Running • Iggy

Family

I couldn't sleep.

I stared at the ceiling absently, listening to the broken clock tick without actually moving its hands in the corner of the living room. I had snuck out of the bedroom I was sharing with the rest of the female flock members about two hours ago, and I was now lying on the floor. There was a perfectly good sofa right next to my left arm but let's be honest, the floor is so much better.

My mind was spinning, not with thoughts, but just spinning. I wasn't actually thinking of much, I was just unable to sleep. It happened sometimes, like my brain forgot the meaning of sleep.  The plain ceiling above my head gave me something with no detail to look at, so I wasn't too focused on anything until I heard a door upstairs open and close very, very quietly. I knew immediately it wasn't Fang, because Fang had a knack for doing things with no sound at all. The kids wouldn't have been so quiet, and once Max was asleep she was asleep. So it was Iggy.

When the lights turned on, I winced, squeezing my eyes shut. "Do you mind? I was enjoying being able to see." I covered my eyes with my arm. "Why are you on the floor?" Iggy asked curiously, leaning on the back of the couch. I peeked out from under my arms, almost having a heart attack when I realized Iggy's was without a shirt. I covered my eyes with my arm so quickly I hurt my nose.

"Why don't you have a shirt on?" I asked, my voice was two octaves higher than usual. Iggy just laughed. "I was warm. Now, answer my question." He insisted. I held my arm firmly over my eyes as I spoke. "The floor is comfortable." I said simply.

Iggy must've gotten some water, because when he returned and sat on the couch, he set a cup on the table beside the arm of the seat. "Iggy, do you want to go meet your parents?" I asked quietly. He seemed to hesitate. "I do." He responded. I nodded slightly, my eyes still closed. I dropped my arm to my side. The ceiling light lit up the inside of my eyelids.

"My back hurts." He muttered absently. "That wing thing hurts." His voice lowered slightly. I nodded in agreement. "It hurt like a bitch for years, it still does. I just got used to it." I felt him shift and then slide onto the floor, sitting above my head. He was silent for a moment, before speaking. "Come on, you should come sleep with me. You'll get exhausted if you don't sleep."

"I'm fine, Iggy. I should be sleeping on my own anyway, I'm not a baby." I muttered. I was fine sleeping on my own, although nightmares came more frequently when I was. It was silent for about 3 minutes, until I felt him shake slightly above my head. Then another singular shake, and a sniffle. "Iggy?" I asked quietly, finally opening my eyes. I looked up to see Iggy holding his head in his hand, covering his eyes. Wet streaks were running down his cheeks silently. "Hey, Iggy-" I got up onto my knees. "What's wrong? Hey, talk to me." I gently ran my hand down his bare back, sitting next to him. "I just... I hate it." Iggy mumbled. "Hate what?" I asked. He continued to keep his head in his hand.

"The thought of you being alone for so many years, suffering like that. Constant nightmares and flashbacks without anyone to help you or comfort you. I keep having visions of you curled up with your back to your bedroom door, sobbing silently so we didn't hear you. I keep imagining you forcing yourself to stay awake for days because you were too terrified to sleep. I keep having nightmares of you being unable to breathe from crying for hours after waking up, and then pretending it was all alright for our sakes. I feel sick at the thought, Citrus. I hate that I didn't find out sooner, that you went through that for 15 years completely alone." I sat quietly, stunned by his words. Too stunned to think, or speak, or do anything but listen.

"Even in the School, I thought you were so strong because you never cried. I felt like you were a rock I could lean on, someone who was stronger than the tests and overcame them... and then I heard you crying that night in the hotel, crying for me. You were crying for me, Citrus, and I didn't have the foggiest clue that you needed me the same way I needed you. And now, even when I know how bad you're suffering, it feels like I'm doing nothing to help. I feel so useless..." He took a shaky breath, sitting in silence for a few moments. And then in a smaller voice, he asked. "Was it scary?"