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The Beast hesitantly sat himself down on one of the plush chairs in the open, comfortable living room. He watched as Jackrabbit and Fawn teased each other, going back-and-forth between their little game. The Beast held a cup of gradually-cooling-tea close to his chest, his grip on it concerningly tight. He pressed his lips together and only tightened his grip on it.
Jackrabbit shot him a sideways glance, one that hid a quiet concern in it underneath the playfulness that filled her eyes when she played with her siblings. Fawn noticed her wavering attention and poked her in the shoulder.
“I thought we were playing together!” He complained, though he wasn’t genuinely mad. The bright, childishly oblivious smile on his face ruined the illusion he tried to create.
“We are playing t-t-together!” Jackrabbit argued, turning her head back. Her smile brightened again and she shifted forwards to emphasize her refocus.
“Keep making your character talk, then,” Fawn said, gesturing towards the handmade rag-doll his older sister was holding. He had a rag-doll of his own in one hand; in the other he held the drawing of a blue and purple bird with a hat.
Jackrabbit grumbled dramatically to herself as she tightened her grip on her rag-doll. She lifted it up before her and moved it back and forth as she spoke, as if to make the character speak. “This fancy bird here is the last of its species. We have to take it back to our house to keep it safe so it doesn’t g-g-g-go extinct!”
Fawn made his bird character squawk in response, giggling to himself at the funny noise he made.
Behind the two of them, The Beast frowned. He leaned forward slightly and spoke, cutting through their game. “That bird would die off and go extinct anyways, if it’s left all alone. How would it make babies? It couldn’t repopulate all by itself-“
“We’re just playing!” Fawn whined, his expression falling to that of a displeased frown. He furrowed his brows and tried to look menacing. Jackrabbit nodded in agreement, though she seemed more amused than he was.
“Maybe you could come play with us and b-b-b-be the bird’s bird friend. Or maybe this other rag-doll,” Jackrabbit suggested, almost beckoning The Beast to come play. She cocked her head slightly, noticing her twin squirm at the thought.
“I shouldn’t,” The Beast said, his voice lacking conviction. He sounded resigned and reluctant, like he wanted to take up his sister’s offer more than he presented.
It was Jackrabbit’s turn to frown now. Her’s wasn’t as petulant as Fawn’s. Instead it was more confused, almost concerned. “Why not?”
The Beast shifted in his seat. All of the wiggling he did made him look uncomfortable, like the chair he sat in was itchy or lumpy. But the chair wasn’t. Chairs weren’t ever uncomfortable here at Mother’s house. “I should supervise instead; make sure you two don’t get hurt. And I need to finish my cup of tea.”
“We’re not going to get hurt. We never get hurt here. You don’t have to supervise,” Fawn said, sounding almost sad. His prior annoyance at his older brother faded away, changing into something more like disappointment.
“…I don’t want to play right now,” The Beast muttered. His excuses seemed inconsistent and weak, and his eyes lingered just a bit too long on the two characters that he had been offered to play. The rag-doll almost looked like a cowboy.
Fawn and Jackrabbit watched him for a moment more, then looked at each other. They didn’t argue with their brother anymore. They just picked their characters up again and kept playing like the whole conversation never happened.
The Beast watched them with a quiet sense of newfound guilt. He slowly brought the cup of tea up to his lips, almost like he was forcing himself to drink it so he would live up to his own word.
A few minutes later, Mother walked into the room, her dark eyes hovering over each of her children present. Maybe she was drawn in by Fawn’s whining, or maybe something else. She always seemed to come into the room whenever something was wrong.
The Beast watched her. He assumed something in his eyes was concerning to her, because she made her way to him just as their eyes met. Her steps never made a noise.
“Is your tea getting cold? Would you like another cup?” She asked, her voice gentle and serene. The Beast buried the guilt in his stomach and nodded. He momentarily wondered how she knew his tea was cold, but shook the thought out of his head. He gave Mother his cup and stood up from his chair.
“I got distracted and didn’t finish it,” he explained, following his mother as she turned around to make her way to the kitchen. His steps fell in time with hers.
“That’s alright,” she said, her voice consoling. The Beast appreciated it. He liked how Mother never got angry at him for anything and how she never yelled at his siblings for being too loud. Peter used to get angry and yell.
The Beast didn’t talk after that. He didn’t have anything to say. He just stood by in the kitchen and watched as Mother boiled water and got a new teabag out.
“You can play with your siblings if you want to. You know that, don’t you?” She said as she prepared his tea. Her voice was calm and conversational, even if it seemed to have a concerned edge to it.
“I know,” The Beast responded. His voice wasn’t calm as much as it was reserved. He ignored the ache of the guilt in his stomach. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure what that guilt was from.
“I won’t get mad at you if you do.” Mother kept pushing the conversation. She handed The Beast his cup, but she clearly didn’t want him to leave yet.
“I know,” he repeated. He didn’t move. In fact, he seemed to freeze and tense up. He knew he didn’t have to be afraid—there wasn’t anything to be afraid of—but the react was instinctual.
“You can do whatever you want here. I promise,” she urged. Her words seemed final, both in the sense that she truly meant them and that was that, and in the sense that she wouldn’t push her son any further.
The Beast nodded. He didn’t meet her gaze while they spoke, but when he did, his eyes seemed nervous. His whole body language screamed uncomfortable.
Mother sighed. Not in annoyance, but in concern. She nodded once and The Beast took it as his permission to leave. He held his new, warmer cup of tea to his chest like he did with the prior one.
Fawn and Jackrabbit didn’t look up from their game this time when he walked in. They just kept giggling to themselves and playing with their characters. The rag-dolls did exaggerated flips through the air together, which The Beast learned was supposed to repel any ‘meanies’ that would try and hurt their endangered bird.
He exhaled and looked down at his cup of tea. It made him think of the guilt in his stomach and his conversation with Mother. And Jackrabbit and Fawn’s laughter. He watched the liquid swirl in the cup as he moved it, thinking to himself.
“…Can I play, actually?” The Beast asked, almost whispering. He looked hopefully to his siblings and wished they wouldn’t comment on his change of heart.
They didn’t. Fawn nodded excitedly and quickly handed him the rag-doll and spare bird they had offered him earlier. Jackrabbit grinned and looked at her twin with a knowing look in her eyes. She almost looked proud of him as he sat his cup of tea down and joined them on the floor.