I love routines. I love waking up and doing a set of chores that I don't even have to think about— my hands just move on their own. On weekdays, I usually go for a quick jog before some more intense exercise. I do it to keep myself strong, I may not be able to morph at will, or as most of the pack already think, at all, still, I refuse to be the kid the others will bully into submission for being weak. And maybe it's the slanted eyes or the Vanderbilt name that precedes me but I have developed a reputation in my recent years for being the reckless wild child— the black sheep of the pack. Being the black sheep alone is already embarrassing enough but in a pack of wolves? It means you're the lowest of low, the prey among predators. Good thing money and power still have their use though. Even though I am among the few who could not morph— usually only the half-breeds and the lunar blessed of the full breeds don't get to morph. The half-breeds usually can't because their human genes are stronger. Meanwhile, the lunar blessed are equipped with a different sort of power than morphing into a beast. Some of them have the gift of foresight, others, telepathy or maybe even pyrokinesis. The lunar blessed are usually the elites and at the later stage of their lives, asked to join the Elder Council.
My mother was among the lunar blessed. She had the gift of foresight. I mean, people call it gift in general but in her case, I think it had been more of a curse. Some nights, she woke up screaming from a vision so dark she could hardly utter words when she wakes. I think it's also part of the reasons my father left. He probably saw my mother's descent into insanity before I ever did. That smart selfish bastard.
While money and power allowed me to live freely and almost, beyond the rules, still, in Gerard's household everyone had chores. It was one of the first few things he taught me when I came to live with them. Kirrigan vacuumed and wiped surfaces clean while I washed dishes and maintained the kitchen. It was also Gerard who taught me how to cook.
Now, as I mix pancake batter in a big bowl, Gerard quietly hums some classic while chopped the toppings for the pancakes. There were strawberries, blueberries and mangoes. My mouth already waters as I think about honey drizzled on top of them.
Kirrigan quietly makes his way into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pours milk into his cup.
"I already brewed the coffee for you." I say as I point my head towards the coffeemaker where his brewed coffee is kept warm. It was a simple way of thanking him for staying with me last night and bringing me home safe. It was like our morning after dance: I do little things for him in show of my appreciation and he either smiles at me or nudges my elbow like he knows what they're for already and that the message is received. It was a wordless conversation I enjoyed having with him.
Perhaps, until today.
Where his smile used to be was the grim line his mouth made— like he was explicitly trying to stop himself from frowning or maybe saying words he would later regret.
I furrow my brows, confused. Did something happen last night?
'What is it?', I mouth at him, looking sideways at Gerard's back to make sure he was not facing us. Mouthing words was one of the things wolf cubs learned at an early age to avoid the parental's sharp hearing.
His mouth only further twists downwards and I can tell he wants to say something.
Was he mad? Had he finally had enough of cleaning up after my mess? Did I do something to embarrass him last night?
Think, think, Hanabi! Just what the fuck did you do to your sweet precious cousin?
I put the batter than and casually mutter to Gerard that I had some help needed from Kirrigan and that it was urgent.
"Why are you talking about homework on a Saturday? Who are you and why isn't our dear Hanabi always like this? Please! We'd like to keep you in her stead!"
I laugh at Gerard's jibe then shake my head.
"Don't blow this up or I may never ever mention homework for the rest of high school ever again, Gerard!"
That shut him up. I was still on my second year of high school and was so close to being kicked out of the prestigious Silver Lake High.
"Fine, fine! I'll call you when the pancakes are ready!"
"Thank you!" I untie the pink matching apron around my neck and give him a quick squeeze. "Don't clean up! I'll do it when I come back!"
And then I zoom out of the kitchen, dragging Kirrigan alongside me. I hastily opened and closed my bedroom before clasping my hands together and bowing my head, apologizing to him profusely.
"Kir— I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't get mad at me!!"
My apology was loud and wholeheartedly meant even though I didn't even know yet what I was apologizing about. All the rooms in this house are sound proofed to make sleeping at night easier and to provide some much needed privacy from supernatural hearing.
"Do you know what you're sorry for, Nabi?"
Nabi, was the nickname he gave me when we were younger. He said it meant 'butterfly' in some Eastern language. He was such a smartass even when we were five.
"I… uh… did I puke on you?"
"…" He heaved a sigh and shook his head. "You didn't. You did puke on yourself though."
"Oh… um… I guess I stinked up your car? Oh my god, I'm sorry I'll pay for the cleaning expenses, I promise!"
Kirrigan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his head tilted sideways.
"Do you think that's something I would even care about?"
I bit my lip. I am running out of reasons here. He has hardly ever been angry and so I don't really know what kind of things tick him off like that.
"To be honest, my head still kinda hurts and I don't remember most of last night." I finally say. "But whatever it is, I am sorry. Okay? Please tell me how to make it up to you and I will do it. I swear!"
Straightening up, Kirrigan pulled away from the wall and slowly leaned towards me. He was half a foot taller than me and he had to lean really low to get close enough to stare at me in the eye.
"Alright, Nabi."
Alright?
"Tell me then, just how sorry you are for making out with Luka Sinclair."