𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 [𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭]

2 | Phantoms

R U N E — 1999

— BIRTHDAYS PASS. First one, then two, until eventually it becomes five and Rune is very suddenly eleven-years-old: one-hundred and thirty-two months and three weeks in age to the dot.

It is around this time that Rune finds he doesn't like the sun much, despite how rare it is in the little town of Forks. It makes his skin prickle and his head pound with a sense of unease. On the days where the sun appears, he always hides away in his dad's old university hoodie, no matter how warm it was. The heat never bothers him.

That is another strange thing, although it quickly becomes normal in relation to Rune. He just doesn't seem to experience heat in the same way everyone else does, apparently. His mum worries that he has some form of nerve damage, but the doctor she'd taken him to about it apparently settled that Rune lacked nutrients as a baby, that maybe he was deficient or born premature. Bad blood circulation means his skin is always cold to the touch, rarely flushed with pink warmth, body trying to shrink in on itself, away from the surface like those ferns that grow in the underbrush by their house — the ones that roll up when something touches them.

Rune is walking home from school, enjoying the misty rain. Adam is hoiked over his back like a rucksack, whining about how cold Rune's skin is as he tries to warm up his icy hands on his neck by sticking them down the collar of his hoodie. His littlest brother — only five — can't really be judged for his aversion to cold. He was born for the desert lands of Texas; finding himself out in drizzly Forks when he was a few months old. It's no wonder the bitter cold of winter out by the North Pacific is a torture to him.

"Rune," He whines again, drawing out the 'u' for emphasis, "I'm cold. Why are you always so cold? Why are we walking home?"

He sighs. Adam hasn't yet grown out of the 'why?' phase like every other kid had. "Because," he grunts, jostling Adam to sit higher on his back, hooking his hands securely around his shins to keep him up. "Mum, dad, and aunt Cal had to go check up on nana and gramps."

"But what about Charlie?" Adam's chin jerks against his shoulder, voice too loud in his sensitive ears. Rune says nothing, though. Adam always tries to be quieter for him.

He reaches back to adjust Adam's red hood further over his brow, smothering dark blond locks. They look a lot alike, him and Adam, if for the fact that his little brother has fair hair and a little more colour to his skin, with a lot less freckles. And their eyes are a different shade, his more brown, but it was the features that did it. Both born with precise, delicate arches and corners, hidden in childishness as they were. No one ever seemed to know they're adopted, at least.

"Charlie is at the station, and he already has to pick Nick from the Rez, so I said we'd walk home." Adam settles down against his neck with a huff and Rune doesn't have to see him to know the movement has made his cheeks squish up and his hair puff out of his hood like the ruffled feathers of a pouty, ill-tempered chicken.