Work Text:
Be Rufioh:
You freeze up when you see your dad has guests over. It's brief and you relax into your persona fairly easily, but the entire time they're in your vision, from the time you enter the living room from the hallway to the time you're back in the kitchen gulping down one of the faygos Gamzee dropped off for you, your back burns.
Your shirt is off and your dad never has a problem with it, even when you guys do have visitors because most of them are just old friends of his or guys you grew up with so it's nothing they haven't seen before, and you don't mind so much that Sainath is there, and he can see the scars on your back and the tremble to your muscles as you fight to stay calm. You think that if it were just Sainath there, you wouldn't have to force yourself to remain calm. There's a new man here though, someone that Sainath introduces as his romantic partner and your dad looks so purely delighted that you actually forget about the pain for a moment. Just one moment though, because then the burning comes back when you stand to leave them to catch up. You can feel the eyes staring at your scars, staring at every curvature of the wings as you've so named them. They do look like wings too, pushing out around your shoulder blades and then again towards your lower back. They're so big and on anyone else you'd say they were beautiful, but on you they only burn and remind you of who's wings they are. Tavros' wings. Your little brother's angelic little wings.
It's hard to breathe that night, especially when your dad comes in and apologies so many times for not telling you people were over, for letting one slip up ruin a one month streak that you had going. One month without guilt, without pain and without reflecting back on your baby brother with disappointment eating at your heart. It's hard to breathe when he tells you that you can get through it all, and it's hard to breathe when he tells you he's just in the other room if you need him. It's hard to breathe the whole time but you never once let it show. You just smile the way you have been, small and collected and plastered on like Kurloz's face paint. You just smile and manage to say good night to your dad and fall asleep before your thoughts can catch up to you again.
You know you can get through it all. You know that, like with Horuss, this guilt and pain will one day fade or maybe only dull, because unlike with breaking up with Horuss, nobody was hurt. Not physically. And even now, almost two years later, Horuss is happily dating again, and with a Leijon at that. You know him and Meulin weren't exactly on the best of terms anymore despite being so close before, but him and Nepeta hit it off so well. You've seen them interact. They look so happy together when they curl up around each other at Christmas dinners and Halloween parties, dressed as cats or horses or just as some common interest they share. They're so cute together, so indulgent and active and it's really so much healthier for him than you ever could have been.
You try to hold on to that feeling, to those memories. You really do. But as you're drifting off to sleep, your fears and your guilt get ahold of you and consume your dreams.
♉
You don't remember much about the start of the day. It sucks. It really does. You hate that you can't remember why you guys were out or what made you guys want to go out, but you remember it being such a great day up until you're ready to go home. You can still remember the joy filling up your chest and the way Tavros smiled so innocent and carefree, and it just hurts to think about now despite how good it makes you feel remembering it.
You remember the crash though. You remember the excitement of wanting to get home to your dad, to show him that you could drive on your own, that you were responsible and that you could do things on your own. You could show him that you could manage money and show him the things you bought him and Tavros and you remember just wanting to make him proud of you, to have him see you as an equal. You honestly didn't realize he already did by that point in your life.
You were young. You were seventeen and young and stupid, and you let your excitement cloud your vision. You ran a red light while talking to Tav and he warned you just a little too late for you to step on the brakes. You were hit. Badly. You car was completely wrecked and you still don't have another one because of it. You're too afraid to get into one again and your dad decided to start commuting on the bus or walking after how bad it looked, after how bad the two of you looked. The other car hit his side, so Tavros got the brunt of the force from the impact, but you were the one who felt the flames licking at you skin and burning this memory permanently into your mind. You were the one who bled and burned trying to save him, trying to get him out even though that was likely the reason why he became paralyzed. Because you were trying to be a hero instead of waiting, instead of talking to him, keeping him awake, keeping him alive in a much more safer way than what you did. You only made a bad situation worse.
And the Serkets apologized. Or at least Aranea did. They were just visiting in town and they were in such a rush to make it back to the airport on time that they barely even saw you zoom out in front of them.
The trip to the hospital is a blur. You don't remember when your dad joined you or when you actually got there. All you could think of was how you fucked up so badly and how Tavros wasn't going to make it. You got the burns but he was bleeding, he was bleeding all around his legs and his waist. They'd been crushed in the impact. You don't remember laying in bed or them fixing you up because all you had in your head was pain, pain, please let Tavros be okay, oh God my back hurts, where's my brother?
You both survived for the night. You were both in pain, both in emergency care, both under the careful watch of doctors and your dad and everyone you knew, but you were alive.
They told you that your wounds would heal. They'd leave nasty scars and you'd be in a bed for a long six months at least before you could even consider moving but you would heal and you'd be okay. Your little brother didn't get off so lucky. He'd broken bones and damaged nerves in his legs that would likely never be fixed, not completely. They said they'd do their best but he'd likely never walk again.
And that's your fault.
The days turned to weeks, which transferred into months. You and your brother slowly recovered, both from the physical trauma and the mental trauma. You had a brief blowout when you started therapy to get your back working again about it being your fault, about how much you hated yourself and how he must have hated you but he assured you he didn't hate or blame you for the loss of his legs. He thoroughly convinced you that you were not in the wrong here. You were not the one who was responsible. You'd never seen him so confident. Besides that, everything went smoothly. Earlier this year you'd finally been allowed to go home. You visited Tavros every day that you possibly could.
It happened so fast. Almost three months ago now, he'd shown a sign of infection in his legs. Nothing big, just a natural infection in a wound that opened up a little again. It seemed so normal and the doctors assured you and your dad that he'd be clear of it before the week was out. He wasn't though. It didn't leave no matter what they gave him. It grew and grew and started to eat away at him and his body and they just couldn't find a solution in time.
You lost your little brother. You were there when he left, when he got his wings and left. The last thing you remember him doing was smiling at you when you walked in the room that day, and the last thing you remember him saying was thank you for still visiting.
You had to break the news to your dad while he was at work. You had to watch him struggle to continue through his every day life while you laid around the house and moped. You had to watch him make the calls to everyone saying his youngest was gone and you had to watch him cry at the small funeral you had for your baby brother. Your family wasn't that big so it was just you and him and a few of his old friends and a few of your new friends.
It was only about a month ago that you tried to move on. You didn't force it, didn't try to do much more than go around the house and grab your own food and drink for once, but you tried. And seeing that perked your dad up immensely. Seeing you so down and broken-hearted again that night must have killed him on the inside.
It's the thought of your dad falling back into his own depressed routine that has you getting out of bed the next day. You feel groggy and heavy, and you can tell your dad does too, but at least he's not alone in it. He's not alone.
You're not alone.
"We'll get through this together, dad. Alright?"
He squeezes your shoulder then and nods, very briefly.
"Yeah. Yeah, we will."
Even when you guys part to your respective rooms for the day, you feel a little better. You're not alone. You have your days and you still have Tavros, in a way. He's still there with you. The guilt is there too and you try not to think about it but he's there now too. On your back. In your thoughts. In your heart. Forever.