Brandon and Stella 7 : good morning beautiful/handsome


Stella ran her hand through her long, golden blonde hair as she leaned back against the chair. It was greasy and knotted. She knew it needed to be washed and brushed, and she found it near impossible to believe that she had let it get to this point. It wasn't her fault, though. Newborn twins and an eighteen-month-old meant she didn't have much time for herself, and Brandon was off on a diplomatic meeting to Vallisto. She had been supposed to go, but she couldn't bear to leave the twins while they were still so young.

Sulien, who, up till then, had laid patiently in his crib waiting for his turn, began to wail. When she heard her brother's commotion, Aster began to cry too. The newborns' sobs echoed through the large bedchamber, bouncing off the sun-yellow and white walls and burrowing themselves in the exhausted queen's mind. It was a miracle that Gerry – named after Brandon's father – across the hall didn't start crying too. He had been such a good, easy baby – like Brandon, according to his mother – while the twins were turning out to be nightmare babies.

It was too much. The lack of sleep, unwashed hair, five-day old sweatpants, sore and leaky nipples, and constant headaches from the unending wailing was driving her mad. Stella didn't trust her babies to nannies – she'd had so many, and she'd hated it – so the only solace she found was in the knowledge that Brandon would be home the next afternoon, hopefully with good news from Vallisto.

Her head dropped backwards onto the plush pillowy material of her nursing chair. She didn't have the energy to stop the babies' crying. This was the fifth night in a row they'd cried incessantly of the five nights that Brandon had been gone. He always had a knack for getting them to smile and laugh, while she could hardly get them to stop crying. She hated it. She hated them. Not really – she loved her beautiful babies, she just hated them when they cried like this. It made her feel like she couldn't get it right; like she was a failure as a mother.

She didn't know when she'd started crying, but she was. Ugly, sniffly, chest shaking sobs escaped her lips and she couldn't care less. She let herself cry. She'd held it in so far, but she deserved to let herself feel awful for how badly she was failing at this whole parenting thing. Her whimpers filled in the moments of silence between the twins' wails, and the three of them cried together like they were playing some twisted, sad symphony.

A gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to jump out of her skin and stop crying. She wiped her eyes with her free hand and shot a glance over her shoulder at the hand's owner. He was mostly shadow outlined by the nightlight on the wall behind him, but Stella recognised the shaggy hair immediately. Brandon gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before taking Aster from her arms.

He placed the baby over his shoulder, bouncing her gently. Aster quieted down almost immediately, as if Stella needed reminding that the twins preferred him. Brandon turned towards his wife and bent down to her eye level. "Go to bed, Stel. You're exhausted. I've got them."

Stella stood up and made her way out of the room without another word. Behind her, she could hear Brandon shushing Sulien. Logically, she knew that he hadn't meant anything by it other than support, but Brandon's words upset her. Made her feel like he didn't think she could take care of her own children. She stopped by Gerry's room on her way to their bedroom, peaking her head in just enough to see the boy fast asleep.

Sleep didn't entice her, she just wanted to cry for the rest of eternity. Stella dragged herself across the king-sized bed and propped herself against the simple wood headboard (Brandon had gotten to choose the bed in exchange for letting Stella choose everything else. Apparently, he hadn't been too into the plush lilac headboard she'd selected). Her legs curled up to her chest so Stella could rest her arms on them and drop her head onto said arms as she let the tears fall.

She had no idea how long she'd been like that, only that the bed shifted beneath her and a hand was playing with her hair. She sniffled as she lifted her head. Brandon watched her, those chocolate brown eyes she loved so much flecked with concern. He continued to play with her hair in the way that always soothed her. "What's going on, Stella?"

"My children hate me" she replied plainly. It felt so fucking stupid to say. They were newborns, a whole nine weeks old; they barely even knew who she was. She knew, though. They hated her.

"No, they don't." Brandon pulled her head in to rest on his shoulder. He was still in his traditional Solarian dress, likely having hopped on the plane immediately after having finished his business. The material was stiff under her head, but she could feel the warmth of his body through it.

"They do." Stella sniffled again and wiped the tears on her cheeks away. Brandon leaned away momentarily, grabbing the box of tissues from the bedside table and placing it on his lap. Stella grabbed one and blew her nose. "They always cry with me and I can't get them to stop."

"They're babies. Of course, they cry a lot."

"Not for you" she snarked.

"My mom and Margie have a great relationship, right?" Stella nodded, not quite understanding what that had to do with Aster and Sulien hating her. Brandon's youngest sister – now fifteen – and his mom were the best of friends; they had mother/daughter dates every second Saturday. "When Margie was a baby, she cried every single time my mom held her without fail. And, yet, here they are, practically inseparable."

"Yeah, okay." Stella nodded weakly. Brandon might be right; maybe she and twins would have a great relationship in the future. She just had to get there first.

"Is there anything else on your mind?" Brandon asked, whispering into the crown of her head as he placed a kiss on it.

Stella considered lying to him, but he would see right through her. He always did. "I feel ugly."

"What?" The genuine shock in his voice was both touching and baffling. Had he not seen her these last few weeks?

"Come on, Brandon. I'm covered in stretch marks, my boobs are sagging and leaking, there are circles under my eyes darker than the caves of the Under Realm, my hair is a greasy, unkempt disaster and I've got all this goddamn baby weight that just won't go away."

The worlds had spilled out of her before she'd had the chance to even figure out what she wanted to say. More tears accompanied it, and Stella hated how she felt even more. Brandon said nothing for a while, just gave her that look. It was the same one he'd had when they'd been in front of the mirror of truth: one of utter disbelief and heartache. His arms wrapped around her tightly and he continued to stroke her hair. At some point, he'd started listing all the things he loved about her: her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her carefree personality, her positivity, her brain, her love, and so much more.

Try as she might, the tears kept coming. At least now, though, the feeling behind the tears was a bittersweet mix of self-hatred and love; an improvement over the lone hatred she'd felt before. Brandon held her until she'd cried herself to sleep. When she had finally fallen asleep, he laid her down and pulled the blanket over her before getting up to undress. He laid beside her, and gently placed his arm under her neck and wrapped his free arm around her. He wanted her to wake up in his arms, where she knew she was loved.

When Stella woke the next morning, the sun shone brightly through the large set of windows, bathing the room in golden light. Stella nuzzled herself into Brandon even more than she already was and lifted her eyes to look at him. She was surprised to find he was already awake, watching her with a loving look that sent shivers through her. He placed a kiss on her forehead and offered her a sweet smile. "Good morning, beautiful."