melancholy Δ closed

Moons ago, Newtface was a cat that made sure that everyone else thought very highly of him. However, now he didn't care. He knew that he was sulking, he knew that he was falling behind, and he knew that cats were talking behind his back and silently judging him because of it. The tom wasn't setting out to change how other cats thought about him, because he simply couldn't care less. In fact, he didn't care about most things, now. Eating was seen as a chore, a mere action that was needed in order to stay alive. Moons ago, Newtface would jump at the chance to swallow down a big, juicy mouse. Now, he went through the fresh-kill pile so that he could find the smallest excuse for a piece of prey and eat only a few bites. It didn't give him much energy, or nourishment, but it was enough for him to barely hold on to life. During patrols, the tom would stick to himself and stay silent, for the most part. If he spoke, it was a grumble to himself, or an angry snap at a bothersome apprentice. Even life itself was becoming a huge, unwelcomed chore, and Newtface was considering the only way to get rid of it: death. A lot of good things would come from dying. He'd see Rosepetal again, and they would never, ever be separated. He would be able to live in the peaceful paradise known as StarClan, and no grief or troubles would haunt him ever again. In the warrior's mind, it sounded like some sort of fantasy. On the other paw, Newtface had found nothing good about staying alive. All he saw in life, now, was a never-ending nightmare.

The tortoiseshell had padded out into the camp when the sun had begun to set. Cats were still lingering around in camp, but some were retreating to their dens for the night. He had received some odd looks from bystanders, but he hadn't met or acknowledged any of their gazes. It was his time, now, to consider if he was really going to do this. There would be no going back after he was dead, but what did he care? There was no joy or thrill in living anymore, after all. His paws made soft squishing sounds as he padded and paced back and forth through the wet marsh that ShadowClan was known for. Of course, if he were to die, it couldn't be painful. Drowning? Would he be able to drown himself here? Or maybe he'd just have to make it painful and sacrifice himself to a predator. Unfortunately for Newtface, the tortoiseshell tom was sharing his suicidal thoughts out loud, and any cat that passed would be able to hear him. What did he care, though? He didn't care anymore, and that was that.

Only a few moments before, Tansyheart had seen Newtface leave camp, brooding. It had only taken her a heartbeat to make up her mind to follow him. Keeping her pawsteps light, she followed him like a shadow across the marshy terrain of their Clan territory. Once he began pacing, she stopped and sat frozen behind a shrub. She closed her eyes as his words, floating through the thick air, reached her. It took her a moment to process exactly what he was talking about... drowning? Predator? ...Death? She stood up slowly, repulsed at the thought of her Clanmate taking his own life. Eyes wide, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the open, revealing herself to the stubborn tom.

"Newtface... she started hesitantly, remembering the last time she had attempted to console him. "Newtface, what are you talking about? You can't do this!" She thought mournfully of what life would be like without him. It was true, they weren't exactly on good terms with each other. But he was her Clanmate! She couldn't just let him die, or even hurt himself! "Please listen to me... I know we're not the best of friends! But this is important! I know you don't want to hear me out, but please..." she trailed off, features twisted in distress.

Newtface whirled around in shock once Tansyheart revealed herself to him. He had had no idea that she was there all this time. Letting out a huff, the tortoiseshell sat down and narrowed his yellow eyes. This was going to be the same routine as last time, her trying to comfort him. Hadn't she seen what the results of this process were last time? Hearing empty words from her wasn't going to help him at all. What did she know? What did she care?
"What do you know?" The tortoiseshell proceeded to say his thoughts aloud, "What do you care? You're right, we aren't the best of friends, so why do you give an owl pellet about whether or not I die? If anything, it's fewer things for ShadowClan to worry about. There won't be a useless warrior moping around in their camp, and they can grow stronger and better than ever. Meanwhile, I'd be able to spend time with Rosepetal in StarClan. It would benefit both me and my Clan, and I don't see what's wrong with that."

If anything, Tansyheart's presence was just making him want to kill himself more. The she-cat's pelt reminded Newtface so much of Rosepetal, but he willed himself to not start tearing up upon thinking of her. It made him long to see her face again, to smell her sweet scent again, to hear her laugh, to play one of those odd yet creative games that she came up with all the time. All he wanted was a chance to hunt with his love again. Was that so much to ask?

Tansyheart frowned, anxiously meeting Newtface's gaze. The bitter tom truly had his heart set on this, didn't he? She reached with all of her willpower for something encouraging to say. This won't be the same as last time, she promised herself. "Newtface, you can't..." she trailed off. She had already said that, hadn't she? "There are cats... that would miss you. Just as much as you miss Rosepaw, Newtface! We're your Clanmates. We care about you more than you know." What could she say to change his mind? Was there anything that would catch his attention, and make him listen, at least for a minute? An idea began to form slowly in her head. What had he said? Why do you give an owl pellet about whether or not I die? She had to tell him the honest truth. Sighing heavily, she mewed, "I would miss you..."




ooc: short ;;

How would it be possible? How would it be possible for any cat to miss Newtface more than he missed Rosepetal? The tom let out an angry sigh - more like some forced huff - but stayed silent and listened as Tansyheart went on to try and console him. The tortoiseshell expected this all to be a repeat of last time, just rougher, and a lot more rage-inducing. There was always the basic excuse that cats would miss him just because they were his Clanmates. Being in the same Clan as another cat didn't mean that you'd love them. In-Clan hatred was completely possible, and he was sure that most of his Clanmates saw him as a useless excuse for a warrior, now. Even Newtface knew that he was a shell of his former self. He had built himself up at the beginning of his life, but all of that had just resulted in sending himself crashing down and suffering through a harder fall. He himself knew that he was mourning over Rosepetal for too long, and that he was hurting himself by doing so, but he couldn't stop. No matter how hard he wanted to spring back to his former, pre-Rosepetal self... he just couldn't. Who would ever miss a warrior who couldn't stop hurting themselves?
"I would miss you..."

"H-huh?" Was all Newtface could let out.
His voice sounded hoarse and broken, like he was speaking through a cough. His pained, angry face melted away to reveal an expression of pure sadness, confusion, and fear. His rough, spiky exterior had been torn away for a few painful moments. The tom couldn't think of anything else to say. Out of all the cats that had the slightest chance of missing him, he was shocked to hear that Tansyheart even cared. Was she lying? That had to be it. They weren't even friends. They're reactions always ended up as something miserable for either one or both of them. The calico warrior suddenly put his cold glare back into place and shook his head.
"What is this? Are you lying to me?"

Tansyheart stared at Newtface, eyes blank with disbelief. "Why would I be lying to you?" What was wrong with this cat? He truly thought everyone was out to get him. "What would I have to gain by lying to you? I don't think I can make you dislike me any more. Of course I would miss you! The Clan wouldn't be the same without you..." she trailed off. She met his eyes and continued earnestly. "Newtface, you're a great warrior! It makes me so sad to see you in such a state. I don't want you to be hurting like this. I want you to be the Newtface that you truly are. Not broken or regretful, not living in the past. Don't you understand? All this time, I've just wanted to help you. I only want the best for my Clanmates," she finished proudly. She could feign indifference to Newtface's comments, she could pretend that she didn't really care what happened, but what good would that do any cat? He would die and never realize how much his Clan cared about him and valued him.

Newtface dying would hurt her so much. All she wanted was for him to be okay, for him to stop hurting himself and accept a little bit of love from his Clanmates. "Newtface, please hold on. If not for anyone else... for me?" She gazed at him imploringly. What would she do if he died? How could she tell her Clanmates that she didn't save him, even though she knew what would happen? How could she just let him go? He had to listen to her. He had to at least hear her out.

Newtface felt his limbs begin to shake as he repeatedly switched his gaze from Tansyheart's eyes to his speckled paws. He was so... confused. His close-minded-self was convincing him that this she-cat in front of him was lying, lying through her teeth just so that she wouldn't get blamed for his death. However, the sensible side of him was still incredibly confused. He was practically filth now, how was there still someone who cared about him? As he looked back up at Tansyheart, something suddenly struck him.

She looked like Rosepetal. Tansyheart's black-and-white pelt reminded him exactly of his lost love.

Shivers went through the calico from the tip of his ears to the tip of his tail. If Rosepetal saw him in this state of mind, state of sanity, state of emotion, would she be proud? Would she be happy? Would she even still love him? Tears began to gather in Newtface's eyes, and some even rolled down his cheeks. Rosepetal would be so disappointed. This wasn't the tom that she had loved, this was a paranoid recluse.

While Tansyheart wasn't Rosepetal, Newtface could imagine the dead she-cat saying that to him. That's what made so much of an impact on him. He saw Rosepetal in Tansyheart...

A small sob escaped the calico's throat, and eventually, he was a broken heap of speckled fur as he brought himself towards Tansyheart and buried his face into her shoulder fur, shoulders violently jerking up and down with every sob that left him.

Tansyheart's jaws parted briefly in surprise as Newtface came towards her. As he pressed his nose into her pelt, though, she understood. She had broken something. She had broken whatever that deep, hidden part of him was that had held on so tightly to Rosepaw's fading memory. Rosepetal? That's what he called her. She would too, out of respect for this broken, suffering warrior. He had never truly accepted that she was gone - was he ready to let her go now? She understood his pain, she felt his pain. He missed her so much, just as much as she missed Gingerstripe. Her own tears fell softly to the ground and soaked into the tortoiseshell tom's pelt.

She cried for Newtface. A tom who was hurting so much, that he believed he had nothing left to live for. She cried for her father, for Honeydrop, and for Rosepetal. For everything that was lost, and everything that wasn't as it should be.

"Oh, Newtface," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut and resting her chin on his head. "Come back with me. Everything is going to be okay," she whispered gently, for a moment unsure whether she was trying to convince him, or herself. "Everything will be okay."

All Newtface could do was continue to sob into the shoulder of the black-and-white feline in front of him. Everything he had kept bottled up seemed to come out with every tear that he shed, and it felt horrifying and refreshing at the same time. If the former Newtface would've been here, seeing this tom practically melting and throwing all his pride out like it never existed, then he probably would've been disappointed. The current Newtface was still disappointed, disappointed in how horrible he had acted to both himself and cats around him. Perhaps, if he would've just stopped a little bit, opened his eyes, and stopped sulking, he would've seen that the entire forest hadn't turned on him. All the paranoid thoughts he had had before weren't even true, and his conspiracies were being proven wrong in this one moment. Simply knowing that there was a cat who cared about him made him feel warm inside.

"Ye-yes, let's go back... I-I just need to go home."