how can you weigh a feeling? (c)

Fishpaw was good at thinking. It was what he did best, honestly. And over the last few moons, he’d been given plenty to think about. But lately--and this was incredibly strange to him, as this had always been a favored pastime of his--he found no desire to perform the sport of thought at all. To attempt thinking led to a crowded, uncomfortable feeling in his head and in his chest, and it made the scabbing wounds on the back of his neck itch a little bit no matter how he held his head. But however he tried to keep them at bay, tried to fill his head with idleness, the conscious thoughts crept in. How safe was he in camp, really? Even with guards watching his every move, what was to keep Wolfpaw from launching another attack if he found the means to get close? Were there others--like Sablestrike, who had made his distaste clear--waiting to do the same? And (this was the most stressful thought of them all) had he put Hedgepaw in tangential danger? Even if physically unharmed, how hurt was she by this?

When he couldn’t fight their presence, Fishpaw calmed himself with reminders that half his concerns had little basis. No one besides Sablestrike and Wolfpaw had given him trouble since his joining the Clan, and the two of them had both been vocal about their hatred from the beginnings. And if anyone did… Pineblossom would look out for him. Quillsplash, too. Fishpaw was safe here. Not only safe, but, in spite of the scare, happy. But for the sake of fretting over Hedgepaw… there was little to combat that. She seemed in better spirits with days removed from the event, but Fishpaw could not shake the memory of her sobs. He wanted, constantly, to be around her. This was to make sure she was alright, always well, always smiling like he loved to see. ...in part. Greater than that was a simple selfish need to soak up all her time and attention, regardless of recent events. Though, that had been a staple feeling since he’d joined the Clan and actually had easy access to all that attention. It’d just grown in strength recently. He couldn’t help it: she was his best friend, and always on his mind, and he was a bit greedy by both nature and nurture. Of course he always wanted to be around her.

He tried to seek her out when he could, but Hedgepaw was busy. So was he, much to Fishpaw’s chagrin. But she was especially busy with having a crowd of other cats to entertain between all her actual duties. Which was--fine. Fishpaw couldn’t fault her for spending time with her family, though he did want to fault the family a bit. But he would just take Hedgepaw’s time where he could get it. Maybe that would come to include spending time with her family, sometime. For now, he settled for scanning camp for her as he returned from a border patrol. And no sooner than he spotted that familiar, dark ruddy coat did green eyes light up at the sight of him.

Fishpaw grew warm beneath his fur. Had she been looking for him, too? She must have been, because once she blinked and seemed to register who it really was she was looking at, Hedgepaw was racing toward him. The way she called his name pulled an immediate purr straight from Fishpaw’s chest, and he could not stop it by the time she came to stand in front of him. He must have sounded ridiculous, purring like a fool just because she’d come to greet him, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the wide smile that rose, either, so broad it made his eyes crinkle and his cheeks hurt. While it matched Hedgepaw’s in breadth, his expression certainly couldn’t match hers in sheer brightness. Hedgepaw’s smile was--it was something special. Fishpaw felt warm all over with pride at knowing he could make her smile like that just by being there.

”Hi, Hedge,” he managed to suppress his purrs enough to chirp. In exchange for the constant rumbling, his tail started to wave swiftly behind him to express his elatedness. He began to shift his weight, too, rocking forward and back on his paws. [color=#2F8A7B]”Gosh, I know! You’re always so busy.” Fishpaw lamented. ”You gotta make more time for me.” He put a little more tooth in his smile to show he was only teasing.

Quickly, he decided he was going nowhere, and so Fishpaw sat back on his haunches. He swiped a paw over his ear, as if suddenly sheepish, and answered, ”Yeah, of course I’m alright. But, y’know-- I’m always a little better when you’re around.” He laughed, light and easy, though not because what he’d said had been a joke. It was that being in Hedgepaw’s company simply made him too happy, and that came out most often as a vocalization. ”How are you? I mean-” Fishpaw faltered. He didn’t want to bring up her brother’s sickness and sour the jovial mood; he didn’t want to skirt the subject, either. He wanted to know how Hedgepaw was doing, in all senses. He hummed thoughtfully before settling on, ”...with everything. You seem good. I- I like when you’re good.”

”You ought to be,” Fishpaw spoke, almost faster than he could register the fact that he was doing so. ”A warrior, I mean. I’m sure you’ve earned it, right?” He didn’t really know what made a cat ready despite a general sense of their territory and talent in basic survival skills. Hedgepaw seemed capable enough on all those fronts, so what was the point of holding her back? Fishpaw shrugged toward his own thoughts. There wasn’t much he could do about it, at any rate, so instead of dwelling he just laughed at the suggestion that her tight schedule was a development meant to separate them.

But then Hedgepaw’s smile was fading, and so too was his. Without thinking, Fishpaw leaned forward slightly--not enough to crowd her space and discomfort her, but enough to be near to Hedgepaw, to listen and to comfort and to--to just be there. He nodded while Hedgepaw spoke. She was okay, and that was good, but… there was no denying the gravity of the last few moons. Fishpaw’s ears tilted backwards, though they didn’t pin, and his drifting smile drew into a pensive line. Briefly, the corners of his mouth flickered back up at his inclusion in the list of cats that kept her afloat, then returned the line. He opened his mouth to protest against the idea that she had nothing to talk about, but he quickly bit his teeth together to keep from interrupting. And then, the most surprising thing: an apology. Fishpaw blinked twice and then sat back again, back straightened by surprise. There was such sincerity and a sort of sadness in Hedgepaw’s eyes that it was impossible to imagine her apology was just out of obligation. It was earnest. But it was unnecessary, wasn’t it?

Fishpaw’s head canted so far to the side his head nearly rested against his shoulder. ”Sorry?” He echoed with a confused wrinkle of his nose. ”What are you sorry for?” He studied Hedgepaw for a few moments longer, feeling his chest grip tight over the complete disappearance of her smile, the heaviness that was tangible. Then he righted his head and let out a laugh. It wasn’t directed at her; it simply was. The humor seemed to come from inward. Fishpaw heartily shook his head. His smile was coming back, big and tooth-bearing again. Maybe if he looked at her like that, he could convince her that he meant it when he said it was okay. Maybe he could bring her own dazzling smile back.

”You didn’t do anything wrong,” he went on. His voice was light, with a quiet note of that confusion filtering in. ”It’s not your fault, Hedge. You didn’t attack me. And it’s not like you wanted Wolfpaw to.” His expressions of lightness and mirth faded into something more sober. His voice matched the new expression when he spoke next. ”It’s nobody’s fault but Wolfpaw’s. He does this himself.” Fishpaw sighed quietly. If he dwelled too long on it, the image of teeth and claws glinting in the moonlight would flash to mind, and he might cow to them. As it was, he shook his head and focused on Hedgepaw in front of him. Hedge. How could he fault her for anything? How could he end his friendship with her? How could he feel as if anything was wrong when she was around?

Fishpaw reached out a forepaw, brushing the end of her tail aside to lay his paw over one of hers. He observed the way white melded into mottled black for a moment, and thought his paw looked rather nice there before he looked back up to meet her eyes. ”You’re my best friend,” he said earnestly, smiling softly. ”Why would I give that up? I don’t want another best friend. I won’t find one as good as you, anyway.” Without much warning, Fishpaw rocked forward to butt the flat of his head against hers. It was a brief touch, lasting only a second before he rocked away again, but it carried his weight--and, hopefully, the weight of his fondness for her, the lack of ill-will.

Then there was the last of her words, the quiet words. Ones he could not make any promise toward, because his safety was never guaranteed and he could not ask Hedgepaw to shoulder the breakage of a promise of that magnitude. But still, he needed to reassure her somehow. Determination and resolve, fiercer than he’d felt it before, awakened in his chest. ”I’ll be okay,” Fishpaw vowed despite himself. ”I’ll get better at protecting myself, okay? I’ll learn how to fight well, and--and I’ll learn to speak up, if someone starts treating me like Wolfpaw again. I’ll do my best not to let anything come this far again.” Fishpaw’s smile wasn’t the usual broad grin, but something softer and more comforting. ”And if something bad does happen… then that’s okay.” He pressed his paw a little more firmly against hers. ”Because we’ll look after each other on the other side of it, right?”

Beneath the gentle pressure of his paw, Hedgepaw went still. It wasn’t a stiffening, not like hard frost; just still, like a pool of idle water. She did not retract her own paw from beneath his. Did Fishpaw expect her to? He hadn’t thought about it. Now that he was, he supposed he had. But she didn’t. It didn’t really matter what he expected, then, and it especially didn’t matter with the brief return press of her head against his. Fishpaw could still feel the pressure of it fizzling beneath his skull even when he pulled away and spoke more. There was something a little dazed in her eyes as she stared at him. What could he have done to cause that sort of wonder? Fishpaw didn’t know. He was happy to see it either way.

She spoke eventually, a soft confirmation, and then--there, the thing he’d been looking for. Her smile, returning. Fishpaw immediately sat straighter and his tail began to wave happily behind him; faster, when her repeated yeah was to agree that they were best friends. The warmth that flooded through Fishpaw was unlike anything he’d felt before. He could not help but sway slightly side to side, wholly overcome with elation. His smile grew so wide that it made his cheeks ache. He’d never been anyone’s best friend before. He’d never wanted to be anyone’s best friend more than hers. Fishpaw’s whole body thrummed with delight.

And she believed his words, too, felt better by them. Had he ever had the grace to make anyone feel better about anything before? He was glad he’d learned by the time it came to Hedgepaw. He’d probably kick himself forever if he’d fumbled trying to help her. Her weight shifted to lay her other paw atop his, forming a little stack of limbs between them, and from the sight of slight pressure radiated out an absolute glow. Fishpaw could almost see it, squeezed between white and orange-flecked-black, a little ball of light that came from Hedgepaw herself. Did she know what she was--what she was to him?

She spoke again, issuing a vow in return, and Fishpaw bobbed his head several times to show he really understood. That she would swear to stand against her brother, who she loved dearly, especially when his form became so terrifying when he was on the hunt… It was a stunning feeling, to realize how cared about he was. Fishpaw could only smile and blink a little stupidly for a moment. ”I think you’re plenty smart,” he worked out eventually. ”And I think being smart makes up for being strong. I’m not very strong, but I’m a real genius.” As it usually was, the laugh that came out of him was a sound that he could not help. It just came out of him in pure response to Hedgepaw’s will and presence.

”You’ll stop him,” Fishpaw agreed through his giggles. Then he leaned forward and smushed their heads together again and did not pull away this time. ”I know you’ll look after me. Neither of us will let anything bad happen to the other one, so long as we can help it.”