Lycros | ✔

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The new arrival of goldfish were all healthy, except for one. Dull, black scales, torn fins, and one dark, large eye remained, forever searching frantically for a predator. He lay at the bottom of the bowl, fins flapping endlessly as the other goldfish took turns to dive down and nip further away at the thin skin of his fins. Sage called him a fighter — an underdog. Lauren Greene felt bad for it.

She eyed the goldfish pitifully while completing her cleaning duties. She could relate to the unfortunate thing. Sitting at the bottom while being ganged up on by the stronger ones. Hell, even she had come close to being one-eyed like him. over her bangs, caressing the scar that slashed through her eyebrows, before pausing her mopping and tapping the glass tank to discourage the stronger fish from the weaker one. They scattered from the sound, and the poor fish just slowly shimmied into his hide , eye twitching as he braced for another attack that was sure to come.

"Be nice, guys. Not cool," she chastised quietly.

"They're still giving that poor fish a hard time?" Sage asked behind her.

Lauren nodded, looking briefly over her shoulder at her teenage coworker. "Yup. Poor thing is struggling so much. I don't even know how it's lasted this long."

She had been trying to help the poor thing secretly — setting up more hides that could only house one fish at a time, putting food directly at the bottom of the tank while the others were busy eating at the top. while the others were too distracted to deal with him. The fish was surviving, but cowing in the corner was hardly living, especially when it was so much smaller than the rest.

Sage thought a moment, looking around before whispering, "Robin told me she's gonna throw him out tomorrow. 'No one's gonna buy a sick goldfish,' she said. You might as well take him. If anyone can save him, it's you. "

She had the space, time, resources, and patience for a sickly creature, sure — but that did not guarantee its survival. Taking him in could be all for naught if she wakes up one morning to it floating belly-up. But she had to at least try. For his sake.

Lauren thought about it for only a second, having glimpsed at the poor fish and seeing its large, singular bubble eye watching her carefully, as though pleading for help.

She sighed, laying her fingers on the glass. "Alright, I'll take him."

"Sweet! Now, take your hands off that tank, I just wiped that glass down." Sage jested and Lauren rolled her eyes, laughing.

Sage was able to set her up with some discounted fish supplies that were to be thrown out the next day — a filter, tank, some food, some aquatic plants, drops to de-chlorinate and ready the water, and substrate. She even took the fish's favorite hide from his previous tank along for the journey. It was not like this pathetic pet store had any sort of cameras to watch the girls take the supplies that were meant to be discarded. It was a small, family-owned business, and it showed in the mouse-bitten walls and overall ferret smell that stuck in your hair after a long day's work.

Sage helped Lauren carry everything to her old Beemer, popping the trunk and placing most of the items inside a large cardboard box. The fish itself was last on the list. Without a hide, the other fish began to bully him once more, diving down deep and nipping at any exposed fin or loose scale. Lauren tapped on the tank furiously to discourage the bullies before fetching the plastic bags used for grabbing the fish and sticking it in the tank. She was pleasantly surprised to see the little black fish wriggle his way from the bottom of the tank all the way up to the top, willingly swimming into the bag, with no stow-aways or a fish net needed.

"Huh, look at that," Sage marveled. "It's like the little dude knew he was going home with you."

Lauren blinked, taking the bag and her new friend out of the tank and holding him up to the light. "Yeah. How strange."