I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 9.4 - Emma

Brandon had brought more than everything we needed. He had the traditional red and white checkered blanket that we laid down on top of the grass, and within his basket, he had sandwiches, juice, fruit, stroopwafels, and more.

I nibbled on a ham sandwich, staring out at the ocean. We sat a number of meters in front of the cottage, facing the water. The coast wasn't natural; there was no beach, but rather a short, straight stone wall rose out of the water to meet the end of the grass. But it was still beautiful. Cities can be seen just as breathtaking as forests, if from the right perspective.

"I never thanked you for everything you've done for me," I remarked. "You didn't have to show me around Amsterdam. And you brought me all the way here."

"It's no problem," Brandon replied, crunching down on a bite of his apple.

"No, really," I said, gazing deep into his blue eyes. They looked exactly like the ocean, his pupils like shadows of the creatures underneath. "Thank you."

He gazed back, taking in every particle of my own eyes, wondering. "Your welcome," he replied sincerely.

"It really is beautiful here," I said. "I think I said that too many times already, but I just can't get enough of it."

Brandon chuckled. "I hoped you would like it. But I doubt it's anything like the wild."

"It's perfect."

Brandon took another small bite of his apple, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Just like you," he said.

"What?"

"Perfect," he repeated. "Just like you."

I wasn't even able to think a single thought before I watched Brandon put down his apple, wrapped in a tissue, and grab the picnic basket. He took out a little box, opening it, and from inside, he revealed a piece a paper. It was folded in half so that I couldn't physically see what was on the inside, but I could already feel its presence - my raven sketch.

I felt my heart stop. What is he doing?

Brandon's fingers moved so gingerly as he gradually unfolded the sketch, and lifted it up to face me. I dared not look away. I studied the shading, how the feathers flowed from the head to the tail. I studied the lighting, how the sun reflected off the back of the raven and how the legs were almost as dark as the body. I finally tore my eyes away to look at Brandon's. In just a matter of seconds, everything had suddenly became ten times more intense.

Why on earth did he bring this? I was speechless.

"Do you remember this?" Brandon asked. His eyes questioned me along with his words.

"Yes," I whispered. My gaze darted back and forth from the sketch to Brandon. I didn't know which one to look at because I didn't want to look at either. So, I settled on my hands, threatening to clench.

"Why did you rip it out?" Brandon interrogated.

"What?" My voice was breathless.

"Why did you not want to keep this? Why are you so scared? Is there something you're not telling me?"

What do I do? What do I say? "I..." I stammered. "I don't want it."

Brandon took my hand in his. "Emma, look at me. Look at me." My eyes travelled up his chest to his face and then landed on his eyes. "You were there for me last night, when I was in my darkest point. Know that I am here for you. If there is something you're hiding, something that you are scared of, tell me. I promise it would be better if you tell someone, at least. Please."