Through the Haze - Part Five

Hope shines the brightest. It's always good for one to hope, for it's hope that gets us through the toughest of times. --Caria Thomson, Book of Hope
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Isaac twisted and turned in his sleep, sweaty sheets sticking to him, tangled around him. He panted out breath, sweat beading his forehead. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, his heart racing, sweat sliding down his face. With wild eyes, he glanced around his room, taking it all in. "Just...just a dream....just another ugly dream...." he panted, and flopped back down on his pillow. "Just another dream...."

He shivered and pulled the covers around himself, untangling himself from the sheets as he did so. The sun was beginning to rise outside his window, but he still wanted to catch a few winks before he got up for the day.

Briefly, he wondered about Ember, how he was faring, but didn't dare get up and wander to his room. He didn't like Ember looking so still, so quiet. It just wasn't like him.

He closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep, though he doubted he would. It seemed to him that the dreams were getting stranger, and little more worrisome. He was really beginning to hate sleep, when he used to love it specifically for the dreams.

Now he hated dreaming.
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Gabriel sluggishly staggered through the room, headed toward the kitchen. His head was aching, and now he remembered why he'd always hated drinking. He hated hangovers. This hangover had started early, it seemed.

He tiredly pulled the cabinet door open and pulled down a glass. He moved toward the sink and turned the faucet on, filling up his glass with cool water. He turned the faucet off and brought the glass to his lips, taking a long swig of it, hoping to ease the lingering taste of beer in the back of his throat. He'd always hated the after taste, he reflected.

But then, he'd never really been one for drinking before, either. He'd always hated the hangovers. They were terrible.

Why make getting wasted seem so nice, if you were going to despise the aftermath? It just didn't make sense.

Lou was still sleeping on the couch in the living room. They'd rented this apartment for now, but there was only one room. Gabriel had told Lou he could have it, but after much argument, he'd given in and taken the room. Lou's soft snores echoed into the kitchen and broke through the haze in his mind.

With a heavy sigh, he finished his water and rinsed his glass, before he left the kitchen and went back to bed. The sun was just starting to rise. He could catch a few more winks.
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Isaac opened his eyes as the sun seeped through the window and warmed his face, making the day seem a little brighter. Sighing, he crawled ungracefully from the covers, toppling to the floor and slinking over to his dresser. From the dresser, he pulled out a pair of jeans and a red T-shirt. He pulled his pj's off and wrestled the T-shirt over his head. Next, he got to his feet and pulled his pants on.

He slowly exited his room and paced down the hallway, stopping outside Ember's door. He took in a deep breath and slowly shoved the door open, stepping inside.

Ember looked much the same as he had before he'd gone to be. Maybe that was good, that he hadn't gotten any worse. But then, he hadn't gotten any better, either, and that made Isaac worry.

What had taken hold of Ember so suddenly? From what Roo had said, one minute he'd been perfectly fine, chatting away, and then the next he was pale and didn't look so hot.

This only made him worry all the more.

He did wonder, briefly, if had something to do with his dream. He hoped not, because then he'd feel rather responsible. Something twisted in his gut as he thought about it.

If Ember had gotten so ill because of him, he would never forgive himself.

He sighed heavily. "Get better, Emb," he mumbled, exiting his room and closing the door behind him.