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Spoon was the only one left for Ema to drop off, after Mickey and Rachel, though she still hesitated outside Rachel's house, not quite ready to set off yet.
Spoon was sat in the back of the car, still. Ema could see him in the rear view mirror. She could see him. He was safe. Before, when that fact was more debatable, Ema was prepared and eager to go marching in there with that gun and figure out exactly where he was. She was going to help him.
Spoon didn't need her help though. He came back, safe and sound. Well, maybe less of the sound considering he hadn't made any since he got out of that van.
His head was leant against the window, and, though Ema couldn't quite see his face in the mirror from the angle it was at, she could only assume he had the same blank expression on his face that he'd had this whole time.
Ema finally drew her eyes away from the mirror, placing her hands on the wheel and preparing to drive off. Get Spoon and herself home safe. Instead she let her hands fall off and finally turned around to look directly at the boy behind her.
"Do you want to sit in the front with me?" Ema asked. Spoon didn't lift his head from the window, but did turn to look Ema in the eyes. They stayed like that for a few seconds. Ema and Spoon. Staring at each other. Then Spoon finally picked himself up, nodding at Ema and exiting the car to sit down in the seat in front.
As Spoon sat beside Ema, he rested his head back on the window, but that was okay with her. At least Ema could see him better now. She didn't have to worry so much. Ema finally set off.
Technically, it would've been better for Ema to drop off Spoon before Rachel. He lived closer to Mickey while Rachel lived closer to Ema herself. She wasn't sure why she hadn't dropped Spoon off first. Maybe she just couldn't bring herself to. To let him leave? To let him out of her sight? Whatever.
The roads were pretty clear. Naturally, there weren't many people out and about at this time of night, meaning Ema could afford to sneak a peek at Spoon out of the corner of her eye. As she did so, she noticed he'd moved his head again, no longer staring out the window. Instead the two met eyes before Ema had to draw hers away again, keeping her eyes on the road.
Before long, Ema pulled up in front of Spoon's house. He took a little while before getting out of the car, giving Ema some time to let him leave, knowing he was safe.
But what if he wasn't?
No one knew what happened in the time between him getting caught in the club and him getting out of that van. What if he was hurt? Whose blood was he still covered in?
Ema got out of the car with him. She expected some kind of acknowledgement of what she was doing but Spoon didn't even look at her. He just walked up to his front door and pulled out his keys, forcing Ema to loiter awkwardly behind him.
Spoon struggled for a bit with his keys. He'd never had particularly steady hands, Ema had noticed, both in their short time as friends and the times they've crossed paths in the past. But now it was more violent.
Ema was tempted to unlock the door herself, somewhat due to impatience, somewhat due to just wanting to help. But at that moment, Ema wasn't sure Spoon wanted her to come with him. Maybe he wouldn't appreciate the help.
He managed it in the end, walking through the door and holding it open, allowing Ema to follow him through. She appreciated the invitation.
In Spoon's house, they were surrounded by doors and windows. Locked doors and windows. Locked and safe. Hopefully they were locked, at least.
After a minute of awkward silence, standing in Spoon's kitchen, Ema looked down at his bloodied hands. "You should probably clean that."
She said it with the cadence of a joke, or tried to, it didn't come across well with her slightly shaky voice, but Spoon didn't even crack a smile.
In fact, he didn't acknowledge what Ema said in any way. All he did was stare at the blood on his hands. He looked sad, which was understandable but was notable compared to his previously totally blank expression he'd kept since getting out of the van.
Ema gave him a moment to respond, which he didn't, before nudging him with her arm. "Spoon. You're covered in blood." That caused Spoon to finally look up at her, but he still didn't make any move to start cleaning up.
Ema just sighed, putting her hand on the back of Spoon's arm. The two tiptoed down the corridor before Ema stopped and whispered. "Wait a minute, where's your bathroom?" She'd never actually been inside Spoon's house before and didn't really know the layout. It was much smaller than her own house as well, but that wasn't saying much.
Spoon lifted his hand and pointed behind them with his thumb. "We just walked past it?" It was an objectively slight inconvenience, and in any other situation, Ema would've rolled her eyes and said something along the lines of 'god I hate you so much'. She wouldn't mean it, but she'd say it anyway. Now it didn't even cross her mind.
In the bathroom, the two had a semi verbal conversation over whether to use hot or cold water, Ema was the only one talking, naturally, while Spoon just irritatingly turned the tap the opposite way with no explanation how. Eventually they just had to meet in the middle when both surrendered.
"Who's blood is this, Spoon?" Ema asked the question that had been laying on her mind, and presumably everyone else's this whole time. Spoon was about halfway through cleaning his hands by now. He didn't respond.
"It's not your blood is it?" Spoon shook his head. Thank god, Ema thought. That was the worst case scenario out of the way.
"Okay. Is it the person who caught you? At the club?" Spoon shook his head again. If it was neither of them, then who was it? Mickey found him before everyone else, though. Did he know?
"Does Mickey know? Did he see?" He took a little longer to answer that one, but when he did he just shrugged. Maybe Ema should have given up already. Maybe she didn't need to know. Maybe it would do more harm than good. Who else was there, anyway?
Ema just watched the water swirling in the sink, finally starting to flow clear, when she realised something. "Hey, Spoon. There was a girl at that club. She let us in through that side door. She said she would help you. Is she okay?"
Spoon turned the tap off, his hands now clean, but didn't move them away from the sink. Spoon didn't answer. "Is she okay, Spoon?" He shook his head again. "Is that her blood?" He didn't shake his head that time. Ema knew what that meant.
Spoon went back to washing off the blood, now cleaning the blood from his face and neck. There was much less of it around those areas, but the lack of blood was made up for by how tedious it was to avoid dripping water on his shirt.
Ema went back to patiently yet awkwardly waiting for Spoon, looking almost everywhere but at his face, save for a few spared glances at him, until she was snapped out of it by Spoon's voice.
"I knew her." His voice was quiet. Not quiet like Ema's, who was just trying to avoid waking Spoon's parents, potentially causing them to question what Ema was doing there and why their son was covered in blood. Instead he was quiet in a way that it seemed like that was the only way he'd get any words out, as if he was incapable of speaking any louder. Maybe he wasn't.
It took Ema a moment to respond, too caught up in the shock of Spoon finally saying something to say anything herself. "You knew her?" Spoon nodded. Ema wasn't sure Spoon had answered any of her questions with a nod so far. "Like, from before today?" He nodded again.
She looked at him sadly and spoke, not questioning him this time. "I'm sorry, Spoon." He turned to hug her again. His hands were still wet so he ended up getting water on her back, but comparatively, it was better than the blood on his hands the last time.
Ema thought back to how Spoon hugged her after he stepped out of the van. She'd run straight up to him the moment she saw him, suddenly remembering how she was worried sick over him before that woman put a gun to her head. She remembered how she hesitated in front of him when she saw the uncharacteristically blank look on his face and the blood he was covered in. She thought about how he had clung to her like some sort of lifeline, not responding to her questions of 'what happened', and reassurances of 'it's okay'.
He didn't cling so much this time. This hug conveyed a different message. One reassuring her that he was okay. That they were both okay. Everyone was okay.
Ema won't end up going home that night. Instead, the two teenagers will steal an extra blanket and a few pillows from the closest down the hall and Ema will sleep on the floor beside Spoon's bed and she won't mind. Not even when she wakes up at the crack of dawn to see Spoon's hand hanging off the side of his bed, with his fingertips just inches from her face.
The next morning, Spoon's dad will come to wake him up. "Hey kid, you know what's up with the-", he'll ask, before being caught off guard as Ema sits up from her spot on the floor. She'll have to shift away from Spoon's hand to do that.
"Is that your car?" He'll ask her. Ema will nod and Mr Spindell will leave with no more questions asked, just as his son starts to wake up. Ema will assume he'll leave the questions until after school, and she'll hope Spoon can answer them.