A/N
HEY! I'm SOOOO Sorry for the strange little hiatus. I've had quite a bit of homework this week and haven't been able to write Chapter 12.
Alright… to the reviewers!
Thanks to all who reviewed/favorited/followed!
Meli31295: Yup. Haha. Brick=Ass. But, he is the oldest… not saying anything about the oldest kids being jerks, though, because I'm the oldest in my family! Haha.
The-writing-vampire: YES! That's exactly how I'm trying to portray the relationship aspect! Thank you so much for getting it! And awesome! I'll start coming up with a plot for that next story sometime. :)
Bubblycutie: O.o creepy! Haha. Sorry, I didn't have time to update Sunday =/
Meyrin-X-ZAFTgirl: Good! I'm glad you think it's suspenseful! Thanks! :)
Canzie: Thanks! Hehe.
Un Auteur: Thanks!
AutumnBlayze: THANKS FOR GIVING ME IDEAS! I actually LOVE them, and I proved so by using one of them in this chapter :) Thanks so much!
Wildone97: Hahahaha! Oh my gosh! I didn't realize that! Thanks for pointing it out, it made me fall out of my chair laughing! :)
Vwvanlover: Thanks! I love the sarcasm too! :)
Pontiac56: Thank you! =)
Sundepender: She sure is! Sooner or later, right? Ha.
xXMidnightFireHeartxX: Yeah… haha.
And thanks to superninjapiratezombieinspace (love that username by the way!), My Timeless Blue, xxBECKYxBOOxx, and Pontiac56, for favoriting/following! (If I forgot a name, I am SOOO sorry, and it was not on purpose!)
So anyway, this chapter is on Butch's POV. The next chapter will MOST LIKELY be on Buttercup.
Thankies so much to AutumnBlayze for the ideas for Butch's dream!
Anyway… here's chapter 12
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. And thanks to AutumnBlayze for the ideas on Butch's dreams! ;)
Chapter 12
(Butch's POV)
It was all over the headlines:
LOCAL SNOWBOARDER GOES PRO.
My lips curled up and into a smile. That was me. Townsville's newest star. I had been trying forever to try and get noticed by different talent scouts. My wife had been telling me for the past four years to keep trying—even though I had almost given up. I'd been great at skateboarding, but I'd found a new love for cold things when I'd graduated from High School and had gone to Alaska on my honeymoon. I'd tried snowboarding, and due to my talents in skateboarding, I'd had a lot of fun. More fun than I'd expected. Since then, I'd been practicing and practicing. Two weeks ago, I'd finally gotten someone to see me. The guy had signed me immediately.
We were talking magazine covers, my own TV Show, and maybe I'd even write a book about it! I'd be raking in money in no time.
My wife was so proud of me when I'd told her. We weren't in huge financial trouble or anything, but with this new job, we'd finally be able to get a bigger house with more than two bedrooms. After all, we did have a baby.
The paper fell out of my hands and into my lap as something sharp tapped against the middle of it. A new weight fell on top of my knees and I looked down in surprise.
"Daaaaddy?" A sweet little bird chirped. Well, not an actual bird. More like a superhuman boy. He had a head of midnight black hair, fair skin that was the color of ivory, a face plump with youth, and eyes so green that the leaves on the spring trees were ashamed to be seen.
"Hey, Beck!" I laughed, and I reached down to gently ruffle the hair on his head. He giggled, but didn't do much more. At only eleven months old, my boy was extremely smart in so many ways, but he didn't know the humanly functions of walking or talking in complete sentences.
Beck squeezed my jean-covered knees a bit more tightly as he began to tilt to the left side and he needed balance.
"Oh, don't fall, kiddo!" I whispered, and I reached out to him. He reached out in response, and let me lift him up onto my lap.
"Butch, you retard!" Came the voice I'd come to love. I turned my head to see my wife coming into the living room from the kitchen. A frustrated look was plastered on her face, and she had something pink in her hand.
"What did I do now?" I asked fondly, a smile on my face.
"Retaawd." Beck repeated his mother's words. We both laughed, but I soon became grim-faced.
"If Blossom hears him saying that, she'll have a heart attack," I laughed. My wife paused in the laughter I loved to hear, and she sighed.
"You're right. Just don't use it anymore. He'll forget the word if he doesn't hear it again."
I looked down at Beck again. My baby boy was sucking on his tiny little fist and looking up at me with curious green eyes. I couldn't help but smile. I loved him so much.
"I'm not the one who used it," I argued pointedly.
She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow—the position she assumed when it looked like a fight between us was going to start.
"Alright, alright. It's my fault," I laughed, and I put both hands up in front of me, palms outward. The sign of defeat. Beck looked at the position of my hands, and with a curious cooing sound, he mirrored the motion.
I chuckled, and began to absentmindedly trace a little heart on the back of his neck. He squirmed a little bit, and lay his head against my chest. I looked up at my wife again with question in my eyes.
"So… what did I do? Or do I even want to know?"
She shook her head and held up the object in her hand: A pink sock.
"I didn't know we had any of those in that color…" I muttered.
"We don't," She growled, "Somebody just didn't have any common sense when he did the laundry."
"Oh." I looked down at the little boy in my lap again. He was still staring up at me with innocence in his green eyes.
My wife sighed, flung the sock away, and walked over to us.
"C'mon. Let's see if he'll walk. Or stand," She said, and she stood by the leather recliner that Beck and I were currently sitting in. She held her hand out, which was the sign that she wanted the baby. I sighed, and reluctantly gave my son to my wife.
She took him gently in her arms and laid him on his back while she walked over to the other side of the room. She lifted up his shirt, and gently kissed his little stomach. He giggled again, and then she set him on the floor on his bottom. As he plopped down, he clapped his hands together and stared over at me. I smiled in response.
"Are ya ready, Beck?" I said encouragingly. He smiled another little smile, and lifted his hands toward his mother, indicating that he wanted to be picked up again.
"Oh, none of that, baby," She cooed, and she slipped the index fingers of her hands into his tiny little fists and pulled him up onto his feet. "It's time to try and be a big boy!"
She placed her feet a shoulder's length apart, and began to help him hobble over towards me. I slipped off of the recliner and onto my knees. From there, I proceeded to bend over a little bit and hold out my arms toward him. Beck giggled, and began to struggle to get closer.
When they were about ten steps away from me, my eyes flicked from my son and up to my wife. "Let him go," I mouthed. Some part of me was sure that he could cross the distance by himself.
She shook her head and mouthed back, "Not yet."
I bit my lip, and looked back towards my son. They were only about six steps away now. I saw my wife pause for a brief moment, and then, deciding on what was best I was guessing, she abruptly let him go.
Beck balanced on feeble legs and looked up at his dark-haired mother with a curious stare, and then back towards me again.
I wiggled my fingers, and smiled widely at him. "Come on, Beck! You can do it!"
Beck giggled, and he took one unstable step. He almost lost his balance, but his mother gently nudged him back on course. Once he was sure enough of himself, he began to walk closer. It was slow, but fast for a child that was walking for the first time.
We watched, speechless, as our baby found his way toward me. When he reached me, he clasped his tiny hands around my thumbs and started to fall forward in a dramatic way, but I gently pushed him back up.
"Hey, don't stop now!" I whispered gently to him, unsure if he understood me. "Go walk over to your mama!"
Beck heaved a tiny sigh, and he let me turn him in the direction of my wife. I gave him a gentle push, and he stumbled forward—but a little more surely this time.
As he walked over towards her, my wife glanced up at me. I read the look in her green eyes as well as I always had been able to, and wasn't surprised to find my own emotions mirrored back at me: Pride, love, happiness….
Almost as quickly as she had looked up at me, she looked down at our son again, and she held her arms out to him.
I smiled smugly as I saw him reach his mother's arms. The boy was amazing already.
I sat up so quickly in bed that I hadn't even opened my eyes yet. I nearly flew off of the mattress as I scrambled over to the door, yanked it open, and ran over to the other side of the gas station to the bathroom. Once securely inside, I flicked on the light switch and turned to face myself in the mirror.
My black hair was messier than usual, and it was sticking up in tufts all over my head. My face was pale, yet shiny with sweat, and my dark green eyes were wide with confusion and shock. I stared at myself in the mirror of the bathroom in the abandoned gas station for a bit longer, and then I fell forward onto the cheap, white counter top.
I bent over my hands, watching as the sweat fell from my messy hair and onto the solid surface beneath me. I began to take many ragged, deep breaths, and my shoulders rose up in a defensive way.
I looked up at myself in the mirror again, and lifted my left hand to rake through my hair. I took a huge breath, and then I leaned back.
What was happening to me? That was the fourth dream I'd had in the past three days! Every time I freaking closed my EYES some weird, futuristic dream would come where I was a good person—a father even! Where my brothers were mentioned sometimes, and I couldn't see them nor could I be with them. Where the only other people that existed were my "wife" and that Beck kid! The part that freaked me out the most… I had no idea who that woman was, but some other part of me DID. And I didn't have the strength to reach inside of myself and find that knowledge.
I was confusing myself. I was getting lost in myself, and I couldn't figure out why or how to stop it. What was suddenly awakening these dreams? I'd never had them before in my life!
Thoughts flickered through my mind. Should I tell Butch? Boomer? No. They'd laugh at me, call me a psychopath.
I was trapped. Trapped in myself. The part I hated the most: I couldn't stop it. I was powerless because I had no idea what was happening to me.
In my rage, my eyes narrowed and I looked down at my hands. MY hands. Not anyone else's. I had to remember that if I was going to stay sane while these dreams circulated through my mind when I slept.
I gritted my teeth, deciding that I needed to take this out on something.
So I did. I took it out on the closest thing to me.
I looked up at the mirror again, and then I lunged forward, smashing my fist into the glass. I pummeled and pummeled until all that remained was the white plaster wall behind a few shards of glass, and then I moved on towards the counter.
I began to smash my fingers down against the stone, digging them in with all of my superhuman strength until I felt it start to come apart. I tugged outward, pulling apart nearly half of the countertop, and then I flung it behind me and into the wall. I began to scramble forward and into the massive hole I created, but I was suddenly unable to move. I lunged forward again, trying to get to my masterpiece of destruction.
"Dude. Stop." Came a familiar voice. I was suddenly aware that I was panting, and heaving huge breaths. Sweat was running in droplets down my face, and my hands weren't covered in blood, but I did have a few scratches.
I turned my head to my left, searching for the idiot who had enveloped me in a strong bear hug. Steady dark blue eyes, an angelic yet sturdy face, and blonde hair greeted me: Boomer.
I turned away bitterly, and struggled in vain to try and get back to what I'd done. I needed to finish this… for my pride and sanity.
"DUDE!" Boomer muttered, and he yanked me back again. I wasn't giving it my all to fight through him. I didn't want to right now.
"What's your deal?" My little brother demanded.
I finally stopped struggling, and I looked down at my feet. "I have no idea," I growled.
Boomer frowned, and after a moment, he let go of me. I looked back up at him to see that he was inclining his head toward the door.
"Come talk to me?" He offered.
