#sometimes being sick is comfy but here i had horrible dreams and i felt WEAK and i was miserable

[mellowdarkness]

Literally spent 48 hours doing next to nothing recovering from a bitch-ass flu after spending the whole Friday tanking it like a champ (read: shaking and being utterly miserable for the entire day)

[meowmixtape]

Sinbad of the Shores

Rating: T

Pairing: AiJunko

WC: 5,786

Summary: While out of the manoir de mort for a beachside performance Ai wakes up from a dream to new feelings about Junko. But these aren't feelings she hasn't had before. After mourning the past and bemoaning the future Ai finally seeks safety in Junko and they get heart-to-heart.

FF AO3

"Aphrodite had the beauty; Zeus had the thunderbolts." -Esther M. Freisner

Mizuno Ai sat on a beach towel gazing out toward the sea. It was calm today and the waves rolled slowly, broken only by two girls playing in the water close to the shore. One of them was her friend and groupmate Sakura. The other was another groupmate and her girlfriend Konno Junko.

A voice next to her piped up: "You know that scene –" Ai jumped and turned to see Saki sitting next to her "– in cartoons where two guys are stranded on a deserted island and they're starving and one looks at the other and he turns into a turkey feast with waves of deliciousness coming off him?"

"Yeah. Everyone knows that one. What about it?"

Saki grinned. "That's kinda how yer lookin' at Junko right now."

Ai looked away. "How do you know I'm looking at her?"

"'Cause if you were lookin' at Sakura like that we'd have a problem." Ai heard a popping sound and when she turned back she saw Saki cracking her knuckles. "Do we have a problem?"

"No."

"Good." She smiled and sat back.

Ai hugged her knees and hid the lower half of her face in them. Her eyes were back out toward the ocean. Toward Junko. Was I really looking at her with such a perverted face? Sure, what happened last night was weird, but she was over it. She was!

The average person cannot help what they dream about, but Ai was not the average person. This wasn't a point of pride, either. She was a frequent lucid dreamer. And when she dreamed last night of showering she was very aware of it. She felt the stream caress her face, the water pelt her body like hot bullets, and she thought, Oh, when was the last time I had a nice hot shower? The ones in winter were always the best. And then: Is Junko in here?

"Mizuno-san."

Ai's gaze swung from the showerhead and there she was. And in that weird way dreams can be sometimes she could see everything and nothing at the same time. Lucidity faded and Ai was then fully in the lap of whatever god is appointed the duty of dispensing dreams on the sleepers.

Until then Ai had never dreamed of sex.

Out in the water Junko and Sakura continued to swim and splash and play. Ai supposed most people would find Sakura sexier, but she liked Junko more. Her body was more delicate and gentle, her skin pale and soft, her… well, chest…

Stop it! Don't get those thoughts again!

Her tummy…

This isn't you anymore! Enough!

Ai was so consumed with her own thoughts that she didn't notice Junko duck underwater. She didn't come back to reality until moments later when Saki called out, "Had fun out there?"

"Yeah!" Sakura called back. She and Junko were walking towards them. "The water's great. Why don't you join us?"

"Maybe later. I just ate."

"Ai, look what I found!" Junko held her hand out.

"Woah!" It actually managed to knock away all thoughts of sex and perversion. "A conch shell! I've never seen one!"

"Really? Haven't you ever been to the beach?"

"I have, and I used to go shell-hunting, but I never found a conch shell! Wow!" Totally impressed, she took it and turned it over in her hands. It was yellow and spiky and everything. She couldn't believe she was holding this. Can't help being a Pisces, I guess.

Similarly affected, Saki said, "Put it to your ear and see if you can hear the ocean!"

Ai did. Its currents whispered. Noticing Saki's demeanor, she said, "Do you want to listen too?"

"Yeah!" Saki took it and held it up. "Oh, I can hear it!" She smirked at Sakura. "The ocean says you're hot, babe."

Sakura kicked sand at her.

Ai frowned. It was just like Saki to come right out and say stuff like that. Ai never could. If she did Junko might get upset or disgusted. Or worse, she might laugh.

Ai held the shell back out to Junko.

Smiling, Junko shook her head. "It's yours."

"Really? That's okay?"

"Mm-hmm. I was going to give it to you anyway. I saw it and thought of you."

Ai's stomach fluttered and her cheeks prickled. She looked down, finding refuge in the shell, safe from Junko's open smile and wet body. "Th-thanks." She found herself wanting to kiss her. Between her affection at this gift and her tumultuous feelings she felt ready to kiss Junko a lot. It would have to wait until they weren't in public.

If only it didn't. I feel ready to have her right now.

Oh, would you stop it!

Junko was reapplying her sunscreen, as were Sakura and Saki. This was Kotaro's plan for waterproofing: reapply every ten minutes. They had a performance here tomorrow, and after what happened in Ureshino he wasn't taking any chances.

"Ai, can you get my back?"

Want me to wash your back? Junko had asked that in the dream and Ai had let her until one thing led to another and they –

"Sure." Ai took the spray can. Stupid dream. She hated it.

After the sunscreen was reapplied Junko hoisted a pail and asked Ai if she wanted to collect beach rocks. Ai said yes. They started off down the beach. It was mostly empty as by now kids had gone back to school. It was August and dog-hot. Ai was certain that if they weren't wearing waterproof SPF 130 sunscreen they'd both sweat their makeup off.

"I love beach rocks," Junko said. "They're pretty colors and they feel so nice. I wonder how they got that way?"

"Abrasion and resistance," said Ai. "Rocks collide with each other and sand smooths them further. As for the color, it depends on the minerals in the water, but most stones are made of quartzite, granite, slate, pumice, and marble."

"Wow. You know a lot about rocks."

"Well, my dad was a geology professor." She itched an eyebrow and looked down. "And I did some beach rock collecting of my own."

"You like the beach too?"

"Yeah, I love it." She wasn't loving the heat, though. It was clouding her thoughts a little. Or maybe it was that dream. She was trying not to look at Junko in her black swimsuit too much. She wanted to. Seagulls were squeaking overhead, and the deliciously salty air breathed with the waves' movement. Ai loved the beach and she loved Junko. Yet, here she was unable to enjoy them to their fullest. It sucked.

"It's weird we've been – you know – for this long but we haven't talked about our families." Junko giggled. "We have a lot in common. We both love the beach and we both have parents who are teachers."

"Your dad was a teacher too?"

"Mm-mm. My mother was. She was a music teacher."

"She must have pushed you hard."

Junko drew her lips in and nodded. "Some pushing was involved as far as my singing went, yes. But she did it out of love for me and I love her for that."

"No wonder you're such a good singer."

"Aw," Junko muttered uncomfortably.

Silence passed. Occasionally the two of them would stop to scoop up rocks and drop them in the pail. A track of sweat got into Ai's eye and she tried to rub it out.

"That heavy?" she asked when she saw the pail was three-quarters full.

"A little. But I'm fine."

"Let me take it." When Junko hesitated Ai held out her hand and said, "Go on, I'll be okay."

Junko forked it over. "Thank you." She briefly put her hand on Ai's back and that alone was enough to bring those thoughts back with a vengeance. She couldn't help it. She had never felt Junko's hand touch her skin-to-skin there. Let me wash your back. Oh my goodness. Oh, Ai!

"Oh, Ai, look at this one! It's beautiful!" Junko bent to grab the rock. She didn't stoop, she bent, giving Ai a good view of her derriere. In her heat-and-lovestruck state Ai couldn't look away. Her eyeballs grew heavy as red and black dots dazzled in her vision. She was floating. She was sinking. She was both.

"It has all the same colors as us. We can put it in the practice room – Ai? Ai!"

Ai had fallen face first in the sand. To her right was the pail, its rocky contents scattered. To her left was the conch shell.

Ai surfaced quickly after, but by then Junko had run off. All good, you know, it wasn't like she could salvage this embarrassing situation in the best state of mind. And right now her state of mind was horrible at best. She had just enough mental awareness to beat herself up. I fainted. I actually fainted over Junko. I'm like some ditzy shoujo manga protagonist.

Consciousness ebbed and flowed. She felt her body being lifted up and carried. Voices clanged in her throbbing head.

"Dehydration, you think?" Sakura.

"Prolly. Hot as balls out." Saki.

"B-buh…" Junko's voice. "She was out in the sun for a shorter time than I was."

Saki: "Weak."

Cool air kissed her face and she came back up again. They were carrying her through the inn lobby. People gawked. The woman at the front desk asked, "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Saki said. "She just needs water."

"Sorry," Ai slurred at the woman. She knew nothing sold your comfy inn like a semi-conscious person being dragged through the lobby. Somebody call a bellhop, we got baggage here. See, that would be funny if they were staying at a Western-style inn. She was really failing at everything today.

A doorway passed overhead and the cotton of her futon rose up to her back. Sakura and Saki appeared above her.

"Feeling okay?" Sakura asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about all this."

"Face it, Ai," Saki said. "You're just doomed to never have a good time."

"You have boogers in your nose." It was true. She could see them.

Saki showed her her middle finger.

Sakura disappeared and returned with a bowl of water and a towel. Ai heard splashing, dripping, and then felt a cold wet towel laid on her forehead.

"Here," Sakura said. "Drink this."

Yes. Water.

Eyes closed, Ai took the bottle. She opened them.

Oh, what the hell.

"A baby bottle?"

"It's so you can drink without sitting up!" Sakura said, beaming proudly. "My brother used to do it when he got sick in college."

Thanks. I'm humiliated and I have a gross mental image. Still, it was with good intentions and Sakura did help carry her, so that snide remark would have to go in the unsaid file. "That is pretty clever. Thank you."

"Oh, no, happy to help. You want us to stay and keep you company?"

"You don't have to. I might nap as long as I'm here."

"That's the spirit!" Saki said. "C'mon, Sakura, let's get some yakitori. I'm starving."

"Didn't you just eat?"

"I get bad mileage. My gut's like a Canyonero bike."

Their voices faded out of the room and down the hall.

Holding the towel to her head, Ai sat up a little and looked around. The room was empty. She lowered herself back down and grabbed the bottle. Stared at it. Glared, more like. Deciding thirst was priority, she sighed and did something she likely hadn't done since 1993. And, drinking, she thought maybe Sakura and her weird brother were onto something. This was nice and convenient, even if she felt stupid as hell.

The AC kicked on and that plus the water gave Ai a little energy. She lurched up to the closet, grabbed a robe, and donned it.

After laying back down she got to thinking about the myth of Aphrodite, Greek goddess of sexual attraction. She wasn't looking for Mr. Right; she wanted Mr. Right Now. Aphrodite's legend began with her emerging from the ocean to shore and ever since everyone's private parts never again knew peace. Wasn't the ocean a perfect symbol for sex? Wave upon wave crashing against the stone piers of some girl's pride and stubbornness.

If Junko's Aphrodite then I'm goddamn Sappho.

The door slid open and light, quick footsteps stuttered inward. Ai smiled. She knew those footsteps. They moved toward her, cloth rustled, and the bowl of water blooped, sloshed, and dripped. The cold wet towel landed slowly and gently on her forehead.

"Hi," she said.

Junko squeaked. "You're awake!"

"Yep." Smiling, Ai opened her eyes.

Junko cleared her throat and smoothed the end of her robe. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better."

"Good."

"Junko?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"Oh, Ai." Junko brought a curled hand to her mouth and giggled. "I love you, too." She leaned downward and kissed her cheek. Ai liked when she kissed her cheeks. It felt so sweet.

"I'm sorry," Junko said.

Ai was so wrapped up in the sweetness that the apology sounded outrageous. "For what?"

"For not paying attention. If I had been I would have noticed that you were tired and hot and thirsty, and I would have gotten you out of the sun before you fell over. I get too wrapped up in things and…"

"You're not at fault, Junko. I could have said at any time that I wasn't feeling well, but I didn't."

"I really don't think you're to blame, though. Maybe neither of us are."

"Yeah, maybe."

Junko then said, "Weather does not seem to like you very much."

Ai snorted. "No kidding. My dad had me focused on the ground when it was the sky I should have watched out for."

"See, I had the opposite problem…"

Ai gaped at her, then burst out laughing. That was the first time she had ever heard Junko crack a joke about her death. Junko joined her laughing. Ai loved the sound of their laughter. She loved Junko's laugh, and she loved being able to be a part of it.

Their laughter died down. They looked at each other for a moment and then got laughing again.

"I guess I missed on helluva joke," Saki said as she entered.

"Not really," Ai said, wiping her eyes. "Just Junko doing what she does best – keeping me grounded."

Junko snorted and turned aside, shaking.

Saki stared at them, then said, "Uh, okay. Well, anyway, we're gonna tell ghost stories in the other room."

Ai looked at the clock. It was seven already. The sun was still out.

"You guys wanna join us?"

The two of them looked at each other. Then they looked back at Saki and shook their heads.

"Hmph. Couple of zombies afraid of ghosts. Suit yourselves, scaredy-cats." And she left, closing the door behind her.

They were quiet a moment.

"Um," Junko said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Is there a reason you're drinking from a baby bottle?"

Ai could feel her heart snap as it kicked up into her throat. "It – it's so I can drink laying down! It's very convenient!"

Junko nodded, looking more than a little weirded out.

"It was Sakura's idea!"

"Oh. Is this what everyone's doing nowadays?"

"No, boomer, it's not. We might be the 'entitled' generation –" using the e-word made her mouth taste like throw up "– but we can sit up to drink if we're feeling well." Ai sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Now can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Do I…" She took her hand away and looked at her. "Do I seem childish to you?"

Junko shook her head. "No. Why would I think that? If this is about the bottle I thought it was strange more than childish."

"Well, I mean, you're about the same age as my parents."

"Your parents are nineteen years old?"

"No. But you would be around their age if you lived. I'm not saying I look at you as like a mother, but sometimes I wonder if I should."

"You said if I lived. But I didn't. I died and now I'm nineteen forever. I don't look at you like a child because I've never had children, and I didn't know anybody with them. I guess I can see how you'd see your parents in me, especially if they used a lot of lingo and liked a lot of things from the 70s and 80s. But if you look at the way things are instead of what they could be, the difference between us age-wise is three years. No mother and daughter have that age difference."

"Yeah." And as the words sank in, smoothing the worries off her brain and airing it out, Ai nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

Junko smiled and laid her hand on Ai's. "Don't worry, I've thought about the same thing. I thought, 'If me and Ai were alive, why, I'd look like a real freak. Some old hag who's past her prime and looking to reclaim lost youth by taking advantage of some girl.'"

"There's no lost youth, though." Ai sat up and her towel fell off. There was a gray smear where it had soaked off her makeup. "You're still young."

"Exactly."

"Also…" Ai leaned forward, her eyes locked with Junko's, and tilted her head. She smiled. "I'm not so easily taken advantage of."

Junko hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her. Ai leaned into the kiss, her hand coming up to Junko's cheek. It was hot. Hers were as well. Her heart was drumming away. If it wasn't anchored to her chest she supposed it would just fly right out. Every soft stroke of Junko's lips sent intense sensations all the way down to her toes. When they broke off the kiss Ai let out a deep breath.

"I think you're feeling extra-affectionate tonight," said Junko. Ai noticed that she was also breathing quicker.

"You think right. I am." Months ago such a conversation would have embarrassed Ai, but they were closer now so it wasn't so bad (but still a little nerve-wracking). "I love you. I'm glad I met you like this." Unable to help wanting more, she kissed Junko again.

"Feeling's mutual," Junko said before giving Ai a kiss of her own. When she pulled back her eyes drifted downward, popped wider, then darted toward the ceiling.

Do you think about it, Junko? Ai couldn't ask her that, but she couldn't help feeling like that downward gaze confirmed it, confirmed that Ai wasn't the only one between them starving on a deserted island. Do you ever feel anything like what I've been feeling?

"We're alone," Ai said.

"We are. Um, Ai, do you… I mean, do you w… want to…"

She trailed off, but Ai thought she knew what she meant.

"Have heppei?"

The second that left her mouth she regretted it.

Junko recoiled. "He… h-hep… Hep…"

In Japanese the common term for copulation is sekusu, unless you come from a certain part of Hokkaido.

"I – I had no idea you were from Akita."

"I'm not! I'm from Ueno! My dad's from Akita, the way he talks rubbed off on me."

"Your father talked to you about… that?"

"Yeah, yeah, he always told me and my sister to stay away from boys because they were lying dogs who only wanted hep – sex." If it wasn't bad enough that the man had to give such embarrassing lectures to his daughters he had to use that scummy word, that word that made any decent civilized person in Japan feel slimy inside. And now the real nail in his coffin was Ai was here saying it in front of her beautiful decent civilized girlfriend.

"Oh. Well, he was probably saying that to protect you."

Ai grunted.

"Anyway," Junko said, "that word aside, that was what I was going to ask about."

"If I want to have sex?"

Junko nodded, blushing.

Feeling like a cyborg in a certain 2004 film, Ai asked, "Do you?"

Junko fidgeted with the sash on her robe. "I – I've… I've never… done it before…"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I guess." Junko scratched the back of her head. "I don't know why I think that matters when neither of us have."

"I have, actually."

"You what?"

Ai flinched. She hadn't heard Junko yell that loud in a while.

"When? With who? How?"

"Okay. I'm not going to tell you about this if you keep looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like – that." Ai gestured toward Junko's face.

"This is my listening face. I'm listening."

"That is not your listening face."

"It is."

"No, girl. This is." Ai motioned around her own face, which was set in a neutral expression. "This is how you're looking at me." She popped her eyes and mouth open.

"Well, sorry." She didn't make the listening face, but it looked a bit less like she would call her… whatever they called girls who did it back then. Hussy. Jezebel. Jesus, you may as well go all in and call her a slut as long as you're being judgmental. "I just never saw you as the type. Not like you're childish, mind you, but straightlaced."

"Gaylaced, more like." Before they went out Ai would have rolled her eyes so hard at such a joke.

Junko smiled at the joke, then asked, "Where'd you find the time?"

"There wasn't much of it, admittedly. But we lived together, and it wasn't like we were in a relationship."

"Who was this girl?"

"Nina."

"Your groupmate?" The You-Hussy-You-Jezebel face returned.

Ai cocked an eyebrow. "And you are…?"

"Right. Sorry. If you weren't in a relationship though how did it happen?"

"It just… happened."

Junko shook her head. "That sort of thing doesn't just happen."

Ai sighed. She was getting that feeling of being pulled again. But not under by passion. It was back by years. The undertow of time claimed her as she told Junko how it happened.

The year was 2008. It was the end of June and the Tokyo Pride Parade was coming up. Iron Frill's producer decided to tie this in with the announcement of his wife's pregnancy in a way he hoped would show the girls his paternal caring.

"I'm hoping it'll be a boy," he said. "We already have a boy, and if you have a girl after the boy there's a chance she'll turn out funny."

The other girls nodded, but Ai wasn't buying it. "Funny how? Funny as in no arms and legs?"

He glared at her. "That is not funny, that is tragic, and you should feel bad for implying that it's funny. I mean funny as in…" He sighed, turned his eyes upward, then shook his head. "You know what I mean, right?"

Ai shook her head.

He looked at her pityingly and said, "I mean funny as in she'll turn up to the pussy-eating parade that's going on this weekend."

"Gross!" one of the girls exclaimed.

The producer behind Iron Frill knew the industry in and out, but he wasn't terribly articulate. Usually lack of articulation comes with a quiet personality, but this fellow had the opposite problem.

"A faggot could dance better than you! You're just a bunch of club-footed dykes!"

The other girls shrugged their shoulders or giggled. He could have called them communists or vampires; they were insults, yes, but unless these girls drank blood or espoused anti-capitalist ideologies they could never have understood the sting of recognition or the fear of discovery.

Well, most of the members of Iron Frill were like that. Taimajima Nina was not. A tall girl from Shibuya, Nina tended to look away when talking to girls, shifting her eyes upward as though she were studying the weather conditions. Like Ai, she didn't seem interested in anything this man had to say. While working together on song lyrics one morning the producer tore the unfinished work out from under the two of them and exclaimed, "What are you, a pair of dykes who can't write prose?"

Ai had laughed out loud at his stupidity. If there was anyone who could write prose, it was a dyke. It was the other girls he had to watch out for. She saw Nina laughing too and soon they took to mocking this producer, referring to each other first as dykes, then as "stinking dykes." They were "lazy dykes" and "sunburned dykes" before they became "dykey dykes." They couldn't protest the word as that meant acknowledging the truth in it. The most they could do was embrace it as a joke. Embodying the term in all its cliched glory, they called each other "Dyke-oneesama" and straightened pretend neckties, played at lit club members who cried in the most ridiculous over-the-top fashion over Iseiaisha-senpai, an imaginary girl they made up purely for them to discover again and again that she was (cue sob) straight. Dyke, as a word, was always delivered in a harsh and unforgiving tone befitting those weak and stupid enough to act upon their impulses. They used it as a joke, an accusation… and then as a dare.

Late at night Ai would hear the futon next to hers swish, Nina's breath quickening. Either she was masturbating or having a terrible nightmare. Is it me she's thinking about? Ai would follow her lead and wake up the next morning to find their futons had scooted a good nine inches away from where they originally lay. Their love had the power to move futons.

Having no willpower, they relied on circumstances to keep them apart. This cannot happen was accompanied by the shift of sheets whispering, Oh, but maybe just this once. There came an afternoon when, running late to practice, they found themselves alone in the apartment. What started off as name-calling escalated into a series of mock-angry slaps. They wrestled each other onto the futons, both of them longing to be pinned. "You kids think you invented sex," her father was fond of saying. But hadn't they? With no instruction manual or federally-enforced training period, didn't everyone come away feeling like they had discovered something unspeakably modern?

What produced in others a sense of exhilaration left Ai with a mortifying sense of guilt. She remembered sitting cross-legged by the futons, staring at her clasped hands, her back to Nina, who was napping. This was more than a stupid mistake. This was a huge one. This wasn't the sort of mistake you could come back from. The joke was stripped away and all Ai had that afternoon was reality. What dyke could bring dreams and inspiration to her fans? What dyke did every little girl want to grow up to be?

Earlier that year word got out that a seiyuu idol (a Legendary Heisei Idol in her own right) had had a few casual flings with the guys in her band. She had been branded a whore and canceled. If that was the punishment for a girl and a guy Ai imagined the punishment for two girls involved a wooden frame, samurai swords, and lingchi.

Whatever fear and humiliation Ai lived with was apparently lost on Nina, who afterward took to her side at all times. And since at the time Ai believed in opposites attracting, she let her coax her into a few more mistakes. With each mistake Nina grew closer and Ai grew warier.

"Christ, Nina," Ai whispered as they ducked into an equipment shed. "We have to be backstage in fifteen minutes."

"That's enough time." Nina pulled her shirt off. Her breasts jiggled fetchingly in her bra, but this time Ai finally found it in herself to not be fetched. It was raining out. They both stank of rain. If you could still sleep with someone who smelled like that your libido was either very good or very not good.

Nina came in for a kiss. Ai jerked her head aside.

"Not in the mood?"

"Yeah, no, I'm not," Ai said.

"Nothing you can do about that then." Nina stepped back. "I guess we shouldn't go on stage tired after an orgasm anyway."

Do you really like sleeping with me? She must have, considering how many times in the past month she had approached Ai to do so. But after each mistake she would go right to sleep. Oh, she would wake up and then wax romantic and philosophical about their relationship. But first came the sleep.

"Nina, I don't think we should do this anymore."

She froze in the middle of bending to grab her shirt.

"It's just a bad idea. Everytime we do this we get closer and closer to getting caught. Someone could be outside this very shed."

"They're probably not."

"Probably's not good enough."

"Oh, Ai." Smiling, still shirtless, Nina stepped toward her and put a hand on her face. "I know how you feel about all this, but I think you might be worrying too much."

"If you knew how I felt you wouldn't think that!" Ai backhanded her hand away. "If you knew how I felt you'd know that what happened should have only happened once! I do not want to do this anymore!"

"Well, why not? They hate us! We need each other!"

Why, Ai thought, couldn't I have waited for her to put her shirt on before I went in? She looked so sad standing there in her Hawaiian print bra.

Nina tried to grin, but in her state it looked more like a grimace. "Think of how mad they'd be if they found out about us."

"They're plenty mad enough about us existing. Think of how mad I'll be when we're out of a job. You think they'll still be mad when they fire and blacklist us?"

"Well, we'll still have each other. Isn't living well supposed to be the best revenge?"

"Yeah, if you call that 'living well,'" Ai said and Nina flinched. Great going, Ai. Why don't you just punch her in the face? Would be faster and easier.

"So it's about the money."

"No, Nina, it's about me liking myself more than you."

"That's bull. I thought you loved me."

"I don't."

Nina seemed to get smaller still. Ai felt the same way. She had ripped off the proverbial Band Aid, yet she didn't feel any better. Maybe, she thought, there were hings she shouldn't have said that afternoon, things she would have to apologize for. And she would. In due time she would.

"What did Nina-san say when you apologized to her?"

"I didn't," Ai said. "At that day's performance I was hit by lightning."

"Oh my God." Junko's shoulders dropped; her whole body seemed to sink as if screws holding it together had popped off.

"So yeah. That's how it happened."

Junko sighed and looked down. Silence spun out. It wasn't bad silence. In it they grew closer. Ai thought of Nina, but she thought more of Junko, how she had snapped at her over a simple "I love you." Junko had said she thought Ai was too straightlaced to deal with crap for too long. Ai presently fought back laughter at that. The opposite was true: she held her tongue until she exploded. At least this time all she did was faint. There was no yelling but instead the two of them talking to each other like normal people. I might be getting better. But maybe next time something's on my mind I should come right out and say something.

"Sex makes everything complicated," Junko said. "Someone told me that once."

"They were right."

"They also told me – oh, how do I say this." Junko got a bit red. "That once you start having it you can't stop having more."

"They're right about that, too. That's partly why I stayed with Nina for as long as I did."

Junko looked at her. "I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want what happened to you and Nina to happen to us."

"I don't think it will. You're different than her."

"But what if sex changes me and suddenly I'm asking you to do it fifteen minutes before we're due backstage?"

The idea of Junko turning into a sex maniac was incredibly tickling, and Ai almost laughed. "If that happens I'll say no, but we'll still be together. Because I like you more than Nina. I love you."

Junko smiled. "I love you." Then she said, "But what if I'm bad at it?"

"Didn't you learn anything from that porn you saw?"

"Ai!"

She laughed. "Sorry, sorry. You won't be. It'll be good as long as it's with you. That's what I think."

Junko's eyes were on hers. They were such beautiful eyes. Ai loved them. They pulled her in, blue and irresistible, until the were kissing. When their lips met Ai felt it all over her body. Chasing emotional with physical, she pulled Junko close. The kiss deepened, becoming so good and so hot that Ai didn't want to come up for air. And while kissing her, she thought, Wherever I am she meets me there. She's so good to me. She had always worried she and Junko were a mess together, but talking about Nina made her realize what true messiness looked like. Junko wouldn't morph into a sex maniac because that wasn't who she was but also because that wasn't who she was. She didn't make people give up things about themselves in order to gain her love.

God, what do you do with someone like Junko? Ai was at a loss. She gives me so much and I guess all I can give her tonight is a better first time than I had. She wanted to make her feel so good in herself that everyone worldwide, even the people who hated her, would quake in pleasure.

Ai started to nudge Junko onto her back.

A collection of voices screaming exploded like a cold snap in sultry summer instead of winter and they flew apart.

But the room was still empty.

Then Ai remembered. "Ghost stories."

"Yeah." Junko's chest was heaving. Her robe had rucked up, exposing her thighs, and she yanked it down. "Thin walls."

They sounded like cavewomen. Oonga oonga. Like heppei. Ghost stories. Thin walls.

"I don't want them to hear us."

They looked at each other and giggled.

"I guess we're waiting until some other time," Junko said.

"But Junko," Ai said, "I thought this was your sex addict awakening. Don't you want to insist on it?"

"Oh, you." She grabbed the bottle and tossed it at Ai's feet.

"I am so frustrated by your ability to leave me spellbound." -Pink Lady, Sinbad of the Shore

[sunnysynthsunshine]

Sick (Multiple Characters x reader)

(Kevin Turvey)

you arrived at the BBC studios, to start production work, but something was off, the weather was quite cold and you didn't have a scarf

you carried on working but between your camera work loud sneezes were overheard "Sorry, take two" you'd say, then you sneezed again and again"

the producer said, "Y/N I don't believe you're well enough to work today"

"What are you talking about?" you shouted to let out a loud sneeze, your head drowsy as your throat felt dry

the producer said, "that's exactly what I meant"

you stood up rubbing your nose, while the other cast members looked before going back to what they were doing

you walked back to the staff room, to relax until the planned episode had been filmed and aired

it was the afternoon, you were sitting in the staff room, stuffing your face with sandwiches, ignoring the snot running down your face and your groans feeling like you were a disgrace when you heard the door creak,you saw a familiar face walk in,he was one of the cast members,he had a patterned black and white shirt over a blue and red anorak,he took it off as he sat next to you on the sofa

"Hey,Y/N how are you?" he said in his high pitched Redditch dialect

"I'm miserable and sick" you responded bluntly

" I hear lemons are good when your sick" he said

he walked over to the counter and prepared some tea, as well as a small lemon cake, he placed the lemon cake on a plate and brought it over to the coffee table,

"a Lemon a day keeps Kevin Turvey away," he said, while he snorted a giggle and wiped your nose with a tissue

you chuckled "shut up!" before regaining your composure "Thank you" you then sipped the tea and ate the cake while Going Underground by The Jam played on the radio nearby,

you moved the saucer of leftover lemon cake aside "How about you try some lemons?"

Kevin grinned "Well I've never investigated that before"  he then took a big bite into a slice of lemon that was falling out of one of the cakes, he stuck his tongue in disgust screaming, you smirked at him "I thought that made you less sick" Kevin tried spitting it out as he ran out the staff room cringing "Yeah, well now I'm the one sick thanks for that" you erupted into laughter

he laughed back, he then did a trick with his ear (flipping his ear over only for it to pop back into place), "If I'm that good at healing people I could be a doctor" you scoffed "I don't think I'd trust you with time travel" he scoffed back "Why?, there would be lots of cool things, places and people to investigate"

(Rest home Ricky) (WARNING: References to mental health)

it was one of those times, ever since you got admitted into Denton, you'd occasionally get to leave but other times you were stuck there, under observation while sat in your room looking at your laptop,your laptop was more productive at times than you were,they were limitless, while you had limitations,you would overindulge,you would question your empathy and sympathy for people,you would overthink intensely resulting in some compulsive behaviour and stomach pain,that's why you were sometimes in Dentonvale

it was where you were safe, unlike the unhelpful counsellers of the past you had been to, the people of Dentonvale did care for their patients, after the whole Farley Flavours drama, Nation and Cosmo just stole the money to improve their business

you sat, listening to music, you liked the melodies and lyrics, but the overthinking still lurked, you tried to dream to escape it but instead you encountered intrusive thoughts, flashbacks and you were arguing with yourself, this gave you a headache and pains in your stomach, you undid your headphones and picked aggressively at your ear and lips,you felt sweaty, confused and it didn't stop by the time someone had visited your room, half of your right ear was bleeding and your lips were dryer than your throat.

you kept mumbling "make it stop, it's just telling me lies, but because the lies are sometimes true it makes it hard to tell if it's true or not, I'm a horrible person, why can't I naturally feel emotion sometimes,why do I do this to myself,why is my mind never satisified,I've moved on from my past why does my mind always play the worst parts of my memory film reel,I'm nothing,I say I will stop overthinking but I don't do I? do I?"

"Y/N"

you blinked you didn't know one of the staff would overhear the rambling

"Oh! sorry I," you paused staring as your body lightly shook

Rest home Ricky walked over "What's wrong Y/N"

you quietly mumbled "I feel like I'm living a lie, I should be grateful about the life I have and I try to be honest, but each time I think I'm improving I have an episode or a moment of intrusive voices putting words into my mouth,I have low empathy sometimes that must mean I'm an emotionless mess with no morals right?,I've moved on from the past, but the film reels of then keep playing at the worst times, I'm such a rude, ungrateful person,"

he tried to help settle you, he lightly rested his hands on your shoulders while he reassured you

"your not living a lie, your brain is just mean to you sometimes, everyone has their weak moments,your intrusive thoughts don't define you, even if you can't physically show feelings,you still show them emotionally and your emotions are still valid, as long as you know your morals and that they don't harm you or others, that's fine"'

you sniffled "but...the memories,I know it's not relevant but they keep reappearing"

he rubbed calming circles on your back "it's ok I'm here, all of that is in the past now, don't let the paranoid voices get to you, your a smart, considerate, determined person"

he paused "Now how do you feel?"

you looked up "a bit stressed, but I can get through it, you've helped calm me down a bit I still have a bit of a pain in my stomach and head though

he observed "I see, I also see your ear is bleeding a bit, that might've resulted from your compulsive behaviour hang on I'll be right back" he walked off and came back with a small bowl of water, some tissues, ointment creams and some medicine

he dipped the tissue into the water and moved it around the areas of the ear that were bleeding, he used the other tissues to dry your eyes and nose, he rubbed some lip balm over your lips and dissolved some tablets into an easy to consume soft drink concoction,you picked up the drink and sipped it slowly, later he brought in some pasta "Just eat what you can" he said as he waved before leaving the room, you scooped up the pasta pieces with your spoon and ate most of them up before you dozed off to sleep.

(Rick,The Young Ones)

one of those weekends, where you'd order take away, either the order was wrong, or that you've had food poisoning

it was the day after you were a wreck, taking up space on the sofa like a tired cat, you could feel the sweat through your dressing gown,you had eaten a few things,but still felt horrifically sick, slumped on your pillow  

Vyvyan had went out,Mike was being Mike and Neil was busy gardening,Rick ran downstairs only to see what you were up to

he looked up at you "How do you feel Y/N?"

you groaned "not good,I think I've been poisoned" you felt like you were going to vomit again

he gasped melodramatically "POISONED!, by what? Edwina Currie's eggs, Jamie Oliver's salads...Neil's lentils?"

you shook your head "Nah none of that, I ordered take away but they might've overcooked it and I ate too much of it, ugh"

he sat down next to you "Have you seen a doctor about this?"

you bulged your eyes out "I haven't been to a GP in ages what are you on about?"

he wasn't happy he slapped his hands together "Alright, that's it your going to a doctor"

you tried to make an excuse "no need Rick, no need I'm fine it's not that bad"

bubbling noises could be heard from your stomach

he got his coat and hat and fidgeted about for his keys "I don't want to hear it, you are seeing a doctor"

you coldly joked "that's Vyvyan's car, how do I know if you can even drive?"

he ran inside Vyvyan's car, and turned on the engine, and smirked "the things extracurricular sociology can teach you"

he drove Vyvyan's car to the closest walk-in clinic there was,medicine was prescribed and then they were back home

you watched some tv, you browsed social media, but you forgot to take the medicine, luckily later on Rick reminded you

and while you were there on the sofa covered in a blanket, feeling  like your mouth was a rubbish bin, he was there to cuddle you, until you eventually got better, the next day he didn't bother Vyvyan he was too busy making sure you were alright,you kinda liked the attention and he kinda liked that someone was taking his advice for once and Vyvyan liked that Rick was more quiet than usual.

(Richie Rich)

it was mid Spring,a stomach bug had been going round,Catflap caught it,Richie caught it....now you caught it

you were a production person who had met up richie and catflap in the 2000s,you became showbiz pals instantly

you hated getting sick, you clutched onto your stomach as you leaned back your pillow wasn't comfy and you felt slouched

Catflap decided to change the pillow for you,as Richie Rich had walked back in looking at you to see if you were getting any better

the local GP was full up,so when he came back he was in an unhappy mood "stupid Doctors,oh well we can treat you here,I've never played that role before" he smirked before prancing off to his room and arriving back in a nurse costume

"I'm in hell" you joked as you leaned back into your position on the sofa, Richie frolicked about "so I diagnose you with....a stomach infection" as he messed about with a clipboard and pen, Catflap scoffed "it's a virus, Richie common colds don't make you vomit excessively"

Richie was disgusted slightly "Uhh, well that must not feel nice at all, my treatment shall be a cup of tea"

Catflap laughed, "a cup of tea?, would you prescribe someone with the bubonic plague a cup of tea?"

Richie grinned "YES, I would, have you watched casualty before?"

Catflap cringed as Richie prepared a cup of tea he messed up with the first cup so let catflap drink that, while he handed the second good cup to you"

he can gave you medicine as he overdramatically posed next to you, still in costume, looking at you with a random bag of first aid equipment he had in the basement

it felt nice,you kinda liked how he was doting on you even if it was a bit over the top, with Catflap being the assistant

when he posed in an animated way when giving your temperature,Filthy Ralph arrived "What are you queens up to,reenacting some Japanese cartoon" Edward Catflap paused, pulled up his suspenders a bit "Now,Ralph that's a bit offensive of you,the japanese make great television"

[blue-hippogriff]

Exhausted

Hey guys, this is a fanfic I wrote a while ago and I would love for you guys to check it out!!

Percebeth, rated T (only some cute cuddles ;) )

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12581830/1/Exhausted (pls ignore my account name, long story) OR just read it here :)

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03:24 AM

She was exhausted. Again.

She lost track of time. Again.

Percy was most definitely going to lecture her about working overtime. Again.

She will be physically unable to leave a more than a meter from her bed tomorrow morning and blame herself for it. Again.

It was a horrible cycle.

But Annabeth couldn't help it. Architecture was her life and soul, her dream since she was a little kid. When teachers in school asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, the most common answers were 'princess' 'nurse' 'doctor' and 'ice-cream tester'. This is why Annabeth did not get offended when the kids threw her confused (and some dirty) looks in her direction when she stated that her dream job was to become an architect.

The idea just appealed to her in so many ways. She knew from a young age that she was in fact smarter than most kids, although sometimes she wouldn't even know where all the knowledge was coming from. It was like someone had inputted this extra piece of brain in her, just to store enough information so people could classify her as smart. Smart, but not stuck up. She hated the stereotypical idea of that intelligent people also possessed the quality of being cocky and arrogant. Sure, she tends to get a little…aggravated when people answer in the wrong tense or misspells a word, but surely that small habit can't place her in the 'stuck-up' category of their society?

Annabeth sighed out loud as she kicked of her heels and her sore feet were freed from their captive. Her toes were sore and her heels were rubbed red from wearing those blasted heels for a whole day. She limped slightly as she made her way through the narrow but long corridor, motivating herself that a big, comfy bed was within a few footsteps. She squinted at her watch, the only light source was the moonlight coming through the two small windows in the living room of the apartment.

03:28 AM. Shit. Percy's probably already drooled half a gallon of drool onto her pillow already.

Percy.

He's been swimming around in her head the whole day. Since she is working in her office in New York nearly all the time now – leaving at 6 in the morning and not returning till late- their time together was getting cut down more and more. Percy worked as a trainee lifeguard at their local pool and the staff and customers loved him to bits. Who wouldn't like a funny, caring, talkative 18 year old goof? Although Annabeth suspected, no, knew for a fact that those giggling high school girls were drooling over his looks, and not his not-so-funny jokes. (On second thought, if Annabeth was a giggly high school girl, she would most definitely drool over Percy, just maybe not so noticeably.) Although she was happy for both of them to have found a steady job for themselves, she missed him terribly when he wasn't around her.

There were no words to describe her feelings for Percy, and you would rarely catch Annabeth speechless. He was truly the best boyfriend she could possible ask for, sometimes if she looked at him for too long, she would start questioning him whether he was real or not. (And he would laugh at her and then would kiss her.) He stuck with her through thick and thin, and Annabeth constantly reminds herself that this was the scrawny, annoying 12 year old kid that showed up at Camp Half Blood and drooled in his sleep (Old habits stick around forever, they say).

Just the mere thought of Percy plastered a wide grin on Annabeth's face, and she speed-walked the rest of the way to their bedroom. She gingerly creaked open the door, just enough to admire the scene of Percy laying on their bed, hands sprawled on their pillows, and sheets tangled in his long legs. He always sleep shirtless and only left his boxers on, complaining that it got too warm at night. Not that Annabeth was complaining of course. This way, she could look at his abs and V-line without any hassle.

She chuckled and shook her head slightly at how childish he looked in bed, his mouth half open and drool on the edge of his lips. She tiptoed inside the bedroom, grabbed her towel, her pyjamas and undergarments and headed straight for the shower. The quicker the shower, the quicker I get to cuddle with Percy, Annabeth thought.

After her short, warm shower, Annabeth was finally ready for bed. She felt clean and refreshed, she had thrown on a loose tank top and some cotton shorts as pyjamas and felt extremely comfortable. But the hot steam from the shower had made her drowsy, and the drowsiness very quickly turned into exhaustion. She left her towel to dry in the drying rack in the bathroom, hastily brushed her teeth and stumbled back into the bedroom. She tried her best to wake Percy up as she crawled into the bed beside him, resting her head on his bare chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. She untangled the sheets with her legs and pulled them up so only her lower half of her body was covered. She planted a soft peck on Percy's chest which caused him to stir in his sleep.

'Sorry, did I wake you?' Annabeth asked after kissing his chest again.

'I was supposed to wait for you anyway, so great timing.' Percy replied while pulling her in closer to him. She didn't need to look, she could hear the smile in his voice. He was always smiling nowadays. It was a great change after the events of Tartarus. For the first few months, they would have the same continuous nightmares night after night. She would wake abruptly from her slumber, sweat dripping down her forehead and her palms sweaty. On the worse nights, she would bite her knuckles until they drew blood in order to withhold her loud sobs. The fact that she needed Percy by her side each night to chase away the nightmares, Annabeth hated herself for being so dependent on him. She would constantly scold herself for showing a sign of weakness. She knew Percy had it as bad as her, maybe even worse. Yet each night he would still remember to call her to tell her goodnight and sometimes they even Iris Messaged till morning. But those days were over. Now, since they lived together, the nightmares were slowly fading away. She was extremely grateful for Percy, to be able to fall asleep peacefully each night in his warm embrace.

She was broken away from her trail of thought when Percy moved his arms to pull the covers over them, tucking them in.

'I can feel you shiver in the middle of night,' Percy explained while tucking a golden curl behind her ear. He was fully alert now. 'Do you want me to get the extra blanket from the closet?' He asked, searching Annabeth's eyes for an answer. The concern and sincerity in his eyes made Annabeth's heart melt inside her body.

'I'm fine Seaweed Brain,' Annabeth said as she shrugged off the covers off her and Percy. 'I'd much rather freeze to death than to drown in your sweat.' She joked playfully.

'Oh come on, I'm practically naked and sweat can't even drown you.' He said while pulling the covers up again, this time snug under Annabeth's chin. 'And I don't want to have to look after 'Sick Annabeth' for week.' Annabeth rolled her eyes affectionately at his statement.

'Percy, I'm not cold.'

'But you will be,'

'Not in this exact moment in time,'

'Better safe than sorry.'

Annabeth made an annoyed huff and threw the covers off the bed. They landed on the wooden floor with a soft thump. After a heartbeat, Percy then let out a soft, quiet but hearty laugh he had tried to hold in. Annabeth soon joined in with her quiet giggles and soon the soft covers on the floor were forgotten. Once they calmed down from their laughing fit, they settled into a comfortable silence for a while, both with happy smiles on their faces and staring up at the ceiling.

You know in the movies, whenever a character comes up with a mind-blowing idea, a little lightbulb appears just above their head? Well, Annabeth would like to consider her sudden idea as a 'lightbulb idea'. A mischievous ghosted her lips and disappeared just as quickly as a loud sigh escaped from her lips, breaking the silence around them.

'You know what Percy? You're right.' She said dejectedly.

Percy raised an eyebrow and his face contorted into a confused expression. '…I am?' He was not used to Annabeth saying 'you're right' to him often, this time he didn't even know what he did.

'Yeah, you're right. I get extremely cold during the night-'

'Then why'd you throw our sheets-'

He was stopped mid-sentence when Annabeth shifted from her spot from the bed until she was straddling him.

'Pity I don't have anything to warm myself up with…' She replied slyly while running her index finger along Percy's chiselled jawline. Realisation hit Percy like truck and he would've smacked himself in the face if his hands weren't already travelling up to Annabeth's hips. He swiftly flipped them over so he was hovering about two inches above her.

'I know a guy who does the job nicely,' He growled, already dropping kisses down her neck and collarbone, yanking her tank top out of his way. Annabeth hands travelled to his soft, raven-black locks, messing his hair up even more and let out a content sigh as Percy sucked on a sensitive spot just below her ear.

03:55 AM

At that particular moment in time, Annabeth was no longer exhausted.

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any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome, I really want to improve my writing and other people's opinions matter alot to me :) feel free to ask me anything and message me!! muchos gracias~

F <3

[sarahburness]

A Mother’s Dying Message: What Matters Most Is the Love We Give

“Before someone’s tomorrow has been taken away, cherish those you love, appreciate them today.” ~Michelle C. Ustaszeski

Landlines, you remember them, phones that need to be plugged in the wall. Well, my wife and I still have one. Our parents have committed the telephone number to memory, they recognize the announcement, and they feel comfortable hearing the beep and leaving a message on the machine.

It's a simple accommodation, and we appreciate when they call.

It was 2:00am, and the house phone was ringing downstairs. My wife mumbled into her pillow, “Hewssa culn thz lay?” I understood her, but I didn't reply. She lifted her head, cleared her throat, and repeated, “Who's calling this late?”

I still didn't respond. I wasn't ignoring her. I was anxiously waiting until after the beep to hear if someone was leaving a message. And yes, someone was talking, but the words were indiscernible. I went down to replay the message.

“Hey guys, sorry so late, but…a…hope I didn't wake the kids…uhh…well…maybe you should…your mother…just…just call me back when you get this.”

It was my dad, and I knew what he was trying to say. My mother was sick, and she had been for a long time. Family gathering after family gathering had come and gone, and she always ended the celebrations with, “I’m so happy to see everyone. I’m truly thankful. I hope I’ll still be here for the next holiday.”

In response, all five of us children and our spouses would chime in, “Oh, Mom. You always say that. Stop being silly.” Truth is, she wasn't kidding. She knew her body, and lately the cancer was fighting back stronger than ever.

My wife and I often talked about what it would be like when the call came in the middle of the night, or anytime for that matter. We were trying to prepare ourselves for the inevitable. Even still, reality has a way of throwing a curveball, rarely mirroring speculation.

You never really know how you'll react, especially when something hits so close to home, to the heart.

I remember feeling like someone had punched me in the gut. My legs got weak, and I melted to the floor. I just sat there in the dining room, leaned up against the buffet table in the dark. I have no clue for how long, but enough time had passed that my wife had gotten dressed, come downstairs, and was standing before me, holding a pair of pants and a shirt in her hands.

“Alright, get up, put on your clothes, grab your shoes. I’ll drive.” How my wife always knows what's going on and what to do is beyond me. And by the way, she'd also woken our kids and gotten them ready as well.

She further instructed, “Call your father from the car and tell him we're on our way.” Wow!  Now, I know what Beyoncé means when she sings about women running the world.

After an hour drive, pulling up to my parents’ house was like arriving for New Year's Eve. The house was all lit, and there were cars in the driveway and out on the road.

The front door was unlocked and upon opening, we were smacked in the face with the aroma of coffee, very strong coffee to be precise. There were nieces and nephews downstairs, some still in pajamas, chasing my parents’ Bichon Frise. All the adults were gathered upstairs.

My mom was in the smallest bedroom in the house, just beyond the top of the staircase. And there was a specific reason. This room was made to resemble a hospital setting. It had a bed that cranked and adjusted to multiple positions, a couple monitors, and a bunch of other essentials that made me angry at the world.  

I hated her being in that room so often, and so did she.

She loved her beautiful master bedroom, though. It had a king sized bed with the coolest headboard. Shelves were built in, lighted, and she lined them with pictures of the family. And there was a comfy reading chair in the corner.

But being in the “hospital room” was not only necessary, it was psychological, especially when she felt really sick. She never wanted to associate her life before cancer with her life after getting “the c word.” So feeling horrible in her awesome bedroom was out of the question.

Anyway, the alternative bedroom barely had enough space to fit my dad, my three brothers and one sister. Spouses lined the hallway.

After slowly climbing the stairs, my wife gave me a nudge through the in-laws towards an open door. “Get in there Hun. Don't worry about me. I’m gonna check on the cousins before they kill the dog.”

Inside, a dim yellow light hardly revealed faces, and it smelled like an old corner drugstore and potpourri. My mom was sitting upright in bed and saw me standing there. She said, “Well hello. It’s my handsome son.”

While she quickly had to explain to my brothers that they were equally as handsome, I made the rounds. I gave my sister a kiss on the cheek, shook my brothers’ hands, and gave my father a strong hug.

Of all the siblings, I live the furthest away from Mom and Dad's house. So everyone had already taken the opportunity to talk with Mom directly. I was the last one, always forgotten. Haha! That's not true of course. I just owned the stereotypical insecurity of being the middle child.

As fate would have it, I was born on the fringe of two age groups. I was always too young to hang out with my older brothers, and my little brother and sister were less than a year apart. So they were practically twins and had no regard for a third wheel…well…not all the time. I like to exaggerate for sympathy.

Mom often told me that being the middle meant sometimes feeling left out, but that it developed character and independence. Then later she would remark that I was the most emotional and needy, because I was born in the middle. I think she customized her theories about the order of birth based on the situation at hand.

To continue, someone had brought a chair up from downstairs and placed it at the side of the bed. I recognized it immediately as being from the dinner table, one of the very same seats from growing up. Before I sat, I leaned down and gave Mom a hug and kiss. I then took my place, looked at her and joked, “Can I have another helping of mashed potatoes, Ma?”

There was complete silence, nothing, crickets.

The mood was much more somber, or rather serious, than I was willing to accept. My mom let me off the hook though. She rolled her eyes, smiled, and shook her head all at the same time, saying, “You did always love my mashed potatoes.” She reached for my hand, and I met her halfway.

“Honey, I’m on my fifth time saying this, so excuse me if it sounds a little rehearsed. Oh boy, why did I have so many kids?” Everyone laughed that time. “Listen. I’m proud of you, and how you’ve grown as a man and a father and a husband, and…” I stopped her midstream, literally said, “Stop!”

I’ve always been impulsive and unpredictable with my words. My sister says I lack a filter. But this time, even I didn't know what I was going to say. Was I about to ruin the last moments of my mom’s life?

There was a hush over the room and after a nervous hesitation, I began, “Mom, this can't be the end. There are so many things you didn't do.”

Voice quivering, I rambled on, “Remember, you said you always wanted to write, but you and Dad had to work to support us, and there was never time. Well guess what, I started writing, and you could too. I thought we’d share stories. And how about that trip to Italy you always dreamed of…eating your favorite spicy food…and the Sistine Chapel…?”

I felt her grip on my hand. Still I babbled on, “You didn't get a chance to live your life. There's so much you didn't accomplish.” At that moment, she squeezed the blood from my hand, then relaxed her hold. I knew to be silent. She told my brothers and sister to move in closer. She had something that needed to be heard, and she wanted to see everyone's faces.

“Listen. When I hear the word “accomplish,” I do think of my life, but not the things I haven't done. Look around this room. Look at what I’ve created. I have no disappointment, no regret. Sure I would have enjoyed writing and traveling, but they certainly wouldn't have defined who I am. I picked the greatest partner and took on the hardest job in the world.”

She took a deep breath and resumed, “Just witnessing how wonderfully you've all turned out, the bonds you’ve built, and the love you share with your own families, I am filled with a pride that only a mother could know. So please, please, don't look back on me as having a life unfulfilled. Right here, in front of me, is the greatest accomplishment of all.”

There wasn't a dry eye in the room. You could even hear sniffling coming from the hallway. My wife, who had been sitting on the top step, later told me, “Your mom was right. You are sensitive. And I love you for it.” The rest of the night was filled with stories and laughs and tears. And with the rising of the sun, Mom said goodbye.

Crazy now, looking back. I used to actually feel sorry for her. Why didn't I recall the time she taught herself algebra, just so she could help me with my homework, how she'd make warm milk with honey at 3am when I couldn't stop coughing, how she was the loudest voice in the stands when I hit a homerun, or when she crawled into bed with me on a stormy night until I fell safely asleep?

I could go on and on with amazing stories of devotion, not just for me, but for all her children. How naive I was. She was achieving her goals on a daily basis, by devotedly being Mom.

What I took away from that fateful night has become the legacy of my mother’s time on Earth, a mindset that my wife and I will pass down to our children. It’s not the places you travel, plaques on your wall, or material things you accumulate that define true accomplishment. Rather, it's the love you create, as exemplified by an amazing mom, that validates a life well lived.

About Cameron Connelly

Cameron is the creator of the blog Callemonit.com. He writes about how the behavior of others sometimes causes unwanted stress and invites readers to share their experiences. Have you considered confronting the source—calling ‘em on it? Do you need advice first? Or have you already done it? Did this eliminate unnecessary anxiety? Are you happy with your decision?

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The post A Mother’s Dying Message: What Matters Most Is the Love We Give appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/a-mothers-dying-message-what-matters-most-is-the-love-we-give/