The children were given up to Hypnos and Morpheus the way they always were. It seemed to be a gradual ebb when the skin of their soft eyelids grew too heavy, the upper lashes sloping down to mingle and kiss with their lower counterparts. Soon, only a slither of bright blue could be seen and then nothing at all as the rise and fall of their chests evened out and under the warmth of the soft cotton sheets and heavy duvet to ward off the winter chills, they slept. Knowledge that they did so, knowledge that they were truly near, made their mother’s form fall heavier against the pillows. As the first few snore began to emanate from her daughter, the steady combing motions of Millie’s fingers stilled in Kelly’s hair. After carefully disentangling her touch from the spun-gold curls, Millie leaned down and let her lips ghost over her daughter’s forehead. She then slid slowly from the warmth of the bed, her feet finding the fluffy carpeted floor. Once she had straightened herself, she curled the covers around Kelly and leaned over to smooth the hair back from the girl’s face. Another kiss found her daughter’s forehead and the same loving routine was committed across the room, Millie only sliding into the arm that Keiran offered her once Liam too, was sure to sleep warm and contented with kisses on his skin.
Regardless of where they were, in whatever house they found themselves, their bedroom proved to be their safe haven. At Hogwarts, amongst the old, dusty books and homework that was sure to never be marked, they found themselves falling in love and took solace in each other, doing nothing that they intended to but unable to find it within themselves to care. In his parent’s house, they’d found their middle ground. In the flat, they’d found what it meant to be together, truly. In this house, it somehow kept them together. Yet, even in their solace, even in their haven they found that the divisions were growing. In the weeks leading up to the holiday, they had clung to their own sides of the bed, the simmering anger and stubborn prides they both kept close to their chests not allowing them to back down and give in. In knowing that they were on the same side, however, Millie did not dread entering the bedroom like she had done. She felt no need to feign excuse to disappear early in order to mitigate a building confrontation. She wanted to be there. With him. Not without him. Not like she had been.
Freeing herself from the bondage of her tight jeans and clinging top, Millie sourced a pair of pants and one of Keiran’s old, ever so slightly moth-eaten university t-shirts. After banishing her former clothes into the washing hamper, Millie cast an ear in her husband’s direction as she dressed, pulling her socks from her feet and revelling in the feeling of the cool, Irish air floating in around her legs. The socks too disappeared into the wicker basket and she then made her way over to the bed, her eyebrows furrowing as she listened to him. Her hands and knees found the duvet and she crawled across the bed to him, laying down next to Keiran before reaching out, curling an arm around his hips. Her other arm propped her up, her elbow digging into the bed as her hand held her jaw in its palm. With his words, she felt an abject sadness worm up within her and she wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to tell him – if anything at all. Yet, somehow, she found some words, plucking them out of that sacred, sweet air.
“I’ve already had to miss you, Keiran,” Millie murmured, shame spreading through her as her fingers began to draw circles in the warm skin beneath his t-shirt. “You’ve already been gone.” She sighed, dropping her head onto the pillow, curling in closer to him. She knew that her words were inflammatory. She knew that they could so quickly react and fall into the argument of the holiday as though it had never been resolved. She could see the papers she’d dreaded since the law had been lifted behind her eyelids and she wanted so desperately for him to see, to understand, to not want to go, to not hate her.
“I love you,” Millie whispered, her eyes filling with involuntary tears – all she ever seemed to be able to do was cry. She brought her hand up from under his t-shirt and cradled his cheek in her palm, her gaze seeking his, trying to make him see without words. It was futile, she knew. She didn’t know what it was all in aid of, really. She didn’t know how to make it better. “I just don’t know what to say to you anymore,” she admitted, her eyes fluttering shut, as though somehow not seeing his face would somehow protect her from the wrath she knew she had the potential to incite in him.
“I’ve done life on my own without you,” she began slowly, worrying over every syllable she let strike him. “I’ve done life without Bridget when sometimes she just wants a few days for herself to write or to be able to think for two minutes without worrying after someone else. I’ve sat in these four walls with our children wondering whether to just lay down and die because I haven’t got the will to go on anymore or wait it out in the hope that around the next corner there will be something there for me that’s better, that’s worth the long fight. I’ve had more than my fair share of time on my own. I’ve seen my father die. I’ve seen my friends die. I’ve been left. I’ve left others. I’ve been on my own longer than I have been dependent on someone else. But I’ve never been on my own with someone dependent on me. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. I’ll fuck it up. I’ll fail.”
Millie turned, rolling onto her back. The support of the duvet underneath her was not consoling in any way and though her hair swept over the pillow, groping across the starched coverings like yellow vines, she could not find it within herself to take to the sleepiness that was so oppressively weighing on her mind. Another, more destructive weight lingered, however, and Millie, unable to quiet bear it, needed to say aloud what had been ruining her since the twins had been born. The holiday had been a time for it all to come out onto the table, for them to scream at each other like the children they were. Now, they had to be adult. They had to work it out, fix it or part ways. She’d always backed down. She wanted to avoid it. She wanted to desperately to play like happy families, to prove her mother wrong. But they were just like Lavender and Seamus. Without even trying, they were the same.
“I’d rather we were all seperate than it be like this,” she muttered. “Because it feels the same as it did when I was growing up. It’s the tension and the anger and the resentment that I grew up with all over again. But my parents, at least, they both thought the other person couldn’t hack it. They both thought they’d do it better on their own. I don’t think that. You don’t think that. You, you’re so self-deprecating that you have me sat up at night wondering what’s wrong with me. What’s so bad about me and the children that you don’t want to be here? What have I done? What haven’t I done? And, I mean, while your concerns are valid you know it’s bollocks because Bridget will outlive us all. She’s built to last. Your grandmother was ill. Shit happens. She didn’t just up and die because she thought it would be funny to place doubt in your head. Your dad didn’t just die, either. It wasn’t ever as simple as that. Mine orchestrated his own demise. I was going to go the same way quite contentedly, too, until I met…”
Millie smiled a little. “This sarcastic shit of a Professor who I was meant to marry … whose first words to me, ever, were, I do believe: ‘that’s not a skirt, it’s a belt’ right at the start of the school year. I thought, sod it. Why not? Let’s give this a whirl. I never meant to fall in love with you or have your children or any of anything that has happened. It wasn’t meant to happen. You were just a safe bet. A safe option. I never should have allowed it. I should’ve agreed and kept my distance, for the sake of the law. I shouldn’t have let those babies come into this world because all we’ve delivered for them is this animosity and anxiety filled atmosphere that I don’t want to live in, let alone what they think. I don’t regret it but I didn’t want it to be like this. I didn’t.”
Millie ran her hand over her face, dropping her arm back onto the pillow above her head. “And you…” she continued reluctantly, “you make me feel sometimes like you’re just here because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do… that you don’t wanna be, really, but you’re doing it anyway. That all this talk of not being good enough or being scared or being worried that you won’t be here for us is a veil – that really, you don’t want to be here at all and you’re just pushing me to make the decision for us, to go and end it and just be done with it. No one gives up the fight for life, for the people they love unless there’s no other option. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking… yeah, maybe, maybe you’re right… maybe you will go on and leave us because you’re not trying. You’re trying to excuse yourself but it feels like you’ve never ever wanted to try. I know that I’m being unfair but all I feel like I’ve done is backed you into a corner by getting pregnant but … God, Keiran -- I love you so much but is it for nothing? Like, do I need to just leave? Because if this family isn’t worth living for then I’m not sure what is and if it really isn’t then I do need to go… because I can’t live like this anymore. I just can’t.”