Opposites Attract: Chapter Eight

Emile didn’t know how long he was out. He felt like he was dead. Technically he was or at least everyone knew he was. It was on the news he remembers that. No escaping this big giant mistake. It was Tim’s fault. It was his fault he jumped to conclusions but was it fair to blame him? Winter in Canada is really cold. Emile was lucky enough that Skylar and Shawn had found him lying there or else... He would be an emil-icle. If they didn’t help him- he’d be dead, for real.

Jon still thinks he’s dead.

Emile jolted awake, instantly sitting up. He felt cold and alone. He wanted Jon. He wanted to tell him how he felt. His chest heaved rapidly as he tried to calm his breathing. It had been a mess, these past couple. It was literal Hell.

“Chuggaa...?”

The small voice allowed Emile to focus and get his bearings. He was in a room, the original room he had woken up in.  Someone, hopefully Tim, had moved him into what he guessed was the guest room of Skylar’s house.  Emile glanced towards the door. The only light source in the room came from a lamp on the opposite corner, so everything was slightly dimmed. His eyes focused and a small figure was staring at him with wide eyes, welling with tears.

“Shawn?” He croaked out, wondering what time it was or what he had done to have the child be here. The last time he saw him, he was in the cleaning closet. Emile secretly hoped that it was a normal thing his sister did to him or even vice versa.

“You were screaming.” The boy whispered, taking a couple steps forward.

“I had a bad dream... Do you get those?” Emile asked, offering a small smile. He patted the spot on the bed next to him. It was a small way of letting the boy now he could approach him; that it was safe. Shawn quickly stumbled forward, hoping up on the bed to sit next to the Let’s Player he looked up to. Shawn was 8 and usually a big buddle of joy- but he had his days.

“Sometimes.” Shawn answered, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed.

“And what do you do to calm yourself down? I mean, I’m open to any suggestions.”

The boy smiled softly. His mother had given him a remedy a year back when he started having nightmares. He took her advice and embraced it. Shawn was more than willing to share.

“My mom told me to think of the person I love most.”

Emile let out a small breath. He should have guessed it was going to be something as cliché and deep as that. It was oddly adorable but he let the boy continue.

“I think of my sister, my mom...” He let his voice trail off slowly. “But, sometimes I think of my father and that he still loves all of us and that- that we’re a real family.” A pause. “He left us when I was a lot younger. He just... ran out the door without saying another word. I don’t know where he is now.”

Emile felt guilt hit him hard. As he did feel bad for the boy and how he and Skylar would have to grow up without a father... He couldn’t help but realize the similarities.

Jon kissed him, proclaiming in today’s most modern way of saying ‘I love you’ and Emile freaked. He ran away, scared without ever looking back or thinking how Jon may have felt. His lips tingled slightly from memory as he smiled ever so softly.  Jon didn’t know he was alive. Jon didn’t know he loved him.

“Emile?” Shawn asked, jumping off the bed.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s someone you love like that... Call them.”

“Thank you. I’ll take your advice, Shawn.” And the little boy was out of his room without another word.

Emile smiled. That kid was going to go places, far better places then he was currently at. With a small sigh, he leaned back against the headboard and stared at the lamp across the room. He couldn’t just... call Jon, could he? He glanced at his phone on the bedside table. No, it was a dumb idea. Jon had probably erased his phone number- but if he didn’t....

Emile reached for his phone and flipped through his contacts before his eyes were staring at that all-too familiar name. Jon Wheeler. His hands were shaking slightly he noticed. His chest felt thick and he could literally hear the thump of his heart against his ribcage. Do it.

And he pressed call.

---

Jon removed his glasses to wipe his eyes once more. People were flooding him with tweets and Youtube messages, asking what the heck was going on. Some were condolences. They didn’t have a clue. A few other Let’s Players had tried to contact him. He didn’t answer. With a sigh, Jon placed his glasses back on. Oh, none of them knew the guilt he had in his stomach; none of them knew how he had basically caused Emile’s death. Tim would be back soon.

His phone rang on the desk next to him. He had run upstairs to his bedroom just to think and cry. It was his fault; this was his entire fault. With a groan, Jon picked up his phone and glanced at the Caller ID.

No, it couldn’t be... His curiosity got the better of him as he pressed answer. Hope fluttered in his chest?

“H-hello?” Jon’s voice was hoarse and rough and he hated how he sounded.

‘Jon? It’s me, Emile.’