❝Emerson Baldwin has self diagnosed himself with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
He hates anything that has to do with a) disorder. b) feeling out of control in any way. c) stepping out of his comfort zone.
So when his friends somehow talk hi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Bad dreams always seem to find Emerson. It seems flying across the country didn't help with this fact.
He wakes up with a start, his brow covered with beaded sweat and his breath shallow. Eyes closing tightly, he reopens them with a slow exiting breath. Looking down at his hands, he releases the thick white blanket from his clenched fists and runs a hand through his dark hair.
Memories torment him while he's awake, he's used to that. He can control it. At night, however, he's imprisoned in his own mind as he runs ramped, repeating heartache and pain again and again.
"Emerson?" Isaac's voice croaks from the other side of the room, his eyes squinting against the morning light shining through the window, "You good, man?"
"I'm fine." He forces, pushing his blankets off before slowly standing, his back and knees cracking slightly as he does, "Ow." He mumbles as soon as the bathroom door is closed, his sore muscles constricting in pain.
When his eyes meet his reflection in the mirror, his sighs. The redness across his nose and cheeks indicates that his sunscreen didn't completely do its job. With a shrug, his hand reaches forward and turns on the cold water, splashing it onto the surface of his face to wake himself up and distract him from the ache in his body.
After showering and brushing his teeth, a knock sounds from the other side of the door, "Hey, some of us need to shower too you know." Alex mumbles. That's something else about Emerson's obnoxious friend; he's not a morning person.
He wordlessly opens the door, standing a few inches taller than him as he steps aside, "It's all yours."
Alex brushes past him, his blonde hair sticking up oddly, "I was starting to think you were doing your makeup again."
"Shut up, I lost that bet and you know it." Emerson chuckles, shaking the towel over his hair.
"Sure sure." Alex smirks before he door closes.
With a flat stare in his direction, Emerson shakes his head and walks over to the unmade bed. The great thing about sharing the queen sized bed, as weird as it is, with Rhyme is that the guy barely moves as he slumbers. This makes it easier to perfect the bed in a shorter amount of time.
"You know you don't have to do that, right?" Rhyme chuckles, "Once we leave, room service will come and do it for us."
Emerson clears his throat, "I don't like the way they do it."
