Characters ——— Eightball : tuxedo cat (tom, he/him) - silly, jovial Patchwork : tortoiseshell cat (intersex, questioning, they/them) - timid, loving ————————— Reunited… ——— It had been a normal day; Eightball chasing that stupid mouse colony off and talking with friends. He’d gotten used to everyone, he’d loved playing games and laughing all day long. He’d finished watching the chickens as the evening began to call, and Goldilocks had decided to call them in because of a ‘bad feeling’. She always had those when newcomers or coyotes (sometimes raccoons) were around. Eightball always kept an eye out when this happened, but when the tuxedo saw a familiar face as he lazily lay atop a hay bale, his honey-colored eyes glistened in shock. Had he been hit by lightning? The tom had made sure he wasn’t going to be followed. Yet… there they were, clearer than day. A short, timid tortoiseshell with farsighted green eyes. As if a boulder had come to crunch the youngster from a cliff, he stared at the familiar face. Family. “Eightball!” The way the simple word left the cat’s mouth was enough to make him sick. Eightball had never been happy where he used to live, and now, as a turtle-shelled feline called to him, he felt terrible. The tuxedo tom felt bad; this not-so-new character was still a child. Eightball pulled on a semi-glad face, but it was really all he could muster as he stood up. The tortoiseshell, as they came closer, had a similar expression; though it was more guilt-ridden than it was sad. He realized now that this cat was not as happy as he had expected. He should’ve known, they were probably very regretful. “Patchwork…!” The name rolled off of his tongue hesitantly. Still, Eightball did not want to remember the character’s from his past; most definitely not their names. The names were the worst part- it was what got them stuck in your head in the first place. Maybe he’d feel better if he only had simple parts of them in his head, but most certainly not the names- oh, the names… Patchwork’s expression seemed to lighten, if only a tiny bit, “It’s good to see you!” They meowed with what seemed to be an attempt at a purr- it was more of a rumbling ‘hurrr’ sound. That was one of the odd things about his family; they could never purr properly. Despite this, the words were genuine; Patchwork meant it. The feline had almost never lied; not even made tiny white lies. It was the worst part about them. “… you too.” He mumbled loudly enough. The tortoiseshell wouldn’t make him say it again. Unlike PAtchwork, the words were not sincere; he didn’t mean them. While Eightball did have a much less miserable time with… say, his sister, but he had his pet peeves with all of them. Patchwork’s problem was his incessant tendency to misunderstand, his inability to stand up for or try and help Eightball. Only one cat had ever done that, but he wouldn’t talk about them. “You should come home. Ma’s sick.” Patchwork paused, their eyes looking nervous as they turned their gaze to the ground. “She needs help.” Eightball turned away. Ma was the worst cat the tom had ever met. He clenched his jaw, laid back down, and kept his head pivoted awake from the tortoiseshell in front of him. “Whaddya say, big cousin?” Patchwork was young, he didn’t understand, “will you come home?” Eightball’s answer was already there, he just hadn’t said it. He wasn’t going to explain to the little one that he already was home- he wasn’t going to give a big speech. Eightball collected himself for a long few moments, trying to do this quickly no matter how nerve racking it was. A tension had begun to stir in the dry, desert air (though the place didn’t exactly look like your average desert). Dust flicked into the tuxedo’s eyes, and the two-color tom’s eyes watered as he began to speak, “No.” And with that, the bi-color tom hopped off of his hay bale- which had been getting itchy anyways, and padded away. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore
