Chapter 21
Nick felt oddly placed during their discourse, the comfort he was beginning to find in Stu's and Bonnie's company reduced to an anxious pit in his body. A nervous twitch settling on his nerves as the anxiety constantly pried into his thoughts and planted seeds of worry.
His eyes switched between them both, and he could see the slightest difference in their actions, and the way they now beheld him.
Stu in particular, was now silent. Seldom giving out his own thoughts, and only sitting still with his eyes to the ground in a palpable gloom.
Which left his wife to speak mainly for the both of them, explaining what they wanted for the service as Nick wrote them down on a spare piece of paper with a pen. Capable of seeing the differences in her actions as well, her behavior and demeanor still affable, but seemingly detached. Going through the motions of smiling, and acting kind, but just slightly receding back where her expression wore the smallest frown when she thought she wasn't underneath Nick's guise.
The fox had taught himself to overlook and shrug off this type of behavior for years, growing naturally indifferent when prey would shuffle out just shy of his reach as he walked past, when they would shoot glares at him, when they would pull their children closer in defense, or wear spurious smiles and act polite, though the small twitches in behavior showed they still feared him. All of it stopped bothering him.
But it hurt greatly when he could see the rabbits in front of him retreat from contact, and shy away from their ease and warmth that they were beginning to have with him. The trust they were forming between each other, now void and vacant.
It's my fault...
Nick slowly began to grit his teeth, trying his best to shape his expression against his anguish.
That wasn't the way he wanted to say it. He wanted to disclose it someway, but with him being the one to tell them outright. Not to whimper and hide behind their queries.
He took a deep breath, but continued listening to their thoughts. Writing down their last few wishes for the funeral service, but with a heavy heart.
It wasn't much longer until their meeting concluded, both members speaking their parting words with an air of awkwardness. Their exchanging paws hesitant, and the departure rather unceremonious.
The fox replying with a fake smile to their own as he stepped out and spoke a few more words, before the door closed in front of him.
There, his feigned happy expression faded away, and he remained for a long moment, staring at the door. He sighed deeply, and turned away.
Walking down the hall in a slow, unmotivated gait.
Nick opened the door to his apartment, and took a step inside. Undoing his tie and tossing it indifferently to the side as he used his foot to close the door behind him.
He walked further in and sighed once more, his eyes floating through the mess of his apartment. The fox standing in gloom as he sunk into his thoughts, reflecting on the animals he broke trust with, the list seemingly growing.
Nick took a deep breath and shook his head, turning to his right as sauntered over towards the fridge and retrieved a new bottle of liquor.
Where he made his way to his bed as he twisted the cap off, took a sip, and descended into the bed. He made a slight face at the alcohol, but indulged another gulp.
When the tingling sensation dissolved from his throat, he gave the bottle in his paw a long hard stare. Frowning in disapproval at himself as he saw his hugely misaligned reflection in the glass.
His eyes only closed and his head drooped low, his grip on the bottle increasing as he held it close. Whispering a swear word as the hate for himself only grew.
The fox sprung awake with a sharp inhale, his heart racing as his eyes darted wildly around the room. He blinked a few times, his eyes beginning to cut through the darkness, revealing an empty, trashed apartment. It was still dark outside, with the television upon his dresser still running, having forgotten to switch it off before he had fallen asleep.
He let loose a shaking breath as his paws went to his eyes, closing his mouth and taking deep breaths through his nostrils.
"Shit..." He whispered, looking up after calming himself down.
He remained still for a moment, trying to comfort himself despite his oppressive thoughts and the sickness that clashed with him. His head and stomach complaining the most from his excessive alcohol abuse.
He blinked, and felt his stomach turn over. He quickly threw off the covers and stumbled off the bed, making his way to the bathroom. Not even taking the time to turn on the light as he opened the toilet lid and vomited, expelling the contents of his stomach into the bowl.
When his gut ceased to constrict, he tried to regain his breath as his legs trembled. The fox receiving only moments of respite before another urge tugged on his esophagus.
Afterwards, he lingered above the toilet seat in an unsettled state, his body quavering as he coughed violently. He then collected the saliva in his mouth and spat out the remaining bile, making a face at it's strong, repugnant taste.
He cleared his throat, and corrected his back. Dropping the lid and flushing away the waste. He turned to the sink, and leaned forward as he activated the water. Gaining a mouthful as he swished it around, erasing any remnants of the bile before spitting it out.
He then brought himself out of the bathroom and wandered towards the living area, the fox teetering on his shaking feet as he walked.
Entering his living room, he crawled on his bed and let himself sink into it, exhaling deeply as he gave himself a few small minutes of repose.
Nick's head then lifted off of the mattress and fixed his eyes on the small clock near his bed, it read 2:46 AM, Friday.
Friday.
Three days.
The bitter reminder shriveled his heart as he stared at the neon green word, his brow slightly hardening before he turned away with a deep, tired, and dreadful sigh. His head dropped back into the mattress, and he closed his eyes once more, keeping relatively still.
Though, the fox would only begin to toss and turn.
An hour came to pass, and Nick stayed fully aware and conscious, unable to regain sleep. As he threw off his covers, and settled into another position, he was unsure if that was even what he wanted at that point.
After another time of inactivity, night would become early morning, and the fox was still be awake in a now, feverish state. His body swelling with symptoms he was long too acquainted with, a pounding headache along with the nausea to stir his stomach, and the occasional vertigo which tried to sweep him off of his feet whenever he tried to stand.
Nick no longer attempted to sleep, letting his eyes drift through the darkness as he endured his bouts of sickness and torrent of thoughts.
It wasn't until the sun had stretched into the sky that the fox had any inclination to move, slowly rising from the bed once more, and slouching over as he brought his legs to the edge.
His head craned into his paws and his fingers prodded into his temples as he closed his eyes. A position he found himself in more frequently.
Already the pain swelled in his head, but he hadn't cared. His eyes reopened to his surroundings, and he looked around. Filtered sunlight came through his dark red curtains, the residual shine only brightening the room to a dim setting.
The state of which, remained the same.
Nick's paws rubbed against his thighs, and he looked around his person, spotting the remaining half of a cigarette on his bed. Picking it up between his fingers, he then slowly rose unto his legs and took a step towards the kitchen.
But the room began tilting, the entire house shifting sideways as the fox quickly took a step back and threw his arm behind as he caught the bed frame.
Leaning his weight into it and stabilizing his stature, the apartment warped a bit before regaining it's ground.
His frame deflated with a heavy sigh before he carefully readjusted himself unto his feet.
He moved again, this time taking slow, cautious steps as he searched for nearby objects in case he needed another stabilizer. When he entered the kitchen, he leaned into the stove top. Activating one of the burners and bending forward, getting close to the open flame before the end of the cigarette caught, and came to life with bright orange embers as he inhaled.
The burner was extinguished, and the fox took a step back, exhaling a liberal amount of smoke into the air. His nerves tingling in satisfaction.
He then turned back into the living room, going for another drag when he realized the cigarette was shaking in between his fingers. He blinked, his brow furrowing curiously as he put the cigarette between his lips.
His paws were unsteady, even when open, his fingers shook. When closed, his entire fist wavered still. He then wrapped his paws together, keeping them locked tight. His eyes going back up as he stepped into the living room.
He went back for his bed and fell back into his mattress, lying supine as he looked up at the ceiling, his right arm bent at the elbow against the bed.
He took another drag from the cigarette, and blew away the fumes. Shifting back into his thoughts as he lied there, simply staring.
His emerald eyes gradually glazed over, and faded. No longer remembering to even take a hit from the lit cigarette as it eventually fell out of his fingers and unto the bed, where it began to burn.
The predator delving into an exhausted, lifeless state for a time.
It wasn't until heavy bangs struck his door, that he was startled back into the present. He blinked a few times, and rose partially, giving the door a glance. His eyes switched in between the door and the windows, before he swallowed and rose all the way. His arm then brushed against the embers of the cigarette and he retreated with a hiss.
"Ah, Shit!" Nick swore, swiping it off his bed, and eyeing the new burned hole in his sheets. He shook his head and swore another time. Sighing through his nostrils before he slowly rose unto his legs and headed over to the door.
He took a quick glance out of his window, squinting heavily from the sunlight before seeing the animal at his entrance.
"Fuck." Nick whispered, before retreating behind them.
He then began to flex his paws before he glanced around his living area, his eyes nervously going through all the items discarded on the floor before the animal knocked even louder, startling him.
"Wilde. Open up." The baritone voice boomed from behind his door.
Nick deflated through his nostrils, and shook his head slightly. He gave himself a quick once over, and hastily brushed down his red collared top before stepping in front of the door.
His paws flexed a few more times before he twisted the lock, and grasped the door knob, slowly swaying it open as he faced Bogo.
The buffalo peered down at the fox, his eyes hardened.
"Hey, Bogo.." Nick said lowly, the hint of a smile on his features.
Bogo's expression hadn't changed though. "I tried calling you, Wilde, but to no avail. It didn't pick up at all. Do you ever have your phone nearby or on?" He replied somewhat terse, the question delivered with a weary annoyance.
But before Nick could answer, Bogo's brow creased differently when his hazel eyes went up and down the fox's frame. The buffalo's expression then softened into one that resembled surprise, and concern, soon meeting eyes with Nick once more.
"Nick." He began, taking a step forward. "Have you had, any sleep?" Bogo asked, his voice now lowered.
The fox pursed his lips, hiding away his paws into his pockets. "I didn't know it was off….it might've died, I think..." Nick said, looking down and fiddling with the cloth inside his pockets.
"Wilde." Bogo said with a heavier tone.
Nick was still for a moment, his attention downward, until his eyes crawled back up to Bogo. His emerald irises faint.
"Some...but, not much…." He said lowly, looking away again. Slowly grating his teeth against each other.
Bogo folded his arms together as he thought in silence for a few moments.
"Have you been meeting with Fangmeyer recently?" Bogo asked, looking at Nick.
The fox rolled nervously with the question, his paws balling up in his pockets.
"No..." He said earnestly, keeping his eyes away from Bogo's vice.
The buffalo only took a heavy sigh.
"Look, Wilde..." Bogo began, his tone solemn, and sober. "I understand what's happening...and I get what you're dealing with….I'll let Fangmeyer give you some space.."
Nick's gaze slowly met with Bogo's, his eyes slightly wide. The buffalo's expression empathetic, if still appearing sullen. His hand then softly landed on Nick's shoulder.
"Just give him a chance….He's only wanting to help..." He said, before soon retracting from contact. Bogo then cleared out his throat, and glanced away. "Look, I came by to hear what you and the Hopps family discussed. Did they tell you all of what they wanted?" Bogo asked.
Nick's eyes went to the ground, gritting his teeth at the memory. "..uhmm, I, think...I uh, I wrote some notes down...I'll get them for you..." He said as he turned and left the door slightly ajar.
Bogo stood by, waiting for a minute as he crossed his arms and cleared out his throat again. His eyes glanced upward, and he could see a little through the crack in the door opening. He squinted slightly, trying to get a better view inside before the door opened, and Nick stepped through. A folded piece of paper in his paws.
"Here.." He said, handing it over.
Bogo took it in his hands, and opened it, both the front and back filled with various notes.
"Okay, thank you, Wilde...I'm in a bit of a rush, so I'll have someone else drop by in case I need something..." Bogo said, refolding the paper and placing it inside his pocket.
"Okay, Bogs..." Nick said, glancing up. "Oh, sorry...Chief."
The buffalo's brow was flat against his eyes, before he deflated through his nostrils. "I'll see you, Wilde." He said simply, taking a step back and turning away. Bogo was almost to his car before he stopped, and turned around. "Oh, and your next doctor's appointment is tomorrow at 10:30 AM. I expect you to be ready when I get here." He said as he opened up his car door.
"I will..." Nick said loud enough for Bogo to hear. Watching as he then disappeared inside the car, and pulled away from Nick's apartment.
The fox lingered in the doorway, his eyes slowly falling away before he re-entered his apartment, and closed the door behind him.
Fangmeyer's impaired gait became coupled with the clack of his cane making contact with the ground, ambling through the busy city streets of Zootopia. He was advised against straining himself in any way, but he disregarded the sentiment as he continued on, the wound growing steadily agitated and painful.
He only stopped when he was cut off from a traffic light, taking a moment to glance at the passing cars before he glanced downward. He carefully laid his paw over the wound, and soon made a face as it stung back at him.
His attention swept back up to see the street light swapped to the character in white, and he simply moved on ahead once more.
It wasn't until the ivory wolf crossed a busy intersection and approached a low rise building, that he stopped for more than a few moments rest. Partially leaning into his cane as he drew his breath, and let his eyes scale up to the third floor of the building with a sinking heart.
He pursed his lips, and deflated through his nostrils, his eyes falling. He let his gaze shift over to the rectangular concrete sign on his left that rose from a patch of grass and neglected flowers.
"Glendale Condos." It read with black metallic letters.
His grip tightened around the cane in his left paw, and he looked back up to the building. Frowning as he spent another good few moments to stall, not looking forward to the climb ahead of him. But, if with dread, he took a step forward and approached the stairs. Proceeding to ascend the first story in a slow and unpleasant process.
Occasionally, the wolf would have to stop for brief moments, mainly for the pain to subside before starting again.
A sigh of relief then deflated the wolf's frame as he managed to reach the third story, clutching unto the guard rail as he leaned his weight into it.
His sharp teeth bore through his long drawn breaths, feeling lightheaded as peered down once more at his source of pain in his abdomen.
After a long minute, he regained himself, leaning off of the guard rail and limping slowly to his own condominium.
217, was in small black numbers attached to the door. Underneath it, a small circular hole that was once meant to be a peephole, was broken and hadn't been regarded to be fixed. So Fangmeyer only put several strips of tape on the inside to prevent any random individual from peering in.
He reached for the key in his pocket, and soon unlocked the door. Taking a step inside, and closing the door behind him.
When he turned around, and went through the small hallway, stepping out into the large singular room, he became still. His eyes going through the familiar setting.
The apartment only had one room, save for the bathroom. It was a living, dining, and sleeping room in one. His bed lay close to the wall on his right, following the corner of the room. The dining table was in the center, and off to the left was the opening towards the small kitchen area.
Behind him, in the hallway on the right was a closet, and to the left a bathroom.
It had been some time since he'd stepped foot inside his own place, having stayed with his father after his visit to the hospital.
Fangmeyer took time to slightly stretch, trying to relieve his arms before his wound stung sore, causing him to correct his back and swear, glancing downward.
On his shirt, he could see a speckle of blood dot around the area of his wound.
He simply put his paw over it, staring at it with wide eyes as he froze. He then blinked, and looked up, trying to master his breathing before he turned around and entered the bathroom.
He removed his shirt, and his heart dropped at the bandages coiled around his body. The red which stained half of the area around the gunshot wound, even staining the top of his jeans.
He swallowed, and began to take care of the wound. Removing the old dressings, and delicately cleaning the hole in his side, before he noticed the stitches appeared somewhat strained. He eyed his wound, but simply shook away the concerning matter, taking a deep breath as he simply applied new bandages.
When the bandages were firmly tightened, he took another deep breath and leaned against the counter. Once again, feeling dizzy on his feet. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and waited for it to subside. Also trying to calm his elevating heart speed and keep his mind clear.
His wound appearing to be in a concerning state.
His eyes opened again, and he leaned off of the counter, kneeling down to pick up his shirt before he left the bathroom.
He was in the main room, tossing his shirt inside a laundry basket before he could feel his phone ringing. He searched inside his left pocket and pulled it out, seeing the caller ID.
Fangmeyer pursed his lips, and slowly corrected his back, staring at the phone screen for a moment. It was his father.
He let the phone continue ringing, ringing until the point it stopped. The phone went back to the home screen, and after a moment, a notification popped up.
"You have one new voicemail."
Fangmeyer sighed deeply, looking around him as he found a seat to ease into. He let his cane lean into the seat as he then clicked onto the notification, and it brought up the one his father just left.
For another long moment, he was staring at the screen. Pondering if he should even bother listening to it.
Though, eventually, he found himself tapping on the line of text, which then began playing it. He set the phone to speaker, and set down on the table next to him.
"Hey, son..." His father's weathered voice came through. "I was calling just to make sure you're okay...You haven't come back home, so I'm assuming you went back to your place...I hope you got a ride, you could've asked me, I would've taken you back…." The older wolf then sighed. "Look, son, I love you. I hope you know that….and, I'm, I'm sorry about what I said to you. Those terrible thing...I'm sorry...I just, I've been alone for a while…" There was a pause, before he continued on. "And uh...I want you to know that you're welcome here anytime…anything you need, son. You're always welcome…...call me back when you can, bye..."
Fangmeyer remained still in his seat, only staring ahead.
"Press 1 to repeat the message, press 7 to delete, to return the-" Fangmeyer then reached for the phone, and exited the voicemail. Placing it down once more, and sinking back into the backrest of the seat.
The wolf deflating with a heavy sigh, resting his head back and closing his eyes.
It wasn't until minutes later that his eyes re-opened, and he slowly rose to his feet, dragging along his cane. The wolf picked up the phone on the table, and searched around the apartment for a new shirt. When he tossed one on, he began making his way towards the door, putting the phone to his ear.
It rang a few times, the person finally picking up as Fangmeyer made his way outside his condo.
"Hey, Delgato? Could you pick me up?"
Winston was in his lounger, sunken into the worn mock leather as his eyes were fixed downward on his phone screen. Through the help of his glasses, the small text on the screen became legible to his weary eyes as he squinted slightly, swiping from the different pages.
He was reading an online article that was titled; "How to help a loved one through a difficult times."
The older wolf was delved into the material before a few knocks on his door summoned his attention. His ears perked, and he gave the door a curious glance, waiting a moment before he began slowly rising from his seat.
When he was on his feet, he turned off his phone screen and placed it in his pocket, turning and making his way to the door. He unlocked it, and let it sway open as he peered outside.
Fangmeyer looked up from the ground, and had a small, sheepish smile curve his lips.
"Hey...Dad.." Fangmeyer said lowly.
"Joe, hey." Winston said with surprise, soon turning into a smile. "Come in, come in!" The older wolf beckoned, turning around.
Fangmeyer paused for a moment, casting a glance behind him at the police car parked in front of the house. The wolf put a paw up, and the familiar tiger that was in the driver's seat simply nodded back at him.
He then turned around, and took a step inside, closing the door behind him.
"Do you want anything to drink? I've got water and some soda.." Winston's voice could be heard inside the kitchen.
"No thanks, Dad.." Fangmeyer replied, glancing at the floor.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm fine...Thanks..." He said, his voice lowering near the end, tapping on his cane.
There was slight pause, the fridge could be heard closing and Winston soon came out of the kitchen, walking into the living room, and leaning into one of the walls.
"Listen, son..." The older wolf began, his eyes were to the floor, and he began slowly rubbing his wedding ring. "I'm, sorry, about what happened yesterday...I'm not-"
"Dad, it's okay...I got your message." Fangmeyer intruded.
Winston's expression loosened as he glanced up. "Oh, okay.."
"And uh...I was wanting to apologize as well..." Fangmeyer replied, not making eye contact.
Winston smiled warmly, leaning off of the wall.
"Son's, it's fine...I accept it.."
Fangmeyer nodded, beginning to tap once again on his cane. Winston then turned around, heading back into the kitchen.
"You know, I had an idea of what we can do for dinner..." Winston began. The sound of him opening up cabinets and drawers echoed, the cluttering of pots and pans following suite.
Fangmeyer sighed lowly, and began walking towards the opening to the kitchen. Stopping just before it, and peering inside at his father.
"I was thinking I could make your old favorite, do you remember?" Winston said as he putting some pans on the stove top, still facing away.
"Dad. I'm here to get my things..." Fangmeyer then replied.
At those words, the older wolf came to a stop. Slowing putting the container he had in his paw on the counter, and remaining faced away.
Fangmeyer pursed his lips, and only walked back into the living room. Leaving Winston inside the kitchen, where he stayed still, and quiet.
"Where did you say my bags were?" His son's voice called from the living room.
Winston cleared out his throat, and turned his head slightly. "They should be in closet..." He replied, raising his voice.
Silence was his answer, as he could hear a door open, and the rustling as Fangmeyer struggled to pull away his belongings before the door closed once more.
Winston turned around, and leaned his rear against the counter. After a moment, his son came into view once more. Carrying his blue duffel bag by the handle in his right paw, as he held the cane in his left.
He limped past the kitchen and went into the hallway, where his footsteps receded down to the end, and the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing filled the silence.
Winston remained still, leaned against the counter as he sunk into thought, his expression now set in dim lines. He slowly began rubbing his wedding ring again in between his fingers.
The bedroom door then opened again, and closed. Fangmeyer came into sight, carrying the duffel bag with backpack slung around his shoulder.
"Son." Winston said, catching Fangmeyer's attention as he stopped and turned around.
Winston glanced away for a moment, still fiddling with his ring.
"Goodbye."
Fangmeyer was silent for a moment.
"Bye, dad."
The ivory wolf then turned back around, and disappeared out of Winston's sight. His heart dropping slightly as he heard the front door open, then close.
Fangmeyer limped down the walkway and towards the police cruiser. As he got close, he could hear the shift of the doors unlock, and he opened up the right rear passenger door, put his things inside, closed it and entered into the front passenger seat.
Delgato was sitting in the driver's seat, waiting until Fangmeyer clicked his seat belt across his chest before shifting the car into drive, and pulling away from the older, quiet house.