Trigger warnings for self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, mentions of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, and anxiety. Enjoy.

"I want to be there when you talk to them tomorrow."

I lift my head up from Rocky's chest to meet his eyes as I talk, knowing that he won't react in a very calm way. When it comes to matters having to do with his parents, Rocky tenses, frighteningly so. It kinda scares me, because I know how scary panic attacks are and I hate that my brother has to go through this. It really sucks that these two fuck ups for human beings managed to seriously break their kids, to the point of being unfixable.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Aus," Rocky says softly. "I mean, they're not people you want to know. They're not people you want to associate with, unless you forcibly have to. And you don't need to subject yourself to their will."

"You can't have a damn conversation about them without looking like you're gonna have a fucking panic attack," I deadpan. "You keep Ratliff and Rydel away from them, because it'll really mess them up to try and talk to the two people who've made them this fucked up. And Riker, well, he almost fainted the last time you guys tried to talk with them. They've seriously fucked you guys up, and they don't get to do that and just get off with it."

"They are, though. Aren't they?" Rocky replies. "They've broken us, but we're the ones dealing with the pieces of the wreckage. They don't even care."

I reach up and pull him into a hug, squeezing tightly. "I know. And it really sucks. It really fucking sucked when my dad stood up in a courtroom and said he wouldn't care if I was dead. We really didn't get the luck with parents, eh?"

"Aus, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that…"

There it is again. His insatiable need to comfort me, even when he's worse off than I am. It's so fucking irritating. There's a part of me that wants to blow up every time Rocky does something like this. But he doesn't need someone else yelling at him, especially not now. It just sucks, how he puts himself and his mental health way below mine. It shouldn't be that way.

"And you didn't deserve to lose two siblings," I reply. "And you especially didn't deserve to jump off a goddamn roof, because you couldn't take your parents anymore. You seem like you were the most affected by this, and it's not fair that you're the only one who has to handle all the affairs that go into having a conversation with those two wastes of space. So I'm going to be there with you. Because it's a miracle you haven't had a panic attack or a breakdown yet, and the inevitable is coming."

"Oh great, the defective kid is here."

Rocky stiffens, and moves to snatch his hand away from my back. Before he can say anything, I beat him to it. "Defective? That's a new one." I chuckle bitterly. "Say whatever the hell you want, I don't really care. I'm here for support, not to get torn down by your shitty remarks."

"Smartened up, I see?" Mark sneers back. "Just as disrespectful as my own children. What are you doing to these kids, Rocky?"

"He's a better guardian than you'll ever be," I shoot back. "Now, did you really come here for something? Or are you just here to make Rocky feel even worse about himself? If the latter, there's the door, hopefully you're not too fucking stupid to see yourselves out."

"Mark, stop," Stormie says, before her husband can make another stinging retort. "We are actually here to talk about something. Don't get us kicked out before we're able to make Rocky see our point."

"If it's anything about wanting Ratliff back, don't even think about it," Rocky says lowly. "You're not getting him back, not while I'm alive to stop it. He deserves so much better than you two shitstorms."

"We're his parents, Rocky," Stormie replies, her tone bordering on a whine. I have to hold back a laugh. This is a grown woman, one who's given birth to six children, and that's her only argument? Jesus christ.

"You're the woman who gave birth to him and your husband is the fucking sperm donor," Rocky corrects. "You gave him up when you signed custody over to me. And why do you even want him back, anyway? You seemed fine with giving him up when you guys decided to pick up everything and leave us. What changed your minds?"

"We made a mistake. We want to try and repair it. And Ratliff is our last chance. And he seems like the least 'mentally ill' one, anyway." The way she says mentally ill, like the words are distasteful, makes me want to kill her. It doesn't work that way. Mental illness isn't a goddamn choice. And Ratliff is nowhere near the best off.

"Ratliff has schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, suicidal thoughts, and he's in recovery from a self-harm addiction," Rocky replies. "And the only reason he appears to be so high-functioning, is because of his medication. He's on extremely high dosages of mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, and anti-depressants, and those pills are the only reason he appears the most stable. If you ever get custody of him, which you won't, you'll need to make sure he takes his meds religiously. If he misses a dose or times them too far from each other, he's not gonna be so pleasant to be around."

"We can handle it," Mark says stonily. "Or are you telling me some 21 year old kid is better suited for caring for him than two people who've been on Earth more than twice as long as you have?"

"He's telling you exactly that." I step back into the conversation easily, appreciating the anger in Mark's eyes when I do. "The four of us have seen, firsthand, what happens when Ratliff is off his meds. And it's not pretty. Not by any means. Rocky's been dealing with it for years. He knows how to handle Ratliff. And Ratliff is comfortable with him. Honestly, if you really want Ratliff to be okay and everything, why are you trying to whisk him away from the people who make him feel the most comfortable and safe? That's not going to help at all."

"We're his parents. He should feel safe around us."

"Jesus fucking christ," I groan. "Are you two playing dumb, or are you actually this fucking stupid? Ratliff doesn't feel safe around you. In fact, he feels anything but safe in your presence. Do you not remember the panic attack he had the last time you were over? If he felt comfortable around you, don't you think he'd be in this room, having this conversation with us? But he's not. He's not even in this house right now, because he was too scared he'd have to face you. He's terrified. He doesn't want to come back to you, why can't you fucking accept that and leave him and the rest of the kids you abandoned alone?"

"Thank god you were there, Aus," Rocky sighs. "I would've fallen apart if you weren't."

"I know," I reply. "That's why I wanted to stay with you. You wouldn't have been able to handle it alone, and you would've definitely had a breakdown."

"Kinda close to one now, actually," Rocky mumbles. "I hate being around them. They make my anxiety skyrocket and then nothing feels okay, and all I want to do is disappear."

"Well, hopefully another one of those nights will help."

"You…Aus, what?"

I smile at him, squeezing his hand. "Yeah, I got the others to set everything up in the living room while we were talking. There's tons of junk food, a collection of old movies to make us overemotional nostalgic messes, and tons of comfort and love for you, for stepping up and being the trooper that deals with Mark and Stormie."

"So, what was it this time?" Ratliff lifts his head off Rocky's shoulder and turns to look at him, searching our older brother for a chance of answers. "What'd they say?"

Rocky shrugs. "The usual. They've deluded themselves into thinking they'll get you back, and that you're the least 'mentally ill', as they put it, out of all of us. Fucking stupid, really."

"I'm so fucking fucked up," Ratliff replies. "How the fuck do they think I'm the best off? That makes no sense."

"Apparently you look the most stable," I tell him, shrugging. "It really doesn't make sense."

"So, what, do they just think the rest of us are shit?" Riker asks, laughing. "Good. Maybe that'll teach them to keep coming here and fucking our lives up."

"They never learn, do they?"

"We'll probably still be dealing with them by the time Ratliff's legal," Rydel says. "Like, he's almost there. It's not like he's gonna stop growing up because they want one kid to try not to completely make a fuck up of."

"Too fuckin' late. They already made me into an absolute mess."

They really fucked us up, didn't they?" Riker mutters. "Sometimes I think about it and realize, damn, my life would be so different if they had no impact on it. Maybe I wouldn't think about killing myself every goddamn chance I get."

He's doing the thing he always does, where he reveals too much of his thoughts in a joking manner. All of us have done it before, but that doesn't make it any less concerning. I really worry about Riker, especially now that I know about Ross, and the fact that they have another brother who's also dead. It doesn't seem like his death was pretty at all, considering none of them are ready to talk about it.

"I'm okay," Riker placates us, when he sees the worried looks on our faces. "Stop acting like I just told you I murdered someone. I'm fine. Just a stupid mess that can't keep suicidal thoughts out of his head for one fucking minute."

"Stop," Rydel says gently, grabbing both of his hands in hers. "Breathe. Don't keep talking, or you'll say something you're really gonna regret."

"No secrets here, Rydel."

"I know that," Rydel replies. "But there are times when you talk too much because you're too caught up in the conversation, and you end up spilling things you haven't even gotten a chance to process. And I'm sure you don't want me to talk about what happens the night following that."

Riker falls silent at that, flopping against Rydel, almost exhausted from realization.

"Whatever it is you have to say, Rik, you can tell us. Whenever you're ready," I reassure him.

Somehow, I never imagined I'd be doing most of the reassuring, and that the tables would be this turned, but things usually never go the way you imagine they will.

Thoughts? Next chapter is gonna be interesting - a birthday, something you guys have yet to see in this universe, and maybe a breakdown. Who knows? Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed.