Chapter Text
It was early in the morning when Fundy heard knocking in his door. Who was that? How could anyone find his place? He was sweating and shaking, waiting for knocking to stop. And it did. For approximately five minutes. And then the unknown someone started knocking again. With a deep sigh Fundy opened the door. A new face.
"Hello, my name is Carol and I am a certified psychotherapist. I came here to offer you my service" a young woman with bright smile and raven hair said. Well that was new.
"How did you find me" his voice was tired and a little irritated.
"I may or may not have been going on a horse in random directions for weeks hoping to find anyone I still haven't met" she answered with awkard smile. Oh wow. Was it that easy? But why did she bother anyway? Fundy was slightly trembling and failing to make eye contact. He didn't talk to people in a really long time and he doesn't want to start again. He doesn't want to get his hopes up again.
"Well you can continue doing it because I don't need your help" he said, wanting to stop this interaction. He was replied with a concerned look. He didn't care. He shut the do-
"WAIT-" she shouted while blocking the door with her feet. "It's alright if you don't want therapy, it's all up to you, but-" she took a piece of paper out of inventory. "In case you'd change your mind, here is the map to my office". She looked nervous while giving the map to Fundy. And then, she left. The door was closed. The fox was staring at the wood. It's just stupid. He can't trust a new person. He can't trust anyone. And he is happy here, in the woods, almost completely alone.
He felt the hole in his chest. Unfilled void, devouring his body. It felt so real that Fundy checked if the gap is really there just to find out that everything is okay. His breath was heave and heart's beating became faster as he was remembering the past. It was hard not to break in front of someone, but the longer he repressed emotions the stronger they were getting. Fundy hugged himself tightly trying to fill the growing void. Why did they came. He would be fine if not for somebody breaking in his space. He would cry if he still was able to. He wasn't sure if he still had tears. He came to the couch just in time when his legs failed to keep him standing. He wish that fall took both of his live instead of just one. But then Yogurt wouldn't have anyone left...
Breath in for four seconds, another four seconds to hold the breath; four seconds and you breath out and wait four seconds to repeat. He can deal with his emotions himself. He doesn't need help. Just a couple of techniques Niki taught him years ago. Fundy was laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling broken. It's to late to fix anything. Hours passed and he didn't notice. At this point, he just simply existed instead of being alive. He wanted to cease to exist but there was someone, who needed him. It would be selfish to give up third life too.
***
Yogurt woke up. The light of sun was to bright to ignore. He quietly walked downstairs and made his way to kitchen. Of course there is no breakfast. He can't remember when was the last time his dad cooked anything. It's alright. He likes making food and he's old enough not to burn everything down. He just wish he didn't have to do it every single day
Yogurt opened the fridge and looked through it's filling. In fact, he looked through nothing. It was almost empty. With a tired sigh he took everything that was left. Two eggs, piece of bread and frozen patty. Do they have salt? Oil? Thank God yes. The bottle of oil was opened and liquid found it's way into pan, creating on the surface web of oil, turning into circle as fire warmed it into more fluid state. First - meat. Yogurt put it into pan, wincing because of loud hissing as beef touched hot oil. He overheard a creek from somewhere. It was time to wait until one side was done. Dad slowly entered the kitchen. Yogurt could read guilt on his face
"You're already awake?.."
"Well, I wouldn't sleep all day" Yogurt said, turning the patty. He tried not to look at his father. Man didn't get enough sleep today, did he?
"I'm sorry, I wanted to make breakfast for you today, but.." he sighed. "I forgot. Do you need help at least?"
Yogurt smiled. He wanted help but didn't actually need it. He cracked both eggs into pan and salted them. Everything's almost done.
"Not really" he took two plates and put done eggs and halfes of patty on them. "There's nothing hard about fried meat" he gave father his plate with piece of bread. "But thanks"
Yogurt was tired of being in charge of most things at home. He was tired of how broken and empty home felt. He was tired of how passive dad was. But Yogurt knew that he cared. It was enough. Dad complimented him on how good food was. It wasn't that good(it was almost tasteless, in fact), but Yogurt accepted it. It was nice to hear. Dad said, that he was good at whatever he tried to do. He wasn't, there was many things he was terrible at, but dad praised each of his attempt in every single activity he tried. Yogurt liked it. He was to tired to be joyful but he smiled and tail slightly wagged. Dad washed the dishes after they finished.
"By the way, we're out of food. Can you give me money so I could buy some?" Yogurt asked. His dad didn't answer. He froze. "Don't tell me..." Yogurt knew what happened. The anger took place of recent happiness. "You said you won't go there again, YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULD STOP" Yogurt shouted in despair and disbelief. He was sixteen. He knew what gambling addiction is and how hard it was to get rid of it. But he still felt betrayed. Fundy was just standing there, admitting his fault. Pathetic. Yogurt forced a smile. "You know what? That's OKAY. I'm going to Michael today. I'll just ask him for food, AGAIN." he said while going to the door and putting shoes on. Michael was his friend, but he didn't like all the worried looks his parent gave him. It's okay.
"Don't- I'll get food, I promise"
"I don't believe you" Yogurt slammed the door. His dad cared. That wasn't enough. "I swear, I will kill that Quackity guy one day*"
***
And so he left.
"Have fun" Fundy said quietly. He knew Yogurt won't hear.
He as alone in an empty home. He can't believe just how much he failed his own son. He wanted to be a better father then his was, but he failed. Don't look at knives
The map caught his eyes. It's to late to fix him. But he can make sure that his son won't be broken. It's time to heal some old wounds... At least give it a shot. Fundy wants to believe, that he won't be toyed with this time.