I'm a big boy now [c]

Sunkit was miserable. And he was angry. He was miserable about being angry and angry about being miserable and--ugh! Everything sucked!

The missing cats had returned, but his parents hadn’t been among them. He still hoped, he couldn’t stop hoping, but he knew deep down that they wouldn’t return. Unless Sunkit somehow managed to seek them out himself, but he couldn’t do that, because he still wasn’t an apprentice. And Rookkit was sick, and he was worried about them, and angry that everyone was moving on, and just-- ugh!!!

Sunkit found his paws taking him to the elder’s den, as they had several times since the missing cats return. He scooped up a fish off the pile just on instinct, used to bringing Twistpool meals when he visited, but he had no appetite himself. He walked inside the den. Normally, he at least tries to be polite with Twistpool, knowing he can grate on the older tom’s nerves. But Twistpool was the only cat right now that Sunkit felt like he could be sullen around.

Sunkit set down the fish in front of him with a soft, “I brought food.” And then he was moving to Twistpool’s side and flopping against him, stretching out with a heaved sigh. He hoped Twistpool wouldn’t kick him out. He just couldn’t take being in the nursery anymore, seeing Rookkit sick, seeing the empty place where his mother should be. He was just…tired.

Twistpool

Twistpool opened on lazy eye from his nap when Sunkit came stomping in. For such a small kit, he could make loud steps. He lifted his head and watched Sunkit set down the food and then clop against him. The frustration would have been evident to even a blind cat. Twistpool looked at Sunkit and then replied, “Are you planning on sharing with me or starving then?” He pushed the fish closer with one paw—and edged it a bit towards Sunkit as well. “I won’t have no scraps starving on me, so you’d better eat too. And then you can tell me what is wrong.”

Twistpool knew what was wrong. Anyone who had spent an afternoon with Sunkit over the past two moons would know. He wanted his parents, and his parents were not among those that returned. But it was better for him to explain that aloud, and to get anything else off his chest that was bothering him. Twistpool didn’t like to see the sunny kit so caught in angry and tumultuous emotions.

Sunkit shifted to look up at the old tom. He wrinkled his nose at the food, considering refusing, but he eventually just sighs and shifts upward so he could eat more comfortably, leaning forward to take a bite full of fish. He loved fish, but right now it didn’t taste like anything. Still, he chewed and swallowed and grumbled a little, “Happy now?”

Then he rested his chin on his paws, staring at the fish at first, then back at Twistpool’s fur. His tail thumped on the ground as he tried to find his words. “They didn’t come home.” He finally says, his normally boisterous voice tiny. “Everyone else came home, but they didn’t. It’s not fair.” He digs his claws into the soft earth and a scowl overcomes his face.

"Something must’ve held them up. Right? Something must’ve happened to them. To Rookkit and Larkkit’s father too. Something happened to them and I can’t do anything about it.” The last sentence comes out as a growl, and Sunkit pressed himself harder into Twistpool’s side. ”I can’t fix it. I can’t help Rookkit either and they’ve been sick. Everything’s just. Everything’s just wrong!” He huffed and curled his paws up closer to him, tucking his face into his own orange fur. His voice came out muffled as he said, “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

Twistpool

Twistpool watched Sunkit take a couple of bites of his fish, and seemed satisfied, so he started to eat the rest. When Sunkit finished and hid in his fur, Twistpool finished and looked to him. He replied, “It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. I have often wished it could be changed, but it can’t.” He watched the kit for a moment longer before he shuffled closer and pressed into Sunkit. “I’ve learned a long time ago that you can’t change things that have happened, no matter how badly you want to. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad about it. I’ve done my own share of grieving. But when the grieving’s finished, you can’t linger in it for too long, or it will consume you.”

He isn’t a completely oblivious old man. There are days when he is aware that the hardships he places on Perchstar might, might…be unfair. He was certain that no matter who took up the mantle, even if it was Twistpool himself, no one would compare to Ivystar in his eyes. Her death had hit him hard, and Sparrowclaw’s death after that. If Twistpool knew anything, it was what happened when a cat carried bitterness, and he did not want that for Sunkit.

He looked to the kit again. “Everything might feel wrong now, but things will change. I can’t promise about ever seeing your folks again. I wish I could. But if you keep holding onto hope that they’ll get back, you might be stuck in that nursery forever waiting for something that won’t happen. Then you’d miss out on all the good that this life can give you too.”

Twistpool’s warmth pressed against Sunkit, and Sunkit sank into it, finding comfort in hiding against the bigger tom as his own eyes welled with tears he didn’t bother fighting anymore. He took a shaky breath and lifted his gaze to look up at Twistpool as Twistpool spoke. He wondered if Twistpool spoke from experience; if lingering in grief is what led to Twistpool pushing most cats away, to spending most of his time grumbling in this den instead of with other cats. He always felt like Twistpool was lonely. He pressed harder against him.

His eyes shifted to outside the Elder’s den, to the nursery beyond. Would anything ever feel right if he moved on with his life without them? Would he be able to hold his head up proud as a warrior if his mother and father weren’t there to see it? But Twistpool was right. Time kept passing, and Sunkit kept getting older, and he could not remain as he was forever. He would have to move forward sooner or later.

Because there was good. Even if the world has felt gray and dreary since the day his parents were ripped away from him, Sunkit was still able to find the good, right? He could be good at that. Newleaf was coming and Leaf-bare would soon be nothing but a distant memory. Sunkit could live up to his name, be the bright side of every dreary day. He could move forward, as terrifying as it felt. He didn’t want to be on his own for that, but…

But he wouldn’t be, would he? He had Twistpool right here, with his steadying presence, and he had Rookkit, even Larkkit too, and his friends that had already moved into the apprentice’s den. He had cats to follow in the footsteps of, like Brookstone. He could do that. He wouldn’t be alone. He would miss them, but he could keep moving.

Maybe when Rookkit was better, because Sunkit refused to move forward without them at his side.

A heavy sigh left Sunkit, and with it, some of the tension drained out of him. His fur was still stained with tears, but he felt less like a dam ready to burst. “...Yeah,” He finally croaked, snuggling against Twistpool. He sniffled, took another deep breath and released it in another sigh, and he relaxed a little more. He still half hid his face, but it was more out of exhaustion than feeling overwhelmed. “Thank you, Twistpool.” He suddenly said. He doesn’t know if he ever thanked Twistpool, for saving him from his own stupidity when his parents were kidnapped or for all that he had done for Sunkit since, for the steadying presence he was in Sunkit’s life. It suddenly felt important that Twistpool knew.

It occurred to Sunkit that Twistpool could disappear at any time too. Anyone could. Be it through twolegs, predators, sickness, old age… The weight of that revelation pressed hard on Sunkit’s chest and he felt desperate. He pressed a little more, like if he just stayed close enough, Twistpool would never, ever leave.