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savetheamazingcakes · 1 year

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PART 2!?!!??!?!?!? :0

The days pass by blandly. Amare almost gets caught a few times while trying to get food, but other than that, everything is the same. Every night he gets less and less sleep—not that he notices. The time for examination is approaching quickly, and he can’t do anything to stop how fast that day is coming. Amare studies for longer and longer periods, hardly catching a break. Altora is worried. His older brother is acting weirdly. He’s snappy, tense, and anything else to describe grumpy. The younger really wants to make his big bro feel better. Surely he’s gonna make it as a trainee! But he knows his brother doesn’t share the same sentiment. He’s nervous. He’s afraid he’s gonna have to leave for war, just like Altora’s parents. But he’s already so much better than them! He still gives snuggles on the rare chance the smaller can get Amare to take a break. He still pays way more attention to him than the people he’s afraid of becoming. It’s nice to get hugs and food provided and stuff!

But that info won’t help his brother feel better. The nerves are starting to get to Altora, too. He knows his older brother will do amazingly on the test, but he can’t help but worry because his brother is worrying. Worry is contagious, the child learns. Amare chirps to the tune of “worried-tired-stressed” subconsciously. He doesn’t notice it, but Altora does. The younger is far more observant than he lets on, always forcing his brother out of his hidey hole when he can smell—and hear—the stress getting too much for the older.

The keen nose and ear for emotions within his species is helpful in this situation. It also makes it hard for him to sleep. He can hear the way his brother paces the floor when he thinks his little bird is asleep. The mumbles, chirps, and trills filled with anxiety aren’t quiet, either. Nothing really is to Altora. He can read his older brother like a book, and the book doesn’t say anything good. He’s worried about his brother. So, so afraid of what will happen if he lets it all get to him too much.

Sometimes he’ll snap at Altora. He always apologizes after, and the younger one is content with that. He knows Amare doesn’t mean to be harsh, so he’ll just open his winged arms for a hug and feel himself get swept off his feet by a crushing hug and tearful trilled apologies. He simply trills back, happy that he’s still loved by the older.

There’s times where Amare will disappear for hours without explanation. Those aren’t fun. He’s likely just getting some practical experience, but he’s too exhausted to confirm that once he gets home. Altora always wonders if his brother got sick of him and left. He hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. The younger simply cuddles up next to Amare on their shared cot and falls asleep in the warm snuggles his brother always gives.

Sometimes Amare will be back to his old self. He brings home expensive pastries on those days, prepared for a night of fun games they make up off the top of their heads. They goof off until Amare decides it’s time for Altora to sleep. He is still young, after all. Those days are the best ones. He has his brother back for a few hours before Amare returns to his grumpy state, where the only smiles he gives are tight lipped—not that he has lips—or sad.

The building tension all comes to head on what seems like it’ll be a good day. It started off great! Amare was happily chatting with him instead of giving short, choppy answers. They chitter and chirp back and forth to say how much they love the other in the middle of conversation. Everything is perfect! Even though the exam is in a few days, Amare is acting way happier than he has in weeks!

This changes when Altora makes a small comment about it. Stupid, stupid bird! That was the worst thing he could’ve done right now! Amare’s eyes dim a little, coming so close to how they looked the day before. He was so empty yesterday. It was scary for the little one; his brother looks worse and worse each passing day. BUT, he looked weirdly better today! His smiles turn small and sad, but he keeps speaking in long sentences to Altora, so maybe the day is salvageable.

A few hours later, Altora accidentally drops a cup while trying to make some tea from the leaves his brother stole from that one fancy shop. The cup shatters once it hits the ground and Amare comes running over to make sure his brother is okay. He notices the shattered cup, and all the frustration, anger, and nerves building over months boil over. He screeches louder than he has in a while, all directed at his younger brother. The smaller one flinches back at the sound. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean to. Tears brim his eyes as he stands there and takes the yelling. It’s okay, though. He probably deserves it. Maybe he should just go? Yeah, his brother would be happy if he left for a little while. Maybe Amare will cool off a bit, come get him, and things can go back to how they were. That’s how it went before Amare, so surely that’s how it’s all supposed to work! With that in mind, Altora runs past his brother and out the door, tears soaking his feathered face.

— — —

Amare stands there. He– he just yelled at his brother. He yelled at the light of his life. He’s such an IDIOT! Why can’t he just be nice to his brother? He tries to make up for it by putting on a happy face, but he can’t hold it up for long enough. He can’t even hold himself together long enough to spend substantial amounts of time with his brother. Maybe if he just– Amare shakes his head to absolutely murder that thought. No, he can’t leave his brother alone. This must be salvageable. It has to be. If it isn’t, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Nothing good, he knows.

Amare sprints out the door, using teleportation to give himself a little speed. He calls in his native tongue for his brother, his only family. The sharp chirp of family carries far. Much farther than yelling in common ever could. He can hear others that still speak the language offer replies of “not here” or “kit-where-lost?”

The cacophonous replies drown out most other sounds. He couldn’t hear his brother if he did respond. Why would he, though? His big brother yelled at him with the level of anger he would direct toward the ladies who used to care for him. That was something unforgivable, yet he hopes Altora will forgive him, nonetheless. Even if he won’t, Amare wants him to at least stay safe at their little home.

He runs until his paws hurt and he feels the exhaustion from teleporting too much. He needs to go. He needs to move faster. He’s never fast enough. He chirps out his call one last time, and this time he faintly hears a reply. It’s unmistakeably his brother. “HELP!”

The second he hears the noise, he runs in the direction of the one calling for help. His little brother calling for help because he couldn’t keep his temper under control. He rounds the corner and his eyes widen at the sight.

Standing, pressed against the wall, his brother. The young boy is crying loudly, calling for the one he knows will come to his aid, even if he doesn’t like him at the moment. Amare promised to keep him safe, after all. In front of his brother, blocking a clear view of the younger, is that stupid baker. He has a bread knife clutched in his hand. Crap. “Oh, ya think ya could jus’ take from me again and again without consequence, ey?”

“I didn’ take anythin’! There ain’t nothin’ on me that would prove otherwise!”

“Yeah right, kid. I’ve seen ya and that Brall’m takin’ things from my bak’ry left and right! Yer not innocent at all, ya thief.”

“What? No, I ain’t ever done somethin’ like that to ya! I don’t know who ya saw, but it ain’t me!”

“Tell that ta someone who’ll believe yer lies, kid!” The man readies for a fight. Blades involved. No, not his brother. He’s too young for this!

Amare screeches, halting the actions of the warring parties. His wide mouth hangs open, jaw hanging from its hinge by seemingly a thread. Rows of teeth gleam from his lower jaw. The baker, alarmed by the display, grabs Altora and holds the knife to his throat. “Get away ya freak! I’ve got the li’l one, and I’ll let ‘im go if ya hand yerself over ta the cops!”

The older brother falters, but he doesn’t give. They stare at each other, waiting for the other to break. Time slows, dripping by at a snail’s pace. Altora’s so young. Too young for this mess. Amare made this mess, and he’ll finish it. He tries to subtly prepare for teleportation, but the baker notices. In a panicked decision, the baker takes his knife back. Good. He’s backing away.

The baker then proceeds to stab Altora in the side, clearly afraid of how Amare will use teleportation. The older brother screeches once again, teleporting into a punch to the baker’s face. The man staggers at the blow, letting go of Altora and the knife in the process. Amare grabs the knife and drives it into the baker, forcing the man to fall to the ground. He hits his head on a rock and passes out. One problem taken care of. Altora had dropped to the floor like a bag of rocks, slowly bleeding out on the ground.

Amare rushes over with a panicked expression. He can’t die; not yet! The taller puts pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. It’s not working. It’s not stopping. He desperately pushes his paws against the wound, staining them in dark green gratite. No no no no no no this can’t be happening! Not again; not to another kit. He can’t make it stop.

Altora’s face is scrunched up in pain, his eyes unfocused, yet unmistakably looking at Amare. “H-hey there. Yer l-late…”

“D-don’ t-talk now! Save yer energy f-fer survivin’! Yer g-gonna be alright. Ya h-have ta be!”

“It-it’s fine– actually, no it ain’t. I-I don’ wanna die, ‘Mare! I-I can’t join ‘er yet. N-not now.” Altora weakly grasps his brother’s sleeve, tears streaming down his face. He’s losing gratite too fast. But Amare can’t stop it! “I-I don’ w-wanna see m-my parents y-yet!”

“Hey bud, yer g-gonna be alright, y’hear? I-I ain’t gonna l-let ya die,” reassured Amare as he applied pressure to the wound, desperately trying to keep Altora’s gratite in the younger’s body. “Y-yer gonna be o-okay in a li’l bit. Nothin’ bad is gonna ‘appen ta us s-soon. I-I’m gonna join the ACOTKU as soon as w-we get ya fixed up and th-then we’ll ‘ave a proper house, yeah? No one’s d-dyin’ tonight, li’l brother. We-we’re gonna grow up and be happy, yeah? I can’t– ya can’t–” Amare tears up as he gets more desperate– “I promised to t-take care of ya. A-and if I can’t d-do that, then I-I’m a pretty crappy big bro, huh?” He chuckles sadly.

“N-nah, yer… yer a gr-great brother. I don’t— I’m scared… I don’ wa-wanna meet ‘er!” Altora gasps for air, yet none seems to come. “I can’t– h-help–”

Tears stain both their faces and fear is in both their eyes. Altora is Amare’s sunshine; his light. The one person he cares for. Altora is Amare’s sunshine and he’s dying from the stupid crook lying on the ground beside them.

Amare took the bastard out in a way that he hopes is permanent, but that doesn’t just remove the danger of what’s happening now. He thinks as much as he can in his panic, where can I get help? The answer comes in remembering the only place with proper medical care. The small lab of the ACOTKU. The same lab that refuses to help left and right. The same one Amare wants to use to get himself and his brother out of their situation. It’s his only chance. He rips his sleeves and uses them to make a rushed bandage job on his brother’s side.

Amare knows it’s probably hopeless, but he tries anyway. He needs to go quickly, but teleportation is far too risky right now. He carefully picks his younger brother up, trying not to jostle the sluggishly bleeding wound on his side, and takes off running for the lab that lies less than 10 minutes away.

There’s desperation in every fiber of his being as he weaves through the usual crowd outside the bustling alleyway he came out of. Get. To. The. Lab. He needs to go faster. He needs to be faster. There needs to be speed he just doesn’t have. With tired limbs and failing muscles, he continues as quickly as he can.

It gets harder to go through the crowd as he gets to the busier portion of the marketplace. He can’t smash Altora into any other pedestrians, and that just makes him go all the more slowly. He trips and falls thrice, hindering his progress even more than the crowd already is. He needs to be faster. Amare subconsciously tries to teleport both himself and his brother, who’s gratite is dripping down his arms despite the shabby bandages, but notices and stops himself. Teleportation will just make it worse. If his brother throws his guts to the floor, they’re certainly done for. That response will surely cause the injuries to worsen. And so, he must run. He must run as fast as he can.

TO BE CONTINUED...

PART 1 PART 3

#HASO #i really have to finish this

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