In Your Dreams

44 || Emmett Larkin

Never I thought I would have a staring contest with Alecks. It's just the two of us here in the rehearsal room, waiting for the rest to show up. Why are we here? Because one of us thought it'll be a great idea if we practice during the weekends instead of taking a break from any activities. When I say one of us, I meant this motherfucker in front of me who I'm having a staring contest with.

He's even smiling while I'm here, sulking and wishing I didn't pick up the phone when he was calling. The violent vibration of my phone against the wooden bedside table was enough to pull me out of the slumber. I honestly don't know which is worse. Be woken up by someone calling me and to meet them in the rehearsal room at nine in the fucking morning. Or get pulled away from the most vivid and relaxing dream I ever had. Minus Phoebe being present.

The dream starts as always, placing me in an unfamiliar territory with weird stuff—I don't remember the stuff that's flying around the sky. It wasn't quite looked like a plane nor a bird. It was something else. All I can remember was I'm in some sort of room with huge floor-to-ceiling windows beside me while I sat down on the couch. It was late in the afternoon, the light from the sun swiftly enters the vast room. But then out of nowhere, Phoebe walked in the room from the door holding some kind of bottle.

I don't remember what happens next, but I do remember that bottle wasn't an ordinary bottle. It was an alcoholic drink. Though I don't remember whether we shared the bottle, or it was just sitting peacefully on the coffee table while Phoebe and I have a decent conversation by the couch. Again, I don't remember the conversation, all I can remember was the setting of the dream and how lovely it was.

“You're smiling.” Alecks' voice booms and pulled me away from my thoughts. I blink my eyes several times until I regain my focus on the motherfucker in front of me. “Why are you smiling?”

“I'm not smiling,” I snarl at him.

He points a finger at me, and it was inches away from my lips. “Then what do you call that small curve formed by your lips?” Alecks smirks before pulling his finger away in a safe place where I can't bite it off from his hands. “That's not a frown or anything. It's obviously a smile,” He nods his head.

“Maybe I'm smiling because you're all alone with me and no one can witness me strangling you to death.” I say through gritted teeth.

“Is this about last night?” Alecks asks as he slowly moves away from me. I see a slight fear flash in his eyes before it disappear. “Look, I was worried about Phoebe's well-being. That's why I wanted you to talk her home.”

“Yeah, it was nice of you to care. But did you really have to fucking blackmail me into doing it?” I shake my head in disbelief.

Alecks shrugs his shoulders and raise both of his hands in the air for a moment. “What else am I going to do? I sure hell you wouldn't walk her home when I don't force you to.”

He doesn't know that. I would have insisted on walking her home if he didn't blackmail me, or maybe I won't. I don't know, but I had known that Phoebe's dormitory is quite far from the campus—despite her saying that it's near—I would have at least offered to walk her home without Alecks blackmailing me. But fine, Alecks does have a point. As much as I hate to admit that.

“Speaking of walking her home,” Alecks drawls, and I fear the next words that will come out of his nosy mouth. “How was the experience? Were you two able to at least be friendly with one another?” He asks, there's a tone of hopefulness that had laced his voice.

I recall that evening stroll with Phoebe Summers. At first, it was annoying how I was forced to walk with her. But after a few minutes, it felt normal. There weren't any aggressiveness between us. Just two people having a casual conversation—occasionally something slip up that caught each of our attention. For me, I couldn't help but to think about her words about coping when we were talking about Samuel. The look on her face from that split second had drained all life out of her, and simply looked grim. I couldn't get the image of her grim expression out of my mind, and I begin to wonder what had happened that made her look sad.