EXPLOSION I

EXPLOSION I
Emerson’s Pov

Adam left. He just left. He’s gone.

I take the towels off me and go hang them up in the bathroom. Then I walk over to the closet and pick up the first thing I touch, my mind reeling.

It turns out to be the sweater Adam gave me the second time we kissed.

Fuck.

I toss it back, like it cursed at me and I keep staring at it as if it's growing legs. Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice a pair of sweatpants awkwardly hung with a sweater. I take it, still staring, and shut the closet. It's fine. I don't need a shirt.

And, Adam's not gone, per say. I mean he’s not fucking dead. So I need to calm down.

I back up and sit down, unconsciously, on his bed. Fucking hell. My leg starts tapping before I even notice it, but I stay right where I am, seated where we just cuddled, perched on the edge like I'd stand any moment now.

I don't.

The sheets smell like him, like us. It’s almost unbearable, but I still fucking sit there. My fingers grip the blanket just to feel something solid, but even that feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.

Adam left.

It's not like the last time where I knew that I could go back, if I really, really wanted to. I wouldn't have, I don't think, but if I wanted. . . I could.

I can't now. Adam left this time, and just not over a disagreement about a kiss. He seemed way more serious than I was when I walked away, and I was very serious. He was angry too, saying I was trying to clip his wings.

I'm not. How many times do I have to fucking say that? I just want him alive!

I need to fucking calm down.

But it seems like that's yet another thing I can't do.

How can I? Adam is somewhere now, maybe eating, maybe thinking. Is he as sad as I am because of this, or is he still angry? Is he dwelling on what happened before the argument or has he already shoved it so far down, I matter less to him than I did this morning?

Fuck.

I hiss, staring at the drop of blood sitting on my index finger. Somehow it found its way into my mouth, and my teeth pulled a little too hard on my cuticle.

I put the digit in my mouth and suck.

His bastard of a fucking father did end up haunting us. I know he's part of the problem somehow. Adam must have had to swear on his good leg that he's not gay, and that must have been why he insisted on darkness to even kiss me.

Fuck him.

I groan, half needing to pace, half needing to get away from this fucking bed. I can't believe Adam went back to him, and I can't believe the deal he offered. I can't believe he took it. I just can't fucking believe any of this.

I'm not the bad guy.

I'm not.

I need to. . . I don't know what I need.

I pick up my phone. My hand shakes so badly I nearly drop it, but I don't. I don't even check on any of the texts I sent about Al. I struggle a little but I'm able to pull up Ivy's number and dial it.

She answers on the second ring, voice bright and unsuspecting. “Hey, Em.”

“Hey,” I whisper because my throat is suddenly tight, like there's a knot swelling, choking me from the inside. It's nice to hear her; alive, healthy, there for me.

There’s a pause, small but heavy. Did she hear something in my voice? I don't want that, I don't want her to worry.

There's nothing to worry about.

“Em? Are you okay?” she asks

And. . . she did. I blink up at the ceiling as I take a breath, trying to sound steady, usual. “Yes, why?”

“Um. . . no reason then, sorry.” The cheeriness is back in her voice again. “So yeah, why'd you call?”

“Nothing really, I’m just checking in on you,” I say softly. And unable to stop myself, I add, “I love you. So much.”

The words come out raw, brittle. My hands are still fucking shaking, I can feel it. I unconsciously raise my other hand to my chest, massaging, willing the dull throb there to ease. It's been slowly getting worse.

“I love you too,” she says almost hesitantly. “Em, are you sure you're good?”

I think I might throw up. The words press up against my teeth, but I can’t let them out. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little tired, sleepy but I wanted to talk to you a little, is all.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Yeah,” I say, as my hand balls into a fist and starts to tap against my chest. “Well then. . . I gotta go.”

“Wait,” she says, sharper now, with an edge of concern she might give to a scared animal about to bolt. “Let’s hang out.”

The taps to my chest are getting stronger but really, I barely notice. “Wha— right now?”

“Yes, yes, right now.”

Ow. I wince as one of the hits slam into my chest hard. I stop, sucking in a deep breath before walking over to sit on my bed. Promptly my leg starts tapping again. “No, thanks Ivy, I can’t. I’m fucking tired.”

Her answer is immediate. “Tomorrow then!”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I shrug, laying down. The ceiling looks exactly the same as it did when I was in Adam's hands.

“Promise me you’ll be there,” she says strongly. “Promise me you’ll come.”

I blink, sighing, making a conscious effort to sound normal. I think I might have scared her. “I promise.”

“Okay. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I click off. That was nice. Ivy’s here. Ivy loves me, and Ivy won't fucking leave me. I love Ivy.

But Adam— Adam is gone. And. . .

I love Adam too.