# Ending 1.5 Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Brink
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Sometime in the night, the bed shifts. The intoxicating warmth of my partner leaves me. I let out a soft grunt, the rest of my body threatening to wake up and rectify this. I hear the bathroom door shut, reassuring me of her swift return. I roll over, licking my lips and pulling the blanket over me.
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I lick my lips again. No dice, still dry. I notice how dry my throat is too. No, I’m too comfortable. I can drink later…
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Fuck. I roll back towards the rest of the apartment and prepare to get out of bed. The bathroom’s main light is off, but something inside is giving off light. Probably Fang’s phone. I struggle to my feet and quietly walk over to the fridge. I pull open the fridge partially, reaching inside and grabbing a bottle of water while trying to keep the light out of my eyes. I shut it, crack the bottle open and drink up.
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Oh, fuck me, that’s good. No regrets now. I place the bottle onto the countertop next to Fang’s bag. Or at least, where it was when she arrived last night. Where did it go? Right, the bathroom. Yeah. Wait, what? Why does she need her bag to take a piss?
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No, no, quiet, Anon. Fang can take her bag into the bathroom if she wants. Weird as it might be. I take another swig of water, suddenly more awake than I’d like to be. Damnit. Can’t be falling asleep in class this close to finals.
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Shit! I still haven’t figured out an apology for the night before. Not by any fault of my own, anyway. Fang kind of… ’interrupted’ my train of thought last night. Which is a whole other line of questions by itself. Not to complain or anything, but Fang is never that forward. Maybe it was just to take her mind off of prom, but still…
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Focus. Think of something, anything. Should I say it now, or wait for later, though? She probably just wants to go back to sleep for a while longer, like me. No point keeping us up now when we’re going to get up later, anyway.
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The bathroom door knob slowly turns, and the door opens even slower. Slower still, Fang creeps out, the muted city light struggling against the curtains, barely outlining her silhouette. Step by tentative step, she moves across the room towards the bed. This is a lot of effort to put into not waking me up. Maybe it’s just courtesy, but… I can’t shake this strange feeling.
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Fang crouches down and pauses for a moment. The display on my alarm clock goes dark with a barely audible ‘clunk’. What on Earth are you doing? I reach over and flick the switch for the kitchen light, bathing me in painful, searing light. It bleeds over into the living room, dimly illuminating Fang.
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Several details are immediately apparent. Fang is completely dressed - clothes, boots, and all. Even her makeup is on. One of her hands is wrapped around the now-disconnected cord to my alarm clock. Her eyes are locked onto me, looking like she just got caught in the world’s largest cookie jar.
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“Uh… hey Fang. Whatcha up to?” She doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at me with wild eyes. Not a single thing about any of this is normal, and all sorts of mental alarms are going off. “Didn’t think you would be so eager to get to class today, haha…” She remains silent, putting me even more on-edge. What the fuck is going on?
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“I… actually, nevermind that. I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but I really should have told you about that whole thing with Naomi earlier. I shouldn’t have been keeping secrets like that, but I didn’t really understand what she was doing until it was too late. Honestly, I still don’t think I understand all of it, but that’s not important. What’s important is that Naomi is just some stupid bitch with some stupid plan that didn’t even work. What she’s done doesn’t matter. What we have is real. And nothing she can do will change that. Right?”
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“Y-yeah… of course…” Fang finally responds, standing all the way up. Well, at least that’s sorted. I hope.
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“So, uh… if you want to give me a few minutes, we can go to class together, if-”
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“No!” she blurts. “I-I, uh… I mean...you… should stay…” More alarms go off at this bizarre request.
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“...Why? I mean, if anything, you should be the one staying home, right?” She freezes, trying to form some sort of explanation. I step forward, placing my hands around one of hers. “You really don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. Especially today. I’ll stay too, if you need me. No video games or any of that shit, just you and me. Alright?”
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“I… I said I would show up…” She doesn’t sound confident in that excuse.
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“Do you really want to? It’s just one day. Not the end of the world. And if you’re worried about falling behind, I can get you what you need.”
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“No, you… need to stay.”
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“Why?”
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“If I tell you, will you stay?” There’s a tinge of desperation in her voice. I don’t know what a worst-case scenario looks like, but if it’s anything, it’s almost certainly this. No, damnit. Calm down. There’s a good explanation for all of this.
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“Yeah, alright,” I say. She walks me over to the bed and we sit down. She pulls her bag off and puts it in her lap, unzipping the front pocket. She reaches in, but hesitates. Taking a deep breath, she pulls her hand out of her bag.
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Oh sweet fucking Raptor Jesus.
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In her hand is a black revolver.
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“This is why you have to stay,” she speaks calmly, with little emotion, looking at nothing in particular. “I’m going to give them all what they deserve. Especially Naomi.” She closes her eyes. “I’m going to put the barrel to her chin. I’m going to watch her facade collapse completely. I’m going to pull the trigger. And I’m going to watch her brain fly out of the back of her skull.” She opens her eyes and looks up at me. There’s no fire in them, only an icy hatred that threatens to pull the soul straight out of my body. “I’m going to fucking kill her, Anon. For everything she’s done, and everything she will do if she gets away with this.”
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No sound escapes my lips. No thought crosses my mind. My entire consciousness is on the verge of leaving me.
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“It won’t be just her, though,” she continues. “I’ll kill others, too. As many as I can. They aren’t going to get away with ignoring me or laughing at me this time. Do you get it now, Anon? You need to stay. Pretend that you slept in, that this conversation never happened. For your own sake.”
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She places the gun back in the bag, zipping it shut. She shifts to get up, and a synapse finally fires, launching me into action. I pull Fang into a bear hug, stopping her in place. She gently places a hand on one of mine and sighs.
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“I love you too, Anon. That’s why you need to stay…” She lurches, but remains held in place. She shifts her shoulders, struggling against my grip.
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“Anon...let go…”
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“No…” I whisper.
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“Please, Anon. I love you too much. Let me go. I need to do this.”
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“I can’t.” She looks at me again. Her eyes are soulless, filling me with instinctual fear that I fight to keep contained. What happened to you, Fang? Where is your spark? Your fire? Your love?
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In a flash, ten razor-sharp claws press into my neck.
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“Let… go…” she demands. Is this how it ends? My girlfriend going off the deep end, killing me, then shooting up our school? What’s my alternative? Let her do it and watch it happen? Call the cops and let her get arrested? Or killed?
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“Sorry, Fang. I’m not moving.” There’s still time. Time to pull her back from the brink.
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“Please, don’t make me…” She’s bluffing, right?
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“You’ll have to start with me.” She wouldn’t really… right?
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Her brow furrows, and the claws press further, threatening to make this shitty apartment my tomb. She just might. Is this worth it?
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“Anon…”
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“Fang…”
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She blinks, and her expression softens. A glint appears in her eye. The claws let up, retreating from my neck and back to her sides. I hug her tighter and she leans into my shoulder. The rapid barrage of emotions brings tears to my eyes.
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“Why? Why are you protecting them? Protecting her?” she asks, frustrated.
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“I’m not. I don’t care about any of them, but I do care about you. I don’t want to live without you.” I struggle to keep my voice steady. “I don’t want this to be the last memory I have of you. Please, stay with me.”
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She sighs, her voice lowering further. “You don’t get it, Anon. There is nothing left for me after this. I’ve failed at everything I’ve tried to do. I’m destined to play shitty music for the rest of my life, to the enjoyment of nobody. Everyone else knows it, too. That’s why they’ve given up on me; tossed me to the side." She drops to a whisper. "Please, just give me this."
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This isn't right. None of this right. It doesn't feel real. She seemed so confident a couple of days ago, and now she's ready to run away with death itself. Is this even the Fang that I know? A mistake, an elaborate joke, something…
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Fang grunts and struggles against my grip again, snapping me out of my stupor. "Fang!" I shout through tears. "You're wrong..." She falls still, waiting. I made the call, and now I'm being checked. Am I the one bluffing now?
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I eject every emotion currently tearing through me, except one. "I'm still here. I'll always be here for you. You can play beautiful music. I heard the piece of that song when it was just you and me, on that rooftop. That was the moment I fell in love with you, even if I didn't know it. And it was just a piece of a song. I know you can do it again." Fang's breathing deepens, but she remains quiet. Time to seal the deal.
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"And you know what? In a few weeks, we can put all of this behind us. Show everyone that's given up on you just how much they need you. It's not over."
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"Damn it…" she speaks up. "How…?"
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"We'll figure it out. Together." Her body loosens, falling into mine entirely. Slowly, her arms come around me, returning my embrace. The room goes quiet, and my thoughts creep back in. I do my best to filter out my insecurities and doubts, focusing only on what’s important, here and now.
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Fang twitches, pulling me out of my roiling thoughts. She glances around, then pulls her phone out and around my back. “Mmm. Shit,” she yawns. “Class is about to start. Naser will probably want to know where I am.”
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“What are you gonna tell him?” I ask.
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“To fuck off, probably.” She deflates, dropping her phone. “I don’t even want to do that. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Except you.”
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“I could handle it, if you want. Maybe get him off your back for a bit.” Fang groans, but hands the phone over to me anyway.
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“Just don’t tell him… about, you know…”
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“Yeah, don’t worry.” I take the phone and drop it behind her, unwilling to break our embrace for long.
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“Just wish he’d stay out of my business. Dad too.” Not like Naser really has a choice. “Why’s that?” Fang responds to my thought. Fucking mumbling...
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“I, uh… your dad is pretty hard on him, too. About everything.” She makes a dismissive noise, but doesn’t push it. Soon after, minutes before class is supposed to start, the phone buzzes against the mattress, and I jolt to attention. Naser’s name and face appear on the screen. I pick it up and answer it, resting my head on Fang’s shoulder. I hate to lie to him, but what other choice do I have?
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“Fang? Are you alright? Where are you?” Naser’s frantic worry is apparent. I cut him off before he can throw out more redundant questions with the most reassuring voice I can muster.
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“Fang’s fine. They’re at my place.”
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“I- Anon?” He quickly switches gears to something more serious. “Let me talk to Fang.”
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“I’m sorry, they’re really not in the mood to talk right now.” Shit, did that sound condescending?
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“Damn it, Anon! Don’t play games with me!” It did.
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“I’m not, I promise. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was.” He attempts to protest, then sighs, yielding to my explanation.
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“How bad is it?” he asks quietly.
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“It’s, uh… not… great.”
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“Are they at least coming home today?” I put my hand over the speaker, and Fang huffs noncommittally before I can relay the question.
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“Don’t count on it,” I reply. The school bell rings in the background.
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“God- I’ll talk to you later… I guess.” The phone clicks and the call ends.
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“Three weeks...” Fang comments. “I don’t know if I can handle three weeks. That’s three weeks of Naomi, and Naser, and… and… oh God…” She shudders and tenses up.
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“Easy, Fang. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?”
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“How… how can I show my face there?” I call her name, but she continues. “I was going to kill them…” I call her name again, louder this time, levelling my eyes with hers. “What if I still want to-”
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“Fang!” She snaps out of her trance and focuses on me. “I…” Fuck. “Look, we’ll… cross that bridge when we get there. We’re not going anywhere today. Did you sleep well?”
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“No…”
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“Well, that might be a good start.” She thinks for a second, then tips backwards towards the pillow, pulling me down with her. We squirm around until we settle in a familiar position. Fang laying across my arm, her head next to mine against the pillow, and a downy wing draped across me.
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The warmth of my partner returns, but it does little to ease me. I glance over to the ptero, seemingly asleep. The image of those soul-rending eyes is painted across my mind, and a lingering terror takes refuge within me. The instrument of an atrocity lurks nearby, waiting for purpose. I can’t join her in rest, even if I want to.
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Fang twitches and stirs awake, groaning. Pale blue eyelids slowly give way to amber eyes.
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She sighs. "Hey."
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"Hey," I echo, stroking her back. "Feeling okay?"
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"No..." She weakly stretches and curls. Swearing, she rises and swings her legs over the side of the bed. "Nothing about this is 'okay.' Fuck." I rise alongside her, preparing something reassuring.
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She reaches for her bag.
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I have no time to dissuade or scream. I lurch over, clutching her wrist inches from the zipper. Fang jolts, looking hurt and confused. My voice fails me and I freeze completely.
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"Anon…" she pleads. Please, no more… "I just want a smoke…"
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"Oh…" My iron grip loosens and Fang's hand pulls back. "Sorry…" She rubs her wrist, then reaches forward again. My eyes lock to the bag. I force myself to stay silent as her fingers work a zipper. I will myself to keep still as she reaches in, rooting around. Death lurks inside. Am I making a mistake?
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Her arm retreats, and I prepare for the worst. In her hand is a pack of cigarettes and a small lighter. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. She stands up and stretches a bit more. Before I can repeat her motion, she's down the hall and almost out the door. I prepare to give chase, then remember I'm still in my underwear. I yank some discarded clothes on and rush into the hallway, neglecting to lock the door behind me. I spot her next to the stairwell, leaning against the balcony banister.
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I take my place next to her, the scent of acrid smoke wafting into the air. She takes a long drag, and lets out a longer breath, savoring the nerve-calming agents in the stick. Wordlessly, she offers me a turn.
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"You need it more than I do," I say.
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"Wasn't asking," she responds, bringing the filter closer to my face. I reluctantly take a short drag, breathing in the ration of nicotine I've allowed myself before handing it back.
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“Didn’t mean to spook you,” she says.
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“Yeah, at least I didn’t shit myself.” She doesn’t react, the failed attempt at humor only serving to make the atmosphere that much more oppressive.
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She takes another puff, sighing a breath of smoke. "So. What're we gonna do?" I take a moment to rearrange my scattered thoughts, thankful I had a few hours earlier to think some of this through.
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"Well… first things first, we gotta get rid of that. How'd you even get it?"
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"Stole it from dad."
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"Think he'll miss it?"
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"Yup."
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"Well… shit. Guess we can't just throw it away. You don't want him knowing you took it?"
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"Fuck no."
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"How long until he finds out on his own?" Fang only shrugs. That complicates things. She presses the smoldering cigarette butt into the banister, then flicks the rest into the alleyway below. She yanks the box out of her back pocket and flicks it open, reaching for a second one. She stops short, scanning the half-empty container. Sighing regretfully, she pushes it back into her pocket, resting her elbows on the ledge.
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"Dunno when I'm gonna get more. Should probably save them." I slide closer to her and move my hand towards hers. Before I can make the connection, her arm slithers away and fishes into her other back pocket. She brings her hand back up, balled into a fist, and nestles it into my palm. Her palm opens, our fingers intertwine, and something round and metallic rests between our palms.
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My heart skips a beat as the realization hits. Her hand starts to pull away, but I hold it in place.
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"Please…" she begs. "It's been in my pocket all day. Reminding me. Take it." I loosen my grip and her hand slides away, leaving a bullet in my palm. My fingers curl, taking it from my sight, but it does nothing to soften the blow. Sweet Raptor, it really is that bad. I slip it into my back pocket. Now it will remind me instead.
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She pushes herself away and I closely follow as she heads back inside. We sit on the bed and Fang stares at the floor, mentally working through something. I put my arm around her, but her expression remains.
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Finally, she speaks. "I stole it. I have to put it back." Easier said than done, for a dozen different reasons. The idea of Fang with that gun, by herself, makes my stomach knot.
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"Fang, I…" I... what?
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"You can do it? You'll be watched like a hawk while you're there, and torn to pieces the second you try." Damn it, there has to be something…
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"What about… uh… Naser?" He’s the least likely to cause another disaster, but Fang immediately dismisses it.
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"Even if I did trust him, I don't want him to know, either. About any of this. I… I can fix this.” The lump in my back pocket reminds me of a narrowly avoided reality. And a reality I’ve yet to avoid. A protest fails me, coming out as an incoherent stammer. Fang looks at me, and her eyes tell me she knows everything I’m thinking. Every fear made manifest, every worst-case scenario, and every uncertain future is wrung out of my soul and taken into hers.
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I'm scared. I'm scared of leaving Fang's side. Scared of her tackling this by herself. In fact, I’m downright fucking terrified. There’s still six ways out of this world sitting right in her bag, and I have no idea what to do about that.
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“Okay, okay… it’s still Monday. We have time. Let's save some of that for later, right now we should just… do other stuff…”
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Fang and I manage to get through the rest of the day without complete disaster. We eat, drink and talk, and despite the morning’s events, things seem almost calm. The tension is still there, and I know it’s only going to get worse as tomorrow comes. The calm before the storm, as it were. I only hope my plan is enough to weather it.