This is a story I have been working on for a while. I won't be able to set a rigid update schedule because I have less time to write these days, but I'm hoping to update at least once a month.
As always I love to hear what you think! Read and enjoy :-)
"But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more."
― Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid
Ethan jolts awake, desperately sucking in cold air. He can't register his surroundings, his chest feels too tight to let air in - so tight his pounding heart threatens to break his ribs. Remembering what woke him up, Ethan stumbles out of bed only to fall into a pile onto the wooden floor when his legs won't work.
Strong hands on his forearms pull him into a sitting position. "E, You're awake. Nothing bad happened. Just my room." The hands disappear and Ethan lets himself slump forward, trying to count his breathing to calm himself down. Short, hitching breaths sabotage his efforts.
Stupid with sleep, Benny only manages to navigate the crowded floor plan by habit. That it's become habit, that his best friend routinely wakes up in discoherent terror, is worrisome; Grandma has yet to find something that will dull the stress without blocking the dream visions. At least tonight, Ethan fell out of his trundle bed on the side littered with dirty clothes rather than the side with the sharp corners of Benny's bed and dresser.
Retrieving Ethan's dream journal, Benny positions himself on the floor with his back against the wall so that he can reach forward and pull Ethan next to him, angling his friend to lean against him. Ethan is tense and shuddery but he does relax enough to settle his head into the hollow of Benny's chest.
"Ben-'s-Jane's's-died-I-hafta-backa-fix-car-an-blood-blood," Ethan explains in a frenzied rush.
"Whoa there dude. You have to write this down." Benny was trying to attach a clip-on book light to a blank notebook with Ethan still in his arms. Getting the light on, Benny molds one of Ethan's hands around the book. The hand falls away slack.
"Wather-chasing-shapeshiffer-horse-destroyin-protect-Jane-shouldn't've-car-no-seatbeld," Ethan continues, undeterred by Benny's efforts to get him to write.
Benny relents, letting Ethan babble at him. Instead, he grabs Ethan's wrist and presses his fingers firmly into the veins. The hummingbird fast pulse is echoed by the quick shallow huffs between long strings of words. No surprises there. He's blanking, but there is something he's supposed to do to help Ethan get through the panic part. Benny's head lolls back and bangs softly against the wall. As much as he wants to be there for Ethan, he's half asleep.
"You know," Benny muses, interrupting Ethan. "Vision dream' is a lame name. Seer dream? Prophecy dream? Profit-ream… that sounds like a drug. Di-mexal profetiream…"
Ethan laughs, but it's strained. Laughter that breaks into short choked sobs. Benny's stomach turns.
"Hey E," Benny jostles the huddled form of his friend, finally remembering what he's supposed to say. "E, exhale. You need to breathe out."
Contrary to the desired effect, Ethan's breathing deteriorates into even shallower gasps as he attempts to suck fresh air into already full lungs. Because the urgency of oxygen deprivation overrides his normal breathing pattern, Benny has to force him to breathe out.
"Breathe out," Benny insists, manually compressing Ethan's chest. Ethan follows Benny's guidance with an exaggerated huff. After that, his frenetic breathing calms into a regular, if somewhat labored, rhythm.
"Those are all awful," Ethan announces, seemingly at random.
"Ah, a real sentence!" Benny exclaims. "Wait, what are awful?"
"Your names for my visions," Ethan explains.
"Well the dreams are different. We can't call everything a vision," Benny argues. "But forget that. You need to write your dream down, Seer." Benny puts the book back in Ethan's hand. This time Ethan takes the notebook, folding his pajamaed legs up to prop the book on. Benny then hands him the pen. Click. The book light creates a small pool of warm light around the boys in the otherwise dark room.
Ethan begins furiously scribbling on the page. And scribbling really is the appropriate word for his completely illegible handwriting. Ethan's frame is still stiff, but now also shivery from cooled sweat. Benny finds himself scratching Ethan's scalp behind his ear. At some point he'll have to tell Ethan to start over.
Benny closes his eyes for a 'moment'only to find that Ethan is reclipping the little red lamp onto the journal after turning a page. Who knows how many pages Ethan has already filled up. Benny blinks a couple of times to ward off the thick mantle of sleep hazing his mind.
"Start over," Benny commands groggily. He can feel Ethan nod, his head still pressed into Benny's shoulder. Propping his head against Ethan, Benny settles in to read what Ethan writes "Use this page," Benny taps the left page, "to make a timeline."
Making a timeline was something Ethan had asked Benny to remind him to do. Ethan had been having these vision dreams a couple times a month for all of senior year. His first prophecies had, in true oracle fashion, been useless gibberish that not even Ethan could remember or decipher. Because, like normal dreams, seer dreams faded quickly.
Eventually Ethan half figured out, half remembered that in the dream he would loop through the same day(s) several times, making different decisions in an attempt to prevent something bad. His own personal 'Groundhog's Day.' Sketching out a timeline helped Ethan order his memories so that the different loops didn't get squished together in his retelling.
Ethan drags a long line down the page. At the top he writes, "alarm," and at the bottom, "Jane dies."
Benny winches; he had assumed when Ethan said it earlier that the words had been unrelated. "You okay?" he asks softly, moving his hand back to Ethan's shoulder to give him a half hug.
Ethan shakes his head but nothing in his body language changes as he simply continues to write. Benny feels lost. Jane is upstairs sleeping in her attic bedroom. Would it be redundant to remind Ethan of that? Honestly, saying anything would just distract Ethan from writing down important details that could actually prevent Jane's death. In the end, Benny just rubs his thumb back and forth over Ethan's shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner.
"Rewrite that word," Benny instructs, catching a word more illegible than most. He has to fight his eyes from unfocusing as they move across the page after Ethan's pen.
As the night wears into lilac-tinged morning, Ethan's body slumps into a relaxed, heavy weight. Under different circumstances this would be rather cozy. Like maybe with his girlfriend Trisha, watching some chick flick.
When he's finished, Ethan clicks off the little light and pushes the book onto the floor, tossing the pen after it. Even in the dim light he looks as tired as Benny feels.
"Nmm," Benny groans, realizing it's time to relocate.
Benny's butt is sore from sitting on the hardwood floor, and he discovers his knees don't want to bend right. Ethan curls into a ball around his legs. He doesn't seem particularly motivated to move either.
"Alright," Benny seeks out and grabs Ethan's hands to pull him up.
There's a moment when Benny has Ethan standing directly in front of him that he looks down to find Ethan's face vulnerable and hurt. Benny gapes. Ethan starts to say something but shakes his head.
"Goodnight Benny," Ethan says finally.
Benny considers asking Ethan what he was going to say, but the other boy has already pushed past him to the trundle bed. The squeak of its metal wheels emphasizing that the trundle was never supposed to become a permanent feature in Benny's room. But considering how rung-out Ethan is after vision dreams, Benny is a little glad the Morgans were forced to move into the Weir household. This way Ethan doesn't have to deal with them alone. Benny can vaguely see Ethan's silhouetted form faceplant into the mattress.
"You need anything, dude?" Benny asks instead. While he really has no energy, he would attempt almost anything if it would cheer Ethan up. The offer is only half hearted, Benny really too tired to do anything.
"No." Ethan's voice is muffled by his pillow.
Uncertain but unwilling to question his luck, Benny climbs back into his welcoming nest of blankets and cushions. He's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
Ethan, on the other hand, can't seem to drift off. Only flashes of imagery from the dream remain, but the feeling of loss lingers.
Jane isn't dead. Jane is fine, Ethan reassures himself, fighting the urge to go wake her up. Horrible things always happen in vision dreams, but this is the first time Ethan has experienced the death of someone he was close to. Instead of crying, he shivers.
Yanking the blanket out from under himself, Ethan lethargically tosses it over his legs and attempts to tuck it under his feet. He wishes he had been brave enough to actually ask to sleep with Benny. But, besides being super awkward, admitting how emotionally wrecked he feels would be extremely embarrassing. Let alone admitting that Benny's physical presence provides effective comfort. It would've been warmer, though.
Birds start chirping their morning chorus to accompany Benny's deep regular breathing. Ethan groans in dismay. Right now the only thing he can feel grateful for is the privacy night affords him. Benny is the only witness to Ethan's breakdowns, and thankfully Benny doesn't judge him for it.
Working through his breathing exercises, Ethan reminds himself he will feel better in the morning. He always does.
I am looking for beta readers for this story. If you're interested PM me!