"Hm," Humbert crosses his arms and leans back against Brian's rickety gaming chair, which yields with a painful-sounding squeak. "That blows."
"Itreallyblows!" Brian whines, burying his face into his pillow as he kicks his mattress in frustration. "And now classes are cancelled, final exams are probably cancelled too, and probably graduation!"
The penguin taps at his beak rhythmically, absorbing the insane story of blood-filled halls and dead rhinos. "Surely they can't leave the entire senior year hanging like that. There's gotta be a… I dunno, a failsafe."
"I heard they're just gonna give an automatic pass to all seniors. Everyone graduates, even if there won't be a ceremony…"
Humbert's brows raise. "Damn, that's awesome."
"No, it's not!" The pigeon insists. "It takes all the merit out of it! I worked really hard for my grades and now I get the same treatment as the guys who skipped school for half the year!"
His boyfriend doesn't seem impressed, however. "Goody two shoes."
"My two shoes areexcellent, mind you!" Brian rolls over dramatically, lying stomach-up on his bed now in a starfish position. "How did my last year in high school end up like this…"
"Hey, silver lining. Now you can come tomygraduation ceremony!" The other bird strides over to the bed and flops down next to Brian, who turns to the penguin for comfort by pecking at his neck.
"Stop being positive."
"I'd say I can't, but that would be a negative statement." His joke coaxes a laugh from the rock dove. He chuckles along, but soon his face turns calm as he stares into Brian's eyes, searching for something.
"Lame jokes aside… What happened was really messed up, Bri. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I mean…" Brian sighs into Humbert's smooth feathers. "I got off unscathed. Sol, and Hafsa, and Desmond… and… Toma, I guess. They're the ones went through hell."
"Yeah, but this isn't about them right now. Someone died. And yeah, maybe he sucked, but that's still traumatic. And the most fucked up part is this isn't even the first time this has happened! How many deaths does that make it now?"
Brian does some quick mental math. "Four, I think. If you don't count the cult suicides."
"That's an insane thing to say! You realize that, right?"
The pigeon groans. "Yeah."
"All I'm saying is… I'm glad you're finally out of that hellhole. And I'm here for you if you ever wanna talk about all the bullshit you went through."
"Aw…" Brian sighs into Humbert's neck tightening their embrace. "I love you, birdie. But I'm really alright, I promise. I'm a tough cookie."
Humbert pokes at the rock dove's stomach. "You feel pretty soft to me, cookie."
"Oh my god, shut up." His boyfriend laughs.
Suddenly, a shrill voice interrupts. "Brian and Humbert sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
Privacy is very limited in such a tiny apartment, especially with two nosy kids. The two older birds hoist themselves up to a sitting position and exchange amused glances.
"Well, look who learned how to spell!" Brian teases, patting at his lap to beckon Cooper. The squab obliges and clambers on while May settles for tugging at Humbert's arm.
"Spelling's easy! My friend even taught me how to spell a cuss word!" Cooper snickers.
"Why don't you try spelling it in front of your mom?" Humbert suggests.
The kids burst into uproarious laughter at the thought. For some reason, they seem to find everything Humbert says hilarious, much to Brian's dismay. It's a dangerous combo.
"Come play Dancy Time with us!" May begs, crawling every which direction around the couple.
"What, again?" Brian says with exasperation. "We already danced for at least two hours!"
"Well,Idid. You just watched." Humbert corrects.
"We danced the tango one together!"
"Come on!" The squabs plea with increasingly grating tones. "Dancy Time, Dancy Time!"
Just as the two older birds' eardrums began to take irreparable damage, Brian's stepmom peeked an irate head inside the room.
"It's Sleepy Time for you two! Quit bothering Brian and Humbert and go brush your beaks!"
"But, moooom…" They whine in unison.
It takes all but three seconds for Marsha to corral the children out of the room. Once banished, she begins to close the door but stops to gaze at the two leftover birds through the open sliver. "You two should get some shut-eye too. Brian may be free, but you still have school tomorrow, Humbert."
"Of course, m'am. Thanks for saving us!" Humbert smiles his "impress-the-parents" smile, as he so calls it, and it lives up to its name.
"Goodnight, boys."
They chirp out goodnights and Humbert slinks down to his air mattress neatly set up at the foot of Brian's bed.
"I'm not sure whether I'm relieved to be an only child or not." The penguin chuckles as he pulls his duvet over his legs.
"They're extra hyper with you. You enable each other."
"Are you calling me childish?"
"If the shoe fits." Brian snarks. Just as he goes to reach for the lights, the startling sound of a phone vibrating on a hard wooden surface snaps both birds to attention. A phone call? It's not very late, but it's still past calling hours. Brian grabs his smartphone that was resting on his nightstand and turns it over.
"Ah," He immediately sits up. "It's Sol."
"Were you expecting him?"
"No, not at all." The pigeon briskly hops to his feet and opens the door. "I'm gonna take this real quick. Do you want the lights off while I'm gone?"
"Nah, Coop and May are just gonna wake me up when they come in. Go ahead."
With that, the rock dove ducks out of the room and scurries outside the tiny sliding-door balcony, swatting away curious family members who try to catch him. The balcony is only wide enough to stand on, but it's the best chance of privacy in the tiny apartment.
He finally accepts the call and eagerly puts the phone to his head. "Sol! I barely saw you before you left! How are you?"
"I'm fine. Sorry to be calling so late. My sleep schedule has been… sporadic." The caracal's voice rings through the speaker, although tinny.
"It's totally fine! I've been so worried about you!"
Solomon breathes out a chuckle. "You needn't be. I'm just glad you escaped the worst of what happened that day. Are you staying with your parents now?"
"Yep. Humbert's sleeping over tonight, too. If Noah's Arc doesn't open back up, I'll be holed up here until we graduate!"
"…Strange to think about."
"I was just talking about it!" Brian exclaims, but immediately corrects his volume once he notices his voice echoing around the alleyway he overlooks. "I always imagined the both of us up on stage, giving our student council speeches. You'd give an extra one, since you'd be valedictorian, obviously. Then we all throw our caps in the air like in movies."
"Yes, that would've been nice."
The caracal's voice is strangely small through the other side of the receiver, and it makes Brian nervous.
"Well, at least we had prom. And the senior trip." The pigeon tries to assure his friend. "And it's only high school, you know? Our life is just getting started!"
Solomon's voice smiles. "You're taking this rather well."
"Well, I'm just trying to cheer you up. I was pretty upset about everything, but seeing you even more upset just activated my optimism, you know?"
"How do you know I'm more upset than you?"
Brian lets out a lighthearted chuckle. "I think I know you well enough to tell when you're upset." His tone turns more teasing. "You're not as unreadable as you think you are."
The male on the other end stays silent for some time, as if trying to think of a comeback, but ultimately, he settles into an amused sigh. "I almost forget how perceptive you are."
"It's hard to believe I have both beauty and brains."
Solomon hums, before settling into silence once more. His friend allows him time to gather his thoughts.
"I'm not upset that he died," The caracal's words are abrupt, as if he were chastising himself. "In fact, I'm rather glad of it. What he did to you, and Humbert… What he wanted to do to every carnivore in school… I can't forgive him."
Although Solomon can't see, Brian nods solemnly.
"I'm just… disgusted. By the entire situation. I'm disgusted at what he's made me. Someone who cannot mourn a classmate's death."
"I'm not sure I believe that."
"…Why not?"
"It sounds like you're grieving for him. In your own way." The bird replies after some thought. "And it's not just for him. We've all been grieving for ourselves, too."
"I'm not worth grief."
"I'd grieve you." Brian says, quick and honest. "I'd mourn you like crazy."
Through the metallic filter of the receiver, Solomon laughs. "…Is that so?"
"You're still eating meat, right?"
The sudden harsh change in subject stuns the feline. "I-I… yes."
"Have you told Hafsa yet?"
"…No."
"Well, why not?"
"Why are you asking all of a sudden?" The carnivore's tone turns defensive.
"Answer the question, Sol."
He doesn't, instead deflecting once more. "Would you? If you were secretly eating meat, would you tell Humbert?"
"I would."
The swiftness of his answer only seems to unsettle the caracal more. "No, you wouldn't."
"Yes, I would."
"Wouldn't you be scared he'd leave you? Or tell others?"
"I know he wouldn't tell. If he leaves me, that'd be his choice. But I trust he wouldn't. At least not before hearing my side of the story." Brian pauses. "What isyourside of the story?"
"You know my side."
"Say it again, then."
"I'm a bad person, Brian!" The voice on the other line snaps. No one says anything for a moment. All Brian can hear is quiet, shaky breaths from his friend, which are suddenly cut off by a sharp inhale. "I'm a bad person. I'm poison. I'm a coward who hurts others to help myself, and I'm selfish, and weak, and… andangry. And if Hafsa found out, she'd leave me, because she should. And then I'd be alone. And Ican't… be alone. I need her. So all I can do is trick her into believing I'm not as horrible of a person as I really am."
An ache cliches around the pigeon's heart, one that wishes Solomon were right in front of him so he could hug him.
"I don't know if you're a good person, Sol," He finally speaks in a calm tone. "I don't even think good and bad are words that mean anything special. But whatever you are, I still love you. You know that, right?"
A sharp noise replies, possibly a sniffle, possibly just friction of fabric.
"I love you." Brian repeats.
"Enough, already." The demand is stifled and hard to hear.
"You're not alone, Sol. I'm here. So no matter what happens with Hafsa, you'll never be alone. Okay?"
"I…" The feline chokes. "I should let you sleep now. Good night, Brian."
Before the rock dove can reply, the call disconnects, leaving him to sigh into the night air. He wonders if his message got through that thick skull.
"So, how's big boy jail?"
Desmond raises a brow at the panther. Both animals are separated by a thick bullet-proof glass. The segmented metallic cord that connects his handset to Toma's snakes around his crossed leg as he awaits an answer. Beyond the glass pane, Toma smiles sardonically.
"Not much different than juvie," His lips move in total silence as his answer bleeds through the handset's speaker with unpleasant crackles. "Still scary as shit."
"From the looks of it, you haven't been sleeping much."
"I haven't been eating much either. Our cafeteria food ended up spoiling me, I guess… It's hard to go back to prison-grade meals."
Desmond squirms in his uncomfortably hard seat. "Any updates on your legal representation?"
"The state provided me with a lawyer, but between you and me…" Toma frowns at the memory. "He doesn't seem all that invested in my case."
The ram's ear flickers impatiently. "He probably wants to just get this over with. Did he tell you to take a plea deal?"
"I… don't think I can say. Legally."
"Of course not." Desmond huffs.
"It's still… good to see you?" The large feline offers with a shrug. "Pretty lonely in here."
To this, the sheep's sharp demeanor softens. He'd been trying to put on a 'tough-guy' exterior in the hopes of feigning confidence in Toma's case, but in reality, he's just a walking jumble of nerves. He has no idea about legal procedures, much less how to deal with a serious murder allegation. Even his law student brother admitted criminal law is very situational when it comes to subjective parameters like 'bloodlust' and 'appetite' that would account for carnivore-committed crimes. And if the state is leaving Toma out to dry with some apathetic representation… well, they're fucked, to put it mildly. Not that he'd say any of this to the poor panther in front of him.
"Is… Hafsa coming too?" Toma asks hopefully, stroking the handset cord.
"She should be coming in after me. For some reason, she insisted on speaking to you alone."
"That's… not a good sign, right?"
"With Hafsa? Impossible to tell." Desmond rolls his eyes at the mere thought of her. "It'll be the best possible news… or the worst."
"Heeere's hopinggg…" The carnivore cheers weakly, waving a mock fist bump in the air.
"Monteiro and the others say hi," The herbie tries to change the subject to something more pleasant. "They said CHAMP's got your back all the way."
Toma chuckles. "Tell them I say thanks. I'll probably need a couple of them as character witnesses for the trial."
"Don't forget about me."
"How could I…" The panther grips the handset tighter and looks into Desmond's eyes before continuing. "I just wanna say… thanks for everything. From when you stopped Ezekiel messing with me in the cafeteria, to helping me run for VP, to the whole CHAMP ordeal, to now… just thanks. I'm glad I met you."
Desmond's heart weighs heavy in his chest. He might as well be giving his farewells. It's clear Toma thinks that his fate is sealed. I mean… it probably is. Self-defense is still jail time. But before the words he knows won't comfort him leave his mouth, a prison guard shouts from across the room.
"Time's up, sheep!"
Guards on Toma's end of the room also mouth some inaudible words that make Toma's eyes widen in surprise, and with a final hurried "bye" in his receiver, he watches in dismay as Desmond rushed to his feet and escorted out. Before he knows it, the loud metal clang of the visitation room door hits the ram on the way out.
Some paces off, Hafsa's ears perk up as she gets up from her waiting room seat and approaches Desmond.
"How'd it go?"
"I sure hope you have good news to give him."
The serval grimaces, prompting the sheep to mimic her. "No good, huh?"
The door behind them opens again, startling them both. The komodo dragon guard peeks his head out and scowls at the two.
"Back away from the entrance."
They hastily comply, allowing the reptilian guard to reveal the rest of him. "Serval Hafsa, you're up."
She spares a final glance at Desmond with a (hopefully) reassuring smile and follows the sentry inside the visitation room. Once the leaden door slams closed, she nervously approaches the chair the guard points at, and sits down only to be met with the equally astonished face of Toma, separated by the glass pane.
He motions at the handset on her end before picking his up, and once it's held within earshot, begins speaking.
"You actually came."
"Why wouldn't I?" Hafsa answers with admonishing concern as she takes the moment to get a good look at him. Though it's hard to spot eye bags under black fur, it's obvious from his face that he's not well. Unkempt fur, sunken eyes, and overall just looking… miserable. His nylon collar remains faithfully around his neck, occasionally letting off its green flashes of light. The orange jumpsuit he dons is too tight around his chest but too baggy around his sleeves. But the thing she notices almost immediately are his whiskers. Or lack thereof.
"They shaved them off again, huh?" Hafsa all but whispers.
"Uh… Yeah. Since I'm a large carnivore and a repeat offender…" As if on instinct, he smooths out the fur of his muzzle that once had long transparent whiskers peeking through.
"Are you safe?"
Toma lets out a puff of laughter into the receiver. "As safe as I can be. I'm keeping my head down."
Hafsa's pained expression only intensifies as she suddenly shakes her head with a snap. "I just… I just don't get you, Toma."
Toma tilts his head. "Get what?"
"I know you," Her voice is pleading. "At least I think I do. And you're so sweet, and kind, and smart. When I compare myself to you… I don't even come close to how good you are."
"I-I don't—"
"And then, this happens. And I'm ready to believe everything you have to say, and defend you. I would defend if you murdered Ezekiel, Toma."
"Haf—"
"And then you still keep lying to me!" She hisses. "I had to find out from the superintendent about claw marks on his throat? Teeth marks? Do you think the prosecution is just going to ignore that?"
"I don't—"
"If you lost control and—" her voice lowers conspiratorially. "—ate some of him, then you need to tell me, Toma! This isn't going to be like last time where people lie about you and you just sit there and take it! You need to fight back regardless of the truth!"
Toma looks like he's about to have a panic attack. His collar blips green, as if threatening him. "I-I… L-Look, I don't know, I— My memory is fuzzy, and m-maybeI— Maybe I did try to p-predate on him, I-I can't remember very clearly…"
Hafsa slams both palms on the counter. The guard barks out a reprimand but it falls on deaf ears as tears well up underneath the serval's eyes.
"Toma…please…" Despite her gaze burning with passion, she speaks in a hushed supplication. "This is my last chance to make things right with you… it's your last chance to stand up for yourself… I-I can't watch you give up and…!"
Toma reaches out a hand just before his fingertips hit the glass, as if remembering he can't touch her. Instead, his worried expression darkens into a deep, inconsolable sadness. He reaches for the speaker once more.
"…I'm sorry, Hafsa." He mutters. "I don't know why you think I'm worth saving… But this is for the best. I'm deciding this. If you can believe one thing, believe that."
Hafsa chokes out a sob that doesn't quite reach Toma's ears.
"But I hope you can still believe that I appreciate everything you've done for me. Even the things that backfired, or the selfish things. I want you to believe that… you're a good person, too. Thanks for being my buddy."
Desmond's not really sure what to do.
Whatever happened between Hafsa and Toma left her a wreck. The crying had barely subsided by the time they left the penitentiary, much to the indifference of the security staff. How often to people leave in tears? They would sit through a long bus ride back to the city, but then what? He just gets off at his stop and leaves her like this?
Absolutely not.
So he takes her out for pizza.
It's a small diner he happens to know, utterly lacking in class (and napkins), but what else is he supposed to do? To be fair, maybe he could have picked a more private location. The other customers keep shooting him nasty looks like he's breaking up with her.
"Your, uh…. pizza's gonna get cold." He points a limp slice of his own towards her plate, but only succeeds in redirecting her dreary gaze down at the less-than-appetizing cheese pizza slice he ordered for her.
"'M not hungry." Is all she mutters.
"Come on," He tries to coax her. "It's been a long day. Just a bite."
Her eyes are still glimmering with tears but she shoots him a sarcastic look. "Who are you, my mom?"
"Do I gotta fly an airplane in your mouth?"
To Desmond's delight, this succeeds in getting a chuckle out of her, though almost inaudible. She pokes at the crust disinterestedly as if contemplating whether or not to actually eat it.
"It looks really shitty."
"It's the good kind of shitty." The ram counters, taking a big bite out of his slice as proof. "Me and my brothers used to eat here every Friday night in middle school."
"That explains why you're so short."
"There's that famous Hafsa charm." The sheep deadpans, but his brows soon furrow. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Hafsa's eyes turn dull again. "He essentially told me he's not fighting it. Whatever they want to charge him with, he'll plead guilty."
"What…?Why?"
"They found claw and teeth marks on Ezekiel's body." The serval's jaw clenches. "Which means either Toma was actually trying to predate on him or…"
"…Or what?"
"I don't even know." She buries her head his her hands. "I have no idea why he's doing this. Even if he did have some of Ezekiel's blood… Half of the carnies at school were drinking up the hallway blood like punch, and they're not getting charged with flesh consumption. I just don't know why he refuses to clear things up… Even to me."
"I guess he's embarrassed to admit he lost control. Or maybe he can't remember it properly since it was in the heat of the moment." Desmond posits as he struggles to break a particularly gooey strand of cheese from his pizza. Hafsa reaches over to sever the cheesy strand by curling it around her finger.
"It's a bit too late for embarrassment. He knows that. He wouldn't go back to jail over his pride." She licks her finger clean of pizza grease.
"Do you know if he bit Ezekiel before or after he died?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. If he attacked Ezekiel for blood and ended up killing him, that completely destroys the self-defense angle. And I don't believe he'd do that. It'd only make sense to have bitten him after the gunshots."
"While I agree there's no way Toma would've attacked Ezekiel to predate on him," Hafsa tentatively nibbles on the end of a pizza slice. "It doesn't really change things. No matter his motive, fact is he's completely shut down any hopes of defending himself. He just gave up before the race even started."
"It's really strange…" Hafsa can almost see the steam emanating from Desmond's head, such is his intense brainstorming.
Regardless, she tosses her slice of pizza, barely a bite in, onto her paper plate. "This is shitty pizza. Bad shitty."
"Just give it here, your highness." He mocks, reaching for her plate to scarf up the leftover pizza.
"Still…" A small smile plats on the feline's lips. "Thank you. For bringing me here, I mean. I feel a little better."
Desmond tries not to choke on the crust. "D-don't mention it. You got further than Eloise did. She turned around as soon as she saw the building."
"You did not try to bring your girlfriend here."
"What's wrong with this place, huh?!" His expression immediately turns sheepish. "And…ex-girlfriend. We, uh… broke up."
The female's eyes widen. "Wow. Really? I'm sorry, that's terrible."
"We're still friends, so it's not that bad." The sheep shrugs. "And besides, we got more serious things to worry about."
"No, totally. Of course."
Hafsa lasts for all of five seconds.
"Who broke up with who?"
"Hafsa."
"Sorry, sorry."
"It's fine."
"Where did you break up? Don't tell me it was in public. Did you cry?"
"Hafsa."
AN: Thank you for reading. While I'd love to tell you I spent this time away secretly writing the rest of Junior Year like I did with Sophomore, that's unfortunately not the case. Turns out it'll take a bit longer to wrap things up properly than I thought. I do still have next chapter ready, which I will post tomorrow. In any case, I hope everyone's had a good summer!
Take it easy and stay safe.