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    Celian
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Half a broken Wing - 1. Chapter 1

~Cedric~

As he walked, Cedric slipped the document folder into his left hip pocket and his phone into the laptop bag on his right side. He tried to close the office door in his mind as well, but although he went about it every day, he rarely succeeded.

On Storm Day, Nate had a doctor's appointment, so he would have to carve out some time. On Grass Day, the first check of the new beta test was due and he had to prepare for that. And on Sky Day, he had promised his best friend Dolen a few hours. Oh, and Grandma actually wanted him to collect his brothers on Sun Day and go to mass with her.

His antennae twitched, his fingers too, his wings rustled.

A guard, some shiny black beetle, opened the door to the upper flight deck for Cedric and he stepped out. Only to stop again immediately. He had missed the dusk, again.

"Oh damn..." he muttered sullenly, squinting into the darkness. The orientation and position lights didn't help a diurnal butterfly like him much; without enough light, he was practically blind. In addition, the darkness made him tired, which the artificial light in his office and large parts of the building had so far prevented.

"Mr. Cartwright." Someone approached him, a nocturnal butterfly judging by the shape of the half-spread wings.

"What is it?" Cedric wanted to know.

The man's shirt bore the company logo and he indicated a bow with folded hands. "The flight carriage is ready when you are."

"I haven't ordered one yet," Cedric replied, puzzled, although that was exactly what he had intended to do.

"But I have," he heard in a thin voice behind him.

"Grandpa!"

"Mr. Cartwright."

With a frown, Cedric looked at his grandfather, who stepped onto the flight deck leaning on a cane. "You should be home by now, Grandpa. You're not doing your health any favors."

Nolan, however, waved him off. "At my age, it doesn't matter anymore. But you, young man, you should be home. Your brothers may no longer be babies, but they're still under your supervision. And you have a private life too."

Cedric sighed. Sometimes he felt like his brothers - and he meant his little half-brothers Josh and Nate - were steadfastly refusing to grow out of the toddler stage, even though Josh would be finishing high school next year. As for his private life... it was better to cover it with a cloak of silence.

"Come on, boy, I'll drop you off at home. At least I can tell your grandma I got to see you today." Nolan winked and Cedric sighed again.

"And how much time do you spend with your wife?"

Nolan hooked an arm in Cedric's and laughed softly as they walked across the flight deck, a flight carriage having landed for them at the side. "At least I have one."

To this, Cedric preferred to keep quiet. While Cyril made aggressive comments, Nolan simply ignored the fact that Cedric liked men. In the meantime, he had gotten used to it.

The white flight carriage was one of the latest models in public transportation and bore a mark indicating daylight lamps inside. The driver opened the doors at the push of a button and Cedric helped Nolan aboard. The grass-green seats were not very comfortable, but fortunately the flight was not very long. With enough light, Cedric flew on his own.

"What about the beta test control meeting on Grass Day?" Nolan then wanted to know.

Cedric's mind, already halfway to dinner, snapped back to work. "Everything's set. I'll go to the lab myself in the morning on Grass Day to have a look at it and hear from the lab technicians."

"In the morning? Are you crazy?"

While Cedric's antennae curled up a little at the words, he tried to keep his expression calm. "Before dawn, of course. At the end of the night shift."

"You are crazy." Nolan shook his head.

Cedric's antennae curled in a little further. "When am I supposed to get an idea of what's going on?" he asked defensively. "During the day this place is a storm."

Nolan shook his head again. "You can't do everything on your own, Cedric. A good leader delegates."

"And how am I supposed to make good decisions if I don't know whether I can trust the information I'm given?" Cedric replied. He had grown up in this company, had studied and now had several years of practical experience, but he had also seen how quickly such a large company could fall if the decision-makers didn't know everything or were deceived from below.

He held Nolan's scrutinizing gaze for a while, then lowered his eyes.

"You can't do everything on your own," Nolan repeated emphatically. "You have to delegate. And you have to make sure you have good employees first."

Cedric suspected this conversation would just go round in circles, so he simply nodded. A chime announced that they had reached their destination and he pressed the door button. "Good night, Grandpa."

"Good night, Cedric. And make sure Cyril shows up at the meeting on Grass Day."

Why do I have to look after my twin as well? - Cedric thought, but he nodded again. For Nolan also ignored the tensions between his eldest grandsons.

The door of the flight carriage opened and Cedric stepped onto the small extended platform. He opened the wings, shook them briefly and then fluttered the short distance over to the platform of his apartment. When he turned around, the carriage was already flying on.

 

Josh was sprawled on the couch playing on the games console, Nate was sitting next to him, hard at work on his phone.

"Have you done your homework?" Cedric wanted to know after he had put his bags away and changed into something comfortable.

Nate gave him a thumbs-up, Josh grunted and then spat a curse at the game.

With a resigned sigh, Cedric left it at that. With Nate, he could be sure he was telling the truth, but Josh... As for Josh, by now he hoped he had to repeat the school year and that this would act as a wake-up call.

"Food's in the fridge," Nate called after him as he left the living room.

"Thanks," Cedric called back.

"Don't thank me, thank Riley."

What would I do without someone like Riley? - Cedric asked himself and opened the fridge. Not only did Riley cook for them when he came, as the covered plate with the 'Cedric' note on it showed, but he also took care of the groceries, the laundry and all sorts of other stuff. And this despite the fact that the moth already had a full-time job in the laboratory at Cartwright Pharmaceuticals.

Cedric felt a little guilty, but then again, Riley had put himself forward for the housekeeping job. He did a pretty good one, Cedric admitted without hesitation.

Caramelized carrots, sweet and sour nuts and herbed potatoes. Cedric nodded, lost in thought, and slid the compartment plate into the microwave. As the appliance whirred quietly, he leaned against the fridge and looked over at the picture hanging above the small dining table.

The last family photo, taken on his and Cyril's eighteenth birthday. Just a few months later, his father Frederick, stepmother Jennifer and little Joleen had all died in a traffic accident. Because Grandpa Nolan had practically lived in the office at the time and Grandma Felicitas had been seriously ill, Cedric and Cyril had had to look after the two little half-brothers, as Nolan had refused to give them to Jennifer's family.

But Cyril had taken off pretty soon and since then, for more than eleven years, Cedric had been trying to raise his half-brothers. He didn't dare to judge how successful he was.

The ping of the microwave made him jump.

"You know, Dad, you wanted all those kids. I mean, sure, you didn't grow up any different, but it would be nice if you took care of them," he mumbled, too tired for any real hard feelings towards Frederick, and took his dinner out of the microwave.

The arguing voices of Josh and Nate sounded from the living room, but with two hands Cedric rubbed his face, with two he straightened his antennae, and begged the Sun for strong nerves and forgiveness for not being a better big brother.

 


 

~Riley~

The apartment door clicked into the lock and Riley literally fell back against it, his trapped wings protesting weakly. He sank down onto the floor, pressing his face against his knees. He wrapped one pair of arms around his legs and crossed the other behind his neck.

Breathe. Exist.

To his right, the fridge hummed quietly. He should probably just unplug it, there was hardly ever anything in it anyway and it would save electricity.

On his other side, something banged heavily against the wall. As there was no shouting, but a louder growing 'ah-ah', Vicky and Tino weren't arguing, they were fucking. Riley didn't want to hear either of this, but the walls here in the Thistle were thin.

Thin walls, tiny living units, lots of questionable incidents. Whoever lived here had either hit rock bottom or still had hopes of climbing up from here.

When Riley had moved in here, the wing of the Thistle he lived in had still been the best. In fact, it had been a kind of stepping stone for young people from the lower classes, with many poor students who couldn't get a place in the overcrowded dormitories. Riley had been in a similar situation, as the police academy didn't have its own dorm. Commuting from outside the city where his parents lived hadn't really been an option, though. Since his tiny first-year salary wasn't enough for anything, his paternal grandparents - former members of the police force - had paid his rent out of sheer pride and joy for another generation in this honorable service.

But Riley's dreams, which were already built on shaky foundations, had crumbled to dust just six months later.

His phone emitted a special chime, and with a groan he scrambled to his feet. The sound was completely drowned out by the noises his neighbors were still making.

He took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, then pulled a pillbox from one of the many pockets of his cargo pants and shook one of the rust-red pills into his hand. He swallowed the little thing with plenty of water and then made a note of it on his phone. His thoughts revolved around all sorts of things, but far too little about his own health.

The rumbling of his stomach and the tiredness dragging heavily on his limbs were part of it.

Again he glanced at his phone, but this time he consciously checked the time. He could treat himself to a nap. One hour perhaps. And then go to the Cartwrights. Or he could go straight to the Cartwrights, take care of all sorts of shit there, and postpone his nap to their couch. It was a hundred times more comfortable than his cheap not-bed-not-couch-thing anyway.

His stomach grumbled again. He grimaced and opened his pantry, but it was only marginally better stocked than his fridge. A bag with the last remnants of a nut mix - so few that he simply poured the contents into his mouth - and one last fruit jelly cube.

Chewing, he filled the water glass again and winced when something banged against the door.

"Riley!" Was it kicks maltreating the door? "Riley, are you there?"

With that raspy voice, Riley didn't even need to look through the peephole, Andrew was audible - if he wanted to be heard. So he opened and raised a brow, but almost immediately backed away with a hiss when Andrew thrust a laundry basket at him. "Dude..."

"Is that your stuff?"

Riley's gaze slid from the cockroach's scowling face down to the laundry basket in his hands. The clothes in it were damp and smelled as if they had been for a while. "Are you kidding me?" he asked back.

"You have a key to my washing machine, so it's a legitimate question."

That was certainly true, but the little bit of clothing Riley owned, he shoved alongside the Cartwrights' clothes into their washing machine and dryer. Besides: "Those are lace thongs. They're definitely not mine."

"Eh." Andrew spat into the hallway. "With guys like you, you never know what they're wearing under their jeans."

Ideally, Riley would have liked to slam the door in his face, a fist as an option, but as long as he was in debt to that ugly roach, he had to behave himself. Besides, Andrew had more contacts than any successful ho and could get Riley kicked out of the Thistle.

"When I use your machine, I'll let you know," he said instead, receiving a curt nod. With that, the conversation was over and Riley retreated to his tiny home.

Briefly he shook out his wings, then reached for the fruit jelly. Or he wanted to, because it banged against the door again.

"Riley! Riley, open up! I know you're there!" The voice was just as recognizable as Andrew's. Eric.

Riley grimaced and hastily shoved the fruit jelly into his mouth. Eric couldn't take what wasn't there.

"Riley you bastard, open up!"

Knowing from experience that Eric had no problem resorting to either lock picks or brute force, Riley opened the door. "What-"

With an ugly growl, Eric shoved Riley inside. "Did you give that fucking cockroach all your money again?" He slammed the door behind him.

For Eric, a bad mood was actually a constant state of mind and Riley had known his big brother long enough to keep backing away. "I'm paying my debts," he said, stretching his arms out to keep his balance as Eric gave him another shove.

Eric grunted, gave Riley a scowl and then started looking for money as so often. As if Riley was stupid enough to keep his hard-earned money under his pillow.

Also out of painful experience, however, Riley remained silent. His apartment unit was tiny, so it had few places to hide and not much potential for chaos. Nevertheless, he always had smaller bills in one or two different places to satisfy Eric, which was pure self-protection. His brother had also let so many brain cells die off through fights and drugs since his teenage years that he didn't even notice Riley's trickery.

"You've got two jobs, you fucker, where are you leaving all your money?" Eric growled, stuffing thirty doubloons into his trouser pocket.

"I'm paying my debts," Riley repeated. "I'm helping Mom pay off Dad's debt. And I'm trying to help Troy."

The mention of their oldest brother made Eric's antennae twitch and his wings rustle, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he let his eyes wander and then opened the pantry. "What are you eating anyway?"

"From the looks of it, nothing today," Riley replied dryly. That wasn't quite the truth, after all, he ate in the canteen at work and at the Cartwright's he snacked here and there, but showing Eric where the problem lay sometimes helped.

Emphasis on sometimes.

Eric uttered something which sounded surprisingly resigned for a grunt.

Was this one of those really rare moments when Eric would show something like brotherly love? Riley hadn't quite finished thinking the question when he flinched, startled, as Eric came towards him. He bumped painfully against the closet and raised all four hands in a calming gesture, but Eric still grabbed Riley's shirt with three hands and one grabbed Riley's hair.

However, and this astonished Riley immensely, the gesture was almost tender by Eric's standards. But that didn't change the fact that Riley didn't want to be treated like that.

"You're not selling your ass, you hear me?"

Riley blinked, puzzled. "Excuse me?"

Eric shook him gently. "You're not selling your ass. I know you like getting fucked, but you're not making a whore of yourself, do you understand?"

"Wasn't going to..." Riley replied slowly, clearly confused, and then winced as Eric tousled his hair like he was a toddler. His antennae curled up in shock. Quite speechless, he looked after Eric, who hurriedly left the apartment and closed the door unusually softly.

However, Eric immediately banged against it again. "Oh, and Riley!" he shouted through the thin material. "Make sure you have money when I come back!" One last kick, then there was silence.

Riley let out a relieved sigh. He smoothed over his shirt and antennae and listened for a moment. Vicky and Tino had finally finished, the sound of what Hendrick called music drifted faintly over from the other side. Somewhere further away, dishes clinked.

Next to his sleeping place was a small bedside table with two drawers. In the top one was a folder with important documents. In some of the protective foils, which contained several documents, there were bank bills; one even had a fifty in it, quite openly. Eric at least knew about the latter and it spoke for him that he had left Riley a kind of nest egg.

Riley's real secret, however, was hidden in the bottom drawer. There, on a soft cloth, were several dildos and butt plugs. However, two of the dildos and one of the plugs were hollow and filled with bills. Eric hadn't touched the drawer since he'd first taken a look at it years ago; Riley had only read about this trick afterwards and put it into practice, but that only made the hiding place safer.

Since a nap was impossible now, Riley took a look in both drawers, as he always did before leaving the house, and went for a pee. On his way through the dim corridors of the Thistle to the main entrance of his housing wing, he pulled his heavy sunglasses out of their case. Only after he had put them on and adjusted all the side pieces did he step out through the door onto the dusty gravel road.

The sunlight burned hot on his skin, made his wings tingle as he shook them and then spread them out.

Merciful Moon, he would never get used to it.

After giving a firefly he knew by sight and pulling a face as tortured by the light as he felt himself a short nod, he flew away, towards the Cartwrights.

Copyright © 2024 Celian; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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