Chapter Text
- I'd want a refund for that haircut (15/08/20, LA) -
„Dietrich?“ calls Hermann.
„Hey, Manny. What's up?“
„May I speak with you a moment?“
„Of course.“ Dietrich pats the mattress, tucks his feet closer to his body.
Hermann closes the door, limps over, perches.
Dietrich sets his book aside. „What's happening?“
„Bastien was talking about how he wants wings again.“
„Ah.“
Hermann shuffles his wings under his binder and shirt, takes a deep breath. „I want to tell him the truth“
„The truth about what?“
„The truth about where he came from and about how Mother might've—“ Swallows. „—done something to him, too.“
Dietrich runs his fingers through his hair. „I know it's hard, but we've agreed not to worry him with something which might not be true.“
„It'll be better for him if he thinks he's completely normal, even if he's not,“ recites Hermann.
„I'm so sorry, Manny.“
Hermann shrugs.
„It's not fair and I'm sorry.“ Dietrich rest his hand on the back of his neck and bows his head. „I'm sorry he can pass as normal and you can't.“
Hermann shrugs again—winces as the binder plucks a scapular and tugs several more against the grain.
„I wish ....“
„I wish I could tell him so we could be not-normal together.“ Hermann forces himself to meet Dietrich's eyes. „I'm tired of being alone.“
„You're not alone. You have all of us.“
„You know what I mean.“ Hermann lets out a flash of anger. „We know Mother brought him home from her work! We know Father was just as angry when he came home as he was with me! And-and he looks just like me except the wings!“
„I know.“ He sighs. „But his bones are solid, his vision is like mine, and if he takes off his shirt the neighbours won't think anything's odd about him.“
„But he's different! He has to be or Father wouldn't hate him so!“
„I—“ Dietrich shakes his head, miserable. „—I don't know what to say.“
Hermann droops.
„I'm so sorry.“
„I'm tired of being alone,“ murmurs Hermann.
„We're family, Manny. We love each other.“
„It's not the same.“
„I'm sorry.“
Hermann scoffs, shoves to his feet, and stomps—steps uneven and a little wobbly—across the room, slamming open the door as he goes.