Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  It was so dark.

   The air was thick and musty, heavy with the fibres of overcoats and winter jackets. A stuffy heat lifted the scents of dried mud and stale sweat that clung to the hanging garments, mixing with the cloying grime of the neglected carpet. But it wasn’t the stale air that was making him choke up.

   Three separate, muffled voices - one deep, one sharp, one shrill - seeped through the thin walls. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, but their volume had increased steadily since he’d been jolted awake. At one point, someone had turned on some kitschy music, which only made the voices louder as they tried to talk over it.

   He had no way of telling what time it was. No light infiltrated his location. It had been dark when he’d been brought here, he knew that much at least. But whether only a few hours had passed, or the whole night, he had no way of knowing.

   He’d barely slept, curled up and trembling in a corner. His eyes stung from shedding anxious tears. For the first night of his young life, he’d been totally alone. It was scary enough without being enclosed in a small box and shoved into a pitch-black closet. He didn’t even have another of his own kind for company. Without anything else to drown out the restless thoughts in his mind, his inner turmoil had only grown steadily louder.

   What if he wasn’t good enough? What if they rejected him? What if he messed everything up, again? What if no one ever loved him? What if what if what if…?

  Thudding footsteps snapped him out of his spiralling thoughts. They grew steadily closer, each step chipping away at his fragile nerves like the swing of a pickaxe. The creak of a door, sharp light and saccharine music flooded his senses, and suddenly his container was hauled up into the air. The movement took him by surprise, and he overbalanced, falling heavily onto his front.

   “We have one last present for you, Jamie.”

   He flinched at the unexpected booming voice, no longer muffled by plasterboard. What little he could see of the world passed by in a confusing blur of colours. The motion of his carrier was starting to make him feel rather seasick. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut.

    “What is it? What is it?!”

   The shrill voice was practically screaming at this point. The overload of noise was making his head pound. He clamped his hands over his skull, vainly trying to stifle the cacophony of voices and music.

   “Here you go, Scout!”

   His box was dumped on the ground just as suddenly as it had been picked up. The impact jarred every bone in his body, knocking the breath from his chest.

   The shrill voice exploded into delighted squeals, reaching a pitch that probably set every dog in the neighbourhood into a frenzy. He cringed, pushing his palms tighter against the sides of his head, but it did little to muffle the noise. “A pet! A pet!!”

   “Not just any pet,” the sharp voice spoke up now, while something fumbled with the front of his container. He risked a peek to see giant hands unlatching the barred door of his carrier, “A Bitty.”

    Another squeal erupted through the room, echoing painfully inside the plastic walls of his box. Suddenly, fingers were grabbing him, and he was hauled out into the open.

   “A Bitty! My own Bitty!”

   A youthful face was shoved into his, staring down at him with unrestrained glee. The hand holding him was squeezing so uncomfortably he could feel his bones creaking. Another hand swooped in and started to eagerly manhandle him, pulling and poking at him as though he was a toy.

   “Uh, Craig…” the sharp voice had a worrying edge to it now, “What is that?”

   “What d’ya mean?” came the deep voice’s reply, “It’s a Bitty, of course!”

   Fresh tears reignited the dried tracks on his cheekbones. He could barely breathe, though whether that was because of his anxiety, or the crushing grip on him, he couldn’t tell. His mind was rapidly spiralling into panic.

   “I thought we agreed to get a Baby Blue,” the sharp voice insisted.

   “They didn’t have any left,” deep voice was defensive now, “Or Papys, or even Sansys. I guess everyone wants a Bitty for Gyftmas…”

   The mauling fingers were too much. He squeezed his sockets shut again, desperately trying to block out all the overwhelming stimuli. Just a little more…Just hang on a little longer… He couldn’t fail…Not again…

   “Is…is that an Edgy?!” sharp voice held a note of panic now.

   “Don’t be stupid!” deep voice growled back immediately, “As if I’d get our son an Edgy!”

   He couldn’t take it anymore. His already strained nerves snapped like a frayed rope. It was honestly a coin toss whether his erratic magic would teleport or lash out with an un-directed blaster. Thankfully, this time his body teleported.

   In a blip, he was out of the crushing hand. He hadn’t chosen a destination: he hadn’t even had a chance to take in his surroundings or orient himself before he was snatched out of the carrier. His mind was so jumbled with panic and stress that he didn’t even aim.

   He collided full force with an enormous evergreen tree. His tiny skeletal fingers scrabbled desperately for a hold on the waxy needles before he could plummet to the floor. Was he outside? Had he teleported all the way outdoors? He didn’t think it was possible for Bitties to shortcut through solid objects like walls, but…His hands caught something twisted and wiry, and he instinctively latched on to it for dear life.

   “Hey!” the shrill voice was still so loud. Maybe he wasn’t outside after all? But then, why was there a fir tree indoors…?

   “Over there, on the tree!”

   Three towering humans - two adults and a child, by the looks of them – turned to face him, and he finally got a good look at his new family. He recognised the man, Deep Voice, from the adoption centre. The other adult was a woman, and the child appeared to be a young boy.

   “It’ll ruin the tree!” the woman’s voice was growing sharper by the minute, “Get it off!”

   The man marched towards him, a scowl beginning to take shape on his face, and reached up an enormous hand to grab the Bitty dangling from a string of fairy lights. The Bitty yelped and instinctively teleported again, this time landing heavily on the carpeted floor.

   “Mine!” the child screamed and lunged to grab him. He saw the looming arms and blipped a third time, towards the overstuffed couch. He misjudged the distance, whacking his skull painfully on the frame before scooting underneath the heavy furniture. Tears of pain and fear were streaming unhindered down his cheeks now, dripping more stains onto his plain t-shirt.

   “Oi! Come out of there!”

   A massive arm reached under the couch and grabbed at him. The terrified Bitty only let out a choked sob and scurried away from the snatching fingers.

   “Urgh! Rachel, get round the other side and block it off!”

   It was utter chaos in the room now. The child was shrieking, the parents were on opposite sides of the sofa, trying to reach the Bitty underneath, and he was cowering as far back as he could get, too scared to come out. The more they shouted at him, the more he tried to escape.

   If they’d stopped to think logically, perhaps the humans would have realised that trying to chase and grab a terrified Bitty would only make the situation worse. But alas, rational thought wasn’t very forthcoming with a screaming child and an escaped creature loose in their home.

   In the end, it took almost an hour of moving furniture and twisting into awkward positions before the Bitty was finally recaptured. The whole experience had pushed everyone to breaking point. His patience thoroughly exhausted, the man hurled the Bitty back inside the plastic carrier and slammed the lock shut.

   His son reached for the carrier expectantly, but Deep Voice only lifted it out of the child’s reach. “No one is opening this box again until I’ve got the cage set up for it to live in. I am not chasing this thing around the apartment again!”

   That set the little boy screaming anew. The Bitty huddled in the farthest corner of his prison and sobbed, hands clamped back around his skull. It was all just too overwhelming for him to cope with.

   “Now look what you’ve done!” the child’s mother snapped, gathering up her son into her arms to try and calm him.

   “Don’t blame me!” the man yelled back, “It was your idea to get him a Bitty!”

   “I told you to get a Baby Blue,” his wife retorted, “Not a…whatever that is!”

   “It’s a Cherry!” the father spat, as though it should have been obvious to her, “And I told you, they didn’t have any!”

   “A Cherry?!” Sharp Voice cried, “No wonder it caused such a mess. Don’t you know what a nuisance those Bitties are?!”

   The Bitty couldn’t help cringing as he curled in tighter on himself. Hearing his self-deprecating thoughts confirmed by his new owners was a stab through the Soul.

   “You were the one who told me to get him a Bitty last night! I knew all the best ones would be gone, but no, you had to get it for him last minute!” Deep Voice’s tone was bitter and scathing.

   “And how were we supposed to keep it hidden if we’d got it sooner?!” his wife shot back.

   Between his parents’ raised voices, and his own disappointment that he couldn’t play with his new Bitty, the little boy’s howls were starting to drown out the adults’ argument.

   “Argh! Shut him up or get him out of here before the neighbours complain!” the father growled, spinning on his heel and hurling the pet carrier back into the closet.

   “Fine!” the mother snapped, grabbing a couple of coats before her husband slammed the closet door shut, “Come on, Jamie. Let’s go to the play park for a bit. I’ll even get you a Nice Cream, how about that?”

   The boy didn’t struggle as he was bundled up in his winter clothes. His tantrum was starting to calm down now, though whether that was from the promise of treats, or just because he was running out of steam, it was impossible to tell. His mother got him out the door quickly, banging it shut behind them grumpily. With a huff, her husband stormed off to clean up the mess in the living room.

   Once again, the Bitty was left crying alone in the dark. It had all gone so wrong. And the worst part was that he’d really tried to overcome his anxiety this time. But he’d still messed everything up. He really was a useless Bitty…

Chapter Text

“…Right then…”

   Sharp light assaulted his eyes for the second time that day as the closet door swung open. His carrier was too low on the ground for the Bitty to see who had invaded his space, but he recognised the shoes and the deep voice. This time he knew to brace for the sudden lurch as his carrier was swung up into the air. It didn’t make him feel any less seasick, though.

   The apartment was relatively quiet now. The kitschy music still echoed from the stereo system in the kitchen, but the lack of other voices suggested the other two humans hadn’t returned home yet. It was just the Bitty and the man that had bought him from the adoption centre.

   How much time had passed since he’d been shut away in the closet again? Perhaps an hour, maybe more? It was difficult to tell in the dark, but at least it had given the Bitty a chance to calm down a bit. Still, his Soul couldn’t help giving a surge of panic at what he might face this time…

   The decorated tree swung back into his line of sight through the cage door, but he was being carried over towards a table in the room. A space had been cleared in the middle, amidst discarded wrapping paper and empty boxes. Sitting in pride of place was a shiny new small animal cage, the kind sold in every pet store. The smell of brand-new plastic, fresh out of the packaging, mingled with the scent of sawdust lining the inside.

   The Bitty was confused. Did his new family have a hamster or a pet mouse they wanted to introduce him to? The wood shavings on the base and the full water bottle clipped to the side certainly indicated that the cage was home to something. But he couldn’t see any movement inside…

   “Out you go.”

   Suddenly his carrier was tipped up, making him wobble as he frantically scrambled for a handhold. But the plastic sides of his carrier offered nothing to hold onto, and the Cherry Bitty was roughly shaken out of his tiny refuge. The feeling of freefall made his non-existent stomach lurch, but within half a second he’d landed face first in a thick layer of soft wood shavings, cushioning his fall. His head spun, disorientation and surprise slowing his reactions, but as he scrambled to his feet, he heard the click of a hefty padlock securing the cage door.

   His Soul sank. The cage wasn’t for a small rodent: it was for him! Besides the water bottle, there was an exercise wheel, a domed den made of adjoining sticks, and a small ceramic bowl filled with some sort of dry pellets. The basic starter kit for small rodents, sold in every pet store. The only problem was he wasn’t a rodent; he was a Bitty!

   He rushed towards the front of the cage, desperate to grab the man’s attention. Surely this was some sort of misunderstanding, right? If only he could muster up the courage to let them know, his new family would sort out the mistake straight away. Right?

   A slam echoed through the tiny apartment, followed quickly by the kid barrelling into the living room. He was clearly much happier now, and probably hyped up on sugar if the remnants of ice cream around his mouth were any indication. His bright eyes fell on the hamster cage, and he squealed and made a beeline for it, sticky fingers reaching forward eagerly. But as he yanked at the cage door, the padlock kept it firmly shut with a metallic clank.

   “Daaaaaaad…” the child whined, continuing to pull at the door as though it would somehow dislodge the hefty lock.

   “Uh, no,” the man replied, shaking his head as the kid made eye contact with him, “That cage stays shut. I won’t have it slipping out again and getting lost.”

   “But Dad…”

   “No buts. It has everything it needs in there. We’ll put it in the carrier when the cage needs to be cleaned, but aside from that, it doesn’t need to come out for anything.”

   “…a-actually…” the Bitty tried to say, but his voice came out barely above a whisper, and no one seemed to notice him.

   “Are you sure that’s the right food for it?” the mother joined them from the hallway, picking up an opened bag on the table and inspecting it. The bag had ‘Small Animal Feed’ emblazoned in large letters across the top, with a cartoon gerbil underneath stuffing it’s face full of pellets.

   “It’ll be fine,” the father waved his hand dismissively, “It’s basically the same stuff they had for sale at the adoption centre, but a fraction of the price.”

   “…u-um, it-it’s not- “the Bitty tried again, a little louder this time, but still no one heard him.

   “But I want to play with it!” the kid pouted.

   “You can play with it through the bars,” his father replied, referring to the metal bars of the cage, “But I won’t have this thing running around loose in the house. I paid too much money for it to get lost or damaged.”

   The Cherry couldn’t tell if his new family couldn’t hear him, or if they were just convinced ‘pets’ couldn’t talk. They barely even looked at him, addressing each other as they spoke about him as though he couldn’t understand or communicate back. Even the little boy was treating him more like an inanimate toy than a sentient being.

   Any other type of Bitty - and even some of the other, braver Cherries - would have raised their voice and made the family pay attention to them. Some would have tried to politely reason with the humans, while others would have cursed and bitten at the bars of the cage.  But not this Cherry.

   Was it a sense of self-preservation, not wanting a repeat of the stressful morning? Or was it that he somehow felt safer with bars separating him from the child’s rough handling? Or perhaps, something more…? Whatever the case, the Bitty was already sinking into himself as resignation settled heavily on his tiny bones. He shrank away from the cage walls, the thick shavings forcing him to shuffle rather than walk. His only refuge was the wooden den, so he retreated underneath it, curling up on himself and desperately wishing he was anywhere else. He didn’t have the energy to ‘fight’ anymore. He was so tired…

   It wasn’t a surprise when night arrived, and he was left locked in the cage in the living room. The cage wasn’t even brought into the child’s room “in case it keeps Jamie up all night”. Either the parents thought the Bitty was nocturnal and would spend the whole night on the squeaky exercise wheel, or they reckoned their son would be too excited with the Bitty in his room to sleep.

   The lights were turned out, but a soft orange glow fluttered across the room like a flickering candlelight. Distorted by his tears, the winking fairy lights on the tree blurred and scattered like a whole galaxy of stars, just for him. But their light was cold and empty, seeming to taunt him with their number, reminding him that he was Alone.

   With fresh tears staining his cheeks, the Bitty curled up under the wooden den, arms wrapped tightly around himself in a desperate self-hug. He didn’t even have a blanket for warmth, just the wood chips for a simple mattress. Another lonely night with the Bitty curled up all on his own. At least this time he wasn’t shut in a stale closet in the total dark. Although his cage wasn’t much of an improvement…

Chapter Text

   “Ugh….”

   You groaned. A heavy weight on your back shifted as consciousness mercilessly dragged you from the depths of blissful slumber. You felt points of pressure moving around on your torso, digging in, tenderising your flesh. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable way to wake up.

   “…Mossy…” you grumbled hoarsely. The shape on top of you erupted into trilling purrs at the sound of your voice. Completely oblivious to your discomfort, it proceeded to walk up your body and enthusiastically started rubbing its furry face against your exposed head. Welp. There was no way you were getting back to sleep now…

    Gently pushing your overly affectionate cat off your body, you rolled over and achily sat upright. Every muscle complained bitterly. But Mossy wasn’t about to show you any mercy. Now that he knew you were awake, his purring doubled in volume as he started walking across your lap and rubbing his cheeks against your arms, all the while kneading his paws into your blankets. His “wake you up” routine was simple, but effective.

   “Ok, ok,” you mumbled, hauling yourself to your feet. Your cat immediately launched himself off the bed. With your eyes still half closed, you heard the jingle bell on his collar as Mossy shot off ahead of you to the kitchen. You followed at a much slower pace.

   By the time your cat was fed and you were sipping your first hot drink of the day, your brain had woken up enough to be coherent. Boy, you hated working the holiday shift! Trust you to get a job at one of the only supermarkets in town that stayed open on Gyftmas day. At least you weren’t on the rota for next year’s shift, but a year away was too far for comfort at the moment. Right now, you were just glad you had today off to rest.

   Working retail wasn’t exactly the nicest job, even at the best of times. But working retail over the holidays – now that was a form of torture that should count as a war crime! For whatever reason, the holiday period seemed to bring out the worst in people. And a lowly shelf stacker was certainly not immune to their abuse…

    You idly scrolled through your phone as you sipped your cooling drink, replying to messages from friends and family. It was easy to feel cut off and lonely at this time of year, but you had to work if you wanted to keep a roof over your head. At least you had Mossy for company.

   His breakfast finished, your little black cat leapt effortlessly onto the countertop of your tiny kitchenette – despite how many times you’d told him not to. You’d given up trying at this point. If it wasn’t for the bell on his emerald-green collar, you wouldn’t have even heard him jump up.

   “Prow!” he announced happily, rubbing his face against the corner of your phone to get your attention. You gave in, set your mug down on the counter, and stroked his silky fur with your free hand. His antics never failed to bring a smile to your face.

   Still, there was a large gap between enjoying the company of a pet, and having someone around that you could have a real conversation with. Don’t get you wrong - you adored Mossy. In fact, your cat was your whole world. And therein laid the problem.

   When was the last time you’d had a proper conversation with another person? Sure, you chatted to people at work, and you texted your friends and family. But when was the last time you’d really talked to anyone? When was the last time someone had asked you how you were, and you hadn’t automatically replied with your standard white lie – “Fine”?

   In short, you were lonely, longing for more than just feline company. But between work, general chores and trying to get adequate rest, you didn’t really have a whole lot of spare time for socialising. You’d thought of getting a roommate, but there wasn’t space in your tiny one bedroom apartment for another person. Not that you even knew anyone who you’d be comfortable living with. And you liked your place, small as it was, so you didn’t really want to move if you didn’t have to.

   So, here you were. Stood in your miniscule kitchen in your pyjamas, the day after Gyftmas, with just your cat for company. Well, you supposed it could be worse: you could’ve been working today!

   As usual, the chores were starting to pile up. You couldn’t exactly ask Mossy to do them, so you’d better get on with them yourself. After washing up your mug with last night’s dishes, you threw on some comfortable clothes and grabbed the bag from the kitchen bin. The apartment’s waste collection bins were outside in a locked unit, so on your way it made sense to pick up your mail from your designated box at the main door. You were just returning to your apartment, casually thumbing through the bills in your hand, when you spotted a familiar name on one of the envelopes.

   Mr. C. Eirrej.

  Your feet came to a stop, and a sigh escaped your lips. Wearily, you turned and climbed the all-too familiar flight of stairs to the next floor of your apartment building. You could swear these stairs felt longer every time you had to go up them…

   The door to your left belonged to the apartment directly above yours. You were starting to recognise its unique signs of wear and tear. Within moments of your knock, a very tired woman came to the door. You might have worried you’d woken her up, if you hadn’t heard her child running up and down for the last hour.

   “It happened again,” you said with an apologetic smile, as you handed over the envelope in your hand.

   Your neighbour sighed and rolled her eyes, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. “That’s the third time this month. Can’t they read?”

   “Our apartments are only one number different,” you pointed out with a shrug. It wasn’t hard to see how a busy mail carrier could accidentally put a letter in the wrong box. In fact, if it wasn’t for the mix-ups, you probably wouldn’t have any cause to speak to your neighbours in the first place.

   “Yeah, well it’s getting annoying,” the woman huffed, “Maybe I need to send them another email…”

   Suddenly, a metallic crash rang out from her apartment behind her. You both turned to see a little boy face down on the carpet, with a hamster cage lying at his feet.

   “Jamie!” your neighbour snapped, hurrying to her son to check on him. Without thinking, you followed her in, concerned that the boy had hurt himself.

   “Oww…!” the child whined, cradling his bare foot as his mother helped him sit up. She checked him over carefully, but there didn’t seem to be any obvious cuts or bruises on him. It looked like he’d just fallen over from knocking into the cage.

   “I told you to stop jumping around.”

   “But I wanted to show Boney my cool moves…”

   “For the last time, you’re not calling it ‘Boney’!”

   Reassured that the boy was ok, you turned your attention to the cage lying on its side on the floor. The poor animal within – ‘Boney’, you guessed – was probably really shaken by having its home toppled. Since your neighbour was tending to her son, you decided to be helpful and pick up the cage. A generous heap of sawdust and pellet food rained down onto the carpet as you lifted the enclosure upright. You moved to place it safely onto the nearby coffee table when you finally caught sight of its occupant.

   Well, now the name ‘Boney’ made sense. You’d expected to see a small rodent - maybe a gerbil or hamster - inside the cage. But instead, staring back at you with huge, tear-filled sockets, was the smallest skeleton monster you’d ever seen.

   Its bones were a creamy off-white colour, and its mouth was filled with tiny sharp teeth, like a kitten’s. In contrast, its eye sockets seemed huge for its tiny skull, and a constant flow of tears seeped down its bony cheeks. You couldn’t quite tell if they were actually tinted red, or just reflecting the colour from the shimmering scarlet eyelights in its head. Its little paws – no, hands – clutched at the stained fabric of its simple white t-shirt, and the hiccupping sobs it was desperately trying to hold back reminded you of a squeaking mouse. The poor thing was shaking so hard its bones were rattling.

   “Hey! Give him back!”

   Before you had a chance to react, the cage and its occupant were yanked out of your hands. You saw the tiny skeleton go flying from the jerk, but at least it landed in the soft sawdust at the bottom of the cage. There was no sign of the child’s pain anymore  as he clutched the animal cage protectively, glaring up at you in silent challenge.

   “Jamie!” his mother scolded him again, then turned back to you with a weary shrug, “Sorry, he just got that Bitty for Gyftmas.”

   A Bitty. The word clicked in your head. There was a store in the mall that sold Bitties, not far from the little vet clinic where you took your cat for his check-ups. You’d never gone inside the Bitty store, but you’d caught sight of some of the tiny creatures through the shop’s windows as you passed by. For whatever reason, you hadn’t realised they were that small, though…

   “Oh, uh, right,” you mumbled, tripping over your own words as you focused back on the room, “N-no worries. I’m glad they’re both ok.”

   The boy merely scowled back at you. Inside the cage, you saw the Bitty cautiously approach the bars, its eyes filled with a look torn between fear and curiosity. A feeling of unease gnawed at your stomach, but you didn’t have time to figure out why. Maybe it was just because you’d entered your neighbour’s apartment uninvited…

   “I, uh, better be getting back,” you stammered, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from those mesmerising eyelights.

   “Thanks for bringing over the letter,” Jamie’s mother shot him a look that screamed ‘Behave!’ before following you to the door, “I’ll be sure to have a word with the mail carrier, the next time I see them.”

   The door shut in your face, and you found yourself stood at the flight of stairs back down to your floor, struggling to piece together everything that had just happened. Your mind was a blur. You gripped the handrail to steady yourself as your feet robotically carried you back to your apartment.

   You couldn’t get those tiny red eyelights out of your mind.

Chapter Text

   The rest of the day passed like a puff of smoke. You’d already decided to clean your apartment – stars knew it needed to be done! – but you were so distracted that you barely registered any of the work. Your body completed the tasks on autopilot, leaving your mind to churn over other concerns. It was only once you’d vacuumed the whole apartment that you realised: you’d forgotten to even turn the machine on!

   The worry that nibbled at the back of your mind was difficult to pin down. It was like waking up from a bad dream but being unable to remember anything that had happened in it. You shook it off and tried to focus on the cleaning, but it kept coming back, demanding attention.

   The feeling of unease grew as the day progressed. Your mind was like a damaged VCR tape, continuously replaying the image of that tiny skeleton Bitty behind the bars of its cage. But why? What was it about that miniature creature that unnerved you so much?

   Was it the fact that it was a living breathing skeleton? Doubtful – you’d seen Ambassador Papyrus often enough on the television, and you never felt uncomfortable about him. So maybe it was the cage your neighbours were keeping their Bitty in? Sure, it was too small to be a permanent home for any animal really, even a hamster, but many people made that mistake when starting out. Besides, you didn’t think Bitties were mammals. Did they even need that much space to live in? Maybe they were like tarantulas, and preferred a smaller enclosure…? You had no idea.

   But now that you were thinking about it, you realised there’d been a rather heavy padlock on the cage door. What was that about? Was the Bitty…dangerous? It didn’t look dangerous… Would your neighbours have really bought their son a dangerous pet…?

   …Pet.

   Your mind zeroed in on that word.

   Pet.

   The uncomfortable feeling throbbed like a fresh burn. Your throat tightened. Why did it feel so wrong to call the Bitty a ‘pet’? The unease throbbed again. Surely, they were pets, though? Throb. That was how they were marketed, at least…

   But those eyes… Those miniature points of light, like two red stars in the blackness of night… You couldn’t shake the feeling of intelligence in those eyes. More than any animal you’d ever met. It felt like…sentience, like…understanding. Almost…human.

   When monsters had emerged from the Underground, they’d really muddied the waters on subjects like human rights. The politicians were still arguing over the semantics of ‘humanity’ and ‘people’. It was clear that monsters were more than just animals driven by instinct, but where did they fit into the question of society? The debate was ongoing.

   But even so, Bitties weren’t monsters. Not really. They were artificial creations, based on monsterkind.

   They…weren’t actually monsters…

    …Were they…?

   You realised you had no idea. You only knew the basics about Bitties. You didn’t even know how they were made in the first place. Were they born? Did they hatch from eggs? Grow like plants? Or were they assembled like dolls in a factory?

   It was no use: the cleaning would have to wait for another time. You swapped the rag in your hand for your laptop and curled up on the sofa next to your sleeping cat. Mossy’s ear flicked in your direction, revealing he was more awake than he seemed, but other than that he didn’t shift. You opened the internet and got to work.

   The first thing you discovered was that the process of making Bitties was a closely guarded trade secret. None of the handful of companies out there that produced Bitties would say how they were made, presumably so that competitors wouldn’t be able to steal their methods. There was plenty of speculation on internet forums, of course, but no concrete evidence for any of them. It was a dead end.

   You tried searching for Bitty biology, but the results were sparse. With the ongoing debate about what monsters could be classified as, no scientists could get permission to study their unique anatomy. There was some suggestion that Bitties were deliberately created to solve this problem, but that just raised further questions. How could they create miniature monsters to study if they didn’t even know how monsters worked in the first place? Were Bitties even biological, or were they more like organic robots with artificial intelligence? If they were, did that make them any less sentient?

   Your head was starting to hurt, so you switched to an easier subject: Bitty care. At least there was plenty of information available for this. So much information, in fact, that it quickly became overwhelming. You decided to narrow it down to just skeleton Bitties, but even then, it turned out there were many, many different types of skeleton Bitties on the market.

   It felt like your brain was underwater. You closed your eyes to concentrate. Two bright, scarlet eyelights blinked into your mind. That was it! You searched for red-eyed skeleton Bitties, and among the top results there was a perfect match. Thankfully, it looked like your neighbours had gotten one of the more common Bitty types.

   A Cherry. The name triggered an old memory of your school days.  There had been a girl in your math class named ‘Cherry’. It wasn’t until later that you discovered her name was actually Cheryl – she just got nicknamed ‘Cherry’. That was all you could really remember about her, to be honest. Funny how some random facts just kind of stuck with you, even all these years later. You shook the memory away and focused back on the webpage.

   Cherrys were a ‘Sans’ type Bitty. You thought back to the short skeleton monster that sometimes showed up at Ambassador Papyrus’ side during official events. Ok, you could see the similarities. You briefly wondered how the monsters felt about having multiple Bitties based on them? But you were getting distracted again. Back to reading about Cherry types.

   The guide said they were nervous, sensitive, and easily upset. You frowned. That didn’t sound like a very good choice for a child’s first pet. Throb. There was that burning unease again… You realised the guide made Bitties sound more like dependant children than intelligent animals. Was that what was bothering you so much? Would you have been so uncomfortable if the Bitty had looked more like a flower than a miniature person? Or was it something more?

   A heading titled ‘Soul Time’ caught your attention. You scrolled down and started to read. The guide said that, although Bitties could eat food, converting the physical nutrition into energy, what they really needed was a connection to a Soul, either human or monster. Any Soul would do, said the guide, but the Soul Time was most efficient when the Bitty was bonded with its caretaker.

   You scanned the whole guide, then opened another website and read that page, but there was no mention of keeping Bitties in any kind of cage or enclosure. All the photos seemed to be of Bitties perched on people’s shoulders or cradled in their hands. The closest you could find was a shy Bitty peaking out of a plastic carrying crate, similar to the kind used to transport cats and other small animals.

   Maybe your sources of information were biased, but the more you read, the more you became convinced that Bitties were intelligent. Whether natural, or artificially created, it didn’t matter to you. Bitties seemed far closer to monsters than to animals, and the idea of keeping a monster caged up made you feel sick. Your feeling of deep unease returned as you pictured your neighbours’ Bitty locked in a hamster cage. Finally, you knew why that sight made you so uncomfortable.

   But now what? If it had been an animal being mistreated, you could have reported it to the proper authorities. But a quick check online confirmed what you already guessed: if monsters didn’t even have full rights yet, what hope was there for Bitties? The only laws that seemed to cover them referred to Bitties as ‘property’. Your stomach churned.

   Ok, ok. Maybe getting the law involved was too drastic. Maybe you could just talk to your neighbours, convince them to let their Bitty out of the cage? Maybe, if you showed them the Bitty websites you’d been reading, they might realise their mistake and start looking after it better? Maybe…

   Oh, who were you kidding? You sucked at talking to people! The only reason you spoke to your neighbours in the first place was because you had to, and even then, the conversations were always brief. You didn’t even like the idea of your neighbour telling the mail carrier off for misdelivering their letters. How we you supposed to confront them about Bitty welfare?!

   But those sparkling crimson eyelights crept back into your mind. You knew the guide said Cherry types were easily upset, but that poor Bitty looked miserable! You hated to think of any creature being mistreated, especially if it was within your power to make a difference…

    You must have moved or made a noise, because your sleepy cat gave a little groan and looked up at you with bleary eyes. You felt briefly guilty for waking him up, but it was a welcome break from your spiralling mind. Pushing aside your conflicting thoughts, you reached out and buried your fingers in his plush fur.

   Mossy gave a little chirrup and rolled over to accept the attention, his white belly showing in stark contrast to his black coat. You focused on the feel of his fur beneath your hand, the warmth of his body against your skin, the soothing rhythm of his bubbly purrs. Your little cat never failed to help you ground yourself whenever your thoughts started to get out of control.

   As you took in your surroundings, you were surprised to find that it was already starting to get dark. Had you really been reading for that long? No wonder you felt tired. And now that you thought about it, you realised you were hungry too. Where had the day gone?

   It was clear you weren’t going to solve the issue of the Bitty today. You weren’t happy about it being kept in a cage, but you couldn’t imagine that your neighbours would be actively abusing the poor thing. It wasn’t like they’d be letting it go hungry, or anything…

Chapter Text

    He was so hungry!

   The pellets of small animal food in his little bowl were hard, and bland, and horrible. He’d nearly broken a tooth just trying one! And as for taste, well…if anyone had told him he was eating the wood chips that lined his cage, he probably would have believed them.

   But there was literally nothing else to eat. He’d been here for two nights now, and the last time he’d eaten anything had been at the adoption centre before Jamie’s father bought him. True, Bitties didn’t need physical food in the same way that organic beings did, but that was because they got most of their energy from Soul Time with their family.

   The last time he’d had any Soul Time had been with the other Bitties back at the adoption centre, the night before he was sold. His Soul gave a painful lurch at the thought, overshadowing his hunger pangs. Dropping the pellet that he’d been half-heartedly nibbling on, he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his body, burying his face in his femurs.

   Every Bitty dreamed of getting adopted. Yes, even the grumpy, snarly, edgy ones. He’d seen so many leave the adoption centre with their new families, hope sparkling in their little eyelights as their future unfurled. He’d been so ready for it to finally be his turn…

   His Soul gave a pathetic grumble. He’d learned that organic beings had something called a ‘stomach’ that made a similar noise when they were hungry. He supposed it made sense: everything he ate was converted straight into magic for his Soul to use, so when his Soul needed ‘feeding’, it also made a complaining noise. But his body was having a hard time ‘digesting’ the animal food in his bowl.

   He’d watched longingly as the family ate their meals sat in front of the television. He’d tried making pleading eyes and begging whimpers at them, but they never even glanced away from the screen. And try as he might, his tiny voice couldn’t compete with the volume from the tv.

   Once again, the lights were turned off and he was left alone with just the flickering tree for company. But he was too hungry to sleep! He sniffled and wiped away the tears spilled down his cheeks. Perhaps a sip of water would help?

   His bones rattled quietly as he unfurled and crawled out of the little den. His limbs shook slightly from low Soul energy, and the thick wood chips lining the cage made getting to his feet feel like trying to stand on a shifting sand dune. Somehow, he managed it and staggered over to the water bottle clipped onto the side of the cage.

   Something caught his eye. He had to blink his fuzzy eyelights a couple of times, uncertain if it was just a trick of the tree’s fairy-lights. But no, there was definitely something… He grasped the bars of the cage and pulled himself against them, straining to see the little yellow blob that had caught his attention…

   …Yes! There, underneath the sofa – a single twist of cooked pasta! One of the family must have unknowingly dropped it during dinner. His mouth started to water at the sight.

   But how could he reach it? He could only teleport through unobstructed spaces, so porting out of the barred cage was impossible. The padlock was still attached to the only door on his cage. And it would take far too long to try to gnaw or scratch through the plastic base.

   The faint red light from his eyes cast a dim glow over his cage in the darkness, before coming to rest on the arch of his wooden den. Maybe…? His eyelights flicked to the padlock and back to the den. Could he risk it? He glanced anxiously down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Nobody stirred. As long as he was back in his cage by the time they awoke, no one would know. Right?

   He cast one last glance back at the sofa and the morsel of forbidden food beneath it. His Soul gave a pitiful whimper, and he turned back, renewed determination on his face.

   With as much strength as he could muster, the Cherry Bitty waded back over to his den and gave it an experimental push. It didn’t budge. Not yet ready to give up, he squatted down, put his tiny claws underneath the nearest edge, and tried to lift one side. He could barely raise it a few centimetres off the wood chips. And the moment he tried to pull, his bare feet slipped on the loose substrate underneath him.

   At least the wood chips cushioned his fall. Sitting back up, he looked around for alternatives. The food dish was too shallow to stand on. And he knew the moment he tried to climb the exercise wheel it would turn and drop him back down. So that really only left one option.

   The plastic water bottle clipped upside down to the outside of his cage. It would be tough, but that golden prize was worth it! He scrabbled to his feet before he could talk himself out of it and staggered back to the bottle. Gingerly, he put his hands on the metal drinking spout sticking into the cage and carefully tested his weight on it.

   Nothing happened. Feeling a little braver, the Bitty grabbed the spout and pulled himself up. The slippery metal was angled downwards, and he immediately slid off to land in another heap on the woodchips below. This wasn’t going well.

   But his hunger motivated him to try again. This time he grabbed one of the bars of the cage as he pulled himself up. It was difficult, and very slippery, but at last he was stood on the drinking spout with his hands clutched onto the bars of the cage.

   The trial had only just begun, though. Staring up at the lock on the top of his cage, the Bitty took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the bars. He tentatively lifted one foot and braced it against the plastic bottle outside the cage. It shifted a little at his weight, but he thought it would hold. Oh well, now or never!

   Gripping the bars, the Bitty pushed against the bottle as he lifted his other foot off the spout. The plastic was smooth and rounded under his soles, and he slipped a couple of times, but kept himself up by his hold on the bars. By pulling himself up, he was able to walk up the water bottle inside the cage.

   It took a long time, and a lot of effort. He was panting heavily by the time he reached the top of the water bottle. A horizontal bar ran around the cage at about the same height, and he was very pleased to transfer his shaking feet onto it. Feeling a little more secure now, he shimmied along until he reached the cage door.

   The heavy padlock hung down on the outside. Sitting himself down on the horizontal bar with his legs poking outside the cage, he reached through and grabbed the lock. It was the kind with a numbered locking mechanism on three little turn dials. The numbers were facing outwards, and he didn’t know the code anyway, but compared to his exhausting climb, this was the easy part!

   Hugging the padlock to himself through the bars, the Bitty turned his head against it and started to slowly push the top dial with one hand. The dial clicked round, and he strained to hear…There! The tone subtly shifted as it clicked onto the right number. Now he just had to get the other two.

   As soon as he heard all three dials click into place, he dropped the lock and carefully pulled himself upright again on the cage bar. Now was the moment of truth. Keeping one hand on the bars, he reached through and gave the lock a firm push.

   It swung open. He did it! Balancing precariously on the cage bar, he reached for the door catch and gave it a shove. It opened noiselessly.

   No sooner was the cage door open than the Bitty had teleported across the room, reappearing at the base of the couch. He stumbled a little on landing, but he was too eager to worry about that. Tiny fingers reached forward and snatched up his prize.

   The twist of pasta was cold, and a little grimy from the dirt under the sofa. But oh, was it delicious! He could barely contain himself as he devoured the forgotten morsel ravenously. It was gone in a flash. He didn’t even mind the gritty flecks of dust left over as he licked his miniature hands clean afterwards.

   Energy flowed back into his Soul like a warm bath. It was amazing how much better he felt with even just a little food in him. Maybe he could look around for more, now he was out here?

   The dim glow of his eyelights illuminated the area underneath the sofa. It was very dusty under here, and he caught sight of a couple of Lego bricks, a discarded paperclip and a lost hair-tie. A little box caught his attention. Could it be…? Yes! It was nearly empty, but there were still a few sorry-looking raisins inside it. He gobbled them down in an instant.

   A sound made him start. Did it come from one of the bedrooms across the hall? What time was it? What would the family do if they got up and found him outside his cage?

   Fear spiked in the little Bitty’s chest. He moved to come out from under the sofa, then stopped. His cage was very dull. All he had to occupy his time was a squeaky exercise wheel. If he was going back to it, maybe he could bring something along with him? Something small that he could bury in the woodchips. Something the family wouldn’t notice missing…

   His mind made up, the Bitty grabbed the now empty raisin box and stuffed the Lego bricks, paperclip and hair-tie into it. They weren’t much, but at least he could fidget with them to pass the time.

   With his new treasures in hand, he quickly teleported back to the cage door and dropped his stolen items inside. Then, carefully climbing in, he pulled the door closed, reached through, and clipped the padlock back across. Now no one would know about his nighttime escapade!

   It was an easy drop to the soft woodchips below. Quickly, he gathered up his prizes and scurried into his wooden den to hide them. For the first time since he’d arrived, the Cherry Bitty felt a little tickle of excitement building in his Soul. As long as no one found out, he could do this every night!