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“It’s like we’ve become strangers.”
“Strangers?” Blue eyes are incredulous at the other’s concept. All too soon, that disbelief turns bitterly fervent, and Nook shakes his head. His tone is icy, yet resigned and tired: oh, how he wished he had that blessing. Strangers would have been so much better than what they were now, what they’d been through. On the contrary, he supposes that piece of history made him who he is, rightfully made the rift between them. “Hm. Strangers.”
The silence afterward leaves the fox despondent, unimpressed by the musing, though it could just as easily be anxiety at its contemplation. You could never know with this swindler; he is a man of masks, an actor in his own right, especially in his own feelings. It’s amazing how he can manipulate the world in his favour, with his words, his silver tongue, but it would do him no good in the end. It’s no favour to lie to yourself. Isn’t that why he was here now, after they were so bent and broken? He had ruined them. Their partnership lied there in cold ashes, and yet his rivalry — his denial of incompetence next to the infamous tanuki — rose like a phoenix that would not stay dead.
Redd opens his mouth to speak, but Nook interrupts before he can weave another web of lies.
“… no.” Thomas’ gaze darts upward, stare stern and more than remembering everything they were, and everything they lost. “We are something far worse than that, Redd.”
A harmless jab, or so Redd thought. He had never been one for considering the emotional weight of what he spoke. They’re meaningless line after cheesy line to him, banter. One might think he would consider their importance, in the presence of his ex-partner and the passionate feud between them, though perhaps he’d just elected to ignore it. There’s spite in this action, because he forever remains indignant he has done anything wrong. But oh, he has done a million things wrong — continues to. And no one knows this more than Tom Nook, whose unforgiving gaze never leaves his face.
“The fact of the matter is, we know too much about each other.”
“Then forget it,” those words are almost instinctive. For a moment, he can’t believe he’s said them. But registration comes too late. These words had struck. Had the businessman heard the plea he’d spent so many years trying to hide? So many years toiling, sick of being second best, denying the ruins he had wrought on the raccoon. Why was he so fixated? Why did he still care? Why couldn’t he leave it alone? It’s moments like this he remembers: it’s because he has nothing left.
Redd’s perspective of the world was jaded. Behind his bright smiles, behind his lively laughter, hid a man who had lost all faith in the world. A man full of skepticism and cynicism, because this existence, with all its scrutinization, self-fulfilling prophecies and family hardships, had never been so kind to him. And he’d learned that the hard way, just as Nook had. He supposes that’s why they worked so well. They had both started with nothing and ended with something. That something is why they stood here now, not even friends, not even strangers — no, a thing much more terrible. And Redd admits to himself now, it hurts, because in the section of his life that he felt so guarded, lost and lonely… Tom was refreshing. Tom respected him. Tom made him feel at home, something Redd never thought possible because it was something he never had.
“You know I can’t.”
Until Nook ruined everything. Until Nook ruined what patch of paradise they had. Until Nook abandoned them. It’s in these moments Redd remembers the anger and the hatred; it forces his hand to a close, hunches his shoulders as he glares down at the ground. The nights alone, caring about what this garbage raccoon had done to him, the spit upon everything they built. AND ALL BECAUSE REDD WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM. He hates it. He remembers it. He hates that his life is in ruins, that he’s lost everything just because someone was so UNGRATEFUL… because Nook couldn’t work with him. Because Nook was… no, is BETTER than him.
Nook turns, gazing up at the night sky. It’s beautiful, almost surreal, on this rural little island. Cityscape could never do such a canvas justice. How tragic it was, for the stars to glimmer so brightly despite the heart-wrenching onset below. Nook thinks it almost poetic in a way, a lesson to what is transpiring now. That stars will shine; that they will always glimmer, and that is an unavoidable part of life. And sometimes, they are brighter than you. But they have done their part to achieve that light, spent millions of years in doing so. And that very same ethic applies to mankind.
Redd had so much potential to be more, but he threw it away for money. He threw them away for money, and in the worst way. The extortion, the forgeries… Redd set aside common decency for the sake of self-interest. For the sake of being the best, no matter who he hurt, no matter what innocent be swindled by him. And Nook knows, because he has been swindled, and he will never forgive himself for the time and heart he spared. It wasn’t worth it. None of it had been. Not when Redd betrayed everything he ever knew.
Nook’s face drops from the dotted skies, and he looks toward the door of the town hall solemnly. He says nothing, at least not immediately, as he stares absently. He recalls he had stepped out for a moment. He feels the duration of this break would prompt curiousness from Isabelle. Not that she would ever press into such matters, polite as she is. Perhaps it’s better that way. She need not get involved with Redd. No matter her empathy, her charisma and desire for everyone to get along, Redd is one of the few people Nook doubts will change. Trying to intervene would be like attempting to talk to a brick wall, and would most certainly lead to Redd swindling her.
“Leave, Redd.”
The words are cold and harsh, but Nook well and truly means them. He wants nothing more of their feud. He wants a fresh start, away from the stress of his city life, away from his past with the fox. He is giving this order now, because they’re kinder than what the authorities would give Redd. Always kinder. And he didn’t understand why.
Without a word, Nook leaves Redd in the plaza, shutting the door behind him.
“…” The vulpine says nothing. Amidst his inner turmoil, his anger, he’s speechless at the other’s words. He glares at the building, fists balled ever tighter, until his tail swishes and he turns around. “…like you did?”
Oh, Redd wishes. He wishes he could leave well enough alone. He envies that about Thomas, how he could close that chapter of their life so easily, because Redd can never find it in himself to do that. All he can do is cling to the rivalry he so heatedly formed and ever strive to be BETTER than Nook in the worst way. He couldn’t stop for that. He won’t stop for that. He can’t. This competition is the one thing keeping his life turning, distracting him from the mess he’s made, because Redd was never at fault. Redd was perfect, and as he scuttles back to his creaky boat, stars glimmering with the ocean, he decides. He’d show everyone that.
Especially Tom Nook.