Chapter Text
Wind whipped at The Hare as he ran through the hectically vague forest ahead of him. A thicket tore at the fabric of his right sleeve. Ripping a shred of the red fabric off. It flew wildly as it disappeared into the fog behind him. He couldn’t stop. He had to keep running. His tall ears were full of the overpowering thud of his feet. Or his heart. The Hare couldn’t tell. And he didn’t much care.
His wild eyes searched desperately for safety. He dipped around and through the dense foliage. Weaving between thin, scraggly branches. The Hare jumped as his panic led him directly towards a bush. Its branches grabbed onto his fur and coat and pulled him down to the earth. Leaves crunched as they were caught in the crash.
The Hare wheezed. Coughed. His palms stung bad. His knees stung worse. Cold air filled his chest as it heaved for relief. In the midst of it all, a grainy song played faintly. The Hare turned an ear towards a break in the thicket. Then his head. Despite the blurry vision, he could see a warm orange light just at the end of the path. But, as his mind flooded with hope, a roar broke through the air. The Hare felt himself get pressed into the dirt.
Then he woke up.
The covers flew off him as he jolted upwards. His hands were balled into tight fists, and he swung wildly in the air ahead of him. Eventually, the pitter patter of his frightened heart calmed and he heard the familiar sounds of home. The Hare slowly put his hands down and looked up out the window. It was still very much dark out. He sighed.
“Not again.”
He pulled himself up from his form. He kicked the blankets back over the grassy spot and covered his face. Groaning turned into an annoyed screech as he trudged to his dressers. The Hare dressed himself as he did every morning. Though, his clothes had been getting more and more sloppy for the past week. Today he forgot to attach his right sock garter and the sock bunched up awkwardly around his ankle.
The Hare lifted a few papers off his dresser. A few notes from The Hatter. He traced his fingertip over the flowing calligraphy. Each stroke evicting a piece of his bad mood. The papers crinkled as he held the notes to his chest.
“Is it stupid to feel such relief from you?”
He spoke to himself. At least, a part of himself. That nagging part. The one that always agrees with the negative.
“It must be. I feel like a fool. Therefore…”
Hare shoved his face into the papers. He groaned. But, his nose was soon met with the sweet scent of chamomile and vanilla. He drew the papers away from his face. Staring at them for quite awhile as the mechanisms behind his eyes jolted alive at the Hatter’s favorite scents.
“I don’t suppose- Well, no, that’s silly.”
He tucked the notes into the pocket sewn into the inside of his jacket. His mind continued to bounce back and forth. The gears hadn’t quite gotten properly lubricated, you see. Hare rubbed his paws together.
“No, surely he wouldn’t mind if I came over this early. We’ve only got the one between us anyhow, so he probably is expecting me,”
And with that, Hare grabbed his favorite tea cup and placed it on his head. Quickly zipping out the door and down the winding paths to The Hatter’s haberdashery. Most days, he would skip from stone to stone (much like frogs on a lilypad), but as the length of the distance grew more real the energy to even lift a toe became quite scarce. Each time he became groggy, he would open his suit jacket to catch a glimpse of the papers. And each time he would be right back to marching along.
Finally, he approached the quaint stovepipe hat shaped building - the fence around it was lace-like and the garden gate was shaped like a big bow with buttons for the handles. But, instead of grabbing hold of those grand buttons, The Hare simply jumped over the gate. One of his legs caught on the wooden frame and he tumbled onto the stone steps. Rolling like a pin. Miraculously, the tea cup he wore on his head landed in a soft flower bed. Its only bother would be the snoring blossoms it lay beneath.
The front door of the haberdashery swung open. Hatter looked to the left. Then to the right. Then to the left. Then up. Then behind. He went back inside.
“Oh gracious-”
Hare could hear him yelp from inside. The door swung back open and the click-clack of Hatter’s heels swiftly approached him. He helped him up. Swinging his hands over the front of him in quite the Anglo-Saxon attitude - which, evidently, was nonsensical enough to clean Hare entirely.
“March, my dear fellow, how is it you’re always face first in the dirt when you come over?”
Hare pointed to the fence. Hatter looked at it. Hare ran over to it and boxed at the air around it in contempt. Hatter nodded, now understanding the issue.
“Anyhow, you look worse for wear without a spiteful infrastructure. I fear you’re still not winking enough? Did you even get a blink?”
Hatter knelt down and began to help Hare pull up his socks. Hare rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me, Evie,”
Hare’s nose twitched as Hatter took a spare sock garter from under his hat and wrapped it around his thigh. Oh, he was so thankful that he was the one with large ears and not Hatter. For if it were the other way around, the other may have heard the loud thathumping of his racing heart.
“I do try to sleep, but I fear some terrible part of my brain is still running on the instinctual.”
Standing back on his feet, Hatter took the buttons of Hare’s suit jacket between his fingers. Undoing the ones that were done incorrectly. Hare held his breath. His eyes nearly spun circles as he tried to find some place to look at other than Hatter’s hands.
“I do hope we figure that out soon. I’d hate to see my dear Marchie wither away,”
Hatter smoothed out Hare’s lapels. Then reached to do the same for his whiskers. The motion turned into a gentle caress of the cheek. Hare’s eyes very suddenly focused on the matter at hand.
“Who else could tumble into my lawn the same way you do?”
Hatter looked him over with a smile. He pursed his lips in confusion as he got to the top of his head. Standing on his tiptoes and parting Hare’s ears to inspect the spot between them. Hatter turned around with his hands on his waist. He spied the teacup in the flower bed.
“Aha!”
As Hatter sauntered off to grab the tea cup, Hare held the cheek that had been so tenderly cupped. Letting out all the air he had trapped within his lungs. Hatter hummed as he picked up and dusted off the tea cup.
“I just knew something was missing. That dome of yours did seem rather empty when I stood you up,”
Hatter set the tea cup back onto Hare’s head. Dusting his hands off in satisfaction.
“Perfection - one is never fully dressed without a hat - of sorts, in your case.”
Hare’s ears readjusted to the feeling of the teacup. He tilted his head, eyebrows raised.
“I thought the expression goes ‘without a smile.’?”
Shaking his head, Hatter took Hare’s arm to take him inside the haberdashery.
“Oh no no, any old fool can smile- Speaking of, I was just working on a hat for our dear friend the Cheshire Cat. Come, come, you can give me your thoughts. You know how I cherish them so,”
“If you keep taking them, I may have none left by the end of the year. Though, I suppose it’s better they’re kept at yours, I may forget them otherwise,”
Hare let himself be ushered into the shop by the guiding arm of Hatter. The bell above the door jingled. Soon, that lovely chamomile and vanilla scent was all around, and Hare smiled.
“So yes, I would be glad to give you another, my dear Evie,”
Hatter squealed with glee. Running off with those Anglo-Saxon attitudes once more to go and grab the hat. Hare found his spot in the cozy chair, sprawling himself on it in a way that most wouldn’t dream to describe as sitting. He put his head back on a pile of scrap lace and felts. Taking in a big breath of the shop air and letting it out slowly, and his eyes began to feel just a tad bit lazier.