Vanilla Chaos

Chapter 16: Royal Family

Her mug said bitch. "Where did you get that?" I asked the red head, knowing that the derogatory term was probably different in French. She was wearing her hair in two bushy red pig-tails, complete with around twenty different 'kawaii' (Japanese for 'cute' apparently, a little bit far-fetched since she hadn't even completely mastered English, yet) ornaments. She was tall enough, already, but for some reason, she had decided to wear chunky green shoes that made her practically touch the ceiling. Her sickly lime tu-tu was knocking over practically every thing on the counter-tops, and her hot pink tank-top showed way too much cleavage. 'Dem titties' were all over the place.

"School trip to England. My teachers weren't happy but who could stay mad at moi?"

"Nelly-Jerry, that's who?"

"Ah, oui, but he isn't normal."

"You're telling me."

She laughed and sipped her green tea, she click-clacked over to me and played with my hair, "I like you, Heidi. I would have prefered it if petit frère dated Henri downstairs, I won't lie, but I like you. I like you a lot."

I looked up at Dominique, I was wearing the shoes she gave me, again, but she still towered over me, "Well, thank-you. Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course not."

"What's with the outfit?"

"Anime convention, I'm going as a J-Popper."

"J-Pop? As in, Japanese pop music?"

"Yes! I'm getting a taxi there in fourty minutes or so; don't worry, I won't leave you alone." Marseille and François weren't home, they were at a meeting, if I recalled correctly. Nelly wasn't even up, yet, which Nicki clearly wasn't happy about. She marched up the stairs, I nosely stood at the bottom of them and kept my ears alert. "Nelly-Jerry-" I slapped myself. I could not understand French.

I heard those elaborate shoes coming back down, and I scurried back to the lounge. "I told him to come down and stop touching himself; he said that he has you to do that for him. I hope you haven't done the sexes, yet-"

I didn't even bother correcting her, "Oh. And no, we haven't, he just likes to think about it a lot."

"I know."

Trackies, deathmetal tee and messy brown bed-head, "Sorry, Heidi, had to get dressed."

"What?" I cocked my head to the side, "No you didn't, you're still in your pyjamas."

He made the same noise as a popped helium balloon and joked (at least I think he was joking), "No, baby girl, I sleep naked."

"Your sister is here, you know?"

"Yes, and she dress like stripper."

"Correction: she dresses like a stripper. And shut up, you're the only French hoe, here."

"I am literally crying, tea bitch, I'm leaving." He went back to his room, emotionlessly, his sister and I shrugged in unision, I toddled up there behind him and Nicki just went back to sipping her ulimate-kawaii-bitch-juice.

"No, don't leave me." I pulled on his arm and followed him through the door. He closed the door behind us.

"Why?" He questioned, beautiful curiosity in his eyes .

I sat on the bed, "Are you really asking that? Of course I want to be near you, I love you."

He sat down bedside me, our hands brushed. Mine must have felt so cold, his was like the rest of him, not too hot, just pleasantly warm with a calming cool breeze. We were like day and night, so different yet so similar, "Hm." He looked down at his legs, which were crossed, and smiled, "I love you, Heidi." We probably said that same phrase a lot, more often than not without the 'I', but we both meant it every time we said it. He was my paradise, every wonderful feature in existence all in one place, all fitting together in perfectly imperfect harmony.

"Tell me one of your French stories, Avenelle-Jérôme."

"Why? You're already here, tell me a Northern English one, about your big farm house in the countryside."

"Only if you cuddle me."

A giggling pair of pasty arms encaged me, dragging me down, so we could stare at the ceiling together.

"I used to have really long hair, it was blonde, too. My mum would put me in a little pink dress and call me Rapunzel. We both were in our own fairy-tale. She rewrote the old ones, and made them so much better. The 'King' only wanted the Queen for her family's money, so she took her princess away from him, because he was what she used to call a 'bad man'. They lived in a castle with lots of sheep, one sheep was called Moo, I thought it was hilarious at the time. My mum loved me, and she was so brilliant." My eyes were like the sky in Britain: raining. I had no control of it, it was horrible, like powerful river rapids trapping me, blurring my sight. The boy moved his face to next to my own, his arms were like a padded quilt.

"I'm positive she was a truly amazing woman. After all, she managed to raise you. You know what I can't wait for?"

"What?"

"When we have our own little royal family."

And suddenly, I felt a lot better.