[Isolated]

Chapter 6

(Rocky's POV)

"Hey, Martin."

"Yeah?"

"What did happen, on the 7th of September."

He stood there with a questioning face.

"What exactly do you want to ask?"

"The hysteria" I said straightforward, expecting answers.

"It's better to tell everyone. Let's wait till Zuma is mentally prepared. -- I was going to tell you all anyways. After all, it's not safe to fight something unprepared, nonetheless, unaware of the danger."

He faced the dark corridor with malice in his eyes, like something was looking back at him. Whatever it is, I don't think it's there, especially he's only looking at the staircase, the one I fell at.

After the conversation with Martin, I felt out of focused and I've been hearing something bubbling, or something sloshing. Like I wasn't here at all.

Zuma said he wanted to say something to me, in private. I asked Ryder if he could carried both me an Zuma upstairs.

Normally when it comes to things like this, I'd say that he [Zuma] could just say it, but when we were at the couch, we could literally hear Chase's playful growls at Marshall. Don't get me wrong, it is fine, but it's kinda out of place. Kinda.

Right now, Zuma is breathing into my chest, and I'm breathing onto his forehead. My leg still hurts and I can still feel that he's trembling beyond all the 'comfort' I'm giving him.

Even if he's like this, I didn't stop making him feel safe. I would lick his forehead, rest my muzzle to hum a tune, then cycle through rubbing him with my paw and hugging him close.

"You can stop now, Wocky." He said it so calm, that it bothers me. He continues. "I'm fine, I'm not scawed anymowe. Thewe's just something bothewing me, that's all."

Instincts took over, "What's wrong?"

He looked embarrassed. "I just thought that what wewe doing is out of boundawies of being 'bwothews'. That it's wwong and we should stop it doing it befowe we huwt each othew."

"W-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything wrong, a-and so what if it's out of boundaries? I-I'm just acting on what I wanted to be, a-and I want to be your big brother. Plus, w-why would anyone care? It's not like anyone would get mad of me being a brother to you!"

For a second I saw his forehead scrunched up, like I triggered something. Did I shouted it? No. I didn't. Then why did he look like I said something wrong?

He left my embrace and got off the bed.

I asked. "Where are you going? Did I said something wrong? Did I do something bad?"

"I'm going out. I'd wathew not waste time hewe, Wocky. I'm going to do some... stuff." He's being unreasonable.

I got up. Forcefully trying to walk over to him. I ended up landing face first to the floor and limping towards him, but somehow, it felt different. I got up and immediately feel nauseous, like I'm being tossed around, or left floating for a long time.

When I looked at him, his expression was changing from concern to irritated. He clearly not a good time for him, but if I don't push even more, I might lose a chance to do so.

"What awe you doing, Wocky?! Stay in bed! You'd huwt youwself if you don't stop walking."

"Then to hell with it. Tell me what's wrong! I don't understand. Was it me, not being able to be there for you? Is that why you're mad at me?"