Every time you make a move

Kintsugi-Part 3

Freddie had spent the next half hour sitting on his bed with a pot of tea and ashtray close at hand, sipping every cup and cigarette he had to relax himself and try take his mind of the situation .

But he couldn't, and he dreaded hearing his daughter's summoning cries sounding from the baby monitor sitting next to him. Deep down some of his fondest memories he had, aside from spending time at his piano and his most electrifying gigs on tour, always went back to his children. The nights be spent cuddled up and holding onto Monica's swollen stomach, her soft hands lovingly caressing his head as he'd plant two kisses on her warm skin, one for each twin. And when they were born, when his mind was too much of a whirl to try get some sleep at the hospital in Geneva, sitting at the window overlooking the city lights and tranquil freshwater lake with their cots either side of him, watching them sleep peacefully as he thought about how much he loved them.

Not a day went by when he didn't think about their first night in the world.

Monica tapped on the door gently, and pushed it open, interrupting his nostalgia instantly.

"I came to get your teacup" she shuffled over to the bed.

Without a response, he pushed the duvet down slightly and sat up so that his love could join him.

She still approached, even though he was in a delicate mood.

She sat on the mattress, cautiously putting a hand on his back, to which leaned himself against her side in response, feeling conflicted.

"Where's Johnny?" He murmured.

"In the kitchen playpen... he was getting impatient when I was preparing dinner."

"Hmph" He grunted in response, then reached for his box of Marlboros and lighter before refraining; it would've been his fifth cigarette in the last hour.

"Poor, silly man," She thought, kissing the top of his head. "Why is he so emotionally damaging? You know it's part of the otherness that lured you to him in the first place..."

He buried his face into her neck, but she pulled away and gently persuaded, "Let me see that face..."

He reluctantly lifted his head, revealing red eyes.

"Oh, what a shame. People really are ugly when they cry," she turned her head away, and the lightheartedness in her tone was infuriatingly irresistible to him. "And you, dear man, are no exception to look at."

"Shut up," he spat weakly. "Just take the damn teacup and get out."

"Awwww, now don't be like that." She pouted, laying back into the mattress and stretching.

"I'm warning you..." he breathed, but he failed to sound threatening.

She crossed her arms behind her head, "Why should I? If you think those teeth scare me, they don't"

He growled and pushed her onto the bed, the blotchiness in his cheeks fading.

The sadness in those brown eyes seemingly disappeared within seconds, and all Monica seemed to be staring back at was a playful lust.

She softly grazed the exposed part of his hairy chest, and started unbuttoning his chequered shirt, one by one.

"Pity you cut your hair so short," he kissed her neck. "I miss it in our early days when it was longer."

"What? You cut yours, so why shouldn't I?" Was all she could say as she pushed his shirt down his shoulders.

"Oh, you cunning minx" he kissed her, and began setting his hands on her body, slipping them underneath her blouse.