A/N: Ok, so, I realized that I REALLY owe you guys a happier chapter, like BIG TIME. So, let's see what our favorite Princess matchmaker has in store for Emmet and Lucy, shall we? THANKS!
August 4th
"Will someone just open the door already?"
"Why don't you do it?"
"No way in heck."
Not a peep or a sound uttered from Batman's mask, and he sunk back next to his wife, who shrugged her shoulders and announced with a determined grit in her tone, "Well, someone's gotta do it!"
"Sorry, I left my bravery at home today," Benny replied from beside Sweet. "Metalbeard?"
Taking up much of the musky, battered, torn hallway, Metalbeard shook his head in what little, delicate space Emmet's trashed building gave him. "Arg, I'll face a Megaladon any day of the week, but this?" The group subconsciously took a step away from him as he shook his head with vigor. "A depressed Emmet is sure to be a scary sight, indeed."
Scribble Cop piped up, "Well, who saw Emmet last?"
"Me." Sweet raised her hand. "Batman, Unikitty and I were helping him unpack a few days ago, I haven't heard anything from him since." The rest of Emmet's friends nodded in agreement at his lack of attendance. Phone calls, texts, visits, mail, all of it lay in vain, until Sweet had called an emergency group meeting (a habit she was prone to) in response to the week-long mark of Emmet's disappearance.
After a moment of contemplative, shy, unsure silence paid its dues, Watevra spoke up. "Ok, it's time to draw straws or something, Emmet's just sitting in there!"
Comments, arguments, rebuttals, murmurs, and whispers crashed around the room like bowling balls, except for one, one that lay dormant, staring up at the wood door. The apartment number, in thin, weak, plastic letters, read B485, right above Emmet's name, already shadowed under a layer of dust, as if he had abandoned the place long ago.
The door mocked her. It pointed at Unikitty, laughed at her, called her names, and told her she wasn't strong enough. That she couldn't save him. That all hope was lost, that her friend was as good as dead from this world, that she was in over her head, and that she was an idiot for trying to save him. It told her she was cruel for even trying. She was delaying the inevitable. Her terrible, disgusting optimism only dragged everyone's hopes up, and that was wrong. If she was going to fall from a mountain of faith, better it be her, instead of her family.
A vile taste rose in Unikitty's throat.
Doors.
She shuddered at memory of the door to the cramped, dirty, reeking box she had lived in as a kitten. She bit her lip when she remembered the door to the doctor, how it had hovered above her, threatening her with needles, frigid instruments, and foul medicine. She recollected, when she had grown a little older, how a metal, larger door, into Cloud Cuckoo Land, welcomed her, as she had looked up to Vitruvius, her saving-grace when she had lost everything. She smiled softly at the door to her Master Builder graduation ceremony, when life seemed to be climbing higher and higher into the fresh, wonderful clouds. She recalled the door on Metalbeard's ship, when Emmet had finally learned what it meant to be a leader, and developed the plan that would save them all.
She remembered helping Emmet build the door to their house, and how they had both agreed on a bright, cerulean door, the perfect accent color for the home. She tried to shove thoughts of the door to the outside word that had lay above The Bin of Stor-Age, how hope had once again crushed her soul. She replaced the thoughts with remembrance of the door to her, Emmet, and Lucy's new home, the one they lived and loved in. The door to her room, the one she had left that morning. The door to the car after the phone call. The door to Emmet's hospital room.
This door.
"This is stupid," Sweet broke Unikitty's trance and the group's bickering. "Emmet's in there, and we have to help him! What kind of friends are we if we just stand here and let Emmet…" she gulped. "…brood in there, all alone?"
The refuge of the taller members of the crowd covered Unikitty's scowl like a shade. Oh, yes, you've been here for a whole two years, I'm sure you know everything.
As Sweet gathered what courage remained in her battle-trained heart, the group moved behind her, an army behind the general. She gripped the knob, and it squeaked as it turned, sending everyone's ears into rebellion.
Unikitty remained hidden by the shadows of her friends, following their miniscule steps behind Sweet. "Emmet?" Sweet greeted, pulling back the door and stepping over the sharp bridge between the hallway and his apartment, where broken glass and nails lay for their victims. "Oh my gosh…"
"Oh, Emmet."
"Are you ok?"
"Have you gotten up at all?"
The murmurs, whispers, and mumbles of sympathy and shock scolded Unikitty, and her sense of responsibility listened to it. "Emmet?" Her dormant voice, finally alive, scratched after such a long rest.
The group stepped back as Unikitty pushed her way to the front, yet regret nipped at her heart when she saw her best friend.
He lay, on the couch, as if someone had left him there after torturing him to death. A light stubble traced his jaw, his hair stuck with sweat to the pillow, and Unikitty could only assume he had not changed his clothes since she had seen him. He stared, unresponsive, at the TV, where it quietly stimulated what emotion bothered to react. He shifted his gaze to the group as if they had just walked in, and while brief embarrassment lashed in his eyes, he seemed to forget it quickly, for he offered a simple, "Hey," as a way of response.
"Emmet…" Unikitty stared at him. There was no response, no comfort, no answer in her mind. She was supposed to have the answers. Everyone counted on her for happiness, for optimism, for a shoulder to cry on. Now, she had nothing, not even a word of shock.
Unikitty hardly flinched when a soft, muffled sob sounded from behind her, followed by Benny's comforting whispers. She correctly assumed it was Sweet, no longer a general, but a weakened friend.
A hard gulp ran down her throat. "Emmet, how are you feeling?"
Emmet shrugged beneath his blankets.
Unikitty shot a pleading glance behind her, but only fearful eyes looked back. "Do you want us to take you out for lunch or something?"
He shook his head.
"Do you want us to stay for a while? We can play some games, watch TV…" After questioning how long the poor device had worked tirelessly, she amended her suggestion, "…or we can just sit and talk. You know, like old times!"
After a brief pause, as if he was toying with the idea, he shook his head.
A ripple of hurt coursed through Unikitty's blood.
"Get out."
Batman spoke up, solemn, as if at a funeral. "What?"
"I want to talk to Emmet alone." She spun on her heels, looked at her friends, and offered them the words she would not say through her hardened, gloomy yet nearly-raged eyes, tinted with crimson and blood.
While the majority, the large majority, in fact, readied to follow Unikitty's curt order, a lone rebel stood out amidst the pack. "Unikitty," Sweet said, raising her hand, a student questioning the professor's methods. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
No one had ever seen Unikitty focus such a look on one person before. "Yes."
Benny, well-meaning and eager to keep Sweet off Unikitty's edge, gently grabbed her hand. "Let her talk to him, she might get through to him." His words breathed somewhat like a plea.
Sweet stared at Unikitty, and their eyes locked, iron-will against steel, both unwilling to relent, both wanting the best, and both owning different paths towards the goal.
"Let her do it," Benny murmured.
As if someone had reminded Sweet that fire was dangerous to the touch, she shut her eyes, let a slow, five-count breath flow through her lips, and turned to Benny. "You're right." She wielded a sweeter, softer gaze of friendship, forgiveness, and surrender to Unikitty. "Take care of him, ok?" Something broke her sentence off, and she glanced at Emmet. "He means a lot…to all of us."
Unikitty smiled softly at the newcomer. Sweet, you may have some potential yet. "Thanks, Sweet."
After the brief nod of respect, Sweet followed Benny out, and the group vanished behind the door.
"Emmet?" Unikitty bent down next to his couch, where her hopeful, soft eyes could meet his exhausted ones. "How are you feeling?"
He shrugged. "Ok."
His hand fell limp in her paw, and no matter how she tried to wake his sprits by looks alone, he remained obsessed and spellbound beyond the TV, beyond the room, beyond the world, lost in whatever grim thoughts overtook one in his state. Unikitty shuddered at whatever he must have thought about. "You miss her, don't you?" She forced back the regret for opening such fresh wound. The injury needed air, it needed to breath.
No response.
"You can come see her, you know. I'm sure you two could become good friends again." Lying to him no longer hurt; not when he lay motionless and uncaring before her. If all hope was lost, if the world stopped turning, if the sun set and never came up, if people stopped laughing, she wouldn't tell him. She would never tell him. They would find hope. They would turn the world. They would lift the sun up. They would laugh when no one else did.
For as long as she lived, Unikitty decided, finally watching her own tear fall onto the couch, she would never let him get hurt.
Before she could plead with him, a weak, tired hand lifted and wiped her tears away from her eyes. He said nothing, but the fact that he moved, that he showed any sign of motion and life, threw a spark into the wood of her hope.
"I'm going to fix this, alright?" The small, logical, high-pitched voice in her mind yelled at her for making such a foolish promise, one she could obviously never keep. "Everything will be fine."
He smiled lightly, as if humoring her. "Thanks."
She stood up before her emotions, already haywire and stressed beyond capacity, broke what was left of her spirit. "I'll call you later. Pick up this time, ok?"
A weak wave followed his nod, and she turned, walked the endless trek to the door, opened it, and left him behind.
#
I'm going to fix this, alright?
Unikitty's own words fluttered and flapped like a thousand trapped butterflies, panicking inside her head. Had she meant them? Was Emmet counting on them? Could she fix everything? Unfortunately, Unikitty was surer of the answer to the latter than any of the other raging questions.
The door slipped open, not frightening, or even comforting, just bothersome to her tired spirits. "I'm home," she called out, only one chord in her voice working to toss the greeting in Lucy's direction, wherever that was.
"I'm back here."
Correctly identifying Lucy's location at the porch swing, Unikitty ignored her exhausted heart that wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep off the rest of this century.
Her heart jolted, however, when she stepped onto the searing porch, where Lucy sat on the double-decker porch swing, sipping a coffee and smiling. "Who came up with this?" Her grin grew wider as she ran her hands over the seats, like she had found something she was missing. "It's a stupid idea, but…I kind of like it." Noticing her friend's forlorn expression, Lucy asked, "Where have you been?"
Unikitty froze, jaw unhinged and words stuck in her throat. She couldn't tell her she was with Emmet, could she? Things would be awkward. Lucy would feel uncomfortable, guilty, or worse, do something about it. What if she decided to move out? What if she wanted to get away from them? Emmet certainly wasn't holding her back, and Unikitty doubted if she was enough anymore.
"Ice cream," she blurted. Lying left a terrible sting in her head. She shifted on the porch, where the sun shined with less intensity. Was she sweating from anxiety, or from the heat?
Lucy nodded. "Ok. Oh, I forgot to tell you!" She shifted and put down her coffee, yet her smile didn't sit right with Unikitty from the beginning. Call it a sixth sense, a hunch, or just a wild guess, but Unikitty's breathing didn't stop because the smile on her friend's face was good news. "I met a guy."
No. Please, not now. Not yet. I can't handle it.
"A…a guy?" Hot dread dropped in Unikitty throat, just as sweltering as the sun.
Lucy beamed and raised a hand to protect her eyes from the sun glinting in her eyes. "Yeah, his name is Gunner, I met him down at the gym." Lucy's smile nearly, but not quite, resembled her smile when she used to talk about Emmet.
Nearly.
I can stop this.
"Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?" Unikitty's words crashed out of her mouth like a car-wreck, and her once lazy, pitiful spirits jerked into high, chaotic gear.
Lucy stared at her friend. "Uh…yeah, why?"
"Thanks!" That was all Unikitty left her with before dashing off to the phone like the floor had lit on fire.
Lucy remained on the double-decker porch swing, and a small smile formed on her lips. For some reason, she liked the contraption. It was stupid and juvenile, obviously, not to mention a useless idea, but she liked it. It was humorous, kind of child-like and hopeful. While she had first looked on it with annoyance and trepidation, now, she welcomed it, like a friend.
She heard Unikitty start hollering inside, and she nearly got up, until the realization dawned on her that she was merely yelling into the phone.
Lucy smiled. Bless the poor soul on the opposite end of Unikitty's wrath.
#
"EMMET BRICKOWSKI, PICK UP THIS PHONE RIGHT NOW! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE, GOODNESS KNOWS YOU HAVEN'T GOTTTEN UP IN DAYS, SO I DOUBT THAT YOU WOULD BE AT THE GROCERY STORE NOW, SO PICK UP THIS PHONE!"
From his apartment, Emmet winced. Maybe letting Unikitty's call go to voicemail wasn't the best idea.
He paused, clutching the pillow, as Unikitty took a breath.
"I'm going to hang up. When I call you back, either pick up this phone, or be prepared to get dragged out of that apartment by your cast."
The sheer inflection, not the words, but the tone was what convinced Emmet to pick up the phone when it rang again. "Uh, hey."
"Emmet!" He could hear her smile through her words. "How are you feeling?"
"Ok," he replied. While his heart, battered, knocked out, nearly unconscious and limping, pleaded with him to keep his mouth shut, his head, just as emotional as his heart, paid it no mind. "Uh, how's Lucy?"
The fact that he was speaking at all probably shocked Unikitty, and he assumed that was why she took a minute to respond. "She's fine."
"Did she go to the doctor? I know she had a check-up today." Once again, Emmet's heart and mind, both weary, battled between vulnerability and safety.
"She moved it to next week, don't worry."
"Ok."
A lull entered their space, and Emmet nearly told her he had to go when she broke in. "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?"
He groaned. "Unikitty…"
"Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with chocolate fudge, sprinkles, cherries, gummy bears and tiny marshmellows on top?"
Emmet paused. While the thought of getting up, facing the world, and doing anything other than watching another marathon of Where are my Pants? disgusted him, he hated seeing Unikitty cry. By her tone alone, he guessed that her eyes were as glassy as a pearl and wet as the streets just a few nights ago. The selfless nature in him raged against his growing stubbornness, and he looked at the phone in his hands.
"I miss you," Unikitty said. Her voice matched his assumption of her looks "Please?"
A sigh passed through Emmet's lips, as curtly as he could muster. "What time?"
From the station, a good few miles away, a policeman's head shot up at a sharp, piercing whistle. "Was that a siren?"
Scribble cop, enjoying a sandwich on his lunch break, shook his head. "No, that's just Unikitty. You're new here, you'll learn to recognize it.
Emmet finally broke into a smile. "You're welcome."
After his friend had gathered her breath, she replied, "You're the best, Emmet. And don't worry, I'll buy a pizza, that way neither of us will die from my terrible cooking."
Forcing a chuckle, Emmet replied, "Uh, yeah, heh." His lackluster tone broke his own spirits, and he winced at the image of Unikitty, dejected and crushed at his jaded tone. "I'll see you around six?"
He could hear her futile attempt to hide her drained sigh through the phone. "Ok. I'll see you later, Emmet, alright? I love you."
"I love you too."
"Bye."
"Bye."
The phone clicked off.
#
"Anyway, I'll see you at the gym next Monday, right?"
Unikitty muttered her silent, guttural thanks that Lucy could not see her scowl. Hardly a month had passed, and Lucy already had guys ringing up her phone. Unikitty had considered several options for ridding her of this problem, namely shutting the house's Wi-Fi so she couldn't call him, but she figured that was a measure best suited for when things got more out of control.
For now, she noted with a smile, bribing the manager to keep the gym closed on Monday would suffice.
"Bye, Gunner."
Off to the side, for her own amusement, Unikitty gagged at the smile on Lucy's face. From what she had heard, Gunner was, in Lucy's words, 'almost seven-feet tall, built like a brick wall, brooding, and has a great sense of humor' Unikitty translated that to mean, 'overconfident, a fitness-obsessed jerk, dark, and a bully' She ignored her own biases when coming to that conclusion, of course.
The phone clicked like a balloon popping. "Are you ok?" Finally, no longer enthralled with her phone, Lucy noticed her friend's bitter, anxious expression.
"Yeah, fine."
The doorbell rang, and it sparked in Unikitty the reaction little girls have when their friend finally gets to the house for a sleepover. "Uh, Lucy? Can you go check the pizza?" Her own ability to still put a sentence together surprised her.
Shrugging, Lucy nodded. "Sure." She dropped her phone on the table and walked to the kitchen just as the bell pealed again.
Please tell me he shaved, please tell me he changed his clothes, please tell me he looks like a human being again.
When she opened the door, life seemed to finally smile on her, as night breathed cool, off-season air into the room, along with the scent of parched grass and summer leaves past Emmet, who smiled and offered a weak but painstaking wave. "Hey, Unikitty." While his voice lacked in enthusiasm and vigor, he was shaven, clean, wearing cologne, and in his uniform. Despite his cast, he nearly resembled the picture of perfect health.
"Emmet! You look…happy!" She gave him a quick hug and helped him in the door as he clunked around with his crutches. "Are the crutches still fun?"
He shook his head. "Not anymore, they start to hurt after a while."
"Unikitty? The pizza's almost ready, but I–"
Lucy walked into the room, tilted her gaze, and met Emmet.
Unikitty's elation exited her breath in a tiny, piercing squeak.
For the first time in weeks, Emmet heart began to beat.
In that moment, she looked exactly as she had when he had first met her.
Love. He had never experienced it, never understood it, and, in many ways, found no use for it. Oh, he believed such a thing existed. He believed that children fell in love, characters in fairy tales, and foolish teenagers, but not instruction-following, level-headed adults. Sometimes, when he had cuddled against Lucy in the night, he pondered how he had spit on the idea of love more than she had. She had believed it did not exist; he had believed it was fake.
Then, like an epiphany, she had changed it all. Lucy had rocked his world with a mere look, completing his understanding of the world and ruining everything he had ever assumed, known, and trusted at the same time.
Where was he now? Without her, was he back to believing love wasn't real? Had it ever been real? If it could drain from his grasp in the course of a few minutes, did it even exist? Had he triumphed all along in believing love was all an allusion, a fallacy, a mirage to keep people breathing?
As Lucy's hair flipped and jostled with her quick, suspicious glance at Unikitty, Emmet wondered if she had ever loved him in the first place.
Unikitty, innocent and cunning as a fox, offered a slick grin up at her friends, one very skeptical, and one very guarded. "Oops, I guess I got my dates mixed up!" Her character nearly broke for a minute, and she stifled a squeal. "Silly me! We might as well sit down, right?"
Before the pair could protest Unikitty ecstatic, if not somewhat hopelessly romantic attitude, she had dashed over to the table. Three chairs lay in position, and as Lucy realized she should have known something was going on with the seating arrangement, Unikitty stole the chair on the side of the rectangular table. Two adjacent chairs sat on the other side, inviting Emmet and Lucy in with a friendly yet slippery voice. Come on, they said. It won't be awkward, not at all.
Each with their own reservations in Unikitty's direction, they sat down next to each other.
A light chirp sounded from the kitchen. "Oh! Pizza's ready!" Unikitty stood up, ignoring (Or relishing) the panic in her friends' eyes as they pleaded under labored breath not to leave them alone, not to cause any scenes, and not to give in to her overwhelming romantic side. "I'll get it, you two get acquainted!"
Unikitty dashed to the kitchen as if someone chased her with a gun.
The room lay in silence, and Emmet and Lucy sat, motionless, as if one breath, word, or movement could increase the tension the room had no trouble elevating on its own.
She had hoped to avoid this.
She didn't want to face him.
Why did Unikitty do this? Was it her mission to torture the both of them, to cause her guilt, to shove them on a jury like criminals? Lucy didn't want to hurt him. Emmet seemed like a decent enough guy, and while she owned no recollection of their relationship, she understood he was hurting. Who wouldn't?
It wasn't her fault. She had done nothing wrong. Of course she hadn't. Therefore, Unikitty's actions were juvenile, childish, and annoying. Her guilt, misplaced and incorrectly distributed, fought against her iron will to feel nothing, only interrupted by the man beside her.
"So, uh…how are you?"
The question raised several emotions in Lucy's mind. "Huh?"
It was not her planned response.
A terrible, devastating flush covered Emmet's cheeks, and for a traitorous moment, she found it…cute. "Sorry." He looked down at his plate, and she cold hardly translate his mumbles into words. "Dumb question."
There was something foreign about Emmet. He was straight out of a mystery novel, unfamiliar and odd. Had she really fallen for him? She could see his appeal, she supposed. He seemed sweet, he had a cute smile, and he looked like the type who couldn't hurt a fly. At the same time, he didn't seem like the sort she expected herself to be attracted to – no matter the circumstances.
She brought the small smile on her face under control quickly. "No, it's not. I'm good." As if taking a step in a fog that could either be a cliff or an empty expanse of land, she shifted her gaze onto him. "You?"
A gracious tint coated his eyes. "Oh…uh, I'm good, thanks."
As she inhaled to reply, her words froze in her mouth, overtaken by a scent she could not recognize – but knew all too well. Where had she experienced the aroma before? It first hit her like one smells a cocktail, enticing, inviting and dangerous, then settled into a soothing, warm gesture of affection. Her vision nearly clouded over and her heartbeat muffled in her ears.
"I like your hair."
"Huh?"
Again, he took her confidence and crumpled it to bits. "I like your hair," he repeated, swinging his legs around the chair to face her. He gestured to her locks, now oiled with obsidian, only offset by her thin, vivid highlights.
Am I blushing? I don't blush. I'm not blushing.
"I've never seen you blush like that, Wyldstyle!"
The pair turned like children caught playing in the street to Unikitty, who slid a plate of steaming pizza onto the table. The smell of rich tomato sauce, melted cheese and thick, fluffed dough wafted into the trio's gasps, and for a moment, the room forgot of the awkwardness, graced by humanity's bond; well-cooked food.
"You made this, Unikitty?" Lucy looked across the table to her friend. A brief flash of concern passed through her mind for leaving Emmet's compliment hanging, but he still smiled, so she assumed all was fine.
Unikitty giggled and grabbed a thick slice. It drew up dozens of strings of cheese as she lifted its wobbly surface into the air, only collapsing it onto her paper-plate because of the searing heat. "Well, if you count Pizza Papa's making it, freezing it, and shipping it to me before I reheated it, then yes, I made it!"
Laughter cradled the conversation, to a point, until it grew weary. As the chuckles subsided, Unikitty shot a look at Emmet, as if to mutter, Say something! She eyed towards Lucy, who attempted to avoid their gazes.
Emmet shook his head as subtly and harshly as he could, almost shuddering out of fear. I can't talk to her!
The look in Unikitty's eyes could have killed anyone who was not used to her presence day-in and day-out. Emmet Brickowski, I have been waiting seven long, and I do mean LONG years for you two to get married, then this mess happens. If you don't say something to the love of your life right now, I'm going to take–
"I have a tattoo!"
The proclamation, blurted and sudden, woke Lucy out of her awkward, hidden state. "Huh?"
The threat vanished from Unikitty's yes, and she replaced the look with total warning. Emmet, back out now. Please, this can only go terribly.
"Ye-yeah…I got a tattoo. On my arm. The left one!" He stared straight at his plate, the only nonjudgmental item in the room, as he blanched like a child whose teacher had read his diary to the entire fourth-grade class. He swallowed hard. "It's from a show I watch."
As Unikitty's red-alert stares grew, Emmet pulled up his sleeve, revealing a garnet heart, half-overtaken with a charcoal growth and pierced with a sharp arrow. It was no bigger than an overgrown cherry, but provided some character, and Emmet had no regrets, much like a certain alternate-timeline friend of his.
Unikitty, finally more interested than mortified, asked, "Is that real?"
The look in Emmet's eyes told her that was not the best question to ask.
Lucy paused, reached up, and placed a hand on his upper arm, as if to see the artwork better, and Emmet's pulse soared to numbers no doctor would be alright with. His face lit on fire, he could feel the heat in his cheeks all the way to the bone. He had been starved for Lucy's touch, for any contact with her, and now, she was here, touching his arm…how hot did Unikitty keep the house?!
Unikitty's heart survived no better as it threw a chaotic fit against her ribcage. She bit down on her lip to keep from smiling as Emmet shot her a victorious look.
Removing her hand quickly and quietly, Lucy smiled at Emmet, though he could not discern the emotion behind it. "Wait, you watch that show?"
"Uh…" He shot a short glance at Unikitty for guidance. "…yeah, why?" He rubbed the back of his neck.
Lucy shook her head in trepidation. Self-conscious shyness dawned on her, yet she didn't understand why. Was she afraid of what Emmet would think? Was she overreacting? Was she crazy? "No, it's just, I like that show too."
Emmet, tentatively, like walking through a forest rumored to harbor packs of wolves, replied, "Did you see that last episode?"
"The one where Diana talked to Josh about Tracy in the graveyard?"
"Yeah!"
For the first time, for Unikitty and Emmet, Lucy smiled, as if she was happy. She smiled wide, her cheeks lifted, and a tint of watermelon blush highlighted her natural glow. She laughed, the kind of contagious laugh that the toughest souls can't resist. "I love that episode!"
The two jumped into a million-mile-a-minute conversation, exclaiming names like Ross, Julia, and Destiny, and situations that, to Unikitty, sounded dangerous, like gunfights, unrequited love, cliffs, and…poisonous breakfast?
"That was the best part!" Emmet laughed through his words, and Lucy giggled right with him. "Oh, remember when Ross and Amanda had to jump of the boat?"
"Yeah, but that was nothing compared to when Kylie pulled the machete out on Louis." Lucy scoffed, crossed her arms over her chest, and smirked. "Served him right."
Laughing, Emmet waved his hands in protest. "I still think she should have gotten Daren to back her up."
Unikitty smiled, watching in content silence as her best friends laughed and talked like old friends over their fictional escapades.
You know, there may be hope for you two dorks yet.
#
"Are you sure you don't want to stay a while?" Unikitty asked. Her hope rang out in her voice, even as Emmet smiled his refusal at her. Her question as not merely a curtesy, it was a kind ploy. She saw too many good outcomes, mainly including trapping her two best friends in a room, to let him go that easily.
Emmet smiled politely, as was one of his best skills. "Thanks, Unikitty, but I have to get home, my taxi's waiting." He wobbled and wavered on his crutches to the door, leaned on the wall, and chuckled. "These things were a lot more fun when they didn't hurt."
"I know. You'll be ok though, right?"
As Emmet explained how his injury was progressing, Lucy hung back, waiting in quiet comfort to say goodbye, a strange shifting in her heart she didn't understand, or care much for.
She didn't love him. If she had 'loved' him before, that was gone now, and she doubted what they had was that serious. After all, he was the opposite of everything she wanted in a man.
Still, she noted, as he turned to face her, he had a nice smile.
She pretended not to notice when his eyes watered. She ignored how he looked at her like a child looked at a toy the mother had mistakenly given away. She shoved her gaze to the ground when memories flashed before his eyes where she had none.
There was some debt to pay. She owed him something, for everything he had gone through. "This was nice, Emmet." She walked over to the door and ignored Unikitty's deliberate, massive backwards step back.
He smiled at her like she had just agreed to go on a date with him. "Yeah, it was."
A flicker of something more passed between the two. Emmet opened his mouth, shut it, and looked down, only a second after Lucy had done the same, and when they both tried again, their eyes met, shutting down any chance at a smooth conversation.
"Well, uh, I should go." Emmet turned to Unikitty, rubbed his eyes against his sleeve, and ignored the sympathetic spark in his friend's eyes. "I'll see you soon, ok?"
Rushing forward, Unikitty gave him a quick hug that nearly knocked him off his crutches. "Of course! I'll visit tomorrow."
Emmet hugged gently back. "Bye, Unikitty."
He gave a small wave, turned, and walked out the door, letting it shut quietly behind him.
Lucy turned to Unikitty, who was close to bursting. Her lips twitched with threats of a smile as she warned, "Not one word, alright?" While her tone remained low and sober, Unikitty followed her to the kitchen with a skip in her step and a sparkle on her horn.
Unikitty smiled like the Cupid she was. "Just one? Please? Even if it's just one word?"
Outside, Emmet inhaled a breath of the sweet, humid, August air. It weighed down with the weight of savannah summer, yet, in his mind, it felt as cool as ice skating in Times Square at midnight.
He gently stepped to face the house, a soft smile on his lips and stolen hope in his heart. "I love you, Lucy."