[ @exoplanetological // twins verse ]
August’s feet swing nervously on the edge of the bed. Tiny fingers toy with the IV in her arm. Her brother’s heart monitor beeping is about the only thing that comforts her. At least he’s alive.
Lex is in his bed, still asleep. They have his face bandaged, a slit for a cannula. These terms that she’s learned not by choice. The things she’s learned about radiation and flash burns are probably more than any child would learn voluntarily.
More people come to check on him than they do her. And she’s not jealous. She’s scared, she’s guilty. What if her brother doesn’t wake up? What if he’s ruined for life, chasing after her to make sure she got out safe.
Could he ever forgive her? And did she deserve to be forgiven? Heavy thoughts for a nine year old to deal with.
He stirs and she carefully hops off of her bed. Crosses the room with her IV stand in a white-knuckle grip. The heart monitors and oxygen meters on her fingers are slippery with sweat and grime that the nurses missed.
“Hey, Lex. Are you awake?” She tries for soothing and probably fails. Her voice falters and shakes, the guilt and shame in every sound. Down to her very breathing, etched into her cells and the comparably faint scars on her skin.
Her own cannula itches and she pulls it away to wipe at her tears and snot. “I’m sorry, Lex. I… I should have stayed with you.” They’re twins, but she’s always felt the younger one, the protected one. And that feeling is what landed him in far more danger, far more pain than she had.
He is dreaming. It isn’t a distinct scene or event, but it is filled with emotion and commotion. There was the crack of fireworks. The smell of burning. Commotion so loud, louder than the fireworks that bled across his vision in muddied colors. There was a hand around his wrist and then there isn’t. He knows he is dreaming because disembodied hands appear and disappear, pulling and prodding until there is...nothingness.
Somewhere in the haze of his subconscious he remembers the meteor rocks raining down from the sky as if biblical damnation had befallen. The sky had fallen and he had gone with it. The nothingness fades, the dream does not return, and the sound of a steady mechanical tone brings him out of the fog. The faintest reminder of pain lingers on his nerves deep beneath the medication he has been administered. Lex hears August’s voice and it takes a moment for him to truly understand.
They had been in the corn field. They had been caught in the meteor shower. Things he vaguely remembered but not understood. He feels like he’s remembered this before, but his mind is swimming. There are swathes of bandages covering a good portion of his face. It feels like too much effort to turn his head, and yet the sound of her voice is so sad. He doesn’t understand right away. There’s a floating feeling that makes it too difficult to concentrate, but he forces himself anyway. He finally does make the effort to shift a little and turn his face to her without saying anything.
He had done his best to keep her from the brunt of it. That is what he is meant to do--to protect. It has nothing to do with age. He’s certain enough that he’s the ‘older twin’. Lionel has said so multiple times, about how he needs to be the one to take the lead. Even at his age, he’s aware there’s something patriarchal about it, especially considering the way Lionel has pushed and pulled their mother around. Lead so that your sister can follow. But August is just as smart, if not smarter, than Lex and so he’s never considered himself any kind of leader between them. The only time he falls into that stereotypical role is when it comes to being the shield. He had succeeded this time and yet he still sees where he’s failed.
“No,” he says, and while it’s hoarse, he’s firm. Lex can’t formulate the right words to explain. “No.”
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