Paint It Black

Sunny's POV

My feelings toward Frank leaving all the time ate at me. It tore me up; I felt as if we would never have a bit of normalcy in our lives. I know, no one has a normal life. I just want our lives to be as settled as it should.

It's weird trying to map out your life when you live as I do. I don't work normal hours, I'm not married, I live with two friends, and the father of my child lives in New Jersey. I can't wrap my mind on how this would work. Yes, we had planned this whole thing out, but my emotions were getting the better of me.

Am I selfish for wanting him around all the time? Could I live with him being away so much? 

I was more afraid of him missing the key points in our child's life; walking, talking, birthdays, and all those other gushy, family things. 

Am I being selfish? I don't want to be that way, but I can't help the way I feel. If he's always gone, I have to more independent than I am now. I could do it on my own, right?

I'm trying not to stress this; I want to take it one day at a time. I don't want to worry until I officially have to. And even so, I have my friends.
-

December 12th; it's a day I wish I could erase from my memory. A day that tore me up so bad, I couldn't function for weeks. It was when I let myself spiral without even knowing it.

I stay in my room, watching the rain fall heavily outside. The power had gone out, and my iPod battery was low. I hate winter.

I could hear Butcher cursing downstairs about the power outage, and trying to find candles. I heard him call my name, and then his heavy footsteps asending the stairs.

"I'm watching the rain," I told him.

He opened my door and walked in beside me. He had on heavy, grey sweats, and a tank top on; it was unusual since he was almost always in shorts.

"Come downstairs, it isn't safe up here," I almost laughed; he was such a worrier.

I stood up from my bed and grabbed my thin, pink blanket from my bed, and wrapped it around myself. I followed Butcher out of my room, and at the top of the stairs. He took my hand and helped me down the stairs; I hated getting help down these damn stairs.

"Maybe you should crash in my bed for now on," he told me, "I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself."

I shrugged as we waddled down the stairs, "Okay." I didn't object with him; the stairs did freak me out.

When we got to the bottom, we went into his room, where he helped me onto his bed, "I'm gonna go get some candles and then we can paint and shit," he told me; I chuckled at his choice of words.

"Alright," I pulled my blanket closer around my body.

After he found candles, Butcher and I talked while he painted. I laid on my back, on his bed, and watched him. We mostly joked; nothing specific, just inside things. 

"Where's Jack?" I asked, once we ha gone silent.

"At Bill's," Butcher continued with his painting, "they're working on something," he shrugged, "but I think they're probably in the dark, too."

Jack was the busiest out of us all. He was always taking jobs as a videographer, and always traveling. I was envious of his ability to move and adapt so quickly.

I hummed softly, placing my hands on my stomach; "Butcher, do you think everything will work out?" I asked softly.

He turned to me, tipping his brush down, "Like what?"

I sighed softly, "Me and Frank."

His lips turned down a little, "I don't know, Sunny, honestly. I think you guys love each other too much. Loving too hard could cause some problems."

"I love too much?" I raised my brow at him.

"Its not a bad thing. It's just..." he seemed a little lost for words, "you give so much, sometimes into things that will never work out, and you rely on it working."

I nodded in agreement, "Yeah...I know."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"You aren't the only one, Butch."

He gave me a warm smile, "You've been damaged enough, right?" 

I nodded, "I'm too much."

"Exactly," he smiled at me, and went back to painting.

I continued to watch until drowsiness took hold of my body. I fell asleep on Butcher's bed, cuddling with my blanket, one hand on my belly, and thought of Frank -happily.
-

The next few weeks passed, basically as normal as ever. I stayed in the house, fearing the slick roads and cars, and I overtook Butcher's bedroom. The fear of falling become increasingly real over the weeks, so I stayed put in that bedroom.

When Christmas rounded, gifts were sent and received. Frank called and said he'd try to make it, but I assured him not to worry, that I was okay. Of course, he ignored that and still worried about seeing me. I told him to stay wherever he was and to see me when the time was convenient. 

Christmas isn't my most favorite holiday, but the food and movies were what made it special. Butcher cooked everything, his family was coming over again, and I ate healthily. My mom couldn't make it; due to the weather and the flights being cancelled left and right. I wasn't surprised.

So, basically Christmas involved lots of calling, lots of Merry Christmas', and lots of eggnog. When Butcher's family arrived, I steered clear of them, and kept to myself. I hung out in Butcher's art room and painted; I was getting away. I painted something for my kid, something bright and color, and had lots of love.

The painting had a lot of red and pink, and I even involved a black spray can. My visual was that of Love; a few scattered, messy hearts, and shadowing of a toddler. I couldn't really describe what I painted, but it was beautiful (to me anyway).

When I finished it, I brought Butcher in to see it. Of course, being the good friend that he his, he told me he loved. The look on his face made it seem genuine.

"This is amazing," he held it up, to close to him, and examined it, "are you gonna hang it up in the nursery?"

I shrugged, "Maybe."

"You should. If you don't, I want it," he smiled down at me.

"Sure, B."