I'll Be Holding on to You

I will always love you

By the time I was done with Moey's hair, it was almost midnight, and the twins and I were the only ones awake. 

Freddy was snoring softly on the loveseat, an open bag of pretzel sticks on his chest. 

Evie had decostumed after he'd fallen asleep, still a little shy around him because he didn't know her. Now she and Cam were curled up like a couple of puppies together on our giant purple plush bean bag, fast asleep. Bowser was tucked up against Cam's back.

Erika surveyed them with her lips pressed together. "Now we'll have to watch this fuckin' episode again," she said in exasperation. She touched her head gingerly. "Took long enough," she said of her hair, messing with me. She'd taken her contacts out and had her glasses on and oh my. "Hey, I decided what I want my tombstone to say."

Mo and I groaned.

"No, seriously, it's perfect. Just 'FFS'." She waited because she knew she was right.

"Damn," I said.

"Yeah, that w-works," Mo admitted.

"That should be our motto. Or, wait, like our mascot. How could we make an FFS mascot?" I yawned, ready to sleep myself. My fingers were sore. "I'm ready for bed."

"My back needs your fancy mattress in a major way," she said, stretching and grimacing. "Ow, motherfucker." She automatically glanced at Evie, who of course still slept. "C'mon."

Freak didn't like sleeping alone. The twins' birth mother had been a gutter drunk; their father not only a raging alcoholic but a sadist who had delighted in psychologically fucking with them. 

He shared Cam's dad's love of claustrophobia-inducing punishments, and had often separated them and locked one into a dark closet or the unfinished basement. 

All this from when they were little, with no interference from their mother. For the icing on his cake he delighted in making one twin listen to the other locked up somewhere and hysterical.

They'd been taken away when they were almost eight. It must have been an eternity for them.

May all of the evil fathers burn in hell.

I disallowed thoughts of their harrowing childhood and stood up too. "You got this riff raff covered down here, Moey?" I asked as if my heart wasn't pounding. She and I almost always slept together in my bed, but it didn't ever get easier or less entrancing.

"Bye, Felicias," he said casually, avoiding my eye. He knew how bad it was that I was a bisexual girl in love with my straight friend. 

Fuck.

Soon we were tucked into bed, she in Cam's spot, the TV on without the volume. My hot electric blanket was broken and she'd complained about that already. 

"My fucking teeth hurt," she moaned, swallowing some Advil. "I don't know what's worse; them or my fucking back. I hate it."

I'd saved my wine cooler and we were drinking it. "Roll over," I said, sitting up to pull the blankets down. "And take your shirt off. Not to sound like the beginning of an amateur porno." I should be so lucky.

She smirked but sat up enough to pull it over her head, leaving her in just a plain white bra, a sharp contrast to her beautiful brown skin. My heart skipped at least one beat. 

It skipped a few more when the bra followed the shirt. I put the empty bottle on the nightstand, next to her glasses, then sat on my knees so I could put some strength into it, and started massaging.

"Oh my God," she said, melting as they all did. "I don't know what the fuck I did but ow."

She'd had three surgeries on slipped discs and always had back pain. She and Mo had been in a bad accident when we were fourteen, which had left their adoptive father paralyzed.