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BEAU

Tapping my feet against the hardwood floors, I wait for the doctor to collect himself in front of me and take in my surroundings. The office is sleek and modern, with white walls and dark wooden floors. The large desk against the wall is also white and minimal in accessories, almost empty except for the large MacBook desktop. The windowsill is lined with plants that I'm sure the secretary out front waters every day. The air conditioning is always turned just a little too cold, making goosebumps appear under my tattoos.

I'd seen a couple of so called "experts" before coming to this office and the cold, impersonal atmosphere is actually what drew me in. I didn't need someone to pretend we were friends, I just needed someone to help me stop being so fucked up.

"So you went to the funeral?" Dr. Dex, my shrink, says, taking a seat in the black leather armchair across from the sofa I'm sitting on. His name is actually Dr. Williams, but his first name is Dexter and Dr. Dex annoyed him at first. So naturally, it stuck.

Dr. Dex is an older guy, probably about the same age as Rocco or my father. He's clean shaven and keeps his hair trimmed perfectly, his light hair matched by his light blue eyes. I was sure the middle aged mom waiting for her appointment almost had a fit the first day I walked through the waiting room doors. I don't really fit in with this crowd, I guess. Smirking, I consider the possible rant she went on when she got home to her husband - how dare the office see someone like me?

I nod, drumming my fingers on my knee. Anticipation builds as I wait to tell him about my plan to see Emma again but I try to be patient. It's one of the things I'm working on. One of many.

Dex shifts in his seat, adjusting his notebook on his lap, even though I've never seen him write anything down. "How was it?"

"It was a funeral," I mutter slowly, smug expression on my face. "How do you think it was?"

Dex nods at me, not taking my bait, and patiently waits for me to continue.

I sigh, knowing I've run out of distraction tactics after a couple years of working with him. "It was sad, obviously." I remind myself not to focus on just myself - the funeral wasn't about me, anyways. "Emma's grandmother was a great lady."

The day I met her, Peggy scolded me about my tattoos in the way grandmothers are supposed to, making me explain each one. She didn't know me well enough to act like I wasn't good enough for her granddaughter, even if it was true, and for a minute, I could pretend that I really was good enough.

It was the day I learned how Emma lost her parents, how she ended up in the situation to accept my deal. The deal. The one that changed everything.

While seeing the sadness in her eyes talking about her past almost killed me, I was still selfishly grateful for everything that brought us together.

"How was Emma?" The psychologist seems to read my thoughts and I'm brought back to the present.

I squint my eyes at Dex suspiciously. While it might seem like a great segway into our upcoming date, I know that's not what he means. Determined to show improvement, I hold back my excited energy. "She was holding it together but I could tell she was sad. Her grandma was the only person she had left," Guilt at how I let things end creeps through me and I drop my gaze.

I've gone over it a thousand times in my head and each time she turns to leave, I find something else I could've said to make her stay. If only I hadn't been such a fucking idiot.

Dex shakes his head. "Remember what we've talked about, though, Beau. Family is more than just the people you share blood with," His eyes remind me of a deeper meaning but I turn away from his inquisitive gaze.

I'm not in the mood to get into the family stuff today.  Not delving into my shitty upbringing or how I should probably reach out to the guys from MisFits after how I left things. Instead, I nod my head, picking at the black color on my nails. "Yeah,"

Dex raises his hands in the air, a smirk on his face. "So that's it? All this talk about Emma over the years and that's all I get?"

I feel my lips turn up at the corners involuntarily at his invitation. "She had her freckles out," I mumble, those damn things the only thing I can see in my mind. Seeing her brought up so many feelings but I can't stop thinking about those freckles.

Dex cocks his head in confusion and I continue, painting him picture of the prettiest girl I know.

"When we first met, she hid them - she's got like, a thousand freckles on her face and she hated them. But I loved them the first time I saw them," I mumble, still reluctant to be completely open about such touchy stuff with anyone. "Anyway, she had them out at the funeral. It made me happy to see,"

Dex nods, a strand of blond hair, similar to the color of Jace - my former lead singers, falling from the perfect coif on his head in front of his eyes.

"We're going for coffee," I admit, running my hand over my hair anxiously. How the hell did I get so lucky? God knows I didn't do anything to deserve a second chance.

"There it is," Dex chuckles knowingly. "What did we say about going slow, remember?"

I shake my head, confidence making me puff out my chest. "She asked me," I inform him.

I take a sip of the water Dex always keeps out on his glass coffee table and wait for his response. He nods again, "Even so. A lot can change in four years - you don't want to go into this with any expectations,"

My good mood deflates, my mind had already gone over the numerous ways our date could go - the majority of them ending negatively. "It's stupid but," I ignore his look when I dismiss my emotion as stupid and continue on, "I'm more nervous than excited. She deserves so much better than me, what if she knows that? If I was a good guy, wouldn't I tell her, or something?" It seems wrong to want her to want me, given everything I've put her through.

Dexter leans forward, clasping his hands together. "Emma deserves so much better than how you treated her, that's all." He corrects me and pauses to let his words sink in. "This is the same thing you always struggle with, Beau - you are good enough, and you deserve love. You will only continue to self-sabotage until you can accept that," He leans back and looks me over apprehensively.

No matter how many times we have this conversation, the look in Dex's eyes never changes. He doesn't look at me with pity, like some charity case, he says the words like they're just a fact. He's straight forward and tells me like it is when I fuck up, but he doesn't judge me for the stupid shit I do. It's weird, even a couple of years later.

Old feelings threaten to boil over so I put the thoughts from my mind, focusing on Emma. "What if it's different between us?" I wonder out loud, downplaying my nerves unconvincingly.

Dex sees through me, I'm sure, but doesn't call me out on it. "Would that be a bad thing?"

I snort, "If it means she doesn't want to be with me, yeah."

He removes his thin framed glasses and rubs his eyes. Once his glasses are back in place, he asks, "Have you ever considered that you may not want to be with her?"

I shake my head at him, a laugh escaping my lips. "Yeah right," I think if I was going to move on from her, I would have already. I've spent years eating my heart out every time the girl modeled for another campaign. It killed me not knowing how she was doing, what she was doing - who she was doing it with. Every fucking thing reminded me of her and it never stopped, no matter what girl Fiona set me up with or how many hookups I indulged in. If it wasn't her, it was empty - a feeling I'd grown used to over the years.

"It could happen," Dex shrugs. "Four years is a long time, people change. She might not be the same Emma - are you prepared to deal with that?" His tone is serious and I know he's referring to my little habit.

"I've been sober for two years, Dex." The sobriety chip weighs heavy in the pocket of my leather jacket. As one of my main resources in getting clean, Dex spent hours working with me every time I wanted to grab a bottle, so I guess it makes sense that he's skeptical. I would be too, if I had been the one talking me down all those nights.

"Yes, but you have a tour coming up and you're talking with Emma again." He doesn't have to say anything else for me to remember the last tour I went on with MisFits. One that crashed and burned because of my shit shortly after I fucked things up with Emma.

"I'll be fine." I insist, perhaps more to myself than to him. It's just a tour across the US and without Jace encouraging my drinking and Fiona breathing down my neck, I'll be fine, I'm sure of it.

And as far as Emma goes - it's my Emma, how much could really have changed?

Clinging to that thought, I wrap up my appointment and take the elevator to the small lobby of the office building. I hop into my car and turn off the street, in the direction of the recording studio to meet Rey. Without thinking, I begin humming Emma's song, feeling like things might finally be falling back into place.

Hi loves! Looks like Bemma is back!

What do we think of that ship name?

I'm so excited to get back into their story & I hope you guys are too!

Some people said they wanted more Beau POV and I heard that... more to come in this story!

Let me know what you think xx