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tears of an angel

Summary:

"This is Vanya. Our sister. The one who always cried when we stepped on ants."

Work Text:

Rambunctious laughter rings out throughout the courtyard, mixed in with the cries and yells of excitable children as they run themselves ragged on yet another made-up game, the rules of which don’t even make much sense.

The sun beams down on them, paired with the cool breeze to create a perfect Summer’s day and the children had decided not to waste their 30 minutes of free time inside. Instead, rounding each other up quickly to make good use of their precious minutes that were rapidly ticking away, much too fast for seven 5-year-olds who still lacked a proper perception of time.

Seven chases after her siblings, her breaths coming out laboured as the stitch in her side intensifies with the lack of oxygen in her lungs. She sweats excessively under her heavy uniform but doesn’t dare to take it off as not to anger Dad. The rest of her siblings carry on, blissfully unaware of their sister struggling, all of them used to the extensive exercise their Dad put them up to. Except for Seven, who only got to watch and sometimes be Dad’s assistant. She pushes herself on, pumping her legs to catch up to her siblings who were all trying to catch Five, who zipped around the courtyard in a game of 'Teleporting Tag', which was only really fun for him because he always won.

Distracted by the notion of catching up to her siblings, Seven doesn’t notice the yelling and running has stopped until she runs into the back of Four, who stumbles forward into One, who turns around to give them both a mean look.

The children have gathered around a weird looking pile of dirt, heads cocked in confusion as they figure out what it is.

"What is it?" asks Seven, unintentionally parroting Two who had asked the same question only moments before.

"We don’t know," Six responds patiently.

Seven stands on her tippy-toes, trying to see over the heads of her siblings.

"Maybe there’s treasure buried under it?" Three squeals, making a move to dig for it but Five pushes to the front of the group.

"It’s an anthill, idiot."

"Hey," One says, angrily, "you’re not allowed to say that word."

Five rolls his eyes. "Whatever," and then below his breath, but still audible to everyone else, he mutters, "idiot."

One crosses his arms and turns to Three. "This is dumb, it’s just ants. Let’s go play something else."

Three nods her head, throwing a grossed-out look to the anthill before following One, her hair bouncing behind her as they run away.

"What do the ants do in there?" Four asks, kneeling in the dirt to get a closer look, his pants getting mud stains in the process. Mom will have to clean them later, she’s always telling them not to get too dirty.

"T-the-they luh-live there, i-idiot," Two says, stepping up beside Four and watching some stray ants crawl back inside.

Four pouts at being called an idiot but is quickly distracted by an ant crawling up his arm and he squeals as he shakes it off.

The other children watch in amusement as his arm flails about, the ant long gone by the time he finally stops.

"This is boring," Six complains and Five nods alongside him.

"I have an idea," Two supplies and before he says anything else, he kicks harshly at the anthill.

Squeals explode as the ants pour out of the dirt and rush towards the children. Two’s giggles erupt as he stamps his feet atop them and Four is quick to join in, his laughter quickly matching Two’s. Six is next to race up and stamp his feet, though his movements are much more subdued as he clutches gently at his stomach.

Five rolls his eyes, stomping on the occasional ant that comes his way.

The scene carries on for a bit as the stream of ants appears endless, but is soon broken up by the sound of Seven’s sniffles.

Six is the first to realise, stopping in his motions to turn to his sister. Tears are falling quickly down her face and her eyes are puffy in the telltale way that says she’s been crying for a while but hasn’t said anything.

"Seven, what’s wrong?" he asks, provoking the others to turn to her as well.

She could ask herself that question too. Why did her feelings seem so big today and like she couldn’t handle them? How did the slightest of inconveniences drive her to tears throughout the day? Why did the rest of her siblings seem to be able to feel such big emotions with ease whereas she struggled?

"You’re killing them!" Seven justifies in a cry, more tears streaming at her sudden outburst.

Two crosses his arms. "T-they’re just a-a-ants! Why do yuh-you have to ruin e-every-everything?" he yells, stomping his foot on the ground and turning away. His small figure taking off in the direction of One and Three.

Five shrugs his shoulders. "He’s right. Why are so you upset?"

Seven sniffles, "They have families and lives and you ruined it all. They’re all dead!"

Four’s eyes widen and he rapidly scans the ground around him. "Do you think they’re gonna come back as ghosts?" he cries out in alarm. "What if they crawl on me in my sleep?"

Six holds Four’s shoulder and quickly shakes his head, his voice sounding sure when he responds, "No, you can’t see dead animals."

Four lets out a loud sigh and wipes the imaginary sweat from his brow. "Phew."

Seven sniffles again and it draws the attention back to her as she wipes her nose with her blazer sleeve.

"Seven," Four draws out, "c’mon, don’t cry!" He pulls her into a hug that’s too tight but she clings to him anyway and nods her head.

"Sorry."

Over Four’s shoulder, Five gives Seven a funny look that she knows is his thinking face. "Seven, have you taken your medicine today?"

Seven pulls back, ignoring Four as he wipes clumsily at her eyes, and she thinks back to this morning. She’s supposed to take two tablets every morning when she wakes up, but this morning, she’d been woken up early with her other siblings for their surprise training drill. Dad said it was to keep them prepared, Seven thinks she doesn’t need to be prepared to be an assistant to him. She must’ve forgotten the tablets in all the chaos.

She shakes her head in response and Five nods knowingly. "I knew it, you always cry more when you don’t take them," Five says victoriously. "You should tell Mom, she’ll give you some."

Just as Seven opens her mouth to respond, Mom’s voice rings out through the courtyard announcing the end of their free time. Groans and complaints sound from the children as they drag their feet back in, disappointed at the lack of fun and games until the next week rolls around.

Seven runs up to Mom, letting her know she missed her medicine and Mom pulls some out of her apron pocket. "I always carry extra," she says cheerily, leading the children into the kitchen and pouring Seven a glass of water.

While Mom directs the rest of Seven’s siblings to their training, Seven stands at the kitchen sink alone, staring sulkily at the tablets in her hand and stuck wondering why she’s only happy and sad when she doesn’t take them.