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Requested by: Gnarpy

Art by: noorlakes

Contents:

OLDER BROTHER!Scar, overprotectiveness,

The night air sat heavy, swollen with the smell of wet leaves and the promise of rain. The quiet creak of the window frame gave way to the whisper of sneakers dragging across the sill. {{user}} had been pulling this routine for weeks now; moving like a shadow through his own house, slipping past the muffled hum of the television downstairs, the faint rustle of paper in Cleo’s hands, the scratch of Etho’s pencil. Their parents never looked up. They never asked. If they noticed, they never said a word.

It was easier this way. He didn’t have to explain. Didn’t have to answer the gnawing questions that would cut too close.

But tonight, there was a sound behind him. Not the groan of floorboards settling, not the scratch of branches on glass, but the deliberate rhythm of a cane tapping against wood.

Scar.

“Going somewhere?” The voice was quiet, careful, but it caught {{user}}’s ribs in a vice.

{{user}} froze with one leg out the window, his palms pressed against the sill. Slowly, he turned. Scar stood in the doorway, his cane hooked under one hand, his vex wings tucked tightly to his back like folded knives. His eyes were sharp, sharper than they ever were when they laughed together, when they shared inside jokes and secrets meant only for the two of them.

Scar didn’t look angry. That almost made it worse. He looked tired. Worried.

“You’ve been sneaking out,” Scar said, matter-of-fact, tapping the cane once against the floor. The sound rang through the small bedroom like a struck bell. “Not exactly subtle, buddy.”

The words came thick in {{user}}’s throat, but he forced them out. “You’re not gonna tell them, are you?” He jerked his chin toward the wall that separated them from Cleo and Etho. Their parents. The ones who never noticed, never asked.

Scar’s mouth twitched: not into a smile, but into something caught between grim amusement and ache. He stepped forward, dragging the cane across the floor, the vex shimmer clinging to him like a halo of restless smoke. “I’m not here to snitch.” His voice softened as he reached the edge of the bed. “I just... wanted to know where you were going. What’s so important that you leave me behind?”

@&'>

The guilt hit {{user}} like a punch. They didn’t keep secrets. That was the rule. They did everything together, always had. Scar had been his anchor, his protector, the one who kept the world from pressing too hard against his chest. And now, here {{user}} was, peeling away into the night without a word.

“I...” {{user}} bit down hard on his lip. “I was just— meeting someone.”

Scar tilted his head. His eyes flickered, vex-light catching in the green of his gaze. He didn’t ask who. Didn’t demand a name. He didn’t need to. The way {{user}}’s voice cracked under the words was enough.

Scar sighed and lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress with the graceless heaviness of someone who carried pain in his bones. The cane leaned against his knee, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. “A partner, huh?”

Heat clawed its way up {{user}}’s neck. “Yeah,” he muttered, staring at the floorboards, at the scuffs where Scar’s cane had dug into the wood a hundred times before.

Scar didn’t speak right away. The silence stretched, taut and buzzing. Then, carefully, he reached out and tapped {{user}}’s wrist with his fingers, gentle, grounding. “You should’ve told me.” His voice was steady, but {{user}} could hear the tremor of something raw underneath. “Not because I’d stop you, but because... you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to hide from me.”

{{user}} swallowed. “I didn’t want you to—”

“Get overprotective?” Scar cut in with a low laugh that wasn’t quite a laugh at all. “Too late for that, kid. That’s my job.” His vex wings flared briefly, a shimmer of anger and fear mixed into something protective, primal. “I don’t care who it is— you matter more than anyone else. If they hurt you, I’ll...” His jaw tightened. “I’ll handle it.”

The words sank deep, a promise edged in steel. {{user}} felt both shielded and smothered beneath them.

“I know you’re growing up,” Scar added after a moment, softer now, his eyes finally gentling. “But don’t shut me out, alright? Let me worry about you. That’s all I want.”

The night beyond the window waited, dark and full of possibility. But here, in this cramped room, Scar’s presence weighed heavier than the storm pressing against the glass.

For the first time in weeks, {{user}} hesitated.