Quiet Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]
Amelia woke to the sound of her bedroom door opening, tiny footsteps against the hardwood floor as Micah came closer to the bed. She was always certain it was Micah, at this time of night. She pretended the door had been quiet enough not to wake her; if she didn’t, Micah would pout, upset at having disrupted her sleep before he wanted to. Amelia made herself breathe deep & even, waiting for the pressure on the bed as Micah jumped on top. He carefully lifted the blankets & wormed his way inside, & it wasn’t until he was curled up right by her heart that she pretended to wake.
“Micah?” she mumbled, the sleep in her voice still true. She curled an arm around him without question, knowing he would only have come in if he was scared. “Hi, ‘Melya,” he whispered. He still hadn’t quite managed the difference between ia and ya, one syllable and two, & it made her want to grin in the darkness. She, too, had taken years learning how to pronounce her name.
She let him settle it, let the silence rest a bit before asking. She didn’t want him to be scared again, but she wanted to know what happened, wanted to see what she could do. Whenever she was afraid, Edgar always had the right answers. So Amelia had to have those answers too, if only she could find them. “Did you bad dream?”
Micah nodded, halfway laying on her hair. It was almost too long, but her mother couldn’t bear to cut it, saying she loved Amelia’s hair the most. It made her proud, one of the few things mum loved about her more than she loved about the boys. Now she let Micah curl up in it like a cat, trying not to wince as it pulled. “S’okay if I’m sad? Dad says boys don’t cry.” Yet she could hear it in his voice, that childish warble that meant everything was bad.
That seemed silly to Amelia. She’d seen Edgar cry before, & he was the best boy she knew. “It’s okay. I won’t tell. Promise.” She ran her fingers through his hair. It, too, was getting overlong, but every time mum tried to cut it, it grew right back the next day. She’d given up with a roll of her eyes, despite dad’s objections that it wasn’t proper. “What was the dream?”
His voice was almost a whisper, close to her ear so she could understand. “I dreamed that you & Ed forgot my birthday. Mum & Dad always get me those both presents, the Christmas Birthday ones, but you & Ed always get them separate.” His voice was at the danger zone once more, tears threatening to break loose if she answered wrong. “You won’t forget, ‘Melya, please? I hate Christmas.”
It was said with such vehemence that it was probable she would never forget it. “Swears,” she replied, forgetting her lessons (swear, Amelia, not swears) for a moment. “I got you two birthday presents. But you gotta act surprised, ‘kay?”
“Okay.” It was still quiet, but Micah’s tears seemed forgotten in the excitement. It had been Edgar’s idea, getting one separate one each & one together, but she’d have to tell him in the morning that they needed one more. If Micah wanted birthday only presents, he was certainly going to get them. Even if she had to spend her entire month’s allowance on it.
