1- forgiving who you are, what you stand to gain (2/5)
Luke had no desire to move from the warm spot in his bed, swaddled in blankets his mother had made him a long time ago, eyes closed as the sun shone down on his face. The urge to hide away from all of his responsibilities, to stay inside the relative safety of their family cabin was strong. Of course, he needed to get up- it wasn’t fair to place all of their shared responsibilities onto Claus’ shoulders, especially considering how much he shouldered when Luke had gotten extremely ill.
Luke wasn’t nearly as sick now, the fog in his mind put at bay by the relentless pressure of the days coming and going. Though sometimes, when he was tired, it seemed to strike again, pinning him to his bed, making it impossible for him to rise. He’d never liked getting up early, but he hated it even more now. Claus seemed to take an opposite approach, waking up earlier and earlier; Luke knew he had his own demons, but he never seemed to let them bog him down. He didn’t focus on things he couldn’t change, which is something Luke admired in him, though it was something he knew he could never imitate.
Finally, Luke slid out of bed, stretching as he did so. He ran a hand through his hair, half-heartedly trying to comb it, but judging from the glimpse he caught of himself in the mirror across the room, it only made it stick up more. Claus would have said he looked like a yellow porcupine. The thought only made him frown as he moved over to the mirror.
The cabin itself was only one large room, consisting of a dining table, a kitchen area with a fireplace, a place his mom had used to sew, and two beds pushed next to each other. The larger bed had belonged to their parents, while the smaller bed was where the siblings had slept. Of course now, with their father never being home consistently, Claus had long ago claimed the larger bed, claiming that it was his, if only because he was older. To which Luke would always reply with, “You’re only older by a few minutes.” He stopped doing this after Claus had started punching him in the arm every time he said it.
Luke stood in front of the mirror, grabbing for the comb sitting on the shelf under it, and running it through the tangled mess on his head. His hair was getting somewhat long, curling under his ears, though Claus didn’t seem to care- he claimed they didn’t have the extra money to waste on haircuts, and at this point, Luke was starting to consider cutting it for them. After all, their mother had done it before, so it shouldn’t be too hard.
Something about being in the cabin only made him think of her; during the day, while running errands, he would never think of his mother. He’d be preoccupied doing anything and everything with Claus, trying his best to contribute to their livelihood. But there was something about the cabin that was so haunted to him, making it hard to talk to Claus at night, to even get out of bed. The fog in his head turned into what was almost a sea of ink, threatening to drown him with every memory that flashed through his head. The nighttime brought on his horrible thoughts, making wintertime doubly as hard as it already was, but that wasn’t his problem right then. He grabbed his messenger bag off the hook by the door, flinging the front door open.
For today, he was alive, wearing his favorite pair of overalls, looking almost stupidly optimistic as he walked out into the July sun; their birthday had been last month, and he was feeling every bit as mature as a thirteen year old should.
Sitting on the hill outside of the house, legs dangling over the edge was Claus, looking somewhat pensive, their dog Boney at his side. He was a lot more colorful than his moony name would have led you to believe; his hair was a shock of orange on his head, and his eyes were a sharper shade of teal, almost green, which only made Luke look like a paler imitation of him. He perked up at the sight of Luke though, standing up with a small stretch, musing, “Took you long enough to wake up.” Boney copied him, trotting over to Luke to brush against his legs; the dog was actually quite massive, about as tall as either of them on his hind legs, with thick, brown fur dense enough to hide potato chips in. Luke only knew this because he’d seen Claus do just that last year.
Luke rolled his eyes, but couldn’t repress a smile as he reached down to scratch Boney’s ears, replying in a patient tone, “It was one of those days today, Claus, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Claus just scoffed, bumping Luke with his elbow as he adjusted his own bag- another leather bag, though this one was massive, designed to hold things they’d hunted. Their father used to use it, but he wasn’t home very often anymore, now was he? “Yeah, whatever. It’s been ‘one of those days’ for three years, but we’re not here to talk about that.”
Luke mumbled something incomprehensible, returning Claus' bump with a sharper one of his own. Claus just snickered, beginning his descent down the hill, adding, “You slept through my trips to the woods, so lucky you, you didn’t have to kill anything today.”
Luke crossed his arms, following after him, with Boney behind him, adding another mumble; he fidgeted with his hair as he walked, which wasn’t entirely lost on Claus. He nudged Luke again, trying to coax a smile out of him. “It's okay that you don’t like hunting, y’know. Even if it’s really inconvenient for a lot of shit we do. And it’s not like you’re useless or anything.”
“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.” Luke’s eyes wandered over to the barn, suddenly gasping as he noticed their sheep just wandering around without any sort of direction. “Again, are you serious?”
Both he and Claus looked over to the gaping, still-smoking hole in the side of the building, while Claus just rolled his eyes, groaning. “Yeah, I know. Goddamn sheep shack got smoked again.” Before he could say anything else, Luke gave him a skeptical look, only making Claus bristle. “I know I sound crazy, but for god’s sake, Luke- six individual times? The barn has been struck by lightning six times, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the Pigmasks?”
Luke put his hands up defensively, shaking his head a little. “I’m not saying anything. You’re not gonna trap me with this again.”
“It didn’t happen at all before they showed up, you can’t deny that, Luke.”
“...You do sound just a little crazy. Just a bit.”
Claus just growled, waving his hands dismissively. “Whatever, shut up. It just means we have more work to do, so we have to take our happy asses back into town.”
Luke brightened a little at that, a sudden pep entering his stride. “Maybe we could go visit Grandpa? We haven’t seen him in a bit.”
“The nursing home is a little out of the way, but I guess we could.” Claus looked somewhat impartial, which kind of shocked Luke, until he heard him growl, “Not that we owe the old fuck as much.”
“Don’t be so rude, Claus,” Luke chided in reply, waving a finger at him. Claus eyed his hand, before snapping his teeth towards it, making Luke jump. “And don’t bite me! You’re not a wild animal.”
“Wish I was, maybe then someone would be merciful enough to kill me.” Claus rolled his eyes, before directing his attention straight ahead, eyes glued to the outline of the town in front of them. Tazmily, the town they lived outside of, had changed a lot in the past couple of years. Of course, that was due to the fact that an actual economy had sprung up, but money made people bitter. Money made people do stupid, selfish things, and unfortunately for Luke and Claus, those selfish things were a way of life.
Claus, like with most things, had adapted nearly flawlessly to the new order of things; he was good at playing the nice, charismatic neighbor role, ignoring the sharp words said when they were assumed out of earshot. Even now as they walked into town, with Claus strolling into the insanely busy bazaar, slamming his game bag onto the table to haggle with Nichol behind the counter, Luke could hear murmurs of people around the shop. Sometimes, it felt like they’d never even spoken a word out loud, and yet, he could hear them loud and clear, if he focused hard enough.
Nichol was about fifteen, but he ran the shop now, seeing as his dad had run off to the clayman factory. Lots of adults were doing that these days, going to get some sort of boring warehouse or factory job just to pay bills that hadn’t existed three years ago. People were worried now about keeping their lights on and their water running, while Luke and Claus still did everything by lantern light, having to use the water pump near their house. Luke dearly missed the well in the center of town, replaced instead by some sort of useless “wishing fountain” that didn’t even work. He would know, he’d tried.
“Is this a purebred pheasant?” Nichol eyed the dead bird on the counter skeptically, while Luke tried to focus on more pleasant things in the shop. His eyes ended up fixing on the candy counter a few feet away, particularly singling in on the candied strawberries. He passively thought about asking Claus if they could snag some, but he didn’t say anything, with Claus seemingly busy.
“Sure seems to be that way,” Claus replied with a touch of pride, running a finger along the bird’s feathers. “That's why I singled it out. Sure, I got a few more slitherhens, the occasional yammonster here and there, if I could stand it. Not sure how those things fight back so hard, but they do, y’know?” His tone was so effortlessly conversational, Luke couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Here he was, standing silently and uselessly next to Claus, while he did all the smooth talking, feeling about as charming as the dead slitherhens in Claus' bag.
Nichol nodded at Claus' words, despite the fact that Luke knew he’d never hunted a day in his life; even before the soldiers, the afformentioned Pigmasks, showed up, Nichol was one of the more spoiled kids in town, spending most of his days inside. Claus said nothing about this, while Luke frowned inwardly, trying not to glare- he didn’t like this bitter side of himself very much, and with every passing day, it seemed to show up more and more.
“So,” Claus clapped his hands together, a noise so jarring, a few people in the shop jumped, before glaring daggers at him. “This pheasant, coupled with the two slitherhens I have in my bag, the dead mushrooms, and all the lovely herbs and berries Luke found… what are we looking at?”
Nichol frowned in consideration, punching a few numbers into the shiny cash register he had on the equally shiny glass countertop. A small trickle of stunningly red blood had begun to drip from the wound Claus had made in it’s neck- a precision cut, one Luke had noticed he’d become exceptional at making. While Luke had suggested originally that they hunt with their father’s bow, Claus refuted the idea, instead clinging to his beloved drago fang knife. It had also once belonged to their father, but Claus had quickly made it his own, taking the time to polish it every day. Luke couldn’t see what he liked about something that had only really brought death to them, but at the very least, he respected it’s usage now. Still, the thing did make him uneasy, but almost everything did.
“Looks like it’ll be about… two hundred dollars, if this really is a purebred pheasant, and not a chimera.” Nichol narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at Claus, who just smiled that same charming, almost cheshire cat smile back at him.
“I promise it is. I wouldn’t have put myself through the trouble of catching it if it wasn’t. I nearly fell into the river chasing that thing this morning, Nichol.” Claus placed a hand over his heart, raising the other, holding up his index and middle fingers, while the others were held down with his thumb. Luke just watched him, eyes fixing on the birthmark in the center of his palm; they both had them on both of their hands, perfectly shaped hearts pressed right in. It was something their mother had always pointed out, Luke assumed she found it cute, or something.
“Hunter’s honor, I swear.”
Nichol sighed, finally opening the register as he completed the transaction. Claus just smiled again, folding his hands in front of him, seeming almost business-like. Nichol turned his head, sharply yelling towards a door behind him, “One of you lunatics come and get this game! I’m not touching it, it’s all bloody.” His attention returning to the twins, he handed Claus the money, and wished them a good day.
“You as well, pleasure doing business as always!” Claus spun around with a strange grace, slinging his bag back over his shoulder while he began to thumb through the bills in his hand. Luke just gave Nichol a weak wave, before hugging close to Claus' side, stepping back out into the open air.