Abby and Violet (Yuri Light Novel)

Most of Mathilda’s place was being left untouched, so there wasn’t all that much for packing, and even more so since Claire and her Mum had already previously taken a few of her belongings to their place. Frankly, who ended up working more was my wifey, and it all started when we were in the kitchen to store our water bottles in the fridge and Violet noticed a trickling sound coming from the sink. Mathilda explained that it had started leaking a couple of days ago and she was still looking for a plumber. As it turns out, even to my surprise, Violet knew enough about plumbing that she could fix it, as long as she had some tools. What followed was Sophie driving back home to grab Dad’s toolbox and a change of clothes for Violet, and Violet fixing the sink and a leaking toilet after checking the issue and requiring one of us to go to a store buy what was needed while she tended other stuff. None of us knew the right names of the parts, but we took them with us in a plastic bag as instructed by Violet, and the people there helped us out just as she had told us they would. After that, she covered a few holes on the wall from some frames Mathilda had hanged, and just to be safe, she got to applying a new coat of paint in what had been Mathilda’s bedroom, the paint, the roll, a brush and the tray having been surprisingly cheap.

“You know, the more I know you, the more grateful I am of being your wife,” I told her as I stepped inside. “Is there anything you can’t do at home?”

“Hmm… Electrical wiring, for one,” she told me as she looked around, not with the face of someone admiring her finished work, but of someone who had misplaced something. “If a lamp goes kaput and switching the lightbulb doesn’t fix it, then we are getting a new one.”

“…Did you forget something?”

“No, erm, it’s just… The pink, I felt, had always been a bit much, but now, this just feels lifeless without it.”

It certainly did. Most of the furniture that had previously been there had either been moved to Claire’s place, tossed away, or sold. The movie posters were no longer there too. It was just a barren, white-walled room with a naked bed and wooden floor that echoed as we spoke in a low tone.

Mathilda’s cinema room too had been stripped, the chairs taken to Stephen’s garage shop to replace the old beat-up couch he had in his little corner where he worked on his project car. The popcorn machine and the projectors were now at Mathilda’s new house, apparently been put to good use, as the three of them, Claire, her Mum, and Mathilda, have been doing weekly movie marathons. Aria—that’s Claire’s Mum, was apparently just as free-spirited and loving as her daughter in private, only, less… unhinged. She was also hard-working, that being part of the image I knew of her from my previous life, so she had little time to go around doing stuff for fun. What fun she had was at home with Claire, and now, with Mathilda too. In other words, she was the type of Mum I whished to have for many years but only got the hard-working part and none of the warmth and kindness. Theirs was a happy family, even though Mathilda was born out of her ex-husband’s infidelity. I’m really glad that Claire had convinced her Mum not to hate nor blame Mathilda over it all those years ago.

“Wow! The place looks brand new!” Mathilda proclaimed as she and our sisters joined me and Violet.

“It really does!” Claire laughed as she stepped up to Violet, patting her shoulder. “If that housewife, librarian, model thing doesn’t work, you can always turn to plumbing and house renovations it seems.”

“I-it really is nothing,” Violet mumbled. “This is just basic household maintenance.”

“And lots of people would pay a premium for it,” Claire continued as she went to cling to my sister. “Abby is lucky that you’re already committed to her and I to Sophie, otherwise I’d snatch you up and make you my housewife instead.”

Sophie sighed as she corrected Claire, stating that Claire was committed to Paul, her “boyfeefee” whom Claire loved very much, not her. Claire began smooching Sophie, saying that she didn’t hear any complains about the two of them being women. Sophie said that she didn’t mention it because it is obvious before pointing out that Claire isn’t even Violet’s type. Her clingy friend took mock offense at that, saying that she is super cheery and mischievous, just like me. Sophie’s argument to that was that, while it was true what Claire said, she missed three important bits: number one was that she was those things but also unhinged at them. Number two, her chest was far too big for Violet’s preference. Number three, which she stated being the most important one together with her first point, was that Violet likes shorties, as was evident by the way she was draped over me. Violet had done so for warmth and support after all her hard work, her arms falling over my shoulders and her chin comfortably resting on top of my head, just as our heights naturally allow.

“Could you not talk as if I wasn’t here?” she grumbled at them, crossing her arms as if I wasn’t between them and her chest, resulting in me getting hugged. Or rather, as if I was just a natural part of her body. That’s a way more apt description of it.

“Would you still love Abby if she got a chest like my sister’s or Sophie’s, or as tall as them?” Mathilda asked.

“What kind of dumb question is that? Of course I would!” Violet huffed. “I would prefer the current version of Abby, but I wouldn’t dump her over such a superficial thing, I’d just get used to it!”

We all started laughing at how serious Violet got when we were clearly just saying and asking stupid stuff. That never gets old.

“Anyway, I need to go have lunch so that I don’t start my stream late,” Mathilda told us. “Thanks everyone for the help! I’ll take you girls for lunch once I get my ad revenue.”

Claire hopped on over to Mathilda, hugging and smooching her as she proclaimed how much she loved and was proud of her little sister, Mathilda telling Claire to let her go as she was being smothered, but her barely contained laugher told everyone she wasn’t minding it one bit.

Stepping outside, I kept an eye on Mathilda before getting in the car as she and Claire walked away holding hands, chatting and cackling together. Not even once did Mathilda look back to her old house. Really goes to show that it was indeed her old house, not her old home. I was happy for her, but also a bit jealous.

Once I got inside the car, Violet scooted over for warmth and to rest her head with a sigh. With or without our deal about her doodling on me tomorrow, seeing her like that made me want to pamper her, not tease her, which would make behaving a lot easier for me.

“Hehe! Thanks for your hard work today,” I told her as I tapped her thigh. “Taking a nap after lunch?”

“I just might take one while having lunch,” she joked.

“I still can’t believe that you can also do plumbing and wall repairs,” Sophie said as she kept her eyes on the road. It had rained yesterday and the streets were still wet, so she was devoting all the attention she could to the road as people were now driving around to get lunch.

“It really isn’t that impressive,” she told us. “I mean, I guess it kinda is for a girl my age, but really, Dad and I had to always be frugal, and hiring a plumber or a painter is expensive, and Dad was always working too, so I ended up learning how to do some stuff during childhood. It’s kinda similar to how you two can read a room and assess people at a glance while I just stand there, awkward and trying to blend in with the walls and furniture.”

That was a very fair point. We got our socialising skills from dealing with those drab lunches, dinners and events while Violet as a kid was fixing a leaking sink so her Dad could rest when he returned home from work nor didn’t have to work extra hours just so they could hire a plumber in his stead. It’s a bit sad to think about it, but there’s a “funny” side to that: Papa Stan likely has no idea that was happening under his roof most of the time unless he was the first noticing something needing fixing and then that thing appearing fixed as if by magic. Like the shoes from that tale of the poor cobbler with gnomes living in his workshop.

“Dad! What happened to your face?” were the first words Violet spoke when she saw him back at home.

Sophie joined in next, asking how he got the bruise adorning one of his cheeks.

Papa Stan laughed, completely unbothered, telling them it was a fun story. First, he told us that they didn’t manage to bring anything home, so they were ordering roasted chicken and chips for our lunch, only then did he start telling us the story, my Dad pulling out his phone to show as a picture. The three of us snickered once we saw it as Papa Stan told us his story.

The three of them—Stan, my Dad and Paul’s, were starting to think about packing their stuff up and head home when Stan got a bite. Just by the struggle he could tell it was a big one and, after much cheering from the other two and him fearing breaking the line, he managed to catch the biggest fish he had ever seen coming out of that pond. Paul’s Dad wanted to take a commemorative photo of the event as a memento and to send it to Paul to make him jealous of what he just missed. As Papa Stan was posing while holding the fish with one hand, it had a second wind, swinging wildly and smacking him right in the face with enough force that he saw a white flash before his vison went dark for a second. He didn’t pass out or anything, he was just stunned, and the blasted thing got to slither back into the water. The photo Dad showed us? It was blurry, but you could still make out the face he was making the exact moment the fish connected with him. Still partially smiling, one eye closed, one open, his jaw thrown to the side, hair tussled. It was like those slow-motion scenes of someone getting punched in the face but without the benefit of CGI or a good slow-motion camera.

The three men apparently had quite a laugh after they made sure Stan was ok.

“Anyway, no need for you to worry as I really am just fine, aside from my ego,” Stan told us as he laughed and shook his head. “Losing a fight with a fish, good grief.”

“Well, Abby and I are going to go get changed,” Violet said, tugging me closer.

In other words, she was a bit chilly from outside and wanted to warm herself up with me before lunch, which I’d gladly oblige. The cold months really are the best as Violet gets the clingiest during them.

Seeing her change did make me sweat a bit though. In particular, seeing the “Property of Abigail Evergreen” still clear as day on her left butt cheek. I wanted to tease her so, so badly, but the promise of having her write “Property of Violet Evergreen” on me dangled like a carrot over my head, so I held back.

“Here, your fluffy socks,” she told me as she handed them while grabbing some for herself.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice coming as an unintentional squeak.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing, just… I’ve been behaving super well so far, haven’t I?”

“Pfft, fufu! Is that why you’re acting so fidgety?” she laughed as she finally covered the brand I gave her, seemingly forgetful of its existence and oblivious to the effects it was having on me. “You have, yes. Very well, even. Now, come here, silly girl.”

She tapped the space between her thighs, my special seat, and I sat down between them. Somehow, even though she had sweatpants over fluffy socks that almost fully covered her legs to the groin and had put on a sweater in her mildly-temperate bedroom, she still needed—or rather, wanted, my body heat. Then again, she was tired, so there was also that.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked as she traced my bare arm. I had gone with a t-shirt and shorts together with the socks she had given me. I was, without any exaggeration, super cosy like that.

“You know that I’m completely unaffected by whether it’s hot or cold,” I told her as I fluffed myself against her. “Unlike my poor corpse wifey. You’re always so cold to the touch. For someone with a light pink undertone to her skin, you’re surprisingly cold.”

“Fufu! Careful now,” she told me, her soft smile twisting into something delightfully mean. “You’re starting to misbehave.”

“I-I’m not!” I told her. “That didn’t count! I was just flirting with you!”

“Hmm? Were you really thought?” she purred into my ear, her lips ticking it and making me squirm. “I have my doubts.”

And now that she was warmed up and had that leash over me, she got in a crooked mood to torture me, but I got saved by a knock on the door. Sophie popped in, carrying Oliver all wrapped up in his blanket as if he were a big baby instead of a cat, telling us that lunch had just arrived. He looked absolutely delighted about being carried around like that, the huge baby.

“Seriously, you can be so mean to me sometimes,” I grumbled as I tossed her a look that I hoped was menacing, but judging by her smile and chuckle, it was just an endearing pout to her.

“And I know you absolutely love it,” she told me, poking my nose with a kiss before getting up and carrying me from behind, my feet dangling at her mid-shins. “Now, come on. I could feel your stomach rumbling while hugging you.”

“No, you did not! Humph! And put me down!”

My stomach did, however, rumble a quite a few times ever since Stan told us what we were having for lunch, so she wasn’t just poking fun at me.

And she did put me down… Eventually. Once we got to the table. Not that I really wanted to be let go, but a girl sometimes needs to play difficult, right? Even if her wife clearly knows and can see that she doesn’t mean it.

“All that fishing has left me starving,” Stan slurred as he started digging in.

“We didn’t even catch anything today,” my Dad grumbled jokingly, him also slurring his speech.

“I really don’t get why men enjoy that so much.”

“It’s the peace of mind mostly,” Stan said in between bites. “And hanging out with your buddies.”

“Ok… What do you guys talk about?”

“Nothing much really. We mostly just sit there, looking into the water and wait for a bite.”

Sis wanted to ask once again what the point of it all was but gave up on trying to understand them. I did however understand that to a degree and explained to her. Since I did fish many times with Paul, although that was very, very, veeery boring to me, so I had first-hand experience with it. Mostly, I understood it due to the time spent with Violet. It was the peace of mind, not having a single thought in our head, just existing in space and time. For me, it makes it easier to settle down, and as for Violet, it helps keeping her mind afloat when she is in one of her fussing phases.

Where it not for the sun and possible heat or cold, fishing could be a good activity for my wifey, now that I think about it.

“Kinda like meditating then?” Sophie said after hearing my explanation, the logic finally clicking with her. “Ok, now I see how it can be enjoyable, even when they don’t catch anything.”

“Speaking of doing enjoyable stuff, what are you girls doing this afternoon?” my dad asked.

Babe and I had homework to do, but that’d have to wait for after we are done napping as Violet needed to recharge her batteries and I intended to get stuffed with roasted chicken and chips. Stating this led to a small detour in the conversation as we told them the things Violet ended up doing at Mathilda’s so that our friend left the house as spotless as possible and not get any crap from her horrible Mum and Stepdad.

“Did you charge by the hour?” her Dad joked with Violet before turning to Sophie. “And you have work today, if I remember correctly?”

Sophie sighed a yes, which was a bit out of character, but something that had started going on since last week. Finally, we got to know why.

With the end of the Christmas holidays, things at Mrs Fletcher’s have hit a lull in visitors. Book-keeping and all that remained much the same as there were other businesses she could help with, so that part of her job was fine, but the music part of it was what was bothering her.

“Half the time, it’s just Mrs Fletcher and the staff who’s there to hear me play while they do the final chores of the day or have dinner,” she complained. “Which is fine, I enjoy playing for them too, but they aren’t guests, so I feel bad still being paid for it.”

Stan looked at her for a bit, mulling it over, before saying anything else.

“How about I stop by after work?” he asked her. “It’s been a long while since I heard you play, and I could have dinner there too.”

“Stan, thank you, but you don’t have to go out of your way just to humour me.”

“See it as a way of saying thanks for all the stuff you do,” he said with a smile. “It will also be a nice bit of cardio and do me good after just sitting around all day to go up that hill.”

“…You really aren’t backing down, are you?”

“Nope. Unless you vehemently oppose me going, I’m not.”

Sis smiled back at him, won over by his kind stubbornness.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, she leaned closer to him, kissing his cheek as she thanked him for doing it. Stan was wide-eyed and completely red, and so was my sister once she saw his face, the warm, fond smile she had a second ago completely vanishing.

She made one of her weird noises as she got up and started collecting our dishes, so I guess she had meant to say that she’d take care of those, running off to the kitchen, which mind you, still allowed us to fully see her as it was an open one.

“…You ok, Dad?” Violet asked as she looked at him holding his face over where Sophie had kissed him.

“Yeah… yeah, erm, my face is just hurting a bit from the fish.”

We played along even though we knew that was a lie. It wasn’t just because he was red and clearly shook, oh no. You see, he had been smacked by the fish on his right cheek… and the one he was currently holding after the smooch was the left one.

Suffice to say, Sophie’s sweet smooch had a much larger impact than the fish did. And, ironically enough, her wishes of him bringing a big catch when they bid farewell to one another this morning came to be true, just not in the way either of them expected, as he had a big one waiting for him at home.