Chapter One: Lost In Thought
A/N: Nothing much to say here, except that I had LOADS of fun writing this chapter. I personally find Chelsea X Vaughn REALLY cute. I'm trying desperately to marry him in my game, but as all HM: IOH players know. It's not gonna be easy. Ok this I just an introductory chapter. The plot will probably come in the next two chapters so sit tight k? Haha. Note that when I say 'seasons' I mean 'months'. As you all know, one season in HM is actually thirty days so yeah.
Chelsea was still asleep.
It was three in the morning and Vaughn was awake, in the kitchen. He had a mug of black coffee in his hand and he was staring into it, trying to make sense of the infinite darkness. But to no avail. This darkness. It was very beautiful, yet it scared him. What if he were to fall into it? Would he keep falling? And if he died while he was falling, would he plunge into more darkness?
Yet the simplicity—the flawless dark surface was so beautiful. As lovely as the memories he shared with Chelsea, ever since the realization that he was truly in love with her. It was that simple, yet he'd taken so long to acknowledge that.
And as he took a sip, he shuddered and closed his eyes. He hated coffee, especially black coffee like this, but somehow he'd brought himself to make some. And as he felt the bitter night trickle down his throat, he felt somewhat satisfied.
"Vaughn, I don't feel so good," Chelsea complained.
"W-what's wrong Chelsea?" a note of panic in his voice as he sat down beside his new wife. Her bright sapphire eyes were pained and dull.
"I don't know. I just feel…really bad," she said unhappily, "I've been feeling like this for a few days, but never as bad as today."
That unhappiness in her pretty eyes…Chelsea…he couldn't take it. He squeezed her hand.
"I'll get a doctor alright honey? You sit tight," and he was off. Vaughn had only one thing in his head and that was Chelsea's unhappy face. He wanted to see her smile, he wanted her to be happy and bubbly again.
He wanted to alleviate her of her discomfort. He couldn't stand this.
He practically dragged Dr. Trent in. Vaughn noticed that Chelsea was looking as queasy as before.
"This doctor was on the island picking some herbs, so I got him to come here," said Vaughn, taking a seat beside Chelsea.
"So how's Chelsea?"
"Miss…Chelsea was it? Let me ask you a few questions. How long have you been feeling like this?" asked the dark haired doctor.
"It's…been a few days."
"I see…and today you feel exceptionally bad. Was there any prior vomiting?"
"Oh yes…every morning since last week."
Vaughn felt terrible. Chelsea had been sick for so long and he hadn't bothered to show any concern. How could he call himself a husband?
"Any other unusual occurrences?"
"Well…" Chelsea lowered her eyes, a blush spreading slowly across her cheeks.
"For what?" asked Vaughn.
Dr Trent smirked; Chelsea giggled.
"Ah. And have you been feeling exceptionally lethargic and irritable?"
"Yes, yes! How did you know?"
"Then what's wrong with her?" snapped Vaughn. He wasn't angry. He was just frustrated that Chelsea was sick and it was probably his fault.
"Aha. Precisely. You haven't fallen ill!"
Vaughn and Chelsea were sporting identical puzzled expressions.
"You're pregnant! Congratulations! Both of you!" Dr Trent beamed.
Vaughn smiled to himself. That was right. He was going to be a father. He remembered Chelsea's bewildered face, but ever so pleased. He'd shouted something, just to confirm that he wasn't dreaming. He was so happy. They were to become parents.
Then their romantic nights together hadn't been in vain. Vaughn blushed at the memory of Chelsea's sleeping face, and everything else. She was beautiful that way.
But as he put Chelsea to bed, only half listening to her indignant protests that she had to harvest the eggplants, the jubilation slowly passed, and in its place came uneasy doubtfulness. Would be a good father? He wasn't even sure if he was being a good husband to Chelsea.
She was too nice to complain, so he would never know.
He was afraid. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to care for the kid well and give him a good childhood. He was afraid that his kid would be unhappy. Like him.
They'd only been married for little more than two seasons.
"Vaughn?" someone sounding very sleepy called.
He turned, and it was Chelsea, in her white cotton night gown. He'd gotten her that. Nothing skimpy, for he liked his women modest and conservative. She rubbed her eyes blearily.
"Oh it's you Chelsea," said Vaughn, trying to feign indifference. He didn't want her to worry or ask too many questions. He really did love her, but it was still hard for him to open up completely. He wanted to tell her so many things: how he felt about the prospect of becoming some kid's father, how he really and truly wanted to spend the rest of his life loving and taking care of her…
But he didn't know how.
She pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, giving him a wide, dreamy smile. It was so cute. He smiled inwardly. "You still up Vaughn?"
"Thinking about yesterday?" she grinned warmly.
"Sort of," he said.
Vaughn thought she looked exceptionally pretty. She wasn't wearing her red bandana and she had her shoulder length chocolate brown hair down. He flushed. He wasn't used to this. To marriage. Even after two seasons. He wasn't used to having a pretty girl, namely his wife, look at him, like that.
Her hands travelled to his. They were rough and weathered. The hands of a labourer. The kind of hands he liked.
"Vaughn, is something wrong? You're brooding even more than usual."
And Vaughn noticed, she was beginning her transition from a bubbly, energetic little girl to a beautiful, mature woman. He wasn't sure if he liked this newfound maturity.
But it would be alright. After all, she still would be Chelsea. His Chelsea.
"I'm…worried. It's the kid," he said quietly, staring into his now stale coffee.
"Oh that? I'm sure everything'll be fine."
"It's just that…I didn't have any good memories of my childhood…I don't want my kid to feel the same way," Vaughn lowered his eyes.
Chelsea's gaze softened and she squeezed his hands. Her eyes emanated sympathy and love.
"Oh Vaughn…Honey, this kid's lucky to have you as his dad. You'll be fine. We'll be fine. I mean you'll love him very much, won't you?"
"Then you have nothing to worry about. As long as you love your kid with all your fault, everything will turn out alright."
There was definite truth to her words. But he wasn't comforted.
He said nothing. The foreboding of unsatisfactory fatherhood sat in the pit of his stomach like a rock.
"I'll make you porridge. Right now. How about that? I just cut some rice last week," Chelsea held his hand for a bit and spotted the coffee.
"Yuck! I thought you hated coffee," she took a sip and spat it out. Vaughn reminded himself to clean it up later.
"It's black…and stale. Needs sugar," commented Chelsea.
"Pregnant women shouldn't take caffeine," Vaughn said suddenly. Just the day before after he'd put Chelsea to bed, he'd visited Mirabelle and Julia.
He'd told them the good news, but not his own doubts.
Mirabelle then began rattling off the list of things he should and shouldn't do. And he randomly remembered one thing. And he'd repeated it to Chelsea just now.
Chelsea merely looked amused, "Ok…Vaughn?"
But he was lost in thought.
How was it? Did you like it? If you did REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. I'd love to know what you think or if I should continue this fic. For all grammatical/punctuational errors etc, well…I'm a little lazy to proof read, but they shouldn't be too serious. Haha.