Page 75 of The Fallen
"Who says I won't be the one defending your honour?" Adam huffs. He takes a drink from his way-too-big coffee cup and watches me over the rim.
I chew and swallow another bite of brownie before answering. "Uh, because I'm genuinely lovable, God would adore me. I wouldn't need defending. And even if I did, I wouldn't ask you."
Adam looks offended. I have no idea why since this is an extremely hypothetical conversation we're having.
"Why not? I could totally take on God, probably, maybe."
I snort out a laugh, unable to help myself. "Can I please direct you to the epic fail of five minutes ago as example A of why you so completely could not take on God?"
"You're mean today," Adam complains, his nose scrunching up in mild annoyance. I know he's not actually annoyed, though, because he taps his glasses when he gets really pissy.
"Suck it up and deal, princess," I say, not bothering to hide my grin.
Hanging out with Adam always makes me feel less shitty, even when I've had a really shittastic day. He makes me smile, no matter what. It's like his superpower, and I love him for it.
"Princess? That's a new one." Adam frowns, mouthing the word “princess” to himself a few times.
"Suits you, I think."
Adam opens his mouth to say something, but just then the door to my flat opens, revealing our sister, dejection in the slump of her shoulders and downturn of her mouth. Adam turns in his seat, smiling at Eve as she plods over and parks herself next to him, leaning on the kitchen island with her forearms crossed in front of her. She doesn't smile back at him. If anything, she becomes even more mopey. I wince internally.
Unlike me, my siblings are both human, and despite the fact they don’t technically need to work since money is the last thingwe need to worry about after however many millennia we’ve been alive, Eve has always had a penchant for choosing career paths to dominate from century to century.
This time around, she’s all-in on becoming a journalist. She had an interview for her dream job at our city’s local newspaper, theRogue Review. She was more excited for it than I’ve seen her be about anything in a long time.
Eve’s eyes, a perfect match in shade and shape for Adam’s, are downcast, and she's fumbling with her fingers. Adam shares a loaded glance with me, both of us aware of what this behaviour probably means. I reach across the table to grab Eve’s hand and give it a sympathetic squeeze.
"Give me the interviewer’s name, and I will end them,” Adam says.
Eve gives a slight huff. "Don't bother."
"Yeah, Ad, fuck’s sake, just let it go.” I give Adam a mock slap on his arm. "You're so scary when you get all protective."
Eve rolls her eyes, but Adam puffs his chest and drawls in a fake alpha-bro voice, "I take care of what's mine, ladies."
I almost choke on my piece of brownie. I have to grip the table and cough for a few seconds.
Eve makes a sound a lot like a heavy sigh, and we both turn our attention back to her.
"It was going really well," she says tiredly, "until they started talking about how the main part of my job would be working under Diane Foxley.”
Adam and I exchange another look, this one more of a shared grimace.
Diane Foxley is a scaremongering “journalist” infamous for her prejudice against the LGBTQIA+ community. She writes a weekly column for theRogue Review, too, mostly with updates about the terrible actions of our local queers in power andqueer-related organisations, twisting the truth and even telling outright lies when it suits her.
"Working under her as in … reporting about how all queer people are out to destroy society and take over the world?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
Eve sighs, rubbing a hand through her white-blonde hair and tugging on the short strands. "Pretty much, yeah."
“Shit,” I hiss, squeezing her hand again. “So you walked out of the interview?”
“Had to, didn’t I?” Eve scowls, frustration creasing her features. “Can’t exactly work for the woman who wants people like us dead, can I?”
It’s weird to have been alive long enough to see the world grow its hatred like mould on a damp ceiling. It’s spread so fast and caused unfathomable damage to humanity. The people alive now weren’t there at the beginning, before that hatred was born. If they were, if they could have known a world without it, then maybe they wouldn’t fight so hard to hold onto it.
“Well,” I reason, just drolly enough to annoy her, “if we’re being technical about it, she’s only ever publicly stated that she wants the government to lock us up in a deep dark hole forever, not have us executed.”
Adam gives me a dry look. “You’re right. Let’s not be overdramatic snowflakes about it.”
