Grandeur Defector

XXXV

What...?
Truffles stared in a stupor, stricken with grief and fear and anger. Emotions came and went, thoughts scrambling for some rationality, his mind a broken record player listening to the story over and over until he was sick.
He split up the team, which killed our friends. He missed, why did he miss. Why did he not run when he had the chance... Why, why, why? Our friends are dead. All we have is each other now.
He ate my uncle, which means he'll likely have a taste for carnivores now, including me. The meat from meat eaters isn't like eating a herbivore; there's more blood, more risk. You could quite literally get parasites from cross-cannibalism, and the more you consume, the worse the cravings will get. Fliqpy ate all of him except for the skin... every organ that pulsed within at one point included, their lives his fine dining. My last remaining kin was a meal for Death's appetite. He's a cannibal, he's a monster, he's a man, but even still...
Oh, Flippy. You can be so stupid, but so brave. I don't know how you were able to survive that, but I'm very thankful that you did... even if I question your actions. But who am I to judge? I've slaughtered men, women, children for the sake of continued existence on an obsidian leash. I cannot say much, so why does this bother me?
I can't imagine the survivor's guilt you must feel right now. To see both of your closest friends killed like that... Flippy, you're a fucking cannibal. But you're người yêu dấu.
My beloved.
The secret love that I have for you can't be told into words. We can never act on it if you feel the same way; I don't want you killed either way. But enough of that— this isn't about me. This is about me helping you through this, because you deserve better. You deserve better because you cared when you didn't need to, and still do; you deserve better for all the help you provide to others, your smile when you light up the room, you in general. Why are you so damning to sin but so lovable simultaneously? Why do you do this to me?
Do you know that I lo— l-like you?

"I get it," Flippy rasped, sensing Truffles' racing mind.
"It's a lot. Sorry to be heavy, but heavy is the cost."

Heavy is the cost of war.
Silence.
Truffles shifted himself and thunk, unsure of what to say or start with. Awkward, he fiddled with his hands in his lap, hoping the fidgeting would curve his growing anxiety buried below.

"I'm... deeply sorry for your loss. My condolences... truly."

Flippy gave him a look, a mix of pure confusion and slight offense taken.
Perhaps that was bizarre coming from the enemy?

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me," Truffles threw his hands up in a submissive nervous gesture, panicking. "I... I-I'm not good at doing good. Or saying, rather. Ah. Uh."

Flippy looked away, eyes shadowed from the light. The weight of grief hung thick around him, like a noose he was purposely tightening around his neck.

"I don't know what I was thinking. Why... Why did I survive? If anyone, I shoulda been killed for my stupid idea. I should've DIED, and maybe I to make that happen MYSELF so that—"
He stopped, mouth hung open, expression suddenly filled with pain. Truffles knew exactly why, heart breaking at the sight and his whispered words of self-made horror.
"Oh... shit. I... I sound like him, d-don't I?"

Oh dear.
Empathy and grief washed over Truffles, and he placed his hand on top of Flippy's. He could feel his friend shaking, his fever, and his unsaid pain.
He's suicidal.
Just like his dad was before he rid his own life. Just like me, attempting to do the same multiple times.

"I sound just like him," Flippy sobbed, his voice cracking. "I'm just as bad as him, maybe worse."

Silence.
...No.
Drowning in the uncomfortable neglected space, Truffles' fur spiked with passionate fire to shake his only remaining friend out of depression's brutal claws. The blood from the tiger attack 30 minutes ago was dry on his claws and uniform, but his own blood raced in his veins with excited determination.