The Bridger Twins: A Simple Story (S1)

Chapter 1: Episode 1 - Spark of Rebellion

A/N: Hey y'all! I'm technically a week and a day late to post this (whoops) but hey, better late than never right? Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. Feel free to leave me a comment with suggestions you may have for future comments! I sort of have the general layout/outline of the storyline planned out but I'm always open to suggestions!

PS: Let me know if you think future chapter lengths should be longer than this, or if this is a good length to go with.

Thank you so much, hope you stick around the next chapter; and if you don't, well it was nice having you aboard for the ride :)

Signing off 'til next week,
~ TNR

Edited 27/07/21: Formatting issues and word choice

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Rancor-like growl resounding throughout her body woke her from a semi-decent sleep. Deciding to ignore her raging stomach, Mikaela sat up in her hammock in their tower and looked around. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on her brother's empty bed. Almost instantly, her mind started to spiral. Where is he? Did he finally decide to ditch me? Is it because of what happened yesterday? Or is this a dream and I'm actually back in- no. No. She's not going to think about that.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing thoughts, she closes her eyes and tries to rationalize to herself that Ezra wouldn't just up and ditch her. He's my twin; he wouldn't just do that; not after we made up. Somewhat satisfied with her train of thought, she opens her eyes slowly and spots her brother's backpack by his bed. Knowing full well that her brother would never consciously leave their tower without his backpack, his absence could mean one of two things: Either her brother was abducted while she was sound asleep across the room, or he was just on the balcony looking out blankly into the city skyline the way he always did when he was up before the sun.

Now marginally calmer, Mikaela finally slid out of her hammock and started getting dressed. Ezra's fine, he's fine, he's just outside watching the sun like he always does when he's up too early. It's okay, you're fine, calm down. He's right outside on the balcony, you'll see. She kept repeating in her head like a mantra as she forced herself not to rush in getting ready, convincing herself that her twin wasn't going to vanish into thin air if she took an extra minute to brush her hair before braiding it.

Quickly sliding on her black boots and jacket, she headed out onto the balcony where, lo and behold, her brother stood, facing away from her, leaning against the railing. As she approached him, she made sure to make her steps just a touch heavier than usual - just in case he didn't hear the door slide open behind him (she learned the hard way that this Ezra tended to dropkick anyone who tried to come up to him unannounced while he was out brooding).

Stepping up beside him, Mikaela copies his position and studies her brother. His hair is standing up at every possible angle, making him look like a blue-spined porcupine. She internally giggles at the thought and wonders what it'd take for him to let her cut his hair. Maybe a couple creds? Blinking to clear her mind from her ever-racing thoughts, she realizes that her brother has yet to acknowledge her. Is he that deep into his thoughts?  Sighing slightly to herself, she gently nudges his right shoulder.

When he finally turns his head to face her, she notes that along with his messy hair, his eyes were slightly bloodshot as well, accompanied by light bags; although hers weren't much better. Meeting his eyes, she could tell his gaze was still slightly distant; not really here, but not not here, either. Nonetheless, she gave him a silent good morning smile, trying to ignore the fat lump of guilt in her stomach for getting a decent night's sleep for once while her brother had probably been out here for kriff knows how long. He reciprocated, thankfully, albeit his smile was half-hearted and looked more like a painful grimace than a smile; but it was a reciprocation nonetheless.