Emmett could have sworn there was a hint of an accent, though it was hard to say this early in the conversation.
The stranger takes a long hit of his cig, resting his eyes a moment. “Can’t say I’m not having a… complicated night myself.” Emmett glanced up at the stranger. “Complicated?” What strange phrasing. “Yeah.”The stranger huffs, white puffs of smoke escaping his lips. “Complicated.”
Emmett let that sit. It really wasn't his business. Another sip. He felt his brain fuzz, just a tad. Finally. The alcohol was finally starting to do its job.
“So, what’s got you so glum?”
Suddenly the stranger’s voice split the silence. He definitely had a southern accent. His voice was smooth as silk. Not that Emmett noticed of course.
“Girlfriend dumped me.” He looked into his drink awkwardly, his restless fingers tapping the sides of the cup absentmindedly. “She then gave all my shit away. Well, the stuff at her apartment anyway.” The stranger let out a short fast breath, almost as if he was stifling a laugh? That couldn’t be it. Emmett must have heard wrong. He was getting a bit tipsy anyway and this wasn’t in any way humorous. At least, not to Emmett.
“How generous of her.” The stranger snorted. Well, maybe just that part was kind of funny. “How long were ya’ll-” “Three years.” Emmett interjected. The stranger whistled. “Woah. Tough break, guy.” Emmett simply nodded at him. “Yeah,” he sipped his liquor. “It is.”
But he really didn't come here to think about that. Let alone talk about it.
“What about you?” the stranger quirked his brow. “Me?” He seemed so taken aback by Emmett’s question. “What's so complicated?” God this whole socializing thing was not for him, but that didn't stop him from trying.
“Oh-” The stranger looks down at his cigarette. He takes a small drag. “That.”
He turns to Emmett and smiles. “You seem like you’ll get a kick outta this. It’s kind of a funny story. So…get this. My dad? Went and-” he gestured, his thumb sliding across his throat. “-Blegh. Just sorta went and kicked the bucket.”
Oh shit.
“Oh- wow- I’m so sorry man-”
The stranger shook his head. “Nah. Don’t be. The guy was a total jackass. A really shit dude, ya know? He was just so fucking awful yet…” The stranger's voice had a sour edge to it. “I dunno. Guess he was still my dad. Guess I still kind of give a fuck ya know?”
God damn did Emmett suddenly feel like the biggest bag of dicks on planet earth.
“I have no fucking clue what I’m going on about.”
“Uh, that’s okay man. You don’t have to know.” Emmett really didn’t know how to console others. Words just weren't his strong suit.
The stranger flashed Emmett a faint smile.
“You know what’s the funny part? The funeral’s this weekend and I can’t bear to go alone.” He dropped his cig onto the gravel and stepped over it- extinguishing it. “Do you…” Emmett gulped nervously. “Have anyone you can go with?” A dry laugh escaped the stranger’s lips. “No. And on top of all that it’s in Austin, Texas. So it’d just be me, myself, and I on the road to Austin.” Their eyes met for a beat. “Pretty pathetic huh?”
“No.” Emmett shook his head quickly, so quickly his locks smacked his forehead with force at each shake. “Not at all.”
There was another thing Emmett wasn’t good at. Emotions. Acknowledging feelings or anything like that felt so damn uncomfortable. Most days he felt like a stranger in his own body. His emotions not his own. There was so much disconnect.
“I, uh, get it. I mean, not like… this specific situation. I’ve never gone through something like that but uh-” Was Emmett rambling? He could feel himself rambling. He inhaled deeply and exhaled before continuing.
“I feel you. Or more like… I get not wanting to deal with it alone.”
He cringed internally. Could someone get more awkward? It was so damn hard to be open. To let yourself feel things. For someone who expressed themself so easily physically and creatively, he did a real shit job at expressing himself emotionally.
He awkwardly glanced over at the stranger. The stranger’s blue-gray eyes widened, he looked taken aback. “You get it?” He seemed so vulnerable. “Yeah well, not the whole dad part but uh, the being alone. I don’t think anyone wants to be alone, especially when they’re going through difficult things. I’m no exception. And-”
His brain prickled, everything felt so fuzzy. It was nice. His voice escaped him before his brain could even compute.
“I’ll go with you.”
There was a moment of complete stillness. The silence was loud, yet not quite silent. A muffled j-cole song was playing now.
“You’d go?”
Before Emmett could respond the stranger laughed.
“Are you seriously stupid?” Emmett wasn’t so sure he wasn’t. Maybe he’d had one too many shots because sober him would never offer to go on a roadtrip with a stranger that he'd met like five minutes ago.
“I’d have to bring my dog.”
Now he was spouting nonsense. Was he drunk or just plain old stupid? This wasn’t like him. Impulsive and so damn sentimental. The stranger looked so… bewildered. As if he didnt know how to react. Like he’d never seen a bigger idiot.
“Your… dog?” The stranger let out a slight breathy laugh. “Either you’re an axe-murderer cannibal or some shit or-” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Fine. What have I got to lose?”
Oh. So they were both out of their goddamn minds. Cool.
So Emmett was going on a long ass road-trip to Texas with a stranger. How long was the drive from Seattle to Austin? Should he have asked follow up questions before offering to go with this dude? Probably. Double cool.
He still didn't even know this guy’s name.
And now that he really thought about it, he never gave him his name either.
“I’m Emmett,” he offered his name hoping he’d get one in return. “I guess you should know that since… you know- we’re going to a funeral together?” Emmett gave a small awkward smile. “Dawson.” the stranger now known as Dawson smiled, and god did he have perfect teeth.
“I guess now we shake hands and exchange numbers?” Emmett had no clue who was next but that sounded like a good start. Dawson laughed. “God, you’re so awkward. I’d bet you talk to your hookups like it’s a business transaction.” Emmett furrowed his brow. No, he didn’t. But maybe that’s just because he’d never really ‘hooked up’ with anyone. That sounded, well, terrifying.
“Here,” Emmett’s thoughts were interrupted by Dawson offering him his phone. He was closer now, and he really got a look at the man. His nose had a slight arch to it and his jaw was perfectly chiseled, probably by Michealangelo himself. He was dressed nice too. He wore a white t-shirt that was slightly cropped- just enough to reveal his navel. On top was what seemed to be a long tan crocheted cardigan that ended an inch or so above his knees. His pants were a loose washed out denim. He was so put together. God really took his time on this guy.
That didn’t seem fair.
Maybe he was drunk. These… observations were unlike him.
He took Dawson’s phone and put his number in. He inhaled sharply. Guess this was happening. Emmett pulled out his phone and handed it to Dawson for him to do the same.
He accepted and put his number in.
Easy.
Maybe this was just what Emmett needed to get over his girlfriend.
Well, ex-girlfriend.
A roadtrip with a stranger, and of course, Mufasa.
“We leave next week if that’s okay. I’ll send you the details later. I’ll have to prepare my truck especially ‘cause you're bringing your dog? What kind of dog by the way?”
“A pittie. Older guy. Really sweet though.”
“Pshh. Duh. Of course, he’s a pitt. Those dogs are like the sweetest things ever.”
At least he had good taste in dogs.
That was reassuring.
Just then, the sliding glass door slid open, revealing a stumbling Andre wearing a dopey grin. In his left hand was probably the fattest blunt Emmett had ever seen. “Emmett! I’ve been looking for you.” He offered the blunt over to Emmett, and he quickly accepted. He’d been meaning to get crossed. Emmett took a deep hit of it and began to cough his lungs out. “Fuckin. Hell.” He wheezed out, still coughing, before handing the blunt back. “Not my fault you can’t handle the heat.” His dopey grin widened. Emmett did his best to reciprocate a smile. He’d been told he’d had a resting bitchface before. And a resting bitchface paired with a mostly monotone chronically-sarcastic voice meant people thought he was an uninterested asshole. And seeing as he actually liked Andre as a friend he decided to make an active effort to appear more expressive around him.
Andre’s hair was closely shaven into a fade. He wore a gold colored shirt that had random spots of graffiti like writing that was illegible. The gold complimented his copper colored skin, and it seemed to brighten his smile even more. He was such a happy guy all the time and it was no shock how well he got along with everyone. He was probably the first friend he’d made at the studio.
“Oh, shit! Hey man!” Andre looked to Dawson before performing a very dude-bro-y hand shake. “So, since when do y'all know each other?”
“Just today.” Dawson spoke. “No shit!” Andre looked shocked. “I’ve been meaning to introduce y’all! I knew y’all’d be fast friends.” That wide smile practically plastered to his face. “Anyway-” He looked at Emmett. “Where’s Mads?”
Shit.
Everything felt so slow, yet fast. He felt his heart skip a beat. His breath slowed. It sucked. He’d never felt like this before. This… he felt like utter shit.
He needed to calm down. He needed to formulate a response that ended this conversation dead in its tracks and everyone would leave him alone. To deal with this alone.
And by “deal” with this alone he most definitely meant “ignore all these feelings and sorta hide them in the dark deep depths of my heart” alone.
“Uhhh.”
His throat was so damn dry. It felt like he’d been swallowing heaps of sand.
“She, uh…” Rip it off. “Left me.”
The instantaneous way that Andre’s grin dropped was almost comical. His happy-go-lucky expression morphed into something apologetic. He hated it.
“Shit man.” His voice was quiet and caring. “I’m sorry man. I really thought y’all were endgame.”
“I did too.” Emmett didn’t even attempt to hide the bitter twinge to his voice. “Shit, yeah, of course you did… that was dumb of me-” Andre put out his blunt before looking back at Emmett. “What…happened?”
What Happened.
What had happened?
He’d been asking himself that same question.
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