Work Text:
My family tree's
Losing all its leaves
Crashing towards the driver's seat
The lightning bolt made enough heat
To melt the street beneath your feet
--
The summer has gotten hot, but that doesn't stop you from enjoying the heat pressed against your body.
The friction rubs against you and your skin jumps and shivers in anticipation.
"Are you sure it's okay to be doing this now?" Kanaya is still trying to play it cautious, but you've assured her enough times and, really, she read the research herself.
"The baby will be fine," you say, pulling her closer, and you kiss her just as deeply, "everything will be fine."
-
You're wiping the sweat from your forehead and tucking your loose bangs back behind your headband.
Even the pages of your book are damp in this humidity. You don't want to risk tearing any pages, so you store it away and decide to retrieve your violin instead.
You re-adjust yourself on the couch and gently ease the bow against the strings. You aim for the deeper pitches and hope that your tune is relaxing enough.
It's much, much, too early to feel any movement, but that doesn't stop you from searching for it anyway.
You almost jump when Kanaya joins you on the couch, but you tighten your grip on the bow and close your eyes again and continue playing until the night settles around you.
-
You call Kanaya to let her know you've arrived at the doctor's safely and she tells you to take good notes.
You jokingly scoff at her accusation of your inability to pay attention, but you still jot down a few notes, more for her sake than yours, as the doctor steps you through the basics of pregnancy.
You decide to stop by the grocery store afterwards.
You suppose a few more vegetables won't do you any harm.
-
You're obliged to call your Mom first, but your friends are told shortly after.
You can't help but bask in their delight.
-
You've decided to pass the time by making a little hat. It's small and purple and you think it'll suit the baby just right.
Jaspers curls around the ball as you work with the yarn, but you pick out the loose fur that gets stuck to the strings.
His purrs echo against the walls of your bedroom, and you feel happy.
-
It's the ache in your back that wakes you, and you clutch your arms against your stomach as you push yourself up.
You can't stop the small groan from escaping your mouth as another cramp seizes you, and it's enough to rouse Kanaya into wakefulness too.
She switches on the bedside light and pulls you close as she asks what wrong.
You feel as her arms tighten and it's too tight, much too tight, and it makes you scared.
"You're bleeding.
Rose,
you're bleeding."
And when you turn and look down at the spot you were sitting in moments ago you see the few specks of blood.
-
The doctor confirms what you had tried to convince yourself it wasn't.
You hate her for that.
-
When the two of you come home, Kanaya barely walks you up to the door before turning away and walking to the forest.
You watch as she pulls out her chainsaw.
The first tree falls, but you barely hear the crash over the sound of the saw's rushing blades and Kanaya's scream.
You turn your back and head inside as she walks to another tree.
You can't stand to watch this.
-
There are days when it feels like your mouth has sealed shut, and you've shut off your phone and turned off your computer because you can’t bring yourself to talk to the others.
You don't want to tell anyone because then that would make it real.
-
There are bottles surrounding your feet and you trip on them during your most recent bouts of glorious inebriation.
You laugh as the shards press into your skin and you think the blood looks a lot more peaceful when it's dripping out of your feet.
You've lost track of the days that you've been hidden in the basement, finding ways to forget, but it's not the first time and you can't even care to remember why you felt the need to hide yourself in the first place.
-
The world sounds a little bit quieter when the chainsaw stops. It's been buzzing for days and you had learned to drown it out, turn it into a bit of white noise for the backdrop of your fucked up adventures.
You're trying to head back upstairs, but your feet ache from the glass shards and your hands are shaky and your head feels like it's squeezing in, so you're crawling and it's taking years to travel up a few steps.
You don't hear her coming towards you, but see her feet and feel her tears as they splash on your face and you want to kiss those tears away.
But the world turns dark before you can even run your fingers across the curves of her cheek.
-
You sleep for what feels like days and when you wake you feel a gentle set of fingers brush against your hair.
You want to greet Kanaya, but it's your Mom who fills your vision instead.
Both hands are empty of a bottle or a glass and her breath smells like mint when she kisses you on the forehead.
You don't expect to start crying when she tells you that she's here for you, but you do and you cling her when she embraces you.
You need this, even if you don't want to admit it.
-
Jade comes a week after Mom arrived and she brings the others along.
They know, and they still love you. And you think that's what you need to hear right now.
You watch as they dig deep into the soil, and Kanaya helps Karkat and Jade ease the tree into the hole.
You place the stone at the foot of the trunk. Mom had helped you carve it.
Noor, you had decided, was a beautiful name.
-
Mom leaves, several weeks later, with your wine collection.
You thank her for everything.
And she tells you that she loves you.
-
Your friends stay a few days longer.
You want to apologize for keeping secrets.
But they never accuse you of anything and you love them so much more for that.
-
Time passes slowly and quickly, and eventually you start to feel the desires for a child again.
You're a little more cautious as you sit in the waiting room at the doctor's office, and Kanaya holds your hand as the minutes pass.
-
You don't consummate the good news this time.
You just hope because hope is all you can do.
-
Weeks pass and Kanaya decides to start decorating the baby room.
You argue over colors.
And you end up buy too many cans.
It takes you a week to scrub off every speck of paint that managed to land on your body and Kanaya broke down and bought a replacement rug because she grew tired of trying to scrub the colors out.
The two of you agreed that dumping paint on each other is not really that great of an idea.
And it doesn’t really win any arguments.
-
You're a few rows in to a pair of green mittens when you find out.
You hadn't even felt anything.
The doctor had just shaken her head and told you that sometimes it's just because something’s wrong with the fetus, not because anything's wrong with the mother's body.
But you don't want to hear this.
You don't want to think of your babies' bodies being all wrong.
-
You make it all the way back to your house before you start screaming.
And your furniture suffers through your rage.
Kanaya does nothing but stand and watch. She knows too well what you’re going through.
-
Mom is standing at your doorstep before the night has even settled into the sky.
She hugs you and you let yourself cry.
She doesn’t say anything about the damaged chairs and smashed vases that she sees through the doorway.
-
Kanaya curls around you later that night and she kisses you even though you feel broken.
Everything about you is all fucked up, you want to tell her.
But she doesn't stop kissing you long enough for you to gather the courage and eventually you give up trying to fight it.
She's still at your side and you hope that's where she'll always be.
-
Your friends are asleep on your couches and your floor when you wake up.
The mess you made the day before has been cleaned up and no one says anything about it.
-
Dave and John set out early to break through the soil that's nearly frozen solid over the course of the night.
They take their time digging, letting a few days slowly ease by as you work.
Kanaya decides this time, and you tell her that you agree, a thousand times over.
You wait until they finish kicking the dirt over the roots of the tree and Kanaya joins you as you lay the new stone down.
Syrma, Kanaya whispers, and you hold her as she cries.
-
You would have thought that years made grief easier to deal with, but you’ve discovered that everything comes in waves.
There are days when you lay between the two trees, thinking about everything you’ve lost.
But there are also days when you’re find yourself smiling at the children asking curious questions while their parents return library books.
You’re constantly torn, and you know Kanaya is too.
-
Hope, you decide, is a sturdy thing.
It cracks with each passing hit, but you’re always surprised to see that it hasn’t shattered yet.
You talk for months before you try again.
-
You notice how Kanaya changed.
How she’s always watching you with anxious eyes.
How she’s only buying the healthiest of foods.
How she’s constantly reading through research, trying to find ways to make things work this time.
You want to take her fears away, but you don’t know how.
-
You spend a week at Mom’s.
Kanaya drives the whole way as you lay in the back seat, staring out your window at the passing trees.
You think your trees might be even more beautiful than these wild ones.
But you think you might just be biased.
-
You buy the roll of yarn one day.
Dark blue; maybe for a blanket.
You measure out how long and wide it should be.
But you don’t pick up your needles.
It feels like you’re almost putting too much stock in hope this time.
-
You’re cutting tomatoes when you feel the change.
It’s subtle, but you notice it anyway.
Like everything’s stopped; like it wasn’t even there in the first place.
-
The doctor nods when you explain the feeling the next morning at an emergency visit.
She tells you that sometimes that’s a sign.
You nod back, but your head feels just as empty as your womb.
-
You wonder if they’re ever going to get tired of showing up.
If they’re getting agitated at stopping whatever plans they were focused on before they received the news.
You question them about it. Trying hard to pretend to be nonchalant.
You’re almost ashamed of doing so when you see the looks on their faces.
You know they love you, but you feel like such a burden.
Like such a failure.
You don’t deserve them, just like you don’t deserve anything.
-
Calypso.
Mom had asked you and Kanaya a couple nights ago.
Kanaya had hugged her and told her that she loved it.
You carved it in the next morning.
(You don’t really want to think about how good you’ve gotten at carving on stone, but you figure it’s a skill acquired through experience.)
-
--
-
You had decided with Kanaya many months ago that you wouldn’t keep secrets from Karmini.
Because no matter what happened, those three were, are, still your children.
And you won’t keep them hidden like a dirty secret under piles of dirt and grass.
-
The three of you play in the yard on the warm days and you often settle under the shade of the three trees when it gets too hot.
You watch as Karmini investigates her surroundings.
How she crawls amongst the dirt and the grass, occasionally grabbing the tiny tree trunks in an attempt to push herself up.
And you try not to search for any grand hidden messages as she slaps the headstones with her little palms.
Because she's a baby, really, and it's just not fair to her.
Or to you, for that matter.