lip-sync the comforting scene [C]

Rookpaw

The sun was setting. Not quite nighttime. Many members of RiverClan still lounged in the waning sunlight, chatting in low voices or finishing their meals. Away from the larger crowd, Rookpaw paced a measured loop just outside the apprentice’s den. He had watched Sunpaw stalk into the den earlier in the afternoon. He had not seen Sunpaw come out. If Rookpaw felt nothing else, he knew how to feel worry. His chest stirred painfully and his pacing went on.

Perchstar’s return and the surprise existence of her kits had brightened Sunpaw. Many days were stormy, but he grew slowly livelier. Almost closer to how Rookpaw had always known him. Grief still clung to him, but he seemed better. They did not want to press about it. If he wished to talk, he would. They hoped Sunpaw truly was getting better.

But then there were still days Sunpaw spent most of in his nest. Rookpaw stopped mid-stride, turning to frown at the entrance to the den. They did not understand his grief, and they did not know how to mend it, but they hated seeing this misery in him. It bothered their familiar anxiety.

Rookpaw’s tail flicked once. Suddenly, they were moving brusquely into the den, pausing only long enough to let their eyes adjust to the dimmer light. When they had, and had noted no one else had crept past them into the den, Rookpaw padded over to their own nest next to Sunpaw’s, sitting down silently beside him. They looked down at him, blinking slowly as they took him in. His fur looked flat today. Rookpaw shifted slightly, paws starting to knead against the ground, and asked, “Sunpaw? Have you moved?” They were sure they knew the answer, but perhaps he had in the hours Rookpaw was busy.

Sunpaw had returned from a hunt with Brookstone feeling like he carried home the largest boulder in the river all by himself, and not just a few fish. He felt far more exhausted than the energy he exerted called for, and he knew the feeling well. He was trying not to let it affect his ability to provide for his clan, and some days he just pushed through it until he collapsed back in his nest. Some days, maybe even most days, he really did feel fine. But then suddenly, like today, it would hit him all over again and everything took thrice the normal effort to accomplish.

He had asked if there was anything else Brookstone wanted him to do that day, made sure he had no other duties to attend to, and then when he was confirmed to have the rest of the afternoon off, he dragged himself into the apprentices den and collapsed in his nest. Grief settled over him like a second pelt, and he shut his eyes. He was sick of feeling this way, but he had no idea what to do about it except weather the tide. It was like swimming; he could not continuously fight against a violent current, so his only safe choice was to keep his head above water until he reached safer waters.

Dragging his tail across his eyes, Sunpaw surrendered himself to the current.

He did not sleep, but he did not cry either, which he counted as a win. He drifted, unmoving, in a half-awake state until a voice dragged him to the surface. He blinked sluggishly, pulling his tail away and lifting his head to look up at Rookpaw. Immediately, guilt settled into him. He felt bad for worrying his friend so often, but he had no idea how to stop this feeling.

“...Yes. A little.” Sunpaw lied. “I was just taking a nap.” A lie too. He turned his head away and gave himself a few quick licks, trying to rouse themselves into a more energetic state to no avail. “Everything okay? Do you need me?” His voice was flat despite his best attempts to put inflection into it. He braced himself internally for the possibility that he would have to return to work, putting the pieces of himself together slowly and carefully.

Rookpaw

The tip of Rookpaw’s slim tail twitched once. They wanted to acquiesce to Sunpaw’s claims, and might have if they had nothing to contest it. But they had spent much of the afternoon stalking outside the den– surely they would have seen him, heard him moving. This cycle had dragged for moons now, as well. If they hadn’t been present, recent history would have made them skeptical. Their eyes narrowed with doubt, but they said nothing while Sunpaw went through the motions of waking.

Sunpaw’s attention returned to them, this time with questions of his own. Rookpaw stared down with silent regard before lifting their chin to angle their head away, blinking at the woven walls instead. “No. And yes.” Rookpaw answered. Speaking made their throat feel dry, the same way it did when they tried to talk about their own grief. It made them shift again, shoulders tensing with discomfort. They had gotten over the melancholy that plagued their lengthened kithood. Mostly. Enough, at least, to move forward with the stages of Clan life.

Briefly, Sunpaw had, too. Started to, at least. Rookpaw did not begrudge him for this state. They understood. But they could not mend it, and it agitated their fragile nerves to no end.

“I do need you. To feel well again.” Rookpaw’s ears pressed back. The words were surprisingly bitter on their tongue. They wondered how many times they’d been turned the same offer, and how they had bristled toward it each time. That quiet acknowledgment did not keep their hackles from starting to lift, nor did it keep them from continuing, “It is increasingly difficult to watch. So. I will ask you to consider… not. Please.”

Sunpaw watched Rookpaw stare at him, and then look away. They knew Rookpaw well enough to understand when they felt uncomfortable, and it made his own tail twitch with the urge to take away the discomfort and make them feel better. But the problem was that Sunpaw was the source of the discomfort, and he had no idea how to stop that or make it better.

Then Rookpaw continued, and Sunpaw felt his own ears lay back on his head. A mixture of emotions stirred in his chest at the words. Shame, hot and heady. Renewed guilt, weighing him down. Hurt, sharp and painful. And a white hot spark of defensive anger that made his fur feel as though it was standing on end.

Sunpaw dragged himself into a sitting position, now at eye level with his best friend as he tried to find a response to those words. “...Do you think I want to feel like this?” He finally said, voice hoarse and sharp. “I’m not-- I’m not doing this on purpose. I didn’t ask for these feelings I’m just-” He huffed out a breath and looked down at his paws. “I’m just trying to deal with them as best I can.” His ears pressed flatter to his head. “I thought you understood that.”

Rookpaw

Out of the corner of their narrowed eyes, Rookpaw saw a flick of movement– Sunpaw’s ears flattening. They tensed further, now still and quiet as stone. The mixed, sharp emotions that rolled off Sunpaw’s pelt were immediately stifling in the air. The thought crossed Rookpaw’s mind to gather their paws and walk out of the den from the sudden shift in atmosphere, but they remained in place.

Sunpaw rose. Their eyes remained stubbornly on the wall, but it was hard to ignore his slightly-fuzzy shape shifting beside them. Sunpaw spoke, and his voice, rough with disuse, broke their locked position. Rookpaw twisted slightly to angle their head further away, looking nearly behind them. The bitter feeling turned into a knot they couldn’t swallow around. His words made the fur along their spine rise the longer he went on.

“What?” Rookpaw shifted again, this time to face Sunpaw. Dim eyes sought his face, shadowed by his lowered head, even if he wasn’t looking at them then. Rookpaw stalled for a moment when they looked him over. Their tail swelled to a bristling plume and teeth showed slightly when their lips pulled back from stress. Emotion flicked over their face now as their eyes slowly widened. Worry and frustration and surprise and anger.

“'I thought you understood that'?” They repeated the words slowly, testing each syllable, while their puffed tail started to whisk restlessly. Rookpaw was rarely angry. Toadlegs was the only thing that made them angry, and even then, he was really only a bother. But they had never really liked Toadlegs, so how they felt about him didn’t matter. Sunpaw was their friend. He was their best friend, outside of their brother. They wouldn’t have known how to hold their anger normally; how were they meant to handle it now that it was directed at Sunpaw?

Rookpaw wasn’t even sure why exactly those few words made them so angry, but the statement made their pelt sear. Was it because they did understand? Or because they did not, and that was the source of their dismay? Or because Sunpaw had watched them stay in the nursery for days on end at times? That last point made them recoil inwardly when it flicked to mind. That must be it, then.... but ideas still circled even once that passed, distressing to listen to. Rookpaw shook their head and reflexively got to their paws. The impulse to leave the den itched again, so they pressed thin claws into the nest they stood on to hold themself still.

“Do you now believe I wanted– want –to feel similarly? Do you now believe I enjoyed being frequently ill? Too weary to leave my nest? Do you now believe languishing in the nursery was intentional?” A quiet voice suggested that it had, in fact, been a deliberate choice, but Rookpaw quickly snapped it silent Anger, apparently, made them stubborn, and they sunk their teeth into this position now that they’d taken it. “You do not need to tell me you do not want to feel like this or that you are dealing or that you did not ask for such feelings. I do not know why you would suggest I do not understand. You have empirical evidence to the contrary.” They almost added I am hurt, but the words sat heavily on their tongue until they dismissed them with an especially pointed lash of their tail.

“I do know that it is unpleasant to be instructed to get well. Again, I am familiar with this. But we are apprentices now. We are moving on. That is what Lark tells me. I have decided to listen to that instruction now. It has worked for me. So he has always been right in saying such.” Rookpaw remembered their concern, and for a moment, it tempered the irritation roiling under their coat, but their voice was still stiff when they went on, “I do not believe you wanted me to remain unwell. I do not want you to remain unwell. We are supposed to be friends, and so I am supposed to care. And so that is why I ask such of you.”

Sunpaw’s ears laid further back as Rookpaw spoke. Whereas he’d spent the whole day tired and numb, now emotions swirled through him faster than he could process any one of them. It tasted sour in his mouth. Anger was something he’d only really felt at intangible things, angry at the state of the world, at his losses, at the unfairness of it all. Anger at other cats was always brief and fleeting. It felt profoundly wrong to be angry at Rookpaw, of all cats in the world, and yet here he was, angry.

And yet, as Rookpaw got angry back, Sunpaw wanted to shrink back from the topic. He rarely saw Rookpaw emote much at all, and seeing them lash their tail and snap their words made him feel sick to his stomach. Yet, at the same time, it made him feel stubborn, made him want to dig his claws in and hold his ground, prove that he was right to feel the way he did. And that, the anger, that was easier to focus on than anything else. Not the regret, or the hurt that swirled in too as Rookpaw spoke, making his pelt feel too hot. Everything was suddenly too hot, and his lungs felt tight and he couldn’t quite breathe all the way. His muggy thoughts were twice as muddled and confusing, and he spoke, as he so often did, without truly thinking.

Tail lashing, every muscle in his body tense, and ears laid flat to his head, Sunpaw snapped, “I don’t have to move on just because Larkpaw has decided it for you!” Larkpaw’s name came out with more bitterness than he intended it to, and Sunpaw bit his tongue before continuing. “He may be ready to move on, and you may be ready to move on, but that doesn’t mean I have to be.”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “And I am moving forward, at least! I’m here, aren’t I? Right here in the apprentice’s den with you. Nobody could say I’m not trying, because I am! I’m trying!” He stomped his paw into the nest as if to emphasize his point. “Test me if you want-- I can hunt, I can fight, I’m doing what I need to do.”

“I know you understand how this feels, so that’s why I’m mad!” Sunpaw huffed out a breath. “Just because you say I should doesn’t mean I can just start… feeling better!” He grit his teeth. “You don’t get it, do you? Twistpool was the closest thing to family I had left, and now he’s gone too. Mom and dad are gone, Twistpool is gone, and you have Larkpaw. You have Larkpaw! And I- I don’t have anyone!” That was something that he hadn't dared to give full thought too, and when he spoke the words aloud, it stung. It made his eyes burn and his next inhale spike needles into his lungs.

Shaking his head hard, Sunpaw glared down at the floor of the den, breathing hard like he’d just sprinted across the territory. When he spoke again, the words were tinged with bitterness, anger, and hurt. “‘Supposed to be’?” He repeated carefully. “Do you really want to be friends, Rook, or is it just what you think you’re supposed to do?” He looked at Rookpaw, green eyes clouded with emotion. “Is it too much for you when I’m like this? Is that it? Would you prefer I pretend I don’t feel anything at all?”

Sunpaw knew the words were unfair the moment he said them, and yet, there was no taking them back. He swallowed hard, faltering, and he almost tried to take them right back. But he didn’t, and the words remained heavy in the air.

Rookpaw

Rookpaw's ears slicked back the moment their brother's name left Sunpaw's mouth. The added distaste that clogged the word was not lost on them. Suddenly, they had something entirely new to worry about: they knew Lark did not like their friend, but was the opposite true as well? Sunpaw always seemed keen on trying with him, even when Lark was just as keen on biting against every attempt. But Rookpaw had believed they would come around to each other eventually, even if it was taking a very long time. They would have to, as the two most important cats Rookpaw had left.

But did Sunpaw always spit Lark’s name so harshly? How long was it they'd failed to notice the paired dislike– if it was there at all, and not just a product of Sunpaw's ire? Was the latter true? Would it even be worth worrying about after this anger subsided? And why was the condemnation turned on them? Rookpaw's throat felt dry and painful. They hated having to think so hard about these little things. For a brief second, they hated all their Clanmates that would know the answers without consideration.

Rookpaw shook their head slowly. They couldn't dissect that as long as they wanted, because Sunpaw was still huffing and ranting in front of them. Rookpaw listened and kept their eyes fixed on him while he stomped and snapped and lashed his tail. They stayed still, even when tempted to take a step back out of nervous discomfort, silently watching until the sharp You don't get it, do you? That made them jerk their head up, whiskers quivering, and the sentence that followed prompted them to finally give in to the urge to back up by several steps.

Sunpaw's heavy, constricted breaths made Rookpaw's own lungs feel empty; a hollowness that spread through their entire body, freezing through their anger, when Sunpaw had the gall to ask if they'd even wanted to be friends.

Of course they did. They had spent their entire kithood together. They here now, because they wanted Sunpaw to feel better, because they didn't want him to hurt so much anymore, because friends cared. They cared, didn't they? Or were they here out of obligation? Having it questioned made them balk. There were very, very few things they would venture to say they cared about: their father, their brother, and Sunpaw.

But had they been lying to themself, and Sunpaw, and Larkpaw, and Willowpaw, and Perchstar, and anyone else that thought they were friends all along? Had they invented kindness out of duty? They had never even considered it. Would they have, if Sunpaw hadn’t said it first?

… Was that how Sunpaw saw them?

Rookpaw blinked and noticed suddenly that the den’s walls had grown much closer. They bristled again in reaction to the realization, and they tried to focus on Sunpaw out of instinct, but his similarly-bristling shape didn’t provide them any comfort. Rookpaw took another step back, staring at Sunpaw silently until they tamped down the alarm and recollected their voice.

“First.” Their voice was low again; icy and arrhythmic. “Larkpaw did not decide for. Me. I am capable of making my own decisions. He encouraged me. I chose to listen. That is all. If he had decided for me, we would have been apprenticed much. Much. Sooner. Second.” Rookpaw’s heart kicked rabbit-like in their chest. This was the worst bout of distress they had suffered in a while. It was a terrible, terrible way to feel. “Never did I say you were not trying. I acknowledged that you are here. That we are apprentices. I do not wish to test you. I do not care that you can fight or you can hunt. I care— or had meant to care —that you were well enough to do so.”

“Third. I would have liked to say that you do not ‘not have anyone’. Considering our status as best friends.” Rookpaw’s eyes finally lowered to stare wearily at their paws. “I thought I had done that right. I have done everything you said. Deciding to occupy my time with you. Being present. And vice versa. Enjoyed your presence. Thought about you. Everything you had told me a best friend does. But you doubt the validity of my concern anyway. Fine then.” Rookpaw’s head angled slowly to the side and their eyes shut gently. They would not have had the patience to explain first if it were not Sunpaw they were speaking with, even though their patience for this conversation had long ago run out. “I am going to go outside now if that is the case. Unless there is anything else you would like to say before I do.”