CHAPTER 54: WITHERED WOLVES
BUTTERCUP: *knocks on door* Kukuuuu... Are you dead?
ME: *slams door open* No! In fact, I am alive and well! I present to you the latest chapter of "Call of the Wolves"! *throws it forward and laughs crazily*
BUTTERCUP: Uhhh...
ME: I must apologize for my brief, one-month absence! I've been busy. And hey, at least this chapter's long, so I'll keep the author's notes brief! LET'S GOOOOO!
BUTTERCUP: *gently pushes new chapter away from her* Alright. Kuku only owns her own OC's and the story—not PPG. *starts to mutter under breath* Which I'm pretty relieved about.
ME: Read read read ooooon, folks!
Chapter 54: Withered Wolves
Vix swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as his eyes darted between the three people in the room. "Talk? What for?" he questioned, trying to sound calm. His voice, however, betrayed him, coming out as a thin, scratchy rasp.
Even Christie looked terrified as she sat there beside him, gazing up at her uncle with huge, wide eyes. Raymond busied his hands, his own eyes glued to the table where he kept all his supplies. He kept rearranging things that didn't need to be rearranged, as if he were afraid his body language would give something secret away.
Danes didn't blink or shift as he said blankly, "Let's just say, there's a lot to talk about." He glanced back. "Maggie, Chris; your daughter's here waiting for you."
A woman and man appeared from behind him. The woman was much shorter than Danes, but not all that small by average statistics, with frizzy red hair that was pulled loosely back into a ponytail. Vix mused that her hair looked like it wanted to explode from the ponytail and fall around her shoulders. The man who had emerged with her wasn't short by any means, but still shorter than Danes by a couple inches. He had elegant blond hair combed back hastily in a nice 'do—Vix knew that his hair would've been even nicer if it weren't for him having been unconscious for so long.
Christie's eyes brightened and she jumped up. "Mother, Father!" she gasped, hurrying into their arms. She was so happy; she was like a young child with her parents after a day at nursery school.
Vix felt a pang in his heart, remembering his own parents. Two had perished in a fire. One had betrayed his trust and lied to him. I have no family.
"Christie, dear; are you hurt at all? I heard everything from Shamus." Maggie's voice was a concerned titter as she gently patted her daughter's soft blond hair, but her voice turned to ice when she looked up and glared at Vix. "You're her bodyguard. You should be making sure she's safe. If anything happens to her, I will break your neck."
Vix shrivelled back. He'd never considered himself afraid of threats, but somehow Maggie was intimidating in a way most people weren't—not even Danes held her brand of scary. He could tell she meant it.
Beside him, he saw Raymond stiffen from the corner of his eye. It looked as if the man was ready to defend him, although Vix had no idea why.
"Mooother!" Christie whined somewhat in admonishment. "Vix is a great bodyguard. He sprained his leg just to protect me. Besides, we're at war right now. You can't shelter me from that. My training hasn't been for nothing."
The fact that Christie was defending him made Vix's heart tremble for just a split, confusing second.
"I know, dear. I just—don't want to lose you too." Maggie's voice was husky as she said this, leaning down to kiss her daughter's forehead. "I love you, sweetie. Never forget that."
"I know," Christie whispered back, looking so happy that Vix felt the pang again.
He flinched, grabbing his shirt where his chest thumped erratically—the wild rhythm terrified him. He felt like it would consume him, until—he felt someone squeeze his shoulder. He glanced upwards to see Raymond offering him a small, warm smile. It was a comforting smile—one that reminded Vix so much of Damon. He swallowed, managing a thankful smile back.
Chris stopped rubbing his daughter's head with affection to look up and direct his words toward Danes. "The fact that my little girl was kidnapped by a man who's supposed to be dead greatly dissatisfies me, brother."
"I'm sorry, Chris," Danes replied gruffly, sounding more tired than Vix had ever heard him sound. It was as if he'd had this conversation many times—too many, by the looks of it. "I never wanted any of this to happen."
Chris snorted. "Much good your incompetent men are doing."
Danes stiffened. Vix knew how much Danes cared for his men, despite his lack of visible affection. "I will have you know that my men are highly skilled warriors, Chris."
"I am a highly skilled warrior, Danes. I can tell a lack of quality when I see it."
Danes stared back, and Vix felt like there was an edge to the man's gaze, as if he wanted it to be a glare instead.
Christie intervened, her voice gentle and scolding once more. "Mother, Father; do you plan on picking on everyone for trying their best? Honestly, what's the matter with you two?"
"I'm sorry, Christie. I guess I just hate the idea that my daughter is in danger." Chris lowered himself with a tired sigh, wrapping his arms around the teenage girl. "I love you, my little girl."
"I love you too, Father." She smiled, before gently shoving him away and placing her hands on his shoulders. "But I'll love you a lot less if you and Mom keep acting so rude!"
He smiled. "Alright, kiddo."
Maggie sighed, "I'm afraid you'll dislike our next piece of news then, Christie."
She pulled away from the both of them, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow. "Why?"
Maggie and Chris exchanged a knowing glance. Danes turned his head. After some silence, Raymond finally glanced up from his tools, his hand still on Vix's shoulder. The tension in the air was almost tangible.
"Why, Mother? What are you two doing?" Christie demanded, now looking unnerved. She turned to Danes. "Uncle, what's going on?"
He didn't answer.
"Uncle, please. Mother; Father?"
"Christie, sweetie..." Maggie trailed off.
Christie swallowed. "Tell me. Now. Please," she begged, her eyes wide with fear. "What happened? Did something happen to Michael?"
"No, nothing like that. It's just that—"
Christie looked up at her parents with pleading eyes.
Danes coughed, "Tell her, Chris. You're the one who wanted to do this."
Chris sighed and knelt down on the ground. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Christie's ear. "Promise me you won't freak out," he murmured.
She grabbed his hand, which was now cupped around her face and looked up at him. "I promise," she whispered bravely. "Now tell me what's wrong, please. Why might I be upset?"
"Because we plan on going after Damon ourselves."
Buttercup couldn't sleep.
It was late, and yet her eyes were still awake beneath her closed eyelids. She wanted to sleep, but she was restless. She turned her head and glanced at the alarm clock next to her. 2:04 am. What a good time to be awake, she thought begrudgingly.
For a bizarre moment, she was tempted to pick up her phone and not just browse the web to distract herself, but to call or text someone. It took only a moment to consider the idea before she decided to go for it. She reached for her phone, which was recharging on her nightstand and turned it on. Almost immediately the screen blinded her for a brief moment. Her eyes adjusted and she lowered the brightness.
The next thing she did was scroll through her contacts, picking through the familiar names and faces. Any of her sisters were out of the question, and the Professor was definitely a bad, bad idea. Him and Mojo would be a really awkward and stupid choice. The Rowdyruff Boys would be weird, and she wasn't comfortable contacting any of Ross' gang—except for, strangely or maybe not strangely enough, Ross himself. Anyone like Mitch, Mike, Robin, or Princess seemed like a poor choice at the moment because they wouldn't understand what Buttercup was going through at the moment. They didn't have a real connection to Ross or the Ruffs.
Buttercup's thumb hovered over his name. Truth be told, she had already memorized his phone number. She chewed on her lip. It didn't seem appropriate to bother him at 2:00 am. And what would they even talk about? She didn't want the conversation to be awkward at all.
Her eyes flickered to another name on the list. Butch Jojo. He was easy to talk to. Sure he was a bit of an ass, but Buttercup was usually quite comfortable chatting with him. She hesitated for only a moment more before pressing his name and then texting him.
"'Hey.'"
She waited impatiently for a response. While waiting, she scrolled through their past conversation. The last time they'd texted each other, they'd spiralled from homework to dragons and monsters they'd fought over the years and a competition on seeing who's beaten what sort of baddie.
Butch's response came in five minutes: "'WTF BC? Why the fuck are you texting me at 2:00 am? I'm trying to sleep.'"
"'Well good morning to you too, sunshine.'"
"'...It's TWO AM, woman.'"
"'That's technically morning.'"
Butch's reply came in the form of four new texts:
"'Fucking whatever. It's too early for this shit.'"
"'What do you want? This better be good.'"
"'I want to go back to fucking sleep.'"
"'Make it good.'"
The texts were pieced together rather roughly—Butch was clearly not fully awake. Buttercup crinkled her nose as she texted back: "'Do you have to act that way?'"
"'What way?'"
"'Like a drunk asshole.'"
For awhile there wasn't a reply. When it came, his words suddenly sounded calmer and less sharp—even though she couldn't actually hear them. "'Well, sorry sweetheart, guess I'm just not myself at 2:00 am in the "morning".'"
She smiled at the sarcastic quotations around morning and the use of—she paused. Sweetheart? When she repeated it mentally, it seemed less like a joke and more like— She quickly shook her head and cleared it of such thoughts, blushing.
"'Don't call me that.'"
"'I was just joking—jeez.'"
"'I know, but still.'"
"'Alright, alright—fiiiiine. Here's your other choice then: babe.'"
"'No!'"
"'Then I guess I'll just call you sweetbabe or babeheart from now on.'"
"'BUTCH, NO.'"
"'YO sweetbabe, wanna hang? ;)'"
"'GO TO HELL BUTCH.'"
"'Aww come on don't be like that, babeheart.'"
"'I'm not answering to either of those names!'"
"'Well babelicious, I tried. I really did.'"
"'Tried what? You're just giving me stupid nicknames!'"
"'I tried to give you a cute pet name! Oh woe is me, will Butterbabe ever accept any of these?'"
"'Not if you insist on calling me babelicious!'"
"'So do you prefer the traditional, albeit somewhat boring, nickname of Butterbabe?'"
"'Never in my life have I said I prefer that to anything.'"
"'You will one day.'"
"'What? When I'm "yours"? Dream on, lover boy.'"
"'Oh come on. Don't just shatter my dreams like that.'"
"'Welp, too bad.'"
"'But I like you SOOOO much, BC.'"
She paused. We are still joking, right?
"'I think you're the most beautiful girl in all the world, Buttercup. I love you.'"
She froze, not sure she was seeing the text right. She stared at it for the longest time, but she couldn't make sense of the alien words supposedly coming from Butch. It seemed less like a joke now and more like the real thing. She only managed to type back a lame and confused "'what?'"
"'I want to hug you and kiss you and hold you and love you forever. You are my queen, and I shall be your knightly king! I will serve you for all my life, with love and devotion. You are like the sun; no star in the sky could outshine you! Let me kiss you, my queen!'"
"'Jesus Christ, Butch. You're taking this a little too far.'"
"'Please just give me a chance, my fair maiden. Leave your man Ross behind and join me on a journey into the sunset upon my trusty steed.'"
"'Hey, Ross isn't "my man"!'"
"'JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.'"
"'Butch?'"
"'Sorry BC. Turns out Brick's still awake. He saw my light on and decided to come into my room and FUCKING SABOTAGE MY TEXTS.'"
"'Oh. Okay.'" For some reason she felt a little itty bitty bit disappointed. That feeling was quickly dropped. But it did make a lot more sense. None of the previous texts were in Butch's style.
"'You okay, BC?'"
"'Fine, fine. How'd you get your phone back?'"
"'He was blocking me while texting you. He would read all his dumb texts out loud. That's so fucking embarrassing. I finally managed to claw it from him when his arm blocking me slipped a little because he was laughing so hard.'"
"'Oh, well good thing you got it back.'"
"'The damn bastard's snickering beside me right now. FUCK YOU BRICK. YOU HEAR ME? FUCK YOUUUU!"
The image of her friend Brick so easily typing such things while pretending to be Butch made her skin prickle in embarrassment.
Suddenly Butch texted her again: "'Wanna meet up at the park under the stars, Butterbabe?'"
"'Uhh, it may be morning, Butch, but as you said, it's only 2:00 am in the morning.'"
"'GODDAMMIT THAT WAS BRICK AGAIN.'"
"'Oh, okay. Do you actually want to hang out though?'"
For awhile he was quiet, as if considering the suggestion. "'Well, it is rather late.'"
"'I know. But maybe you could say it's super early.'"
"'But we have school tomorrow.'"
"'Right, okay.'" She couldn't ignore her disappointment this time.
"'Alright. How's about this? We hang out tomorrow after school—or rather, today, since it's already 2:00 am in the morning.'"
"'Oh, sure. I'd be down with that.'"
"'See you then, Babelicious.'"
"'Shut up, Butch. 'Night. Enjoy the stars.'"
"'You're the only star for me, BC.'"
"'...Brick again?'"
"'Ah yeah. Fuck him.'"
"'Alright. Well, good night Butch.'"
"'Nighty night, BC.'"
As she turned off her phone, she couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment—yet again. Why do I care so much? Butch isn't the type to do that and I sure as heck don't like him... And I definitely don't care. Not like with R— She cut herself off, blushing. Instead of continuing the thought, she quickly pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes. This time, sleep came easier.
Morning came and was complete chaos. Because of her late-night texting session with Butch, Buttercup woke up a few minutes late. She got an earful from Blossom, who'd been quick to reclaim command of the group after coming back from the Ruffs' house. Before, Bunny was technically in charge but she was too shy and kind to really be commanding.
Banana was eating, but she was flipping through designs in her phone too as she ate, clearly distracted with some sort of work. She had bags beneath her eyes. Ever since her boyfriend was shot, Banana had been busying herself with multiple tasks. Buttercup felt sorry for her, and yet couldn't help but wonder what kind of outfits the fashionista was designing.
Meanwhile, Bliss mostly just looked dazed. When Buttercup saw her, she couldn't help but recall her conversation with Blossom from just the day before*, where they'd wondered whether or not Braker liked her romantically. Buttercup was sure Bliss might've noticed it too, and that her sister was just thinking a lot about Braker and her boyfriend, DJ. Buttercup herself had no idea who'd be a better fit for Bliss. Braker was an idiot a lot of the time, but he was a caring idiot. DJ was cool and funky but BC hardly knew him.
Bunny just seemed mostly really unfocused. Buttercup wondered why. This was a very recent development—it kind of looked like she was even a little sad. BC remembered a time when they were younger and Bunny had admitted to her that she felt left out by Bandit, who she wanted to get closer to but felt too shy to. Buttercup wondered but hoped it didn't have anything to do with the cynical but sweet purple Rowdyruff Boy. Despite a caring nature, Bandit was still rather cold and distant on the outside. Bunny was a fragile girl. BC didn't want her sister's heart to be broken.
Bubbles looked a lot better. Buttercup had no idea why. One day she was ultra depressed and the next she's smiling more, despite still looking a little upset. She'd heard some rumours though—the word had spread like wildfire; the words lingered in the hallways of the school that Bubbles and Sidney had split up and both of these popular, beautiful people were up for grabs. Buttercup wanted to ask, but she didn't want to see Bubbles revert back to depression because of the possibly touchy subject; plus Bubbles had been mostly avoiding her sisters the day before, so she hadn't had the chance to ask anyway.
Blossom seemed to be the only one who was truly happy, having finally passed the obstacle of Brick's amnesia and constant unconsciousness to having him awake and well. Not only that, but the two had finally confessed their feelings to one another and ended up together. Buttercup was surprised Blossom had actually ended up with her counterpart. She and Brick did seem like a good fit, but at the same time Buttercup worried. She couldn't forget some of the stuff Brick did and still does (even though he was one of her closest friends now and she trusted him—mostly). Just the idea of him dating Blossom in the first place was really weird. Plus, her sister had seemed kind of attracted to that Vincent guy for awhile.
There still seemed to be something bothering Blossom, but it seemed small and trivial. Besides, when is something not bothering Blossom? Buttercup wondered, somewhat amused.
Blossom caught her staring and opened her mouth. "What time did you sleep?" demanded the pink Puff, looking at the green Puff as if she'd committed some kind of terrible crime.
She just shrugged in reply. She did know, but she didn't feel like saying anything. It was like the cops said: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you."
Blossom was about to protest when the Professor rounded them all up. "Alright girls, it's too late for me to drive you, so hurry to school now! I love each and every one of you." He have them hugs and kisses before letting them go like he was releasing a caged bird he'd been caring for for forever.
When he got to Buttercup, she remarked, "There's no need to be so dramatic, Professor. We're just going to school, and I'll definitely be back."
He smiled before giving her a kiss on her forehead, which—even to this day—still made her a little uncomfortable but very happy. "I know. But I can't help but feel so proud and excited and it's like I'm releasing all of you into the wild—"
"Buttercup...! Time to go!" called Blossom.
"Alright," she laughed. "Bye, Professor!"
"I love you," he replied, "goodbye!"
It only took a millisecond of hesitation before she responded, "I love you too!" As she flew into the sky, she couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like to say those three words in an actually romantic situation, to an actually romantic male that she actually truly loved romantically—
She shook her head, blushing. Oh, sure. Who would I even end up confessing to? Unless— She stopped herself from finishing the thought.
Part of the reason was because the image in her head was that of a boy with sparkling green eyes and dark hair.
The school grounds bursted with colour as students in uniforms of all colour flitted about. Banana floated to the studio with Bunny tagging along, carrying a big box of fabrics in her arms. She kept her eyes glued ahead, trying to keep calm despite her excitement.
As they neared the studio, she spotted something that caused her to skid to a stop and thrust her arm out to prevent Bunny from flying on. "What's wrong?" the purple Puff fretted.
"Blaster," Banana mouthed, feeling her cheeks heat up. Ever since she'd saw him talking to Christie, she'd started to avoid him, even though he'd tried to talk to her multiple times since the incident.**
"What's wrong with Blaster?" Bunny asked. This time she was less worried and more curious with her question.
"Uhh..." Banana tried to think quickly. "It's better to avoid him just in case he finds out what we're doing. It's a surprise, remember? Better safe than sorry." The half-lie was half-convincing.
"But"—Bunny hesitated, her shyness clearly holding her back—"what if he thinks we're avoiding him?"
Banana laughed. It sounded like a scratched record, coming out like painful needles; sharp and high and too loud and forced. "Hahaha no way! It's fine. He's a Rowdyruff Boy. They're used to this stuff, right? They always push us out. Haha let's hurry along now." She hurriedly cast a glance over her shoulder and quickly looked away when she met eyes with her counterpart.
"...Sure," agreed Bunny, albeit softly in a sadder tone. Banana briefly wondered why before she saw her sister's gaze flicker towards someone else watching them.
That someone was Bandit.
Understanding dawned. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"What?" Bunny looked up in shock, blushing.
"You and Bandit? It's obvious you two had another fight. He was pushing you out again, wasn't he?"
"Ah...yes. Th-That's the only thing," Bunny said quickly.
"...Riiiight. Anyway, as I was saying, sorry about him. He and the Ruffs suck sometimes, don't they? I'm sorry too though—for bringing up a touchy subject." Unless there's really more to it? Bunny's acting a tad strange.
"N-No, it's fine!" Bunny blushed and ducked her head. "It's all fine. Thank you."
Before Banana could push further and figure out if there was anything else wrong between her sister and Bandit, she heard a voice call, "Ah! Hey, Bansy!"
She froze. It was Blaster. It was clearly, 100%, obviously Blaster's sweet, melodic, caramel-like, soft, flowing voice that sounded even sweeter, more melodic, caramel-like and softly flowing than usual. She didn't even look at him before blasting into the studio room. Bunny followed, glancing at the door. She didn't even have the chance to comment before Banana panted, "Surprise, remember? Alright, lock the door. We have this room until class starts—I got permission from the teacher."
Bunny looked ready to protest in her soft manner, before she obeyed and went to lock the door. Before she could, however, Blaster shoved the door open. "Bansy!" he called, sounding more desperate than she'd heard from him the last couple times. "I know you can see and hear me!"
Bunny glanced at Banana, as if asking for guidance.
Banana hesitated. She didn't want any drama happening when Bunny was there to witness it go down. "I just—I'm really busy right now and I need to work," she said weakly—lamely.
"...Fine. Sorry for bothering you." Blaster's shoulders fell, as if he was ready to give up—he looked defeated as he retreated, watching as Bunny closed and locked the door.
Banana stared into his eyes as they slowly disappeared behind the door. Even with just a slit to look through, Blaster's yellow eyes drew her in. Her heart was pounding by the time the click indicated that the door was good and locked. She couldn't push away the image of disappointment in his eyes.
"A-Are you really sure that was necessary?" Bunny looked just as guilty as Banana felt, watching the door as if it would bust open and Blaster would come jumping out. In truth, Blaster could break that door down. But Banana knew he wouldn't; what with property damage, how he was just naturally sweet, and how he wanted to respect her wishes.
She looked down, feeling a pang in her heart. Which is more than I can say for myself, she thought bitterly.
"I don't think he'd like it if our little project means we'll be avoiding him all the time," Bunny continued gently.
Banana sighed. "You're right. I know; you're being very sensible and everything, but I just—I don't want to talk to him right now. I can't talk to him right now." She turned away.
"Bansy... Did you and Blaster get in a fight?" asked the purple Puff, her head tilted and eyes brimming with concern.
She didn't respond right away. "...Let's get to work," she finally said.
Bunny obeyed and didn't push further, but her disappointment was evident in her eyes. Gently removing swaths of fabric and needle and thread from her bag, she began sewing.
Banana watched her gentle sister work for a little while, her heart aching. She longed to open up and spill everything out to her sister, but she couldn't do that. It was as though her lips had become a barrier, her tongue had become a wall, and her teeth were thorns. The words could never make it past the shield. But it wasn't just that; her own heart was guarded, yet still desperately wishing for someone to talk to. Banana didn't know what was wrong with her. She had assumed that she had what she wanted. She had assumed that she had found the one for her.
But now, at that very moment, Banana just felt terribly alone.
Michael was gone, and Banana had pushed Blaster away. She felt so lonely.
Banana and Bunny worked away until the bell was ready to ring. They got carried away; Banana wasn't the only one who was distracted. The purple Puff clearly had things on her mind as well. As the doorknob rattled and the teacher's voice drifted in, Banana and her companion jumped, spinning around at the call: "Are you girls almost done? There was really no need to lock the door."
Swallowing, the blond, yellow-eyed Powerpuff Girl nodded fervently. "I'm sorry," she apologized hastily. "We got carried away and were worried someone would see our proj—" She broke off when she saw the yellow eyes flashing behind her teacher.
Blaster!
The yellow Ruff's eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and he was clearly trying to get a good look at Banana's "secret project". She felt panicked and immediately straightened, blocking the mannequin from view. She couldn't let her counterpart see the dress, considering it was one of his designs—and a trashed design at that. She swallowed.
Blaster frowned, giving up with a gleam of hurt in his glowing golden eyes. Banana tried to ignore his haunting gaze, turning instead to nod at Bunny. The purple Puff quickly but gently pulled the dress she'd been working on off of the mannequin, and her fashionista sister did the same. They put the two designs together, folding them so that they could carefully put them in their bags.
The teacher didn't look all that bothered, mostly because two of the school's best seamstresses were working so hard on something that had to do with—well, sewing.
Blaster followed at a slower pace; his feet seemed to drag along the ground, and he glanced Banana's way. She looked away and he sighed.
She hadn't forgotten the way Blaster had looked and laughed and spoken to that girl named Christie, Michael's sister. He'd been so gentle and had willingly smiled at her. He had been happy, sweet, teasing. Banana missed that side of him. She didn't understand why he no longer showed her that side.
He had Christie now.
Banana paused suddenly, swallowing. She knew she was being unfair. After all, I have Michael. So why do I feel this way? Her confusion about her feelings frustrated her. Banana wasn't one for "I don't know"'s. She believed in answers and decisions—and yet, she didn't understand why she was being so indecisive about her feelings.
She had Michael, and yet she missed Blaster. She pushed her counterpart out despite her feelings of loneliness, but it was true.
Banana felt a horrible, clawing sense of loneliness that was a gaping hole inside her heart. She felt alone, and she felt awful.
"What!? Why!?" Christie's voice rose perhaps ten octaves, her eyes flashing panic and concern and desperation.
"Shhh, Christie dear," Chris murmured, stroking her hair and leaning forward to kiss her forehead.
"We've already decided," Maggie added, "we can't just sit around and do nothing like we have been doing."
"But that's so not fair," whispered her daughter, her eyes shining with sadness.
Despite being currently confined to his bed, Vix longed to reach out and comfort her. Before he could say anything though (although he didn't even know what he could have said), Raymond spoke up first. "Are you sure about this?" he asked softly. "You've both been endangered already. I managed to bring you back to the world of living, but what if you're hurt again? Could you bear to leave behind the children you love so much that you haven't seen in so long?"
Maggie swung her head toward him, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, anger flaring inside her green orbs. She hissed, "What do you know, anyway? You're Damon's brethren. How can we trust you?"
Raymond blinked, looking surprised and hurt. He took a step back. "I—"
"You can't even help my son! How can you call yourself a healer of any kind? I don't care what happens to us; if my son dies because of your kind and because you couldn't save him—"
"Mom." Christie grabbed her mother's sleeve, aqua eyes wide. "I care about what happens to you. Listen to Raymond!" she continued in a wail. "You can't leave! What if I lose you too!?"
"Dear," Maggie said softly, her green eyes going from fury to love in an instant.
"Please forgive me if I spoke out of line." Raymond's voice was tight, and he looked stiffer too as he pulled his hood down even lower over his face. His tone was weak and un-authoritative as he swallowed hard.
Vix felt a stab of pity for the man. He knew how Raymond felt; the two of them were outcasts among Danes' troops. Not many people trusted them because of their connections to Damon. And yet, Vix thought, surely he saw Maggie's hostility coming?
"You better be," snarled the redheaded woman, her glare sharper than a knife as it pinned Raymond down. "You've been useless in my son's battle for life." Every word she spoke was spat out in pure fury.
Raymond shrank back even further, head bowed and hood pulled so that no one could see his face—so that no one could see and remember his resemblance to the hated Damon.
Danes glanced between the family and the two outcasts. Finally, he said, "Maggie has a point." His voice was rough and defeated, as if he was too tired to disagree with her at all. "You've been doing what you can, and I can see that, but it just hasn't been enough. Michael is still unconscious."
"I'm sorry," mumbled the man. "I'll see to him right away."
"Keep your filthy hands off of my son. I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to kill him now," snarled Maggie, her eyes blazing.
"Mother!" gasped Christie, shocked by the accusing tone.
Vix wasn't surprised, but the sheer brutality of the straightforward, blunt statement made him wince.
"Well, it's true. I don't trust a single hair on your head." Her voice rose, clearly challenging and angry.
Raymond finally looked up, gazing at her for so long that Maggie froze in her tracks. Vix followed her gaze, knowing that while she had expected it, she still wasn't used to his striking similarity to Damon. His dark, chocolate-brown eyes were pitiful and sad, filled with years of pain and regret. "I'm sorry," he finally murmured, before slipping out the door.
As soon as he was gone, Christie turned on her mother. "How could you say that to him!? The poor guy has lost everything! He doesn't even have his own brother anymore. I can't bear the image of losing Michael, and you can't bear the image of losing your son. So shouldn't we understand how he feels?
"He is a wonderful healer! He helped me, and he's helped Vix as well. Look at everyone that Raymond has been helping! And all we've done is repay him with rudeness and hatred. He already feels alone, and we're only driving him to even further isolation. That's hardly the right thing to do!"
Chris, who'd been silent the whole time, suddenly spoke, "Christie, don't speak to your mother like that. You don't understand. You will someday."
Her shock penetrated even Vix, so he jumped to her defense. "Christie is incredibly mature for her age! She knows what she's talking about," he protested. Christie shot him a grateful glance and he felt his cheeks warm.
"Well, Mother knows what's best." His blue eyes were chips of ice as he stood there, broad as a board and stiff as a wall. His arms were crossed and his icy blue eyes were fixed stonily on the door that Raymond had disappeared out of. "I don't trust that man. Don't you have doubts about his loyalty to us as well?"
"No! He's proven to us that he means to help." Christie's scolding suddenly became a cry. "You two are not even using your heads! You're just listening to your temper; letting it control you! I thought you taught me to use my anger to better my cause, not blind me to the truth," Christie added to Maggie. Then she turned to Chris, saying, "And you've always told me to keep my anger in check. What's wrong with you two?"
"Christie..." Maggie looked guilty, and Chris' stony gaze flashed regret briefly before they became hard again.
"He's not of our kind," he said coldly. "And our son is in grave danger but he can't even help him."
Christie opened her mouth, but Vix cut in:
"Well, can you?"
Everyone whipped their heads toward him, and Vix straightened his back bravely. Maggie's eyes flared, but he didn't back down. In fact, his tone became even more challenging as he continued: "Raymond is doing what he can. And what about you? Searching for vengeance and blaming others for Michael's injury? Haven't we learned anything from Damon's mistakes? He sought out revenge and lost everything by killing Tyrone—even his sanity."
Following his speech, everyone fell silent. It was if no one had an answer to his words. Even Maggie was, for once, speechless.
Vix waited two heartbeats more, before deciding that he didn't want to wait for a reply any longer. He didn't want to stick around to hear the hate-filled retort that Maggie and Chris would fling at him, or feel the sting of their fists meeting his face. Instead, he clambered out of bed and carefully put his feet onto the cold, marble floor. Testing his weight on his bandaged, sprained ankle, he pushed himself up and grabbed some crutches.
"Vix," gasped Christie, but she seemed too breathless to say any more.
He swallowed, tucking his arms into the crutches and hobbling toward the door after Raymond. He could feel four scorching gazes on his back, but he didn't look back. He planned to go to Michael's room, where Raymond was most likely lingering—lingering by himself, probably feeling useless and horrible because of Maggie.
The grand hallways suddenly felt so much bigger as he slowly made his way to Michael's room. It had been a long, long time since he'd last went there, and he was scared of what he might find. Because of this, he managed to quash his impatience at how slow he was walking. After awhile, Michael's room's doors towered above him. Vix swallowed and knocked.
"Come in," a voice rasped in response.
Vix gently pushed the door open and stepped inside, not sure what to expect. What he found was pretty expected though, once he actually thought about it. Michael was lying in his bed with the window open, lace curtains billowing in the breeze. Raymond stood above him, carrying tools and things. The room was lit up with sunlight, dazzling and brilliant. Michael's fancy, white room didn't fit the somber mood. "Raymond?" questioned Vix, staggering inside.
"Careful," murmured Raymond, glancing at him. "We don't want you overworking that leg."
Vix snorted, "I'll be fine. It's Michael I'm worried about. How's he doing?"
"His condition's stabilized, but I don't know if I can do much more for him. I've been trying, and yet"—he trailed off briefly—"it's just—really difficult."
Vix followed his look to the door, knowing that he was referencing Maggie. "I'm sorry to hear that," he offered.
Raymond sighed, "Thank you, Vix. But you've done nothing wrong. I'll have to figure out how to awaken him soon or Maggie and Chris will have my head."
"They're not that bad." Vix doubted himself as soon as the words left his lips. He prodded Michael gently as Raymond looked away. Neither wanted to say that Michael could die. Vix coughed, "Umm...well, maybe I could help. I have a Healing Eye, after all."
Raymond glanced at him sideways, seemingly startled. "I'm not so sure..." He frowned. "Your eye is just for healing external, physical wounds, isn't it?"
"I've trained it well. It can heal internal wounds too."
"I understand. But—Vix..." Raymond sighed. "This is different. This is Michael's mind that needs healing. His gun wound is closing up, but we have no idea when he'll be strong enough to wake up."
"...Yeah, I get it." Vix slumped as he sat beside Michael's bed, tugging at his blanket. "I was just trying to help."
"I know." The man sighed again, suddenly looking exhausted despite his attempts to smile. Raymond reached for his hood, but before anything continued, footsteps sounded outside. The two of them jumped.
Luckily, it was only Christie.
"Vix, you just left!" she gasped, folding her arms and turning to glare at him. "Now my parents will think you're some greasy teenager and that I like jerks because I went after you!"
"Oh, sorry. We could hiss at each other later if you need extra points during the fight with your parents," Vix murmured in reply, completely distracted.
Christie frowned but didn't push further, instead coming inside to check on her younger brother. "Oh, poor Mikey," she cooed sadly, gently stroking his hair. "I wish you'd wake up. The whole gang misses you—especially me."
The older man watched briefly, before looking away. "He's lucky to have a sister like you." Christie looked up in surprise, but the man was turned away from her and busy shuffling his hands about. "I miss my brother," he finally murmured.
Christie and Vix shared a glance.
Raymond looked up and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry; I know that I'm just being pathetic. Sorry if I'm making things awkward. Both of you clearly hate my brother."
Vix hesitated. "I-I don't...hate him entirely, I guess," he admitted weakly. Christie quietly reached out and hesitated before grabbing his wrist.
"Really? That's nice to hear. I-I appreciate that because I miss him too." Raymond smiled weakly—his eyes became so warm and hopeful that the two teens jumped slightly, blinking in surprise. "I mean," he amended quickly, "it's nice to know that I'm not the only one who misses the old him—here, at least. I'm sure the Ruffs still miss him plenty."
"I'm sorry too," Christie added after recovering, "I don't understand how anyone could appreciate Damon, but that's because I didn't know him before he went crazy."
"He was great," Vix replied, shifting so that she wasn't holding his wrist anymore and was now holding hands. She stared at him in surprise, eyes wide, and he offered a weak smile that said "let me have this moment of recovery". Christie smiled comfortingly and squeezed his hand.
Raymond quickly swiped his hand across the counter, moving cluttered supplies out of the way. He then grabbed a vial and poured it into another vial. "Here's the new medicine."
Christie's eyes brightened and she quickly walked toward him, her hand slipping out of Vix's hand. Vix frowned, lifting his hand and flexing it. He didn't say anything though, following her toward Raymond.
"Let's see if this helps Michael at all," he sighed, walking toward the said boy and pulling his lip down to pour it into his mouth.
"I hope he wakes up soon," Christie whispered, watching with wide eyes. Just as she said that, the door slammed open and Maggie appeared.
"Are you working on saving Michael?" she demanded. "What are you doing to help my son?"
"I'm trying to help him," Raymond stated, taking a step back, "with some medicine. It's all I can do for him right now. I've already taken care of his vitals."
Maggie narrowed her eyes, before she spotted Christie and her disapproving frown. Maggie sighed and said, "Alright, fine. Thank you for trying your...'best'." She made a face.
Chris walked in and blinked, glancing at Michael. He sighed and shook his head. "This is so pathetic. I feel like I can't do anything. I hope he wakes up soon."
"That's why we have to go after Damon ourselves," Maggie insisted.
Christie looked ready to object, but Chris reached out and patted her head. "I'm sorry, dear; but we need to do this. We've been gone for so long, and we want to help our son. You've been putting yourself in danger, so now we want to do the same."
"...Alright, fine." Christie managed to smile weakly after some hesitation. "Do your best, you two. I believe in you, and"—here she glanced apologetically at Vix before turning back to her parents—"I love you guys."
Chris smiled back and hugged her; Maggie joined in as well. Meanwhile, Vix watched the family interaction with a heavy heart, swallowing hard. Raymond walked over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. It wasn't quite a hug, but the warmth made him feel better. He turned and smiled at the man, who smiled back.
Just then, Michael let out a low moan. Everyone froze and spun around to stare at him.
Braker blinked, trying to stay awake in class. He glanced to the side and spotted Bliss giggling at something DJ had whispered, and instinctively bristled in distrust. He drew his lips back in a small, silent snarl.
Before he could react any more, the teacher called on him. "Braker, could you answer this question, please?"
The orange Ruff straightened and stared at the smartboard. His entire brain was blank. The words didn't look familiar at all. "Uhh..."
"Braker?" prompted the teacher.
Braker swallowed and opened his mouth, before shaking his head in embarrassment. From the corner of his eye he saw DJ's smug expression as the boy's arm shot upwards.
"Yes, Deth Jackson?"
"Here we go, teach. Anecdotal Evidence: informal amount of evidence from anecdote or hearsay."
Braker felt a snarl coming on again, but he managed to hold it as the teacher said, "Well done, DJ!"
The orange Ruff turned to shoot him a glare, but the boy only returned his look with a smug smirk that was paired with a raised chin. The very gesture served to piss Braker off. Something began bubbling inside of him, and he clenched his hand into a fist.
"Alright, next word. What about 'assonance'?"
DJ's arm shot up again and when he was called upon, he defined it loudly and clearly: "The repetition of identical vowel sounds in different, closely associated words."
"Very good!" the teacher replied proudly. Braker rolled his eyes as the teacher continued, "And now for a definition of 'allegory', please?" DJ's hand went up once more, causing Braker to bristle in irritation. Now the teacher looked a little hesitant to call on him again, but no one else raised their hand so he said, "Alright. Next time someone else will answer, and I'll pick on someone if I have to. But for now, DJ? Definition, please?"
"A story, poem, or picture that can be interpreted to reveal a hidden meaning, typically a moral or political one," he recited as if he were reciting a cookbook recipe. "A story in which the literal meaning represents another meaning. It is a form of an extended metaphor, in which objects, persons, and actions are associated with the meanings that lie outside the narrative itself. The underlying meaning has moral, social, religious, or political significance, and characters are often personifications of abstract ideas such as charity, greed, or envy. Thus, an allegory is a story with two meanings: a literal meaning and a symbolic meaning."
The entire room had fallen silent. The teacher's jaw had fallen open, and they were blinking rapidly as they fixed their glasses. The classmates all looked impressed or annoyed, but clearly they were all shocked. Even Braker briefly forgot about his irritation in stunned silence. Bliss' eyes were wide.
"That's a very detailed definition," the teacher finally said.
Bliss nodded slowly, beginning to clap. Then everyone was clapping awkwardly; some half-heartedly. DJ was obviously enjoying the spotlight, and that made Braker pissed off all over again. He glanced at Bliss. The amazed awe and admiration in her orange eyes only served to make him angrier. Suddenly feeling tense, Braker's claps became slow and loud as he slapped his hands together. People stopped clapping to look around in confusion, wondering about the commotion. When they realized it was Braker, they gulped at his dark eyes.
DJ opened his sky-blue eyes when he realized that his attention-basking had been halted by a low, drumming clap. When he glanced around and spotted Braker, his lip curled back. "Should've known it was you, Orange—can't take that I'm in the spotlight, huh?"
"No, I can't." Braker stopped his sarcastic clapping, instead clapping his hands harshly onto his desk.
"Now boys," the teacher tried to say, but was very much so ignored.
"Face it; I'm just smarter than you. Stronger, faster, smarter—better in every sense of the word." DJ's narrowed eyes were chips of ice as he continued: "I have talent, and you don't."
"At least I have modesty. At least I'm humble. You don't see me flaunting my talents."
"Maybe that's because you don't have any. Modesty is all you have left, it seems. I even got the girl."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Braker let out an enraged roar, jumping out of his seat and lunging forward for Deth Jackson Jr. Bliss screamed, but Braker didn't hear as he rammed into her boyfriend and they slammed down into the ground. They tumbled about on the floor, smashing into desk legs and causing students to jump out of the way. Chairs crashed to the floor. Neither could stay on top; they were evenly matched and wrestled about wildly, bucking legs and flailing arms. There was some punching and maybe an attempt or two at eye-gouging/choking, but for the most part they just rolled about like lion cubs. Braker finally got a grip on DJ's collar and had him pinned down. He raised his fist.
Just as his fist connected with the boy's face, there was a loud, angry scream that forced the two to stop wrestling. By that point Braker was still on top. He flipped over so that his back was on DJ's chest and he looked upwards, vision hazy. The person who was yelling was none other than Brick Jojo, and he was seething. Darkai stood there too, and the principal.
"The teacher called the principal, who called us," Brick explained in a hard tone.
"Hey," Braker murmured weakly, too tired to say much more.
As if that were a trigger, Brick's voice rose immediately: "'HEY'?" he repeated. "IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!?" When Braker didn't reply, he went on, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOU FREAKING IDIOT? WRESTLING IN CLASS!? WHATEVER MADE THIS SEEM LIKE A GOOD IDEA? CHRIST, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LOST CONTROL LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE IDIOT! ARE. YOU. INSANE!?"
"Hey, he was asking for it," Braker said defensively.
Brick's voice rose even more if possible—with more sarcasm: "OH SO THAT MADE IT OKAY FOR YOU TO TACKLE HIM? AND IN CLASS? OH OF COURSE SORRY IF I MISSED THAT PART MR. GENIUS."
"Get off of me," grunted Deth, rolling his eyes. "I can't breathe, you big oaf."
As if on cue, Darkai stalked forward in a graceful, flitting manner like a shadow. With one sweep of the hand, DJ had been pulled out from underneath Braker and the orange Ruff rolled off to the side. "There," the silent teen said, holding his friend clear off the ground. Then he dropped DJ.
"AND YOU!" yelled Brick, turning toward the boy. While he didn't show favouritism in his tone, his eyes made it clear that he was more angry at DJ than Braker. He was two different kinds of angry—he was mad at Braker for being unable to control his temper, but he was mad at DJ for everything else: for fighting Braker, for provoking him, for being—well, DJ. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING THAT TICKED HIM OFF SO BAD!? WHAT MADE YOU THINK IT'D BE A GOOD IDEA OR EVEN BE FUNNY?"
Looking disgusted, Deth dusted himself off and glared at Braker. "All I did was be intelligent," he grunted. "And anyway, he started it."
"WHAT ARE YOU, FIVE!?"
The principal shared a look with the teacher. "He's doing my job for me," the principal whispered.
Darkai held up his hand. "I'll take it from here." He pulled DJ aside, ignoring the boy's protests.
Brick watched them briefly before turning on Braker again. "You," he hissed. "If this happens again, I'll be very, very angry. And you don't want to see me when I'm angry. You know what I'm like when I'm angry." He smashed his fists together, pupils becoming slits for a brief moment as his voice rumbled, "Understood?"
"Yeah, sure." Braker tried not to sound nervous, but he was.
As Brick finished growling at him, Darkai pulled away from DJ and led him back to the two Ruffs. He himself seemed unconcerned, but Deth was trembling slightly and his pupils were dilated. "We've discussed his actions," Darkai finally murmured in his smooth, velvety voice.
Brick nodded stiffly and turned to the principal expectantly. The principal cleared their throat. "Ah-hem. Right. From today onwards, you two are in detention. Any more violence like this and you could be suspended. Or worse, expelled."
"Like I give a shit," muttered DJ. A quick jab in the side from Darkai's elbow shut him up.
Brick nodded approvingly. "Hear that?" he said, directing his words to both of them—but mostly Braker. "Another wrong move and bam. Suspension. Expulsion. Hell, if this happens again, I'll have your heads." DJ snorted, rolling his eyes, but said nothing because of a sharp look from Darkai. Brick ignored him. "Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" he hissed.
"Yes," Braker and DJ said heavily.
Bliss, having finally recovered enough to speak, stood up and walked toward them. Braker braced himself for angry words as Brick gave him a look that said "face the consequences". "Bliss..." the orange Ruff tried to say, but stopped when a sharp pain sliced through his face.
Bliss had just slap-punched him across the cheek.
She stood there, glaring up at him, eyes smouldering with flames. "Bliss..." He was only able to say her name again before his throat gave way.
"Bliss, babe," DJ began, reaching out to take her hand.
"Don't touch me!" She slapped his hand away. When DJ blinked at her in shock, she continued with, "Don't pretend you don't know what you did wrong. I can't believe you decided to provoke him like that! Don't you dare talk to me like things are normal until you get your shit straightened out." She turned back to Braker, who'd felt a sliver of hope, but now her glare dashed that said hope. "I can't believe your stupidity! In fact, I can't believe you two! This stupid rivalry has gone too far this time! It needs to end! Both of you are...are... Both of you are just fucking inconsiderate assholes! Did any of you ever think about how I feel!? Well? Did you!?" When neither could reply, she took a deep breath and whispered "I knew it." Then she spun around and stalked away.
"Bliss!" cried DJ, trying to go after her. Darkai grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.
The bell rang and students began awkwardly shuffling out of class. Soon a crowd separated Braker and DJ from Bliss. They watched her go. When the class was empty, the teacher wrote them a note to pardon their lateness for their next teachers and sent them to the infirmary. Brick and Darkai accompanied them, as well as the principal. As they walked along dejectedly, Braker glanced at DJ. "Look, dude—"
DJ's cold gaze snapped upwards and he growled, "Don't you dare fucking talk to me. Haven't you done enough damage already?"
Feeling anger flare within him, Braker hissed back, "Hey, it was you who—"
"Shut up!" Brick snapped.
DJ glared at the red Ruff briefly before turning back to Braker so he could glare at him. "Just leave me alone, Braker Jojo."
"Look, man—I'm just trying to—"
"To what? Fix all of this? Because you can't. You fucked up. I fucked up. But you started it. You couldn't control it."
"Both of you, I'm warning you—" Brick stated impatiently, his anger making him snappier than usual.
DJ ignored him, fixing his penetrating cold-blue glare on Braker. "Leave me alone. It's better if we just stay away from each other." Braker opened his mouth to protest, but the teen continued:
"This is all your fault," he spat accusingly, ice-blue eyes flashing spite.
Purple eyes trailed to the sky, breaths coming out in soft puffs. He felt numb, blinking up at the faraway clouds that danced around in his eyes. The world was just oh so cold.
He should've been in class, but he was too emotionally burnt out to try and study. He'd phoned Him and told him to tell the school that he was sick. While the demon was reluctant to allow his son to skip class, the boy's sad, distressed, rough tone later convinced him otherwise and he told the school that Bandit Jojo wasn't feeling well.
In the beginning of the school day, Bandit had seen Bunny and seen the panic that flashed within her eyes. No words had been shared, as she was carrying supplies for her sister Banana and practically darted away as soon as she met eyes with him. The avoidance had stung, but it was very understandable.
Bandit himself had no idea what to say to the purple Puff after pulling off such a crazy stunt on her—he'd kissed her, and done it with actual emotion behind it. He'd wanted to kiss her, and he'd meant it. It had taken awhile, but Bandit had finally realized he'd been harbouring feelings for none other than Bunny Utonium.
Despite feeling unwell, Bandit had gone to school anyway in the morning. Now he was skipping, but he was allowed to by Him's consent. And yet, he was still at the school, sitting on a branch in a tree, gazing down at the animals below him. They gave him comfort.
Before he could jump down, a purring sound came from beside him and Bandit glanced to the side. A little white kitten wearing a blue bow-tie was now sitting beside him, with wide, blue eyes blinking up at him. It mewed softly, and Bandit smiled as he picked it up. "What's up, little guy? You decide to climb up here and stay with me?" It purred in response and he placed it on his lap, stroking it. "Or maybe you're just climbing up here as a cat and getting stuck?" The kitten only keeled back in response, not giving much insight into its actual emotions.
He sighed and floated down to place the kitten on the ground. It purred loudly and wound its way about his legs. Bandit couldn't help but chuckle, bending down to pet the creature. Before he had even gotten up, he spotted activity at the rabbit habitat. Fluffy tails and round, small bodies emerged, with long silky ears twitching. Bandit glanced their way and spotted two bunnies; one was brown, and the other gray. As they circled one another for a few seconds before curling up together, Bandit was reminded of Bunny.
Bandit was also suddenly reminded of his loneliness and felt a stab of sadness. He got up in order to feed and pet the rabbits, but before he could do that, his hand brushed someone else's. Eyes wide, he looked up and met eyes with light-purple orbs. Holding back a gasp, he jumped back. The hand he'd just brushed belonged to none other than Bunny, who scrambled backwards in shock.
"B-Bandit," she spluttered.
"Bunny...?" he echoed her shock, unable to formulate words.
"Wh-What are you doing here?" they both demanded.
"I didn't feel well so I left class—with permission," he added before she could protest. "And I came here instead of leaving to feel better with these animals," Bandit explained.
"Well, it's now lunchtime and I'm here to feed the animals and feel better too," she responded.
Bandit's eyes flashed concern. "Are you saying that you don't feel well?"
She hesitated. "I don't know... I-I certainly feel confused."
"Why?" He took a step toward her. "Do you not feel well mentally, and not physically?"
"...Yes," she murmured, her cheeks turning pink.
Bandit frowned, reaching out to feel her forehead. She flinched and he hesitated, before lowering his hand. "...Oh. Right. It's because I kissed you, isn't it?" Her wince confirmed it. He swallowed and remarked, "I'm sorry I did that, then."
Her head shot upwards, purple eyes wild. "No, I—!" She trailed off.
Bandit blinked in surprise. "D-Did you—are you—are you saying that you might've—" Flustered, he stopped and ducked his head down so that he could ask without looking into her gorgeous eyes. "Did you like the kiss?"
"No!"
He blinked hastily, ignoring the sting so that he could look up.
She must've seen the hurt in his gaze, because she took a deep breath and drew a step back. "I mean I—no, it's not that... I-It's complicated?"
"...Oh." His shoulders drooped in disappointment.
"What I mean to say is that—i-it's not that I disliked it entirely, but I—" Her face turned bright red. "I have a boyfriend!" she squeaked. "It's all just so complicated! I-I don't know anymore, okay!?" Then she jumped up and quickly ran away.
"Bunny, wait—!" Bandit jumped up as well, reaching out to where she'd been... Then he lowered his arm and sighed, gaze dropping to the rabbits below him, whose noses twitched with curiosity. "You guys don't feel heartbreak at all, huh?"
One of them stood up on its hind legs and sniffed the air. It was the brown bunny. Bandit petted it and glanced back at where Bunny had been. When he looked at the little rabbit again, its bright black eyes met his and its nose twitched as if to say "what are you waiting for? Go after her!"
Suddenly a new resolve wriggled its way into his stomach. Bandit now wanted to find Bunny; find her and figure things out with her. "Alright, thanks, li'l guy. I'll go now." He flew off, a purple streak behind him as he zoomed for the school door. Lunch had just started, so he had plenty of time until it was over.
Dashing through the hallways, he glanced around and tried to find his counterpart's signature ponytail. When a flash of purple finally caught his eye, he flew toward it and almost knocked over a female dressed in a purple version of the uniform with fishnet stockings. "Bandit!" she gasped.
"Sorry, Bully!" he apologized breathlessly, recognizing that as Bunny's Powerpunk counterpart. He scrambled upwards, waved once, and disappeared. His eyes darted and scanned the area, trying to find the real Bunny, hoping not to mistake another brown-haired purple-eyed girl or even guy as her again. Soon he spotted her, and he flew towards her. "Bunny!" he called.
She jumped and spun around, eyes wide. Bandit skidded to a stop because behind her was none other than—Darkai. "B-Bandit," she stammered.
"Oh...hello, Darkai," Bandit greeted stiffly, ignoring Bunny for the moment as he remembered that she did, in fact, have a boyfriend. He'd never really forgotten, but seeing Darkai again reminded him very clearly that yeah, she had a boyfriend.
Darkai acknowledged him with a slight nod. The two held gazes for a few moments, before the dark-haired teen turned away back to Bunny.
Bandit let out an unpleased hiss. "Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he muttered.
The other male's dark-blue eyes flicked toward him, and the slender, silent male raised an eyebrow. Bandit waited expectantly, before finally Darkai opened his mouth and said... "I see that you're feeling better now."
As he turned away again, Bandit gaped at him. "That's it?" he demanded.
"Bandit, no; please," pleaded Bunny, but he didn't hear her.
"Can you just for once in your life not be a contemptuous, condescending asshole?" Bandit's voice rose an octave, but not by much. "Don't you have anything else to say to me?"
"Why? Is there something I should know? Is there anything specific that you expect me to say?" Darkai's questions didn't sound very much like questions. He said them with a decisive, clear tone that made it sound like he was the one with all the answers even when he was asking the questions.
"YES!" Bandit yelled. "There's an entire battle going on, and—"
"Bandit, please." Darkai frowned and gestured at Bunny, whose eyes were wide at seeing the cool Ruff snap.
"I DON'T CARE WHAT SHE HEARS! She wants to hear this, so what does it matter?" he snapped back.
"I'd rather you return to your senses," Darkai responded calmly.
"Speaking of her, I have something to tell you concerning Bunny—"
Darkai narrowed his eyes and glanced at his girlfriend. "Bunny..."
"Darkai, no—i-it's not like that." Her eyes were wide and panicked, especially since the cold teen didn't look happy—or at least, he looked even more emotionless than usual. Especially now that he was a little more obvious with his emotions after Bunny had become his girlfriend.
Bandit saw the fear in her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself to say what he wanted to say without having to hurt her. She shot him a helpless, pleading look that cried no, but he ignored it. This needed to be said:
"I kissed Bunny."
The silence that followed was deafening.
When Darkai finally spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion but his eyes were dark. His arms had already been folded, but Bandit noted that he seemed to be a little more rigid. "Why are you telling me? Do you have a death wish or something?"
"You can't hurt me," Bandit retorted, "and besides, I thought you deserved to know." It's not a matter of whether or not you can hurt me, he thought, it's a matter of whether or not you'll be allowed to hurt me.
"Most people who kiss another man's girlfriend don't go around blabbing about it to the boyfriend."
Bandit looked away. Darkai's voice was calm, but a spark of anger and accusing hid behind the dark teen's veil of stillness. "You deserve to know," he repeated, locking gazes with a wide-eyed Bunny. "This doesn't have anything to do with her; I made the move all on my own impulse. I wanted to apologize; I'm sorry, BunBun."
"...I see." Darkai blinked, before turning to Bunny. "So this is true?" She hesitated before nodding, which led to him continuing: "Do you feel like he violated you at all?" There was another split second of hesitation before she shook her head. He turned back to Bandit. "As Bunny has wished it, I won't hold your actions against you." He narrowed his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I appreciate you letting your impulses run wild. Next time this happens I won't be so forgiving."
"Of course," he replied icily, before adding through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry."
Bunny stepped forward. "Bandit—"
He turned to her, not changing his icy tone or icy eyes. "What?" he muttered.
She winced. "The kiss—why did you—?"
"Why did I do it?" he finished for her. When she nodded, he responded flatly, "You know what I said then. Our talk influenced me, but don't read too deeply into it. I just did it on impulse, after all."
"But—"
"Bunny, leave it be. It doesn't matter."
Her eyes widened, shock flooding her gaze. "It matters to me!" she blurted.
Bandit didn't reply. Instead, he pointedly turned away. He could feel Bunny's shock from where he stood, and he tried to swallow back a desperate apology. This is for the best, he told himself fiercely.
"What happened to that talk we had? The one we had before you kissed me!?" she cried.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he repeated, "my feelings don't matter. Neither do yours. Neither is valid. You've chosen your path already."
"Bandit Jojo, I just can't—! I really don't get you! You can be so so awful and I just—I can't help but hate you sometimes!"
The words stung, but Bandit didn't allow himself to turn around. The silence roared in his ears, and he was faintly aware of Darkai watching with mild interest.
"...Fine," Bunny whispered. "If this is how to want it, then fine. Goodbye, Bandit."
He was vaguely aware of Bunny stalking over to Darkai, grabbing him by the collar, and kissing him in a manner that shy Bunny would hardly ever exhibit. He couldn't focus on the kiss, watching it from the corner of his eye, still not turning around in fear of igniting new feelings. He willed his thrumming heart to stay still; to stop feeling and hurting and pounding as he felt his emotions turn to ice. It's for the best. It's for the best. He chanted this over and over again, but Bunny and Darkai's kiss was a stab wound that hurt more than she could've imagined.
When he heard her footsteps fade, he finally turned around. He could still see her retreating back. Bandit sighed and murmured, "At least now I can't hurt you any more."
"But you've already hurt her," Darkai commented calmly.
Bandit shot him an unappreciative glare. "I don't need your feedback, thanks. Besides, she's all yours now. Isn't this what you wanted?"
The other teen was quiet for awhile. Then: "Stop it."
Bandit blinked. "What?"
"You're being pathetic. This isn't you. Why don't you stop it?"
"Oh well excuse me for feeling emotions," he snapped back, grinding his teeth together.
"You're the one who let her go," he pointed out.
Bandit sighed. Darkai has a point. "Alright, fine. I know what I did. And I did it for the greater good, didn't I? Isn't that supposed to be noble? Don't act like you didn't want this."
"It's true that I wanted her," Darkai finally answered, "but I never asked for one of my greatest rivals to become a snivelling, jealous-driven stereotypical lovestruck teenage boy."
"I'm none of those things!"
"...Not even my greatest rival?" Darkai raised an eyebrow.
Bandit hesitated. "You have poor taste in rivals then."
To his surprise, Darkai chuckled somewhat. "Do me a favour, Bandit, and quit sulking like I stole your spotlight. You gave her up. It's not much of a victory, and it'll be even less of a victory with you moping about."
"I suppose you deserve at least that much from me, your so-called 'greatest rival'," sighed Bandit.
Darkai nodded. "Alright. Goodbye, Bandit Jojo. Oh, and if I were you, I'd keep an eye out. I may have chosen to forgive you on Bunny's behalf, but I'm not easily a forgivable person. I may act on impulse too, especially now that you hurt Bunny and she'll be less likely to hold me back."
"Go ahead," Bandit responded with a hefty, exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes. "Threaten me all you want."
"I'm not threatening you. Just giving you a fair warning." Darkai did a vague gesture with his hand that signalled the conversation was over and that he was moving on. As he turned away, Bandit called out to him—unsurprisingly, on impulse.
"Darkai...!"
"Yes?"
Bandit hesitated only once before continuing, "Take care of her, okay?" A pause. "For me."
Darkai blinked steadily before his lips twitched just ever so slightly. "Of course."
Bandit watched him go. Give her the love she deserves, Darkai. Keep her safe. Keep her happy. Happier and safer than I ever could. Protect her without hurting her like me. Keep her away from pain—and most of all, keep her away from me.
Just...take good care of her.
"Ugh, I'm exhausted," moaned Buttercup, bumping her head against her locker door.
Beside her, Ross chuckled as he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "I know how you feel. But...you do look really tired. When the heck did you sleep?"
She glanced at him and could see the amused sparkle as well as the concern that floated in his eyes. "Uhh, around 2:00 or so. I was...busy," she sort of lied. Yeah, busy texting Butch that is.
Ross raised an eyebrow, but he smiled. "Alright, I'm sure you had a good reason to be sleeping so late."
Buttercup smiled back gratefully before yawning. "Aww, thanks Ross. You're cool."
"Yeah well, aww—you're a cutie," he teased.
Buttercup blushed, blinking as she turned to stare at him. He then blushed too when their eyes met, but his smile remained and he didn't take the compliment back. Buttercup smiled and tucked stray strands of black hair behind her ear. "Thank you," she mumbled.
Just then, Darkai manifested into view behind Ross. "If you're quite done flirting with your girlfriend, then come with me."
Ross jumped, spinning around. "Whoa, dude! You scared me. What's going on?" Buttercup noted that he didn't take back the statement of her being his "girlfriend".
Darkai narrowed his eyes. "You've been all over the place recently, but now it's time to focus again. DJ got into a fight with Braker."
"What?" Buttercup couldn't hide her own shock. "What did they do?"
"Wrestling in class," the dark-haired teen said curtly.
"Why?" she demanded.
Darkai shrugged and Ross frowned, glancing at Buttercup. "Guess I should go check on DJ then. He's probably kinda butt-hurt. He's just that immature type. Sorry, BC."
"It's fine," she murmured, "I should probably check on Braker too."
Ross blinked as something flashed in his eyes, and she wondered if it was jealousy. She brushed it off with another blush as he continued speaking: "Yeah... Uhh, yeah. Well, I guess I'll go. See you later, Buttercup." He waved and turned to follow Darkai.
Darkai didn't move right away though, his gaze glued on Buttercup. She frowned. "What?"
He shrugged. "If you guys like each other so much, then just confess your feelings already."
Buttercup's face reddened and she turned away in embarrassment. Ross flushed red as well and punched Darkai in the arm. "Shut up, shut up..." he mumbled. Once again Buttercup noticed that he didn't necessarily deny Darkai's remark.
"See you," she called, suddenly a little shy.
"Yeah, see you," he replied, smiling sheepishly before hurrying away. Darkai led the way, and Ross felt his heart pounding in his chest as he followed. "So, how is DJ?"
"He's got a hell of a black eye," the dark-eyed teen murmured back.
When they got to the infirmary, Ross skidded to a halt alongside his friend and peeked inside. Deth was sitting on a bed, glaring into nothingness as Sidney hovered over him with concern. He did indeed have one hell of a black eye. And a small bruise on his cheek under the eye. And a slight bump on his head.
Ross was about to walk in when something tan flashed in the corner of his vision and he stopped. Sydney! Suddenly his heartbeat spiked way up. He gulped, hand shaking as it lingered above the doorknob. Before he could muster up enough courage to go in, he heard Darkai grunt in an unimpressed manner and the other teen pushed the door open for him.
Sydney turned and their eyes connected, leaving Ross to break out into a cold sweat. He glanced away, keeping his gaze down as he made his way toward DJ. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"What the fuck does it look like, dumbass?" snarled his friend, eyes blazing.
Ross briefly forgot his uncomfortableness as irritation flared within him. "Well excuse me for being concerned about my friend, shithead."
DJ rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. Fine. Sorry. Whatever."
"He's a little mad," Sidney whispered.
"No shit, Sherlock!" he snapped. "That Braker's ruined everything. He attacked me and gave me a black eye and now apparently he's made Bliss mad at me. How was any of this my fault!?"
"You provoked him." Darkai manifested beside Ross again, causing him to jump.
"Humph. He deserved it."
"If you truly believe that then you probably deserve that black eye," Darkai replied evenly.
Sydney appeared, not looking at Ross as she said, "I should probably go."
When she had gone, a hush fell upon the group of friends. Ross shuffled his feet, wondering what Buttercup was doing. I know she went to find Braker— Just the thought of the orange Ruff made something wriggle around in his stomach, which he had to stamp out immediately. I do not feel that way!
Finally DJ's patience seemed to run out and he threw his hands into the air. "Are we fucking done here? I wanna get out of this stupid place!"
"The nurse isn't back yet though," fretted Sidney.
"Screw the nurse! Screw the infirmary! Screw Braker! Screw everything!" DJ yelled, hopping off of the bed. He stumbled slightly but wouldn't let anyone help him. "I'm outta here."
"DJ, wait!" cried Sidney.
Darkai appeared in front of the door. "You're not going anywhere."
"Shut up! I don't want to stay here a second longer. I need to find Bliss. I need to—"
"You don't need to do anything but rest."
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" DJ began pounding on Darkai's chest, his arms flailing. Sidney let out a terrified squeak, but his friend's strength had left him after his fight with Braker. Darkai allowed Deth Jackson to release his anger for awhile, before catching DJ's wrist. The frustrated teen's fists completely slowed down and he thwacked his friend once more lightly on the chest as he let out a low groan, before coming to a halt. "Everything's fucked up now," he muttered miserably, "Bliss is mad at me."
Ross exchanged a concerned look with Sidney.
Meanwhile, Buttercup had been flying toward the cafeteria. She didn't know where Braker was, but she was sure she could find her friends in the cafeteria and ask them.
She was halfway there when her phone rang. Buttercup skidded to a stop and smacked her face with the heel of her hand, letting it slide slowly down. Unh! Of course you could always just call them, you idiot. She picked up.
It was Blossom. "Buttercup? Buttercup?"
"Yeah?"
As soon as she heard her sister's voice, Blossom seemed to calm down slightly. "Get over here immediately! Braker—"
"Fought with DJ, I know," Buttercup finished. "How is he now?"
"He's—wait, how'd you know?"
"Darkai told me," she said impatiently
"Darkai told you?" repeated Blossom.
She heard a squeak that sounded like Bunny on the other end, although she sounded more terrified than happy. Buttercup wondered what had happened between her sister and her "lovely" boyfriend. "Yeah, he told me. Now out with it. How's Braker?"
"He's fine," Blossom said. "Now get over to the office, and fast!"
Boy, this is serious, she thought as she hurried toward the office. She'd been there a couple of times herself, having caused trouble every now and then. He and DJ probably have detention now, but it might get worse, she realized.
The door opened before she reached it. Blossom stood in the doorway with Brick, whose arm was around her shoulders. She was trembling. "I can't believe he would do this!" she exclaimed. "Doesn't he have any regard for school rules?"
"Calm down, Blossy." Brick sounded exhausted.
"'Calm down'? How can I—?" She spun around to face her counterpart, but one look at his tired eyes and she stopped short.
"I gave him a piece of my mind; don't worry." Brick leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Sorry. I'm just really really tired."
Buttercup let the two reds be as she slunk further into the office waiting room, where Braker was sitting beside the small table that held the office public phone. Friends and family were crowded around him. Buttercup made her way through the group, finally getting to Braker. "How you feeling?"
He grunted in response, lifting the ice pack he'd had to his lip. "See for yourself." It was swollen and slightly bloody; the blood was welling up and the area around his eye was a little red, but not bruised. There were some tiny scratches on his neck. "We dealt each other some damage."
"I can tell," Buttercup responded, eyeing his arms. Scratches could be seen, and she was sure that DJ was in a similar position. She glanced around. "No sign of Bliss?"
"She's probably gone off to comfort her son of a bitch boyfriend." Braker glared at the ice pack as if he could melt it with a death stare (and he could've, if he'd used his laser vision).
Buttercup looked up, locking eyes with Butch. He gave her a small smile, which she returned halfheartedly. She glanced towards Bunny and Bandit, who were standing far, far away from each other. The two hadn't been seeming to get along. Banana lingered a little ways off from Blaster as well. Bubbles and Boomer were the only ones in the room who seemed truly comfortable at the moment.
Butch shouldered his way toward her. "Hey, Butterbabe."
"Hey." She gazed up at him. "You think he'll be fine?"
"Yeah; Braker's a tough little guy. Don't worry too much about him." Butch yawned. "Now, need I remind you of how much beauty sleep time you took away from me last night?"
Buttercup couldn't help but smile despite the weird feeling in her gut. "Sorry, mister. But I don't think beauty sleep would've done you any good."
He slapped her shoulder playfully, rolling his eyes as he smirked. "Cheeky little devil."
She laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her body.
"There you go. At least you're smiling now." Butch glanced around. "This entire room feels all—heavy."
Buttercup agreed. "There's a lot of tension."
"Yeah; guess they can't help it though. We all know something's wrong." He nodded at Mitch, Princess, Robin, and Mike. "They're probably also tense because of all this weirdness between the Ruffs and Puffs right now."
Again Buttercup agreed. Her sisters and their counterparts seemed to have their tense meter dialled up to an all-time high.
Mitch stepped forward. "I bet you slapped that cocky KPop-style DJ around good!" he exclaimed.
"Except for that idiot, of course." Butch rolled his eyes.
Buttercup laughed lightly.
Some of the animosity left Braker as he smirked in amusement. "You bet I did."
Before Mitch could reply, the door slammed open and Bliss appeared. Everyone froze. Nobody had expected her to show up when her boyfriend was somewhere else, also battered and bruised. They'd expected her to not show up even more considering that Braker had been the one to fight with said battered and bruised boyfriend.
Bliss marched into and straight across the room, stopping in front of Braker.
"Bliss," he began, but she held her hand up.
"I don't want to hear it," she said sternly. Then she sat down beside him. "Are you okay?"
Braker stared at her in surprise. "I-I'm fine."
Blossom and Brick appeared as well, quietly herding everyone out of the room. They had probably let Bliss in and were now letting everyone else out. Buttercup looked back one last time at the two orange teens, before disappearing out the door.
A silence befell the room as Braker fidgeted with his lip uncomfortably. "Are you..." Here he hesitated. "Are you still mad at me?"
Bliss' eyes flashed and she spun around to glare at him. "Of course I'm mad at you, you idiot!" she snapped. He flinched and her gaze softened as she reached out to touch a scratch on his forearm. "But...that doesn't mean I'm not worried about you."
Braker blinked in surprise, feeling warmth fill his body. "Oh...thank you. But...what about DJ? Did you go to him already?"
She didn't meet his eyes. "...No."
"What; why? Isn't he your—"
"Yes, he is my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I can't be worried about my friends and check on them first," Bliss interrupted. Braker stared at her and her face flushed red. "Look, I can choose my friends over my boyfriend, okay!" She paused. "Besides...he was kind of a jerk to you today."
"No, I just"—he paused—"I just thought you'd be angrier at me, that's all."
"I'm not blind," she huffed.
Braker smiled, feeling warm. "No, of course not. I'm sorry."
She blinked in surprise, turning to look at him. "What...?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated, "sorry for wrestling your boyfriend and for causing you so much trouble and for basically being a grump ever since you got with DJ. I know how much you've hated that."
"No, Braker...I'm the one who's sorry." Bliss' gaze softened. "I know I've been all over the place lately with my emotions when around you. But it's just been so long since I last saw you, and I just—I didn't want any of us to start fighting again because of my relationship with DJ. Whether it was me, you, or DJ himself, I just wanted us to stop."
He leaned forward so that he could rest his forehead against hers. "I know," he whispered, "and I'm sorry I couldn't respect that."
"You're not the only one," she sighed. "DJ doesn't seem to feel the same way I do when it comes you. Even I didn't follow my own rules."
Braker hesitated. "So...how do you feel about me, Bliss?"
She started, orange eyes meeting his. Their foreheads still touched and he could see the pink spreading across her cheeks. "I-I—" She stopped and cleared her throat. "How do you feel about me?"
"You're like a star to me, Bliss. So bright and shining." When she opened her mouth, he added, "Take that however you want."
Their lips were close together now, and Bliss' face had turned completely red. She hastily jumped back and up. "I-I should go check on DJ." Braker watched her go. She paused in the doorway, glancing back and saying softly, "Thank you, Braker. You're like the sun to me." Then she vanished.
Even though his stomach felt like a bottomless pit, Braker's heart felt lighter, and it was as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He'd said what he'd wanted to say; he was getting closer and closer to addressing how he really felt.
Even if Bliss never chose the sun and she chose the moon instead, Braker would be content just to have told her those true emotions bubbling beneath his surface.
Meanwhile, outside, Buttercup looked up when she saw her sister fly out of the room. "How did it go?" she called.
"Fine, fine." Bliss' face was red as she blasted off, calling over her shoulder, "I'm going to check on DJ!"
Buttercup and Butch exchanged looks of surprise. They hadn't expected her to pick visiting Braker first. Butch watched her orange streak disappear and remarked, "Man, I wonder what Braker said to her. That sly guy is making his move."
"Does he really have a crush on Bliss?" asked Buttercup.
Her counterpart shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. It's hard to tell when he's being a flirt and when he's being genuine—but still a flirt." He gazed at the office door. "It's funny, really. Braker's so open about his emotions, and yet he's so hard to read. It's like, he shows us all of his emotions so much so that we stop thinking about it. He doesn't take it seriously, so we don't either. In the end, it's hard to tell if he's really being serious about his feelings at all because we haven't thought about what his real emotions are. We've only thought about his surface feelings; the ones he chooses to show us." He paused. "Does that make sense?"
Buttercup had been gaping at him in surprise, but now she laughed. "Sort of."
"Hey, I'm being serious here!"
"I know. And I understand." She smirked. "Since when did you get so deep?"
Butch had been sort of glaring at her, but now he laughed as well. "I don't know. It was just a thought." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a smirk playing at his lips. "What, you like deep men? 'Cause I can be deep, baby. Let me in and I'll show you just how deep I can get—mentally and physically~"
Buttercup blushed. "Whoa there, mister. Slow your horses."
The green Ruff stared for a few moments, and she wondered if he was disappointed. Then he burst out laughing. "Oh come on, BC! Don't tell me you took that seriously!? You know me; you know my joking style! Of course I was kidding! I do this all the time!"
"R-Right," she agreed weakly. But for some reason, this time felt different, she thought. And with a start, she realized that now it was her feeling disappointed.
"What's the matter? Do you want me after all?"
"No!" Her cheeks were so red she was worried they were on fire. "Oh, shut up." Stop it, brain. Stop it, heart, she said to herself fiercely.
If Butch was disappointed, he sure didn't show it. "Alright, B-cup. See you around."
"Don't call me that!" She thwacked him on the arm. He laughed and floated away, leaving her to stand there awkwardly with her heart pounding and her face red.
Butch joined Brick, who had been watching the two interact. He turned away from Buttercup to raise an eyebrow at Butch. "What?" the green Ruff demanded. Brick just shook his head, causing Butch to snort and roll his eyes. "Oh, shut up and mind your own business."
"I haven't even said anything." Brick flicked his brother on the forehead. "Keep trying, Mr. Tease." He floated away towards his girlfriend.
Butch glared after him, rubbing his stinging forehead. "Stupid Brick. What does he know, anyway?" His cheeks flushed. "He doesn't understand anything."
The amount of sunlight filtering into the room behind the curtains changed constantly as the sun disappeared behind clouds and reappeared. When there was sunlight, the plants inside the room seemed to light up with a brilliant glow. But when that light faded, the room seemed dark and the garden-type room seemed more like a cemetery than an actual garden, especially with the body lying on a bed in the corner.
Sampson had just finished wiping the shelves and desk, making sure they were dust-free. While his daughter was in a coma, he refused to let the room fall into ruin. He still watered the plants daily, just as his daughter would do.
He sighed and gazed at her, still comatose and unmoving. "Cassandra, when will you wake up?" he said desperately.
There was no response—of course.
Sampson took a deep breath and slowly retreated out the door. "I miss you, and I love you." He closed the door.
Meanwhile, the room remained still, with the flowers glowing as the sunlight returned once again. There was a beat of silence before Cassandra's fingers twitched and...
Her eyelids fluttered.
Slowly, her arm began to rise, and then her eyes finally opened. Cassandra took a long, deep breath and rubbed her eyes, sitting upright. "Where am I...?"
She looked around. I'm...home. But... My last memory was of—ugh! She grabbed her head. It hurts... It really hurts... Ugh, wasn't the last thing I did was fight against Danes and—and... Omigod. I saved my father from a bomb. Father... Dad! Her eyes widened and she spun around, gasping. "Father...? Father...!" She burst into fits of coughing, however, and collapsed against the bedframe when she couldn't stand up.
Just how long have I been gone...?
For a long time, Tyrone couldn't respond. Finally, he began to kiss back. He kissed back like there was no tomorrow, because he almost felt like there might not be. He pulled her close by the small of her back and closed his eyes.
When they parted for air, Sylvie's eyes were sparkling. "Tyrone... That was wonderful," she said breathlessly.
His own eyes widened. "Oh no. I can't believe I did that. No, no... Sylvie, this isn't right."
"What are you talking about? You kissed back, didn't you?" The excitement left her eyes as they became large saucers.
"I'm sorry, Sylvie. But how could you possibly fall for me? Anyone is fine—Shamus or Damon are the best choices, and I know you said no to them and I said I'd support you, but I just—I don't think I'm right for you."
Tears began to form as she replied, "This is exactly what I've been scared of."
Feeling guilty and pitiful for her, Tyrone reached out to stroke her face. "I'm sorry, but you rejected Damon. Don't you think he was scared too?"
"I know, and I don't want to be a hypocrite, but—but do you really not feel anything for me? I know I sound desperate but I can't help but want to know for 100% certain—"
"Sylvie, no... Please don't do this to me," he begged. "I feel bad enough as it is."
She took a deep breath. "Okay, fine. Just answer me one thing, please—why did you kiss me back if you have no feelings for me?"
Tyrone opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't find the words. To tell the truth, he did like Sylvie. He could see that now. But he knew that if he confessed back, he'd cause chaos in his friend group. Sylvie stared at him patiently for a long, long time. Tyrone took a deep breath, and when he finally replied, his voice was little more than a weak whisper: "I-I never said I have no feelings for you."
Sylvie's eyes widened.
Tyrone began to find his footing, so he continued, "I just don't think us being together would be a good idea. Imagine the rift it would cause between our friends. Damon's been upset enough as it is. Can't you imagine how much worse it would get? We'd end up hurting our friends and destroying our friendships."
"Tyrone, there's no need to be so worried—our friendships aren't that weak. They're not a house of cards that will fall down. Our friends are supportive. Trust them."
"They trust me not to fall for you."
"But I've fallen for you too. Don't you see? We belong together. If you didn't love me back, then I'd leave it be, but if you do like me back, then why deny it? We deserve to be together." She sounded desperate.
"W-We can't risk it."
"So you'd risk your own happiness? You'd risk my relationship with you? Can't you imagine the rift you're causing right now between us? Do you want that?" Now she sounded exasperated.
Tyrone let out a gust of a sigh. "...No, no I don't want that."
Sylvie grabbed his hand, which was still cupped around her cheek. "Then let us be together," she whispered, tiptoeing up to kiss him again.
Tyrone hesitated for the briefest of moments before finally kissing back on impulse. He'd finally given in; after all, he knew he desperately wanted to be with Sylvie. He hadn't known before, but he knew now. Giving in wasn't easy, but giving her up would've been even harder.
When they pulled back, Sylvie gazed up at him with love. "I like you, Ty," she whispered, "and if you like me back, then we deserve to be together. True love always prevails."
"That's so cheesy," he chuckled weakly, but he continued to smile as he leaned forward to touch her forehead with his. "But true. Alright, Sylvie. I'll be honest with you. I didn't realize it at first, but I love you too."
She let out a delighted squeal, snuggling deeper into his arms as she jumped up and down. "I'm so happy! I was so scared at first when you said you didn't want to be with me."
"I'm happy too, but...what about Damon and Shamus?" he asked, nestling his face into her soft, blond hair.
"They'll understand. Damon understood," she replied.
"But he was actually really upset," Tyrone remarked.
"It's okay, Ty. They will understand. I mean, they will be upset at first, but...they're our friends. They'll support us. And soon they'll be able to move on with our support."
"Alright, I understand. We'll tell them today and see how they feel. If... If they're really upset, then I'm sorry, but I don't think it'll work out."
"That's fair," she sighed softly. She squeezed him tighter. "I'm just happy you share my feelings and at least we have a chance together."
Tyrone managed to smile, stroking her hair. "I know. I feel the same way. I love you, Sylvie."
"I love you too, Tyrone."
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 53!)
**(A/N: Reference to chapter 52!)
ME: Wow, look at how much has happened!
BUTCH: What's the word count?
ME: I don't know yet since I typed this on my phone! I type everything on my phone! Let me go check! *crazy laughter*
BUTCH: *backs away*
ME: *checks* It's exactly 16600 words! Last chapter was 17500! *insane cackling*
BUTCH: Well, Kuku seems to have gone crazy. We'll see y'all around hopefully soon, in case we have to deal with more cuckoo Kuku.
