one sympathises; i might not make it tonight [C]

Rookkit

Twistpool had died, and with his last breath he’d wrenched a hole in RiverClan. The actual passing affected Rookkit little; there had been a flicker of loss, but it’d ebbed from their chest by the next dawn. They weren’t lucky enough to escape mourning entirely, though. A different grief caught up to them when they saw their closest friend so torn, deepening as the days passed. It was nearing a week since the elder had gone, and Rookkit thought they would suffocate around the strain in their chest.

Exhaling hard through their nose, they ducked down to grab a vole from the top of the fresh-kill pile, still faintly warm. Food helps. Rookkit told themself quietly, over and over as they turned away to pad heavily back towards the nursery. They did not know how to help Sunkit. They’d heard queens repeat that mantra enough times though, even if they didn’t wholly believe it. It was all they thought might work. They hadn’t seen Sunkit eat since, anyway.

On silent paws, Rookkit brushed into the den. They didn’t allow themself a moment to hesitate, walking directly toward Sunkit’s nest. Once they stood in front of them, they meticulously folded their limbs beneath them and set down the vole. It pained them not to be greeted by Sunkit’s excited chatter. They’d spent as much time sitting with him as they could, though they left the nursery frequently to occupy Lark, and it felt they hadn’t heard Sunkit speak once over the last week. “It would be good for us to eat. I think.” Rookkit murmured while gingerly nosing the vole closer.

Sunkit has spent most of their time curled into as small of a ball as he can make himself, in the farthest corner of the nursery, with his back turned to everyone else. He didn’t really sleep, he couldn’t, and he barely ate. Twistpool was gone, there was nothing Sunkit could do to bring him back. His parents were gone too, dead as well, most likely, and there was nothing Sunkit could do for them either. A hole had opened in Sunkit’s chest, and grief turned into a stone that settled in Sunkit’s stomach, weighing him down and causing even the act of lifting his head to feel like an impossible effort.

So much for “Sunkit the Daring.” Sunkit had never felt so completely and utterly useless. He knew Twistpool would be irate to find him moping like this. When he thought about it for too long, he'd feel guilty for disappointing him, and then he'd feel angry that Twistpool left, and then those emotions would come right around to the despairing numbness he'd grown used to. “Everything might feel wrong now, but things will change.” Yeah. Things did change. They changed for the worse.

Sunkit should be moving forward. He should be making Twistpool proud from Starclan. He should be asking Poppyshine to be made an apprentice, to stop waiting around for things to change, to be actually good for his clan, for once. Guilt created a second stone to keep him pinned down, and it ate him up.

Sunkit’s eyes flickered open as he heard pawsteps approaching, and he lifted his head. Dull green eyes found Rookkit’s face, and the smell of food made Sunkit’s stomach turn. Poor Rookkit. Sunkit was hardly a good friend right now. He was hardly a good anything. He had to wonder why Rookkit even bothered coming around, except that Rookkit was just…good like that. Sunkit looked at Rookkit through tired eyes, and he wondered how long it would be before Rookkit disappeared too, one way or another.

His eyes drifted down to the vole, and he heaved a sigh. At least it wasn’t fish. Fish would bring up memories of sharing lunch with Twistpool, and those memories were a little too much for Sunkit right now. He dragged himself into a partial sitting position, looking down at the food. His stumpy tail thumped the moss of his nest. He really didn’t want to eat, but he hated worrying Rookkit. “...Can we share?” He croaked, still looking doubtful at the vole.

Rookkit

It was hard to look Sunkit in the eye when his head lifted, weary. There was a tug in Rookkit’s chest, tight enough their whiskers shuddered in response to the pang. This should not have been Sunkit. They did not mind– they couldn’t, not when they had their own fits of brooding, not when they’d gotten so ill after the missing cats had returned and their father hadn’t been among the crowd. But the state of him just made them feel… weary. It was that same discomfort they got seeing his expression so twisted when his own parents didn’t come home, a sort of displacement.

Things were never right when Sunkit wasn’t smiling.

Sunkit sat up a bit and their head angled to follow his movements, gaze steady on his muzzle. “Yes,” Rookkit answered simply. With a hum, they shifted until they were beside Sunkit, not opposite him, close enough for their pelts to brush together. Sunkit was one of two cats allowed to touch them, and since he’d gotten that privilege, Rookkit liked being beside him. He was comfortable and soft; hopefully, they were comforting to be beside too.

Returning their attention to the vole, they bent to take a small bite out of it. They hadn’t planned on eating anything, but they would not deny him. Even though the prey felt a bit heavy and tasteless in their mouth, they swallowed. They didn't feel any better, at least not immediately. It was disappointing, but... maybe it just didn't work on them. Sunkit, though, surely. "It is still warm. It will... help." They murmured, gently pressing their head against Sunkit’s shoulder. There was no forcefulness or demand to it; just a little push, solid but soft, encouraging.

Rookkit’s fur brushed against Sunkit’s and he shifted into the feeling, shuffling until he was pressing against Rookkit in full. It reminded him of the night he and Rookkit spent sitting and waiting for their parents to return, something that of course, never happened (and at this rate Sunkit was certain never would), but after that night, he’d felt closer to Rookkit than ever before. He wanted that closeness now, and he sought it out, pressing tight to Rookkit’s warmth. Sunkit felt like all the warmth had seeped out of him and into the floor of the nursery, and he drank the warmth Rookkit offered like a flower blooming in newleaf.

Sunkit’s dull eyes watched Rookkit eat. “How does it help?” He asked after a moment. He’d heard queens utter that platitude as well, that food was always the first solution, but it sounded hollow right now. Still, he could not deny Rookkit, and he’d promised to share. He leaned forward, taking his own slow, careful bite. The food tasted heavy on his tongue, and Sunkit took far too long to chew as each movement took effort, but… but he ate.

Rookkit

The more insistent press against their side was far from bothersome. Rookkit remained perfectly still against Sunkit’s weight, only turning their head up again when he spoke softly. The question was quick to pull a frown from them. They stared at Sunkit, silent while he took his own turn eating, and used the time to think of an answer. I do not know would not be suitable now.

When Sunkit eventually swallowed, Rookkit nodded, a soft sigh rising from their chest while their head dipped. “Because it is necessary to our health. Physical and… mental. That is what I have been told.” The answer came soft and hesitant. It did not sound good enough. It did not sound true. Or, perhaps it was their own fretful nature that stayed their tongue for an eternal moment. “It will help because… it will help because…” Rookkit drifted, muttering the phrase to themself. Would it help because they could not stand to frown at the mere sight of Sunkit? Would it help because they needed it to? They were doubtful of those suggestions, too.

Eventually, “It will help because… it is all I know to offer. I do not know how else to.”