"A Game of Cat and Mouse"
-You All Just Lost the Game-
~I~
It had simply started out as a game. A nice game where there were only three rules:
1. The first to give up lost that round.
2. If the other player couldn't play anymore, it was a draw.
3. Neither player is allowed to die or get killed.
Sure, there were times when Boris would secretly let a rule slide- one of the first two of course. After all, he couldn't stand to see Pierce cry... He considered it as Pierce being unable to continue to play.
They could also tell when the other gave up. When Pierce hid really well, or got to his own house, Boris lost. When Boris found a way to corner Pierce, Pierce lost. And when Alice prevented Boris from catching Peirce, it was a draw. Boris was not allowed to do anything to harm Pierce seriously in any way, shape, or form.
Those were the rules. They were both really good at following them, even though they had never been said aloud, discussed, or even confirmed with the other. And it was a game only they could play.
*You All Just Lost The Game*
Boris looked down at moving bushes. He knew that was exactly where Pierce was. The scent was strong; a mingling of dead bodies, mouse, and a lingering of coffee.
The Cheshire Cat couldn't help but lick his lips when he finally heard Pierce give a sigh of relief. He must be done.
Sure enough, the dormouse came from his digging spot, shovel over his shoulder and humming, fully intent on getting home quickly for a sweet treat.
Boris jumped down behind him as quietly as possible. It was a few minutes before Pierce lifted his head and sniffed the air.
"Hey Pierce~!" He went up behind the younger, whispering in his ears. "What are you up to~?"
"B-Bor-Boris..." He seemed to have frozen to the spot. Boris went to pin the dormouse down when the frightened thing jumped and tried to make a mad dash. It took less than three seconds for the shovel from Pierce's shoulders to fly up in the air, and fall back down right on top of the owners head a few feet away.
Boris stopped in his tracks, immediately knowing something was wrong.
"Pierce?" He called out from his spot. "Pierce... playing dead doesn't work on me! Or it won't again."" He remembered the time the sixteen year old had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of boring the cat into leaving. It had worked both the first and second time.
"Pierce!" He growled from his spot. No reaction...
He knew that if he had left right then that he would not be held responsible of the charge, but he also knew that it would be a long time until Mary would notice and send out others to look for him.
Pretending to be doing it as a favor, instead of because of the guilt weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach, the eighteen year old walked over to the still body. He wasn't dead... He did seem hurt badly.
Hating himself for causing this, Boris picked the smaller boy up, surprised by just how little he weighed, and started to carry him back to the amusement park to his room. After all, he didn't want to go to Pierce's house and be accused of stealing anything...Again.
~I~
AN: Yay, it's been edited. Thank you Vivacia18 for all your help with these stories.
And oh no, poor Pierce.