Grandeur Defector

XVIII

The truth is out now. The choice is yours.
Kill me, Flippy. End this.

Suspicion, fear, and horror flashed across Flippy's face, his lip quivering. Truffles noticed that he was breaking out into a cold sweat as he stood in the entrance of the prisoner tent, his eyes turning eerily hollow.
Flippy took a step back, stumbling with pain; he caught himself without taking his eyes off of Truffles, the feline who had been born from hell's royalty. The movement of stepping backwards finally released the tears he'd been holding back, and they dripped off his cheeks and onto the floor in silent anguish. He searched for answers in the feline prince's heartbroken gaze, billions of questions answerless for time infinite.
Without turning back and saying anything to pursue further, Flippy left in a haste, anger beginning to replace his tearful empathy and his breathing noticeably quickening.
Ah.
There goes... my only friend in this world.
I'm alone again, as I've always been.
Truffles sat still, unmoving, as he absorbed what just happened. Then, every limb went slack, unmotivated to keep functioning, and the tears Truffles had been holding back skidded off the sides of the chain muzzle and onto his uniform.
He didn't cry out, calling for his friend to come back and to have mercy on him— he said nothing, eyes half-lidded in quiet misery and his ears conveying the same message. In his own stillness, he wallowed in his grief.
This hurts. I should not feel emotion. I am worth nothing, not even deserving of breathing.
Oh, how ironic was this. The heir to the throne alone, dressed for battle and disrespected, having no one to turn to anymore to listen to tales of woe. If Truffles called out, even if he commanded someone to listen to him, no one would obey. He was truly alone, damned to rule a destructive country that was crumbling to pieces before his very own eyes.
I am... nothing.

...

Nobody stopped by his tent until after dusk.
Truffles hadn't moved from his spot for hours, sitting in the tears and sticky dried blood, and clotted dirt. He had no desire to move, no desire to live, nothing.
This was how I was before. This is the price of loneliness.
It's a hefty one.
Flippy came back in, moving quickly as if he wanted to hurry up and get the visit over with. He remained silent, face focused with professional coldness, and unhooked the leash from the rod.
He yanked it, hard, perhaps harder than he intended as he loosened his grip hearing the sound of:
"ACK-"
Truffles gagged, making an involuntary noise of pain as Flippy waited for him to pick himself up off the dirty floor. Truffles wobbled to his feet, the leash tight around his neck, making him drool.
Hhhghh god, I'm a wreck huh? Haha. Hah...
Flippy said nothing, trying to hide his emotions by turning away—hiding the sympathetic glance that flashed like lightning across his face at Truffles' noise of pain— and leading Truffles into camp. The chains around his neck and wrists rattled loudly as he walked, the muzzle ill-fitting.
They approached the outhouse in uncomfortable silence. Flippy motioned to Truffles.
"Do your business, soldier."

No friendliness.
You hate me.... I-I'm sure if it. I shouldn't have gotten close to anyone. I can't blame you for hating me.
Am I paranoid?
I'm losing my mind.
Truffles did his business, the bullet wound throbbing with the heat of slight infection. It was still open, the injured muscle inside of it showing for the eyes to see, visible within close proximity.
After he was finished he followed Flippy to a new location, one that wasn't the prisoner tent nor the trench. It was a red tent, and as they both entered, there were raised cots sitting on heavy crates and medical supplies strew out on a foldable table, a small fan in the corner for ventilation. Truffles shot Flippy a look, trying to search for any friendly emotion in his former friend's eyes— but found that those yellow irises told nothing other than professionalism. Truffles looked away, his head drooping.
A red squirrel was sorting through papers they had not yet gotten in order after the camp location change. They didn't move their head to greet the two, remaining focused on the paper they were holding.