With every minute that passed, and despite his anxiety over what the remainder of the day might hold, Emery felt more certain that he'd made the right decision. Josh wore a tentative smile, mind occupied with things other than his client's passing, and it caused an unreasonable swell of pride in Emery's breast. They hadn't even left home yet, but he'd pulled it off. He'd been the one to ease some of Josh's pain, for once.

The sooner they got to Central Park, the better their chances of getting tickets to the play, but it wouldn't do to go unprepared. They'd gone back home to retrieve food, blankets and warmer, impervious clothing. Open umbrellas weren't allowed, it'd been a wet July already, and Emery was convinced it would rain. Josh, always on the verge of a sugar overdose, couldn't even conceive not packing a few of his sugary aberrations, while Emery opted for bottles of water. Soon they were making sandwiches, Josh pointing out they could make a picnic out of it even if they didn't get tickets. It was endearingly domestic, and Emery loved the entire experience without reserve.

Being in Central Park was harder.

Yes, Emery had many fond memories in the park, but the more recent batch was anything but pleasant, and it was still fresh in his mind. The sky had turned plumbeous. In their overzealousness they'd gotten there far too early; there was no one in the standby line outside Delacorte theater. Emery should have suggested they make themselves comfortable and wait but, at some point, he'd decided he should be confronting his demons.

He'd barely opened his mouth to speak when Josh said, "You want to go into the Ramble."

Mouth dry, Emery nodded. "I would like that, yes. Though I will understand completely if babysitting me wasn't what you'd hoped to do with your afternoon."

"Babysitting," Josh echoed, both eyebrows raised, which had less of a dramatic effect than the one he'd no doubt intended. "Is that a family trait, viewing me that way?"

Emma had called Josh a babysitter often, it was true. Antagonistically at first, fondly throughout the rest of their time together. She'd have helped pull Josh out of his head without making it all about her; Emery wished he possessed that skill.

"Apologies." There were easier ways to coax a smile out of Josh. "I will add 'babysitter' next to 'lady-in-waiting' in the list of words I'm not permitted to use in reference to you. Though I don't think 'palliative carer' works in this particular instance either. Any other suggestions?"

Josh's eyes were beautiful when he wore that expression, clear and determined, caring, earnest. "How about 'friend'?"

Emery's heart did a painful flip. That was much, much more than what was reasonable to expect, and he'd cherish it. Nurture it, always. Take care not to crush it, as he had done to the love he knew Josh had once harbored for him. "'Friend,'" he repeated. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

Despite the ominous sky, the Ramble had its share of parkgoers, New Yorkers and tourists alike. It looked vibrant and alive, but Emery knew what hid underneath that veneer, and it darkened his perception.

He remembered huddling for warmth, a persistent drizzle soaking his shirt, until he'd decided to risk sleeping at the Summerhouse, only to find it occupied already. Being set upon by men who wanted his shoes — the shoes Emma had given him as a gift, that he hadn't wanted to part with for reasons more important than the physical comfort they provided.

He remembered his pathetic attempt at fighting back, when he'd never known how to throw a halfway decent punch in the first place. Their casual cruelty as they deliberately stomped on his glasses, that had landed intact on the ground, crushing the lenses beyond any hope of usability.

He remembered abject loneliness, particularly pervasive that night despite how insulated he'd become from most feelings, tearing at whatever shreds of peace he'd managed to hold on to up until that point. Lying on the ground with a bleeding brow, watching blurry silhouettes walk away with the last object that connected him to Emma; deciding to take the coward's way out and not get up, out of some half-forgotten self-preservation instinct he'd have preferred to do without.

Emery forced himself to keep walking, trying to take in his surroundings through the lens of someone who had a home to go to. Who, thanks to Josh, was safe and warm every night.

Where families saw the chance to spend an afternoon in the woods while still being close to home, Emery knew where he could hide, if park security were patrolling the paths after closing time. He knew that the wood chip path, merrily crunching beneath his shoes at the moment, was unforgivable on bare feet; he was aware that sitting on exposed bedrock for too long at night meant that the cold seeped into his bones in a way he couldn't shake, to a point even his thoughts became sluggish.

The rustic wooden benches, charming in the daylight and far less cold than the bedrock, had been a poisoned pill, lulling him into sleepy complacency. Nausea roiled in his stomach at the sight of one particular bench and the memories it unleashed. Feeling helpless. Powerless. Less than a person. A fly, wings torn by a cruel human child, or an ant underneath a magnifying glass. It still featured vividly in his nightmares — that was where he'd learned the hard way that park security wasn't the worst of what could catch up with him in the dark.

The sky seemed lower than mere minutes before, closing in on him, suffocating him, robbing him of the ability to even avert his eyes. He could hear his breath, in short measured gasps, but couldn't actually feel the air entering his lungs.

A warm, strong arm fell on his shoulders, bringing him back to the present; he found himself being pulled into Josh's comforting embrace.

"Hey." Josh's voice, tone lower than usual. And then the impossible kindness of lips pressed up against his forehead. "Are you okay in there?"

Emery inhaled deeply, gathering strength from the proximity he was being offered. From the stark reminder that, while he may have thrown away his chance at love with this man, he was cherished enough that he wasn't alone. He couldn't find his voice to reply, but he didn't have to. Josh tightened his arms around him, seeming to know what it was Emery needed, and Emery couldn't help but do the same.

Josh didn't pressure him for a reply, or ask him why he'd reacted so strongly, or tried to move them along; he was simply there, one of his hands rubbing circles on the small of Emery's back, providing additional comfort. Minutes ticked by as people walked around the obstruction they'd become; Emery had the feeling Josh would be there holding him for hours, if he felt it was needed.

"Hey," Josh repeated, his words a soothing balm on Emery's soul. "I've got you. No matter what. Even if..." A pause. "Even if we screw up this friendship thing; even if it's years down the road. No matter how we leave things. You can always come to me if you need anything. I'll always have your back. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that when I left, after Emma's funeral."

Tears sprang to his eyes unbidden. When he'd decided to confront his demons, he'd failed to take into account how little he'd allowed himself to feel during his seven months on the streets, or how strongly those feelings would assault him now he no longer had that protection.

But he had a different, undeniably better kind of protection.

Whatever his mind saw fit to recall, doing so with the solace of Josh's presence made it lighter, more bearable, somehow. Made the memory of foraging in trash cans for food, when hunger became too pressing to ignore, less humiliating. Made him realize that, had it been another person, he'd have looked upon them with more kindness and less judgement than he'd looked upon himself.

Gradually, Emery loosened his hold on Josh, fingers sliding behind his glasses in an attempt to wipe away the tears he hoped Josh had fail to notice. "Thank you. I hope you know I will always do everything in my power to be of assistance to you, should you need it." He swallowed. "Always."

"Yeah," Josh nodded with a pained smile and a suspicious shine in his alluring gray eyes. "Yeah," he said once more.

Emery didn't turn his gaze back towards the bench as they finally resumed their walk. Some things he wasn't ready to confront head on yet, but these things were sometimes done in increments.

A turn in the path evoked the image of Josh, blurry in the near darkness, screaming Emery's name as if nothing else mattered in the world. This had been where Emery had come hoping to end, yes, but it'd also been where he'd found a beginning. All thanks to Josh, who was now sliding his fingers into Emery's, eyes still fixed on the path ahead.

Emery's heart, usually so preoccupied with what he would never reclaim, overflowed with gratefulness for what he did have. It was enough.

They made their way to the short line, fingers still intertwined until it was their turn, luck smiling upon them in the form of side by side seating. During the play, huddled next to each other, sharing the warmth of two blankets, Josh's hand found his again.

And it became easier, being here. Remembering Emma, young and carefree, sitting beside him every summer, enjoying a play. Forcing him to stand in line with her in the morning, even though one person could collect two tickets. Calling it part of the experience — her mission as an older sister to educate him, lest he become cold and calculating in the long run. There'd been no chance of that, really. He'd suffered from an inability to display the depth of his emotions, perhaps, but never an inability to feel them; not until she'd died and he'd driven Josh away.

Sitting here now, immersed in theater, music and dance — in every beautiful thing Emma had loved with all that she'd been — knowing he still meant something to Josh, something true and good, healed old scars in a way he hadn't thought possible. Healed them enough that, when the skies opened up and a deluge started pouring down on them, it was no longer the grief and loneliness of his seven months on the streets that the downpour summoned. It was, instead, all the other times before that, when rain had been anything from a source of minor inconvenience to a moment of sheer joy.

He didn't realize he was smiling until he felt Josh's lips, so close to his ear that he was thankful the weather provided an alternate explanation for his shiver. "I thought you didn't like rain?"

"I do," he replied, squeezing Josh's hand under the drenched blanket. "I'd forgotten."

The play wasn't halted. In theater, as in life, the show went on. Emery knew he'd have to follow suit, but not tonight. Tonight he wished he could capture somehow, perfectly preserve so he could revisit whenever reality took a harsher turn.

There would be other days for him to rebuild an identity outside his hopeless pining for Josh. Other days in which he'd continue to work towards his future, to strive for independence, to hope to arrive at a moment in which he viewed Josh as nothing other than a very dear friend. There'd be moments to imagine he could meet someone special after that, someone to share a life with, without having to wonder if he was being used, if their only real goal was his fortune. Not having a cent to his name offered its own freedom.

All of those days would come, sooner or later. But tonight? Tonight was for him to bask in Josh's unreasonable warmth even in the middle of a rainstorm; to bask in his nearness. Tonight was for wishful thinking and flights of fancy. Reality could wait one more day.