Word Count: 2196, Human AU, pre- and during Chapter 1 of Happily Ever After [ AO3 ]
CW / Content Warning: Emotional manipulation, implied threats, property damage. There is a reproduction of the flyer from the previous chapter at the end of this chapter.
May Flowers Event Day 17 Prompt: Irises for courage
---
When Emile returned to their room, Max was in the middle of packing. “Hello, Darling, come on in, just watch for those boxes.” Emile edged his way around a stack of flattened boxes poking out from behind the door. Max was standing in front of his closet, Emile’s duffel bag on the desk chair behind him. Emile looked around the room, putting his hands in his pockets to hide his fidgeting.
“Hi, Honey … I thought we were planning to stay until the end of the quarter.” He smiled at Max when he looked up from folding a pair of Emile’s slacks, adding them to the stack in front of him.
“Well, sure … I’m just packing away some of the extra things we don’t really use or have extras of in the meantime. The quarters run a little differently between our old school and Eastern.” Emile tried to hide his wince at the way Max described Western as their ‘old’ school. He was still optimistic that he could convince Max to allow him to stay at Western for two more years. “I’m taking summer quarter courses to make up for what I couldn’t get here, so we'll have just two days after this quarter ends to move out and get settled before my classes start at Eastern.
Emile nodded and gripped the strap of his book bag. He watched the frenetic way Max was folding one item of clothing after another. Max was too activated to have this conversation right now. Emile decided to try to broach the subject again after dinner. That was usually a calmer time, anyway. Maybe then he could go back through the what Max had packed and retrieve the clothing he would need for the last two weeks of class.
“If ... you do not mind too much, Honey,” Emile stepped a little closer to him, resting a hand on Max's forearm as he pushed down on the stacks of clothing in the open bag. “I have an assignment due tonight that I need to work on. I could go complete it at the library and then come back and help you after dinner.“
Max narrowed his eyes at Emile, “You should do your assignment here. Then we don’t have to worry about where to meet up later for dinner.”
"Of course, Honey." Emile nodded again, “Would it be alright to -,” he touched backrest of his desk chair, currently buried under the bag and several jackets and sweaters draped across it.
“Yeah, sure,” Max muttered without looking up. “Why don’t you get settled and I’ll move all this so you can sit.”
“Thank you, Honey.” Emile turned to face his desk and opened his bag to take out his notebooks and laptop. As he pulled out the laptop, the folded leaflet from Project DVORA fluttered out and landed on the floor near Max’s feet. Emile’s eyes widened and he bent quickly to retrieve it. Max was faster.
“Oh, you dropped this, Darling. Pretty paper,” he murmured, opening the sheet and beginning to read.
Emile stood frozen in place. It felt like time was slowing down as he watched Max’s eyebrows slowly tighten, mouth drawing down into a scowl. He could see the muscles in Max’s jaw start to work as he ground his teeth, reading the entire leaflet.
Max got to the end, turning it over in his hands. He clenched his teeth and finally looked at Emile.
“Emile …,” Max’s voice was low and calm, almost whispering. Emile stood very still. He knew how to handle Max’s anger, and his tears, and his despondency. This was something different. Max held the leaflet up so he could see. “What the fuck is this, Emile?”
Emile pressed a smile onto his face and tried to force his muscles to relax. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Just a flyer a classmate picked up.” He licked his lips, clenching his toes in his shoes as his only outlet for the churning he felt in his stomach. “They saw the Hebrew and asked me about it.” His eyes darted around the room. He’d been fuzzy with the truth around Max before, but this was the biggest lie he’d ever told him.
Emile watched as Max’s eyes darkened. He looked at the leaflet again before balling it up and throwing it on the floor. “He, who, Emile?” Max stepped closer. “That little high schooler who’s been following you around? What’s his name? Renee?” Emile was silent, head bowed. “Huh?”
Emile just nodded. It was pointless to correct Max when he was this angry. He would apologize later and they could talk it out.
Max crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I get it. I really do. I almost feel bad for him.” Emile risked a quick glance up to check Max’s expression. His mouth was curved slightly in an approximation of a smile and his eyebrows were gently raised. The sharpness in his eyes, however, remained. “But, Darling,” Max reached for Emile’s left hand, stroking his palm and running his thumb over the ring on his finger. “Why would you let him try to poison what we have? He could never love you the way I do. No-one else could love you the way I do.” Max stepped closer, holding Emile’s hand in both of his, bending down to kiss his fingers. He tilted his head up, looking closely at Emile.
“Unless … unless, of course, you think you’d actually be better off without me." Emile stared back at Max, trying to keep eye contact and blinking rapidly. "Unless that's the real reason why you wanted to go do your homework at the library? So you could meet up with your little friend?” Max tightened his grip on Emile’s hand, pressing it against his own his chest. He narrowed his eyes, “No … no you’re not like that, right, Darling?” Emile shook his head rapidly, trying to smile but ending up with a just a trembling mouth. “That’s what I thought.” Max grinned, untangling one of his hands to stroke Emile's cheek.
Emile couldn’t control the tiny frightened twitch in his face when Max's hand touched him.
Max frowned at first, but then chuckled, keeping his hold on Emile's hands and snaking his other arm around his waist like an embrace. “You see, that’s the funny thing about people, Darling.” He shook his head and tsked lightly. “We’re all just a mess of chemicals and nerves underneath it all. No matter what you say, no matter what you promise, when you're lying to me, you will always have a tell. You just can’t help it.” He let go of Emile's hands and reached behind him, picking up his laptop from the desk. “And because you can’t help it, I’ll always be here to help you and to keep any temptations away.”
He met Emile’s eyes. “Where’s your phone, Darling?” Emile’s eyes flicked down to his hip before he could stop himself. Still holding the laptop, Max released Emile and shoved his hand into Emile’s pocket, grabbing his phone. He bent his head down and kissed Emile’s cheek, then turned and flung his computer and phone against the cinder block dorm room wall. Emile flinched, covering his head and face as shards of plastic and glass scattered around the room.
Max maintained his icy calm voice. “You will use my computer for your final assignments and I’ll go buy you a new phone. You'll have a new phone number that you will not share with anyone unless I say so.” He looked around at the debris littering the floor and the spare bed. “You should clean this up while I’m gone. Those broken bits could be dangerous.” Max lifted Emile's chin, kissing him on the mouth, then he turned and left, locking the door behind him.
Emile’s legs gave out and he sank down to the floor, shaking. He sat there stunned, for a minute or for ten, Emile wasn't sure. He could barely breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, counting out his breaths like he used to teach his friends in high school. Gradually, he was able to slow his breathing enough to get all the way to eight on the exhale. He looked around the chaos of the room, at the empty boxes, and his half-packed bag, and the remains of his computer on the floor, thinking that the sparkling bits of glass could almost pass for glitter.
The shattered screen refracted the light streaming in from the window, drawing his eyes to the crumpled leaflet that lay just under the bed where Max had tossed it. Moving carefully to avoid the sharp bits on the floor, Emile crawled over and picked it up, smoothing it out on his lap. He traced the stylized irises printed in the corner of the page, and re-read the list, counting this time.
Twelve.
Twelve items out of a list of seventeen. You don't have to wait until he's hitting you before you decide to leave.
Finally, something broke loose in Emile and he started to sob. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand until he stopped. He carefully re-folded the flyer and put it in his pocket, then got to his feet. He started shoving his remaining clothes into his duffel bag. He grabbed his books from the shelf on his desk, and his shaving kit and toothbrush from the dresser. Max was a minimalist - to spite his own name - so Emile didn’t have a lot to pack. Most of his belongings were in storage at his parents' house.
Looking around the room for anything he might have missed, Emile pulled off his engagement ring and placed it on top of Max’s closed laptop on his desk. Then he picked up his book bag and duffel, and what was left of his shattered computer and phone, and opened the door. He poked his head out into the hallway, listening for the elevator or the heavy fire door at the staircase. No-one was around. Hands gripped tightly on his bags, he ran down to Remy’s door, knocking rapidly, praying he was inside.
Remy opened the door, eyes widening first when he saw Emile’s tears and then the bags in his hands. He opened the door completely, ushering Emile inside. “Em! Come in, come in.”
Emile rushed through the doorway and Remy closed and locked it behind him. Emile leaned against the closed door and cried.
…
Remy led Emile all the way inside his room, gently tapping his hands where he kept an iron grip on his bags. “It’s ok to put these down now, Emile.” He nodded and placed the bags in a corner of the room. Remy grabbed a box of tissues and pressed it into Emile’s hands. He gestured between a desk chair and his bed, “Where would you like to sit?” They were closer to the bed and Emile practically collapsed on it, hunching over himself, sobs wracking his body. Remy sat next to him, rubbing circles into his back. When his cries quieted, Remy asked, “Where is Max right now, Em?”
Emile shook his head, “I don’t really know. Off-campus, I think. Maybe downtown?” Emile pulled out his broken phone, “He went to go buy a new phone for me.”
Remy's brow furrowed and his jaw tightened. “Did he do this?” Emile nodded.
“My computer, too.”
“Emile,” Remy lowered his voice and spoke very carefully. “Did he … did he hurt you?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Emile laughed, the sound brittle and high-pitched. “I am totally fine. I just left my boyfriend of four years. No, not my boyfriend, my fiancee …,” Emile crumpled, a fresh sob escaping his throat. He leaned into Remy, who wrapped his arms around him, shushing into his hair. “Oh, my God, what have I done?” He turned to Remy, eyes wild. “I don’t even have a place to live anymore. Max cancelled our room for next year and every dorm is wait listed ...”
“It’s going to be ok, Emile, I promise. My roommate and I are getting a suite next year.” Remy smiled, “We’ll sneak you in. And we'll figure out how to deal with the last two weeks of the quarter.” Emile leaned against Remy again, face drawn. Remy could see that his adrenaline was starting to wear off and he was likely going to crash soon. He paused, taking a deep breath, “Listen, Em, we need to take care of some things, then you can lie down and take a nap, ok?” Emile nodded against his chest. “We are going to need some help. When Max comes back and sees that you're gone …” Emile sat up, jaw trembling. “Let’s call the RA and let him know what’s going on. Then maybe … maybe campus security, if… if that’s ok with you?”
“Ok,” Emile whispered, breathing shallowly.
“And then, do you want to use my phone to call your parents?” He nodded. Emile didn’t talk about his family a lot, but they seemed to get a long well and Remy knew they would get together sometimes after his classes at TBT. And then, once Emile was asleep, Remy would call his uncle to find out what else they needed to do.
Word Count: 1106, Human AU, pre- and during Chapter 1 of Happily Ever After
[ AO3 ]
May Flowers Event Day 12: Birds of Paradise for freedom.
CW/Content Warning: toxic relationship dynamics
HaMorah means the teacher in Hebrew and is commonly used as an honorific like Mr./Ms/Mx for teachers at Jewish day schools or Sunday schools.
---
Emile carefully closed the dorm room door behind him, locking it and putting his keys back in his pocket. His boyfriend, Max, was sitting at his desk, reading a book on Jungian analysis. He didn't look up when Emile entered.
“Hi, Honey, how has your day been going?,” Emile smiled gently in his direction, waiting for Max to look up from the textbook.
“Fine.”
Emile swallowed but kept his smile. “Hmm ... it sounds like maybe you had a rough day if it's only been fine,” Emile retrieved his water bottle from his bag and dribbled some into the soil of the flowering plant on his desk, watching Max out of the corner of his eye. “Would you like to talk about it?,” he asked, tightening the cap on the water bottle and returning it to its pocket. Max shrugged, attention fixed on the book in front of him.
“I understand, Honey.” Emile's hand twitched as he considered rubbing Max's back but he refrained when he noticed the tightness in the other's jaw and how his fingertips paled where he gripped his book. “If you need anything, I'll be right here.” Emile waited a moment for a response that never came. He nodded to himself and quietly put his books down on his desk, pulling out his chair and preparing to study. The new essay Professor Howard had assigned that day weighed on him and the sooner he started it, the better he would feel.
After about twenty minutes of outlining and preparing a list of sources to investigate for his paper, Emile heard Max sigh from his desk. Emile sat straight in his chair and swiveled to face him. “Do you need something, Honey?”
Max turned in his chair to face Emile. “I saw on the calendar that you’re still teaching at your church this Sunday.” Emile blinked away a grimace at the way he called Temple B'nai Torah 'church'. It doesn’t actually matter what Max calls it though, does it? “Sunday is my birthday. I thought you would want to spend the day with me."
Emile nodded, smiling. “Yes, and I am looking forward to spending the whole afternoon and evening with you so we can celebrate.” He tilted his head, trying to meet Max’s eyes. “Remember? I told you about my class when we started making your birthday plans a month or so ago." He shook his head. "I can’t just bail on them.” Max wouldn’t look at him. Emile bit at his lower lip, eyebrows knitting together. “We don’t have enough staff to have substitutes.”
Max turned back to his desk, shoulders hunched. "When you do this, it makes me think you don't love me enough to ever put me first.” Emile swallowed and got out of his chair, closing the distance between them. He stood behind Max and gently placed his hands on his shoulders. When Max didn’t shake him off or move away, Emile started to knead the tightness out of his muscles.
"As much as I would like to, I can't always put fun with you before my responsibilities." Emile carefully began, wincing when he felt Max's muscles tighten at his words. He worked out the new tension before continuing. "I made a commitment to TBT to teach this year. I can't just - "
Max sighed heavily. “Fine, fine, fine. It’s fine." Max turned, pulling Emile onto his lap and burying his face in the shorter man's chest. "It's fine, Darling. You’ll be home by 1:30, though? Right?”
Emile smiled again, stroking Max's hair. “Yes, of course, Honey.”
…
Sunday morning dawned clear and bright. Emile let his religious school class have a little extra time playing on the temple’s playground at break time. It had been a long winter and the recent mild days were a taste of the warmer weather soon to come. Emile pushed some of the smaller children on the swings, laughing when they squealed, begging to go higher. He joined the children in a game of tag that soon grew so chaotic that no-one knew who was 'It' anymore and they all simply ran around, chasing and trying to tag the person nearest to them. Sooner than either Emile or the students were ready, though, it was time to go back to the classroom and resume their lessons for the morning. As the students filed back inside, one of the little girls he'd helped with the swings handed him a flower crown. Emile grinned and wrote לפרוח, the Hebrew word for 'flower', on the board, wearing the crown for the rest of their lesson.
When class was over, Emile stood outside the temple with his students, supervising parent pick-up. By 11:45, all but one student’s parents had arrived. After a few more minutes of waiting, Emile knelt down to get to his student’s eye level. “Noa, do you know your dad's phone number?” Noa shook her head, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Oh, Noa, sweetie, it’s ok. Let’s go to the office and get HaMorah Deb to look up his phone number, ok?” Noa nodded and took Emile’s hand when he stood.
They had just reached the doors when Noa’s father came running up, “I’m here, I’m here!” Noa grinned, dropping Emile’s hand and running to her father. “I’m sorry I’m late, pumpkin!” He looked to Emile, “I’m sorry, HaMorah Emile.”
He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, Joe. You got here just in time.” Addressing Noa, Emile added, “See you next week?”
She nodded solemnly, “Yes, HaMorah.”
Emile checked his watch and his face tightened. He had just over an hour and a half an hour to get back up to Bellingham and his dorm room. He waved to Joe and Noa and sprinted to his car, “Have a good week!”
…
At 1:33, Emile dashed into the dorm room, cheeks flushed and panting. There was an event at the Performing Arts Center next to their dorm hall and he’d had to park in the overflow lot on the other side of campus. Max stood, smiling brightly at Emile. “Ready to go?”
Emile grinned, “Yes, of course, let just water my flowers first -“ his voice died when he turned and saw that the stem of the Birds of Paradise plant his parents had given him for his birthday was broken, bright blue and yellow petals ripped and scattered on the floor. Emile turned to Max, gesturing to the plant, mouth opening to ask what had happened.
Max stood near the door, smile broadening and a glint in his eyes as they met Emile's. “It’s after 1:30, isn’t it?” He reached for Emile’s hand. “We’re going to have to hurry, Darling, if we want to make it to the movie on time.”
---
It might be obvious from the quality of his character, but if Emile was real, he would be spending a lot of time on this website right about now: https://decolonizepalestine.com/
Out-of-context spoiler for the final chapter of Remy & Emile:
“Don’t they understand that these things take time? Why won’t they just wait until the environment can catch up?” Remy’s voice was tight. “They can’t just turn a dial and expect to undo years of damage. They need to give it time to heal.”
Word Count: 1215, Human AU, pre- and during Chapter 1 of Happily Ever After [ AO3 ]
May Flowers Event Day 14 Prompt: Daisies for innocence
Emile chewed at the end of his pen, head tilted to the side, staring down at the blank page in front of him. The new religious school director had added two more weeks to next year’s school calendar and Emile needed to develop additional lesson plans for his third graders. He retrieved his laptop from his bag, pulling up the current curriculum, looking for gaps or shorter lessons that he could flesh out into broader, multi-session topics.
Reviewing the ten months of the new calendar, he realized that the expansion meant that they were guaranteed to meet during his favorite holiday, Tu B'shevat, 'Jewish Arbor Day.' Emile grinned as an idea brewed in his head. Sketching out the months, he pulled out the standalone Earth Day activity from April's plans. If he expanded it with more information about sustainable farming and a survey of the trees around the temple, he could craft at least one additional lesson and possibly two. Head down, Emile started writing, mapping out the new lessons.
Emile was so caught up in his work that he barely registered the noise at the door until Max rose from their bed and opened it.
“Oh, hello there. I’m Remy … I was looking for Emile. Do I have the right room?”
Emile stood at the sound of Remy's voice at the door, knocking over his chair. Max watched with narrowed eyes as Emile picked it up and joined him. Max stood with one arm resting on the door frame, the other holding the door open. Emile had to peer over Max’s arm to see Remy’s face.
“Hi, Emile. I - I hope I’m not disturbing you. I …,” he swallowed, eyes darting between Max and Emile. “I realized last week that we actually live on the same floor." A higher-pitched than normal chuckle escaped his lips. "I happened to see you go in your room the other day." Remy chewed his lip for a moment. "I hadn't really noticed until -" he gestured at his own hair, "- you know ... the pink. Your hair hasn't always been that color, has it?”
Emile blushed and shook his head, hand reaching up to cover the bright locks. “No, I dyed it just a couple of weeks ago … um, right before we met, actually.” Emile’s eyes widened, “Oh, I’m forgetting my manners. Remy, this is Max, my boyfriend. Max, this is Remy. We take Paleoecology together.”
Max grinned broadly, reaching for Remy’s hand and pumping it up and down in a vigorous handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Remy. You must be one of the Running Start high school kids.”
Remy cleared his throat, “No, not anymore at least. Officially I'm a Junior, but this is my first year at Western.” He pointed down the hallway, “I live at the end, the door with the 'Equal Rights Aren't Like Pie' stickers.”
Max nodded, peering down at Remy. “Well, you must be older than you look. I interrupted you, though, didn't I?” He draped his arm over Emile’s shoulders, drawing him close to his body. “You were saying about my little Emile’s hair?”
“Um, just that it made you more noticeable, Emile.” Remy shrugged, giving a little smile to his friend and avoiding looking back at Max’s face. Remy shoved his hands in his pockets. “I suddenly started seeing you everywhere,” he said with a small chuckle.
“Recency bias,” Max intoned.
Remy’s eyes shot over to the taller man. He raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Emile. Emile spoke first. “The Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon?,” he asked him.
“Sure, Darling,” he muttered, still staring at Remy with a smile. “It’s when you first learn about something and it makes an impression, so you start noticing it everywhere.” He looked down at Emile. “I told you the pink hair would be attention-getting.”
Emile stared at the floor, noting how Remy’s feet were slowly inching away from their door.
“Well, I should be going - Oh, right! I nearly forgot why I knocked.” Remy presented the book he was holding to Emile. “I came to return this.”
Emile looked up, mouth drawn down into a small frown. “Oh ... you don’t have to return it yet, I’ve already read it.” He nodded quickly, “You can finish it.”
Remy shrugged, “I did. I … stayed up last night reading.” He huffed out a small laugh. “I just couldn’t put it down.” He thumbed through the pages, revealing sticky notes scattered throughout the text. “I mean, ‘Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven’ ?! And the rights in the forest? 'You have the right to be present'!
"Oh, and the part with the protest?," Emile leaned closer, grinning and tapping at the book as Remy flipped through the pages. "What did you think about the police video? Or the part about how the original message of the Giving Tree backfired, making us expect trees - and people - to just give and give until - "
Max cleared his throat and tightened his grip on Emile's shoulders.
Remy's brow furrowed as his gaze lingered where Max's fingers were pressed against Emile's upper arm. "The book was quite good. I really appreciate you letting me borrow it, Emile.”
Emile's eyes remained focused on the book in Remy's hands, “I am glad you enjoyed it, Remy. I thought you might like the way it weaves emotion into the ecology." He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "The Overstory really should be required reading in the environmental science program.”
Remy opened his mouth to respond but a shift in Max’s posture drew his attention and silenced his next thought. “Well, here,” Remy pressed the book back into his hands. Emile felt Max’s grip tighten once more around his shoulders. “Thanks again. I’d - “ Remy’s eyes darted back to Max. “- I should go. It was nice to meet you, Max.” He looked at Emile again, “See you in class tomorrow?”
Emile nodded as Max closed the door, murmuring, "See ya."
“Nice kid,” Max muttered darkly. “Maybe he’ll flirt less now that he knows you have a boyfriend.”
Emile shook his head, stroking Max’s shoulder, “Remy’s not flirting. He’s just friendly. And really smart. I get the impression he has trouble finding people to talk to about his ideas.”
“You always want to see the best in people, Emile, even when the truth is standing right in front you.” Max shook his head slowly, putting both arms around Emile’s shoulders. “I think maybe you don’t realize how few people are actually interested in friendship. Most are usually only trying to get you into bed.” Emile opened his mouth for a moment, retort at the ready, Remy’s not like that, but the ice in Max’s expression killed the words on his lips.
Emile returned Max’s embrace, still gripping the book tightly, before putting it back into his bag and returning to his lesson plans.
“Darling,” Max’s voice was low. Emile craned his neck to face him, smile ready. “Your little friend did actually prove my earlier point." Max raised his eyebrows at Emile. "I told you that you shouldn’t have dyed your hair pink. It just attracts the wrong kind of attention.” Max stood behind Emile's chair, stroking his shoulders and running fingers through his hair. “When you’re done with that, let’s go to Rudy’s and get your hair back to its real color, ok, Darling?”
Word Count: 1140, Human AU, pre- and during Chapter 1 of Happily Ever After [ AO3 ]
May Flowers Event day 13 prompt: Safflower for good luck
---
The day of his Paleoecology presentation, Remy planned his schedule carefully, allowing himself an extra hour in the lecture hall to prepare for that afternoon’s class. As soon as he opened the door, though, he realized he would need a new plan.
Emile was sitting in his usual seat in the front row. Remy's first thought was that they would need to negotiate for time to practice their presentations, but just before he called out his name, Remy realized the pink-haired man was crying.
Remy froze for a moment, torn between the competing desires to rush down and comfort Emile, finding out what he could do to help, and giving Emile privacy. Finally, fate - or, rather, the faulty pneumatic door hinge - decided for him, as a loud clicking from the mechanism captured Emile’s attention. He whipped his head around and up to the doors at the top level of the lecture hall.
Seeing Remy standing in the doorway, Emile quickly scrubbed away the tears on his face and called up to him, “Oh, hi, Remy … I, um, was just getting ready for my presentation.” His voice was shaky and Remy’s arms itched with the impulse to hug him. He sprinted down the aisle toward Emile's seat. “I am merely feeling a little nervous.” Emile looked down at his closed laptop on the flip-out desk in front of him. “I apologize,” he said at last.
“Emile ... You don’t have to apologize for crying.” Reaching the first row, Remy fumbled in his pockets for a packet of tissues. “Here,” he murmured, pressing the pack into Emile’s hands, frowning briefly when he felt how cold his fingers were. “May I sit with you?” Remy gestured back toward the door, “Or I can go ... if you’d rather be alone, I'd understand - “
Emile wouldn’t look up, but whispered, voice breaking, “Would - would you stay … if you don’t have somewhere more … more important to be, that is.”
Remy smiled softly, taking the seat next to him. “I can’t think of anywhere more important to be right now.”
Emile briefly glanced up at Remy and nodded his thanks. Opening the tissues, he pulled one out and scrubbed at his face again. His voice was still catching, words coming out in little gasps. “I - I don’t know what …,” Emile shook his head and closed his eyes, holding his breath as he tried to halt his tears “I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t ... really have anything to be sad about.” Emile pushed his lips into a smile, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’m - I’m just being a little oversensitive.”
Remy looked closely at the way Emile’s hands grasped at his own shirt and the stiffness in his smile.“You know, Emile, that’s the second time I’ve heard you call yourself oversensitive.” Remy said carefully. Emile shifted in his seat, pulling out a fresh tissue and twisting it in his hands. “My dad has always told me and my brothers that being sensitive is a strength.” Emile looked up at Remy, eyes wide in surprise. Remy bit at his cheek for a moment. “He's also said that anyone who calls you oversensitive is ... probably the one giving you something to be sensitive about." Remy leaned a little closer to whisper conspiratorially to Emile, winking, “And you can't let this get out - I've gotta keep up the pretense of generational rebellion. But ... I think my dad is right.”
Remy's heart jumped at the sound of the little laugh his terrible joke drew from Emile’s lips.
Emile blinked, looking into Remy’s eyes for a moment before returning his focus to his hands and the tissue he was slowly shredding. Remy let Emile sit quietly for a few minutes before murmuring, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want, but ...,” Remy noticed Emile’s hands shaking, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Emile pinched his lips together, ripping the bits of tissue into smaller and smaller pieces and arranging them in rows. He shook his head. “I’m just nervous about the presentation today.”
“Would it help to practice?” Remy opened his arms, palms up. “I can be your audience … if that would help, of course.” Emile felt fresh tears come to his eyes and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you hardly know me.” Emile looked down at his hands again. “How do you know I’m not just some creep? Or how do I know that you aren't?” Emile clamped his lips shut after the last question, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes wide. He shook his head, “That came out all wrong, I’m sorry.”
Remy grinned, shaking his head and waving his hands in front of him as though to wipe away the need for an apology. “It’s ok.” He tilted his head, speaking slowly, “I'm being nice to you because ... I think you’re nice, and smart … and … it was really funny how you took down Professor Howard the other day.” Emile blushed. “Mostly, you just looked like you needed a friend.” Remy shrugged, a crooked smile on his face. "I could use one, too."
Emile bit his lip, staring at Remy, before nodding and opening his laptop. “Ok … tell me if you like it, but … um, it’s too late to really change anything, so … go easy on the criticism.”
Nodding and sitting back in his seat, Remy folded his hands on the desktop in front of him, mimicking perfect audience etiquette. Emile stood and started to open his presentation file, turning the laptop and placing it on the lectern so Remy could see. Remy grinned at Emile, admiring the flowers on his desktop screen. “Nice background, by the way.”
Emile turned the screen a bit, "Oh, right. Safflowers are supposed to bring good luck." He shook his head, blushing, "It's silly, I know, but, well ... if baseball players are allowed to be a little superstitious, and not change their socks or spit in the same spot or whatever ... Why can't college students have a little something, right?"
Remy laughed and gave Emile a thumbs up, "I can get behind that! You got this ... Good luck,” he winked.
Emile took a deep breath and began.
As he dove into the presentation, Remy watched as Emile’s entire being just … expanded. His smile grew more natural and his shoulders lowered. Emile’s stance changed, too - he moved smoothly as he spoke and Remy thought he even looked taller. Remy leaned forward in his seat and let himself be drawn in to Emile's animated features and gentle voice.
By the time Emile got to the last slide, which featured a smiling Photoshopped turtle with an 'Any Questions?' speech bubble, other students were starting to file into their seats, so he closed his laptop and hustled back to his own row. Remy grinned at Emile, “You’re gonna knock this out of the park!”
Word Count: 2771, Human AU, pre- and during Chapter 1 of Happily Ever After [ AO3 ]
Shout out and thanks again to @treeni for talking through some of the ideas in this chapter with me. 🖤💕
May Flowers Event Day 20: Hydrangeas in pink for love and blue for I’m sorry
---
The weeks following Remy's admission were more painful than either had anticipated they might be. Emile became incredibly cautious around his best friend. He didn't want his presence to be a constant reminder of the one-sidedness of Remy’s declaration, and so he avoided being alone with him, at least as much as one could avoid being alone with one’s roommate. He stopped meeting Remy for dinner, and left the room early in the morning, before Remy woke. Emile began to stay up late in their suite common room, studying there instead of together with Remy, only tiptoeing back and getting into bed after Remy had fallen asleep.
Their other comforting habits were started to crumble, as well. They had both been reading their own copies of The Fifth Season, discussing what they had read after each chapter - or after particularly compelling passages. Both copies now sat idle in their room, neither man able to pick it up without hearing the author's words in their friend's voice.
The first Sunday after Remy's confession, Emile drove home from religious school, imagining Remy's expression as he recounted his students' efforts to catalog the trees around the playground, only to reconsider as he approached their door. Instead, he left the suite and studied in the campus library until it closed that evening. For the first time ever since he'd met Remy, Emile desperately hoped not to run into him, going so far as to study amongst the dusty microfiche machines.
Studying in general became that much harder to get through. The fourth time that Emile lifted his head from his textbook, excited to share an idea with Remy, only to look up at the confused face of one of the other suite mates - Emile finally admitted to himself just how sorely he missed Remy. Just one hour in the room with him, and then I'll give him his space, he promised himself. He gathered his work and sheepishly went to their room, gently tapping twice in their customary warning before opening the door.
Emile felt his heart clench when he saw Remy wiping his eyes as he entered. The gravity of his mistake over the past two weeks pressed down on his shoulders. By avoiding Remy in his attempts to shield him from pain, all Emile had succeeded in doing was hurting him more.
"Hi, Remy ... do you mind if I study in here with you? Or would you rather I ... " Emile didn't actually want to leave again and he couldn't even make himself say the words to offer it.
Remy faced him, eyes red-rimmed but now smiling brightly. "Of course not, Em. I'd really like your company." Relishing the little burst of warmth that spread through his chest at Remy's soft expression, Emile nodded and sat cross-legged on his bed, re-opening his botany textbook and resting it on his lap. Still smiling, Remy returned to his own book and the two sat in a quiet companionship while they finished their homework together.
The silent studying was only broken twice. The first was when Emile read aloud that hydrangeas were technically an invasive species because of how quickly they would grow in the proper conditions. He looked over at his rapidly expanding collection of potted plants and joked to Remy, “We’ll need to keep a careful eye on those, won’t yet?” Remy grinned, admiring how much the blue and pink flowers had grown over the past two months.
The second was when Remy when read a brief passage from Splinterlands to Emile, reminding both of them that they had worked though dinner and they decided to go out together to scrounge up a meal off-campus.
As they sat next to each other outside a tiny Phở shop, twirling their noodles with chopsticks, Remy carefully nudged Emile's shoulder with his own. "I'm so glad you came back to the room this afternoon, Em." He looked down at his soup, fishing with the chopsticks. "I really missed you," he whispered at last.
Emile looked sideways at his friend, nudging back. "Missed you, too."
...
For the rest of the quarter, the four sets of work teams in the Salish Sea field work group spent two Saturdays a month piling into a rented passenger van filled with their equipment. Remy and Emile consistently used all of their collection jars, no matter how many Jenny, the grad student in charge of the teams, would give them. Initially, she had accepted the pair's samples with some trepidation, concerned that they were sacrificing accuracy in their efforts to fill all of their containers. After the first batches were analyzed, though, Jenny quickly discovered her fears to be unfounded. Remy and Emile’s earlier worries of not being able to keep up with the seniors in the group were rapidly dissipating.
Instead, the more experienced seniors soon found themselves competing with each other to keep up with 'the Doctors'. The nickname had started as a not-so-gentle dig at their obvious ambitions and - at times - unbearably geeky exuberance. Once their productivity proved to match their passion, though, the nickname took on a more affectionate tone.
This was their last trip before the end of the quarter. Technically, classes had already ended, but the samples needed to be collected at regular intervals in order to provide meaningful data, so the team had met during winter break for the latest trip out to the Burley Lagoon.
Remy and Emile sat together in the van, heads bowed in concentration, reviewing the latest information Emile had found from the main project website. The restoration project was under increased pressure from an aquaculture lobbying association. Emile scowled, reading the report. “The fishery just east of the lagoon is trying to push through new rules that will allow them to expand their operations beyond the current boundaries.” Emile turned to Remy, mouth falling open. “That would undo all of the restoration that’s been done so far.” The models suggested that the project would soon start to see solid results at the lagoon. But the Kitsap County board wanted more than just projections. They wanted proof that the project’s costly efforts were actually working to restore the ecosystem at the site.
Expanding the fishery operations would bring new processing jobs to the local cities. The allure of an immediate payoff was beginning to outweigh the ‘potential’ ecological benefits promised by the restoration project. If the teams weren't able to find evidence that native species were beginning to rebound in reality and not just in the models, their funding would be cut, the fishery would get its rule change, and their entire project would be put at risk.
Remy saw how Emile’s mouth started to tremble as he read the article aloud. He carefully stroked Emile’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He shook his head. “Don’t they understand that these things take time? Why won’t they just wait until the environment can catch up?” Remy’s voice was tight. “They can’t just turn a dial and expect to undo years of damage. They need to give it time to heal.”
Emile nodded, scrolling through the list of key indicators the project was tracking. “Here, look at this, Remy.” He showed Remy a picture of a greenish water plant. “This is native eelgrass. If we can demonstrate that the restoration project has made enough of an impact that the native plant is now able to survive in the lagoon … “ He looked up at Remy, hopeful eyes shining. “We’ll have proof that the ecosystem is healing. We’ll have a chance to get the County to back off and let the restoration project continue.”
Remy chuckled, feeling a bit of Emile’s hope rubbing off on him. “So we get to be like EVE in WALL-e … we need to find the plant,” Remy did his best EVE impression, grinning when he heard Emile’s tiny laugh bubbling up.
His laughter trickled off as he looked back at his phone screen. “You’re not wrong …,” Emile murmured. “Here, I’ve got some more pictures of what we’re looking for.” The two leaned in close, staring at the screen, memorizing the distinctions between the native and the invasive eelgrass in the hopes that they would better be able to identify a sample once they were in the field.
…
With only an hour left for the day’s trip, Remy and Emile were knee-deep in the water by the edge of a spindly fir tree. The rain that had started early that morning was growing steadily worse. It was the kind of weather that could make the most devoted environmental science student begin to doubt their academic choices, fantasizing about studying Shakespeare in a toasty library, or hunching over a laptop in a pristine lab, hacking away at code.
Emile had crouched down to get a closer look at a small plant growing on the side of an exposed tree root. He groaned and suddenly stood. "That’s just cheat grass. We’ve collected four samples of that already." He threw head back, closing his eyes against the rain and feeling his boots sink a little deeper into the muck. Emile felt like every drop of rain pushed him further and further down. He knew that if he just took a step, he could loosen the grip of the mud on his boots. But he didn't care. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to open his eyes.
He just didn’t see the point any more.
“What will I do if this project is cancelled?,” he muttered half to himself and half to Remy. “What if it’s cancelled because I couldn’t find what we needed to keep going?” He hung his head, shoulders slumped. “Because I couldn’t fix it?”
Remy stepped closer to Emile and gently rested his hands on his shoulders, tilting his head to catch his friend’s eyes. “Hey, hey, hey … You’re not alone. We’re in this together, Em.” He smiled when Emile met his eyes. “C’mon, we’ve got three more jars. We don’t have to start heading back for another hour, and we’ve got plenty of battery life in our flashlights.” Remy nodded slowly at Emile, waiting for him to nod in response.
“Let’s just try, ok?,” Remy broadened his grin, hoping Emile would start to match it. Emile managed a tiny step toward him and Remy pulled him in to a hug, squeezing tight for a minute, pressing in as much reassurance through his arms as he could manage.
Emile pulled back, nodding firmly and pushing his lips up into something close to a smile. “Ok, ok, let’s do this. We can do a lot in an hour.” He raised a jar up in the air as if he were drawing a sword before charging into battle. “Once more unto the breach, dear Friend!” Remy grinned and patted the other two jars in his pockets, following Emile deeper into the brackish water of the lagoon.
Nearly an hour later, Emile called out from a few yards away. "Remy, can you bring the flashlight over here? There's something under the root that I don't think we've sampled yet. That last eel grass was brown, wasn't it?”
Remy moved closer, “Hm-hm, Werner's 105.”
Emile chuckled, “Did you just look it up or do you have the entire color nomenclature memorized?”
Remy blushed, “Well, not all of it." Emile laughed with Remy as he leaned in, directing the light where he pointed.
"That's perfect, thank you." Kneeling down in the water, Emile was, yet again, grateful for the hip waders Remy had insisted they wore despite their overwhelming dorkiness. Emile carefully plucked a small amount of the plant into a collection jar. Standing up, he quickly screwed on the cap to prevent anything from falling out or into the sample.
Both men stood staring at the jar in the brighter light. Emile spoke first, his voice hushed, “I think … I think this might be native eelgrass. What do you think?,” he turned to Remy. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it in person before. The invasive species are endemic all up and down the coast.”
A small smile spread on Remy's face. "It sure looks like the pictures you showed me."
The pair slomped through the muck and got to mostly solid ground. Gesturing with his chin, Emile started to ask Remy to open the reference guide on his phone, “Can you - ," but Remy was already pulling it up. They huddled over the screen to protect it from the still-falling rain. We need to bring phone pouches next time, Emile thought to himself. Remy found the page, and reverse-pinched to zoom in on the image. They compared the picture with what was in the jar.
Emile blew out a little breath, shaking his head slowly. "It's really, really close. We might have found it, Remy.”
Remy grinned, “Let’s head back and get this to Jenny.”
…
The rain and extra holiday traffic made the trip back take twice as long as usual. At a rest stop, everyone got out of the van, some rushing for coffee, others for different amenities. Remy and Emile briefly walked around to stretch their legs, but soon decided it was more comfortable in the warm, dry van. After a few minutes, their exhaustion overtook them and they started to doze.
When the rest of the team got back, they noticed the pair had fallen asleep together, Emile’s head resting on Remy’s shoulder, their hands nearly touching.
“Aw, look at the lovebirds,” one of the seniors cooed. “Are we going to have to start calling them Doctors Sanders-Patshki soon?”
“Hush, don't wake them,” Jenny warned in a whisper. “Remy and Emile collected more samples than the rest of your teams combined. And it looks like they managed to find native eelgrass growing in the cove. They might have just saved this project. The Doctors have more than earned a little rest.”
Their stage-whispered words roused Emile from his sleep. Slowly opening his eyes, he peeked at Remy by his side, suddenly realizing that he had fallen asleep on Remy's shoulder, and that Remy’s head was tilted against his. Their fingers were so close that Emile could feel a bit of heat radiating from Remy’s hand against his own. He wasn't too surprised they'd fallen asleep. It had been a long day. His throat tightened when he thought about how close he’d been to giving up, right before they finally found what they were looking for. But even when he’d despaired, Remy wouldn’t let him quit.
Emile thought about a thousand other ways that Remy made his days better. The way Remy would close his eyes in appreciation at the first sip of the mochas Emile made him. And they way Remy listened - never impatiently, never just waiting for his own turn to speak. Remy listened and then would share his own ideas, sometimes weeks later, as though he'd kept thinking about Emile’s words long after the conversation had ended.
Emile thought about the way Remy never gave up on him. The way he never stopped loving him, no matter how hard Emile pushed him away. He hadn’t said the words again since that first field work trip, but Emile could feel it in the way Remy looked at him. Remy looked at him as though he held up the sky. Emile had never had anyone look at him like that before.
He closed his eyes, picturing Remy’s face, and thought about the way that, when they were in school, Remy’s was the first face he got to see when he woke each morning. And his was the last face he got to see each night. And, if could be honest with himself, he knew Remy’s was the face he most often saw in his dreams.
Emile thought about the way he didn’t ever want that to change.
He thought about the way Remy’s joy made him happier. And the way his lips still tingled every time he thought about their kiss.
Emile’s breath caught in his chest when he realized these were all the ways he loved Remy.
He held his breath and looked down at where his hand lay right next to Remy’s and he linked their pinkies together.
Remy opened his eyes, looking down at their hands before looking over at Emile. Emile lifted his head off Remy’s shoulder and smiled. Remy flipped his hand over, intertwining all of their fingers together. Emile settled back on Remy’s shoulder, hugging his arm, and whispered, “I love you, Remy.”
Remy kissed Emile’s head, squeezing his eyes shut against the happy tears starting to form, enjoying the warmth spreading from his hand, up his arm and throughout his chest. “I love you, too, Babe.”
Then they each closed their eyes and fell back asleep, feeling warm, and secure, and ready for whatever came next, knowing they would face it together.
