CHAPTER 66: WOLVES DRIFT AWAY
ME: Another chapter done! This one is going to include a little drifting, if you know what I mean.
BRICK: Indeed. I can see the title for myself, you know.
BUTCH: What, are we doing Tokyo Drift?
ME: ...Nooooo, but you are going to be dealing with emotional stuff!
BRICK: *dryly* Wow, what fun.
ME: Right? So read on, people! Find out what the drifting is for yourselves! I don't own PPG, but I do own my OC's and the story!
BRAKER: And after all that drifting fun, don't forget to leave a review!
Chapter 66: Wolves Drift Away
"Goodbye, Cassandra!" Michael waved, feeling a little sad to see her go. He knew he'd only just met her, but being with her for the past couple of hours had really helped him get to know her. She was sweet and kind and smart, all features he admired in a girl―and a person.
"Bye, Mikey!" She smiled and waved back, stepping into the car that had arrived to pick her up.
He kept smiling, and watched as she sat down and cheerfully greeted the person driving the car. That was when he paused, furrowing his brow as sudden confusion filled his system.
The driver looked kind of like Sampson.
But when he looked again, he realized the driver's hair was different, and even his eyes―a subtle detail―were a different colour. They were blue instead of brown. The door shut before he could get a better look.
When Cassandra rolled down her window and waved again, he could no longer see the driver. So he focused on her again, smiling and waving until the car was pulled out of his driveway.
He turned around and trekked back up the steps, feeling suddenly a lot lonelier. He'd shown her the library and they'd had a lot of fun, reading and laughing. But soon she'd gotten a call from her father and she had gone to answer it. When she came back, she told him she had to leave, and while he was disappointed knowing she had to go, he understood.
Michael sat down in the foyer, which he'd been doing a lot lately. His friends, who'd been hanging out in the room earlier, had all suddenly disappeared. The loneliness grew, like a gaping hole.
Feeling like being alone at the moment was too much for him to handle, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialled Banana's number, determined to catch up with his girlfriend—and prove that he still loved her the way he'd always loved her—that Cassandra wouldn't get in the way of those feelings.
She answered immediately. "Hello?" she asked urgently.
"Hi, Banana—it's me—"
"Oh, Michael." She sounded like she'd just suddenly deflated, as if she were expecting a call from someone who wasn't him.
"You don't sound very happy to hear from me," he tried to joke.
"No, no, it's not that! I was just...waiting for a delivery message," she explained.
"Oh... Well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? I feel kind of lonely," he offered.
"Oh, sure," she replied awkwardly. "I'd love to."
He tried to smile, but it didn't fit quite right anymore. "Alright; it's a date then."
"Yeah, a date."
The two awkwardly exchanged goodbyes and plans, before Michael went to his room to get ready.
When he was done, he only had to wait a few minutes more until Banana arrived. She was dressed in a baggy black-and-white shirt with yellow pants. She looked just as stunning as usual, but somehow...he'd imagined something a little different, something a little more like...Cassandra.
He quickly shook the concerning thoughts off and beamed. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks. You look great too." She smiled back.
Michael nodded, leading the way to the limo waiting for them. They were going to a café they all knew and loved, a usual hang-out spot for their friends.
The ride was spent in awkward silence, and Michael was almost glad to be off. He led the way into the café, holding the door open for her.
She murmured, "Thank you" as they walked inside.
Bat, one of the workers and their friend, greeted them at the counter. "Hey, guys! Nice to see you again," he said.
"Hi, Bat." Banana smiled, and Michael wondered if he was just imagining it, but that smile was more natural than the one she'd given him...
"What do you guys want for today?" Bat asked cheerfully, unsuspecting of the awkwardness dripping from the room.
"A latte, please," Michael ordered. He glanced at Banana. He usually knew what she wanted, but it had been so long...
She made her order and Bat retreated further into the space behind the counter, preparing the drinks.
Michael and Banana sat down at a table. He glanced down. "So...how've you been?" he asked.
"Tired." She smoothed out her shirt. "I've been working on a project."
"Ahh. What is it?"
She paused, hesitating. "It's a...surprise?" she offered.
"Oh." He didn't mention how he was disappointed she didn't want to tell him what it was.
"It's not because I don't trust you or anything," she said quickly. "It's just a surprise—for everyone."
He nodded like he understood, which he did, but still... Something about the claim nagged at him. He ignored it.
She opened her mouth to keep speaking, but then the door opened again, and the bell above jingled. She noticed the two people coming in and realized they were people they recognized. Banana snapped her mouth shut, eyes widening. She turned away.
"Banana? What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing's wrong," she snapped. "Why would you think something's wrong?"
Taken aback, Michael replied, "I'm sorry, it's just that you were about to say something—"
"It wasn't important, okay? So just forget about it," she interrupted. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Banana..." He didn't understand why she sounded like she was angry now. What had upset her? Why is she taking it out on me? He was about to ask when he saw the two people sitting down at a table, and it was his own turn to snap his jaws shut. Suddenly he completely forgot about Banana's attitude and all he could do was try and process the scene before him.
Just a few feet away, sat his sister and Blaster Jojo of the Rowdyruff Boys.
"Excuse me," he murmured, sliding out of his seat. He stalked over to the table and stood, waiting for them to notice him.
They weren't sitting across from each other like most people would be—not like how he and Banana were—they were sitting right next to each other, their backs turned to him. And when he got closer, he saw that they were holding hands, whispering to one another.
He approached them and cleared his throat. "Ah-hem." There wasn't an immediate response, so he coughed louder: "AH-HEM."
Both of their heads snapped upwards, and he watched as their eyes widened. "Michael!" gasped his sister. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," he replied coldly, "and what are you doing with him?"
"I...I..." She glanced at Blaster, who was gazing back with wide eyes. Finally, she seemed to find her resolve, because she turned around and said firmly, "I like him."
Michael staggered backwards, because even with the different meanings of the word "like", he already knew what she meant. And the meaning shocked him. He heard a cracking sound, barely aware of the fact that Banana had accidentally crushed a cup, and that Bat had dropped the other one. "You...what?" he asked.
"I-I like him," she repeated. "A lot." She turned back to him and squeezed his hand. "He's a sweetheart and has been really kind to me. I want to be his girlfriend."
"You don't have to explain it," he said in disbelief, feeling like it was already too much to take in.
"I know it's a shock," she began, but he interrupted.
"Can I talk to you? Alone?" he hissed.
Christie and Blaster exchanged looks, and when the yellow Ruff nodded encouragingly, she got up. Michael felt even more pissed off at the idea that his own sister was scared of him, and that she needed a Rowdyruff Boy's encouragement to talk to him. He grabbed her arm and dragged her aside.
"Mikey, ow! That hurts," she cried.
He pulled her so that she stumbled across from him, and so he could hide her from Blaster's view. "What the hell is this!?" he demanded. "When did this happen?"
"Awhile ago, okay!" she replied. "Why are you so angry?"
Ignoring the last question, he continued, "How did this happen? How could you let this happen?"
"He was nice to me! He comforted me when I was sad and lonely." She hesitated. "He comforted me when I felt hurt because of things like Mom and Dad's disappearance, and Vix."
"Does he know about that?" he demanded.
"Does it matter?" she responded, exasperated. "When a person is as nice to you as that, then can't it count as love?"
"'Love'?" he repeated in disbelief. Somehow, that was even worse than hearing the word "like". "You can't love him!"
"Why not!?" she demanded.
"BECAUSE HE'S ON THE OTHER SIDE!" he snapped, furious to learn that his sister loved a Rowdyruff Boy. "You should know this better than anyone!"
"Well, I can list all the reasons I can love him!" she retorted. "And they outweigh the reasons not to!"
"He's not one of us!"
"Neither is Banana, but you love her!"
He paused. Do I? Or is it just a high school fling? He shook the thoughts off and instead directed his frustrations about his current romance toward Christie's situation: "She's not like him! You know what he is!"
"Yes, but I also know who he is! Better than you do, anyway." She glared at him. "He's the same as Vix, and you were willing to defend him."
"Because Vix is our friend, not our enemy!"
"No, he's not," she answered immediately, even before he finished his sentence, her words hard and guarded. "He's a fucking asshole who deserves to be where he is right now. I hate him," she spat, shoving past her brother. "And I don't want to compare Blaster to him. Blaster is so much better than him."
He stared after her, wide-eyed. How could she change her mind about Vix so suddenly? What happened? Did Blaster do something to change her? He couldn't believe it—any of it. "What's gotten into you?" he demanded.
She spun around. "I'm angry! At you! I would've thought my own brother would have been willing to support me, but I guess not!" Then she stormed back to where Blaster was, where she sat down and buried her head in his shoulder.
He shot Michael a glare, rubbing Christie's back. Michael stared back, feeling like the image of Blaster comforting his sister because of him was all wrong. Very, very wrong.
He slowly walked back to his seat with Banana, where Bat had cleaned up the broken glass. He sat down slowly, feeling empty and sick, no longer in the mood for a date. While Christie and Blaster enjoyed each other's company, the rest of Michael's own date was spent in awkward, empty silence.
Sighing, Bliss stopped flying and started descending until she landed walking. The sidewalk wasn't crowded this time of the day, and the sky was just starting to darken. She should've been getting home so the Professor wouldn't worry, but that was the last thing on her mind.
She couldn't help but think about DJ, and then her anger would resurface and threaten to slither into the way she walked and talked. It wasn't like she was furious at him—no, she'd actually forgiven him quite a bit since that incident at his house a few days ago. It was more like...a small part of her refused to be pacified, but she didn't think she was entirely in the wrong. He really was being too secretive around her, pretending everything was fine when it really wasn't. She couldn't just turn a blind eye and let him get away with being a jerk to Braker, one of her closest friends, just because he was her boyfriend. She couldn't ignore all his secrets either. Bliss refused to be silenced just because they were dating. He could be a jerk, and anyone who was being a jerk—especially to a friend—meant she needed to stand up to them, even if it meant upsetting them and their relationship. She needed to be fair, and just turning a blind eye was hardly fair or just.
And yet, now that they were currently apart, she couldn't help but feel kind of upset seeing him with another person, the way he had been with that girl—Patricia, right?—at Michael's house. She knew her boyfriend was flirtatious and open—and she knew other people sought out his company, but it didn't mean she didn't get just the slightest bit jealous.
She knew she was the one who'd cut the relationship off temporarily, but feelings could be unreasonable. She was hardly feeling rational as she trudged through downtown Townsville, breaking Professor Utonium's rule about being home at 7:00-7:30.
Shivering, she pulled the collar of her orange sweater further up so that she could keep her neck warm. She wasn't quite sure where she was going; anywhere alone would be nice. She just needed a few minutes figuring out how she felt about DJ and—
"Bliss...? Is that you?"
—Braker. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face the other inner demon squirming around inside of her unreasonable, emotional mind. "Hey."
"Hey. I almost didn't recognize you in the dark." He landed beside her, picking at a tangled thread poking out of his own sweater-hoodie.
"It's not that late." She shuffled her boots, trying to brush off the fact that it was almost her curfew and she still wasn't home.
"Isn't it almost curfew though?" he asked.
Bliss flinched. Aaaand there it goes. "Yeah, but I don't want to go home. Not yet."
"Oh." He blinked, not looking like he understood why.
"I'm just going to walk for a bit," she continued, pointing down the street, trying to hint at the fact that she wanted to be alone.
"Okay." He started walking. "Mind if I walk with you?"
She slammed down on the "yes" already ready to escape from her lips and said instead, "Not at all" through gritted teeth and a frozen, plastered-on smile that tasted like toothpaste and mints.
Not that he noticed. He kept walking, saying, "It's rather nice out, isn't it?"
"Yeah. It's almost full moon." She shivered.
He paused, a silence that was so brief she wouldn't have picked up on it if it was coming from anyone other than Braker. "Yeah. Almost."
"Speaking of which, where do you guys always go when it's full moon? You always disappear," she joked, trying to break the ice. "It's almost like you're—"
"Work." He met her eyes, his own eyes round and glowing in the dimming light. "Mojo has work."
"...Right. Work." She swallowed, not finishing her joke.
He turned away. "So what's the real reason you're walking all by yourself in downtown Townsville when it's almost your curfew?"
She froze. Now she was the one in the hot seat. "I'm just walking," she began flatly, but he interrupted.
"Bliss. I'm not an idiot." His gaze rounded on her again, soda-orange in the cool evening light. "What's really going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're walking. When you can fly. What's bothering you?"
She didn't reply.
He sighed. "Is it DJ? Because if it is, I'll punch his face in for y—"
"Don't do that," she countered quickly. "Trying to get him to like you is hard enough as it already is. I don't need you breaking his face."
He laughed. It made her skin tingle, like a thousand little shocks were racing through her veins, sparking. "Ha, that's a nice joke—DJ liking me—I'm sure that'll happen...when pigs fly."
"I'm serious," she insisted. "I don't want you two fighting anymore, not when you're with me, at least."
His smile fell. "Oh. You're serious."
"Of course I'm serious," she replied in disbelief. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"DJ and I don't mix. At all. We're like salty eggs and fresh watermelon. You wouldn't put the two together in a dish, would you?"
"...Who's the egg?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"DJ, of course. He's salty as fuck," he responded without missing a beat.
"And what, you're fresh as fuck?" she countered just as quick, the eyebrow remaining arched.
"Look, my point is, we just don't mix."
"And my point is that I'd like you two to mix, or at least try to, when with me."
"Alright, then we can just pretend to get along and hold hands when we're around you, like life's all rainbows and everything's just peachy-keen," he responded sarcastically.
"Braker, I'm serious."
"So am I. And why wouldn't I be?" he added, referencing her earlier claim that she was definitely serious.
"I meant as long as you're with me, like in a relationship with me. Romantic or not."
Maybe it was just the lighting, but she thought she saw his cheeks flush red at the mention of being "with" her and having a "relationship" with her. "I'm sure we're all just dying to be in that position," he muttered under his breath.
"What...?" She hadn't quite heard him, and she wasn't sure if his tone was sarcastic or not.
He looked up. "Never mind. I'm just saying it's not going to be easy for either of us to get over the other."
"What is there to get over? You're both likeable dudes," she countered.
He stared directly into her eyes, before sighing and turning away. "Not likeable enough."
The intensity of his gaze had made her uncomfortable. She fidgeted, mumbling out, "That's not true. DJ's really cool once you get to know him—"
"I wasn't talking about him."
The words were like a knife's edge, sharp but still blunt so it didn't hurt as much. Yet, they cut deep enough. She stopped fiddling, eyes growing wide. "Oh."
He didn't meet her gaze this time. Instead, he turned away and smiled awkwardly, laughing in a way that felt too fake, at least for him. "I mean, he's pretty unlikable, alright, but—"
"Braker..." She stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. She hesitated. "Are you okay?"
He paused. There was a silence at first, and when she felt like it had gone on a tad too long for it not to be awkward to keep holding on, she began to draw her hand back. That was when he grabbed it.
She looked up. "Braker...?"
"No," he whispered, squeezing her hand. "I'm not completely okay."
"Why is that?" asked Bliss, now concerned. She pulled him closer to her, so that he had to turn around and meet her eyes.
"Because I'm a failure," he whispered into her ear, his hair falling downwards so that it tickled her shoulder.
She shivered. "That's not true."
"It is when you're with me." His breath was on her neck now, and his body felt warm against hers. "But you wouldn't understand."
Bliss pulled away. "And why wouldn't I?" she demanded. "I feel like a failure—"
"Because you're you." He reached up with his free hand and rested it on her cheek, causing her to flinch. His orange eyes were dark now, hooded and shadowed by an emotion she didn't recognize. "And you're perfect just the way you are."
"Braker—"
"You're beautiful, Bliss." She'd never quite noticed how his eyes were the colour of a vibrant autumn maple tree. His hair was the brunette of a twisted maple trunk, and it was hanging over his eyes like a curtain at the moment. He leaned closer, closing the gap between them fast. Electricity seemed to spark in the distance from his body to hers, and she felt the tingle wherever he was touching or almost touching her. Her lips were starting to tingle too when he suddenly stopped and grinned. "Just kidding!"
"Goddammit, Braker!" she screamed in a not-an-actual-scream, shoving him away from her.
Laughing, he stumbled backwards, his green converse scraping against the pavement. "I mean, you are pretty, I'll give you that."
Cheeks hot, she glowered at him. She wasn't sure if she was flushing from embarrassment or anger. "That was a dick move!"
"I do love a good dick move," he agreed. "I know plenty." He wiggled his eyebrows.
"Omigod, stop." She covered her face with her hands. "You're horrible."
"I'm sorry, Blissey, but I was worried about you! You seemed so down. I was trying to cheer you up," he offered.
"Please stop calling me that."
"What, 'Blissey'?"
"Yes! I'm not a round, pink-and-white feathered healing Pokémon with fucking curls in my hair! God, Braker, can you be serious for five seconds of your life?"
His face fell now, like she'd just told him he threw bad parties. "I wasserious," he said quietly.
"About what? You were joking when you did—whatever that was, weren't you?"
"Not completely," he continued just as quietly.
Calming down, she asked almost fearfully, "So what about it was serious?"
But instead of answering, he looked down and kicked at a rock near his shoe.
"Braker, I'm trying to—"
"Bliss, do you know what else I am?"
She sighed, deciding to play along. "What?" she asked flatly.
"Guess."
"A jerk?" she offered, folding her arms.
He smiled almost sadly, a soft smile, like he could find humour in his pain. "Yeah, but besides that."
"Well, what else are you?" she asked, now slightly regretting her harsh words from earlier—but only slightly.
"A coward."
The words came slow, but also too fast, and they didn't sound right at all. "Coward" and Braker did not sound correct together, especially when it was coming from his own lips. "What...?" She blinked, uncrossing her arms. "Braker—"
"Sorry about the 'dick move'. I was just trying to cheer you up." He raised his shoulders until he was hunched over. "Guess it didn't work."
She sighed. "It's fine. I just didn't appreciate being played like that—"
"I'm not the only player you know," he responded.
She paused, frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, unless you find a thing in it to mean something," he replied in a cryptic manner, shrugging.
"Look, if this is about DJ, can you just stop? I want you two to—"
"Get along, I know." He sighed. "But then again, there's a lot of players of this game out there." He kicked at another rock. "But that's just wishful thinking speaking. Because that's what I wish this all was—a game."
"Are you okay? You're acting mondo bizarro," she said in concern.
He smiled softly again. "Didn't I just say I wasn't okay? Have you even been listening?"
"Of course I have!" she retorted hotly. "But what's actually wrong? You have to tell me, or I won't be able to help."
"Don't worry about it. You just worry about feeling better yourself," he replied, floating into the air. "I can take care of myself."
"Braker, don't you dare walk out on me!" she yelled, stomping her foot down.
"I'm not walking, I'm flying! And you better fly home too," he called back.
She floated into the air, ready to follow. "I'm not letting you go until I find out what's wrong! Don't keep me in the dark, or—"
"Ignorance is bliss, right?" he offered, blasting off into a cloud.
"I hate that saying!" she shouted after him. She was about to follow when her phone started ringing in her pocket. She picked up as she began her flight after him. "Hello?"
"Bliss, where are you? Get home right now!" It was the Professor, and he didn't sound very pleased.
"Alright, alright. I'll be home soon," she grumbled. After hanging up and slipping her phone back into her pocket, she stared out after the direction Braker had flown in. It hadn't been back to the Rowdyruff Boys' house, unless he was planning on taking the scenic route through the forest, but she didn't have the time to track him. Cursing colourful swears under her breath, she spun away and flew home.
I wish I knew what was bothering him. And then maybe I'd know why he didthat. Because even if it was a joke, it felt too much like a storm was forming between us for me to just ignore—and in more ways than one. Her cheeks flushed pink. The electricity there felt almost real, and that kind of scares me. I need to get to the bottom of this...
Because after all, I don't want to be struck by lightening.
There wasn't anything to do, or anything she really wanted to do. But she wanted to do something. Something to take her mind off of the memory of Sidney looking at her and telling her that it wasn't a good time for them to talk, and that he had more important things to do.
Sighing, she dragged herself out of her seat and she flew downstairs. The house sounded empty. There was the Professor in his lab, working on something, but for the most part, the place seemed unoccupied. Blossom had gone out, and Buttercup was out looking for someone, Bliss had gone to talk to DJ and wasn't back yet, Banana was on a date... The only other Puff home was Bunny, and she was always quiet anyway.
Bubbles herself had nothing to do, so she listened. She could hear the Professor welding something, squeaks and sparks sounding from inside his lab, while Bunny was talking softly with someone on the phone. Bubbles floated there for awhile, until the door opened and someone else came in.
"I'm home," the person called.
"Hi, Bliss," Bubbles greeted, flying toward her sister. "Dinner's already ready and waiting for you. Where did you go?"
"I was talking to DJ, remember?" she responded almost flatly as she took off her shoes.
"I-I know, but you've been gone for quite some time—"
"What have you been up to?" interrupted Bliss.
Bubbles' face fell as she realized her sister didn't want to talk about it. "Oh, I've just been...hanging around. With nothing to do. Bored. And tired. And sad."
Bliss looked up, her emotionless facade fading as she noticed how down her sister was. "Bubbles... What's wrong?" she questioned.
"Nothing's wrong," she said quickly. The orange Puff raised an eyebrow, and Bubbles swallowed. Too quickly? she wondered.
"If you think I'm going to believe that, then you must think I'm an idiot," she announced.
Bubbles sighed. "Okay, so something's wrong. But you know what it's like not wanting to talk about something, right?" She looked meaningfully at her sister, reminding her of her own private feelings she'd shied away from talking about just moments before.
Unsurprisingly, a look of guilt flickered across Bliss' face. "Yes, but mine aren't making me seem so depressed I look like I'm going to burst into tears at any second in any conversation," she countered.
She flinched. "I'm not going to burst into tears," she said softly.
Bliss sighed. "Maybe not this conversation. But Bubbles, I can tell something's obviously wrong. How's about we just skip the drama and talk about it like good sisters do, okay? I'm worried about you, and I really don't want to take no for an answer."
She looked down. "Okay," she responded quietly. "But we have to trade. I want to know what happened between you and DJ."
"Nothing much happened between us." She snorted. "He was flirting with another girl—or she was hitting on him, whatever—and that kinda ticked me off. I asked him to be nicer to Braker and the Ruffs. So yeah. Not much." She looked at Bubbles. "Your turn."
"No, wait. That can't be right," Bubbles stated.
"What can't be right?"
"How were you gone for so long, almost past curfew, and yet only have that much happen?"
She blushed. "I was still frustrated and angry so I went for a walk, okay? A very long walk."
"And nothing else happened on that walk?"
She groaned. "What is this, interrogation? I gave you a brief summary of events, didn't I?"
"...Alright, I guess you did." Frowning, Bubbles decided to let the topic drop for the moment, although she had every intention of getting to the bottom of this mystery.
Meanwhile, Bliss' face was burning. She hated keeping things from her sisters, especially sweet Bubbles, but the last thing she needed was to broadcast the confusing encounter between Braker and her. What was she supposed to do, scream about how confused she was on whether or not he liked her? She was barely sure what happened herself; how was she supposed to recount it out loud? "Your turn," she stated, trying to forget about Braker's electrifying gaze as he touched her cheek...
"I'm just so lost on this Sidney and Boomer business," Bubbles explained sadly, floating in the air. She played with her pigtails, glancing down. "I tried to talk to Sidney today, but he turned me away. Not in terms of romance, but in terms of a conversation. I'm probably making a big thing out of nothing, but I really was horrible to him."
"How could you be horrible? You're the sweetest girl I know!" Bliss cried. "If he thinks you're horrible, then it's his loss, not yours!"
Bubbles buried her face in her hands. "No, it's because... It's because I basically made him my rebound guy. When Boomer stopped being my friend, I was so hurt I-I wanted to have someone else fill in that gap. And Sidney was so kind to me, I just...I confessed to him. And it's not like I don't actually like him, it's just that...it wasn't fair of me to do that to him. Especially since Boomer stopped talking to me after that, and I was so distracted by him Sidney decided it was time for us to take a break—all because I can't get my feelings figured out! It's not even like I have a crush on Boomer—I just hate the idea of us not being friends anymore over a guy I'm dating!" she cried.
Bliss' gaze softened. "Oh, Bubbles..." She reached out and rubbed her sister's back. When she felt like the blue Puff had calmed enough, she asked, "And what about Boomer? How do you think he feels about all this?"
Pausing, she turned to look up at her orange-eyed sister. "Boomer...?" she repeated.
Bliss nodded. "I know you're upset and conflicted and confused, and Sidney's upset and hurt too, but what about Boomer? Maybe—Maybe you should talk to him. Try to sort things out. Who knows? Maybe it'll work. Maybe you'll find out the answers you need from him, if Sidney won't currently talk to you."
"I-I guess so," she sniffled. "It's worth a try..."
"See? It wouldn't hurt," continued Bliss.
Bubbles nodded. "Okay, I-I'll do it."
"Great." She smiled at the blue Puff, before standing up. "I'll leave you to it then. I've got to eat dinner and talk to the Professor in case he gets super worried and I get in mega trouble." She paused, squeezing Bubbles' shoulder. "Be brave, okay? You got this."
She nodded but didn't reply as Bliss flew off to the kitchen. Then she turned to the phone and took a deep breath, before picking it up and dialling a certain number...
The person picked up on the third ring. "Hello? Isn't this the Powerpuff Girls' hotline?"
"Boomer," she whispered.
There was a pause as his eyes probably widened and realization sunk in. "Bubbles," he murmured back.
She nodded, before remembering he couldn't see her, and then saying instead, "Yes, it's me."
"What's going on?" he asked. "What's wrong? If you're calling from the hotline, is there some kind of monster we need to beat—?"
She wondered briefly if he'd ever just consider it another normal day when she called him, instead of expecting a crisis. "There's no monster; don't worry. I just—I—we—we need to talk."
"...Oh." His voice fell flat, fading away from the worry he'd been displaying just moments before. "That's...maybe a monster within itself," he finally stated.
Bubbles decided not to comment on his comment. "Look, we just—we have a lot of baggage to get through."
"Oh God, is this going to be heavy?"
She frowned. "What, am I bothering you by bringing this up?"
"No, no; it's not that!" he exclaimed quickly. "It's just that doing heavy talks over the phone is kinda...well, heavy."
"That's the point—"
"No—I mean, yes, but—I meant that it's hard." He paused, hesitating. "Because I can't see how you're feeling."
She sighed, running a hand through a blond pigtail. "I know what you mean. Sorry if I sounded kind of snappish."
"It's okay. Sorry if I sounded kind of dick-ish." He cleared his throat. "So...what did you want to talk about exactly? I-I know you mentioned we have a lot of baggage to get through..."
"Yeah, about that..." She paused, twirling a few strands of hair around her index finger. "I—umm..." She paused, trying hard to come up with a way to say what she wanted to say without making things too awkward or uncomfortable. Finally, she took a deep breath and blurted out, "How do you feel?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, about this. All of this," she explained, blushing. "About me and Sidney and you."
"Is awkward an option?"
"Yes, but is there anything else?" She almost smiled. "Anything that makes you sound less like a manly man who doesn't feel anything emotional?"
"I uhh—I-I feel..." He trailed off, and she wondered if he was blushing too. "I feel sorry," he finally stated.
"What for?" she asked, surprised. It wasn't quite the reaction she'd been expecting.
"I'm sorry I tried to kiss you," he continued. "I know I made you uncomfortable, and for that, I apologize."
"But"—here she took a deep breath as she tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear—"did you mean it?"
He paused. "Mean what?" he questioned.
Her face was very red now, and she glanced down at her lap. "Did you mean it when you wanted to kiss me?"
There was no reply for quite some time, and she began to wonder if she'd overstepped a boundary by asking such a direct question. She blinked, wetting her lips before feeling brave enough to ask, "Boomer...? Are you still there?"
"I-I'm sorry; yes, I'm still here," he finally responded, a hoarse and awkward chuckle escaping his throat. "Y-You know what else I feel?"
She shook her head and said, "No, not really..."
"I-I feel nervous," he finished. "I'm scared."
"About what?" she questioned gently.
"I'm afraid of the answer. Because I don't really know the answer. And I'm afraid... I'm afraid you won't like the answer, no matter what it is."
"Oh, Boomer... Don't be. I-I won't be mad."
"It's not your anger I fear," he explained. "It's the fear that you might shun me or judge me or even come to hate me. A-And maybe I do also kind of fear your wrath."
"I won't," she swore.
"I really don't know the real answer," he told her, "but I do really think that"—he paused, hesitating—"that yes, I meant it."
Her eyes widened. "You did...?" she whispered.
"Yes. Bubbles Utonium, I think I really did want to kiss you that day."
Her world began spinning as a thousand questions filled her mind. "So...do you...have a crush on me?" she asked timidly, unsure if she was ready for the response.
"I don't know," he burst out, "and that's the part that scares me. I just—think I really did want to kiss you that day. You're a good person, Bubbles. You're sweet and kind and beautiful, and you'd really be a great girlfriend, because you're already such a good person and friend. I guess I just—"
"Stop, stop," she interrupted, closing her eyes. It was all too much to take in, and his kind words made her feel guilty because she was remembering all the times she wasn't a good person in the past few days.
"I'm sorry," he said simply, his voice shaking a little.
"Don't be," she whispered. She swallowed. "So...do you... Do you still want to kiss me?"
"I-I—" He paused, before saying, "M-Maybe."
"Ohhh my goodness," she mumbled, a little freaked out and panicked, and completely not sure what to do.
"P-Please don't be upset!" he cried.
"I-I'm not upset," she promised, remembering his insecurities about her turning away from him. "I-I'm just not quite sure how to take this yet."
"Y-Yeah, me too. I-I don't even know how I feel about you," he added. He paused. "Wait, I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I'm just—really confused right now..."
"Me too. It's okay." She ran a hand through her hair, reminding herself to breathe. As she gulped in air, she finally said, "I-I don't know what to do."
"I don't either," he agreed, his voice muffled, sounding as if he'd buried his face into something out of sheer embarrassment. "I feel like I just confessed to someone even though I don't know if I have feelings for you. I-I don't think I do...? Ohh, I hope this doesn't mess up our friendship—"
She closed her eyes. The words about not having feelings for her felt like a jab, even though she also felt like she should've been glad that he might not like her that way. "Boomer..."
"Yes?" He stopped rambling, now fully attentive.
"I-I can't do this," she finally blurted out.
Taken aback, he questioned, "Can't...Can't do what?"
"This. All of this." She squeezed her still-closed eyes shut even tighter, trying not to imagine the hurt on his face. "I'm confused, and it scares me."
"I am too, but maybe—maybe if we worked it out together...?"
"No... At least, not yet. I-I feel like that'll only make us more confused." She opened her eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry, Boomer."
"W-Wait! Bubbles, what are you—"
She slammed her eyelids shut again and hung up. She waited ten seconds, where her phone began vibrating, but she didn't answer. When it stopped, she opened her blue eyes and looked up, spotting the mirror across from her bed. The her in the mirror stared back at her, wide-eyed and terrified and probably feeling very, very guilty—just like her.
Why did I do that? She couldn't find an answer. She wasn't exactly sure why she hung up on him, but she knew it made her feel like shit. She'd done it on impulse, but was it really only because she was scared and couldn't confront those fears? Boomer had at least made an effort to take a step forward by saying they could work it out together, while Bubbles had taken a step or two—or twenty—backwards by hanging up on him. She didn't want to have cut him off simply out of fear, because that made her feel even more petty and guilty and horrible. I can't do anything right anymore, she thought, covering her ears with her pillow as her phone vibrated a few more times. She stared at it, watching the device tremble and the screen flash.
When it finally stopped, she took a deep breath and removed the pillow, staring at the phone. She picked it up. Five missed calls, and seven new texts. Well, that was a disaster.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, before repeating it over and over again. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry." She apologized maybe a hundred times, all because she felt so guilty. Everything's a mess, she thought as she drew her knees toward her chest and stared into her mirror. A mess caused by me. She glanced at her phone. "I'm sorry," she whispered one last time, before burying her face in her arms and trying to think of anything but her and Sidney and Boomer.
He'd taken a deep breath and finally felt ready enough to dial the number and call her. He wasn't one to get nervous, but somehow with her, he could feel even his thickest walls trembling.
She picked up almost immediately. "Darkai?" she asked softly.
"Bunny," he breathed. He hadn't heard her voice in so long, it was like unleashing a thousand butterflies all around him, and then enjoying the beauty.
"Where have you been?" Her usually soft-spoken voice held a hint of accusation. "I've been calling you and texting you almost nonstop, but you've never replied—" Her voice was breaking, and immense guilt grabbed ahold of him. "If you don't want to be with me anymore, you could've just said so. I would've—I would've understood."
"Bunny, no! It's not like that. It was never like that." He paused, taking a deep breath. For the first time in forever, Darkai was almost nervous. "I've just been...out, for the past few days."
"Out? Like what, you were on vacation? You were certainly out of reach," she sniffled. He could tell she was on the verge of tears.
"No, I meant I was unconscious—"
"What...?" She sounded frozen now, shocked by the sudden news flash.
"I've only just woken up. My phone was dead so while I got myself fixed up, I was charging it—all so I could talk to you," he explained quietly.
"Are you okay?" she asked, and he could hear the tears in her voice.
"Don't worry about me. Are you—?"
"Darkai, I said, are you okay?"
He paused, remembering Raymond's advice to never shrug off a girl's concern for you. So he said, "Yes. I'm fine. Still a little weak, but I'm okay."
"Thank God," she whispered, and that was when she began crying.
"Bunny, are you alright?" he asked awkwardly, wishing he could reach out and hold her in his arms.
"I-I-I'm fine," she gulped. "I just—I'm so relieved... After all this time, you don't hate me and you're actually still okay..."
"I'm sorry," he whispered back, "for making you think I hate you."
"It's okay, Darkai. I probably should've known better anyway." She sniffed, probably rubbing her eyes and maybe even smiling with relief. At least, he noted, she sounds like she's smiling.
"I could never hate you," he told her truthfully. "And I hope you don't hate me."
"I could never hate you either," she promised, before pausing briefly. "So what happened to you, anyway?" she finally asked.
He closed his eyes. He had known it was coming. He took a deep breath and opened them, saying, "A fight broke out and I was trying to stop it, but got dealt more damage than I was expecting."
"Oh, Darkai..."
"I'm okay now," he promised firmly. "So please don't worry about me. I'm just sorry I couldn't tell you all this sooner, and that I had to make you worry. I'm so sorry, my little Bunny."
"It's okay. I forgive you. Do you need me to come over? I'll be more than happy to patch you up," she told him.
He thought back to the guards at the doors, watching and monitoring everyone who came in and left. Just moments before, Michael had been leading his new friend Cassandra downstairs to say goodbye, and it had taken a lot of convincing and commanding from him to get the guards to let even one guest go. "No, it's okay," he told her. "I've already managed to fix myself up. I'll survive."
"Okay." She seemed to smile faintly as she added, "As long as you'll still be alive by the next time I see you."
"I will," he promised.
"Bye, Darkai," she said softly. "I'm glad to have seen this side of you."
He almost shivered, feeling another wall tremble. He didn't like being so vulnerable, but when he was with her... "Bye, Bunny," he replied, not saying whether or not he was a fan of showing this side of him. "I love you."
"I love you too." Then she hung up, and Darkai finally felt himself relax.
He let himself rest for a few moments before making his way out of his room. Now that he'd gotten that business done, he knew he still had other unfinished business to attend to.
He had to find Ross.
He walked toward the main doors, already planning his mission out in his head. When guards stepped forward to question him, he sent them a death glare and flashed his paper from his earlier "mission". Those two simple actions were enough to send most guards running.
Except one.
Darkai stopped, staring up at the man staring down at him. "Raymond," he said calmly, his voice even.
The brown-haired, brown-eyed man had his arms folded, his hood from his blue cloak down so his face was visible. "I know what you're thinking," he began, "and the answer is no."
"You have no authority over me," Darkai responded, ready to slip past him. He took a step toward him and—
—Raymond grabbed his arm and spun until he was back to his original spot. "I can't let you go," he stated.
Darkai narrowed his eyes. "Is that a challenge?"
"No. It's an order." He raised his chin, this time being his turn to step forward. "You're staying here."
"And how do you plan on stopping me?"
"It's for your own good, Darkai. If you could just step down and—"
"No. I'm not going to 'step down'. You have no right to be commanding me around," he interrupted coldly. "You are not so trustworthy that you hold any authority over me."
Raymond flinched. "I'm doing this for you; please step down or I'll have to take matters into my own hands." He held up a needle. "If you won't return to your room, then I will be using this syringe and—"
"Save it. You're not knocking me unconscious. I can't go back to sleep again." He roundhouse kicked the needle out of the man's hands, and as his leg returned to the ground, he looked up. They stared at each other as the syringe clattered to the ground and rolled away.
Raymond sighed. "I didn't want to do this." He glanced at the security camera hanging from the wall. "The cameras are still down." He turned around, his cloak flowing in the sudden breeze. "Let's go."
"Excuse me," Darkai began, "but what are you doing?"
"You want to confront my brother, right? So let's go," he said simply.
"And what warrants you going with me?"
"Nothing does except me. I'm warranting it because I couldn't do the alternative." Raymond glanced back at him. "Is there a problem?"
"...No." Darkai followed him out the door. "Thank you."
His tense shoulders loosened. "You're welcome," he replied quietly.
The two walked without saying anything for a long while. When they were almost at the cabin though, Raymond glanced back and asked, "Why do you want to do this so bad?"
"My conversation with Bunny made me realize something." Darkai pushed aside a branch from an overgrown bush.
"And what's that?" asked the older man, stepping over a big puddle.
Darkai paused, staring at his reflection in the water. The face of cold determination stared back. "I realized that no matter what, there's always someone out there worrying about you. And I don't want all those who are worried about Ross' safety to stay so worried and afraid."
"...Does that include Vix?" Raymond asked quietly.
"Yes. Yes it does. I don't want to worry anyone any further, whether they're worried about Ross or Vix." Darkai stepped over the puddle. "They all deserve to be relieved of this terrible fear."
"That's very noble of you," he murmured.
"Thank you."
Raymond sighed. "I wish my worries could be relieved too. I'm scared about the future. At this rate, I'm really starting to think my brother's too far gone. I'm afraid I'll never be able to salvage him."
"I think most people thought that after he killed Tyrone," Darkai stated coolly.
Raymond didn't reply, and they trekked on in silence. When they finally reached Damon's cabin, Raymond held his hand up and they both stopped walking. The small wooden house seemed still, the windows being dark and no movement being visible.
"So how do you wish to go about this?" hissed Darkai.
"I'll go out there and—" Raymond took a step toward the cabin, almost getting out of the bush they were hiding in, but Darkai stuck his arm out in front of him.
"No, I'm going in. Damon will go crazy if he sees you." He narrowed his eyes. "You are to act as back-up. Do not enter until I give the signal."
"And what would that be?" he questioned.
"You'll know it when you hear it," he responded. He ran out before Raymond could argue.
"Darkai!" hissed his companion, but he got no response.
The teen flew toward a cracked window and clambered up, slipping in through the hole. He landed with a soft thud on the floor, and he slowly surveyed the room. He was close to a shelf, and lights were flickering nearby in a dark corner. He edged closer to the blinking lights, wondering what was causing them.
"Good boy, V! You did a great job on that test. I'll go get you a treat."
Darkai froze, returning to the safety of the shelf, hiding in the shadows caused by the tall structure. He couldn't really see, but some sort of door opened and Damon came out. He walked to the kitchen, and that was when Darkai dared to peek out.
Another bookshelf nearby had been opened like a door, leading into another room. Darkai darted toward it and slipped inside, before skidding to a stop and trying to adjust to the darkness. It looked like he was in a study, but nothing really stood out to him beyond that. The carpet on the floor looked rumpled though, as if Damon had lifted it and not put it back down properly, but before Darkai could investigate it, he heard a muffled sound.
He made his way toward it carefully, getting ready for anything. He followed the noise until he reached another door, this one a normal white one. He turned the knob and opened the door, revealing a washroom. In the far corner was a figure sitting on the floor, eyes wide and mouth gagged. Their wrists and ankles were bound by rope.
Darkai's eyes widened just slightly. "Ross," he whispered. The bookshelf door slammed shut behind him just then, and he spun around. Damon had entered the room, grinning with hands behind his back.
The man circled the perimeter, his eyes never leaving Darkai. "I see you've found the latest addition to my collection," he exclaimed, the cold smile still plastered on his face.
"Damon," Darkai hissed, bristling. "This is just sick."
"Aww, what? The bound and gagged part? Relax; I don't usually have him tied up like this. It's just that...I knew you were in here, and I needed to lure you in. But I couldn't have it be too easy, so I tied him up."
"You're disgusting."
"That's what they all say," Damon laughed. He strode toward them, causing Darkai to immediately attack.
He threw a punch toward Damon, but the man caught his fist easily. He grinned. "You missed~" Then he twisted the teen's arm, causing Darkai to tense up in pain, although he refused to cry out.
Ross let out a muffled, panicked noise, tears appearing in his wide green eyes. He was scrabbling to sit up straighter, probably wishing desperately that he could help his friend.
"Sorry for worrying you," whispered Darkai to Ross, before slamming his leg into Damon's side.
Letting out a startled cry of pain, Damon stumbled away from his opponent. He crashed into the wall, and when he recovered enough, he looked up with a glare at Darkai. "You'll pay for that!" he hissed, leaping forward.
He held up his arms, trying to block the sudden onslaught of punches being thrown at him. Damon did not let up, hit after hit landing on Darkai. Then he kicked the boy in his stomach, because it was vulnerable. His arms covered his face, but the elbows did not quite reach his stomach. Staggering backwards into the bathroom, Darkai decided it was a good time to call for his back-up. So he opened his mouth and...
He howled.
Damon froze, staring at him, his eye twitching, probably wondering what Darkai was trying to do. Moments later, he spun toward the bookshelf-door as it slammed open and in ran none other than his brother, Raymond. The other man was panting, eyes wide.
Raymond took one look at the scene and let out a screech, leaping for his twin. The two became a rolling ball of teeth and claws, snapping at one another as they threw kicks and punches. Damon managed to get up and smashed his foot into Raymond's side, before slamming the bathroom door shut to trap the teens.
Darkai raced forward and tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He bashed his fists against the white wood, hissing in anger. He couldn't hear the fight, let alone see it.
Ross let out a noise, and his friend turned toward him. He rushed over and began untying him. He ripped the gag off first, allowing Ross to gasp for air as he undid the ropes binding him. "My dad's journal," he rasped. "It's on Damon's desk in the room next to us."
Letting out the smallest noise of frustration, Darkai glanced back at the door. "Well, we're not exactly in any position to retrieve it." He looked at Ross. "Can you stand?"
He nodded, before trying to get up on wobbly legs. He stumbled and almost fell, but Darkai managed to catch him. As he began walking toward the door shakily (which only took a few steps), he mumbled out, "I've been tied up for probably over an hour now. Damon figured someone—most likely you—would come and try to find me. He just didn't know when."
"And he didn't do this before?"
Ross shook his head. "He was...okay. He was definitely insane, but he let me be. I read him stories from Dad's journal," he choked out.
"Shhh, don't speak. I don't know if I could believe any of what you're saying even if you kept talking, so save your voice," Darkai remarked.
Ross gave him a look, before smiling slightly. "Thanks for saving me," he whispered.
"It's nothing," he responded, although it actually was a pretty big something—because the chances of them dying were quite high. He let go of Ross and let his friend lean against the wall while he tried to figure out how to open the bathroom door. "He must've jammed a chair underneath the doorknob or something. It won't budge." Growling, he let out another howl.
"I'm on it!" the muffled voice on the other end called back. But then a couple more fighting noises sounded, and no one came.
"Raymond can't get close," Darkai muttered. "Damon's good defense."
Ross nodded. "I don't think he wants me to go."
"No shit." Darkai wasn't usually sarcastic, but he was feeling quite done with the situation they were stuck in. He hated missing the action; not because he was like DJ and craved the fight, but because he hated being useless and being what one would classify as a damsel-in-distress while someone else put their life on the line for him.
"I'm serious. I mean it as in, he's lonely. He doesn't remember the past and wants company," Ross continued.
"He's also fucked-up in the head."
"I know. I'm not saying he's not fucked-up. I'm just explaining why he's being so possessive."
"You mean besides the fact he probably wants to torture you?"
Ross glowered at him. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with the real Darkai?"
His friend sighed, finally letting go of the doorknob. "I'm just saying that there's no reason to pity Damon."
He turned away. "I know," he said quietly.
The two didn't comment on the conversation any more, and soon there was a smashing sound. Then the doorknob jiggled and the door was thrown open. Raymond poked his head in. "Come on out, you guys!"
Darkai stepped outside and saw that Raymond had Damon pinned down on the ground with a lock. His twin was fighting back, hissing and spitting, irises like slits. The chair that had been blocking the door was knocked aside on the floor nearby.
When Damon saw Ross stumble out of the washroom, he went into a rage. Throwing his brother off of himself, he got up and tackled both Raymond and Darkai into the wall, his hands around their necks. "You fuckers are not going to take him away from me," he spat, his grip tightening. Raymond let out a choked noise while Darkai grimaced. "He's mine now, just like the others," he continued.
"Let them go," Ross stated from behind Damon, his voice still shaky from underuse.
Damon's head snapped toward the boy. "What was that?" he hissed.
"I'm going, Damon. And you can't stop me. I'm going home." Ross held up his father's journal. "And so is the rest of your past."
"No!" the man shrieked. "You're mine now!" He slammed his victims into the wall one last time, before dropping them and dashing toward Ross. He shoved the boy down onto the floor and leaned closer, growling into his face, "You're not leaving, little one, and you can't take that journal with you."
"We don't belong to you," Ross rasped, struggling against the man's hold.
His grip tightened. "Yes, you do. You do now." His eyes narrowed at the journal. "And I want to learn the rest of my history—"
"Get off of him," Darkai spat, struggling upwards.
Damon glanced at him. "Fuck off, you brat. I'm not in the mood for—"
Darkai smashed his foot into the man's face, causing his grip on Ross to loosen. As the boy scrambled away from him, Damon let out a bloodcurdling scream of pure rage.
"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU TOUCH ME!?" he shrieked, holding his face. A bruise was blossoming on his cheek. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU!" He staggered upwards, eyes blazing and shoulders heaving.
Darkai shoved Ross behind him and gazed up at the man who was about to try and kill him. For once in his life, he was almost scared.
Raymond let out a howl, racing forward and tackling his brother to the ground. As the two struggled on the floor, he looked up at the two boys. "RUN!" he gasped, just before Damon hit him in the face and threw him off.
Groaning, Raymond stumbled into the bed in the room, rubbing his jaw. Damon stood up and smiled cruelly. "Give me the boy," he said to Darkai.
"No," he responded. He looked at Raymond. "And we're not leaving him."
"Fine." Damon turned so that he was facing his brother again. "Then leave with his dead body."
"What are you going to do?" gasped Raymond.
"What I've been waiting to do for a long time," hissed his twin, beginning to pummel him. "I fucking hate you, you piece of shit. You were always the inferior brother, and yet you didn't die in that fire like you were fucking supposed to. No, instead you had to come back and waltz into my life again as if you were some fucking ghost trying to haunt me. How has that worked out for you, you little shit? Still think you're the better brother?" He leaned in closer and grinned, grabbing a fistful of Raymond's hair. "But let's be honest; you're not better than me at all, are you, dear brother?"
"Leave him alone!" Darkai snapped, shoving Damon off.
"You stay out of this! This is family business between the two of us," he spat, standing up. He grabbed a shard of glass from the floor, stalking toward Darkai and holding it up. "Or else I'm going to have to cut you up."
"Darkai, no!" gasped Ross. He dove forward, knocking Damon to the ground.
"You little shit!" the man screeched. "How dare you fight back!?"
"You're not hurting my friends!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. "I don't care what shit you've gone through, Damon—nothing can justify the shit you've done now."
"Fine." Damon narrowed his eyes. "Be that way." And that's when he thrust his arm forward, driving the glass shard into Ross' chest.
The boy gasped, eyes growing wide as his irises shrank and he clutched his now bleeding side. Tears still flowing down his face, he whispered, "Why can't you stop this madness?" before he fell to the ground, growing unconscious.
Damon scrabbled backwards, eyes narrowed and hardened. "Because the world won't stop its madness first," he whispered back.
"ROSS!" screamed Darkai, scrambling toward his friend. He glared up at Damon. "You're going to pay for this!" he spat.
"Just try me," the man responded coldly, standing up. "He's not going with you." He reached out to grab Ross.
Raymond jumped up and threw himself at his brother, before grabbing a gun that was lying on the shelf beside them and pointing it at his opponent's head.
"Do it, brother!" shrieked Damon. "Shoot me!" He grabbed the gun and yanked it closer to his head. "Pull the trigger and end this!"
Tears were appearing in Raymond's eyes and his hands were shaking. "I don't want to kill you," he whispered. "Why does it have to be this way?"
"Because the world screwed me over, dear brother. Because I've lost everything."
"And so have I!" cried Raymond. "But I've never done what you've done! How could you do any of the things you've done and not feel remorse?"
Damon laughed. "Oh, that's rich! You really think you're not as guilty as I am of crimes?" When his brother hesitated, he leaned in closer and smirked. "They don't know, do they? About our little secret?"
Raymond glanced at Darkai and Ross, and the boy who was still awake was watching with wide, confused eyes. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he told his twin, the tears streaming down his face now.
"Oh, don't worry, baby brother—your secret's safe with me. After all, it's my secret too, and I've accepted full responsibility for it." Damon began laughing hysterically. "They'll never know, and they'll never hate you, and they'll never cast you away!"
"SHUT UP!" Raymond screamed, slamming his eyes shut. He smashed the butt of the gun into his brother's head, causing the man to fall to the floor, unconscious. He watched Damon crumple, the tears still falling from his eyes. "You've become a monster, brother. But I could never kill you," he whispered brokenly.
Darkai gazed at the two brothers who looked so alike, recalling Raymond's words from their earlier conversation: "Everyone is a coward every once in awhile."* He supposed it really was true. While he still thought Damon deserved to die, he couldn't imagine having to kill his own friend. He would've chosen to back out as well.
"Let's go," sobbed Raymond, looking at the boy.
"Do you want me to finish it?" asked Darkai quietly. He had done his fair share of ending the job.
"No, please... He's still my brother." He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. "I-I can't let you do it when I know it's going to happen, even if it's...happening ten thousand miles away from me. I just...can't."
"I understand." He didn't push the matter. Truth was, he didn't really want to end Damon just yet. Not because he forgave him any more for all that he'd done (in fact, he felt even angrier at the man now that this was all over), he just didn't have the energy for killing someone and dealing with the knowledge that he'd been responsible. "Let's go home."
Raymond looked surprised—maybe at the fact that Darkai was letting Damon live, or maybe at the fact that he'd just referred to Michael's home as Raymond's home too. Either way, the man smiled slightly and stood up.
Damon's hand flew up as he tried to grab his brother's leg, but the man and his companion were already leaving, carrying Ross. When they were out the door, Damon's arm fell to the floor and he let out a barely conscious growl of frustration.
Raymond glanced back only once, remembering things from his past—but they hurt too much to recall, so he sighed and looked away, shutting the door behind him.
As for Damon, the world was blurry from both pain and anger, and he felt like stabbing someone for what had just happened. This isn't over, he thought, his mind filled with clouds of rage. THIS ISN'T OVER. Then he closed his eyes and let himself be lulled into darkness as heartbreaking, anger-inducing memories filled his head.
"He's the most beautiful boy I've ever laid eyes on," she breathed, playing around with the young boy's hands.
"Hey, what about me?" Her partner smirked as he leaned in closer, nuzzling into her neck and making her giggle.
"Oh, stop it, Tyrone. You know where you stand in my heart."
He paused, also smiling. "I know. But I just hate the thought of having any competition for you," he teased.
"Oh, please. You two are both my favourite boys and that's that," she said firmly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers together.
He smiled and breathed in her flowery scent. "As long as I'm one of your favourites, I guess I'm happy."
"You are such a tease, Tyrone," she giggled.
Just then, the door opened and three people walked in. "Hey, brother; here are your keys," a voice called as one of the newcomers tossed Tyrone a set of keys.
"Hello to you too, Shamus. It would've been just as fine if you had knocked. What if Sylvie and I were in the middle of something?"
The largest man out of the three grunted. "Like what? Sex?"
Tyrone glanced at Sylvie, whose face had flushed red. He coughed. "Straightforward as ever, Danes."
"Well, you've already done it once." Danes nodded at the two's son, who was playing around with some building blocks on the floor.
Tyrone's own face turned red this time.
Luckily for him, the third man, a man with brown hair, went ahead and picked up his son. "Why, hello there, Rossi boy! How have you been?" He grinned and held the boy up with both of his arms and swung him downwards and all around.
"Wheeeee!" the child laughed.
"Oh, I do hope you won't drop him," Sylvie fretted, watching with wide eyes.
He glanced at her and for a brief second it was as though his mind had blanked as he met her eyes. He coughed and quickly recovered, tucking the boy into the crook of his arm. "He'll be fine. I'm careful, and he likes playing with me. Isn't that right, Ross?" He glanced down at the baby he was cradling, who giggled and poked him in the nose.
Tyrone watched with a warm happiness. "You're so good with children, Damon."
His best friend looked up. "You know, honestly—I really do wish I was a father. Which is why I've decided to treat Ross like my own son! You guys did name me godfather, after all."
"That's true," laughed Tyrone. "And you've been a brilliant godfather. So brilliant I'm getting worried you're going to spoil the poor boy!"
"Whatever makes you say that?" Damon smirked back.
Shamus rolled his eyes, smiling. "I may bring a lot of presents for Ross, but you, Damon, take it to the next level. Just look at what he got him this time!"
"Hey, it was supposed to be a surprise!" protested Damon.
"What did you get him?" Sylvie asked, smiling.
He smiled back, looking almost sad for a brief moment before turning away toward the door. "I got him this giant stuffed unicorn because I saw it and just thought of Ross and I knew I had to get it..."
Danes snorted. "You should be buying him boy toys, Damon."
"Oh, come now, Danes! Ross can love whatever he wants to." Sylvie stood up and followed Damon away. "Gender stereotypes are in the past!"
"Exactly!" agreed Damon as he held the door open.
Danes shrugged and walked out. Tyrone was about to follow, but Shamus stopped him. "Wait, Ty," he said, "I need to talk to you."
"Whatever about?" He frowned and stared at his curly, long-haired brother.
"You guys coming?" Damon called.
"In a bit!" Shamus replied. "Go on without us!" As their friend shrugged and walked out, Shamus turned to his brother. "It's about Damon."
"What about him?" He furrowed his brow.
"Tyrone... You see the way he looks at Sylvie, don't you? I'm afraid he hasn't completely moved on yet," Shamus began.
Tyrone blinked. "Yes, but—"
"I know how he feels. It hurts him to see you two together. But he's been so supportive."
"What about you, my brother?"
Shamus blushed. "I-I've moved on."
"And yet you're still not married," Tyrone teased lightly.
"Focus, Ty! Neither is Damon—he clearly still cares for her somewhat. I just want to warn you to be careful—"
"Oh, come on Shamus. Don't you trust your own best friend?"
"Of course I do, I just—"
"You're always so serious."
"Tyrone, listen to me! I'm just telling you to be cautious. I don't think Damon will do anything, but you could at least acknowledge that he's hurting—"
Tyrone frowned, casting his eyes downward. "...I know."
"What?"
"I know how much it hurts him and I hate to do this to him, but I-I love Sylvie, and she loves me too. I don't want to give her up. And he's such a supportive friend... If anyone else had Sylvie, I don't know if I could stand it like he does." He paused. "And you, my brother. But you two have done such a good job of supporting me and moving on and being amazing people. I trust you guys. Don't you trust Damon?"
Shamus' face turned red. "I-I told you, I've moved on. And of course I trust Damon." He sighed. "He's the most noble person I know."
"And there you have it, brother. There's no reason to doubt him or you. Don't worry about it," Tyrone said reassuringly. "Now, let's go out and—"
"SYLVIE!"
Tyrone spun around and raced toward the door, with Shamus not far behind. They could see Damon's car. The trunk was open, and Danes was carrying the giant stuffed unicorn Damon had mentioned. The latter was helping Sylvie up, who had collapsed onto the ground. Her face was flushed and she was coughing violently.
"Sylvie," gasped Tyrone, eyes wide.
Streaks of blood now splattered the driveway. Red liquid ran down her hands, which were covering her mouth. She looked like she was in pain, hacking and red-faced and breathing heavily and walking unsteadily.
"Get in the car!" Damon ordered. "We're taking her to the hospital."
Tyrone rushed into the car, hopping into the backseat with his wife. "Are you okay, dear?"
"I-I'm fine," she coughed weakly. "Watch the baby, please!" she called to Danes and Shamus.
Danes was still holding the unicorn. Shamus looked ready to protest, but then he nodded and backed off. Damon gave them a nod and started the car before driving away at top speed.
Shamus watched them go, his heart pounding. Please be okay... Thank God Damon was quick enough to gather his wits and help Sylvie. Tyrone's emotions would've spiralled out of control without Damon's guidance.
...I'm sorry for doubting you, Damon. You really are one of the most noble people I know. I guess I was just doubting myself.
"You look so much like your mother." His hand touched the boy's face, caressing the cheek. The man's eyes softened. "You're just as beautiful as her."
He blinked, wondering why his father looked so sad. "Is Mommy going to be okay?" he asked, crawling into the man's lap.
His dad smiled slightly, a sad smile, and wrapped his arms around his son. He whispered back, "She'll be fine. Your mother is a strong woman."
He nodded, leaning against his father's chest. He blinked, trying to stay awake despite the fact that sleepiness was curling itself around him, making his eyelids feel heavy. His father was humming softly, gently rocking him, and the young boy began drifting off to sleep...
...Until he heard a crunching sound.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that everything was dark, and something wet covered his body. He waited until his eyes adjusted and then they widened in horror as tears began leaking down his face. Splattered on his hand was blood.
He turned shakily toward the place where his father should've been sitting, providing warmth and comfort. However, it was a silhouette that sat there instead, and when he looked closely, he could see the knife wound in the body. It felt cold against his skin, except for the blood, which was sticky and warm. The eyes were lifeless and blank. The wound in his chest was producing so much blood—too much for it to have been normal. It couldn'thave caused so much blood to pour out—it just couldn't—it was just one wound!
He slammed his eyes shut, trembling and crying. He didn't want to see any more. The dead man beside him was his father.
He screamed, and the world shattered.
"Ross! Ross, I'm here."
He stopped whimpering and listened, his heart pounding. The voice was female, but it sounded fuzzy and far away, as if he were drowning—which didn't feel too far off.
"Are you okay?" the voice asked, cutting through the thick darkness inside his head.
He tried to reply, but he couldn't. He felt like he was being suspended between awake and asleep, barely able to focus on her words as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
When her words came again, they were spilling out like a waterfall, but he was too busy drowning to hear everything.
"...Darkai found you... I wish I had been there... Would've stopped him myself... Can't believe it... What did he do to you...? I hope you aren't hurting too bad..."
The words came and went, surrounding him like ocean waves, but he couldn't make anything out. He wanted desperately to grab onto a word, grab on and hold it like it were a lifeline—a lifesaver that could pull him to shore. He could barely focus, but he was still trying to untangle each word from the other, despite the sleepiness mucking his brain. She was speaking so much, it was hard to do anything that could—
"I miss you."
He paused, the words catching his attention. She misses me? he wondered fuzzily. His eyes widened. She misses me! Realizing the importance of the words, he got ready to pounce—
—But by then it was too late. She'd already moved on: "Oh, Ross... I hope you wake up soon... Danes is so angry... Everything is horrible right now... The war is escalating..."
He tried to grab words, but they were too far out of reach. He was drowning fast, unable to cry out for help, and he was desperately trying to stay afloat. Help me! he pleaded silently, wishing he could speak to her.
"...Everyone's so scared... I'm ready to kill the damn bastard... What did he do to you...? He's a monster..."
Who is she talking about? he wondered, still trying to swim to the shore.
"I fucking hate Damon. He's a filthy beast, and I'm going to get revenge on him for what he's done to you"—a pause—"I-I mean, what he's done to everyone."
Damon. The name stabbed through him like a knife as his eyes grew big and he gasped, choking on the suddenly filthy water. Memories were flooding back, and the wave knocked him even further away from consciousness. Her voice began fading out. Damon, his mind screamed.He did this to me!
Clawing at the tsunami pushing against him, he tried to swim toward her, but he couldn't do it. Help me! HELP ME! he tried to cry out. Help me, Sydney!
As soon as the name came out of his thoughts, everything stopped. He stopped trying to swim against the current, and he stopped thinking of waking up. Now all his brain could focus on was the girl he'd just identified. The girl who was speaking to him, and the girl who'd broken his heart.
Now everything hurt. He couldn't do it. He couldn't fight this torrent of pain anymore; it was intensifying so fast, refusing to let him go.
He curled up on himself, his head hurting and throbbing, as the waves now pushed him toward a black hole. He let it swallow himself up, maybe unconsciously wishing to be fully unconscious so he wouldn't have to face the sharp pain now shooting through his heart anymore.
And thus he sank away from shore, away from her, and away from being awake and safe.
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 64!)
ME: Now do you all know what I meant when I said this was about "drifting"?
BUTCH: Oh, you meant the boring emotional shit.
ME: No, I meant the development of emotionally tense yet intriguing relationships between the characters.
BUTCH: Yeah, that's what I said.
BUTTERCUP: You're an idiot, Butch.
BUTCH: Whaaaat? I wasn't even in this chapter! I think it's fair to not kiss up to it.
BRICK: I wasn't in this chapter either and that's a flaw within itself.
ME: You just want to spend time with Blossom, don't you?
BRICK: *face reddens* I do not!
ME: Anyway, listening to the Ruffs criticize my story is kind of sad. So let's just move on! Leave a review if you so like~
BOOMER: I like your story, Kuku.
ME: Aww, thanks! See, Boomer knows where it's at.
BRICK: *rolls eyes* Whatever. Leave that review or something.