[Discontinued] The Things Left

11. The Moon And The Stars Make A Smile

» Word count: 992 «

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By the time they returned, dinner was being set up. They hadn't even realized the sky had darkened, too invested in the story; or at least that's what they thought of the other. Tubbo excused himself and ran to Tommy. Fundy could see him, being scolded or something, but Tommy could never be mad at Tubbo; not before, not ever. He and Quackity walked a little more, before Karl and Niki came to view. He gave him a shoulder pat, telling him that he needed to do something. A lie, but one more never hurt.

He heard Niki calling his name, but he continued walking away. He wasn't hungry, lately he hadn't been hungry at all. As painful as it was, he avoided everyone he saw just acknowledging them with a wave or nod. If they didn't give chase, it would be perfect.

So he walked and walked, and deep inside he was running away once again. It would be easy to just confront them, Wilbur or whoever, but he couldn't bring himself to. He was angry with himself. He had no right to pretend there was nothing wrong, that he was just listening to a story pieced by everyone. He was supposed to learn and understand what had happened those two years. But he didn't want to.

Somehow, he ended up back where it all began. The DSMP was desolated, nothing but ruins left behind. Still, it was a much nicer place than the camp they had going on over there. If only he could just come return in time he'd learn to appreciate everything that he had. Losing was always a teaching lesson. And there were things he'd trade away to just not have to think.

He climbed to the communal area's roof, careful to not fall in one of the many holes there. Weather with time made it a true course of bravery, with its now slippery surface and frail structure. He turned into a fox, curling into himself. He hadn't done it in ages, barely even remembering the last time he had turned into a fox. Probably to steal something from Eret or to show Niki and Tubbo, but at least that obviously happened before the disaster show. He never turned into his animal form unless for a good reason, which were still unclear.

He always hated feeling small after all.

The moon was beginning to peek, making a smile with the stars as eyes in the sky. He stared, captivated by beauty beyond comprehension. It was always the simple things in life that he took for granted that made everything better and worse in equal shares.

His ears perked up, the faint echo of a step bringing his body into alertness. He waited, attentive for any sound that was not natural. Another thud.

He got up, with the grace of foxes, jumping from one place to another looking down. His search could've been anyone or anything, hostile mobs were out by now surely. The crafting table with their fading marks, decorated with dust coverings looked intact. Except for the steps he could tell weren't his own.

On the furthest corner, where the chests collapsed he found the cause of his worries. A body no bigger than his own, climbing the chests clumsily. He let his eyes adjust, until he could clearly tell it was a pig. He jumped down, getting its attention.

They stared at each other for a bit, before the pig sat down and he did too. He tilted his head, trying to understand how a pig had even gotten there when the place was abandoned. Not like it was surprising, but it was. Anything alive was.

He got closer, sniffing it like any animal would. Any trace of any smell could help. Wheat usually meant there was a farm, and therefore a village. Smoke or ashes too. The smell of sweet berries or dirt usually meant it was a savage animal. On it, he couldn't get any trace of any of that. He sat in front of it, their eyes meeting before he poke its nose with his own.

The pig replied with a friendly oink, then gently headbutted. His tail wagged, picking up the dust from the floor and making them sneeze. He made a friend.

Together they climbed up again, mainly Fundy helping his new friend up. A pig and a fox, resting peacefully on the roof, bonding with the stars and the moon. He peeked at his friend, eyes reflecting space and its vastness in a place so close. He looked up too, the sky smiling down on them.

He curled up again, closing his eyes to rest. The night hadn't even settled that long ago, and he was already feeling tired. There was still so much to do, to gather. Two years of his life he'd never get back, two years he had to hear from someone else. It was tiredsome to pursue, and it was draining to assimilate it.

His eyes opened, a pink body with a moonish glow blocking his view of the moon. It pressed their noses together, before laying down close to sleep. He closed his eyes again. Being close to someone else always helped ease his head of worries.

Chirps and songs in the early morning woke his body up. Not long after, his eyes lazily peeked to see the anarchist without his crown still asleep, his red cape wrapped around them. His face went slightly colored, surprised to still see him there. He stared at his resting face, almost like staring at someone else. Neither had ever been big on being emotionally open, so this little interaction was for them only. He didn't care about the not being to flaunt it to anyone and everyone.

The morning was early and warming. He could spare a couple more hours before resuming the chaos. 

For the first time he hadn't felt small as a fox.

•••••••

Bacon and furry

[Plenty blocks under]