Chapter Text
Green stared at the ceiling. Well, moreso, the bottom of the top bunk.
Blue was snuggled into his side. Anything to ground him from this daily struggle..
Anything he did, it was for Blue. She was all he really had left that he could rely on.
Dad turned to alcohol and abuse. Mom was powerless to stop him.
Blue was his younger twin. He had to keep her safe.
She was the reason he got up every morning, if only to see her smile.
She was the reason he didn't try anything with dad, if only to keep her safe.
He'd threatened her safety before. He tried and Green begged him not to. If that bastard broke Blue's spirit too– well, he'd have his own two legs broken.
But Green would have nothing to keep him going at home.
Sure, he had Orange. He loved him more than anything. He was the beacon at school, that made him willing to go. But Blue understood the fear he faced every day. The hurt. And she wanted to help. She wanted to be there for him no matter what. She understood there needed to be a beacon at home, too, so nothing was too horrendously unmanageable.
She saw it all first hand and could still see the light at the end of the tunnel that he was too far from to see clearly.
She put him to shame, truly.
It was only the second day of school. Purple hurriedly brushed their hair and threw on their clothes, yet they still looked perfectly orderly. Like nothing was wrong.
That they didn't still mourn the loss of their mother every day, even having never met her.
That they had a loving family.
They had riches and some form of fame. A lot of people's dream.
Not to Purple. Having a dad who was a professional fighter and a mother who was once just an abashed fan wasn't worth it for all the questions they can't answer and the recognition they're forced to ignore to not kick up dust at school.
At least, at school, they can be someone who's put together and popular for normal reasons.
Not someone who's constantly put down and living in the shadow of their dead mother and the disappointment from their father.
Not someone who still grieves the loss of their childhood best friend. Not someone who's forced to forget what happens every day they walk though those penthouse doors to simply function.
They only keep going to prove they aren't as horrible as dad thinks. To prove they're worth the trouble.
To prove losing mom was worth having them.
Green held Blue's hand to and from school. He couldn't risk losing her anywhere.
He looked around for Orange, which practically appeared out of thin air when his name was called simply once.
The both of them looked around, sharing a quick kiss.
"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk the other day."
"Green, I don't think I could ever be mad at you."
"Of course, of course. I just thought I'd mention it. .. but–"
"No buts, Greenie."
"..Okay. ..Can you believe we're already in high school?"
"Nope!" He smiled and shook his head. Green loved his grin. "I can still remember kindergarten so vividly.."
"I'm sure your parents do too." He snickered, remembering how Orange was.. awfully loud for a four to five years old. He was a handful at school, he was a handful at home. He started to mellow out around seven or eight.
Seven or eight was when mom lost any sort of control on dad.
His breath hitched in his throat. Blue seemed to notice this and gently held his wrist. God, he could scoop her up into a hug and never let go.
"Speaking of parents .. my parents want to meet you! Like, really badly. Can you come anytime soon?"
Blue froze next to him.
Green sighed. "No, Orange. He's still pretty sick."
'Sick in the head.'
"... don't you two have a mom?"
"Yeah..?"
"Why isn't she taking care of him?"
"She's usually gotta work to keep making money."
"But.."
Green smiled. "No buts, Orange."
Purple stared at the small mirror in their locker, checking to see there were any obvious injuries that the makeup might've smeared off on during the nightmare called chorus. Thankfully they hadn't had to sing yet. They knew they'd be sweating a lot in anticipation for it, but it never came.
They sighed in relief when none of the bruise spots turned up purple.
They noted Green, Blue, and Orange standing nearby.
The bell was about to ring. They shut the locker and went to class.
They didn't have PE this semester. Lucky.. but they'd have to take it one point or another, and the abuse would show. The makeup would run.
And they'd be fucked.
Ribbon wouldn't even ask what happened or why. They just knew they'd get more hurt.
They knew he'd act out with no pretense. No remorse.
No guilt.
Green got home with Blue's hand in his. Dad was busy sleeping, so he clearly didn't have the energy to yell at him. He felt himself breathe a breath of relief.
Might as well get to work on his chores. Might as well not give him a reason to be mad.
Blue insists on helping. Green smiles. She can't, really. The things he has to do are better done if he does them alone, since he's so used to it.
Moral support, however, is still help.
Purple got home to an oddly dark opening room. The lights weren't on. The air smelled faintly of iron. The distant sound of gently dressing wounds at the dining room table, and the more nearby sound of the door creaking closed and their shoes tapped against the floor gently with sounds that you could somehow tell exactly the motion they made with their feet. Which being, stepping inside, closing the door, letting down their bag on the back of the door, and locking it with a swift clink. It was odd how she just understood it.
They ignored his actions. Don't want to start a conversation to only trigger an argument if necessary.
They stepped up the stairs quietly, their shoes slipped from their feet, barely a sound other than the impossible to hide the softened, gentle thumps against the smooth, waxed floors and stairs from their socks alone.
They found themselves with a easily hidden earbud beneath their hair as a book sat open in front of them, open a little more than halfway.
Though, Purple wasn't exactly in the mood to read. .. so instead, they pretended to read, instead playing on their phone.
Yes, dad would kill them if he found out.
But they'd come so accustomed to hearing his footprints, as a warning; they knew when he was coming, even when he tried to say hushed.
They would simply shove their phone under their pillow, moments before he would come in, and instantly calm back down.
It didn't matter where she was forced to pause.
Dying in the game meant far less than dying in real life.