# Siblings Stick Together

Title: Siblings Stick Together
Status: Complete
Characters: Fang, Naser, Naomi
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: SurpriseVisitor
Summary: On the heels of a disastrous prom night spent on the beach, Fang struggles to cope with what Anon said to her. Can the brother she's despised and scorned for years possibly help?
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Pluck. Another white feather falls from my beak, drifting onto the floor of my dim, moonlit room. The feather itself hasn’t changed; it is still a feather, but no longer is it part of a whole. It littered the floor with a dozen others, purposeless. Nothing more than refuse, destined to rot in a landfill.
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Pluck. I seethe as a streak of scarlet flows down my wing, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. A wave of adrenaline masks the pain, both inside and outside, for a moment. Another feather falls to the floor, joining the others. I sit on the edge of my bed, sheets marred with splotches of crimson, wing stretched in front of me, focusing on anything I can. Anything except tonight.
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My claws dig into the side of my arm, breaking the skin. Blood smears my fingers, the pain at the forefront of my mind. I shudder as the pain dulls and another pain returns. I promised I would stop doing this.
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Yank. That one hurt. Tears wet my face again, the pain clouding my mind like morphine. Focus on the pain, or it’ll hurt more. I take a deep breath, the scent of blood filling my nose. Hold on to it, or you’ll lose it.
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I open my mouth and reach for another feather to yank. I stop short as another wave of grief begs to be vocalized. Tears squeeze themselves out of my eyes, threatening another deluge. A scream claws its way up my throat. My hands pull at my scalp, a desperate attempt to keep my thoughts inside. The breath I was holding leaves my lungs as a shaky moan, the final seal broken. I gasp, a thousand dark thoughts taunting me from the edges of my perception. Helpless to the violent whims of my emotions, I cave.
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I wail a terrible note of pain and loss; one solitary chord of a much longer song, for one single night of a much longer life. Tears flow anew and I bury myself in my abused wing, tearing at my hair. It had taken months for Anon to pull me out of my shell, to wrench me away from my friends, to learn my innermost secrets and insecurities. My guard was down, I trusted him, and in a single drunken rant spanning a few scant minutes, he had torn me to pieces and scattered them to the ocean, lost to the tide forever.
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A doorknob turns, sickly amber light creeping across the floor up to my shoes. I should’ve locked the door.
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“Fang?” Naser calls, worried as he always is. I fail to respond, my words replaced with a sob that wracks my body. “Oh my God, Fang!” Footsteps rush over and a shadow blocks the light from the hallway. “Are-are you okay? What happened, do you need first aid, or-or a doctor, or-” His words meld together into a symphony of panic, voice cracking and sentences falling apart as he desperately tries to grasp the situation.
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“Naser…” I moan quietly through my wing, unable to muster anything more. “Please... stop…” He stops, but I don’t have the energy to thank him, continuing to stain my wing with blood and tears instead. All that remains in the room is my crying and labored breathing. Footsteps click away, and the door closes. Solitude, once again…
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Footsteps click back towards me, and a weight depresses a spot on the bed next to me. Why is he still here?
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“What happened?” he whispers. Fuck off. Go away. Get out of my business. Phrases I had pelted at him so often they were almost instinctual, and yet not one made itself heard.
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“Anon happened,” I whisper back, the last thing I had expected to say to Naser of all people. He stays surprisingly quiet, and more words spill forth from me like my tears had been.
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“Got drunk. Yelled at me. Called me a faggot.” My tone deadens, tears still falling.
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“Mentally Ill. Attention whore.” Anger creeps in, a tear struggling to escape my eye.
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“Told me I’m broken. Can’t be fixed.” I clench my fists, claws digging into my palms.
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“Fucking bastards. Mom, dad, Naomi, Anon... fuck all of them!” For a moment, I forget Naser is sitting next to me. The next moment, I realize I don’t care. The anger brings me clarity, and I briefly wonder what it would be like to sink these claws into Anon’s throat.
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“Uh, what does... Naomi... have to do with this?” I lower my wing just enough to see past it, and look over at Naser. Even in the moonlight, I can see the shocked expression on his face. Of course, the fucking idiot doesn’t know. Why would he? I hide behind my wing again.
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“Pushed Anon to me. Her idea from the fucking beginning. Part of her plan to ‘fix’ me.” The word alone brings me to the edge of rage. “None of this would’ve happened if she had just kept her fucking snout out of my business!” My wing leaves me, revealing my wet, makeup-smeared face now blistering with barely restrained hatred.
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“Why does everyone want to ‘fix’ me so fucking badly?” My wings flare violently, every self-inflicted wound reminding me of their existences in unison as I say that word again. I grimace from the pain, my fury hitting its peak.
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“Why doesn’t anybody FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME?” The meteoric outburst leaves an empty crater in me, despair and anguish flooding in from all sides to fill the void. I collapse, hunching over and burying my face in my hands as my tears return. Terrible thoughts plague my mind as I weep, my burning throat and wing in agony only a miniscule portion of my pain.
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Loser. Nuisance. Unwanted. Broken.
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I feel the gentlest touch of a hand against my shoulder. Naser. Baby brother Naser...
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“Except you…” I sob. “You’re...always there. No matter how many names I call you or what terrible things I say to you, you’re always there...why?” He doesn’t respond.
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After some time, I dare to raise my head again. Naser’s looking at the ground, conflicted. He notices me watching him and sits back up. He clicks his tongue a couple times, then reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and pressing the screen a few times. A generic dial tone sounds once, twice, thrice…
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“Hey sweetie! What’s up?” Naomi’s high-pitched, overexcited voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and instantly puts me on edge. What the fuck is he doing?
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“Hey babe, uh...weird question, but did you...have anything to do with...Fang and Anon?” He’s being particularly careful with his words. She giggles obnoxiously.
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“I should’ve known someone as smart as you would’ve figured it out eventually!” Disgusting.
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“Yeah, but, uh...what did you do?”
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“Oh! Well, I noticed that Fang was stressing you out so much last semester, and I wanted to help, but she-...they wouldn’t ever really talk to you or I. I heard that a new student was transferring, so I... well, pulled some strings. Got them into a couple of classes together, put in a bit of effort, and look at them now! Don’t they make a lovely couple?”
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“I, um…”
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“Come on, Naser, stop worrying. I bet they’re having a wonderful night together. Anon is everything Fang needs to fi-ahem...help them. Is...someone else there?” I was so focused on the traitorous bitch’s explanation that I didn’t realize I had leaned over and was angrily breathing into Naser’s phone. I clamp my snout shut, turning away but still listening intently.
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“Uh, no, it was just the TV. Let me... turn that down.” I can’t control my breathing. Anon drunkenly spilling the beans was one thing, but to hear her so succinctly lay everything on the table like that reignites my hatred. “But, um...do you really think they need...fixing?”
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“I... well…” A hint of nervousness creeps into her otherwise cheery voice. “You know what I mean…”
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“Naomi…” Naser is actually pushing back against her? She sighs.
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“I wouldn’t ever say it to their face, of course, but...look, don’t worry about it. Fang and Anon are practically made for each other.” I know exactly what that fucking cunt means by that.
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“Yeah, I guess... I’ve, uh, gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
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“Okay sweetie, bye-bye!” The call ends with a click. Naser lowers his phone onto the bed, but doesn’t move his gaze from where it was.
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“She has no idea…” he mutters.
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“She doesn’t care,” I snarl, rage threatening to consume me again. “She never did. Only wanted me out of the fucking picture.” I struggle to keep myself from screaming. I was right about her all along. Naser looks distraught and aimless, like that conversation cast doubt onto everything he knew.
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“This... this isn’t right…” he mumbles. He slowly hunches over, placing his face in his hands. “This is all my fault…” My white-hot rage flash freezes in an instant.
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“Naser, no. She tricked you. She tricked everyone. This is all because of her.”
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“Did she really do all this...just for my attention?” I lightly nod at him. “Does she even care about me then? Or just my attention? I trusted her...” He trails off, and a painful silence cloaks us. The darkness I sought when I arrived earlier suddenly feels oppressive and uncomfortable.
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Naser’s head finally turns, his eyes meeting mine. Anguish. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Just like me. Two lost souls cast into the howling dark at the whim of someone who couldn’t care less. For the first time in almost a decade, I feel like we truly understand each other. What we lost today was supplanted by the recovery of what we had lost long ago.
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“What are you... gonna do?” I tentatively ask, my mind thankful for the breaking silence. Naser sighs, looking back at the floor, his fist clenching.
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“Break up with her,” he says, not an ounce of doubt or regret in his voice. “You don’t fuck with family. Not Anon, not Naomi, not anyone.” I open my mouth to protest, but words fail me. “If I had known she was pulling this shit earlier, I would’ve done it then too.”
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All the time he’s spent standing up for me, trying to help me, covering for me, always being met with derision and spite. Never once did he stop trying, only increasing his efforts the harder I pushed back against him, to the point where he stopped worrying about himself completely, focusing only on me, letting that orange monstrosity take over his life.
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I throw my arms around him, the closest I’ve ever allowed myself to get since I watched him jump from the bluff. I try to speak, but only sobs come out. A river of tears drowns the apologies for a decade of inexcusable behavior. A pair of arms wrap themselves around me, all-forgiving in their embrace. The bond between siblings proving unbreakable once again. I reflexively stretch my wings around him.
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Every wound I had inflicted upon my wings screams in unison, my back arching in pain and shock.
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“Fuck!” I seethe, my wings torturously retracting behind me.
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“Should I get some first aid?” Naser asks.
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“Okay, but...don’t let them see you.” He nods, takes his shoes off, then quietly steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Barely a minute later, he returns, a red bag with a white cross on it in hand.
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Over an hour of awful chemical smells and sharp pains pass before Naser is satisfied with his work. Parts of my wing are covered in gauze, some already stained red. My hands and arms have several bandages on them, and my face is no longer smeared with makeup, blood, and tears.
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Exhausted, I collapse onto the bed face-first.
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“Thank you, Naser,” I mumble, sleep threatening to take me.
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“No problem. I’ll check the bandages in the morning to see if they need changing.”
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“I love you, Naser.”
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“I love you too, Fang.”
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---
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Random rock music pierces my veil of dreams, the radio-alarm rousing me from sleep. Normally, I’d be in no rush to be out of bed and ready for school, but today was a little different. I push myself upright, stretching my arms and wings. The feathery curtains stung lightly and were thinner than they were the other day, but were otherwise healthy, thanks to Naser.
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Having finished getting ready and eating breakfast, I clamber into the passenger seat of the NasCar, ready for the start of another week. The beat-up ex-police car roars to life, rolls out of the driveway and off to Volcano High.
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“You scared?” I tease.
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“Never. You?” he replies.
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“Never,” I echo back.
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Naser pulls into a parking spot, and we walk side-by-side up the steps towards the school’s entrance.
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“Where is he?” Naser growls, scanning the many groups of students milling around. I check my phone - nothing from Anon. Not even an apology. Guess he really meant what he said.
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“No clue,” I respond.
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“Figures. Coward.” We make our way inside the building, and I follow Naser’s lead to wherever Naomi normally is at this time of day.
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“Ah, Naser sweetie!” The saccharine voice that always put me on edge was strangely relaxing this time around. “Oh, hello Fang. Um, where’s Anon?” Naomi peeks down the hallway, looking for someone that will never show up.
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“Dead, hopefully,” I respond bitterly. “How’s our little matchmaker doing today?” Naomi’s plastic expression falters momentarily.
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“Oh, um, I guess your prom date didn’t go too well, then?” she asks with false sympathy.
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“Didn’t go well? That worthless fucking prick of a human told me how he really felt.” I clench my fists, voice rising.
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“Waited for me to open up, then tore me apart like I was trash. Motherfucker never cared about me, not for one second.” I bare my teeth, breaths heavy and laden with rage.
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“And it was YOUR FAULT! You just had to worm your way into my fucking life, stick your snout into my fucking business, all because you love playing games with other people!” My voice carries throughout the otherwise silent hallway, the full attention of every student turned towards us.
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“None of this would’ve ever fucking happened to me if you had just minded your own fucking business!” I take a step forward, placing Naomi within arm’s reach.
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“FUCK! YOU!” My rage peaks, and I whip my arm forward, slapping an open palm across her terrified face. The smack echoes off the metal lockers, causing some of the surrounding students to gasp. I spin on my heels and stomp away, still riding the height of my fury.
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“We’re through, Naomi. Don’t bother trying to talk to us again,” Naser says coldly, turning his back to her and walking away.
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In an instant, the hallway goes from dead quiet to bustling with gossip, and I slip into first period.