Chapter Text
The hospital smells like antiseptic and something stale, like recycled air that hasn’t been fresh in years. It sticks to my scales, clinging like an unwanted memory.
I pace the length of the waiting area, my arms crossed tightly, my fingers digging into my sleeves. The overhead fluorescent lights hum softly, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. I hate this place. I hate waiting. I hate—
“Lucy,” Naser calls softly from where he’s sitting in one of the stiff plastic chairs. “Come on, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
I stop mid-step, exhaling sharply. “I can’t just sit here, Nas.”
“I know,” he says, shifting forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But stressing yourself into a breakdown isn’t going to help him.”
I rub my temples, willing the pounding fucking headache away. “I know. I just… I need to know he’s okay.”
Naser nods, his gaze steady. “He will be, he’s a tough son of a bitch after all that.”
I want to believe him. I really do.
The fact that we’re here at all still feels like a blur. I don’t even remember sleeping. I don’t think I did. Just flashes—Dr. Jones walking into the apartment with his usual unreadable expression, telling me what I already knew but didn’t want to hear. That Anon needed more than just makeshift care at home. That he needed real medical attention immediately.
I still don’t know how Naser got in touch with him so fast. When did he get his number? How long has he been in contact with him? I’d barely been holding myself together, my mind spinning too fast to even think of calling anyone. But Naser—he had already pulled out his phone, already started making calls, already had a plan before I could even process what was happening.
By the time I snapped out of it, Dr. Jones was at the apartment, his bag in hand, his voice firm as he gave Anon a check-up right there in his bed. And the moment he said hospital, I knew it was over. Anon fought it at first—of course, he did. But with how weak he was, how disoriented, it didn’t take long before he gave in.
The last thing I remember before getting here was his fingers barely holding onto mine as they wheeled him through the hospital doors. And now, we wait.
The door to Anon’s room finally opens with a quiet click, and Dr. Jones steps out. He looks the same as always—composed, unreadable, his coat immaculate despite the long hours he’s probably been here. He tugs off his gloves with practiced ease, tucking them into his pocket before glancing between us.
“Doctor,” I say quickly, nearly jumping in front of him. “How is he?”
“Stable,” he replies. “His vitals are steady, and we’ve run additional tests to monitor his condition.”
Okay. Okay. He’s okay.
…but?
“And?”
He sighs. “We’re keeping him under observation. The symptoms he’s experiencing—disorientation, fatigue, the fainting spell—are all likely linked to the shrapnel being… nudged during the fight. Until we can confirm there’s been no worsening of his condition, discharging him isn’t an option.”
Oh fuck I was afraid of this.
I swallow hard, my nails pressing into my palms. “Is… is there anything we can do?”
“Nothing at the moment. We continue testing,” he shifts his eyes back to the door. “A full neurological evaluation is necessary. We’ll also be increasing his medication dosage to better manage his condition.”
My eyes widen. “Medica–”
“Only for the time being, Ms. Aaron. We don’t know the full scope of his condition, so we’re temporarily increasing the dosage until we get a full picture. It’s for his safety.”
He looks me in the eyes with full confidence. Fuck, he’s already helped us this much…
Anon already hated the medication as it was. I feel my stomach twist at the thought of telling him.
Dr. Jones straightens slightly. “For now, you may see him, but keep it brief. He needs rest.”
I nod stiffly, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He offers a curt nod in return before turning to Naser. “Mr. Aaron, thank you for bringing all of this to my attention when you could.”
He nods and shakes his hand. “Of course, thank you for being there on such short notice.”
They finish their pleasantries and part ways. Dr. Jones glances at me one last time, then steps away, disappearing down the hall.
The moment he’s gone, I let out a slow, shaky breath.
Naser watches me carefully, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Then, after a beat, he speaks. “He’s in good hands, Lucy. You know that, right?”
I nod, but it doesn’t make the knot in my stomach go away. “Yeah. Yeah. I know, just— ugh…”
“You should go in first,” he adds. “He’ll want to see you.”
I don’t answer. I just push open the door and step inside.
The hospital room is dimly lit, the glow from the monitors casting soft blue light across the walls. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor fills the silence, steady but slow. It’s too familiar. Too much like last time.
Anon is awake.
He’s sitting up slightly against the pillows, his eyes half-lidded, his expression unreadable. The fluorescent lights above cast sharp shadows against his face, making the exhaustion in his features even more pronounced.
For a moment, neither of us say anything.
I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to talk or if he’s waiting for me to say something first.
I take a slow breath and step closer. “Hey.”
His eyes flick up to meet mine. “…Hey.”
His voice is hoarse, rough like he hasn’t spoken in hours. Maybe he hasn’t.
I hesitate before pulling up the chair beside his bed, lowering myself into it. My hands fidget with the hem of my jacket as I search for the right words.
“How’re you feeling?” I ask, knowing full well the answer won’t be good.
Anon lets out a slow exhale, his head tilting slightly against the pillow. “Like I got hit by a truck.” He mutters. Dummy. I almost want to laugh, but it gets caught in my throat.
“Doctor Jones says you’re stable.” I say instead, watching his reaction carefully.
“Yeah.” he murmurs, shifting slightly under the blankets. “Guess that’s something.”
There’s a pause. He doesn’t ask anything else, doesn’t press for details. Just stares at the ceiling like the weight of everything is pressing down on him. Fuuuuuuuck.
I clear my throat. “They, uh… they’re keeping you for observation. They need to run more tests. Neurological scans, check for any changes with the… you know.”
His jaw tightens slightly at the mention of it. I see his fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets, but he doesn’t argue.
“And?” he asks, voice quieter now.
I swallow. “They’re upping your meds.”
A humorless chuckle escapes him, but it sounds more like a sigh. “Of course they are.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I can say to make it better.
Finally, Anon shifts, turning his head slightly to look at me. “You stayed?”
I blink. “What?”
“Overnight,” he says, eye flicking toward the window where the rain has stopped, replaced by the dim light of early morning. “You were here the whole time?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Wouldn’t have left even if they tried to make me.”
His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before he looks away. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Too bad,” I say, my voice firmer than before. “Not leaving you alone in this place.”
He exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a brief second. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “You… shouldn’t have had to deal with any of this.”
My chest tightens. “Anon—”
“I mean it,” he mutters, his fingers twitching again. “You didn’t ask for any of this. Any of me. ”
There it is. The guilt, creeping in like a slow poison.
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the bed beside him. “And yet, here I am.”
I reach out carefully, resting my hand over his. His skin is cool, the IV line taped to his wrist a stark contrast against the bruises forming along his knuckles.
“I don’t regret staying,” I say, my voice softer now, showing a small smile. “Not for a second.”
He smiles back, with his fingers twitching slightly beneath mine, but he doesn’t pull away.
Then it fades away. His grip tightens almost reflexively.
“…It’s dark.”
What?
He shifts his head slightly against the pillow, his gaze unfocused, staring at the ceiling. He hovers a hand over his eye. “My eye,” he clarifies, his tone flat. “I was… able to see light before. Even if it was just shapes. Blurs. But now…”
He trails off. His fingers tighten again, this time against the sheets, pulling at the fabric like he’s only just noticing it himself.
I feel my stomach drop. No…
“…It’s gone?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t answer right away. His expression doesn’t change, but I see the tension in his jaw, the way his breathing slows like he’s trying to process it all.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say anything.
He beats me to it.
“It was bound to happen,” he says, voice hollow. “Guess I just didn’t think it’d be this soon. A nudge here or a—a punch to the face.” He chuckles dryly. “Fuck me.”
The way he says it, so casual—like he’s already decided that this is just another thing to add to the pile of everything else he’s lost—makes something tighten in my throat.
I grip his hand a little tighter. “Anon…”
He lets out a slow breath, finally turning his head toward me. His eye meets mine, but there’s something distant in his gaze. Something detached.
“It’s fine,” he says simply. “It’s not like I needed it anyway.”
I feel something inside me snap.
“ Don’t do that.” I say, sharper than I mean to.
His brow furrows slightly. “Do what?
“Pretend like it doesn’t matter.” My voice wavers, my fingers gripping his hand more firmly. “You did need it. You do need it. You can’t just act like this is—this is nothing.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Lucy—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You keep doing this. Every time something happens, you act like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s just another thing to deal with. But it’s not just something to deal with, Anon! You lost something. And you’re allowed to be mad about it.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But he doesn’t. He just looks away again.
“…I am mad,” he admits after a beat. “I just don’t know what to do with it.” The exhaustion in his voice is what finally gets me.
I let out a shaky breath, my grip on his hand loosening slightly, my thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Then don’t handle it alone,” I say, softer now. “Let me help.”
He doesn’t say anything right away. But after a moment, his fingers curl just slightly around mine.
A silent answer.
A quiet okay.
The door creaks open.
I glance over my shoulder just as Naser steps in, his movements careful, hesitant.
He doesn’t say anything right away, just gives Anon a once-over, scanning him the same way he always does when he’s trying to figure out how bad things really are.
Then, finally—“You look like shit.”
A dry, humorless chuckle escapes Anon’s lips. “Yeah, well. You should see the other guy.”
Naser lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “Not funny.”
Anon shrugs—or at least tries to. The slight movement makes him wince, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.
Naser steps further into the room, pulling up the extra chair from the corner and sinking into it with a heavy sigh. “So,” he says, lacing his fingers together. “Jones filled us in. You’re stuck here for a bit.”
“Lucky me.” Anon mutters.
“You gonna be a pain in the ass about it?”
Anon gives him a flat look. “Is that a real question?”
Naser rolls his eyes. “Right. Should’ve known better.”
Then, Naser shifts slightly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Listen, man,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I’m… sorry about everything. About Da-
“Stop, Naser. This isn’t on you. Not on any of you.” He glances between us. “What’s done is done. Your Dad has had it out for me ever since I met you all, and it was bound to happen sooner or later. I just… hoped I’d held back.”
Is he blaming himself again? “Anon, this wasn’t on you. He attacked you first!”
“I know what he did. But I kept going. You can’t possibly think it’s all on him.”
“But it is!”
“Lucy, stop.” He raises his voice. “He may have thrown the first punch, but I made it worse. I never wanted this to happen. Now, please, drop it.”
The room falls into a heavy silence, with the only sound being the beeping of the heart monitor. It feels like forever, none of us being able to say anything. It’s true that Anon kept going, but… Ripley didn’t excuse himself. He blamed everything on him. He still broke into our home. He’s dead to me.
My mind starts to wander.
Then the door slams open.
Fucking who-
…
Mom.
Samantha Aaron stands in the doorway, her breathing heavy like she just ran through the halls. Her eyes dart wildly between me and Anon, her face pale and lined with something—worry, guilt, maybe both.
“Oh, my god.” Her voice is strained as she holds her hands up to her mouth. “Lucy—”
I stand up so fast the chair scrapes against the floor. My heart is pounding, but I don’t let it show on my face.
She takes a hesitant step forward. “I—I came as soon as I heard. Honey, I didn’t know—I swear I didn’t know—”
She looks at Anon, eyes flicking over the bruises, the healing cuts, the IV in his arm. Her lips part slightly, and for a second, it almost looks like she’s going to cry.
Then she looks back at me, and I see it—the hesitation, the fear .
“I didn’t know he would—” She hitches, inhaling sharply. “I didn’t know Ripley would go this far.”
“Is he here?” I ask, my voice nearly spitting out like venom.
“N-no! No, of course not, dear! I…” She trails off; tears have started falling off her face as she puts her face into her hands, sobs racking her small body.
I sigh and stand.
I cross the room and gently place my hands and a wing over her. She stiffens and hitches on a sob, looking up at me in surprise.
I gesture her towards Anon, and we slowly walk to his side. For a minute, nothing was said. Anon studies her, as if he’s waiting for her to give some grand speech. But instead, she sighs, wringing her hands together.
She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens again. “I… needed to see you.”
She turns to me. Wait, me? “What?”
“I needed to see if you were okay. That he was okay.” She glances at him.
He shifts in his bed, but keeps quiet. I guess there’s something he wants to hear?
She exhales shakily. Her voice is softer now, almost pleading. “I know you’re angry—”
“Angry?” I say flatly. “ Oh please, don’t tell me you didn’t know. I really don’t want to hear that.”
“But–”
I shake my head. “You always know ,” I say, my voice wavering. “You just pretend not to.”
“Now hold o—” Naser is cut off as he gets up to intervene, with Anon grabbing him by the wrist and shaking his head.
Mom presses a hand to her temple like she’s trying to steady herself. “I didn’t come here to fight, I’m not here to protect him.” she says weakly.
“Then why did you come here?” I’m tired.
She hesitates.
Then, barely above a whisper—“To say I’m sorry.”
The words hang in the air, but they don’t feel like enough.
I glance at Naser, then Anon. He’s still watching, still waiting. His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away.
Samantha inhales sharply, clasping her hands together. “I failed you,” she says quietly. “All of you.” She glances between us, her beak quivering.
“I know I was never the best mother. Especially not during your teenage years. I knew I was always in my little world, trying to think everything around us was perfect. You were once my little pirate princess, running around the park in that cute uniform, and… it was all gone. I wanted to save what was left of us, try to keep myself occupied, and approach you as if you were still a child. But I couldn’t bear seeing you change.”
She sighs and continues. “When you ran away, I didn’t sleep. I barely cooked, and I felt like a part of me was gone. When I saw you all these years later, I nearly fell apart. Seeing you, alive ; it’s all I ever wanted.”
She sniffles and looks at me. “I thought at some point your father would see the same.” Her smile falters. “But last night, when he came home, he told me he found you. He knew I was keeping you from him. I told him the promise I kept for you, and he yelled at me for ‘aiding a criminal.’” She glances at Anon apologetically. “He left the house since then. Haven’t heard from him since.”
He’s… gone?
She then looks to Naser, who straightens his back and looks her in the eyes. “I should… also apologize to you, my dear boy. We pushed a lot onto you… held such a high standard, and ignored your youth in favor of a brighter future. We focused all our energy on you to be the best.” She sniffles. “I feel like we took your childhood away from you.” Oh no.
“Mom, no, come on. That’s not–”
“It is, Naser.” She snaps. “I knew what was going on for years. And I hid behind some… mask to make it seem like we were a good family. But it wasn’t. Even with you being a great student now, I feel like we’ve robbed you of… you.”
Naser just stares at her, before circling the bed and kneeling beside her in a wing hug. We both hug her tight, but one thing still bothers me. But before I get my thoughts together, she nudges us back.
She fully turns to face Anon.
“And I also want to apologize to you, Anon.” She slightly lowers her head. “When… I saw you two together that day, my worst fears came true. My little girl was still parading around the boy she fell in love with all those years ago and then broke her heart. When I saw you, I almost wanted to tear out your skin myself.” She dryly chuckles and looks to the ceiling.
“I was wrong. For everything that Ripley told me, I believed him. I thought you were the cause of everything. But over the past few months… my views have changed. You were never the bad guy, Anon. Just—misunderstood.”
“Naser called me earlier… he told me everything. I wanted to yell at Ripley. Wanted to yell at myself. I want to hate him for everything he’s done to you, Anon. But… I can’t. For the years we’ve stuck together, he’s been there for our family. He’s strict, he’s aggressive, but he’s also a father. He was always hot-headed, but—I… I just—don’t know what to do anymore.” She deflates.
Some father he’s become…
“I’m… sorry. For failing you. For not believing in you when I should have.”
A small silence falls again as Anon and I stare at her.
Then, his voice comes out low, rough. “Yeah.”
She turns to me with a determined look, but more like a… bad mask. “I… won’t ask you to forgive me,” she murmurs. “I just needed you to know.”
I swallow hard, my chest tight. God… what do I say?
“It’s not your fault, Sam.” Anon finally speaks.
She blinks, her expression changing to confusion.
Anon exhales, adjusting himself against the pillows. “I never held any hate for you,” he says. “You’ve always treated me with kindness.” His gaze flickers toward me, then back to her. “As I think Lucy should too.”
Wha–
I tense. My fists clench again, and I shake my head. “Anon—”
“You hold blame for her staying, ” he interrupts, his tone steady. “For choosing him. I can tell . ”
I scoff. “Yeah, because she did —”
“But she didn’t choose this. ” he says, cutting me off again.
…
Mom doesn’t say a word. Her hands have started to tremble…
Anon exhales again, slower this time. “It doesn’t change anything,” he admits. “It doesn’t make what happened okay. But she’s here.”
He smiles at her. “She came to see us, to make sure we’re okay and to apologize. She’s okay in my book.” He looks back to me. “As she should be in yours.”
I hate how much that stings. I want to forgive her. I do. But… I don’t know how.
“…I don’t know how to forgive you, for choosing to… stick by him.” I admit, my voice quieter now. “But I want to.”
Her eyes widen slightly, enough for me to see the yellow peek through her eyes.
I glance at Anon, then back at her. “I just need time.”
Mom swallows hard, nodding slowly. “Okay.” she whispers.
“She’s not wrong, you know.”
FUCK!
The sudden voice makes all three of us jump.
I whip my head toward the door, heart hammering, and see Dr. Violet standing there, leaning casually against the frame like she’s been there the whole damn time.
“Raptor fucking Christ, ” I exclaim, pressing a hand to my chest. “Were you just—standing there? Listening? ”
She shrugs, stepping inside. “Of course. You all were having such a riveting conversation. Would’ve been rude to interrupt.”
Anon and Naser groan, as Anon gestures Violet to Mom. “And this is our therapist, Dr. Violet.”
Violet chuckles, unfazed. “Oh, please, I’ve heard worse introductions.” She waves a hand dismissively before her sharp green eyes settle on Mom. “That was a nice thing you did, Mama Aaron. Took a lot of guts to come here.”
Mom shifts slightly, clearly thrown off by Violet’s presence. “I-I… appreciate that. I feel like I had to.”
Violet hums thoughtfully, folding her arms. “ Had to? Or wanted to?”
“B-both. I didn’t want them to… to disappear. Not again. I wanted them to know that I… I’m sorry.” She trails off.
Violet nods, as if she expected that answer. Then, she takes a chair and moves it to us before turning her attention to me; she asks, “Do you think it’s enough, Lucy?”
I blink and look at Mom. She looks at me with nervous fear in her eyes as if one wrong word would tear her apart.
“I—I don’t know. But… I know that for the past few months I’ve seen her, she’s somewhat… tried to help. I want things to be normal. Just to be seen as your daughter… Mom.” Fuck, I already feel the tears flowing from my eyes.
Mom lets out a breath she’d been holding and breaks into a quiet sob. We hug each other, embracing ourselves in our wings as I feel a wet spot drench my shoulder.
After a few quiet minutes, we let each other go with a small smile and a nod, as Violet goes to ask me another question.
“And what about him? ”
All the lost tension in the room was suddenly back in full force. I clench my hands into fists, anger building inside me. I don’t need her to clarify. I know who she’s talking about.
Mom flinches, her body going rigid. “Ripley’s not part of this,” she snaps, her voice sharper than before.
But Violet doesn’t back down. “Isn’t he?” she counters smoothly. “Because from where I’m standing, his shadow’s still looming over all of you.”
She isn’t wrong. We all lied to each other. To him. But he also fucked up, too.
“He attacked Anon, Doc.” I look at her in the eyes. “He busted into our door, called him slurs, tried to lecture me in front of our neighbors like I was a child! He’s nothing to me now. I don’t care how he feels—He is dead to me.” I flare my wings slightly as my hands tremble in anger.
But a hand is placed on my shoulder as I turn to see Anon shaking his head at me. I gotta calm down.
“Then I feel like he should be brought into our talks as well, yes?”
What?
“Are you crazy? Have him anywhere near us?! After everything? Why the fuck would we want anything from him?! He attacked us!”
“Then this is something he will have to bear consequences of. It’ll come in due time.” She turns to Mom. “Tell me, Samantha. How would you describe Ripley?”
Mom looks at her hands, then softly speaks. “He’s… brash. He was always a very outspoken person, always thought that he was the strongest or the best at his work. He even made commissioner.” She chuckles. “But before that, he used to think he was cool. Like those… those cool kids at school who thought breaking the rules was a way to get the ladies.”
No way. Him of all people?
“And what do you think changed him?”
She furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t know. Ever since we’ve gotten married, he’s become so close with the law, that it was like being with a whole new person. But I never complained. I… endeared it.”
Violet nods. “Do you believe that there are things in his life that made him change? Made him act the way he does in the household?”
Mom furrows her brows, before slowly shaking her head. “No… not that I can recall.
She nods and turns to Anon. “What about you, Anon? Do you feel like he’s gone?”
He scoffs. “No. Not in here.” He taps his temple. “I don’t think he ever will be.”
Violet’s expression softens. “That’s okay,” she says gently. “Healing isn’t about forgetting. It’s about learning to carry the weight differently. I wish to know, how was your relationship with him?”
“If you could even call it that. He’s hated my guts since I ever stepped foot into their house.”
“I got some background from Naser. If I recall, back in high school, Lucy–back then Fang–used to invite you to study; which is where you had most of your talks, yes?”
“Sure. Every time he’d stare daggers into my soul and threaten me with butting my head up on the wall if I did anything bad. I used to have nightmares about it.”
She nods and turns to Naser. “What about you, Naser? Penny for your thoughts?”
He leans back and puts his hands up. “He was always strict around both of us–more on Lucy than me–and kept command of the house. But I have nothing on the matter. This isn’t my place to pry. I… he did something despicable, yes. But there’s something there that I don’t understand about him. He’s always been a bit rowdy with us, but he did try to reason with us before, too. I just—maybe you’re right. He needs to be in a session with us.”
Violet nods before turning to me with a knowing smirk. “And Lucy— Captain Lucy —I’d say you handled that quite well.”
Anon wheezes with laughter. “Oh my god, she knows. ”
Oh, not another one…
She snickers, but her tone softens as she glances between me and Anon. “All jokes aside, I think this was a big step for both of you.” She tilts her head slightly, studying me. “Not just with your mom. But with yourselves.”
Anon hums, watching her carefully. “So, what, you’re just making hospital rounds now?”
Violet smirks. “Something like that. Naser was supposed to come today for a session, but called me about the situation. He let me know you were here, figured I’d check in before your actual discharge.” She crosses her arms. “Speaking of which, how’s the head? Still feeling like a bomb went off in it?”
Anon scoffs. “Which time?”
She snorts, shaking her head. “Fair enough.”
There’s a moment of quiet where she just watches the three of us, her expression thoughtful. Then, after a beat, she nods. “You’re lucky,” she says, her voice softer now. “Not just because you made it through all this, but because you have people. And whether or not you want to admit it, Anon, you need them.”
Anon doesn’t respond right away. His fingers tap idly against the blanket, his gaze flickering toward me for just a second before he exhales. “…Yeah,” he mutters. “I know.”
We fall into a small quiet talks. How Anon was doing, his new job, the new apartment. Ever so slowly Mom started to lose tension in her shoulders and talk normally. But I could see she was putting up some type of facade.
I love her. She’s my Mom. She’ll always be in my heart. But Dad…
“—and you just have to see some of her baby photos! Oh, she was such a precious flapling!”
Wait what?
“Mom! What are you telling them?!”
She giggles and shrugs. “Nothing, dear! Just reminiscing.”
“Wow, Luce. You really were into the whole pirate thing from birth, huh?”
Mom chuckles, clearly enjoying herself now. “Oh, yes. Every day after school. She had this little plastic sword and a paper hat she made herself. She’d run around the house shouting, ‘Captain Lucy commands the seas!’”
Oh god…
“Mooooom .” I groan and hide myself in my wings. I cannot deal with this right now.
“Nothing wrong with it. I honestly think Captain Lucy has a good ring to it.” Violet hums.
I hear them both cackle to themselves. Fuckers.
Mom nods, her grin growing wider. “And don’t forget the glitter. She insisted pirates needed glitter to ‘dazzle their enemies.’”
Oh, GOD.
Anon wheezes, clutching his side. “ Dazzle their enemies! Jesus, Lucy.”
I lift my head just enough to glare at both of them, my face burning. “I was six .”
Mom’s laughter softens into a warm smile as she looks at me. “You were always so determined. Even back then.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah.”
Anon leans back against the pillows, still chuckling under his breath. “Man, I wish I’d known you back then. I would’ve totally joined your pirate crew.”
I smirk, nudging his arm gently. “Yeah? You think you could’ve handled it?”
“You should’ve seen me as a kid. I was probably worse.” He chuckles.
“Something worse than those anime photos?” I slyly grin at him, leaning back in my chair.
He groans and swipes a hand down his face. “You really wanna know?”
I tilt my head and smile wider. “Go oooon~.”
He speaks slowly. “When I was a kid, I used to dress up as Zoro from One Piece .”
…
Nooooo fucking waaay.
I blink. Then a slow, wide grin spreads across my face, whipping my head between Mom and him.
“Lucy, ple-”
But I ignore his plea and immediately howl. Doubling over and clutching my stomach. Oh, this adorable fucking DWEEB.
I manage to calm down and wipe a tear from my eye. “Okay. Okay. Whew. I’m fine. Ooooh fuck.”
“Who’s Zoro?” Mom asks. Right, she doesn’t understand anything anime related. I barely do, thanks to Stella and this dweeb.
“Just some character from a show I used to watch. A Japanese cartoon show.” He rubs his neck.
“Well, come on then! Tell me everything. Did you really dress up in the full getup?” I lean in.
He smiles and shakes his head. “Green bandana, plastic swords— three of them, mind you. I’d stick one in my mouth and everything.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was,” he groans, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Used to run around the neighborhood like that, trying to fight trees and shit.”
Mom’s laughing now, too, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s adorable.”
“It was not adorable,” Anon grumbles. “I looked like an idiot. But hey, I thought I was the coolest kid on the block.”
I let out a giggle. “I need to see pictures.”
“Ah… right. Pictures.” His smile is gone…
“You alright?” I put a hand on his.
“Yeah. Just—I never really had my family take pictures. We never really went out a lot. Was always just me, a few pals, and their families whenever my parents didn’t want me around the house.”
Jesus…
“W-well, I think you two would’ve been quite the pair if you were here.” Mom chimes in, trying to alleviate the tension.
Anon glances at me, his smile softening. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I think we would’ve.”
I meet his gaze, and my heart does that annoying little flutter thing it always does when he looks at me.
Violet clears her throat. “Well, today was definitely interesting. It’s rare I ever have to go out to see my students.”
Naser chimes in. “Students?”
“Well, officially, yes. But unofficially, I’m here of my own volition. It’s rare that you have to cancel a visit, Naser, and I care about those who do visit. I’m always available. Even if its out of school grounds.”
That’s… actually really nice of her.
Mom sighs and smiles. “Thank you for taking care of my children, doctor. Today was… helpful.”
Violet shakes her head and waves dismissively. “Your son has been overly helpful around campus and astounding in student government. This is the least I could do as thanks. And as it stands, you all have some hurdles to get through. Not just with Ripley, but with each other, too.” She flicks her eyes between Anon and me.
She claps and stands up. “So! It was interesting to hear your stories and thoughts on the current matters at hand, but I’m afraid our time is up. The next time we meet, I hope we can have the patriarch with us; it could help bridge some things together.”
We all hesitate at first, but nod to her as she smiles and leads herself out the door. Small talk is made, usually for plans and such. But looking outside, it was starting to be late. Eventually, Mom shifts in her seat, straightening up slightly as she glances at the clock. “I should go, the sun is settling and I cannot stand the cold.” she murmurs.
“Let me take you home, Mom. It was probably hell getting here in the first place.” Naser goes to stand up, then stops. “Wait… how about you stay over at my place? You said Dad wasn’t there. Are you sure you want to be there right now?”
She sighs, “I know. But I need to be there when he gets back, if he isn’t there already. We need to have a big talk.” Her eyebrows furrow. “A very big one.”
Oh boy…
Naser slowly nods. “Point taken. Alright.” He turns to me and Anon. “Lucy, I’m guessing you’re staying?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Is this a trick question?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Alright, no problem. I’ll be in touch then. Now come here.” He stretches his arms out, stepping forward to give me a hug which I gladly return. As we part he looks to Anon and nods. “You stay safe now. I don’t want any more panicked phone calls about you from now on.”
Anon gives a fake surrender, “No promises.”
With a few more words exchanged, Naser and Mom head for the door. But something is still bugging me. I just… I need to know.
“Mom, wait.” I call out. She turns to me, tilting her head. “I want to ask you something… just us for a sec?”
I look to Naser, hoping he understands. “Alright. Mom, I’ll pull the car up to the curb. Take your time.”
I pull Mom to the side. Her brows knit together, following me a few steps away from Anon’s bedside, just out of earshot.
I lick my lips, shifting in place, suddenly unsure of how to phrase what I want to ask. Fuck I hate this…
“What… what are you going to do now?” I finally settle on, keeping my tone as neutral as I can.
Mom’s expression falters slightly, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse. She knows exactly what I mean.
She inhales, exhales, then shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
I don’t know what answer I was expecting, but the uncertainty in her voice makes my stomach sink.
She forces a small, brittle smile. “I want to believe he’ll just… leave things alone.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And if he doesn’t?”
She glances toward the door, toward the hallway beyond it, then back at me. “...I’ll figure it out.”
That’s not exactly reassuring…
I cross my arms, trying to gauge how much of that she actually believes. But I see it in her face—the exhaustion, the quiet fear —and I realize she’s just as unsure as I am.
Something bitter claws at the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. Now’s not the time.
I nod, exhaling slowly. “Okay.”
Mom studies me carefully, as if trying to read between the lines of what I’m not saying.
Her features soften slightly, and she reaches out, placing a tentative hand on my arm. “Take care of yourself, Lucy.”
I glance down at her hand, then back up at her. “Yeah,” I mutter. “You too.”
We give each other a small hug before stepping back and turning out towards the hallway, and just like that, it’s me and Anon.
I exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down my face before looking over at him.
He raises an eyebrow. “You good?”
I snort. “Not even close.”
He chuckles, shifting slightly under the blankets. “Same.”
I shake my head, exhaustion settling in my bones as I stretch. “You kicking me out?”
He huffs a laugh. “Wouldn’t dare.”
“Good,” I mutter, walking around to the other side of the bed. “Scoot.”
Anon raises an eyebrow but obliges, shifting over to make room. I settle in next to him, adjusting the blanket as I get comfortable.
Neither of us speak much after that. There’s just the quiet hum of the hospital room, and the soft beeping of the monitors. Whatever we bring up almost immediately dies. The mood feels sour, so the only thing we can do is be in each other's presence.
I watch as his breathing slows, his eyelid growing heavy. He fights it for a bit, but exhaustion wins in the end. His breath evens out. His body relaxes.
I stay awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling. Eventually, my eyes flutter shut.
___________
A sharp cold wakes me.
I shift under the blanket, instinctively reaching for warmth—for him.
My fingers grasp at nothing.
My eyes snap open, adjusting to the dark. I move the covers away from me and notice the bed completely empty.
Gone.
My breath hitches. A cold spike of panic shoots through my stomach as my drowsy mind catches up.
I sit up, scanning the dimly lit hospital room. Everything is where it should be—the chair by the bed, the soft glow of the monitors, the distant hum of activity from the hallway.
Everything except him.
Oh no. Nonononono, he escaped again. He fucking ran. I gotta find him. I turn sharply, eyes darting toward the door, but it’s still shut.
Where is…?
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I catch a glimpse at something on the floor. I lean forward, taking a closer look. Is that… blood? I follow the trail with my eyes across the room and notice the bathroom light is on, with the door slightly open.
I slip out of bed quietly, my bare feet barely making a sound against the cold floor. My pulse pounds in my ears as I creep toward the door, my fingers hovering over it for just a second before pushing it open.
The light stings my tired eyes for a moment, but when they adjust, I see him.
Anon stands in front of the mirror, his back to me, his hands gripping the sink with a white-knuckled grip. His shoulders are tense, his posture rigid, like he’s bracing himself against something.
His lips are moving. Whispers. I can’t see his reflection fully from where I stand, but the eerie stillness of his body makes something in me tighten.
I take a slow step forward. “Anon?”
He doesn’t react. It’s like he doesn’t even hear me.
A shiver crawls up my spine, but I push forward, stepping deeper into the bathroom. “Anon.” I say again, firmer this time.
Slowly, like something out of a nightmare, his eye flicks up in the mirror, locking onto my reflection.
The expression on his face makes my stomach drop. It’s… empty. What’s happened to you? Oh my poor baby.
I swallow, reaching out, brushing my fingers against his wrist. His body jerks slightly, his grip on the sink loosening as if my touch had snapped him back into reality. His breath comes out shallow and uneven, and for a moment, he just stares at me—like he’s struggling to process where he is.
I don’t push. I don’t ask what he was saying. I just take his wrist gently, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Nonny? Honey? It’s okay. Come back to bed.”
He doesn’t move right away. His fingers twitch against the porcelain. I look down at his arm where his IV should be. The blood stopped flowing. Thank god. I open the sink and cup water over his arm, slowly rubbing the faint redness into the drain. As I finish, I look into his eye. Silently pleading to get him to move. His eye flickers toward the mirror one last time before, finally, he nods.
I guide him back toward the bed, our steps slow, careful. He moves like his body is heavy, like he’s dragging himself through molasses. We settle back under the covers, but his body is still tense, his breathing still shallow.
After a long silence, I feel his body slowly, finally relax beside me. His breaths even out.
But I stay awake. Watching. Waiting. Worry keeps me awake until my body gives out, and sleep takes me in again.