when i was a lot younger i had a fluffy black and white cat named Kitty, and she had a v small litter of kittens in my closet. there were only three tiny babies, and i was the Only Person she let touch them. she wouldnt let my mom or dad near her babies. i felt so special i was the Chosen one
Mostly I was vaguely remembering being 5 years old in China and given my first handkerchief and being told that I had to wash it every night so that it’d be clean and dry the next morning. (And being not very good at that task at all. And being secretly happy when we moved to the US soon thereafter that I didn’t have to have handkerchiefs anymore.) So I really wanted our favorite grandpas to be diligent about their handkerchief washing.
Also I wanted to draw Bucky with braids (kind of how I imagined his hair during the motorcycle ride in Advanced Happiness Skills.) Yay Hair Club!
I woke suddenly in the middle of the night, a distinct wetness spreading throughout the sheets. “This was it!” I thought to myself before shaking Justin out his dead like slumber.
“Jay!” I hissed, violently shaking his shoulder. He sat bolt upright, eyes still closed, hair everywhere.
“Wass-gjkdflsafjf;as.” He mumbled. I threw back the covers, throwing a shirt at his face.
“Get up Jay, my water just broke!” He rubbed his eyes furiously, awake and alert now. He turned on his bedside lamp, jumping out of bed. “Jay, honey what are you doing, we don’t have time to stop! We’ve got to move!”
“Baby..” I yanked my t-shirt dress on and froze when I saw his face.“We’ve got to go to the hospital. Now.” I rolled my eyes.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
“Y/N. Stop.” He was snatching up my shoes and my bag, looking around for the keys. “I’ll grab your shoes, just run to the car.” That’s when I looked down at my hands, and then the front of my dress. They were covered in blood. I remember Jay yelling my name, as I stumble backward in shock. A scream I was holding in crawling up my throat. He was picking me up now, dropping everything but the keys, running to the car. Our city was a blur as he sped through the mostly empty street; blowing through every red light and stop sign in the fifteen miles to the hospital. We were screeching to a halt outside the emergency room door.
“HELP! Somebody help! My wife…blood!” He was shaking, sobbing for someone to come running. I had never seen him like this. “Y/N, someone’s coming right now. It’ll be okay, I’ll make this okay. We’re going to be okay. Our family is going to be okay.” He kissed my forehead as he reluctantly put me down on the gurney with the help of the night nurses. Running after us before another nurse stopped him from coming into the O.R. The last image I saw before the door shut was of him sinking down to the floor, head in his hands.
*two weeks later*
I sat staring at the rain hitting the windows in our living room. Not moving. Not thinking. At some point Justin had come in and started a fire, and draped a blanket across my shoulders. We hadn’t spoken in two weeks. Since…since it happened. Well…he spoke, I just couldn’t summon the energy into responding. I know he lost a child too, but I just didn’t have enough energy to make both of us feel better. He was better off without me around as dead weight. I knew it. He just didn’t know it yet. I felt the weight of the couch shift. Every hour or so Jay would come in and sit, not really saying anything. Just…being.
“Y/N?” I blinked, I even moved to say something, but couldn’t make the words come out. “Talk to me.” I turned to look at him. His face was splotchy, tears in his eyes. It looked like…well like he had been sobbing for days. “I lost my little girl too.” He choked. I broke down there at the end of the sofa, Justin moved to wrap his arms around me, I shrunk instinctively.
“Don-” He looked wounded.
“ I see her. I see her, but I never met her. Sh-she looks like you, has your eyes, my nose-” I sobbed. I wrapped my arms around myself protectively.
“I see her too.” He whispered, his hands trembling.
“You’ll be better off with someone else. Someone who isn’t so down all the time. A woman who can make you happy. Who can give you the baby you want.” I moved to turn back when he grabbed my shoulders.
“Y/N, I want this. I want you. Our baby. A baby who has you for a Mom. I won’t settle for anything else.” I opened my mouth. Surprised. “If that means we continue to cry, but we cry together, if that means we have to go visit our child’s grave with our next baby, then we will. But I am not giving up on our family. On you. I love you.” He said firmly, tears streaking his cheeks as he continued to talk. “Just promise that you won’t shut me out?”
“Okay.” I whispered. He pulled me into his chest, laying back on the sofa, pulling the blanket tight around the both of us. That’s where we stayed all evening, not talking. Just…being.
I am very well aware that this hurts so much right now. Like, it hurts like hell and I’m speechless for how sorry I am, for him, for them, for us. But in all honesty, @Louis tweeting is nothing we shouldn’t have expected. What’s new about it? He won’t talk, he won’t act, so they’ll make “him” tweet! Isn’t this a painful flashback?
I assume we’ve been so shocked because we were basing our expectations on yesterday’s events and things seemed to go so well. Probably too well, indeed. I have never expected the birth to go smoothly and I was positively taken aback by the first 32 hours. We knew this is a war and we knew there was no reason to believe it was already over. So, ok, have “Louis” tweet ridiculous and obvious celebration tweets, it’ll be okay as long as the most he has to physically do is going shopping for sunglasses with a bracelet on his wrist.
I do undertsand the sorrow and the hurt and the rage, but, please, let’s stay lucid. This doesn’t make the story any more real, if anything it makes it even faker. All the details we were so sure of before are still 100% there, they’re still completely valid! And not only about Louis not being the father of this child(?), but about Louis intending to stay closeted, too. Please.
This is sadly a part of the process they/we have to deal with. I do hope they counterattack with something HUGE, though. And that certain people (random, casual people) will be ruined 3 times more than how they’re working to ruin Harry and Louis.