Drowning

Meeting

        I woke up with a sore body and someone breathing against my neck. I had never woken up next to anyone before, especially not someone so attractive. Emmett was sprawled out on the bed, everything but his head positioned far away from me. I could tell that this was done on purpose, and I found myself wanting to thank him for considering my own needs ahead of his own.

          I could tell that he hadn't gotten much sleep from the dark circles under his closed eyes. His hair was a mess around his head, accenting his lighter complexion and contrasting highly with my bleach blonde hair next to him. He was obviously uncomfortable and apparently cold as he subconsciously reached for me to bring my body heat closer. This would have been perfect any other morning if it weren't for two things: First, he pulled on my back to bring me in. Second, I just heard the front door open and Mark's deep voice resounding throughout the house.

          I gritted my teeth at the pain and shook Emmett's arm.  I hated waking him up, but Mark's reaction was sure to do it eventually, and I figured my method would be a bit nicer. “Emmett, my brother is here. You need to wake up.” I watched his eyes pop open and saw how bloodshot they were. He had obviously been up the whole night, whether that was my fault, I'm not sure, but judging by the amount of old bandages there were in the trashcan, I can only assume that yes, Emmett took care of me the entire night. He sacrificed his own sleep, something I found almost unbelievable, to take care of me. I was so consumed by trying to decide how the thank Emmett, I forgot that I was supposed to be waking him up, and now Mark was in the room, holding a life jacket, and slowly losing his color seeing Emmett in bed with me.

          One thing that has always been nice about Mark is that he doesn't jump to conclusions. He waits to hear the explanation before he accuses. I saw him looking at how far apart our bodies were from each other, what I was wearing(which I should have thought through last night, since I was basically bare), what Emmett was wearing, the Advil bottle, the empty glass, and, finally, the overflowing trash can of gauze, medical tape, and two empty antiseptic tubes. I saw the pieces click together in Mark's head and noticed him visibly relax. Good, that wasn't something I was in the mood to explain.

          Emmett stirred next to me then and rubbed at his burning eyes, most likely feeling the effects of his sleepless night. Mark was still holding the life jacket, which had yet to be explained, when Emmett noticed that we weren't the only ones in the room. He immediately jumped off the bed and smoothed his hair and shirt, only making him look more flustered than before. He looked at Mark and coughed a little, as if he was waiting to be yelled at. He didnt know that Mark had already diagnosed the situation. “Where did this come from?” Mark asked, shaking the life jacket in the air, asking the question that I wanted the answer to as well. I don't think I even owned a life jacket, but now that I thought about it, I probably should. “I brought that last night, before...” he trailed off, referring to walking into my room and finding out that I had an abusive father that finds pleasure in my pain. Mark and I still had confused looks on our faces, so Emmett elaborated. “I was going to ask her if she wanted to spend the evening on the boat with me. It was supposed to be a joke, but I really was going to make her wear it, no matter how much she refused.”

          He was so sure of his words and confident in his gestures. This was the Emmett I first met on the pier. He wasn't being rude, per say, just very blunt so that there were no misunderstandings along the way. It saved a lot of time when I really thought about it. Mark nodded his head at the explanation and tossed the jacket to the floor by my window. His face showed that Emmett's concern for my safety surprised him, but pleased him all the same.

          “So, I see you stayed the night.” Mark started, trying to start a conversation with Emmett. This was their first time meeting, and of course Mark had to do the fatherly evaluation.  “I did.” He replied coolly, not wasting a second with his reply. “I took care of Grace all night. I changed all the bandages.” He pointed to the trashcan and Mark nodded. “I noticed. How did that go? I can tell by your eyes. Did Grace keep you up talking in her sleep?” I didn't talk in my sleep, and Mark knew that. “No. I just didn't want to risk hurting Grace when I was asleep or not waking up in time to change her gauze.” Mark looked impressed, again, at Emmett's gestures. I couldn't disagree; I liked Emmett quite a lot right now as well. My back was already feeling a lot better than yesterday, and the bruise on my leg had lightened significantly. My face didn't feel as swollen and I could see clearly from both eyes. Emmett was a miracle worker.