Glazed orbs nearly doubled in size at the manifestation of a feline, the purest of God’s creations. An urge to stroke and squeeze the small creatures paws bubbled up within, only to be squashed by the sight of a rather extensive booze horde. Most of the brand names flew right over his head, so the unrefined Cro-Magnon pretended to be incapable of reaching a resolve.

“It doesn’t matter,” he mounted an unclaimed stool. “Anything is fine. I...don’t really have a favourite with these sorts of things.” Not right now, anyway.

Keeping his peepers fixed on the pet balancing upon its owner, admiring effortless grace and beauty from afar, he was struck with unpredicted homesick pangs. Despite assuredness there was nothing worth going back to, the strays that returned chow and treats with purrs challenged his view of a simple, mostly untroubled life he had squandered. A million mile gap now separating them, the only question he could ponder was if the kitties would be better off without a breathing food dispenser.

“Oh, well, I’m sure the boy’s an angel.” Glen’s mind still conjured conjectures of a slobbering mini-beast. “Just hoping he doesn’t mind me taking up room here. I know how it feels to share space with...strangers. Ahem, uh, so how long have you known the little guy?”

He motioned towards the fluffy scarf wrapped around Lucid’s neck. “Yves, I mean.”
 
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"We'll go with some Fireball then eh? Nothing to fancy but damn that kick. Mmm-mm!" He smiled back as he grabbed a big bottle of it from the cabinet and hopped over to grab some glasses and ice. The cat wrapping around his neck looking like a small boa draped over his delicate shoulders.
"Huh? Yves?" He cocked his head to the side....he did mention his son was eight right? And why did he say....It took a moment but the moment finally connected in his mind. Making his smile grow even wider and laughter to erupt from his chest. "Well if you meant my son, then he's eight remember? But this little guy, this is Johnny. I've had him since he was a kitten! He's five years old now."

The young man waltzed up to Glen happily with the furball eyeing him suspiciously. "May take a bit for him to get used to you but trust me. Like Yves, Johnny here is a little sweet heart." He shot the old man a teasing grin. It was an honest mistake but a funny one at that."Take a seat and I'll give ya a treat to get him to come to ya! So you can pet him easier."
 
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“Oh.” Prickling embarrassment spread across the nape of his neck, causing the geezer to furiously rub inflamed skin. “I-I didn’t mean...I’m sorry, names aren’t my strong suit. Then again, I suppose nothing really is.”

When his host approached, atrophying muscles instinctively and instantly clenched, though eased after catching the inquisitive gaze of his favourite beast. Extending an index finger, the equivalent to a friendly greeting, he patiently observed as the kitty sniffed and eventually bumped against his open palm. Awarded an invitation to touch, the male cat lady scratched a fuzzy chin. “Five years? Ah, well, seems like you’ve taken good care of him. Most people prefer kittens, but forget that they need extra attention.”

Momentarily distracted from an irrepressible urge to drown his sorrows, Glen gently stroked between and behind two pointed ears until soft purrs resulted from his caress. Upon hearing the happiest, most pleasing sound in the world, he felt certain his risk of suffering a heart attack dropped by ninth percent. Too bad it did not decrease his yearn for a quick ticket to Heaven.

“Hey, pour me some of that,” he suddenly demanded, as if unable to handle sobriety. “No need to pour in anything else, just give it to me straight.”
 
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"Oh don't worry. You're not the first to mix them up. Even my own step mother did for the longest time... and my father still does." The bright youth let out a half hearted chuckle. Smiling as Johnny took to Glen rather quickly.
"écharpe mon petite chou~" He sang lovingly to his cat as he picked him up from his shoulders and laid him across the old man's shoulders. The feline gave a soft mew before conforming to his shoulders like a limp noodle. "You're not getting this liquid gold straight in you Glenjiman my dear old boy. Cause I'm going to have some as well and only have one bottle. Don't mind sharing but I think we could both agree that we'd get a little greedy without trying to ration this stuff out." Lucid hopped over to the counter once more to whip out a couple of glasses and hello kitty shaped chunks of marble from the freezer. Pouring them both a near overflowing glass of the liquid fire and flopping down onto the couch. "Come on pal! siiiit! enjoy a pre dinner drink!"
 
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An overpowering surge of shame struck, immediately sweeping away Glen’s eagerness to party hardy. It did not seem right to celebrate, not when crooks still roamed free and remorse tainted his conscience. With a wobbly honk of forced laughter, he slid off of the stool, his abrupt movement provoking the cat to abandon ship. He watched sorrowfully as the kitty trotted away.

With a lengthy sigh, the meandering milquetoast shuffled towards the sofa where his next perch awaited. “Ah, well, at least I’m not the only one to make that mistake,” he half-joked, genuinely relieved to not be a lone idiot. “It’s a good thing we cleared it up before I actually meet the kid.”

Glen imagined the tension that would arise after accidentally referring to the youngster with the name of a pet, and promptly all of his muscles spasmed. The unforeseen convulsion caused him to stumble, plummet, and finally eat a mouthful of carpet as he landed face-first onto the floor.

After peeling away from the ground, a disaster-prone klutz casually dusted himself off while fresh tomato juice spurted from a (possibly) broken nose. “Whoops,” he appeared almost mournful noticing that his clean new shirt had been splattered with blood. “I’m just having no luck today, huh?”
 
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"Johnny!! Tsk, rude son of a bitch." Lucid shook his head as the cat slid of the man's shoulders and trotted away. The traitor. He'd be back as soon as soon as the food was here. "And don't worry bout it too much. He finds it funny since it's happened so often. Sometimes even messes with people over it but that's rare since he's so quiet and shy." The young man offered a reassuring smile.

However, that quickly turned to worry as soon as the old man bit it hard on his carpet. "Oh my god are you alright?!" Lucid ran to the bathroom to fetch a towel for him to hold over his nose and bright pink silken robe. "I think you just need to sit down for a while with your luck." He teased. "I've got a robe you can wear while I bleach that stain out of your shirt....it may be a bit small but better than nothing right?"

Cocking his head to the side he gave Glen the once over. He really was a walking disaster wasn't he? Almost more than himself. Though to be fair this old coot's was more visible by far. Slowly but surely something brought to the surface and laid bare by years and years of erosion by life. God, how liberating it must be to have it all out in the open. Be a visible walking mess, allowing yourself to feel, let others know how you feel. Not a walking grenade keeping it all bottled up 24/7. Neither was good, not by far. But at least the poisoning was slower.
 
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Delicately pressing plush cotton against a busted snout, the eventual inpatient observed as his most disliked colour permeated pure white. What shocked him was not the ridiculous amount of plasma he is able to leak without fainting, it was how nothing hurt. The hard landing or his skull slamming against the equivalent to a brick wall, he barely registered any of it. Other than a dull throb and minor discomfort, Glen felt numb.

“No, no,” he initially rejected the offer. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to do that.”

His polite refusal faded away in the wake of noticing a homie staring miles long into the abyss. “Lucid? Are you okay? Did I do something...wrong?”

Mental fingers pointed to earlier transgressions, blaming him entirely for planting the seeds of grief by consistently dredging up evils committed. “I’m sorry if I did,” he wondered if these constant apologies held sincerity anymore. “Come on, let’s just relax and have a drink and...and forget about everything together. How does that sound?”

Glen raised one of the shots with contrived enthusiasm, smiling stiffly in nervous anticipation of clinking glasses and officially kicking off the night.
 
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"Hm?" The youth blinked several times before the real world came crashing in like a wave again. "Oh. No. It's fine. I'm fine. It's fine. Yeah." He cleared his throat and shook his head. The soft, resonant ding of the bell dragging him further back into the situation at hand.

"Groceries are here! You get comfy and I'll go cook then join you for a drink okay?" The ever bright smile returned. Painted across his face as a mask. He near ran over to the door to pay the delivery person and collect the mass of foods. It took him several trips to take all he ordered inside to the counters. He paid a small fortune for this shit and they couldn't even loan him the dolly they brought it up in for a few minutes.

"Take a seat Glenny boy! I'll have dinner whipped up in a bit. Get dressed in whatever you like, kick off your shoes, turn on the tell just don't drink all the booze." Lucid turned around to wink at the old man. Back to pretending there was not a single care to be had in the world.
 
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With his proposition left hanging in the air, Glen nursed at a syrupy cocktail all on his dejected lonesome, more than a bit confused by how the atmosphere became so frigid in mere moments. It was as if winter snapped her icy fingers and froze their relationship. Peering down at cat-shaped chunks floating inside of his cup, the eternal loser could almost relate to the way they circled closely around each other, but could never truly connect.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded in absent agreement. “Do what you must, I’ll just...sit here and wait.”

Glancing towards the next room, he could not help but notice that there was a gradually increasing distance between him and the younger male, both physically and figuratively. Fake smiles could only barely disguise the anguish they were suffering, but an inconsequential wink was the last straw.

Something inside of Glen snapped.

Quaffing the last of cinnamon-flavoured sludge, he marched directly into the kitchen and halted in front of Lucid. Without a hunched posture, he towered over the blonde, and the shadow created by such a stature was all-consuming. “No, nothing is fine. Stop saying it is when you know that’s not true. We’ve been to hell and back, you don’t have to pretend this is normal, or that you’re not bothered by what happened.”

There was a pause for him to indulge in firewater from the flask hidden in his pants; fuel to a growing fire. “For god’s sake, we watched somebody die today! We blew up a building and stole a car, tell me how any of that normal!”
 
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The youth's bright green eyes widened. Completely caught off guard by the now massive imposing figure lingering over him. Hostility coming out of every word. It even caused Johnny to flee from his perch and take watch from the chair. "Wh-what the Hell?! Back off!" He shrunk further back as the old man stared down at him. Had he completely gone bonkers? Somehow broken even farther than even thought possible?

"I don't know what you're talking about but it is FINE Glen. Everything is FINE." He swallowed hard, the burn of booze and cinnamon making his eyes water. "I know what happened. What happened to us...what we did. It's not normal. Sure a property was killed and people burned but. But! Why dwell on it huh? It's..it's nothing now! Nothing but the past. Fuck the past am I right? Not like it does anyone any good does it?" Lucid stared Glen cold in the eyes as he took a swig straight from the bottle. "Just....shut the fuck up and get over it alright? Not like it really effects us anymore."
 
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“Get...over it?”

Unwavering denial and an equally infuriating retort only splashed kerosene onto a flaring temper tantrum. His laboured breaths were heavy, forewarning a brewing internal storm. “Have you lost your mind? We’re monsters, if you didn’t realize yet. No better than that demented whore!”

Every millisecond blink summoned haunting images of carnage and a crumpled corpse steeped in coagulating gore. Though memories eventually dim and distort, shame remains until the bitter end. Perhaps not surprisingly it would result in a particularly severe heart attack or an impulsive hurdle over some river bridge.

“How could you be so damn insensitive?” Glen nearly screeched, slamming swollen fists against the counter, causing scattered knick-knacks to shift slightly out of position. “Somebody out there lost a family member! What if it was your boy behind the counter? If that poor kid was your own son, then would you care?!”
 
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Fear turning quick into broiling anger Lucid near flew across the counter. He was at the height disadvantage but by God did he lift Glen's collar as high as he possibly could. Which ultimately led to being at an even lower elevation than the gangly man. "Don't you fucking DARE use my son as an example like that you hear? Not a single bit of any word of it. Hell, Don't even fucking think about it!" He shouted.

"I know what we did, but unlike you I'm not being a fucking wuss over it! We're not monsters we acted in defense! Total defense and nothing else!! And that's over and done and dust in the wind" He snapped. Releasing Glen's collar as his arm grew tired. Instead going to resign himself to picking up the nick-knacks that the old cretin knocked over. Keeping himself busy and drunk to block out the horrors of the days that SOMEONE kept reminding him of. God why didn't he get to keep this mouth shut and it'd go away??

Taking in a deep breath he looked the old man dead in the eyes with a cold, hard glare. "I don't know what exactly your issue is but yeah, again. Get. Over. It. Want some solid advice to help? Drink yourself into oblivion! Alcohol is amazing at removing bloodstains in several ways. Trust me I know all too well. And I don't want to hear another word of that either come from you tonight you got it? I don't care how 'scarring' it was just shut the hell up so I can forget in peace!"
 
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As soon as the fierce feud ripened into physical violence, feverish rage was extinguished, doused by an all too familiar fear. Despite being no longer plagued by a tiny and frail body, a frightened child still remained within the fully-grown adult. Buried deep underneath suffocating rubble of memory, Glen was acutely aware that he was berated and jostled in a similar manner before. At the very least, his humiliated anger was an exact replication.

Straightening his shirt and tie as best he could, the boozer croaked a bitter response. “If letting someone else take a bullet means self-defence to you...then I’m not sure we’re on the same wavelength about this.”

Swiping hot tears from inflamed eyes, he spun around and shuffled towards the exit, not bothering to meet the younger male’s leer. “Keep living in a phoney imaginary world all you want, but I can’t stay here. I’m...I’m turning myself in, and if there’s any humanity left inside of you, I hope you come around to doing the same. Goodbye, Lucid.”

The front door closed behind him with a creaky sigh. And with that, Glen was gone.

His second elevator ride dragged on for what seemed like eons. Cheerful looping music did not help much besides sparking an impulse to chop off his ears. Ding! Once the torture had ceased, he hobbled out of the carriage into a desolate underground parking lot.

Fondling cold metal, the midlife lush gave nicked car keys another squeeze prior to pausing for a sip from his flask. But the instant it touched ashy lips, snippets of aggravating “advice” the blonde had given replayed in his head. What followed afterward was a lengthy splattering sound as he poured every last drop of intoxicating poison onto the ground. He did not want liquor. Though easier said than done, he wanted to not need liquor anymore.
 
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Lucid kept his gaze firmly on the meal he was preparing, mouth sealed firmly shut. Not giving Glen the satisfaction of knowing that he got to him.That he earnestly felt the same way but could not admit it. He was the one too cowardly to admit it and let everything out and talk about it.
He finished the food fast as he could before grabbing the biggest bottle of vodka he could find in his liquor cabinet the youth took to attempting to further drown the pain and sorrow. Eating his own portion, but still making sure to put the old man's in the microwave to keep it warm. He....couldn't let it go to waste and it was getting quite cold out so best have it ready just in case... Hurling the dishes into the sink Lucid turned on the television to fill the room with some sort of white noise as he sprawled out on the couch. Bottle clenched tightly in his hand and damn near finished already.



~~~~~Meanwhile.~~~~~~~~~

"Your drink go bad Mister?" A small, sweet voice, soft as a mouse chimed in from the dead silence of the garage. A tiny child, barely coming up to the old man's kneecaps standing directly behind him. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere from the shadows. Even though he had followed him down and into the elevator. Not even thinking if he had been noticed by this stranger who had just stormed out of his father's place.
Dark blue pools gazing up with naive curiosity from underneath a well worn teal hooded jacket with cat ears. Tufts of very dark brown hair sticking out wildly from underneath it. He took in a slight breath before craning his neck back ridiculously far."......are you a giant?"
 
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Nearly launching straight out of his own skin, an unexpected reveal of another presence sent the geezer reeling. Blood-pumping organ hammering in his chest, Glen rotated to discover some brat peering up at him quizzically. If it were not for the cat ears, he probably would have never been able to guess who this small fry was or where it crawled out from.

“You’re Lucid’s boy, aren’t you?” He asked regardless of already knowing the answer. “I mean, no, I’m not a giant. I’m just...a normal, regular guy.”

Something written on the youngster’s innocent face incited tidal waves of guilt to wash over and slowly defrost a frozen heart. Crouching down, shrinking his size as if trying to appear less threatening for an actual feline, he then expressed remorse. “Sorry you had to see that back there. Your father and I had a really long, really bad day. You...should go back home now, he’s probably worried about you.” Especially after what was said towards the end.
 
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"Mhmm." He nodded. A sweet smile spreading across his face just knowing his dad mentioned him to this stinky tall man. And how whoever he was rememberd. Though still pulling the drawstrings of his hoodie to further conceal his face as the man came down to his level.

"It's okay. I didn' see a lot only heard it. N' Papa's had worse days and worse fights. Much louder, specially with uncle Jay...he plays too rough." He responded sheepishly with cheeks puffed out as he thought. "I dun want to go back now though. Papa drank too much and fell asleep. He's no fun, but you're new and look nice. Are you his new special sleep over friend? You look a lil too old for what papa likes." He cocked his head curiously. Scanning every wrinkle and crevice of the man's face with wide eyed scrutiny. A look oozing with every ounce of pure devilish innocence in the world. Waiting for him to cave in and answer.
 
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Both mortified and horrified, Glen jumped back into an upright stance and wrung bony hands over his scarlet-speckled shirt. “Too old?” he echoed in a dismayed whine. “I-I’m only 35!”

It would take much more than a clean shave and (practically) spotless attire to slow down effects of rapid aging. Pulling through with decades-worth of New Year’s resolutions and quitting his bad habits could help, but when would that ever happen? A day without numbing stress-relief? Absolutely inconceivable.

Snatching a peek at spilled sauce, the hopeless addict fought down urges to lap up the puddle like a dehydrated mongrel. Instead he groaned, disappointed by his own desperation, and focused attention on a prying runt. “I mean, sure, we’re friends. But I’m not sleeping over. There’s, um, an important appointment I have to attend. Adult stuff; you’ll understand when you’re older.”
 
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"Woooow....I'm seven. Gonna be eight soon." The child responded in a happy tone. He wasn't sure why the man sounded so upset. Was being old so bad? You got to be taller and stay up past 8:30. Eat all the cookies you wanted. Had to be great!

What was said next did not sit well with the boy. Did it with any young child though? Having the secrets shut out by those words 'when you're older' aaaaagain. He was old enough to walk to school on his own! Definitely old enough to know what this guy was doing.

With a little huff and tiny arms thrown over his chest he looked up at Glen with a strange expression. Trying his darndest to be as polite as he was taught to be. "Its always adult stuff. What kind of adult stuff Mister? It's reeeeeal late....You're not gonna do what my papa does are you?" He dug through the small pack on his back to get a semi-cold juice box. Holding it up to the man.
 
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Mumbling gratitude, he accepted the gift. Stabbing the tiny straw through a teenier sealed hole, he took a sip and grimaced upon tasting the intense sweetness of apple juice. How could anybody stand such a sugary overload?

Still, Glen forced a weak smile. “I’m not going to do that,” he vowed despite not exactly knowing what the boy meant. “It’s just...Something terrible happened, and one of us needs to make it right. That’s why I have to leave.”

Turning towards his ride, the party pooper had barely a chance to unlock the doors before something reflected in a tinted window cemented him in place. It was a mirror image of Yves, but he was no longer alone. Beside him was a woman, the same dolled up dame who had earlier vanished mid-interrogation, hovering over his small frame. She smirked, as if aware her presence was detected, before seizing both child’s shoulders with lethal claws.

No!” Glen spun around, merely to find his buddy’s son intact and unharmed. Still rattled by the disturbing vision, he wasted no time in rushing over and attempting to herd the half-pint into the elevator. “Y-you know what? You’re right, it is too late to head out. We should go back to the apartment, right now. Before, um, dinner gets cold.”
 
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(booping forum till I can remember to get copied lol)