(𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎.) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆
❝ YOUR FINGERS ARE GLOWING. ❞

🌂

Poet and Paris patiently waited—on the second day after Five had left—outside on the front porch of their house for any ty. They stared at their neighbors and watched kids throwing toys at each other while hiding, squealing and screaming.

"God, even as kids their thoughts so loud," Poet winced, closing her eyes while the tip of her fingers placed themselves on her temple. Her fingers flowed their natural scarlet color without meaning to, and Paris immediately looked around to make sure no one was watching.

"What's wrong? Your fingers are glowing," he pointed out, voice hushed while he and the woman headed inside. Poet shrugged and felt her fingers shaking.

"I-I don't know what's happening," she breathed out, sitting on a chair. "This never happens at all. I'm usually good at controlling my powers but it's as if my-my powers are going haywire."

"Aunt Poet," Paris started, placing a hand on her arm. He felt his own heart quicken and he backed away. "You're having a panic attack."

"What?" Poet questioned in a loud tone. "I-I haven't had one of those in a while."

"You're gonna have to ground yourself, Aunt Poet," Paris explained, filling a cup with water and ignoring the things that were starting to levitate because of her.

"Okay, okay," Poet nodded. "I remember some lessons from Dr. Hernandez."

Dr. Hernandez, Poet remembered, was a doctor that worked for her parents. Because of the constant killing and the fact that they never went out of the house and were locked in their rooms, Poet and Julian were checked on by the doctors who worked there when their parents weren't home. One of the doctors, Dr. Hernandez, had given the twins some pointers on what to do just in case they suffered a panic attack.

"First," Paris started, rushing over to the couch to stop it from levitating, "remind yourself of who you are now."

"My name is Poet Capulet," Poet breathed out, breathing in and out, "and I am 31-years-old. I am in my dining room, in my home, in Dallas, Texas. I-I woke up early today, around 6 in the morning. I had a shower and me and Paris took a stroll. We just finished eating dinner, which consisted of ribs and some mash potatoes. Soon I'm going to take another shower, change into my pjs, make some popcorn, and watch a movie with Paris."

At hearing her erratic breathing calming down, Paris gave her the cold drink he had on his hand. Poet grabbed the cup and drank it, feeling her heartbeat slow down, and Paris sped to grab the things that were levitating and were now starting to fall.

"What the hell was that?" Poet questioned, referring to the panic attack she was about to have. "I haven't had one of those in years."

"When was the last time?"

"After your grandparent died," Poet answered. "God... I hate that feeling."

"The thing that I'm surprised about," Paris said, putting away the things back to where they belonged, "is that you're getting it now. Maybe it's finding out the world is ending."

"No," Poet shook her head. "Hearing my life was ending is nothing new. I heard that every single day at your grandparents."

"I keep forgetting what those assholes did to you and Dad,"

"Hopefully we don't have to see them..."

🌂

"You hungry? Elliott's made moldy tuna."

Diego stood up slowly from the bed he was laying on, ignoring Lila and Elliott's words. "It's a tuna mold."

"I'll pass," he mumbled out, holding onto Poet's ring tightly against the hand that wasn't clutching the bleeding bandage. He grabbed his pants. "Where's my shirt?"

"Where do you think you're going?" Lila questioned.

"This is all connected to JFK," Diego answered, "and my dad's right in the middle of it. That's why he attacked me last night. 'Cause he knows that I'm actually getting closer to—"

He yelled in pain when the girl across from him pierced his bleeding wound with the tip of a stick she had grabbed. He fell back on the bed, hand hovering above the bandage.

"Yeah, you're in such a fit state to fight right now," Lila sarcastically commented. "You should probably go right now."m

"What is wrong with you?"

"You almost got killed last night," Lila answered as if it was the most obvious thing, which it was. "Take a day off."

Diego grunted, but he didn't stood up from the bed. He just stared up, at the ceiling, while the ring was twirled around in the palm of his hand, thumb pressing on the jewel of it and running itself around the band.

Lila went to go lay down next to him, watching him as he began to talk. "I can't believe I got shanked by my own father."

"I know. So rude," Lila fixed herself since she laying on her side, arm propped up. "Now, if it's any consolation, he probably didn't know that you were his son when he shanked you."

"Still," Diego started, "he cheap-shotted me. Man to man, that son of a bitch wouldn't stand a chance."

"Of course he wouldn't."

Lila tapped his skin and Diego gripped onto the ring. He glanced at her. "Why were you following me?"

Lila sighed before she laid down by him. "I thought you were taking off on me. Mmm. What people do." They stayed quiet for a sec before she continued to talk. "Hey, um... you know, when you were lying there, I...I thought you were dead. That's how I found my parents. Facedown in the living room. It was a home invasion."

Diego sat up and looked down at her. "Shit," he whispered. "How old were you?"

"Four."

"You never talked about that in group," Diego pointed out.

"I never talked about that with anyone."

"If you wanna stay longer..." the man started, "for a bit... I guess that's okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Lila sat up, too. "Is it okay that I don't hate you like I hate most people?"

Diego thought about Poet. Lila must've liked Poet, too. I mean, everyone likes Poet, except Luther, of course, but that's Luther. But Poet... Poet was like able. She was a badass, but she was a softy at heart. She was troubled, much like he was, but she tried getting on with her day with that annoying nephew of hers.

Diego laughed softly at thinking those thoughts because he remembered the insults Paris threw at him and when he and Poet didn't really like each other in the beginning when they met.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay by me."

When he opened his closed eyes, he saw Poet, and he swore he was going to cry then and there. He leaned in and kissed her, but when the jewel of Poet's ring pressed against his skin, he remembered who he was kissing.

"I-I can't."

"What? Why?"

Diego pulled away and he sighed, rubbing his face. "I... I'm still in love with someone, and... and it's wouldn't be fair for me to kiss you when I still love her."

"You still love someone?"

"Yeah," Diego nodded, sniffing. "She was amazing. Perfect even. She was... someone I really cared about. I told her I loved her the same day I lost her."

"Wait, was?"

"She died," Diego mumbled. "Her and her nephew. God... the two were just... the best. She was beautiful and this was hers." He showed Lila the ring. "She was always wearing rings on each of her fingers and necklaces. My brother always stole them from her, and her nephew... A sarcastic little shit, but he was a good kid. Always had snacks in this backpack of his that he used to carry everywhere with him. The two were very powerful, too, but God I miss them."

"By powerful what do you mean?"

"She's powerful," Diego simply answered. "She could tell what you were thinking and would try her best to raise you up. The kid, he was always running around, eating, and he would heal you if you were hurt."

"Huh... interesting..."

🌂

AUTHOR'S NOTE

...woah...