I'm just gonna go ahead and say it: if you're reading this and expecting to dive into some grand adventure to foreign lands with mythical struggles, danger, and romance, you're going to be sorely disappointed. Allow me to be a cold splash of reality: this isn't one of those stories. This isn't some sappy fairy tale where the hero is a beloved character fighting for justice and freedom with the love of his life clutching his shoulder. Oh god no!
This is a story of how my life went from a fucking nightmare to… well… Okay, so it's still a nightmare but at least it's tolerable. I used to live with Chuck and Bomb, for christ's sake! What'd you expect?
It all started in the fall of 2019. I was finally accepted into Avian Academy, Art and Architecture major. Surprisingly enough, Chuck and Bomb came along, too. Chuck got in on a full scholarship for the track and field team and Bomb applied for a degree in Pyrotechnics as well as a couple of other classes in the field of Chemistry. We rented out a fraternity house just for the three of us.
Yep; Chuck, Bomb, and me. Just the three of us. A couple of dudes being dudes. That is until… actually, we'll get to that later.
Anyway, the whole idea was great. Moving to Florida, living on our own, becoming mature adults, and discovering who we were as individuals (oh my god, I sound like a fucking hippy). And the best part of all, we would be leaving Bird Island.
Finally! After years and years of spending my entire life trapped on that goddamn island, I would finally be leaving it all behind. I would finally be free from the smiling, waving, good golly inhabitants who never accepted me for who I was. Who raised me yet neglected me. Who showed nothing but disgust when they saw the little red-headed boy walking down the street.
Oh! Uh... I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? It's just that-
Okay. You know what? I'll just stop and let the story explain itself. It's better that way.
Are you ready? Here we go.
—
I lug the heavy box up the long flight of stairs, the cardboard flap digging into the flesh of my neck. I thunder up each step, my shoes scuffing along the floorboards noisily, trying my damndest not to fall to my death.
Jesus Christ! Why did we have to pick the one house that had three stories worth of stairs?
I reach the top with a definitive step, sweat beading from my forehead. I make a beeline for my room, weaving around the stairway balcony and racing down the hallway, and burst through the door, inhaling a large breath of chilled air blasting from AC screwed into the window. I plop the box onto the bed and lay myself down next to it, the springs of the mattress screeching under my back. I pant quietly for a minute, catching my breath as the frosty air breezes over my face.
Thank God I had the foresight to purchase that AC unit before we settled in or else we'd be baking!
And maybe shoving all of my stuff into just one box wasn't such a good idea.
Nah. I'm fine. Besides, at least I'm not carrying one duck-taped box after the next like Chuck and Bomb are outside. It'll take them hours to fully unpack.
I grin to myself. The room I now reside in is much more spacious compared to the small apartment I used to rent out back on the island. My bed is set next to the large window, my head now resting just under the hunk of metal that is the air conditioner, so that when I wake up the sun is there to greet me. The rest of the space is bare, flooding with fresh, warm sunlight streaming through the glass of the window, a golden opportunity for some remodeling with what little cash I have stored in my wallet.
This feels nice. All alone in my own room in a house that I'm paying for (partly), going to school where I can learn what I want to learn, surround myself with my own kind of people instead of the goofy grinning beach bums that populate Bird Island. Just free free free.
The sound of footsteps clambering up the stairs mingle with the loud rustling of boxed items being violently jostled. Chuck's sandy blond head pops up through bars of the stair rail as he rounds the corner at a full-on sprint. He balances three half-used FedEx boxes in his slim arms, clearly struggling to carry the overflow of athletic shorts and USA Olympics posters. He zips by my door in flash of yellow, but then suddenly backpedals into view faster than the average human can walk backwards, his face half concealed by a pair of draping Adidas sweats.
"Wait! You're already done?" Chuck asks dumbfounded, his voice muffled by the cargo stocked in his hands, surprisingly not winded from the long flight of winding stairs and the godawful heat outside. He isn't the official, infamous "Fastest Man on Bird Island" for nothing.
I sigh heavily, blowing a lock of blazing red hair out of my eyes, gaze returning to the popcorn painted ceiling. "No, Chuck. I'm just waiting for you guys to bring all of my stuff up to me on a silver platter. Maybe I'll even let you guys do my laundry and put it away." I remark sarcastically.
"Yeah right, as if I'd ever do that for your lazy ass." He swings is head, tresses of gold sweeping over his forehead. He drops his load at his feet unceremoniously, his belongings clattering loudly as he plants his fists on his hips.
I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees. "Bomb would."
"Not if he knew you were lounging about up here while we're doing all the dirty work."
Doesn't he know fucking sarcasm when he hears it?
I roll my eyes. "Mmhm." I hum.
The walls suddenly rattle as the front door slams shut downstairs. Even from the third floor, I can hear Bomb grunting with effort with all of his belongings in tow. He too ascends the steps, each footfall an earthquake shaking the floorboards, and is huffing and puffing by the time he meets up with us.
"I think… that's… all of it." Bomb wheezes. A sheen of sweat gleams on his dark brow, the lenses of his red-rimmed glasses fogged with perspiration.
"Please tell me you didn't just grab all of Red's stuff from the truck," Chuck states sternly.
"Nope." Bomb returns. "This is all mine. Everything else is yours."
Chuck turns to me, his pale eyebrows knitted together. "Wait! So all of your stuff is in that one box?" He points to the cardboard cube perched on the crumpled comforter. It looks small and pathetic compared to the mountain of items piled high in Bomb's hands.
Oh no!
My heart jumps and suddenly, it's extremely hot.
Holy shit! Who turned off the AC?!
But the continuous flow of crisp wind surpassing the back of neck assures me that it's working just fine.
"Um, uh…" I falter.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!
Think, dumbass! Think!
"Uh, yeah," I say, almost unconvincingly. I clear my throat. "I-I decided that I would, um, get some new stuff while we're here. You know, a new desk, some clothes, maybe another desk."
Come on! Think think think think fucking think!
I rub the back of my head vigorously as if to force the gears in my brain to turn. "Yeah, uh… Yep, just doing some redecorating. New town, new me." I smile, but just from how the corners of my mouth are turned upwards it probably looks more like a painful grimace. Feels like it, too.
The two share a glance, and I can't help but notice how much they differ from one another. Chuck's at least a head shorter than Bomb, deeply tan and very blonde. Underneath the bright canary yellow tracksuit, his body is slim and taunt from the multitude of 5ks and marathons he's participated in. His large, celery green eyes are full of mischief, matching his sly grin. Bomb, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of his yellow-clad friend. He's tall and broad, dark skin smooth and clear like black velvet. Proud barrel chest, muscular arms, and small, stunning light eyes. The top of his neatly shaven, tightly coiled black hair is divided by a thick strip of dyed yellow.
Despite these differences, their uneasy facial expressions are a perfect match.
"Oh," Chuck responds emotionless. And then boom! He grins, his green saucers alight. "Why didn't you say so?" He asks all too enthusiastically.
Damn! Thank god for Chuck and his hyperactive brain for overlooking my statement. And Bomb, of course, will easily follow suit.
Jesus fucking christ! That was close.
"And B-T-dubs, your last room before was so middle school. I can say that now." Chuck upturns his nose, almost snobbishly as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"Wow. Thanks." I comment, crossing my own arms over my chest dejectedly.
"Hey! Why don't we go furniture shopping after we unpack?" Chuck suggests.
"Let's do it!" Bomb cheers.
Before I can even protest, the two dash off through the halls, babbling about couch colors and tv sets. Chuck's stuff still sits at my doorway, but I don't call him to come to pick it up. He'll get around to it sooner or later. I fall back onto the bed, splaying my arm over my eyes.
That was way too close. If they found out that I had nothing, they'd never look at me the same again. I'm not saying that I have anything to hide or that I don't trust the two, it's just that… it's complicated.
You know what? Fuck it!
Just to give you a good look at my shitfest of life, I'll enlighten you: I grew up in foster care. For as long as I can remember, I was handed off from one shitty family to the next, most of the time the second one worst than the first. Everything I was given-from clothes and toys to lies and broken promises—was taken away from me just as quickly. For years I endured one heartache after the next, the tear in my heart deepening ever so painfully until it was reduced to a pile of shredded nothingness.
I learned to not cherish tangible objects. It's not like I'll get to keep most of the things I gain, so why get attached? I became familiar with this when I graduated high school and moved out on my own, but even when I had the opportunity to get whatever I wanted, I couldn't afford fine luxuries such as a lamp or an expensive memory foam pillow. And when I got a job, I saved all of my earnings for college. And here I am with a single box containing three shirts, two jackets, a pair of jeans, and Dollar Store quality hygiene necessities.
They don't know. Neither Chuck or Bomb know of this. They don't know how I was raised or how I came to be the town grump. And they can never know. They'll look at me like I'm a fucking kicked puppy. The last thing I need is other people's pity, especially if it'll come from the only two people in my life that don't treat me like total shit. What I do need is to scrounge up a couple of hundred bucks and buy a couple of pieces of fucking furniture so that they won't suspect that I'm lying.
This is great. Just fucking great.
A few hours later, the three of us are seated in a brand new American Furniture Warehouse cafe on the outskirts of our campus. After strolling through the labyrinth of armchairs and couches, picking and prodding through the midst of merchandise, it feels good to park my ass on a seat that's price tag doesn't stab me in the back.
Bomb has ordered us lunch from a nearby cafeteria. It consists of corn dogs and shoelace french fries that I swear they scooped up from the bottom of a McDonald's trash can. But compared to the burnt piece of toast I had this morning, the half-cooked corn dog on a stick and stale fries are a hell of a lot better.
Chuck sits across from me, grinning from ear to ear and bouncing in his seat like an excitable toddler as he rapidly taps his short fingernails against the metal tabletop.
"Alright, spill it, Chuck. What did you do this time?" I ask blatantly, popping a ketchup coated fry into my mouth.
"Whaaaattt?" He drawls in faux shock, his voice a full octave higher. "What would make you think I did something? It's not like I'm going to surprise you guys with something I've been dying to tell you for weeks… or anything." The blonde man avoids eye contact as he slurps noisily from his water cup.
"So you are surprising us with something." Bomb restates, brushing crumbs off of his shirt.
Chuck bites his bottom lip, hard, but his signature smile is ever-present. It makes me uneasy, unnecessarily uneasy.
"Okay, fine!" He blurts out. "Yes! I was going to surprise you guys with the most amazing news ever until a certain someone spoiled it." He directs a stern look at me.
"Oh, yeah. Like it's my fault you couldn't keep your little 'surprise' a secret." I retort furiously.
"Anyway," Chuck continues. "there's a special someone joining us today and she is very excited to meet you guys for the first time and I need you two to be on your best-"
"Wait, wait!" I cut him off mid-sentence. "Did you just say she?"
"She is my sister and a really smart one at that." Chuck resumes his rambling. "I mean, we all just thought she was weird, you know? But before I knew it, she skipped four grades, won an Engineer of the Year Award, and got a scholarship at Avian Academy."
Oh, great. She's an egghead.
"You are absolutely gonna love her. But don't love her too much. That's my sister, Red." Chuck leans over the table, stabbing a finger into my chest, green eyes glowing lividly in their sockets. "Or I'll crush every bone in your body!" He growls through his teeth.
Holy motherfucking shit!
I gulp at his intensity, eyes wide at the sudden change in Chuck's demeanor. Said man is just about to continue when something behind me grabs his attention. His face, which is contorted into a sort of snarl, lights up like a Christmas tree and he shoots to his feet, knocking down his chair to the floor. "I'll be right back!"
Before I can regain my composure, he disappears in a flash of yellow, dashing between coffee tables and television sets across the store. I take a deep breath before I rest my elbow on the table, hand cupping my cheek.
"So, what do you think she's like?" Bomb asks after a moment, not at all unfazed by Chuck's harsh words and sudden vanishment.
"H-How would I know?" I stutter, trying not to seem at all terrified by the blonde man's threat.
"Do you think she's nice?"
"I don't know, Bomb!" I nearly yell a little more aggravated than need be.
Seriously, why is he asking me all of these questions when I just found out that Chuck even had a sister? Can't he just be quiet for once in his damn life?!
…
Goddammit! I am such a fucking asshole. I should've known that Bomb of all people would be the one to ask the more obvious inquiries now that Chuck is gone. Hell! He's the kind of person to walk up to the surly asshat of a man on the bus and ask for directions like the sweet, soulful person he is.
And being the previously described being, Bomb brushes off my aggressive words without a second thought. He's used to my frustrated habits by now.
"I bet she's really nice, like, so nice that she'll bake cookies for us." The taller man exclaims blithely between bites of meat and bread, grinning as if he's eating pure sunshine and rainbows instead of the shitload of corndogs only half-cooked in an outdated microwave.
"I doubt it," I grumble as I sink into my chair, lazily reaching over to take a drink of my soda pop.
What if she's a brat? Like one of those prissy little daddy's girl who wants everyone to do her dirty work for her? Like those people on reality tv who travel to exotic islands for a nice getaway and blow off their family's fortunes at casinos and night clubs? I'm not naming any names but *cough*Kardasians*cough, cough*
Nah. She won't. Knowing Chuck and seeing as how he turned out now that he's an adult, I'm sure that she was treated and disciplined no less as a child. Besides, he wouldn't be this excited if she was a selfish prick.
Not even a second later, Chuck materializes before us with someone by his side. I don't look up until he speaks.
"Guys, this is Silver." Chuck proclaims, wrapping an arm around the lady.
I glance up as I sip on my beverage through the plastic straw and automatically choke on the Pepsi halfway down my throat.
HOLY SHIT!
Silvery hair, giant turquoise eyes, thin frame; all of the qualities of the one woman I never wanted to see again.
I cough and splutter, tendrils of fizzing carbonation drizzling from my burning nostrils and hacking mouth. Through watering eyes, I can see that Bomb is at my aid almost immediately, fetching me napkins and hurriedly trying to clean up the mess of regurgitated soda.
"You?" I wheeze out through strangled breaths mixed with soda residue clogging my windpipe. With one hand I cover my mouth from spewing anymore partially consumed Pepsi and with the other I blindly grope around the drenched table and grab what I hope is a water cup. I bring it to my lips and gulp down (thankfully) cold water, chugging and chugging until I'm sure the soda pop is completely washed down.
Once every drop slips down the hatch, I choppily sigh, desperately trying not to swallow my own tongue. I use a pile of paper napkins to wipe at my mouth and eyes. I straighten up, only half pretending I hadn't nearly fucking died there for a second.
"You?" She returns, the realization that I'm the asshole from her latest speed date hitting her just as hard as it did me.
I just wish she was in the middle of drinking something too so that she could embarrass herself in front of the dozens of customers watching me hurl mouthfuls of soda.
"You," I state, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl at the memory of that night back on the island. How I wish someone would just swing a mallet to the back of my head so that I could forget ever arriving at the outdoor restaurant.
"Wait. You know this guy?" Silver asks, turning to Chuck.
"Yeah! This is one of my best buddies, Red. And that's Bomb. These are the guys."
"Hi. We're the guys." Bomb greets sunnily as he mops up the brown liquid sprayed on the table. I reach for a separate pile of clean, white tissues and half-heartedly help him, my attention fully locked on our new arrival.
"As I was saying, this is Silver, the greatest kid sister in the world." Chuck introduces once again.
"I'm not exactly a kid anymore, Chuck." The lady, Silver, quips at her brother.
"Oh, you'll always be my kid sister!" He grasps her around the neck into the crook of his arm and playfully rubs his knuckles over her scalp. She expertly maneuvers out of his hold and pops up free, her feathery bangs bouncing in silvery, ruffled strands.
"Hey, guys." She waves cutely.
"And…" Chuck drags for an oh-so dramatic effect. "... she's moving in with us!"
Wait! What?!
Holy motherfuck… this can't be happening! Not her. Not her not her not her. Why of all people did it have to be her?!
This Silver character who-who just so happens to be an outspoken, definitely NOT pretty girl who also just so happens to be a psychic because she can see right through my very fucking soul! Moving in with us?! LIVING WITH US?!
That house, that ancient three-story fraternity house that I had fought tooth and nail for over three months was only and only meant for the three of us. Bomb, Chuck, and me. JUST THE THREE OF US! And now Chuck's sister shows up out of the blue claiming she's our new roommate? Without any consultation?!
Over my goddamn body!
The nerve. The fucking nerve they have.
"You know, I don't think this is gonna work," I say after finding my voice. Hearing myself, I sound much calmer than I expect. "It's just that I'm not sure you're gonna be compatible with the team."
Did you see that? Did you just see that? I just referred back to what Silver had said back at the speed dating event, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm sure that Bomb and Chuck won't understand it, but she sure will. And it brings me great satisfaction to see her face fall when she realizes it.
Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?
"Oh, come on, Red." Chuck intervenes. "What's so wrong with her staying with us?"
What's so wrong? WHAT'S SO FUCKING WRONG?!
Everything! Every little fucking thing is wrong with it!
I fumble for the right words to say so that I don't give myself away at the fact that I'm uncomfortable that there will be a woman living in the same house as three men and that said woman just so happens to be the one person who ended the speed date all those weeks ago and made me all the more self-conscious of my lonely social life. And that she's not only a gifted student but a pretty, smart, and apparently friendly individual all topped with a bright, red cherry.
Before I can answer, Chuck interjects once again. "All of those in favor of letting Silver live with us, raise your hand."
Simultaneously; Silver, Chuck, and Bomb lift their arms above their heads. I'm the only one who doesn't.
"Then it's settled. She's moving in with us!"Chuck announces, wrapping an arm around his sister joyfully. Silver smirks at me smugly in her brother's embrace and the urge to stick my tongue out at her has never been stronger.
"Wait! That's not fair!" I exclaim.
"Too late." Chuck states. "She's staying. And if you don't like it, then you can suck it." He leans forward once again, booping my nose playfully. I'm tempted to growl in his face and snap my teeth on his outstretched finger, but of-so reluctantly restrain myself. Trust me, it's not easy to control your anger when a man touches your nose cutely in public like that, especially in front of the girl who makes my blood boil under my skin.
"Now let's get back to shopping!" Chuck squeals. "There was this drawer that caught my eye and I thought it would look perfect in the…" His words drift off as he walks away. Silver and Bomb follow after him, joining in the conversation.
I'm left in my chair, alone and fuming. I groan under breath and slam my head onto the table, my ears ringing.
Oh my fucking god! This can't be happening. This can not be happening!
Ever so reluctantly, I lift up my head, dried Pepsi sticking to my brow. I comb my fingers through my scalp, tempted to tear out a few clumps of red hair straight out of my skull but rule it out. I stand to my feet and scoop up the mess of soiled napkins and soda drenched french fries and toss them in the trash before going after the trio, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket dejectedly.
What did I do to deserve this?
Author's Note: Sooooooo. What do you guys think? I know this is sorta like the other Angry Bird Human au story "And They Were Roommates" (you guys should totally check it out it's really good.) I'm really sorry if it looks like that. I was just hoping to see what I could make of doing a human au of how Red and Silver get together. If you like this, be sure to follow and favorite as well as critique. Chapter 2 will follow soon.