Defeated

The force of the hit sends Ottimo staggering backward.
He regains his composure just in time for Bortor to punch him again. This time it’s weaker, just for good measure, but it still makes his head snap back painfully as something in his nose cracks. Who would have thought the shrimp packed so much power when he was angry.
“Fuck you,” Bortor gasps, breathing hard. His teeth are bared, cheeks flushed – this time Ottimo’s really done it, this time he’s gone too far. He pushes himself up straight, towers over Bortor. He can feel warm blood gushing down his lips and chin, but it doesn’t matter, because in a matter of moments Tuborg will come to…
Tuborg is standing behind Bortor, face very pale. He’s staring at his twin in horror. He makes not a single move to help him.
Bortor snorts in disdain when Ottimo doesn’t defend himself. For a moment, he looks as if he’s going to spit at his feet.
He’s still so much shorter, so much smaller, and Ottimo feels like he could just punch him back, but older siblings aren’t supposed to hit younger ones and Tuborg’s still staring at him and he doesn’t move a quaterdamn finger-
Then Bortor turns around and walks away, satisfied with having won the fight. Tuborg, the other half of Ottimo’s soul, hesitates and follows suit.
Resentment boils up inside Ottimo as he wipes the gore from his mouth.
Betrayed.
Sometimes he still forgets that Tuborg isn’t a part of him. Sometimes he doesn’t expect that his twin could ever, ever turn against him.
He grips his throbbing nose. Warm blood runs down his hand and spills down his throat.
Defeated.


(Illustration by OttonandPooky.)




     

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