Battling the Loss You Live For.

Nothing was said.
We just stared at it. God knows how long for, because Mom and Dad poked their head around the door, and I could see the worried expressions from the corner of my eye.
“…Are you two alright?” Dad said, confused. I turned to face Sazzy. She was expressionless.
“What’s going on?” Dad whispered, more to Mom than to anyone else.
“…Sazzy’s pregnant,” I whispered, my eyes still glued to her. Mom and Dad didn’t say anything.
“Sazzy? Are you alright?” I mumbled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She shrugged.
“I don’t know… what to think.”
“Are you happy?” I asked, pushing her chin towards me, making her face me.
“…I. Think so,” she said, the smallest smile gracing her lips, “are you?”
I grinned, at her, pecking her lips, “of course I am.”
“Lin, stop it!” I heard Dad mutter, and we turned to them, seeing Dad almost laughing at Mom, who was virtually bawling her eyes out.
“Shut up! We’re going to be grandparents!”

“What were you thinking when you saw it?” Sazzy asked, leaning her head back to look at me. We were sat in the garden, and I was lent across the tree, Sazzy sat in between my legs. It was really hot today, and the house was like an oven, so we went to sit outside.
I shrugged, resting my head on her shoulder.
“I don’t really know. I… was panicking, I suppose. Then I was thinking of how it was going to work. I don’t know if I’ll be a good father,” I said in a whisper, my eyes closed. I heard a smack, felt a sting, my eyes wide open, and my head shot up so fast that it hurt.
“What was that for?!” I cried, rubbing my cheek. She slapped me!
“Don’t ever, ever say that, Frank! Why would you say something like that?” she said, her voice was high, her brow creased. She looked almost hysterical.
“What, I-”
“Don’t say you’ll be a bad father!” she cried, spinning her whole body round to face me. I moved my hand away from my cheek, placing it on hers instead, my other on her waist.
“Calm down, Sazzy.”
“Take it back!” she said fiercely, not touching me. Her eyes were fixed on mine intently, the same viciousness in them. It kind of scared me a little, actually.
“I take it back.”
She softened, her eyes going brighter. She wound her arms around me, hugging me tight.
“I’m sorry I slapped you,” she said into my ear, a hint of humour in her voice.
“It’s alright… Just don’t do it again,” I said, smiling a little. She pulled away slightly, turning to see my cheek.
“I left a handprint,” she said, a worried look on her face. “Does it hurt?” she poked it a little, and I winced away, feeling pain sear at it.
“Oh, Frank, I’m so sorry!” she said, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.
“Hey, babe, it’s alright, it doesn’t hurt that bad,” I said, wiping her eyes for her. Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes watering still.
“Sazzy, please,” I said, sighing a little and bringing her close to me, kissing her neck, smoothing her hair. She sniffed, and I felt her wipe away her tears. She stood up, and walked away towards the back door.
Talk about mood-swings.
She came back down five minutes later, a blue icepack in her hand.
“It’s not that bad!” I said as she sat back down opposite me. She shook her head, a small smile on her face, and pressed the pack to my cheek softly.
“Ow!” I cried, flinching away from it.
“I thought it wasn’t that bad?” she smirked, placing her other hand to my other cheek. She pressed the pack back to my cheek, but this time I couldn’t move away from it.
“I feel sorry for anyone you’ve ever slapped before,” I said, scanning her face for any signs of distress or something.
“Charley and this girl called Sacha.”
“Charley?! Why did you slap Charley?” I asked, genuinely shocked. Charley? They were best friends!
“Well, when we dated-”
“You dated?!” I cried, so loud that she jumped a little.
“Yeah, I thought you knew that? That was a long time ago, now…” she said, mumbling it as she looked at me, her eyes clouding over – she was thinking.
“I’m sure I told you… we weren’t talking, remember? You used to try and get us to be friends…”
“I thought you weren’t talking because… well, I assumed you were friends before and just fell out or something,” I replied, tracing the seams on her shorts with my finger.
“Oh.”
“How… long did you date for?” I asked my eyes glued to the patterns my fingers made.
“Frank, please don’t make this weird,” she whispered, titling my head up to face her, a pleading look in her eyes.
“Okay…” I mumbled, shrugging. She sighed, leaning forward and placing her lips against mine softly, the cold of the icepack still pressed firmly against my cheek.
“Promise?”
“Yeah… I promise…” I mumbled against her lips, pushing forward again, meshing our lips together. She pulled away, stroking the side of my neck with her thumb, still pressing the icepack to my face.
“Move the pack, Sazzy,” I whispered, taking hold of her hand on top of it. She shook her head.
“It’s hot anyways, why are you complaining?” she said, a hint of laughter in her tone.
“It’s annoying,” I said, pouting. She giggled, but didn’t move it off, so I pulled on her hand, the blue square-shaped box falling to the grass. She gave me a playful glare, picking it up lying down next to me, pressing it to her forehead. I laughed at her, and she pouted, a hand held to it.
“It’s hot!” she said, giggling a little. I rolled my eyes, and picked up my sunglasses that were lying next to me, slipping them on. I pulled off the black Misfits’ top I was wearing, looking to see if there was anything behind me so I could lie down.
“What the fuck?!” Sazzy cried, sitting up quickly, looking at me with a shocked expression, her eyes wide.
“…What?” I asked, totally baffled, placing a hand on her arm.
“What the hell is that on your back?!” she cried, pointing to the top of my back, near the base of my neck. I twisted my head to the side slightly, trying to see what she was talking about, but then it clicked, and I realised.
“Oh, my tattoo,” I said, sighing with a smile. She blinked her eyes still wide and her mouth slightly open in shock.
“I got it on my eighteenth birthday with Dad,” I explained, turning my body slightly so she could see it. She touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers, and I turned back to her.
“A pumpkin?” she said, smiling slightly.
“Halloween,” I said simply, smiling at her. She nodded, looking over it again.
“It kinda looks like Jack Skellington. You know, the face,” she said, touching the jagged mouth inked on my back. I pictured the image on my back in my head, nodding slightly.
“Yeah, I get what you mean.”