Chapter Twenty-Four

                                    

                                          

In the amber-blush skylight of his salient skyline mirroring dreams, jaded jewels of juvenescence were all that he could see. Like the woods lovely, dark and deep, his eyes represented the green of the Pine leaves, embellished softly with plush beams of rime and ease, deliriously daunting for a boy of his esteem, they were benumbed and beaded with blight, looked to be quite standoffish and starkly stunning to some might, Emmett was sure as he tilled temporary solace in his mind at the mere fact of losing him to touch and time. Like the far-flung red star of the galaxy, he seemed distant to perceive, considerably given the circumstances of his wonderland of dreams. As if he was the Summer's wistful rain, wished by many in the desert and the main, Emmett was tempted to savour it in a jar-frame, if only it was to soothe his psyche for some time, he pondered before reaching out to him. 
Cold-like calamity, he slipped, spun and stumbled away from him, as if he was Death's Adversary, who lived in a donjon-dale, and reaped souls to wreck carnage and chaos inlay. This wasn't a dream, he wondered to himself, as he called out his name, profusely straining his senses to pick up his rather muffled whiffs of a few words-wisps but it was irresistibly unassailable to trace the mouth-lisp skimmed through something unusual and almost eschew, as he abruptly abandoned his dream to come to some realisation, as he squinted at the seamless ceiling lights, instinctively scrunching up his eyes, as if he was too inadept to look askance, behaving like a creature of the night before awkwardly contorting his face, in obvious frustration as he bunglingly kneaded his much frigid fingers at his wounded wrists, which had been toyed with needles, tubes and other supplements for apparently some mineral transfusion, Emmett observed as he despondently plucked a thread from his blanket; smitten by his current predicament. 
"Good Morning, Boo Bear." 
"Tommy?" Emmett glanced at him as he tried to adjust his position on the bed. 
"Aye, little bro, how are ya feeling now?" Thomas smiled at him brightly as he tried to not break down at his dishevelled state. He looked so pale and ghastly, he appeared to be almost unrecognisable as if he was a stranger. 
Emmett blinked, bemusedly at his brother. He was feeling rather fine, but despite his disoriented state brought forth by his astute question, he offered him a soft smile that said otherwise, confirming Arthur's insightful inspection regarding his transitory amnesia, whereas Emmett, was exhilarated at the prospect of meeting him; that it was imperceivable for him to feel delineated and a bit circumscribed at the prominence of the palisade that he was presently stuck in. 
"Uh, when can I go back?" Emmett couldn't help but inquire as his gaze reflected a leaning languish that had become quite noticeable, especially to Arthur. 
"Soon, do you remember anything, Emmett?" Arthur was prepared to answer his questions but he wanted to affirm his theory. 
"I...I don't know. Was it something important?" He stuttered out, looking quite confused and befuddled. 
"Not at all, I just wanted to make sure, son." He gave him an assured smile, causing Emmett to return one of his own. 
"Boo Bear, if you are not going to devour that apple pie, then I have no qualms in doing it for you. Just say the word." Thomas interrupted as he teased him lightly. 
"Apple-Pie?" Emmett looked at the plate of his favourite dessert in his hands and could almost feel the temptation to eat. 
"You are such a dummy sometimes, Em." A voice called out. 
"Gwen?" Emmett asked, looking bewildered to see her. 
"It is so good to see you, buddy." She commented as she tried to hold back her tears, whilst moving forward to embrace her best friend.