you're all i wish i had; i forget i feel so sad (c)

“You’re different from the other cats I’ve met. Different, in a good way.”

Something warm and tingly raced down Hawkmist’s spine at that comment, eyes widening a little bit. The warmth lingered, moving to settle into his stomach, as Bubblebeam kept talking. She liked it when he talked. He kept lingering on that too. It made him feel a little shivery in a way he couldn’t identify, the earnestness with which she said she liked him. He almost couldn’t stand the emotion. He noticed that she did that to him often. Made him feel off-kilter and off-balance and entirely desperate for more of her kind attention. He flourished in it in the same breath as he almost hated her for it.

Almost absently, quietly, he grumbled a soft, “I like listening to you.” He did. Bubblebeam had a nice voice; lilting, gentle, laced with all the warmth that seemed to radiate from her. He thinks he could listen to her talk for hours. His eyes flick up to meet hers once more and he’s caught in shimmering, bright pale green. He kept trying to find something to compare her eyes too, something they reminded him of. They weren’t green like Silverhawk’s were. Silverhawk was one with the marsh they called home, dark pine green glittering with intelligence. He was home, enchanting, captivating, but comforting. Familiar.

Bubblebeam’s eyes… they reminded him of the lake, in a way. Not of the context surrounding that journey, but the way the lake had looked. Hawkmist had spent extended time in the daylight for the first time during that time period, and he would see the way the sunlight reflected off the glittering surface of the water, the way sometimes the light would hit just right, and the yellow would bleed into blue until it created this pale sea-green. It wasn’t home, but it was bright, inviting, ethereal. It was the promise of new beginnings; a bit of light amidst a dark time.

…Stars above, he needed to stop thinking like this.

Something else she said caught his attention too. ”That way you're safer.” Is that why he avoided other cats? He always felt as though he just didn’t like most cats. They were often irritating, overwhelming, boring, or some combination of the above. There was a larger circle of cats he respected, those whose judgment and skills he had faith in, but cats he liked? That he got along with? Those were rare. A combination of his impossible-to-please nature and general unlikable personality made making close connections difficult for him.

But here Bubblebeam was, saying she was lucky that Hawkmist considered her a friend and-- Did he? He must, at this rate. She’d said as much enough times that she clearly saw him as one, and… And he liked her. Curses, he really, truly liked her. Even the molten hot jealousy that sprung inside of him when he learned of her connection to Silverhawk wasn’t enough to make him stop liking her. And she liked him, thought she was lucky to know him.

He wanted to tell her how wrong she was. He wanted her to know how awful he really was, that a connection to Hawkmist was not a blessing but a curse. He wanted to tell her every awful thought he’s ever had, wanted to tell her that his intensity frightened even himself, that he should not be trusted with something as delicate as this for his paws are clumsy and his claws overly sharp and he doesn’t know how to hold. He only knows how to rend and tear and bite.

But he gave voice to none of it, for Hawkmist is, above everything else, a selfish and demanding creature, and he dug his claws in even as he regretted it.

The moment passed with Bubblebeam’s sweet smile, and soon she was telling him more. As she spoke of her mother, a sympathetic ache grew inside her, and with it, something that felt like cold water on a hot day; an utter relief that someone else understood the pain of never knowing a parent, a mother. Of always wondering what might’ve been, who you could’ve been with her guidance. Not missing someone for who they were but missing them for who they could’ve been for you. A different kind of ache, as Bubblebeam put it. The pain in Bubblebeam’s voice made him move closer unconsciously at the same time as she did. They were both dangerously close to the border, and something about that was making Hawkmist’s heart rate quicken.

He should not want to cross the divide between them, but he did. With a hard swallow, Hawkmist lowered the paw that he had half-raised to continue his march forward, and sat down opposite her. He didn’t know how to respond to her request that he not belittle his own experiences; is that what he had done? He hadn’t done it purposefully. It was just… unconscious.

He looked to the side and dragged his tongue across the sharp points of his teeth before he spoke again. “I used to resent her.” He admitted, and his voice was unusually quiet, usual growl softened into something vulnerable for only a moment. It was something he had never said out loud. “For dying. For leaving me alone. Sometimes I still hate her for it. I know it isn’t fair to her, and yet I feel it anyway. If anything, I was the one that killed her. She died in childbirth." The admission came with a bitter little laugh before he shook his head and sighed. " But I understand the feeling. Of wondering if she even cared enough to stay.”

Hawkmist’s jaw clenched after the admission and he felt a shiver of discomfort race down his spine, before his eyes were lifting again at yet another word of thanks from Bubblebeam. He really had done very little to earn all of her gratitude, but it seems he would not be able to persuade her of that truth. Still, here she stands, offering him the same reassurance and… it was not something Hawkmist knew he wanted to hear, but when she said it, utterly sincere, it made his chest tighten painfully, then release with something like relief.

In many ways, he’s exactly right about me, you know. You’ll realize that eventually.

Yet another thought he couldn’t put a voice to. He’s a coward. Too cowardly to even tell her outright that she was beautiful. He’s sure that if Silverhawk were here he’d have no such qualms, would lavish her in the praise she deserved but Hawkmist wanted to give and to take. The thought made bitterness wash over his tongue and his fur rose, claws flexing briefly in the dirt before Bubblebeam’s voice provided a distraction once again.

Hawkmist made a face at the idea that her brother was just too busy to look out for his sister, to have left her behind. Even if he had such an urge to leave his clan, he couldn’t dream of leaving it without Silverhawk at his side, because Silverhawk mattered. He would bear through even the hardest things Silverhawk could ask of him. How her brother could’ve gone without affording Bubblebeam half of that devotion, Hawkmist could not understand. Bubblebeam seemed so easy to be devoted too; she’d won a bit of Hawkmist’s only in the course of a few short meetings. But then, maybe it was her way of sidestepping her own pain, of making excuses for the ones that she loved, that made it easy for them to ignore her pain in turn. He could not stand the thought of that.

He also could not stand the idea of Bubblebeam alone in the twoleggedplace. Not only did that cursed place not deserve the presence of someone like Bubblebeam, but he’d seen how she lit up the moment she had company, even when she did not know him she had lit up over speaking to him. There was another thing they had in common. Neither of them could survive the agony of isolation. It was why Hawkmist clung so tightly to what he had.

Bubblebeam paused, and then met his eyes again and asked for his opinion. And, immediately, an answer came to him. It was a terrible idea. He knew it as soon as he thought it. He would be forced to watch both Bubblebeam and Silverhawk forget about him when there were no borders to keep them apart. And Silverhawk might be angry with him for this idea, it was impossible to know. But at the same time, he wanted her close. He wanted to take care of her. Stars, he didn’t know why. But she had just been so kind to him, had seen so much good in him, and he was addicted to the feeling.

And… and he didn’t want her to go to Windclan, or disappear where he certainly could never go. He was doomed no matter what he did, but perhaps he could savor her sunlight a little while longer. He knew that he’d be dooming her in turn. Silverhawk was just as much of a selfish creature as he, just as eager to claim and devour. It was a thrill for him, but if she spent enough time with them, would the darkness they both carried be too much? Would it infect her in turn? Would she suffocate under the oppression of the shadow of the march, rarely seeing the sun?

Oh, but he was greedy. So, so greedy.

“He was a fool to leave you behind.” He commented with an irate swipe of his tail. “And I could not see you amongst Twolegs. Or on the moors.” A pause, before finally impulse delivered his own killing blow. “You should come to Shadowclan.” He flicked his tail and quickly broke eye contact again, heat rising under his pelt. “You already have… friends there, after all. And we’ve had an abundance of outsiders lately,” He made a face; he hated strangers in his home, even if he could tolerate it. "So I don’t imagine Leopardstar would turn you away. I would…” He glances at her. “I would vouch for you.” His ears laid back for a moment when he bitterly added, “Sure Silverhawk would too.”

Losing the bitter edge, Hawk continued. “It would be a fresh start. I’m sure it’d be difficult to leave your remaining family, but leaving will be difficult no matter what you do. And I- er.” He ground his paws into the dirt as he felt hot to the tips of his ears. “We. Would. Er. Take care of you. There.” He finished haltingly. Then he shook his head hard and lifted his gaze to look at her. “It is… just an option, of course.” He flicked his tail, this time out of embarrassment. “But that is what I think.”