One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 36

10:07 PM

I hear the door open and close again. Brooks is back.

I stand up from the couch, blankets falling off me. He's looking at me from the door. I can't quite read him from here. I take a step forward, still holding the remote in my hand. It's good –it gives my hands something to focus on.

"Are you done pouting?" I ask.

"Shut up," he says, but I see a smile creep onto his face.

"No, really. If you aren't done, please continue." I gesture to the hallway. "I'll wait."

"I wasn't pouting. I just–" He looks down, mega awkward.

"I know," I say for him.

It's just... hard. It's hard for two people to navigate such deep water when all they did was agree to dip their feet in.

"I was hoping you knew." Brooks grins.

"The whole bipolar thing is kind of a lot," I say, biting my lip to stop the smile.

"I'm sorry," he says. I think he means it. "I know you didn't sign up for it."

"Dude, I don't know what I signed up for." It's V true. I'm not sure I even signed.

"Well," he says, smiling at me. "You did sign up 'til at least Christmas."

"Might need to rethink that. At this rate, you might hate me again by then." I toss the pillow at him.

"Then you'll just have to remind me why I like you. I think you can handle it," Brooks says laughing.

He reaches across me and presses me down into the bed under him, laughing. I can't help but breathe him in, feel him against me. His arms and legs and chest and hair and smell and OMG.

My fingers trace the outline of the butterfly again. I realize that it's been months and I still don't know what it's for.

"You never told me what the butterfly means," I say.

Brooks sighs heavy and extends his arm out across my chest until the butterfly is right in front of our faces. "Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?"

"Like, the movie?" I tease.

"Sort of like the movie, yea. But I didn't get my tat in honor of Ashton," Brooks laughs. "It's for the idea. The theory. The notion that one minor change can infinitely alter the grand design."

"That everything affects everything else," I nod.

"That everything happens for a reason." Brooks moves his arm back to his side.

"Deep," I whisper.

"Just how you like me," he laughs.

"Brooks!" I nudge him in the side. "You know, you're not supposed to be like this. All multi-faceted and shit. First poetry and now existential belief doctrines. What's next?"

"Conspiracy theories?" He raises his eyebrows.

"The butterfly effect is a conspiracy theory," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Maybe," Brooks says quietly. "But just think how different things could be –would be right now if one other thing had been different –if one other thing had happened or hadn't happened."

"I think it all the time," I say.

I roll into him, staring into his sea-colored eyes. I know I'll never truly know what he's thinking, but in this moment I know what he's feeling. I feel it too.

We set something in motion months ago. Now we're sitting idly, waiting for the chaos to descend.

My sheets are already starting to smell like him. A fact I find oddly comforting and deeply disturbing. I rest my head against his chest and match my breath to his.

"Why Christmas?" I ask him the question that's been bothering me since last night.

He looks at me and I can tell he knows exactly what I am talking about.

"It's one month." Brooks shrugs beneath me. "Maybe I can visit again."

Don't do it.

"Actually, I don't think you'll be able to visit," I whisper against his skin.

"Are you revoking my visiting privileges? Now who is bipolar?" Brooks nudges me.

"No, it's not that."

Don't you fucking do it, Emmy.

"Are your parents traipsing the globe, again?" He laughs. "Where are you going this time?"

"Home, actually." I smirk.

"Home?" He repeats, looking at me with wide eyes. Surprised Brooks.

"I'll be home for Christmas." I say. I'm so WEAK. No shame. I need to have him again.

"You haven't been home for the holidays in like eight years." Brooks laughs, almost incredulous.

True. Who knew he was keeping count. I can't bring myself to look at him. I can't admit to him that the reason I'm finally allowing myself home for the holidays is because I no longer fear myself around him.

I mean I do still of course, but in a different kind of way. In a way where the relapse means crazy good sex and not existential depression.

"Why now?" Brooks asks.

"My aunt is hosting the benefit at the B&B this year. Can't remember what cause it's for this year. Promised my mom I'd be back to help," I say.

He's got nothing *everything* to do with it.

"You know, as it just so happens I will be home too." Brooks watches me from the pillow. My arm starts to go numb under the tiny circles he's tracing on my skin.

"That," I say, "is a very happy coincidence."

He laughs at me and pulls me in. I feel my waist touch his.

"Maybe we will run into each other."

We laugh. I roll over on top of him. I press my hips into his. He raises himself to me.

"Maybe." I agree. "It is a small town."

"It's a date then?" Brooks's hungry eyes search mine.

"Woah," I hold up my hand. "It's a little soon to be asking me out."

Brooks laughs. "Fine, I take it back. Offer rescinded."

"Actually," I pause, biting my lip. "I don't think I could bear the look of disappointment if I show up alone. So..."

"Are you asking me on a date?" Brooks feigns shock.

"Don't get overexcited." I shoo him away. "There won't be a limo or anything."

His head tilts back with laughter. I catch his smell, but I don't know if it's from his skin or mine now. I nudge my lips against his neck.

"I could pencil you in," he says, smiling as I plant kisses along his jaw. "One more time."