IMAGINE: Simon comforting you

     Your twin brother Simon and you stand in the mud puddles in your backyard. You duck as he throws a chunk of mud at you. "You missed me.” You grin. “Oh, I never miss." Simon says, before hitting you in the chest with a gloop of mud. You start laughing. Out of all of your siblings, Simon and you are the closest. You're two peas in a pod. You do everything together. However, out of the two of you, you're the most mischievous. Simon and you make parenting most difficult for your father and now soon-to-be mother Mrs. Selma Quickly. You try not to think of that woman. You can't stand her. Why your father ever agreed to marry her is behind you. She sucks the joy out of your life. You look over at Simon who's covered in mud. "Father is going to be so angry at us for playing in the mud." “Who cares? Let him. It serves him right." Simon shrugs. You grab a bunch of mud in your hands. "You're not going to throw that at me, are you?" He asks. “What do you think?" You smirk. You throw it at him. He quickly ducks, just narrowly missing it, and the mud flies through the air, straight into Mrs. Quickly. You freeze, your jaw dropped, as the mud slides down the front of Mrs. Quickly’s dress. She's gaping at the mud in absolute horror. “Uh-oh." Simon whispers. Mrs. Quickly at you and points her finger at you, eyes flashing in anger. "H-h-how dare you?! You did that on purpose!" She screeches. “What? No, I didn't!" You protest. "Yes. You. Did." She seethes. "Come here." She demands, pointing next to her. You do as she commands. Once you slowly make your way over to her, she painfully grabs your shoulder, her fingers digging into your muscles. You cry out. “Y/N!" Simon exclaims. “Shut up, brat!" Mrs. Quickly snaps. "But you're hurting her!" Simon shouts. “But you're hurting her.'" She mimics, before glaring down at you. "You're coming with me. We're going to see your father and talk about your misbehavior. Maybe a boarding school far away would be best for you since you apparently hate your life here." “No!" You cry. She drags you along. "Come on. I may not be your mother yet but I will be. I won't tolerate this type of behavior." “Simon!" You yell helplessly. He starts to run for you. “You stay there! Or else we'll send you to a different boarding school across the county. Then you'll never see your dear sister ever again." Mrs. Quickly spits. Simon pulls up straight, staring at you. “Simon." You beg. “Come along." Mrs. Quickly demands, pulling you along. ——— You sit on a chair at your father's office, your head bowed, your hands folded in your lap. Mrs. Quickly’s hand is still gripping your shoulder. "Mr. Brown, I cannot handle her behavior anymore. She's wild." She says. “Mrs. Quickly, she’s just a young girl." He protests. “No, she isn't. She's a young lady. She's supposed to be acting like a young lady. Instead I find her pulling pranks and playing in the mud." She replies cooly. "But today has gone too far. Today she crossed the line. I know your children do not care for me as much as I so dearly love them..." She starts. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "But to throw mud on me? That is entirely different. If Y/N doesn't like me, she shouldn't have to throw mud on me to prove it. A young lady wouldn't do that." She says. Your father looks at you. "Y/N, is this true? Did you throw mud on her on purpose?" He asks, leveling a stare at you. “No! Simon and I were playing in the mud. The mud was meant to hit Simon." “As I said earlier, sensible young ladies don't play in the mud." Mrs. Quickly mutters. “Perhaps a boarding school might be best." Your father states reluctantly. "No!" You gasp, your eyes wide in horror. “Y/N, Mrs. Quickly is right. You have no manners. Your behavior is very childish and immature." Tears burn in your eyes and you shake your head. "No. No. No. Please don't send me away." You plead. “I am sorry, Y/N, but our decision has been made. You will leave after the wedding." He tells you. You let out a sob and jump to your feet. Mrs. Quickly releases you and you run out of the room. When you exit your father's office, you pull up straight when you see Simon standing there, tears in his eyes. Neither of you say anything. Instead, you just step into each other's arms and hold each other tightly. After a long while, Simon speaks. “It's going to be okay, Y/N." He whispers. “How can it? We're going to be separated. We won't see each other for a long time." You say, your voice cracking. “We're never spent more than a day apart. And now...." You choke on a sob. Simon hugs you again. "We'll figure something out, Y/N. I promise you that we will figure something out." ——— It’s the day of the rehearsal. Mrs. Quickly is worse than her usual horrible self. She’s yelling at everyone, but she’s especially trying to pick fights with you. Simon and you a goofing off while Mrs. Quickly is fixing her appearance. She sends you a look through the mirror but you ignore it. “Come along, children, we must go.” She says, whirling around, the long train of her dress moving around your feet. “I’m surprised the train doesn’t swallow her whole.” Simon whispers into your ear. You giggle and step forward. You hear a loud shredding sound and stop dead in your tracks. Your stomach drops as you slowly looks down. Part of Mrs. Quickly’s train is under your foot while the rest of it is still attached to her dress. You’ve ripped it. Mrs. Quickly whirls around. “I have had enough of you!” She screams. “I-I-I’m sorry! It was an accident!” You exclaim honestly. “There’s no such thing as an accident with you, missy.” She hisses. “Please, Mrs. Quickly, she didn’t do it on purpose!” Simon protests. Mrs. Quickly grabs your arm. “You know how your father said you aren’t leaving for the boarding school until after the wedding? Well there’s been a change of plans. You’re leaving now.” “No!” You cry, trying to maneuvering out of her clutches. She wraps her arms tightly around you and starts to hall you, kicking and screaming, away. “Let my sister go!” Simon screams. He runs up to Mrs. Quickly and kicks her in the shin. She swears and let’s go of you. Simon grabs your hand and you both run off into hiding. ——— Simon holds you as you cry against him. You’re in your secret hide out in the woods. “I hate her. I hate her so much.” You sob. “I know, I do too, Y/N.” Simon whispers. You can hear the music coming from the rehearsal. “Our lives as we know it are about to be over.” “Maybe we should run away together. That’ll just save everyone a whole lot of trouble.” Simon suggests. You smile. “That’s actually not a half-bad idea.” “Of course it’s not half-bad. I thought of it.” He grins. You laugh softly and then sigh heavily. “You’d better get to the rehearsal dinner. You’re going to be missed.” “And you aren’t?” “Mrs. Quick won’t want to see me. She probably won’t want to see you either, but you are the ring-bearer. You kind of have to go.” Simon sighs and hugs you. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispers. “I love you too.” You breathe. Once Simon leaves you, you sneak up into your bedroom. You lay on your bed, staring up at your ceiling, thinking—thinking of everything that has happened. Everything that is going to happen. Your chin wobbles and you squeeze your eyes shut. “I will not cry. I will not cry.” You whisper. Then you hear the obnoxious laugh of Mrs. Quickly coming through your bedroom window. You turn over on your side and starting weeping. ———      The sounds of the guests fade away as the party ends. You sit on your bedroom floor, your back against your bed. You look up at the ceiling as if to see into heaven. “I'm sorry, mother. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry that I'm not good enough. I know you're probably not happy with me. I know you probably wish that I was behaving differently." You choke out, tears streaming down your cheeks. You take in a deep breath and pull your knees to your chest. "I just can't do this anymore." You cry. ———      Simon stops by your door when he hears you crying and softly talking to your passed mother. He frowns and presses his ear against your door. “I'll try to be better, mama. I'll try." He hears you promise. His chin wobbles and tears burn in his eyes. He hears you quietly singing the song their mother taught you when you were little. He softly gasps as tears splatter down his cheeks. He waits until you finish the song before opening up your door. You look up with a gasp. "Oh, it's you." You breathe. You study his face, your eyebrows drawing. "Have you been crying?" You ask. He swallows. "I heard your song." He says. Your shoulders drop. Simon walks over to you and sits next to you. He wraps his arm around your shoulders. "I hope you know how much you mean to me, Y/N." He tells you. “I do." You reply hoarsely, resting your head on his shoulder. “Mother would be proud of you." You look at him. "You think she would?" You ask hopefully. He nods. "I know she would." You sigh. "What are we going to do, Simon?" You question. "The wedding is tomorrow and we haven't figured out anything." You mutter. “I don't know, Y/N, but I know this isn't going to end the way we think it is." You look at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" You inquire curiously. He shrugs. "I don't know. It's just this feeling that I have." "Well I hope your feeling is right." He smiles. "I think it will be." [THE END] I hope you liked it!