Still, encounters with the paranormal were nothing out of the ordinary to Emmett. So when he sensed a presence in the doorway of his bedroom, he merely tugged his sleep mask down a little tighter over his eyes and sighed.

Until the apparition spoke.

“Em,” it said.

“HOLY SHIT!” Emmett sprang forward in bed like a puppet on a string, chest heaving as he hastily pushed his sleep mask up onto his forehead.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Michael said.

“Michael,” Emmett heaved out a ragged breath. “No, you didn’t... I thought...” Emmett wiped a hand over his mouth and took another breath before realization dawned. “Is Ben..?”

“He’s fine,” Michael hastily reassured him. “He insisted that I come home and get a decent nights sleep. But...” Michael glanced over his shoulder at the darkened living room before returning his gaze to Emmett.

Emmett recognized that look. He remembered it from the mirror in the days after Aunt Lula had her stroke. He remembered lying in bed, blankets up to his neck despite the sweltering heat of a Mississippi summer, hearing his mother and his sisters bustling about in the kitchen as though nothing was wrong, as though he wasn’t just on the other side of the wall, needing a hug or a reassuring word or just a gentle touch.

“Well,” Emmett said, pushing back the covers, “you know me, I’m never one to turn down a cute boy who wants to sleep with me.” He waited until Michael had kicked off his shoes and snuggled under the blankets before adding, “You realize you have to defend me when Ben finds out about this and decides to kick my ass.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll disarm him with my boyish good looks.”

Emmett settled Michael against his side, and stared at the ceiling. Listened to Michael’s ragged breathing, and remembered the oppressive heat of Hazelhurst in July.

“He’s going to be all right,” he finally said.

“I called Brian today,” Michael answered. “I had a total meltdown, Em. It was horrible.”

“Honey, that’s--”

“Remember when Justin got bashed? And Brian, he never lost control. He... he cried, but.... Even when the doctors came to tell us Justin was in a coma, he just tilted his head back and listened and he never... I totally lost it, Em. My knees were knocking together so hard I’m surprised they couldn’t hear it in Scranton. I sobbed like a girl.”

“Everybody has different ways of dealing,” Emmett soothed. “Believe me, your way is a lot healthier.”

“I think I got snot on his suit,” Michael said.

Emmett coughed to cover a strangled laugh. “I’m sure Brian won’t mind.”

“It was probably Prada. Or Armani. Shit.”

“You know that dry cleaner over on Barkers? I’m pretty sure he’s getting Kinney blow-jobs on a regular basis.” Emmett smiled when Michael groaned. “Well, how else do you explain that outrageous discount?”

“It’s a valid theory,” Michael agreed dubiously, “except that guy has to be pushing seventy.”

“Older men have needs, too,” Emmett pointed out. “That’s why Brian has Justin.”

Michael snorted out a laugh. “Don’t let Brian hear you say that.”

Emmett adjusted the covers at his waist as Michael shifted beside him. Outside, he could vaguely hear the wind whistling through the trees. It was the kind of night for hot toddies and flickering candles. For ghost stories.

“I don’t want to lose him,” Michael said softly into the silence.

“You won’t,” Emmett said firmly.

“It’s just... before, HIV was just this vague thing. Like, okay, Ben has HIV, fine, I can deal with that. Now it’s this huge monster. Now it’s real.”

“And you’ll still deal with it.”

“I will.” Michael said. “I can. People are capable of so much more than they know.” Michael turned onto his stomach and burrowed his face into the pillow. “Thanks, Em.”

Emmett closed his eyes and remembered the pungent smell of Aunt Lula’s cigarettes. The creak of the floorboards in her sitting room as she taught him how to dance. Her raucous laugh and her lust for life.