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It's not often Emmet gets home before Volo. He works so late nowadays, he never gets home before it's dark. Volo always gets off work (or, whatever it is he does during the day when Emmet has better things to do than to chaperone) much earlier than him.
Perhaps he's gone out for something, but it doesn't seem like him. Volo likes being home first, doesn't he? At least, he acts like it.
Emmet sighs and places his bag down near the door. He doesn't like it being so empty here. It's wrong, he should never be walking in here alone, he should be getting off work at the same time as Ingo and getting home at the same time as him.
… But there's nothing he can do about that right now. Emmet tries not to get into a bad mood. He slips off his coat and hat and places them on the rack where they belong, then moves to the stove.
He doesn't feel like making anything, but he also really doesn't want to talk to anyone to order something. That's not a good enough excuse to skip dinner, though, so he turns a burner on.
Using his muscle memory mostly from his school days, he whips up a quick, sort of lazy batch of ramen. It's too cold outside to walk into a warm home then open the fridge, so he doesn't. Only cabinet ingredients for today.
It spices things up.
Emmet knows how to work quickly with ramen from experience, though he's come a long way since his high-school philosophy of ‘throw some salted green onions in there and call it a day.’
Even though he has to work quickly, Emmet finds himself relaxed. Cooking is such a nice outlet. It always makes him feel better, even if he has less people to share it with.
And, ah, speak of the devil, there's a knock at the door.
It must be Volo. Emmet is about to make him wait, at least until it's time for the noodles to cool down, but then he hears, “Delivery.” from the other end.
Delivery ? He hasn't bought anything recently. And, from what he knows, Volo hasn't either. And who is working this late at night? Curious, Emmet abandons the stovetop and walks to the door.
He pauses for a second, hestating, (he really does not want to interact with people right now,) then opens the door a crack. He peeks out, wanting to convey the unwelcomeness, but,
It's just Volo!
Emmet makes a face at him and stands up straighter. “What delivery?”
Volo pushes the door open further, and Emmet lets him, not caring enough to leave his food abandoned any longer.
“I forgot my keys.” Volo says as he enters.
“That's not what I asked.”
“I was getting to it.” Volo takes off his jacket, slowly, like he's preoccupied. “Your ass wouldn't have opened it right away if you knew it was me.” He places the jacket on the countertop, then walks over and stands over Emmet's shoulder. “And by the looks of it, I was right.”
“You interrupted me.” Emmet faces the stove again. Even with the banter, he's happy he isn't alone anymore.
Volo leans on his shoulder. “No egg?”
“No. Too cold.” Emmet shakes his head. Volo gives him a little noise of agreement.
He places a fitted lid over the bowl, then turns his head toward Volo. “No peppers either. I did not feel like cutting any up.”
Emmet doesn't eat those, Volo does. “Oh, so I get some?” he smiles, teasing, as if he didn't clearly see that there's too much for one person to eat.
“Yes,” Emmet says, “You can add things if you want. Just not to my bowl.”
And, ah, now that he's looking at him, Emmet remembers his musings from this morning, internally rambling to himself on the train to work. A good morning, as opposed to right now, of course. His neck is slender, and his low cut shirt borderline boasts about his stuck out, prominent collarbones.
Volo raises a brow at him. He's smiling. He knows. “What?”
He knows damn well.
It's so stupid. Why does he get to look so good at the end of the day. Emmet knows better than to say beauty is effortless, but seriously, he doesn't even try.
Emmet doesn't respond, and turns away. He thinks it's been long enough for the noodles to have cooked.
“I did not make a bowl for you. Grab one and take what you'll eat from mine.”
Emmet kind of regrets his no-fridge rule, because he sort of loves egg with his ramen.
It’s fine. Something different.
Volo doesn't even take that much from his bowl. He actually does what he's told for once, and while Emmet is tempted to wonder what's going on with him and what he's planning, he's a bit too tired. Maybe they're both just in complacent moods.
Volo lingers at the counter while Emmet goes for the kitchen table. The way he takes his favorite seasonings out of the cupboard is methodical - opening them one by one, then putting the tiniest bit of each of them into the broth, closing the lid, stirring, then moving to the next.
Emmet, despite his rather lack of appetite, makes himself eat. The amount of food in his bowl isn't intimidating, so he just eats in silence.
Ugh, it's just so easy to be in a bad mood. Emmet doesn't know why he doesn't lose his drive more often.
He thinks he might actually be able to sleep tonight, he feels so down.
He glances up when Volo sets his bowl down.
There is no talking over dinner. Not even banter. Usually one of them can come up with something to say, but Emmet isn't in the mood. Volo must find it less fun if he has to initiate.
Still, hating silence as he does, he speaks anyway. “What's wrong with you today?” then takes a bite of food like he has doubts Emmet will actually answer.
“Why were you so late?” Emmet asks, repeatedly dipping his fork into the broth and taking it out again without actually eating anything.
Volo tilts his head, mouth half full. “What? Oh.” he pauses to chew, then swallow. “That wasn't my question.”
Emmet looks at him. He furrows his brows. Volo huffs and sighs.
“I have things to do other than to sit around here. They ran late today.” He shrugs, like it's obvious, and Emmet supposes that it is. “Why?” He grins and leans over the table. “Did you miss me?”
“I am Emmet.”
“I know,” Volo interrupts, but Emmet doesn't falter.
“I do not like being alone.”
Volo hums, thinking. “Hmm. Is that why you're in a bad mood?”
Emmet decides to ignore Volo's attempts to make him mad, so that he can finish his food. He forgets that Volo is bad company when he sticks onto something like this. “I was trying not to let it be.”
“Hnah.” Volo lets out a weird snort laugh. “Want me to rub your shoulders?”
Actually, that sounds kind of nice. “No.” Emmet shakes his head. He thinks he'll die.
Volo leaves it there, and goes back to his plate. Emmet can only guess he's scheming something, but he may also honestly just be hungry.
He was on pace to finish behind Emmet, but sped up when he noticed so that they took their last few bites at the same time. Volo stands to get his dish to the sink first.
Then, he hangs back. He puts his arms around Emmet's waist. “Stop being a sourpuss.”
“I’m not.” Emmet, once he's up at the counter, decides he'll do the dishes tomorrow. He likes to keep his station clean, but he also likes to sleep.
“Mm. Really?” Volo hums. He raises his arms, and backs off a second, but then puts his hands on Emmet's shoulders. He presses his thumbs against the back of his neck, squeezing in a certain way that sends shivers up Emmet's skull.
Volo makes little circular motions, squeezing in rhythm, and Emmet inhales slowly. His shoulders slump, relaxing.
Ah, it feels so good. Volo probably has experience, knows what he's doing. Emmet rolls his shoulders, and is about to shut his eyes, but he remembers the mission.
“I’m standing up.” he says, as his excuse. Sort of hard to relax when you have nothing to relax into.
“Hmm.” Volo's lips press together in a smile. “Then why don't we go upstairs?” His hand goes down, trailing down Emmet’s arm and ghosting across his wrist. He almost grabs his hand (and Emmet is glad he didn't,), just curls his pointer finger around Emmet's and tugs him towards the staircase. He lets go a minute later, playful.
Emmet knows he must have some ulterior motive. And he normally wouldn't be so adamant on not letting Volo get his way. Often there's a mutual benefit to his little schemes, when he thinks he's being slick, but Emmet is just going along to see where it leads.
But, ah, Emmet is sort of realizing something.
Tonight has been different. Actually, the past few nights have been, but tonight specifically.
Waiting for him to get home, then eating together, then Volo trying to cheer him up with a shoulder rub. It's all… it's all kind of what couples do, right?
Emmet starts to follow Volo as he thinks about it. That's never been what their ‘relationship’ was about - it's just beneficial to the both of them to have the other whenever they need. Any little rendezvous are just bonuses. There were never supposed to be any feelings involved.
Emmet reminds himself how Volo is definitely up to something.
…
It does nothing to calm his thoughts.
Emmet furrows his brows. He can't be feeling this way. And he definitely can't do anything to nurture that feeling.
Gah, this is obnoxious. How didn't he realize it before? How couldn't he have stopped this before it started? And what has even changed? Nothing, to be honest, they've been doing the same thing pretty much since the beginning.
He bites his lip, chewing on excess skin. Why did it have to be Volo of all people?
Emmet has never really dabbled in love and dating. He had a few things that he thought might have been crushes when he was a teenager, but looking back, he definitely just, sort of, wanted friends. It was hard for him to differentiate between the types of love. He's so busy with work too, and it's not like he * normally has the apartment to himself, and he's very ok with his group of friends and colleagues right now!
Emmet doesn't need a partner, he doesn't need anything like that!
And even if he did, he would take anyone in Nimbasa that wasn't Volo.
He even holds the door to the bedroom open for him. Volo shakes his hands out. He has some clothing in his hand, probably doesn't fancy laying in bed in jeans. “I need to wash my hands. Sit down somewhere.”
As Emmet walks into the bedroom, Volo walks out.
Emmet's foot taps the ground, bouncing his leg. No, this isn't good. Not at all.
It's…
Think. Think about this. It's not like Volo would actually say no if Emmet asked him out. He has no reason not to, kind of.
That's a bad thing, though. When Volo does something, he has a reason, that's just how he works. Emmet isn't in the mood for being a double pawn. They can be pawns in the other's game together, but Emmet isn't going to just let his guard down like that.
Maybe he shouldn't let Volo do this. He really should just go to bed.
Emmet goes just to sit on the edge of his bed. He still needs Volo. He's still useful to him. It'll be troublesome without him. He wants to run away from this situation, forget anything that may be brewing, or make his heart beat fast, ditch the situation entirely.
But he can't.
So the obvious answer is just to spend as little time with him as possible. And sleeping in the same bed as him definitely counts.
Emmet should really turn him down and go to bed.
“Back.” Volo announces his presence as he walks back into the room, and Emmet thought for a moment that he was going to do something ridiculous in there, but it seems he actually did just want to wash up. And change clothes. Emmet actually thinks that's one of his own shirts.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why did he choose today of all days to wear Emmet's clothes?
“Your hands better not be wet.”
“Takes two seconds to run my hands under water, takes longer to dry them, what do you think took me?” he snarks, then toes off his shoes and crawls up onto the bed alongside Emmet. He sneaks behind him, kneeling, then moves his hands back up to the junction of his neck and shoulders.
Luckily, he actually did dry his hands. Emmet thinks slimy water-fingers would send him over the edge. He can't deal with that gross sort of sensation right now.
Emmet tries to figure out exactly what the issue here is. What changed? Nothing changed in the past few days, they've been doing the same sort of messing around this whole time. What's different? Emmet hates this wording, but what managed to capture his heart?
Ugh, it's so cringey.
“You work so hard all the time. You deserve a break.” Volo says, voice low. Emmet knows he's full of shit, but there's something deep in him that makes him want to ignore it and just accept the praise. “Cut yourself some slack. Relax.”
Volo works on his neck, rubbing out tensions expertly, and honestly, it feels great. Emmet is a stubborn motherfucker, but he can only barely resist leaning into him. “What do you want?”
Volo has been trying to get something from him all evening. He probably won't say it outright, he never does, but Emmet isn't giving him the choice today. He'll be told straight up or he's going to bed, and he has a feeling it'll be the latter.
“Can a guy not want you to be in a better mood?” Volo rolls his eyes.
Seems like the latter alright. “That is not it.” Emmet shakes his head. It can't be it. It doesn't make sense if it is.
“It's not impossible for someone to care about you. I know that's crazy.”
Stop, stop, stop it! He has to be doing that on purpose. Emmet glances his way, trying to muster the energy to be angry, then back down to his fidgeting hands on his lap. Does he know?
That's gotta be it, he's ironed out how Emmet's feeling before he himself did, and is taking advantage of it in some way.
“I'm going to go to bed if you don't tell me.” Emmet pushes him away. His neck tingles where Volo's hands were.
Volo lands on his hands, leaning back. He moves, pulling himself to be a bit closer to Emmet's side rather than behind him. “Talk to me.”
Emmet blinks. He looks over. “What?”
Volo is looking right at him with an almost unimpressed look on his face.
When Volo smiles, it makes Emmet mad, because he almost never actually has something to smile at. But, he's not smiling now. It sort of makes Emmet feel weird. This isn't the formula, this isn't how their game goes, why is he switching it up?
He makes a face and shrugs, like he knows Emmet knows what he meant, and silently prompts him to follow through.
His brows are neutral, lips relaxed, eyelids slightly lowered. He blinks slowly.
Emmet doesn't really know what to do.
“What do you mean?” He asks again, as if Volo will explain more the second time he asks the same question.
“I mean that you're bothered by something.” He sort of stammers, “And it's annoying. So I want you to stop.”
Emmet is getting some really mixed signals here. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Volo actually cared. And that he was just trying to hide it by being obnoxious.
Well, actually, hiding by being obnoxious is extremely like him. But not the former.
This is probably some ploy to get information from him. A plot to get new dirt, or figure out what to say when he next needs to get leverage over him.
“Stop it.”
“What?” Volo tilts his head, looking bewildered.
“Whatever you're doing. Stop it.” Emmet kicks off his own shoes and properly crawls into bed, passing Volo as he does so.
“Geez, there really is something wrong with you.” Volo scoffs. He lays down next to Emmet, looking up at the ceiling.
Emmet feels some kind of surge of warmth in his chest. This isn't good. Suddenly he understands why Volo is such an asshole when it comes to sensitive subjects, because he feels the urge to start actively being a dickhead just so that he'll leave him alone.
“You're acting weird. Out of line.” Emmet curls his hand into a fist on the sheets.
Volo opens his mouth to say something, but realizes that he actually does have Emmet talking to him, like he wanted. So, he stops.
“Today was such a trainwreck. And I don't understand why you're not trying to make it worse.”
“You wound me.”
“It's making me… Gah.” Emmet shakes his head. He looks over at Volo, turning towards him. It takes him a second to notice, but Volo shifts to his side, to continue looking at him. “You're acting weird. Why are you being nice? You want something from me.”
Volo looks away with his eyes and not his head. He doesn't say anything.
Emmet sits up.
His heart is pounding. Why does this feel so intense?
He looks back and down at Volo, who has somewhat of a complicated expression on his face, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded across his midsection. It takes him a second, but when he notices he's being looked at, he returns the favor with a questioning quirk of his brow.
Emmet blushes.
He looks away.
What is this? Ugh, stupid fucking revelations and stupid fucking feelings getting in the way of everything. He can usually sleep next to Volo just fine! There has never been an issue! Volo will complain if he gets the couch, but there are no vacant rooms.
It's for convenience.
Emmet refuses to believe the reason he knows he's feeling this way. His heart thrums against his chest, it's so loud in his ears he gets nervous Volo might be able to hear it. He thinks his face is redder than it should be.
Oh, by the dragons. This is so bad.
Listen, if Emmet happened to catch feelings, that's fine. He figures he can make it go away. It should be easy. He just needs to spend less time with Volo, really. He can do a good job of hiding and ignoring it, Volo will never know, they move on.
But- but when he's being betrayed so vehemently like this, and by his own body!
Emmet shuts his eyes tight. He takes a deep breath in through his nose.
If he keeps acting like this, Volo will know in a heartbeat.
He holds, then breathes out through his mouth. Emmet looks back at Volo, and is a bit surprised to see him sitting up aswell. Honestly, he looks sort of sleepy. Maybe Emmet is overthinking, and all he needs to do to escape this is to roll over and go to bed.
And this all really isn't making his day better either. Whenever you watch TV with cute little crushes everyone's always so happy, but this shit is stressful.
Volo yawns. “My life mission isn't to make your life harder.”
“Yes it is.”
Volo looks at him, clearly annoyed, and Emmet makes his best angry face back.
“I have better things to do than that.” He shakes his head, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. “If me being nice is seriously so cause for alarm, I'll stop doing it.”
“It is.” Emmet shifts in bed, hiking himself up to where he knows he likes to rest, then lays back down. This is better. He can sleep with their last conversation being an argument.
He feels Volo's eyes on him for a moment. Emmet tries to get comfortable, pulling up his legs a bit. He reaches and turns off the lamp, staying on his side.
After a little while of silence.
“Did something happen at work today?” Volo asks it with such a deadpan sounding voice, but somehow, any emotion (especially one that you might assume would be in asking how someone's day went) in Volo's voice is way worse than none at all.
“You're freaking me out.”
Volo finally concedes, making a humming sort of noise. The bed shifts underneath him as he lays down as well, sheets stretching and making noise. He needs Volo to settle so that they'll stop.
Emmet considers telling him. He doesn't want to tell Volo, but he wants to tell someone. He keeps going over it all in his head, getting himself upset all over again, til he's nearly shaking. He tells himself that he's overreacting, and that it's really not as big of a deal as he's saying it is, but he hasn't felt so viscerally angry about something in so long.
“There are occasional annoying things at work. The dragons decided to give me them all today. One after the other.” Emmet spits out, sort of feeling like his inflection is off, but he has to force it.
Volo doesn't say anything, and doesn't audibly react to him at all. Emmet thinks it's better that way, but he's not sure. He doesn't need to be reminded of who he's talking to, at least.
“... Battles went bad. My back hurts. I'm behind on my spreadsheets. I had to file a police report. Due to it, I got hounded by reporters on the way home. And…” he pauses, not really sure if he can get it out. He knows that people will be people and that they'll say some crazy ass shit just for the sake of saying it, but some people really seem to forget that there are other people around who can hear them too.
Volo again doesn't say anything. Good, because Emmet doesn't want to hear it.
He holds his breath as he finds the words. He doesn't want to repeat what they said. But he has to rant that they said it at all.
He decides to start rambling first “I think. That it is possible to love humans, while also thinking that humans are dickheads.” It's something he's lived by for a while. Emmet loves life, and he wouldn't love it nearly as much if not for the people in it. But there are also people out there that make him angry enough to want to kill a man. He thinks those two things can coexist.
“I meet many wonderful people each day. They give me faith.” He sighs, aggravated. “But some of them need to learn manners. Not talk about sensitive subjects where others can hear them. Not be graphic and use awful descriptive language with others in earshot.” He grits his teeth, and takes a breather. “Especially if the person in earshot of them is the brother of the person they are speaking about.”
He doesn't know how else to put it. He doesn't know how to feel now that he's said it out loud, either. He's not nearly as angry, or upset. Not as he feels he should be.
He just sort of feels like putting his head down and giving up for the day.
He does just that.
He relaxes his neck and lets his head fall to the pillow. His heart hurts, and his throat hurts, but now that he actually thinks it might release a little stress, he finds that he can't get himself to cry. His eyes are already a little wet, but that's all he can muster.
He misses the days where he had the energy to sob into his pillow all night. When he could hardly get through a story about a bad day without gasping and sniveling through the whole thing. When just thinking about Ingo could send him into a fit. Because at least he felt something. He doesn't want to grow, he doesn't want to be able to leave this stuff behind, because he doesn't know how to not be miserable. If he were to stop being miserable, that means he would be complacent. He'd be leaving Ingo behind, and he can't do that.
…
He sort of wants something to hold onto. He has quilted blankets and stuffed animals, one of them is even weighted, but he feels like hugging something to sleep is a bit too childish in front of Volo. He'd like to say he dropped needing to do this back in school, but it would be inaccurate. It was the only way for him to get any sleep at all right after Ingo went missing.
He puts one arm under his pillow and the other up next to his face.
Maybe this will be close enough.
…
Emmet feels an arm around his waist.
He looks down, slightly taken aback, then looks behind his shoulder at Volo.
He also doesn't know what to feel about this.
Volo apparently takes that pause and confused look as an answer, rolling his eyes and letting go of him. He shifts, rolling over, facing away from him.
…
And maybe Emmet has been too suspicious of him today, because he misses it. Kind of dearly.
He looks at him for a moment, eyes searching. Emmet starts to lay back down.
A solution to his problem has just been presented.
But he had just finished convincing himself that he would spend less time with Volo. That unnecessary things like that are exactly what is making him feel some kind of way, and they're what he needs to avoid.
…
Starting tomorrow.
Emmet shifts, finding a comfortable way to turn around towards Volo. When he reaches and wraps an arm around him, he pauses a moment, sort of making sure Volo is alright with it.
He doesn't say anything about it, and doesn't move aside from glancing down at him. So Emmet wraps his arms around him and pulls him close.
Volo pulls his knees up a bit. He also bends his arm to follow the curve of Emmet’s, draping his hand over his knuckles.
Emmet is pretty sure he does this on purpose to fuck with him, but it makes him realize something.
Ah. Maybe this is what he's been misunderstanding.
It's not the actions themselves that have changed. It's the tenderness behind them.
…
Annoying.
He should stop.