You And Me - A Collection of Les Twins One Shots

Scars

They are five when it happens and it's the first time either of them gets hospitalized.

She knows it's Larry long before her oldest son Marcus crashes through the door with one twin hanging lifelessly from his shoulder and the other getting dragged along in a death grip. Even without seeing their faces, she knows it's Larry. Because if Laurent was hurt, Larry would cry.

But there's no crying. There's just blood all over Marcus' shirt and skin.

"What happened?" she shrieks and rushes over to take Larry from his hold. But Marcus dodges her advance before dragging Laurent between them.

"Take him," Marcus instructs. "I need my other hand."

She gasps when Larry's face lolls to the side on top of Marcus' shoulder. The entire right side of her baby's face is a mess of cuts and bruises to the point where she has trouble recognizing it.

"Boubou," she cries and makes another step forward but Marcus presses a flat palm against her shoulder and turns around so that Larry is out of sight once more.

"What's wrong with him? Why isn't he moving?"

"I don't know," Marc explained. "I think he passed out from shock."

"What happened?" she insists because surely someone must have seen something. Maybe a drunk driver hit him, maybe he's bleeding internally. Oh god. She can't fucking breathe, the worry is overwhelming. "Marc, is he bleeding anywhere else? What if it was a car? We need to—"

"There was no car."

"Laurent," she demands from her youngest, who still hasn't uttered a single word. She grabs him by the shoulders, trying to get to the bottom of what happened. "Bebe? Talk to me. I need you to tell me what happened to your brother."

Laurent continues to stare at Larry in some kind of paralysis. 

He doesn't meet her eyes at all.

"Lau!" she snaps, giving him a shake and that's when Marcus steps in to stop her.

"Stop it, he won't say anything. I've tried."

She lets go and returns to the table her youngest is lying on. 

"It was him," Marcus says and her breath hitches. No. She shakes her head in denial. It can't be true. He isn't the best father in the world and she knows that. She knows it. But he's not THAT much of a monster. He'd never hurt them to this extent. He'd never leave one of their babies injured and bleeding on the ground. 

"It must have been an accident. We need to call an ambulance."

"Call them if you want. But prepare yourself to answer some questions." Marcus lifts Larry's shirt and she gasps, one hand shooting up to her mouth as her vision gets blurry. 

They are just five years old. Five fucking years old. He's thrown fits before, come home drunk, scared them half to death with his screaming. But this is new. It's inexcusable. It's the last time she'll ever allow him anywhere near them. The last time he hurt one of her babies and got away with it.

She gathers Larry's limp body into her arms, one hand cupping the base of his neck to keep his head from lolling too much. 

"We'll take the car. It'll be faster."

xxx

Twenty-four stitches.

That's how much it takes to put Larry's face back together.

She doesn't lie to the doctors about what happened. They'll send child protective services either way and she'll cross that bridge when she gets there. When they ask, she tells the truth about their good-for-nothing father who likes to take his aggression out on a pair of five-year-old boys. She also tells them that they don't have to worry about it ever happening again because he's gone now. For good. Taken off like the goddamn coward he always was and always will be.