Emery's POV
I was sitting in my bedroom, staring at the foaming liquid pouring from the flask. Green ooze slid over the glass container's outside- seemingly methodical in its ways.
A knock on the door.
"Come in," I said, "It's unlocked," I added.
I heard the door creak open, and without looking behind me, I knew it was my grandmother. She always had a silent way of walking, despite her cane. No one would know she was there if she tried her best to hide.
She floated like a ghost across the floor.
"Em, why don't you come downstairs? I know you aren't fond of your cousin, but you can't avoid family," her voice was shaky, but in my eyes, she was the strongest woman out there. Yes, she was frail, fragile, and on the verge of collapsing any day now. But her mind? God, that woman's mind was so strong, if it was a weapon, she could vanquish a thousand enemies. In ways, it was a weapon, but she never used it for herself.
"He's mean to me," I muffled into my crossed arms, continuing to stare at my science project ooze green liquid onto the baking tray below it.
"Well, now, everyone is mean sometimes," my grandmother reasoned, leaning onto the table where my science project laid. Her cane was gripped tightly in her raisin hands as she tried to make eye contact with me. "Even sweet little ten-year-olds like you are mean sometimes."
Stubbornly, I continued to watch the ooze. "He's mean all of the time. To everybody," I said.
I heard my grandmother sigh. She stood there looking at me, observing me. I knew she was reading me, reading my mind. She did that often. It was almost magical how she could solve your problems just by an outside observation. Then she'd start on a whole new different path to wiggle her way into your thoughts.
"You are a difficult little boy, you know that? Fine. Don't go downstairs and see your cousin, but I have something to give to you, " she reached a shaky hand into her pocket, grabbing it with much more difficulty than a healthier person could grab it with. She brought out a glass object- a glass flower. "I wanted to give you this."
"A flower? Isn't that a girl thing? You should give it to Wednesday, Grandma, " I remember saying, looking at the beautiful antique with distaste. All the boys at school would continue to assume the worst of me if they saw I had something girly. My grandmother frowned and placed the flower gently in front of me.
"I would give it to Wednesday, but I don't think she needs it," my grandmother stated, looking at me with extra crinkles in her forehead from her raised eyebrows at my distaste.
"And you think I need it?" I asked in curiosity. Grandmother always had a reason, but most of the times her reason was unclear. Sometimes I thought she was beginning to grow senile. "What would I need a glass flower for, Grandma?"
"It's not an ordinary flower-"
I scoffed.
"That's what everyone says to me, it seems. And what is it then? Unusual? Special? Grandmother, just because I'm being bullied doesn't mean everyone can just tell me the same thing over again and it will be fine. I'm not unusual. I'm not special. I'm just-"
"You," my grandmother finished. I looked up at her when she said this, making eye contact for the first time since she entered my room. "You are just you," she smiled, " I know, Em. But I was not going in that direction. You believe in ghosts, yes? That's why you're being bullied?"
"Not exactly..." I trailed. I was only ten. I wasn't ready to tell everyone what I had discovered about myself.
"I know. I've always known, Em. But let's just use that as an excuse, shall we? You do believe in ghosts, don't you?" she asked.
"They are as real as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny," I stated, "I have proof that they are!"
"And the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are real?" Grandma asked with a smile at my former innocence.
"Of course they are! And just like them, ghosts can be there, but unseen," I explained, "When I grow up, I want to prove they are real. I want to meet a real one. Not Alfred from next door, I know he was just wearing a sheet for Halloween."
"Well, this unordinary flower can capture ghosts," she explained, "And when I die-"
"You won't," I said stubbornly. She chuckled.
"If I die, then I will always be with you," she smiled, and tapped the glass flower twice, "In here."
I smiled at the flower in interest.
"Who gave it to you?" I asked, taking a closer look. It looked like a regular glass flower. A decoration for a lifeless shelf.
"A mysterious woman I met in my darkest times," she breathed, "She told me what it was. She says it holds a host of guardians to bring you luck, but I want you to have it in remembrance of me."
"Why me?" I asked, picking up the flower gently, "Why not Wednesday or Pugsley?"
"Because, dear Em," she explained, observing me as I looked at the flower, "I have reason to believe that you will need it the most."
I looked up from the flower, wondering if she knew. Did she know the real reason why I'm being bullied? It looked like she did.
Suddenly, she took a deep breath in and used momentum to push herself off of the table and onto her feet.
Using her cane, she hobbled out of the doorway slowly and silently, and I could only watch as she struggled to get down the hall. Without turning back, she said, "Don't forget! You can't solve your problems by avoiding them. They'll just catch up to you, and then what will you do? Instead of waiting like a sitting duck, make a plan of action. A problem can't solve itself."
By the time she made it to the last word, her loud, old voice had faded downstairs.
I fingered with the flower she gave me, observing the glass flower with care.
Little did I know then that that would be the last time I saw my grandmother alive.
~{()}~
I woke up for the second time, but this time it was morning. I shifted a little bit, wondering why the dream about my grandma and I's last living moment made me so sore. My limbs ached at the movement. However, when I shifted, I hit something.
More like someone.
Suddenly, I became more aware. I felt my hands on a warm...very comforting and warm chest... and breath, from someone else, moving the bangs on my forehead. I had- what felt like a nose?- deep into my hair, and a big, strong, manly arm around my skinny waist.
Slowly, my eyes opened, face to face with a sleeping Aaron's chest.
Holy cheese. This was like someone took my fantasies straight out of my head and turned them into a reality. I was basically Aaron's teddy bear, and God, I never wanted to sleep on the couch ever again.
I could do the morally right thing and get out of bed in a gay panic.
Or. Or I can sit here and enjoy it while I can.
Suddenly, the little devil on my shoulder was speaking louder than my angel.
With a smile on my face, I lean into the crevice of his chest. Oh wow, he smells so good. It's definitely a smell I could wake up to for the rest of my whole life. And his arm, so freaking strong. I knew he could snap me in half like a stick, but I kind of liked that idea. He made me feel safe...Severin is so lucky to have a man like Aaron in love with him.
I took a peek at his sleeping face. So precious, not angelic, just peaceful. He looks like a male victoria secret model without the lingerie. Does that make sense? It did to me. I just wanted to caress his face with my small, pale hands- such a contrast to his colored latino skin- and wake him up to the sweetest good morning kiss he's ever had. I wanted him to enjoy it too. I wanted him to smile and pull the kiss deeper, wanting more because we have the love that outshines all love: true love.
Instead, my fantasy was also torture, because I had the worst kind of love: unrequited love. One-sided love. I was in deep, so deep I could drown and die, but I couldn't do anything about it. All I could do was continue to watch as he waited for death, for Severus. For the one he actually loved.
Maybe it was the morning, or perhaps I was feeling like beating myself up, but I couldn't help but think about how my luck has been throughout my life.
Bullied since I was ten. Mocked and beat by my rich cousin, while my family was on the edge of poverty. My only mentor was dead. No one has ever loved me romantically, and no crush of mine has had returned feelings. Though I had my family, I could never feel more alone. Even with Aaron sleeping beside me, I started to feel cold and empty. He was my only friend, and I risk that friendship every day by being in love with him.
God, Emery, why can't you just stop hurting yourself? I thought to myself.
Why can't you be normal? Ordinary?
I slid Aaron's arm from around me carefully, replacing my missing figure with a pillow. It was easy to slide out of small spaces when you are short and skinny. I silently exited Aaron's bedroom, thinking about last night, as I walked into the living room to put on my shoes.
I stayed up with Aaron, talking, and we must have fallen asleep together, I concluded. Making sure my shoes were tied, I thought about leaving a note.
Then, I remembered that Severus was always around.
"Um, Severus?" I asked, "Uh, sorry, for sleeping next to your boyfriend. We- We must have fallen asleep together or something. Anyway, can you tell Aaron that I went on a walk, so he doesn't worry?"
All I got was silence, so I took that as a yes.
"Great, thanks," I thanked, then opened the door and left.
~{()}~
I walked down the street to clear my head. I covered my thought process with frustration at the many people bumping shoulders with me on the sidewalk. We both had slept fairly late for a school day, and walking through New York at this hour was like walking through raging rapids against the current. You had to push through or you'd just get dragged with the flow of the people.
I wished for so many things, but one thing I wished above all was that my grandmother could come back to me. She would know how to solve all the problems. She was the only source of wisdom I had in my life. Now, she's gone.
How can I solve problems I don't know answers to?
I could practically hear Grandma say, "Learn the answers."
How was I supposed to learn answers if I don't know where to look?
I walked until I came across a shop: Joe's Coffee Shop.
I remember Aaron mentioning that he liked coming to this place in the morning when he didn't have company around. It was a cute, vacant-looking shop. I almost thought it was closed until I noticed there were one or two people sitting down in there. I thought I might as well see why Aaron comes there almost every morning.
Walking up to the barista, I gave her a simple order. Nothing too fancy since it was my first time there. As I sat down to wait for my drink, I noticed that a boy and a girl were sitting rather close to me. They were the only other customers in the shop. That means my order should have been ready soon.
"I wouldn't sit in that seat if I were you," I heard a voice say. I turned around to face the speaker: the boy who sat next to the girl.
"Why not?" I asked. The seat looked perfectly fine to me.
"There's a guy that sits there all of the time," he said, smiling, "Really hot guy, but he's got a little temper around strangers, man. Told my little sister here to shut up. I do admit though, she has a big mouth."
His sister, I assumed, turned around and smacked him on the shoulder.
"Let me guess," I said, taking the chance. I mean, the boy said the guy was hot. It could definitely be Aaron. "Blond-tipped hair, blue eyes, and a little strip through his eyebrow?"
"How did you know?" the boy chuckled, "Do you know him?"
"I'm his friend," I said gleefully. Yeah, that's right. He told you to shut up, but I'm his best friend. Beat that, cute boy!
"The guy has friends?" the sister mumbled into her mug, but before I could reply to that, the boy spoke.
"Ah, well then," the boy's smile widened further. He took a pen out of his pocket and ripped off a piece of his napkin, quickly scribbling something down. He handed the piece of paper to Emery with a wide smile filled with happiness and hope. "Could you give him my number? My name's Dexter, but my friends and lovers call me Dex. I'd love to...hang out with him."
The guy hesitated at the words "hanging out" and I knew exactly what this was. He was just trying to get Aaron in bed.
"Uh, sure..." I trailed, hesitantly grabbing the piece of napkin from Dexter's hand.
"You're going for that grumpy guy? Seriously?" the sister griped at her brother. Dexter nodded.
Jealousy was causing my good side and my bad side to war inside me. Should I give Aaron the piece of paper? Or should I just throw it in the trash bin on my way out of the shop?
"Emery Adams?" I heard the barista call my name, "Your order is ready."
I walked up to the counter and, with a thank you, I left.
Turns out that little slips of napkins with booty-call numbers on them can fit easily down the many grates found on the New York City streets.
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