For Those With Wings (Angel/AngelKiller!Brothers and Reader)

Chapter 14

I closed the book in my hands, sighing as frustration grew at the author's decision to write a cliffhanger at the end before sliding the book back into place on the bookshelf in the common area. The hours had passed slowly, with the tenants of the shelter walking in and out of the common area to do various chores, or to head to a destination. I pulled my legs up to my chest after settling in the reading chair again, laying my chin on my knees and giving another silent sigh.

The soup kitchen didn't open for another thirty minutes, so there wasn't enough time for me to get lost in another book. I shifted my gaze from the floor to the large portrait painting of the man the shelter was named after, St. Benedict Joseph Labre. The posture was one I was familiar with, as most of the saints were painted in the delicate, beseeching position with their eyes turned upwards. The painting was beautifully framed in real wood, carved to look like vines and leaves of ivy curling around one another and stained into a cherry wood color.

The laughter of a child stirred me from my thoughts, a young boy running through the room and pulling my attention from the painting with his outfit. The boy's white pressed shirt was buttoned up with a red-and-white tartan checkered tie wrapped around his collar, complimenting the grey pants and black uniform shoes. I recognized the tartan color instantly. After all, I wore it for a few years at the school here. His face brought back memories as he looked towards me, a playful and mischievous smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as his dark hair bounced with each step, a red tint catching the light.

Osomatsu...?

I carefully climbed out of the chair and followed at a distance, watching the child turn around a corner near the entrance and leave my line of sight. I ran to catch up, bewildered at the thought of there being a child that looked exactly like Osomatsu did as a kid.

Turning the corner in the hallway, I found myself in a pitch-black room looking at the rich mahogany doors of the school with six people standing in front of it, or rather...two men and four children. I walked a little closer to see that the people were carved out of wax, unmoving but full of expression. The three boys were crying, one of the men holding one of them back as the child tried to reach out to the girl being led away by the second man.

I knew exactly what was going on.

This was the day that I was fostered out of the children's home.

Osomatsu, Choromatsu, Todomatsu, and I had been playing in the school yard before we were confronted and I was told about the 'good' news. It was a whirlwind event, with me being rushed to pack my few belongings and escorted out the door while the three brothers tried to keep me at the school with them.

The wax figures melted and formed a new moment, the scenery changing to that of a classroom as the wax clumped into four figures. One was standing by the chalkboard and partially turned towards three others that arranged themselves into who I could only guess were pre-teenager Osomatsu, Choromatsu, and Todomatsu.

Osomatsu leaned over a school desk with a look of accusation, while Choromatsu glanced up from his textbook and Todomatsu seemed to approach Osomatsu with a cautious hand raised to him. The wax figures didn't move, but I heard a conversation pick up from all around me.

"That's not right!" The young Osomatsu cried out.

"What's not right, young Matsuno, is the fact that your grades have dropped substantially despite all warning that you'll be removed from the program if you continued with this behavior," The teacher sounded stern, like an old man that was set in his ways, "I had some hope that you'd excel, but with you dropping your duties in the church and your grades on the decline, the deacons have told me to withdraw you."