Chapter Text
It was so good. The initial crunch against your teeth giving way to the soft seasoned meat below and a taste you couldn't describe. Despite the distant screaming, you threw yourself back into the meal fighting against your fingertips. Each bite gives you waves of euphoria only to plummet a second later, making you crave more. So quick that you devoured the first half of your meal that you didn't stop to realize what you were scarfing down. Only when it stopped fighting did you look down at it properly. Its mouth hangs wide, frozen in shock until giving into their end. You rub your fingers against the fingernail shape crevices along the breading and feel a liquid emerging from it. It was blood. You tasted blood. It didn't take you much longer to spot something burning in the rubble near you. An charred object in the vague shape of a cowboy hat settles in the crackles of the flames. You look down at your meal and hold it tight to your chest.
“Nugget…..” you said, close to tearing up.
You wake up.
You're glad you did. Of all the ways that day could have ended, you are grateful that it didn't end like that. Not with him. Instead, you look at the ceiling for a small moment before shifting your attention to the window. The blinds are closed but there was enough moonlight peeking through to tell that you have woken up in the middle of the night. Maybe 1:00am?
You look over to your nightstand at your alarm. 12:13.
“Tsk” You were close enough. It was a bit brighter than expected but you can make due.
You start to fish around underneath your pillow until your paw hits something solid. Pulling it out, you find a heavily marked book with marker scratches on the cover. The marker scratches are new but not unexpected. You could call this a diary at this point since you’re the only one using it properly. At first, it started as a sticker collection from all the homework you got an A on but it devolved from there. A little notebook to pass around during the day now reduced to the paper version of a screaming match. Flipping through the partial worn out pages, you settle on the most recent page yet to be scratched to oblivion. Surprisingly, it had an actual sentence for you to read.
“We had him, Max. You didn't need to stop yourself yet you let go. He was right there.”
You stop after the first sentence. You didn't need to read the rest to know what they were talking about. You can already hear the voice circle in your head, hoping for another chance. You won't give it to them. You were already lucky enough to escape with your friend alive. Even more lucky for him not to say anything about it afterwards either. The best you could do is stay away for his sake. As mad as you are, they did take the time and give you a straight answer. You have to respect that.
“NO” you mark down with a bold black marker, covering the whole page. That should be enough for them. You push the book back under your pillow. You are sure that you'll get more aggressive scratches but you don't care. You’re fine. He's fine. Everything is fine. You will need some coffee in the morning though.