Lament
Summary: Alucard stared at his mother, like a deer frozen In front of the headlights, not knowing whether he wanted to scream or have a fit. But instead, he rolls over like a possum, feet in the air hoping the oncoming truck won't fucking strike him dead.
"Oh, please-" his mother waved him off, reeling back to sip at her cup of coffee, "The first time's the hardest, after that the rest are a breeze" She crossed one foot over the other, the gold ankle bracelet that his father had gifted to her glinted in the dim luminescent of the living room lights.
Alucard stared at his mother, like a deer frozen In front of the headlights, not knowing whether he wanted to scream or have a fit. But instead, he rolls over like a possum, feet in the air hoping the oncoming truck won't fucking strike him dead.
He loved his parents, he truly did, but that didn't mean he had to love everything about them. Or in better words, he didn't have to love everything they did.
But-
"Should you truly be saying that at your age, Mother?" Probably a wrong choice of words, a very wrong choice of words, but it slipped into the open without much thought.
His mother in return gave him the driest look she could offer.
"Don't you dare start giving that nonsense! I may not be young anymore, but I'm not old."
Well, she wasn't getting younger, she was only human, vulnerable. Weren't there higher risks involved in being older and pregnant? Of course, these were not just any pregnancies, these were dhampirs. Any number of things could go wrong and that was just with a normal gestation.
Alucard purses his lips, "That's not the point I was trying to make-"
"Mama! Aurel won't share!"
"I got it first! Mama, Illya's being a jerk!"
The twins stumbled into the room like a duo of squabbling hyenas, all baby fangs and little claws over a bag of what Alucard believes are gummy worms. Literally, it was their bread and butter. He had no idea how they could stand the confection when all it did was make his teeth ache and get stuck between his fangs like a sugary adhesive.
He grimaces at the sight of the colorful bag.
"Oh, not this again…." His mother muttered under her breath, placing her mug upon the coffee table, "Illya, Aurel" She clapped her hands "Enough. You are to share"
"But, mama!" Aurel protested.
"Darlings, there's enough to go around. You can't eat the whole bag, you'll get a stomach ache."
"Fine."
"Okay."
"You two certainly like making a ruckus in the morning - evening" he sighed.
"Illya started it."
"Au-huh, speaking of which, I want to know which one of you got peanut butter all over my textbooks,"
Aurel shrugged along with Illya.
"I didn't do it."
"Me neither."
"Cyprus could've done it. He eats peanut butter with everything"
"...of course…." He massages the side of his temple, tempering an oncoming migraine. Of fucking course.