Canceled | Stories I Abandoned

Let Us Love You (Young Dad V.2)

A nine–year–old strummed softly on his old and beaten guitar. It had been a gift—from the Gods, he assumed, as it was abandoned in town and he found it while shopping. He was lightly smiling whilst he hummed, playing a soft tune he'd use to sing his brother to sleep.

Recognizing the tune, his energetic two–year–old brother entered the room dramatically unannounced. But his reason wasn't for the tune like the guitarist had assumed—no, he was pulling his arm as he chanted away.

"Da—Wilby! Wilby!" the blonde yelled at his brother, who was confused on the toddler's antics. "Look! Look!"

He dragged the elder to the window, and the boy's face grew into an excited smile. His parents were finally home.

He left his younger brother at the window to gaze through, rushing downstairs.

They're back from the trip! They're home! They came back for us!

It wasn't rare for the duo's parents to leave for trips. More often than not, they'd leave from weeks to months. They're so often gone, that he often thinks they will never return. So when they do, he gets excited and tries to please them before they up and leave again.

As they entered, the boy—referred to as 'Wilby' by the younger blonde—ran down to greet them, nearly falling. He had a huge grin as he gained his balance, holding onto the stair's railing as support. He failed to notice his parents' annoyed expressions and the bundle in his mother's arms.

"Mother! Father!" he greeted. His parents didn't like him referring to him as anything else, saying it wasn't 'manly' and he was 'too old' to refer to them like other kids do their own parents.

His mother rolled her eyes as she approached her eldest son. Wilbur's eyes brightened before dimming again as the bundle dropped in his arms. He'd assumed he'd finally get a hug—he chastised himself for thinking such a thing when his parents had the same reasons as wanting to only be called my their formal titles.

He looked down and was met with a baby. He was a fox hybrid, which is quite the uncommon occurrence. His hair was bright orange, white streaks in it to match the order's white streak. His eyes brightened once more as a smile graced his face—he had another baby brother.

It didn't yet hit him that he'll have to raise the boy, just like he did the blonde.

It didn't hit him that this was possibly the last time his parents would ever return.

"We're leaving. Take care of your younger brothers," was all they said. When the eldest son processed their words, he looked up to beg them not to leave again, but they were already gone.

He gazed longingly at the door, sadness gracing his eyes as he gripped his newborn brother in his arms. His two–year–old brother stopped at the center to the staircase, confused at his brother's gaze.

"Daddy?"

Wilbur didn't notice his brother's words, and neither did the younger correct himself. He slowly turned and started walking towards the nursery—the room the brothers used and the parents never got around to fixing back to a normal room.

The blonde slowly followed him, trying to peer over his shoulder. He couldn't see past the elder's wings—still small, yet majestically white—as he put the baby to sleep. He went behind him and pushed down his brother's wing a bit to see the sleeping baby, standing on his tip–toes. He gazed curiously and astonished at the baby. The nine–year–old smiled lightly, reading the tag on the newborn's blanket.

"Tommy," he said, gaining the blonde's attention. "This is your brother, Fundy."

"I'm a big brother!" Tommy cheered, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he punched the air. The nine–year–old chuckled before rushing to comfort the newborn, whom of which had started crying with Tommy's outburst.