Chapter Text
Hiraeth - A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.
TW// Child abuse, Food, Eating Disorders, Panic attacks, Depression, Anxiety
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December in Hachetfield was something Emma hadn't -properly- experienced since she'd been holed up in her parents house. It got really fucking cold in the winter months, it was very annoying to put up with. Almost everyone wore full long coats with hats and scarves and gloves from November all the way through til February.
Emma seemed to remember a lot of fake smiles and shitty small talk. The town was tiny and gossipy, everyone knew everyone's business, yet each citizen carried an outwardly friendly ambience. There was something artificial about Christmas time in Hachetfield, though quite honestly, it was the least of Emma's worries.
This December, Emma knew, was just going to fucking suck. She wished almost everyday that the world would just skip over it, forget it even existed. Of course this could never happen, each holiday season was more commercialised than the last, all just a big ploy to scam money out of people. The shopping industry would never avoid an opportunity to cash in, so unfortunately, December was going to happen whether Emma liked it or not.
Paul was excited because of course he was. He enjoyed the aesthetic and the happy faces and the 'sense of community'. Emma thought it was all bullshit, but she humoured him on the odd day, agreeing to take walks around the snowy woods when he wanted to. Paul knew why Emma didn't like Christmas and thus he tried his hardest to paint her a new idea of it.
He often baked (misshapen) cookies and wore multiple different festive jumpers throughout the month. Paul desperately attempted to cheer Emma up, maybe keep her distracted at least. She respected his efforts for it had worked for the most part of two weeks. He was trying his best, she appreciated that.
There were two main reasons why Emma heavily despised Christmas:
1) As a child, it was quite possibly the worst day of her year
2) This Christmas would mean that Jane had been dead for a whole year
It was going to be shit and messy and fucking awful. The only silver lining was that Emma had Paul. He'd take care of her and she was holding on to that fact desperately.
Growing up, Emma was always second best to Jane - she was the 'good' one. They were compared and set against each other all of their lives. Jane didn't really notice or understand, she was always praised and loved, there was no reason for her to discern that there was anything wrong.
Their parents did a good job of hiding the truth from Jane, choosing to strike when she was up in her room or out with friends. When Jane moved out for college, Emma's life got significantly worse. There was a permanent focus on her grades, future career options, and the need for a committed relationship with a man. The young girl felt trapped and guilty for not being 'good enough'. It messed her up real bad.
Emma despised her parents to a great extent. They were the reason she had so many issues nowadays. Frankly, she was glad they were dead now.
On Christmas day Emma was always told to be grateful. You had to be happy and kind and thankful all day long, otherwise your dad would get angry at you. Emma thought this was normal when she was young. That because your parents had spent money on you to get you a few presents, you were indebted to them for the foreseeable future.
Jane never really noticed that Emma got less presents than her, she just presumed that Emma opened hers a lot quicker than she did. Nevertheless, Emma certainly did notice every year. Each December she would receive less and less - what she did receive were passive aggressive stabs at her intelligence or her 'laziness'.
One year, she had upcoming exams that were rather important. Jane passed with flying colours when she did them so their parents expected the same of their youngest. Emma was gifted a watch for 'time management' and many text books that weren't even on the syllabus. They hadn't cared enough to find the right books. From the age of 9 onward, Emma never got a real present for Christmas.
She'd asked for bikes, colouring pens, new clothes and toy dolls but her parents wouldn't get them for her. There was a Christmas where Emma had asked for a scooter. It was wrapped obviously, teasing her next to the tree, but when the time came to open presents it had Jane's name written on it instead.
That day was especially bad for a young Emma Perkins. Like any child would be, she was upset. Having the present she'd wanted the most dangled in front of her face then snatched away at the last second. That was the day when she broke her elbow... Well actually, she wasn't the one who broke it.
Her father became even more annoyed at her when they had to take her to the hospital. Once she returned home she became littered in bruises. Emma could still remember exactly where the impressions lay on her neck.
Even now her parents were dead she still felt sick thinking about it. She often worried that they would burst through the door and berate her for letting Jane die instead of herself. It was a nightmare Emma suffered through maybe once a month, but occurred more frequently around holidays and birthdays.
Emma had had a shitty, shitty childhood. It was odd meeting Paul's parents for the first time. They were nice and welcoming. They didn't shout at her when she accidentally dropped her knife onto the floor, they just got her another one. Emma liked them enough, but it was weird and a lot of the time she felt uncomfortable around them. Family wasn't really her thing.
Throughout her life Jane and Emma were never actual friends. They loved each other but Emma was jealous of her big sister and Jane was always a bit insensitive to her. To be fair, she never knew the reality of what was happening to her younger sister. When Emma left off for Guatemala she didn't feel the need to keep in touch with Jane. Emma ignored the texts, calls and invitations. It wasn't that Jane was trying to boast about her 'perfect' life, Emma knew she wasn't, her sister was far too kind. Emma just didn't want to be reminded of how much of a total fuck up she was. She thought that was pretty fair.
When their parents passed away Emma could have taken the opportunity to reconnect with Jane. In the end she chose not to. It was easier to deal with things when you were always on the move. Emma didn't want commitment or normalcy back then, which seemed ironic now that she lived with Paul.
Jane had died almost a year ago. A year without her big sister, who she never cared enough for. It wasn't Jane's fault that she was the favourite child. Emma knew that and she beat herself up every day for not visiting even once. They could have been friends as adults. Maybe if Emma was in Hachetfield Jane wouldn't have got in the car, maybe they would have stayed at home whilst Emma visited.
Maybe if Emma had been a good fucking sister, Jane wouldn't be dead.
It was a lot to process with work and college only ever getting more busy. When Emma was reminded of Tom and Tim she felt her heart break. Tom had lost his wife and Tim had lost his mother at 8 years old. They'd also lost an aunt for 10 years. Emma hated herself for doing that to them. She should have met Tim before Jane died.
Emma managed to keep these thoughts internalised for a while. She was a little more snappy than usual but otherwise she didn't let it show. Though in one instant this changed.
Paul and Emma were walking around the supermarket, shopping for groceries and looking for new recipes they could make. Emma loved shopping for food, it allowed her to get creative with what she would cook for the rest of the week. It challenged her to think up a new dish. Paul didn't enjoy it as much, he just wanted to get it over and done with but nevertheless always grinned when Emma would come up with an idea for dinner. It was nice to see her get excited over something so simple.
They were walking up and down the aisles irregularly. They'd started off methodically, but as an idea began to form in Emma's mind she hopped about each section sporadically. They were nearing the end of their shop now and were stood in the rice and pasta aisle. Emma was looking at the back of a packet or risotto rice when someone caught her eye.
She looked up to see the back of a woman's head. The woman was taller than Emma, dressed in nicer clothes than her. Her hair was the exact same brown as Emma's, but the woman wore it down and it bounced over her shoulders in curls. The woman turned slightly, allowing Emma to make out some of her face.
With a loud thump the rice hit the ground.
"Are you alright?" Paul asked. Emma was looking off into space down the aisle. She hadn't seemed to realise that she'd dropped the rice yet. It took several seconds for Emma to engage back into the present. She looked down at the rice, luckily the bag hadn't split. Emma bent down and picked up the rice, slowly placing it in their cart.
"Em, you're shaking. What happened?" Paul queried, his expression laced with worry. Emma seemed to process what he had said and looked down to her shaking hands.
"Oh nothing, It's fine. I'm fine." Emma tried to play it off but her hands couldn't stop shaking. Paul frowned.
"You're not fine." He was very concerned now.
"I just thought I saw someone s'all. Let's just finish this okay." Emma urged. Paul didn't want to challenge her, especially not in public. He simply nodded and headed straight for the checkout, they had enough food to get them through the week already.
Emma was quiet the entire car ride home, staring straight ahead and tapping her fingers on her thigh. Paul didn't want to overstep his boundaries, trying his best to only glance over at her when he was checking the passenger window. They took the groceries into the house and put them down on the kitchen counter. Emma began to put the food away but Paul stopped her.
"Em we don't have to do this now." Paul spoke softly, his eyes searching her face. She wasn't quite sure what he meant, did he not want to talk about what had happened?
"What do you mean?" Emma's voice was quiet and scared, she felt her body shrivel into itself a little. Maybe Paul thought she was a terrible person as well, maybe he didn't even want to be with her, maybe she should just leave.
"Let's not put the groceries away, it can wait. I wan't to make sure you're okay." Paul moved gently towards her and scooped up her small hands, holding them in his. His head was angled down, staring at her. When Emma looked back up at him her eyes were glossy with tears.
"I- uh. I-" Emma's jaw was shaking now, she couldn't speak. Emma was confused at how Paul could care so much about her. How he could love her when she was an absolute mess. Paul guided her towards him, hugging her into his chest and resting his head atop hers.
"Shh, shhh. It's okay. I've got you okay." Paul whispered whilst stroking her back. Emma clutched on to his jumper, balling the material up in her fists. Paul realised that the sobbing wouldn't subside for a while and thought it best to move her to the sofa where she could sit down.
Paul shuffled her slightly so that he could pick her up to carry her into the living room. Thankfully she melted into him easily, not flinching at the change of movement. He sat on the sofa with Emma in his lap. He rocked her back and forth ever so slightly. Every minute or so he would whisper a positive affirmation or kiss her on the forehead, letting her know that he was there.
They sat like that for what felt like ages, but in reality was only 20 minutes. Emma got to the point where she couldn't cry anymore, it hurt too much and she struggled to breathe when she was snivelling. After a few more minutes of hiccups and shaky breaths Emma looked up at Paul.
"I saw Jane." It came out as barely a whisper. Paul didn't want to make her repeat it, but still prompted her into telling him more.
"You saw Jane?" Paul's tone was sincere. He didn't think she was crazy for seeing her dead sister at the supermarket. He accepted it instead of insisting that it was impossible.
"I saw Jane in the supermarket... She was right there." Emma had a distant look in her face, he could tell she was trying to recreate the image of what Jane had looked like, standing there in front of her.
"Okay." Paul nodded his head and gave her a kind smile - he believed her entirely. Silence ensued until Emma made a decision
Emma pulled herself off of Paul's lap and sat cross-legged on the other side of the sofa. It was time to tell him what was going on inside her head and she wasn't sure she could go through with it if she was bundled up in his lap. Emma attempted to compose herself, breathing in and out a few times before speaking up.
"Jane's dead and I didn't reach out to her once when I was in Guatemala. She's dead with a 9 year old son who barely knows me and it's all my fault I-" Emma was crying again now, airing her thoughts out in the air. Paul interrupted her at the instance she began to self-deprecate.
"It's not your fault Em." Paul was gentle but firm, she couldn't live a life full of guilt. It would kill her.
"I regret every day I didn't spend with her because she was my only person you know. I didn't have the greatest friends or parents that cared about me. She could have been my friend but I fucked off to fucking Guatemala because I'm selfi-"
"Emma. No." Paul's voice was serious. They stared intently at one another generating a pause in the conversation, a mutual agreement that Emma would try to stop saying things negatively about herself. She knew that's what was destroying her inside. Emma was her own biggest enemy.
"I miss her every day. Sometimes I even wish that I could go back to that God awful house just to be with her again." Emma let her tears drop down on to the cushion on her lap. She was twisting her hands in her lap profusely. She began to open her mouth but shut it quickly. Emma thought to herself that maybe she should've been the one to die, not Jane. Paul wouldn't let her think like that though, it was only harming her more, so she didn't vocalise it.
"I was jealous of her my entire life. She was so intelligent. My parents wanted so badly for me to be like her. Of course I wasn't, how could I be? She was the perfect child. She was a nice sister and I hate myself for letting my jealousy get the better of me." Emma paused again, chancing a glance up at Paul who was beginning to well up himself. Emma shut her eyes tightly and squeezed her hands together.
"The worst thing is that I had a chance to be with her. When my parents died I could have come back here, been a sister to her, been an aunt to Tim. I regret that decision so, so much. I could have spent time with my sister... And now she's dead." Emma let out a deep sob. Her whole body was shaking and she began to hyperventilate as more and more tears leapt down her face, smashing onto the pillow below.
At this sight Paul moved back over to her, cradling her in his arms. He didn't know what to say, there was nothing that would make this better. So he just held her, enveloping her small frame, keeping it warm. It was long and painful, but nothing could be done. They would just have to wait it out for a bit.
Once the tears had stopped they remained seated for a while. Paul was the first one to move away and Emma already felt lost without his presence. Emma watched him walk to the kitchen and she frowned, she needed him for longer still. After a minute Paul returned, holding a tub of ice cream and two spoons.
"I figured you wouldn't want dinner, but we have to eat something." Paul stated simply. Emma didn't smile, she wasn't in the mood to, but she was thankful that he was looking after her.
Emma had a tendency to skip meals when she was stressed or busy, it was too much to handle at once so the food was always the first thing to fall to the wayside. The ice cream was nice, it helped cool her hot cheeks and it was also just really good ice cream. She wasn't cheered up by it, ice cream couldn't solve that, but it was a lot easier to eat than anything else.
After they finished the tub Paul helped Emma upstairs. She'd required a bit more support half-way up the staircase as her legs felt like jelly and her vision blurred with dizziness. Even though Emma leaned heavily on Paul, she was able to reach their bedroom and undress herself, getting changed into long pyjama bottoms and one of Paul's t-shirts.
They hadn't bothered with brushing teeth and showers. It was too much at that moment in time, so it could wait till the morning. Finally the end of the day had arrived, Paul and Emma were laying in bed next to each other, Paul's hand draped over her waist in a loose hug.
"Thank you for listening to me." Emma expressed. She'd been horrifically vulnerable today and Paul hadn't taken advantage of it - not that she thought he would - but it was nice to have that reassurance. Paul offered a small smile in acknowledgement and leaned forward to kiss her on the lips.
"I love you." Paul replied. She pulled her neck up to return a kiss on his lips and then he moved back to lean his head against the pillow.
It was going to be a hard couple of weeks for Emma but Paul would be there for every single second.