Bonjour, mes chers! Aha, so... Where to begin with this one? People have been asking me to continue TCC for quite a while now and, being myself, I decided to rewrite the story. If you want to mentally slap me then that's perfectly acceptable and I encourage you to do so if it helps. Now, a few quick things to get out of the way!
If you're a Patron of mine then you can find a link to all the old chapters - and even notes of what I wanted to do! - on my at mjanderson! You can pledge as little as a dollar a month and get access to a bunch of cool things.
Second, this is based off a old prompt I found forever ago. The original story was meant to be 10k words tops. You see now who that's turned out. The original prompt:
Character A is a shapeshifter and they can shift into animals such as a dog, cat, snake etc., but A's shifting abilities are a secret since they were abused in their last home. That's when B finds them on the streets as their animal form, sick and hurt and far too weak to be in human form. B takes A in, thinking they're a normal pet, and takes care of them for months on end until they're perfectly healthy, but once A is healthy they still don't tell B in fear they will leave.
Lastly,
Warning: This story will have references to laboratory testing, mentions of vivisections, blood, wounds, character trauma, and things of a similar sort. Most mentions of such things will be vague, but there will be heavy mentions of it and warnings at the beginning of chapters when it gets explicit.
Remember to check my tumblr at ibelieveinahappilyeverafter for updates and new things, as well!
It could be said that how a person's day went was largely determined by their mood and their personal worldview. With such an outlook, it would be correct in saying that if you looked upon the day with a cheery smile and attitude, then you would have a happy day no matter what bad things befell you.
Andrew Riter would like nothing more than to punch the face of whoever had said that. Preferably with a knife, but a regular punch and kick to the balls would work just as well, he was certain.
See, Andrew would readily admit that he wasn't that optimistic of a person - in fact, he was usually downright sour to people and for good reason. He dealt with enough stupidity at work and school, he didn't need it in his daily life. There was a reason he avoided social contact as best he could. He still did his best to enjoy his days and take them one at a time, of course, but that was very difficult when his day had become a giant shitshow.
It started, as always, when he woke up to nothing but wonderful peace and quiet. That was very bad since it meant his alarm hadn't gone off. A look to his piece of shit alarm clock had showed he only had an hour to get ready for work. It wasn't the best, but at least he hadn't slept through the start of his shift. Which, that was fine. It could have been a still okay day since it meant he got more sleep, but, no.
He quickly found out his depression and anxiety medication were completely empty. Completely as in there was a post-it note reminding him to refill the damn things, but he hadn't, so screw his past self. The day could have been saved by a good cup of morning coffee and a muffin or two, but his cabinets were dismally empty and the only thing in his refrigerator that wasn't expired were some eggs and milk. He hated dairy. As for the new bag of coffee he got… He grabbed the wrong one last time he was at the store.
So with a horribly cold shower because the water in his apartment sucked, Andrew had gone out the door and had been five seconds away from a full blown panic attack because of the fucking espresso coffee he bought that existed for the sole reason of people hating themselves. It may not have been as bad if he hadn't been stopped on the stairwell three times by his neighbors.
Vidya, his sadistic landlord who he was absolutely certain was a witch of some sort due to the fact she always smelled of plants and wore a lot of black and green and had grey hair when she was thirty, had wanted to discuss that month's rent and was not assured by Andrew telling her - quite often - that his paycheck would be coming in just a few days and could she please stop threatening eviction when she never went through with it? Either commit or don't, but stop acting like his life wasn't in her hands, honestly.
He had then been stopped on the second floor by Sam who had spent almost half an hour screaming at him over the ethics of animal testing. Sam was a childhood friend who had 'coincidentally' wound up in the same apartment as him and tended to dress on the more vampire side of goth. The black hair fooled no one when the roots were so quick to fade back to blonde. Ugh. She also had this thing about animal testing. Andrew was of the opinion that he didn't care at all and Sam seemed to think him a monster for not caring about - what even had she been upset about this time? Eyeliner on bunnies? Andrew couldn't care less. Actually, he probably could care less! This was him! Not caring!
Oh and then Tucker. Tucker, another 'coincidental' childhood friend and certifiable genius when it came to mechanics and computers and looked like a nerd straight from the 80s or early 90s, had stopped him five feet from the door and spent thirty minutes trying to talk to him about theoretical physics. Andrew was just trying to get his Associate in Arts and then transfer to a nice four-year to study Creative Writing - maybe Journalism if he got curious and or desperate enough. He was not killing himself with a double major in Engineering and Physics or whatever the hell it was Tucker did. Of course, that did nothing to stop the 'genius' from talking his ear off. By the time he got outside to his bus stop the bus had been gone for twenty minutes and his shift started in ten. His job was fifteen minutes away by car.
Needless to say, that left Andrew very cranky and running through alleyways and down not so safe streets as he tried to take shortcuts in whatever way he could in order to get to the library he worked at on time. Three minutes of trying to find the right street and proving he had just circled a block and wasted time almost sent him to tears before he heard his phone buzzing with a familiar ringtone.
Taking a breath, and trying not to hysterically laugh at the 'Werewolves of London' song he now had playing and couldn't figure out how to change, Andrew clicked accept call and tried to stay calm. Focused. Peaceful. "Bonjour, grand frère."
"What did you do and what do I need to fix?" Rude. Randy had called him, thank you very much. "Andy, you only call me that when you want something or you're about to have a nervous breakdown. Are you about to have a nervous breakdown- Shit, you took your meds this morning, didn't you?" Dammit.
"I'm not screwed up enough to forget my meds, thanks." How did his brother always manage to call right when he was feeling at his worst or when he ran out of his pills? He was pretty sure the man had him bugged. It wouldn't surprise him. He took overprotective to whole new levels. "Why did you call me?"
"Lunch!" Oh. It was one of their lunch days, wasn't it? "Our lunch breaks should align today, so I figured we could meet up at our usual place around then?" It was ridiculous that Andrew could hear the 'are you okay' hidden in those words.
"Lunch sounds fine." Randy was annoying, but he had this ridiculous way of making Andrew find a reason to not just curl into a ball and never wake up. He also made Andrew feel better about his own wreck of a life considering the messes he got himself into. "You're paying, Mr. $82,000 a year."
"Hey, I'm not that good of a vet yet and I'm still paying off student loan debts!" Feeling a small smile on his face, Andrew sighed softly. Randy somehow always made it okay again. He would die before telling that to his face, of course, but still. "I'll meet you in a few hours. Try not to get lost in your books, Andy."
"Try not to flirt with the owners of your patients, Randy." Honestly, his decision to become a veterinarian had come out of left field, but Andrew couldn't deny he did a good job. "Especially that one you're so fond of. Now, what was his name… It started with an N?"
"Bye, love you, gotta go!" The call disconnected and Andrew gave in to the urge to laugh. Seeing the time, his laugh quickly fell and, right, he should at least call in to let the library know he was going to be a little bit late. Of course - of course - he got four rings in before his phone died. Because apparently his phone hadn't charged from the night before even though Andrew had unplugged it this morning.
And as if the gods had somehow heard of his day and decided he needed to suffer even more, the clouds above him rumbled with the menacing beats of thunder and lightning cracked against the sky like a jagged edge of a wound. It took only a second for Andrew to realize he was fucked and two for the rain to begin falling.
Within fifteen minutes he was late, soaked, and felt as if he had offended some minor deity over something or other - or maybe it was Vidya making him suffer for being behind on his rent. Mm. Maybe he had broken a mirror or spilled some salt, actually. That sounded like his kind of luck. Heh. Maybe it was divine punishment. He obviously hadn't suffered enough for what he had done, right?
By the time he got to the library he was pretty sure his clothes were ruined and he would never be dry again. At least he could get inside and clean up in the bathroom before sitting himself right over a heating vent and sorting books. It was a nice, quiet library and it was raining like it wouldn't stop for forty days. He was sure the owner wouldn't mind. In fact, he could even… He… He could stare at the locked doors and dark windows.
Gaze caught on the white notice posted to the main door, Andrew could only stare, utterly speechless. It was Memorial Day. They were closed on Memorial Day. Andrew had just walked for what was probably close to thirty minutes in the rain and… And… At least he wasn't late. That was great. That was fucking fantastic.
Shoving a hand in his bag to see if he had some magical solution that would fix all of his problems, Andrew stared at the purple umbrella that came out and began mocking him at once. He stared for what felt like an eternity before he clicked the button and ducked into the alleyway. Sitting down on a set of side steps that led to an unstable backdoor, Andrew propped the umbrella up over him and stared at the red brick wall across from him.
It wasn't even noon, yet, and his day was completely ruined and shot all to hell. The worst part was that this wasn't even the first time this had happened - maybe the exact circumstances were, but getting screwed over by life? No, no, Andrew was very familiar with getting screwed over.
Glasses fogged up, breath still short from his running, and soaked through to the bone, Andrew could only bury his face into his hands and make a noise that he hoped was closer to a groan than a sob. It was always like this. Life built up to where he couldn't handle the strain, everything came crashing down around him, and he shattered. Eventually he would put himself back together, but it kept feeling like it was harder and harder to be able to do that.
A clash of thunder and lightning and gust of wind had him trying to bite down another sob/groan. Of all the things he expected to happen next in his life, it wasn't to hear an answering hiss to his own pathetic noise.
Head jerking up, Andrew stared down at the pathetic scrap of fur that sat in front of him, just as soaked and just as pissed as he felt himself - although the scrap of fur looked to be as broken as Andrew probably looked. Staring for a moment, Andrew huffed and looked at the black cat with a wry smile, "Bonjour, chat noir. Are you the cause of my bad luck today, then?"
At least animals didn't judge you for speaking French first instead of English, he mused. Sighing, Andrew fixed his glasses, trying to see. He had given up wiping them off after the first few minutes of the rain storm. "Would you like to add to today's woes, then? I'm sure there's nothing else you can do to me, at this point, but you're welcome to try."
There was a rumbling little growl that sounded utterly pathetic, Andrew huffing out a laugh as he stared at the mangy thing. No doubt the cat was covered with fleas, ticks, and other unsavory bugs. The ribs poking out showed he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks - maybe months. Poor thing probably wouldn't make it through the night.
Tilting his umbrella forward, Andrew propped his cheek up on his hand - elbow balanced on his knee - as the fabric kept anymore rainwater from getting on the cat. "There you go. Might as well. Not like I can get much more wet myself." The rain was freezing as hell, of course, so Andrew was being a complete idiot by doing this for a cat that looked ready to claw his eyes out. Ugh. Why did he have to pity small, tiny things?
The cat grumbled and stared at Andrew hard before leaning forward and giving as quick a headbutt to Andrew's leg as he could, Andrew amused to see that the cat looked disgruntled at even that much. "You've had a very hard life, haven't you?" The meow sounded like utter, sarcastic agreement. Maybe Andrew was projecting. "I know what that's like, petit chaton. Would you like to hear about my cursed day?"
So, of course, Andrew spent the next however long telling a cat about how terrible his day had been. The cat seemed to be an attentive audience, at least, nodding along and making little rumbling noises close to a purr as he said something particularly witty. Andrew wasn't sure if that was meant to be amusement or a reprimand- A cat. He was projecting emotions onto a cat. He had fallen far, hadn't he?
"I imagine your story is much more interesting, though." Andrew stared down at the mangy little stray, the cat staring back up at him before jumping up into his lap. Andrew scrambled to keep the thing from falling and not dropping the umbrella, calming his racing pulse down. "A warning would have been nice, you know."
The cat meowed with what sounded like derision, Andrew huffing and ready to argue before going utterly still and silent as bright blue eyes caught onto him own. "I didn't know black cats had such bright eyes." The cat only settled down tiredly, looking utterly exhausted, but those eyes… No. No, it had been years and it was time to get over it. Happy endings like those in his books didn't exist in this world. The sooner he realized that days like this one were the norm, the better off he would be. After all, you couldn't get disappointed when you expected the worst, right?
But, still. Andrew couldn't stop himself from threading his fingers through the small creature's fur, the threat of tears starting to fade. The fur was rather soft even with the rainwater that drenched them. Actually the storm was starting to lessen into a drizzle.
Leaning back against the unstable backdoor, Andrew sighed and closed his eyes, biting his lip as his fingers tightened on the fur. Black fur with blue eyes. That… "You know, I like to think that black cats are actually lucky." It wasn't possible - it wasn't - but… It wouldn't hurt him anymore to keep hoping, right?
Just one last time.