Dear Brother (TFP/RID & Reader)

Chapter 7

tw // mentions of abuse

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( 15 years later )

Being abruptly awoken by the loud alarm ringing on the side of her bed doesn't come off as a surprise to her any longer. This time, however, she is already sitting up there before the sound wakes her, eyes staring off at the dark space of her bedroom while recalling the scenes in her dream. The track of tears on her cheeks are slowly drying up, her arms limply hanging by her side. (Y/n) can still feel the sweat on the back of her neck, and the remnants of voices that call out to her for a long time now.

City lights that used to fill her sights, the cold of the rain on her skin, the mingling sound of a boy and a girl's voice with gentle strums of tiny instruments, and a conversation she never knew yet recorded in her subconscious, they all come and go during her nights as they please. They never fade; (Y/n) thinks that they never will. Those things built her over the years led to the future she was currently living in. She sits on her bed, a box placed in front of her. It has been sitting under her bed for more than a decade, and every time it is present before her eyes, the pain feels as fresh as if they were just yesterday's stories.

A worn out, slightly dirty bag, a notebook, and a photograph which sits between her fingers. Her (e/c) eyes rest on a certain person in that picture, his smile bright as the sun, and she can still feel his tight hug as a child. The notebook is filled with child drawings and writings, drifting on the poem that makes her chest feel tight. Before it can do anymore damage to her, (Y/n) put the things back into the box, closing the lid then sliding it under her bed.

She returns to her senses as fast as she can to get ready for the day. Mornings in this household are always early, so before the clock hits seven in the morning, (Y/n) is already making her way down for breakfast in her blouse and loose pants. As expected, she spots her parents already making themselves busy there. With a feigned smile, she saunters over her mother to give her a hug, which quite takes her aback by surprise.

"Morning, mother!" She greets before letting her go.

Elita smiles in return, placing the plate of eggs and bacon on the table. "Good morning, sweetheart."

(Y/n) goes to her favorite spot to sit on the table; next to her father, who's keeping busy with his newspaper. It makes her chuckle a little, knowing his insistence in reading physical papers instead of digital ones. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and sits down—she can feel him flinch a little at the gesture—draping her suit jacket over the back of her chair.

"And good morning to you too, father."

The newspaper is lowered and folded away, revealing Optimus' ever-serious face that softens a tiny bit just to greet her. "Good morning, (Y/n)."

Then, it's business as usual. The three of them sit around the relatively small table just enough for four chairs, eating breakfast and talking about their plans for the day.

"How is the abuse case going, then?"

(Y/n) lets out a small sigh, taking a quick sip of the coffee her mother made before answering. "It's going well, but a bit complicated. Evidence and witness statements are being gathered. I suppose I'm close to proving the father is the abuser."

The two older ones in the room look at her with pride, and (Y/n) notices.

"Still think getting into law is a good idea?" Elita asks her then, even when she knows the obvious answer to that.

"Yes." (Y/n) nods then steals a glance to the man next to her. "I have Father to thank for that."

The scoff that comes from the other woman takes her quite by surprise, expecting what she would say next.