Angel landed on the lawn, folding his wings at his back. The overgrown grass came up to his thighs. The sun already set, casting everything in the blackish blue light of dusk. He pulled in his wings, the pressure stung for a second as they separated his skin, sliding inside.

The light brown cabin seemed to sink, lopsided into the lawn. Shingles blown off the roof, scattered amongst the grass. The crack in the front window twisted a jagged diagonal trail from bottom to the top. Packing tape patched it like scattered bandages.

He took the black shirt from the back pocket of his jeans and slipped it on, hastily fastening the buttons. Angel approached his childhood home. The still fresh wound in his chest panged and the weight of dread sat like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

I hope he hasn’t heard yet. Maybe there’s a chance we could have a nice dinner, but what are the odds?

Angel steeled himself. The pealing white door opened with ease and he stepped inside. Though all the lights were on, a sort of darkness lingered, deepening the shadows. The warm, spiced scent of steak frying on the stove wafted from the kitchen. Fat crackled and spat in the pan.

“In here,” Julian called.

Angel obeyed, walking through the living-room to get to the kitchen. The curtains over the broken window were drawn. No one sat on the sunken brown couch, but the television displayed a black and white war documentary. Old timey guns popped off through the echoing speaker.

Julian stood at the stove, flipping a steak over in the pan to a loud hiss of oil. He turned to look as Angel entered the room, hard brown eyes evaluated him. His lips pursed into a thin line beneath a coarse dark beard.

“Sorry it took so long for me to come over,” Angel said, examining the buttons on the front of his shirt. “I was busy cleaning from the party. Time got away from me.”

“Uh huh.” Julian turned back to the stove. His shoulders raised. Each movement and shuffle of the meat in the pan was stiff and measured. “Nothing you want to tell me?”

Electricity snapped around Julian like a hum in the air, bristling the hairs on Angel’s forearm. His heart quickened.

Angel smiled, though his voice faltered. “Depends, what have you heard?”

“Don’t be cute,” he growled, rounding on Angel. His eyes bored a hole. Angel shifted in place. “Stabbed? Angel, really?”

“It wasn’t so bad -”

“What’s that, then?” Julian pointed to the bandage coiled around Angel’s left forearm.

Angel rolled down his sleeves. “It’s nothing, just a little disagreement. It’s been resolved.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Alice cover for you again?”

“Yeah, but I’ll pay him back.”

“Hmm. It never ends with you.” Julian gripped the edge of the stove, hunched up and knuckles whitening. Rage hardly contained in muscles strung tight with tension.

Angel’s heart raced. Sweat pooled on the back of his neck. His fingernails dug into his palm.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough!” Julian bellowed, whirling to face him again with eyes ablaze. The spatula flew from the pan in a hale of grease and meat.

“What do you want me to do then? Grovel?” Angel snapped. “I said I’m sorry. It’s not like I died or something, what more do you want?”

The burly man approached like a boulder shifting. Angel caught a whiff of beer on his breath and pressed close to the counter, feeling the hard lip dig into the base of his spine. Blood pounded in his temples. Every ounce of concentration was spent on maintaining eye contact.

Don’t look away.

“Grow up,” Julian demanded. “You can’t keep living like this forever. Do you have a death wish? What if Ivy heard?”

Not this shit again.

“She doesn’t care what happens here so long as we don’t make trouble on the mainland,” Angel insisted. “I doubt she gives a fuck if some asshole stabs me over a-hundred bucks. I’m sure she has much better things to do.”

“A- hundred dollars?” Julian exclaimed, his eyes widening. “What the fuck were you thinking gambling that much when you can’t even buy groceries?”

“I thought it was a sure thing.” Angel shrugged, shifting his weight. “I figured I’d make it back.”

"You wouldn’t need to gamble for a quick buck if you’d stop drinking, pissing all your money away -”

Angel clenched his jaw, curling his fist at his side.

Julian laughed. “You think you’re going to hit me?” He stepped closer and Angel flinched. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not the only one that’s been drinking,” Angel said, looking toward the empty cans on the countertop.

“I get to!” Julian snarled, jabbing a finger at Angel’s chest.

Angel flinched away from each prod, the edge of the counter burrowing further into his back. Each push throbbed pain into the stab wound through his shoulder. The bandage became moist, new blood dampening the material beneath his shirt.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“There’s never a moment’s peace with you. Ember and I had plans for this place.” Bitter tears shimmered in Julian’s eyes.

This was the only time Angel ever heard Julian speak of his mother - when he was absolutely piss drunk, but still, he clung to every word. The steak sizzled in the frying pan, the fat withering away into a hardened ball of charred meat. Smoke began to rise.

“If only she could see you now,” Julian continued, eyes narrowing to pin pricks of accusation.

Angel's heart lodged in the bottom of his throat, choking him. Burnt meat permeated the air in a scent of blackened gristle. Julian's energy filled the room. Cold disappointment and dark pits of dejection. He'd heard it all before. Julian usually apologized later - but this time, Angel felt his father meant every single word.

“Fuck you,” Angel spat. The edges of his vision darkened. “How the hell am I supposed to know what she would think? You won’t tell me a damn thing about her.”

“You’re too much like her. Reckless and selfish. Never appreciating a damn thing I do for you.” Julian reached into an overhead cabinet to grab a pair of blue and white plates. He plunked them onto the counter with a hollow clatter.

What have you ever done for me you drunk piece of shit?

“Hmm,” said Angel, feigning amusement and examined a silver ring on his finger. “In that case, it sounds like we’d have gotten along great.”

Julian turned back to the steak. It was charred and shriveled to a husk. “Fuck, now look what you’ve done!” He ripped the pan from the burner, thrusting it to the back of the stove.

“Me?” Angel demanded. “You’re the idiot that turned away from it. How’s that my fault?”

“You should have warned me.” Julian turned the burner off. The coils were still red hot. “Now what?”

“What do you mean?” Angel moved toward the archway. “I’m going to see Nyx, that’s what.”

“Sure, sure, run away,” Julian chastised, voice rising. “Go on. You think she hasn’t heard? You think she’s going to put up with your shit forever?”

Angel stiffened, heart pounding. A terrible voice told him that his father was right. He stopped and turned to face him.

Trembling from head to toe, Angel clenched his fists, bracing himself against his own heart beat. Boiling rage flooded a warmth into his chest like fire, the same as when he had been fighting Timmy the night before, but he still could not place the feeling. It was different from the usual anger gnawing away from the inside. This was something else.

“Maybe not forever, but I think tonight should be fine.”

What is this strange feeling? It can’t just be adrenaline…

A plate hit the wall beside him, showering glass onto the floor. Angel flinched out of the way before his brain could even process what had happened. Heart still in his throat, pounding blood into his temples, he looked at his father.

The shattering of glass had been so loud the silence between them now was thunderous. Chunks of blue and white ceramic shards scattered at Angel’s feet. A chill settled into his body and he trembled, shivering like he could never be warm.

Julian’s ruddy face had gone pale, starring at him with wide, horrified eyes. “Angel I’m -”

“Don’t.” He kicked a thick ceramic shard out of the way and headed for the door. His hands shook. Warmth returned and his vision throbbed, darkness nearly eclipsing his sight.

It wasn’t the first plate Julian had ever thrown at him, not even close, but his words stung.

I deserve it. He’s right. I’m useless.

Julian followed, grabbing Angel by the elbow once they reached the porch. The war movie played on. He wrenched his arm away, rounding on him.

“Fuck off, just let me -”

“Angel, please, I didn’t mean it.” He looked up at him with tears pooling in his eyes. “I - I lost my temper. You know how I get when you push me like that.”

“I do,” Angel said, his voice even and dark.

Oh yes, I do.

“I care about you. I wouldn’t have to be so harsh if you’d just -”

“I need to go,” Angel whispered. “It’s getting late. Nyx will wonder where I am.”

Julian dropped his eyes. “Yes, you better go then.”

Angel didn’t wait any longer and marched outside, his body quaking. He ground his teeth. Now outside, the brisk night air cooled his cheeks. His chest heaved. Pain throbbed into the wound with each breath. The bandages were wet and cold with old blood now. He stripped off his shirt to spread his wings. The tension in his shoulders released as they unfurled.

With a few flaps, the air embraced him. The brisk wind rose goosebumps along his exposed skin. He spiraled higher until the island was laid out beneath. The lights of Happsburg sparkled across the other side of the water. The distance between the island and the mainland was covered by an afternoon ferry ride. Usually, the view would ease his mind, but the thoughts raced on.

The village below seemed so tranquil. At one time it was a thriving fishing village, before it was abandoned. Then it became a beacon of hope, almost a thing of myth, for mutants seeking refuge from the exploitation of the old Academy. After the war, more mutants uninterested in living amongst humans found their homes here too until the once dilapidated shacks and cabins had been completely resurrected.

The cabins gathered in clusters along the eastern shore. Some formed a warren of interlaced streets punctuated by community gardens, while others lined the beaches with long wharfs extending into the sea.

Farmland and dense boreal forest sprawled out in the south. The beaches and port lied between the nest of cottages and the village-core.

It was tempting to land by the sea in the usual spot behind the rocks, hidden from the road and the rest of the public beach. He and the triplets spent many days and nights there, telling their darkest secrets and every worry on their shoulders. Everything seemed to wash away with the waves. Not this time.

I keep fucking up, and now even Nyx is fed up with me.

Angel spiraled higher until he skated above the clouds. No longer obstructed, a multitude of stars dazzled above him. No matter how many times he’d seen them, he’d never grow tired of it. He wanted nothing more than to share this view with her.

Nyx claimed to hate flying this high, but when she’d agree to it, her eyes lit up with wonder and fear. Her arms would tighten around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck, but she’d still peek out, squealing with delight. He’d promise never to let her go.

I always let her down.

Gradually, he sunk lower. His cabin came into view and he circled, preparing to land. The wind whistled in his ears, whipping his hair back. The earth came up to greet him. His feet hit the dirt with a thump and sharp exhale of breath. It was never a delicate process.

Angel pulled his wings in, not bothering to tug his shirt back on. The little blue cabin was dark. He made his way inside to get his guitar. The emptiness inside was a far cry from the bustling party from last night. It had taken most of the day to get the cabin back in order even with Alistair’s help.

Now the house sat in silence - or as close to silence as it could ever be with the electricity zinging in the walls. It crossed his mind to trip the breaker just for some true quiet. Even then, that would be impossible. Something, somewhere, was always making a sound.

He climbed the steep stairs to the bedroom. The only one in the house. The space was so small, the double bed took up most of it, leaving only enough room for his dresser and guitars. Three acoustics propped up on stands, while two electrics hung on the walls. The only other decoration being a string of polaroid's Cassie took. They showed himself with Nyx, Alistair or both. Most were taken by surprise, so they were less than flattering, but he kept them all.

The ruby red guitar glistened in the soft light from the window and he plucked it down, taking it into his arms. He pulled the strap over his shoulder then left to find Nyx.