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."
'Might' — just as he might not, because Tony was coming to the rescue. Josh hated how empty inside he felt when this was the outcome he'd wanted for Emery since he'd raced to Central Park to get him, that cold November night well over a year ago. A life, a real life, with enough happiness in it that it was worth being lived rather than endured.
Josh was supposed to be learning something from this too, wasn't he? A lesson about acting differently with the next man he fell in love with, before things shattered beyond hope? Supposed to or not, he didn't want it.
This yearning, this anguish, this complete devastation Emery caused by simply moving on with his life? Josh would be glad to never feel this powerless again in his lifetime.
He swallowed, all-too aware of Emery's curious stare. Josh was standing there, musing on the nature of love, instead of saying his goodbyes, while Emery was waiting for him to leave. How fucking poetic.
"Yeah, I... okay. But call me anyway, if you want to. I have nothing better to do than help you unpack, really."
Right. Because what he needed was to broadcast Emery had been most of his world for sixteen months. He made to extend his hand, realized how idiotic that would be just in the nick of time, and pulled Emery into a brief hug instead.
It was all kinds of strange, nothing like the way they used to hold each other, and it was over too soon, but it was done. The awkwardness Josh felt was mirrored in Emery's eyes.
This would be the moment to leave. The door was right there. Except...
During all the time they'd shared an apartment, Josh had never seen Emery date anyone. There'd been the coffee with the bedhead, but Emery hadn't been any different with him than he was with Josh, which probably meant the bed— Tony's hopes had fallen by the wayside. It wasn't Josh's place to comment, but he hadn't forgotten his wish that Emery find someone to be happy with — one of them ought to, even if the other one was chronically incapable of moving on. And now, just as he was about to walk out, felt like the perfect time to broach the subject. Well, that or 'never', but Josh was trying to be better than that.
"Look..." He didn't quite believe what he was about to say, but he felt like he owed it to Emery, to be honest with him. Whatever the future held — whether or not they remained in touch, whether their friendship would endure, or whether the experiences they'd shared just slipped away and faded into distant memories — he knew he had to do this. "At the risk of you being angry with me for mentioning it, there's something I have to say."
Emery looked puzzled but offered him a tentative smile. "I hardly think whatever you have to say will make me angry. Go ahead."
"I know what happened with your fiancé," he blurted inelegantly.
Emery froze, a living statue. Josh plodded ahead. "Emma told me, after she saw how you and I were barely on speaking terms. And... I can't imagine how that must have felt, but it's been years. Don't you think it's time you moved on?"
Realizing how desperate that must look, he hastened to add, his tone gentle, "Not with me — obviously that ship has sailed — but don't you think you should be open to the possibility? I understand you loved him, and I can't imagine... I can't even imagine. But it's a long time to grieve."
Emery's voice had no inflection. "What did Emma tell you?"
"That he was kidnapped. That you paid the ransom but they killed him right in front of you." Emery had never looked so dead inside, and Josh very much regretted bringing up the subject, but that ship had also sailed. "I don't mean you should run out and find someone right this instant. Just... Be open to the possibility? I'm sure you wouldn't be disrespecting his memory."
For the longest of times Emery didn't reply. He stood perfectly still, frozen in time, lost to memory. This was probably how Josh had looked earlier, when he'd been stuck inside his mind instead of saying goodbye. Then Emery's Adam's apple bobbed on a harsh swallow, his features rearranging themselves into a sneer of disdain unlike anything Josh had ever seen on his face. "You know nothing of Simon," he spat.
His voice was colder than ice. Josh felt like he'd taken a body blow, nausea flaring up as his ears started ringing faintly. His heart sped up, making him feel uncomfortably warm; something churned in his gut, something ugly and destructive. Something devastating.
He'd thought Emery might be angry, but not this. Not hatred, not when Josh had been sure they were friends; not after all they'd been through together. One mention of Emery's fiancé and it was as if Josh were something particularly foul on his shoes?
No, they'd never been friends. Josh had only been deceiving himself. All Emery had ever felt was gratitude, or a sense of being indebted to him, and Josh's desperate love had filled the myriad gaps. Emery still being in love with his fiancé could account for many things, but Josh knew he didn't deserve this hatred.
He nodded as he turned away, trying to gain some time so he could find his voice. He felt dizzy with the effort of not crumbling in front of Emery. In the end all he managed was, "Okay. Okay."
He made to move for the door when Emery spoke again, grating tone harsh and cold. "I meant it: you know nothing of him."
"Okay," Josh said for the third time, well beyond intelligent conversation. He just wanted to be away from Emery as soon as possible. "We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up."
"Emma didn't tell you the truth."