Beautiful and Important
Mar. 30th, 2020 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenkatyastarTitle: Beautiful and Important
Author: Katya Starling
Fandoms: Family Guy/Simpsons
Characters/Pairing: Meg/Lisa
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: Short Fics 62: I Feel Less Important
Word Count: 1,439
Date Written: 30 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: Meg's not nothing.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
I feel less important. The words are on the tip of her tongue to say, but she can't seem to actually voice them. She doesn't have the strength, she thinks, the courage to actually say them aloud, even though it's the way she's felt her entire life -- well, except for that one time with that Amish guy and the time she was a foot model. Other than that, she's always felt less important than, well, everything, anything.
The guys at school look to her as a friend, if even then. The girls get close to her for her own mother or Brian or even, for God's sake, Chris, but never for her. Her parents had never loved her. She's never been liked or loved for being herself; she's never even really been liked or loved. On occasion, she's been useful to someone, but never more than that. She's never once been liked or wanted for her own self.
She's never been told she's good at anything, other than being a nuisance or catching farts. She's always been a doormat, always been the one to receive the most abuse in her very abusive family. She's nothing. She's less than nothing. She's . . . well, Meg. Dogs are more important than her. Video games. Anything and everything. Even her daddy uses her for nothing more or less than to catch his farts.
She sniffles. She's on the verge of tears. It would be so easy to just break down and cry and cry and cry till there was nothing left in her to emit any kind of liquid. It wouldn't be the first time, or the last time, she's done so. It would only be the first time in the presence of some one else, some one who's actually looking at her like she cares.
But she can't care, Meg reminds herself. She's not worthy of anyone caring about her. She's only Meg. She's nothing; she's less than nothing. Lisa places a hand on her wrist, and her touch is so gentle, so caring . . . Meg sniffles again.
Lisa looks down at where her yellow skin is touching Meg's white. More pointedly, she looks at the scars beneath her palm. "You've cut yourself before," she speaks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her family is bad, but Meg's . . . She bites back a shudder. Meg's family is the worst she's ever seen. Homer would never be as bad as Peter, and although Lois pretends to care, Lisa knows, deep inside her heart, that her own mother actually cares whereas Meg's . . . simply doesn't.
No one would let their child cut themselves or think so little of themselves if they actually cared. Why, the one time she'd tried to commit suicide, even Homer had cried. Even Bart had been upset, and her mother . . . Her mother had been beside herself with worry and self-blame, just as any mother should be, Lisa thought, when their daughter tried to kill herself. Lois is just as bad and just as much to blame for Meg's self loathing and depression as Peter. She might not shove her face into her butt, but she certainly did nothing to help her own child. And Lisa herself had heard both of Meg's parents belittle her and tell her she was worthless.
"You're not worthless," she spoke as gently as she could, her own emotions hitching in her voice. She very carefully rubbed the scars from where Meg had cut herself. "You're not less than anything, and no one should ever make you feel that way. I'm sorry your parents do. I'm sorry your family does."
Meg opened her mouth to speak, to tell Lisa that it wasn't just her family but the whole fucking world who made her feel so small and unimportant, so completely unwanted, but to her surprise, a hiccup escaped. She blushed and looked down, looked again to where Lisa's skin was touching hers. Her touch felt so nice, so comforting. It actually made Meg think she cared, but she knew the truth.
"I am worthless," she spoke, her voice bordering on a sob. "I'm trash." She shrugged. "I'm less than trash. Anything's more important than I am."
"That is not true!" Lisa spat, her eyes flaring. "They should be . . . They should be beaten or worse for ever letting you think that!"
"It's true," Meg said, and the tears started finally falling down her face, racing to their escape. "You're just being nice to . . . to be nice."
"No, I'm not! I like you! Meg, you're a wonderful girl! You're funny. You're smart. You're more talented with the saxophone than I am!" Never before had she dared to admit those words. Never before had she even wanted to think it, but it was true. Meg was talented, and skillful, and funny, and smart, and yes, in her own way, even beautiful.
"Don't go back this time," she ventured, surprising them both. "Stay here. Stay with me. We'll talk to my mother. She'll understand. My family's bad, don't get me wrong, but . . . "
"They're nothing compared to mine," Meg finished for her, punctuating the truth with a heavy sigh. She'd almost say that her family wouldn't let her stay, but she knew better. They'd be glad to be rid of her; anybody would. "You're not going to want me around that long."
"Let me be the judge of that," Lisa told her, reaching up and wiping some of her tears away with the hand that wasn't still lingering on Meg's wrist and physical scars. "I'll tell you to go if I ever get tired of you."
"Will you?" The question came out as a whimper that further tore at Lisa's heart.
She wiped more of Meg's tears away, then pulled her close and held her tightly. "I will," she vowed as Meg surrendered into her embrace and secretly wished she'd never, ever let her go, "and I promise I'll do my best to never make you feel unimportant. You are important, Meg, and it's way pass time you learned that. You're beautiful. You're talented."
"Ha!" Meg pulled away and dashed the backs of her own hands at her tears. "Now I know you're lying! I don't need your pity, Lisa. I -- "
"It's not pity," Lisa blurted out. She grabbed her hands and held her still. Looking up into Meg's big, dark eyes, she said again, speaking firmly and hoping to convey the truth to her dear friend, "It's not pity. You are beautiful. You are talented. You are wonderful. And there's no-- There's very, very little in this world that's more important to you. To some one out there, there is nothing more important than you."
"Ha! He's living a lie too."
Or she, Lisa thought, surprising herself. "No. He doesn't know you yet, and you don't know him yet. But you will one day. One day you'll find the person who will let nothing be more important than you. That's the person you're meant to be with. But until then, you've got a friend who's never going to let you feel less important than anything else ever again."
"Promise?" Meg whispered, and her voice again broke on an emotional whisper.
"I promise," Lisa vowed boldly. She pulled Meg forcibly back into her arms. As she hugged her, the tears started again, and this time, for the first time in Meg's long and miserable life, someone held her the whole time she cried.
Maybe, she thought, still sniffling when her tears were finally over, maybe she was important. She was at least important enough for Lisa to want to hold her while she cried, and to want to face her parents for her, and to want to keep her here for what she claimed to be an indefinite amount of time. Maybe she was important to at least one person in this miserable world. She hiccupped again. "Thank you," she whispered.
Lisa nodded, then paused for a moment as she considered everything that had just transpassed between them and all the myriad of thoughts and feelings that had ran wildly through her. "You can thank me," she said at last, "by keeping your saxophone playing to our room."
Meg laughed. She couldn't imagine playing the saxophone, or playing any instrument for that matter, in front of anybody else anyway! "Deal," she said, and actually grinned for the first time in months.
Lisa smiled back at her and finally acknowledged that yes, when Meg grinned, she was beautiful, very beautiful indeed.
The End
Author: Katya Starling
Fandoms: Family Guy/Simpsons
Characters/Pairing: Meg/Lisa
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: Short Fics 62: I Feel Less Important
Word Count: 1,439
Date Written: 30 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: Meg's not nothing.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
I feel less important. The words are on the tip of her tongue to say, but she can't seem to actually voice them. She doesn't have the strength, she thinks, the courage to actually say them aloud, even though it's the way she's felt her entire life -- well, except for that one time with that Amish guy and the time she was a foot model. Other than that, she's always felt less important than, well, everything, anything.
The guys at school look to her as a friend, if even then. The girls get close to her for her own mother or Brian or even, for God's sake, Chris, but never for her. Her parents had never loved her. She's never been liked or loved for being herself; she's never even really been liked or loved. On occasion, she's been useful to someone, but never more than that. She's never once been liked or wanted for her own self.
She's never been told she's good at anything, other than being a nuisance or catching farts. She's always been a doormat, always been the one to receive the most abuse in her very abusive family. She's nothing. She's less than nothing. She's . . . well, Meg. Dogs are more important than her. Video games. Anything and everything. Even her daddy uses her for nothing more or less than to catch his farts.
She sniffles. She's on the verge of tears. It would be so easy to just break down and cry and cry and cry till there was nothing left in her to emit any kind of liquid. It wouldn't be the first time, or the last time, she's done so. It would only be the first time in the presence of some one else, some one who's actually looking at her like she cares.
But she can't care, Meg reminds herself. She's not worthy of anyone caring about her. She's only Meg. She's nothing; she's less than nothing. Lisa places a hand on her wrist, and her touch is so gentle, so caring . . . Meg sniffles again.
Lisa looks down at where her yellow skin is touching Meg's white. More pointedly, she looks at the scars beneath her palm. "You've cut yourself before," she speaks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her family is bad, but Meg's . . . She bites back a shudder. Meg's family is the worst she's ever seen. Homer would never be as bad as Peter, and although Lois pretends to care, Lisa knows, deep inside her heart, that her own mother actually cares whereas Meg's . . . simply doesn't.
No one would let their child cut themselves or think so little of themselves if they actually cared. Why, the one time she'd tried to commit suicide, even Homer had cried. Even Bart had been upset, and her mother . . . Her mother had been beside herself with worry and self-blame, just as any mother should be, Lisa thought, when their daughter tried to kill herself. Lois is just as bad and just as much to blame for Meg's self loathing and depression as Peter. She might not shove her face into her butt, but she certainly did nothing to help her own child. And Lisa herself had heard both of Meg's parents belittle her and tell her she was worthless.
"You're not worthless," she spoke as gently as she could, her own emotions hitching in her voice. She very carefully rubbed the scars from where Meg had cut herself. "You're not less than anything, and no one should ever make you feel that way. I'm sorry your parents do. I'm sorry your family does."
Meg opened her mouth to speak, to tell Lisa that it wasn't just her family but the whole fucking world who made her feel so small and unimportant, so completely unwanted, but to her surprise, a hiccup escaped. She blushed and looked down, looked again to where Lisa's skin was touching hers. Her touch felt so nice, so comforting. It actually made Meg think she cared, but she knew the truth.
"I am worthless," she spoke, her voice bordering on a sob. "I'm trash." She shrugged. "I'm less than trash. Anything's more important than I am."
"That is not true!" Lisa spat, her eyes flaring. "They should be . . . They should be beaten or worse for ever letting you think that!"
"It's true," Meg said, and the tears started finally falling down her face, racing to their escape. "You're just being nice to . . . to be nice."
"No, I'm not! I like you! Meg, you're a wonderful girl! You're funny. You're smart. You're more talented with the saxophone than I am!" Never before had she dared to admit those words. Never before had she even wanted to think it, but it was true. Meg was talented, and skillful, and funny, and smart, and yes, in her own way, even beautiful.
"Don't go back this time," she ventured, surprising them both. "Stay here. Stay with me. We'll talk to my mother. She'll understand. My family's bad, don't get me wrong, but . . . "
"They're nothing compared to mine," Meg finished for her, punctuating the truth with a heavy sigh. She'd almost say that her family wouldn't let her stay, but she knew better. They'd be glad to be rid of her; anybody would. "You're not going to want me around that long."
"Let me be the judge of that," Lisa told her, reaching up and wiping some of her tears away with the hand that wasn't still lingering on Meg's wrist and physical scars. "I'll tell you to go if I ever get tired of you."
"Will you?" The question came out as a whimper that further tore at Lisa's heart.
She wiped more of Meg's tears away, then pulled her close and held her tightly. "I will," she vowed as Meg surrendered into her embrace and secretly wished she'd never, ever let her go, "and I promise I'll do my best to never make you feel unimportant. You are important, Meg, and it's way pass time you learned that. You're beautiful. You're talented."
"Ha!" Meg pulled away and dashed the backs of her own hands at her tears. "Now I know you're lying! I don't need your pity, Lisa. I -- "
"It's not pity," Lisa blurted out. She grabbed her hands and held her still. Looking up into Meg's big, dark eyes, she said again, speaking firmly and hoping to convey the truth to her dear friend, "It's not pity. You are beautiful. You are talented. You are wonderful. And there's no-- There's very, very little in this world that's more important to you. To some one out there, there is nothing more important than you."
"Ha! He's living a lie too."
Or she, Lisa thought, surprising herself. "No. He doesn't know you yet, and you don't know him yet. But you will one day. One day you'll find the person who will let nothing be more important than you. That's the person you're meant to be with. But until then, you've got a friend who's never going to let you feel less important than anything else ever again."
"Promise?" Meg whispered, and her voice again broke on an emotional whisper.
"I promise," Lisa vowed boldly. She pulled Meg forcibly back into her arms. As she hugged her, the tears started again, and this time, for the first time in Meg's long and miserable life, someone held her the whole time she cried.
Maybe, she thought, still sniffling when her tears were finally over, maybe she was important. She was at least important enough for Lisa to want to hold her while she cried, and to want to face her parents for her, and to want to keep her here for what she claimed to be an indefinite amount of time. Maybe she was important to at least one person in this miserable world. She hiccupped again. "Thank you," she whispered.
Lisa nodded, then paused for a moment as she considered everything that had just transpassed between them and all the myriad of thoughts and feelings that had ran wildly through her. "You can thank me," she said at last, "by keeping your saxophone playing to our room."
Meg laughed. She couldn't imagine playing the saxophone, or playing any instrument for that matter, in front of anybody else anyway! "Deal," she said, and actually grinned for the first time in months.
Lisa smiled back at her and finally acknowledged that yes, when Meg grinned, she was beautiful, very beautiful indeed.
The End
