The two of us sit on a mattress in what should be the living room of the old house I’d bought us. This was supposed to be a happy surprise, the two of us celebrating that next step in our relationship. Right next door to your family home, still close enough that you can be there for the kids, but private. We’d have a bedroom with a proper fucking door. There’d be no fights for the bathroom in the morning, no dealing with your alcoholic father wreaking havoc at all hours, no kids banging on the door when we… Well bang.

Except the celebration has been marred by the reappearance of your mentally ill, drug addicted mother. She’d left after your youngest brother was born, just over a year ago, after being in and out of your life like a goddamn yo-yo. She’d appear just long enough to get knocked up and pop out another kid for you to raise and then split.

We’d been having a nice evening. There’d been very little chaos at all today, which is a rarity in your life, but something I’d come to love. The way you handle five younger siblings and all of the mess and chaos is something I love about you. Then, your little sister had come running home in a state, wrapped her arms around you and cried like she was five not ten. It took us a good few minutes to get anything coherent out of her but as soon as she uttered the words ‘mum’s back’, I literally saw the blood drain from your face.

I’d never seen someone run so quick. I chased after you as you sprinted down the street, your siblings in tow, as you ran to the neighbours house to confront her.

I’d never seen you in such a state. In all the time we’d been together, all the chaos, the bullshit, and family emergencies, I’d never seen you like this. You’d yelled and screamed and cried, and I think if your mother hadn’t been holding your baby brother you’d have taken all of your frustration and hurt out on her.

And of course, your drunken excuse of a father had invited her back to the family home, even after she’d announced that she and her new partner wanted to take the baby to live with them. Some bullshit excuse about wanting to start a family. As if she didn’t already abandon one.

So, I’d shown you the house. I wanted to wait until the work it desperately needed was done, but I’d rather us sleep on a mattress in this shit heap of a house than make you sleep in a house with that woman. I’m half expecting your siblings to come walking through the door any minute too.

“It’s too quiet,” you murmur, picking at your cuticles.

“It won’t be for long, you know at least the middle two will walk through that door in about five minutes,” I say softly as I brush my thumb over your cheek, trying to lift your spirits a little. It’s no use, this shit’s too serious.

“It’s gonna be alright, you know?” I try a different approach