Um...hi. Yeah, we're sort of back off hiatus. For the time being. Anyway, an angsty one-shot!
Disclaimer: We don't own Bones. Or, actually, Knox, who belongs to the authoresses Rochelle Templer and Buttercups3. (Rochelle writes the best Sweets fics ever. *shameless plug*)
"…sneaky ninja killer assassin," Sweets muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He'd drawn the curtains and the room was nearly pitch-black, save the faint gray light spilling from a gap between the shades. He let out a yelp as a pair of glowing eyes appeared in the mirror, then relaxed as the shadow let out a meow – it was his gray and white tabby, Knox.
"Hey, Knox," Sweets said quietly. He turned himself toward the glowing eyes and sat down, crossing his legs. As his vision adjusted, he could see that the cat was lying down, head tilted to one side, as if encouraging him to speak. Almost like a psychologist, Sweets thought, a smile flickering across his lips.
"You know," he began, stroking the cat. "When I was fourteen, I wore all black." He indicated the t-shirt, jacket, and jeans. "Listened to death metal…my parents nearly sent me to another therapist." A grim smirk crossed his face. "Anyway, maybe they should have…" He trailed off, tracing a finger over the faint, silvery – white lines on his left wrist.
Knox meowed again, pulling Sweets out of his reverie. "Okay," he murmured, quieting the cat. The tabby rubbed his head briefly against his master's knee before settling down. Sweets smiled, though sadness flickered in his eyes as he lapsed into pensive silence.