Prompt: "That's the part tales don't mention: how the hero, forever changed by his journey, can never fit into normal society again."

Spoilers: For all of Utterly Forgettable

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There was an ever present ache within Emery these days. It wasn't sadness — how could he be sad, when he had a level of happiness in his life he'd never have imagined possible after Emma's passing?

He had a home — one he was currently attempting to get to as speedily as possible, before the rain started in earnest —, a myriad of occupations he enjoyed, friends... He had Josh. To wish for more was the height of ungratefulness.

Despite his best efforts, it seemed he remained ungrateful. The first weeks after Josh's baffling confession had surpassed any flight of fancy Emery had ever indulged in. He could feel his heart overflowing just with the memory of those days. Josh by his side, with him, every morning, every night... Emery hadn't quite known how to process having so much all at once.

Then Josh had resumed working — as he should, as was his calling, as Emery would never begrudge him — and, while Emery's bed had grown colder, he'd had the unexpected pleasure of having Josh call him, unfailingly, every night. Josh had never called while with a client before.

It had been less than a month, that first time, before Josh had returned, shadowed eyes that spoke of dedication and loss, and Emery had had the privilege of helping him deal with the lingering hurt. Josh had prolonged his break to celebrate his birthday with Emery a few weeks later.

He hadn't been there for Emery's birthday, three months after that. He hadn't been there for Thanksgiving, might not be there for Christmas. It had been over five months since Emery had looked at his face without a screen framing it, and it was getting harder to bear.

Josh hadn't called today — hadn't called in a week. Emery would not make himself a nuisance by being the one to call, which didn't mean he didn't check his phone obsessively. The way he was doing now, as he waited for the light to turn green.

There he was, being greedy again. Wanting more than what was reasonable. He'd known what Josh's calling in life was long before he'd fallen in love with the man; there was no sense in wishing it were different.

Climbing the building's stairs returned a measure of warmth to Emery's half frozen legs. Despite the layers of clothing, early December was proving to be unreasonably cold. He had to pause for a minute outside the apartment door, taking off his gloves and rubbing his hands together, before he had enough dexterity to turn the key in the lock.

He nearly tripped over Josh's bags the minute he opened the door.

Josh was home? But where— Oh.

The man he loved sat on the floor, head on his knees, looking lost. Emery couldn't be sure he'd even noticed his entrance. He closed the door gently, not wanting to startle Josh out of his grief, then made his way closer to crouch in front of him.

"Josh? What do you need?"

This didn't feel like all the other times, even before they were together. There was something different in Josh, in the way he still wasn't looking at Emery. In the slump of his shoulders. The embrace Emery would have given died before it was more than a thought. Silence had rarely been this heavy between them; certainly never since that night in Emery's momentary studio apartment, filled with promise and heartfelt confessions.

Even as he spoke, Josh's alluring gray eyes wouldn't meet Emery's, the twist of his lips resembling anything but a smile. "Emery. Hey."

"Hey," Emery offered back. "How can I help?"

"Help," Josh echoed, and the sound of it pressed against Emery's chest, cold and heavy. "I don't know. I don't think you can." He shook his head. "Not this time." Their eyes met at last, but the expected relief didn't come. "I don't think I can do this anymore, Emery. I think I need things to change."

Oh.

Emery's lips parted, his lungs craving air, but he only managed the slightest intake of breath. He'd thought— He'd hoped... It shouldn't have been surprising. After five months of not seeing him, he should have expected Josh to have snapped out of the strange, miraculous daze that had led to him even wanting Emery in the first place. But he'd hoped so fiercely it would last... At least a little longer, just a little longer...

He swallowed, getting up from his crouch. Josh's gaze didn't follow him, distant once more.

It wouldn't do to give in to the burning in his eyes with Josh sitting right there, grieving for far more legitimate reasons. The last thing Josh deserved was for Emery to put him through some form of emotional blackmail.

He'd had everything, for a time. No one could have everything for long — how foolish of him, to expect to be the exception.

"I..." His voice cracked as if he hadn't used it in years, instead of a minute ago. He was forced to swallow once more before making a second attempt. "Of course. I— Allow me to pack a bag, and I'll..."

He trailed off. Should he offer to have Tony pick up the rest of his things? Would they not even remain friends? Or would Josh still care enough, once this wave of grief — the one Emery apparently could do nothing to help — passed? Would he include Emery in the list of people he opened up to?

He tried to exhale and was horrified to realise tears were already trailing down his cheeks. "Forgive, me, I—"

"Emery." The urgency in Josh's tone startled him, as did the speed with which he rose from the floor and — with no warning — crushed Emery into an embrace that wrecked the last dregs of his self-control. He'd been trying not to fall apart before he left, but now— Josh— Josh was—

"Emery, fuck, not you. I didn't mean you. You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

A wounded sob escaped him, ache, anguish and relief intermingled, and then his arms were tightening around Josh's frame and their lips had met, over and over and over, in reassurance, in the renewal of that night's promise.

I'm here. I'm yours.

I love you.

There were no more words for a long while, only touches. Josh would tell him what he'd meant when he was ready, and Emery wouldn't press. It was more than enough that he had him, that they had each other.

It wasn't until much, much later, lying entangled, skin on skin, that Josh found his voice again.

"I'm sorry I'm an idiot. I'm sorry I'm always an idiot. Can you please assume, whatever words come out of my mouth next time, that I love you? I swear that's always the safest bet."

The sound that escaped him this time was laughter, not sob, though a part of him still felt on the verge of tears. "I will do my best."

Josh kissed him again, slow, the urgency gone for the time being. "I feel so lost. I've felt lost for months." The palm of Josh's hand cupping his cheek was the only thing that prevented Emery's insecurities from resurfacing with alarming ease.

"You said you couldn't do this anymore, and I thought..."

"I know. I know what you thought. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." Another kiss. "I meant work. I've always worked this way, but this client... I wasn't there for him, Emery. He didn't know how it was supposed to be, didn't know any better, so I think I still helped, but I wasn't... What does it say about me, if I start wondering when a job will be over? I didn't want him to die, but I wanted to get out. What does that say about me?"

Emery willed his heart to remain steady, reminded himself that leaping to conclusions wouldn't do, even when they lifted him up.

"Why?" He was proud of how his tone gave nothing away, his choice of wording very deliberate. "Was there anything different about this client?"

Josh smiled — not happy, but not hurting either. Bittersweet. "You. You made it different. I don't— I can't— With Emma, it was eight months, and I never once thought of coming home."

Josh seemed to catch himself in the lie before Emery could call him on it. "Well, no, okay. After that night in your office I did. But I don't make it a habit of falling in love with my clients' relatives, so that doesn't count. And it wasn't about coming home — it was about getting away from you. This time it was about coming home to you."

It was everything he wanted to hear and everything that terrified him, too tightly interwoven to pull apart. He wanted nothing more than for Josh to want to come home to him, but would Josh resent him for it, in the end?

"I don't know how to work any other way — how to do this the way normal people do — but I have to figure it out," Josh continued. "Mark once said I used my work as an excuse to not connect with people who didn't have a set expiration date, and I guess he was right, because now that I've gotten better at that... And Paul — this client — he was my age. If I keep putting everything on hold to live the lives of other people, how much time will there be left for me to live mine? For us to live ours?"

Josh's lips were on Emery's before he'd even finished speaking, his kiss swallowing all the words Emery would have said, but Emery had an inkling Josh needed to speak more than he needed to be spoken to.

"People do this job in other ways. In shifts, maybe, I don't know. I don't want to quit, but something has to change. The years are getting shorter, and I don't— I don't want to go to sleep staring at a cell phone screen and wondering if it'll be half a year before I see you again. I want to go to sleep like this." Josh nestled closer, turning off the lamp as his eyes closed. "Just like this."

Josh didn't seem to expect a solution from Emery, and Emery wouldn't offer one before giving it the thought it deserved, but alternate pictures were already forming in his mind. Talking to Tony, maybe, and getting some of the teenagers from the shelter involved with visiting terminal patients, with being needed, for a change. A project that brought warmth and happiness to two different realities that so desperately craved it, guided by Josh, and they'd have to find at least one more adult, preferably two, almost as good as Josh at this job. Perhaps Mark had suggestions.

That was one path of many and, yes, Emery would think long and hard about its potential pitfalls and how to solve them before presenting the idea to Josh, but it was a solution that might work.

But that was tomorrow's problem.

Tonight the man he loved was in his arms, and all Emery wanted was to give him everything. Surely that wasn't too much to ask for.

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Time: 2 hours. (this prompt is an exception, and the rest of this book will be flash fiction.)

Length: 1880 words (I swear, this prompt is an exception, and the rest of this book will be flash fiction.)

Prompt: https://www.cameronmontaguetaylor.com/2021/01/16/morning-pages-journeys/