Finding Yourself: Book Three

Chapter Eighteen: The Ocean Waters

(A/N: It's NEW YEARS EVE! You know what that means (if you have been reading along with my books, of course) TIME TO START SPAMMING YOU GUYS WITH BOOK CHAPTERS. I keep writing book chapters until I end- or get close to ending- the book. I shall be doing this from now until the end of New Years Day. So, enjoy :D)

 Nick very sparingly dreamed a pleasant dream, but tonight was one of those lucky nights. Despite the realness, he knew it was a dream. However, he wished it was truly real.

In the dream, he was at the shoreside, and the salty air was blowing his hair and filling his lungs. He felt cleaner and more relaxed, and he could feel the sandy grit in between his toes. His jacket was gone; his scarred arms were bare; and the wind was filling up his tattered black shirt like a new breath.

He wished that someday he could really sit on the sandy beach, with the salty wind blowing in his hair, and watch the waves without a worry in the worry in the world. He wanted to sit there until everyone had all gone home, and the Sun painted the sky orange; until the moon rose into the sky, he would sit with the sound of waves crashing in his ears. It would be lonely, but hopefully, the good kind of lonely- where nothing but mindfulness and serenity resides.

In the dream, the waves crashed almost lazily, and the sound echoed. His brain felt foggy with the lack of stressful thoughts.

He let out a breath and released his stresses to the wind.

~{()}~

When Nick woke up, both Elian and Vincent were gone.

At first, Nick assumed that he had slept in very late, and the two men had gone about their day without him. However, a quick look at his alarm clock showed that it was roughly six in the morning. 

Then, he heard what sounded like Vincent's muffled voice coming from behind the bedroom door; so, he got up to investigate the living room. Quietly, he opened the door and listened to what was being said.

"I'm just saying," Vincent was continuing, "I don't care about myself that much, but if you f**king hurt him? Consider yourself dead." His voice was low and threatening, but it was still gravelly with sleep.

"I know you don't believe me, but I promise I mean no harm," Elian said calmly in response, "And I really do like you also."

"Sure, I'll be your b**ch for a while," Vincent huffed, "And if you prove to be trustworthy, I'll consider being your boyfriend."

"That is fair," Elian agreed, then said, "But please don't call yourself that. I don't see you as my b**ch."

Nick decided to walk in. He opened the door fully and walked into the living room to see both men on the couch. Elian was drinking black coffee out of a mug, and Vincent looked like he was having a morning drink of whiskey on the rocks. Both boys noticed his presence and turned to look at him. They were sitting on opposite chairs.

"Morning, Beauty," Elian smiled at him, sipping his coffee.

"Morning," Nick mumbled sleepily, walking over to give Vincent a kiss on the cheek, "Whiskey at six in the morning? Really?" As Nick leaned back from the kiss, Vincent grabbed him by the neckline of his shirt and pulled him back in for a kiss on the lips. Nick melted a little. He could taste the faint flavor of the drink.

"After what you guys did to me yesterday, I think I'm allowed a drink," Vincent reasoned when he pulled back from the kiss. 

"Sure," Nick said somewhat sarcastically. Then he shuffled over to Elian to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he then promptly sat in Elian's lap. He curled up and laid his head on Elian's shoulder. "Where are the kids? Specifically, Jason and Jordan. They are usually up at five in the morning."