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Despite the Duck’s protests, they ended up splitting the crisps.
After the three finished their ‘meal’, Red wanted nothing more than to sit in the living room and zone out for a few hours. The day had been long and emotionally exhausting and frankly, he felt like shit. He didn’t think he could handle another… thing trying to teach them something.
But, as usual, Yellow and Duck were not content with doing nothing.
“Do you not like your real family?” Yellow asked Red after the three had settled into their chairs, each seated in their particular spots: Red to the right, Yellow to the left, and Duck in the middle. As it should be, and as it always is.
Red stared at him blankly for a moment. “... What do you mean,” he asked, a little stiffly. He did not want to talk. He wanted to zone out and think about nothing until all of the day's activities inevitably faded from his brain.
“You said you don’t want to talk about it,” Yellow said. “So something happened that you don’t wanna talk about.”
“Well, if I said I don’t want to talk about it, why would I answer your question?” Red countered.
“I dunno,” Yellow said.
Duck looked up from the book on his lap to cross his arms and turn up his beak. “What a silly question! It doesn’t matter what happened. They’re not his real family. We’re his real family. We've established that much!”
Red thought about the folks with the same yarn faces and red fur he had. About how they’d dismissed him without a second thought, tossing him into the darkness.
No matter how close he’d gotten to something different, he was back here. Seemingly for good.
He sighed.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” the Duck continued. “If you ask me, our family couldn’t be better. And my opinion is the only one that truly matters.”
Red didn’t respond. He just sighed again.
“Maybe he hates us,” Yellow said to Duck.
“What? I don’t hate you guys," Red immediately interjected, "I just…” but couldn’t think of anything else to add. What he felt for them was too complicated to put into words. He didn’t think he hated them- not individually at least. But he hated what they represented in Red’s life: the awful mundanity that stretched on with no ending in sight. He hated their existence as much as he hated his own existence.
After a few beats of silence had passed and Red didn’t attempt to finish his sentence, Duck let out a scoff, the arms around his chest tightening. As Red watched him he realized that Duck was genuinely angry. This was not his average fussiness- the feathers around his neck were ruffled and his eyes were narrowed and flashing.
Before Red could even begin to consider what to do about that, Duck got to his feet and stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him.
“That was weird,” said Red.
“I think his feelings got hurted,” said Yellow.
“No, he’s fine. Just wait, he’ll be back in a few minutes.”
They waited a few minutes. The Duck didn’t come back.
“I think his feelings got hurted,” Yellow said again.
“No, he’s-” Red cut himself off. “Ugh, you’re probably right.”
“Maybe you should go talk to him.”
“Wh-what? Me? Why can’t you do it?!” Red sputtered.
“Because he likes you more, I think."
Red opened his mouth to disagree, but he knew he’d be lying if he did. They both knew who the Duck had chosen to speak at his funeral, after all, and Red had never been one to sugarcoat the truth.
“...Fine.” Red got off his recliner and slowly began to walk towards the front door. “While I’m gone, why don’t you start getting ready for bed? It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Okay,” Yellow agreed. “Will you read me a bedtime story when you get back?”
Red glanced backward to Yellow in confusion. “I thought the other guy liked to do that.”
“I don’t think he’ll want to talk to me,” Yellow said.
Red shrugged. He wasn’t going to argue with that logic. The Duck had very little patience, especially when it came to Yellow. “Sure, whatever mate.”
Yellow’s eyes widened eagerly. “And will you do the funny voices? Like he does?”
I am certainly not doing the funny voices, Red wanted to say, but Yellow looked so hopeful that he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he just shrugged again, hoping that would satisfy him for now.
Red left through the front door. Outside was the same as it ever was, green plastic land with smiling clouds hanging high in the sky. It wasn’t as bright as it normally was- the sun was getting ready to set. As he searched for Duck, he realized he preferred the late afternoon, when the sunlight was dull and the colors weren’t so garish to look at.
He walked and walked until he was farther than he’d ever been, and as time passed the sky darkened. He should probably throw in the towel soon. Duck could find his own way back; they always found their way back, after all. But as he turned back toward the direction of the house, he felt his stomach clench a little. He didn’t really want to stop looking. Not yet, at least.
It was strange that Red hadn’t managed to find him. He did not think the Duck would have gone that far.
Didn't he want to be found...?
He continued walking for some indecipherable amount of time until... yes, there he was. The silhouette of the Duck pressed up against a tree was just up ahead.
He was about to announce his arrival when his voice got caught in his throat. Duck looked… unapproachable. The anger obviously hadn’t quite faded. His back was stiff, his feathers were on end, and his body was curled up in a tight little ball.
Red had never seen him like this before. It was off-putting.
It was wrong.
Duck didn’t seem to sense him. Red waited a few moments before clearing his throat to make his presence known.
"Hey mate," he said, unable to keep the discomfort he felt from his voice.
Duck started and whipped his head around. “Wha- you?! What the hell are you doing all the way out here?"
"I just, erm. Wanted to check on you." Red paused. "Soooo. Y'alright."
"Who cares?" Duck replied, scowling. "Now, I came here for a reason. Leave me alone."
“But you don’t like to be alone,” Red pointed out.
We don’t know how to be alone, he did not say.
That statement struck a nerve. Duck's scowl deepened, and he turned so he was no longer twisting to look at Red. “How dare you decide what I like? You've no right! I shall do what I wish!”
Red blinked. "Oh-kay then," he replied slowly. Duck continued to glare at him. After a few uncomfortable moments of this, Red figured there was no use in probing further. When the Duck made up his mind there was nothing for it. So he sighed for the third time that evening and shook off the wave of guilt that crashed over him. "Alright, sorry, I'll leave. Obviously, you want-"
"Wait," the Duck interjected. He quickly looked back and forth, as though looking for something in the trees. “Where is the other one?”
“He’s still at the house. It’s just me here.”
Duck's eyes widened. “Just… you?”
"Mmhm," Red affirmed. Duck was correct in being surprised- it was rare the three of them were paired off in twos. And when they were, it didn’t tend to last for very long.
Duck seemed to shake himself. “W-well, that doesn’t matter.”
But after all this, something told Red that the Duck didn't want to be alone after all. So, he sat beside him, pressing his back against the tree.
Duck's feathers flattened against his chest. “How odd. You’re pretending you can’t hear me!”
Red ignored him. "Why did you run away?”
Duck opened his beak, obviously about to snap again, but after a moment passed his eyes seemed to soften. He lowered his head and rested it on top of his knees.
“Today was no good," he sighed, "No good at all. You’re... you're not satisfied with our family.”
“Well, who can blame me? We’re not a real family, traditionally speaking,” Red said. This made the Duck scowl again and Red realized that was probably the wrong thing to say.
“… Shit that came out wrong. We are a family, we share a lawyer after all. It’s just, sometimes it’s not enough.”
“Not enough? What do you even mean by that? What is not enough? Am I not enough?!” Duck paused, seeming to realize what he just said, and backtracked, “I-I mean, I don’t… damnit!”
“Uhhh,” Red replied.
“Whatever!” Duck sputtered, obviously embarrassed. Red was certain that under those green feathers, he was bright pink. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk! I know you don’t care about such things. But it’s different for me.”
Red frowned. “How can it possibly be different?”
There was another pause.
“You and the other one.” Duck’s shrill voice went quieter than Red had ever heard it. “Both of you have… well, real families, as you put it. He has his dad. You have relatives, wherever they are. But all I have is…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but Red understood.
How strange it was, to hear the Duck admit to that he cared much more deeply than Red could have ever suspected. He did have a point: Red didn’t care about such things. At some point, he stopped trying to (if he’d ever tried in the first place) because when every waking day is a nightmare, it’s difficult to appreciate what's around you.
But the Duck, despite everything, cared. And right now, it made Red want to try, too.
“It’s not that simple,” Red said, just as quietly. Duck looked at him, obviously expecting him to continue. Red felt his body tense because he really hadn’t wanted to talk about this... but at this point, Duck deserved the truth. “My relatives. They... didn’t like me.”
“Didn't like you? Whyever not?”
Red stared at the ground. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t fit in.”
Duck scoffed, as though Red's explanation had genuinely surprised him. “How awfully rude of them!”
Red wasn't entirely sure what to say, mostly because he agreed. It was... kind of validating to see Duck get angry for his sake. Maybe their treatment really was unfair. Maybe it wasn’t Red’s fault for getting kicked out. That would be nice. It would mean Red wasn’t a freak after all.
Duck continued in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, “I'll bet you're too good for them anyway.”
Red looked up at him, feeling his eyes widen. “You think so?”
“Of course I do! If they kicked you out without even getting to know you, what good are they?"
“That’s, uhm… thanks for that,” Red replied, oddly flustered. “But I guess what I wanted to say… is that you're wrong. I don’t have anyone else. I’m not going anywhere. And neither is the other one, for that matter.”
He waited for a response but none came. Duck seemed to be absorbing those words and wore an expression that looked halfway between pleased and thoughtful. And as he watched him, he realized that the Duck was… fascinating to look at. He was constantly perceiving, talking, emoting- a drastic contrast from the stagnant world around him. Though he was a constant reminder of this hellish existence, he was also a reminder that he wasn’t alone in it.
For the record, you've always been my real family, Red wanted to say.
But having a family did not change the fact that Red wanted more.
So he did not.
“You are saying you won't leave me, right?" Duck asked eventually.
Red tried to imagine a future on his own. And he couldn’t because that would be wrong. No matter how much he wanted things to be different, he knew there was no future where the three of them weren’t together, one way or another. His relatives' rejection had proved that much.
“Yes," he said.
This time, the Duck looked entirely pleased. “I believe I'm ready to go home now,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Oh yeah?”
Duck nodded. He cleared his throat and straightened his back in an attempt to regain some dignity. “I am not looking forward to the walk, though. I despise walking.”
Red couldn't help but feel a pang of affection. Even after all that, Duck was still the fussiest bird on the planet. He leaned down and grasped Duck’s back, easily lifting him up from the ground. “Does this help?”
Duck let out an indignant squawk. “What do you think you’re doing? Put me down this instant!”
Red grinned. “Nah, don’t think I will mate.” He tightened his grasp, trying to force him to quit wriggling.
“But you’re so shaggy,” Duck whined as Red’s yarn draped over his little head. He then affirmed the sentence with a sneeze directly onto Red’s arm.
“Ew- gross! Did you have to aim that at me?!” Red hissed.
“It is not my fault you stuck your fur up my beak,” Duck replied. He wriggled a bit more and finally stopped when he’d gotten himself in a comfortable position: pressed up against Red’s chest, semi bridal-style. “Now are you taking me home or not?”
Home. The word sent an icy trail down Red’s back.
But where else would they go? There is nowhere else.
He held the Duck a little closer as they made their way back, trying to focus on the soft feathers pressed against his chest and the dull sunlight on his back and what bedtime story he would read to Yellow.
... Maybe nothing else needed to matter right now.
~