Chapter Text
It was late into the evening when a knock came at the door. The kids, scattered around the living room, exchanged curious glances. Chaos, sprawled on the couch, sat up at the noise. Crab glanced toward the door but didn’t move, figuring Bug would handle it. He always did.
Bug sighed as he set down his mug of tea. His movements were calm, but there was an undercurrent of tension as he walked to the door. He opened it, expecting one of the neighbors or perhaps another unexpected visitor like Flicker had been.
Instead, two police officers stood on the porch, their expressions stern.
“Are you Bug?” one of them asked, her voice professional but cold.
Bug’s brows furrowed. “Yeah. What’s this about?”
“Mr. Bug, we have a warrant for your arrest,” the officer said, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “You’re being charged with multiple counts of kidnapping.”
Bug froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Behind him, the kids were starting to stir, their curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar voices.
“What?” Bug asked, his voice low and disbelieving. “That’s a mistake. I didn’t—”
“Sir, step outside,” the other officer interrupted. “We’re also here to take custody of the children. They’ll be placed into foster care until the investigation is complete.”
Bug’s heart sank. “No, you can’t do that. These kids—”
“Step outside,” the officer repeated, firmer this time.
The kids were now fully alert, creeping closer to the doorway to see what was happening. Chaos peeked around the corner, her eyes widening as she saw the officers reaching for Bug.
“Bug?” Chaos called, her voice wavering.
“Stay back,” Bug said quickly, his tone more urgent than they’d ever heard.
The officers pulled out handcuffs, and Bug didn’t resist as they secured his wrists. “I didn’t kidnap anyone,” he said, his voice calm but strained. “These kids came to me. They had nowhere else to go.”
The first officer ignored him, looking past him into the house. “Are these all the children?”
By now, the kids were all in the hallway, staring in horror at what was happening. Sun clung to Vam’s arm, her face pale. Night stepped in front of Chaos protectively, his fists clenched. Even Crab, usually calm and composed, looked shaken.
“You can’t take us,” Crab said sharply, stepping forward. “We live here. We’re a family.”
“You’re minors,” the officer replied. “And he’s not your legal guardian. This isn’t up for debate.”
“We chose to be here!” Chaos shouted, her voice cracking with anger.
The officers didn’t respond, instead motioning for the kids to follow them. “Let’s go,” the first officer said, her tone softer now but still firm.
“No,” Chaos said, growling as she backed away. “We’re not going anywhere!”
Bug turned his head, his voice firm but laced with sorrow. “Chaos, listen to me. Go with them.”
“Bug, no!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.
“You’ll be okay,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “I promise.”
The kids were reluctant, but the officers gently guided them outside, where a van was waiting. They climbed in one by one, their faces a mix of fear and anger. Chaos was the last to go, glaring at the officers with tear-filled eyes as they shut the door behind her.
Bug was led to a squad car, his shoulders slumped but his gaze steady. As the car pulled away, Chaos pressed her face to the van window, watching helplessly as the only home she’d ever known disappeared into the night.
Inside the van, the kids sat in stunned silence. Flicker hugged her knees to her chest, trying to disappear into the corner. Sun quietly cried into Vam’s shoulder, while Night stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.
Crab broke the silence. “We’ll figure this out,” she said, her voice low but determined. “We’ll get him back.”
“How?” Chaos whispered, her voice cracking. “They’re saying he kidnapped us. They’ll never believe the truth.”
“We’ll make them believe it,” Night said, his voice calm but firm. “Bug took us in because no one else would. He didn’t kidnap us. We’ll tell them everything.”
The van pulled into a gray, nondescript building surrounded by a chain-link fence. The sign out front read Child Protective Services. Chaos’s stomach churned as the van came to a stop. The other kids looked equally uneasy, their earlier defiance fading into dread.
The back doors opened, and the kids were ushered out, one by one. The air was cold, the night silent except for the distant hum of passing cars. Inside, the building smelled sterile, like disinfectant and worn carpet.
A stern-looking woman with a clipboard greeted them. She introduced herself as Ms. Harper, the CPS caseworker assigned to their situation.
“You’ll each be placed in temporary homes until we can assess your cases further,” she said briskly, not even glancing at the kids as she flipped through her notes.
Chaos blinked, her wings twitching nervously. “Wait,” she said, stepping forward. “What do you mean ‘each’? We’re staying together, right?”
Ms. Harper finally looked up, her expression softening just slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone professional but not unkind. “There aren’t any available foster homes that can take all of you. You’ll have to be placed separately.”
The words hit them like a physical blow.
“No,” Chaos said, her voice shaking. “You can’t do that. We’re a family. You can’t just split us up!”
“I’m afraid it’s not up to me,” Ms. Harper replied. “We’re doing our best to find homes that can meet your needs, but you’ll all be going to different placements.”
“That’s not fair!” Crab snapped, stepping forward. “We’ve already lost Bug, and now you’re taking us away from each other?”
“I understand this is difficult,” Ms. Harper said, clearly trying to maintain her composure. “But this is what’s best for all of you right now.”
“What’s best?” Night growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t even know us. How can splitting us up be ‘what’s best’?”
“Night,” Vam said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were filled with sorrow. “Arguing won’t change anything.”
Chaos wasn’t listening anymore. Her mind raced, desperate for a way out. But there was none. She looked at Night, her brother, her twin, her partner in everything. They’d always been together. Always.
“Please,” Chaos said, her voice breaking. “At least let me stay with Night. He’s my brother. Please.”
Ms. Harper hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “I’m sorry,” she said again, softer this time. “But the placements are already arranged.”
That was it. There was nothing they could do. One by one, the kids were called away. Crab went first, her jaw set in a hard line as she followed another caseworker down the hall. Sun clung to Vam, sobbing uncontrollably, until she was pried away and led out of sight.
When it was Chaos’s turn, she turned to Night, her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t forget me,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” Night said, his voice steady but his hands shaking. “We’ll find each other again. I promise.”
Chaos nodded, swallowing hard as a caseworker gently took her arm. She glanced back one last time, memorizing the faces of her siblings before she was led away.
That night, as Chaos sat alone in a strange, unfamiliar room, the reality of their separation settled over her like a heavy blanket. For the first time in years, she felt truly alone.
The days blurred into weeks, and the hollow ache of separation grew deeper with every passing hour. Chaos had been placed with a family in a distant town—a couple who seemed kind enough but treated her more like a charity case than someone they truly cared about. The room they gave her was small, and she spent most nights staring at the ceiling, wondering where her siblings were and if they were okay.
Letters were forbidden. Phone calls, too. Chaos had tried once to sneak a call to Night, but the foster parents had caught her and confiscated the phone. "You're here now," they said firmly. "It's time to focus on your new life."
But what new life? This wasn't life. It was survival.
Night fared no better. His placement was harsher—a strict foster father who saw him as a delinquent to be corrected. The man had no patience for Night’s temper or his grief, and the punishments were swift and severe. Every time Night tried to bring up Chaos or the others, he was met with the same response: “They’re not your responsibility anymore. It's time to grow up and forget about them.”
Crab, despite her fierce exterior, struggled too. Her foster family didn’t understand her at all, constantly berating her for her defensive attitude and her inability to trust. She lashed out often, her anger masking the deeper pain of loss, and it wasn’t long before she was labeled "troubled."
Sun’s placement was the most heartbreaking. She ended up with a family who didn’t want her at all, taking her in only for the stipend they received. The once-lively girl grew quiet and withdrawn, her eyes losing the spark they’d once held.
Even Eclipse, too young to fully understand what had happened, cried herself to sleep most nights. She’d been placed with strangers who didn’t know how to handle her nightmares, and the once-innocent child began to feel the weight of abandonment.
Vam and Flicker had been placed separately as well, their unique personalities making them outcasts in homes that sought conformity. Vam hid, folding herself into a box of compliance just to avoid the endless judgment. Flicker, on the other hand, rebelled, running away more than once only to be dragged back by authorities.
Months turned into years, and the siblings began to lose hope of ever being reunited. The system ground them down, each of them learning to survive in their own way.
Night stopped fighting, his spirit crushed under the weight of his foster father’s punishments. Crab was eventually sent to a group home, her anger too much for any family to handle. Sun barely spoke anymore, her voice a faint whisper of the girl she’d once been.
And Chaos? She stopped dreaming of finding her family. She stopped dreaming altogether.
The promise Night had made, that they’d find each other again, felt like a distant memory—something from another life. The world had torn them apart, and it seemed determined to keep them that way.
Some families don't get happy endings. Some families are just... lost. And that was the cruelest truth of all.