Mind and Matter

13 | Emerson

I sat up with a gasp.

I gripped the edges of the couch I was lying on. Did I fall asleep on my couch at home again? The material felt soft and well-loved on my fingertips, a contrast to the taut leather couches in my home. My now alert eyes scanned the room, looking for signs of familiarity.

I found none.

"Wait, be careful."

A smooth and recognizable filled my ears and I glanced to the side. There was Leo, walking towards me. He was wearing socks on the floor of the living room, showing he was familiar with this place. Of course, he was; this was his home.

And I was in it.

Snippets comes back to me all at once. Playing soccer with him in the field, walking home feeling light-headed, falling into his arms. I actually fell asleep in this guy's arms like a fucking narcoleptic, and now I'm lying down on his couch. He's crouching down next to me, his body heat enveloping me.

Okay, enough narration, Emerson.

"Emerson." His tone was concerned but firm, and he placed his hand onto my arm. "What do you think made you crash and burn like that?"

Should I explain what's been going on with me for the past year to him right now? I knew about his problems, so it would only be fair for him to know one of mine. But being vulnerable was scary. If no one knew my weaknesses, they couldn't exploit them—and they couldn't know when I failed. But my parents, my friends, Leo, they were people I could tell; I needed to understand that.

"I was just exhausted," I told him. "And I forgot to eat breakfast." I looked at the time on the analog wall clock and it was around noon. I still hadn't eaten.

"I'll get you something to eat. This house is full of food, thanks to my grandmother."

"You don't have to. I can just go back to my house. I mean, I live up the street." I planted my hands onto the couch and pushed myself upwards. His hand hovered behind my back until I climbed up to my feet. I wobbled for a second, and Leo pulled me towards him.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Better than before," I said. "Thanks to you."

He walked to the kitchen with a grin etched on his face and cracked open the backdoor to let in some fresh air. I pulled out a seat from underneath the intricately carved wooden table and sat down, staring down at my hands. I wonder if my parents are worrying about where I am...

I opened my phone to text them but was distracted when he pulled out the seat across from me and sat down, pushing a sandwich towards me. Once I saw the fresh mozzarella in it, I was sold.

"Leo," I began, and he nodded. "I know the reason why I felt so weak earlier."

My tone must have sounded foreboding because his eyes widened slightly.

I continued, "I'm an insomniac. I've never told anyone—until now, with you. It's been going on for a year, and I think today... Today I realized I can't keep denying it. It's starting to affect my day-to-day life."

"Why was I the first one you told?"

I picked at the edge of the bread of my sandwich, rubbing the crumbs between my fingertips. "There's more than one answer to that."

"I'm not someone people tell their problems to," he admitted with a shrug. "Usually I cause the problems for people."

"For one, I know something you struggle with," I said. "My problem's just a little different. And... I feel like you won't judge me."

"Really?" His eyes lit up.

"There's always been a standard for me. I'm not the kind of person people expect to fail. I feel like this is me failing a standard. It doesn't make sense."

"But it does," he simply answered. "You're afraid of failure. You just don't realize tests aren't the only time it's relevant, Emerson."

I'd opened the door to this now deep conversation and I wasn't sure if I wanted to shut it. Because I knew he was right. My nightmares revealed that to me on a regular basis.

"If we're confessing things about ourselves, here's something I can't get out of my head. I haven't called my dad in a month. Every time I go to, I just can't, even though that probably makes me the shittiest son in the world."

"For every shitty son, there's been a shitty dad," I remarked bluntly before catching myself. I couldn't just call his dad shitty without even knowing him. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant it can't be all your fault."

"No, it's fine," he said, leaning forward and clasping my wrist—the good one. "My dad's probably nothing like yours, let tell you."

I smiled weakly. "Do you feel like that if you call him he'll think everything is alright? And you'd just go from phone call to phone call. He'd feel happy he checked up on you at least, but you'd never be happy because you won't find it in you to open your heart?"

"How did you...know that?" he asked, looking at me inquisitively. I knew almost nothing about his personal life, but maybe he was more of an open book than he thought.

"You think you should head home?" he said, changing the topic. "Your parents are probably worried about you."

We headed out his back door and through his yard, up to the street. Somewhere in the middle of the walk his hand slipped down to mine and our hands lightly intertwined, creating a light dance inside my stomach. The feeling was short-lived when we reached my house and found Mason in my driveway. We let go of each other immediately.

Something then clicked in my head and my hand flew to my pocket. My phone wasn't there; I'd left it at his house.

I looked up at Leo and a hardly visible smirk graced his lips. "Text me if you need anything," he said into my ear and dropped my phone into my hand. I looked at him with wide eyes, but he already began to walk down the street to his house. Sure enough, he had added his number to my contacts.

"Emerson was with a boy," Mason sang and spun around me in his scooter, singing that line over and over.

"Says the kid who has a big, embarrassing crush on a third grader."

"How do you know I like Sophie?" he asked, suddenly defensive.

I shrugged and continued walking down the driveway, blushing over my own big fat crush on the boy down the street.