Beautiful Secrets (Cranksepticeye Fanfiction)

~9.02~ Dream On

Falling.
I was free falling, tumbling through the air.
"Ethan!"
Hee called to me, and the sound of his voice made my heart race.
"Help me!"
He was falling, too. I stretched out my arm, trying to catch him. I reached out, but all I caught was air. There was no ground beneath my feet, and I was clawing at mud. We touched fingertips and I saw green sparks in the darkness.
Then he slipped through my fingers, and all I could feel is loss.
Lemons and rosemary. I could smell him, even then.
But I couldn't catch him.
And I couldn't live without him.

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I sat up with a jerk, trying to catch my breath.
"Ethan Nestor! Wake up! I won't habe you bein' late on the first day a school." I could hear Anna's voice calling from downstairs.
My eyes focused on a patch of dim light in the darkness. I could hear the distant drum of rain against our old plantation shutters. It must be raining. It must be morning. I must be in my room.
My room was hot and damp, from the rain. Why was my window open?
My head was throbbing. I fell back down on the bed, and the dream receded as it always did. I was safe in my room, in our ancient house, in the same.creaking mahogany bed where six generations of Nestors had probably slept before me, where people didn't fall through black holes made of mud, and nothing ever actually happened.
I stared up at my plaster ceiling, painted the color of the sky to keep the carpenter bees from nesting. What was wrong with me?
I'd been having the dream for months now. Even though I couldn't remember all of it, the part I remembered was always the same. The boy was falling. I was falling. I had to hold on, but I couldn't. If I let go, something terrible would happen to him. But that's the thing. I couldn't let go. I couldn't lose him. It was like I was in love with him, even though I don't know him. Kind of like love before first sight.
Which seemed crazy because he was just a boy in a dream. I didn't even know what he looked like. I had been having the dream for months, but in all the time I had never seen his face, or I couldn't remember it. All I knew was that I had the same sick feeling inside every time I lost him. He slipped through my fingers, my stomach dropped right out of me - the way you feel when you're on a roller coaster and the car takes a big drop.
Butterflies in your stomach. That was such a crappy metaphor. More like killer bees.
Maybe I was losing it, or maybe I just needed a shower. My earphones were still around my neck, and when I glanced down at my iPod, I saw a song I didn't recognize.
Sixteen Moons.
What was that? I clicked on it. The melody was haunting. I couldn't place the voice, but I felt like I'd heard it before.

Sixteen moons, sixteen years
Sixteen of your deepest fears
Sixteen times you dreamed my tears
Falling, falling though the years . . .

It was moody, creepy - almost hypnotic.
"Ethan Nestor!" I could hear Anna calling up over the music.
I switched it off and sat up in bed, yanking back the covers. My sheets felt like they they were full of sand, but I knew better.
It was dirt. And my fingernails were caked with black mud, just like the last time I had the dream.
I crumpled up the sheet, pushing it down in the hamper under yesterday's sweaty practice jersey. I got in the shower and tried to forget about it as I scrubbed my hands, and the last black bits of my dream disappeared down the drain. If I didn't think about it, it wasn't happening. That was.my approach to most things the past few months.
But not when it came to him. I couldn't help it. I always thought about him. I kept coming back to that same dream, even though I couldn't explain it. So that was my secret, all there was to tell. I was sixteen years old, I was falling in love with a boy who didn't exist, and I was slowly losing my mind.
No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn't get my heart to stop pounding. And over the smell of the Ivory soap and the Stop & Shop shampoo, I could still smell it. Just barely, but I knew it was there.
Lemons and rosemary.