#rcsechild

[erineverly]

#           𝒓𝒄𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅           ;           continued from here.

❝   axl?   ❞   erin  calls  out  for  what  feels  like  the  hundredth  time  even  as  her  throat  begins  to  close  in  on  her,  dainty  hand  carefully  pushing  the  door  to  the  master  bedroom  ajar.  she  hesitates,  lingers  in  the  threshold  and  struggles  to  calm  down  her  racing  heart.  she’s  beyond  terrified  of  what  might  await  her  inside.  it’s  three  in  the  morning.  the  clock  is  still  ticking  in  the  distance.  tick.  tick.  tick.  and  even  children  know  that  all  horrible  things  always  happen  at  three  in  the  morning.  this  house  smells  like  death  —  the  thought  crosses  her  mind  involuntarily  and  refuses  to  leave.  the  air  is  stale  and  there’s  something  dark,  sinister  lingering  in  it.   ❝   @rcsechild?  i’m  coming  in,  okay?   ❞   maybe  he’s  asleep,  like  most  people  would  be  at  this  ungodly  hour,  and  that’s  why  he’s  not  answering,  and  she’s  just  so  paranoid.  

but  as  she  steps  inside,  she  finds  the  room’s  been  abandoned.  much  like  the  living  room,  the  dining  room,  kitchen,  pantry,  downstairs  bathroom…  pale  moonlight  pouring  in  through  the  tall  windows  being  the  only  source  of  light  because  she  hasn’t  yet  mustered  enough  courage  to  turn  on  the  bedside  lamp.  large  shadows  dancing  between  moonbeams,  pretending  to  be  what  they’re  not  and  sending  chills  down  her  spine.  it’s  like  a  dream,  she  thinks,  a  nightmare.  everything’s  so  vivid  and  real,  and  yet  it  almost  feels  like  she’s  standing  beside  her  own  body,  watching  it  unfold  while  having  absolutely  no  control  over  what  happens  next.  she’s  growing  numb  because  she’s  had  this  feeling  all  night,  keeping  her  wide  awake  —  not  that  she’d  manage  to  sleep  otherwise,  she  doesn’t  remember  the  last  time  she  got  more  than  two  hours  of  undisturbed  rest.  a  voice  in  the  back  of  her  head  telling  her  to  go  check  on  her  husband.  legally,  he’s  still  her  husband.  their  lawyers  have  already  drawn  up  divorce  papers,  but  they  remain  unsigned.  at  least  on  her  end.  why?  she  can’t  explain  it. 

pale  blue  eyes  scan  the  area  reluctantly,  having  already  adjusted  to  the  dark.  what  is  she  looking  for?  a  gun?  a  noose?  traces  of  blood?  his  feet  sticking  from  the  closet?  but  the  room  is  empty.  the  only  thing  that  she  finds  is  an  envelope,  and  for  a  brief  second  it  almost  feels  like  relief.  that  is  until  her  brain  reminds  her  that  most  people  who  commit  suicide  usually  leave  goodbye  notes…  her  hands  begin  to  shake  as  she  picks  up  the  envelope  and  turns  it  over.  she  lifts  the  unsealed  flap  and  pulls  out  a  single  folded  sheet  of  plain  white  paper.  she  doesn’t  really  want  to  read  it.  part  of  her  is  tempted  to  rip  it  apart,  stand  up  and  run  for  the  door,  never  look  back  again.  but  before  she  can  stop  herself,  her  fingers  are  already  unfolding  the  paper,  gaze  landing  on  familiar  handwriting  as  her  body  sinks  into  the  mattress.  she  reads  it,  every  single  word.  once,  twice,  three  times…  over  and  over  and  over  again.  the  tremor  in  her  hands  increases  and  she  has  to  lower  them,  place  them  in  her  lap  to  stop  the  letter  from  flapping  about  in  front  of  her  eyes,  giving  her  an  even  bigger  headache.  she  smooths  it  out,  smearing  droplets  of  water  across  the  paper.  water?  but  —  she  begins  to  hyperventilate,  not  even  realizing  that  there’s  tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  the  ink  spreads  and  words  blur  as  more  teardrops  roll  down  her  face  and  fall  onto  the  letter.

for  the  last  goodbye…  he’s  killed  himself.  he  must  have  finally  done  it.  that’s  why  he’s  not  answering  her.  she’s  come  here  but  it’s  too  late.  it  dawns  on  her  all  at  once,  that  feeling  she’s  been  having…  a  person  knows  what  the  other  half  of  their  soul  departs  —  he’s  gone.  she  so  selfishly  left  him,  a  broken,  suffering  shell  of  a  man,  blamed  it  all  on  him  and  he’s  ended  it.  it’s  all  her  fault.  she  couldn’t  be  the  wife  that  he  deserved,  couldn’t  love  him  how  he  needed  to  be  loved.  she’s  read  countless  of  letters  written  by  him,  but  not  one  has  ever  sounded  this  final.  she  folds  it  and  tries  to  put  it  back  in  the  envelope,  but  her  hands  are  trembling  too  much  and  all  she  manages  to  do  is  cut  the  pad  of  her  fingertip  on  the  sharp  edge.  she  gives  up,  crumples  it  and  tucks  it  into  the  pocket  of  her  jeans.  her  mind’s  switched  off,  and  her  body’s  acting  on  its  own  accord,  moving  almost  automatically.  her  legs  are  weak,  trembling  as  she  stands  up,  as  if  they  were  made  of  jello.  he’s  here  somewhere…  and  suddenly  she  thinks  she  knows  exactly  where.  the  one  room  that  she  hasn’t  set  a  foot  in  since  that  halloween  night.  shiloh  or  willow’s  nursery.  and  god  does  she  dread  going  there… 

[ofsweetchild]

웃 + “You look just like her.”

        `  ❀   ‚    /    FROM MY MUSE’S YOUNGER SELF    /    (  @rcsechild  )

         A  BICYCLE  COMES  TO  A  FAIRLY  GENTLE  STOP  in front of miss stevenson’s porch, sending tiny pebbles flying across the front yard as the familiar, boyish voice fills the air. it can barely be heard over the uproar of the small dog’s cheerful, obnoxious yapping and yet it’s still enough to have two cornflower blue hues flicking up to his face. instantly filling with nothing but sheer ADORATION, a hint of disbelief lancing right through. it’s a gigantic surprise to see BILLY around at this time, minutes before the sun will set and another summer night begin. “HEY ! look who’s here ! look ! go give bill a kiss !” honey-sweet giggles spilling from erin’s lips as her fingers uncurl, letting go of the pink collar. the puppy wastes no time and rushes down the stairs ( that seem twice her size ) and straight into the boy’s arms. licking his ankle, tail wagging — it’s so heartwarming that the curly-haired brunette begins to worry about her chest’s wellbeing … it’s ready to burst !

         even as stunned as she is, she doesn’t hesitate and pushes herself up to her feet. chasing after her dog, she runs to her BEST FRIEND and wraps her dainty arms around his neck. a brief albeit warming hug, one that welcomes his soul home. her hair smacking both of their faces, light smell of strawberry-scented shampoo enveloping them. “w-what ?” giggling, she pulls back and glances down at her dog who’s still barking happily and pawing at billy’s leg. dark eyebrows disappearing beneath evenly cut bangs as surprise paints the girl’s face. soft smile brimming at ( what she believes is ) the unexpected compliment, cheeks warming up. “i look just like her ? just like who ? like my dog ? oh, thank you so much, billy ! that’s so sweet of you,” she coos jokingly, eyes crinkling at the corners. she can’t help but beam at the redhead — he makes her worries disappear so effortlessly every time he shows up in front of her house. the sweetest surprise. “now … tell me all about these similarities ! we both have tails and fluffy ears and black noses, huh ?” 

[erineverly]

♡       ❛     𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭  𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝  𝐨’  𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞…     ❫       :       @rcsechild  ,

“He’s so — beautiful,” the curly-haired brunette breathes, marveling at the baby who’s lying on the soft blanket beside her. Sebastian Shiloh Rose. They brought him home less than a week ago, and Erin still hasn’t gotten used to the surreal feeling of having him around. Each time her pale blue eyes land on him, on his tiny features and fragile body, she tears up a little. He’s so helpless and vulnerable, so small that neither the newborn clothes piling up in his closet nor the size N diapers that they’ve stocked up on fit him. “Do you think he’ll have your eyes?” Thinking out loud, it’s still too early to take any serious guesses as all babies are born with blue eyes, and Sebastian’s still remain closed most of the time anyway, but she’s most certainly allowed to daydream. “Hi, baby boy. Hi. Are you waking up?” She coos, picking up one of her dark ringlets and using the very tip of it to tickle her son’s nose. He’s still getting used to this brand new world that surrounds him, to all the bright lights and noises and smells, and yet… He’s already so perfect. “Do you have any idea how long we’ve waited for you?” She murmurs, letting her hair tumble over her shoulder before leaning forward once more and using a single fingertip to gently caress the boy’s downy cheek. His skinny legs kicking faintly, fists flying up in the air, and although she knows better than to believe he understands exactly what she’s telling him, she still convinces herself that he’s actually listening to her voice, responding to it in the only way he can — by moving his skinny legs and arms even if just the slightest bit. Unable to imagine a more perfect moment as her pale blue eyes flicker up to meet her husband’s emerald greens, Erin quietly inquires, “Do you think we should give him a bath? A real bath?” They’ve been holding off, clueless about all the when’s and how’s, terrified of accidentally hurting him, restoring to using baby wipes and damp washcloths. And although he naturally smells amazing, just like all babies do, Erin’s beginning to think that a bath could be both calming and comforting for him.

[erineverly]

❝   ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  captain  has  turned  on  the  seatbelt  sign  as  we  make  our  final  approach  to  the  indianapolis  airport.  please,  make  sure  your  seat  backs  and  tray-tables  are  in  their  full,  upright  position.  your  carry-on  luggage  must  be  stowed  underneath  the  seat  in  front  of  you.  the  local  time  is  nine  thirteen  in  the  morning,  and  the  temperature  is  a  chilly  thirty-six  degrees  with  light  snow.  thank  you  for  flying  united  airlines  and  happy  thanksgiving,   ❞   one  of  the  flight  attendants  heralds  over  the  intercom  as  the  plane  begins  to  descend  slowly  out  of  the  clouds.  her  gentle  voice  combined  with  the  customary  ding  of  the  seatbelt  sign  illuminating  quickly  pulls  erin’s  attention  from  the  colorful  magazine  that  she’s  been  reading.  she  closes  it  almost  instantly  and  slips  it  into  the  seat  pocket  in  front  of  her,  her  eyes  lighting  up  with  happiness  and  excitement  as  she  can  barely  wait  to  be  home.

far  below,  there’s  acres  and  acres  of  fields,  lightly  dusted  with  snow,  and  small  dark  dots  and  swirls  that  after  a  moment  reveal  themselves  as  houses  and  roads.  it  looks  so  beautiful,  erin  thinks  to  herself  before  turning  her  head  to  the  side  to  smile  at  the  older  redhead.   ❝   axl?   ❞   she  whispers,  instinctively  reaching  for  one  of  her  husband’s  hands  as  she  wants  to  cling  to  him  in  one  way  or  another  when  they  touch  down.  she’s  never  truly  managed  to  overcome  her  fear  of  flying,  but  now  seated  in  the  middle,  between  her  boys,  with  axl  on  her  right  in  the  aisle  seat  and  sebastian  beside  the  window,  erin  does  feel  somewhat  safe…  or  rather  less  nervous  than  usual.   ❝   you  have  to  put  your  seatbelt  on,  honey,   ❞   she  coos  in  a  sing-song  voice,  unable  to  disguise  her  giddiness  as  her  fingers  squeeze  his  own.  this  is  undoubtedly  the  happiest  she’s  ever  been.  a  warm  smile  tugging  at  her  lips  as  she  glances  at  her  son,  sleeping  soundly  with  his  head  in  her  lap.  her  scarf  turned  into  a  makeshift  pillow.   ❝   gosh,  i  hate  to  be  the  one  to  wake  him  up.  he  looks  like  a  little  angel.  our  baby  boy.   ❞   murmuring  softly  as  she  affectionately  caresses  her  son’s  cheek,  she  knows  how  much  he  dislikes  being  stirred  awake  so  she  makes  sure  to  be  extra  loving  during  the  process.

❝   little  love.  wake  up,  little  love,   ❞   erin  whispers,  dark  curls  tickling  his  face  as  she  leans  in  to  plant  a  soft  kiss  on  his  shoulder.   ❝   wake  up  and  look  where  we  are.   ❞   the  plane  banks  a  little  and  continues  its  descent,  the  silhouettes  of  the  buildings  more  define  now,  fields  replaced  by  urban  architecture,  the  lights  of  I-70  shimmering.  after  a  moment,  the  landing  gear  comes  to  life  with  a  low  hum.   ❝   and  guess  what?  it’s  snowing.   ❞   she  has  a  feeling  today  is  going  to  be  the  best  day  of  her  son’s  life,  with  two  of  his  dreams  coming  true  —  celebrating  thanksgiving  with  mamaw  in  his  favorite  place  and  learning  he’s  to  be  a  big  brother.  she  still  can’t  believe  it’s  happening  to  them,  after  such  a  long  time  of  doubt  and  fear.  sebastian  is  going  to  be  over  the  moon.  after  all,  he’s  been  asking  for  a  baby  sister  for  quite  some  time.   ❝   wake  up,  bubby.  you  have  to  hold  elmo  real  tight  ‘cause  we’re  about  to  land.   ❞ 

@rcsechild

[erineverly]

@rcsechild ,

JUST ONE QUESTION ??? IS OUR SON WELL ??? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

[erineverly]

@rcsechild ; dada & baby rose 🥹♥️💙

[erineverly]

happy birthday to the sweetest of angels ; @rcsechild !

[erineverly]

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

“You know, this might take a while longer than expected. I’m already falling behind and we’ve barely even started,” the curly-haired teenager protests with a sheepish smile, pale blue eyes glancing up at her ever-patient teacher and best friend — B.ill B.ailey. His strawberry-tinged bangs and emerald hues capturing her attention, inviting her gaze to linger on his handsome features, distracting her from the task at hand. These piano lessons were originally her idea, an excuse for them to spend more time together without raising much suspicion, but the song choice, Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley, is entirely on Bill. He claims it’s easy, the simplest of The King’s songs, but for Erin it’s just another distraction, really, as now she can’t help but wonder if… Well, there can’t be any hidden meaning to it, right? She gently shakes her head, pushing these thoughts away in an attempt to refocus. “You say that we start with a D major chord,” she speaks slowly, as if unsure if she’s repeating the very thing he’s just mentioned correctly, “but I don’t even know what that is. You’ll have to show me.”  

They’re seated in the pool of spring sunshine by the closed window in her mother’s living room. The past few days have been rather gloomy with heavy rainfalls and grim clouds, and so Erin’s thankful that there’s any sunshine at all, and by keeping the window shut and wrapping herself in a thick woolen sweater, she’s managed to create the illusion that it’s warming her. The room’s not particularly spacious, with a good deal of space taken up by the grand piano and a good deal more by a large, leather sofa and two recliners, but at least it’s cozy. Unlike any room at Billy’s house. It’s dominated by earthy color schemes, big, leafy plants and two mushroom-shaped lamps (her mother’s favorite), even the patterned wallpaper only serves to sprinkle a bit of charm to the place. Though, maybe it’s just the effect this boy has on her — everything seems more beautiful and magical when he’s around. “So… a D,” she lets him press her thumb against one of the white keys, her other fingers following, brushing against the instrument and creating a small symphony of not-so-sweet sounds, “F sharp and A?” She furrows her dark brows and lets out a shy giggle, embarrassed by her evident inability to repeat the seemingly simple combination. “Sounds less harsh when you do it.” Her hand slips from underneath his, her fingers finding their way on top of his, the butterflies in her belly dancing. ��Do it again,” she asks sweetly, struggling to refrain from looking into these gorgeous eyes of his and losing herself.

Whenever Billy’s larger hand touches her smaller one, gently spreading her ring-clad fingers and guiding them to the right keys, a shiver runs up her spine and her face flushes a deep red. She could have asked her father to teach her. She could have asked her mother to find her a professional music teacher, not a delinquent from round the block, but again… She doesn’t care about learning quite as much as she cares about spending time with the Bailey kid. Standing at the kitchen threshold, watching the two with a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon in hand, Venetia’s figured as much herself — after all, her daughter’s seventeen and so maybe she should be happy that she’s finally developed a serious crush, but God does she wish Erin’s affections were directed toward someone else… That sweet boy who lives just down the street and always wants to hang out with her, whose father’s a high-ranking police officer. Or that dark-haired kid who’s a straight A student and plans on becoming a lawyer one day. Or that boy from California, her best friend’s son who’s a bit strange and surely smokes pot occasionally, but at least doesn’t have a criminal record. She shakes her head, telling herself teenage crushes come and go, and goes back to pouring batter into cupcake tins. “Kids, you better start wrapping things up! The first batch’s almost ready!” 

[erineverly]

@rcsechild , looking so cute here 🥹💙

[erineverly]

this  boy.  gosh,  this  boy  will  never  not  melt  her  heart,  erin  thinks  as  a  hint  of  sheer  wonderment  reaches  her  bright  blue  eyes,  making  them  twinkle  with  joy.  a  smile  as  warm  as  the  sun  outside  tugs  at  the  corners  of  her  lips  and  lights  up  her  entire  face.  motherhood  can  be  overwhelming  and  incredibly  stressful  at  times,  all  the  tantrums  and  sleepless  nights,  the  why’s  and  how’s,  but  it’s  all  worth  it  in  the  end.  after  all,  she  never  thought,  not  even  in  her  wildest  dreams,  that  she’d  receive  such  a  sweet,  heartfelt  birthday  present.  instantly,  she  scoops  her  son  up  into  her  arms,  refusing  to  acknowledge  he’s  already  eight  years  old  and  soon  she  most  likely  won’t  be  able  to  pick  him  up,  and  sits  him  on  her  lap.  arms  curling  around  his  body  as  she  plants  at  least  a  dozen  of  kisses  on  his  cheek,  she  squeezes  him  close  to  her  and  basks  in  the  warmth  of  his  skin.   ❝   did  you  draw  this  all  by  yourself?   ❞   she  asks  with  a  sweet  smile,  gently  moving  the  chocolate  away  as  she  picks  up  the  drawing  to  take  a  closer  look  at  it.   

❝   oh,  wow!  it’s  me!  you  drew  a  picture  of  mommy!  i  even  have  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair  and…  i’m  wearing  the  cutest  pink  dress  in  the  world!  this  is  so  beautiful!  the  most  beautiful  picture  in  the  whole  wide  world!   ❞   she  praises  in  a  sing-song  voice,  resting  her  chin  on  her  son’s  shoulder  as  she  marvels  at  the  picture  in  her  hands.  the  attention  to  detail  is  truly  impressive.  she  wouldn’t  trade  this  piece  of  art  for  any  of  da  vinci  or  van  gogh’s  paintings,  wouldn’t  trade  it  for  anything.  this  is  way  better,  way  more  exquisite  and  gorgeous,  way  more  meaningful.   ❝   can  mommy  frame  it  and  put  it  on  the  wall  like  they  do  in  art  galleries?   ❞   she  asks,  tracing  the  pretty  heart  with  her  fingertip.  her  nose  begins  to  tingle  and  eyes  fill  up  with  tears  of  happiness  as  she  struggles  to  keep  her  emotions  at  bay.  he’s  too  pure  for  this  world,  too  precious.   ❝   and  you  even  made  sure  to  give  me  my  favorite  candy?!  what?!   ❞   and  suddenly  it  is.  it  really  is  her  favorite  candy.  days  old  and  with  the  wrapper  slightly  torn  —  it’s  clearly  been  through  a  lot,  but  she  doesn’t  mind.  nothing’s  ever  looked  quite  as  delicious  to  her  before.   ❝   this  is  the  best  birthday  present  ever!  thank  you  so,  so,  so  much,  sebastian  rose,   ❞   she  murmurs,  hugging  her  son  while  also  showering  his  face  with  kisses.  what  did  she  do  to  deserve  this  sweet  angel?

[erineverly]

Axl made sure to get over here early, Meegan letting him in with a bunch of balloons tied to his wrist and a pink Minnie Mouse birthday bag that he comes into Erin’s bedroom with. “Heeey, birthday girl.” Knocking hard to let his presence be known, “Wake up, you got gifts and a card to read and cake to eat for breakfast.” In the other bag he placed the small birthday cake from Canters in a purple bag that’s hanging off his other wrist. ‘Happy Birthday, Erin’ written in cursive pink on the top of it, flowers and Minnie Mouse heads decorated on the top. He sits down on her bed, kisses her cheek and ties the balloons to the headboard then puts the bags next to her, there’s an outfit she wanted, a huge set of Estee Lauder lip sticks and lip glosses from Macy’s because he figured girls really love makeup and it was a last minute idea, a sparkly bracelet and a stuffed Mickey and Minnie in the bag for her birthday. All of it from Macy’s and he spent almost every dollar he had to afford all of it, but it’s damn worth it. Smiling in anticipation, he sinks down on his side and wraps his arm around her to squish her in a hug. | this one is set in the 80s and that bracelet is inspired off the one she wears a lot and seen in the its so easy video🥰

erin’s  just  barely  waking  up,  mostly  unaware  what  day  it  is,  when  she  hears  the  knock  on  her  bedroom  door.  her  eyes  remain  closed  as  she  stretches  her  slender  arms  over  her  head  and  mumbles,   ❝   mmm…  come  in.   ❞   she  assumes  it  must  be  her  roommate,  probably  just  got  back  home  from  a  night  of  partying,  eager  to  tell  her  all  about  the  cute  boys  that  she’d  met  and  kissed  and  danced  with.  the  door  squeaks,  and  what  a  surprise  it  is  when  the  sound  that  fills  the  air  is  not  a  girly  giggle,  but  the  voice  that  she  loves  so  very  much.  she’s  still  burrowed  under  a  pile  of  blankets,  warm  and  soft,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  tangled  curls,  but  her  sleepy  features  light  up  all  at  once  and  she  finds  herself  beaming  at  the  strawberry-haired  man.  pale  blue  eyes  fluttering  open,  widening  as  she  takes  in  all  the  gifts  that  he’s  brought  her.  a  soft  gasp  escapes  her  lips.   ❝   aww,  baby!   ❞   she  squeaks,  sitting  up  against  the  pillows,  a  teddy  bear  digging  into  her  back.  she  rubs  her  eyes  as  if  in  disbelief.  she  wasn’t  really  expecting  anything,  knowing  that  they’re  on  a  budget,  but…  wow!  the  balloons  are  beautiful,  floating  above  her  head  and  she  marvels  at  them  with  sheer  wonderment.  curling  her  curious  finger  around  one  of  the  string,  she  pulls  gently  to  bring  one  of  them  down  before  releasing  it  again.   ❝   my  goodness,  is  all  this  for  me?  you  didn’t  have  to.  you  really  didn’t  have  to,   ❞   she  whispers  softly,  peeking  into  the  bags  and  spotting  the  most  thoughtful  combination  of  presents.  it  has  her  heart  expanding,  eyes  filling  with  tears  of  happiness.  he  must  really  pay  attention  to  what  she  likes,  the  stores  she  visits,  he  even  got  her  favorite  shades  of  lipsticks  right.  she’s  smiling  so  big  that  her  cheeks  begin  to  hurt,  the  tip  of  her  nose  tingling.  the  first  thing  that  she  pulls  out  are  the  stuffed  mickey  and  minnie.  she  hugs  them  to  her  chest  and,  before  unpacking  the  rest,  looks  up  at  her  boyfriend,  nothing  but  love  and  gratitude  brimming  in  her  eyes.   ❝   you’re  the  sweetest  boy  in  the  entire  universe,  axl.  this  is  the  best  birthday  ever!  i  love  it,  all  of  it…  the  balloons,  the  presents,  you.  i  love  you  so  much,  baby!  thank  you.  thank  you  for  making  my  day  so  special.   ❞   she  curls  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  hugs  him,  mickey  and  minnie  squished  between  their  bodies.  this  is  the  best  birthday  ever  all  because  she  gets  to  celebrate  it  with  her  favorite  person.  

[erineverly]

ˋ  ♡       ❛     𝗲.𝗿𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮.𝘅𝗹'𝘀 𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻     ❫       :       𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆!

[erineverly]

@rcsechild  ;  daddy  &  daughter  parallels!

[erineverly]

@rcsechild 😭💙!! curl’s baby!!

[erineverly]

“Happy Mother’s Day!” Sebastian announces, the moment he’s been waiting for— for his mom to finally make it to the kitchen where he and Eris made cinnamon rolls and dad decorated the entire kitchen in Erin’s favorite color with party supplies. A giant bouquet of roses sitting on each sides of the table and a beautifully decorated pink cake sat right in the middle for the cookout they’re going to have later, that dad also planned with him and Eris. For now it’s just him and mom. He gets up from the chair where he was drawing and painting, quickly hugging the brunette’s waist then the redhaired boy holds out a homemade card he gets off the table. With some writing on the inside and a big yellow heart and a dove on the outside. “I wrote you a poem.” The eleven year old widely smiles, shyly holding it out to her. The words inside: “A mother loves right from the start, no matter if her children are near or far apart. A mother gives never-ending love. She gives us comfort and peace like a beautiful dove. For us she will always do her best. Even when we put her patience to the test. She wipes our tears, chases away our fears, encourages us to follow our dreams, no matter how far fetched it may seem. Her name is Erin. I am so honored to call her my mother. She is incredibly caring, always sharing and doesn’t falter on taking care of us each. Looking back on another year, I was so lucky to have a mother so dear. So mom, on your special day, relax and enjoy and always know that no one can compete. Know I couldn’t have asked for any other incredible person to call my mother. My beautiful dove, that is my mother. -Sebastian Shiloh Rose”

It’s the smell of food, a familiar combination of sugar and cinnamon wafting through the air, that finally gets Erin to blink her heavy eyelids open. When she was younger, she often took a full night’s sleep for granted, but now that she’s a mother of two, she refuses to make the same mistake and lets herself sleep in from time to time. The only problem with that is the fact that her stomach rarely gets the memo and begins to grumble around nine in the morning. Every single morning. Guided by the mouth-watering aroma, Erin makes her way downstairs. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the warm sunlight, but when they do, she takes in a sharp breath and immediately recalls what day it is. Mother’s Day. “Aww, Sebastian,” she breathes, clearly enthralled by the beauty of all the decorations surrounding the two of them. Balloons, confetti, banners, and all in her favorite color, too. Dainty hand coming up to absently rub any remnants of sleep away from her eyelids, she can’t help but wonder if she’s still dreaming — it does feel like a dream, a dream come true. She tries to take in the flowers and the cake, everything that her three favorite people had bought and made just for her, but she feels overwhelmed, her chest tightening with emotion as her eyes burn with the effort it takes to refrain from crying. She quickly wraps her arms around her son’s shoulders, returning the loving hug, holding him close as she kisses his head a number of times. “What’s all this? Is it all for me? This is so sweet, way too sweet, you guys didn’t have to go all out.” They really didn’t. She almost feels like she doesn’t deserve all these sweet and thoughtful gifts. 

“And you wrote a poem? A poem for me? Oh, my goodness! Am I the luckiest mommy in the world? I must be! I have an angel like you for a baby! Come here, let’s read this masterpiece together,” the curly-haired brunette squeals, her voice still groggy from sleep and brimming with emotion. Practically beaming at her sweet son, she reaches down to carefully take the precious piece of paper from his small hands before grabbing him under his arms and pulling him up, sitting him on top of the kitchen island as if he were still a little boy. She kisses his cheek, fingers carding through his strawberry locks as her chest continues to expand. “Oh, my —” She reads the poem quietly, taking her time and marveling at the cute handwriting, gushing over each word and sentence. It’s a wonder her heart doesn’t just explode. It does finally make her tear up, though. How could it not? It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for her. Holding the poem to her chest as tears of happiness roll down her cheeks, she sweetly praises, “Wow, thank you so much, baby. It’s so pretty, the prettiest poem ever written! Mommy will keep it forever. You’re really talented. My talented artist.” Smiling as she gazes at her son with admiration, she softly muses, “Thank you so much, Sebastian Shiloh Rose. Thank you for making me a mommy and for writing this beautiful poem for me, and for being the best son in the world. I love you so much, my baby bear.” And although she always tells him and his sister that they don’t have to do anything special for her, she’s glad they don’t listen to her. There’s a huge grin on her face as she looks at one of the three people she loves the most, doing her best to wipe her tears and prevent them from falling on this heart-melting poem. “I think I’ll put it in my wallet or on my nightstand so I can read it over and over and over again.” And she’ll show it to all of her friends, brag about how talented and sweet her son is. 

[erineverly]

❝   oh,  hush,  you  earned  this  and  you  know  it,   ❞   the  curly-haired  brunette  muses  softly  with  a  somewhat  amused  smile,  but  not  even  a  hint  of  the  seemingly  playful  demeanor  reaches  her  pale  blue  eyes.  she  drops  the  pillow  that  less  than  a  few  seconds  ago  collided  with  the  singer’s  face  and  touches  his  cheek  gently,  almost  apologetically.  she’s  had  a  few  glasses  of  wine  earlier  this  evening,  not  enough  to  completely  lose  touch  with  reality,  but  enough  to  loosen  her  tongue,  make  her  a  little  bolder,  less  aware  of  the  possible  consequences  of  her  words.  she  rolls  onto  her  side,  cheek  resting  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  as  her  pale  gaze  lands  on  the  other’s  handsome  features  once  more.  the  atmosphere  in  the  room  begins  to  change,  shifting  from  a  calm  stillness  to  a  restless  silence,  closing  in  on  them,  suffocating.

❝   why  did  you  stop  talking  to  me?   ❞   she  blurts  out  after  a  moment,  keeping  her  voice  down  as  not  to  disturb  evie’s  sleep.  they’re  in  a  rundown  motel,  the  kind  with  stains  on  the  ceilings  and  cigarette  burns  on  the  carpet,  but  the  toddler  doesn’t  seem  to  mind,  napping  peacefully  in  one  of  the  two  twin  beds  that  are  in  the  room.   ❝   because  of  that  girl?  because  i  heard  what  she  accused  you  of?  were  you  scared  i’d  believe  her  or  something?   ❞   she  inquires  as  her  brows  inch  closer  together  in  confusion,  struggling  to  figure  out  the  real  reason  for  his  strange  behavior.  if  she  weren’t  tipsy,  she’d  never  muster  enough  courage  to  bring  that  subject  up.  it’s  not  like  they’re  a  couple,  not  like  he  has  to  hang  out  with  her  or  owes  her  any  kind  of  explanation.  they’re  just  friends…  or  so  she  thought.  now  she’s  not  really  sure  if  he  even  likes  her.  

❝   am  i  so  boring  and  pitiful  that  you’d  rather  ignore  me  for  the  rest  of  your  life  than  tell  me  you  don’t  want  to  be  friends  with  me?   ❞   thinking  out  loud,  she  rolls  onto  her  back  and  focuses  on  the  strange  stain  on  the  ceiling,  avoiding  his  gaze.   ❝   it’s  so  weird,   ❞   she  mumbles,  speaking  slowly  as  she  doesn’t  want  her  voice  to  slur.   ❝   i  used  to  feel  like  we  could  understand  each  other  without  words,  like…  even  when  we  were  apart,  we  somehow  weren’t.  and  now?  you’re  right  here  and…  it’s  like  you’re  miles  away.  like  you’re  a  stranger,  @rcsechild​.  god,  this  doesn’t  make  any  sense,  does  it?  forget  it.  it’s  dumb,   ❞   she  mumbles,  feeling  like  maybe  she’s  said  too  much  and  realizing  it  probably  sounds  like  complete  nonsense  to  him.  in  the  morning,  she’ll  be  embarrassed  and  regret  sparking  up  this  kind  of  conversation  with  the  singer.  she  sits  up,  her  feet  touching  the  ugly  carpet  beneath,  and  is  about  to  get  up,  but  her  head  is  buzzing  so  she  lingers  in  this  position  for  a  moment  longer.  part  of  her  naively  hoping  his  fingers  will  curl  around  her  wrist  and  keep  her  from  leaving.