I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 10.6 - Brandon

If I hadn't gone over to Emma's place, I wouldn't be here right now, miserable and troubled. I would be laughing and smiling with her, kissing her grin and hugging her close to me, feeling her soft hair lay across my face. But I did go over, and would probably never laugh or smile with her again.

I should talk to her, a courageous voice inside me said.

But what if the complete truth only hurts me more? another scared voice argued.

I groaned. It's as simple as that: I'm scared.

Just keep your head down, focus on your work, and no one would ruin anything, I remembered telling myself. Everything would be alright. I told myself that because I was scared - scared that if I left my bubble into the unknown, something unexpected would happen to hurt me. I had left my bubble to be with Emma, and honestly, it was blissful, which was why I was so ignorant to the small needle within our relationship. Too late, it turned out that the needle was the tip of a sword.

The unknown is like magic. I had told Emma that because when I first met her she was a magical mystery to me, a puzzle I was dying to solve. But even magic can be good and bad at the same time.

Did she even feel regret for lying to me? Was she ever planning to tell me the truth?

I was stuck in so much fog, and the only way out was Emma, by talking to her. I guess I have to step outside my bubble once more for her, but this time, I would have to brace myself for the consequences.

I walked over to my window, and pushed away the curtains, just like I did every morning for the past week, and looked to the sky. It was a little after sunrise, so the sky was fully blue by now, but it was better and more hopeful than the night. A formation of clouds slowly passed overhead. They looked like cracked ice.

After taking my fill, I looked down to Emma's window. It was empty, but I could picture her there, perfect and angelic like she always is. It wasn't long before that picture became reality, and I saw Emma walk up to her window and look at me. She didn't even glance at the sun. Hesitantly, she waved, and mouthed something I couldn't understand.

She saw my confusion and walked away. A second later, she returned to her window with her sketchbook. She wrote something inside, ripped the page out, and planted it against the window with its words facing me. They were scribbled on the page, huge and dark so I could read it from where I was, and its words matched the deep apologetic look I could see prominently on Emma's face.

"I'm sorry."

She then repeated the process with another page.

"Come. Alsjeblieft."

I wanted to smile at how she spelled "please" perfectly, but I held it back.

She wants me to come.

And so I did.

I went out the back door so my parents wouldn't think anything suspicious of me. I simply told them I wanted some fresh air in the backyard, and I got their approval. But it was in the backyard that I approached Emma. We stood in the middle of our yards, both a good distance away from the fence that separated us, like when we had our first conversation.

"Hi," Emma said cautiously. She hugged her sketchbook to her chest.

"Hey," I replied.

"I'm so, so sorry," she said.

"I know." I tried to keep emotion away from my voice.

"Mr. Schneider told me you came over."

"I did."