the moon is bright enough (LUNCH CLUB) DISCONTINUED

wish upon the shooting star

It was a clean shot as any, and all his friends celebrate, clapping a hand on his shoulder, smiling, cheering. Even Carson looks approving, in his own distinct way – the upturn of his lips, the blotchy redness he gets when he's happy, his glasses slipping when he beams. 

Yet Cooper feels empty. Hollow.

He did it. He succeeded. But it feels like he failed. Again, his mind supplies, sneering, cold. What a record. Three failures in the span of two days.

At least this one doesn't hurt as much. It's a dull ache in his chest when he forces a smile on his face, it's the weird squeezing in his lungs when he hears the muffled crying from somewhere behind him.

He stares at the unconscious body of the guy they were tracking. He's laying on his side, nose nestling into the crook of his elbow, one wing buried under him and the other curling over his body. Like he's sleeping.

He doesn't look like a murderer. 

He looks young, maybe twenty, twenty-one. His wings look soft, reminiscent of a bird's yet looking just like how he'd imagine an angel's. They're not white, but a sort of muted orange, slightly lighter than his horns. 

His fur is white, though, and Cooper realises with a pang how similar he and Travis are. Both animal from the waist down, although Travis can transform fully.

He really ought to stop thinking about Travis, but it's harder when the crying grows louder.

"Shut up," he snarls, then freezes.

He doesn't recognise his own voice. He doesn't recognise his emotions. He feels like a husk. Like something that barely exists, teetering in and out of the living, a barely-there ghost.

There's a sort-of gulping sound, a strained noise, and the sobs quieten. A soft hiccup, once, twice, then silence. 

He risks a glance over his shoulder.

They found a way to keep Travis stuck in his animal form. So Travis sits there, chained up outside like any other dog with a muzzle on his face. It whirs and buzzes, and Travis paws at it helplessly. It doesn't feel right.

If he speaks up, they'll think he's a traitor, too.

Before, he wouldn't have hesitated to help Travis. Now, he feels like if he does anything, they'd hurt him too. They wouldn't, he hopes they wouldn't, but he's scared. He's scared, and he wants to stop the stupid goat-man and his allies so that, when everything blows over, he can grab Travis and run.

So what if Travis is a traitor? They've known each other for so long.. there has to be a reason.

The way Travis cried over the goat-man, almost like he knows something they don't.

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of his thoughts. He wants to work, head empty, without any feelings interrupting him. He shouldn't try to empathise. 

He goes to turn back to the drugged man. At least he intends to, because in the process of turning around, he swears he sees something move in the forest nearby. It could just be an animal, and he clicks his tongue as he focuses on the goat-man.

Snippets of conversation drift towards him:

"Honestly, the way she looked at me, you would've thought I stole the eggs out of her nest –" 

"Stupid flea-brain. Just you wait until I get my claws on you –!" 

"Am I going crazy, or did that bush just move?" 

Cooper pauses, fins pricking up. They waft in the air, as if trying to pull the words closer.

"No, no, you're definitely not. I can smell it. Something here has the exact scent of the colour pink."

There's a noise akin to a laugh. 

"Now I think you're the one going crazy, not me." 

Interesting. Something's moving out there.

He inches closer to Carson, murmuring, and Carson nods. He gestures towards Noah, who struggles, funky powers trying to lift the goat-man.

"He's heavier than he should be," Noah grits out. He glances over at Ted, who had been leaning against a tree-trunk for the past ten minutes. "Why don't you come and help me roll him over? So that he's on his back. It'll be easier to lift that way."

Ted nods, but before he can even move, there's a strange hissing noise. A faint whirr and click.

All the lights shut off. 

Cooper stands stock-still. His fins quiver, struggling to adjust. It's pitch black.

"Shit," he hears Carson say. "Electricity shut off. Ted?"

In answer, there's a flicker, then a flame burns in the centre of Ted's palm. It doesn't offer much light, but it's enough to see. They gather around him, like he's some sort of campfire.

"Noah, d'you think you can flick that switch from here?" 

"To the backup generators? No. Too far away."

"What's the point of your powers if you can't do shit, Noah?"

Cooper drowns out their teasing. The power shouldn't have cut out like that. Something's going on here, and he wants to know what. 

He leaves the safety of the light to investigate.

The most obvious problem is goat-man. He's gone, though fuck knows where. 

So is Travis. The chains are cut and the muzzle is on the floor.

Cooper knows he should feel angry or something, but honestly? He's a bit relieved that they're both gone. 

He crouches, pressing his thumb into the dirt, near where goat-man used to be. He and his friends all wear shoes which have a smiley-face designed on the underside. It leaves a distinct track.

There's footsteps here which are blank. 

He knows for a fact they all had the smiley shoes on. Someone else was here.

He straightens up. He has to warn the others –

A hand claps over his mouth. 

He tries to scream, but all that comes out is muffled. He flails, kicking, scrambling with his clawed fingers, but the grip is too tight. He's caught in a headlock.

He can't breathe.

Panic crawls up his spine. He can't breathe.

He's going to die here, barely two metres away from his friends, from safety.

With one last burst of energy, he digs his nails into his attacker's arm. He lashes out, throat hoarse. He barely even makes a dent.

As his eyes grow heavy, Cooper feels himself go limp. He's already weak, his scales are drying up, and his attacker is relentless, determined to sedate him.

Funny how it goes. He was the same with the goat-man.

Maybe he had it coming.

Somewhere in front of him, he can hear his friends shouting. They know.

They'll be fine. As long as they're fine, he'll be fine.

As his vision blacks out, Cooper feels himself smile.