Chapter Text
Fen kneeled on the forest floor, pines and needles digging into his kneecaps. His teeth sunk into flesh, tearing through viscously. The taste of copper flooded his mouth. “I-I’m… s-so…s-sorry…” he choked out through a sob, hands trembling as he squeezed the poor rabbit’s legs tighter, feeling the soft fur under his fingers.
The leeches finally settle down under his skin, satisfied with the offering. He dropped the bunny with a dull thud, stomach groaning as the blood settled down in his gut. He gripped the earth like an anchor in the storm of his own fucked up world. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do for now.
He felt sick. Like he needed to throw up. But he couldn’t. Or else the sacrifice would go to waste. Or else he’d have to catch another rabbit and have to watch the life drain from its eyes as he bit into it, tasting the sickening tang of blood and fur cling to his throat.
He picked the fluffy creature up by its hind legs, gently placing it inside a plastic bag. It would make for a great rabbit stew for tomorrow (not that he needed to eat anymore that is).
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he would have company over, orchestrated by his dear o’ll mom. “He’s Wyatt,” she’d told him over the phone, “you know, your best bud from high school! Surely you haven’t forgot-“ He hung up, but he knew she wouldn’t let that stop her. He knew she would send whoever it was over despite his dissatisfaction. His rent was being paid for by her, so she counted it as her place. Fair enough, he supposed.
Fen trudged back out of the forest, a busted-up flashlight illuminating his path. It was well past midnight so that nobody would have to bear witness to him attending to his less socially acceptable needs.
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Fen pushed open the front door, avoiding the mess on the floor masterfully. The only thing he was partially good at was avoiding doing chores.
Dirty clothes, trash and God knows what else greeted him at the front door, accompanied by yellowed, peeling wallpaper and that weird black thing in the corner that he hadn’t bothered to look into. He shut the door behind him, locked it with a click, and tiptoed his way inside.
Fen suddenly felt bile rising at the back of his throat. He made a run for the kitchen, only getting stopped by the countertop jabbing into his gut. He grabbed the edge of the sink hard, coughing up the thing currently clawing its way out of his throat.
Slightly digested flesh, red-stained fur and bile seemed to grow eyes and stare back at Fen from the sink, making him feel even more guilty than he already was. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and went back to the main goal: making that stew. The leech bullshit could wait.
He located his CD player amongst the mess on his counter, as well as a random CD nearby. He popped the disk in, the music crackling to life.
Only to subsequently not play music, and instead static. Of course.
Fen sighed, accepting his fate. He left the fuzzy sound on as background noise as he got started on the dish.
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Wyatt was coming. Fen prepared like the apocalypse was happening (it technically was, in his mind). He’d frantically cleaned (shoved his mess in his bedroom and sprayed FeBreeze everywhere to cover up the tang of blood), had an actual shower that wasn’t just deodorant, and made a nice rabbit stew, including mushy carrots, melty rabbit meat and a flavorful broth.
Now, he stood in his entry way, adjusting his mask so his freakish mouth was covered. He looked at himself in his grimy mirror, doing a small twirl. He had a grey hoodie, his trusty face mask, some sweats and leather gloves. All very spacious, do the leeches decide that they want to wander on his skin.
He looked fine, right? Human? He hadn’t felt human after all of this happened to him - months now. How many months, though? He couldn’t say. The days blended together in a sickening cocktail, the pain and hunger blurring his perception of time until—
The doorbell rang with a cheery tune, snapping Fen out of his spiraling thoughts. He darted for the door, nearly tripping on a stray t-shirt. He unlocked the door with shaking fingers, heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
He opened the door, greeted by Wyatt, snuggled up in a warm-looking winter coat. He was still the same chubby, acne-riddled geek, but at least he looked happier now. His hair was messy but clean, black curling around the nape of his neck. It was longer than Fen remembered. He also had some awkward chin and mustache hairs, not thick enough to be considered stubble but something close.
“Hey, Fen!” He greeted with a grin, reaching out a fist. “It’s been soooo long since we last talked! How’s it going, man?”
Fen accepted the fist bump, lightly tapping his knuckles against his supposed friend’s before letting his hand fall to his side. “S-same as always,” he said, quieter than he wanted. Weaker. “Y’know how it is.”
“Well, at least we can talk over some nice hot cocoa down at the rink…” Wyatt gushed, eyes crinkling with excitement of seeing his friend again.
“The…w-what?” Asked Fen, eyebrows furrowing, confusion thick in his feeble voice.
Wyatt chuckled awkwardly, tilting his head. “The rink?” He repeated, his own confusion for Fen’s bewilderment clear. “Y’know, the lake five minutes away, with the tents and stuff?”
“O-oh, yeah.” Fen nodded along, pretending like he left the house for something else other than to hunt.
“Anyway,” Wyatt continued, brushing off the misunderstanding from a moment ago, “We should head down before it gets packed!”
“Wh- I, uh…” Fen stammered, his brain struggling to comprehend the change of plans. “I t-thought we were gonna be a-at my place. M-made some…stew.” He gestured to the apartment behind him.
“B-but!” He added, almost frantically. “We can g-go to the- uhh… s-skating rink. I-I don’t mind.”
“Sure, no problem! I’ll wait for you outside, capishe?” Wyatt flashed a smile and a wink, hoping to lighten the mood. With that, he stepped back outside, gave a small wave, and leaned next to the wall beside the front door.
Fen let out a small sigh, shoulders slumping. He slid on his leather jacket, zipping it up to his chin. His scuffed boots followed, his socked feet slipping inside.
Finally, he stepped out, hands shoved in his pockets. Something akin to a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. He could do this. He could be normal for an evening. He could pretend, even for a moment, that his insides didn’t contain a network of parasites leeching off of his body, his very life force.
He turned to Wyatt, who was still grinning boyishly. “Let’s go, dude! Don’t wanna dodge toddlers the entire time!”Wyatt beamed, hands tucking into his pockets after pushing off the wall. He walked beside Fen down the hall, past the rows of other people. Fen’s hand trailed the railing, looking out to the familiar parking lot.
“Dude? You sick or something?”
Fen paused. Or at least his demeanor did, even if his feet continued walking.
“Wh- uh, why do you ask?” He asked, trying to not seem on edge at the question.
“You just look pale.” Wyatt said, eyes narrowing slightly as they tried to get a better look at Fen’s face. “And what’s with the mask?”
“Just, uh, a little sick,” Fen answered too quickly. Frantically. “Small cold. I’m-…fine.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes but didn’t pry deeper. “Ooo-kay, then.” He resigned, focusing his attention back to the path.