Skipping Pebbles
Title: Skipping pebbles
Fandom: Heroes
Rating/Genre: R/slash
Characters/Pairing: Molly, Matt/Mohinder
Summary: Something happened with Molly the day she hit her sixteenth birthday and she started seeing Matt and Mohinder in a new light.
Word count: 2 739
Spoilers/Warnings: No/Molly is not a cute child anymore, she’s a voyeuristic teenager. This can be considered inappropriate. (But it’s written by me, so how bad can it be?)
Notes: An attempt at not-fluff for kidarania_nika who thought of this in a sudden flash of wit and I said okay, why not. Thanks for the inspiration!
”Wait a minute!”
Molly turns around reluctantly at the sound of Matt’s voice and faces his disapproving glare.
“You’re not going out undressed like that, are you?”
Molly rolls her eyes and doesn’t dignify him with an answer. She is going out for a run, not for a dinner at a fancy restaurant and she is going to be dressed the way she finds appropriate. She can’t wait for Mohinder to get back. Matt really gets on her nerves when they are alone together, as if he mentally cuts off half her age and she just can’t stand it.
Her body relaxes when she arrives to the park and starts running. Her feet hit the ground and her thoughts take off, free of the chains she puts them in most of the time when she is at home. It makes her tired. Not that she really believes Matt is going to read her thoughts but then again she can’t be too sure. Not if he’s going to stay so controlling and not if she’s going to keep thinking the way she does.
But there is a limit to her ability to control her thoughts. She can try to keep them hidden but she can’t make them go away altogether. And the worst part is that she isn’t really sure if she doesn’t kind of… sort of… enjoy those thoughts when they hit her the way they do.
She remembers the first time it happened. Two months ago. The very day she hit her sixteenth birthday, to be exact… Sweet sixteen, as they call it. Only, maybe not so sweet in her case, depending who the judge is.
Molly has been living with Matt and Mohinder for almost half her life, except for a brief stay with Mohinder’s mother in India, and she is used to them. There are no secrets, no sudden surprises, nothing awkward or unpleasant between them. The day of her sixteenth birthday was not the first time she had seen Matt walking out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, followed within seconds by Mohinder.
People take showers, it’s completely normal, and she had never once questioned or even thought about the fact that the two of them sometimes did it together.
Except that something made her look up the second Matt walked past her, smelling of that shampoo he used, and she looked right at Mohinder’s chest, his muscles still shiny and wet from the shower. He caught her eyes and smiled. Molly had never been more grateful for the facts that Matt had already disappeared into the bedroom and that the other man couldn’t read her thoughts. The words that had formed an unexpected sentence in her head at the sight of Mohinder’s half-naked body were: I bet Matt really loves to rub soap into that bronze colored skin and I wonder what Mohinder’s face looks like when Matt is touching him?
She rushed up from the couch and went to get a glass of cold water. It wasn’t cold enough.
“Oh my gosh it’s really warm in here,” she murmured.
“It’s nice and cool compared to the shower,” Mohinder replied, “I think I’ll sit here and watch TV for a while.”
Molly turned around and snapped:
“This isn’t the beach, you know! Get some clothes on!”
Without verifying if he obeyed her or not, she went into her own bedroom and closed the door. Then she locked it and rested her back against it.
What am I thinking? Now I can never go in to the bathroom without thinking about them having sex there.
Molly is running in the park. She’s running fast and the trees and grass are rushing past her almost in a haze. It is true; she can’t know for sure that Matt and Mohinder really are having sex in the shower when they’re in there together but she realizes that there’s no reason why they shouldn’t. The thick walls, the closed door and the splashing of the water would hide any sounds they may want to make when their bodies collide in the hot steams.
Molly is gasping for air, breathing heavily, like so many other runners around her. She wonders, momentarily, what kinds of thoughts other people are hiding.
Other people don’t interest her. She’s caught up in thoughts about the sounds of lovemaking. She has never heard them, not from the two men she’s living with. Yet she knows, from movies and TV, that people make sounds. There’s the sound of heavy breathing and panting, and moans and whimpers of pleasure, and even loud cries.
No, they wouldn’t want her to hear that. Molly, when she’s touching herself, almost holds her breath when she comes, pressing her lips tightly together… She wouldn’t want anybody to know that she’s not sleeping innocently like the baby she no longer is. She supposes the two of them are trying very hard to keep it quiet, maybe they’re waiting until they believe the kids are sound asleep. And two closed doors and a hallway between them must be part of the explanation.
She just can’t help wanting to know about these things.
But she can’t know because she can’t ask because the two of them would be horrified if they knew that their little girl is harbouring such fantasies. Fantasies about Mohinder’s arms wrapped around Matt; not as in a ‘hey-how-was-your-day?’-hug but as in a ‘I-want-you-now’-embrace; fantasies about Matt’s mouth kissing its way down his lover’s torso - Molly has seen them kiss on the mouth and pretty much everywhere on the face but nothing more - and fantasies about pale and darker intertwined limbs and hands caressing and touching…
Molly has to stop and she reaches out for a tree, resting against it, and her lungs are burning.
I’ve got to stop she tells herself.
But it’s not so easy to stop thinking about something that’s practically right under your nose.
Last month, in her art class, even her teacher sort of made her think about it, about them.
Molly keeps on running, keeps on thinking.
The teacher told them that croquis is the best way to learn to draw the human body and get all the proportions right.
“And you should all know,” the teacher said, “that nakedness is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of but I’m afraid some of your parents would be very much against it anyway… So rather than getting into trouble we’ll just stick to fully clothed models, okay?”
The class sighed; it was probably a sigh of relief in some cases, but Molly’s friend nudged her and whispered:
“Hey, I know who I’d like to have as a model… I mean as a real croquis model ”
“Who?”
“Your dad of course, the hotter one I mean! Do you think he’d do it?”
Molly blushed, not ready to share her ideas about Mohinder’s naked body with her friend, but an idea was planted in her head and later that week she repeated her teacher’s words about the proportions of the human body to the two men.
“What?” Matt stared at her in disbelief. “What kind of homework is that? Did your art teacher tell you kids to go home and draw naked bodies?”
“No,” Molly said as calmly as she could, “not exactly but if she did she wouldn’t have meant anything ‘dirty’ by it. Aren’t you listening? I’m talking about art; all I ask of you guys is that you take your shirts off and sit on the couch for a while.”
Matt looked hesitatingly at his partner.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on,” Molly insisted, “I’ve seen you shirtless like a thousand times before, what’s the big deal?”
Matt must have had his ability turned off because Molly’s words seemed to calm him down. Mohinder, who seemed less bothered by the whole thing, was already dragging his t-shirt over his head and threw himself on the couch. Matt followed his example with a sigh.
Molly was pretty good at drawing and she finished her fist sketch quickly. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
“Sit closer together,” she ordered. “Mohinder, put your arms around him.”
Mohinder laughed.
“What, so you want us to like really pose for you? Look, Matt, isn’t she cute - our little girl’s becoming an artist now…”
Mohinder wrapped an arm around Matt and put his head on his shoulder.
Both men were dresses in blue jeans - Matt’s a shade darker - and Molly wished she could tell them to take them off or at least unbutton them but she didn’t dare and tried to ignore that she had been thinking it. Instead she just concentrated on capturing the lines and the lights and shades of the bodies…
“Is this really what your teacher wants?” Matt was fidgeting in Mohinder’s arms. “Two gay men hugging on a couch…”
“What do you mean?” Molly raised an innocent eyebrow. “She’s very open-minded. And what’s wrong with hugging? I mean, if you want to show off your togetherness you could, um, I don’t know… kiss or something?”
“No!”
Matt broke the pose and got up from the couch.
“Molly, you don’t know what you’re saying, who knows what your teacher would think…”
“Darling,” Mohinder interfered, “don’t you think you’re a little too oversensitive? We’ve got plenty of photos of you and me kissing, we’re hardly any closet cases…”
Matt shrugged his shoulders and looked sheepishly at Mohinder.
“I know, but it seems different like this…”
Mohinder dragged him back down and resumed the previous position.
“The kid wants to practise drawing, there’s no harm in having a good time while she does it.”
Molly grinned widely. This is almost too easy she told herself, and tried to restrain her smile.
But Matt was impatient and too soon the drawing session came to an end.
Molly, not wanting to push her luck, didn’t try to make the men stay. Instead she just focused on her drawings and filled her brain with thoughts of her teacher and a possible future career as an artist.
“You’re a good girl, Molly,” Matt said soundlessly, “and you have talent enough to make your dreams come true.”
Molly blushed and Matt looked apologetically at her. He patted her shoulder as he put his shirt back on.
“Sorry, Mol… I know I’m not supposed to…”
“It’s okay,” Molly assured him quickly. “Thanks for modelling for me.”
Molly was grateful. She remembers now as she’s running through the park how she kept those sketches like a secret treasure. The sky is getting cloudy and the wind is getting colder but Molly isn’t cold. Not at all, not in the least.
She remembers how she took out those sketches later that night when she couldn’t sleep. She drew some more. She used the first drawings as references and guided by them, she could do whatever she wanted. She used her imagination and it wasn’t hard at all; she just had to take out the scenes she already had in her head and let her hand and her pen put them on paper.
All the things Matt and Mohinder wouldn’t ever do in front of her… she was drawing them in her room at night.
Molly stops running when she is by the lake. She walks closer to it, over the lawn and down to the stony shore, full of pebbles.
She picks up a stone, small, flat and cold in her palm. Matt taught her to play ducks and drakes when she was a little girl and she is good at it.
She throws the stone across the water but it only bounces two times before it sinks.
Molly bends down and looks for more pebbles, better pebbles.
If I can make it skip more than five times, she is thinking to herself, if I can make three stones in a row skip more than five times, then…
She doesn’t dare finish the thought but her heart is bouncing like a hard little stone on water when she throws a second time. The stone bounces on the surface of the lake, with a soft little sound, six times… six times before it sinks.
Molly takes a step back and takes a deep breath; she is focusing, and then… bounce… bounce… The second stone skips five times.
She smiles. She looks around her. Three small kids are standing a few steps away, watching her. She takes a step forward again, tosses her hair behind her shoulders, knowing that she found good stones. And she throws, triumphant, and watches the stone skip six times.
Molly runs back home and she is in time for dinner. Mohinder is home, too. Matt seems to be in a good mood and Molly change her clothes before she comes to the table. She focuses on her food, keeps her mind on the simple little things like the hickory smoke flavoured gravy and the green beans and the mashed potatoes Matt has made to accompany the savoury meat.
“This is delicious,” Mohinder says, and Molly smiles.
She remembers the meals when she was little. All Mohinder knew how to cook was very simple Indian style fast food, and all Matt knew how to cook was very simple American style fast food. None of them would have dreamed about making mashed potatoes. Now, years later, Mohinder still prefers his book. Matt has learned how to cook.
Mohinder licks his lips and Molly catches Matt looking at him very intensely. Then Matt gets that kind of funny slightly awkward look on his face, a bit flushed. Molly wonders if Mohinder is running his foot up and down his calf.
The meal is over and Molly volunteers to clean up after them.
She does her homework, they all watch TV, Molly yawns and she is reminded about her bedtime.
She would have argued about it if she had been home alone with one of them and Mohinder would have let her stay up and Matt wouldn’t have but now with the two of them there, there’s no point in arguing.
She leaves them there on the living room couch in front of some boring old movie. Guns and saloons and dusty men with too much facial hair staring gloomily at one another. She is thinking that maybe she’ll become a director one day and she would know how to spice things up a bit.
Molly dozes off on her bed but she doesn’t sleep. She can’t sleep because she made the pebbles skip five times or more, three times in a row.
She doesn’t really believe in ‘signs’ but this time she just made up her mind to believe it and that is why she sneaks out of her room when she feels that the time is right.
Everything is dark and quiet. But there is a dim light leaking out from the men’s bedroom and this means that the door isn’t properly shut.
It isn’t wide open but it is open enough to let out a soft panting sound.
Molly’s heart is pounding as if it is working its way up her chest and even higher; she’ll soon be chewing it between her teeth.
Eww, that’s disgusting, she tries to tell herself, but she forgets it soon as she walks closer to the chink of the door. She is standing there in the darkness and she gasps and holds her breath.
Drawing pictures is one thing. Seeing them for real is something else entirely. Molly sees them now differently that how she sees them during the days. Her two guardians, silly and boring sometimes, always responsible, often great fun to be with… No, it’s not quite them anymore. In there, in that dimly lit room, she can only see two lovers enjoying each other fully and wholeheartedly and they are beautiful.
Just like she knew all along that they would be.
Molly knows that what she is doing now is wrong but she isn’t sorry. She lives with them, she’s not a child anymore, she needs this, them, they can’t deny her what she needs.
Or maybe they can if they have a choice but they haven’t. They can’t see her. What they don’t know will not harm them and Molly will not tell them.
Molly doesn’t go back to her room until it looks like Matt and Mohinder are falling asleep.
Maybe the door will be fully closed tomorrow night. Or maybe not…
Fandom: Heroes
Rating/Genre: R/slash
Characters/Pairing: Molly, Matt/Mohinder
Summary: Something happened with Molly the day she hit her sixteenth birthday and she started seeing Matt and Mohinder in a new light.
Word count: 2 739
Spoilers/Warnings: No/Molly is not a cute child anymore, she’s a voyeuristic teenager. This can be considered inappropriate. (But it’s written by me, so how bad can it be?)
Notes: An attempt at not-fluff for kidarania_nika who thought of this in a sudden flash of wit and I said okay, why not. Thanks for the inspiration!
”Wait a minute!”
Molly turns around reluctantly at the sound of Matt’s voice and faces his disapproving glare.
“You’re not going out undressed like that, are you?”
Molly rolls her eyes and doesn’t dignify him with an answer. She is going out for a run, not for a dinner at a fancy restaurant and she is going to be dressed the way she finds appropriate. She can’t wait for Mohinder to get back. Matt really gets on her nerves when they are alone together, as if he mentally cuts off half her age and she just can’t stand it.
Her body relaxes when she arrives to the park and starts running. Her feet hit the ground and her thoughts take off, free of the chains she puts them in most of the time when she is at home. It makes her tired. Not that she really believes Matt is going to read her thoughts but then again she can’t be too sure. Not if he’s going to stay so controlling and not if she’s going to keep thinking the way she does.
But there is a limit to her ability to control her thoughts. She can try to keep them hidden but she can’t make them go away altogether. And the worst part is that she isn’t really sure if she doesn’t kind of… sort of… enjoy those thoughts when they hit her the way they do.
She remembers the first time it happened. Two months ago. The very day she hit her sixteenth birthday, to be exact… Sweet sixteen, as they call it. Only, maybe not so sweet in her case, depending who the judge is.
Molly has been living with Matt and Mohinder for almost half her life, except for a brief stay with Mohinder’s mother in India, and she is used to them. There are no secrets, no sudden surprises, nothing awkward or unpleasant between them. The day of her sixteenth birthday was not the first time she had seen Matt walking out from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, followed within seconds by Mohinder.
People take showers, it’s completely normal, and she had never once questioned or even thought about the fact that the two of them sometimes did it together.
Except that something made her look up the second Matt walked past her, smelling of that shampoo he used, and she looked right at Mohinder’s chest, his muscles still shiny and wet from the shower. He caught her eyes and smiled. Molly had never been more grateful for the facts that Matt had already disappeared into the bedroom and that the other man couldn’t read her thoughts. The words that had formed an unexpected sentence in her head at the sight of Mohinder’s half-naked body were: I bet Matt really loves to rub soap into that bronze colored skin and I wonder what Mohinder’s face looks like when Matt is touching him?
She rushed up from the couch and went to get a glass of cold water. It wasn’t cold enough.
“Oh my gosh it’s really warm in here,” she murmured.
“It’s nice and cool compared to the shower,” Mohinder replied, “I think I’ll sit here and watch TV for a while.”
Molly turned around and snapped:
“This isn’t the beach, you know! Get some clothes on!”
Without verifying if he obeyed her or not, she went into her own bedroom and closed the door. Then she locked it and rested her back against it.
What am I thinking? Now I can never go in to the bathroom without thinking about them having sex there.
Molly is running in the park. She’s running fast and the trees and grass are rushing past her almost in a haze. It is true; she can’t know for sure that Matt and Mohinder really are having sex in the shower when they’re in there together but she realizes that there’s no reason why they shouldn’t. The thick walls, the closed door and the splashing of the water would hide any sounds they may want to make when their bodies collide in the hot steams.
Molly is gasping for air, breathing heavily, like so many other runners around her. She wonders, momentarily, what kinds of thoughts other people are hiding.
Other people don’t interest her. She’s caught up in thoughts about the sounds of lovemaking. She has never heard them, not from the two men she’s living with. Yet she knows, from movies and TV, that people make sounds. There’s the sound of heavy breathing and panting, and moans and whimpers of pleasure, and even loud cries.
No, they wouldn’t want her to hear that. Molly, when she’s touching herself, almost holds her breath when she comes, pressing her lips tightly together… She wouldn’t want anybody to know that she’s not sleeping innocently like the baby she no longer is. She supposes the two of them are trying very hard to keep it quiet, maybe they’re waiting until they believe the kids are sound asleep. And two closed doors and a hallway between them must be part of the explanation.
She just can’t help wanting to know about these things.
But she can’t know because she can’t ask because the two of them would be horrified if they knew that their little girl is harbouring such fantasies. Fantasies about Mohinder’s arms wrapped around Matt; not as in a ‘hey-how-was-your-day?’-hug but as in a ‘I-want-you-now’-embrace; fantasies about Matt’s mouth kissing its way down his lover’s torso - Molly has seen them kiss on the mouth and pretty much everywhere on the face but nothing more - and fantasies about pale and darker intertwined limbs and hands caressing and touching…
Molly has to stop and she reaches out for a tree, resting against it, and her lungs are burning.
I’ve got to stop she tells herself.
But it’s not so easy to stop thinking about something that’s practically right under your nose.
Last month, in her art class, even her teacher sort of made her think about it, about them.
Molly keeps on running, keeps on thinking.
The teacher told them that croquis is the best way to learn to draw the human body and get all the proportions right.
“And you should all know,” the teacher said, “that nakedness is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of but I’m afraid some of your parents would be very much against it anyway… So rather than getting into trouble we’ll just stick to fully clothed models, okay?”
The class sighed; it was probably a sigh of relief in some cases, but Molly’s friend nudged her and whispered:
“Hey, I know who I’d like to have as a model… I mean as a real croquis model ”
“Who?”
“Your dad of course, the hotter one I mean! Do you think he’d do it?”
Molly blushed, not ready to share her ideas about Mohinder’s naked body with her friend, but an idea was planted in her head and later that week she repeated her teacher’s words about the proportions of the human body to the two men.
“What?” Matt stared at her in disbelief. “What kind of homework is that? Did your art teacher tell you kids to go home and draw naked bodies?”
“No,” Molly said as calmly as she could, “not exactly but if she did she wouldn’t have meant anything ‘dirty’ by it. Aren’t you listening? I’m talking about art; all I ask of you guys is that you take your shirts off and sit on the couch for a while.”
Matt looked hesitatingly at his partner.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on,” Molly insisted, “I’ve seen you shirtless like a thousand times before, what’s the big deal?”
Matt must have had his ability turned off because Molly’s words seemed to calm him down. Mohinder, who seemed less bothered by the whole thing, was already dragging his t-shirt over his head and threw himself on the couch. Matt followed his example with a sigh.
Molly was pretty good at drawing and she finished her fist sketch quickly. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted.
“Sit closer together,” she ordered. “Mohinder, put your arms around him.”
Mohinder laughed.
“What, so you want us to like really pose for you? Look, Matt, isn’t she cute - our little girl’s becoming an artist now…”
Mohinder wrapped an arm around Matt and put his head on his shoulder.
Both men were dresses in blue jeans - Matt’s a shade darker - and Molly wished she could tell them to take them off or at least unbutton them but she didn’t dare and tried to ignore that she had been thinking it. Instead she just concentrated on capturing the lines and the lights and shades of the bodies…
“Is this really what your teacher wants?” Matt was fidgeting in Mohinder’s arms. “Two gay men hugging on a couch…”
“What do you mean?” Molly raised an innocent eyebrow. “She’s very open-minded. And what’s wrong with hugging? I mean, if you want to show off your togetherness you could, um, I don’t know… kiss or something?”
“No!”
Matt broke the pose and got up from the couch.
“Molly, you don’t know what you’re saying, who knows what your teacher would think…”
“Darling,” Mohinder interfered, “don’t you think you’re a little too oversensitive? We’ve got plenty of photos of you and me kissing, we’re hardly any closet cases…”
Matt shrugged his shoulders and looked sheepishly at Mohinder.
“I know, but it seems different like this…”
Mohinder dragged him back down and resumed the previous position.
“The kid wants to practise drawing, there’s no harm in having a good time while she does it.”
Molly grinned widely. This is almost too easy she told herself, and tried to restrain her smile.
But Matt was impatient and too soon the drawing session came to an end.
Molly, not wanting to push her luck, didn’t try to make the men stay. Instead she just focused on her drawings and filled her brain with thoughts of her teacher and a possible future career as an artist.
“You’re a good girl, Molly,” Matt said soundlessly, “and you have talent enough to make your dreams come true.”
Molly blushed and Matt looked apologetically at her. He patted her shoulder as he put his shirt back on.
“Sorry, Mol… I know I’m not supposed to…”
“It’s okay,” Molly assured him quickly. “Thanks for modelling for me.”
Molly was grateful. She remembers now as she’s running through the park how she kept those sketches like a secret treasure. The sky is getting cloudy and the wind is getting colder but Molly isn’t cold. Not at all, not in the least.
She remembers how she took out those sketches later that night when she couldn’t sleep. She drew some more. She used the first drawings as references and guided by them, she could do whatever she wanted. She used her imagination and it wasn’t hard at all; she just had to take out the scenes she already had in her head and let her hand and her pen put them on paper.
All the things Matt and Mohinder wouldn’t ever do in front of her… she was drawing them in her room at night.
Molly stops running when she is by the lake. She walks closer to it, over the lawn and down to the stony shore, full of pebbles.
She picks up a stone, small, flat and cold in her palm. Matt taught her to play ducks and drakes when she was a little girl and she is good at it.
She throws the stone across the water but it only bounces two times before it sinks.
Molly bends down and looks for more pebbles, better pebbles.
If I can make it skip more than five times, she is thinking to herself, if I can make three stones in a row skip more than five times, then…
She doesn’t dare finish the thought but her heart is bouncing like a hard little stone on water when she throws a second time. The stone bounces on the surface of the lake, with a soft little sound, six times… six times before it sinks.
Molly takes a step back and takes a deep breath; she is focusing, and then… bounce… bounce… The second stone skips five times.
She smiles. She looks around her. Three small kids are standing a few steps away, watching her. She takes a step forward again, tosses her hair behind her shoulders, knowing that she found good stones. And she throws, triumphant, and watches the stone skip six times.
Molly runs back home and she is in time for dinner. Mohinder is home, too. Matt seems to be in a good mood and Molly change her clothes before she comes to the table. She focuses on her food, keeps her mind on the simple little things like the hickory smoke flavoured gravy and the green beans and the mashed potatoes Matt has made to accompany the savoury meat.
“This is delicious,” Mohinder says, and Molly smiles.
She remembers the meals when she was little. All Mohinder knew how to cook was very simple Indian style fast food, and all Matt knew how to cook was very simple American style fast food. None of them would have dreamed about making mashed potatoes. Now, years later, Mohinder still prefers his book. Matt has learned how to cook.
Mohinder licks his lips and Molly catches Matt looking at him very intensely. Then Matt gets that kind of funny slightly awkward look on his face, a bit flushed. Molly wonders if Mohinder is running his foot up and down his calf.
The meal is over and Molly volunteers to clean up after them.
She does her homework, they all watch TV, Molly yawns and she is reminded about her bedtime.
She would have argued about it if she had been home alone with one of them and Mohinder would have let her stay up and Matt wouldn’t have but now with the two of them there, there’s no point in arguing.
She leaves them there on the living room couch in front of some boring old movie. Guns and saloons and dusty men with too much facial hair staring gloomily at one another. She is thinking that maybe she’ll become a director one day and she would know how to spice things up a bit.
Molly dozes off on her bed but she doesn’t sleep. She can’t sleep because she made the pebbles skip five times or more, three times in a row.
She doesn’t really believe in ‘signs’ but this time she just made up her mind to believe it and that is why she sneaks out of her room when she feels that the time is right.
Everything is dark and quiet. But there is a dim light leaking out from the men’s bedroom and this means that the door isn’t properly shut.
It isn’t wide open but it is open enough to let out a soft panting sound.
Molly’s heart is pounding as if it is working its way up her chest and even higher; she’ll soon be chewing it between her teeth.
Eww, that’s disgusting, she tries to tell herself, but she forgets it soon as she walks closer to the chink of the door. She is standing there in the darkness and she gasps and holds her breath.
Drawing pictures is one thing. Seeing them for real is something else entirely. Molly sees them now differently that how she sees them during the days. Her two guardians, silly and boring sometimes, always responsible, often great fun to be with… No, it’s not quite them anymore. In there, in that dimly lit room, she can only see two lovers enjoying each other fully and wholeheartedly and they are beautiful.
Just like she knew all along that they would be.
Molly knows that what she is doing now is wrong but she isn’t sorry. She lives with them, she’s not a child anymore, she needs this, them, they can’t deny her what she needs.
Or maybe they can if they have a choice but they haven’t. They can’t see her. What they don’t know will not harm them and Molly will not tell them.
Molly doesn’t go back to her room until it looks like Matt and Mohinder are falling asleep.
Maybe the door will be fully closed tomorrow night. Or maybe not…