Thinking of a second chance [tag!Embry]

[swivelcanines]

He didn’t know how he ended up at Embry’s house, but there he was. Maybe he wanted to tell him that he accepted him and all of his less acceptable traits (only for Paul though, always only for Paul), maybe he wanted to say he was sorry again in a vain hope that this time it would make him feel different afterwards (and his selfishness was never something he bothered to hide too much). Maybe he just wanted to see Embry’s face again. Too many maybes and not enough definites were leaving Paul a very desperate and confused young man.

Ms. Call (he always liked her, she’s nice and not scared to be herself, that takes guts and doesn’t he know it) let him in, obviously oblivious to the fact that he was the reason her son was acting the way he was. With a tinge (more like a stomp on his face) of guilt, he wondered what she would do if she knew that it was basically all his fault. His fault for existing. Could she really blame him for that, though, when he had asked for none of it?

Probably.

“He’s over at his friend Annie’s house, you can wait for him in his room, he said he’d be back soon,” she explained in a huff as she rolled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet. Not wanting to be in her way while she cleaned, Paul obeyed and wandered into his…friend, ex-friend, ex-best friend, whatever…’s room, closing the door gently behind him.

Gently, wasn’t that a joke. Since when was Paul…that?

The room could have only belonged to Embry, and it killed Paul just a little that he knew that. That he knew all the contingencies that made up his pack brother. Pack brother was safe, right? Because even when (if) they were nothing at all, the worst of enemies, they’d always be that. Pack brothers.

His eyes raked over the bed, the dresser…the nightstand. Which was carrying a notebook.

He was such a fucking idiot. I mean, he had to have been, to have picked it up on some strange whim of curiosity, and to have opened it. To have read it. It was the highest level of idiocy. For certain.

The words written there only slowly registered inside of him, right behind the urge to laugh (the urge to sob) at the absurdity of Embry writing in a, a diary! How…the fuck?

Once he was done getting over the fact that his friend was writing in a journal (it’s a diary, you have one, too, remember Paul? Only you’re not stupid enough to write shit like this in it) it pours over him, the real words and the meanings behind them. His fingers skipped over the crossed out words, etching his own flesh into the wounds Embry’s pen made on the paper. fell in love with. His brow furrowed and green eyes became troubled, and he just…dropped it, right back onto the nightstand, and it laid there, open, staring back at him.

The silence that followed the hollow thud festered in the air. Something grew in the silence, a horrible realization. It dawned on Paul, all of it, the things Embry felt, things he knew before but hadn’t felt like this. It had never panicked him like this!

All he could do was stare at the blank page the book had dropped open to, chewing on his lip as if it would comfort him. He was such a fucking idiot.

[embry]

When Embry Call walked into his home, his mother was standing there, looking harassed over a vacuum cleaner which was clearly not working. Her brown hair, so like her son's in color, was falling into her face and her green eyes were narrowed in annoyance. "Uh, Mom?" Embry called, edging slowly into the room. Sudden movements might end up with something aimed at his head.

The young woman (she couldn't be older than late thirties) flipped her hair up and glanced at her son with a frazzled expression. "Oh! Embry, you're home." She leaned down once more and there was a frightening banging noise from the vacuum and she groaned and moved away from it, dusting off her hands. "Belt broke again-- I'll have to go into town." Embry noted how tired she looked, and the checkered shirt and jeans she wore, rather than making her look strong, reminded him that many children wore that style, too. "Oh. Honey. Paul's up in your room waiting for you. He stopped by earlier."

Embry's thoughts of worry over him mother left him as he turned towards the stairs. "Thanks!" was called over his shoulder as he shot up the stairs two at a time, not even looking back. If he had, he might've seen his mother shake her head and murmur something about "obvious" before picking up her wallet and leaving.

His door was closed, and Embry paused in front of it, his hand resting on the brass knob. He didn't need to catch his breath-- running was second nature to him now, but he wondered just what he could say. They were friends again, right? Or weren't they? He wasn't sure. But delaying it wouldn't change anything.

The door swung open, and Embry walked in, closing it lazily behind him. "Hey, what's up?" The greeting was offered with a casual smile, alighting of bright hazel eyes. A rare sight, Embry wore a dark blue tee shirt over his washed out jeans, though he wore his feet bare as always. "I wasn't expecting to see y--"

He stopped. His throat just...stopped. There was that silly notebook that Annie had told him he needed to start writing in. She was worried about him, he never told her anything.... And there it was, open, with Paul standing there, staring down at it. "You." His voice had returned. "I, uhm, wasn't expecting to see you."

[swivelcanines]

Paul nearly jumped out of his skin (a quite fitting phrase for him, actually) at the sound of the door closing behind him. He knew he probably shouldn't have been looking through Embry's private things but he hadn't expected to find something...private. In a journal. Again, the absurdity overwhelmed him - who honestly told this stuff to a book?

Still in a state of shock, it took Paul a moment to respond. "Uh..yeah, I wanted to talk..." he trailed off, letting his wide green eyes observe Embry. He didn't look too excited to see him. "Your mom said I could come up here," he quickly defended himself, suddenly realizing how it might look. It wasn't as though he had let himself into Embry's room, intent on finding out as much as he could about his friend's private life. It just...happened. A really bad accident.

He watched as Embry's eyes, bright and eager just a moment ago, darkened as he surveyed the scene. It was obvious that Paul had looked into the diary, even more so that he had seen way too much.

He stepped back, away from the nightstand, away from the incriminating evidence. There was nothing he could say, really, not like he could formulate any intelligent thought even if he tried. It wasn't as if he hadn't known any of this, that Embry liked him, but seeing it written down like that...like it was some burden Embry had had to lift off of himself and onto a page...it had shocked him into silence. For the first time he realized how much he had been hurting Embry with, well, being an asshole. Sure, he had worried about his friend (had been angry, too, for awhile) but this was different. Very different. He was feeling the horror slowly slide over him; he had called his friend a fag, had rejected him, ignored him. And while he had considered his feelings in this situation, he hadn't fully grasped it. He had never wanted to comfort Embry and...and what? Tell him it was alright? Wasn't that what he had come there for?

He stared at the ground, still thinking about the words Embry had written, ashamed and confused, more so than ever.

[embry]

"Yeah, no," Embry said, beginnign to contradict himself in an effort to sound relaxed. "It's fine." No it wasn't. Why couldn't his mother be normal? Let Paul wait downstairs like most other people do and NOT in Embry's room. Ordinarily he wouldn't have cared, his room wasa bit messy, a few odd clothes on the floor and what not, but livable, and so he was fine with having people in there. Having Paul reading through the notebook Annie had told him to start keeping? That was awkward.

Embry moved forward as Paul moved back and slammed the book shut with a sound louder than the small journal should have made. He considered stuffing it under the bed, but the action seemed too conspicuous and so he merely flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "So, talk," he said, and perhaps it was slightly more annoyed a tone than he'd intended it to come out as. But why did Paul have to snoop? Why did he have to read that of all things? He could imagine Paul in his room, looking over his words, laughing....

A flush stole across his tan face, and he fisted his hands in the bed sheets. "You shouldn't have--" and he was speaking before he knew what he was saying, "I mean, you shouldn't have read that. It was stupid. It doesn't...actually mean anything." He glared at the book before raising his eyes to Paul. Embry felt like kicking himself. How was he supposed to stay with Paul as his best friend if all this kept coming between them?

[swivelcanines]

Composing himself, althought still a bit dazed, Paul nodded, althought he wasn't quite sure what he was agreeing with. "Yeah, okay man," he shrugged, still looking at his bare feet. He figured it was safer that way - feet couldn't glare at you and make you feel like the lowest piece of shit on Earth.

He visibly winced as Embry slammed the book shut, shuffling back even further until his back was against the edge of the dresser. Perching himself slightly on the edge, he finally chanced a look at him, only to lower his gaze again. Eye contact had always been important to Paul (if you couldn't say it when looking someone in the eye, you didn't mean it) but he didn't want to see all the stuff he knew he'd see there. It was clear that Embry cared that he had looked in the notebook and was, from what he could observe, pissed.

Narrowing his eyes ever so slightly at his tone, still just a bit more defensive than necesary, he hunched his shoulders over sheepishly and sighed. "I...I was talking to Leah and..." Trying to start from the beginning of his revelation wasn't going to go anywhere, he realized quickly. But when he went to correct himself, Embry was speaking again, his voice hard. Paul couldn't help but feel just a bit resentful at that - like he had enjoyed reading the things Embry had written! Like he had gotten some perverse kick out of it. If that had been the case, wouldn't he have been ragging on him by now about it?

He lifted his gaze from the floor to Embry in one split moment, wearily finding Embry's own eyes to be trained on him. He folded his arms against his chest and didn't look back down again as he somberly responded, "I know." As if I'm not going to regret opening the fucking thing for weeks now, too, he thought.

He almost asked why Embry was writing about it in the first place if it didn't mean anything but knew better than to. He was here to set things straight, not drag them out like he'd been doing for the past month.

[embry]

Embry perched on the bed, his long legs splayed out in front of him in what should have been a relaxed lounge. However, his muscles felt too tight, like the moments before a phase or when he was in his wolf form and ready to leap. He tried to calm himself, but he was too wound, on the verge of...of he didn't even know what.

His hazel eyes were trained on the boy in front of him, somewhere between accusatory and sort of curious expectancy. As in so many cases, Embry cursed not having the telepathy when his pack brothers when they were in their human form. None the less, though, that escape had been a blessing weeks earlier when he hadn't wanted anyone in his mind. And he didn't want Paul to know the annoyance he felt, both at reading what wasn't his business and at the fact that he could make neither heads nor tails of Paul's reaction.

When Paul started to speak, he fell back on the palms of his hands on the bed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Leah," he said, his tone making clear he thought nothing from Leah could be positive. However, a thought occurred to him and he jerked himself forward, looking at Paul with wide, accusing eyes. "Wait. Paul. You didn't...you didn't tell her, did you?" His breath caught in his chest. What if Leah knew? If Leah knew the whole pack would know and if Leah knew, oh, God, Leah would never let him hear the end of it. Bria comments and references to his mother being a home-wrecker were bad enough. This was just fuel on the fire.

"Yeah, it's stupid, it doesn't mean anything," he muttered, glaring at the notebook as though it was entirely the notebooks fault that it had held teh words which Paul had read. Embry raised his eyes slowly, meeting Paul's green gaze. "You should just forget whatever it was you read in there." It was private. PRIVATE. How could you? How could you just go nosing around?! "It wasn't intended to be read by anyone." The last comment held the slightest, smallest accusation to it, but so subtle, as Embry was.

[swivelcanines]

More than year of being in Embry's company couldn't be erased by a month of seperation, and it couldn't erase the fact that he knew when Embry was upset. He could see it now, in every stretch of his muscle, every line on his face, his anger at Paul. How easily the roles were reversed. It didn't even make sense to Paul, he hadn't looked to...he scowled to himself, deciding to drop it. He had looked. That was that.

That stung - Leah was actually a good friend of Paul's. He knew most of the pack looked down on her for her childish antics, but they should have known that she was still so hurt from what had happened. His fists clenched ever so slightly but he didn't say anything.

His eyes widened with horror as he watched Embry practically convulse with even the thought of Leah knowing what had happened. The look on Paul's face easily gave him the answer; he had indeed let it slip to his friend that Embry had feelings for him.

"It wasn't like that," he groaned. "I needed help-" He bit back the rest of the sentence and tried again. "She caught me at the wrong time, but she said she wouldn't say anything." He knew the explanation was weak, but she had promised, she wouldn't...say anything, would she? Could she? He fought down the rising panic and tried to look sure of himself. "Look, I haven't said anything for a fucking month!" He couldn't help but explode and relieve the tension that would inevitably lend to phasing. "You fucking load all this shit on me, you think it's fucking easy not to say anything? To just pretend everything is fucking fine?!" He wasn't shaking, he wasn't going to turn, he was just angry and...this wasn't what he came here to do. "I didn't come here to do this with you again, okay?" he snapped, fustrated. "I came to talk to you, I didn't mean to see that stuff, I didn't mean to!"

As if he could just forget, like it was that simple. Still, he didn't say anything and simply hung his head, chewing on his bottom lip again.

[embry]

Leah migth have been a good friend of Paul's, but she was no friend to Embry. Embry couldn't trust her, she was too easily swayed by her emotions, and she had already turned on Embry just because Sam had Imprinted on Emily. He'd had no fault in the matter, anyway. And now! Oh, now, Embry had to deal with the fact that she knew.

Oh, the minute Paul's expression had shifted, Embry hadn't even had to hear what he said. It was only too clear. In a moment of (of what? stupidity? emotion?) he'd gone and confessed everything about Embry's life to the girl who routinely tortured the crap out of him because it made her feel slightly better. How could he? He couldn't go to anyone, ANYONE else? It had to be Leah!

His fists were shaking and he stood, pacing the floor of the bedroom in fast, stalking steps. Though his temper was mild compared to the others in the pack, it was present, and at the moment, it was flaring up. At Paul's words, he turned on him. "Oh! She promised," he snapped. "That makes everything okay! Damnit, Paul, she promises now. In a few weeks when she's pissed off about something else, what the hell's going to happen then? When she gets emotional over Sam and Emily sucking face and turns around and says something she doesn't mean to say. Again."

Embry wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch Paul. "I didn't want to unload on you! You made me, remember? You beat the crap out of me when we phased! Or did you forget? Don't act like I dropped this all on you. I never intended to, so fuck you! You wanted to know, now you know. You can't bitch about it afterwards. I told you! I freakin' warned you!" he turned, furious, his fist connecting with the door leaving splintered wood and blood, his arm only half a foot from Paul.

Embry cursed, again, and flopped back onto his bed, the skin on his knuckles healing even as he did so. He felt tired. He felt...done. "Yeah, well, what do you expect when you go snooping, huh?"

[swivelcanines]

Everything was going to hell so quickly. Paul hadn’t anticipated this reaction, in fact, he thought maybe today was the day they’d go back to being real friends again.

And now Embry wanted to kill him.

Promises didn’t mean a lot to some people but they meant a lot to Paul, and he had taken Leah’s words to heart. Embry’s words, though, were causing a rift in his opinions…everything he was saying made sense. Leah, like Paul, tended to act more on emotion than on rational thought. Which was why it hadn’t been a good idea to confide in Leah.

Embry yelling at him…he couldn’t take it. Embry had never yelled at him like this. He felt like a hypocrite. Hadn’t he been the one yelling at Embry like this? Hadn’t he been the one trying to hurt him?

His arms shook beside him at the first few words, the reminders of the things he had done. It stung like nothing had ever stung before, the pain, he wanted to die and escape this feeling of overwhelming shame. He had never felt like this before, and it was Embry /again/ making him. What did that tell him? Why was Embry working him up like this?

It was his own mess though. Leah had taught him that much. He had to take responsibility for everything he had fucked up. And Embry deserved to be angry. He let him have his fight – he wasn’t going to retaliate.

He leaned against the wall, running his hand over his face, not managing to stop himself before he blurted, “I wasn’t snooping, Embry. I came to talk to you about…I don’t know,” he said with a hollow laugh. “Doesn’t even fucking matter anymore.” And it didn’t.

His gaze flashed over the cracked wood and his eyes flickered with his conflict; the need to stay and just finish this and the equal need to leave and let Embry cool off.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, eying the quickly healing gash on Embry’s hand. Werewolf abilities be damned, the question needed to be asked.

[embry]

Embry didn't want to kill Paul. He'd wanted to punch him a little, yes, but now that too was passing quickly. His rage was an ugly darkness inside of him, urging him to scream. Say everything he'd been thinking (though Embry was pretty sure it had all been summarized rather well in a matter of one minute). He wanted to punch something. He'd done that, too, already, judging by the throbbing in his hand.

It hurt so much to think that Paul had told Leah. Leah knew and soon everybody would know. You couldn't keep it a secret forever some part of his mind pointed out dryly, and though he knew this to be true, he wished this hadn't been the exact situation in which the others would begin to learn of him. Embry considered yelling more, but decided against it. He didn't have the energy.

Embry raised himself up on his elbows, looking at Paul with eyes now weary rather than accusing and furious. "Talk to me about what?" he asked. He was curious, he'd admit, and though he still blamed Paul for his snooping, he couldn't truthfully hold it against him for any real length of time. He was annoyed, but it wasn't as though Paul was trying to make him feel awkward or embarrassed.

"Yeah," he said automatically. "It's fine." He glanced down at the wound, which had been bleeding sluggishly, and now where fresh, pink skin was the only sign of violence. "I probably shouldn't have punched the door, anyway. It was stupid." His mom was going to kill him. "I shouldn't have exploded either. I mean, yeah, I am pissed, but getting myself close to phasing doesn't help much." He felt like an idiot, awkward after his flare of temper.

[swivelcanines]

Embry seemed to have calmed down a bit, which was good for Paul because he wasn’t sure he could take Embry in a fight right now. One, Embry had a lot of rage fueling him (Paul didn’t have much at all), two, he really liked these jeans, three, the last thing he wanted to do was fight with him again. It had ended so badly the last time, what would it prove now?

Paul sat down, exasperated, on the computer chair across from Embry. “A lot of stuff,” he admitted. “I only talked to Leah because…I didn’t know who else to talk to.” Looking at Embry when he said all of this was hard. “I…I know how hard this was, for you, I meant, and I’m sorry. Again.”

“I don’t care that you’re gay, Embry,” he said bluntly. “I do have a problem with you…liking me, though. I don’t know how to handle it.” Was it better for him to stay away and let Embry forget about him or should he have stuck around? He didn’t want to hurt Embry any more than he already had and both of those options seemed shitty. “I’ve just been really confused lately with everything…I wanna say I’m here for you, man, I’m not gonna go anywhere. I’m done taking out this shit on you. It won’t happen again,” he promised.

It felt good to explain himself rather than keep it bottled up like he had been doing. He laughed, but it came out as a dry scoff again. “I fucking dream about you,” he muttered into his palms as he lowered his head into his hands. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I said we’re family and I went back on that – it was really…wrong. I’m sorry,” he said again, interrupting his rambling. He bit down on his tongue, trying to will himself to stop talking.

[embry]

It had been a long time since Embry had really lost his temper like that. He was ordinarily the calmest out of the group, save for perhaps Sam himself. His control had been tested, though, throughout this entire situation and when all he'd done is hoped to see his friend and then found Paul in his notebook, telling Leah, he'd exploded. He'd seen red and he'd finally let out every single hateful, angry, shameful thing he'd been thinking in the past month.

Sitting up on the bed, he moved closer to the computer chair. "I can understand that," he admitted. After all, he'd told Annie about a lot after the first couple fights and had since grown closer to her. He was scared still to tell her absolutely everything, but he had let her very close to him. "You and Leah are close, right?" He shook his head, sending brown locks flying. "Yeah, it's hard, I guess. I mean, on both sides, so it's not like one of us has it worse...or something....

"I don't think I'm making any sense." Embry sighed, then raised an eyebrow at Paul's words. "So I've gathered. You told me, and I figured out that it obviously freaks you out. I mean, I don't blame you for it. Or whatever." He just wanted Paul, in whatever way that meant. As a friend, as a pack brother. But he didn't know if Paul would be able to be those things for him after all of this. At Paul's words, though, Embry looked up at him, eyes wide, incredulous. "Y-you mean it?" Had he ever felt this happy?

His stomach seemed numb or gone or something when Paul spoke. Paul dreamed about him? About Embry? "What kind of dreams?" He found himself asking before he could stop. "And you don't have to...to keep apologizing. You're here now, so, that should count for something, right?"

[swivelcanines]

He glared at Embry, shaking his head ever so slightly. “God, just…shut the fuck up, Embry,” he mumbled mutinously. “Stop…blaming yourself, it’s not your goddamn fault.” If he had to listen to Embry try and excuse Paul’s behavior he would leave. He couldn’t take it right now.

“Yeah, me and Leah are close,” he said simply. There wasn’t a point in trying to convince him that Leah was not as bad as the thought she was. Embry seemed pretty concrete in his opinion of her.

Giving his friend a weird look, Paul slowly responded, as if talking to someone of lesser mental capability, “Yeah, Embry, I mean it.” And he did, too. Now only time would tell if he could actually follow through with his promise, but he felt confident he would. He had never failed to keep a promise before, he wasn’t going to start now.

He blushed and buried his face even deeper into his hands. Most of the dreams had just been replays of their fight, scenarios of other fights, Paul screaming at Embry and saying all the things he wanted to say (which he had finally gotten off his chest thank God) but some of the other ones had been…not what he had ever thought about before. These dreams were the main reason he hadn’t been sleeping as much as he usually did. The one hour he got a night was always filled with Embry…Embry’s blood, Embry’s pain, Embry’s touch. He flinched just a bit and decided to ignore that question.

“Should it?” he asked tiredly, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. “Well, I am, I don’t know how much it means but…it’s true.” It came out a bit grudgingly but it came out all the same, which apparently to Embry, counted for something.

[embry]

Embry shrugged. “I’m not. Not really, anyway.” He wasn’t sure who he blamed, if anyone. He wasn’t sure if there was anyone to blame, unless it was fate. An amused smirk grew on his face though, and he added, “What? Do you want me to blame you? I should say, ‘Paul, you’re a complete ass, knock it off.’” The tone was sarcastic, and he didn’t think any of that. In his mind, he knew Paul wouldn’t have said nor done something to hurt him on purpose.

“Yeah…only because she gives you peanut butter cookies,” he muttered. He was, in part, glad that Paul had someone he would talk to. This all was tempered by the fact that the person he talked to was Embry’s tormentor on a semi-regular basis.

A flush spread across his tan features at Paul’s tone. “I’m not stupid,” he protested, “just surprised.” He probably shouldn’t have been. They were pack and pack stayed together, no matter what. But after the last month, he couldn’t be certain. That scared him a bit because his trust in Paul should’ve been pack, it should have been natural that they stayed together through everything.

Embry hesitated, at once wanting to reach forward and comfort Paul and at the same time sure that this touch would be unwelcome. He wanted to rest his hand on Paul’s back and for one exhilarating moment, he wondered what would happen if he attempted to hug Paul, their faces barely a hairsbreadth apart. But the feeling quickly passed and Embry chastised himself for those errant thoughts.

“Of course it counts,” Embry said, and cast his friend an absent smile. “And it means a lot…well, I mean, it does to me.” He shrugged once more, bracing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward over the bed.

[swivelcanines]

Paul sighed in relief and for the first time that day let a genuine smile light his face. “Good.”

He tensed a bit – because that was exactly what he wanted Embry to say – but he made himself relax and let out a shaky laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t be too far off base,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“Peanut butter cookies are my favorite!” he protested in faux-outrage. “Besides, Leah’s okay…” he trailed off, frowning, because the fact of the matter was Leah had been nothing but horrible to Embry since she got into the pack. “You know she doesn’t mean half the stuff she says,” he defended her weakly. “The stuff about your dad…” He adverted his gaze and shifted in his chair awkwardly. He knew it was a touchy subject for Embry (hell, it was a touchy subject for the whole pack) and he didn’t want to upset him.

A lopsided grin pulled at Paul’s lips and he said “Either way, you’re still stupid.” He wasn’t stupid though – and he it frightened him to think that, if it had not been for Leah, he and Embry still might have been separated. It wasn’t a nice thing to think about.

Eyes darkening, he caught sight of Embry’s hand, still bloody though partially healed. He would kick himself in the ass a few times later that evening for getting Embry that upset, but for now he was just concerned. Without hesitation, he yanked the hand off Embry’s lap and examined it, scowling. “Fucking moron,” he said, flipping the hand to get a good look at the ruined knuckles. “You should have checked for splinters, if the skin healed over them it’s gonna hurt like a bitch all week.” His thumb brushed softly over the still sore flesh there. Embry's skin was hot like the rest of the pack's, but it felt even warmer against his own skin.

Something about what Embry said triggered a note of dread in Paul. “The pack’s gotta know eventually.” He doubted they would be as understanding as Embry was.