Cassia loved the color green. She made crowns out of lilies, and handed them out to strangers during holiday seasons. She claimed that everyone was pretty, and told them so, even if they’d never met her before. Sage has many fond memories of Cassia, and it’s hard to choose a favorite. There’s the memory of Cassia running through the sprinkler as Sage chased her, giggling and splashing, squealing when Sage grabbed her and swung her through the air. She was never very heavy. There’s a memory of teaching Cassia the song that never ends, and then following Rio around and singing it to irritate him. Every year for her birthday, Cassia insisted on homemade cakes, and always wanted to help bake them.

Cassia would be fifteen years old today. There’s no reason to assume she wouldn’t have grown up to be just as compassionate as she was as a child. In the four years she was alive, she colored on the walls and called herself ugly because a white woman had told her so. She had hair like Sage's, thick ringlets that couldn’t be brushed without getting frizzy. In the end, her childish curiosity was her downfall. After her death, she was buried in a pod, and planted with a tree. When Sage dies, they hope to become a tree too.

It’s the middle of the night. Sage has never traveled alone, and it makes them nervous. It’s one thing to drive across the state on your own. Flying across the world by yourself is intimidating and stressful, and Sage hasn’t left the airport yet. They saved money for nine or ten months to afford their own plane tickets, despite offers from their parents to help. There’s something satisfying about providing for yourself, especially as a teenager still living at home.

Sage has never been out this late. They check in with their parents often: but their fathers are busy men, and make Sage wait for conversation. Aspen, who begged to come along, tells Sage to update her often. Airplanes give Sage anxiety. They keep to themself, and never sit by the window if they can help it. Once getting through security and finding their gate, Sage removes the notebook from their suitcase and works on a song. Recently, someone online suggested Sage make merchandise. People buy clothing they like the style of, even if they don’t understand what it means. If consumers relate to you as a person, they’re more likely to support you. Sage isn’t artistic. Creating merchandise is a good idea in theory, but Sage would have no idea where to start.

They’ve only been on a plane once before: the day they moved. Just over ten hours long, this flight had seemed endless. When Sage catches the plane tonight, they’ll arrive in fifteen hours.

This is my big sibling, Sage, Cassia would announce to strangers who didn’t ask, They’re not my sister or my brother. As pure as she was, Cassia forced people to pay attention to Sage, and this embarrassed them. She didn’t know any better. Cassia loved Sage, and little children don’t really understand how to be politically correct.

Planes are crowded and noisy. With a large pair of over-ear headphones, Sage manages to fall asleep.

When Cassia was born, Sage was three years old, and they watched her birth. All of Surya’s children were born at home, with the assistance of only his husband. Sage isn’t scarred by watching their father give birth. They hardly remember it. Like everyone else, they always doted on Cassia.

When Sage arrives in Amsterdam, their feet are asleep. Large spaces make Sage anxious, and none of the airport directions make sense. Rio, who helped Sage arrange the trip, promised to pick them up. He’s just as busy as he’s always been, and never responds to their text messages. He was never very good at it. He waits in his car outside the airport, playing a game on a handheld console, wearing the same orange toghu he wore at his high school graduation. Sage is tired, and a little anxious. It’s not a long drive to Rio’s house from here. Sage was too nervous to drive themself.

“Sup, loser.”

Before Rio moved out, one of Sage's favorite things to do was to stand in his bedroom door, hovering outside the door frame until he shouted at them to get out of his room. I’m not in your room! Sage would shout back, before laughing and running off. Rio hated this game. When Cassia got old enough to understand, she would play too.

There’s a glass with a straw in the cup holder between the seats. Amani taught the children how to make njangsa drink years ago. Somehow, Sage always gets it wrong.

“I think you got uglier since I saw you last.”

Although lots of people like body mods, Sage has never liked them. When Rio split his tongue, it got badly infected and took longer to heal than it should have - but, despite the pain and complications that can come with body modifications, Rio won’t stop getting them done. He sticks out his tongue at Sage, starting the car noisily. He always wants to be the center of attention. “I’m surprised you got on the right plane and didn’t get lost.”

Sage is eager to see the city. They look out the window as they travel, and the trip seems to take forever.

Rio wears a wedding band. Thick and black, it looks out of place on him. He always speeds on the highway, even when Sage yells at him to slow down. Loosen up, he says, I’ve never gotten into an accident before. This is a stupid argument. Rio has never done a lot of things. This doesn’t mean they can never happen.

“How much did you have to pay Ivo to marry you?” Sage has never met their brother’s husband before. It feels abnormal to say the words brother and husband in the same sentence. “I imagine that’s the only reason he’d agree.”

They should have brought an extra drink. One water bottle doesn’t last long, and they’d rather die than share a drink with Rio. He smiles: the scar at the corner of his mouth curling up. The scar has been there as long as Sage can remember. It’s been too long to remember what it’s from. Girls think scars make men look badass and attractive. At least, this is what Aspen says. “Please. He’s the one who’d be paying me.” Sometimes, Sage isn’t sure Rio is as confident as he pretends to be. People cover up insecurities with humor and superficial conversation, trying to seem like they have their lives together. No one wants to be seen as imperfect by someone else. Sage's parents say social media has a lot to do with this. It’s hard not to compare yourself to others. But if Rio has insecurities, he does a very good job of hiding them.

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

Sage tries to pretend it doesn’t matter what others think of them. And when it comes to strangers, maybe this is true. A pair of black strappy shoes sit on the floor at their feet. It wouldn’t be out of character for Rio to wear heels out of the house, but these definitely wouldn’t fit him. “Whose shoes are these?”

Their father is checking in. They have no idea what time it is back home.

When Sage was younger, they learned how to make vegetarian ndole. Amani prepares it with seaweed and seitan, and serves it to friends and coven members who come to visit. Everyone raves about Sage's parents’ food, even white people who think it will be too spicy. In middle school, Sage refused to take their parents’ food to school, because it smelled weird, and because classmates made fun of them. This hurt their parents’ feelings, but they never said anything.

Rio glances over. “My girlfriend, Sofie’s. She forgot them in here.”

It’s breezy. Sage's window is down, blowing cold air onto their face. According to the signs on the side of the road, they’re nearly at their destination. “You’ve been here two months. You have a girlfriend already?”

“I told you.” Rio turns into the city, glancing sideways at Sage, “People love me.”

Sage rolls their eyes. “You’re so stupid. Acchan and Papa gave you too much attention growing up.” They speak slowly. Sage's thoughts sometimes move faster than their mouth, and words catch on the way out. When Rio has no good comeback in an argument, he mocks their stutter.

Would you mock a stranger’s stutter? That’s kind of rude, don’t you think?

Obviously I wouldn’t. You’re my sibling, so you’re an exception.

“Here’s my house,” says Rio, parking in front of a yellowish bungalow. Sage wonders how he could afford it. Being a child of two doctors means having parents who are always willing and able to help out financially, but feeling a sense of satisfaction and pride in not needing to ask for assistance. “Don’t be too loud. Ivo’s sleeping.” He doesn’t wait for Sage before going inside. Sage always feels out of place.

It’s early evening. Sage only naps when they’re sick.

Sage follows Rio into the house, which is still full of moving boxes. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” An altar sits in the corner of the living room, covered in gemstones and candles.

“What?”

Sage gestures. “Getting married. Moving overseas for someone else. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly the commitment type.” Sometimes, they say something that sounds just like their father. Maybe this is just a part of getting older. Maybe Sage would understand if they knew what being in love felt like.

There’s a kitten in the kitchen, running back and forth chasing a toy. It rubs against Sage's legs, meowing briefly before running off again.

“I didn’t move overseas for someone else.” Rio makes a sandwich out of onions, cheese, and potato. For a brief period in high school, this is all he ate. “I moved overseas because I’m adventurous, and I get bored.” His hair is too long, and seems to always be in the way. There’s no artwork on the walls. This makes the house look plain and impersonal.

In Florida, Rio was always in search of danger. He seeked it out almost every time he left the house, and often ended up dragging Sage into danger, too. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” Sage's intention for this visit was not to lecture their brother about big life choices. He loves to lecture people. Maybe he should learn what it feels like. “You get bored. What happens when you get bored of Ivo? I bet you didn’t even think that far ahead. You never do.”

“Don’t be surprised if Ivo isn’t super nice to you,” Rio said a couple weeks ago, when he and Sage were planning their visit, “he doesn’t trust anyone except for me.”

It’s not an ugly house, but Sage would never admit this. It’s certainly larger and cleaner than Sage expected. All of the doors are open except one. Rio pulls a drink from the refrigerator, and doesn’t offer one to Sage. “Jesus, you spend too much time with Papa. I’m pretty sure, if I was going to get bored of him, I would have done it already.” It’s hard to tell if he’s offended or not. Though it’s not likely, Sage can’t help feeling anxious. “I’ll have you know that I love my husband.”

Sage wrinkles their nose. “That’s kind of gay.”

He never laughs at their jokes, even if he wants to. It’s the job of a sibling to pretend you’re the most insufferable person who ever existed. “Shut up, nerd.” Rio takes a large liquor bottle from a cupboard, and fills a tall glass. “Want a drink?” Amani would tell them not to speak to each other like this. He has two younger brothers, and was never close with them.

There’s a closed door at the end of a hallway, from which a light shines underneath. Maybe, Sage will go their entire trip without seeing Ivo once.

The bathroom is very small. A calendar hangs on the wall, which Sage finds unusual. Random dates are labeled with unspecified times, and they make Sage curious.

There’s a ten hour difference between Alaska and the Netherlands. At home, Sage always goes to bed early. They’ll be away for six days, and might not even have time to adjust to the time change before returning home. “Am I old enough to drink here?” Sage has only just thought of this. Although their fathers allow them to drink at home under supervision, the men have strict rules around alcohol - specifically Amani, who practiced Christianity until meeting his husband, and still holds onto some of his old beliefs.

“You have to be careful when you drink,” Surya tells his children, “because if you’re not, you can hurt yourself or someone else.” Sage's fathers are responsible men. It must be exhausting to be so put-together all the time.

“Yeah, but who cares, anyway.” There’s a small, plastic bowl on the floor, and a small litter box in the corner of the living room. Sage always liked dogs more than cats. They sit beside Rio, suddenly feeling shy.“What is that, anyway?”

Sage's suitcase still sits in the front entry. Rio hasn’t assigned them a room yet, and probably won’t until they ask. “Jenever. I guess it’s kind of like vodka. You can have some if you want.”

Maybe Sage is just too young, but they’ve never really seen the appeal in alcohol. Supposedly, it makes events more fun, and it helps the socially anxious become more comfortable. But it causes problems, and can ruin people’s lives if they’re not careful. Sage has never been interested in taking risks.

Ivo stands in the hallway. He says nothing to Sage, and maybe doesn’t even know they’re there. Rio said he was pretty. It’s hard to imagine what people look like without seeing them.

“Sup, Four Eyes,” Rio says, drinking from his glass. “Sage is here. I know you hate people, but can you try to be nice to them, please?”

Sage doesn’t know what to expect. Their father says it’s important to be patient with people, but this is easier said than done. They adjust themselves on the couch, petting the kitten when it jumps up next to them. “Hi, Ivo.” He can be unpredictable, and this puts Sage on edge. They don’t want to say too much, because they never know how people will react to their stutter. Some people don’t bat an eye. Others put Sage on the spot, and make everything worse.

Ivo acknowledges no one. When the kitten rubs against his legs, he picks it up, and then carries it silently down the hallway to his bedroom.