Chapter 13 - Growing Up Too Fast

Finding things to keep herself was distracted during those first crucial 48 hours after her birthday. If Leda and Joey suspected anything, they didn't say a word.

The answer to Kyle's question came one evening when she was borrowing his easel, pressing her worries into the canvas and letting colors grow from them.

She looked down at herself, touching her stomach tentatively and wincing. "...shit," she whispered, closing her eyes as tightly as she could.

She was barely a high school graduate. How the hell had this happened?

She knew that the waiting was over. Any longer, and she'd be lying to her parents. And there was no way she'd be able to hide this for more than twenty-four hours.

Freya carefully made her way down the stairs, conscious suddenly of how tightly she held the railing and how certain she was of her foothold before she descended to the next one.

Joey was right where she expected him to be. He'd learned everything one could learn from every exercise machine known to man, but he still loved to flaunt it, even at his age. "Hey...Dad?"

"What is it, Freya?" he called, never looking away from the screen.

"I have...I have something to tell you."

When he looked over his shoulder and saw her attire, his jaw dropped. "Freya?"

"I'm...I kind of have something to tell you. Like...you remember when Donald came over on my birthday?" Long, heavy silence. "Because, you see, we...things kind of got..." More silence. Freya felt like ripping her ponytail out. "...Dad, I'm pregnant."

He stared at her belly. "...well, that's a relief. I just thought you were getting really fat."

"Dad!"

"Hold on a sec, lemme get your mom."

"LEDA," he screamed at the top of his lungs as he hobbled toward the staircase. "Take a break from that damn laptop for once and get the hell down here! Your daughter has something to tell you!"

Even with the way that he was shouting, Freya wanted to pass out in relief. He wasn't angry. He wasn't. He was...even maybe...sort of okay with it? She exhaled and stumbled backward a step, touching her belly again and looking at it with a new sense of wonder.

When Kyle suddenly approached her tentatively, she looked up at him and smiled softly. "Hey," she murmured, as if the baby was already born and shouldn't be woken.

"Hey. Are you...okay?" he hedged.

Freya considered her response. She'd been crying herself to sleep every night. She woke up that morning with fresh tears on her cheeks. As much as she despised Donald for playing with her like that, for making cheap excuses just because he was a coward who didn't want to make things work with someone as young as she was, her body still longed for him, and her heart was still broken.

And yet at the bottom of it, she knew it was for the best.

"...yeah. Yeah, I think I'm gonna be all right."

Kyle leaned down and touched her stomach as well, his broad hand splaying over it and covering almost the entirety of her baby bump. He was already growing up so fast. He'd be an adult by the time her baby was a toddler. That was so strange to think about.

When he suddenly pressed his ear to her stomach, she snorted and began to giggle. "Kyle, it's way too early for that, I promise."

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I've just gotta listen a little closer."

She smacked him playfully on the shoulder and grinned at him. "You're such a nerd."

But, she reflected, at least she had the support of her family. As Kyle grinned up at her, he looked more like a kid than he had even when he WAS one. Maybe...everything really WOULD be okay.

As they settled down that night, Kyle with his homework and Freya with a pregnancy book, she felt her hackles begin to lower for the first time in three days.

It wasn't until later, when Freya excused herself from the room to answer the door, that Kyle had a moment.

"HOLY SHIT I'M GONNA BE AN UNCLE!"

The figure at the door wasn't expected, not at all. Freya stared at Donald for a moment before she looked over her shoulder and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. "What are you doing here, Donald?"

"I heard some stuff. Wanted to see if it was true." He looked down at her stomach, and Freya covered it with a hand protectively. How in the world he'd heard this fast, she had no idea. This town had so few secrets, however, that she found she really wasn't that surprised.

"...well. Now you know. So you can leave, and get the hell out of my life."

"C'mon, Freya, you don't mean that," he murmured, leaning close. "I know you better than anyone else on this planet, and right now you're scared to death that you're gonna have to do this alone."

His words rang so close to home that she sucked in a breath, desperately trying to stabilize herself. "That's what I'm feeling, is it?"

"I was your best friend since you started high school, wasn't I?"

Luke's face swam before her eyes, completely unbidden, and she narrowed her eyes at Donald. She found herself wondering what it might've been like if she'd spent her birthday night with Luke instead, tangling her fingers in his messy hair and feeling every inch of his skin, cold against her heat, as his eyes glowed in the darkness. As she looked into Donald's blue eyes, she  knew it would've had a far different, and possibly far happier, ending. She lifted her chin proudly. "Donald, get the hell out of my sight, and never come back."

As he stared at her, she imagined for a moment that she saw a sense of hurt in his eyes. It was...incredibly unfamiliar, coming from the image of Donald she'd built over the past three days, the one who used her and left her shivering in her bed every night as her trecharous mind remembered every intense second of it.

But the hurt faded seconds later, leaving behind inevitability instead. Donald slowly nodded. "We had a nice time, didn't we, Freya?"

"We did. But you fucked that up royally." As he passed by her closely to descend the porch stairs, leaving her skin and her heart jumping with the heat radiating off of him, she rubbed at her arms and looked over her shoulder. "Hey, Donald?"

"Yeah?" he asked, pausing with one foot on the ground and one on the last stair.

"I hope you grow up one day."

He glared at her before he got in his car and drove away.

Chapter 12 - Mistaken Passion

It didn't take long for Freya to fix herself up. Naturally, she reached for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but hesitated as her fingers brushed the coarse denim.

No. Today was a day for change.

She silently raided her mother's closet and makeup case before taking herself to the bathroom and preparing herself.

"Donald? Hey, how are you doing? Wanna come over and wish me a happy birthday?"

The poor sap had no idea what was waiting for him. With Leda and Joey quietly vacating the house to collect their profits from their three partnerships, Freya had plans.

"Hey, wha- FREYA?"

She grinned at him. "Hey. Umm...something wrong?"

He gaped at her for a moment more before he closed his mouth and smiled shakily. "Nah, not at all. You just...happy birthday!"

Freya ushered him in with a chuckle. "Hey, I'm gonna get a drink of water. You want one?"

"No. No, I'm good."

Donald immediately made his way to the couch, and Freya glanced over her shoulder toward him as she washed the glass she'd just drank out of. Kyle would throw a fit if she didn't.

Well. Here was the moment of truth. With her heart fluttering, she gulped and made her way toward the couch. Maybe with these high heels on, her breastbone and shoulders bared, her legs flexing...maybe something else would come out of her than shy little Freya.

Donald came to his feet immediately when she paused beside the couch, his eyes unwavering from her face.

Freya flicked her tongue out to moisten her dry lips, ever conscious of how Donald's eyes followed its moment. "So...it's my birthday." She chuckled as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Kind of weird, isn't it? Being out of school like this?" She'd never been conscious of Donald's age like she was now. Here she was, fresh out of high school, and he was already a mature adult, one on his way to becoming an old man.

"You get used to it," he said softly, his voice thick in his throat, as he flicked his eyes toward her own. "You...grew up beautifully. You know that, right?"

The air crackled around them. Freya gulped as she lifted her chin and smiled.

"Careful, Donald. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to kiss me."

His eyes sparkled mischievously.

"A guy like me knows better than to touch a gem like you without an invitation."

There was only one invitation that she could think of.

The moment was swift, fleeting, but filled with a certain sweetness that she couldn't misplace. When she pulled back, she looked up at Donald shyly. The fire in his eyes set her heart pounding. "Was...was that invitation enough?" she asked tentatively.

He suddenly reached out and pulled her flush against him, kissing her with lips far more experienced than her own. As his hands traced hungrily up and down her back, her arms, her cheeks, her hair, she felt a whirlpool churning inside her that she couldn't get away from.

Donald broke from her lips for a single moment to press his forehead against hers and to stare deeply into her eyes, ignoring the way her glasses pressed against his nose. "I...have wanted to do that for ages."

She sucked in a shaky breath, gripping his sleeves for dear life. "I don't want you to stop."

"We don't have to." He kissed her again, a searing action that took her breath away. "But you might...be more comfortable on a bed."

When he pressed her against the scratchy cotton and she felt every plane and angle of his body against hers, she knew there wasn't any other way for this to end. As Donald stared deeply into her eyes, she stared back for only a moment before she nodded.

In the nights where she'd laid awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling in a flush of adolescent hormones, Freya never knew what to expect from Donald. She imagined that he was a tentative lover, soft and gentle and coaxing.

She didn't expect the tidal wave of passion that poured out of him, all-encompassing and burning and even rough at times.

She expected it even less when moments after he climaxed, when they lay in bed panting together, Donald suddenly pulled away from her when she reached to touch his face.

As he stood up, Freya stared blankly at the door, trying to process what had just happened. "...Donald?"

"I've gotta get home," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the rest of his clothing, scattered wildly around the room.

"What?" She almost laughed. "What do you MEAN, you've gotta get home?"

Look, Freya, it's been a good time, but..." She waited as he paused beside his pants and turned to look at her, choosing his words carefully. "I...can't."

"You can't...what?"

As she climbed out of bed, she heard him chuckle softly. "Are you honestly gonna tell me that you're not gonna want to make this serious?"

"What? Donald, of COURSE I want to make it serious." She looked at him plaintively. "I've...I've had a crush on you ever since high school. I really liked you. I...God, I LOVE you."

He looked away from her awkwardly, shaking his head. "You don't love me."

"...I think I know what I feel."

"You're wrong." Donald grabbed his pants and went to look for his shirt. "You think I'm cute, you're close to me, and I just took your virginity. You think you love me. You really don't."

"What the hell are you talking about?" She tore around her bed and pushed his clothes out of his hands, glaring at him. "I know what I'm feeling. What, are you just...scared or something?"

Donald took a step toward her, his lips thin. "This isn't gonna get serious, sweetheart. That's not the kind of guy I am."

"Sure you-"

"I'm NOT," he snapped at her, slashing a hand through the air. "Look, you're cute, all right? You're even...beautiful. And I would've done anything in high school to get a taste of that." He paused, formulating his thoughts again, even as Freya's horror slowly began to grow. "Hell, I've wanted a piece of that ever since I graduated. Every night." His words were bitter now. She could taste it in the air. It made her want to vomit. "Look at you, Freya. You're still just a kid, and my hair's turning gray. There's no way anything's ever gonna happen with you and me." His lips curved into a smirk. "But no man's crazy enough to turn down what you offered me today."

She slapped him.

He stood there for a moment, the sting ringing in the air, before he glared at her and leaned close. "Truth hurts, doesn't it, sweetie?"

"Don't you call me that. Don't you EVER call me that." Freya licked her swollen lips again, feeling every inch of her beginning to shake. "You used me. You played with my emotions, and you-"

"You enjoyed every second of it."

She pointed over her shoulder. "Get the hell out of my house."

He tugged on his clothes and left, slamming the door behind him. Freya stared blankly at the wall before she sank down to the floor. She winced the instant that she sat, touching her abdomen and staring at the cotton white sheets of her bed. She was going to have to burn those, wasn't she?

Kyle, conscious of Donald's car in the driveway, didn't hesitate as he climbed the stairs. Freya was alone with him. She was alone, and- when Donald suddenly came strutting out the front door, every inch of him turned cold. Donald threw him a smile, like they were the bestest buds, and it took every inch of Kyle to restrain himself. He threw himself through the front door. "Freya? Freya, where the hell are you?"

She was already coming down the second flight of stairs. Her glasses were crooked, her hair was mussed, and her skin was shiny with sweat. "...Kyle?"

"Shit," he whispered.

He pulled her close to him, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe, and pressed his forehead into the crook of her shoulder. She smelled musky. He hated that. He wanted it all to be gone.

The took of them didn't say another word. When Freya suddenly pulled back from him and took his hand, tugging him toward the couch, Kyle didn't hesitate. He followed her and sat beside her.

He only broke the pact of silence when a commercial came on the TV.

"Did you...use protection?"

She was silent, but she shook her head.

"...what...are you gonna do if you get pregnant?"

She stared at him. Count on her little brother to be more blunt than anyone else on the planet.

After a few seconds of a man trying to sell pants via infomercial, Freya shrugged. "I'll take the kid. We'll go live in some tiny little house where no one'll see us. It'll just be me and her against the world or something."

"Man. No wonder you want to be an author." Kyle looked at her seriously. He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Don't leave. Remember?"

"...yeah. Yeah, I remember." She squeezed it back. "To be honest...I'd be scared to. I can't raise a kid on my own."

"Don't worry." Kyle's voice burned with such conviction that she looked at him. "I'll be here. And I'll help."

"..." She nodded before leaning over and placing her head on his shoulder. He blinked at the suddenness of the contact before he looked back at the television.

That night, Freya stared hard at her bed, biting her bottom lip. How could she sleep in this? How could she, knowing what she'd done in it earlier today? As she clambered into the sheets, she smelled Donald all over them, freshly washed as they were. It was like he was engrained in them, deep past their fibers.

She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. It never worked.

Chapter 11 - Misunderstandings Part Deux

After not seeing his son for a good few weeks, Joey decides it'd be best to check up on him. Peculiarly enough, however, Jarred never seems to be in his house. Ever. He always seems to be off somewhere else, perhaps with his girlfriend Carrie, who Joey recently heard through word of mouth gave birth to twins.

After a quick call ahead to find out if Jarred really WAS home, Joey heads over.

The first thing he realizes is how run down the entire house is. The only thing in it that's had any care and attention paid to it is a little drawing table in the corner with a half-finished sketch on it.

Jarred's also a bit thinner than when last Joey saw him.

"Son, it's good to see you. How are you holding up?"

"Well, I'm not some famous ASTRONAUT always running off and making billions of Simoleans for my family, but I'm happy, at least."

The vehemence with which Jarred shouts is enough to make Joey rear back in surprise. "Jarred, what's gotten into you?" His son's hot-headed nature isn't much of a surprise, he guesses, but to be snapped at seconds after he came in the door is extremely...peculiar.

Jarred is silent and sulky.

"...I haven't seen much of your art displayed around town. Are things all right?"

Jarred sighs and nods. "Yeah. Things are just...busy. I didn't expect to suddenly have twins to take care of."

"Are they around?"

"No, Carrie's still living with her folks..."

It was late already, and he'd only just gotten there. Joey looked at the clock, cursing his elderly body. "Look, Jarred, it's already 11pm, and I was wondering-"

"I've only got one bed, but it's yours if you want it."

-snoooooooooooooooore-

The next morning they bonded in the best way possible.

Meanwhile, back at the Randall house, the bed continues to sleep though its occupant is gone. The other furniture judge it for being so lazy.

Kyle's mind grows more and more hungry with age, and he ends up spending a great deal of his time at the telescope when he's not at school. If his family asked he'd let them know he was just learning where all of the stars were, but he has a secret motive as well.

"We're not alone. Aliens. There are ALIENS. And they'll come down here and eat us if one of us isn't watching them at all times. STAY AWAY, ALIENS."

It's much more entertaining being up there, at least. It seems like every time he has to eat, Freya's already in the kitchen and on the phone with Donald.

"I know, frying pans are so hard to clean! It's so stupid!"

Kyle lets his anger simmer as he makes his way toward the sink.

Which, of course, promptly breaks.

Before Freya can even notice, he drags her outside. "C'mon, we haven't played tag yet! And it's so pretty outside!" And full of germs, but if Freya's there Kyle has a feeling that there's no way they can get him.

He has a feeling that Freya's going easy on him, so he pulls out all the stops to make it harder for her to catch him.

By the time that they're exhausted and breathing hard, he wanders over to her and gives her a big hug.

"I love you, Freya."

She grins. "I love you too, Kyle!" But as she prepares to pull back, Kyle's arms tighten around her and lock her into place.

"Promise you'll never leave, okay?" She is silent, if not stunned. "I'm serious. Please. You can't leave me here alone, okay? You just can't. Mom and Dad are already so old, and if anything happens to them and I can't help them, o-or if they get sick, or i-if -I- get sick, or..."

He's so incredibly bright and well-spoke for his age, but she also recognizes the faint traces of hysteria on his lips, and so she smooths his hair and shushes him softly.

"Kyle, don't worry, okay? I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

He sinks against her in relief.

The next morning is Kyle's birthday, which Freya is rather delighted about. Her brother seems incredibly paranoid and neurotic for such a young child, and she's hoping that he grows out of it.

For once, the whole family is there to celebrate in the morning, Joey plopped down right between them to cheer as well. "Make a wish, Kyle!"

He's quiet, screwing up his face, just moments before he blows out the candles, claps, and ages up.

Into a...remarkably handsome young man, actually.

Once cake is enjoyed by all, everyone retires to their various pursuits to save up their energy for yet another birthday tomorrow, this one being Freya's. Freya departs for school, but Kyle somehow talks his old parents into the fact that he shouldn't have to go.

The first order of business on Kyle's birthday is to wash his hands precisely three times, just to be sure that the dye on the cake doesn't stain them forever. Apparently those neurotic tendencies are there to stay.

The bed, meanwhile, is still asleep, and this time dreaming. The lamp is displeased about this.

Kyle takes his place protecting the universe for the entire day of playing hooky from school. No aliens are gonna destroy THIS house.

During their last night together as elder and teenager, Freya and Leda share a quiet meal together. Freya's recently developed vegetarianism often makes it difficult for them to enjoy the same meals, but a good sandwich is just what the doctor ordered.

"So what do you think you wanna do when you're an adult?" Leda asks.

Freya is silent for a long moment before she smiles. "I've thought about...maybe becoming a writer, like you."

Leda looks at her daughter, eyes wide and beyond surprised. "Are you sure? I...Freya, being an author is a difficult career without a great deal of guaranteed success. Do you think you're really ready for the rejection?"

"I've thought about it a lot, Mom. I really have. And I'm gonna do it. I don't care if I don't get a house as nice as this one or whatever. If I've gotta live in a studio apartment, I'll do that! I just...Mom, I've got these characters in my head that I can't get rid of. I've gotta let them be free."

Leda smiles, watching the distraction behind Freya's glasses. Yes. She's as ready as she will be. She might be a shy girl, all ready to be a recluse in the name of telling stories, but her words are strong and sure. She'll be ready.

They do homework together for the last time.

Kyle, meanwhile, has found a hobby of his own to take care of the weird paranoid images in his head that he can't get out any other way. He's quite satisfied.

Freya wakes up the next day already in deep thought about what the first book she'll write will be. She can't wait to get started.

More enthusiastic cheering!

The family is a little shocked at her new pajamas. Leda thinks she might need to sit down.

Regardless, the family gathers for cake for breakfast, and Freya doesn't waste any time chatting excitedly to her mother. "I've actually already found a house about twenty minutes away. Isn't that awesome? It looks perfect for me!"

Kyle chokes on his food.

While Freya and Leda continue conversing about the merits of the tiny little starter home, Kyle finally manages to swallow.

"..." Without warning Kyle shoves away from the table the instant that he is finished with his meal and starts heading toward the stairs. On the way, however, he utters a single word over his shoulder. "Bitch."

Freya and Leda go silent. Freya waits until Kyle is almost to the stairs before she is sure her feet will hold her and stands.

"Excuse me?"

Kyle storms over. "I don't know what the hell is in that cake, but it's OBVIOUSLY messing with your head."

"What in the world are you talking about?!"

"'I'm not going anywhere, Kyle!' Sound familiar? Or was it just a damn lie? Pretty lies. That's all it is."

"Kyle, you were just a kid!"

"IT WAS YESTERDAY." The very walls seem to shake with the force of his shout. Freya stares at him as he pants, catching the unmistakeable trace of tears in his bright blue eyes.

There's nothing more to say. Kyle spins into his clothing and turns, walking sulkily toward the door. "I'm going out. I hope you're gone by the time I get back." The door slams with a sense of finality that shakes Freya to the core.

Leda makes her way over, tilting her head to the side as she looks into Freya's eyes. "Sweetheart, I know you're angry. And you have every right to be. Kyle has the right to dictate your future about as much as I do: not at all.

"Make your own choices, and Kyle will get over it, all right? You mean the world to him. I have a feeling that you're more a mother to him than I ever was. And that means he'll forgive you because he can't bear to be angry at you like this. Trust me." Leda smiles, rubbing her daughter's arms. "If your heart leads to you that little house, don't hesitate. Go to it."

Freya forces a returned smile. "Yeah...besides, it's my birthday, right? I can't let it get me down." A moment of silence lingers in the air, both women in their separate thoughts, before she rubs the back of her neck. "I think...I want a little more time to think on it. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly." Leda nods. "Look, why don't you go upstairs and get a shower and invite your Donald friend over, all right? I'm sure he'd be happy to celebrate your birthday with you."

Freya doesn't think she's ever heard a better idea.

------

The whole Jarred/Joey storyline was originally going to have far more significance, but Jarred sort of ruined it by screaming at his father about eight times for saying 'hi.' OTL

As it is, Kyle's new trait is Eccentric, and Freya's is Artistic.

I don't really think there's much more to say, except I legitimately cannot ever figure out where Jarred's children are. I'd love to have their grandparents visit them, get a couple of pictures, SOMETHING, but I have no idea how to locate them. xD And they're NEVER at Carrie's house, somehow, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE TODDLERS. IT'S SO WEIRD.