The Wintumn Family

Chapter 2

I am so sure that Winter is a dramatic little guy and a chronic over-thinker. Apologies for the Wintumn 'angst', if you can even call it that. Got a bit carried away, made myself giggle at Winter being so over-the-top, had to post it. Sorry x
wc: 924

Winter sat back, letting out a sigh and clutching his head between his hands. Hiding his feelings from her had never been easy, and he had used up so much energy suppressing his excitement and joy at her pregnancy. Now, he was distraught and exhausted. He gently wrapped his arms around his torso in a fervent attempt to self soothe, before standing to his feet. He lent down, picking a test from the wicker basket, pocketed it, and moped into the kitchen. 

Dark green tiles, mahogany cupboards and a black marble counter top littered with dishes long forgotten greeted him. His shoulders slumped. Winter half considered loading the dishwasher, but resigned himself to the pantry instead, grasping a bottle of beer. Usually he was a whiskey man - the beer bottles were almost solely reserved for Reece - but he really didn't want to make more dishes for himself to deal with the next morning, knowing Autumn wouldn't want to do them after all the emotion she had had to endure that evening. 

He leant the bottle against the side of the island, hitting the cap with the palm of his hand to remove it. He didn't like doing this, knowing it destroyed the counter top over time, and Autumn's adoration for black marble would mean that it wouldn't be a cheap replacement. Tonight, however, he relished in doing it. It was his child too. How could she just kill it? How could she strip him of that? He wanted to destroy something she loved. He loved that child and she was going to destroy it. Surely, he should destroy something of hers. Kill something she loved. He looked around, now furious, placing his full bottle onto the counter. A window-sill of almost dead plants met his eyes. Perhaps it was best that they didn't have a child, given neither could keep a cactus alive for more than a week, and they were supposed to be unkillable. His anger soothed slightly. He knew it wasn't her fault. He knew she wasn't ready yet. He knew it wasn't his decision. He knew it was her body. He knew it wasn't his place to tell her what to do. He knew. Yet still, he wanted to scream at her, to tell her not to do this. Instead, he picked up the bottle of beer again, slumping into one of the bar stools lining the island. 

His head fell into his hand. The fight was over. It had never truly begun between them, as like always, Winter prioritised Autumn's feelings. Autumn always came first, in every aspect. Sometimes, though, Winter wanted to be 'selfish'. Past relationships had made the man believe that putting oneself first was selfish and narcissistic, so he had always put Autumn's feelings over his own, believing that he never deserved an opinion if it would contradict hers. Tonight, his opinion contradicted hers, so it was not an opinion he deserved to have. 

He took a hearty swig from the bottle. 

What was wrong with him? Why didn't she want to have his baby? Was he not good enough? And, oh God, had she been lying all those times that she said he was? He knew she was a good poker player - hell, the woman had shamelessly taken £200 from her own brother just the previous week and had found great joy in retelling the story to Winter hours later. Maybe that was why she never played against him: she didn't want him to know any of her tells. Maybe she'd been lying all along. Did she even love him? Had she ever? 

Half the bottle was gone now. 

He should start looking for somewhere else to live. That was the only thing for it. Clearly, she was unhappy living together - living with him. Obviously, she didn't love him. Winter sighed. Yet again, he had fallen victim to a strong woman, and yet again, he had been played. 

Three quarters of the bottle had been drunk. 

Why had she done it? Just for a laugh? Was it all some twisted game? Was Reece in on it? Were they really playing poker, or were they laughing at Winter's stupidity? Was Reece going to hang Marjorie out to dry too? And was Mia doing the same to Charlotte? They were all cut from the same cloth. God, how could she do this to him? How? Why?

The bottle was empty. 

He threw the bottle into the bin. It shattered. 

Winter resolved to go and speak to Autumn. She couldn't keep doing this to him. It wasn't fair. 

"Autumn," His voice was stern as he walked into the bedroom. She looked up from where she was lying in bed, the left side of her face illuminated by the reading lamp. She raised an eyebrow. "It's not fair."

"What's not fair, my sweet?" 

God, she really had no idea. He wasn't sure he'd ever been so angry.

"It's my child. It's my child, too. And I loved you. God, Autumn, I love you so much that it's tearing me apart. Why don't you love me? Why don't you want this? I thought you loved me." Tears fell down his cheeks now, burning as they landed against cold skin. Her lips raised into a slight smirk, amused by his dramatism. "Oh, God, Autumn." 

"What on earth are you talking about, my love?" 

He couldn't speak. Words, so so many words, were trapped in his throat. Instead, he let out a loud sob. He shattered, breaking down before her very eyes.