I was never the most coordinated person, nor was I ever the luckiest.

So as I fell, I bumped my elbow on a thick metal pole, which sent shock thrumming through my bones, and even managed to go sprawling what seemed like five metres forward, sustaining what had to be nasty blue-blacks and some stinging cuts, given that I'd fallen onto asphalt.

And, just my luck, as I lifted my head with a groan what felt like minutes later, I came face-to-face with the boy who'd been chasing after me. Wasn't a huge surprise, considering he had been chasing after me, but I'd expected more of a bullet to my back than his face swimming before mine.

Really, I blamed him. If he hadn't come after me, I wouldn't have run, and then I wouldn't have fallen.

That's what I told myself as his eyes swept my face, seeming actually... concerned.

"Oh my God," he breathed, reaching a hand out to touch my arm. "Are you okay?"

I shrank away as best as I could while still lying on the ground. With considerate effort, I pushed myself off the rough ground, hissing in breath through gritted teeth as the air stung my scrapes.

"Am I okay?" I managed after getting shakily to my feet, mustering up the fiercest glare I could.

The boy got off his knee, and drawing himself up to his full height, I realized we were about the same height.

Huh.

His brows knitted as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "You fell pretty badly." His gaze scanned me once again, and he winced. I guessed I wasn't the prettiest sight.

Cold, hard glare. Frankly, it was tiring to keep it intact on my face. "If you're going to hurt me, do it now." When had I suddenly become so brave?

Probably when it dawned on me that he didn't look the least bit threatening nor menacing. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he could've done it while I'd been lying helpless on the ground.

His jaw set. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Scintillating conversation.

I gathered up more of the dregs of my courage, straightening as best I could with bruised legs. "What about the -" I swallowed, then tried again, my voice thin and reedy, "The gunshots I heard?"

His eyes flicked to over my shoulder, not replying. I sneaked a peek backwards, to see what he was looking at. Seemingly nothing. I turned back to face him, a little unnerved.

Suddenly, his hand reached out, wrapping around my wrist. Before I had time to process it, he was yanking me forward, and we took off running again.

How I wished I'd never tried to "shake things up". Routine was good. Routine was safe. Routine wouldn't get me out in God-knew-where, running and running and running with a strange boy, the sound of gunshots still fresh in my mind.

I stumbled along after him blindly, letting him lead me. Perhaps I should have considered that he was a threat, that he could have been taking me anywhere, kidnapping me even. But I wasn't exactly thinking straight, and neither did I think he was going to hurt me. He'd had his chance, but here I was, still alive and mostly unharmed.

My bruises were starting to throb something fierce, my scrapes stinging.

"Stop, stop! Please."

We slowed, and when we halted, he didn't release his grip on my wrist, instead tightening it. "What's wrong?"

I panted for an eternity before managing to catch my breath and wheeze out between inhales, "Injuries. They hurt. And why are we running?"

His face softened the slightest bit. "I'm sorry. We're safe now, though, I believe. Come on in."

In?

It was then that I realized we'd stopped before a shop.

Frowning, I regarded him carefully. "How do we - "

"It's abandoned. Come on."

Well. Rude.

Holding back a harrumph, I watched as he fumbled around in his pocket, then withdrew a key. Within moments, he had the door open, and gestured at the inside.

"In you go."

When I still hesitated, he let out an impatient sigh. "I already told you, I'm not going to hurt you. Just go in, and we can have a talk."

It sounded ominous. A talk. Biting my lip, I decided to throw caution to the wind and stepped past the threshold. The boy followed after me, flicking on the lights, then swinging the door shut behind him.

"Follow me." Without sparing a glance at me, he brushed past me, heading towards a back room. "Turn off the light," he called over his shoulder.

I obeyed, then scurried after him. He had turned on the lights in the other room, and now he shut this door.

I looked around. It was... a bedroom. As far as I could tell.

Sparsely furnished, utilitarian. A simple desk and chair, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, a standing fan in a corner of the room, a mattress spread out on the floor, piles of clothes stacked against a wall.

I guessed I was gaping, for the boy scowled and pulled the chair over to him, plunking himself down on it.

I quickly snapped my mouth closed and looked at him, not knowing what to say.

We were locked in a staredown, a battle of wills. I didn't know how long had passed before he looked sharply away, the scowl never leaving his face.

"Welcome to my humble abode. Like what you see?" It was flung at me, a stinging barb that pricked my heart.

"I... I... guess it works," I trailed off in a mumble.

A bark of laughter. "Oh no, you're feeling sorry for me. I can tell." He looked back at me, an unreadable expression now on his face, black eyes flinty and I opened my mouth, having no idea what I was going to say, but he held up a hand. "Save it. I didn't bring you here so you could pity poor little me. I told you we had to talk, and here's a safe place."

I nodded. "Talk about what?" It sounded small, unsure, a little shaky. Then I sternly told myself the boy didn't want any sympathy, so I'd best stop feeling it for him. Speaking of the boy...

"Wait. First, what's your name?"

A slight grin tipped the corner of his mouth. "You first."

"Emerson. Your turn."

"Emerson." His lips twitched.

I furrowed my brow. "Yeah, that's my name."

An eyebrow raise. "That's my name too."

It took me probably five whole years to process those four simple words. That's - my - name - too.

Then it hit me, like a cement mixer to the face, knocking the wind out of me and making me double over - not literally, of course.

My jaw unhinged from my skull, falling onto the floor. "Well," was all I could manage, sputtering.

A laugh actually came bursting out of him, a deep rumble that took me by surprise. It was infectious, though, and I soon found a laugh - or a giggle, really - bubbling up from me, spilling over my lip and permeating the air, mingling with his bass sound.

"Emerson," I said stupidly, then burst out laughing again. Maybe it was the exciting events of the night, making me high on adrenaline.

"Emerson." He tipped his head at me, a wide grin splitting his face.

I drew in a deep inhale, my laughter subsiding. I drew a finger under my eye, a tear wetting it. "Okay, so. Emerson. This is going to be confusing."

Emerson shook his head, still smiling. "How about you be Em, and I be Emerson?"

"Why do you get to keep your full name?"

"Emer?"

I considered it. "Emer," I tried it out. "Sounds like hammer." Stupid, Emers - Em. Stupid. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks.

A soft laugh. "So, are we agreed?"

"Yeah. Emer."

"Em."

We stayed like that, an awkward silence descending, for a long moment, before Emer cleared his throat. His smile had faded, mouth once again set in a hard line.

Time to get serious.

"We really do need to talk. I'm sorry about chasing you, and your" - he gestured vaguely at my body - "injuries. Really."

"About the gunshots?" I piped up, deciding to just cut straight to the core of the matter.

Nod. "Did you hear anything else besides that?"

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. My darkest fears I hadn't wanted to dwell on now rose up to the surface of my mind. Hovered on the tip of my tongue. A shove, and they came tumbling out, voiced. "No. But... did someone... die?" The last word came out hushed, quavery.

Emer was my age, or at least looked to be. He couldn't be a murderer. I couldn't be locked in a room with a murderer my age with no one aware of my disappearance and me having no idea where I even was.

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "No," he said slowly. "No one... died."

I heard what he didn't say, and my whole body tensed. Unconsciously, I realized I'd moved away from him, causing him to wince. "But someone got hurt?"

A brief squeezing of his eyes. "I would lie and say no, but that wouldn't help matters."

My tongue darted out, wetting my lips. I was shaking. "Did you do it?" Another step backwards. Another step away from him.

How quickly we had gone from laughing together to having so much tension spike the air.

Emer's black eyes shuttered. "No."

I waited, but he didn't elaborate.

Then: "I was supposed to stop you from talking."

For a long moment, my breath hitched in my chest; my heart stuttered. "What do you mean? Were you going to kill me?" My voice had risen in pitch, and towards the end, I was practically squeaking. I now had my back pressed flat against the wall, my hands bunching into my shirt at my sides.

"Not kill you," Emer hastened to reassure me. "I was supposed to bring you back. So they could interrogate you, and - and, if necessary - " He broke off, audibly swallowing.

"Kill me."

Was that even my voice uttering those words?

He nodded, lips clamped tightly together.

"Why didn't you? Bring me to whoever 'they' are?"

He turned his head away, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I watched his side profile, trying to scrutinize it to make out what exactly he was feeling. "I knew you were innocent. I couldn't let them."

More long silence, but this time it wasn't awkward; instead, it was fraught with confusion, with concern, with all sorts of emotions hanging heavy over us.

"Well, thank you," I murmured. Questions scraped at my throat, itching to be voiced, but I pushed them down. More important things. "But, Emer, what will happen to you when you return without me?"

He stood up swiftly, vehemently moving his head from side to side. "I'll figure something out. Right now, you go save yourself. I don't want all this to have been for nothing. I'm sorry, Em."

In a handful of long strides, he'd crossed over to the door and opened it.

The gesture was clear.

Staring at him, I didn't budge, feeling bewildered and, frankly, terrified for him. I still didn't fully understand what had happened, what was going to happen to him, but he wasn't looking at me anymore, face shadowed. Waiting.

For me to leave.

Save myself.

"Em, go." Was that a pleading note in his voice?

I couldn't find voice to argue, so I nodded, not sure if he'd caught the movement - he was staring too intently at the ground - and moved out the door.

He started to close it, but before he could, I whipped around and pierced him with a wide-eyed stare.

"Be safe, Emerson."

He looked back at me then. Black eyes locked on pale brown ones.

Finally, Emer cocked his head, a small, wry smile creeping across his face.

"Be safe, Emerson," he echoed, then closed the door, leaving me alone in the pitch darkness of the shop.