One chapter before the end.
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The kids show up in the middle of Xisuma's shift, as per usual. Planet is already there, of course, taking orders alongside the man. Short and tall boys trickle in whilst his back is turned and he only notices when the teenager beside him greets his friends by name. Finishing a coffee, Xisuma sets the drink on the bar, thanks the customer who takes it and lastly wipes his hands on a towel. He regards his kids and their friends with a wave of his hand before looking at the clock.

"Did the principal hold you up again, Zam?" he asks with a knowing lilt to his voice.

"Oh, right!" Zam's brows shoot up as he remembers something. He quickly riffles through the mess of books, notebooks and papers in his bag. He recovers a paper from between the pages of a random book and sets it flat on the counter. "The principal wants you to sign that."

"What was it this time?" Xisuma asks as he grabs a pen from an invisible drawer. Zam's giggle reached a high tone, which the man has learnt to relate to embarrassment or nervousness. He uncaps the pen and signs the piece of paper.

"He broke a window!" Jaron pipes up from the group table. Zam shoots him a deadly look with fiery cheeks.

"Snitch!" he throws back. The other just laughs.

Zam groans in faux agony before readdressing Xisuma. "It was an accident, I promise."

"I'm sure it was." Xisuma responds, not at all believing him.

"It was!" the teen insists.

"You kicked the ball at Red!" Jaron, once again, cuts in. "He's lucky he dodged in time!"

Xisuma looks at Zam with a raised eyebrow, awaiting an explanation. The signed paper is held between his fingers and when Zam tries to grab it, he holds it farther away. With another groan that sounded way more dramatic than needed, the boy walks towards the table and promptly apologises to Red, who dismisses him with a wave. Planet snickers, while the rest of the kids are too busy opening their books and spilling stationary on the table. When Zam returns to the counter he looks unimpressed.

"Happy now, old man?"

Xisuma is too proud of Zam's improving manners to pay attention to the petty insult. "Very much so, Zam. Here you go."

Zam grabs the paper out of his hands and goes to sit down with his classmates. Xisuma looks at Planet and nods towards the group table. The boy hurries to untie the apron and throws it at Xisuma in order to grab his bag from the back room and join his friends. Not much happens after that. Customers come and go, some stay and some leave right after they receive their orders, some (parents, Xisuma assumes) even ask the kids if they need help or simply watch them with fondness and awe. He serves them a couple of snacks when there is no one waiting for coffee at the bar and asks if they need his wisdom on Mathematics and Physics (they could handle it, they told him, too stubborn to stop at the first hurdle of a Maths problem).

The repetitive pattern breaks an hour later, though. The bell rings and Xisuma's mouth almost hits the floor when he sees Xanthus walking into the establishment. It's a complete surprise; after the amount of chiding he threw at him, he believed that Xanthus would take at least a month till he stepped foot near any of them again. His brother looks towards the table full of souls who could have perished in the danger he wrapped each of them in, Spoke especially. Xisuma doesn't allow him to disturb their peace, not again –never again–, quickly moving and dragging Xanthus towards the bar by the upper arm.

"What are you doing here, Xanthus?" he silently seethed, holding his brother close and as out-of-sight as he could. He doesn't want to imagine Parrot's reaction to Xanthus' presence in the safety of the cafe, so he makes up a plan to quickly (and metaphorically) boot his brother out of here.

"Way to welcome me, brother." Xanthus replies, rolling his eyes beneath the helmet. Xisuma can see the violet glow spilling onto the visor from his own eyes. He remembers that the man he's gripping roughly in his hand is his brother; his beloved, immature, little brother. He scolds himself, trying to calm his nerves. The opacity lessens and Xisuma, realising the anger that wanted to come out and bite like a wild dog, lets go of his brother's arm, though doesn't disallow him to stir away from him. A moment of silence befalls them in which they evaluate each other.

Xanthus is the one to break it, looking away from his brother's eyes. Xisuma, still trying to wrangle his conflicting emotions, does his best to listen.

"I came to apologise... to all of you." he says. Surprise paints Xisuma's expression. Surely, Xanthus knows that no one is going to welcome him here. No one is going to forgive him like Xisuma did every time he misbehaved when they were younger. He doubts they'll sit and listen like they do in class. If anything, they'll probably try to harm him. Parrot would want to pluck his eyes out with his own hands. However, it isn't just them who wouldn't forgive him.

Xisuma doesn't know how he could forgive his brother after endangering poor Spoke's life. Spoke, whose life turned around for the better: he came from the streets, he now sleeps on a soft mattress without the fear of hunger, he lives with people who love him and care about him. Now he also has to work for a monster of a human being, all thanks to his brother; his own blood, who has never thought before acting, always stirring up trouble, always running back to Xisuma so he may deal with the mess he left behind. He told him on the phone: he is done covering for him. He is done.

The anger flares and with it the violet light glows brighter. Before he can say anything more, he hears the squeak of a chair and everything rushes into focus. The music of the cafe is loud in his ears, so is the buzz of the customers' chatter and the floor and the walls seem brighter and it suddenly shocks him how close yet how far everything is. He blinks repeatedly, stepping back as he takes in his surroundings again, slowly exhaling. He paces a bit, glances at the group table to ensure the kids' continued ignorance, then regards his brother once more.

"And say what? That you're sorry?" Xisuma repeats the words he spoke on the phone, quietly with hardly quelled flames licking at his stomach, shaking his head. "I love you, brother, but this is the last time I tolerate your impulsive, pretentious and frankly stupid behaviour!"

Xanthus takes a step back like this is the first time he's heard these words. Xisuma doesn't know if Xanthus listened to him on the phone but he feels satisfied now that he sees him listening. It's like he has just now realised how bad the damage is and how far it's spread.

He would have said more (he had so much more to tell him, even though his workplace isn't a place for family quarrels) but then another voice spoke up. His eyes widened, head snapping to the group table, where the kids are still eating the words on their books, yet Red, who is sitting facing the counter, has stood up.

"You have some nerve showing your face!" the boy doesn't even try to keep his volume down. The rest of his company follows the monotone of his voice, usually paired with laughs and smart quips, now tainted with anger and a vengeful spirit. When they see what he has seen, however, they understand, and Xisuma sees their eyes harden and their lips tug into deep frowns.

Red rounds the table and marches like a soldier towards the two brothers. He harshly shoves Xanthus back. Xisuma sees the hand closing into a fist and reacts quickly. He grabs Red's right arm and carefully pulls him back. The boy snaps his head towards him with an ugly snarl, like a dog ready to bite a previously unknown attacker, yet his eyes, hidden behind the black lenses of his sunglasses, soften upon recognising him. He tuts, almost spitting in Xanthus' protected face and rips his arm out of Xisuma's hold. "If you weren't Xisuma's brother, you would be getting the Branzy treatment right now." he mutters, each word dripping with venom.

Xisuma stands stunned at the boy's side, half-relieved and half-confused about the reason Red stopped his oncoming assault. Xanthus isn't too far behind, having made himself curve on the food display in an attempt to back away from a punch. He extends his hand again, too bewildered for his anger to take hold again, and sets it on Red's shoulder. Like a domino effect, Red's shoulders slacken as he absorbs the man't calmness like a sponge.

"I'm sorry about this, Red–"

"You aren't the one who should be sorry!"

Xisuma glances towards the tables. Many of the customers are watching the scene unfold. He thanks the Void that none of them has started recording the situation. The last thing he needs is for this fight to make it to his boss' ears and eyes. If that happens, he can only assume that he'll be fired for disturbing the customers.

"Don't yell, please." his grip tightens pleadingly for a second and he lets Red go. The boy crosses his arms and Xisuma has a feeling that he's rolling his eyes but relents anyway.

"Why is he here?" Red asks impatiently, holding back swears for Xisuma's sake.

"I–I'm here to apologise to everyone." Xanthus stutters.

The cafe falls into silence. Even the soft music from the speakers seems to halt. They have gathered the attention of the kids, half of which are standing up, trying to get a better read of the situation and the customers who are quietly sipping their coffee and stealing shy glances.

Red appears to be appraising the words Xanthus has just uttered or he's simply surprised to hear them. Regardless of the reason for his speechless tongue, he takes a few careful steps back, never leaving the man out of his sight. Taking the opportunity, Xanthus cautiously walks towards the others and Xisuma takes a moment to ask Red to be civil while his brother is here. He expects Red to refuse, to say that he'd rather punch the bastard than be civil with him but he merely clicks his tongue in annoyance and agrees. The boy walks after his brother with a buzz of nervousness as Xisuma returns to his job to serve a couple who have just walked in.

He watches them out of the corner of his eye, through quick glances, whilst he bids the customers goodbye. They talk quietly, although Xisuma notices how the older boys have stood up, almost circling around the table to encase his brother in a trap.

If you weren't Xisuma's brother, you would be getting the Branzy treatment right now.

Xisuma can feel his fingers shake slightly. Is this trust between them really protecting his brother from the children's wrath? Is it going to be enough to keep everyone calm?

The answer is: yes. Yes, it is enough. There are no punches thrown, no blood shed. Parrot has stood up and put his hands on the table, his wings folded neatly; preened to perfection thanks to Grian. Xisuma feels shivers running down his spine at the coldness in his voice, which is so low, Xisuma can barely hear it from the bar.

"I don't want to see your face again." is what he says, shoulders hunched like an animal about to lunge at its prey, his eyes glinting with danger and piercing through Xanthus like needles. "I don't care if you're in town, you will call in advance if you're going to visit."

And– And that's the best outcome Xisuma could have thought of, really. His heart swells with pride as he sees his boys state and reinforce their boundaries, especially in such a situation. Parrot glances at him, as if asking for reassurance that this is okay to do, that telling someone he considers dangerous to back off is fine. It is fine, so Xisuma nods encouragingly, and watches as Parrot sits back down.

Working under Clownpierce is way more normal than Spoke expected. To be fair, he had expected to see a couple of interrogation rooms or even torture chambers in the backstage areas of the casino. The work hours are very flexible, seeing as Clown doesn't really need him around very often; it's two hours a day tops and only afternoons. Half the time, Spoke is completing school assignments and the other half he is socialising with the casino staff. In the one week he has been working there, he has learnt a lot of card games. Blackjack, Councan, Poker (currently he's trying to memorise the ranks of the hands, like Five-of-a-kind and Full House, as a side-hobby). Admittedly, the place is pretty chill.

His main task is to do all the tasks that Branzy can't do in his current, beaten-up, broken-arm-ed state. Spoke guesses that's karma, since now he has to help the very spy that he and the others beat up in the alley behind the cafe. Branzy supervises and Spoke works. He sorts through paperwork, goes through the mail, distinguishes the movie programme and sports section of the newspaper for Clown (and who would have guessed that the great, maleficent Clown would be interested in romance movies instead of slashers? Not Spoke.) And because Branzy's broken arm is also his good arm, Spoke gets to write letters and emails to very important individuals –at least the 'small fry' (as Clown calls them and wow, wouldn't you look at that? He isn't even trying to hide the fact that he's a murderer. Then again, Spoke knows of the aforementioned fact, so there is really no reason for him to hide it.)

This is how his days go. He sorts the paperwork (in alphabetical order), he reads and writes words that he doesn't understand so Branzy has the pleasure of acting as a dictionary for an hour, and then he has nothing else to do. What is better than following the casino owner around when he has nothing else to do? Nothing. Nothing is better than tailing Clown as he goes about his day. The poor guy will simply be sitting at his desk, doing whatever casino owners do at their desk in their personal office (and whatever he was doing with Branzy that made the latter so flustered and red-faced), and Spoke will walk in without warning (interrupting the whatever-they-were-doing before things got heated) and just sit there and watch as Clown reluctantly (and sadly) returns to his desk, sighs in what Spoke can only infer as frustration (at the weird words, he guesses. Spoke dislikes the weird words too) and resumes his work.

That becomes boring eventually, though, so Spoke also pays a visit (many visits) to the dealers at the tables and the bartenders. The patrons and the customers appear surprised when they see him, a child, walking around the floor without an escort –at least a security guard to drag him out of the only-adults place. But no security ever came, so Spoke would be free to roam –it's not like he has a written contract that states where he is supposed to be, as long as a passable report is written and sent to Xisuma alongside the boy there is no issue. The staff are all very nice to him, too, and he frequently visits the poker tables and helps with cleaning. If you asked someone in the casino, they'd tell you that he is an absolute joy to have around.

(Unknowingly to Spoke but knowingly to Xisuma, Grian has asked –very discreetly– and received satisfactory answers that the kid isn't being mistreated. If anything, he's the one making work interesting nowadays –that's what the staff told him! And what reason would they have to lie?)

Thus, Spoke learnt the card games and some card tricks from the dealers. The bartender often shooed him when he grew curious about the drinks, stating that he's too young to be anywhere near alcohol (the guy would make him a lemonade with sparkling water and send him away). Then came the time that Spoke wanted to deal at the tables, especially at the games he'd just learnt but Branzy told him no. No, because he's young and child labour is a crime that no one knows Clown is permitting for a non-lucrative reason. He does, however, allow Spoke to assist the dealers by duplicating the card packs.

Now, Spoke knew he was good at what he was doing. He'd made fake money look and feel like real money but a sealed pack of cards? That's an object with many other objects in it –fifty two cards and a package of a certain brand, not to mention the seal which is custom made for said brand. That would be fifty-four objects he'd have to duplicate and that honestly sounded like a chore and a half. Although, the concept intrigued him enough to give duplicating the whole thing in one go a try.

It didn't exactly work. The end result was a package with half a seal and a monochrome Joker card inside of it. He tried it a couple more times until he'd eaten all of the pistachios and crisps in the cupboards of the bar for energy. That was the day Clown decided to stock the break room with energy bars –and when Clown stocks, he stocks. Spoke has never seen so much food in one place before, except for the supermarket. Everything was covered in energy bars and sugar treats that he was allowed to (in Clown's words: "If you continue to dupe the card decks, then please don't empty the bar. And don't pass out on me, I don't want to have a word with your dad.") (Xisuma wasn't very happy with all the unhealthy things Spoke was allowed to consume, so Clown did, in fact, have to have a word with his dad –because that's how karma works.)

While Spoke was having the best days of his life working at the casino, Parrot was having the time of his life connecting with his avian instincts. Grian took a liking to the kid (they share the same bird category, so Xisuma can see why) and Parrot took a liking to him. And the presence of Grian brought Jimmy –a friend of Grian's, whom Xisuma has met only once but he could tell that he was trustworthy and overall a jolly, canary-feathered guy.

Every now and then, the two grown adults would burst into the living room through the balcony (or accidentally smack their faces against the glass in their attempt to enter –flying or not) and Parrot would abandon whatever it was he was doing at the time. Mostly homework. (Xisuma doesn't let him get away with it, and oftentimes he has to coerce him into completing the unfinished Maths and English assignments when the trio of two mischiefs and one poor guy (Jimmy) returns.

Xisuma would be lying if he said that the excitement and the sudden brightness that lit up Parrot's face every time he saw the other two, didn't make him a tad jealous. He tries to conceal it, though, because it's only natural for a kid to get incredibly excited when it discovers something new, let alone a new world that he had every right to but no means to explore it. Spoke shares his sentiment, he's found out. The boy misses playing with Parrot in the afternoons and he has expressed his confusion a lot of times.

"Like, good for him, I want him to be happy but what about me?" is one of the sentences that made Xisuma stop mid-sweep of the floor. Hadn't he and Parrot talked about this? Spoke was looking at him with a sad face from the bedroom doorway when he looked over his shoulder. Reluctantly, he leant the broom against a wall and took Spoke to the kitchen to talk about it too.

Meanwhile, Parrot has the time of his life when he is with Grian and Jimmy; his flock. He's been learning bird-terms, learning how to do cool tricks and how to land safely. It's nice to open his wings and fly over the coast and not just jump from light post to light post to roof or jump over the school gate with a wind boost.

And it's exhilarating to see the view and see the people below become mere ants the farther up he soars. It's thrilling to fly through the clouds and feel the fluffy, airy material brush his feathered cheeks and the wind howl in his ears like a melody that feels so familiar. It's–

It's great. He wishes he could share the same exact experience with Xisuma and Spoke, and the others but... But they don't have wings. They can't fly. They can't see the world from high above, so high that Parrot's lungs beg him to fly lower; just a few more ants to add to the pile. They aren't like him; not avian. This isn't news to him. For the longest time, he's been living like them instead of how he was designed to be living: hiding away from the sun and steering clear of the sky instead of following the twitch of his wings whenever the wind whispered birdsongs.

He flies with Grian and with Jimmy and every time he returns home, he is cold and warm at the same time, tired with adrenaline and exercise. Xisuma and Spoke can't follow him in the air but they can wait for him at home. And they wait– they wait for him with open arms and warm smiles and Xisuma gives him the biggest hug before he asks him how the flight went. (he also reminds him that he has homework to do, softly encouraging him rather than demanding he gets it done –like some of his classmates have described their parents doing.)

Another good thing that has come out of this new hobby is that his essays have been improving. He can't share the view of the treetops, the songs of the birds, the wind and the sea salt stinging his eyes. They can't feel what he does but he can bring them as close to the real thing as he can through words. He spends some of his time looking through the dictionary and the Literature book has dog-eared pages, where he found a passage with interesting and unique words. At times, the book's dictionary doesn't have the meaning of the words, so he asks Xisuma and the man answers him, albeit with a hint of confusion in his tone.

When he begins using new words as he narrates –narrates, cool word, right?– the eventful afternoons, he sees Xisuma's eyes crinkle just a bit more at the edges, like he has just understood what he's trying to do –and Spoke asks what the strange words mean, like what is aquamarine? Frivolous? Why the fuck is spume a synonym for sea foam? And Xisuma frowns so hard at that, Parrot keels over laughing.

"Spoke..."

And Spoke turns towards him like Parrot has personally offended him.

"Am I wrong in my confusion?"

And that is the only time Xisuma ever lets him get away with a swear.