Tattered Wings and Tattooed Promises
His arms wrapped around my waist, one hand gripping my arm, the other clutching my shirt like a lifeline. His body shook against mine, and I felt the warmth of his tears soaking into my skin.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
He was hurting. And the worst part? It was because of me.
“Angel,” he finally spoke, his voice low and raw, barely above a whisper. “Can you… can you fucking quit this job?”
I froze at his tone.
“I’m tired of getting into fights with people who don’t know how to mind their own business,” he continued, his voice growing tighter, more desperate.
I pulled away slightly, just enough to look at him.
“You got into a fight yesterday?” His silence was all the answer I needed.
My stomach dropped.
“You didn’t have to do that, Luca,” I muttered, shaking my head. “You should have just ignored them and..."
“No, Angel,” he snapped, cutting me off. His grip on me tightened. “Don’t tell me that.”
His breathing was uneven, his shoulders trembling with barely restrained anger.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he seethed. “You don’t know how it feels to stand there and hear people talk shit about your sister. Do you have any idea how fucking painful it is? How much it kills me every time someone throws an insult at you?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“I know you’re doing this for Mom. I know your intentions are good,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “But Angel, I..."
He let out a shaky breath.
“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand hearing them degrade you, mock you, treat you like—like you’re nothing. It’s your self-respect, your dignity I’m talking about here.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the wetness trailing down my cheeks.
I never really thought about it like that. I knew my job wasn’t something to be proud of, but I never imagined how much it affected him.
“Lu...Lu..Luca, I’m sorry,” I choked out.
He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. Then, reaching up, he cupped my face, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears.
“Angel,” he murmured, “please don’t cry.”
“I...I.. I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t know this would happen.”
“It’s okay,” he assured, pulling me back into his arms.
"I just… I just lost my cool yesterday. I won’t get into another fight, okay? Just—please don’t cry.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly.
What sin did I commit in my past life that the universe is playing this cruel game with me?
First, Dad left.
Then, despite graduating with a good degree, I still couldn’t find a stable job.
Now, Mom was sick, and Luca was getting into fights because of me.
It was like no matter how hard I tried, the world kept throwing obstacles in my way.
We sat together, talking about random things—mostly about his college life, the annoying professors, and the girls who wouldn’t stop fawning over him. It felt nice.
The weight in my chest lightened as he laughed and teased me, his usual self shining through again. I watched him for a moment, quietly appreciating the person he had become.
I was proud of him.
Proud to be the sister of this handsome jerk. But, of course, I’d never tell him that. His ego was already big enough.
As he spoke, something caught my eye—a small mark peeking from under his shirt collar.
My brows furrowed.
Was that…?
“Luca,” I drawled his name, suspicion laced in my tone.
He hummed absentmindedly, scrolling through his phone. I reached forward, cupping his neck and pushing his collar down slightly.
“Is that a tattoo?” His head snapped up, eyes widening in panic.
“H-How did you see that?”
I shot him a deadpan look. “Because it wasn’t well hidden, dummy.”
His lips parted, but no excuse came out.
“And what the hell were you thinking getting a tattoo there?” I scolded. “Do you have a death wish? Mom is going to ship you straight to church, and not before scrubbing your skin off with holy water and a laser!”
Luca groaned, running a hand down his face.
“Please, sis, don’t snitch on me. I really don’t want to get locked in a church boarding school filled with guys who plan on staying virgins for life.”
His exaggerated misery almost made me laugh.
"Calm down, idiot. I won’t snitch,” I assured him. His shoulders slumped in relief—until my next words.
“Because I have one too.”
His head jerked up so fast I thought he’d get whiplash.
“You what?” I smirked at his dumbfounded expression.
“When did you get it?”
“A year ago.”
His jaw dropped.
"How the hell did I not know this?”
“It’s called common sense, Luca,” I said smugly. “I didn’t get it in an obvious place like someone.” He pouted, crossing his arms.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
After hours of talking and joking around, Luca eventually drifted off to sleep, his head resting on my thighs, arms loosely wrapped around my waist.
I gazed down at him, my fingers brushing through his soft curls. He looked so peaceful.
So different from the angry, frustrated version of him I had seen earlier.
I’d do anything for you, Luca. You're my only sibling, the best gift mom and dad gave to me.
If it meant sacrificing my own dignity, my own happiness—just so you and Mom could live a comfortable life—then so be it.
I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Then, carefully, I laid him down properly on the bed, tucking the blanket over him.