Chapter Text
“You’ve only heard his point of view. You never asked mine.”
A hand ruffled his hair, mussing his already messy white curls. The man tried to scratch behind his ears, but Yogurt snapped his teeth near the man’s wrist. The stranger backed off, hands held out in front of him like he was trying to show he didn’t mean any harm. He whimpered, burrowing himself deeper in the blanket that the man had draped over him. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew that he wasn’t with his papa or any of his uncles. He just wanted to go home to his papa. The man settled on the edge of the bed, resting his hands on his knees.
“Do you know who I am?” He sniffled, the question harsh against his ears. Papa had warned him of this man, had even asked him to promise that he’d never go anywhere near him. But now… Yogurt threw the blanket over his head, blocking his sight of the man. “I know who you are.”
“No!” Yogurt crossed his arms, hugging his knees to his chest. “Bad man, go away!”
“I am. I am staying far away, little buddy.” Yogurt narrowed his eyes, the mattress shifting underneath him as a weight was lifted. His ears flicked at the sound of wood scraping against wood, followed after a heavy thump. He lifted the blanket from his head, keeping it around himself as some sort of shield from the bad man. The man had sat down on a chair that was facing the bed, but there was enough space for Yogurt to flee if the man tried to grab for him.
“I want papa…” He whimpered, gazing forlornly at the open door that led outside. He could see the trees from where he sat, and the rustle of their leaves only served to mock him. “Please—”
“Don’t worry, Yogurt. Papa will be here soon. He promised to always take care and protect you, hm? Well, he’ll be here soon. He promised, after all.” He could feel tears pooling in his eyes. Papa had brought him to work as usual, promising to be back as soon as he had finished his tasks but then… then the bad man came and lured him away. Yogurt laid his head on his arms, ice blue eyes following the man’s every movement. He was relaxed against the chair, his hands twitching like they were supposed to be holding something. “For now, you get to have a fun day with grandpa! Aren’t you excited to meet me? You see… your papa didn’t want us ever meeting.”
He narrowed his eyes, “G-grandpa?”
“Yes! I am your grandpa, y-your grandbur if you will!” The man leaned forward, a large grin splitting across his face. Yogurt shivered, swallowing down his fear. Papa never said that the bad man was his grandpa… and papa did say that family doesn’t hurt family… “I am your grandpa!”
Yogurt looked back through the small collection of photos that his papa had. He’d seen the bad man in a lot of them. Did papa and grandpa not like each other? Is that why grandpa was also the bad man? He placed a hand on the top of his head. He didn’t like thinking too hard. Head hurts.
“Your papa and I don’t get along. But that doesn’t mean you and I shouldn’t get along, right? I mean… a growing boy needs his family! A-and we’re family, right?” The man’s dark eyes met his, and Yogurt felt a rumbling in his stomach. But he didn’t feel hungry. He didn’t like the blankness of the man’s - his grandpa’s - stare. He frowned, hesitating before slowly nodding. The man clapped his hands together, nearly startling him. “See? We can get along, can’t we, Yogurt?”
“Ask papa firsh…” His voice trailed off, gaze flicking back towards the door. He hoped his papa would come save him soon. Grandpa scared him. It would be so easy to run towards the door, but grandpa might catch him and punish him if he tried to run away. He sniffled, glad that he hadn’t cried at any point. When papa does come to save him, he could say that he was a brave kit! That he didn’t cry at all! Yogurt wrapped the blanket around him more closely, his ears flicking down as he looked back up at grandpa. “Grandpa… why take me? Can… Can… can papa come now?”
“Papa has to do his work. But I left him a letter, he’ll be here soon. Until then… grandpa has a few stories to tell you. Do you like stories? Does your papa tell you bedtime stories?” Yogurt nodded, letting out a small yip. Papa always told him stories! But he never mentioned grandpa in any one of them. Papa told him stories of an old country, of bad guys and heroes, and - most exciting of all - explosions! Yogurt nearly giggled at the memory. His papa didn’t like it when he laughed at the mention of explosions, but Yogurt always thought of colorful lights when papa mentioned the word. He wanted to see explosions someday! “Well, grandpa has a great story.”
Grandpa leaned back against the chair, arms extended towards him. He didn’t try to move forward or gesture Yogurt to move closer, letting the kit decide for himself. Yogurt leaned closer, sniffing at his grandpa’s palm. He smelled of burgers. He grabbed the blanket, holding onto it as he reached for his grandpa’s arms. His grandpa chuckled, hoisting Yogurt up into his arms.
“Now,” Wilbur grinned. “Once upon a time, a young fox betrayed his father…”