When he looks again, he finds himself in Wicker’s room. He sits up and yawns, rubbing his face.
“Morning, Mewmew.”
Bartholomew feels the blanket on Wicker’s bed, thinking for a moment, “I could’ve sworn we were just outside.”
“Ah, yeah,” Wicker sits beside him, leaning against the wall, “I guess drugs will do that to you. We came in a while ago, it’s morning now.”
Bartholomew nods sleepily, “What I remember was fun, at least. Thank you for letting me hang out.”
“I had a lot of fun too,” Wicker agrees, “It should be enough time for you to feel more ‘normal,’ yeah?”
“I’m tired, but I do feel normal!” Bartholomew purrs.
They sit quietly for a moment, just to enjoy each other’s company. Bartholomew reluctantly gets himself out of bed, stretching out his legs.
“I should probably get home now.”
“No problem,” Wicker responds, keeping himself seated, “Hope to see you again soon.”
“You too!” Bartholomew beams.
He leans over the bed to give Wicker a kiss on the forehead, then leads himself out of the room. He runs his hands down his shirt and shorts, making sure they’re as clean and unwrinkled as they can be, then makes his way outside.
Aedelbark is easier to navigate with each visit; Bartholomew effortlessly passes through the town towards his own. Not many people are out, as work usually starts later in the day, but he spots a familiar figure on his way home. He perks up, ready to greet his brother.
“Morning, Horowitz! I-“
“Where the hell have you been?”
Bartholomew stands in shock. His brother, looking just as surprised, raises his fur in anger.
“I was… with Wicker? Remember? We were-“
“For a fucking week? You promised to come home, Mom’s been worried sick for a fucking week, Bartholomew!”
“I don’t- I don’t remember it being that long. A-are you joking with me?”
Horowitz snarls in disgust, “Go ask Dad if you think I’m fucking joking.”
Bartholomew stands in silence, trying to recollect what’s happened. He goes over the few events he remembers, desperately searching for a sign of time passing.
“I can’t deal with you right now, I have a job I’m not skipping out on. You better be able to explain this shit later.”
Just like that, Horowitz storms off. Bartholomew holds his paws together tightly, trying to steady the sudden strain on his breathing, his whole body feels hot with complete embarrassment and confusion. After Horowitz leaves his sight, Bartholomew slowly walks his way home.
The small town is quiet as usual. Not many people are outside of their homes, and the few that are only offer a neighborly smile as Bartholomew walks past them. He seems too busy to reply though, anxiously going through all the thoughts pounding in his brain.
He approaches his house. Nothing seems to have changed. As his paw hovers over the doorknob, he wonders how much time actually passed. Was it really a week, or one night like he’d promised? It didn’t feel like it could have been any longer than that.
Bartholomew takes a deep breath and opens the door.
Apri sits at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Her long, brown tail flicks back and forth. Apri’s head swings up as the door opens, staring silently at her son in the doorway.
Bartholomew forced out the only words he can manage, “I’m sorry.”
“Bartholomew,” his mother’s eyes fill with tears of relief, “Where have you been?”
He frowns, embarrassed to not have a clear answer. His feet carry him to the table and he settles into a chair at the table.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to talk about it right now.”
Bartholomew leans against Apri, setting his forehead against her arm. She puts a hand on his head, gently petting his short fur.
“Can I go see Dad?”
Bartholomew is met with silence. His mom doesn’t talk or change anything that she’s doing. He straightens his back, sitting uncomfortably at the table. Apri avoids his gaze.
He slowly stands up, wondering if this was even happening. Everyone is acting too weird for the day to be real. His mother continues to only look away from him, so he decides to let himself upstairs.
Each step creaked louder than usual, the house had never felt so empty. A wave of anxiety hit Bartholomew as he continued to walk. Everything felt wrong.
His parents’ bedroom door had been left open. Looking inside, the room was devoid of any people. The bed was made neatly, looking as if no one slept there at all. Despite the normal looking scene, Bartholomew felt sick with uneasiness. He backed out of the room and made his way back down the stairs.
“Where is he?”
Apri continues to ignore her son, letting out a whimper as tears start rolling down her cheeks. Bartholomew’s fur bristles as he starts to put the pieces together. Neither of them say anything as he hurriedly shuts himself in his room.
An off-white envelope rests on Bartholomew’s bed. He hesitantly picks it up, feeling that it’s heavier than expected. Upon opening, he finds some gold pieces and a letter, which reads:
Bartholomew,
I heard about your father. I’m very sorry. I considered him family too and it hurts to see him go. I’ve missed you at the office, but I understand how hard things are right now. Take all the time you need to heal. I’ll be here for you if you ever need to talk. May Expiry give your family peace after this.
Percey
Bartholomew drops the letter and money to the ground. He throws himself on to his bed in frustration, full of guilt for his time away from home. His claws tap against his head as he hisses to himself, too worked up to think or do anything.
Then he pauses. As if he got a sudden glimpse into lost memories, he reaches into his pocket. A neatly wrapped cookie sits inside.
“I can’t do this again,” he mutters to himself, regretting his week-long high. The high he hadn’t even been aware of. The high that ruined his life.
Bartholomew’s intense emotions get the better of him as he unwraps the cookie, breaks a piece off, and sets it in his mouth. He leaves the unwrapped cookie at the end of his bed and waits impatiently. His head already spun with the previous day high, so it isn’t long before a new one is triggered.
The first moments are spent reflecting; he wonders why he was doing this to himself again. He already knew why, not wanting to deal with the situation he’d gotten himself into. It was easier to wash any real feelings away for an easier, fake-feeling time.
Bartholomew shakes his head, not wanting to sit in the same feelings for any longer. He stands himself up and looks around the room, trying to find anything to do. His eyes lock on the book tucked neatly next to his bed. He lifts it gently off the ground and flips through the pages, not even trying to read the words.
Then he starts tearing pages out. Varying sizes of paper strips are flung on the ground and in his bed. Claws drag against pages still intact in the book. After his brief rage, Bartholomew throws the book to the ground and rolls back into bed.
The next few hours are spent laying down. Bartholomew drifts between being asleep and awake, sometimes wondering if he’d fallen asleep at all. He stares at the wall by his bed, feeling nothing at this moment. Any thoughts he has don’t stay long. Nothing happens.
Bartholomew groans as he’s shaken awake. He sits himself up, swaying back and forth. With tired eyes, he looks at an infuriated Horowitz.
“What is all of this shit?” his older brother snaps.
Looking down, Bartholomew scans over all of the paper scraps he left. Horowitz continues before Bartholomew is able to process the situation.
“What’s wrong with you? First you abandon us with no warning, then you only come back to trash our room?”
They stare into each other's eyes with vastly different feelings. Horowitz searches desperately for any response, while Bartholomew anxiously tries to think. He rubs his burning eyes and looks away.
“Why did you even come home?”
At this, Bartholomew starts to cry. He stands up shakily, completely ignoring anything Horowitz continues to say, and stumbles across the room to pick up a messenger bag.
As he starts to walk out of the room, Horowitz grabs the bag’s strap.
“Bartholomew, please just talk to me. What the fuck is going on?”
Both brothers attempt to tug the bag their way, causing it to rip. Horowitz and Bartholomew land awkwardly on the ground. Clothing stays tucked into the bag despite being exposed by the new hole.
Bartholomew’s fur spikes up in annoyance and he lets out a sob, “If you don’t want me here, why won’t you just let me go?”
Horowitz opens his mouth to reply, but silently backs himself away instead. He only watches as Bartholomew stands up to dust himself off, cradles the torn bag in his arms, and leaves.
Bartholomew pushes groggily down the street. Dealing with having just woken up, coming off a high, and crying, he finds it difficult to walk straight. His feet and tail drag with each step, nearly tripping him on multiple occasions. Still, he manages to keep himself upright all the way to Aedelbark.
While stepping up to the familiar porch, Bartholomew takes a shaky breath. He attempts to keep himself together as well as he can when he knocks on the door. Wicker opens it, concern washing over his face.
“What happened?”
Wicker puts an arm around Bartholomew’s shoulder, walking his partner inside as the situation is laid out to him. He sits Bartholomew on the couch and listens intently.
After the explanation, Wicker looks down, “I’m really sorry, man. You can stay here if you need to.”
“I don’t know,” Bartholomew wipes his last tears away, “What if they still need me?”
“They don’t if they’re gonna treat you like that.”
Bartholomew’s ears flatten, “It was only Horowitz. Dealing with stuff like this is just hard. He had a right to get upset about it.”
“He didn’t let you be upset.”
Bartholomew looks at his paws, doubting his defense of the situation. He still believed that his brother, despite lashing out, wasn’t wrong in his reaction. His tail twitches with guilt.
“I guess I don’t want to cause them any more problems either way,” he decides, “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Wicker pats his back gently, “It’s the least I could do.”
Bartholomew keeps his eyes low, continuing his thoughts. Was it really right to leave his family again? Giving them distance felt like the best thing to do, while also being the wrong decision. Either way, thinking about going back made him feel sick with anxiety.
His thoughts are interrupted by the click of a lighter. Wicker takes a blunt out of his mouth and offers it to Bartholomew.
“Now?”
“Makes me feel better when I’m stressed, and you’ve had a long day, Wicker sighs, “Besides, it’s pretty late. It’ll help you sleep.”
Bartholomew hesitantly takes the cigarette. He leans against Wicker as they smoke, letting time pass without them. The room is silent, but Bartholomew’s thoughts get too abstracted to focus on the negatives in his life. His eyes flutter open and close more as the night gets later.
Noticing this, Wicker nudges him up, “Time for bed?”
Bartholomew nods sleepily.
They make their way to the bedroom, where Bartholomew lays himself down immediately. Wicker smiles with amusement as he drapes a blanket over him.
Bartholomew’s whiskers twitch, “Can I ask you something before we sleep?”
“Shoot.”
“How did you know where I live?”
“What do you mean?”
“I never brought you to my house, but you picked me up for the party.”
Wicker straightens his back and looks away, “I’m gonna shower.”
“Okay.”
Wicker exits the room without another word, leaving Bartholomew tucked into bed. His cheek stays smooshed against the pillow as he watches the empty side of the bed. His eyes are harder to keep open with every passing moment, eventually leaving him to drift off to sleep while waiting.
Comments (0)
See all