Kings and Queens of Promise

“Um, Gaskarths?” a quiet voice broke the silence. I let out a groan as someone began to shake my shoulders. “Em, Pierre’s sick.”

“Oh, great,” I muttered, getting up and brushing past Zacky. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already noon. I hurried upstairs to find Pierre laying in his bed, covers up to his hips and one leg sticking out of the covers, yet he was shivering. “Pierre, what’s wrong?” I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” Pierre moaned, voice sounding strained. His hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead. “I can’t breathe.”

“Okay, hold on,” I said, getting up and going into his bathroom. I wet a washcloth and returned to Pierre’s side, gently rubbing the cold cloth against his dangerously hot skin. “Okay, tell me exactly what’s making you feel bad?”

“It’s hot in here,” he muttered. He had yet to open his eyes. I got up and turned on the ceiling fan. “Thank you.”

“What else, Pierre? We need to figure out if this is more than just a cold.”

“I can’t breathe, my head is killing me, and I feel like I’m gonna hurl. Happy?” he asked, coughing.

“Sounds like the flu to me. Dammit,” I muttered. “Okay, hold on again.” I got up, retrieving the tissues and trashcan from Pierre’s bathroom. “Okay, you need to blow your now often, alright? Don’t just snuff it all back up, okay? That’s gross and won’t help. Before you try to eat anything, I’m gonna have you gargle some water, and right now I’m going to go make you some hot tea. Also, I need you to keep an extra pillow under your head and, once you feel up to it, you need to take a nice, hot shower. Here,” I said, grabbing an extra pillow and helping him sit up so I could situate it behind his head.

“Why can’t I just have a beer?” he sighed.

“Drinking yourself into a stupor is only gonna make this worse,” I said, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

“When did you get so motherly?” he asked, finally opening his big brown eyes and looking up at me.

“When my favorite non-relative in the house got sick,” I said. Pierre offered me a watery smile and I kissed his head before heading for the door. I stopped, grabbing his phone off the dresser and putting it on the nightstand. “Text me or something if you desperately need me.”

“Thank you,” he said weakly before closing his eyes again. I sighed and left, heading over to check on Jack. He was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” I said quietly. His eyes darted over to me and, the moment he saw me, his face went red and he pulled the covers over his face. Yeah, nice try. “I just wanted to see how you were feeling.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. I slowly made my way to his bedside and pulled the covers down enough for me to feel his head. The fever lingered, but barely.

“Anything hurt or bothering you?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’m getting ready to make some hot tea. If your throat is sore, it might help. Do you want some?”

“No.”

“Well, have you eaten anything today?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll go make some soup. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“You don’t have to,” I heard him say as I reached the door. I turned and looked to find him with the covers pulled down to his nose. His eyes would meet mine for a moment and then dart elsewhere.

“I know we have some kind of…history. Alex told me, but…I can’t remember. I’m sorry, I just can’t,” I said quietly. “But I would like to make it up to you, maybe get to know you again, if you’d let me, but if you’re not interested, that’s okay. I’ll be back in a little while with your soup,” I finished, closing the door behind me. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. I hurried downstairs, letting out a shaky sigh as I reached the empty kitchen. I put on some tea but starting on the soup.

“Emerson,” said a voice from the hallway, making me grind my teeth, “we’re going over to Matt’s house.” I turned around and saw Syn walk into the kitchen, smirking as his eyes flicked pointedly down to my chest, where they lingered for a few long moments. He and Zacky were both bundled up in anticipation of the cold outside.

“Fine,” I said roughly, shooting him a glare. He strolled past me, helping himself to one of the two glasses of tea I’d prepared.

“Today, my orders are for you to stay home to take care of Pierre and Jack. You aren’t to leave the premises unless Jack or Pierre tells you to,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. I jerked away from him, smacking his hand away. “Hey, now, don’t get so defensive,” he said, stepping even closer to me. I was completely pressed against the counter as he leaned his entire body against mine.

“What the hell, man?” we heard from the doorway. Alex was standing there looking sleepy, but unhappy at what he was seeing.

“Just wait until Wednesday,” Syn said with a smirk before stepping back. “Morning, Alex,” he said as if nothing had just happened. Taking the cup of tea he’d taken, he brushed right past him with a ‘come on, Zacky.’

“Later,” Zacky said before following Syn. Once I heard the front door slam, I let out a shaky breath.

“You okay?” Alex asked, coming to my side.

“I should so file for sexual harassment,” I said, voice cracking a bit.

“I would offer to kick his ass, but…well, let’s face it, he’s huge compared to me!”

“I know, Alex, don’t worry about it,” I said, standing up properly and getting out another cup.

“Just ignore him, Em. He’s just trying to get to you.”

“If you say so,” I said, pouring the soup into two bowls. “Can you take these glasses of tea to Pierre and Jack?”

“Sure,” he said, quickly getting up and grabbing the cups.

“And then can you feed Lily?”

“Yeah, sure. I probably should check on Icky, too, I suppose,” he said before hurrying upstairs. Okay, who is this Icky I keep hearing about? Shrugging it off, I picked up the soup and headed upstairs. I found Pierre right where I’d left him, sipping his tea. His trashcan was already almost half full of tissues.

“Is the tea okay?” I asked, setting the soup on his nightstand and sitting next to him. He nodded slowly, offering a weak smile. I brushed his hair out of his face and felt his burning skin. “Whoa, your fever is even worse. Hold on, I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” I said, hurrying into the bathroom.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the aspirin.

“Just try to get some rest,” I said, reaching to get his empty cup.

“Em,” he mumbled, grabbing my hand. I looked down at him, realizing he was on the verge of falling asleep. “Em,” he repeated. I crouched down next to him. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, eyes drifting closed. Before I could respond, his fingers had curled around the back of my neck and pulled my head down so suddenly that I didn’t realize what was happening until his lips were pressed against mine. My eyes widened in shock and, just as I moved to push him away, he let me go, leaning back and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. As I stood up, I saw a small smile gracing his lips. I slowly lifted my fingers to my lips, which were still tingling from his kiss. After a few long minutes, I regained my composure, remembering I had another sick boy to attend to. I gathered up the other bowl of soup and left, giving Pierre one last glance before leaving.

“Hope that didn’t get you sick,” a voice said, making me jump and nearly spill the soup.

“God, Alex, you scared the heck outta me!” I shouted, clutching my chest.

“You scared me,” he retaliated. “Why the hell did you let him kiss you like that?”

“He’s sick, Alex. He’s confused. I dunno, he didn’t seem to know what he was doing.”

“Sure,” he said doubtfully. “Hope you don’t catch whatever he’s got.”

“I’ve had my flu shots,” I responded.

“So, why’d you touch your lips after he kissed you?” Alex probed.

“Oh, my God, you are such a peeping Tom!” I exclaimed, swatting at his arm.

“So, do you want to fu-”

“Alex!” I cut him off. “You know, we’re almost out of aspirin. Can you go get some more?”

“Fine,” he huffed, “but we will talk about this later.”

“Fine,” I shrugged before continuing on my way to Jack’s room. I slowly went in, closing the door behind me. “Jack, what are you doing?” He was by his window, which was open.

“Nothing,” he muttered. As I walked to his side, he turned away from me, cradling something in his hands.

“Jack, what is that?” I asked, grabbing his wrist. He instantly froze, eyes darting to my hand and I quickly let go. “What’s in your hand?”

“S-Something,” he said.

“Come on, Jack,” I said softly, gingerly touching his arm.

“You’ll laugh,” he said quietly, cheeks going pink as he glanced at my hand.

“No, I won’t, I promise.” Jack sighed and slowly uncovered his hand, revealing a dead butterfly. “Oh, my,” I said, covering my mouth.

“It flew into my window and...and I opened the window and picked it up and…it died in my hands,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Jack, I’m sorry,” I said. Taking a chance, I moved my arm to wrap loosely around his waist in a very gentle hug. He went stiff for a moment, looking down at me before he allowed himself to relax a little. “You know…this might sound childish, but…if you want, we could go out in the yard and have a funeral for it.” Jack stared at the butterfly for a moment before nodding slowly. “Alright, I’ll hold it and get a box for it while you get dressed, okay. Dress warmly,” I added, gently taking the butterfly from his hand before heading upstairs.

“Thank you,” I heard him say as I reached the door. With a small smile, I went upstairs to get the box. I got a small box, in which I used to keep a bracelet my mom made (for which I now had a jewelry box), and laid the butterfly in it before setting it down on my dresser and pulling on my jacket.

“You ready?” Jack called up the stairs.

“Yeah,” I replied as I finished wrapping my scarf around my neck and putting on my slippers. I grabbed my beanie and put it on before carefully picking up the butterfly box. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw Jack holding several different colored Sharpies. “What are those for?”

“Making her box pretty, like she was,” Jack said, looking at the floor as he spoke.

“That’s a good idea,” I said, handing him the lid. He smiled and leaned against the wall, opening the blue Sharpie and drawing little butterflies on the lid, then he drew purple and red flowers and green swirls as vines. The drawings were like when you see your kindergartner’s first drawing, but they were so heartfelt, you know? Finally, he finished and we went out back.

I hadn’t taken the time to go out back, so I gasped when I stepped out onto the patio. The yard, roughly the size of a baseball field, had lovely green grass, despite the cold weather. There was a large in-ground pool in the middle of the yard, a moderately-sized pool house a little way away. The entire yard was ringed by trees in the distance. The best feature was a green garden surrounding the patio.

“Hey, Jack!” a voice called. I looked up in time to see a guy emerging from the pool house. “Who’s this?” he asked, grinning at me.

“Em,” Jack said quietly.

“Oh, I see,” Frank laughed, elbowing Jack. “Hi, Em, I’m Frank, the poolboy/groundskeeper.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“What are you two up to today?”

“A funeral,” Jack said sadly, showing Frank the butterfly.

“Aw, poor butterfly,” Frank said. He quickly grabbed a spade from the edge of the garden and found a good place for the burial, beginning to dig. “Tell her what happens when the flowers bloom, Jack.”

“Oh, no, she can just see when it happens,” Jack shrugged. Wow, that was the most I’d heard him say for as long as I’d been here.

“You’re gonna be around that long?” Frank asked, looking up at me hopefully.

“Possibly,” I said. “Depends on Syn.”

“Having trouble with him, are you?” Frank chuckled. “Not surprised. He likes to get someone that he doesn’t think will like him and then he messes with them.”

“Good to know,” I said quietly. “I’m just staying until I can find an apartment.”

“Why not stay here?” Frank asked. “Free food and bed, all you gotta do is help out here and there.”

“Well, how am I supposed to have relationships?” I asked. Beside me, Jack almost dropped the box. “I mean, I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“You’re not alone.”

“I mean, I want to get married and have kids someday.”

“So do I!” Jack blurted out a little louder than necessary. I glanced up and he blushed as our eyes met, quickly looking away.

“Well,” Frank pressed on, “you live in a house full of potential husband/father materiel,” Frank said. I sank into silence after that, just watching him work. He finally stood up, brushing off his knees, and took the butterfly box, putting the lid on top and setting it carefully down in the hole.

“Anyone wanna say anything, or do you just want to take a moment of silence?”

“Silence,” Jack said, sniffling. Aw. In our moment of silence, I slowly reached down and slipped my hand into Jack’s, wrapping my fingers around his. He sort of went rigid for a moment before relaxing and ever-so-slightly gripping my hand. I gave his hand a gently squeeze as he sniffled again.

“Dude, are you crying?” Frank asked as he got back onto his knees to bury the box.

“No,” Jack sniffled, pulling his hand from mine and turning his back to us. With a sigh, I watched as Frank covered up the butterfly. He then marked the spot with a stick and some leaves until he could paint a little brick for a tombstone.

“Thank you, Frank,” I said, gently touching Jack’s back and guiding him toward the house.

“No problem. Hey, if Syn gives you any trouble, you can come hang out with me. I’m always here,” he called after us.

“Alright, I will,” I promised.