3K READS YOU GUYS!!!!!!!! WE DID IT!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME THIS I NEVER THOUGHT MY STORY WOULD EVER GET THIS FAR WHEN I BEGAN! YOUR READS AND VOTES ARE WHAT KEEP ME WRITING WHEN I FEEL STUCK SO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ENABLING ME TO DO SOMETHING I LOVE SO MUCH AND BRINGS ME SO MUCH HAPPINESS!!!!! <3<3<3
and then this chapter... idk... yeah... theres a relative possibility i was high or there was some sort of gas leak in my house when i began writing this... but hey! maybe it was beneficial?! or maybe its a slightly fucked up filler chapter XD we'll see!
[Editing Me: Uh so i'm sorry about this. I was talking to my friend ( Maddy_98 ) the other day about this chapter and we decided this is a peek into the inner-workings of my mind that happen on a daily basis. The only difference is... I usually don't write it down... and it's a little scary... I'm sorry]
and for those of you in America today honoring 9-11âï¸
Nobody Compares
I'm on a fluffy cloud. A fucking fluffy cloud. I sing in my head, rocking my head side to side against the comfortable pillow as I slowly awake. This bed is fucking heaven.
I didn't even notice Hailee lying across me the entirety of the night, for I was so absorbed in the fluffiness of the comforter and pillows that surround me in a sheltered cocoon of hugs and butterfly kisses.
OMG! Butterfly kisses, and I'm in a cocoon like a caterpillar waiting to be freed as a beautiful butterfly. I wonder what color butterfly I would be? Hmm... well I'm wearing my high school sweatshirt with our class color, so maybe I'll be purple! Purple is my fave anyways. Then red, then green, but not the bright greens, but like army green. I don't like it as a color in general, but it's like the best thing ever created when it comes to fashion. If I were to become a butterfly based on my wardrobe, I would probably be a black, maroon, army green, and maybe some brown and grey with ripped wings. Oh! And combat boots.
I'd be a kick-ass butterfly.
God dammit. Now I really want to be a butterfly. I could flap around and run into windows all I want and people couldn't say nuttin' cause they wouldn't speak the language of me and my fellow colorful insects of the sky. We would be like 'omg did you see that slut with the butterfly tattoo on her ass?!', in butterfly talk, of course, but they wouldn't even know. We could just fly around and say anything we want or do anything we feel like or accidentally do and no one could say 'you're such a stupid bug' because we wouldn't understand them, and plus why would they be talking to a butterfly? If I could understand them I would tell them that I'm a freakin butterfly and they better get on their knees and praise me because, goddammit, I AM A BEAUTIFUL FUCKING BUTTERFLY! Then again, even if I could understand them in order to respond in this manner, they wouldn't be able to understand me. And if they did, then we would both understand each other and ALL HELL WOULD BREAK LOOSE!
OMG! It'd be like that bee movie where the bees go ape shit crazy on the humans or something and everyone dies!
Okay maybe that isn't how the movie actually goes, but that is how I am remembering it for this current internal debate. So shut up stupid conscious, I can lie to myself all I want to in my head!
Given this false information I am allowing to be true for the time being, BUTTERFLY FRIENDS READ MY MIND AND DON'T FOLLOW YOUR BEE FRIENDS IN THE INSECT REVOLUTION!
Hopefully they will get the message. If not, I am in the process of becoming one of them as we speak, so by the time the war begins, I will be on the winning side.
Yeah! We butterflies kick ass!
OH! It's like that Hannah Montana song about flying! How does it go? Well, I don't know, but I know the mother frickin butterflies in that song fly away to some magical island. Or maybe just to Tennessee. Whatever.
"Are you thinking about butterflies?"
I scrunch up my face in confusion at the suddenly present voice beyond the confines of my closed eyelids.
Whoever it is, they have disturbed me from my half-asleep rambling. Therefor... BUTTERFLY FRIENDS I SUMMON YOU! ATTACK!
"I do not understand your foreign language, goof sir."
The voice laughs. "Isn't it supposed to be 'good sir'?"
"No, because you sir, are not good, but a goof," I humph. I reach my hand out in the direction the voice is coming from, quickly colliding with a face only inches from mine. My hand roams the face, squeezing different patches of skin across the area and trying to decipher who it belongs to. My palm comes into contact with a pair of obviously smirking lips.
"This is either Louis... or one of those weird scruffy monkeys in Antarctica. Wait no, that's not right. Amazon? No that's the online thrift shop thingy. Isn't there a forest also called that? Oh whatever, either way, you are a monkey butt."
Suddenly the face breaks away from my reach, loud laughter booming across the walls of the hotel room.
"What in the bloody hell are you talking about?!" Louis cackles as I open my eyes, finding his face contorted into a smile big enough I'm sure it's painful, not that he shows any resignation from the strained expression of happiness on his lips.
"I've warned you before," I mumble, swinging my finger loosely in his direction. "You wake me from my dreams, I introduce you to your nightmares."
He just laughs lightly once again. "Oh of course!" he giggles, sarcastically.
Cheeky bastard.
"How did you know I was thinking about butterflies?" I question softly as I realize he does not possess the same magical abilities of the butterflies, therefor he is in fact unable to read my mind.
His smile diminishes, not fully leaving his features, but drawing them into an amused smirk.
"I saw you fumbling with your butterfly tattoo on your wrist, but you had a goofy smile on your face, so I put two and two together."
"Oh, right." I nod with a light chuckle, scrunching my eyebrows together on my forehead as I push myself up on my elbows with my hands wringing in front of me, tattoo clear in view.
"Hey," he says softly, taking notice in my slight change of demeanor and taking my hands between his. "It's okay. They are scars, not wounds. Just remember that."
I smile softly at his reassurance. I would usually just brush it off, but with the stress of everything, plus the thought of bringing a child into the world that has brought me so much pain that I caused more to myself, made me hypersensitive to the subject.
"The wound is always there, the evidence is just faded, but always a reminder as much as it is proof how horrible the world can be," I mumble, looking down at my hands rather than him.
"Babe." He cups my chin between my fingers, forcing me to look at him. "What's wrong?"
I sigh heavily. "What happens when one day, the baby will be old enough and ask me about them. I mean, the tattoo covers it from afar, but you can still see it and feel the bumps up close. What will they think? Will they hate me? Will they think it's disgusting? Or will they learn to think of it as normal and one day do it to themselves?"
I feel my face tingle with the sudden heat as a hot tear runs down my cheek. Louis' thumb is quick to gently swipe it away.
"They will think you are just as beautiful and amazing as I do--scars and all. It shows how strong you are, and I will tell you that as many times as you need to hear it."
I lean my head to nuzzle into his palm, tilting to press a kiss to the center.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
I smile warmly, leaning towards his compassion filled ocean eyes before closing my own and connecting my lips to his. We pepper a few gentle kisses against one another's lips and smiling every time we pulle away for a brief moment before giving in and kissing again.
"Yo stupidios!" a muffled shriek calls from behind me. "Cállate before I go el pollo loco!"
"Okay, I'm not the one that speaks Spanish, but you just said crazy chicken, did you not?" I mockingly ponder aloud.
A moment of silence passes before Hailee's voice, more clear as she lifts her head from the pillow to face me, speaks once again.
"Cállate stupido."
I laugh and look over my shoulder further to see the grumpy brunette snuggling into the comforter and squirming around on my back before I remember the events of the previous night.
"Hey, what happened last night?" I ask, suddenly speaking with a heavier tone as I turn back to him.
His face drops slightly as well, but once again, not fully, which gives me hope that it was resolved decently enough.
"Don't worry. It took a bit and the words exchanged in that time didn't exactly help, but we calmed them down."
"What about you?" I question further, using a softer tone to convey my concern for him. He lifts our still joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to them softly.
"I'm fine, love."
"You sure?" I raise my eyebrows, opening up another opportunity for him to confess if he is in fact sugar-coating anything for me.
"I'm sure."
"Okay. Good."
"Okay, well we are headed to Raleigh today! So we have to be back on the bus in forty-five minutes," he informs me.
Hailee beats me to the punch as she groans loudly at the news that we will in fact have to get out of bed today. We are both relatively lazy people to begin with, but adding a growing life in our abdomen, anyone who tries to make us participate in life for a while will be loosing a head.
"I know," Louis chuckles, knowing our hatred for anything without a bed. "But, hey! You get to see your dad in a matter of hours! Yay!" he chuckles nervously towards the end of his pep talk, taking a little bit of the oomph from the conviction of his statement.
"You'll be fine!" I roll my eyes.
"Hah!" Hailee chirps loudly into the pillow, muffling her implied contradicting opinion that Louis would 'be fine' when he met my dad.
We need to have a little discussion about the phrase 'not helping'.
"Thanks," he snipes, erasing the sincerity of his gratuitous reply.
"My pleasure!"
"Okay, well, anyways..." I drawl out, diffusing the playful tension. "Let's get going!"