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“Do you think I’m pretty?”
It wasn’t the first time that Madeline had asked Helen that. In fact, Madeline probably asked her that at least once a week. The blonde had always loved getting compliments, but when they were from Helen they meant so much more. And frankly, Helen was happy to give them to her.
“Of course I do, Mads.”
“Even though I’m dead?”
The eyes peeking over the top of her book caused Helen to smirk. Even when Mad was being serious, Helen couldn’t help but laugh at her pouty face. She put her book down in her lap and took Madeline’s hands in hers, giving the other woman her full attention.
“Yes, baby, even with your cold, dead heart, I still think you’re the prettiest girl in the world.”
Despite the teasing tone, the words still sounded so sincere. Madeline couldn’t help the tears that pooled in her eyes at the red heads soft tone.
Before the two women had realized that they were each other’s person, Helen had thought that Madeline’s constant need for praise was because of her narcissistic ego. Now, she realized that it came from a deep rooted insecurity that had developed from her many years of living her life in the public eye with the constant fear of there always being someone younger or prettier. (Although, there was still a bit of narcissism there, too; after all, she was a two-time Oscar nominee.)
Somehow, they ended up tangled together on the sofa while Helen continued reading her book. Considering how long Madeline had been quiet for, Helen thought that she had fallen asleep. Until she heard a gentle whisper from the figure next to her.
“I love you, Hel.”
“I love you too, Mad.”