"Probably best if you don't have a predator for a partner," Nick spat, shoving the folded piece of paper at Judy. The fox turned and started towards the door.
"N-Nick, I..." the bunny stammered from behind.
He passed through the cloud of reporters, stopping for a moment at the exit as something shined from his chest: his badge sticker. The one Judy had given to Finnick, and by extension, him.
"Madam, please. I have a fake badge."
It was more fake than ever now; he wouldn't need it anymore. Nick tore the golden sticker off and crumpled it into a ball, tossing it to the floor. The fox could feel his eyes stinging, threatening to tear up at any minute. He shoved the door open.
"Nick!" Judy shouted. "Nick, wait!"
Cameras flashed and clicked as the shouting of reporters demanding information flooded the lobby, drowning out whatever she was saying. He didn't care. He didn't want to hear anything she had to say. The noise muted as the door closed with a quiet thud.
Nick turned and walked down the street to...somewhere. He didn't know where to go now. Or what to do. Did he just...go back to hustling Pawpsicles? It was the only thing he could think to do now.
Something touched his cheek, rolling around to underneath his chin; he reached up and wiped a stream of tears from his face. Crying, his burning eyes told him. He was crying? Nicolas Piberius Wilde didn't cry. Nobody hurt him enough for that.
And yet they wouldn't stop, the tears, nor the choking feeling in his throat, nor the empty, sickening pit in his gut that had developed over the past few minutes. His nose ran, and he sniffled, quickly wiping it.
"Look at you," Nick thought to himself. "Walking around and sobbing like a moron in front of everyone. Suck it up."
And he tried. He really did try. But no matter what he tried to think of to take his mind off of it, he kept going back to the things Judy said.
"Biological component," he mumbled to himself angrily. He was surprised at how shaky his voice sounded. Was his lip quivering?
Nick took in a deep breath, slowing to a stop on the empty sidewalk, and held his head. What was wrong with him? Lots of people had hurt him for being a predator; he didn't cry over it. Not anymore.
But Judy wasn't "people." Judy was...his friend. The only person he could really call one. The only person he'd opened up to in a long time. He'd taken off the layers of armor he'd piled up and let her see him for what he really was…
And she stabbed him in the heart.
Typical Nick. You let them too close and they always hurt you.
He found himself walking forward again, still with no destination. The tears still wouldn't stop. Where did he go? Who did he go to? The first person that came to mind was his mother.
"Aw, gonna go cry to your mommy?" a child's voice mocked him from some dark, repressed corner of his mind.
No. He wasn't.
Nick stopped as he heard something to the side. Rap music? A large, orange-red van sat in an alleyway, ground-rumbling bass and profanity-filled lyrics spilling through the walls of the vehicle. He wondered for a moment if it's owner was inside.
Finnick. He was considering confiding in Finnick. What was he, desperate? And yet here he was, knocking on the metal back door. Maybe he was desperate.
The music stopped almost immediately, leaving the street in silence. A chuk came from inside, before the door swung open violently.
"I already paid you, Mikey!" a fennec fox bellowed in a disturbingly low voice, wielding a baseball bat almost as long as he was tall. Finnick stopped and glared up at Nick before his face softened. "Oh. Whaddaya want, Nick?" he sighed, lowering his weapon. "Haven't seen you in days, man."
Nick sniffed and glanced away. "I, uh...just wanted to say hi, that's all," he lied. He lost the nerve to actually tell him why he came. He didn't know why he had anyways; they'd never been very close.
Fin squinted. "Man, you okay? You look like crap."
The fox smirked down at him. "Me? Nah, I'm fine."
The fennec pursed his lips. "Your eyes are all red and crap, man. Nick...you been cryi-"
"No," Nick answered before the smaller fox had even finished what he was saying. He blushed as he realized his blunder.
Finnick furrowed his brow, setting his bat over his shoulder. "What, they outta Jumbo Pops?"
The fox shook his head, chuckling. "No, Fin."
"You kill somebody?"
Another shake "no."
The fox's eyes went wide. "Is it...y-your mom?"
Nick snorted and shook his head again, turning away as more tears started to water in his eyes. "No, no, she's fine, Fin." He rubbed one eye and started away, not looking back. "Look, I'm fine, alright? See you later."
A small hand caught his tie, jerking him to a stop.
"It was that girl, wasn't it?" Finnick asked quietly.
Nick's face lowered. No answer.
His tie was pulled harder, forcing him to turn back around, red eyes and tears and all. Finnick frowned, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "Come on."
Nick sighed; there was no way out of this. The fox slowly crouched into the van behind Fin, clambering into the passenger seat with a deep breath; Finnick propped his feet up on the steering wheel and sat back.
The two sat in silence for a bit, save for Nick's occasional sniffle.
"She dump you?" Finnick asked after a while.
Nick snorted, shaking his head, before sniffing and holding back tears. "Nah," he choked out. "We weren't like that."
Finnick glanced over. "Just friends." He continued when Nick nodded. "What she do?"
The fox breathed, propping his face up on one palm. "Ya' know the whole 'savage animals' deal going on?"
Fin nodded. "Heard on the radio."
Nick was a little surprised the fennec listened to anything other than terrible rap music. "Yeah. Well...she said it was about our 'biology.'" He noticed Fin's lost expression. "And that basically means it's something built into predators that we can just snap sometime."
Finnick's dazed look was replaced with a shocked one. "Wait, wait...so you mean I can go crazy and crap like those guys?"
Nick shook his head. "I don't think so. It sounds like bull to me. Anyways...yeah, she pulled fox repellent on me, cause I wanted to see if she was scared of me..." His voice cracked a little at the end.
"She did what?" the fennec glared. "Man, that's screwed up."
Nick didn't argue. It was, wasn't it? They went from enemies to best friends and right back to enemies within a few days.
"I never liked her, y'know?" Fin shook his head, vexed expression on his face. "Knew she was trouble, man, right from the start!"
"Fin...stop..." Nick sighed. Yelling about her wasn't helping him feel any better.
"What?" the fennec raised an eyebrow.
The fox pushed the door open, stepping down.
"Hey, where you goin'?" Finnick questioned.
Nick opened his mouth to answer, but shrugged instead with another sigh. "I don't know, Fin. See ya."
He shut the door and continued to wander down the sidewalk.
"Aw, gonna go cry to your mommy?" the voice repeated.
Yes.
Yes I am.
/
Nick just stood on the sidewalk and stared up at the yellow house. It was always smaller than he remembered it being. Then again, he'd spent a majority of his time in it being half his current height. Had there always been this many trees around? He was fairly sure there was only the one.
He was stalling. Why was he so nervous to see her? The fox took a deep breath and slowly started up the white-painted wooden stairs, stopping on the porch. He stared at the white door for a moment, fist up and ready to knock.
Any time.
Any day now.
This year, preferably.
Just knock on the danged door.
Nick forced his knuckles to the wood a few times, making a low knocking noise, then quickly retracted, crossing his hands behind his back. Then he waited. It might have been the anxiousness, but it seemed to take a full five minutes before there was a muffled crunching noise from the lock, and the door swung open gently.
A woman fox slightly shorter than him looked out. Her face was slightly wrinkled from time, but her eyes had never lost that bright blue gleam.
Her face glowed in a delighted smile. "Nick!" his mother exclaimed, quickly pulling him into a tight full-on hug.
For once, Nick didn't flinch or push it away, but hugged back. "Hey, Mom," he smiled. He felt a little better already.
"Get in here, you sly fox," she giggled, pulling him by the arm into her house.
Nick grinned and looked around at the place, a little stunned at how little it had changed. The green-yellow floral wallpaper, the little table under the mirror with the vase. He sighed.
"I haven't seen you in months," his mother said, shutting the door behind her. "What have you been up to?"
Nick cringed. He never knew how to answer this question. "Oh, you know. Climbing ladders, that sort of thing."
The woman stopped in front of him, tilting her head down and looking up at him. "Niiick...I know when you're lying. Have you been selling those popsicles again?"
The fox sighed. She was like a lie detector. "Pawpsicles, Mom."
His mother made a click with her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Did you get caught?"
Nick shook his head. "No, never."
"Good, don't. Or else I'll come down there and bust you myself."
The fox smirked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you give me that look, Nicolas!" she glared at him, walking into the kitchen. "I don't know where you picked that look up, but it wasn't me!"
Nick rolled his eyes when she wasn't looking and glanced up at the photos hanging along the wall, in particular the one showing what looked like a bulkier version of himself. Emerald eyes just like his own stared right back. The fox stared at the photograph of his dad for a moment before a call from his mother interrupted his thoughts.
"You want some blueberry bread?"
His eyebrows went up. "Blueberry bread?" he repeated, entering the small kitchen.
His mother was placing a loaf of yellow and blue bread up on a cutting board from the oven. "Mm-hm. Marcy down the street gave me a recipe and now I can't get enough!"
"Yes, please," Nick grinned, seating himself at the quaint, green-painted round table they'd spent so many meals at when he was a child. He noticed that the green-bean-colored paint had started to chip, and checking at the edge, he couldn't help but snicker; there was still a divot where Dad had nearly knocked himself out standing up after fixing a chair leg.
His observation was cut short as something slid right under his nose: a plated slice of blueberry bread, complete with strawberry syrup drizzled over it. Nick looked up as his mother seated herself across from him, a similar dish in front of her. "Blueberry was always your favorite," she reminisced, taking her fork. "Your father came home from the bank with some suckers, and you'd aaalways snatch up that blue one."
Nick smirked, taking a bit of his slice and popping it into his mouth. Warmth and sweet flavors swept over his tongue. "Mm...Marcy's got good taste," he smiled.
His mother smiled back and ate some of hers. "I thought of the idea to put some lemon in it." She looked sternly at him, gesturing with a fork. "Don't you go telling Heather Meadows! That woman steals all my recipes."
The fox raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You're still mad at Ms. Heather?" He remembered back to when he was a kit, hearing her rave on about the cow who took credit for the snacks at the community meetings, despite his mother having made most of the food. "I figured you'd gotten over her by now."
The woman sighed and took another bite of her bread. "Well, I suppose I'm not the only one," she said.
Nick stopped with a piece halfway up to his mouth. "What do you mean?"
His mother gave him a knowing look. "I don't know, what do I mean?"
The fox stared for a moment. He could've sworn she could read his mind. "I...don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, loosely setting the bite of bread in his mouth.
The woman snorted amusedly. "Oh don't you? Don't try that with me, Nick. I know you didn't come here just for the sake of seeing your dear old mother."
Nick glanced sidelongedly at her, a feeling of vulnerability hitting him that he couldn't push down like usual.
"You didn't come with anything to say - in fact you've hardly said a word. You're usually so talkative. I can hardly get you to shut up." The woman looked concerned. "So, what did you come to say that you don't want to?"
The fox smirked at the table, picking his bread to crumbs. She always knew something was wrong. Maybe that was why he came. He wanted her to open him up like this. "It's, uh..." he started. "I-I have this...friend. Well, not a friend friend. I mean, more of an acquaintance, real-"
His mother's expression - eyes half-lidded, eyebrows raised - told him she wasn't buying it.
Nick stopped and looked back to his plate. The treat seemed less appetizing with the returning pit in his gut. "She was a good friend. Probably my best friend," he admitted. "I don't think I've ever met someone who I got along with so fast. I-It's hard, y'know...fox and...stuff..." He couldn't stop, it was like his mind was a leaking faucet out his mouth. "A-And...she said something that...it hurt. And she didn't even care. She said it right to my face and didn't care." His eyes were starting to water, and he fought with all his will to keep the tears back. Nick couldn't make himself look up at her. "And I'm so stupid, to think that anyone would ever really like me and really want to-"
A gentle hand touched his wrist; his words caught in his throat.
"It's alright, Nick," she said softly. "You can tell me."
"Nick, I'm glad you told me," her voice echoed.
Something in him switched off. The fox jerked his hand back from his mother and shot up out of his chair. "No, no, it's fine," he said quickly, wiping tears from his eyes. "Thanks for the bread, Mom, I really-"
"Nick, sit down," she said calmly.
"I can't, Mom, I've gotta go." He backed out of the kitchen - bumping into the doorway - and into the hall. "But some other time ma-"
"Nick, please," she said, standing and following him.
Nick's breath caught in his throat. "What are you doing?" he thought.
"I-I've...gotta..."
She took his arm and pulled him to a stop. "Nick, stop! This isn't like you!"
"Nick, stop it! You're not like them."
"Oh, there's a them now?"
He winced as if the words had physically hurt him. Tears came back to his eyes.
"Nick, what's wrong?" the fox begged.
"I-I, I just..." he tried to answer. He wanted to run. He wanted to tear his arm away from her and run out the door. His lip quivered as he stared into his mother's eyes, the blue rings tearing his emotional barriers to ribbons. "I..." He couldn't cry. If he cried, he wouldn't be able to stop.
In the room, there was silence except for Nick's heavy breathing, but his mind was rushing with a flood of voices he'd hoped to never hear again.
"Look at him run!"
"What a baby!"
"Aw, is he gonna cry?"
A sob escaped him. The fox stumbled back a little and ran right into a wall. He couldn't hold himself up anymore, so he just slid until he sat on the floor. "I'm s-sorry…" he gasped, clutching his head with his free hand.
His mother slowly crouched down as well, taking his hand in both of hers. "You're okay, baby," she soothed. "What did she do?"
He breathed until he could manage to speak. "I thought she trusted me, b-but...she's just like the others..."
His mother pursed her lips. "What others?"
Nick blushed and looked away. "Everyone, mom. Everyone just looks at me and they just think I'm up to no good. Even her."
The older fox sighed. "What did she say?"
"It's what she didn't say. I asked her if she thought I'd hurt her, and..." He let out what was intended to be an indignant snort, but it came out a runny sniffling cough. "Guess the answer was 'yes,' huh?"
His mother tilted her head down and gave him that look. "So what did you do?"
"I left. I just walked off and-"
"No," she interrupted. "What did you do to start it?"
The fox glanced up with reddened eyes. "Wh-What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nicolas Wilde," the woman started, looking at him sternly, "you have had many bad people in your life. But the one who treats you the worst is yourself."
Nick looked away.
"Nobody could get to know you and love you, only to leave you in the dust. So tell me what you did to screw it up for yourself."
The fox took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out. "I got...offended. Because I remembered the people who hated me. I thought she was acting like them." He shook his head. "I-I guess she didn't mean it. But...it still hurt that she didn't know that she hurt me." Nick stayed silent for a bit. "She acted like she was right...maybe she was, I don't know." A light blush came to his face as he glanced to the side at his mother. "I...I did something stupid. I scared her and...well, she got scared."
The woman's gentle hand settled on his head, scratching gently. "You might be your own worst enemy, Nick..." She smiled. "But you're also your own best friend."
She pulled him into a hug, Nick wrapping his own arms over her and letting out a sigh. "I'm such a dumb fox..."
"You're a person, baby. Just like everyone else." The woman let out a chuckle. "You're allotted a few dumb ideas."
Nick smiled back and slowly stood, helping the older fox up. "Well, uh..." He glanced around sheepishly, wiping an eye. "This has been a nice therapy session."
His mother rolled her eyes and started back into the kitchen, wrapping up some bread in a sheet of cooking paper. She came back and handed it to her son. "Have some for the road."
The fox smiled back and hugged the woman once more. "Love ya, Mom. See ya."
He started out the door, heading towards the sidewalk before a call from the woman stopped him.
"Oh, Nick?"
He turned and looked.
"Don't get yourself arrested," she pointed.
"Bye, Mom." Nick smirked and waved, making his way back to downtown.
His mother sighed contentedly and closed the door, turning and wandering over to the table by the mirror. She picked up a framed photo of a younger, excited Nick.
She smiled, setting it back down and walking back to the kitchen with a slow shake of her head. "Sly fox."