[A/N] Exams are over! /happy dance/ I'm not sure how often I can update though, partially because I'm working over the summer, and partially because I still haven't figured out where I want the story to go yet. But I'll definitely be updating at least once a week!
Reviews/comments are highly appreciated, thanks for reading!
Cheers~
"The government?" I echo dumbly. What about the government? I shake my head, completely thrown off by his odd question, "Not a lot, they take care of taxes and national defense and stuff?" There's a tiny hint of a smile pulling at his lips, but it's gone before I can even ask what he's laughing at.
"That, among other things. You said that the government takes care of national defense. You aren't wrong. There's been several underground projects that they've had going on for the past thirty years or so."
I wonder why he's telling me this. Is he telling me that he's working for the government and that he's working on these underground projects? I blink dumbly at him, but nod to show that I'm listening.
"This group of people working for the government, for the so-called 'national defense', call themselves the School."
I almost burst into laughter. The School didn't seem like a very professional name, especially one that worked for the government. Fang sees the amusement clear on my face and lets a sad smile appear for a few seconds before his emotionless mask is back on. He cocks his head, and it's almost like I can hear his voice in my head. Are you going to take this seriously?
I clear my throat in embarrassment and wave for him to continue.
"They aren't something to take lightly," he gives me a pointed look and I bite the edge of my lip. Fang reaches out to pull my lip down from between the clutches of my teeth and I flush.
He seems not to notice, and continues. "There's a reason they're kept a secret from everyone who isn't a part of it." Fang grimaces, and his eyes watch my expression carefully.
"Max, I wasn't born with wings, or any of my abilities." He lets that sink in for a moment. I frown, "What do you mean? You grew into it?"
Fang chuckles quietly, and the sound is music to my ears. He shakes his head, and that slightly sad expression is back on his face.
"Nineteen years ago, my mother gave birth to me. She was a crack addict, and gave me up for adoption when she realized that raising me would take away from the money she would use for crack. The School usually takes in children from orphanages, children they think people won't miss." There's a moment's pause, and the next time Fang speaks, his voice is bitter. "They take the children, and then they do horrific things to them."
I'm frozen in place as he speaks. There's a foreboding feeling in the way that Fang speaks of the School, and it's the fact that I'm making him relive his past that makes me regret forcing him to tell me. But it's as though floodgates have opened. There's a detachment in Fang that I see, and I doubt I could stop him from telling me, now that he's started.
"I was just two years old when I was introduced to the School. The things they do…" His hands start to tremble softly. I reach over to touch the back of his hand lightly with my fingertips. Fang looks at me, and his hand encloses softly around my own. I try not to think about it. All the times we've touched, I've initiated it. Now, having his hand around mine, I have to force myself not to flinch.
"The whole department is geared towards making super soldiers. We're supposed to be a last resort weapon for the country to use. The School takes young children and start experimenting on them because they can't fight back. I'll spare you the details, but if we weren't strapped down to a table, we were dumped back in our cages."
His fingers tighten around my hand, and I fight the bile rising in my throat. It's Fang. It's Fang holding my hand. Not him. Never him. The bile recedes a little, but I have to keep my eyes on Fang, constantly reminding myself that he's not going to hurt me.
"You should know, Max, I'm not human. Not completely anyways." I must've looked shocked, because Fang chuckles lowly and without humour, "I'm not going to turn into some creature and eat you, if that's what you're worried about."
He sobers again, "I'm 98% human. The other 2% is avian. They injected me with the DNA of a raven when I was first brought in. I think being… integrated with other DNA when I was so young let me survive. A lot of the other older children didn't. I was a part of the 'Angel Experiment', they called it." I almost shudder at the name. It reminds me of the innocent Angel I know, and I suddenly picture her living in a cage. It's too horrific, and I blink hard to erase the image temporarily from my mind.
"I escaped twelve years ago. I've been living off the radar since then."
I nod. I can't find any words to say to him. There's so much thrown at me, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to react. I'm not sure what to say to possibly console him, if he even wants consolation.
There's silence between us, and I'm trying hard to wrap my head around the whole secret-government-department-experimenting-on-children part.
I suppose he's extra-talkative today, because he breaks the silence first, "I'm sorry I wasn't there a month ago." I shake my head dumbly. I just forced him to relive what was probably the worst years of his life, and he's apologizing to me. "What happened?" my voice is barely audible. I'm not sure I even want to know.
Fang run the pad of his thumb across the back of my hand. It's a reassuring movement, and it astounds me that after all of this, he's trying to reassure me.
"I got caught again," he shrugs like there's nothing more to it, but I can see the tension in his body. My eyes widen and my grip on his hand suddenly tightens. Fang looks up to see the panic in my eyes and chuckles softly, "I'm alright. I'm here, aren't I?" I don't respond. I'm sure he can see the worry in my eyes.
"What did they do to you?" I can't stop myself from blurting it out. It's the last thing he needs right now. I doubt he wants to relive it, any more than he wanted to relive the first few years of his life.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Fang says tightly. He looks like he's about to elaborate, but seems to decide against it. I don't push him.
We sit there for a few more minutes, lost in our own thoughts. My eyes take in his appearance, drinking it in like I used to. They focus on the marks around his neck. Could it have been that the School tied something around his neck? The skin there looked as though it had been rubbed raw. An idea comes to me, and I get up.
Fang snaps out of his thoughts and stares at me. "I'll be right back, don't disappear on me," I tell him quietly before slipping from the room. Nobody pays me much attention as I walk quickly to my bed and grab something from my personal drawer. One of the nuns spy the palm-sized container in my hands and gives me a concerned look. I shake my head at her and just keep walking. She turns back to her papers.
When I return to the attic, Fang is still sitting there, completely visible, though his wings are pulled underneath his clothing again. As I draw closer, I see that he had been dutifully playing with his fingers, the small movements keeping his image from vanishing. He turns his head as he hears me approaching, and takes note of the small plastic container in my hands. He cocks his head in a question.
To answer, I unscrew the cap and dip two of my fingers in the clear gel that lies inside. Kneeling down on two knees behind him, I spread it gently around the red marks that are exposed, careful not to let my fingers more than lightly brush against his skin for fear that it would hurt him.
I see Fang flinch slightly the moment I first touch him, but he makes no move to stop me. Within two minutes, I finish his neck. I sit back on my heels, and bite my lip, unsure of what to say. Fang gives me a gentle look before grudgingly rolling up the sleeves of his sweater to bare his wrists to me. They are rubbed raw, and I wince before dipping my fingers in the gel again. His wrists take much longer. They are in much worse shape than his neck. They must've tied him down to something. My heart aches at this thought.
He watches me work, but not once do I meet his eyes. My own eyes are too concentrated on keeping a layer of gel between his wrist and my fingers, so that I don't hurt him. By the time I finish, my hands are trembling again, and I struggle to screw the lid back on next to him. Fang puts a light hand on the back of mine, and when I take my first look at him in 15 minutes, I see gratitude and a gentleness in his eyes along with a half-smile that twists my insides around.
"Thank you," he says, and I try for a smile back. "What did you say to the nuns when you asked for the gel?" he wonders out loud. I bite the inside of my cheek as I put the container on the floor in front of me. Once. Twice. Three times.
"This… This is mine," I mumble, my eyes automatically searching for the ground again. Fang doesn't say anything, just brushes his thumb along the back of my hand in that motion of reassurance. Eventually I find enough courage to speak again.
"When I was in the mental hospital, I used to have nightmares. I still do." Fang stays silent. He knows I have nightmares; I've told him myself. But he's not aware of what they're about.
"It's always about the same thing. I'm always back in that house, with either one standing over me. Sometimes it's both of them at once." Fang's thumb freezes for a second on the back of my hand before he continues to move it.
"I used to wake up with marks all along my arm and legs. Apparently I used to claw at myself in my sleep. The nurses in the mental hospital gave me this ointment, and it helped the cuts heal over. The nightmares never got any better, but I learned to stop clawing at myself. Now I just clench my hands." I curl my fingers into fists, then relax them.
Fang doesn't speak, but as I glance up at him to gauge a reaction, a muscle in his jaw tightens. I look back down, making myself watch, instead, his thumb running across my hand.
"So instead of getting claw marks all over," I flip my hand over in Fang's larger one, and small white crescent-shaped marks are visible in the middle of my palm, "they're all concentrated in one place."
Fang's face is unreadable. He just closes his eyes to take a deep breath and release it.
"It's gotten better over the years; I only use this once in a couple of months," I say before turning my hand back over. Fang is as still as a statue, his eyes still closed, taking deep breaths.
I frown and now it's my turn to run my thumb along his hand. There's no response from him. I wait until his image starts to fade before speaking.
"Fang."
His eyes fly open, and he squeezes my hand lightly. There's something in his eyes, some emotion that I can't figure out. Whatever it is, Fang looks like he's teetering over the edge of some cliff in his mind. Fighting against himself, almost. I stay silent, giving him time to work things out. I wonder what could've set him off.
Several minutes pass before he finally speaks, "If I ever come across any of them…" His words die out, but he doesn't need to say the rest. His voice is shaking, and the tone of it betrays his emotions. It was barely concealed rage, hidden in those obsidian pools of his eyes.
"It's fine," I whisper, squeezing his hand gently. He looks at me hard, "They did… horrible things to you, as a child. You're still suffering," he murmurs, "They deserve at least a little punishment."
I sigh inaudibly and entwine our fingers, "Let it go; it was so long ago anyways."
"I would, but you still get nightmares. You'll always have those scars," he says, tapping the back of my hand with a finger once.
I quirk my lips into that tiny smile of mine, "I've told you before, you're the only thing that makes my nightmares disappear," I mumble, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.
Fang chuckles, and it's such a pleasant sound I find myself wishing he would keep doing so. "I know," he says simply. "I'd be there for you through the night, but you don't have your single room anymore."
A thought flashes in my mind, but it's too selfish, so I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He notices the momentary brightening of my face though, and he presses me, "What?"
I nibble on my lip before he uses his free hand to pull it away from the clutches of my teeth again. I wonder if this will become a habit, like my unhealthy one to bite down on the inside of my cheek. "Nothing. I was going to ask if you would stay with me, invisible, so that nobody can see you, but it's too much to ask for. You have your own life."
Fang stays quiet for a moment, "Why not? I'll stay through the night. Your bed is right next to the corner, and it's always dark in the corner anyways. I'll blend right in," he flashes me a crooked smile. I wonder if he knows what that does to me. I wonder if he knows how I feel about him. I kick myself for that thought. I don't even know how I feel about him.
A thought occurs to me then, "How do you know my bed is next to the corner? And that it's always dark there?" Fang grins sheepishly, "After I found you, I spent the night trying to find out where you were, or at least where you sleep." I chuckle quietly.
"Is that creepy or weird?" he asks, insecurity plain in his voice. I shake my head and my traditional smile widens, "I find it kind of sweet," I admit.
He changes the subject quickly, but there's a smile in his voice, "I'll stay the night," he reassures me, "A little bit of relaxation never hurt anyone."
I make a note to myself to ask him what he does with the rest of his day later on.
"A bunch of the windows in the room can be opened from the second floor. You can come now, nobody sleeps on the second floor," I offer.
So that's what he does. He moves like the shadows, dark and silent, and nobody notices. Nobody even takes another look.
He sits on the edge of my bed like he used to, and holds my hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb again. There's no need for him to turn invisible. It's a new moon, so the whole hall is dark.
The soft brushes of his finger are reassuring and warm, and I fall asleep with a tiny smile. For the first time in months, I sleep peacefully.
