Dream // Van McCann

1. 8 Years

Note: If you haven't read REM yet, I highly recommend reading it before starting this story. There's a lot of background information needed in order to understand this story.

Warning: The first two chapters are a bit NSFW. My apologies. 🙈

-

We're alive and well, living the life I've always wanted in the house with green tiles.

Clara is alive. The weight of those words began to sink in and I just sat there in utter disbelief at the turn of events. I've literally just come to terms with her death and now this! My mind tried to figure out how I felt. Don't get me wrong—I'm relieved they're alive and well but there was something else.

I felt cheated, lied to, blindsided but none of those words felt right. Clara told me the truth but I didn't read it like I was supposed to years ago. I've got no one to blame but myself.

It wasn't entirely my fault though. The contents of her letters were heavy. There are places in the soul that the light never reaches, best kept to oneself, yet she's managed to put her pain and sorrow into words for me to read. It was her way of coping and I read her letters because there was no one else who'd understand and no one else who'd listen. But then the weight became too much for me and I stopped myself from reading it. Sometimes it's best not to know because the truth can be a lot worse. This was a mess—that's what it was.

Florence's eyes studied my face carefully. My words didn't match my facial expression and I just sat there quiet as a mouse wondering if I should tell her. Not now. Not when we're both about to go to bed as I know we won't be able to sleep and I can't do that to her.

"I was just cleaning up," I said quickly, placing the letter back and getting up. I opened the top drawer of my nightstand and put the box in. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get ready for bed."

I grabbed a change of clothes and made my way towards the bathroom. When I got there, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was knackered from my first day back so I turned the faucet on and splashed water on my face. While patting my face dry with a towel, I couldn't help but groan. It seems like things are never-ending with Clara. Will I ever move on?

My mind went back to the figure in the window. She was right there. She saw me and didn't do anything. But to be fair, she must've been shocked to see me. Clara never told me her address and she was careful not to give her location away. It was by chance that Roman recognized the place that I could even find her home in the first place.

It's been 8 years since I last saw her. I remember stopping by for the last time to say goodbye. She was sad, small, and delicate but she was a lot stronger than she looked; she refused to cry in front of me. She was wearing a blue dress with red lipstick. Red lipstick was her favorite thing to wear and it was mine as well because I couldn't resist those lips. Fuck, I need to stop.

The feelings and memories were coming back and I tried to keep them at bay. Even though we were together a short time, it felt longer than that because we were friends for most of it. The countless hours I spent teaching her how to drive and how we were there for each other's important moments in life. Like when she got her first job in the UK, when she got her driver's license, and when we got intimate for the first time. All those memories stayed with me.

And I wondered if it was the same for her when she saw me. Did all those memories come back? I was no longer the scrawny student barely staying afloat in his classes. I remember being stressed to the point I didn't take care of myself. Even my mum was concerned when she saw how skinny I'd gotten. I'd like to think I'm different now. Hopefully I've grown as a person, though I'm not sure I'm any wiser.