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/ this is actually happy i swear okay. little rushed at the end bc it's 2000+ words and i am so tired of it
warnings for mentioned rape and romantic coercion aaaaannd maybe a little homophobia?
He couldn't remember. Not entirely true, he could remember very well, but just parts of it. Just parts of being someone different. It certainly wasn't the man he was today, not with responsibilities, not with friends and family and a safe place to sleep. But he did remember. There were simply nights when he wished it to be untrue.
[hr]
It was cold. Not snowing, yet, but it was that sort of weather that said it could happen if it so wished. Instead, it was pouring rain, icy enough to make him shiver even when it wasn't actively touching his fur. Or maybe that was the frigid wind that coaxed a full-body shudder from him, keeping charcoal fur from drying fully. He'd been small, back then, and it was hard to keep body heat in on a good day. He was always cold, you'd think he'd start to get used to it, being the guy who stood under the rain with a smile on his face, but he never did. There were a lot of things he didn't really get over, but that would only be important later. Not now, for now, Bluesrock wasn't actually Bluesrock. Not yet. When did he become Bluesrock?
Actually. That was something he didn't really remember at all. At the time, it had just been Bluespaw. Optimistic but confused and hurt, and at that exact moment... Cold. But that happened often, him being confused and cold and there was usually some sort of person looming over him, licking their lips at his almost playful smile. He loathed himself for sharing that smile, every damn time he would hate himself in the morning. But he was dumb and drunk and it didn't really matter, he left in the morning. Or they left him. It ended the same way, in abandonment. His fear of that had started early, hadn't it? Then again, so had his fear of most things.
Always so afraid, but there was a reason for that, wasn't there?
Red, there was a lot of red. He woke up to it, felt it crackle a bit when he tried to open his mouth. Along his cheek, nothing to worry about, but along his shoulders, his legs. Pinpricks of pain, and he remembered. Even now, he remembered. How confused he was, how it ached and how vulnerable he felt, how empty. But he was dumb and and drunk and it didn't really matter. It ended in abandonment.
Always fucking abandonment.
[hr]
Months earlier, he didn't really know how many. There were memories but there was no timeline, it happened, but he didn't know when. He had been safe, a little gangly. His legs were a little too long, or perhaps it was just that his shoulders were still a little narrow at that point. Boyish, so very boyish. He wasn't a boy anymore, but he had been. Boyish, safe, and very very confused. Most of that could still describe parts of him now, the one that asked "how great would it be if I did this?".
People liked that side of him. Playful, falsely genuine. Or maybe that was just because he never let them see that part of him, the one that was alive and real and damaged, oh so damaged. He could still be playful and light, but everyone fell in love with the man who wasn't real. It hurt, it hurt like hell that nobody bothered to poke at the cracks that were there. No, they loved the stranger first. The girl stood in front of him, flushing, offering flowers. He stammered, he hurt, and he said okay. He said okay he took them and he said he'd go on a date with her and his friends had whooped and clapped him on the shoulder and grinned and they drank. That's how all of this started.
Someone had bothered to poke and prod, someone had bothered to ask and someone had gotten to know him and someone had cared enough to kiss him. Blues had kissed a lot of people but never like that. Never a little tentative, never light and soft and new. It had always been a harsh press and it sort of hurt but he'd gotten used to that. Thought it was... Right, or whatever. Had gotten used to the sting.
[hr]
He could remember who he was, but he didn't know who he was. It had felt like he'd been observing his own life, as if he'd been a robot of some sort. Alive, excited, throwing himself into things and people as if he wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Who knew if he would? It had all been meaningless, and he'd felt guilty and sick and dirty, but at least it was some sort of feeling. There had been a lot of that, since he found himself in here. And while it had been unpleasant at first, with a sudden flush of things he wasn't used to, it wasn't so bad anymore.
Sometimes Blues could like the feeling of being surrounded. They were warm and he was cold, and it helped. He wasn't so cold with them around, not when he knew he could tell someone when he woke up with nightmares. He never would, he wouldn't ever let them see how badly it hurt, didn't want to, but he might at some point. They would be there for him, always. They said so, and for once in his life, he would believe them without question. He didn't always believe people, that was for sure. Suspicious by nature, or maybe that was the trauma talking. All that mattered was that he liked to protect himself, liked to hide himself away from everyone and everything that could hurt him.
Blues didn't want to believe that anyone could, but how many times had he been proven wrong? He put his faith in all the wrong people, and each time, he would stand tall and say "not this time", "this time, I can trust them". Always proven wrong, always trying again, and always saying this time... This time, he'd be right. Maybe he was right this time. Or maybe it was just the optimistic boyish side of him talking.
He was so sick of that dumb drunk boy.
[hr]
Blues ran a paw over his face and sighed, breath frosting in the late December air. It wasn't raining, not this time around. Now, it was snowing, the wet, heavy snow that was great for snowballs and snowmen. It was still cold, but honestly, he would have preferred the rain. Storms made him happy, they were honest and you could always see them coming. People were not so honest; he didn't always see them coming. That was why he made a point of being visible to all, never sneaking around.
So the leopard stopped, stood completely still. His black pelt stood out starkly against the white snow, white on his back and halfway up his legs. It was cold and he didn't like it, but he waited. Patiently. The male had left a note on his bed, "I'll be back in a day, don't miss me. Just something I need to take care of." It had taken a long time to track down the person he had been looking for, and now that he stood where he did... He didn't know what to do. Should he just turn away? That would have been smart.
He wasn't smart.
[hr]
"That you, pretty boy?" Unlike everyone who used that name after she had, this was gentle, she was glad to see him, she wasn't... Laughing. It was pleased, it sounded like fairies, and his heart dropped to his stomach. He didn't really want to be back here, but here he was, standing in a new body. She was as pretty as she had been a year ago. Sure, Blues was gay, but he knew what an attractive face looked like. And she was it. Gentle and soft and pale, with big warm eyes and a soft smile.
The Admiral cleared his throat. "How'd you know it was me?" People had a habit of knowing it was him, why? The tiger had done it too, everyone he tried to separate himself from, even if they were good memories. They all seemed to recognize him. What was it?
She giggled, as if it should have been obvious. Of course she did. "Your eyes. They're always the same, aren't they? That's why I liked you, I think. Always so bright and expressive." Did she know that she had believed in a lie? Of course she did. Her eyes were sadder than they had been a year ago; she definitely understood. "I was mad at you. For a long time." He would have been mad too. "I was in love with someone who didn't exist. You left me."
"We went on one date," he wanted to snap back. Defensive. "You didn't love me, you didn't even try to get to know me. None of you did." But her eyes were a little teary now, and he was clenching his jaw, unsure. This was a bad idea, he was still that dumb drunk kid, minus the drinking and the kid. Just dumb. "I should just leave." She nodded.
Somehow, that hurt worse than the accusations.
But he did turn to leave, quiet, almost apologetic. "You could have told me, Blues." Something inside of him snapped them, he could feel the shift in the air before it really hit him that he was angry. He was so fucking tired of the dumb drunk boy, the reason he was in this entire mess, but he hadn't had anyone to defend him then and damn him if he was going to let it happen now. The smaller feline looks at him with those teary eyes as he turns back towards her, but he refuses to hesitate.
"I could have told you? I couldn't tell any of you anything, everyone was so damn set on me being with you that nobody realized what they were doing to me." How terribly it had all hurt, to listen to them telling him how cute they would be. They didn't get it, didn't get that they kept pounding it into his head. Boys loved girls. Boys loved girls. He didn't love girls, but they all expected him too, didn't they? "I came here to apologize for what happened. I know I left you. It was unfair. But what you did to me was just as unfair."
[hr]
Bluesrock was no longer that dumb alcoholic kid, but he wasn't going to let everyone keep beating him down. He'd suffered enough pain, he'd been so lost and nobody had been there and he'd made it here. He was alive, and safe, and loved. Blues had never thought it was possible for him to be as cared for as he was. Some weird part of him worried that he wasn't, but his instincts were wrong a lot. Like... To the point that he was pretty sure they weren't actually instincts, just some voice in his head that really wanted him to die.
That was fine, like this. No matter what his voice said, there were people here that he would not like to lose, and that was the end of it. He wasn't the dumb little boy, he was safe and loved. He had a room and a family, were he to go so far. What more could he ask for? A silly little smile threatened to split his face in half, looking at the sunflowers that brightened his room considerably, and the blankets he'd sort of collected. Warm, safe, loved. He would have to go talk to everyone here, sooner or later. But for now, he was content to simply bask in everything he felt.
It didn't go away, not ever. The confusion, the fear, that sense that he was beyond lost. But it was okay. For now, at least, he was okay. This would continue to ache, and he would never feel entirely better, but he was warm and safe and loved. There was nothing else he could wish for.
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