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The call came in the middle of the day. Famine didn't even look at the caller ID when he answered it. Neither Pollution or War cared much, assuming the call was for work and that he would take it in private. Famine assumed this would be the case as well, standing and already heading for his office.
Then he stopped in the doorway.
War looked up from her mess of a half-written article. Pollution continued eating an entire greasy pizza, thinking of where to throw the box and all of the napkins they'd need when they were done, but their eyes drifted towards Famine as well.
Famine stood absolutely still as he listened to the call. "I see." A few more seconds passed. "Yes, of course. I'll be there shortly." Without another word, he hung up, placed his phone in his pocket, and turned around, all in one smooth motion that gave nothing away.
War had known him long enough to notice the uncharacteristic rigidness of his shoulders.
"Something wrong?" She asked. Pollution finally gave the conversation their full attention, dropping the pizza back into the box. It landed with a wet slap.
"Frannie's been in a car accident," he said in a neutral tone. "I need my keys and my jacket."
War straightened. She and Pollution made eye contact from across the room; Pollution had a wide-eyed stare that Famine couldn't see from his position.
"Is she alright?" War asked, looking back to Famine.
"She's alive, that’s all they could tell me. Have you seen my keys?" He patted his pant pockets, found his keys weren't there, and started searching the room, starting by digging through the couch cushions.
Pollution stood and walked out of the room. War glared at her sibling as they left, leaving her to deal with Famine (now going through all of the pockets of the jackets on the hanger by the front door) and his clearly growing panic.
They had all had affection for humans before. They were beings formed from humanity’s worst sins, sure, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t care. It was a long wait for the apocalypse, after all, and spending all that time ignoring the only beings in the universe who actually bothered to pay attention to them would have made for a lonely existence. They all had formed friendships with humans across the world over the millennia, even a few romances here and there. It would have been hard not to.
Frannie was one more in a long line of Famine’s human relationships, and she was as special to him as all of the others had been. Maybe even more so, War sometimes thought. The bond they had formed over the years felt different. Famine trusted and relied on Frannie in ways he rarely had anyone else.
War watched as Famine twitched violently and ground his teeth when he didn't find his keys in the only coat pocket he hadn't checked.
Of course, the downside of befriending humans was that they had a tendency to die.
"You sure you're alright to drive?" War questioned. In any other situation she would have been laughing over Famine's slowly crumbling facade of stoicism.
"Yes," he snapped. "Don't talk to me right now unless you know where my damn keys are."
Pollution returned. When Famine and War turned to them, they held up Famine's keys in one hand and his blazer in the other.
"Your keys were in your room, on your desk," they said. "Where you always put them."
Famine stared for a moment. Then he snatched his belongings from Pollution.
"Thank you," he said shortly. He dropped his keys into his pocket and pulled on his blazer. When he pulled his keys out again, War snatched them from him.
"Carmine," he snarled her name, baring his teeth - she could see them sharpening already.
"Fucking chill," War snapped, holding her hand up. "You're not driving yourself there while you're freaking the fuck out. I'll drive you."
"You’re not going anywhere," Famine said. "Frannie is my assistant. You aren’t needed. I’m fine."
"Because you're the image of self-control," Pollution snarked. "Check your teeth, Raven."
Famine raised a hand to his teeth. They had sharpened into needle-like fangs the moment War took his keys from him. He grimaced, saying nothing but glaring at War before he walked out the front door.
"You coming?" War turned to Pollution.
"Nah. Probably not a good idea." They may not have been Pestilence, but pollution should still not be anywhere near a hospital. Especially when that hospital housed Famine's beloved Frannie.
"I guess I'll have to handle this by myself," War sighed, trying to act bored despite knowing she was failing. She was worried, too. "I'll see you later."
War strolled out the door. Famine was already in the car. When War got in, Famine was staring at his phone, as if trying to force the hospital to call back with more information with willpower alone.
War started driving. Famine didn't even comment when she put on her playlist of songs dedicated to eating and good food. He hated that playlist. Normally he'd try to toss her phone out the window or they'd end up bickering, but he didn't say a word.
"She's gonna be fine," War said once, when they were almost there. Famine had started scrolling mindlessly through his phone with one hand, checking his messages three times within two minutes, and tapping his fingers against the armrest with the other.
"Sure," he said shortly. War saw his fangs coming in again.
"You think Az wouldn't drop in to tell us if she wasn't?" War said more harshly than necessary. G-o-d, she hated when her siblings were upset and she couldn't do anything to help.
Famine glared at her and said nothing.
The rest of the drive to the hospital was spent in tense silence. When they finally arrived and parked, Famine just about threw the car door off the hinges when War locked him in until she told him to take a few deep breaths and get rid of the fangs before he went storming inside.
“They’re not going to notice anything,” Famine said through clenched teeth.
“You’re bleeding through reality, Raven,” War said. “I can feel it. A blind man would notice you weren’t human.”
“I don’t care!”
“Raven,” War interrupted. She hated pulling out the “older sister” voice, it felt so damn authoritative and had all the weight of responsibility she hated, but it had its uses - she used it so sparingly that her siblings almost always listened to her when she did. Just as she had hoped, Famine quieted. “I know you’re worried. But whether or not you go in there in the next minute is not going to help Frannie. If you don’t take a few seconds to pull your human skin back together, all you’re going to do is terrify everyone in there and make it much harder to get what you want. And if Frannie sees you so frazzled, it’s going to upset her.”
The moment the last part left her lips, Famine looked at her like she had slapped him. Frannie hated seeing him upset and he knew it. He hated seeing her upset, too.
War watched as Famine leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He took some deep breaths, just as she had asked.
Then, with no warning, his breathing hitched and his eyes squeezed tighter and G-o-d, no. Her heart stopped and her blood all but froze in her veins at the horrifying thought of her little brother crying.
“Oh, fuck- Raven.” War grabbed Famine’s shoulder and squeezed it tight. He didn’t react. He tilted his head back and kept his eyes shut. “Raven, it’ll be okay. Az would have told us if it was worse, right?”
“Right.” War hated how much Famine was forcing himself to sound bigger and stronger and not like he was about to crack apart.
“And she’s fucking Frannie. You and I both know she’d never let something like a car accident keep her down for long,” she said, giving him a little shake.
“She’s still human,” Famine hissed out, pained. “Humans are weak and fragile.”
“Yeah,” War agreed. “But they’re also strong as fuck. We’ve complained about how annoying it is enough times.” Famine tilted his head in a gesture she recognized as him saying ‘Yeah that’s true’. “I told you: Az would tell us if anything was wrong. But no matter what’s happening to her, you gotta get it together before you go storming in there. Even if everything’s fine, she might be shaken up and your job is to not freak her out even more. If you want to take care of her, you’ve gotta take care of yourself first.”
War hated when she was forced to be the authoritative, responsible older sibling. But when Famine finally opened his eyes, nodded and took some deep breaths, she was grateful for it. His fangs slowly shortened back down into teeth and his skin looked less stretched thin over the non-human being it cased and had been threatening to break free.
“Do you want me to come in?” she asked.
Famine nodded. War finally unlocked the doors. She followed her little brother through the parking lot and to the front doors of the hospital.
War’s advice had been well-intentioned, Famine knew that. It had helped to take a minute, take a few deep breaths, and pull himself together - literally - before storming into the hospital to find out what happened to Frannie.
But Famine still felt a disconnect between himself and his body as he walked through the front doors. He was barely aware of what he was doing as he approached the front desk and calmly and professionally (You’re a CEO, Raven, you have an image to uphold, you can’t go flying off the handle) asked for Frannie Miller. He waited patiently as the nurse checked her records before kindly informing him that Frannie was still in surgery, and if he could take a seat over there, the doctor would be here eventually to talk to him.
He sat down, aware of War sitting down next to him. And then there was nothing else to do but wait.
Famine knew he was susceptible to human behaviours. He checked his phone a little too much, would sometimes buy things he knew he’d have no use for, and would do silly things like text people he was five minutes away when he hadn’t even left his house. His siblings were just as guilty of it as he was. One thing he had never done was adopt the habit of fidgeting. He was above it all, the twitching, the drumming of his fingers, the shaking of his leg as he waited. Yet here he was, his leg shaking nervously as he waited for the doctor to come out and tell him what happened to Frannie.
She was in surgery. Surgery. Surgery could mean anything, from something small to something life-threatening. At the very least it meant she wasn’t dead. He knew Death would come and break the news to him if that were going to happen. It had happened before.
It had happened with Catherine Howard, when he couldn’t bear to go to the execution. It had happened with Percy Shelley, days before anyone even knew his ship had sunk. It had happened with Marie Antoinette when he couldn’t bear to go to her execution. It had happened so many times throughout history, ever since Famine and his siblings had decided it was worth it to get attached to the silly little mortals that gave them purpose and somehow made themselves so irresistible it was as if they themselves had powers of seduction the same as any of the horsepeople.
Death had come to tell Famine of countless mortal deaths. Death had never come to tell Famine of Frannie’s death.
Famine had always known it would happen someday. He had long since become adjusted to the life he lived, how short a time he would have with anyone he grew close to. He had long since accepted it. That didn’t mean it got any easier.
And Frannie was- Frannie was Frannie. Famine wouldn’t go so far to say she was more special than the mortals he had loved in the past, but Frannie was different. He couldn’t remember having anything with anyone else like what he had with Frannie. She was his best assistant. She was his friend. She was the real power behind the company, keeping tabs on everything and everyone. She was a shoulder to cry on (figuratively, he couldn't remember the last time he had cried and he would never ruin her $600 shirts with his tears). She was the only one whose opinions really mattered. She made him laugh. She was smart and she was funny and ruthless and. And the languages of the earth didn’t have the words for everything Frannie was to him. Frannie was Frannie.
That was the problem. Frannie was Frannie. Famine could find another assistant. He could probably find another friend, another ruthless bitch who could run the company with or without him. He would never find another Frannie.
“Chalky sends their well wishes,” War said quietly, scrolling through her phone.
“Tell them I’ll pass them along,” Famine said dully.
“They were for both of you, Raven,” War said, shoving him in the side only a little more gently than she normally would. Without warning, she dropped her head onto his shoulder with a huff.
Famine felt a little bit of stress unravel in his chest. He sighed, leaning against his older sister, resting his head on hers. The two of them settled in their uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs and continued to wait.
It was a while longer before the doctor, a tall woman with dark blonde hair in a tightly braided bun, came out and called for him. Famine was out of his seat in an instant, only stopping to slap War’s knee so she would have the warning to get off him before he got up.
“She was very lucky,” the doctor said. “Her right lung was punctured by one of her ribs, but it was a very small puncture. We’ll have to keep an eye on her overnight, but she won’t need a chest tube. Her leg suffered a displaced fracture, so she’ll be needing a cast for a while. She has some bruised ribs, and of course a lot of bruising, but she should be alright. We’ll have to keep her overnight, possibly for the next couple days to keep an eye on her lungs, but she should be alright with some rest.” The doctor gave a reassuring smile, unaware that she had almost brought one of the harbingers of the apocalypse to his knees with her words.
Frannie was going to be fine. She was going to be fine.
He found himself blinking rapidly, pressure building up behind his eyes for the second time that day.
“Can I see her?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. The doctor nodded, gesturing for him to follow her down the hall. When he turned to look at War, she shrugged and gestured for him to go on without her.
“She’s all yours, Raven,” she said with ease, shooting him a supportive smile that contrasted her casual statement.
“She’s still sleeping,” the doctor said as she led Famine to Frannie, “but she should be awake sometime soon. If she wakes up, call for us. The button’s right by the bed.” She paused outside room 514. Famine went inside without invitation.
The sight of Frannie sleeping in the bed inside nearly brought Famine to his knees again, but he powered through enough to make it to the chair.
Seeing her up close was somehow worse than anything his mind could have come up with. Her right leg was bound in a white cast and supported in a sling hanging from the ceiling. Her face and arms were mottled with bruises, not yet dark purple or blue but still fresh and red, and thin cuts and scrapes were visible where there was no bruising. Her skin was unnaturally pale below all the bruising, which made it all look even worse than it was.
Sleeping and hidden away under the blankets, she looked so small, so fragile, so… not Frannie.
She had been lucky, the doctor said. Lucky to end up like this and not worse. Because it could have been worse.
Famine leaned forward, pressing his fingers to his mouth as he looked upon his close friend. His best friend, he would dare to say. More than that, something else that was friendship in a different form he didn’t want to put a name to yet.
Battered up like this and she was lucky.
Humans were so fragile, no matter how he and his siblings complained about their sturdiness. As much as he was aware of it, had accepted it, even as he actively relied on the fragility of humans to achieve his end goal of starvation and suffering, he hated the reminder of it in the form of the select few humans he cared for being hurt.
Famine watched her as she slept. She was breathing steadily. Famine took a deep breath of his own and pressed his palms to his eyes.
A second later he was crying.
He let go of the restraints he had put on himself in the last few hours and cried, for Frannie and his fears, out of relief and stress from the day. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. He had forgotten how much it hurt.
It was an all-too human act, and for once he was letting himself indulge.
Famine felt worse but also better when he was done, slumped in his uncomfortable chair, his clothes rumpled and his face sticky with tears. Frannie had shifted slightly in her sleep, head turned towards him, but besides that showed no signs of movement. It was enough for now, he thought, relieved to see her move at all.
Then slowly, blinking as she came out of sleep, she opened her eyes. She had a glassy, dazed look, but when she saw him the corner of her mouth lifted.
“Hi, Raven,” she said, mostly into her pillow, almost unintelligible. But he heard it.
Famine should have immediately buzzed for the doctor. He knew that. But for a moment, he just sat there, looking back at her, and then he gave a tired smile in return.
“Hi, Frannie.”
They were going to keep Frannie in the hospital for a few more days to make sure her lungs would be fine and to keep an eye out for any other potential injuries, but after that, they said she could go home. She had strict orders to rest and relax.
“I’m going to enforce that,” Famine said. “I’m going to make sure everyone knows not to send you anything work related or else.”
“And what am I supposed to do for the next few weeks?” Frannie asked. “Just sit and read? Catch up on shows? Watch movies? What?”
“All of that,” Famine said. “Whatever it is normal people do when they don’t have work.”
Frannie sighed and rolled her eyes. “And how exactly are you going to enforce that? Install cameras in my house or something?”
“Nothing as dramatic as that,” Famine said. “I plan on moving in with you.”
“Oh, is that what’s happening?”
“I have to remind you that your leg is broken and you live in a two-story house,” Famine said. “Unless you’d like to be completely cut off from whatever you have upstairs, and unless you’d like to figure out how to get around on your own for the next several weeks, you’ll need someone to stay with you and help you out. The doctor said it would be a good idea, remember?”
She had. Frannie had looked to Famine the moment the words were out of the doctor’s mouth. It had only been for a second and then Frannie was back to looking at the doctor, but Famine had seen it. He had looked at her first, after all.
“Never knew you to follow a doctor’s advice when it came to rest and relaxation, Raven,” Frannie said. A slight exaggeration. Famine had never been to the doctor in his entire life. What he had done was ignore anyone's advice regarding relaxation.
“It’s different for me,” Famine said. “You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah?” Frannie smiled. “You’re my best friend too.”
It was the first time either of them had said that out loud. If things had been worse, they would never have gotten to say it.
“You are my best friend, Frannie,” Famine said. “And I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I got that call and I panicked, and Carmine will back me up when I say I was spiraling the whole way here and wouldn’t calm down until you opened your eyes. So just- Frannie, just know that you’re my best friend and you mean the world to me.”
The languages of the earth didn’t have the words for everything Frannie was to him, but those were enough for now, because Frannie was still smiling at him.
“You know what I was thinking about before I blacked out?” she asked. Before Famine could even twitch, she continued. “I was thinking about you. I saw the car heading right for me and all I could think about was my family and you, Raven. How angry I was going to be if I never got to see you again. How much I would miss you if I died.” Frannie blew out some air. “Because you mean the world to me too.”
“Yeah?” Famine’s voice came out wobbly. Frannie smiled tiredly at him.
“Yeah.”
Her eyes looked shiny. Famine gave a quiet laugh, looking at her fondly, his vision only a little blurry.
“I’m still taking away your work laptop,” he said. Frannie huffed without any real annoyance.
“Fine, then. Oh, you know what? Theo always hides upstairs whenever I have to give him his insulin shot. That’ll be your job while you’re staying with me.”
Famine nearly groaned. Frannie’s old diabetic cat Theo hated anyone who wasn’t Frannie, only accepting pets from other people at his own pleasure and hissing and swiping if they were in his space for even a second too long.
“Of course,” Famine said with only a shade of the reluctance he was feeling. “I can do that, no problem.”
The look Frannie gave him was outright affectionate with a hint of humor (likely at the thought of him trying to wrangle Theo and put a needle in his neck twice a day for weeks on end). “You’d do that for me?”
“Anything for you, Frannie.”
She yawned a moment later, muttering something about needing to take a nap and that he’d better be here when she woke up again. Famine watched her drift off.
Famine had gotten attached to countless humans in his years. They had all been special to him in various ways. But he would never find another Frannie.
He hadn’t been there for so many of his favourite humans when their time came. But he would do anything for Frannie. He’d be at her side for as long as she wanted him there. If she wanted him here when she woke up, if she wanted him in her house taking care of her demonic cat, he would be there.
He wasn’t going anywhere.