A Handful of Stardust

A TIGHT-KNIT FAMILY

CHARACTERS: Comet Andromeda, Wilbur Rayne
TAGS & TRIGGERS: 2010s, angst, found family, arguments, insomnia, sleep-deprived

It's past midnight — two thirty-seven, to be exact — and the main light is still on in the bedroom. There have been a couple of brief moments where Comet wanted to get up to turn it off, but that wouldn't achieve anything except they'd be doing nothing while not-sleeping instead of reading. But surely it's time? She doesn't want to do this again.

Comet stands up. Wilbur notices the shift in weight on the bed and looks up from his book, Cari Mora. "You're going to sleep?"

"I don't know." Her voice doesn't sound particularly exhausted, but she can feel it weighing down her eyelids, pressing them shut. "Are you not tired?"

He smiles dully, because they've done this so many times before. "Not tired enough."

The big light with the purple shade which swings above their bed is turned off, and Wilbur's bedside lamp is turned on instead. She slips back into bed, back warm against his legs as she lies facing away from him, and closes her eyes. Light percolates the dark spots in her vision, and she eventually opens them again and lies there, silent.

It's nearly three when he decides to put away his book and turn off the light, perfectly quietly; he knows Comet's not sleeping but likes to be safe, on the smallest off-chance she is. Then he curls up, facing the back of her head, knees against the back of her thighs. She rolls over. Wilbur's eyes are open. She used to think him quite cute in his tiredness, his sleepy eyes smiling at her while the two of them stayed awake, watching movies or reading together or anything, anything besides just lying there.

He smiles a little, but again, it's strained. His gaze asks, are we going to do this again?

"What?" she mumbles, sleep tainting her words.

"Dunno. Thinking."

"About what?" As if she wants to know. No, that's awful; of course she does. But maybe it's too late in the night, or early in the morning.

Hesitantly, he says, "Can I ask you something?"

Comet nods sleepily.

"Don't you think it'll be better once... I dunno. The kids're gone?"

Is that really what he wanted to say? "They're your cousins. You don't like them being here?"

"Yeah, I do." He pauses. "They have a mum, though, don't they? That's not your job. It's not our job."

Comet sits up, frowning. "They're only young, and you know she's not exactly present. Maybe they need it."

Wilbur's eyebrows knit together, frustrated, and she feels a little sorry for him — maybe she's jumped to conclusions, not seeing his side of it — but she's been next to him the whole time. If there's anyone who gets it, she does. She stands her ground.

"I love Maple and Lukas, and I know you do too. So—"

"God, Comet, you know that's not what I meant." His voice is a little louder now, not whispering as he normally does so as not to wake the twins. "But they're seventeen. We've been looking after them for over half their life. It's still not our responsibility."

She pulls her knees to her chest and interlocks her hands around them, holding herself close. "You don't think it's nice?"

Wilbur stares, expression bordering on incredulity. "Nice? We're practically their parents."

"But it's like... I don't know, like a proper family. I thought you'd like that."

Whenever he says something she knows he'd normally regret, something too loud or too crass, she blames it on his lack of sleep. "What makes you think I'd fucking want that? I don't want to be a dad, I'm not even twenty-five."

"Well," she says, defensive, not rising to Wilbur's volume, "maybe it's something I want."

It's painful, the moment you realise you don't know someone as well as you thought. She can feel it slicing at her insides as he speaks: "This isn't some... game, this is—"

"I know it's not," Comet interrupts, her voice an octave higher, and suddenly, briefly, she's a teenage girl again. Feeling everything, knowing nothing. "But it's not such a bad idea, they need a parent of some sort, and sorry if I'd like to, I don't know, pretend it's like that for a bit. Take care of them properly."

He shoots back, "You wouldn't rather we just live? I don't want to be tied down by kids as well as a house and..." Wilbur trails off, seeing her expression.

Tightly: "And what?"

"Nothing."

His thoughts, what she knows he's thinking, vocalised or not, burrow deeper into her abdomen and shoot pain up her chest. She makes a loose fist, guarded, thumb tucked in and touching her silver wedding band. "Really?"

He looks harrowed, but barely apologetic. "Yes, really. I would never say something like that and actually mean it. I don't want to hurt you." Going through the motions is all it looks like he's doing, playing the part, but she's too exhausted to question it. He would never want to hurt her, that much is true, but she doesn't know about the rest of it. "I love you."

Comet slides down the headboard, looking miserable. "Love you too. Maybe we should try to go to sleep."

"Maybe." His pale face lightens a little with relief. He hopes she'll forget it in the morning, and she can't say she disagrees. He never means any of this. He's just tired. They're both so tired.