That night, I dreamt of mom. We were walking on a shore like we used to when I was little. Back then, we lived in South Beach and the skies were always bright and the weather, always hot.

Roughly.

Every weekend, Mom and I would spend our afternoons making sand castles, reading stories and poetry under the shade of palm trees, collecting seashells or whatever interesting we could find. When I was a kid, I thought that was all there is to life. Even if it was simple, I was contented.

But now, we were just walking along the beach. Mom was in that fancy one-shoulder lilac dress she only wore during special occasions. In fact, I think it was the only dress she owned.

Something told me that we didn’t go there to collect shells.

“Mom?” I paused to face her. “What are we going to do today?”

Wordlessly, she kept walking barefooted. I watched her from behind, wanting very much to run to her. Surprisingly, my feet wouldn’t move so I just tried to memorize how her short ginger hair swayed with the wind, how she smiled when she turned back to me.

“It’s time to go home, Aramis,” she said, her voice sounding sort of far-away.

“W-where?”

She held her arms out, beckoning to me. At last, my feet started toward her. With every step, memories of us together—happy and sad—flooded in, making me remember how much I missed her. How much I wanted to embrace her. Tell her everything that had happened for the past ten years. Or better yet, the last nine months of my life. But as I did, I saw a familiar figure sitting on a rock not too far away from us.

It was Vincent. He wasn’t moving or anything. He was just… watching. Or waiting. I couldn’t really tell.

Mom dropped her arms, joining her hands behind her. Her grayish-blue eyes shifted to Vincent’s direction, then to me before saying, “Let’s go home.”

Home. I kept repeating the word in my head. Where is that?

It couldn’t be the house in South Beach where I grew up. That was long gone. Dad had sold it to pay for Mom’s hospital bills. And eventually, the burial. For ten years, Dad and I moved from one town to another. Home had never been a familiar concept to me since then. Mom was making me choose and I knew it.

Lost in thought, I stopped halfway to her. I smiled at my mother, shaking my head gently when I discovered the right answer.

“I’m already home, Mom.”

The smile on my mother’s face suddenly brightened. She nodded back in understanding. Without another word, she faced the horizon and headed toward it, her feet barely touching the water as she walked over it. In a little while, all I could see was her billowing silk dress before it disappeared. And so did she.

Since Mom died, I thought what I wanted was an escape. From Dad. From the constant moving. From the rest of the world. As it turned out, I was wrong.

That’s right. “I’m home,” I whispered.

With a smile on my lips, I opened my eyes. The first thing that registered to me was his face. Vincent’s face. And it was just a couple of inches away from mine. His right arm lay on my waist while the other was under my head like a pillow.

My ears were pounding. I was panicking but I could not move a single muscle. I did not know what to do. And there was this weird feeling in my stomach again, like when you’ve eaten too much chili then washed it down with soda.

I couldn’t breathe. But I was quite positive it didn’t have anything to do with my asthma.

Come to think of it, he looked so incredibly peaceful when he was asleep it was almost out-of-this-world. The way his mouth was slightly open made him look childlike. As if he would not be able to hurt a fly even if it landed on his eye. Which I knew would definitely not be the case.

His breathing was slow and relaxed. I could feel his chest rise and fall under my hands. I thought it was the only time of the day when he wasn’t scowling. I took the chance to watch him fondly because I didn’t get to see that side of him a lot. Plus, I wouldn’t let myself get caught alive, gaping at him like this.

My hand moved like it had a mind of its own, my fingers about to touch the now smooth gap between his brows. I must’ve made him mad too many times. For some strange reason, I felt so bad about that I almost swore I would never do anything to anger him again. Almost. But before I could even unknowingly touched him—stressing on the term unknowingly—he opened his eyes all of a sudden.

Startled, I let out a shrill “Aaaaahhh!!!” and pushed him away. And if that wasn’t enough, I kicked him too until he fell off the bed.

Thud!

With a groan, he rolled and sat on the floor, cross-legged.

“Ow,” he moaned, rubbing the side of his head that hit the floor. There was a look on his face that said, “Where am I? Who are you?” as he scanned the room.

Surprised at my own reaction, I scooted up in bed breathing heavily like a rabid dog. My chest felt like it was going to explode.

“What the—“ He threw me one of his trademark glares. That particular one which made you wish you were never born. “What did you do that for?! You little—“

Before he could get up, maybe to strangle me, I hurled a pillow at him. It hit him on the face. Angrily, he shook his head and started to my direction.

As I jumped off the bed and skirted around it, I was thinking, oh hell, don’t kill me.

“Y-you totally asked for it!” I tried to reason out with him—if that could be considered reasoning out.

“You’re dead, Aramis Rayne. Dead! You hear me?!” he growled as he tried to grab me from across the bed. It seemed like no amount of reason would work on him now.

Like I didn’t know that yet.

“Oh, so you suddenly have the right to do this and that?!” I chucked another pillow at him, dodging as he almost caught my arm. “You’re so full of yourself!”

“What is your problem?” he yelled exasperatedly.

Without warning, he took a hold of the bed frame and shoved it aside. It slid out of the way, its feet screeching slightly against the granite floor. It hit the opposite wall with a clang. Now there was nothing stopping him from making a punching bag out of me.

Vincent stepped closer, the morning light from the window behind him casting shadows on his face. He was looking down, his tousled dark hair covering most of his unreadable face.

I opened my mouth for a retort. Nothing came out but a pathetic squeak. Instead, I just backed away. Four steps later, my back hit the wall. Inside my head, I was screaming, dang it!

“Look. I’m sorry, okay?” I swallowed, my eyes swinging left and right for some route of escape. When that seemed hopeless, I just nervously fidgeted with my fingers, my lips quivering. “So I freaked out. I’m not... I’m just not used to you doing those things… M-master.”

He swung a fist toward me. It landed on the wall, an inch shy of my cheek. If he missed on purpose, I couldn’t really say.

Seemingly weary, he leaned on the wall for support. The veins on his arms bulged and he was still shaking with rage. I could see that he was trying to contain it. But breathing deeply while counting to God-knows-how-many could only do so much. He was innately violent. He couldn’t help himself. But I knew he was trying to fight it and that somehow, this episode of his was—to some extent—my fault.

Guardedly, I reached for his free hand. My fingers were shaking too as I curled them around his.

“I am sorry,” I choked out, cringing.

Slowly, he lifted my hand and placed it on his cheek. We stayed that way for a few seconds. A silent conversation. Even without words, I somehow understood him.

His silvery eyes had softened when he lifted them to meet mine. “I already told you. I’m not leaving you ever. Don’t you get it? I…” he started in a hushed tone, trailing into a grave silence like he was inwardly debating if the chicken came before the egg. “Tell me, Aramis. Would you rather that I stay away from you? Just tell me. I’ll do it.”

I just stared, dumbfounded because of his words. It didn’t even take two seconds to think about the answer. Unconsciously, I shook my head.

“I…” he drew a sharp breath, frustration painting all over his face as he tried to collect his thoughts. “I’m not used to doing these things myself. I don’t have a single clue how it works. But… but will you tell me if I’m doing it wrong? Or maybe if I’m going overboard?” he rambled.

I tried to stop my brows from knotting. Honestly, I had a hard time following what he was trying to tell me. I got the general picture. He wanted to be nice and everything. In a caring kind of way, maybe. And he was trying. What I didn’t understand was why he was acting all weird and stuff.

This was all so confusing to me. He was confusing me.

“O-okay,” I murmured, looking down.

If I kept looking into his eyes, I was almost sure I would start melting. Or worse, have a heart attack. And that would be bad because I could die in here.

“Listen to me. I can’t promise that I’ll be the nicest guy on earth because you just know how to drive me nuts every single time. But you have to give me a chance—” Again with the rambling. He wasn’t even listening. “Did you just say okay?”

Before I could answer that, I heard someone make an exaggerated “A-hem!” like her throat was clogged with wet gym socks.

Luci was standing in front of us with her arms crossed in front of her. Leaning on the doorstep was none other than Bel, appearing less indifferent than usual. I thought I even saw her smirk a bit.

It was the first time I was able to look around the room. It was more spacious than your average bedroom. Mainly because it wasn’t really a bedroom.

Aside from the one Vincent shoved to the wall, there were six more beds in a row. White curtains separated each one but as of the moment, every one of them was pushed aside by the curious—more like distressed—occupants. It wouldn’t take a brain surgeon to notice that we were in a sickbay.

Blood rushed to my face as I became aware that everyone was watching us. Nothing like making a scene first thing in the morning.

Vincent heaved a sigh, his forehead wrinkling a little. He lowered his head then backed away with his arms raised, giving me some space to breathe. If I didn’t know him, I would say he was embarrassed too.

“Well, don’t you two look energetic,” Belial muttered, casually clapping her hands. “Now then, if you’re strong enough to rouse a ruckus at this hour, I guess there ain’t any reason for you to be in my sickbay any longer.”

Luci’s face had the infinitesimal hint of dismay when she flashed one of her cordial smiles.

“Come,” she said. “I have prepared our meal at the commons.”

After that, she turned around and went ahead like she left something on the stove. Or maybe she had to go to the bathroom.

Shrugging, Belial walked past us, heading to the counter where a variety of herbs were piled. She glanced at the bed Vincent practically hurled onto the wall.

“Tsk, tsk. Whenever did you get married?” she said in a way that sounded like she was joking.

I didn’t get it, to tell the truth. Vincent just pressed his lips into a thin line so I guessed it wouldn’t be smart to say anything. While he glared out the window, I settled on admiring the white wall beside me.

Something was brewing on some sort of clay stove. Bel drew a two-foot steel pipe from the cupboard. Afterwards, she pointed the pipe’s tip toward the hot coals under the stove before lowering her lips to the upper end. She blew on it, making the coals glow hotter.

“Better follow the girl,” she remarked while busily stirring her concoction. It smelled like sage and moth balls. “Woke up so early just to cook up something for you. She’s really tryin’ you know.”

The other patients inside the room leaned closer to each other and began whispering. Funny. I thought gossip was just a human thing.

I got startled when Belial picked up a copper kettle from the sink and beat it repeatedly with a ladle.

“Aishd! And you call yourselves angels?” she yelled, hands on her hips. “Angel my cursed butt. Quit actin’ all human and get well quick! Might as well put those immortal behinds to use! Food don’t plant themselves!”

She said human like it was a bad thing. She was still seething when Vincent and I slipped out of the sickbay. We detoured to the bathroom and took our turns. Me first as he had insisted. How very gentlemanly of him. If he didn’t just all but throw me into the toilet.

Water continuously flowed from a bamboo pipe. I rinsed my mouth and drank straight from it. My hands were still raw from scraping against rocks and tree bark. There were still traces of green stuff on them that looked like crushed leaves.

As I washed my face, I started to wonder if they had toothbrushes in this place. I badly needed one. My mouth tasted like I had mono or something.

I kept musing on random thoughts if it was just to clear my head. But I could only delay the inevitable for so long.

I closed my eyes tightly. Random thoughts. Coca-cola. Koala pouch. Poochie poodle. Delete, alt, control. Trolley race in the supermarket. Ketchup mayo. Yorkshire terrier. Earth, moon, sun. Sunkist. Kiss—

“No!” I tried to stop thinking.

There was an unforgettable bitterness in my mouth. The flowery sweet smell. The silky taste. The numbness. The feeling of helplessness and loss. And to finish it, paralysis. The whole SirenSoul experience washed over me once again. But it wasn’t the memory of the drug that made me panic. It was what happened before I took it in. Or more specifically, how I was forced to take it.

I was in playback mode and my memories got stuck in that part where he kissed me. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, that was my first. For once after I left Halo, I wondered what it really meant to him. To me.

My heart was beating so loud. Vincent’s words still rang inside my head. I wished someone had taught me a thing or two about this. Frankly, if I didn’t stop thinking, I was sure I would lose it.

Soft knocks on the door brought me back to reality.

“Aramis? You okay in there?” Vincent sounded a bit concerned. Just a bit.

“Uh… yeah,” I answered masking the strain in my voice.

We headed to the mess hall in complete silence. There, Luci waited for us all by herself. She was staring at the plate of sunny side ups and sausages, looking so upset as if the food was making fun of her. Grimly, she raised a kitchen knife and began slicing melons and honeydews with a vengeance.

I hesitated for a moment before making our presence known to her. “That looks g-good.”

She stabbed the wooden table with the knife’s tip so that it was standing handle-side up when she let it go. A smile curled the corner of her lips in a much rehearsed manner. Then she lifted her eyes toward us.

“What took you so long?” She got up and practically pushed us to the table. “The food is almost cold. Let us—how do you say it? Err… dig in.”

It was the quietest breakfast I had ever eaten. And I thought I was good at the Silent Contests Dad and I used to play.

Vincent had never looked at me for even one second since we left the sickbay. I had this gut-feeling that things would get weird between us from now on.

As we were heading to the kitchen to do the dishes, Luci turned to Vincent and took the stack of plates off his hands.

“We will take care of these,” she said, unable to look him in the eyes. “I have arranged for a fresh set of clothing in the bath. Please take your time. I am sure you will find the warm water… relaxing. Afterwards, Abum requests your presence in his drawing room.” Her chemical green eyes fixed on me. This time, she made no effort to smile. “Both of you.”

Nodding, Vincent slowly turned around and left us. Normally, he wouldn’t just let people tell him what to do. Not even me. He suddenly seemed so scatter-brained, he forgot that he was supposed to snap at Luci.

As I scrubbed the sooty bottom of a metal pan, I looked at her. “About what happened the other night… in the forest,” I started. “I know it’s silly. I just got really worked up because I’m worried about my master and I guess, what I’m really trying to say is I’m—“

“I accept,” she interrupted before I could even get to the point.

“W-what?”

With a smile, she patted my greasy hand. “You are trying to apologize, are you not? And so, I accept.”

I was sorry before. Frankly, I couldn’t say how I felt after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've spent a lot of time thinking. I'm not so sure if wattpad can do more for my stories. That's when self-publishing comes in. So sorry for the late updates. I'm trying to make changes with the first book while writing this. Who knew rewriting could take so much time? Hopefully, I'd have finished by next month and I'm hoping to submit for a publisher by then. Thanks so much for the support guys! And for patiently waiting. ~shim