These Moments Are Ours - ChattyCups Short Stories

A Promise to the Universe

Inspired by the song 'A Dangerous Thing' by P.J. Harding:

"Love is a wet road at night and I probably shouldn't be driving while you were layin' on the backseat fast asleep in the rain - love is a dangerous thing."

Synopsis: After a long night of selling on the block, Chatty and Ray end up caught in a storm. 

The storm rolled through the city with a vengeance, chasing them away from the block. Nobody would come buy like this. If it was up to Cups, he was sure they would have stayed until dawn. It was nearly 2 in the morning already. She was determined to save up money for their house, and her determination was one of the things he loved the most. But she was so yucking stubborn. She'd barely been able to walk straight between customers for the past hour, and whenever he told her they could leave, she'd threaten to hit him with her wrench. Sometimes he wished she worked less. But if she did, she wouldn't be the same person he loved. So there they had stayed. He had to admit that he was relieved when the rain started.

"You made it rain, didn't you? Tell me the truth, Chatty!" she exclaimed after a long yawn, as he helped her towards his car, hidden in the nearby bushes.

"Yeah, y'know what- yes. You got me, Cups. I made it rain so we could yucking stop."

"I knew it," she yawned again. "But I need to sell more. The house, Chatty."

He opened the back passenger door for her, knowing full well that she would pass out the minute that she sank into the worn leather seats. Cups was a heavy sleeper. It was something he'd learned about her when she'd stayed at the Funhouse the first time. There was no other explanation for how she'd been able to sleep through the endless comings and goings of the clowns.

"It's gonna be fine, Cups. We're gonna get that house."

She hadn't even heard him. The moment that he sat in the driver's seat, he could hear her slow, heavy breathing. He reached over to remove her mask and started to drive. The road towards Kitty's house was usually bad to begin with, but with the storm, it was nearly impossible to see anything in front of him. The rain slammed hard against the chipped windshield. The little red club slipped across the freeway. The drive should have been terrifying, but Chatty had been in worse. The only thing he cared about was making sure that Cups got home safe, in one piece. He'd never gripped the steering wheel the way that he did when she was in the car. He took each steep turn with an iron will to keep the car from tipping, flipping off the inevitable accidents that he didn't mind on his own.

He knew that she would find him ridiculous for thinking this way. She willingly threw herself into danger all the time. He couldn't control the things she did, and he never wanted to. She was just as wild as he was. But when it was in his control, he would do anything to keep her safe, especially since he hadn't always been able to. It wasn't often that he thought about what happened with Bon Bon. There was no use dwelling on what had passed. But when it was late at night and he was alone with his thoughts, a dark voice crept in from the back of his mind, always the same.

Cups said you're the best thing that's ever happened to her. But are you really? You weren't there. You didn't help her when it mattered.

He couldn't deny the truth. Whether it be at the prom or when Bon Bon had taken Twinkles, Chatterbox had failed. He'd not been able to keep her from harm. He'd helped her get her vengeance, but what if something worse had happened to her before that? The thunder and rain couldn't drown out the self-doubt in his thoughts. In so many ways, he felt like an imposter. He hadn't done much in his life to deserve Cups. She'd come through his life like the sun bursts through clouds after a hurricane. When he was with her, his mind was calm. He felt whole. It was an addictive feeling, and one he couldn't bear to lose. Though he knew full well that he didn't deserve her. Not one bit. He liked to pretend that he did. Only his thoughts in the night knew the awful truth.

But I will. One day I'll deserve this.

He hadn't even noticed that they'd made it to Kitty's house. There was a sock hanging from the doorknob, and a hastily-written note on the door: HEY ROOMIE. SLEEP ON THE COUCH PLS. LEFT YOU SOME EARPLUGS. <3

Kitty was ridiculous, but a small part of him was envious. What would it be like to have a house of their own? Would he ever know? For a brief moment, Chatty imagined what it would be like to have a small house like Kitty's, with one room, just for him and Cups. He imagined what it would be like to be able to walk around without his mask, because she had seen him, and he was the same to her with or without it. It felt like a forbidden luxury.

"I don't really wanna sleep on the couch, Chatty."

Her voice was soft and sleepy, but he started anyway. He'd thought she was still fast asleep in the back. Her dark brown eyes stared at him through the rearview mirror.

"Holy yuck - Cups, how long have you been just sitting there?"

"Well, how long have you been parked here? See- it felt kinda nice to sleep with the car rolling around. It felt like, I dunno, like a baby being rocked or something. So I slept really good. Then it just stopped. So I woke up. But then I was pretending to sleep in case you were going to carry me inside or something cute like that, you know, but then you didn't, and then I worried you'd fallen asleep at the wheel or maybe you'd passed out so then I got worried and sat up and now we're here. So yeah. But I don't really wanna sleep on the couch. So that's why we're here."

Sometimes he wanted to ask her to record herself rambling, for the days when she was gone. Nothing made him smile more than hearing her go off on a tangent. He laughed, "Okay. You don't wanna sleep on the couch. I don't really want you to sleep on the couch either. I wish we had that house now. Maybe you were right. Maybe we gotta grind more."

She put her hand on his shoulder, "No, you were right. We can't work ourselves to death. Or else - when we finally have the house, all we'll think about is how hard it was to get it. I don't want that. You've been working so much, Chatty. I just - I want somewhere that's ours. I want it so bad. I love being at the Funhouse, but it's just so big, and there are so many people all the time. It's not really the same."

"I was just thinking about that," he covered her hand with his and looked over his shoulder at her. One day I'll deserve the way she looks at me. "How about this - I'll just keep driving for now. So you can sleep."

She yawned, still only half-awake, "But what about you?"

"I ain't even tired. I'm fine, Cups. Just sleep."

"Promise me that we'll go to the Funhouse when you're tired, okay? I don't want you to be tired because of me."

"You're the only thing that keeps me awake, honestly," he sighed, as she opened her mouth to argue, "But fine, fine, I promise."

"Good. You're just too good to me, Chatty. You should stop," she slid back onto the seat and closed her eyes.

He hadn't even noticed before that she'd somehow grabbed his old leather jacket off the floor and she'd bundled it into a pillow. The club was small, but it fit her like a glove as she curled onto the backseat. It didn't take long for her to fall back asleep again, with the pattering rain and crackling ignition as her lullaby. And Chatterbox kept to his word, driving her around until his eyes were so heavy that he couldn't focus on the road anymore. By the time they reached the Funhouse, the sun was beginning to creep over the hillside. Cups didn't wake up when he carried her up the stairs, or when he put her in his bed. She'd held onto his jacket for dear life, so he'd left it with her. It was nights like these, when it was just them together, that made things feel so treacherous. It felt so perfect and normal, in a way that he'd never expected in his whole life. There was a simplicity in having her fall asleep in the back of his car, and he felt sick just imagining what would happen if he lost this.

And throughout the whole night, the miles of endless road, he repeated to himself, like a mantra - I may not be the best thing that happened to her, but I sure as yuck will be. It was as close to a prayer as the clown could get, a promise to the Universe, in blind hope that she would never fade from his life. Love had made him fearful, but he wouldn't have changed a yucking thing.