His Little Bird

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Ethan's POV:

Birdie yawns, helping me take the throw pillows off our bed, so we can finally go to sleep.

"So..."

She looks up at me with a shy smile. "So..." Birdie parrots.

I climb into bed and Birdie joins me, pausing to look at me after she has pulled the sheets over herself.

"You want to know what I think..." I draw out and she nods, turning to lay on her side. I pet her cheek, still conflicted. "What would it mean to you for us to go?"

If she just wants a vacation, I can take her somewhere nice, some beach or resort.

"...I wasn't quite expecting to have to give a speech," she laughs timidly, playing with a strand of her hair.

"I know. I just mean, do you want to go because it would be new and existing, or do you want to go because it has sentimental or personal value to you?"

She remains silent for a moment, playing with the sheets.

"I kind of want to know who Brea was... or is... see what I would have been if that makes sense. It's not like I would choose anything else than this.

"I love our life... sometimes I just wonder what my childhood would have been like. Where I would have grown up. What school I would have gone to... wouldn't you?"

My throat squeezes tightly and all I can do is nod. "You know my grandparents raised me... I don't know if you knew that my mother committed suicide when I was younger.

"I didn't really ever know either of my parents—my mother was left alone a lot and was depressed. After my mother took her life, my father...

"I always wonder what my childhood would have been like if my parents were alive. I know it's not true but sometime I just wish my parents had thought I was enough. That I was worth living for..."

I don't mean to cry, I don't mean to make this about me. I never expected to ever talk to Birdie about my childhood or such deep stuff, but it is nice to finally have someone to share with.

Birdie scoots on my chest, using her thumb to swipe my tears away. I keep an arm around her to hold her in place, comforted by her touch and presence.

"Your mother was depressed, she was sick. It's didn't have anything to do with you not being enough. You are worth living for. I live, breath, serve everyday for you."

"I love you," I croak out.

"I love you more, Master." Her delicate fingers stroke my cheek as she straddles my lap, kneeling over me as she takes my lips.

I don't usually let her top me, but I don't mind her trying to dominant me a little.

My arms encase her, anchoring us together.

I hate being the weak one, the emotional one, especially in front of my submissive. She doesn't shame me for it though, coddling and kissing me, doing everything in her power to comfort me just like I do for her.

"I want you to go. I want you to know all those things even though I never can." The Republic isn't my favorite place. I really don't want her there, but I know how important this is to her because I have those same unanswered questions.