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They had one chance at living. One life—beautifully short and mortal. They were all meant to find a way to live together, to grow old and pass peacefully. It was what was meant to happen. That was meant to happen.
Instead, Skeptic found himself standing stock still on the hill Opportunist had wanted to meet him on. There was a bouquet of poppies in one hand, thinking it’d be nice to bring his lover a gift. He wasn’t used to giving gifts as a love language, but it would have been a nice change of pace.
It would have been nice, if most of Opportunist’s blood wasn’t smeared across the grass.
Smitten stood over him, hunched, breathing hard and covered in blood. He clutched the blade in his hands with white knuckles, and as he turned to look at his brother, Skeptic saw frantic scratches all over his face, neck, and shoulders. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it.
Smitten smiled, broad and bright, as he dropped his blade and casually approached Skeptic. “Brother!” He laughed, pulling him into a tight hug that Skeptic did not reciprocate. Smitten pulled away, still smiling as his own blood mingled with Opportunist’s. “It’s so nice to see you here. I’ve dealt with your pest!”
“W-what…” Skeptic’s eyes stayed on Opportunist’s body, so small and so fragile against the slick grass. His dull eyes stared out at nothing, one of them closed in a half-wink, and Skeptic could envision his playful smirk and giggling after giving him teasing praise. He would never have that again. “What did y-you… do?”
Smitten sighed—not a sigh of remorse, but the type of sigh someone gives after doing a chore they particularly hate. “He wasn’t good for you, brother! He was a worm in our dear Quiet’s heart, and he would have become a worm in yours!” His smile grew softer, and he comfortingly rubbed Skeptic’s shoulder. “I could not bear to see what he might do to you! So I taught him a lesson to stay away from you.”
Taught him a lesson.
They had one life.
Opportunist’s unseeing eyes bore through him.
Once it was done, it was done.
Opportunist’s hands were bloody, Smitten’s plumage caught between his fingers.
They had no second chances.
They were never coming back.
He was never coming back.
“Well!” Smitten chirped, clasping his hands together and bouncing on his toes before taking Skeptic’s hand. “Let us go and find you a new partner! How do you feel about Paranoid?” He began to tug Skeptic away, back down the hill, his brother stumbling after him. “I think you two would be cute together! Oh, or perhaps you and Stubborn? He’s quite the charmer once you get to know him! It’d do you good to have someone like him, brother!”
Smitten’s words began to be drowned out as Skeptic’s eyes remained on Opportunist, so tiny from where he laid on the grass. He had been there, waiting for him, and- and if Skeptic hadn’t stopped to pick poppies for the bouquet, then he wouldn’t have been late, and he would have arrived on time and would have been able to de-escalate things and Opportunist would still be alive and it felt like as if something was breaking and falling off and withering away in his heart, and he knew he would never be able to come back from this and this would leave him fundamentally broken inside and—
The bouquet slipped from Skeptic’s hand, left abandoned on the hillside as Smitten led him back to the flock.