Luan was finally enjoying a moment on the couch, the living room having been vacated while he had a chat with Henry. 

It was a nice couch, fancy and lavish in all the right ways to make people not sitting on it feel as inadequate as the parts of the floor not holding it up. 

If there was anything he actually enjoyed in this place, it would be the living room. It had a couple of couches, but this one was by far his favorite. It was against the wall, large windows directly behind, a view of the garden in the back, full and vibrant. 

His mother had loved that garden. If he ever needed to find her, it was the place to look. Now–though it retained a beauty–the flourishing life it once held had died when she did. 

The minute Marcilla entered the picture, the garden had become off limits to roughhousing rabble that only knew how to fight or disgrace their precious image, such as Luan.   

He knew she held no love for him, but restricting him from the one place he and his mother shared had just been cruel. And the reason he first got into a fight, anyway. 

A soft sigh, silent and relaxed, exhaled on his next breath, leaning against the couch as he faced the windows. For a moment, he could forget the stress his life held with every move he ever made. He could just sit, let the painful ache that always showed up when his past did, wash over him like a roll of waves lapping at the sand. 

A deep purple caught his eye, green tendrils snaking around it. A single flower had somehow taken root on an otherwise green leafed hanging vine that climbed the house. Said flower was hanging in the view, smudging its color against the glass like a protest, light filtering through its petals to form a hazy glow. 

Luan reached for it, brushing the glass where it rested. Fragility, in the harshest sense, still proceeds to exist.  

A clatter arose behind him, causing a flinch through his limbs, head snapping to the door. Broken pieces of glass sat scattered across the floor, hands poised in the air, as if in a desperate attempt to catch the now broken vase. Petals of blue and red, green stems cut and leaves torn, followed the mess in its wake. 

Green, though rare to be found on the Iris, was what greeted Luan as he made eye contact with the young man in the doorway. Black hair, dark and slightly shaggy, hung around the face, as if trying to shade the color of the eyes from view. 

“Arlan.” Luan greeted, a coldness seeping into his voice at the unpleasant interruption to his leisure. 

The man straightened, youthful face turning down in a scowl at the room's occupant. 

“Luan. Why is it, whenever something bad happens, you just happen to be nearby?” 

He asked, stepping fully into the room. Glass crunched under his boots, the blood of his murdered flowers no doubt staining the black of his soles. Good. Arlan could use more color for his pale, lifeless exterior. 

He was thin, though still retained a fit physique. Shorter than Luan, Arlan seemed less threatening than a chihuahua bearing its toothpick fangs in some sad attempt to scare him. 

“I'm not the one murdering flowers.” Luan answered, a brow rising in mild irritation. Arlan always made things seem like Luan was somehow to blame for chaos, even if his hands were the ones letting vases slip through the fingers. 

Arlan just scoffed, marching forward like war awaited him. 

“As if you aren’t the one always getting in my way. Do you really enjoy being the only blight in this family that much?” Arlan snapped, folding his arms in an angry stance as he came to a stop in front of the couch. 

“As you can see, dear brother, I’m the one sitting still. Not causing a lick of trouble for anyone in this so-called family.” Luan leaned back against the couch, adopting a relaxed position as he met the angry green that glared so harshly. Arlan might have been his father’s son, but Marcilla had poisoned the boy against Luan and his mother the moment Luan came to live here with them. 

It made him long for the days before, when he was just a little kid, living alone with his mother in a small, homely house on the edge of a town. Far, far away from these leeches. However, even if he were to find that place again, it could never be what it was. Not without her there. So, he let it sit, gathering dust in his memories as he embraced the new, harsh environment that had raised him into the jaded creature he was now. One would have to be rather callous to choose kidnapping as the first option in acquiring a necklace, but Luan felt it was justified. 

Arlan growled, trying to let some of his–although rather muted–alpha presence loose, no doubt to make Luan back down. For being an alpha, he looked nothing like one, though Luan certainly wasn’t one to talk. After all, he didn’t look the part his body had dictated for himself, either. 

Really, it almost seemed like their glands had chosen the wrong bodies from birth. 

Even with the smell that said ‘alpha’, it always seemed off to Luan. fake, almost. 

“Just shut up! Like you have any right to talk!” Arlan seethed, hands going into fists at his sides. 

“For being a part of this family, you put zero effort into it! I always have to pick up your slack, you weak, pathetic, waste of space!” Arlan really seemed to be in a mood, considering how happy the atmosphere had seemed when Luan first entered the house. Something was eating at him. If Luan wanted to pretend he cared, he might even ask what. 

Instead, he decided to just leave. His quiet time clearly wasn’t going to return, and Arlan seemed on a mission to make him suffer. 

As he got up, brushing past the angry man, he felt a hand grip his arm. 

There were no more words, only the glare of obvious hatred that seeped from Arlan's gaze. He always tainted that beautiful green with a burning anger, directing its weight in Luan’s direction. 

What had Luan ever done to warrant such treatment? He wasn’t sure if Arlan even knew why he hated him. It seemed to almost be a part of who he was. 

And Luan had no time for such complexities. He had dinner to go to. No doubt Arlan would follow, seeing as their father was the one who’d been invited, but at least in public, he had to act like they were a family.

Luan yanked his arm from the alpha’s grasp, marching over the scattered mess of dead plants and scattered glass as he left the room. 

Arlan stood in the empty room, body clenched as he caught a slight whiff of omega on their living room couch. He released a seething exhale, turning from the room with a huff, barely keeping his lips from pulling back in a snarl.