Aevum of Itero

Chapter 15

The jarring fluorescence of the morning sun crisscrossing the walls of the decaying cabin stirred something within him: that need to get it out.

All of it. Everything.

In the form he loved most.

Carefully extracting himself from Brenda, he reached below the bunk and brought out the supplies from his bag.

He began writing.

He wrote of a girl who had moved on from a boy who had hurt her multiple times. He wanted to challenge himself; to put the boy into the girl's shoes, to realize what she felt when she learnt that the boy had gone back in time to fix the mess he had made of their lives.

And then, to be on the safe side, he set it in Georgian England.

He didn't know whether Chris Suiter would approve of the play.

But Dylan couldn't continue to keep it all bottled up, either.

He was bursting. His anxiety levels had skyrocketed.

He had almost lost Brenda on that cliff and now, he could still lose her.

The worst part about it was she could wake up at any minute with a newfound emotion towards him.

Hate.

Loathing.

Utter intolerance.

She needed the sleep; yet, whenever she dreamt, she became vulnerable to another memo from another Brenda.

He should have known it was all too good to be true. He should have known better than to believe sharing visions of their pasts meant something special between them. It was special, but it was just as equally dangerous. He could be the perfect boyfriend, the perfect prom date, and none of it would matter because his past actions would still be there, ominously waiting to be revealed in Brenda's dreams.

Actions he lacked the awareness he had done, because he knew shit about his past lives.

When Brenda grew to despise him for it, for his own choices and the ones of the Dylans before him, instead of running to Monaghan, Manzano or even fucking Carson, she would turn to Reina.

He couldn't very well convince older Brenda to not tell her younger self what he had done, could he?

But didn't Brenda deserve to know?

Fuck, the whole thing gave Dylan a raging migraine reminiscent of a three-day drinking binge, and he hadn't had a drop since the night he had met Itero.

Then there was the whole debacle with Arís.

Bren is still there, right? With Monaghan? Is she in trouble? Are both of my Brens in trouble? Which Brenda is out of her time? It can't be one of mine, can it? Wouldn't I know? Fuck, where's a fucking time travel manual when you need one!

And who the fuck is Aiden? Why is Irish Bren telling my Bren all about some kid named Aiden?

Is that supposed to mean something?

Dylan had fifty billion questions, but knew he couldn't rely on Itero to answer all of them.

He listened to the soothing melody of Brenda's steady breathing pattern, waiting for any indication that her injuries were worse off than Brandon had been told. He hated that he hadn't been in the helicopter when Brenda had been examined by a medically-trained member of search and rescue, or in the cabin with Brandon when the team had brought her back.

Dylan knew it was possible for people to fall off of cliffs to the ground below and leave the scene without sustaining any injuries. The temperature hadn't dipped enough for Brenda to become hypothermic.