Emeral yawned. She was kept awake only by the act of brushing her hair. It was midnight, or close to it. She never remembered staying up so late in her entire life. She was surprised Ket was taking so long to shower. But, he did have to wait a bit since they were taken up.
The brush frantically whipped her hair about. She didn't wash it; had only gotten it wet. It had been kinked in a pony-tail for so long that it had a bend in it, and the strands were all stuck together. Not to mention how greasy it had gotten from all the sweating she had done.
No fingers would want to sift through that kind of hair.
As far as she was concerned, Ket could take as long as he wanted. By the time he got back, her hair would be as soft—"Ah!"—as a dove; and no knots.
Outside, she heard the crunch of grass. She expected it to be him, but they did not go near the tent. Her brush slowed.
"Arkethius Cicero Rachaun," Emeral heard Momma R.'s voice; "what're you doing sitting in the dark all by your lonesome?"
"Just...drying off," Ket's voice responded, a little agitated.
Emeral set the brush down. How long had he been out there? She scooted closer to the back of the tent, a little voice scolding her for eavesdropping.
"Relax, I'm just poking fun. Where's Emmy?"
"Still showering, I guess."
She suppressed her breathing as the outside became quiet for a moment.
"You two were awfully quiet in the car. You aren't mad at each other, are you?"
"I'm not mad." He reassured her. Then his voice got a little dry, "I wouldn't be surprised if she was mad at me—"
I'm not!
"—I've been acting like a baby all day."
"Oh stop it."
Yeah. Stop it!
"You're just grumbly. You had a bad day, everyone does. I think you were a good enough sport. If she's mad at you, just say you're sorry; she'll understand."
I would.
"Maybe."
I would!
Again, silence. It lasted for just a few moments before Momma R.'s voice broke it, but softly.
"... I know it...might not be the right time to ask you this, but..."
Emeral bit her lip. She had half an impulse to plug her ears, but Momma R. continued too fast.
"Have you thought more about... what we talked about before?"
Emeral held her breath through another long pause. The crickets outside began to beat in rhythm with her heart. She let it go slowly as his voice came to her ear.
"I think I'm okay... with having a new dad."
She gasped, covering her mouth. Her eyes widened, catching in more of the ambient light. The fur about her limbs began to prick up with shock.
"Are you sure? I don't want you to 'think', I want you to know."
"Well," his voice cut short. "Well... I just don't want you to get hurt again. That's all..."
"Fool me once, shame on you..." Momma R. trailed, letting the expression finish itself. "Still, it's not like it'll be easy. You might meet a few people before I find the right one. I'd hate to see you get too attached and then find out he's not Mr. Right."
"I won't get too attached," Ket reassured.
"...And that's the other problem. If you're too distant, I won't be able to tell if he's the right kind of father for you."
Emeral's heart thundered in her ears. She shouldn't be hearing this; this wasn't a conversation for her. But she was frozen, unable to do anything but listen more.
"Maybe I should wait a little bit, until you're a little older—"
"No."
Emeral was surprised by Ket's voice. It sounded different to her, kind of like Kval's.
"I'm okay with it. We can at least try, right?"
The wind blew against the tent, rattling the aluminum poles.
"I wish you wouldn't grow up so fast." Momma R. spoke somberly. "You feel dry to me," her tone changed. "Why don't we get some sleep? We'll talk more about this tomorrow, when we're home."
"Kay."
"Night, kiddo."
"Night mom."
Emeral remained a statue as she was, listening to the crunch of the grass as Momma R. went to her tent. A moment later, Ket's feet began walking toward her. Her brain snapped; if he caught her like this he would know she had been listening. If he wasn't mad at her before, he would certainly be mad then.
She quickly, but quietly, slid her legs forward to lie back on her sleeping bag. Heart starting to race, she calmed it down and breathed slowly, closing her eyes. She put one arm above her head, to emphasize she was sleeping. She could tell by the splay of her hair that she had undone a lot of the work she spent cultivating it.
She heard the zipper. The tent crackled as he started to crawl in without regard, and then he stopped. She was spotted. The crackling began again, but it was noticeably quieter, his movements suppressed and deliberate.
She pictured what he was doing as she heard the gentle and careful scrapes and swishes of fabrics and materials. She felt his presence as he crawled upon his sleeping bag, very carefully, as if the slightest twitch of a whisker would cause a nuclear explosion.
Once again he paused. It was now, that she chose to open her eyes, which were now believably masked in a haze of grogginess. She matched his, watching her.
He exhaled. "Sorry." He said curtly, looking away. He slumped down on his stomach, arms slack at his sides. His head was turned away, not even resting on the pillow that was a just half a foot or so away from him.
She sat upright, and reached through the black cloud surrounding him. She very gently laid her hand on his near shoulder-blade, and nudged him.
"Hm." He said.
"You don't look very comfy," she whispered.
Another grumble.
"Hm?" She asked, now rubbing the spot she touched in a small circle with her finger.
He took a breath as he lifted his head, and rested it back down facing the other way. His left eye softly glowed. "I don't like sleeping on my stomach." He admitted.
She scooted closer. "So sleep on your back?" She reached for the pillow, and fluffed it.
"Goose egg." Was all he said.
She blinked a few times. "On your side?"
He exhaled, as he did when he apologized before, and did a push-up. He moved to sit also, taking the pillow from her and setting it in his lap. "Not even sleepy." He commented.
"Don't tell me the waves are bothering you?" She asked, scooting closer to him.
He leaned away. "No." After his response, he felt her arms envelope him, and her weight made him lean a little further. "What's gotten into you?" He whispered sharply.
"Hm?" She asked, looking up at him from where her cheek rested on his shoulder.
"You're all... close." He pointed out, shifting his weight so he was sitting more upright, loosening her grip.
"You don't like me hugging you?" She questioned.
"No I—I mean yes but—" the words stumbled out of his mouth. He let the rest of his breath go, and one word managed to escape clearly: "Shit."
She let him go, sitting back again. His posture slumped and he closed his eyes, like he was a puppy preparing to get scolded for taking a what-he-said on the carpet. "My turn." She announced just above the whisper they talked in; "What's getting into you?"
"What do y—" He stopped. Deciding it wasn't worth pretending, he just said, "Nothing."
"Do I hafta call Second Rule?"
His eyes darted away.
She crossed her arms. "Well then. I told you on the Ferris wheel to let it go. You either let it go, or tell me. Your choice." Then she relaxed her arms and leaned against him, taking his hand and wrapping his arm around her. "I'll listen, if you tell me." She spoke softly. "Just like I did before."
She hoped he would understand when before was.
He sighed, this time exhaling in a not-so-irritated way. "I've just...been acting like a baby." He admitted, and then very quickly followed, "There. Happy?"
"I thought we were over that already." She huffed. "Babies whine and cry and suck on their thumbs. I didn't see you doing any of that stuff."
"I've been throwing tantrums," he countered; "and I've been snappy and mean. And I embarrassed you and everyone else."
She squeezed his shoulder. "You've been putting up with a head bump. I'd be grumpy and mean if I had a goose egg on my head, too." She moved her hand to snare his. "And what do you mean you embarrassed me?"
"I dunno...just the tantrums. People were watching. And the Ferris wheel."
"The Ferris wheel... How was that embarrassing?"
"Cuz I was scared!" He spoke, a little louder than he meant to.
Emeral let silence take over for a second, mostly so she could hear outside. She was wary that if they made too much noise, their parents might start wondering what was going on. The last thing Ket would want right now was for his mom to find out about his girlfriend.
When she was satisfied they were still private, she found some words to say. "Everyone's afraid of stuff, Ket. Heck, when I was little, I was afraid of sharks in the toilet after I watched Jaws with my dad one time." She giggled, hoping he would with her. But he didn't. She returned to a serious tone; "If that's all that was bothering you, don't let it okay? I still love you all the same—fear of heights or not. I promise."
"That's...not everything," he mumbled.
Her smile faded. "Okay... what else is bothering you?"
His yellow eyes stared straight ahead, as he debated whether or not he would say anything else.
She hoped he would.
"This whole trip... just..." He took in a breath. "I mean... I thought I was doing good until now. But I know I've been messing up the whole time."
"No you haven't," she tried to interject.
"Yes I have." He grumbled. "I'm afraid of waves, I'm afraid of heights, I've been throwing tantrums, I've been grumpy, I've been mean to you. Yeah, sure, I have a goose egg but that's no excuse and you know it. And there's no way I could propose to you in front of that many people."
Her ears twitched at that. "Wait...propose to me?"
"Yeah. I saw the look on your face. I'd never be able to do something like that, or buy a ring that good-looking."
"Wha-at?" she shook her head and rested it on his shoulder. "We're in fifth grade. I know Rini and some of the others like to dream about getting married, but we all know it's way way off."
"I could have at least gotten you a bear, but I couldn't even do that."
"A bear?"
"A stuffed bear." He repeated. "Lyza has that giant stuffed rabbit. I've got Tutty. You don't have anything. I wanted to get it for you... but I couldn't. I messed up. I failed."
"I don't need that." She giggled. "How would we fit it in the car? We barely have room as it is." She weakly hugged him. "Besides, you're all the bear I need..."
"Even still," he countered, ignoring the hug. "It's not just that. I've been messing up since the beginning. I thought about it last night and I know you were getting mad at me for talking to Cassie. And then Felicity had to come in with her... 'stuff'." He began slouching more and more.
"And," he continued, "Every time you asked me how I thought about how you looked, I keep saying the wrong thing. And when I try to make up for it, you don't listen at all."
"Hey, I already told you," she tried to sound fierce in her whisper, "We talked about that. I care more about whether or not you like or don't like something, not how much."
"Yeah right." He shot down, his ferocity not a lie. "You're just saying that because you feel sorry my head hurts. That's the reason you've been acting nicer to me."
"Wha..." Her mouth hung open. His eyes darted to hers.
"Don't think I didn't notice. Ever since I got a 'boo-boo' you've been all extra nice. If I hadn't gotten hurt you'd still be telling me all these things I've been doing wrong this whole time."
"But...you haven't been... doing anything..."
"Shut up!" He hissed, narrowing his brow. "I have and you know it. I'll get better at it later but right now I just need a break."
She stared into his eyes. They were cold and angry; she had never seen them that way before. Not even when he spoke about his father.
His lancing gaze made hers falter and wince, receding from him. His words brought a tear to her eyes. Then another. Then more.
Ket saw them trickle down, saw her face scrunch up. Her breath became quick and shallow, and it gained a wheeze with it that made it sound like she was about to sneeze. Then she closed them, and her head dropped into her hands; her shoulders jerked up and down.
"W—wait, Emmy-" he started to say, but a lump of coal clogged his throat.
He'd pushed her to tears. He couldn't believe it. He tasted sourness on his tongue, like curdled milk and rotten eggs mixed with vinegar and puke.
"S—stop," he said, moving to his knees. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Stop crying," he pleaded.
She opened her eyes enough for him to see the dim green emeralds behind the rheumy tears.
He couldn't take it. It made him angry. It made him sick. It made him want to run away and scream in grief and guilt.
He began to huff, gritting his teeth. What could he do!? He just wanted her to stop. All he wanted was for her to stop crying.
Stop!
"Uha-!" Her breath was forced from her as he pinned her down. She saw his eyes glowing at a distance, felt his hands on her shoulders and rear on her legs. She couldn't move, even if she wanted to.
And then the glow of his eyes darted toward her, like a snake striking. She winced, and then felt the pressure against her lips. She felt his breath against her cheek, puffing out of his nose like a train chuffing out smoke.
Their left eyes stared at one another, and she began to see warmth returning to his. Her tears began to dry, and her breathing began to slow with his. She felt comforted by his weight, by the pressure that pressed her down. It quelled her erratic emotions; made calm the storm that had so quickly roiled within her.
She closed her eyes, letting all the trembles work themselves from her limbs. The kiss went beyond the length of a normal one. She felt something so warm from him, and in the back of her mind wondered if it was because he was starting to have a fever.
Long as the kiss had gone, too soon for her, he parted. In the end it was not so much a kiss as it had been a long mashing of their mouths, evidenced by a bit of drool and slobber from both their part. She opened her eyes as he receded.
He lifted away by his torso at first, and then placed his hand on hers.
She thought it was a loving gesture, but as soon as he rested it there he pressed, hard, and made to move off of her.
Crack!
He took in a breath. "Oh no!" His hand snapped away. "What'd I do? Are you all right? I'm sorry!"
"Ssh, it's okay," she said quietly, and brought her hand between them. "Oh..." She said with realization. "Look!" She turned her hand over, even as the deep violet glow began to creep around her finger.
Ket watched as the color began to radiate more strongly. He didn't realize what was causing it until he saw it wrap around.
"It's a Glo-Ring," she stated. "You activated it when you pressed on my hand." She giggled. "Isn't it pretty?" She turned her hand, showing him the heart that glowed brightest of all.
"Its...just a cheap plastic toy," he mumbled. "It's not like a diamond."
Her brow furrowed.
The hand disappeared, and he felt his muzzle squeezed at the jaw. His head was pulled forward, and his nose pressed against hers.
"I think it's pretty." She said with loving ferocity.
She released his jaw and wrapped her arms around his torso, and rolled them both to their sides. "I'm getting sleepy," she said, pushing her muzzle into the crook of his neck and between the ground. "Can we sleep like this again... Like we did the first night?"
His breathing winced. "O...okay," he said.
She felt him flex. "What's the matter now?" She asked. "If you can't sleep like that cuz of your head... that's okay. Just say so."
"No it's not that—" he winced again.
Assuming he wouldn't tell her, she moved the arm that was pinned beneath him out, and ran it across the tarp. Near his gut, she felt the tarp being forced upward, and she pressed up against his ribs to wedge her fingers between them and something hard.
"What is that?" She questioned.
"A... a rock," he admitted.
"Has that...been under your mat the whole time?"
"I got used to it," he reasoned.
She let out a sigh, akin to the kind he had let out before. "You're sleeping on my side tonight."
What choice did he have? She tugged him, coaxing him to worm forward as she wormed back. When they were on her sleeping bag, sharing her pillow, she once again buried her muzzle between his and the ground, and let out a satisfied murmur.
"Good night, Ket." She said, her voice rumbling and breath tickling his neck.
"G—good night, Emmy," he replied.
She moved her arms to more reasonable spots; the one beneath him she put behind her, and the one draped over him she moved to rest that hand upon his high shoulder.
He blinked a few times, staring at the white wall of the tent that was lit just a little by the moonlight. He wondered what just happened. He no longer felt miserable as he had felt before, and Emeral had gone from crying to almost like she was trying to meld into him.
He gave up. There was no making sense of it now. He wasn't sleepy either. And he didn't want to sleep. Now that he had Emeral in his arms, he felt happy. She belonged there; she wanted to be there; and he wanted her there, too. He reached up with his free hand and laid it upon hers at his shoulder. He felt the ring that now glowed in the corner of his eye.
He noticed that it was on the finger next to her pinkie.
