“Thank you,” he said.
Unable to hold himself back entirely, Luca slowly raised a hand. Trailed his fingers down the side of Emerson’s face. Rubbed a thumb underneath Emerson’s eye. He almost said,it’ll be okay. The way he had been saying that to Emerson since they’d met. His throat practically ached to say it. But maybe it wouldn’t be. Maybe, a few months from now, both Emerson and Luca would be entirely fucked. And in that moment, Luca didn’t want to lie. It was easier not to lie with only your fingertips.
Emerson’s eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into Luca’s palm.
“I’ll get you a Band-Aid,” Luca whispered, because he didn’t know how else he’d be able to keep sitting there without kissing him.
He stumbled away from the couch, made his way to the bathroom. It wasn’t his, the one downstairs next to his room he used most often, but it was easy to find the Band-Aids nonetheless. A box of regular ones sat in the cabinet above the toilet, right next to a smaller, brighter box of Bluey ones.
Luca stared at that box of Bluey Band-Aids for probably too long. Picturing how many cuts and scrapes Emerson had helped cover on Daisy’s skin. How many times he’d plucked off her glasses and cleaned them on his shirt after she’d cried.
Luca plonked his forehead against the wall a few times, and then he returned to the living room with the Band-Aid.
“Here you go.” He held it out to Emerson and then stuck his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t tired but couldn’t stay in the living room anymore. “I’m going to head downstairs. Try to get to sleep early.”
Emerson nodded.
Luca almost turned to walk away, but something still felt off, unfinished. He couldn’t kiss Emerson and he couldn’t lie to him, but other than sticking his finger in his mouth like some kind of weirdo, Luca hadn’t really responded to Emerson pouring out all his worries to him.
“Thank you,” he said, “for talking to me.”
It wasn’t enough, but hopefully it was something.
“Thank you,” Emerson said in response, “for today.”
Now it was Luca’s turn to nod. And against every instinct in his body, he left the room.
seventeen
The text camethrough on Emerson’s phone minutes before he was about to fall asleep the following night. Emerson always kept his phone on and face up next to the baby monitor on his bedside table. In case something happened to Daisy, in case something happened to Jay. It lit up the darkness now, and he reached across the bed with tired arms to grab it.
hey, Luca said. Emerson smiled.
They didn’t text often, being that they were almost always in the same place. Their most common interaction was Emerson texting him reminders of things to tell or ask Liv when Luca made runs to the IGA for him. They’d certainly never texted at this time of night, from their respective bedrooms.
A small thrill rushed through Emerson’s bloodstream. Was this ayou uptext? Emerson had never received one of those, but he was aware of their existence.
Except then Luca’s next text, sent seconds later, only said:
sorry
this was dumb
Almost frantically, before Luca could erase evidence of this conversation, Emerson typed back.
What was dumb?
A second that felt like a year. And then:
just, something kinda good happened
with my book
And I just wanted to tell someone about it but now i’m regretting my choices
sorry
Emerson bit his lip on a smile. This guy. So fucking smooth every day of the year except when he attempted to talk about the thing that obviously meant the most to him.
