Work Text:
She remembered this place. It was so vivid in her memory that her time in that house might as well have been yesterday. She walked through the quiet halls, her fingers dancing along the trail that had been rubbed into the wallpaper by years of trying to find the bathroom in the dark.
She stopped in front of the door to her bedroom. The door handle was exactly where she remembered, just a bit too high to be comfortable. Of course, if she could return now, she was sure it would be the perfect height.
She pushed the door open. Yuri was curled up in her bed, clinging to one of her pillows and snoring softly. He must have waited for her again. She moved to carry him to his bed but caught sight of the dark smear of blood that marred her favorite pink dress. She glanced down at her hands. They were smaller than she remembered, closer to Anya’s size than she thought. Too close. They were stained red, her knuckles cracked and her nails torn.
“I’ll be right back Yuri,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss in his hair, careful not to let her soiled hands touch him. She made her way to the bathroom, moving down the hall as quietly as she could. When she reached it, she didn’t bother turning on the lights. It saved money not to. She didn’t mind, the moon was especially bright that night, shining in through the window and illuminating the stains on her skin. She turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it and dropped her dress to the ground. She peered in the mirror as the water heated up, steam gathering in the corners. She was so young. When had she started working for the Garden? She traced the shape of her face in the mirror, condensation gathering on her finger. Was she really just a child back then?
She tore herself away from her reflection and stepped into the shower. It was perfect, just the way she liked it, a little too hot. She scrubbed her skin until it was raw and she could no longer tell if her flesh was pink from irritation or staining. Each drop of water stung like a needle, but she didn’t mind. Needles didn’t hurt too much.
When she felt clean, or at least as clean as she ever felt, she wrapped herself in a towel and dug through the cabinets for the spare pajamas she kept in the bathroom for nights like these. She dried off and got dressed quickly, wiping down the mirror and double checking that the shower was clean before returning to her room.
“Mom?” Yuri’s quiet voice asked from the bed.
“No,” she answered softly. “It’s just me.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay too.” His eyes were only half open and she could hear his exhaustion in his voice. “It’s so dark,” he mumbled. “Did you eat?” No.
“Yes, I did.” Carefully, she removed the pillow from his grasp and gathered him in her arms. He was so light. She needed to be sure to give him extra breakfast in the morning. His breathing evened as she carried him to his bedroom and tucked him into his bed. He whined and his brow furrowed. She scooped his stuffed dog off the windowsill beside the bed and tucked it into his arms. His face relaxed and he snuggled into it, clutching the ratty thing to his chest.
“Goodnight Yuri,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well.”
“G’night,” he slurred. She smiled down at him for a moment longer before returning to her room and collapsing into her bed. Her whole body ached. She was so tired, but she didn’t want to close her eyes. If she kept them open, she could see the rocking chair in the corner where her mother used to hold her and read to her. She could see the spot by her bed where her father would kneel to stroke her hair and sing her to sleep. If she closed them, all she could see was a wretched man at her feet begging her for mercy that she couldn’t give. She would much rather stare at the desk where she helped Yuri write his name for the first time. She shivered. She’d had to choose between Yuri’s new book and the heater that week.
She pulled her pillow into her chest, hugging it close. She stared at the empty rocking chair in the corner. Her mother always looked so beautiful in the moonlight. She had always loved the way it would shine in through the window and illuminate her hair with a lovely blue that glowed like a halo in the night. Yor told her so every time there was a full moon. That she looked like an angel.
After what felt like hours, exhaustion finally overtook her. Her eyes at last drifted closed, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
When they opened again, she was warm. Her cheeks were still damp, but she was enveloped in a strong arm and a familiar scent. The moonlight was shining in through her window illuminating the man beside her. He looked so soft when he slept, his normally furrowed brow relaxed, and his lips parted slightly. His hand was resting on her stomach and his body was turned towards her. The moonlight reflected off his golden hair, creating a soft glow. She caressed his cheek softly and he let out a quiet sigh. He pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her. Her hands rested on his chest and she watched them rise and fall as he breathed.
“You look like an angel too,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. She didn’t bother to wipe the tears off her face. Instead, she nuzzled into his chest and closed her eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull her back to sleep.