Warnings: A small Drabble following the MeadowLark Au series on my Masterlist. Fluff. Hurt/comfort themes, character study in a way, camping-pippa fitz Amobi being her usual understanding and calm self. Just something cute to establish the bond between pip and reader. Emotional support Pippa Fitz Amobi. Just a small thing really
Nightfall Knows🌙
You had always been a bit of a light sleeper. Never one to fully let your body get to REM mode, always out of bed with eager footsteps-that use to drive Amelia mad when you were younger. God, the look of utter distain on her features had made it all the more joyful for your five year old self.
You use to jump on her bed and crinkle her sheets and drape yourself all over, till she would eventually give up and accept defeat. Stumbling over shaky legs and mumbling what an evil gremlin you were.
A cool chill ran over you-fast and violent. Causing you to lose the fragmented image of Amelia imprinted on your eyelids. Reality came bolting back like cold air. Stinging your lungs with every heave.
It also didn’t help that you were floating. The calm numb feeling of ripples as it rushed past your ears welcomed you. Opening your eyes you were met with dark overcast skies, Signalling rain. Although that was not hard to guess. It always rained in wales. You supposed that was why it was so green. Full of life.
You hated camping. Hated being dragged out from the cabins outside to spend the night laying under the cold harsh ground. Even with amenities like blankets and space heaters. ‘Bring a million pillows and stuffies’ you’d tell the campers, ‘but you are still sleeping on the ground’. Perhaps you deserved the ground.
But you hated it even more because family summer holidays often consisted of holiday camping. You use to love it-bunking with Amelia. Back when you were still kids-before the girlish hormones and time and distance had gotten to you both. When Amelia and you would giggle long into the night-sneak off into the night for a late night swim. Eat enough chocolate pasties you’d feel ill the next day.
It was a tradition.
Which was why you were swimming. Head thrown back to eye the skies.
You had told Pip you’d be back to camp later-you needed a minute to process everything. Because this was the campsite Amelia and you had used-just weeks before her accident. Granted you both had been in sour moods-had barely talked-had went to bed with cold backs to each other. Why-you couldn’t remember. A simple childish reason. Now when you’d think about it-about having Amelia safe and granted mad at you-in your tent-but safe-what you wouldn’t give to go back and apologize-just for a hug from your big sister. For one of her stupid eye rolls.
It was beginning to pelt now. Small rings of droplets falling from the welsh sky, finding a home in between your already wet brows. Your body chilled-and soon you were lifting yourself up to the pier, and watching as the lake stilled.
The cold always seemed to wake you up. Made the pain hurt less. Once you passed back to camp, finding everyone well into their tents, already getting ready for bed.
You must had swam for hours. Time seemed to still here. Like it was it’s purpose.
You waded past the burnt fire pit, ash clinging to the air, a certain smokiness that left your nose flaring. Past snorting children and giggles behind closed tents.
You could hear your parents as you passed their tent-your fathers cold voice-your mothers soft airy voice-and how it carried less and less of care these days-like she was on the cusp of forgetting it all. Grew tired of it-the hoping-the waiting-
“The hospital phoned me yesterday-the tests are coming back inconclusive. Her brain waves are-“ you walked past far too fast-heart beating loud in your chest. Fingers clenched white. You didn’t want to think about that. Anything but that.
You could hear your mother’s voice-inhuman and tired. Suddenly you felt tired-weighted down. Like all you wanted was rest.
You made it to your tent in record time-slipping inside and letting out a soft sigh-one that was perhaps a choked back sob. Tears threatened to spill as you wiped your eyes, red from the water. From opening them. Amelia use to dare you to open them. I reckon you can’t keep your eyes open for ten seconds! What a baby you are!
Amelia’s voice in your head as you slipped of your soiled swimsuit-grabbing fresh new cotton pajamas-your favorite. It clung to your skin a little too tight-but you didn’t mind. In fact you welcomed it. It was a hug. A warm much needed hug.
You hadn’t had one in a while. Not since-Amelia. Sure you had hugs-but not one born from actually wanting one-of wanting that closeness one craves.
You had the in between sob hugs-one where your mother would cling to you-one where your father would weep into your hair-but an actual hug-not since Amelia.
Amelia always gave the best hugs. The kind that made you close your eyes and let out a big breath.
A rhythmic rap against the tent made you halt-made you wipe the tears from your pale cheeks and ask in a small but what you hoped to be stable voice, “who is it?”.
Pip popped her head in, the zipper of your tent undoing in its rhythmic noise, pip’s kind eyes swept over you-leering to closely, the edges of her eyes crinkling in the same fashion the first day she had met you on the beach. Like she knew something-
“Just thought I’d check in. You’d been gone since we got here. Connor and Cara were getting worried” Pip spoke, lips moving in a grimace.
You nodded, making room for pip on your pillow, “that’s kind of them. I’m fine really-just needed to clear my head. This campground reminds me of a lot of things”.
Pip took the invitation, plopping down on your pillow-her cheeks close enough you could feel her breath against your cheek. She was quiet for a moment-ever observing.
Then quietly she spoke, like a whisper, “I heard you crying. It’s alright to cry” soft fingertips brushed against your cheek-ghostlike in nature.
But Pip’s eyes-they were adoring. Hurting. Like she herself knew pain. Knew how it haunted. Guilt so deep it manifested in anxiety and stomach pains.
And then a flicker of pip’s lips, like a candle coming to flame, flame quivering against the wick, “did you know that when you cry you release these things called endorphins? It’s a feel good hormone. It has an almost neruochemical substance that improves mood. Isn’t that wonderful? Quite amazing isn’t it.”
The observation made your heart race-because maybe it was the fascination in Pip’s eyes-or the way she looked at you.
“You can talk about her-if you’d like”.
An invitation.
“Becca tells me about Andie when I visit. We spend hours talking about her-as children-little things even. I let her because I know she’s hurting too-it’s very therapeutic if you can believe”.
You imagine it- Pip sitting with Becca Bell-eyes a sea of calm-of understanding-and you can feel yourself sniff.
“I’m forgetting things.” You utter into the air, into the softness of the tent.
You can’t see her expression anymore-it’s too dark-but you can feel her fingers-soft and full against yours-a touch that makes your heart spark.
“Like her laugh. And I hate myself for it. Because I feel guilty. I don’t know why-but I do. It’s this pit inside my stomach-whenever my parents mention her-it’s like-this pain. This guilt-“.
You don’t know who initiates first-but you feel it-Pip’s aching breath as she brings you to her chest-a full on chest to chest embrace. It takes you a moment-because how did pippa fitz Amobi know you needed a hug? Divine intervention?
You only hug back, feel her heart against your ear, feel the way she doesn’t speak-but listens. And think-maybe it will all work out in the end.
Perhaps.