Rolling in the deep: Emma

[Andrew]

She's like the wind

He was in the hospital for a good three days, getting in his fluids and making sure nothing else was wrong. Most would say it was a vacation, but to Andrew, it was just a waiting game.

'I love you' Three words, with a ton of meaning behind them. He shared something with Emma. Something not many knew, or would ever be able to find. It was love, and all she did was smile, and hold his hand and tell him everything would be okay.

For the past week, he'd been walking around with his head in the clouds. He knew, she was out of his league. But, she... god, she was somethin' else completely. Sure, he was a fool to believe she would be his.

But it was worth trying, wasn't it?

Laying there in the grass, he sighed, plucking the grass and rubbing it between his fingers. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." He mumbled, a soft smile on his lips.

And Emma, she was certainly a rose...

[Emma Lawrence]

Her classes were finished for the day, and everyone had gone their respective ways by now. Cian had commandeered Dean and the kids for an afternoon out, Colette was fussing with Laura, and the students had planned a virtually exclusive bowling trip. Figuring she'd have the run of the place to herself, Emma tread out into the backyard, first fixing the patio table with a fresh vase of flowers before heading off into the few-acre lawn. As she became more and more encased in the grassy membrane, she noticed that not everyone had abandoned Rosewood for the day. A young man--from what she could tell from her distance--was lying in the grass, saying something to himself.

The closer she got, the more she was able to make out who it was: Andrew. A smile pulled her lips back, and she walked up to him, sitting down before asking, "Mind if I join you?" The kid wasn't socially awkward, but not everybody knew the words "tumultuous" or "differentiate," much less use them in everyday language. That was what made Andrew Andrew. And it was his pride in his intellect that made him one of her more desirable students to work with. Professionally, of course. She still wanted him to be a normal teenager and break the rules once in a while.

Lying down beside him, she fixed her eyes on the vast blue above them. "I love this kind of weather," she sighed. "Not too warm, clear skies. Then again, I love thunderstorms. Weird, huh?" Tossing him a kindly smile, she nudged his arm. "What've you been up to lately, tiger?"

[Andrew]

Sighing, he tossed the blade of grass, watching as the wind carried it off to someplace new. Some days, he couldn't help but imagine what life would have been like if his mother hadn't got cancer. Where would he be? Would he have even met someone as characteristic as Emma?

"Mind if I join you?"

He knew that voice, looking to his right, his eyes caught her sitting beside him. Smiling he shook his head. "If you're asking if I mind you sitting near me, than no. Be my guest." It wasn't long after their greeting that she began to lay back beside him. It was then that his heart began to beat just a tad faster.

"I love this kind of weather," she sighed. "Not too warm, clear skies. Then again, I love thunderstorms. Weird, huh?"

Head turning, he looked at her. Really looked at her. She was so beautiful. Clear skin, beautiful brown eyes, and those curls... God, she was statuesque. People should make a statue of her, and put it in museums so everyone would know a beautiful young charming woman had walked the earth.

"Not really. I mean, c'mon. I talk to ghosts. Liking something, say; thunderstorms, isn't as weird as me talking to ghosts." He grinned. "But, I do identify what you're saying about the weather. I agree, fully. It's.... stunning." He sighed, looking back up at the sky. And then there it was, like word vomit. "Like you,"

[Emma Lawrence]

So literal. His quirks made her laugh, and she nodded. "I guess you got me there. But being mutant isn't exactly weird to me anymore," she defended humbly. Something about him seemed different. He was happier today--less pensive than usual. Ordinarily, he liked to spend time on his own, and read or something like that. Today he was oddly sociable. She wasn't going to complain. When she felt this good, she liked conversation, even if it was about the weather.

"It's stunning..." There was a pause, and she expected herself to interject with something. But instead, he went on, "Like you."

It caught her by surprise, but it didn't exactly send her reeling. Peering over at him with narrowed eyes and a wry smirk, not really sure what he meant, she scoffed, "You're going to write poetry someday." But teenagers always had a reason to say something. Always. They weren't like children who just spat out anything and everything. Teens had a purpose. They wanted some kind of response. So what had Andrew meant? What made him say it?

A spark of concern was nursed to a flame inside her. "You okay, Drew?" she confirmed.

[Andrew]

"I guess you got me there. But being mutant isn't exactly weird to me anymore,"

He shrugged lightly, picking another blade of grass and playing with it between his index and middle finger, before bringing it to his lips and making an odd noise. Laughing softly he sighed. "I don't know, I wish I could feel like that." He replied softly.

"You're going to write poetry someday."

Grinning, he looked over at her. "That's the plan." He chuckled softly, making the blade sing once more between his lips. "I already started, but they're not that good." He told her honestly with a light shrug.

"You okay, Drew?"

Brows furrowed, he looked back at her a moment before letting a sigh escape. "I lie on the ground, and stare into space, the stars start to move, into the shape of your face." He paused, eyes glued to the skies. "I see you there now, looking down at me, with that cute little smile, that I like to see. You say "close your eyes", "tell me what you see", I see only two people, just you and me."

Taking in a deep breath, he continued. "We're walking the shoreline, with our feet getting wet, the horizon turns pink, as the sun starts to set. We make love through the night, on that white sandy shore, then I hold you while thinking,I could want nothing more..."

He slowly turned to her, starring into her eyes. "Oh I wish I could be, in that one special place, as I lie on the ground, and I stare into space..."

[Emma Lawrence]

L is for...

"I already started, but they're not that good."

Cocking her mouth to one side, she gave him an overly skeptical look. "Judging by the way you talk like an artist, I highly doubt that they're anything less than Frost material," she consoled him, taking note of the way he slipped grass back and forth between his fingers, up to his lips. Able to tell that he was thinking, she very, very slightly tapped into his sensitivity with her Empathy, finding something huge and intense even though she'd only seen a miniscule part of his subconscious. What was going through this guy's head?

Then he began to recite something. Having never heard it before, Emma assumed it was an original work. Maybe even impromptu. Regardless, the syntax flowed stanza by stanza in a smooth, lucid wave. Each line meant something new and something delicate and something enormous to him, and she could tell. But what was he trying to say? What teenage guy just starts lipping poetry?

"I see you there now, looking down at me, with that cute little smile, that I like to see. You say "close your eyes", "tell me what you see", I see only two people, just you and me."

Who was he talking about, she wondered? Poets always said something that had a meaning behind it, and Andrew was no exception. Smiling stiffly, hoping it wasn't too tight, she listened on. "Andy, that's beautiful."

He continued, and it made her stir, "We make love through the night, on that white sandy shore, then I hold you while thinking,I could want nothing more..."

Now something was severely out of whack. No student had gotten comfortable enough around her to talk about poetry, let alone sex. Andrew was saying something to her. Swallowing, she sat up in her elbows, watching him curiously as he turned to face her. "Oh I wish I could be, in that one special place, as I lie on the ground, and I stare into space..." The meter of the words thrummed in her head long after he had stopped speaking. What could she say?

She scoffed. "Now I don't want you to ever tell me again that your poetry isn't good," she said, a waver in her voice. "But, Andrew, what are you trying to say?" She had never been intuitive with rhyming words--unless in song--and she wasn't about to tell him that his work of art made her uncomfortable.

[Andrew]

I feel...
I can, love you like that

"Judging by the way you talk like an artist, I highly doubt that they're anything less than Frost material,"

Andrew smiled softly, nodding. "If you say so, Em." It was quiet, as his words seemed to sink into her. He wished he knew what she was thinking, or feeling. Instead, he waiting on the inebitable reaction of either hate, or love.

"Andy, that's beautiful."

"Thank you." He smiled, looking down at the blade of grass in his hand. "But, I did not write it. It was Randy Schutte, I believe." He flicked a soft smile at her. "But beautiful nonetheless, yes."

"Now I don't want you to ever tell me again that your poetry isn't good," she said, a waver in her voice. "But, Andrew, what are you trying to say?"

He rolled onto his side, holding his head up with one of hid hands as the other hang loosely over his side, fiddling with the grass. "That day, a week ago, when we were in the ambulance..." He tailed off, eyes glued to the ground beneath him. "I told you something. Something I don't say to just anyone..." He took in a deep breath as his head lifted slowly to look at Emma in the eyes.

"I love you, Emma. I can't help it." He paused, continuing before she interrupted him. "I'm not sure if you feel a spark, or anything at all. But," He smiled lightly, hand reaching out to gently place over hers. "I feel fireworks when I look at you..."

[Emma Lawrence]

Waiting to wake up, because this was too ridiculous to be real, Emma blinked several times before meeting his eye, watching the struggle in his eyes; the need to express himself but not knowing how. He used his words, the one thing he was so, so good with, but even now he didn't seem fully in tune with his abilities. There was a hesitance, an uncertainty.

Remembering the ambulance ride, the wheeling into the hospital, staying by his side, watching as the sedative made him sleepy, holding his hand the whole time even though he was too dazed to even feel the needles anymore, Emma felt her insides squirm. Had she done something wrong? The line between professional and private was very thin and washed out. But she couldn't just leave him. He was her student, she treated him like one of her own. Everyone in the mutant society was family. Weren't they?

Fairly sure she'd felt her heart stop, Emma seized her breath when he said exactly what she had been hoping he wouldn't, "I love you, Emma. I can't help it." Right away she opened her mouth to say something, but he continued before she had the chance. "I'm not sure if you feel a spark, or anything at all. But, I feel fireworks when I look at you." His palm covered her hand, a significant warmth taking over. She wanted to pull away awkwardly, but how would he react? What was the right way to deal with this?

This was neither healthy nor safe. It wasn't good for him. He had to let this go. Soon. He'd only get crushed. Who was he, anyway, thinking he could get off saying that? She was a married woman, everyone knew that. Not only was she spoken for, but she had children with the man.

Or was he just playing a joke on her? Propriety didn't matter anymore, he was infringing on her now: Emma tapped fully into his emotions, finding nothing but sincerity. Fuck.

Sitting up, she knew she wouldn't be able to find words at all, much less the right ones. She couldn't indulge him for even one moment. This was wrong. Her memory gave her the lovely, dreadful image of her and Dean kissing five days before her wedding. Why was she always in these shitty situations?

"You can't," she said, almost desperate to make him understand. "Andrew, are you out of your mind? I'm a married woman."

[Andrew]

His heart seemed to pound furiously against his chest, and he could easily hear his ow breathing. Was that weird? Was that normal? Taking in a deep breath, that soft smile still on his lips, his eyes pleaded with her to say something.... anything.

Instead, she just sat up. She didn't move away, she didn't say no... Was this her way of saying she wasn't sure? He was completely discombobulated. Taking in a quick gasp of air, he waited. Because, what else was he to do? He'd already confessed how he felt. Told her everything, even recited his favorite poem about love, and wanting.

He wanted her. He loved her.

"You can't."

Two, very simple words. But, they held considerable weight. "Andrew, are you out of your mind? I'm a married woman." For the first time, in his life; his mind stopped working. He couldn't think, let alone say anything.

Mouth hanging open, all he could do was stare, dumbfounded. He could feel an ache in his chest, and a lump in his throat. "I..." He tried, and failed. Crashed and burned miserably. "I know that." He finally whispered. "Don't you think I know that?" He asked softly, eyes raising again to look at her.

"I'm smart enough to know that. To know what love is, despite my age; Emma... I..." Swallowing, he just sat there, bewildered. "It doesn't change anything. Not to me. I still love you. Everything about you. Your smile... Your laugh.... the way your eyes crinkle when you find something amusing.... I..."

[Emma Lawrence]

She was about to smile as he began to flatter her, but would that give him the wrong idea? Purposely keeping her eyes a little wider than normal to keep them from "crinkling," she stared at him, wondering what was going on through his head. He was purposely ignoring the fact that she was married. Granted that he couldn't ignore his own feelings, but they would die away eventually. He would realize he was playing a completely different game and someone else would take her place, someone he would love even more.

But how long would that take...?

"Don't you think I know that?"

Feeling guilty all of a sudden, she said urgently, putting a hand on his cheek, "Yes, I know you know that. But your perfect picture is skewed. You're a sweet boy, and mature beyond your years, but that doesn't change the facts." Sure, she loved him--as a student. As a part of her non-biological family. But as a love interest? Cian had that taken care of.

"I still love you. Everything about you."

Emma felt bad for him. He was tortured with this impossible love that would never happen. "Baby, you can't," she reiterated. "For your sake, please, stop this now. I don't want you to get hurt." The look on his face was enough for her to melt completely. It was like he had manned a plane that was taking a spiraling nose-dive for the ground. By now, both of her hands were on his face. "Baby, you look like you captained the Titanic. I'm not saying that you can't be in my life. I'm just saying that adultery isn't going to happen." As much as it pained her, she had to add: "And...and the feelings aren't reciprocated. You're my star student, Andrew. But I don't love you that way." Biting her lip, she sighed. "I'm sorry."

[Andrew]

"Yes, I know you know that. But your perfect picture is skewed. You're a sweet boy, and mature beyond your years, but that doesn't change the facts."

Feeling her hand on his cheek, it only made things worse. "Your my Picasso, Emma." He murmured softly. "You are, my Mona-Lisa. My Juliet. My... whole world. I love you..." By now, the words started to blur into poetry.


"Baby, you can't," she reiterated. "For your sake, please, stop this now. I don't want you to get hurt."

His head hung slightly, despite her hands on his cheeks. "But, I already hurt. I hurt everyday seeing you there, smiling. Being happy... with him, and not me. Why can't you love me?"

"Baby, you look like you captained the Titanic. I'm not saying that you can't be in my life. I'm just saying that adultery isn't going to happen." As much as it pained her, she had to add: "And...and the feelings aren't reciprocated. You're my star student, Andrew. But I don't love you that way."

His heart shattered.

"I'm sorry."

He knew, deep down that she truly was sorry. But, for some reason, he felt like he had to keep trying. It was the way she called him baby, and how she told the paramedics she was his fiance. It was the small things, that told him she was lying. That she did feel the same way. "You're lying." He whispered, lifting his head to look at her. "Yes, yes you are Emma. Don't do that, don't lie to me. Why else would you do these things? Why?" He asked.

But it was too late, he had made up his mind. Leaning forward quickly, his lips latched onto hers.

[Emma Lawrence]

"Your my Picasso, Emma." He murmured softly. "You are, my Mona-Lisa. My Juliet. My... whole world. I love you..."

She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to hear it. "Stop it," she demanded, voice firmer but glitching now and then. "Andrew, snap out of it. You're living in some warped reality. It's not going to happen." Trying to brush the furious and tortured redness off of his cheeks with her thumbs, she moved bits of hair out of his face. She wasn't going to stop loving him like family, but she knew she had to be careful. She could easily give him the wrong message.

"But, I already hurt. I hurt everyday seeing you there, smiling. Being happy... with him, and not me. Why can't you love me?"

Why? A lump formed in her throat. He was questioning her feelings, her choices, her family. He was really starting to push his luck with her. "Because I love him," she answered plainly. "Because I chose him. You're still so young, Drew. Don't race against time. You'll find someone who will love you just as much as you love them. But I am not and will not be that person." And yet seeing him crumple in her palms was enough to make her want to cry.

"You're lying." He whispered, lifting his head to look at her. "Yes, yes you are Emma. Don't do that, don't lie to me. Why else would you do these things? Why?"

Her brows pulled together in perplexity. Was he really being serious? "No, I'm not. I would never lie to you," she replied, hands slowly retreating, seeing the hunger flicker in his eyes. "I do them because I care about you. You're part of my extensive family. But Andrew, I promise you, I'm not lying. I do not love you the way you say you love me. This has to stop here and now."

She thought she'd put her foot down. She thought she'd made herself clear. Like always, her plans weren't exactly executed to the letter. Before she knew what was happening, she felt something soft against her mouth. His breath was washing around her face, and she didn't waste a minute pushing him back.

Furious, she growled, "Now you're just insulting me." She brought herself to her feet. "You're insulting my morals, my choices, and my family. I've tried to reason with you, Andrew, but you've crossed the line. Don't you dare treat me like you just did. That's not loving me, that's being selfish."

[Andrew]

"Stop it," she demanded, voice firmer but glitching now and then. "Andrew, snap out of it. You're living in some warped reality. It's not going to happen."

But he wasn't. What he felt was real. Every fiber in his entire being told him this was real. What he felt was real, and he wasn't living in some warped reality. He was real, she was real, and what he felt for her was certainly real.

"Because I love him," she answered plainly. "Because I chose him. You're still so young, Drew. Don't race against time. You'll find someone who will love you just as much as you love them. But I am not and will not be that person."

He shook his head, tears slowly leaking through his closed eyes. "Andrew." Hearing his mother's voice, he shook his head again. "Baby, you need to stop now. Stop this, she's marred. She loves him, baby. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm not. I would never lie to you," she replied, hands slowly retreating, seeing the hunger flicker in his eyes. "I do them because I care about you. You're part of my extensive family. But Andrew, I promise you, I'm not lying. I do not love you the way you say you love me. This has to stop here and now."

An odd sound left his mouth, heart wrenching he held a hand over his chest as the tears fell freely. But, it was too late, he had already made his move. Feeling the presure of her hands pushing him back, he watched as she took to her feet. His mother stood behind her, shaking her head, a disappointed look on her face.

"Now you're just insulting me." She brought herself to her feet. "You're insulting my morals, my choices, and my family. I've tried to reason with you, Andrew, but you've crossed the line. Don't you dare treat me like you just did. That's not loving me, that's being selfish."

His mother crossed her arms, but a look of sadness crossed her face as she looked down at her son. "Baby, she's right. You're being selfish. Stop this... what are you doing? This isn't the boy I raised..." Leaning forward, Andrew's head fell down to the ground as he shook it slowly. "I'm so sorry, mom..." He cried out.

" Apologize to her, now."

Reality slowly began to set in as he felt his mother's hand on his back. "Now, Andrew. I know it hurts, and you feel horrible and your heart is aching. I believe you do love her... but she doesn't love you, and you pushed that line between love and selfishness. Apologize." Andrew's head shook once more as he looked back up at Emma, tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry..." He whispered.

"I'm so sorry...."

[Emma Lawrence]

It was one thing to see him hurt. It was another to see him crying. Especially like that. Looking down at him, seeing the tears perk in his eyes, watching him crumble under the weight of his own emotions, Emma wasn't sure what the pain in her chest meant. Falling back onto her knees, she picked him up from the ground, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace. She petted the back of his hair, the other holding onto his neck, as if she wanted it to be some kind of safety harness for his tears.

I'm so sorry, mom..."

Beyond what she had expected, the words made her emotions tear apart and fall into the earth. Emma's eyes slipped closed, her hold around him becoming more secure. Was he using his love for her as a mask to hide the need he had for the love of a mother? Unsure, she ushered his head onto her shoulder, still rubbing his hair.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Shaking her head, she answered, "Don't be sorry for anything you're feeling, baby. I'm right here, it's okay. You're gonna be okay." Emma had no idea what she was saying or if it would help or if it was what he needed. It just felt right to say it. Releasing a sigh of sympathy for him, she rubbed his back in circles. "Come on, you're going to be all right. Come on, baby."

This was not what she had expected when she signed up for this job.

[Andrew]

His eyes locked on his mom, and it seemed his heart broke all over again. He really missed her. He missed the way she would brush his hair back when he was upset like this. Or how she would read to him when he was younger and had trouble going to sleep. As if she could read his mind, she smiled softly. "I know, baby.... I know."

Feeling Emma lift him up slightly and wrap him into her arms, made him feel tons better. It was as if, she took over that role of mother for him. It didn't matter that he saw his real mother, he couldn't really feel her touch. She wasn't 'really' here anymore. Shaking his head, he just stared at her, bottom lip trembling. "I hate this... " He whispered, eyes filling with tears yet again. "I hate not having you here..."

"Don't be sorry for anything you're feeling, baby. I'm right here, it's okay. You're gonna be okay."

"Life hands us cards we never expected, Andy. Don't think for a minute, that if I had any chance in this life to be there with you, I wouldn't." She paused. "Because I would. I love you, and your father, and your siblings. But they're okay. It's you I'm worried about. You are the reason I stay behind, baby."

Did she expect for that to make him feel better. "I don't want to hear that, I don't want to.... to be responsible for that... for you not being in heaven, mom.... Don't... don't put that on me... please."

"Come on, you're going to be all right. Come on, baby."

Tears still in his eyes, he looked to Emma. "I'm sorry... I do, y'know? I do, love you... But I never meant to disrespect you like that... I'm sorry...."

[Emma Lawrence]

He was talking to someone, and she wasn't about to ask who. A medium often saw apparitions and ghosts and spirits, and if it was someone who was making him this emotional... Well, she wasn't going to intervene. He needed to get whatever it was off his chest. Being his physical and emotional support, Emma stayed put, just stroking his hair.

After a while of one-siding conversation, he spat out "mom," and her heart shattered for him. His mother hadn't left his side since he was enrolled at Rosewood, and she imagined even before that. It must've been finally taking its toll on him. He needed to be let alone, to know that he wasn't at fault for his mother's purgatory. "It's not your fault," she assured him under her breath, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. "She loves you too much to leave you. No mother wants to lose her children. You're going to be fine here. We're all going to take care of you. I've got you. Don't worry, Andrew, I've got you."

He pulled back then, looking into her eyes. Tears had crystallized around his red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry... I do, y'know? I do, love you... But I never meant to disrespect you like that... I'm sorry...."

With a shake of her head, she took his hands. "No more," she said, pressing their knuckles to his lips. "You don't have to say anything else. I'm here for you." But I don't want you thinking of me that way anymore, she added mentally, glad that he wasn't telepathic. Wiping his eyes with her thumbs, she soothed, "Are you going to be okay?"

[Andrew]

"It's not your fault,"

Andrew slowly sat up, turning to look at her with defeated eyes. As she went on, he just looked won at the grass, feeling more ashamed with each second. He knew what Emma was saying was true. His mother nodded softly. "I never wanted to leave, she knows because she is a mother. Your my baby, my little boy... Me staying here is not your fault. I knew you would become something special. I wanted to watch you grow into a spectacular man..."

"No more," she said, pressing their knuckles to his lips. "You don't have to say anything else. I'm here for you."

Looking from his mother, to Emma, he smiled softly, wiping at his face at the dry tears. It was useless, but it was something he had to do. Something to show them he was done crying. "I love you, Andrew." Looking back to his mom he nodded. "Love you too, mom." Pausing, he looked back to Emma. "I know you are."

"Are you going to be okay?"

He shrugged. "As okay as any man with a broken heart." He replied back in a soft whisper.

[Emma Lawrence]

She wasn't in any position to tell him he wasn't a man or couldn't have a broken heart, because it was only six years ago that she'd been a girl with a broken heart who was convinced she was old enough to call herself a woman. But then again, she didn't want him to make the same mistakes as she did. What if he went looking desperately for love, and ended up like her? No one should have to live through what she did--even if she would do it again in a heartbeat. The experience in the moment was traumatic.

Curious, she sat back down with him. "Answer me this," she requested, keeping a hand on his cheek, "what would you have done if I had said, 'All right, screw Cian, I love you too,'?" Eyeing him, waiting for a response, she added, "You'd have to take care of my two--soon to be three--children. And deal with the divorce courts. And watch your back for an angry ex-husband of mine coming after you. Is that what you pictured, Andrew? Because that would be your reality. You don't want to jeopardize your freedom of being a young adult all for one person. I'd be taking too much away from you. You understand where I'm coming from?"

Not to add insult to injury, but she found herself moving on, looking at the grass. "And I want to apologize if you've ever felt like I've been leading you on. My loyalty and love is with my husband, but you'll always be more than just a student to me. You know that. All my students are my family. I just need to know that this is going to slow down and stop. And that you won't be planting anymore surprise kisses on me." She bristled, raising her brows, in need of confirmation.

[Andrew]

"Answer me this,"

Feeling her hand on his cheek, his eyes rose to look at her. "what would you have done if I had said, 'All right, screw Cian, I love you too,'?" But... that's not what she had said. She had said she didn't feel the same, that she would never leace Cian. Swallowing roughly, he looked away.

"You'd have to take care of my two--soon to be three--children. And deal with the divorce courts. And watch your back for an angry ex-husband of mine coming after you. Is that what you pictured, Andrew? Because that would be your reality. You don't want to jeopardize your freedom of being a young adult all for one person. I'd be taking too much away from you. You understand where I'm coming from?"

All he could do, was go into his imagination and picture the scene she was making. Nodding softly, he cleared his throat. "Yes." He murmured softly. As she went on, he just shook his head. "I just need to know that this is going to slow down and stop. And that you won't be planting anymore surprise kisses on me." Looking up, he couldn't help the bad timing of the bad joke that was slipping from his lips. "Was I that bad of a kisser?" Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "Don't answer that, Emma..." Sighing heavily, he could hear his mother laugh softly in the background. Looking back at her he slowly shook his head once more. "Okay." He sighed once more, getting the courage up to say what needed to be said.

"The thing is, no matter what Emma, you can't stop me from being hurt by this. I already am. Even if I do see where you're coming from. My heart still aches, and I still love you. No amount of time is going to change that. No amount of space, or words, will ever change that." Taking in a deep breath he nodded once, as if to confirm everything. "I'll stop. I won't say again, because you know now, and that's enough for me... Well, not enough... but," He looked down once again, playing with the grass. "It'll do." He shrugged.

[Emma Lawrence]

During her description of the picture he'd be painting for himself had they actually gone through with his master plan, Andrew seemed to be getting more and more tense. She knew he was going to want to refute what she was trying to get across to him, but this had to stop, and she knew she wouldn't be able to deal with herself if she knew she hadn't put her foot down while she had the chance. He was still so young; he had so much life ahead of him. He wasn't ready to settle down with one person, especially not so...fiercely.

"Was I that bad of a kisser?"

But she didn't smile. She didn't move. It wasn't funny. He had insulted her by completely disregarding her own morals and legalities for his own personal pleasure. Emma prayed that he wouldn't be so forceful with other girls. It just...wasn't comfortable. And now she felt like she hadn't done anything about it, even if she had pushed him away and resisted the urge to strike him.

He added feebly, "Don't answer that, Emma..."

"Don't expect me to," she answered, her eyes stony on him, voice like coal. She added, And that's Mrs. Lawrence, to you.

What she hadn't expected was his monologue that followed. "The thing is, no matter what Emma, you can't stop me from being hurt by this. I already am. Even if I do see where you're coming from. My heart still aches, and I still love you. No amount of time is going to change that. No amount of space, or words, will ever change that." Taking in a deep breath he nodded once, as if to confirm everything. "I'll stop. I won't say again, because you know now, and that's enough for me... Well, not enough... but," He looked down once again, playing with the grass. "It'll do."

Composing herself, she let her eyes become soft again. "I know, I can't keep you from feeling anything. And I'm not going to force my Empathy on you unless you ask for it. I'll let you feel whatever you want. But that doesn't change my mind." Tugging on her lip with her teeth, she sighed, shaking her head. "I can't stop you from loving me, either, as much as I'd like to, for your sake. I can imagine what kind of pain you're going through. Rejection is rough. But I'm not going to abandon you. You're still my student all the same. Nothing's going to change in or out of the classroom. You're like a son to me, you know that. You're a friend, even, because you're not child-like anymore."

Emma came closer, sitting beside him, their hips touching, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You can say whatever you need to say. I won't be offended. I want you to find peace. With yourself, with your feelings, and with me." She felt so bad that she wanted to show that she still loved him and kiss his cheek or something, but she also knew she had to keep this professional if she wanted to keep her job. But this place wasn't a job, not anymore. It was home. They were all a family. She wanted to show him that.