Chronically, Me

Twelve

Emerson

The minute Emerson carefully stepped into the house, he regretted his decision.

The party looked like it was at its peak as the music boomed through the speakers, the bass so intense it almost thundered his rib cage.

Furniture was pushed away to the corners to make space for the dancing.

In simple words, the house was packed.

And Emerson stood there like an idiot. An idiot whose leg was in a brace. An idiot who would be in a lot of pain if someone stubbed his toe.

Fantastic.

But there was no going back now. Just a few minutes ago, he had talked with his friends. More like he had ranted away everything that had been bothering him for weeks.

It was hard, trying to relay what he felt because he had known that it might be difficult for the people around him to understand.

But he had come to terms that it would be okay if they couldn't understand. Just them trying to put an effort, along with him, would change a lot of things.

And it did. He had felt closer to them in the years they had stuck together. He had almost gotten emotional.

Until his friends dragged him to the party. Though a part of him was annoyed, the other part felt happy that he was included.

That feeling of inclusion almost chipped away the annoyance. Almost.

So there he went, his friends looking out for his leg as they made their way across the dance floor and to the couch.

Emerson waved away the red cup of alcohol his friend offered and settled deeper into the couch, his eyes wandering around.

That's when he saw her.

Drew stood alone near the kitchen counter, a can of soft drink in her hand, with a deep scowl on her face.

She looked better, he observed.

Then she met his stare. Emerson noticed that she looked at him tentatively. After that day when she had confided in him, they hadn't seen each other much.

He wanted to check on her. He wanted to talk to her. There were times where he missed her company. But he figured that she needed some time. So he didn't approach her.

After a moment, she smiled at him and waved her hand.

He didn't wave back, instead, he stood up and carefully hobbled over to her.

This close, he saw that her eyes looked clear, they didn't look haunted anymore. She seemed livelier.

"Hey," she yelled over the music.

"Where are your friends?" he yelled back.

"I didn't come here with my friends." she shook her head. "I was told to come over for a magazine committee meeting. I just found out that their definition of the meeting is entirely different from mine."

Emerson laughed.

"What about you?"

"Bonding time with my friends," he replied.

She looked at his leg, pointedly. "Here? You couldn't find any other place to bond?"

"I thought the same thing when my friends hauled me here."

She grinned at him. It looked carefree and easy. A sense of relief settled in him at the small hint that she was doing better.

Someone yelled behind him and the music changed to a more upbeat one, encouraging more people to dance.

Someone elbowed past him and he was about to trip over when a pair of hands wrapped around his arm.

"I think you should go and sit on the couch," Drew suggested as she helped him upright himself. "It would be safer for you."

Emerson agreed with that thought but he couldn't find himself to go back to his friends who were probably looking for him. But he wanted to talk to her.

So he leaned down and said in her ear. "Do you want to go upstairs? I am sure my friend wouldn't mind if we use his room for a bit."

Drew nodded at him gratefully. Hooking her bag around her shoulder, she followed him upstairs.