what would we do without each other? ~[paw patrol]~

5 - [MetaphesioP̸̼͋͂͐̀̕Ĥ̷̬̟͙͈̝̀̉́͂̇͜O̶͙̱̙̠͒̑̀̓̈́̈́B̴͍̱͙̈́̄̇̈́̍̚I̴̗̱͛̐̂͜A̶̓͌̈́̈͐̇͝]

I'm gonna start assigning songs to chapters starting from here. But it's gonna be mostly vocaloid, because these kinds of songs tend to have harsher lyrics and carry deeper meanings anyways, which is what I'm going for.

So the song for this chapter is Saisei by Picon (ft. Hatsune Miku!). It's a subtitled video for added convenience.

And, about the title. I'll explain why it's messed up in another chapter. For clarification, it's intentional.

And, I had a bit of fun with some zalgo text. There's also a section with some Japanese. I'll translate it at the end for ya'll because I'm nice :D

oh and poorly written angst warning

Now then, enjoy the chapter!

- sāke
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[Rocky's POV]

"Okay, so... basically, Tracker just lost his earbuds a few days ago... and he hasn't been able to sleep nor listen in to any conversation over- wait. Have you even been listening to me?" I just looked over and saw Zuma staring into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. Had I really just rambled on to a wall about Tracker for the entire walk up to this point?

"Uhm, yeah, duh. Why wouldn't I?" Because you literally just didn't?

"Okay, uh-huh... Go buy the brand of earbuds Tracker uses then. I already told you about them about halfway through." As I finished the last sentence, we reached the standalone pharmacy. I greeted the store manager, and just walked in and immediately started looking. Well, I didn't. I just followed Zuma, as he went to town on the aisles. Finally, after a VERY long survey, he slid a small pack of earbuds off a metal hook. He showed it to me, grinning a pride filled smile, as I just felt a bomb go off in me, enveloping me in... a feeling.

Something about his smile... it just seemed all too familiar. It took me a while to piece it all together, but I eventually got it.

He smiled... like me.

Except, it was... genuine. Too genuine. So to speak.

He was proud.

I would smile like this too.

But I would never be proud.

Hell, I wouldn't even be satisfied.

I would be slowly killing myself on the inside.

Like how they killed off any emotion I had.

Any emotion I wanted to feel.

Brutally murdered, sprawled across a grisly crime scene for all to see.

Flayed, skinned, hanging from hooks in a butcher's shop, for 'customers' to pick at.

Lost, on the side of a milk carton, for people to try and find and return them.

I was jealous.

Usually, people would be jealous of me.

But this time, it was me. Of you.

What is it like to feel emotion? How does it feel to have genuine feelings?

How does it feel to 'follow your heart', instead of blindly conforming to others' ideals?