Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hello again, Fang.” Joshua said, his voice calm, just like before. 

Fang’s lip turns ever so slightly upward. “Hey, dude.” 

“Out here once more, another argument?” 

The ptero’s back tingles in embarrassment. They shake their head.  “No, just prefer being out here.” Staring at the front doors of the church, they frown. “I hate all the looks the people in there give me. As if I’m some fucking freak for them to turn their snoots up at.” 

Fang shakes their head with vigour, turning to the pretty patches of flowers and trimmed green grass. “I much rather be out then sit next to my asshole dad, or fucked winged retard of a brother.” 

“My, you seem to hold a concerning amount of vitriol for your family. May I ask what causes this hate? To speak such harsh things about your family?” 

Fang spits out a scoff, their arms crossed as their lips twist into a sneer. “My family are assholes; mom is always in her own fucking world, acting like everything is perfect. When she does open her damn eyes, always full of disappointment, always for me. Treats me like that damn kid, calling me her Princess Pirate and all this other shit.” 

Fang heaves over, their lips curl upward into an angry smirk, gritting their teeth, eyes turned into pinpricks. “My fucking dad? Constantly fucking dead names me, calls me a embarrassment, looks at like I’m a fucking failure every time. He starts shit with me for no reason, always looking for reasons to undermine me, always comparing me to my brother or talks shit about my friends about how bad of a influence they are on me.” 

A scoff escapes them, and the smile turns downright toxic, almost manic. “And Naser? My little goodie-two-shoes fucked winged retard of a brother, always the damn golden child, ‘Naser is such a good boy, why can’t you be like him, Lucy?’ or ‘Naser gets top grades in school, you need to study more to be like him, Lucy, else you won’t amount to anything.’ As if I want to be a loser like him, only friends being a two-faced parasaur cunt and bunch of fucking meatheads who take steroids. He’s so fucking annoying too, always rubbing it in, trying to be such a good little brother , being all patronising and shit.” 

Fang slumps on the bench, their intense rant finished, heaving in and out for gulps of fresh air. A familiar itch at the back of the throat returns, the ptero rocker fishes out her box of cigs with shaky hands, about to plop one right in her mouth. Joshua’s stoic gaze makes them stop, they nervously tap on the pack. “Uh, smoking won’t like cause any flashbacks or something for you, right?” 

“The smell can bring back memories, but I’ve grown used to it.” 

Fang’s hand freezes, a lump in their throat. The small cartoon felt uncomfortable in their clammy palm. “I, shit, sorry for smoking last time, I-I didn’t realise…” 

Joshua shakes his head. “It’s fine, as I said, I’ve grown used to the sensation. If you want to indulge to calm your nerves then, go ahead, although please discard the butts afterward, this is still a temple of the Lord, and should be kept clean and respected.” 

Fang stares. The itch grows more and more demanding, like a parasite trying to control them. The cartoon is stuffed back into their jeans. “I’ll just, uh, smoke later.” 

The burned man nods, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, it speaks well of your character to resist temptation for a stranger.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not a total bitch, you’re… alright, nice even-,” Joshua huffs in amusement at that. “-I don’t exactly want to cause some kind of PTSD moment for you or anything.” 

Joshua hums. “The golden rule.” 

“What?”

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Perhaps one of the most popular verses known by most.-” 

“-That’s bullshit,” Fang said, a look of displeasure clear as memories of their band being mocked and ridiculed rushed in. “I’ve been treated like shit and I don’t bother anyone. Been called things like a never/were, faggot and even been laughed at by the entire fucking school during a concert, all of those bigoted assholes would just point their fingers, say shit like; ‘Beethoven weeps.’ Or that my band’s music is ‘a torture technique.’ All of them are just a bunch of fucking weeds.” 

A deep frown forms on Fang’s face as they hunch over, their eyes watering. “You know what the worst part about their insults is? They’re fucking right. Doesn’t matter how unique our sound is, or how rare a twin bass band is, if it sounds like shit, it’s shit. Anyone that says we sound good or even okay is either; a contrarian, a schizo or just someone too nice to speak the truth.” The pale dino slumps on the bench, their wings pathetically held up like a leaf on a twig. The tears mix with the mascara and trail down their pale face. “The insults and the jabs just twist the knife, as if I didn’t already know how terrible we sound.” 

Joshua pats Fang on the shoulder, the warm fabric of the bandages draws the enby rocker’s attention. “Father Hills speaks of your skill, said that the last time you played the organ piano, it was beautiful, masterful even. I know the piano is far more difficult to master than a guitar, so tell me, what’s changed?” 

“We,- “ Fang lets out a sigh. “-play twin basses.” 

“Why not change one of the basses then? Surely that would help mediate the issue.” Joshua asked, his head tilted curiously. 

“The group said no, so I play bass. It's too late to change anything now.” 

“Do you want to play bass?”

“No, I… actually don’t like it, prefer acoustic, it's my favourite instrument.” Joshua’s gaze makes the ptero stutter. “But it’s a group decision, so I've got to go with it.” Joshua still didn’t respond, no need for his words when his piercing blue eyes were enough. “Look, they’re my friends, they wouldn’t do me wrong.” 

“Yet you have to sacrifice, forced to play something you have no desire to play, you’ve even said it yourself, that the music your band has created is not up to either your standards or those of others. This band is to be fun, no? A joint hobby with friends.” 

“W-Well, we also want to go big and sell out concerts and merchandise. Become world famous.”

“Does that matter? They say music is an expression of the soul, of your emotions. How will the music sound if your heart is not in it? Do you think you will progress far on this path of thorns?” 

“I…-“ 

The door to the church swings open, an odd mix of emotions at the sight of families pouring out; grateful for the probing questions to be over, but angry at the approaching end of Joshua’s calm wisdom. 

“Suppose my break is over; my final words for you until next time. God’s greatest gift to us is free will. Exercise this gift, don’t force yourself into this hole.” 

Fang’s snoot opens and closes, their voice as quiet as a church mouse. “I’m scared. What happens if they don’t let me? If I lose what little friends I have?” 

“No one can truly predict the future apart from the Lord, so to entrust your own future in the hands of your friends speaks of your faith in them, so believe that when you tell them the truth, the pain it causes you, trust they will do right and accept you.” Joshua rolls his head. “And if they don’t, I ask you, are they truly friends of yours?”

Joshua plants his hand on Fang’s shoulder. “Have faith in yourself, the path is dark, but it is always there for you to follow, and you are never alone on it; all you must do is ask for help.” With that, he stands, Fang following suit. “Until next time, God be with you.” 

“Yeah, you too.” Fang stares as Joshua heads toward the church, a horde of people exiting simultaneously. As usual, their family was not the first to leave. They pull out their phone, tapping in their passcode and pressing on the band group chat. 

{-Can we-} 

Fang sighs and deletes the message. 

{-Need to talk about the band.}

{The Raptor Plug: Wut about? U all good?} 

{Purple Buggirl: I was thinking the same thing tbh that upcoming concert at school is gonna be a hit i can tell.} 

Fang’s mouth goes dry at that; their hands shake at the thought of pointing crowds and rows of mocking laughter. 

{-Talk more about it soon but we need to make changes.}     

{Purple Buggirl: Yea i agree need to be ready for the big hit.} 

“Get off your phone, we’re going.” Ripley grunts as he walks by. Naser and Samantha were walking along with him. 

Fang scoffs. “Hello to you too, asshole.” Despite their words, they follow in their family's footsteps. Their hands are still shaking a bit as they rub their wrist. For the first time in Fang’s life, they were looking forward to the church. Hopefully, they had good news to share with Joshua next time they met.