𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | hotchniss

Long story short it was the wrong guy

This one ended up extremely long, even more than it's already is so I had to shorten it and delete an entire paragraph, I didn't want to remove it entirely though because it was already written so I'll just add it to the next chapter, I know long chapters can be tiring but I hope you find this one less so xx
Anyway happy reading!
Tell me what you think

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Naked under her own sheets. She knew it was still night, there was no daylight coming from her uncovered bedroom window. She had woken up from the barely audible sound of a page being turned, and once she opened her eyes, she could also notice a subtle change in the darkness— there was a very faint light coming from behind her, Emily sighed and turned around to see him, her arm tucked under her face as she laid on her side, watching him.

With the lamp on the bedside table beside him and his back against her bed's headboard, he was reading a book— one she could bet he had taken from her own bedside table.

"Are you going to keep staring or say something?" He teased, looking at her and closing the book, resting it on his bare chest.

"Well?" He added again once she remained mute.

She knew she was dreaming. She had been having this dream multiple times and knew how it would end, so she didn't move a muscle, afraid he would start dissolving in front of her the moment she opened her mouth to speak, like he had done the last time and the time before.

Despite knowing it was a dream, she still held onto the hope that it was real, that she had been drunk and he had come to pick her up from a bar in London, and that's how they had ended up here, with her not remembering anything. Her hand reached for her abdomen, and once she felt her own skin, Emily finally got her reassurance.

They were flawless. Both missing the scars they had earned from such cruelty— his chest clean of each scar Foyet had left him, and her abdomen soft to the touch of her fingers, as if Ian had never stabbed her with that piece of wood.

She knew it was fake, but she still loved every moment of it. The way he touched her felt real, the kisses he left on her body and face felt real, and the manner in which he looked at her now felt real too. She didn't want to wake up.

"I can be silent too, you know" he smiled.

"You're not real" she smiled back, as if she had just outsmarted him and revealed his deception.

"I know" he nodded, her smile fading as if she was disappointed he hadn't contradicted her.

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked, stroking her cheek. "I'm scared" she replied, her tears filling her eyes. This was not how this dream was supposed to go; he should have kissed her long ago.

Aaron put his book away and settled himself in front of her, his head resting on his hand, propped up on his elbow. "From what?" He whispered, his smile appearing to have already known her answer.

"That you'll disappear," she cried. This was not how the dream was supposed to go.

"I think it's time, though" he replied, smiling at her. There was more sympathy than empathy in his smile— like he had moved on a long time ago, and she was the only one still stuck on those feelings, leaving him to pity her.

"Then why can't I let you go?" She cried. Aaron sighed, his thumb on her cheek seeming to absorb her tears and dry her face. "You already did. You just need to let me disappear this time too" he said quietly, lifting her chin so she would meet his face again. "Okay?" he asked. Emily couldn't speak, so she just nodded. He was right.