Mind made up, he found it easier to focus on his report. He'd try, and he'd ignore whatever pain resulted from the knowledge that, even in victory, he'd be immersed in defeat.