CHAPTER 26: A WOLF'S AWAKENING
BRICK: ...That chapter title though.
ME: *shrugs* You'll have to read on to see if it contains any real meaning.
BUTCH: Does it? *raises eyebrow*
ME: I'm not saying.
BLISS: Well, Kuku only owns her OC's and the story! Moving along now with the actual chapter—read and review, please!
BRAKER: Woooooot! *throws confetti*
Chapter 26: A Wolf's Awakening
Head low, Buttercup scrawled the last word onto the worksheet and huffed, relieved that she was done. She blew her bangs out of her eyes as she put her hand up.
Mr. Fickleson looked up and walked over, taking the worksheet from her. "Glad to see you are done," he said, almost sarcastically. He glanced at Butch's paper, and the green Ruff crinkled it slightly in embarrassment. Mr. F continued, "Seems like Butch is having trouble with #8. Maybe you could help him."
"But—" Buttercup stopped when she saw the look on Mr. Fickleson's face. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yessir."
"Good." The teacher returned to his desk.
Buttercup stared awkwardly at her desk, trying to figure out how to start the conversation. She opened her mouth, but Butch spoke first.
"Well? Aren't you going to help me?" he demanded.
Annoyed, Buttercup's mouth clamped shut as she shoved her counterpart. "I was going to," she snapped. She snatched his sheet away from him, scanning the 8th question.
"Hey," Butch said, but Buttercup kept him at bay with her arm.
"What is this?" she asked, pointing at a doodle on the side.
Butch glanced away in embarrassment. "It's a drawing."
"Of what though?" she asked again, a little more impatiently.
"What do you think? What's gray and has fangs?" Butch snatched his paper back. "Look, are you going to help me or not?"
"Fine; Jesus—overreaction, much?"
Butch's face flushed red. "Shut up."
Buttercup found herself thinking that his red face looked cute, so she mentally hit herself. To hide her discomfort, Buttercup focused on the question at hand. "It's not actually that hard," she began... Soon the two had discussed and finished the question. "Do you get it?"
"I guess so." Butch chewed on his pencil. "Math has never been my strong point."
"Me too. But this really isn't that hard to understand." Buttercup shrugged as she scrawled the very last number down on the sheet. "The answer is 2 because the slope is shown when you use slope-intercept, remember?"
"Eh, sort of." Butch's lips twitched upwards just slightly.
Buttercup noticed his different expression and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" she inquired.
Butch's lips moved until they had turned into a little smirk. "Thanks for the help. Sorry about earlier."
Buttercup felt her face warm up again. "It's fine." She looked away. "S-Sorry as well."
"No problem. I mean, you were a bit of a bitch earl—"
Buttercup kicked him lightly. "Don't even go there." She rolled her eyes. "And just when we were having a moment. Besides, you had a major breakdown this morning. I still don't know what that was about."
"You don't need to," he replied, his face slightly shadowed. "It's a personal reason."
Buttercup gave him a look before turning away. "Let's work on our project then," she stated. Despite forgiving each other (mostly), there was still a sort of tension lingering in the atmosphere. Buttercup had a feeling that Butch hadn't fully forgiven her yet, and she hadn't forgiven him yet either.
Or rather, it wasn't that they wouldn't forgive each other... It was more like their trust was a little broken. Buttercup knew that if she told anyone else, they'd say the two greens were overreacting. Still, based on how much had happened to her with Butch and how she still wasn't getting any answers, Buttercup didn't feel like she was overreacting at all.
In fact, she felt like she wasn't reacting enough. She had to do some more digging if she wanted any answers...
As soon as the clock struck 5:00 and she got her phone back, Buttercup jumped up and raced for the door. But then Butch called for her and said something that made her awkwardly walk back to her counterpart.
"What about going to my house for the project?" he asked awkwardly, clearly unsure if Buttercup was leaving out of anger or forgetfulness.
"We've already worked on our project plenty today. Besides, since I originally didn't know I was going to... Ah-hem"—she cleared her throat—"have detention, I made plans with Blossom for 6:40."
Butch gave her an incredulous look. "What sort of plans?"
"...Shopping. Blegh. But I promised her and the rest of the family I'd go, since I figured our time working on the project would take until 5:00 or so," Buttercup said quickly. She was fibbing, but she had to throw Butch off somehow.Besides, it's only a little white lie. How much could that hurt?
"Oh...okay." Butch nodded.
Buttercup felt a little guilty, but she shrugged it off. She waved to Butch and slowly backed away until she could blast off and out the door. Buttercup flew to the rendezvous point that she had agreed to with Blossom through texting earlier in the school day.
Blossom was already waiting there (of course), and was wearing a baggy red-pink blouse and black jeans. Her hair was tied back as usual, but this time with a black-and-pink bow.
Skidding to a stop, Buttercup greeted her sister. "Hey," she called, "I see you're all dressed up."
"That's not—I'm not dressed up for meeting Brick. I just...Bubbles—" Blossom stopped herself.
Buttercup smirked. "I know. Bubbles prepared you an outfit, didn't she? She did the same for me when I had to go shopping with Butch." When Butch and I could still chat casually, she added silently.*
"Ugh. Yeah—she insisted. What am I supposed to tell Brick when he sees me like this?" groaned Blossom.
"Tell him you went to see Vincent?" Buttercup suggested, shrugging. Blossom shot her a glare and the green Puff raised her hands. "Whoa; just kidding."
Rolling her eyes, Blossom rubbed her arms. "I don't know...maybe this isn't such a good idea after all—"
"We are not backing out of this now. You said we're doing it, so we're doing it. Remember what you said about being tired of waiting for answers and wanting to set things straight?" Buttercup reminded her sister.
"I-I guess you're right," sighed Blossom.
"You know I am," countered Buttercup, patting her sister on the shoulder. "Now let's go before the sky turns dark. Then it'd be a little cold for your blouse."
Blossom nodded, rubbing her arms again. "I already feel cold... I feel overdressed!"
"Don't worry about it," laughed Buttercup, "you're probably cold from nervousness. I'm wearing a t-shirt and I feel fine." She tugged at her uniform bow-tie.
Blossom blushed madly. "I am not nervous!"
"Whatever you say, Leader Girl." Buttercup started flying. "Let's go!"
Sighing, Blossom followed her sister's example. Both of them soared into the sky.
Meanwhile, from down below, Butch watched the girls' streaks disappear in the sky. He remained standing in the front of the school, unsure if he wanted to return home just yet. With Brick in his still-unconscious position, Butch was still worried. He felt tired, and he really didn't want to deal with being scolded for having detention.
Just as Butch was about to walk off, a voice called for him:
"I thought school was over?"
Butch winced as he turned around. He resisted the urge to strangle the person standing before him. "Hello, Vix," he said slowly through gritted teeth. "What do you want?"
"I only want to talk," Vix said. "Is that so wrong?"
"It is when you've tried to kill us so many times."
"I'm a determined person; what can I say?" Vix shrugged.
"Maybe you could say you're sorry!" yelled Butch, his hands glowing green as he shot energy balls at Vix.
"Whoa!" Dodging, Vix landed and skidded across the grass. "Apologize for what?"
"Oh, I don't know! Betraying us? Betraying Damon? Attacking Brick? He's still unconscious because of you!" screeched Butch.
Vix stood up. "Damon betrayed us first with all the lies he told us! He pretended to care about us. Look at what he's done!"
"Damon isn't that kind of man!" Rushing toward Vix, Butch grabbed the male's arm and twisted it. "You are!"
Resisting the urge to cry out in pain, Vix flipped Butch into the ground. "Can't you see the fucking proof—?"
"Can't you remember the past?" Butch stared at Vix. "Damon wasn't that kind of man. He always cared for us. He'd never hurt a soul. All of this proof can't be real—"
Vix stopped himself, his heart aching as he remembered Damon's smile. Then he twisted Butch's arm in a tight lock to release his frustrations. "Those days are gone!" he yelled.
"Damon may be gone, but that doesn't mean those memories are too!" Butch kicked Vix down as he swung himself up.
Vix glared at Butch. "No, they're not gone, but I almost wish they were. Damon lied to me. Everything he said was a lie."
"...You were like his son," Butch said quietly.
Vix wiped at his eyes. "Shut up."
"Damon cared about you."
"Shut up!" roared Vix. "You don't know anything! He promised me... He promised me that he'd always be there for me, but he lied. He was always hiding behind a facade of niceness, when in reality he was such a monster."
"Just because Danes said so—"
"He told me himself, okay! That night..." Vix's voice wavered. "He told me about Tyrone."
Butch stopped moving.
Above them, Blossom and Buttercup were flying fast. They soared across forests and buildings, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts regarding their counterparts. Blossom was also wondering about Vincent, while Buttercup thought of Ross.
Before either of them knew it, they were at the Ruffs' house. Actually, they almost missed it. Blossom gave Buttercup a signal for silence, putting her finger to her lips. Buttercup nodded in reply and floated slowly down.
Blossom followed, picking the window she knew was Brick's. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed hold of the window and fiddled with it. Blossom shooed Buttercup away.
Buttercup slowly floated back until she reached the front porch of the Ruffs. She knocked on the door.
It took a minute before anyone answered. That someone was a tired-looking Braker, whose usually smiling face was frowning. "What's up?" he asked, sounding like he was struggling just to be casual.
"I figured Butch would be back from detention by now. I went to my house to grab some stuff before I came back, and—"
"Well, he's not," Braker interrupted tiredly.
"Oh... Well, could I come in...?" Buttercup asked curiously.
Braker hesitated. "I don't know... I mean, Butch said he was going to your house for the project. Maybe he's there waiting for you right now." The orange Ruff's voice was quickening as if almost panicked.
Shaking her head, Buttercup leaned against the doorway. "We made a change of plans," she fibbed.
Muttering something under his breath, Braker's eyes narrowed. It sounded like a curse.
"Is anything wrong?" pressed Buttercup.
Braker sighed, stepping back. "Fine, come in. Just don't go to Brick's room—he's still sick and none of us want to disturb him."
"...Alright," Buttercup responded, stepping in. She found it weird how the usually almost annoyingly happy Braker was suddenly so curt and grumpy.
Buttercup stood in the living room and pulled out her phone. Braker stayed in the same room, as if to keep an eye on her. BC scoffed as she texted Blossom.
The reply was almost immediate: "'I'm in.'"
Grinning slightly, Buttercup typed back a simple "'k'". She floated for the front door.
"What happened?" asked Braker, narrowing his eyes.
"Apparently Butch decided that we should work at my house." Buttercup paused, pretending to check her phone. "Said something about...'not disrupting Brick'." That was partly true, as that was what Butch had texted her the other night about their project. So now of Braker asked his brother, Butch could reply and BC's cover wouldn't be blown.
Buttercup studied the orange Ruff's expression. He looked relieved, quickly walking over to her. "Alright, goodbye," he said.
"Bye," she replied. As soon as she stepped out onto the porch, the door immediately closed shut behind her.
Buttercup flew to the now open window to Brick's room, where Blossom was waiting. She waved and ushered her sister in quickly, asking BC what took her so long. Buttercup quickly explained Braker's paranoia before questioning, "So what's happened here?"
"It seems like Brick's asleep," Blossom replied, looking embarrassed. "I don't know what to do."
"Wake him up," offered Buttercup. "Slapping works—"
"BC!" scolded Blossom, frowning at her sister.
"Okay, okay. No slapping. Try poking or calling for him," Buttercup continued.
"I've already tried," hissed Blossom, letting out a quiet groan. "I even tried tickling him."
"Well, slapping's still on the—"
"Buttercup!"
"Alright, fine. What about a kiss?" Buttercup smirked. "You could be the Prince and he'll be Sleeping Beauty but just in a role reversal or gender—"
"...I let you come because I expected you to actually be helpful," Blossom reminded her in a deadpan manner.
Buttercup frowned. "Well, we could always try waking him with an alarm..."
"We can't make too much noise," Blossom countered.
Buttercup threw her hands into the air. "Well then what else can we do if—!?" she started exclaiming, but Blossom clamped a hand over her sister's mouth.
"Shhh!" she hissed. "Are you trying to get us caught!? What did I just say about noise!"
Buttercup tried to reply, but her voice was muffled. Blossom let go and BC managed to say, "Sorry, but what else can we do? We might as well be trying to wake up a log."
Blossom groaned. "I knew this was a bad idea—" Just then, footsteps sounded and Blossom tensed. She quickly went into panic. "BC, what do we do!?"
"You're the leader!" Buttercup shot back.
Blossom let out another groan that she cut off quickly, grabbing BC by the arm. She dragged Buttercup into Brick's closet.
"You chose the most obvious, generic, stereotypical hiding place," Buttercup muttered.
"Hush; it's better than nothing." Blossom rolled her eyes. "Besides, where else could we have hidden?"
Just as she said that, the door to Brick's room opened and someone walked in. Through the crack, Buttercup could make out that it was Bandit; his usual plaid purple button-up and dark-brown hair gave him away.
"Brick, I'm back," Bandit said, his tone soft as he crossed the room.
"What's he doing?" hissed Buttercup. Blossom shushed her sister again.
Bandit took a seat in a chair that was against the wall, beside Brick's bed. He stared at his brother for a few moments, and silence stretched on within the room.
"This is getting creepy," began Buttercup in a very hushed whisper. Blossom almost told her sister to stop talking again, but BC herself stopped when Bandit began speaking.
"It's been a few days since you were last awake. People are getting worried, you big lug. I can't believe you're still asleep." Bandit sighed, his voice shaking just slightly. "It's unfair that you get to take a break while I...I handle the responsibilities."
"What's he talking about?" Blossom whispered, her eyes wide in shock.
This time Buttercup hushed her. "Listen," she hissed.
Bandit was speaking again: "We're worried about you, Brick. Even the people who don't know about your current condition are worried. They only know that you've been sick and you haven't left the house for quite awhile. We get questions everyday about your well-being. The problem is that we can't really answer any of them.
"Boomer's still cooking delicious meals. I kind of wish the smell of that would be enough to wake you up. Or at least the thought of missing all that schoolwork." Bandit laughed. "Bloss is going to have a fit when you return to school."
Buttercup glanced at her sister. Blossom was rubbing her arm uncomfortably, her face red. Both of them knew that Bandit was speaking the truth; Blossom would give Brick a hard time if she hadn't known why he'd been gone from school for so long... And if their relationship hadn't become so broken.
"I can't believe you're still asleep, enjoying yourself in some dream world while your injuries heal." Bandit sighed again. "And while I deal with the leadership thing."
Silence resonated within the room once more, until Buttercup nearly sneezed. She pinched her nose and held her breath, having let out only a little wheeze. However, that was enough to catch Bandit's attention. He looked around until his gaze settled on the closet.
Hearts pounding, both Puffs waited for the awkward revelation that they had been hiding in Brick's closet. However, Bandit instead had to get up and leave when Him's voice wafted in, calling, "Bandit dear; could you take out the trash, please?"
"Coming!" replied Bandit, standing up. He glanced at the closet one more, before making his way toward the door and leaving. When the red door closed, the two Puffs tumbled out of the closet.
"That was close," breathed Blossom, her face still flushed.
"Yeah, too close for comfort," Buttercup muttered in agreement, dusting her sleeves off. She plucked a red tee from her shoulder, chucking it back into Brick's half-messy-half-neat closet. "Ew."
Blossom looked around. Brick's room was divided between messiness and cleanliness. The desk was covered in scraps of paper, but the bed Brick was lying in was fresh and clean. His bookshelves were pretty messy, but his closet was fairly neat.**
"Let's check on Brick," stated Buttercup, walking over to the red Ruff's bed. She lightly hit his face a few times, and while the unawake Ruff furrowed his eyebrows, he remained asleep.
Blossom joined her sister. "BC; don't," she scolded, taking hold of her sister's arm.
Buttercup was about to oblige, but then she noticed something. Pulling her hand from her sister's grasp, she grabbed Brick's red covers.
"What are you doing!?" gasped Blossom.
Buttercup didn't answer as she pulled them away from Brick's body. The blanket flopped down as the two Puffs gazed at Brick's body. BC knew that it would have been a very awkward scene had anyone seen it, but she was concerned about other things.
The first thing was the fact that Brick's arms were covered in bandages. They all contained splatters of dried blood. His body was bandaged as well, especially the back. A faintly large red blotch was on his back.
Blossom's eyes were wide. "Oh my God..." she whispered, holding her hands up to her mouth.
"It looks like the bandages were changed just the day before yesterday." Buttercup crinkled her nose. "He must've still been bleeding then."
"But why?" Blossom questioned, her eyes concerned. "What happened to him?"
Her reply was a shrug. Buttercup was about to say something, until a new voice greeted them from behind:
"He was in a fight."
Turning, Blossom's eyes stretched even wider, if it were possible. She moved her lips, but only a squeak escaped. Buttercup tensed as well as she slowly turned her head.
"B-B-B-B..." spluttered Blossom, feeling dizzy.
"Bandit," the other teen finished for her. He got up from leaning against the wall, having entered without the others hearing. "Girls, I know it's hard to believe, but Brick has been unconscious for a few days now. That's why he's not at school. Why he's 'sick'."
"How'd you get here?" demanded Buttercup, frowning. "I didn't hear you."
"It's not very hard to sneak past you two, especially when you were so distracted. I knew you guys were hiding in the closet," Bandit said.
"You guys... You guys lied," Blossom managed to say, "about Brick's condition..."
Bandit turned away. "We had to. If any normal civilian heard about this, it would lead to unwanted attention and drama."
"No, I..." Blossom tried to say something, taking a step toward him. "I meant...you lied to us. To me. The Powerpuff Girls."
"...We did, didn't we?" Bandit's eyes were glazed over. "But how else were we supposed to explain?"
"I want the truth; NOW," Buttercup demanded, standing in front of her sister as if to protect her from invisible forces of panic.
"There's not much to say. We found him injured like that." Bandit's tone was careful.
"Stop lying and hiding things from us!" snapped Buttercup.
"Maybe you should stop being so nosy," Bandit retorted.
"Why you little—" Buttercup reached forward as if to strangle him. She knew she asked a lot of questions, but that was only because she was worried for her friends. She was tired of the RRB always turning her down and calling her nosy. Some friends, Buttercup mused.
Blossom took hold of her sister's shoulder. "BC, wait. Let's...Let's hear what Bandit has to say."
"I don't really have anything to say," Bandit replied, running his hand through his hair. "Brick's hurt and he's still not awake. That's it."
Buttercup frowned. "Those aren't answers."
"But they're all I have," Bandit repeated. The green Puff narrowed her eyes, as she had a feeling that Bandit wasn't saying everything.
"Bullshit," muttered BC.
"Buttercup; no swearing," murmured Blossom. She still looked dazed.
"Perhaps you girls should go back home and see when Brick will awaken," Bandit suggested, glancing at the window. "Now's not a good time—really."
Buttercup narrowed her eyes. "And when will it ever be a good time?"
Bandit closed his eyes. "BC...don't do this to me; not now, please." His eyes opened and he met gazes with the green Puff. "...I honestly don't know when it will be a good time."
"...How's Brick?" Blossom asked quietly.
"I don't know," Bandit admitted. "When will Brick wake up? I don't know that either. I don't have all the answers! I'm not as great a leader as Brick." Bandit seemed to be breaking down slightly, crossing his arms to try and comfort himself.
Blossom's dazed look left her face as she seemed to accept what information had been presented before her. She stepped toward Bandit and managed to smile. "I know how it feels like; trying to find answers that you feel like aren't there."
"It's hard," Bandit whispered, averting his gaze. "I wish I knew everything, but..." He trailed off.
"Being a leader is a lot of hard work," soothed Blossom. "I'm sure you know that."
"I'm supposed to have all the answers and yet—" Bandit's voice cracked.
Just then, a hand was placed on both Blossom and Bandit's shoulders respectively. "...I don't think anyone's supposed to have all the answers."
The pink Powerpuff Girl and purple Rowdyruff Boy turned to see a smiling Buttercup, whose harsh expression had softened. Her eyes flickered to Bandit as she said, "Sorry about being so hard on you earlier."
Bandit managed to smile back, his spirits lifting just a little bit.
Boomer's breathing was shaky and his gaze felt unclear. He knew he was perfectly fine, but he could feel as though all his energy had been drained. Even though he'd already learned that Damon was a killer (which was draining enough), seeing the proof where Tyrone, Ross' father, had actually died, was even more draining.
He approached the gazebo slowly, but it still felt so far away. Jamel had let him go from Tyrone's room after a quick exchange of words and a warning. Just then, Ross looked up and waved, grinning. But then he noticed Boomer's dejected expression and concern scrawled itself on Ross' face. "Are you okay, Boomer?" asked Ross.
"I-I'm fine," said Boomer, taking a seat again. He rested his head on his arms. "I just feel really tired." He made himself yawn to emphasize his white-lie point.
"Oh. Maybe we should take a break," Ross suggested, still looking worried. It was clear he knew that there was more going on with Boomer than the blue Ruff was willing to show, but he didn't press further.
"Thanks." Boomer sat back up and rubbed his eyes. "Hey, Ross..."
"Yeah?" Ross was looking at his books as he shuffled them and prepared to move them aside.
"Do you—?" Boomer stopped himself, realizing how stupid his next question would have been. Directly asking about Damon and Tyrone would result in Ross' hatred, just as Jamel had said. But he desperately wanted to know.
Ross tilted his head to the side. "What's wrong?"
Boomer closed his eyes and tried not to sigh. "It's fine. I was just hoping to get a drink? I'm...really thirsty," he said lamely. He mentally hit himself. What a stupid excuse.
"Oh, sure." Ross smiled. "Snacks without drinks never work out." He clapped his hands.
Mike, who was reading, looked up and nearly jumped. Out of the blue, a servant appeared at Ross' side. "Whoa," he managed to say.
Boomer narrowed his eyes. The servant seemed to have manifested from the shadows...
"Could we have some drinks, please?" asked Ross. The servant bowed, handing Ross the tray with drinks on top. He bowed again as he left and Ross turned back to his friends. "Here," he stated, passing them their cups.
"Thank you," Boomer said, taking his drink. He sipped at the cool juice, relaxing his shoulders. The drink made him feel better.
Ross scrawled something down in his notebook, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "What would you guys like to do?" he asked, shifting. "We can play video games, or—"
"Ooh, video games sounds nice." Mike smiled.
Boomer managed to nod. "Yeah...nice."
Ross got up. "Sounds great! Follow me then." He started to walk off, calling over his shoulder, "You can just leave your stuff here! It'll be fine."
Hesitating, Boomer glanced back down at his bag. He grabbed it and flew after his friends. When he caught up to Mike, Mike asked, "I thought Ross said we could just leave our stuff...?"
"I need it," Boomer replied, holding the bag a little tighter. The truth was that he didn't want anyone working under Danes shuffling through his bag.
They followed Ross through a few hallways, until they stopped in front of a room. Ross called it one of the many playrooms they had in the house, and Mike said, "I feel dizzy."
"We can play here," chuckled Ross, nudging Mike.
The three teens settled down, and Boomer continued to sip at his drink. Mike and Ross started playing a game together, and Boomer decided he could get some snooping in. He excused himself and walked out the door.
"Yeah, sure, okay," Mike called after him, clearly too focused on the game to have actually heard Boomer.
Rolling his eyes and smiling to himself, Boomer slowly shut the playroom door. He memorized the door so that he would be able to find his way back. Then he walked down the hallways, eyeing the elaborately decorated walls and floor and chandeliers. Paintings and portraits decorated the walls.
Boomer stopped when he got to a darker corner in the hallways. A lonesome portrait of Tyrone, Ross' father, stared back at him. His portrait was hanging above a small table, decorated with flowers and candles. Boomer studied the painting and felt his breath escape his throat.
Tyrone looked so much like Ross.
There was also a portrait of Sylvie, also above a cabinet with flowers and candles. Her beautiful golden hair and gentle smile seemed to light up the dark hallway, but the area around her was still so solemn and sad.
Boomer brushed his fingertips against the painting's golden frame, closing his eyes. The scent of burning candles wafted toward him, and memories burned at the edges of his mind. Those long-forgotten memories were being rekindled.
An image of Damon at his desk writing a journal of some sort filled Boomer's vision. Suddenly Boomer was a little boy again. He was tearing up because he'd fallen into a river and gotten scraped up during training with his brothers, and his brothers had only laughed at him. He had been frustrated with his failures and his brothers' lack of appreciation.
He had wanted comfort.
Flashback
Boomer entered Damon's room, holding up his bleeding arm and crying. He hated crying. It made him feel weaker than he already was. He wasn't crying because of his wounds; no, Boomer could take that.
He was crying because his brothers were jerks who laughed at his failures. While trying not to be caught by a blindfolded Butch, Boomer had tripped off the ledge and tumbled down into the river below. His clothes were soaked, and he was bleeding thanks to all the rocks he'd run into.
His brothers had been concerned for a few seconds before they started roaring with laughter when Boomer reemerged from the waters.
Boomer stood in Damon's doorway, sniffling as he tried to figure out what to say. He didn't want to show big, strong Damon weakness, but Boomer needed someone to comfort him. The friendly man was writing something within a notebook, looking very concentrated.
"D-Damon..." Boomer stuttered.
The man looked up, clearly surprised. He closed the notebook and turned around. As soon as he saw Boomer, his eyes filled with concern. "Oh Boomer; what happened?"
"I-I fell down a ledge and... And I fell into the w-water..." Boomer sniffled, embarrassed. "My brothers l-laughed at m-me..." His teeth were chattering and he felt cold.
Damon got up from his seat and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around Boomer's wet body. He felt the boy's forehead. "Well, we better get you warmed up before you catch a cold."
"I-I'm fine." Boomer's little voice wobbled.
"Don't worry about your brothers."
Boomer looked up in surprise, and Damon smiled back at him.
"You know they care about you. Teasing is their way of showing affection. They were probably worried about you when you fell into the water."
"But they didn't show it when I-I climbed b-back out..." Boomer averted his gaze.
Damon placed a hand on the young Ruff's shoulder, chuckling lightly. "That's because they were embarrassed. They probably covered up their concern with teasing."
"Really?" Boomer looked up, brightening.
"Really," Damon promised, winking. "We can talk to your brothers about it later. Now come on; you also need to get changed."
Boomer glanced back at the notebook. "What were you writing?" he asked, curious.
"Oh nothing important." Damon gently nudged Boomer forward. "Now let's get you by a fire. You can relax and I'll make you some hot chocolate, okay?"
"With marshmallows?" Boomer pressed.
"With marshmallows; I promise," Damon laughed.
"Thanks, Damon." Boomer smiled.
"You're welcome." Damon smiled back.
End Flashback
That time, Damon hadn't found Vix in the car crash yet. Back then, Boomer had been too upset with himself to be more curious about Damon's journal. He had a feeling that the journal was important though...
Boomer opened his eyes and gazed at Sylvie's portrait one last time. He slowly backed away, still staring at her smile. Maybe the journal could be a key part to all of this...
Maybe it could show that Damon's innocent!
Boomer suddenly felt very eager. But then his shoulders sagged. What if it shows that Damon really was a killer though? I don't know if I can take that. Still...if it's for the truth, then maybe I have to take it.
Letting out a deep breath, Boomer decided then and there that he would find out the truth.
Boomer turned around and walked past the corner of the hallway. He nearly crashed straight into someone. "Sorry," he apologized, not thinking as he grabbed the person.
"...Boomer...?"
Boomer's eyes widened. "Vix...?"
The taller teen pushed away from Boomer and stared at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Ross invited me for a project," Boomer replied, keeping a wary eye on his former friend. "And let me guess; you live here, don't you?"
Vix shrugged, dusting his shoulder off. "Eh, I hang around."
Frustrated that Vix didn't seem to care that his enemy was standing before him, Boomer glared at his companion. "Do you even care?" he finally demanded.
Vix stopped his movements as his green eyes looked up. "...Excuse me?"
"Brick's still unconscious because of you!" snapped Boomer.
"So I've heard." Vix folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.
Boomer blinked in surprise. "Who told you?"
"I ran into Butch a little earlier." Vix looked away. "He tried to kill me; and yeah, he was yelling about how Brick was still gone and how Damon couldn't be a murderer."
Boomer's eyes searched the floor. He knew how close Boomer was to Damon, so he also knew that Butch was hurting a lot.
"We fought a little. I left after I told him that Damon himself had told me about Tyrone's death." Vix was still staring at something in the distance.
His gaze snapped towards Vix in shock. "Damon...?"
"Yes. Damon told me." Vix sighed. "After I told Butch, he froze. I think he was slightly broken. I just left."
Boomer felt his throat hurting as a lump appeared. "No..."
"I told you guys. Damon lied to us."
"But he can't be... He couldn't have been the murderer..." Boomer was struggling to speak. "He has to be innocent...!"
"He's not. You can try and find excuses for him; twist and turn his lies into reality, but that'd only be in your head. It'd be better if you just believed the truth."
Boomer grabbed Vix by the collar. "No! Damon's not guilty of this crime just yet."
"What do you think the proof is there for? It's not just eye candy! Every piece of evidence points toward Damon as the culprit," Vix yelled. "I tried to find things that might prove his innocence, but there's nothing!"
"But—"
"Boomer...? Are you here? Where did you go?" a voice called.
Both Vix and Boomer froze as they heard Ross' voice calling for the blue Ruff. The two shared looks.
Vix raised an eyebrow, pointing at Boomer's hands, which still gripped his collar. "Are you going to let me go...?"
Blinking, the blue Ruff did as he was told and let go.
Just then, Ross appeared. "There you are, Boomer!" He stopped himself. "And...Vix?"
Vix stood up straighter, fixing his messed-up collar. "Hey, Ross."
Boomer stepped away from Vix. "I was just... I just ran into him," he lied. "Is he a friend of yours?" He cringed at the amount of lies he was telling.
"Yeah, he is." Ross glanced at Sylvie's portrait for just a second; a split second that Boomer almost didn't notice. "He was under the care of...of someone we used to know."
Boomer felt his heart ache. He knew that Ross was regarding to Damon being Vix's caretaker, but it was clear by Ross' shadowed gaze that he said it with hatred. If Ross ever learned the truth about Damon and the Ruffs' relationship, Boomer knew that Ross would hate them forever.
"See you guys later," Vix stated, waving curtly as he walked away.
Boomer glanced at Ross. "Umm..." he tried.
"Come on," Ross finally said, turning around and walking in the opposite direction as Vix. "Do you want to play too? We're on the next round. You can go against Mike." Ross' tone contained a strained and slightly false cheerfulness.
"...Sure," Boomer managed to say, following his friend. He quickened his pace into a float to keep up, surprised at how fast Ross could walk for a normal human being.
Boomer glanced back one last time at Sylvie's smiling portrait and sighed. Why does the past have to hurt so much...?
When his hand went through the mirror, there was a great, tingling shock.
He had a feeling that the mirror knew he was serious this time about returning home. Even though he also knew, his heart was still pounding fast and a high level of uncertainty clouded his bravery.
He tried to pull back—the shock from the mirror was hurting and he was scared—but the mirror seemed to know that he may try to back out as well. It sucked him in, forcing his whole body through its magical surface. There was a loud flash and a pop as he went through. A huge electric shock coursed through his head, and he could feel already foggy thoughts being zapped into dust.
His brain was completely blank as he swirled through the mirror, before spotting a light far up ahead. Around him were plenty of colours, but the light stood out because it was such a bright, coursing white light that it nearly blinded him.
He reached toward the light as he got closer, all the way until his fingertips could graze the surface. Another tingle went through his fingers, and the mirror sucked him in again... Or rather, sucked him out.
Another hand was reaching for his, and the boy could feel his vision clearing. His mind was still trying to function properly and he could see only black against his eyelids. It reminded him of when he first awoke to see his dark and lonely dream world.
His whole body ached. He clenched his chest. But what was more, his heart ached.
Shadows stretched along the floor, crawling up the walls. His seat wasn't very comfortable, but he remained seated. He didn't want to get up. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he thought. Grunting as he turned his head, he heard bones crack. His neck was stiff; he'd slept in the chair. It was only 6:15 am, and he was still tired. School wouldn't start for another two hours or so.
He remembered the other night, when Blossom and Buttercup had shown up in the very room he was currently sitting in. They had been concerned about Brick's well-being, and after a brief exchange of words, they had expressed their apologies as well as wishing the Ruffs luck. Then they had left, and he'd continued to keep an eye on the unconscious Brick for the rest of the night.
He let out a little groan and grumbled to himself. His eyes felt like lead, and he tried rubbing them. A yawn escaped his lips. He was still dressed in the same purple attire he had been wearing yesterday, as he had been stuck in Brick's room for the whole night. "Why aren't you still awake?" he sighed, blinking his dark-purple eyes. They had heavy black bags beneath them. "We're all worried about you, you idiot."
Leaning forward, the boy rested his head on his arms and slowly closed his eyes. He was about to drift off into sleep when a rustling beside him sounded. He twitched as he became bothered by the sound, since he was trying to sleep. Even though there shouldn't have been any noise in the room, since an unconscious Brick was the only other person there, his half-asleep brain didn't process that yet.
Still, soon the moving came to the point that he finally reopened his eyes and sat up. "What's with all the noise?" he demanded, rubbing his eyes. When he stopped and opened them completely, he froze. His mouth dropped open as he managed to stutter, "B-B-B... Brick!?"
His redheaded, red-eyed brother was looking at him, seemingly confused. He opened his mouth and the first words that came out were mumbled and unclear.
"What? I didn't hear you." He leaned forward and stared into Brick's eyes. His brother's gaze was troubled as he uttered:
"Where am I?"
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 10!)
**(A/N: Reference to my fic "Hung Up on You"!)
ME: Man, Brick; you are popular with the ladies! Now all three canon girls have hidden in your closet.
BRICK: *face reddens* What?
ME: Remember? Bubbles hid in there once during "Hung Up on You".
BRICK: *yelling* I know that! Can you just not word it in a way that sounds so suggestive!?
ME: *waves hand dismissively* Anyway, Brick's awake now. How do you guys feel about that? He's been unconscious for...let's see now...
BLOSSOM: Since chapter 21. So he's been out for about 5 chapters.
BUTCH: *surprised* You're keeping track of how long Brick's been out of the game? *smirks* You must really miss him.
BLOSSOM: *blushes* I-I don't know what you're talking—
BRICK: *face reddens* Shut up, Butch!
BUTCH: *shrugs* Alright, fine~
BRICK: *looks at Blossom* Umm...
BLOSSOM: Don't get any ideas, mister.
ME: Well, there you have it, folks. The latest chapter. And hey, at least I didn't drag it out for too long like Butch and BC's broken relationship in "Hung Up on You".
BUTCH: *groans* Don't remind me. I was sick for really long in that story.
BUTTERCUP: *rolls eyes*
BLASTER: Kuku promises more Butchercup soon, so don't worry! We'll see some other couples too, as well as more or the past. Leave a review, guys! We're out. *winks*