It was foolish of you to think nothing could sour your good mood. It really was. But then you'd been avoiding the one -- well, two -- things capable of just that. Eddie had dropped you home after school with the promise of calling you later to talk more about Hellfire. You were practically counting down the seconds.
Once you get inside, those two aforementioned 'things' were chatting away in the kitchen in hushed tones. No sign of your dad yet. You sigh, figuring you were going to have to face them alone.
You could go upstairs to your room and avoid them. But honestly, part of you wanted to confront them, especially now that your dad approved of your relationship. It didn't matter what your mom or Jason thought now. Not to you, your dad, Eddie. Their opinions only mattered to themselves.
They were sat at the breakfast bar when you enter the kitchen, moving to get some water from the chilled carafe in the refrigerator. They glance up at you, their hushed words unsurprisingly ceasing the moment they see you. "Oh, don't stop on my account. I'm sure I can guess all the charming things you were saying about me."
"The world doesn't revolve around you, you know that right?" Your mom heaves out, glaring at you with a vile look about her. Jason, her hapless little lap dog, smirks a little and mirrors the expression of his matriarch. He apparently didn't have a mind of his own anymore.
"Oh?" You snort humorlessly, turning to face them and cocking your head to one side. "So, what were you talking about?"
She has the good grace to look ashamed of herself, though it's fleeting. Her mouth drops open with stuttering excuses but you simply roll your eyes. "My point exactly. Do feel free to be the bigger person and actually talk about it to my face. Or are you too much of a damn coward?"
"Don't talk to mom like that!" Jason explodes, slamming a palm against the marble counter-top.
You laugh; a taunting and bitter sound to your own ears. "Or what? What the fuck are you going to do, Jason?" You'd had just about enough of both of them. Their little gossip sessions, the whispers behind your back, the resentment they housed for both you and your boyfriend. "I'm sick of the both of you thinking you're better than me. I have had more love in the past few days from the boy you so vehemently hate than I ever got from either of you. My so-called 'family'..."
Debbie avoids eye contact with you entirely at that, jutting out her chin in indignance and setting her thin lips into a hard line. Jason was the opposite, all glaring eyes and grimacing mouth. He was pissed.
"I get it. He's poor, dirty trailer trash." You mock their expressions before rolling your eyes again. "So fucking what? He makes me happy. And while I know that's something neither of you want, it's tough shit because he's not going anywhere."
"Of course we want you to be happy--" Your mom begins to say but you could have smell the bullshit a mile away.
"Yeah, right!" You set the water back into the refrigerator, suddenly no longer thirsty, and fold your arms over your chest. "Not once have you ever cared about me. Jason, sure. Your star child, the poster boy for the Carver family. I'm sure he'll marry the perfect girl - the daughter you always wanted - and you can forget all about me. So why does it matter so much who I'm with?"
She stammers over her words again and you mock her for it.
"Enough. I've had enough. The only reason I can even begin to comprehend is simply because you don't want me to be happy. Because it's not that you don't care about me, it's that you actually hate me. Why, mom? What was it that I did that made you hate me so much?" Your voice cracks a little and you curse it. Saying all of this out loud was harder than you anticipated - realising it was true was even worse. "Was it not graduating? Was it dating Charlie Munson's son? Was it being fucking born a girl?! What was it, mom?!"
Your voice crescendos with her reluctance to respond or even dignify you with eye contact. Jason moves to stand, furious at your shouting but your moms hand stops him as it lays over his forearm. "Give us a minute, honey." She tells him quietly and he acquiesces instantly, huffing a breath through flared nostrils before stalking out of the room.
Eyes bulging from how hard you were glowering at your mother and chest heaving in anger, you wait for her to talk. "Well?!" You encourage after a long pause of silence. She sits still, hands knotted in front of herself as she regards you with cool impassiveness.
"I don't hate you. Don't be so ridiculous." Her voice is monotone, emotionless as the woman it came from. "I just... Don't know how to love you. That's all."
Wow. Holy fuck.
'That's all'?!
The revelation spoken so coldly is like a slap to the face. You're equal parts wounded and winded by it, lips agape in your shock as you struggle to get air into your lungs. Your own mother didn't 'know how to love you'.
It takes a long time for you to respond and she doesn't seem affected by your hurt reaction at all.
Mouth closing, you swallow the thickness of unshed tears in your throat. No way would she see you cry. She didn't deserve it. The mixture of fury and sorrow pulsing throughout you was a warring concoction that sent your mind into a blur. You wanted to scream and shout and cry and forget it all. It was the kind of sentence that would sit with you forever, whispering life into your insecurities the moment you dared to let your guard down.
"I wish..." You begin, voice trembling and you're not sure if it's in anger or sadness. You step closer to the opposing side of the counter to her, setting your palms flat against it. You level her with your gaze, hoping to show her just how much you meant you words. "I wish I could trade your life to bring Eddie's mom back. Because at least she knew how to love her family. At least she showed them; no matter how little money they had, no matter what problems they faced, she loved them because it's not fucking hard to love your own child. It's not a chore, like you pretend it to be." Your lip trembles traitorously. Debbie's eyes widen a fraction and her jaw tenses but she's otherwise unfazed. "I just wanted a mom. A mom that loved both her children the same. That's all. But I guess that was too much to ask, huh?"
"I-" She begins, but you simply don't have the energy to listen to her anymore. You were about to cry and refused to let her see you do it.
"Save it. I'm done." Shaking your head, you pull back from the counter. "Guess you only had enough love for one of your kids, hm? I was just the unlucky one."
She's quiet as you leave. Good.
You hadn't even heard the front door open, but as you leave the room, your dad is there. He's stood in his pressed suit after a long day at work, brow creased and sympathy filling his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak but you shake your head, a silent plea for him to not say anything.
He doesn't.
You don't know how much of that he heard, but you couldn't handle the pitying expression he wore. Tears blur your vision and you turn from him so you can head up the stairs and lock yourself away in your room to cry it out. Winston was snoozing in a flop of yellow fur as you enter, your presence waking him. At first he wags his tail and barks a few times.
Then he watches as you shut the door behind you and collapse against it, knees buckling and sobs wracking your delicate frame. You sit on the ground and cry into your hands, knees bent and tucked beneath your chin. A wet nose nudges your hand and you drop them to greet your puppy, forcing a smile through the endless torment of tears. "Hey, buddy." You say and he laps at your cheek, doing his best to absorb your salty cries. He whines and his claws scrape against your arms as he jumps up, desperate for your attentions.
Pulling him onto your lap, he cuddles in against your chest, pressing his little canine head into your neck. You stroke him to soothe him, to let him know you're okay. "I'll be fine, baby boy. Grandma's just a fucking sociopathic maniac. " Lids squeeze shut as you fight off a sob that ends up winning. "I hate her, Winston. I hate her so much."
--------------------------------------------
"Are you sure you don't want me to come over?" Brenda asks through the phone after a full hour of bitching about your mom to her. She was equally as dismayed by what your mom had said to you but thankfully managed to calm you down once you'd taken the hall phone hostage to call her. Winston was happily snoozing in your lap as you sat cross-legged with your back to the door still.
You could have moved. It just felt a little more safe sat against the door, keeping everyone out.
"I'm okay now. Thanks, B. You're the best." You sigh and nestle the phone between your ear and shoulder so you can lift Winston up for a cuddle. "I think Eddie is calling soon so I'll talk to him and then go to sleep before anything else can go wrong."
A humorless laugh isn't met by the same from her, but rather is met with a pitying tut. She was worried about you. You knew that. But she certainly knew how to take your mind off of the bad stuff. "Speaking of.. How are things with lover boy? Couldn't help but notice you didn't make it to our lunch date today..."
You blush. "Sorry..." After pressing a kiss to Winston's head, you set him back in your lap and take the phone in hand once again. "Things are actually great. So far. Almost too great; I keep expecting something bad to happen again."
"Hm, well maybe if you keep expecting it to happen, it will. Live in the moment, baby. Enjoy yourself - Lord knows you deserve it."
She was right of course. You should enjoy yourself more instead of living in dread for something to come along and fuck it all up. "All I know is I'm happy right now. Despite all the shit with my family, I'm still happy. Because of him."
"Then that's all that matters. Focus on what makes you happy and go from there." She suggests and you nod along even though you know she can't see you. "I should hit the hay, I'm exhausted. You going to be okay?"
"Sure, B. I'll be fine. See you tomorrow at school." The dried tears upon your cheeks that hadn't been replaced for some time now would have to be evidence enough that you were okay. Your heart still beat but it was limp and languid in your chest, heavy with the burden of parental rejection.
She hangs up and you set the phone back in the handset but don't bother to take it back into the hall yet. You look at it for a long while, Winston nibbling at your hands as you debate calling Eddie first. You wanted to hear his voice. No, not wanted. Needed.
Like it was the only thing that might really soothe you.
As if sensing the desire, the phone rings and you pick it up instantly to him breathing on the other end, waiting to see who answered in case it was Jason or your mom no doubt. Wait. I know what his breathing sounds like?!
God, I really am whipped.
"Eddie?" No greetings, just a desperation to hear him. You wished he was here. Tucked up in your bed, hiding away from the world in your own little bubble of comfort.
"What's wrong?" He'd noted the strain to your voice the moment you spoke. The tautness of it, thick with long shed tears. Tears soon to be replaced with fresh ones the very second his voice filtered into your eagerly awaiting ears.
A choked sob is your response. You couldn't even say it. With Brenda it had been easy enough, but with Eddie you seemed to lose yourself. Lose the charade that you were fine. In truth, it had cut you so deep you weren't sure you could ever recover. "Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. Everything is gonna be okay. Take a deep breath, I'm right here when you're ready to talk." He soothes as you sniffle around your crying, which rouses Winston from his sleep once again.
"Do you want me to come over? I can be there in like 10 minutes if you need me." He offers and you inhale a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself.
"No, it's --- Don't worry about it. I don't want to bother you. Just talking to you will be fine." You wish you'd said yes, but it was already late and he sounded exhausted enough as it was. "It's... I-- It was my mom. We had a fight." Understatement of the century.
He sighs heavily and you hear his bed creak as he leans back against the pillows to talk to you. "Should'a known. You want to talk about it?"
"Honestly? I don't think I do right now. Think you could just... Take my mind off of it?" You find yourself toying with the cord of the phone and pressing the speaker as close to the side of your face as you could. Like it might manifest him into the room. "Tell me about your evening. Hellfire. Anything at all."
He grunts as he shifts and you can imagine him settling into bed with his phone nestled against the curls at the side of his face. His eyes all big and brown and sleepy. His lazy grin as he listens to the sweet, dulcet tones of your voice.
Even just that helped heal your heart a little.
"Well, shit. I don't really have much to tell." He admits, pausing for a beat. "I got back and worked on the new campaign for a little while. Played some guitar. Smelt my pillow like a fucking creep because your perfume was all over it."
The last part makes you giggle despite yourself. "Perv." You tease, surprised you're even capable of joking right now, but that was the effect Eddie seemed to have on you these days. Bringing out your very best self. Somehow able to cheer you up even in the darkest of times.
"Yeah, and you fuckin' love it." His voice was all husky and low from fatigue. You drop your head back against the door and move to stand, carrying the phone over to the bed as you lie down on it.
"True. I do." You smile and wish he could see how he'd warmed your heart so much already. "So tell me more about this game. I want to be an expert come Friday so I can surprise all your dorky little friends."
He laughs at your insult of his nearest and dearest, knowing wholeheartedly that it wasn't meant with the same malice it might have been once before. You'd grown so much since then that your insults didn't hold the same weight to them anymore. You weren't sure that was a bad thing, either. You could be ferocious still when necessary, but the desire to be mindlessly mean was just... Gone. Dissipated into nothing.
"Oh, baby, I don't think you got enough time for that tonight." He taunts and you can hear the smirk on his lips without needing to see it. "I got my player handbook here, I can bring it to school tomorrow so you can get the basics?"
"Sounds good."
"Perfect." He sighs and you roll onto your side, Winston curled up in a cuddly little ball at your feet. "What are you doing right now? I wish you were here with me."
"You are so obsessed with me. God. Get a life." You say like you weren't deeply yearning for the exact same thing.
"Only if you agree to spend that life with me." Oh, he was a smooth motherfucker, wasn't he? It had your heart screaming and bouncing off the walls of your chest cavity. Your pause to collect yourself is misunderstood by him though and there's worry to his voice when you don't immediately throw yourself into the idea. "Sweetheart? You okay?"
"Yeah, sorry, I-- Kinda caught me off guard there." You admit. "But not in a bad way. Promise."
"Okay, good. Had me worried for a sec there that I'd have to go back to five-knuckle-shuffling my way through life." He exhales dramatically but his words make you laugh. Actually laugh.
"Gross. But glad to know you're only using me for sex."
"I would never!" He tells you. "Although... It is a very nice bonus to our little arrangement. We should have been dating way sooner."
"Yeah, but we hated each other, remember?" Did you, though? Was it ever hate? Or lust, disguised as such?
"Right. Of course." He taunts as if reading your mind. You smile into the handset and pull a cushion in front of you to hug to your chest. It helped. Not much. But enough to salve your wounded heart. "Are you tired? I can let you sleep?"
"I am, but talking to you is making me feel a lot better. I might end up falling asleep but I don't want you to go just yet." Never ever hang up the phone. You wanted to say, but that definitely would have made you look so unbelievably weak and clingy.
"Now who's the obsessed one?" His accusation was light and you knew he'd be grinning like the little shit he was. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."
"Good."
And he doesn't. He talks to you about his ideas for the new campaign, a short introductory one for your joining of the club. He talks to you about new music he was writing, his plans to take you out at the weekend, his ideas for your character in Hellfire.
You just listen. Listening to him was the easiest thing in the world because it was all you wanted to do; especially tonight. His voice was the hug your heart needed, wrapping it up and comforting it until it felt a little less broken.
By the time he's finished, finally noting how labored your breathing had become, he smiles to himself. You'd finally fallen asleep. Oh, how he wished he could be there with you. Wished he could hold you close until you never had to feel hurt by anyone again. He didn't know what your mom had done this time, but when you'd answered the phone so desperate to hear his voice, a part of him had cracked.
He didn't need to know what Debbie had done. All he needed to do was cheer you up and make it a little easier for you to swallow. So that's what he did. Whatever he could to make you happy. And as he reaches up and switches off the lamp, mumbling sleepily into the phone, he knows that the very act had now become his life's purpose. To make you happy. For as long as you would have him.
"Goodnight, beautiful. Sweet dreams."
-------------------------------------------------
(A/N : I have no idea how to play DND btw. I've been trying to learn the basics for this but if anything is wrong then don't come for me. I'm trying lmfao.
Also, Brenda saying about expecting bad things to happen is a dig at you guys thinking I'm going to be mean to them. Don't speak it into existence or I'll have no choice but to ruin their fun ;)
<3 )