Bad

It was a cold, winter night. The snow was piling on my windows like clouds, the wind was whistling.

I was sitting in my warm house. I had a long sleeve sweater on for once, my precious baby boy made it for me. As i was relaxing on my stone couch, I glanced over to some pictures I kept on my wall.

At the top, was my sweet, strong son, Francis. A little further down was my handsome and fluffy boyfriend, Cosmo. Although Cosmo and I didn't make Francis, in another world, we were his parents.

It was really so adorable how he looked just like his daddy! Sometimes, though, I wish they'd talk more. Francis explained to me somewhat why they don't, but I forgot most of it and didn't understand the rest.

As I sat there, smiling at my collection of photos, I heard a knock at the door. Who could that be? I got up and slithered over to the door, pushing my hair out of my face. I peeked through the window.

"MY BABY!" I cried as I recognized it was my darling child, Francis. I unlocked the door and swung it open forcefully. The cold air rushed over me. I shivered.

"Momma!" He exclaimed as I threw my arms around him. After a second, I stepped back after kissing him on the cheek. I put my hands on his face, admiring how beautiful he was, MY son!

"Oh, my beautiful boy!" I admired, he grinned and chuckled very softly. I noticed the snow coming into the house and gasped. "Come in!" I insisted, "it's cold for you out there!"

He stepped into the house, but something seemed off. Francis moved slowly, almost hesitantly. As he took off his coat, he seemed reluctant to set it anywhere. Was he having a bad day?

"Momma I have to talk to you," he mumbled, obviously sad. He had his back turned to me, his arms pressed close. I went closer to him, curious.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" I asked, "did you have a bad day?" He sniffed loudly, then turned around. As he nodded slowly, his eyes filled with tears and they dripped down his face.

"Momma..." he whimpered, barely speaking. I gasped and went over to him, wrapping my arms gently around him. I comforted him.

"Please don't cry, baby, momma's here... shhh," I gently reminded him, "you're safe here baby, it's all good here." He shook his head, holding me tightly. I insisted that everything was gonna be ok, cause it was!

"No, it isn't," he said, "everything else might be good, but I'm just bad." It broke my heart to hear him say that. I stopped for a second, then I stepped back a tiny bit, looking him in the eye.

"My darling," I said,"Why would that even cross your mind?" He sniffed, trying to speak, but I led him over to the couch. I threw a blanket over him, I always kept it close, because I knew he was usually cold.

"I'm going to go make you some cookies, 'cause that always cheers you up!" I explained, "then, you can tell me what's been bothering you, alright?" He sadly nodded, curling up on the couch. I went into the kitchen and opened up the cupboards. I spotted the old recipe at the back of the shelf and leaned forward, reaching for it. 

As soon as I reached it and grabbed the paper, my head bumped the top shelf and something fell behind me. I pulled the recipe out and looked down at the floor. It was a book, not only that, it was Francis's baby book! I squealed with delight as I picked it up, checking it over to see if anything was damaged.

Seeing that it wasn't, I flipped through it. You might remember me saying how I didn't raise him, well, this is something he brought with him! Apparently his mom- other me- started it, and he finished it! My, he was so cute when he was little, my baby Beans! I set it on the counter and prepared the cookies.

Once I was finished,  I shut the oven and went out to him in the living room. He perked up a bit when he saw me, but for the most part, he stayed where he was.

I sat down by his head, putting my hand near his ears. I stroked the hair out of his face and smoothed the fur around his cheeks. He was so very soft, just like Cosmo. Right then, I wasn't sure what I could do to make him feel better, so I just sat, waiting to listen if he needed me to.

After a while, he reached up and put his hand on mine, right on his cheek. I smiled down at him as he looked up at me with a sad, but loving, look. I leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, making him smile a little bit. He seemed to be calming down.

"Are you ready to talk about what's bothering you?" I asked, tilted my head to the side. He sighed and let go of my hand. He slowly sat up, dragging the blanket with him so he didn't get cold. When he was finally up, he pushed his glasses up and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "it's been bothering me for a while, it's about Father- erm... dad?" I would've smiled at him trying to call him dad, but this sounded serious, and I didn't want to make it seem like I didn't care.

"Oh?" I said, "what is it- you know you can trust him, right? He's a good man-" I looked at him, trying to let him know I was honest. He put his hands to his face and shook his head. I put my hand on his arm in a calming way.

"Momma, I know you think he is, I really want to believe you," he cried, "I want to trust him, but it's hard, momma, it's really hard!" He sounded like he was about to sob so I put my arm around him, softly telling him to be calm. He took a deep breath, which didn't really do much.

"I know how hard he's trying, I know he told me he wouldn't hurt me," he said, almost in tears, "I feel terrible, I'm the one thing keeping him from getting close to me, I hate being this way!" He started to sob, I put my arms around his neck gently, bringing him closer to me.

"He knows baby," I told him, "he knows how hard it is, it frustrates him, but he loves you enough to wait for you, you're his baby just as much as you are mine!" He grabbed my arm,  tears ran down, but the sobbing stopped. "We love you so much, both of us, no matter what."

"Does he really?" He asked, "I must annoy him so much, my personality, my behavior, how can he love me?"
I shook my head and looked him in the eye.

"He's not the man that you knew, Francis," I reminded, "he loves people, despite their differences, even if he doesn't show it, and that's why I love him." Francis buried his head into my arm, no more tears ran, but he just seemed frozen.

After a moment of silence,  he spoke.

"Thank you, Momma," he said, "I feel a bit better, I might even- understand him better- maybe I can enjoy his company soon." I smiled wide as he sat up. Almost on time, the oven beeped, we both looked to the kitchen.

"Good," he cried, "I'm terribly hungry!"