a flight rekindled (when wings touch again)

Prologue (we are live)

AN: a few chapters have a video/song attached. Consider them recommendations from yours truly. They are quite relevant so ideally do try to watch before reading the respective chapter. merci <3    ~R

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Naomi dropped her binder.

Well, almost.

The other passengers looked at her with combined looks of both disgust and pity. She awkwardly stumbled into a seat not too far from the front. The bus was crowded, air dank with the remnants of bleak afternoon misery and artificial e-cig sweeteners.

Getting the bus was always a humbling experience. Not that she needed to be humbled any more, having just about won her first case by the skin of her teeth. She was surprised the firm hadn't dismissed her by now.

Being an attorney definitely was not what she thought it would be.

Of course, it's not like she was expecting it to be entirely smooth sailing. Naomi liked to consider herself quite good at her job. And she was, back when she was studying. When she was motivated and foolishly dreamt of days that were beyond her.

Reality hit her like a tonne of bricks. Before she knew it, college had whizzed by and the days she had dreamt of were reduced to nothing but a miraculous position at an esteemed law firm that she frankly didn't even rightfully deserve. It was a manifestation of her grades alone and nothing else. None of her colleagues seemed to care. They were quietly content with their salaries and business cars.

Getting a car was something she wasn't planning on for a while. Her parents' mortgage was first. But she had only won her first case, there was no point in looking that far ahead.

Which left one option; the bus.

Naomi certainly didn't expect herself to miss Dartwell. No, rather she was eager to leave it behind. What had started off as college homesickness, however, bled into an uneasiness that soaked the clothes on her back. Vacations were too sluggish to process, but she vowed that now, stepping off the bus near her parents home, she would savour every moment.

There was no way that this was all that life was about. There had to be more to it.

Naomi knocked on the door. It was something she would never get used to, returning home alone. She took the spare key from the plant pot and led herself in.

It was eerily quiet. She was an intruder trespassing the cold, undisturbed air. There was once a time when it would envelope her in its embrace.

"Naomi?"

She turned to see her father holding onto the door frame for support, "Dad! You're not supposed to get up!"

"I know, believe me..." He gasped, gesturing at her.

Naomi left her belongings strewn in the hallway as she placed his arm around her, supporting his body as she led him back to the sofa bed. Her dad groaned. He was significantly paler than when she had last seen him. Frailer too.

"Here, have a drink."

She poured water into a steel cup, gently pressing it into his hands. He smiled apologetically, eyes sombre and hollowed. She despised it, hated the fact that they were getting older, hated how scary it was when either of them got ill, how guilty they looked for depending on her. It was unbearable.

"Your mother will be here any time now," Her dad said between sips, "There's food in the kitchen."

"Let's wait for her and eat together," Naomi said, "How was the surgery?"

"Good."

"Did the physiotherapist visit?"

"I'm not due to start with him 'till next week."

"Did you watch the game?"

He offered her a weak smile, "Easy win for the Paladins. As expected."

"They're playing against the Mustangs this weekend, we can watch it together."

"You're staying over the weekend?"

Naomi softened at the hopefulness in his voice.

"I'm here for two weeks, dad, remember?"

He nodded vaguely, attention shifting to the TV.

"And now onto tonight's breaking news: A turf war between two rival gangs has led to a crossfire near Dartwell High School resulting in one death and four casualties. The altercation, fuelled by long-standing tensions, erupted into violence early this evening. Residents in the area are in shock and fear for their safety in these heightened times as calls for new measures to curb gang-related activities grow louder. Our lead correspondent Ariadne Renatori is currently at the scene, where the aftermath of the conflict is unfolding. Ari, could you tell us, what is it like over there?"

The screen switched to the reporter, "Thank you. We are live at the scene where it all began. The situation comes as a shock to local residents, and there is a sense of grief that looms over as authorities urge anyone with information about the incident to come forward and assist in the ongoing investigation. As you can see behind me, there's a heavy police presence–"

Naomi sighed, "Could you please change the channel? This is depressing."

Her father reluctantly handed her the remote, "It's scary, what's going on these days."

"The gang wars have been going on for some time, dad."

"But they were never this bad, were they?"

"I'm home!" Both daughter and father tore from the screen as they heard the sing-song voice from the front door, "Who's suitcase is this, I wonder..."

"Mom!"

Marissa tackled her daughter into a hug, "Oh Naomi, I've missed you!"

Being with her parents was, of course, something she had missed. They loved her unconditionally, the same way she didn't need a reason to love them. It was quite beautifully purposeless, quite like how the sun needn't a reason to rise, nor the stars a reason to glow. Such things are delicately beautiful, but fleeting in nature.

"Are you okay?" Marissa glanced over her shoulder vaguely, following her line of vision.

"Yeah."

She hummed quietly in response, laying the table quietly. Sunbeams spilled into the room from the window, bathing it in gold. Contorting the light with its evanescent dartings, a butterfly flapped outside, its wings seemingly aflame. For a moment, Naomi thought they were singed, torched by the rays burning holes through their gauze.

"I'm sorry – you must be so tired."

"Don't be sorry, it's okay."

"Okay."

Naomi sighed. She had no right to be disappointed in her parents, and honestly couldn't help feeling a twang of guilt from seeing their doleful expressions. Nothing had really been the same since she told them everything, and she kind of wished she didn't.

After all, everyone else is the bystander when you're the protagonist of the story.

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