CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Emerson's eyes fluttered open as he stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes. He sensed a body close beside him, and the moonlight streaming through the open windows illuminated the peaceful figure snuggled beside him, snoring softly. Emerson unabashedly gazed at the figure on the bed, his pale skin shimmering in the moonlight's caress, and his silver hair tousled before him. Emerson was captivated, still struggling to fathom that William would want anything to do with him.

“He’s beautiful.” The words left his mouth before he registered them. Silently, he retrieved his phone and took a photo of the slumbering form. Gazing down at the boy, his brain gradually awoke, but it was a little too late when he finally noticed the time on his phone, causing him to startle; he was to meet up with Mason earlier that day. Quietly, Emerson slipped out of bed, discovering his discarded shirt on the floor, unable to recall when he had lost it. Upon seeing that William was also without his shirt, he simply shrugged it off.

Casting a final glance at William, Emerson closed the door behind him and left William's room. As he descended the stairs, his mind continued to search for ways to make amends with Mason; he couldn't afford to have ruined his chance to reconnect with his best friend. "Damn it." Emerson exclaimed. Lost in thought, he didn't notice the approaching figure and collided with a soft body when he rounded the final corner of the stairs.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Emerson admitted, his tone laced with regret.

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Layla responded, gracefully regaining her balance. “I was on my way to check in on both of you. Are you heading home?” A frown crept stealthily across her face.

“Yeah.” Emerson answered tugging on his shirt

“Oh dear, it is late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Emerson nervously nibbled on his lower lip, appreciating Layla's unfailing kindness. He truly wished he could reciprocate, but the looming fear of his father's wrath kept him from doing so; he knew the consequences would be dire if his father found out. "I apologize, but my mom would be worried; I already informed her I was on my way." he added, noticing her intent to continue the conversation.

Exhaling softly, she approached him, straightening his shirt. "Take care." she whispered, her lips brushing against his cheek, and then she made her way to the door. "I'll let William know you've left." Emerson nodded, and as the door closed behind him, he finally exhaled the breath he had been holding since his encounter with Layla.

She made him uncomfortable.

His trip back home was shadowed by her constant displays of affection. He found it deeply perplexing. Despite her clear understanding of his relationship with her son, she greeted him warmly with hugs and kisses, treating him as if he were her own . It profoundly unsettled him. Upon arriving home, he lingered by the door, taking a few minutes to inhale deeply before gently opening it.

A heavy silence draped over the house.

Emerson took a deep breath, assuming everyone was asleep as he closed the door. However, he was proven wrong when the light came on, flooding their living room with brightness. Elvis, clad in a tank top and shorts, stood with his arms tightly crossed and wore a displeased expression on his face as he questioned. "Where have you been?"

Emerson rolled his eyes and remarked, "Aren't you supposed to be in school?" He then removed his shoe, casually dropped his keys, and strolled past Elvis.

Elvis walked closely behind Emerson, speaking earnestly. "Emerson, I'm dead serious. I hope you're not coming from that guy's-"

Emerson abruptly spun around on his heels and challenged. "Why does it matter to you?"

Elvis blinked rapidly, startled by the sudden movement. "You're my brother, that's why. I don't..." Emerson laughed, effectively interrupting Elvis.

"Your brother." he managed to say amid his laughter. "That's new, because it really doesn't feel like it." He turned once more, heading to his room, but flinched as the door was forcefully shut in front of him, with Elvis's hand firmly on it. Emerson found himself trapped between the door and his brother, staring blankly at Elvis with no way out.

"Why haven't you told Dad?" he finally asked, as it had been gnawing at him. Elvis wasn't one to keep quiet, especially when it concerned Emerson.

"Don't tempt me." Elvis warned. "End whatever you have with that guy."

“No!”

Emerson's fatigue had mounted from ceaselessly surveying his environment, forever on guard in Elvis's presence, mindful that even the tiniest detail of his day circled back to his father. There was a fleeting respite when Elvis departed for college, but now, it seemed as though he remained an ever-present looming figure. Elvis’s hand barring Emerson’s entry to his room clenched into a fist, anger gradually etching across his face. Despite his simmering emotions, his next words were delivered in a hushed and composed manner. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. I don’t care what you do anymore, but I won’t do it.” I will not let go of the only thing that makes me happy.

Emerson brusquely pushes Elvis's hand away from the door, steps inside, and slams it shut in his face, without concern for waking up the other residents of the house.

Emerson endured yet another sleepless night as the relentless voice tormented him, painting vivid scenarios of his flaws and the unlikelihood of his father's acceptance, refusing to cease its incessant chatter.

Before he realized it, sunlight streamed into his room, He had no choice but to muster the strength to return to school, his exhausted body bracing for yet another grueling day.

The day crept by, and Emerson hadn't encountered William at all, which brought him a sense of relief since Mason had been following his every move. It was as though they were edging back to their typical routine. Nevertheless, the once-cozy bond between them had withered away, leaving them with nothing to share but a stifling silence that burdened Emerson.

Through out the day, Emerson would sometimes drift into deep thoughts, only to snap back to reality and discover Mason’s intense gaze locked onto him. He’d ask about it, but Mason’s responses were limited to a brief “nothing” or a subtle headshake. After the third time, Mason began to outright ignore Emerson’s questions.

A lingering doubt gnawed at him, hinting that Mason stuck around solely to confirm that he had indeed severed ties with William.

Emerson felt utterly drained, longing for the day to conclude. He considered skipping practice, but with the upcoming game, he doubted Jonathan would permit it.

At lunchtime, Emerson found himself at a table with Mason, Ava, Jeremy, and a couple of rugby teammates. Mason and Ava were lost in a fervent display of affection.  It served as a reminder to Emerson of how he could never be this candid with William, prompting him to keep his gaze fixed on his tray with a hint of bitterness.

“What happened?”

“What?”

“Yesterday, we were supposed to meet up…or did Mason not tell you.”  At the mention of his name, Mason’s attention was on Emerson waiting for his responds.

“Oh, he did.” Emerson muttered while absentmindedly prodding his food, showing no desire to provide an explanation. Suddenly, the table's conversation came to an abrupt halt. As he lifted his head, he observed that everyone at his table was focused on William and Emma, who had just entered the cafeteria and were nonchalantly making their way toward a familiar, slender boy seated at the far end. Emerson's blood chilled as he saw what had captured their attention – William was donning a jacket.

His rugby sport jacket.

 The jacket had the number ten displayed on the back and the name "Scott" positioned directly above that number. God. Emerson thought he must have forgotten it there last night, and he quickly averted his gaze before anyone could notice he had seen what had captured everyone’s attention, he refocused on his meal, his already waning appetite further diminishing.

“Why is he wearing that?” someone inquired, but Emerson couldn’t muster the courage to identify the speaker. His heart raced, yet he willed himself to stay composed as he slowly lifted his gaze, only to find everyone anxiously fixated on him.

“What?” he feigned ignorance.

“That’s William, right? Why is he wearing your jacket?” Another voice questioned.

Emerson’s brow furrowed as he attempted to conjure a lie, but his mind offered no respite. His eyes meandered around the cafeteria, as though it were his first time there, before settling on William engrossed in conversation with his friends. Emerson watched him; the jacket did look good on him.

When he could not think of any excuses, he simply shrugged and averted his gaze from William.

Mason cut in, saying, "You're still spending time with him." The accusation was clear.

"No." Emerson fibbed.

"Seriously? You're not going to claim that's not your jacket on him, are you?”

A sigh escaped from Emerson's lips before he could suppress it; he let his fork clatter onto the tray in front of him. "I don't know how he got it, okay?" His words left a bitter taste in his mouth as soon as they escaped. Emerson closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, clutching at it, his grip so tight it stung. He briefly found refuge in the self-inflicted pain until Mason’s voice abruptly brought him back to reality.

“You better not be lying to me or…”

“Or what?” Emerson interrupted, weary of the threats, first from his brother and now from Mason. He wondered when it would all finally come to an end. “You’ve basically ignored me all day and now you’re going to doubt everything I say? Is this how it’s going to be? Do I have to keep looking over my shoulder every time we are together?”

“Whose fault is that? You haven’t exactly given me a reason to trust you lately.”

Emerson released the breath he had been holding and stated. “I’m not going to apologize for making a friend.”

“Is that what he is?” Mason spoke in a hushed tone, but his words carried to everyone present.

He’s far more than that. If you’ll just be silent for a moment and listen, maybe…maybe you’ll understand why I…

"Mason, please cool it off." Jeremy spoke up as the tension grew unbearable. "What's going on with you two? You used to be the closest among all of us. What's happening?"

A twisted smile crept onto Mason’s face as he held everyone’s inquisitive stare before turning his attention to Emerson. “Care to explain?” he inquired. “If there’s something you haven’t shared with us, now would be the moment.”

Emerson’s hand found its way back to his hair as he observed the people in front of him. His grip tightened, his frustration growing with Mason's cold demeanor. Was he the sole person still interested in salvaging what remained of their friendship?  He shook his head as pain coursed through him. "Screw you." he muttered directly to Mason. Without waiting for a response, Emerson abandoned the table and strode out of the cafeteria doors. Though he vaguely heard someone calling after him, he paid it no heed.