Tugger slept well this time around.
Well, of course, being relative. Managing to go several hours without being woken up by some combination of his screaming kitten fan club, Plato asking for relationship advice, or Munkustrap sharing his disappointment over something he did - or had yet to do - was a win in his book.
Tugger yawned and stretched his muscles, slowly making his way to his paws. He was sore - his arms, his legs, even his claws were aching something fierce. Sitting for hours on top of a junkpile was doing terrible things to his joints.
It didn't take long for him to recognize that his den was one magician short. Quaxo's most frequent locations- on top of him or beneath him – were out, and Tugger then checked every nook and cranny to no avail. Normally that would be the end of that, but Quaxo was dutifully irregular. He would be missing for one moment just to show up in the same place you just looked a second later with no explanation of how he got there. It wasn't uncommon for Tugger to come into his den and try to sleep, just to find - several hours later - that Quaxo had actually been there the whole time.
He was one sneaky bastard.
But no, Tugger was certain that this time around the tux wasn't in his den at all. He wasn't in the corner or hanging off the ceiling, nor was he attached to some part of his body like a sparkly parasite.
Quaxo wasn't here.
Huh.
Fine. That was...fine. Understandable, even. Tugger had been sleeping for...how long? A while. It made sense that Quaxo would find entertainment elsewhere.
Of course, therein lied the question - where was he?
The nursery was out, Quaxo absolutely despised the place. Tugger didn't blame him - he once hated the nursery just as much as Quaxo did. Of course, Tugger was also the only kit in the nursery for the first six months of his life, possibly skewing his opinion a bit. Munk's den was an option, though space in there became limited after he officially mated with Demeter.
Jenny's? That was hit or miss. Tugger once visited to get something for a rather nasty headache - which absolutely, positively, was not the result of a hangover - and ended up getting roped into picking ticks off Gus's coat for the remainder of the afternoon.
Whatever power Jennyanydot's had over persuading cats to 'help out' with her chores, Tugger wished he was able to learn.
What was he trying to do again?
Right - Quaxo.
His little hungover friend couldn't be far. Tugger finally ate Bomba's mouse to help quell his protesting stomach and made his way outside.
As luck would have it, he didn't have to wander far before Quaxo came into his sight line.
He looked...not great. Sure, copious amounts of alcohol probably wasn't ideal when one wanted to portray some semblance of normality - Tugger would know that better than most - but even still, Quaxo looked decidedly unwell. He was perched on a pile of trash, staring down at what appeared to be a dance lesson with the other kittens.
Or at least, Jellylorum was attempting to portray some level of structured learning but had quickly devolved into a cacophony of badly sung song lyrics and out of place backflips, thanks to the efforts of Tumblebrutus and Pouncival.
Ah, Jellicle Songs.
With the ball four months away, it was now time to start teaching the newest hyperactive litter the choreography. Tugger was lucky enough to have barely made the cut last year to attend the ball, meaning that he didn't need to partake in any lessons aside from the brush ups several weeks out. Plato however, wasn't as fortunate. His poor friend looked ready to pull his fur out after Pounce tumbled unceremoniously down an enticing pile of trash.
He finally drew his gaze back to Quaxo, who was fixated on the garbage fire of a lesson occurring below them. Tugger padded up slowly, unsure of what to say.
His dearest little Jemima once confided in him several weeks back, claiming that none of the kittens quite knew how to read Quaxo. He was rather...distant when around them, she told him. No-one ever knew quite what the young tux was thinking.
Tugger thought that was ridiculous. Quaxo wore his heart on his sleeve - he always did. But after some thought on the matter, Tugger came around to the conclusion that maybe it was the amount of time spent together that made Quaxo so easy for Tugger to read. The young tux didn't hang around the nursery unless it was a necessity, so it was probably easy for the kittens to misconstrue his feelings as aloof or standoffish. It was something Tugger would have to work with him on in the future.
Now, however, Tugger could practically feel the anxiety radiating off him. Quaxo was rigid - practically statue like - on top of that junk pile, and gave no indication that he had even seen Tugger come up.
"Are you...okay sparkles?"
Tugger reached out and was immediately zapped when his paw made contact with Quaxo's fur.
Ow.
So that's how it was going to be.
Fine.
"Is this the part where you don't feel like talking to me? Because I can be incredibly persuasive, I assure you."
"What do you want Tugger?" Quaxo responded flatly, eyes still fixed on Jelly's dance lesson.
"What's up with you?"
"Nothing's up with me."
"You zapped me," Tugger frowned.
"Not on purpose."
"That's not..." Tugger groaned. "Seriously, are you that upset you're missing out on dance practice? I figured you'd be happy not having to deal with Tumble and Pounce's shenanigans for the afternoon."
Quaxo opened his mouth as though to talk before quickly closing it. There was some sound that emanated from his mouth - sorrowful, almost. He clawed his ears.
"Okay no," Tugger asserted, grabbing his paws. "Seriously, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that."
Quaxo let out a hiss of pain, yanking his paw out of Tugger's grasp.
Was his paw...burned?
Tugger narrowed his eyes.
"What happened last night?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. "If someone hurt you..."
"No! No..." Quaxo interrupted quickly. "It's not that."
"Then what? Did you feel like roasting your paw over an open flame during your night out?"
"It's not…"
"….marshmallows too hard to come by?"
"Tugger…"
"…I prefer the chocolate myself…"
"It's my magic," Quaxo hissed.
Tugger paused, eyebrows furrowing.
"….what?"
"It doesn't like being contained. It...it hurts, Tug. I don't use it enough and it hurts."
Quaxo squeezed his eyes shut. His paw shot back up towards his ears.
"What do you mean you don't use it enough?" Tugger asked, lunging to grab Quaxo's paw once again.
"It builds." He sniffled. "Inside of me. It hurts."
Everlasting….
Why didn't he know that? Was Quaxo in pain all of the time, trying to hide his magic from the tribe? Did….Munk know?
"Oh, sparkles..."
Tugger trailed off, squeezing Quaox's non-burned paw even tighter. The young conjurer really looked terrible. He clearly didn't sleep at all since Munk's interruption early this morning. Tugger was afraid this would happen, being stuck out for hours in a cold and damp sewer. His paw was warm too, far too warm.
Quaxo coughed weakly, trying to escape from his grasp.
"I had to leave last night," he continued softly. "The magic had built up too much and it's destructive. I t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-e-d out and burned down a tree but I couldn't get back. Something was stopping me from t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-i-n-g back..."
"You know I can't spell, Tux..." Tugger cut in gently.
"Teleported. I couldn't teleport back. That's how I got stuck."
Tugger sighed, releasing Quaxo's paw.
Another sniffle. Another cough. The young tux turned back towards the dance class below. Maybe he was just seeing things, but Tugger swore the sky was getting darker.
That wasn't good.
Tugger knew of Quaxo's...difficulties...in controlling his magic, especially of late. He just didn't know that it was this bad. It shouldn't have been this bad. His memories of Macavity were admittedly fleeting, but the ginger tom always seemed to be in control of his abilities. He wielded so much confidence, enough to inspire a young Tugger's attempts at mimicking it.
Of course, then he went insane - or was he always insane? - tried killing half the tribe and, well, that was the end of that.
He inched slightly closer to Quaxo, not enough to touch him, but enough to let him know that he was there.
He was there and he wasn't leaving.
Another cough.
"You know, maybe Munk was right in seeing Jenny about this," Tugger suggested softly. "I mean...with this weather the cough is only going to get worse."
Quaxo shook his head.
"No, I'm not going over there," he said, voice shaking. "I can't..."
"Why? Accidentally knock over her yarn or something?" Tugger said, trying to ease the tension.
It didn't work.
Quaxo's breaths came out as gasps.
"Quax..." Tugger grasped his friend's shoulders. "What happened?"
"The tapping, Tug," Quaxo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I didn't mean to! It was so loud..."
"I'm lost."
Another sniffle.
"Sparkles...?"
"Jenny's number? At the ball?"
Tugger frowned. "The beetle thing? Yeah I think it's stupid too.."
"No," Quaxo cut in. "It's not about...it's the tapping. We were practicing - all of us - and it got so loud...so loud...everyone was out of step and it hurt..." Quaxo trailed off, pressing his face against Tugger's chest.
Why did it always come down to the sound? Quaxo hated being touched by most cats- fine. They could control that (mostly). But it was always the sound. For some reason, Quaxo couldn't stand the sound. Kittens are kittens and they talk and they're loud, it's just how it was. Tugger knew it would drive him insane.
"...I blew up one of the lanterns..." Quaxo mumbled through Tugger's chest fur. "Plato got singed a little and the f-i-r-e started to spread."
"The wh-"
"Fire," Quaxo repeated, lifting his face back up. "Munkus was able to get most of it out but...I didn't mean to Tugger. I could have hurt them or burned down the camp or...or..."
"Tux..." Tugger interceded. "I sure Munk knows you didn't mean it."
"I'm dangerous, Tugger."
"You're not..."
"Yes I am!"
Lightning split through the sky. It was getting really dark out.
Shit.
"I can't control it. I've never been able to control it. Now I'm not allowed to dance anymore because I'm a safety risk..."
"What? How can he not let you...but you love dancing..."
"I hurt things, Tugger!" Quaxo hissed. "It's all I know how to do."
Oh, this was bad. This was going bad very quickly.
Tugger stood up, yanking Quaxo towards him. One glance down and he could see Jelly gathering up the kittens to find shelter for the incoming storm.
"We're going back to my den, okay?"
Quaxo didn't respond and Tugger didn't wait for one. He needed to get him inside now.
Another lightning strike.
Quaxo's paw was burning his. Quaxo was burning.
"Tugger I can't..."
"It's okay. I promise, it's okay."
It wasn't. The rain came down with a vengeance, slamming into the ground, into the garbage piles.
It was loud.
And Quaxo hated noise.
Tugger did manage to reach his den again with Quaxo in tow, shoving the young tux through the door as he soon followed. Tugger was soaked. He was soaked and his paw was aching.
But he couldn't worry about that right now.
"Are you okay, sparkles?"
It was a dumb question. He was clearly not okay. Quaxo was shaking like a leaf as the rain water dripped off of him onto the floor.
"This is my fault," he cried, hugging himself tightly in some effort to conserve warmth.
"Maybe...but that's why you're fixing it, right? You're learning."
"But I'm not!" he yelled as the rain continued to pour. "I'm am a danger..."
"You're not a danger..."
"...to you and everyone else..."
Something exploded. A teacup, maybe? Tugger had quite a lot of junk in his den. A lot of breakable junk.
Oh, this was bad.
Tugger had seen Quaxo melt down before, but he was younger then. More easily subdued. Munk had told him that his power would grow as he aged, but Tugger thought that was a load of crap. Isn't this the same tux that burned down half of a forest at the ripe age of three months?
What made it difficult was that yes, Quaxo wasn't like other cats. It didn't make him bad, but...well, he tended to fixate on things.
"Rock brain," Jenny would call it.
And for the most part, this was fine. Just let him be for a few hours to work through whatever it was he needed to work through and he'd be okay.
But now, Tugger unfortunately didn't have that option. Quaxo was losing control quickly, and there was nothing that he could say to break him out of it.
"Tux..." he tried futilely but found the words wouldn't leave his throat.
Quaxo was still talking, some words Tugger was able to make out.
'Danger.'
'Kill.'
'Magic.'
'Different.'
Oh, sparkles...
He wanted to hold him. To tell him it was okay. That there wasn't anything wrong with him.
But he couldn't. Because Quaxo - his Quaxo - he wasn't here right now. What he had was a scared and confused kitten who believed that the entire world had turned against him.
But not me, sparkles. I promise.
Things were flying. The rain kept pouring. Quaxo...he changed. Tugger couldn't quite tell exactly by what - was his tail shorter? His paws...were they all black?
His eyes...they were red. Crimson. He had seen those eyes before...somewhere.
Tugger tried to move but found that he couldn't. It was the eyes. He couldn't...he couldn't look away. He couldn't move or talk...as though something – someone – was holding him in place.
"Quaxo..."
He tried again but nothing came out.
Things were flying - floating? - covered in what looked like glitter, whipping around with incredible speed. And the worst part? Quaxo didn't even know he was doing it.
He stood fixed against the wall of the den, still rambling about something - shaking - so far removed from what was happening in front of him. He needed contact. He needed to be touched.
He needs me.
He needs...
"Quaxo, that is ENOUGH!"
The shout stung his ears. The atmosphere changed almost immediately as everything clattered on the floor of his den. Whatever spell Quaxo had over him broke. Tugger swiveled around and...oh.
How long had Jenny been here?
The tabby queen was drenched and she was angry.
"Nononononono..." Quaxo wailed, tears in his eyes. "Tugger I'm so so sorry, I didn't...I..."
Huh?
Everything started to go blurry. Tugger felt...wet? Sticky? Warm...definitely that.
"Tugger," Jenny said urgently. "Don't move, let me..."
He didn't make out the rest. Black spots were dancing around his vision. Colors were melting into each other. He wobbled.
More words were being spoken...unintelligible.
"Tugger please I'm so sorry,"
"Quaxo, you need to let go of him..."
"I...I can't...I..."
Tugger made the mistake of looking down.
Oh.
He was bleeding. That's why they both sounded so concerned. He was bleeding quite a lot, actually. Something must have nicked him in the side. One of those porcelain teacup shards, perhaps?
He wobbled again.
His vision started going black around the edges.
"Tugger, don't..."
"...sit..."
"...let me..."
"...sorry..."
"I'm fine," he said, turning to face Jenny. Or at least, turning to face where he thought Jenny was standing. "Honestly, it's not a big deal. I feel fine."
He fainted.