mo na poc - nightmares

Good luck? He hopes Emerson finds happiness?
What is he implying? His reaction to Alec's question was strictly due to the fact that he was under the impression that a life coach was asking about the availability of one of his closest friends.

"You okay, man?" Rhyme nudges him with a chuckle. For a split second, Emerson's eyes wonder over to Claire where she sits with her own folder tucked into her bag and her eyes set out the window, music playing in her ears.

He nods with a sigh before handing his paper silently to his friend who takes it warily. After a couple minutes of skimming the paper, Rhyme gives a low whistle. "Looks like he's under the impression that...well, you know."

"That I like Claire?"

"Yeah..." Rhyme chuckles, "But you don't so just let it go. Who cares what he thinks? You've got a thing for Rosalind right?"

"I don't know, man." He whispers lowly, "She talked to me the same night Claire told me how she felt and I didn't think it was fair for her to put that on me. It was just way too dramatic and it threw me off."

"Yeah you don't need to deal with that. We're supposed to be on vacation so I say you forget about the whole thing." Rhyme replied quietly

"You're probably right."

  " the space between your dreams and your reality is your doubt." ⃒

That night Emerson falls into a deep sleep. Which is almost worse than a sleepless night because when he has his usual nightmare, it's harder to wake up. Harder to escape.

"Come on, Alex, don't be such a nancy-boy." Emerson jokes in a fake British accent to his young friend, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it carelessly at the feet of Rhyme who watches him warily, "We've done this jump a hundred times over."

"Not when the water was this crazy, Em." Isaac's voice cracks as he looks over the edge, "I just don't feel good about it."

"I thought we left the girls behind." Emerson snaps at him, looking over the cliff and into the dark swirling water. He knows for certain there are rocks lining the bottom of the forty foot cliff but he's done it so many times, he's sure he knows where to jump by heart now that it's hidden under the torrential waves.

"Don't be such a jerk." Alex shoves him a little. Emerson recovers quickly but his stomach begins to boil with anger.

"I'll do it by myself then. You three don't know how to have and fun. We're going into high school not the first grade, grow up." Emerson scoffs with his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Rhyme's brows furrow at his friend, "You know what? I don't need this, I'm going home. I'll see you guys on Monday. The first day of school is stressful enough without you three giving me crap." He huffs before marching down the steep incline and back the way they came.

"Anyone else want to bail?" Emerson waves his arms before Alex and Isaac exchange a look. Without a word, they both follow Rhyme, angry expressions on their faces.

Once they're out of sight, Emerson releases a sigh. "Great." He mutters under his breath.

Peaking one last time over the edge, a nervousness chips away at him but he shakes it off. No, he can't go back now that he's given his friends such a hard time. He has to do this.

Taking a deep breath, he jumps feeling weightless and his stomach leaping up into his throat as he falls quickly. First he feels the coldness of the water as he falls deeper and deeper, the icy blue breaking his fall. The current swirls around his legs before he has a chance to kick upward and he's caught in the middle of a riptide.

He pushes and kicks, fighting to keep his mouth closed as he listens helplessly to the sound is his muted grunts of effort. In his peripheral vision he sees the familiar jags of rock. He fights to swim away. His lunges burn and he doesn't think he can -

Emerson jerks awake, his shirt soaked with sweat and his eyes wet with tears. Patting around for his phone, he grabs the device and attempts to control his breathing as the screen lights up, causing his eyes to squint.

5:21am

Geez, why are dreams so inconvenient. There's no way he can go back to sleep now. Not while his heart is racing a million miles a minute. So after fifteen minutes of lying awake on his back, Emerson tip toes quietly out of the hotel room, phone and shoes in hand along with an extra room key he snatched from off of the bathroom counter.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he steps out into the hall. He feels awkward walking down the hallway and into the lobby in his gym shorts and loose t-shirt. He hasn't slipped his feet into his white sneakers yet so his sock covered feet pad quietly past the desk clerk before he finally makes it outside.

It takes him a solid twenty minutes but, as he aimlessly walks in the low lit morning, he somehow finds himself standing on the sand, the endless ocean spread out before him. It's not yet time for the sun to rise but he can just make out a thin line of color just above where the sea meets the sky. A small smile perks his lips up as he closes his eyes and breathes in the salty air.

Runners and early bikers pass him on the sidewalk behind him as he remains still, his socks filling with sand on the beginning the beach. Surfers have started to arrive to catch a few waves before school or work and Emerson watches for a while as they all paddle out past the breaking point.

Sliding his socks off of his feet, he shoves them into his shoes and walks closer to the water before plopping them down into the sand. Emerson's eyes lift to the clouds where pinks and oranges have begun to shine through the thin puffs of white. All around him gets brighter and brighter and he can't stop watching as more colors appear. He doesn't see sunrises very often. He's always had a pretty strict schedule with himself. He's never known how to not.

Now, as he stands here with his toes in the sand, all of his silly plans and rules seem so insignificant and pointless. All of his fears seem to be without reason. He recalls the months in the hospital and the even longer months of rehab after his accident. All of those days instilled fear in him and with fear comes control.

He knows now that he's been lying to himself. He realizes with sad admittance that he doesn't have a mental disorder of any kind. Emerson feels ashamed to have ever claimed he did in the first place. The fear gripped him so deeply and so tightly that he didn't know what else to do. Didn't know what to do other than to try and control what he could...whatever was around him. Now he sees that he has never been in control of anything. Somehow, this brings him relief. He's never been very good at being in control anyway.

With a bitter smile he releases a sigh and, without thinking, he drops his phone into the sand, bundled in the fabric of his shirt. Wind hitting his exposed skin, he walks towards the water. With each step, he grows more bold and soon he's jogging. His ears ring and his heart pounds and everything seems so loud until he dives into the first wave.

Everything becomes eerily silent as the cold water envelopes him. He swims until he makes it past the waves beating against the sand. His dream comes to mind, the current pulling at his ankles and he begins to panic until he realizes it's not real. The water is calm. He's safe.

His head breaks through the water and he breathes in the air, the sun now rising quickly. And suddenly he feels as though he's rising with it. High above the clouds, high above his fear.

Emerson spends almost an hour in the water. It feels as though he's almost getting reacquainted with an old friend. It takes the majority of the time to push back the feeling of wanting to run. Then after that it's pure peace.

When he walks back to the hotel, soaking wet and grinning, he spots a girl who looks quite familiar jogging towards him. He smiles, happy to see a friendly face so early in the morning.

"What are you doing here so early? What are you doing here at all?" She laughs lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He shrugs, "Had to get over my fear sometime. I kind of feel like I have you to thank, actually."

"Really?" Her smile widens, "Well I'm glad that I have done one thing right."

"Oh please. You do everything right. You seem to have everything figured out and you seem to get everything you want." He jokes with a laugh as she steps forward.

"Not everything." She says lowly, water dripping from the tips of his hair onto his forehead and rolling into his eyes. "At least not yet." Just as his hand comes up to wipe the salt water away, she steps forward, pressing her lips to his.

He stands there for a moment, stunned and unmoving. Wondering for a moment if this is what he wants, he quickly decides that it's not and steps away. "Stop."

Rosalind's cheeks redden as she steps away with one fast step, "I-I'm so sorry I just thought..." Her words trail off.

"I can't. I'm sorry, I have to go." He breathes before stepping around her and jogging away.

⃒ "safety is often either a misconception or an illusion"  ⃒

"I'm telling you, the old Star Wars movies are unbeatable." Rhyme argues with Alex as Emerson lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling blankly.

"Yes but what I'm saying isn't that the old ones are better. What I'm saying is that the new ones are good as well." Alex sighs as he explains this for the millionth time. Emerson should have warned Alex not to mention Star Wars considering ever time they talk about it, they end up getting in an argument. "Plus Luke got in that motorcycle accident and his face looked all weird in the later ones."

"First of all, it wasn't Luke Skywalker! How many times do I have to tell you that there aren't 'motorcycles' in Star Wars? It was Mark Hamill, the actor who plays the part of Luke Skywalker who got into the accident. Not the fictional character, Luke Skywalker." Rhyme says passionately for probably the tenth time this year.

Emerson sighs, rolling over into his side as they continue to debate, his mind going blank as he picks at the corner of the sheet. It's only been hours since his time at the beach and he still feels like none of it happened. Like it was all a weird dream.

He wants to just pretend that Rosalind was never there. Like he never saw her and that she never kissed him. Then he could organize his thoughts. He's beyond the point of confusion at this point. He can admit that, deep down, he thought he had feelings for Rosalind. She's exciting and infuriating and sweet. Not to mention she's beautiful.

But now that this has happened, he can see that Rosalind is someone he admires. When he couldn't see past his own pride and past, she was living freely and happily without remorse. She had something he desperately needed and he mistook that for more than it was. It's his fault for being deceived by his own misconception. Maybe he did lead her on?

"Hey what's eating you?" Isaac nudges him as his brother begins arguing on why Chewbacca is a prince.

Emerson places a smile on his face. "Nothing, just staring off into space." He doesn't want anyone to make Rosalind uncomfortable and he also doesn't feel it's his place to tell anyone what happened just yet.

"Oh okay." His friend replies, apparently picking up the fact that he doesn't want to talk about whatever is bugging him.

"What's the plan for today?"

"Oh so you're finally done with your girly squabbling?" Emerson asks Alex with an amused smile, forcing himself to sit up.

"Just answer the question."

"How am I supposed to know!" Emerson laughs, standing up and shuffling over to his suitcase. He still hasn't changed or showered since he got back, his shorts smelling of musty sea-water.

"You're the tour guide's favorite so I figured you'd know." He says with a wink. A sick feeling churns in his stomach and he forces a half hearted eye roll.

"Whatever, I'm going to take a shower while you guys figure it out. Tell me when you do." He doesn't bother waiting for an answer before closing the bathroom door and turning on the shower, cutting out any noise.

When he finally exits the bathroom, everyone is dressed and ready to go, all three boys clad in swim trunks and t-shirts. "We're going swimming?"

"Apparently we're going snorkeling." Isaac shrugs as he texts away on his phone angrily.

"Oh." He hums, "Who are you texting?"

Isaac hesitates before answering with a tone of annoyance, "It's Gwen. She's driving me insane."

"Trouble in paradise?" Alex says cheekily before quickly clearing his throat and shutting up as Isaac shoots him an extremely harsh glare.

"No everything is fine. She's just being so petty right now. Like, why the heck does it matter whether or not I've been posting pictures of the two or us on Instagram during this trip? That's so stupid."

"That's what you're arguing about?" Emerson chuckles before snatching his swim trunks from his suitcase.

His friend scratches his brow, looking exasperated. "She says that she doesn't understand why I've posted photos of me and you guys but none of her and I. She says it makes her feel like I don't want people to know we're here together. But that's stupid, no one cares. It's just Instagram."

"I don't know, dude. Gwen isn't usually petty like this so maybe it's something that just means a lot to her. Girls are weird and they always want photos for every single little memory. Or maybe she just wants to know that your proud to be with her." Emerson speaks absentmindedly, repeating almost the exact same thing he's heard Claire say to him almost a million times when he questions women's obsession with social media.

Isaac blinks at his friend's back. "I guess I didn't think about that. Fine. As stupid as I think it is, I'll suck it up and take as many photos as she wants."

"No, you have to tell her that you're the one who wants to take a photo with her." Alex mumbles as he brushes his teeth, his head popping out of the bathroom.

His brother groans, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. "Too much information."

"If you wait for her to ask for a photo every time she wants one, she won't ask. Then she'll be mad at you for not reading her mind." Rhyme laughs, catching on.

"But I can't read minds!"

"Exactly. So the only solution is for you to be the one to ask for photos. That way, she gets what she wants without having to ask and you get brownie points for being thoughtful." Alex waltzes out of the restroom, "Then you get some smoochy smoochy." He makes kissing faces at his brother.

Isaac smacks him away, a laugh emitting from his lips. "Shut up, oh my gosh. Okay okay I get it, I'll ask for photos. But who should I ask to take them? I bet Rosalind is really good at photography."

"Why?" Emerson asks suddenly.

"Because. I don't know, she just looks like she would be." He shrugs.

"That literally makes no sense."

"Your mom makes no sense."

"Whatever, let's just go." Rhyme cuts them off with a laugh, whipping them both with a towel, "The ocean is calling. Hey, man, you've got your swim shorts. You're planning on swimming?" All of his friends watch Emerson expectantly with shocked expressions.

"Yeah." He tries to act nonchalant but pride and excitement swell in his chest, "Snorkeling sounds like fun."

"Congrats, dude." Isaac pats him on the back, "We're really proud of you."

"Thanks." He smiles, "But it's not that but of a deal."

Then all at the same time they say, "It really is."

Yeah I guess it is - he thinks to himself with a smile.